#i won't be here for any longer than another year

[feyascorner]

Sure, Astarion has his reasons for being the way he is, but he wasn't a good man before Cazador either.

He was a corrupt magistrate of high society, who had an insatiable thirst for power and immortality. He got it in the end, but at a cost he never expected to pay.

So imagine if he and Tav met centuries before the events of the game? Tav being one of the “commoners” he looks down upon, scrunching his nose in disgust at the library when your fingers brush against one another as you try to reach for the same book. He yanks his hand away so abruptly that it makes you blink.

“Ah, sorry, did you want it?” you hold out the book in his direction, but he’s already scowling. You’re by no means filthy, but he thinks you might as well be with how your clothes would fetch less than a few dozen gold pieces at the local market. And rather than having your hair neatly arranged like other ladies of high society, yours is messily tied back with a string, in a manner he'd consider disheveled.

“I did,” he mutters in return. “You can keep the damn thing, dear. I no longer have any need for it.”

You don’t know where this snarkiness is coming from, so all you can do is watch as he strides away, lips sealed in a confident yet mildly annoyed frown. He swears he won't return to this library again if those are the kinds of guests they allow in these days.

So imagine his surprise when he meets you at the nautiloid crash site. Well, he doesn't recognize you at first. You don't either. Who would? You've only said one sentence to one another. But when you see him reading at his tent, you mention favorite books of your own even though he never actually asked. Within them, is the very title of the book he let you have—which happens to be some obscure book basically nobody else reads.

He remembers you, because his encounter with you was just a day before he’d been ambushed and turned into what he is. And it’s an underestimate to say he's reimagined that very day at least a few hundred times in his head.

The same can't be said for you. You remain oblivious.

But he's different now. He stitches the rips on his own shirt at least a dozen times a month, making sure the seams blend flawlessly and the cloth makes him look as flattering as he possibly can. In the past, he would've made the expensive personal tailors do the work, but 200 years as a slave can enact more than a few lifestyle changes to an elf.

However, similar to then, he notices you're still struggling in your own ability to sew.

“Like this, darling,” he says again. “Through the loop, here.”

As you marvel innocently at his handiwork, he smiles. He's not sure how you can derive such joy from a simple needle with a thread, but he doesn't complain about the way you fawn over him rather than anyone else. He thinks about his first reaction to you, much to his avoidance. He misjudged you at the time. Terribly. And while he’ll come around to telling you eventually, he’d rather find little ways to make up for it for now.

And if he has to use a needle on the rips of your pants to do so, so be it. Besides, he thinks he likes sewing—especially when it’s for you.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #astarion x oc #astarion x you

[maaarine]

Men Just Don't Trust Women -- And It's A Huge Problem (Damon Young, Huffington Post, Mar 16 2015)

"Generally speaking, we (men) do not believe things when they're told to us by women.

Well, women other than our mothers or teachers or any other woman who happens to be an established authority figure.

Do we think women are pathological liars? No.

But, does it generally take longer for us to believe something if a woman tells it to us than it would if a man told us the exact same thing? Definitely!

This conversation is how, after five months of marriage, eight months of being engaged, and another year of whatever the hell we were doing before we got engaged, I realized I don't trust my wife.

When the concept of trust is brought up, it's usually framed in the context of actions; of what we think a person is capable of doing.

If you trust someone, it means you trust them not to cheat. Or steal. Or lie. Or smother you in your sleep.

By this measure, I definitely trust my wife. I trust the shit out of her.

I also trust her opinions about important things. I trusted that she'd make a great wife, and a trust that she'll be a great mother. And I trust that her manicotti won't kill me.

But you know what I don't really trust? What I've never actually trusted with any women I've been with? Her feelings.

If she approaches me pissed about something, my first reaction is "What's wrong?"

My typical second reaction? Before she even gets the opportunity to tell me what's wrong? "She's probably overreacting."

My typical third reaction? After she expresses what's wrong? "Ok. I hear what you're saying, and I'll help. But whatever you're upset about probably really isn't that serious."

I'm both smart and sane, so I don't actually say any of this aloud. But I am often thinking it.

Until she convinces me otherwise, I assume that her emotional reaction to a situation is disproportionate to my opinion of what level of emotional reaction the situation calls for.

Basically, if she's on eight, I assume the situation is really a six.

I'm speaking of my own relationship, but I know I'm not alone. (…)

There's an obvious parallel here with the way (many) men typically regard women's feelings and the way (many) Whites typically regard the feelings of non-Whites.

It seems like every other day I'm reading about a new poll or study showing that (many) Whites don't believe anything Black people say about anything race/racism-related until they see it with their own eyes.

Personal accounts and expressions of feelings are rationalized away; only "facts" that have been carefully vetted and verified by other Whites and certain "acceptable" Blacks are to be believed.

So how do we remedy this? And can it even be remedied? I don't know.

This distrust of women's feelings is so ingrained, so commonplace that I'm not even sure we (men) realize it exists."

#article #weaker sex

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

[sherlockscumslut]

☆Genshin men and how they behave under the mistletoe ☆

Ft. Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, Childe, Itto, Thoma, Ayato, Alhaitham, Cyno, Neuvillette and Wriothesley.

18+ only. Contains smut, sexual innuendos, fluff & crack. Kisses duh, sweet talk, praise, fingering, oral(f&m.receiving), facial, creampies, bad jokes, possible grammar mistakes.

A/n: Have you been naughty or nice this year? 😏 As for me, I guess it's hard to tell bc Wriothesley came home. Did he come to punish me for breaking the law or perhaps, to teach me some...wrestling techniques? 🤭

My AO3

Follow my backup @itsdebby

°☆•☆°•☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•°☆•☆•

Finds the opportunity to give you a passionate kiss and whisper something naughty in your ear

The mistletoe hangs on your bedroom's door and every once in a while, even when you're on the phone with friends and family, he sneaks out of nowhere and hugs you from behind. His puts his strong arms around your waist and his head nest on your shoulder. "Oops! I think you walked under the mistletoe again, sweetheart." He says in the sweetest tone and gives you soft neck kisses that never fail to make you melt. "I can't wait until I'm all over you tonight~" He murmurs.

KAEYA, Ayato, Childe, Wriothesley

Tells you something random about his current hyperfixation and turns it into a never ending session of him talking about it.

"Nice to see you here, again. I know we live in the same house but you just happened to walk under the mistletoe...What do you mean it's the 20th time today? Listen, I found out MORE information about [x] and I just wanna share it with you...Don't worry, dinner's one me!"

CYNO, Neuvillette, ITTO, Zhongli

Puts some music on and invites you to dance.

"Sweetheart, can I have this dance?" He offers his hand and you cling on him. He spins you around and kisses you softly on the lips. "You are the best gift I could ever ask for" He says smiling. His pretty eyes stare into your soul as he holds your hand and leans for another kiss.

KAEYA, Diluc, Thoma, Zhongli, Neuvillette

Is up for a quicky right here, right now.

You could be baking some cookies for the holidays but he doesn't care that you're busy. Since you walked under the mistletoe to get to the kitchen, he walks in there too and gives you a naughty grin. "You know...I also walked under the mistletoe on my way here...what do I mean? Well, how about I show you instead?" He lifts you up at the counter and starts teasing your clit with his hard cock. Soft moans escape his mouth and fights the urge to come right away. No, he won't let himself come so quickly. Not until he feels your tight pussy sucking him in and hear you beg him to fill you up. He never leaves you empty handed and after a few rough thrusts, he squeezes your hips as he comes inside. He's proud of lasting longer than he expected and had you to beg for his seed.

Childe, Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Kaeya

Praises you while you're gagging on his cock.

"Fuck, this is so good...keep going..." He whispers as you worship his cock with your mouth, licking every inch of him. You like to make him think that he's in control but little does he know about your secret technique that can make him burst at any moment. "You're always so good for me" He moans and holds a mistletoe over your head. "Hehe, this adds a little fun, doesn't it?" He starts twitching inside your throat and you pull his cock out of your mouth and tease his tip with your thumb. He groans as he comes on your face and his upper body goes limp."I could do this everyday" He murmurs.

ITTO, Kaeya, Childe, Cyno

Eats your pussy while you're reading a book or watching a Christmas movie in your bedroom.

Turns out it wasn't a bad idea to hang a mistletoe over the headboard. It was his idea but oh well, it benefits you too. You can barely concentrate on your book or movie. How could you when he's licking your clit back and forth and keeps adding one more finger inside you? He drinks your juices like water and his lips vibrate on your flesh as another moan escapes his mouth. Your hole clench on his fingers as you cream all over them. Your toes curl as a wave of satisfaction washes over your body. He looks at you with pure lust, panting while watching you come back to your senses.

Ayato, Wriothesley, Diluc, Cyno, Neuvillette

He still believes in Santa and stays up late to meet him so they can have a quick round of Genius Invocation TCG or beetle fight💀

Thoma, Itto, Cyno.

Cyno joke moment: You wanna know how we know Santa is a man? He shows up late, eats your cookie, empties his sack, comes only once, calls you a ho and leaves while you're sleeping.

《THE END》

! DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!

#genshin smut #genshin kaeya #kaeya smut #diluc genshin impact #diluc smut #arataki itto #itto smut #genshin thoma #thoma smut #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette smut #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley smut #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham smut #cyno genshin impact #cyno smut #tartaglia #tartaglia smut #childe smut #kamisato ayato #ayato smut #zhongli smut #genshin zhongli

[tarjapearce]

what if miguel and reader have a fight? and they're trying to keep the fight away from gabi and ben but they end up seeing some of it and get upset 😟🫶🏻

Oh god. *Trauma unlocked* 🫠🫠

Bit of angst and little longer than I intended

Make up here ❤️ ~

Gabi noticed how silent you and Miguel were. Her eyes noticed how your hand flinched ever softly from his, only for him to retract his hand and grip the wheel tightly. It had been like this ever since the soccer practice was over. Had something happened?

------

She didn't know. But the quietness didn't set up good on her chest.

"Papa? Are you okay?"

Miguel's eyes watched her from the mirror and nodded.

"Of course, Solecito."

"What happened to your hand?"

"I got injured" He nodded softly and maneuvered the lever.

"Oh..." That's all she managed to utter. You on the other hand were looking absentminded through the window as you were fetching Benjamin from Peter's home.

-------

Ride back home was quiet, you took Benjamin and took him to his crib, he was a year now. Rebellious and black curls perched on his little head, bounced as he was put to sleep. Miguel was unpacking and you had decided to just get ready to sleep.

The fight had surely surprised you, not that you were scared of Miguel, it was just a behavior you rarely, if not ever, that you saw in him.

Gabriela took a bath, not really wanting to dinner, after all she had been treated with a Happy Meal at McDonald's.

You took a shower and changed, Miguel entering the room.

"So... I'm getting a silent treatment now?"

His voice calm, a stark contrast as how he was hours ago.

"No. Just..." You sighed, "Didn't actually expect you to hit that man."

"He was harassing you. Someone had to stop him."

"But hit him?" He sighed. "I know you, and that is really out of your character. Is... something wrong?"

"No." He spoke as he removed his t shirt

"I know work has been hard for you, and the kids, the house renovations, it can be stressful-"

"Ya estuvo, sí? Déjalo ." (Knock it off. Just leave it.) His tone firm, your lips remained shut as tears welled up in your eyes. You just nodded but your eyes drifted to Gabriela. Your heart wrenched at her expression. Fear, concern and sadness. She rushed to her room, leaving you both behind.

Miguel's head hung and he rubbed his face, realizing how the tension between you two was affecting everyone around.

"I'll get it." You mumbled and left the room. Following Gabriela, you knocked on her door and she buried herself further in the sheets.

"Mi amor?" She remained laid down, her back facing you, your steps guided you to her bed and sat next to her. She looked at you with wet eyes. It caused you to almost cry on your own.

"Is Papa okay?" she turned to face you, and you couldn't help but caress her hair.

"I... I don't know, mi amor."

"Are you angry at him?"

You shook your head and cradled her head softly.

"No mi amor. I'm not. I'm just concerned about him."

"I don't like when you fight." Another stab in your heart.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, mi amor. Sometimes stress is too much for adults and... we don't really mean things that we say, or the things we do out of impulse."

"Victor said that Papa had hit his uncle. Is that true?" Her eyes looked at you, searching for honesty.

"He... did. But his uncle did something really bad."

"What did he do?"

"He... touched me without my consent. And Papa got angry."

"Are you okay, Mama?"

"Yes, solecito. Your dad protected me from that man."

"Then why you flinched from Papa?"

You weren't expecting such comment

"Are you scared of dad?"

"No, cariño. I know he would never hurt me or any of us. But I also know that fighting isn't the way to solve problems. And it worries me cause... he never fights or id violent."

"Is something bothering him?"

"I don't know. He won't talk about it. But it's fine. Maybe he needs some space." Gabriela frowned but sighed.

"Im really sorry you had to see that, cariño. Whatever is happening, it's not your fault okay? This is between Papa and I. Understand?"

She nodded and hugged you.

"Don't fight, ok?"

You nodded as you did your best to hold it together.

"We'll try, mi amor."

Miguel heard from outside the door, uncomfortableness setting on his head. He just needed to find a way to make it up to you and his kids.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #dad miguel o'hara #gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara angst #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️ #asks and replies #t writes✨

[fallingdownhell]

Hello !! I wish u a happy Valentine's Day >< love it writing ;)

Can I request Best Friends with feelings Sumero boys(+wanderer) reacting to gn!reader being gifted here and there all day bc it's Valentine's day?

Thank u! U can ignore this if I don't want to write :)

Happy belated Valentine's Day! Hope everyone had a nice day celebrating with their loved ones, be it romantically or platonically<3 Characters Included: Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kaveh; Wanderer Content: gender neutral reader; no established relationship; the boys are getting jealous; fluff; love confessions..?; not proofread yet Word count: 2,6k words Enjoy<3

Tighnari

he loves the fact that one of his closest friends actually works with him, which means that you can see each other on a regular basis

not like Cyno or Kaveh, who he sometimes doesn't see in days or weeks, depending on their workload

Tighnari enjoys working with you, but not just because he's friends with you. You complement each other, his strenghts negate your weaknesses, and vice versa. When he's stuck in his research on some specific topic, you offer him some insight from a different perspective that he otherwise would probably have never even considered

Plus, you're very easy to talk to, and just an overall fun person to be around. It's no wonder he'd want to be your friends.

So it's also no wonder that one day, he realizes that his feelings for you go much deeper than just friendship

Is he gonna do anything about it, though?

No. At least, not right away

He's let it sit and sink for a while, come to terms with the fact that he actually likes you in that way, and that it's not just some fleeting crush. He'd plan to tell you eventually, but much to his dismay, he forgot what time it was while he was pondering about his feelings for you

Valentine's Day was here, and of course, he's heard plenty of talk among his fellow forest rangers. He knows that many of them plan to ask you out, thinking that it'd be the right time

He realized what day it was when the first one came up to you and handed you a self crafted bracelet that you gladly accepted. Tighnari watched the interaction take place intently, yet swallowed down his feelings

But then another one came up to you... and another.. with every person that came to you, handing you gifts and trying to flirt with you, his anger at them rose, and he couldn't take it any longer

With an annoyed tone, he pushed all his responsibilities aside for today, went over to you and grabbed your hand, almost demanding of you to accompany him to the city, since he claimed he had some important errands to run and needed your help with them. In truth, he just wanted you as far away from all of the attention from other people as quickly as possible

His lie became obvious pretty fast when he made no attempts to actually go to Sumeru City with you, but you'd already realised why he did what he did, yet decided not to comment on it

the two of you took a stroll along a close by river, and after some time, sitting down and just watching the nature around you

Not many words are spoken, but it's also not neccassary

he has a feeling that you're aware of his feelings for you now, as well. But he won't say anything to you just yet. He needs some more time, but you can be sure that you won't have to wait too long..

Cyno

I see him as one of those people who are not to keen about Valentine's day. To him, it's just a day like anyone else. He's also one of those people that would voluntarily work that day

He's never understood the appeal of it. Why celebrate one special day with your partner, when you can show your love and affection for them any given day? Why safe it for one day in the whole year?

Not that he has a partner to begin with, but it's the whole concept about it that just irks him

however, there is a certain someone that Cyno has had feelings for, for quite some time now. A certain someone that was a desert dweller just like him. Who came with him to the City at a young age and who he stayed friends with all those years

You and Cyno go way back, having been friends with him since you were kids. When he was leaving the desert, he couldn't stand the thought of leaving behind the only person he ever knew and trusted, so he convinced you to go with him. Not like anything was holding you in the desert to begin with, so you agreed

Cyno has come to terms with his feelings for you a long time ago, but has yet to make any move on you. Sure, he's dropped some hints here and there, and made some - very poor - attempts at flirting with you, but you never picked up on any of it

and now, he kinda regretted never telling you more specifically. As every other Valentine's day before, Cyno was working this one, too

he was currently on his way to track some hints he'd gotten, leaving the Academiya, when he catched a glimpse of you, standing on the platform before the Academiya building, surrounded by people

he froze in his steps, deciding to stick around and see what was going on. And it didn't take long until he figured it out..

from the people surrounding you, many were offering you gifts, holding them in front of you and begging you to accept them, while you smile shyly and try to appease as many of them as possible

quickly, jealousy was rising within him, but also his protective side started to show. He knew you disliked crowds, never having the courage to deny people of anything, so he knew you had a hard time right now

without another thought, he rushed to your side, putting an arm around you protectively, while he scared away the crowd under some made up excuse

as soon as they were gone and you had your space again, you let out a relieved breath, thanking him for getting you out of this

Cyno stares at you for a second before looking away again, then claiming that he'd walk with you until you were home safe. Just to make sure that no one else would bother you

on the way there, he's thinking hard. This incident showed him, that he'd have to step up and confess his feelings to you, soon. Or someone else might get ahead of him and snatch you away. And he couldn't let that happen..

Alhaitham

another one who I think wouldn't be too big on Valentine's day, but he'd be much more indifferent about it

much like Cyno, he sees no sense in picking out one "special" day in the year to celebrate love when you can just do it whenenver

however, he does begin to see at least some appeal to the thing when he develops feelings for you, one of his best friends

he loves that he can just spend time with you in silence. That you don't always have the need to converse with him, and instead just enjoy the presence of each other while each of you might be doing their own thing still

however, it still takes Alhaitham some time to accept that he's having these types of feelings for you, so you can't expect a confession from him anytime soon, either

he tries to approach his feelings with logic first, but he comes to realize that logic does not help him in the slightest with this particular "problem"

so instead, he decideds to throw logic out the window for this one and instead settles on the plan to use the upcoming valentine's day this year to actually confess how he feels to you

after talking to a bunch of people about different ideas for gifts, he decides to go with what seems to be the "standard", some flowers and chocolates

he plans on gifting them to you after your shift for the day is done and you're heading home, since he comes by and walks you home from time to time, so it wouldn't be weird for Alhaitham to show up

however, as he arrives, he becomes witness to a scene, similar to what he had planned to do. A man in front of you, asking you to accept his flowers as he asks you out on a date

Alhaitham's heart immediately drops, and he finds himself frozen in place, unable to do anything about it. The only thing he can do, is watch as you laugh awkwardly at the guy and then kindly decline him

seeing you reject him gives him some hope again, and he watches the guy leave first before he approaches you, his gifts for you hidden under his cloak. Even if you rejected him, he was now hesitating wether it was a good idea to actually follow through with his plan

the same exact thing then happened four more times while he was walking you home. Some random person would approach you on the street and hand you some form of a Valentine's present. And every time, you'd kindly turn them down with an uncomfortable smile

seeing the interactions both gave him relief - as you were always rejecting them - but also made him feel more anxious

in the end, when the two of you arrived at your home, he had half a mind to just not say anything at all and just let it go. But then, another thought entered his head that he couldn't ignore away. What if, if he was to forego his chance now, someone else would show up who you'd ultimately agree to go out with?

he couldn't let this happen, not without shooting his own shot, at least

so, before you close the door on him, he stops you, and very awkwardly pulls the flower and chocolates out from under his cloak, handing them to you

he sees the surprise morph into your expression, as he's anxiously waiting for your answer...

Kaveh

I personally think that Kaveh would be very obvious if he has a crush on someone. Wether that be a close friend or someone he doesn't personally know, he's easy to figure out

he wears his heart on the tongue and is very expressive, so one simple question is often enough to figure out what he thinks about certain people

so, it was obvious to you, and everyone around him, that Kaveh has been having feelings for his best friend, You

has he done anything about that or plans on doing anything?

No.

as much as he's aware of his feelings, he also has no idea how to go about it. How would he ask you out in the first place? And why, for all Archon's sake, would you even say yes to him in the first place?

He has to come to terms with that question and many similar ones first, before he feels like he's ready to ask you out

unluckily for him, you're quite an impatient person, and waiting around for him to do something, when you've already dropped so many hints that you liked him, too, was just too damn exhausting

however, luckily for you, Valentine's day was just around the corner, and maybe, you could use that to your advantage..

that day, you'd ask Kaveh to accompany you on a stroll through the city, to get him out of his little office that he's been cramped up in recently to finish a project of his

he gladly took the offer, figuring that he could really use the fresh air. He always loved to spend time with you, talking and laughing with you about anything and everything that came to your minds

however, he noticed that on this particular day, people seemed to approach you every so often, with roses in their hands, engaging in conversations with you that Kaveh stepped away from, not wanting to eavesdrop on private matters

still, he inwardly scoffs to himself. What are these people even trying to achieve? Don't they know that roses aren't even your favourite flowers?

But the more he looks around the city, he slowly comes to realize what kind of day it is today

Now the roses also made sense... and now he could also figure why they were all approaching you, probably to ask you out

And, why wouldn't they? You were a catch, no matter which angle one were to look from. Anyone would be lucky to be able to call you their partner, but.. Kaveh wanted it to be himself, not some random person who doesn't even know you as much as he does

the more people talk to you, the more jealous Kaveh grows as the day goes on, yet he never says anything about it or to you. He just intently watches everyone that dares come closer to you, narrowing his eyes on them, like they just personally offeneded him

once the day is over, Kaveh then locks himself into his office, trying to come up with the most elaborate plan to ask you out. He wanted it to be something grande, something that would be better than anything anyone had ever done for you, that would outdo all the gifts and presents you'd gotten today... and once the plan is set, he'll be making it happen as soon as possible..

Wanderer

not fond about this holiday. At all

he hates how stuck up people can get with their feelings. Why did they have to make a celebration out of it and shove it down everyone's throat?

scoffs loudly whenever he sees a couple act all cutesy and stuff on Valentine's day. It doesn't really bother him all that much on any other day, but that specific day? He hates it

he also hates you. You may be his best - and only - friend, but he hates the way you make him feel sometimes

he tries to deny it for a very long time, chalking it up to some malefunction of his body, but there comes a point in his life where he can no longer deny the feelings he has for you

much to his dismay, the day he'd make that realization just had to be Valentine's day... the fucking irony. Celestia really must hate him

He didn't think anything of it when he invited you to join him for some leisure stroll outside Sumeru City that day. He's waiting for you before Lambad's tavern, impatiently tapping his fingers against his crossed arms

finally, he notices you, but just as he was about to call out to you, he notices someone else approach you and engaging in a conversation with you

the Wanderer had half a mind to walk over there and pull you away, because how dare you make him wait even longer? But then, that person hands you a flower, gifting it to you, and he froze seeing you accept it

soon enough, you'd part ways with that person and finally join the Wanderer, but by that time, his mood has already turned sour

he still goes on that stroll with you, but the entire time, he basically ignores you as he tries to figure out why he feels so frustrated by this interaction. Why would you accept flowers from a lowlife like that? Wasn't he enough for you?

As soon as that thought entered his mind, his eyes widened and he knew he was screwed, that he'd somehow caught feelings for you. But realizing it, and admiting to it, are two completely different things

when you two return to Sumeru City, he witnesses two other people approach and do the same thing, gifting you a flower each that you accept with a kind smile

and with every interaction he sees, his anger and resentment towards them grows and grows

he can't deal with it any longer, so he leaves the scene without any further explanation

he'd have a lot of thinking to do, as well as coming to terms with some things. You wouldn't see him for a while, even if you were to seek him out. He just needed to do this on his own, because the next time he sees you, he plans on making you his, no matter what it would take..

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari headcanons #tighnari x reader headcanons #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno headcanons #cyno x reader headcanons #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x reader headcanons #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh headcanons #kaveh x reader headcanons #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #wanderer x reader headcanons #scaramouche x reader headcanons

[eymie]

Hello! Can you write a Billy the Kid x fem reader smut where they're friends but she works at the brothel or something. He hates the fact that she works there and one night when she's moaning about how none of the guys know what they're doing, billy shows her that he knows exactly what he's doing? Maybe some cocky billy?

BETTER THAN THEM !

warning: smut, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap it), grinding, choking (kinda but not really), prob more but im tired

You’d known Billy for a few years now, meeting as young teenagers. He had a few friends but you were his closest. His free time was spent with you, he watched other men fall at your feet. Begging for just an ounce more of your attention.

He hated when you got a job at the brothel in town, he could've found you a job or his mother could've. You had heard from a few girls in town that it's the easiest way to make quick money and you had jumped at the chance. Your family wasn't well off and you knew you needed this.

He heard men in the saloons talking about you. The wat you writhed under them, whining their names. He knew it was so you'd get a tip but he couldn't help but feel his body tense up. A few of those men leaving with bloody nose and black eye.

Billy couldn't escape the echoes of saloon gossip about your actions at the brothel. The visceral reactions of those men stirred conflicting emotions in him – a mix of discomfort, protectiveness, and an unsettling tension. His response, defending your honor with fists, became a silent testament to the depth of his feelings for you.

He knew he could please you better than any of those grimy men paying for your attention. He had your attention for free. Now here you were sitting in his room complaining to him about these men.

"Billy, they don't even feel good." You groaned, shoving your face into your hands. "At least the money is."

Billy's hands clenched into a fist as he tried to process your words. His voice barely above a whisper, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"None of them have ever made me... you know." You admitted, looking down at your hands. You fidgeted with your hands, looking back up into his pale blue eyes.

His eyes bore into yours.

You continued, pacing around your room frustrated. "They're all so sloppy, and aggressive."

He swallowed hard, taking a step closer to you. "I can make you cum." His voice was low and husky, filled with desire and determination.

"What?" You asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

Billy held your gaze, his eyes burning with passion and conviction. "I can make you feeling things that none of them ever will."

"But Billy--"

"I'm the only one who knows how to touch you just right." His heart was racing as he took another step closer, their bodies almost touching now.

"Billy." You tried again, barely knowing what to say.

"I promise you won't regret it," he whispered, reaching out to brush his fingers against your cheek. The touch was gentle but electric, sending shivers down his spine.

"We're friends." Best of friends, you didn't want to ruin it one bit. You didn't want to break the bond of the closest friend you've ever had, as bad as you needed him.

"We can be so much more than that," Billy replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in closer still, his lips mere inches from yours now. "Tell me you don't think about me."

"Wait." Your hands pressed against his chest but you didn't push him any further away. Your fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt, almost pulling him in with intense urge.

Billy took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. He could feel the heat rising between them as they stood there in silence. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer; he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips firmly against yours.

You lips moved against his, tongues sliding against each other. You ignored any other concern invading your thoughts as you pulled him closer. His hands slid under your dress, nothing underneath.

"I didn't--"

He ignores you, hands finding the flesh of your ass. His hands groping at your ass, squeezing your flesh. You lips part against his, letting out a soft gasp. His hands so close to your shamefully wet folds.

"What pleases you?" His voice was a low whisper against your ear, wetness pooling in your undergarments. Your breath hitched as your mind raced trying to think of an honest answer.

You took a breath, then asked him. "What do you mean?"

"What makes you feel good, pleasures you." His lips brushed against your ear, hot breath fanning against your flushed skin. His hands traveled to your wetness, brushing his finger tips along it.

You hid your face in his neck, squinting your eyes shut as his fingers spread your folds apart, wetness coating his long fingers. Your chest heaved, your body begging to be released from it's clothed restraints.

"I-I don't know..." You stuttered, your was voice low and barely audible. You didn't know what pleased you, what you needed to feel good. His lips pressed against your neck, teeth grazing skin.

His words were hot against your skin, "How do they fuck you?”

In the intense moment, your astonishment mirrored in widened eyes as you gazed at him, his expression remaining stoic, a genuine sincerity cutting through the bluntness of his words. You slowly began to utter, “Billy I-“

He pulls his hand from underneath your skirt, pushing his long fingers into your mouth allowing you to taste yourself. Your tongue pressed along his fingers, your taste invading your taste buds.

HIs inquiry hung in the air, “It doesn’t matter, does it?” Yet, his fingers in your mouth rendered you speechless, creating a moment where words were stifled, leaving the question unanswered.

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth, unveiling a momentary pause that echoed.

His hands travelled to your corset. His fingers deftly worked at the laces of your corset, each gentle movement unveiling a layer of intimacy and revealing a vulnerability that seemed to heighten the intensity of your tension.

Your dress fell to the floor along with the rest of your clothing, undergarments including. His gaze bore into yours, cold air causing goosebumps to your skin, worse under his touch. You closed yours eyes as his hand slid back down between your thighs.

He slowly pushed you down against the bed, hands spreading your thighs. He ran his thumb down your slick folds, collecting your wetness on the tip of his fingers. A sharp breath coming from your parted lips as his rough thumb pressed into your sensitive clit.

"Do they touch you this way?" He asked, pressing your clit harder under his thumb. You shook your head, knowing they just paid to fuck you and not foreplay.

A sense of confidence surging through him, he couldn't help it knowing he was the one making you feel this way. Knowing not another man could make you feel like this one just his fingers.

His finger pressed past your folds, pushing through your gushing entrance. Your hips rose off the bed to meet his hand as he slipped a second finger inside you.

"Moaning on just my hand?" He teased, thrusting his fingers back inside you. You wetness coating his thick long fingers. Your mind raced, never feeling like this by just a mans hand before.

Soft moans leaving your part lips, thighs clenching around his hand. His fingers curled inside you, pressing into your g-spot. You let out a gasp, bucking your hips. His hands were relentless, thrusting his fingers back inside you faster than before driving you towards your orgasm. The wire inside you had tightened, begging to snap.

"Billy-- I'm gonna--" You whined, your hand grabbing his wrist in attempt to stop him. His free hand and pried yours away, pinning it to the bed beside you. Your fingers twisted in the sheets as his hands fucked you closer to your orgasm.

"Do it, cum on my fingers." He encouraged, continuing his thrusts until you writhed under his hands, crying out his name. He kissed along your neck, trailing down to your collarbone leaving purple blemishes. "I bet they don't have you whining like this, crying out my name like it's not just my hand."

His thumb continuously rubbed your clit, fingers curling inside of you. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm, your body sensitive with overstimulation. He felt a sense of satisfaction knowing he could brink you over the edge with just his fingers. He couldn't just stop there.

His fingers were relentless, the way they continuously thrust into you. Moans slipping from your lips, begging for him to slow down just for a second. Your whines falling to deaf ears. His teeth grazed your erect nipples, slowly running his tongue around them.

"Billy, oh--" You hips lift off the bed, his fingers thrusting inside you in attempt to draw out another orgasm. His hands pressed against the fat of your breasts, groping them as he sucks your nipples into his mouth. "Gonna--"

His other hand helps you arch your back off the bed, hips grinding into his hand as you juices coat his fingers. Your jaw going slack as he takes you through yet another orgasm, slowly pulling his fingers from your slick.

"None of those men could make you cum?" He asks again, spreading your thighs apart. You shake your head in response, leaning back on your elbows. You watch as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, groaning at your taste in response.

"Not one of them, Billy." He pulls his fingers from his mouth, wiping his saliva off on his pants. Your legs clench shut watch his fingers slowly unbutton his pants, sliding down his zipper.

"What a shame."

Your lips part as you watch him pull down his pants, an evident bulge in his underwear. Your felt your cunt clench around nothing, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt revealing his chest.

His strong hands turned you over onto your stomach, helping you up onto your hands and knees. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your wet cunt, hips slowly grinding into your cunt.

"Do you want it?" He asked, thumbs rubbing at your flesh. Your slick soaked through his thin fabric, bulge pressing harder into your wet cunt.

You nod, pushing your hips back to try and get more friction. You whine at the way his bulge presses harder against you, fabric rubbing against your sensitive nub.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I want it.” You begged, overstimulated and out of breath. Your hands clench into the sheets wishing he'd just fuck you.

”Will you quit?” His voice was stern, yet you knew he had no sense of anger. He was needy, he needed you and needed to prove himself. He needed to convince you that he was more than anyone else, more than any amount of money.

“What?” You asked, voice cracking. You turned your head back trying to catch a sight of him. He leaned back, hands still holding your hips against him.

“If I can prove I’m better, then you quit.”

“But—“

He was quick to cut you off, “You don’t need that money, let me show you.”

You close your eyes, the sound of his hands pulling down his undergarments filling the silent room. Your fingers grip the sheets, preparing yourself for the stretch.

The tip of his cock pressed into her cunt, swearing her slick around. He slides his cock down to press against your clit making you jolt.

“Don’t tease—“

He cuts you off by pushing his tip past your folds. A moan leaving your lips, whining at the way his cock stretched you open. His large hands pulled your hips back as he slides himself inside you.

“Shh, taking me so well.” He praised, cock breaching as far as it can inside you. He watched as your pussy is spread wide, embracing his cock.

Small whimpers fell from your lips as he pulls back, thrusting back in. He promised himself he’d start off slow, he couldn’t.

“Billy—“ You whined, his thrusts were relentless. Constantly thrusting back in faster than before, unable to hold back your loud moans.

As much as he wanted to hear your noises, the walls were thin and you were loud. His large hand clasped over your mouth muffling your moans.

Your eyes rolled back, moaning into his hand as he brushed your cervix. His free hand slid to pinch your nipples and fondle your breasts. Your cunt stretched wide, insides bullied by his thrusts.

You cried his name but it was silenced by his hand. Your legs shook, holding up your weight as you were overtook by pleasure. His fingers slid from your breast to your clit, overstimulated and sensitive.

His finger pressed into your clit, eyes rolling back in return. Your walls closed around his length, a groan escaping his lips. The wire inside you once again tightening signaling your soon to come orgasm. Your arms giving out under you, your chest and face pressed into the cheap sheets.

His hand released your mouth, silent moans now all that came from it. His hand pressed down on your back, pulling your ass up into the air.

“That’s it, cum for me.” He felt the way your cunt clenched around, drool smearing into your pillow case. The loud sound of clapping skin filling the room, along with muffled moans and Billy’s held back groans.

One harsh thrust sending you into your impending orgasm. Mouth falling wide open as your cum coated his thick cock. His hands pulled your hips further onto his cock, hips grinding into yours as he pushes you through your orgasm.

“Billy— too much!” You whined, pushing your hand behind you against his abs trying to push him back. He grabbed your wrist, holding it tight before thrusting in quicker than before.

“No, not enough.” He argued, letting go of your wrist that fell back beside you without any fight.

He was holding back his own impending orgasm, hoping to fuck you into another one. His hand wraps around your neck, not too tightly but just enough force to pull you back. He pushed his face into his neck, teeth grazing your skin.

"Better?" He asked with a sense of cockiness in his tone. His tongue pressing over your deep purple marks decorating your skin. The way he thrusted into your made your head spin, his finger rubbing your sensitive clit making it worse.

"What--" You moaned, he was quick to cut you off again.

"Am I better?" Billy asked again, this time his tone more annoyed, annunciating his words. You knew what he meant, better than the other men at the brothel.

"Yes," You assured, placing your hand over his own that decorated your neck. Your nails pressed into his hands, scratching his skin as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

"All of them?"

Your cunt squeezed him, his breathing got heavier as he neared his own high. The way your soft warm walls fluttered around his length, spasming as it neared your orgasm.

"Yes, all of them"

Your fourth orgasm ripped through you, your cunt clenching him like a vice. His name falling off your tongue, loudly being moaned into the room.

Your words came out in a jumble of words, stuttering mess. "Billy... please-- inside!"

His brows furrowed, already too late before he understood your begging pleas. He pulled his cock from your tight entrance, seed spilling from his red tip coating your plush skins. Your cunt was raw and used, clenching around nothing.

"Sorry," He mumbled, out of breath. He grabbed a nearby rag, wiping down your skin from his hot seed. Your body collapsed onto the bed, out of breath and tired.

"Billy?" You asked, turning onto your back. Your chest heaved, soft breaths leaving your parted lips. You felt his weight beside you on the bed, the mattress sinking down next to you.

"Yes?"

"I'll quit."

#billy the kid imagine #coriolanus snow #coryo #coryo snow #coryo x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid smut #coriolanus x reader #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney x you #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney smut

[cartierre]

GIUOCO PIANO | cl16

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU charles leclerc x latina!chess player!reader (fc: alexa demie)

part one: queen's gambit

♡ liked by 12,383 others

scuderiaferrariupdates Charles Leclerc arriving at the Albert Park Circuit without any special guest for the third race of the season in a row! Many speculate that there might be some troubles in paradise since he hasn't been seen with his long term girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N in quite a while.

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user1 please say sike right now ⤷ user2 unfortunately they haven't been seen in a really long time together

user3 wouldn't they put out a statement though if they're not dating aynmore? ⤷ user4 they don't have to or maybe the break up is fresh and none of them had found the time or words to do it yet ⤷ user5 sometimes actions speak louder than words

♡ liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, landonorris and 1,528,867 others

charles_leclerc some quiet before the racing begins here in melbourne, australia

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user6 WHERE IS MY GIRL Y/N ⤷ user7 mate i don't think she's coming this weekend ⤷ user8 if they broke up i'll flip the table

user9 y/n didn't even like or comment i'm actually in tears what is this ⤷ user10 at least they still follow each other?

user11 i cannot do this any longer, i just want to know what happened to y/n

♡ liked by 13,483 others

scuderiaferrariupdates Charles Leclerc is arriving yet again on his own at the Baku City Circuit in Azerbaijan. This is the fourth time and the fourth race of the season where his girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, hasn't been spotted anywhere. Is this the confirmation of their break up?

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user12 i just can't believe y/n would be so careless as to not come to his races, or even post about them ⤷ user13 she either really doesn't care anymore or they did break up and we're all just in denial

user14 i just know y/n's friends are fighting right now on who gets charles next ⤷ user15 noooo i laughed but it's not funny ⤷ user16 i thought y/n was charles breaking the homie hopping cicle

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, magnus_carlsen and 463,931 others

yourusername there's a lot to announce so hold on to something. the reason i've been MIA the past few months was the world chess championship. i've been isolating myself with mentors in a hotel to study and practice for my matches to prepare for the championship. a huge thank you to all the people that have helped me, motivated me and encouraged me my whole career to never give up on myself, they're the reason i can call myself a chess world champion now. a special thank you to magnus_carlsen who didn't defend his title this year and was able to guide me throughout our sessions together, i wouldn't be where i am today without your guidance. another massive thank you to my fiancé and the love of my life, charles. Mi corazón (my heart), you've been so patient with me the last months, kept calling me despite my heavy mood swings and motivated me as much as you could. i'm so sorry i couldn't attend any of your races this year so far, but i promise i won't leave you alone for any longer. especially now that we have a big adventure to join soon, parenthood, you won't get rid of us so easily! te amo, gracias ❤️ (i love you, thank you)

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfiction #f1 instagram au #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc x y/n

[thejoyofseax]

Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

#medieval cookery #medieval cooking #food history #historical cookery #historical cuisine #medieval arabic cookery #horticulture #genetics

[stellamancer]

obligatory (satoru gojo x reader)

notes: haha. the valentine's fic. it's funny i still have to post halloween fic. maybe i'll finish this week since i'm off work. uh anyway, for those who say my posts, i'm kind of hesitant to post this for two reasons: 1) it's removed from context— like you can still get a feel of what is going on, but there's no explanation as for why and 2) due to reason 1 it's tonally different than usual, at least according to my beta reader. my eternal gratitude goes to @momodita who helped me workshop this fic and continues to demand i write more gojo fics despite denying being a gojo fucker.

contains: implied f!reader (no pronouns), the return of gojo's pov (a little less whacky this time lmao), jealous gojo (because those who know me know i can't get enough), light angst or whatever the hell is going on there. additionally, for those who don't know giri choco is chocolate you give out of obligation to your coworkers and honmei choco is chocolate you give to someone you have romantic feelings for. part of the infinite loop verse.

wc: 1.8k

“Here you go.”

Satoru graciously accepts Shoko’s offering: a thin, delicately wrapped box of Valentine’s Day chocolate. Naturally, it's giri choco; Satoru is well aware that Shoko would be caught dead before even thinking about giving Satoru honmei choco. That said, it looks like she's given more thought to her gift this year— the last few years she's just handed him a gourmet chocolate bar from some high end chocolatier. Actually, the last time she'd given him something wrapped up like this was…

“There better not be any liquor in this,” Satoru says in a petulant tone reminiscent of his high school days.

Shoko merely laughs. “As if I'd waste something like that on you.”

There's no way she’s forgotten how sick Satoru got the one time she did give him liquor filled chocolates. Not only had it made him sick to his stomach, it'd given him the worst headache of his entire life. If it were up to Satoru, liquor filled chocolates wouldn't even exist. “Welllll, thanks for the chocolate. I'll be sure to get you something good next month.”

Shoko gives him a relaxed smile. “Looking forward to it, Gojo.”

Knowing Shoko, she'll want liquor as usual. Maybe the same bottle of shochu that he got last year? She liked that, but then again, the same gift twice would be boring and Satoru is not about that. Whatever it is will be a little pricey, but Satoru doesn't mind it one bit— anything for one of his oldest friends.

Having given Satoru her yearly offering of chocolate, Shoko shoos him away so she can actually get to work. Satoru considers ambling around for another hour or two, but Ijichi will probably have a heart attack if he delays his mission briefing any longer. The sooner he does it the better, he guesses. Satoru starts sauntering toward the assistant managers’ office to find Ijichi, pulling at the ribbon on the box he received from Shoko as he goes. Inside are two rows of perfectly round chocolate truffles and Satoru picks one at random and pops it into his mouth. It's filled with a sweet raspberry cream that practically melts on his tongue. Shoko really went all out this year, but no matter how good these are they'd never match up to anything homemade.

Though, when he thinks about it, Satoru supposes he won't be getting anything like that this year.

When he gets to the assistant managers’ office he easily finds Ijichi, who, for once, is not bent over a mountain of paperwork, and with him is—

You.

Handing Ijichi a box of chocolates.

For some reason, Satoru suddenly feels very, very annoyed.

“Well, well, well,” he says, the volume of his voice louder than intended, but he doesn't care. “What do we have here?”

Ijichi whirls around and lets out a squeak, his face red as can be. He starts to blubber and it almost feels like Satoru's caught him in the middle of something more illicit than receiving chocolates. If Satoru weren't feeling so annoyed, he'd find the whole sight rather funny.

You, on the other hand, are far calmer, indifferent even, as a slight frown mars your features. Something about it makes Satoru's blood burn hot.

“Did I just interrupt a heartfelt love confession?” Satoru asks dryly and Ijichi starts to freak out even more, and while Satoru notices the slightest twitch of your eye, you remain impassive.

“I hope you like the chocolates,” you tell Ijichi, outright ignoring Satoru and somehow that makes Satoru's blood run even hotter. “I kept in mind what you said about last year's so they're not as sweet.”

“Thank you!” Ijichi squeals and you give the man a sympathetic smile before you head toward the door where Satoru's standing. He knows he's blocking the way, but he doesn't move.

Will you say something to him?

You don't.

Instead, you keep your head down and squeeze past him. Or try to. You brush against his side and Satoru doesn't miss the way your body jolts when you make physical contact with him. But it only lasts a second, and when that second ends, Satoru tries to ignore the feeling of bitterness rapidly spreading throughout his chest.

He means to say something, anything to you, but the words get caught in his throat.

By the time they free themselves, you're already gone.

Satoru sighs and saunters over to Ijichi, who's been taking deep breaths to calm down after Satoru's little bout of teasing. He leans against one of the desks and crosses his arms. “So, you had a mission for me?”

“Right! Yes!” Ijichi squeaks again and takes a deep breath before he starts to explain. Satoru only half listens to the briefing, his attention more focused on the little box sitting on Ijichi’s desk. The mere sight of it spurs a complicated set of feelings. He doesn't understand. You've been giving Ijichi chocolates every Valentine's ever since you moved to Tokyo and it's never bothered him before so why now?

“Um, Gojo?”

“What?” Satoru almost snaps.

Ijichi doesn't answer right away, instead he clears his throat and then says. “It's giri choco.”

Satoru scowls. Of course it is. It's not like you'd give Ijichi honmei choco. You don't see him like that. “I know that.”

Ijichi swallows thickly. Nervously. “Just making sure.”

Then he falls silent, the air between them now terribly awkward.

“...do you want some?” Ijichi asks.

“It's your chocolate.”

“I don't mind sharing,” Ijichi says, reaching over and opening the box to reveal your homemade chocolates. They're nowhere near as perfectly round as the ones Shoko bought for Satoru, but he can tell you put effort into making sure they looked presentable. “Help yourself.”

Even Satoru isn't terrible enough to steal an entire box of chocolates meant for another man, but he does grab the nicest looking one and tosses it into his mouth.

It's bitter; a mix of dark chocolate and black coffee that's not only completely unpalatable to Satoru, but disturbingly reminiscent of the bitter feeling that's now threatening to eat him whole. He almost wants to spit it out.

But he doesn't.

Satoru swallows it all.

The mission is uneventful, absurdly easy even, though Satoru took a little longer than he needed to by toying with the curses a little prior to exorcising them. Some would consider it a touch cruel, but Satoru doesn't care. Anything to rid himself of that pesky feeling from earlier.

If it were up to him, he would have headed straight home afterwards, but Yaga had asked him to come back and do some paperwork. Satoru had tried to reason with him, tell him he'd just do it tomorrow but the principal was insistent.

Satoru trudges to his office and throws open the door. Inside, someone lets out a surprised yelp.

It’s you.

Again.

Both you and Satoru stare at each other in surprise. Given that you've been avoiding both him and this entire corridor like the plague for the past two months, you're the last person he’d expect to find in his office, hovering over his desk. And yet…

You look away from Satoru, your expression awkward. This isn't like your encounter in the assistant manager's office earlier; you can't just walk out of his office without an explanation of why you're there.

Well, you can try, but it's not like Satoru will let you.

“Weren’t you supposed to be out on an assignment?” you finally ask. Satoru thinks you mean to sound annoyed, but your tone is watered down.

“I was, but it was so easy I could have done it blindfolded.”

Normally, you'd just roll your eyes or snap back about how he's a show off or his jokes are shit, but you remain quiet. He shouldn't be surprised, but it still makes him feel weird. Almost sad. Almost empty.

“Principal Yaga asked me to leave some paperwork on your desk,” you say, sounding uncharacteristically meek.

Satoru frowns a little. Yaga, huh? He never pegged him as a meddler. Satoru approaches the desk to look at the paperwork in question; he grimaces— it's a whole freaking stack.

You start to shuffle away from Satoru and toward the door as Satoru flips through all the papers. “Anyway, if you'll excuse me—”

“Wait a sec.” Satoru says and you glance back at him in confusion. There's something peeking out from under the stack of papers. Satoru gingerly fishes it out, revealing a familiar looking box. He holds it up and adds, “Did you leave this too?”

A myriad of varying emotions flashes across your face before you settle on an awkward sort of embarrassment. “I… did.”

It's weird. Satoru didn't expect you to be so straightforward given that under normal circumstances you always choose to be as obstinate as possible. Which Satoru doesn't mind in the slightest; it makes things exciting. There are few things more fun than prying the truth out of you with whatever means necessary. Answering him so readily like this… almost feels wrong.

“I accidentally made too much,” you explain.

Satoru stares at you. It’s not an excuse, not a lie. Honestly, adjusting the amounts to account for one less person probably slipped your mind until it was too late. You could have done anything with the extra chocolate, given more to each person, eaten it for yourself, but instead…

You still chose to give it to him.

Satoru tries to ignore the strange feeling stirring in his chest.

“Anyway, eat it if you want, toss it if you don’t,” you add, almost hurriedly as you move closer to the door. You give a quick bow to excuse yourself and before Satoru can say anything else, you run off.

His eyes remain glued to the empty doorway where you were just standing for a second before looking back at the box of chocolates you left for him. Carefully, he unties the ribbon and pulls off the lid. Just like Ijichi’s chocolates, the ones in his box aren’t perfect, but something about them looks nicer than the ones Ijichi got. Satoru wonders if you consciously put in a little more effort when you’d realized you had extra. The thought makes him chuckle a little.

He delicately plucks one from the box and pops it into his mouth. It’s sweet, infused with a hint of strawberry and vanilla that makes Satoru crave even more. As soon as he’s done with the first he shoves another into his mouth, and then another. With each chocolate he eats, the painful feeling in his chest grows, but he ignores it.

Before he knows it, the chocolates are all gone. Satoru licks his lips, hoping for one last taste of that strawberry vanilla sweetness only to find nothing. All he has left is the empty box and an aching heart.

if you read this whole thing, thank you and i hope you enjoyed it.

also yes, shoko got chocolates (tomo choco) too. they were similar to ijichi's, but with liquor instead of coffee.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #infinite loop!verse

[emphistic]

Alexithymia

Things Reader Should Acknowledge: this is part of my Boy Nextdoor Series, reader and sukuna are in highschool, and they have yet to start dating,

Synopsis: When someone just won't leave you alone, Sukuna decides to take matters into his own hands.

A/N: I'm trying something new: writing from Sukuna's pov, this took me way longer than it should have

Taglist: @starlets-things

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK (REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

Sukuna couldn't stand this new guy — Luke.

Luke has been following you around campus all day, like a lost puppy. Sukuna knew better; Sukuna knew that this was all just an act — that sooner or later, Luke would try to get in your pants.

He's seen this happen to you before. It resulted in his shirt being stained with your tears as you cried in his arms.

Sukuna wondered why this made him so mad, why the ache in his heart increased, why you — the smartest in the class — couldn't even realize what you were doing to him.

Usually, you and Sukuna walk to class together. Actually, scratch that. You and Sukuna always walk to class together. But that almost changed today.

Sukuna told you that he had to use the bathroom, and to just wait outside for him — which is what you did. But when Sukuna finished his business and came outside, expecting to see you — which he he did; he did see you — but he didn't see just you. A blonde boy; Luke, was also there, attempting to look cool by leaning against the locker, and he was talking to you.

The pink-haired teen could've sworn that smoke came out from his ears at the sight before him. That Luke boy was taking up all of your attention that you didn't even notice that Sukuna had finished up in the restroom.

Sukuna approached you from behind, and put a firm hand on your shoulder, making you jolt in surprise before realizing it was just Sukuna.

"Oh, hey, 'Kuna! We were just talking about you," your cheery voice lightened Sukuna's mood just a bit, "this is Luke. He's new — just moved here from [insert city]. That's where you lived before moving here, right?"

Sukuna grunted in reply.

"See, you guys already have something in common."

Bless your sweet heart for trying.

Luke avoided Sukuna's eyes, "Uh, haha, yeah. Anyways, about what I asked you earlier—"

"What did you ask her about?" Sukuna asked, raising a brow.

"He was offering to walk me to class. Um, so about that—"

"Sorry, Kid. I'm already walking her to class. Besides, it's better that way. We have Chemistry together. Wouldn't wanna be late to your first class, Bud."

"Sorry, what? I'm in the same year as you. I am not a kid."

"Oh, my bad. I just assumed your age there. I was going off of your short stature."

You turned around to swat at Sukuna's arm, "Don't be mean. He's not even short, you're just a giant compared to everyone else."

Sukuna rolled his eyes, and took your arm, dragging you off to class and away from this wannabe.

"Hey, what's your problem? He was literally trying to be nice, like, I know we walk together but you could've at least told him that in a nicer way."

"My problem, is that that boy won't leave you alone. Can't he just take the hint that we're busy, and he's wasting our time?" Sukuna tightened his grip on your arm, and picked up his pace, you had to practically sprint to match his speed.

"Are you serious right now, Sukuna? He is not wasting my time. He's just being nice."

Nice? Were you that oblivious? Sukuna would show you what being nice really was.

The pink-haired teen groaned, "Again with that word, huh?"

And with that, the two of you guys enter the lab without another word.

You were fuming, why was Sukuna making this a whole ordeal? What does he have against Luke? (These questions were better left unanswered.)

Lunch wasn't any better. Sukuna sat across from you, as per usual, with your guys' friend groups as well. Only difference was a fly buzzing in your ear. Not literally, of course. But someone very much like it.

"So," Luke began — with his mouth full of food (to which you mentally gagged), "you free, this afternoon? I have this assignment and I'm sorta confused about it. I heard you're quite the smartie pants." You cringed at his words, again.

"I . . . actually—"

"If you're confused, just ask your teacher. It's really not that difficult," Sukuna quipped.

This time, you didn't scold Sukuna. After all, Luke was being an absolute pain in your ass.

Luke frowned, finally closing his mouth.

Thank the heavens, you sighed.

Sukuna noticed your relief, and smirked. He was glad you finally saw past Luke's façade.

Eventually, the bell rang, and most people started to throw away their trash and exit the cafeteria, you and Sukuna included.

You stood on your tippy toes in order to whisper in his ear, "I see why you were annoyed earlier. Hopefully Luke doesn't have the same class as us."

Today the universe was on your side, because guess who came waltzing into your English class? That's right, the annoying fly from earlier.

Sukuna facepalmed in disbelief, while you shrunk in your seat — hoping that Luke wouldn't notice you and the pink-haired boy sitting in the back, nonetheless, the empty desk right beside you.

Spoiler alert, none of your wishes were granted. Nada.

Luke practically skipped to his seat, and sat down on your right. All the while, your teacher droned on with her lesson.

You messily jotted down notes, and daydreamed for the majority of class.

Sukuna seethed with anger as he watched Luke slowly — but surely — edge his chair closer and closer to yours. You, on the other hand, seemed to not even notice the blonde's actions.

"—so, kids, I will be assigning a group project worth 35% of your grade. It will be due—"

Luke immediately put his arm around your shoulder, "Let's work together. It'll be super fun, you can come over to my house, tonight!"

Something in Sukuna snapped, he saw red. If he was a volcano, he would surely be erupting right now, "That's just too bad, Blondie. 'Cause she's working with me." Sukuna put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his chest.

Luke's expression twisted into looking utterly appalled by Sukuna. However, the pink-haired teen remained stoic.

"Whatever." He muttered, under his breath, before storming off to elsewhere.

Luke turned to you, to see how you would react, but you avoided his gaze. "Sorry, Luke. I'm sure there's someone else you can work with?"

Luke scoffed.

You turned to Sukuna and gently rubbed his arm in a coaxing manner, "Don't hurt him. Please."

Sukuna sighed — a long, deep sigh.

The rest of the day went by quickly, you and Sukuna forgot about Luke — almost as if he never even happened. You packed up your stuff and began the usual walk home.

You laughed, "Well, I'm friends with you. So I guess you could say I like ugly things."

Sukuna made small talk with you, his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

Jazz music played from nearby cafes, and bookstores. He noticed your gaze lingering on some windows. You stared especially long at a plushie of a hideous beast (Sukuna's way of saying animal).

Sukuna scoffed, "You seriously into that ugly shit?"

Sukuna rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. You made a mental note of him not denying the word "friends".

A fortnight had passed — since your meeting with Luke, and as you liked to call it; 'twas the season of love.

Unlike you, Sukuna frowned when he saw what day it was — the 14th of February. He groaned, and fell back asleep with an arm over his eyes.

The only reason Sukuna even made it to school was that you wouldn't stop spamming his phone with calls.

You had to practically drag him onto campus.

It was funny though, every class you entered, there was at least someone who gave you chocolates, or flowers, or both! Sukuna stifled many sneezes on that day, poor baby. Actually — not really.

You weren't the only one with many admirers, you see. Sukuna had many girls (guys as well) come up to him during class, during break, even when he was in the bathroom there were people trying to barge in.

Your day was going really well, well . . . until the end of school. Sukuna was about to head out through the school gates, when he noticed you weren't by his side anymore. His head whipped around to see none other than that blondie by your side.

Sukuna sighed, loudly. He thought he was finally free from this annoyance, but guess not.

"—I got you these chocolates, Y/N. Happy Valentine's Day!" Luke smiled.

You took the heart shaped box into your arms, "Thanks, Luke. I . . . appreciate it!" You struggled to find the words.

"Of course. I mean, a girl as beautiful as you deserves only the best, right?" Luke saw Sukuna standing just a few feet away from you, and sped up his speech, "A-anyways, bye, Y/N." The blonde boy sprinted away, almost tripping every few steps.

You sighed, and walked back towards Sukuna. He recognized the chocolates as a cheap brand from some drug store he visited to buy his grandpa's meds.

He looked at the box and rolled his eyes.

"Haven't we tried these chocolates before already? I thought you hated them," Sukuna scoffed.

You nodded, "It's not his fault. He just didn't know."

"Sure."

That same evening, you came over to Sukuna's house for your guys' weekly movie night. You had brought the chocolates you received at school and you shared them with Sukuna — he also had the chocolates he received.

A rom com played on the TV in Sukuna's room, the both of you were comfortably seated on his bed. You had your knees up to your chest, and a blanket wrapped around your whole body. Sukuna was different; he sat cross-legged, with only a pillow on his lap.

Then, he remembered.

"I'll be right back." The pink-haired teen abruptly stood up, temporarily blocking the screen with his tall figure, and stalked away to his closet. He slid the doors open and took out an Amazon box.

He presented it to you, and you asked, cocking your head to the side, "What's this?"

"Ignore the box, I had nothing else to put it in." He gestured for you to hurry up and open it. And that's what you did. Sukuna remained standing, near the bed.

"I love it! Thanks a bunch!" You got up to your knees to reach Sukuna's face — you were still a little too short, so you pulled him down — and kissed him on the cheek, right as the couple on the screen kissed as well.

Your eyes instantly lit up, a wide smile on your face.

"Aww, 'Kuna! You didn't have to." Inside the Amazon box was a pack of chocolates — that you actually liked — and the plushie you were staring at while walking home from school one day.

Sukuna looked taken aback, shocked, but not displeased — quite the opposite, really. He didn't know having a girl kiss him would feel so, so . . . what? He didn't know the right word for it. He didn't have the right word for it.

He turned around, concealing his reddening face, "It was no big deal, I just wanted to use you to get me something back for White Day."

You giggled, seeing the tips of his ears turning pink. He was lying, and you knew that.

When Sukuna finally calmed his pounding heart, he turned back around and sat on the bed next to you.

You could clearly see a stamp of your lip gloss stained onto his pale cheek, and you giggled again.

God, since when was your laughter like music from Heaven? Sukuna thought.

His heart was racing, again.

The night ended with you showering Sukuna with kisses all over his face, except for his lips. The movie was long forgotten.

Sukuna loved it. He loved the feeling of your lips all over him. He loved the ecstasy, the bliss, after it all. He loved you.

You set one of the shots as your wallpaper and another as your profile for Sukuna on your phone.

It's safe to say that you could not stop laughing at seeing his stained face. Seeing him covered in your kiss marks made you kiss him even more.

You took a picture of him, pictures actually. Enough pictures to fill up a 365 paged book. And you even got to capture a picture of him smiling, very different from the usual scowl on his face.

"Anyways," you started, after ceasing your attacks, "wanna get lunch some time? Heard there's a new place that just opened up."

Sukuna nodded, without a beat of hesitation.

Because if this was how he died, — you as the cause, with your kisses littered all over him — he wouldn't pull away from your grasps for even a second.

#sukuna fluff #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #sukuna is such a sweetheart #so ooc once again

[yoon-kooks]

darkroom | jjk

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, vampire!au, college!au

Summary: When you somehow end up in an advanced photography class that you definitely shouldn’t be in, you seek the help of shy nerdy boy Jeon Jungkook to preserve your 4.15 GPA. It isn’t until after you stumble upon him in the darkroom that you realize your cute little nerd is actually a super hot vampire with an icy cold stare and beautiful burgundy eyes.

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: minimal blood (just him sucking away), sex on school property, oral (f receiving), dry humping, orgasm denial, jk has dom vibes, he's an arrogant asshole at times, mention of hemophobia, switches to jk's pov 3 times

A/N: i wrote a vampire fic for jk's bday 4 years ago, and here we are again with another vampire fic;;;; enjoy!!!

“What do you mean I can’t drop a class I never signed up for?” Your head is about to explode. You’ve been fidgeting around in the most uncomfortable chair across from your counselor for what feels like ten hours, trying to get to the bottom of why you were placed into the Advanced Photography course when you have nothing to do with photography. “There has to be a way, right?”

“Sorry, this is already an under-enrolled course, which means the whole thing will have to be canceled if you or any other student drops it.” Great, he’s forcing you to stay for the sake of your professor and classmates whom you have yet to meet. That totally won't fuck up your 4.15 GPA at all.

“Okay, but I haven’t taken the prereqs for this course, and I’m not even majoring in photography.”

“Remind me what your major is again, Miss L/N.”

“Biochemistry?” You can’t even hide your disgust at this point. What an utterly useless counselor and waste of time. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude,” (you definitely mean to be rude), “but you’re basically setting me up for failure over a dumb mistake that I didn’t make. If I don’t get accepted into med school because of this, that’s on you, sir.”

You storm out of the counseling office and make it all the way to an empty hall in the art building before breaking down into tears. It’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard to maintain your grades in the toughest of STEM courses, but this one photography class is about to fuck you straight in the ass.

You’ve never been an artsy person, which is why you’ve always stayed far, far away from anything remotely creative. The one “artsy” course you’d been forced to take as a graduation requirement was a coding design class, and it was a pain in the ass even though you came out of it with an A. But the point is, you’re not cut out for a photography class, especially not an advanced one. And it’s shitty to know that you’re stuck in one for a whole semester.

After patting your tears away, you regroup and walk into the photography room. Your counselor was right about one thing: this course is severely under-enrolled. There are more empty seats than taken ones. You count seven other students when there are supposed to be twenty. They all seem to be chummy with one another (perhaps from all those prereqs they took together), but no one even bats an eye your way, including the professor. It would’ve been great if you were allowed to drop this class and have it canceled altogether. Every single one of these assholes would have suffered the consequences instead of you.

A minute before the first class starts, a boy scurries to the corner of the room with big round glasses and the darkest eyebags you’ve ever seen. He has the look of someone who’d spent his entire high school career staying up until 2AM to study for the SATs and never quite recovered, someone who forgoes hanging out with friends to make an essay ten pages longer than it needs to be, someone who takes on multiple internships and jobs at once, someone who cries when people undermine his hard work, someone who actually gives a shit about school and his future. 

You’d know. You have that same look, that same aura. No one looks at him, either.

Your internal 4.3 GPA detector is going off.

“Welcome to the fall semester of our Advanced Photography course,” your professor begins, looking around at all the empty seats. “Since we have a small class this semester, it’ll give everyone more space to learn and expand on their photography skills. Let’s start by having everyone introduce themselves one by one, and just give me a brief idea of your experience with photography.”

You tune out as the first person is introducing herself because you really couldn’t care less about any of the assholes who ignored you and clearly already think they're above you. They all say the same thing anyway, reminiscing about their past projects from other photography classes they’ve taken. Yeah, you’re still bitter about the prereqs.

When it’s your turn to introduce yourself, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I take photos for a popular Instagram model slash influencer.” 

That catches their attention. It’s not a lie, either. Your 3-year-old black cat has 40,000 followers and over a dozen sponsorships with brands like Greenies, Chewy, and even your local coffee shop. Her passive income is what’s putting you through school right now. And you can’t let all her hard-earned money go to waste by failing this photography class.

“What kind of camera and equipment have you used for your Instagram photos?” your professor asks. It’s a valid question, but you hate her for asking it anyway.

“My phone,” you say in the tiniest voice. That earns you a few chuckles and plenty of eyerolls, and it kind of hurts your feelings. You want to disappear. If anyone asks who your model is, you’re going to run out of the room and drop out of school altogether. Your Instagram-famous kitty will support you financially for a while until you can secure a STEM job that can overlook your dropout status.

The only person not ridiculing you is the boy you thoroughly judged and profiled for having dark circles. He introduces himself as Jeon Jungkook, someone with a few internships and a professional photoshoot under his belt. Your 4.3 GPA detector tells you he’s being modest about his experience and achievements, though. His voice is soft, and he’s terrible at making eye contact, but something about him is comforting. Maybe it’s that his presence makes you feel as though you aren’t the only outcast in the room.

As your professor is busy lending out very expensive-looking cameras and a shit ton of equipment to each student, you investigate the camera you were given. Your lack of camera knowledge is so bad that you don’t even know how to turn it on, or if cameras like this even have power buttons. In the end, you just look like a boomer who can’t figure out how to turn off their iPhone. You’re overwhelmed by unfamiliarity while everyone else treats it like it’s second nature.

You’ve always been the one to reach out and help others in your STEM classes. But in photography, you’re the one in need of help, and you don’t know how to ask for it from people who probably don’t give a shit about you.

Oh no. You feel the tears coming back.

“So… who’s the Instagram model you take photos for?” Your back arches up like a cornered cat until your mind processes who that soft voice belongs to. You turn your head to Jungkook standing there with the round glasses and dark circles and a lot more piercings than you’d expect from someone who most likely carries a 4.3 GPA. Damn, you really need to stop profiling people like that.

“Her name is Stella.” You pull out your phone, open the app, and hand it off to your curious classmate. Showing him your collection of cat photos is only slightly less embarrassing than explaining it with words.

“She’s cute…” he says as he scrolls through the chaotic adventures of Stella the cat. His thumb pauses over a post of her loafing and blepping. The photo quality and composition might not be up to the standards of this advanced class, but at least you can say you have an adorable kitty companion on your side. “You really don’t have any other experience with camerawork?”

You shake your head. “I literally know nothing about photography, and I’m not even supposed to be in this class, but my counselor won’t let me drop it because he’s a dipshit.”

“What was the reason he gave?”

“He said if one student drops the course, the whole thing would have to be canceled due to under-enrollment as if that would guilt-trip me into staying. Not that he even gave me a choice.”

Jungkook’s big eyes spot the tear about to fall down your cheek. You blink it away as fast as you can. The last thing you want is to look pitiful in front of another classmate. School is where you’re supposed to thrive, not be defeated.

“Anyway, thank you for letting me rant.” You give the boy a half-smile as you pack the camera back into its bag. You’ll have to watch some TikTok tutorials later. Especially since your very helpful professor has just handed out your first assignment to take a photo of “something cool” and make a print in “The Darkroom,” whatever the heck that is. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the occult club, and everyone else in the room is in on the joke except for you. Because you’re the only student who didn’t have the luxury of learning about The Darkroom in the beginner-friendly photography courses. Those damn prereqs.

But maybe, with Jungkook here, you don’t have to go through this shitty class alone.

Just as you’re about to leave the photography room with all your equipment, you turn to Jungkook who also has his mouth open with something to say.

Jungkook’s POV

You were definitely about to cry. And as much as Jungkook would rather not get involved with a cuter-than-average human, you’re exactly what he’s weak to. Especially when you have that tiny sparkle in your eyes—not the sparkle from the tears but from the passion you have for school. Your counselor really screwed you over for no reason, and Jungkook just wishes you didn’t have to suffer the consequences. You don’t deserve that.

He’ll help you so you won’t have to cry anymore. All he has to do is scare that dipshit counselor a little—perhaps drain him of his blood until he agrees to wipe the class from your schedule… or he could stand in solidarity with you and threaten to drop the course as well. He’ll go with whatever seems more convincing.

“Um, Jungkook?” Shit. Your voice is so sweet like honey. He’d really like to taste you right about now. But he can’t. That would be inappropriate.

Jungkook nods slowly, still very much entranced by your beauty and innocence. He can’t even look you in the eye. If he did, you’d surely notice how red his irises are turning with lust.

“If it’s not too much trouble for you, do you think you could help me pass this class?” You look so weak and vulnerable like you’re being a bother to him for asking for help. You’re probably not used to asking others for help because you seem like the kind of person who tends to rely on herself. “A couple of study dates might be fun.”

He bites his tongue as his eyes travel down to the floor between you and him. How can he respond to that—to someone as cute as you? He doesn't hate the idea of study dates, but he can’t let himself do that. He’d get too carried away and end up hurting you. That’s what happens with most vampire-human relationships he’s heard of. Your blood probably tastes like sugar. You’d become his new addiction. As soon as he gets a taste, he won’t be able to resist you. That’s the power you hold over him.

“Or, I mean, they don’t have to be dates… I didn’t mean to assume you were single or interested in someone like me or—” You pause to study Jungkook’s face. He must be doing a horrible job of concealing his internal struggles. You probably think he’s a loser by now. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything. I’ll figure things out on my own.”

Your voice is shaky as you walk away. He needs to do something, anything to cheer you up. The thought of seeing you sad hurts more than a silver dagger to the heart.

“Y/N,” Jungkook finally speaks. “Which counselor rejected your request to drop the class? I just wanna talk.”

As you lay on your bed and stare at the empty wall, you don’t really know how to feel after leaving that cursed class. Jungkook said he’d state his intentions to drop the course to put more pressure on your counselor, which was a kind gesture. But the boy also rejected your study dates. And that might be what hurts most. It’s a reminder of why you shouldn’t ask others for help. You’re the only person you can truly rely on.

After spending the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for yourself, you finally look into some photography tutorials and set up a mini photoshoot for your cat. She cooperates at first but leaves you with a big scratch on your cheek for taking too long and getting too close to her with the lens. Great, even your own cat hates you.

By the time you’ve captured enough pics, it’s already dark out and way later than you thought. That works out, though, because it’s unlikely that anyone else will be in The Darkroom at this hour. The last thing you want is for any of your classmates to see you struggling in there.

The campus is eerily empty and quiet at night, and it’s at times like this when you’re thankful your apartment is only a five-minute walk away. The art building is empty too, but it’s going to take more than all those premature Halloween decorations to scare you off. After all, this totally beats the awkwardness of running into your classmates.

You hum as you open the door to The Darkroom. As one would expect, The Darkroom is quite dark. The red lighting screams occult club, but maybe that’s just you and your ignorance of both photography and the supernatural. Everything is fine until you hear a few things being knocked over. You’re not alone after all.

“Sorry, I didn’t know someone was in here. I’ll come back later,” you say without seeing which classmate it is. You suppose you can kill time by doing your daily Wordle on the bench in the halls. In honor of the premature Halloween decor surrounding you, your starter word will be “blood.” But before you can make a u-turn, you hear a voice that’s both familiar and different at the same time.

“I’m done in here. You can use it.” The voice exudes confidence and mystery in a way that’s luring you in. You step inside and see two glowing eyes staring back at you. The lighting makes them look almost burgundy.

“Wait, I didn’t just crash an occult club meeting, did I?” You probably did. That’s the only logical explanation (besides the lighting) for this person’s glowing red eyes. He could be cosplaying as a vampire for all you know. Apparently everyone is celebrating Halloween early this year.

“What?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his tone.

You walk further and further into The Darkroom until you can finally see who you’re talking to.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. It’s just Jungkook. If it had been a cosplayer from the occult club or anyone else from your class, you would’ve opted for Wordle in a heartbeat. “For a second, I thought the occult club was doing their thing in here.”

“Their thing?” The boy’s brow piercing lifts. It takes a second for you to notice he isn’t wearing those cute round glasses, and you almost confuse his lip ring for a fang. His hand is also covered in tattoos that you’re 99% sure weren’t there before. He looks so different in this lighting.

“You know, like summoning demons, talking to ghosts. Stuff like that,” you hum, walking around The Darkroom like you understand what any of that equipment is used for.

“Or hunting vampires?” he plays along.

“Exactly,” you laugh. God, he’s so cute and definitely your type. It’s a shame your study date idea got shot down.

As soon as you make your way back around, you catch Jungkook staring at you, almost shamelessly. It’s a lot different from how he avoided eye contact with everyone during class.

“What happened here?” He points to his cheek, mirroring the spot where Stella the cat had her big meltdown. You're surprised he can see the cut in such shitty lighting without his glasses.

“My cat lashed out at me during our mini photoshoot. Are all models such divas?” As ridiculous as it sounds, that’s the direction your life is going in right now. If you can’t get into med school because of this whole debacle, you’ll be stuck as your feisty cat’s photographer for the rest of your life.

Jungkook narrows the gap between you and him until you can see the tiniest features on his face, like the cute little dot hiding in the shadow of his lower lip. The back of your thighs hit the counter as he cups your chin in his tattooed hand. His icy touch gives you goosebumps. The Darkroom suddenly feels too small to hold the both of you, like you’ll suffocate if you stay in there. You should probably leave, but something about the boy is enticing you to stay.

“It’s dangerous, you know. Letting your cat scratch you like that,” he whispers against your cheek. Despite how cold he may be, you feel your whole face heating up with him so close to you. The fact that he’s worried about a tiny cat scratch is so fucking endearing. You didn’t know such a boy existed.

“Yeah, it’s kind of unsanitary when their litter box claws cut into our skin like that, but I’m used to it,” you shrug.

“But you’re bleeding.” Jungkook’s burgundy eyes follow your thumb as you swipe it over the scratch. The wound does still feel a bit fresh.

“A little bit of blood won’t hurt anybody. Unless they have hemophobia.” It suddenly occurs to you that the boy might not fare well at the sight of blood. “Ah shit, do you have hemophobia?” you ask with the most concerned look on your face.

The boy shakes his head. “A vampire wouldn’t last long if they were scared of blood.”

He grabs ahold of your wrist and brings your hand up to his parted lips. Your thumb grazes the metal ring around his lip and then the sharp tips of his canines. His tongue caresses your thumb until there’s no more blood for him to taste.

Your head is spinning as he lets go of your wrist. You don’t need a biochemistry degree or an occult club membership to know that the boy pinning you against the counter isn’t human. And the cutie you met earlier with the round glasses is someone much darker and more mysterious than you could’ve ever imagined.

“Are you really a vampire?” you ask, looking right into those bloodstained eyes of his. You really hope so. A vampire would be a lot more socially acceptable than, say, a demon.

“Why don’t you test your theory?” Jungkook pulls the camera out of your bag and hands it to you. “Vampires supposedly don’t show up in photos, right?”

He’s not wrong, but you aren’t trying to waste any more time with that cursed film camera. Instead, you pull out your phone and—

“Hey, no cheating.” He snatches the phone from your grip and hands you back the cursed cam. You swipe your paw at him in hopes of reclaiming your phone, but he pulls it just out of your reach. Why is he being a dick all of a sudden? You liked him better when he was all shy and cute with the round glasses. But you suppose that was just a facade to distract people from what he actually is. “I’ll help you develop your film and make your print. Unless you were planning on going to TikTok for help.”

He’s not wrong, again. You did watch at least twenty photography TikToks with your cat before coming here, and even then, you’re not super confident about pulling the whole thing off without any mistakes.

“Okay fine,” you sigh, snapping a shot without even looking through the viewfinder. For a second, the alleged vampire looks like a deer in headlights.

“You do realize the lighting is practically nonexistent in here, right?” Unimpressed, Jungkook pulls you into the photography room across the hall and turns on the light. You squint the same way your cat does when you wake her up in the middle of the night to catch the creepy crawlies in your room. “And let me make sure your camera settings aren’t all fucked up.”

Once your eyes are finally adjusted, you get a better look at the boy fixing your camera. The red in his eyes isn’t as intense now, but they’re still really pretty. His hair is all ruffled in a super sexy way as opposed to the neatly combed style he had earlier in class. And all those hand tattoos make you wonder if there’s a whole sleeve of ink hidden beneath his shirt.

If he was cute as a button before, he’s hot as hell now.

“If you’re done drooling over me, you can take the picture now.” He takes his seat in the corner of the room and rests his legs on top of the desk like a gigachad. His icy stare into the camera is the icing on the cake. Turns out he’s good at modeling too.

“I wasn’t drooling over you,” you hiss. If he teases you one more time, you’re gonna lose it.

“Sorry, I meant eye-fucking me,” he hums as if that’s less of an insult. Whatever. You have to remind yourself that this arrogant boy is the key to passing this class. You can’t get into a scrap with him now or else your 4.15 GPA is as good as gone.

When the impromptu shoot is over, you have a decent amount of film ready to be developed. Hopefully Jungkook shows up in the prints whether or not he’s a vampire because you put a lot of thought into each composition. You’d also secretly want to keep the best one for your eyes only because that boy is truly a work of art. He may or may not be your new guilty pleasure.

Back in The Darkroom, Jungkook goes through the process with you step by step. He clarifies a lot of small details that your TikToks missed, like when you ask about the parts that need to be done in total darkness vs the red safelight. And he’s actually good at explaining it in a way that appeals to your scientist brain with all the chemicals and variables involved. He’d make a fantastic professor whom you wouldn’t mind bothering during office hours.

“We’ll let the film dry overnight and do the prints tomorrow,” the boy says as he gathers up his stuff and throws his jacket back on. Tomorrow? It’s a little concerning that you didn’t know this would be a two-day process.

“So I won’t know if you’re a vampire until tomorrow?” You’d like to know asap so you can rule out demon as a possibility because demons are kind of freaky. Although you’re sure Jungkook would find a way to make demons as seductive as vampires.

“Or I can answer your question right now.” He strides over to you and presses his lips into the nape of your neck. The way he sucks on your skin is delicate enough not to leave a mark but strong enough to send a naughty little signal down to the spot between your legs. “I’m told I’m not very gentle, though.”

Rough. He’s rough. And he could be rough with you. You wish you weren’t so turned on by that thought. This handsome vampire boy is really stirring the pot in that sacred section of your brain where all your sexual fantasies are stored away.

“I can wait until tomorrow,” you say before you can change your mind. No one said it would turn into sex (except for your dirty little mind), but now you’re curious to know what vampire sex might entail. Maybe it’s better than anything you’ve experienced.

“It’s better I leave before you tempt me with your other cat scratches, anyway. Specifically the ones on your thighs,” he says, ushering you out of The Darkroom and toward the exit of the art building. You’d like to know how he knows you have cat scratches on your thighs. Either vampire noses are extremely sensitive to blood, he has x-ray vision, or he’s aware of The Feline Urge to jump into your lap and knead your thighs with those tiny little claws. 

It’s much chillier outside now than it had been when you first arrived on campus. You didn’t think to bring a jacket, so you hug your camera bag in hopes that it’ll keep you warm on your walk home.

“Humans are so weak to the cold. It’s pathetic,” the boy says as if he doesn’t have any weaknesses of his own. Garlic? Silver? You make a note to yourself to compile a list of everything vampires might be weak to as soon as you get home. But instead of walking off like you’d expected him to do, he waits around and asks if you live nearby.

Jungkook’s POV

He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let you walk home by yourself in the dark on this chilly autumn night. That’s what any other rational vampire would have done. After all, vampires know better than to get involved with humans. It’s statistically proven that humans are safer without vampires around. By that logic, you would’ve been better off walking home alone. 

But he would never live it down if something bad happened to you on your way home. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a five-minute walk. Besides, you looked so fragile and needy the way you clung to your camera bag for warmth.

So after shedding his jacket off and throwing it over your shivering shoulders, Jungkook finds himself walking you home. The five-minute walk isn’t unpleasant, either. He learns that you’re a biochemistry major hoping to get into a good med school, though he doesn’t think it should be an issue for someone as bright as you. You also talk a lot about your cat Stella and all her little antics and how you firmly believe that black cats are good luck instead of bad. He’s never considered himself much of a cat person, but that tiny sparkle in your eye is making him reconsider everything. Maybe he’ll visit the animal shelter tomorrow (just to browse!) or spend the rest of the night watching cat TikToks.

The most intriguing part is that, even though you suspect he’s not human, you haven’t treated him any differently. Typically, when humans learn of his vampire roots, they either freak out or ask too many questions pertaining to Twilight. You, on the other hand, make him feel like less of an alien and more like a boy you have a crush on. And that’s something he hasn’t felt for as long as he can remember.

As the two of you reach the door to your apartment, you hand the jacket back to him and pause before heading in.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say in the most angelic voice. “For helping me with the assignment and walking me home and not letting me freeze.”

“No problem.” That’s not entirely true. There’s definitely one problem he can think of. Now that he knows where you live, there’s little stopping him from knocking on your door like a pathetic lost puppy whenever he’s craving your taste. He’s already struggling to control himself around you as it is. He would have bitten straight into your neck and sapped you of your sweet syrupy blood if you hadn't said you were fine with waiting to see what the prints show. Curse you and your patience.

A meow and some scratches from inside prompt you to open the door. Your eager little kitty completely ignores you and circles Jungkook like a shark. Her tail is extra bushy as she rubs her face against his leg.

“Does that mean she likes me?” he asks. He knows about cat language as much as you know about photography—not much at all.

“She likes you more than she likes me,” you say, wiping away a fake tear as you step through the doorway. “C’mon Stella, we have to let Uncle Jungkook go home now.”

Still ignoring you, Stella stretches her arms up Jungkook’s leg. He quickly picks up on the cue to lift her and cradle her like a baby. The warmth of the cat is soothing against his cold vampire body.

“She wants to come home with me.” His lips curve upward ever so slightly as the sleepy kitty purrs against his chest. If a seven-pound cat can emit this much warmth in his arms, he has much to look forward to when you and him—No, no. He shouldn’t be thinking with his cock at a wholesome time like this.

“Fine, you can be her new photographer. See if I care,” you say with a faux hmph. Two seconds later, you’re desperately trying to pry the stubborn Stella out of Jungkook’s arms. And although you eventually get the cat back, she flails around in your arms for the remainder of the farewells.

“It was nice meeting you, Stella,” Jungkook says, waving goodbye as he reverses out of your doorway and heads toward his apartment. “Oh, and Y/N, keep the vampire thing between you and me.”

“Sure, I won’t tell anyone,” you call out to him. He knew he could count on you to be a good girl. “But only if you agree to go on some study dates with me.”

Fuck. He should have known you’d put conditions on it. He already rejected your study dates once, but things have changed since then. He’d been scared of losing control and hurting you if he got too close to you, but you showed him that sparkle in your eye and now he’s committed to helping you succeed in any way possible. Even if that means going on a few study dates with you. He just has to learn how to keep his blood and sex cravings in check.

“Fine,” he says.

@jjk817263: Hey, meet me outside the art building in 20 minutes so we can finish your prints.

@fairycatstella: sorry stella isnt taking on any more sponsorship requests at this time thank you

@jjk817263: No, no. I’m not a company contacting you about a sponsorship. It’s Jeon Jungkook. From your Advanced Photography class? The one with the glasses. I helped you develop your film in the darkroom.

You burst out laughing at your phone screen. Even after the night you spent with him in The Darkroom, he really thinks you’ve forgotten about him already. He’s as awkward online as he is during class with the round glasses. Except you don’t think he’s just pretending to be awkward right now. It’s kind of cute to see him squirm.

@fairycatstella: youre seriously asking me out on our first study date by sliding into my cat’s DMs??

@jjk817263: You didn’t give me your number.

@fairycatstella: you didnt ask for it! smh

@jjk817263: Whatever. Stop calling it a study date or I’ll suck you dry🧛

@fairycatstella: you dont scare me btw

@fairycatstella: unless youre actually a demon. demons are 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

@jjk817263: What’s wrong with demons? What’d they ever do to you?

@fairycatstella: have you ever seen demon slayer

@jjk817263: Yeah, I’ve seen some demon slayers in my days.

@fairycatstella: 👁👄👁

@fairycatstella: nvm we can watch it together on another date. it’s good but too scary to watch alone

@jjk817263: I swear if you call it a date one more time, I’ll call up all my demon buddies and you can host a watch party with them.

@fairycatstella: DATE💋

You smile to yourself like an idiot. As much as you’d like to tease him about his cute little “threats,” you have a study date to get ready for.

When you arrive on campus, you immediately spot the boy with round glasses leaning against the concrete structure just outside the art building. It’s still early in the day, which probably explains why his dark circles are so prominent. That doesn’t make him any less cute, though.

“Hey,” you say, tapping on his shoulder. He looks up from his phone and nods, barely acknowledging your existence. Wow, you can’t believe you made an effort to look cute in your corduroy dress only for him to give you the cold shoulder. Literally. You suppose that’s where the expression comes from. “Ready for our study date?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at the taboo phrase.

“Ready to meet my demon friends? I have a lot of them, you know. And they’re always hungry. That watch party isn’t going to be so fun when you see your grocery bill,” he throws back at you. He’s serious about it, too. 

“Oh no, that’s absolutely terrifying,” you snicker. You honestly don’t care what kind of wholesome threats Jungkook comes up with next. Sounds like he wouldn’t harm a fly, like he’d catch it and release it outside instead of swatting it against the wall. So yeah. You’re going to keep calling it a study date until he completely loses it, bites you, and introduces you to the forbidden concept of angry vampire sex.

He shuts his eyes, rubs his temples, and mutters something along the lines of, “for fucks sake,” as he drags you into The Darkroom.

As soon as the two of you step inside, Jungkook removes the round glasses. His dark circles slowly start to disappear as the red deepens in his eyes. His tattoos creep onto his skin like they’re drawing themselves in. What a beautifully mysterious creature he is.

You’re suddenly reminded of something worth mentioning. “I’ve been meaning to ask why you downplay your appearance so much with other people.” Or whenever he’s not alone with you. You get that the darkness plays a role in altering a few of his physical features, but no one’s forcing him to wear those glasses.

“You mean why I look like the nerdy kid sitting on a 4.3 GPA?” It’s as if he can read your mind. Maybe that’s one of his vampire powers.

You nod, although you don’t mean it as an insult the way it came off when he said it.

“So people don’t ask me out on study dates.” He cocks his head with a smirk. Oh boy, he really knows how hot he is and how many people would ask him out if he looked like this all the time. He’s like the opposite of a catfish, except his “nerdy kid sitting on a 4.3 GPA” look was still cute enough to bait you into asking him out.

“What do you have against dates?” 

He shrugs. As much as he likes to complain about study dates, he’s pretty quiet now. 

Ah, shit. Maybe he’s aromantic and you overstepped. Or maybe he’s just not interested in you. Fuck.

To fill the silence, you start on the next steps in making your prints, whatever those might be. You must look like a lost lamb because you’re pacing back and forth holding things and not knowing what to do with them. Thankfully, the boy steps in to guide you the rest of the way. Crisis avoided.

As your first print sits in the developer solution, you watch the shape of the boy’s body fade onto the page—his hands clasped behind his head, his legs propped up on the desk, and his gorgeous eyes that still pierce through you in black and white. You should’ve guessed he’d show up in the print, considering you did see him in the tiny negatives that developed last night. Still, it’s not like you knew at which point vampires were supposed to magically disappear in the photography process.

Does that mean he’s not a vampire after all?

“Still drooling over me, huh?” Jungkook says as he monitors his own print soaking in the solution. His photo looks like a small pond, but it’s hard to make out anything beyond that until it develops more. “Don’t forget to move the print to the next solution.”

You do as you’re told and move your print into the stop bath. Perhaps you’re a little biased, but your photo of the boy looks like it’s coming out pretty well, composition and all. Or maybe he’s just handsome enough to make any lackluster photo into something extraordinary. It’s probably a mix of both.

After letting your print sit in the stop bath and fixer solutions, you admire the finished product of your first attempt at traditional photography. Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook is really, really hot, and he photographs well. You’ve already established that fifty times by now. But you’re also proud that you made some creative decisions and didn’t fuck it up the way you’d been half expecting. Maybe this advanced photography class won’t be the bane of your existence after all. And at the very least, you’ll come out of this class with some eye candy decor to liven up your minimalist bedroom.

“The whole thing about vampires and photos is just a myth, you know.” Jungkook walks over to your station and points at himself on your print. “I can confirm that this guy you’re drooling over is really a vampire.”

You nod, relieved that he’s not an evil demon prince or anything scary like that. At this point, it would’ve been a bit of a letdown if it turned out he wasn’t a vampire. It also puts your mind at ease to know there’s some sort of explanation for his fetish with your cat scratches, even if it’s not a scientific one.

The thought of vampire sex doesn’t even cross your mind. Until it does. For some reason, you imagine that cute boy with the round glasses losing himself in a desperate lust and longing for your body after getting the tiniest taste of your blood. You hope he’s as rough as they say he is.

To distract yourself from those wildly inappropriate thoughts, you look through your strips of film for more photos to print. You pick the one you took of your cat just before she pounced at you and another of the vampire that focuses on the details of his hand tattoos.

While you process those prints one by one, you examine Jungkook’s completed pond print. It gives off quiet, cozy vibes with a family of ducks out for a swim and a couple sitting in the grass with their sketchbooks out. How do you know they’re a couple? You don’t, but that’s the assumption from the onlooker's point of view. And it’s a tender moment that you wouldn’t expect from a guy who acts like dates are taboo.

“This might be a dumb question, but can vampires feel things in a romantic sense?” You really hope the question doesn’t come off as insensitive in any way. But you’re curious to know more. After all, he’s still very much a mystery to you.

Jungkook nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. We can feel whatever humans feel. Less of some things, like the cold. And more of other things.”

Heartbreak. You wonder if heartbreak is to blame for his dark response to your question and his distaste for dates.

“You asked what I have against dates,” he continues as you move your cat print from one solution to the next. “I don’t have anything against them. I just avoid them to avoid feeling certain feelings.”

“You don’t want to feel romantic feelings?” You finish the cat print and start on the one with Jungkook’s hand tattoos. 

“It’s complicated for vampires.” He frowns at your cat print. It’s a cute pic of Stella’s dilated pupils, but the blurriness isn’t going to work for your assignment. You suppose you’ll just hang it up next to your eye candy decor. “And it’s especially complicated when said vampires let themselves fall for humans. You look like the kind of person who’s seen all the Twilight movies ten times, but you don’t need to be a diehard fan to realize the consequences of that sort of relationship.”

Perhaps he’s afraid of endangering the human he falls in love with. You don’t exactly know how much self-control vampires have over their lust for blood, but regardless, it’s in their nature to prey on humans. By avoiding close interactions with humans (ie. your bothersome study dates), nobody catches feelings, and nobody gets hurt. If you had to guess, that’s the reason why Jungkook tries to be so distant and cold with you. Because if he outright hated you, he wouldn’t waste his time guiding you through the basics of photography.

“First of all, how dare you profile me and assume I’ve watched the Twilight movies ten times.” You’ve actually seen them over twenty times each, but who’s counting? “Second of all, is the Volturi coming for us? Don’t answer that. And lastly, does a relationship really have to be off the table for you?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s situational.”

That’s true. You can’t always control how you feel or who you fall in love with, no matter how hard you try not to. But that’s all you really needed to hear from him—assurance that he’d give love a chance if that’s where his heart’s pointing him.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly ready to change the topic. You barely hear him because you’re busy humming away as you pull your last print from the fixer solution. “You look awfully happy making all those prints.”

“I think I finally got the hang of it.” You glance at the hand tattoo print and decide to submit that one for the class assignment. You captured the details of his tattoos pretty well, and the exposure is just right. It also helps that Jungkook’s face is out of frame so that your classmates can’t start any rumors. Mission accomplished.

“Weren’t you crying just yesterday about not being able to drop this class?” he teases you. You knew it. He’d seen the tears you tried to blink away, he’d heard your cry for help when you ranted to him about your dipshit counselor, and he did what he could to help you find your footing again after you’d hit rock bottom.

“That was before you agreed to my study dates,” you remind him. “Before you helped me realize I’m not actually terrible at photography.”

“So you’re saying I threatened your counselor into letting you drop the class for nothing?”

“You got him to change his mind?” Your eyes widen. Who would’ve thought that worthless counselor would have a change of heart. “What’d you threaten him with? A tea party with the boys?”

“The boys?”

“Your hungry demon buddies, obviously. I’m sure they’d love some biscuits and scones.”

“They prefer meat, actually. The expensive kind,” he plays along to your banter. “Are you taking notes for your grocery run before the big watch party?”

As much as you’d love to conquer your fear of demons, you don’t want a big watch party. You want it to be just you and him—a party of two that involves minimal watching and lots of touching.

“Well, regardless of your method, thank you for dealing with that headache of a counselor for my sake,” you say. He didn’t have to do that for you nor did he have to teach you everything you know about photography. But he did, and that means the world to you. He might act all cold and arrogant sometimes, but you know he’s still as caring as the bespectacled cutie you first met in class. 

“So what’s the verdict? Are you gonna drop the class or stick around?”

“I would have dropped it,” you start off. If not for a certain vampire, you’d be running down to the counseling office as fast as you can to banish that class from your schedule. But since Jungkook’s willing to keep up these study dates for the rest of the semester, you’d like to think you can pass the class without jeopardizing your chances of getting into a good med school. You’re sure your cat’s influencer status will also benefit from all the photo tips and tricks you’ll learn along the way. “But right now, you’re giving me every reason to stay.”

“Good.” He eyes you up and down, more so out of admiration than lust. Looks like your efforts to look cute are paying off after all. “You’re the only one I can tolerate in that class.”

“Aww, you’d be lonely without me?” you tease with a big fat smile on your face.

“I didn’t say that.” Deny, deny, deny. You don’t buy it anyway. “It’d be a lot more boring, though. That’s for sure.”

Jungkook steps closer until you can feel the chill of his body robbing you of your warmth. He pulls the prints out of your hands and tosses them aside onto the counter behind you. With your hands now free to roam, you slide them up to his neck and comb them through the stubborn tuft of hair sticking up. His eyes are the reddest you’ve seen them. That’s not all, though. Under the red lights, everything feels more intense—the intimacy, the temptation, and the kind of danger you aren’t afraid to explore.

He slips the strap of your dress off your shoulder and strokes his thumb against a sensitive spot along the nape of your neck. The chills you get from his cold touch fuel the heat down below, right between your legs. You’re curious to know how good it’d feel to have his icy fingers all over your hot little pussy. Amazing, probably.

You feel something sharp and jagged graze your skin like a cat claw when Stella paws you politely for attention. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s also not cutting into your skin at all. The boy pulls back for a second to hold your gaze.

“It’ll hurt a lot more than a cat scratch, you know.”

“More than a cat bite, too?”

“Yes.”

“More than a lip piercing?”

“Yes.”

“More than a tat—”

“Y/N,” he puts an end to your rambling. You only shut up because you like the way it sounds when he says your name. “It’s painful, and I’m not just saying that to scare you. I won’t do it if—”

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him. You may or may not have cried once when your cat bit your toe in her teething days, but he doesn’t need to know that. The last thing you want to do is chase away the boy who’d avoided close human interactions up until this point.

He nods before spinning you around and pinning you against the counter with your ass facing him. You tilt your head to the side and let him grope one of your breasts from behind as he finds that sweet spot on your neck once more. Your grip around his arm tightens in anticipation.

Before you know it, all you feel is a rush of pain. The kind of pain you’d imagine if your cat evolved into a saber-toothed tiger and made you her next meal. You can’t tell if it’s his fangs sinking deeper into your skin or the rapid draining of your blood that hurts more. The boy bites down harder, and a whimper escapes your throat against your will. This one feels more like an injection with the fattest needle the doctor can find. A different sensation from pain quickly invades your body. It’s burning with intensity.

The two holes in your neck suddenly feel hollow as the boy pulls back to check on you. You look over your shoulder. His eyes are wide with concern, and his lips are beautifully plump and drenched in your blood. It looks more like a sweet strawberry glaze. Is it bad that you want him to kiss you with those lips?

“You okay?” He wipes the blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb before it can drip down his chin. His tongue cleans up your neck as well. To your surprise, the pain vanishes, or maybe you’re just numb to it. 

You nod. You might not have been okay a few seconds ago, but you are now. Your body just feels hot. Really hot. Like if Jungkook doesn’t get you out of your dress right now, you’re going to lose it. 

You spin around to face him and press your body against his. Your fists cling to his black crewneck, your eyes beg for him to undress you, your body aches to be touched.

Finally, the boy takes a hint and slips your body out of the dress. He lifts you onto the counter and stares at you in your cutest lingerie, perhaps plotting where he might bite you next. Before he can think too much about it, you throw your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

His lips collide with yours. Your tongue gets tangled with his. It’s messy, dirty, loud, but you love every second of it. Not even the hint of blood you taste can spoil the moment.

“Mm, you're driving me mad, Jeon,” you whisper down his throat as you start grinding against his crotch. That big bulge in his pant has been tempting you for far too long. You wonder if anyone’s ever been kicked out of photography class for having sex in The Darkroom. Thankfully, there’s a lock so no one can walk in while you’re being fucked on top of the counter… or while negatives and prints are being developed.

You feel his hands sneak down from your waist. The tips of his fingers loop around your panties and slip them off your booty with such finesse. You’re ready to return the favor by freeing what you assume is a nice and swollen vampire cock trapped in his tight jeans, but he keeps on going with his own agenda. You’re not complaining.

He lifts one of your legs and leaves a trail of eager kisses up your inner thigh. His lips are so soft that you almost forget about his fangs. He could very easily bite you again, but he doesn’t.

As his lips get closer to your center, you can’t stop thinking about how desperately you need his tongue to soothe the unbearable ache between your legs. You haven’t even been touched yet, but you already tell that you won’t last long.

Before he goes in for a taste, he glances up at you helplessly pleading with your eyes for him to start pleasuring you already. Your face is so flushed with heat and sex, and it’s apparently distracting enough for Jungkook to stare at for a good minute instead of touching you.

Impatient and frustrated, you move your own hand down, but you’re immediately caught. He holds your wrist with a firm grip and gives you a devilish smirk. “I want to watch you squirm some more for me.”

You knew it. He gets a real kick out of torturing you in such an aroused state. You whine like a hungry little kitten as you roll your hips out of desperation, but there’s nothing to grind against, nothing to rub away your thirst for raw and rough sex. You’re so powerless.

“Good girl.” Pleased with your behavior, the vampire licks his thumb and strokes you once between your wet folds. You cry out in pleasure with your head thrown back and almost come on the spot. That’s how well your body responds to his touch and the sound of his voice.

“More,” you beg. You’re back to square one with nothing but a soaked pussy that isn’t being tended to. Who knows how long he intends to keep toying with you like this. “Please, more.”

He throws both of your thighs over his shoulders and pulls you in by the ass until he’s got the perfect view of your poor little pussy all drenched in your own lust. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your entire life. 

You admittedly have a kink for guys eating you out, but all the other guys you’ve slept with had to be convinced to test the waters (they were shitty), and a few of them didn’t even bother hiding their lack of enthusiasm (they were shittier). So the fact that Jungkook’s mouth naturally gravitates down there is not only a pleasant surprise but also a huge turn-on. You wonder if he somehow picked up on that kink of yours, or if it’s a byproduct of being a vampire who lusts after the taste of his lover.

Without warning, his tongue presses into you and flirts with that swollen aching bud of yours. You grab a fistful of the boy’s hair the way you’d be clawing bedsheets if the two of you weren’t stuck doing it on campus. God, he must be so fucking good in bed where no one has to worry about knocking over expensive photo equipment or spilling chemicals out of the trays neither of you bothered emptying before things got physical.

The first time he sucks your clit between his lips, the raw and filthy moan you let out is comparable to the moans you usually reserve for the best orgasms. That’s how fucking good his mouth feels. Hopefully, the walls can block sound as effectively as they block light.

“Don’t come yet,” he warns, still very much into your pretty little pussy. You nod submissively even though he’s far too invested in eating you out to look up. There’s something so charming about a guy who likes giving oral as much as he likes being the dominant one. Jungkook clearly knows how to do both.

You really start to come undone when he feasts on your clit like a lollipop, working his tongue and sucking at the same time. It must be the best lollipop in the world because he’s really going at it with impassioned moans and groans of his own. Hearing him enjoy it only brings you closer to hitting your high. Your eyes roll back and your lewd sounds keep leaking out of you like a broken record, as if your body has completely surrendered to the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Fuck, Jungkook, please, I—”

There’s a knock at the door.

Your whole body stiffens. You’ve never been interrupted during sex. What do people normally do? You’d ask Jungkook, but he’s still busy with your lower half.  And he obviously knows there’s someone waiting outside because he snorts at the muffled gasp you almost fail to contain.

“Um, we’ll be out in a minute, sorry,” you call out in as steady of a voice as you can manage while on the verge of coming.

A second later, the boy finishes you off with a soft and sneaky bite and a whole lot of tongue to help you ride out your orgasm. It’s probably the only vampire bite that’s all pleasure and no pain. You wish all of them could be like that.

Your sex sounds would have been much louder and filthier if someone wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door, but the soft whimpering you do isn’t exactly wholesome either. Even after the pleasure fades, you need to take a moment to catch your breath and come back down to reality. 

Jungkook does the same, dropping your legs from his shoulders and licking your creamy lust off his lips. He waits at the door for you to straighten up and slip your dress back on since you were the only one on the receiving end. It’s an absolute tragedy that his cock didn’t get any action, but you’re hopeful there will be a next time.

“Would you have kept going?” you ask after the two of you escape The Darkroom. He’s walking you home without even offering.

“Did it seem like I was done with you?” He narrows his eyes at your ignorance.

“No… but I mean, how much longer were you going to make me wait?” If you had to guess, you’d say he had another solid twenty minutes in him. After all, he was savoring every bit of your taste.

“That’s for you to find out next time,” he says so nonchalantly. So there definitely will be a next time. Good to know. Now you have time to mentally prepare for the long and delicious torture ahead. “You’re gonna wish someone interrupts us again.”

Sounds promising.

Jungkook’s POV

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” you ask him with that dang sparkle in your eye. He nods, of course. “I think I enjoyed our quickie in The Darkroom more than any sex I’ve had in the bedroom.”

That’s because vampire fangs contain a special venom that temporarily enhances the sexual urges and pleasures of the humans they bite. Apparently, it brings their pleasure up to the same intensity that vampires feel (aka a lot more than the average human).

The problem is that Jungkook doesn’t know how to bring it up to you. You clearly didn’t handle the bite all that well, and he doesn’t want to sound like he’s just pressuring you into giving him your blood in exchange for a better sexual experience.

“Do the Twilight vampires have any special venom?” he asks.

“It turns humans into vampires, I think,” you shrug. “Why? Are you planning on turning me into a vampire?”

“No, no,” he waves off your valid accusation. That’s a loaded question for some other time. “The venom I injected you with—”

“You injected me with venom?”

“Yeah, but it’s harmless… kind of.” He’s digging himself into a hole. It’s probably better to just be frank. “It’s like a sex enhancer so humans can feel the same level of pleasure as us.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips in thought. Your duck face is quite adorable. “Is that why I felt so hot after you bit me?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I should’ve told you soon—”

“Wait, so are you actually bad at giving oral, but I just enjoyed it because of the sex venom?” Another valid (but rude) accusation. He can tell you’re just messing with him, though. You do this cute little nose scrunch thing whenever you’re being flirty.

“Fine, I won’t bite you next time.” All this talk about a next time. Hopefully you want a next time as much as he does. He’s already yearning for your body to be his again. “Then you can tell me how much you hate it while your wet little pussy rubs itself against my tongue and—”

“Okay, I get it. You’re a good lay with or without the sex venom,” you snicker. The way you keep referring to it as “the sex venom” is so endearing for no reason. Everything you do at this point is charming the fuck out of him. That’s how bad he has it for you, though he’d never outright admit it.

When the two of you arrive at your doorstep, Jungkook waits for you to pull out your keys and say goodbye. But instead, you stand there and blink at him. He blinks back.

“Do vampires need to be invited in?” You sound so shy all of a sudden. Maybe you like his company. Maybe you want someone to cuddle up to while watching that demon thing you won’t shut up about.

“Is that your way of inviting me in?”

“We could watch Demon Slayer?” you suggest as you open the door and usher him in. He still has no idea what Demon Slayer is, but he’ll watch it with you if it means you’ll never lose that mischievous little sparkle in your eye. 

Jungkook nods. He’s starting to feel like what the kids these days call a “simp.” Except, the things he does for you are unconditional. He’s never looking for anything in return, not when he talked your counselor into letting you drop the class, nor when he decided to help you out in the darkroom. The only thing he’s made you promise is to keep the vampire thing a secret. And that just comes with the territory.

“Don’t invite your demon friends, though.” You throw your arms over his shoulders and give him a nice long kiss. God, he loves how good you taste. Kisses aren’t supposed to be sweeter than blood, but yours are. “I want you all to myself.”

He carries you to the bedroom, plays with your cat, and decides that Inosuke is his favorite Demon Slayer character. He even helps you hang up your new wall decor even though it makes him feel like he’s your new celebrity crush. 

But his favorite part is the way you run your little fingers across his cold skin, the way you trace his tattoos and say you want one too, and the warmth you radiate when you’re with him.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts vampire smut #bts vampire au #bts college au #vampire jungkook #jungkook #bts

[atxxzist]

the crown prince | c.s

summary: with the fall of the king, the kingdom of utopia rest on prince san's hand. but when bounties are put on his head as the consequence of his ancestors' actions, he realize there's a backlog of history to undo and a lot more to prove that he's deserving of being the rightful ruler

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: prince!san, commoner!y/n, medieval au, angst, fluff, suggestive

word count: 19k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

age 8:

you live in the fifth district, the poorest and most rundown of all districts, sitting at the bottom of the kingdom with a large body of water surrounding it.

the only remarkable thing about the place is the port that's often used for traveling in and out of the kingdom. other than that, rarely anyone from other districts would come down unless they want to be at risk of a flood--which always striked the district the hardest out of any others.

but even then, despite the limited portions of food your family has to survive on each day, or the hardrock wood mattress you guys have to sleep on that frequently gives your aging father back pain, life doesn't seem all that bad.

you still have your family and a roof over your head, and a mind too young and optimistic.

age 10:

just two years after, you soon find out how hard it really is for a kid living in the fifth district, and especially one without parents or someone to love and care for them.

the fishermen had said your parents fell overboard and their bodies couldn't be recovered.

you couldn't believe it at first that no one looked even the least concerned or urgent to search for your parents, but you soon learn that their lives are meaningless, and the people that threw you out after their death made sure you knew so is yours.

"ay, kid, we could leave you out here to die if we really want to," one of the tall, scary looking man says after your episode of protesting and crying starts to annoy him.

and easily like that, they both leave you in the orphanage that's already overcrowded with other children of similar circumstances.

you lose everything in one day; the house your father built from scratch, along with anything that's ever been handmade by your mother, it's all gone. they're both gone, and you feel yourself withering away with all the loss.

before the age of eleven, you become nothing more than a ward of the district and the responsibility to a bunch of strangers who probably doesn't care whether you live or die.

age 11:

it only takes a year for you to become almost nothing like the person you were once before who was cheerful and optimistic.

all of it beat out of you, watching every day as some of the children gets yelled at or punished for doing something so trivial, it desensitized you to the point you're no longer surprise to hear someone get told no one else would want them outside of the orphanage.

you don't talk to anyone or attempt to make any friends. you keep to yourself and would often read any books you could find or hunt for any sewing materials during the few time of the day they let you guys out.

age 12:

during dinner, you hear the group of kids sitting at the nearby table talk about the upcoming coronation of the prince.

"it's not even like we're gonna get to see it," one of the girls squeak, seemingly uninterested in the topic as she pokes her food because it's true.

events like that, especially any celebrations or gatherings are only reserved for those in the second and first districts, who are usually of noble and royal status. not nobodies like you guys down here living off of scraps and remnants.

"i want to see how the prince looks like," another boy adds with a mischievous tone.

you, too, want to see what the prince looks like, but you most likely never will. he won't come here and the chances of you going up there is damn near impossible, it might as well be good as a dream.

but all of the children agrees that he's the luckiest kid in the kingdom, and for that, they hate him for it.

age 13:

through the years, you've been watching as kids go and new ones would come in.

those that left were lucky to have gotten moved or adopted into a household that were willing to take them in, and you, like all the other kids in here, tired of the overcrowding and deteriorating state of the orphanage, hope that a kind family will one day swoop you away.

but it doesn't happen at age thirteen, and you continue to share a bunk with the same girl from three years ago who's been here longer than you.

age 14:

the states of the lower districts only seems to decline as you get older with the corrupted hierarchy and the rich taking all the resources for themselves.

for hundreds of years--you've learned, that it's always been bad, but everything's looking far worse than it has even four years ago.

but with the conditions in the lower three districts deteriorating, the citizens are growing more vocal, bitter, and resentful of those that resides in peace while everyone else is suffering.

the disparity not only made everyone despite the higher ups, but also each other as the stresses of the poor states get to them. and with you living in one of the three's, it made you harbor a hatred toward the top two districts as well, unable to see them past anything but greedy and power-hungry.

slanders of the royal family increased then. talks of overthrowing the king or starting a war for equal resources for all districts, and some even saying they'd rather swim across the ocean to reach kingdom aurora than to live in this "hellhole". but at the time, they were nothing but empty threats to make one feel better.

age 15:

you were so scared at first, hearing of all the horror stories told by the older, taunting kids who's gonna get moved into a family soon, that you're gonna be unlucky for the rest of your life and not get chosen like them.

that you're just gonna stay here until some lowly men decides to buy you off, or probably meet a worse fate.

but one sudden day when the director of the orphanage comes running into the dining hall and announces to all the kids to be on their best behaviors because someone from the second district is going to be coming down the next day, your life changes for the better at the age of fifteen.

you didn't think you had a chance at all, but you still wanted to try because no matter the intense dislike you hold for the two higher districts, if there's an opportunity for a better life, you're going to take it.

it's better than staying here and suffering. everyone else is becoming desperate and you're not any different.

the lady comes the following day as expected, her carriage alerting the entire place of her arrival as all the kids are on their knees with desperation in their eyes.

you guys have never had any visitors from a district so high up before, so this is very crucial.

when she walks in, everyone bows to welcome her, the sight as equally mesmerizing to others as it is to you. never in your life have you seen anyone with so many pearls and jewels, the gown she's wearing made of only the best materials.

it then hits you harder that however this lady decides to take you in, you're going to be living a comfortable life no matter what.

she takes one look around the room, all the children secretly crossing their fingers and it's when her eyes land on you and her lips turn up into a smile.

the director tells her you're a good kid. often guarded and doesn't really get along with the others, but well behaved nonetheless.

it feels weird to be the one everyone's envious of when you were usually on the opposite spectrum, but now passing all the kids as you make way to the front door, all their burning gazes planting a seed of guilt because you understand the feeling all too well.

but with the nation in this state, all anyone can do is look out for themselves. eventually, their time will come, and this just so happens to be yours.

the lady sits you down in the carriage next to her while the coachman leads the way back. she informs you will be working under the family as a servant but will be provided housing, food, and even freedom from time to time.

"i heard you like sewing."

you nod shyly at her words.

"i learned it from my mother."

"good. then you will have the opportunity to hone the skill."

the trip to the second district takes a total of three days, the only times you guys stopped was for food or toilet breaks. when the coachman announces the arrival, your first time seeing the scenery is that to of a fish fresh out of water.

you didn't even know trees or grass could be that green. or that it's not always supposed to feel like a sense of dread that takes the smiles off people's faces until they just look straight miserable.

it's as if you've entered a completely different nation, unable to comprehend the huge difference already, even in comparison to the third district.

the lady is quick to disappear into the house almost the size of the orphanage itself, calling for someone else to escort you around and show what the next couple of years (and possibly, the rest of your life) has in store for you.

you're to wake up at 5am everyday to prepare food for the noble family, and will be sharing a chamber with three other female servants: the main cook, the main cleaner, and another young girl about your age.

you're only allowed to wander during weekends with authorization and is only to go out for groceries or other necessities. other than that, any rule breaking will have consequences.

for the next couple of days, you practice the routine.

waking up in the early morning and prepping breakfast, then cleaning, and repeat for lunch and dinner. sometimes, you'd get to do different tasks like helping the noble daughter pick out a dress or shoes for the day, but that's only if you get called.

you pick up the cooking and cleaning quite fast because you used to help your parents a lot. and though the work hours can be tiring, the food you're eating and the place you sleep in is a lot better.

you also get the occasional freedom and access to improve your seamstress skills, and it's not the ideal life, but it is the best one for someone like you.

--

you hear a grunting sound close by one morning when you decide to wake up earlier than usual.

turning to the source, you see a figure far away near the tall gates, prancing around in his heavy armors with a sword in his hand. the sight definitely amazes you as you're only able to stare in awe before accidentally creating a ruckus that catches the attention of the stranger as he turns around.

it's still dark and you can't see his face very well, only until he starts walking toward you.

"can i help you?" he asks, voice a type of husky but innocent.

"oh, no." you shake your head, "i was just uhm... watching."

he chuckles and looks to the ground, your eyes trained on the way his dark hair ruffles along with his movements until he's staring at you again, finally out of the poor lighting.

he's cute and has childlike features. definitely not an appearance that gives away he could probably slice you dead right now if he wants to.

"you're the new worker," he vocalize, and it takes you a second to figure how he knew, following his gaze to the door of the chamber behind you.

"ah, yes i am." you nod.

"cool. well, i'm the gatekeeper. jongho."

"gatekeeper?" you crank an eyebrow, so far behind on rich people terminology, you have no idea what that means.

"i just protect and patrol the place in case of any intruders. it sounds fancy but it's really not. you don't have to keep it formal, though. we're all servants here."

"i see." you smile tight-lipped.

he also does look a little too young to be manhandling weapons or putting his life on the line, but you too, are also too young to be losing your parents and getting sold off as a servant.

for anyone in the lower three districts, it is all for survival.

you soon learn that jongho was born in the fourth district but he's been living and training here for so long, he can barely recall his time there.

and you're not sure what it is about him that makes you open up given the fact you've been closed off for so long ever since your parents death and the comprehension of the cruel world you're living in, but through the year and before you turn sixteen, you find your first true friend in choi jongho.

age 16:

you get acquainted with hongjoong, a friend of jongho and a messenger who travels in and out of the districts to deliver any important information.

you're not sure how he keeps his identity on the low in spite of the growing tension between all the districts, but jongho assures you he has his ways.

jongho spends his days training with many kinds of weapons; swords, spears, daggers, crossbows, and just about everything when he's not guarding the house--which he usually isn't because the second district is still relatively safe at this time.

but if there is any outside attackers, it would be jongho's and the other men's responsibilities to protect the noble family. it's what they've all been trained for.

you still cook and clean, and your sewing skills have gotten increasingly better that you also started picking up embroidery.

on the occasion, jongho would teach you how to use a dagger just so you'd have some knowledge of self defense and protection considering the alarming state of the nation.

and now that you're living under people of noble status, royal parties and balls were the standards. not that you'll ever get to attend them for yourself, always hearing about it for an alternative or watching the noble family dress up in pretty attires that cost hefty coins before they waddle off in their carriage into the first district.

hongjoong returns a week later, informing you and jongho that the conditions, especially in the fifth district, is really bad that some citizens have decided to risk their lives in hope of reaching the kingdom of aurora since ships and boats cannot be sailed without approval from the royal family.

"it's basically a death sentence to be living in any of the lower districts at this point. i fear if the king doesn't do anything about it, a civil war may be on the horizon."

age 17:

not much changes and hongjoong has said that the king, along with other royal and noble families, refused to take actions since the dividing of resources for all the other districts would cause the first and second to falter because they do not have enough for everyone.

it's better to keep some afloat than to put the entire nation at risk.

"but sir, that's only going to keep running the citizens out of the nation, and the ones that do stay are becoming angry. the first organization against the royal family already formed, calling themselves outlaws. and they're not just ordinary citizens. they could infiltrate the two higher districts if they want to. a solution is not to only keep them happy, but to also prevent a war."

"then strengthen the security. we also have equally skilled men, if not, more. send any able-bodied men to the gates of the first and second district and don't let anybody from the lower threes enter."

age 18:

things only get worse. nobody is allowed to travel freely between the districts anymore and anyone from the first two were strongly advised not to go down because the chances of getting robbed or assaulted are high.

the four working men in the house dwindled down to two because the other two, including jongho, would be sent to guard the entrance. but during rotation when he gets to come back to sleep and eat, he'd tell you that it's eerily quiet, but that all the lower districts know the higher ones are blocking off entrance and might retaliate soon.

"we should be prepared for the worst. hongjoong said the fact they're quiet might mean the organization is planning something."

age 19:

for a while, security at the entrance decreases when it looks like the lower districts weren't gonna try to do anything about it.

jongho and the other men in the house were able to stay around longer, sometimes even for a few days straight without going back, and the outrage did feel like it was just a false alarm.

no one in the higher districts, even hongjoong, were prepared for the storm that is after the calm.

"y/n! wake up!"

you groggily groan at the voice, sounding both hushed but eager as it jolts you from sleep.

it's jongho and he looks absolutely terrified, his figure hovering over your body still in bed.

"come on, y/n! we have to get going!"

you don't have the time to take in anything, jongho already pulling you up harshly to stand on your feet as you hurl out more groans and complaints.

"what's going on? i was sleeping, you know."

"the king is dead."

it's those words that makes you more awake than ever, unable to believe as you just stare dumbfoundedly while he ravages the drawers for more appropriate clothings.

"w-what? h-how?" you can barely form anything coherent at this point, your heart racing so fast.

"he was assasinated," jongho reveals, throwing a loose, oversized shirt at you. "we're not sure how they managed to get that far up the first district, but all this time, that must've been what they were preparing for--you need to get changed."

he throws you a pair of pants and continues speaking, at the same time going through almost the entire perimeter for anything that will prove useful.

you don't even care he's in the same room, your body going into shock and quickly pulling the night gown off before putting on what he gave you.

"hongjoong thinks they're planning a raid, starting from the second district and working their way up. if we stay here, we could get captured, held hostage, or whatever those outlaws want to do with us--here."

he finds the dagger he had given you sitting in the last drawer, pulling the extra sheath out of his pouch and running to tie it around your waist.

"keep this with you at all time, and remember what i taught you. just in case we ever get separated, you need to protect yourself," he demands, passing the dagger to you with an extremely serious look on his face along with the statement just now, making you queasy in the stomach.

you can't imagine having to part from jongho for whatever reason. you wouldn't know what to do.

he gestures to your shoes and you wear it quickly.

"now come on, let's go!" he grabs your wrist and your body flings forward, only managing to grab the pouch on top the dresser before your feet's following his steps out the door despite the lingering sleepiness and that you could be forgetting something else, but it's all happening so fast, your mind struggling to keep up.

you're about to ask him about the other servants, or the noble family, but as he whisk you into the nightly air, the breeze pushing past your skin, you realize that before jongho came, you were alone.

they all left you.

"where are we going?" you ask.

"down to the third district. hongjoong lended me a map and said to go through the forest, we'll catch less attention that way. he said we can stay at one of his hideouts for now."

for the next hours, you don't see anything but trees and branches in your way, and the moon high above the dark sky as it follows both you and jongho.

your feet tired and sore at this point, asking jongho to find a place to sit even for just a few minutes because you might just pass out.

"if we keep at this pace, we'll be able to make it to the third district by morning," he informs, handing over the costrel and telling you to drink.

you nod, passing it back after finishing, observing for a few seconds as jongho takes a couple sips.

"so where did everyone else go?" you finally bring up the question bothering you.

"to the lower districts. i heard some are hoping to reach the port so they'll get the chance to sail to aurora or dune, now that the royal family is in a crisis, people don't care anymore. but as you already know, we have limited ships and boats and it's going to be a bloodbath all around."

he goes on, "we only found out the king was dead when people from the first district started migrating, and then everyone in the second started panicking, and i honestly did too initially. i was about to start heading down until i remembered you."

you smile and nudge the boy with your elbow affectionately.

"if not for you, i probably would've turned into a corpse by tomorrow."

"pfft," he scoffs, "not a corpse but a captive maybe. their target is still the royal family, and now that the king is dead, they'll most likely go after the prince. the raid is just to scare people off so they can bask in the lavish that the first and second district has to offer. but still, it's better to be safe than sorry. they did killed the king, after all."

you take in the information, asking one last question.

"and where is hongjoong?"

"he was also in the second district at the time, but after lending me the map and instructions, he said he's gonna go up in order to get more details; hopefully talk to the prince and will report back in a few days."

"do you think he's going to be okay?"

jongho nods and stands up from the log, reaching his hand out to help you.

"he should be. he wouldn't be able to survive for this long if he isn't competent. but we should get going or else the trip will be delayed."

--

the hideout is a small shack in the corner of the wood, blending into the surroundings so perfectly, you and jongho almost missed it.

it's essentially a square with a single wooden bed, one chair, and a small table with an ewer sitting on top. jongho said the water in there should still be good to use, and that he brought enough breads to survive on for a few days.

"i can take the floor," he says, taking off the crossbow and sword that's been stuck to his body for an entire night and settling them down.

"we can take turns," you offer an alternative, pitying the boy because he's the one who's been doing most of the works.

"alright."

he nods it off. he wasn't gonna fight you on it.

you and jongho passes time by training for the majority of time. sometimes, you'd just watch, but when he isn't worn out by his own routine, he'd tell you the basics of a crossbow and a knightly sword and would proceed to watch you practice with the dagger.

"you're holding it like a coward who's never fought in their life," is his usual criticism.

"well maybe cause i am a coward who has never fought before," you will retort.

"when facing an enemy, you can't show that you're afraid. you have to believe in yourself."

"easy for you to say."

but regardless of his yapping that sometimes make you roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head, he's a good teacher and even complimented you. if saying that you're a lot less awful than when you started, counts.

three days later from when you both settled, the light, passive knock at the door alerts you and jongho, you almost wishing it was one of the outlaws, preferably a weaker member just so you can put what you've learned to use.

but it's hongjoong.

"so what did the prince say?" jongho asks, quick and eager.

"he's recruiting. said he'll take in anyone still willing to stand by his side while he figure things out. he needs time."

"what about the guards and men that were in the castle? isn't it their duty to protect the royal family?"

"more than half of them ran to the lower districts. the outlaws probably won't do much to a normal citizen, but they will be vile to anyone on the prince's side."

"and he didn't try to stop them?" you join, hongjoong turning his head to you and shaking.

"he said he wasn't gonna force anyone who didn't want to stay. but for those willing to fight by his side, he'll take them."

you don't mean to come off hypercritical, but you can't help but think that the prince is being careless.

"but the outlaws want him dead, no? he shouldn't be taking in just anybody. that's too dangerous."

hongjoong just shrugs.

"that was his order."

a silence hangs between the three of you after, and one glance at jongho, you see that conflicted look in his eyes and know that he's about to say something you won't like.

"i'll go."

you snap your neck to him so fast, there must've been a pop.

"what--jongho, no," you object, worry in your tone. hongjoong just standing by and watching the incoming dispute unfold.

"it's better than standing around and waiting for something to happen."

"but putting your life on the line? for all you know, there might not even be a solution at all. look at the state of the kingdom. people are running away, everyone fearing for their own safety. in the end, you could be dying for nothing. did you forget it's because of these people that us born in the lower districts have to live a shit life?"

by now, you're both facing each other and fuming through your noses.

"and did you forget that we haven't been to the lower districts in years? ever since we got the opportunity to move into one of the top two? even if we were just servants, we were living better than a normal family in the fifth district. i was guarding and blocking off an entrance because i was so much better than the people trying to get through. you think i enjoyed doing that shit? no. but it was my job. in some ways, we betrayed our roots, y/n. and you're right. the prince could be lying and stalling out of his ass, but you know... i'm hoping that he's not. because for once, i want to feel like i'm doing something worthy. i didn't train all my life just to guard gates where nothing ever fucking happens nine out of ten times."

you watch in disbelief as he turns to pick up his crossbow and sword.

"so whether you like it or not, i'm going."

he gives hongjoong a stern look, to which the older man returns one, but is soon carried away by your voice again.

"then i'm going with you."

and jongho knows he's going to sound like a hypocrite; the fact he cares for you as much as you care for him so he doesn't want you to put yourself in the face of danger.

he also understands that you share the same sentiment in regard to him, which is why you don't want him to go.

"no. it's safest for you to stay here. you don't have the same training and combat that i do. you can barely hold a dagger the right way and it's one of the most light and basic weapon. those outlaws will pummel you like a bug."

you roll your eyes and you can see hongjoong trying to hold in his laughter.

"well geez, thanks, master. but boohoo. all i know is that i need to stab," you snark, managing to pull a small smile from jongho before switching tone. "i'm serious, though. i know i'm not gonna be pounding anyone, but i'd still like to come with. it would put a lot of my worries to rest knowing you're alive and okay."

"i'll be fine, y/n," he assures, one hand on your shoulder, "and if it'll make you feel better, if hongjoong doesn't mind, he can come once in a while to inform you of what's going on."

you meet hongjoong's gaze at that and he nods with a thin smile.

but that's still not good enough for you because how can you possibly be okay with the only person you can call family, going off and risking his life?

you're not.

which is why when they both finally depart, you wait until they're a good distance away yet still visible to the eye, tying the sheath the way jongho did and sticking your dagger in before taking the costrel he left for you along with the remaining breads and following right behind them.

hongjoong used to travel on horseback but he has to be more discreet this time around, especially going up the higher districts.

you're somewhat thankful for that because you're not sure you can keep up if that was the case.

you stop when they stop, and rest when they rest. you would try listening in on their conversations but it's always inaudible from where you're at.

you put aside the pain of an aching feet or fear of the nightly forest, afraid you would give yourself out.

two days later, you're sure you guys are close. a part of you somewhat curiously pumped because you've never wander up the first district before.

with the sun setting and the stars soon to come out, you're hoping to arrive before it gets too dark because you really are dreading the idea of spending another night hidden behind itchy bushes.

dragging yourself up the steep hill, you can't help but to admire the scenery, the air of utopia still fresh and the birds still chirp like the nation is whole, resuming your steps only to see that you've lost sighting of jongho and hongjoong, and if you're any quicker, they will catch on.

you don't panic just yet, although you're getting nervous, but carrying on because the castle shouldn't be too far from here. as soon as you can spot it, it should be easy to trace it back to the two.

the only problem is how you're gonna get in once you reach it.

as you get closer to the top, you can spot the castle's head peaking, and once finally on flat land, you're able to see the entire thing, and the dazzling white architecture is hard to miss.

the heart and soul of utopia planted right in the center of the first district, and you've never seen anything more sophisticated in your entire life. but as you sneak closer, you're sure that you're not even gonna make it past the portcullis.

if you don't find jongho, you'd be coming all this way for nothing.

--

you've been watching the guards at the gate and their patterns of behavior for the last hour, every time inching closer to the entrance with the least amount of noise as possible.

but you should've known. you've overestimated your ability (by a large margin) thinking you can outsmart people who does this for a living, and of all places, it had to be royal family's. stupid.

you barely take a step when the pressure of a sharp object against your back make your eyes go wide in horror.

you're thinking this is it. you should've listened to jongho and should have not acted like such a know-it-all, because the next time he sees you, it will be in corspe form.

the beating of your heart is loud along with the stranger's breathing, their hand going retrieve your dagger from the sheath, and if they attack, you will have no other way to defend yourself.

"who the hell are you and why are you sneaking around my castle?" the deep, masculine tone drowns your ears.

my castle?

you foolishly turn around like an idiot, feeling the pressure of the object move to your neck instead, looking up at this mysterious stranger but unable to make anything out.

the running of footsteps and commotion can be heard from behind you, a series of voices and better lighting approaching with all the torches in the guards hands, and when you're finally able to make out the pair of eyes staring back, it feels as if you forgot how to breathe.

because if it isn't the most beautiful man you've ever seen, dark locks, sly and sharp eyes to that of a fox that looks disapproving of your choices before it turns slightly softer when he sees how harmless you actually look, the weapon in his hand lowering with a clear of his throat.

"what part of 'it's safest if you stay here' did you not understand?"

jongho's loud and frustrated voice echoes through the entire hall, pacing back and forth in place as he reprimands you in front of hongjoong, the prince, and his other royal companions.

the prince (who you have to make a point one more time that he's devastingly beautiful) was unexpectedly casual when you explained to him you were looking for your friends, even returning your dagger.

"i only came because i was worried about you. i know you would do the same for me."

"yes, but something could've happened to you. you could've gotten lost, or worse."

"as you can see, i'm fine. the most life threatening thing was the prince putting a knife to my back and neck."

"because you were limping around the castle like an idiot."

"well, what was he doing outside of it anyways?"

"why are you talking about the prince like that!" he yells, and the both of you having an awakening at the same time, registers how embarrassing and inappropriate it actually is to be having a screaming match in the royal family's hall, turns to the prince and bow in apology.

"sorry," you both mutter.

"it's fine," the prince dismisses.

when you were still living at the orphanage, some of the kids would often play guessing games about the prince just because the chances of ever meeting him were close to none, everyone might as well get creative.

some assumed he's a snob because kids being kids, they were all jealous of the fact he was living better, and so it's only natural he would think he's better than everyone else.

then some thought he looked like a troll, which was why the king and queen kept him inside most of the time.

none of you guys knew a lot about the prince, but there were words on the street that he almost never went out of the castle; some even using that as confirmation for why he's a stuck-up.

but after meeting him, he's nothing like the kids have predicted.

he definitely does not look like a troll or sound like a snob, at least so far. he's actually rather soft-spoken, though a bit aloof and stoic. but you suppose one isn't gonna be jolly after the death of their father.

--

jongho had insisted that you go back immediately, and you were considerate of the castle's deities enough to pull him outside just to object.

but you only got another line in the quarrel before the prince intervened and much to jongho's dismay, said you could stay for the night since it was getting late and traveling would be difficult.

"but you're leaving as soon as the sun comes up!" he proceeds to nag the entire time you tuck yourself to bed, the prince kindly offering a spare chamber for you to stay in.

"yes. i know," you reply, all snarky tone and turning to face the other way because he's getting on your nerves.

there's a quick silence before the edge of the bed creaks with his weight.

"look, i know you only came because you were worried about me, and you're right, i would do the same for you."

you toss slowly to look him up in the eyes from your position.

he goes on, now locking you in his gaze, "but it's way too dangerous for you to stay here, and we don't know when they're going to attack. and worse, if they see you're in alliance with the prince, who knows what they'll do? i'll be fine. this is what i've trained my whole life for. you just have to believe in me."

you sigh and frown, finally deciding to cave because you do know that jongho is capable. you've never doubted him. it's the opponents that you're unsure of, their next moves could be anything.

"i'll go back, but hongjoong still needs to follow the end of the deal."

jongho smiles warmly, relieved you're no longer trying to fight him on this.

"he'd be happy to."

you nod, figuring that since you're already here, you might as well ask.

"so how many men volunteered?"

"for now, three. me, someone named yunho from the third district, and another guy named minjun. but more might wind up later, who knows."

"i still don't think it's smart of the prince to be taking in just anyone. it's way too risky. you have good intentions, but what about the two other?" you voice concernedly, your forehead starting to crease from the distress.

you just met the prince, but you know that the idea is ridiculous and you don't want him meeting the same fate as his father.

"optimism maybe? i don't know. more than half of the royal family's protections are gone so he probably can't be too picky. but i'd like to think he knows what he's doing."

but he's also still young and is currently in a worse position than his father, the king, who couldn't even save utopia. you don't think anybody is ready to be in his place, let alone lead an entire kingdom that's falling apart.

"alright. then you should return to the others; help them look after the prince. he's going to need it."

"actually, he ordered us to stay with the queen and princess."

you shoot up from position, incredulity written all over your face.

"what--why? all of you guys? then who's going to look after him?"

jongho shrugs.

"i disagree as well, but after all, he's the prince. we can't disobey orders."

"you guys should be allowed to if it's foolish. what is going on in his head?" you shake your own, unable to believe it.

you just know that something bad is gonna happen, and it would be due to the prince's own incompetence.

jongho has no idea either given he only just met him as well, but he's crossing his fingers the prince will prove both of you wrong.

"i have to go. you should get some rest because you'll be leaving in the early morning. i'll see you then."

--

you're woken up by a heavy disturbance, the ruckus happening outside of the room but also sounding so close.

it might be best if you stay here; leave whatever the noises is to the guards in the castle, but you just feel it in your guts that your prediction have came true.

carefully opening the door, you peek your head out, immediately drawn to the bright light illuminating at the end of the hall, and soon, your quick and eager feet has taken you to the shocking sight.

the prince standing before jongho and another guard as they hold back someone you can't quite recall. one of his hand tending to the cut on his left arm, and you can see the red seeping through the thin white fabric.

the prince meets your eyes when he notices you standing outside.

"i knew it!" you screech, your turn to pace back and forth as jongho watches from the side. "he shouldn't have just taken in anyone!"

you found out it was minjun, one of threes who volunteered along with jongho, who attacked the prince. apparently, he had snuck away from the other guards and was in the prince's room within minutes, a sword aimed at the young royal that could've taken his life.

"luckily, he only got off with a cut. i can't even imagine what would've happened."

jongho groans anxiously, the first day on the job and the reality of it already showing its head.

"there's nothing luck-based about the prince's survival," hongjoong's voice has you both turning as he appears from the opened door.

"prince san isn't only highly skilled in all areas of fighting, but he's the best warrior utopia has to offer. he most likely knew about the attack beforehand, which was why he only got away with a cut considering minjun also isn't just an average member of the outlaws," hongjoong reveals, the new information makes you and jongho gawk at each other in surprise.

"y/n," he calls out, and you detach from jongho's eyes to look at him.

"yes?"

"i need you to do me a favor. i trust you enough, and you look rather... harmless."

you pinch in your brows. if he wants to go off about your terrible fighting and self defense skill, he might as well just spell it out.

"the prince said he has a plan, but we're going to need to buy time. and no matter how skilled he is, we can't keep dealing with people coming into the castle in attempts to severe the prince's head. it's best if he's away until we can figure things out, for his safety and the kingdom's."

you only hum and nod, wondering where exactly this is going.

"he'll be leaving with you in the morning."

your face falls in horror, unable to believe they're entrusting the prince to you. the thoughts of being alone with someone like him both terrifying but weirdly stimulating.

"oh my gosh, she's blushing..." jongho yelps, a smirk tugging at his lips. he's seen the way you'd ogle at the prince, definitely something you never did to any other men.

"i'm not!" you cry defensively, embarrassed. "i-i just don't think i'm the right person."

"we just need the prince away from the castle for a few days. for now, it look like the outlaws are not planning on moving up the first district entirely, so the rest of us should be safe as well for the time being. you still remember the way back to the shack, right?"

you nod hesitantly.

"good. then it's settled."

--

the following morning, everyone bids farewell to the prince, the queen and princess wishing him well as the guards and hongjoong stack him with equipments, while jongho makes you carry the food and water.

he takes off the royal attire, disguising himself in commoner clothings instead, as recommended by his companion, wooyoung.

hongjoong promises to report back once things get relatively better.

at first, it's nerve-racking because you just can't help it. the prince is so handsome and your touch-starved body just reacts naturally, but once you figure he isn't gonna talk to you, only gesturing or murmuring out short instructions, the spark wears off.

"we should stop and rest for the night," he speaks more than three words for the first time, laying down his stuff and nodding to the tall tree.

"alright."

you settle your things down as well, plopping against the tree and waiting for him to do the same but he instead pulls out the sword and starts slashing the air.

when he takes notice of your gawking from behind, he apologizes.

"sorry, i'm just... practicing, hope you don't mind. you can rest, i'll keep watch."

you nod it off, sleep soon taking over, but when you wake a few hours later, able to tell from the different color painting the sky, the prince is still practicing and seems just as eager as he was before.

"prince," you call out, his movements halting in place as he turns back at the sound of your voice.

"call me san."

you clear your throat, "uh... san, have you slept at all?"

he shakes his head.

"i was practicing."

you stand up, dusting off the dirts from your pants and growing concerned regarding the sleepless prince.

"you can sleep. i'll keep watch and if there's anything, i'll wake you up," you offer, but he's quick to reject the proposal.

"no need to. i'm not tired anyways. if you're feeling fully rested, we can keep going. the sun is almost up."

you watch in dejection as he goes to retrieve his things because you're not sure you can believe he's not even the tiniest bit tired from everything so far.

--

it takes almost an entire day to reach the destination, your body tired and aching for something to sit on, the minute you reach the shack, you're sprawled all over the chair.

the prince looks just fine, though.

"it's small, but comfortable," you assure the prince just in case he has any doubts in mind. because you initially did, too, but it was surprisingly homey when you last stayed with jongho.

he nods, eyes roaming the small interior.

"it'll do."

"you can take the bed. i don't mind taking the floor," you tell him, but he instead shakes his head.

"the bed's all yours. i'll be outside practicing."

you scowl and sit up from your seat.

"again? we've been traveling all day. you should really get some rest considering you didn't get any the night before."

but he's stubborn, grabbing for his sword again as you can only sigh in disapproval.

"i really don't feel tired."

"then you should eat, at least."

"i'm not hungry."

you end up going to bed alone, only listening to the prince's grunting and slashing outside as he practices like he's trying to reach out to something or someone.

the uneasiness consuming you, seeing him always looking so miserable as if something's bothering him, unable to rest or do anything else.

it's understandable because of the circumstances he's in, but you wish he would be kinder to himself.

you only give him another two hours before taking matters into your own hand, flinging the door open to his figure dancing around the area with his sword, calling his name softly that makes him stop in track to look at you.

"enough," you mumble, quiet but stern, prying the weapon out of his hold with so much power, you think jongho would be proud.

"no, i have to pr--" he reaches for the sword but you move back, the prince grabbing only the nightly air in place.

"no, you don't," you spit, your free hand going to grab his wrist and dragging him back inside. "you need to eat and rest."

the sword clinks the flooring when you drop it, sitting san down on the bed and grabbing some of the breads and dried meat before taking the seat next to him.

"i understand you're going through a lot right now and it's tough, but you need to take care of yourself. you can't wear your body out or punish it. you're not even fully healed from the cut. if something happens, if worst comes to worst, you need to be prepared to fight."

you push the food toward him but he doesn't budge the slightest. his eyes trained on it, but everything else completely frozen.

for a second, you think all the efforts is gonna go to waste because the prince won't listen, but much to your surprise, he starts talking.

"my father and everyone around me would always say i was the best fighter in the entire kingdom; that i was one of a kind, gifted from a young age, and the future of utopia. i used to believe that as well, but what kind of prick can't even save his own father?"

a small gasp fall, fussing under your breath, "san..."

"maybe i'm only as great because i had the access and materials to become great. but in actuality, i would be no more than average in any other scenarios."

"san, you are great. hongjoong said you are, and you even fought off minjun. it's not your fault what happened to your father," determination in your delivery, finding yourself oddly caring for someone you barely knew.

"father did always lived every day as if it was his last. he knew everyone was out to get him..." he fidgets with one of the breads before taking a small bite out of it. "i thought it would make me feel better if i caught his killer, but i really don't feel any different."

"so hongjoong was right. you knew about the attack?"

you watch as he ogles at the piece of bread like it's the most interesting thing in the world, noddling lightly and taking another bite.

"somewhat, yeah. i was the one who found my father's body, and you can imagine… it's not easy for any kid to see their own parent blue in the face, lying lifeless in front of them, and especially knowing their murderer got away. it made me vengeful, but i couldn't act recklessly. i had to set up a bait because i didn't know who it was, but i knew they were coming."

you listen to each of his words so attentively, and you make sure he knows.

"it could've been your friend, jongho, or the others that came along. it could be anyone. it could be all of them. but regardless, whoever it was wanted me dead just like my father and wouldn't have passed up the chance."

you exhale, looking at the prince with sympathy and sadness in your eyes, all this time you really gave him too little credits, one of your hand somehow finding itself on top his resting one and soothing it.

"i can't do much, but i'm here to listen. if we're going to be together for a while, we might as well have each other's back."

and when san finishes his food and actually goes to sleep for the rest of the night (although you did have to fight him about sleeping on the floor), you finally feel at ease, able to go to sleep knowing he's not pushing himself.

san is the first thing you see upon waking up, his figure bending down a couple feet away and drinking out of the costrel.

he knows you're up from the movements, turning to meet your tired eyes.

"good morning."

"good morning, san."

"you should eat first. i left some out for you."

"oh, okay."

you nod politely, throwing the blanket off and getting up from the makeshift bed, but first telling him that you're gonna go wash your face.

"i checked the ewer. there's no more water in there."

"hmm," you hum, attempting to come up with a solution. "i'm gonna go down to the river. i'll be back in a bit."

"wait." his call stops you in track, half your body out the door. "i'd like to come with."

"is that okay? i mean... will that be safe?" because now that the prince is with you, you feel it is your responsibility to keep him out of danger no matter how unskillful you are. you don't want a single sighting putting his life on the line (more than it already is).

"we'll make it quick. besides, i need to wash up as well. i don't feel too clean from all those practices."

the river is actually quite close by, having never been there during your stay in this district but following the sound of nature was relatively easy to do. and you suppose hongjoong chose the spot for this reason.

once there, you're splashing your face immediately and rejoicing in the cool sensation, only just registering san's been watching you the entire time when you turn and meet his piercing gaze.

his expression blank before dropping to a smile at your wide-eye. and the first time that he does, you realize you've never seen him smile, ever. your attention taken away by the deep indentations appearing from his cheeks, and for just a second, your heart feels like it might explode.

but it's his turn with the river, you observing as he mimics you until both your faces are wet and raining with droplets.

"here," you say, pulling out the spare handkerchief you had remember to bring before coming, offering it to him then using the other one for yourself.

he thanks you, about to wipe his face when the striking design catches his eye.

"this is beautiful," he comments, your head snapping his direction. "did you make it yourself?"

you nod shyly.

"i picked up embroidery somewhere after sewing for a while."

the conversation continues on the walk back, san asking the questions because he just grasped the revelation he doesn't know anything about you.

aside from trying to sneak into his castle and being the friend of one of his guards, that's as much as he can recall off the top of his head although you're quite literally in a life or death situation with him.

"you said you picked up embroidery, so are you from the second district?"

san knows almost everyone who lived in the first district, having spent his entire life and becoming familiar with the surrounding neighbors.

during the occasional balls and parties, he'd get acquainted with some from the second districts. but he's never seen you before. if he did, he would probably be able to recognize you.

but he knows that a hobby and skill like embroidery was something only those in the top two could afford. it was a luxury, as much as san hates putting it like that.

you giggle at the thought and shake your head.

"i was a servant for a family from the second, but i'm originally from the fifth. i picked up embroidery because the daughter of the family was pressured into learning and i was there to help sometimes."

"oh..." is all he says.

maybe he expected you to have some noble blood or be from greatness, but the only thing close to the two were the shoes you shined and the people you served.

your entire life, nothing about you was ever great or noble.

you may have ran from the lower district for a better life, but you were never ashamed of where you came from.

it made you who you are, and if anything, you're a survivor.

"yeah..." you mumble, stopping once reaching the shack again.

he picks it up from your tone, correcting himself to make sure you don't misunderstand, "no. i didn't mean it like that. i'm just, curious about you and your background."

"oh?" you squeak, "then what do you want to know, prince."

you take a seat where he was sitting before, reaching for the food he left for you and looking up at him from where you are, wondering what kind of prince would want to know about a commoner like you.

"an iris," he refers to the pattern embroidered on the handkerchief, "was there a reason why you chose it?"

you smile softly, the question taking you back to a lane of memories and nostalgia.

"it was both of my parents' favorite flower. they always did clung onto any sort of hope there was when it came to our living conditions, and father would always used to say the iris not only symbolized that, but also courage and bravery. i don't know how true that is, but i tend to associate the flower with my parents. it was all i managed to take when me and jongho ran from the second district."

"that's sweet," the prince says, making your eyelashes bat as he plops down at the end of the makeshift bed but he never once look away from you. "and where are your parents?"

the death of your parents was once something that was difficult to talk about; a reality that you used to deny because you couldn't accept that they're no longer by your side and sharing the same struggles. because you guys did suffered a lot, but you all had each other.

and suddenly, you only had yourself.

it wasn't until jongho that you started to open up again; learn to let someone into your heart; to share the same struggles and to suffer all over again, but at least with someone by your side once more.

and it's with that lesson that you allow the prince in as well, unveiling some parts of yourself, for some reason feeling like you can entrust it to him.

"they passed away. the fishermen said the sea took them. it's been a long time and i've come to terms with it."

you don't miss the way his chest fall and a sullen look takes over his expression.

"i'm sorry to hear."

his life experiences and pain could never compare to anyone from the lower districts, he understands that all too well; how good and privileged he's had it.

but grief doesn't discriminate, and the feeling is... debilitating.

it makes you go into denial, nothing but a directionless road laying ahead, unable to help but think if you ever will recover.

but he feels a little better after talking to you, a living proof that no matter the loss or grief one goes through, there's a chance he will make it out fine in the end.

--

you're about to go off to bed when you suddenly remember what hongjoong had told you.

"prince," you call from below, the title just naturally rolling off despite the plenty of time he's made clear you can call him by his name.

"we have to change the dressing on your wound."

you get up to go search through one of the heavy bags, digging for some clean linens and vinegar the others had made sure to pack for the prince.

"hongjoong said we should change it every couple of days," you tell him, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stands up from the sleeping position. "your arm, prince." you gesture and watch as he rolls up his sleeve.

your cheeks for some reason start heating up at the sight, the blinking and nervous twitch of your eyes give it away, causing a giggle to tumble out of the prince at your flustered reaction.

"y/n," he speaks, once you've stared for long enough and still have yet to remove the old cloth. "that's what jongho and hongjoong calls you by."

"y-yes." you nod.

"have you ever tend to a wound before?"

"well, no. but i've been instructed on how to."

"i see." he smiles, and you're about to crack at the man in front of you. beautiful smile, perfect features, and some muscular arms to go along with it.

once you've contained yourself (or at least look like it), you unwrap the worn cut-out cloth and replaces it with a new one, every steps of what hongjoong had laid out followed to the very best of your ability.

"thank you, y/n," the prince says one more time, and the last smile on him for the night makes you think he just might be teasing you.

the past few days that you've spent with the prince, he's proven your expectations and predictions wrong over and over again.

almost like everything you've assumed is untrue in the best way possible. his aloof and stoic ways melting into smiles and laughters when you'd tell him stories about the kids back at the orphanage and how they thought he was a troll.

spending days and nights confined to a small space with someone you just met, the idea sounding awful but the reality actually quite nice because it's comfortable with him.

he not only speaks well, his words always the most soft and unoffending as they can be, but he also listens well.

day by day, the doubts you had--whether he would be able to salvage utopia, changes to the hope and belief that he's more than competent to pull it off.

but there's still questions bothering you; the strangeness of the entire picture in how utopia managed to fall to a state this bad in the first place if the prince is as level-headed as he presents himself.

he at least should've been talking sense into the king.

so you finally ask, during a routine morning where you and san have gotten accustomed to waking up the crack of dawn, sitting facing each other and munching away on portions of food that becomes less the more days pass by.

"san," you start, his name now more comfortable on your lips. it makes him pick his up head from the food to you.

"hongjoong said you have a plan, right? the reason they sent you here was to buy time. i-i was just wondering where does it go from here?" you try your utmost best to not sound meddlesome.

you're just worried.

because as much as you enjoy the time together, the unknown makes you uneasy. you don't want to doubt him but you also don't want everything so far to be for nothing.

it's the prince's personal affairs and not yours, but you just wish for there to be assurances; some kind of proof that speaks he knows what he's doing, because the closer you get to him, the more you fear losing him.

"i have a plan, yes," he answers, the calm demeanor on him a complete contrast to the troubled one on you. "why? are you worried?"

you breathe out, eventually nodding timidly.

"it's just that the state of the kingdom right now is really bad and it's going to take a lot to please the citizens, especially the group of rebellions. the idea of peace just seems so... unreachable."

you already sound like you're about to break down, when the prince--the one actually having to deal with it, looks the most calm and collective.

he acknowledges the concern, thinking it's fairly reasonable. actually, he's surprise everyone's been able to restrain themselves from spiraling for this long.

if he was someone else, he don't think he'll be able to put his trust into an inexperienced prince in hope of him saving the entire nation as well.

"the people of utopia isn't aware, but about a decade ago, the king of aurora, the closest neighboring kingdom to us had offered to help the nation after witnessing the terrible conditions most of the lower districts were suffering from," san reveals, "but my father... he denied the help."

you squeeze your brows in disbelief.

"what--why?"

"the king of aurora only requested for utopia's protections and services in return. as you know, we may lack in every other aspects, but armed forces is our strength. almost every men in the nation has some kind of experience when it comes to fighting or self defense. aurora is a peaceful and harmonious nation, but their men do not have the same training, combats, or skills that we do, and the king of aurora acknowledged the fact. though aurora was very unlikely to get into an altercation with another nation, the king said he would feel a lot better with utopia behind them."

"my father didn't see a point in tying ourselves down, binding an 'unnecessary' responsibility to our back. he said our ancestors' done it for hundreds of years without help and it will continue to be that way. ever since then, aurora has shunned us. they're not gonna start a war over it, but in other words: they hate our guts."

there's a pause from the prince, something shifting in his eyes before he starts again.

"i love and cherish my father. he is my father after all, and most of everything i've been taught were from him. i also understand that some of the things he did were for my mother, me, and my sister. but i wouldn't ever tell him i also think he's selfish; that i disagree with his view of the world; with his way of running things."

the pain in the prince's voice and delivery is seeping, your heart curling at the amount of hurt he must keep to himself, but if you can be the one to lessen it just a little, you will listen to his every words.

"but still, he's my father and i miss him. no matter how selfish and unreasonable he was most of the times, i promise that after everything is over, i will hold a proper burial for him. i will also repay everyone that stood by my side... i promise that."

his volume tapers near the end, his gaze melting into yours at the last statement.

"i also promised i will correct the mistakes of those who came before me, and if it takes my life, at least i'll be content that i went down with my morals. that i fought for what i believed in, even if the ancestors come back to tear me to shreds for it."

you chuckle, attempting to hold back just the smallest tear pricking the corner of your eye because all you ever did was doubt and doubt, and every single time, he always proved you wrong in the best way possible.

"so you're going to attempt to make a truce with aurora?"

he nods.

"i have to try. if we want equality for everyone, we can't do it without the help of aurora. if we do it now, without aide, the nation will fall apart no different than it is now. no amount of transports based on utopia alone will be enough. but aurora's economy; the standing of their nation is stable enough that helping utopia back on its feet will barely feel like a lift of a finger to them."

"but how would the message reach them?"

"on the day that i got attacked, i sent out one of my men, seonghwa. he knows the way around the sea best. by now, considering it's almost been a week, he should have already reached aurora, but it will take another couple of days to return. that's why i need to buy enough time for seonghwa to come back. i know the citizens won't believe it until they see the king and prince yeosang of aurora for themselves."

"and just what if the king and prince rejects the offer?" you're just trying to touch upon all possibilities.

"you see... i've thought of that as well. in fact, there's probably a bigger chance of them dismissing it considering our history and all. but if that was the case, i had already told seonghwa to head for dune next. it will take him at least another week and a half because of the distance, but if worst come to worst, that's our last hope. dune would be a lot harder to get on our side because they're not lacking in anything, their only weakness is they don't have any kind of alliance. and i was hoping after we sign a treaty with aurora, we could try for dune because they'd be more willing then, knowing we also have aurora, but that's only wishful thinking."

"you really thought everything through, huh?" you have to admit, you're impressed.

"you have no idea. every night after my father's passing, i barely got any sleep... until you finally enforced it upon me."

you giggle, meeting a soft smile on the prince's lips.

"well you need it. and seeing as intricate the plan of action is, you're going to need it even more. don't overwork your body, get plenty of rest in preparation of the big day. i believe you'll be able to do it."

there's a quick silence in the air before the prince speaks again.

"thank you... for believing in me, and keeping me sane of all things."

"my pleasure."

"but if hongjoong doesn't show within a few days, or does with the bearer of the bad news, we'd have to be prepared for relocation. they will pick up that i'm not in the castle and will try looking for me. if dune is the alternative, we're going to have to buy even more time."

"here," san says, coming from behind to stand in front of you, pulling out his own.

after observing one of his practices, he had asked how familiar you are with daggers since he recalled ripping it out of your sheath that day.

you said all understanding you have of it were from jongho, though he liked to find fault in your execution, and after a couple demonstrations, the prince seems to agree that there's a few areas you could improve on.

"a dagger is a short distance combat. some of the most basic requirements in becoming somewhat skilled at is, is trying to master the three primary positions."

you watch him get into stance.

"the first one is a downward thrust, usually used for an opponent who's not experienced in knife combat."

he acts out the method, thrusting his weapon into the air and turning to you.

"you try."

you attempt to mimic what he just did, the weapon a lot light and easier on your grip because the training from jongho did pay off in some ways.

"not bad," he comments, "just more confidence, and don't be afraid. because trust, when the enemy is coming, they won't hold back."

he tightens your grip on the dagger before stepping away.

"this certain method can also be used when an opponent is equipped with another melee weapon, or a firearm."

you nod, his encouragement and gentle teaching style as he tries reframing from straight up saying you stink in some ways or forms, is definitely preferred.

"got it! you are a much better teacher than jongho by a mile. you're actually nice to me," you joke, and the most flattered smile acrossing san's lips doesn't go unseen.

--

you wouldn't ever say it out loud, not to the prince at least.

that though leaving the place and each other's presence will be for a good cause, in some parts of you, you're already starting to dread the separation.

the parts that already grew fond of him in such a short matter of time, you fear there will never be another chance like this. together.

after everything is over, things will go back to the way it was.

he is a prince after all, and you're just... you.

"so, prince, what is the best defense weapon. figure i should ask from only the most competent person in utopia," you talk from your seat, staring up at him as he preps for another hour of practice.

he promised it'll be only an hour today.

"pfft," he blows, "don't say it like that. you might end up unimpressed."

"i mean it."

"you haven't even seen me on the battlefield."

"but i believe in you."

you hop out of your seat to him, tilting your head, "so?"

"i would say a spear. distance is honestly the best defense there is, though i do enjoy practicing with a sword more."

and that's when it happens. all the long days and nights of peace and harmony comes crashing down, from the corner of your eye catching a cloaked figure from far away standing on top one of the hills with a crossbow in their possession.

"prince!" you cry out, pushing his body away from target the hardest ever as he falls to the ground, and then a short second after, the most painful sensation of your chest being struck takes your vision and breath away.

the last thing you see and hear before fading into utter blackness is the sheer horror on the prince's face as his hands are covered with blood, and the desperate call of your name.

"y/n!"

the sound of jongho's voice makes you think you're in a dream, only until your lids are fluttering open that you see the both, scared but relieved expression of your best friend.

"oh my gosh... thank goodness you're alive."

by how tight he's squeezing your hands, you're glad to know you're not dead just yet.

"where am i?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"back at the castle. you were out for about four days."

"four days?" you repeat, when the memories come flooding back all at once and then some. "the prince."

you attempt to sit up but the dull pain from where you've been hit prevents you, your head falling back into the pillow.

"easy," jongho soothes your body back into position, "you lost a lot of blood, and not only that, the arrow had been poisoned. luckily, the castle has shelves of antidotes for it, but we were all worried that there was just the smallest chance you weren't gonna make it."

he pauses briefly, "the prince got you here in a day and a half... he felt really bad about what happened. he was by your side the entire time and only just left yesterday night when it was announced the king and prince of aurora have arrived."

"aurora have agreed to a truce?" your tone weak, but still filled with excitement, so happy for the prince.

"yes. and hopefully the prince can get them to sign a treaty. that's the plan. it's still going to take them another two or three days to reach the first district, but the prince wanted to go welcome them formally."

"will he be okay?"

"he's under disguise. but you should get some rest and stop worrying about someone else when you're in a worse condition than them," jongho snarks.

"just making sure..."

a smirk graces your friend, a coy look on him.

"what exactly happened back there that's now making you two act like an old married couple forced to be apart? i've known you for longer than the prince and he looked like he was in more distress than i was."

"nothing that is your business," you dismiss, hoping your cheeks doesn't tint a color that gives it away, a chuckle rolling out of jongho at that.

"you used to want to tell me everything. but fair enough. rest and wait until your body is fully healed. i'll visit you every day to update."

it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you didn't wake up for four days--which, more so, should've been the highlight, but you're more intrigued that the prince was by your side up until the last minute he had to go.

you don't want to get overly giddy about it; go beyond what's appropriate and assume that he did so because of another reason, and not just because he felt bad.

but you do wish to see him soon. even if just for a bit.

--

the next few days is a routine, usually consisting of jongho welcoming you with a wholesome breakfast that's more fulfilling than breads and dried meats, then another meal at dinner.

you're in bed for most of the time, your view usually the ceiling of the castle or the empty space around you, everyone busy and occupied now that the plan is becoming a reality.

jongho tries his best to visit you every day, and hongjoong on the occasion to check your condition, but if they're not patrolling outside, they're in halls discussing the next course of actions.

you've heard that the prince have returned just last night with the royals of aurora, not a single peace or quiet outside of your room since.

you can only hope that the loud and muffled voices outside is an indication that everything is going to work out for the prince; for the kingdom of utopia.

laying around in bed all day, only watching as the sun comes up and down as the wind sways the branches outside the window, wishing you could contribute more, if anything than just wait around all day feeling absolutely useless.

the first creak of the door ever since morning is heard, jongho having told you he won't be able to bring the next meal as he'd be out with the other guards but said someone else would.

and every time, no matter how hard you try burying the inappropriate sentiment, you wish it was the prince, even if just to see him for a minute.

you haven't seen him since that day.

but still, you're grateful to have any interactions at all. even if it's not the prince.

"hey," hongjoong greets, a thin smile on as he goes to take a seat on the stool facing the bed.

"hey hongjoong," you return, finally able to sit up without feeling like your gut's about to spill out.

"you doing better?"

you nod.

"a lot better compared to before."

"good. thought i should drop by to let you know about what's going to happen the next couple of days," his voice a deeper, stern tone, "the prince and royals of aurora will be going down the districts, one by one. the prince wants to let everyone know of the upcoming changes and fix that he has in plan. me and jongho will be away, but yunho and the rest of the guards will stay in the castle with the queen, the princess, and you."

"and how long are you guys going to be gone?"

hongjoong shrugs. "really depends. it could be a week, it could be more than that. traveling down to the fifth and coming back up here is gonna be a while. but as quick as possible, i hope."

"okay..." you frown. "just, stay safe."

you care for their safety and wellbeings more than anything. all three people of whom you're most familiar with, going off and risking their lives again. you're going to feel a certain type of way about it.

but they're doing it for a good cause. for the nation. for everyone. and so you allow to put your heart at rest just a little bit.

"don't worry. aurora brought some protections as well, and if we can convince the second district now overrun by outlaws, the rest of them should be easy."

hongjoong leaves after some last words of encouragment, and him wishing you a fast healing process.

later that night, they all left for the lower districts as stated.

--

the castle grows increasingly quiet, all ruckus from before now dwindled down to almost nothing.

the guards are usually busy patrolling outside, even more now that the prince is out, and the only people that seems to actually be around are the queen and princess.

the princess is the one to bring your meals, and you feel awful about the fact when it should be the other way around.

but she is wonderful. soft-spoken, elegant in her manners, and always with a smile on her face although you know it's not easy for anyone, especially what she's going through.

she bears almost no resemblance to san, but there's still some tell-tale features, like their eyes. the same foxy and slanted characteristic trademark on both siblings that looks so mellow on the princess, but entirely menacing on the prince.

"your tea."

the soft call of her voice would get you up from bed immediately, scooting over to thank her as you two meet eyes.

once you start feeling a lot better, able to stand on your feet and support yourself fully, you stroll the garden with the princess as she reminisce about everything crossing both of your path.

"i, too, wanted to be trained in weapons and self defense, but father said it wasn't suitable for someone like me. he would always take me out to the garden instead, in hope i'd develop a liking for it just so he didn't have to deal with the persistence. and i did... i did blossomed a love for gardening."

you scowl at the revelation.

"well, that's not right."

"it's not, but it was my father's order. he was a stubborn man and didn't like to listen to anyone. i wish i could say i saw anything else for father's ending."

both the prince and princess seems to share a mutual feeling regarding the father figure. though they understand the deeply flawed king, it's hard and conflicting when it's your own father.

"brother taught me what he could, which wasn't always possible because father was always around. but san is a good person... despite the amount of pressure father put on him, i believe he would be a great king. better than father himself."

a smile cross your lips at the mention of san.

"i believe he would be a great king, too," you add. you know he will be, and you wish for nothing more than all his dreams to come true.

"brother san seems to have taken a great liking to you," the princess brings up, recalling the signs and body language of her younger brother when he was with you despite your sleeping state and lack of awareness.

an act of affection and fondness she has never seen the prince give anyone before. not even the noble daughters that would show for events.

"oh, no," you deny, shaking your head, but the way your stomach swoops at the statement is real.

"why not?" she tilts her head, a brow raising. "do you not like him?"

"no--i mean, i do. i like the prince as a friend, but anything more than that would be innappropriate, i think." your volume tapers and your eyes shy away from hers, but the soft giggle makes you snap back.

"love is a beautiful thing. you shouldn't run from it, no matter the class difference or adversities. i know my brother wouldn't."

she smiles and pat your shoulder, abruptly taking your hand and leading the way out of the garden.

"so tell me, did you know that the kingdom didn't used to be divided into districts?"

you hum from behind, "actually, i do. i read it in an old history book i found back at the orphanage."

the kingdom used to just be utopia as a whole. no divisions of anything or labels to anyone. but when the capital found out they could cheat the system and hog all resources and supplies by dividing up the nation, the district system was implemented.

and those who lived furthest from the capital suffered the worst due to change, which was why the fifth district, a once fine ground for fishermen and access to the sea, declined overtime due to the lack of available care.

"yes," she mumbles, letting go of your hand and turning around, your feet screeching with the sudden stop. "brother wishes to abolish the system, after mostly everything gets taken care of, of course. by then, none of this 'social class' would matter as much."

you know she means it from the good of her heart; soul just as kind as her brother, but it is not only the struggle of being a fifth district kid, but also the reality of being a no one as compared to a prince.

--

you get accustomed to the newer routine, waking up the crack of dawn to go help the princess prepare breakfast the best your healing body can. just the smallest, throbbing pinch still there when you sit up, but you're fine nonetheless.

the morning when the sun hasn't even shown its head yet, your body still tired and mind hazy, the opening of the door gets a silent groan out of you as you turn to the source expecting the princess to have something for you so early.

but the sight jolts you from sleep, and you know that it's him, even in the faintest lighting.

"good morning," his voice like velvet has you sitting up, your gaze trained on him the entire time he goes to take a seat at the stool.

"good morning, prince," you return, the smallest amount of joy hiding in your delivery because you really are so happy to see him again.

he went back to the princely attire coloured in white, and his hair a slicked back kind that makes him so handsome, although some strands are loose and slightly messy from the many days gone by.

"san," he corrects you, the sound of his actual name so much better when you say it.

"san," you repeat, a short giggle after that he joins along. "so you're back already. how did it go?"

your expression changing to stern that instant, if you stare at him any longer, you might just burn a hole from how serious you are.

"a lot better than i expected," he answers, a thin smile on as he scoots closer. "i really owe it to the king and prince of aurora. if they hadn't took pity in me, i don't know what else i would've done. but for some reason, they chose to believe in me, and i really am so grateful for that."

he must've been so scared but unwilling to show it. unwilling to give away the fear that the kingdom in his hand is so close to crumbling down by a mere inch, everything could fall apart just like that.

but he had to persist through the hardships and doubts; masking any weaknesses because it would scare away the people if he did. if the ruler of the kingdom itself barely has any faith in the situation.

you reach for his hand, the stronge urge to comfort him as the soft look on you melt into his.

"san, they believe in you because they can see that you're capable. and i believe as well, that you from now on, you will make utopia a better place for the people."

he thinks that you always have such a way with words; how they always make him feel so warm and at ease every time. it's never felt so easy with anyone before.

"y/n," he calls almost in a whisper, taking his hands out of your grasp to now enclose yours. "i apologize for not visiting you. but as soon as i returned and had cleared everyhing with the royals of aurora, i came to you immediately."

"no. it's okay. you have a duty as the prince of the nation, i totally understand. there's no need to apologize."

you can feel his grip on you getting tighter, his eyes a type of desperate but also affectionate.

"but still, you saved my life. you traded yours for mine. to me, you're just as important."

you're surprise by the confession, an array of butterflies dancing in the pit of your stomach and you can see the prince growing more tense, but nonetheless, he persists.

"before i go any further, can i ask you one question first?"

you nod at that. "go ahead."

"you and jongho..." he starts, only to thin out before trying again, "are you guys... dating? or, well, do you like him?"

he's nervous and if he wasn't holding you, he would probably start fidgeting to hide the fact.

"me and jongho?" you quirk an eyebrow, failing to hold back the snicker from the thought while the prince just stares dumbfoundedly.

"i love jongho, but he's more like family than anything. we've been through a lot together but i can't see him in that light."

you've given similar answers out a couple times, especially to the other servants who thought you both had a crush on each other.

the prince's chest drop in relief and you can't hide the amusement you get from it.

"what? you thought me and jongho had something?" you can't stop giggling.

"well, i just had to make sure," he says, a hint of embarrassed and shy that is incredibly cute.

he wouldn't tell you that the one time he actually decided to come in the midst of everything, jongho was already by your side and if you didn't look so happy, he wouldn't have went back because he could tell jongho is someone special to you.

"so?" you await what he has to say, the eagerness only making him more nervous.

the grip on you loosening up to a more softer but more intimate one, one of his thumb running over your hand before he speaks.

"i know this might be too sudden and we haven't known each other for long, but, if your heart isn't taken by anyone, i'd like to ask for a vow."

you just stare ahead and wait for him to finish the sentence, your heart beating exceptionally loud.

"i understand it's a bit abrupt, but... i-i've never felt this way with anybody else. there's something special when i'm you, and i'd like to ask for a vow; a promise that we'll reserve our hearts for each other."

he's so scared, willing to take the chance at first because he will regret it if he doesn't. but now, he's afraid he might've ruined whatever he had with you in the first place, retracting immediately when there's only silence from you.

"but it's not an obligation. you don't have to. i'm just--"

"--i would love to," you cut, watching the panic on his face dissipate that instant.

"really?"

"yes. i would love to," you assure once again, the thinnest smile crossing your lips that soon turns bigger when he returns one.

he's absolutely over the moon to know the feeling is mutual; that what he felt and got from the time together wasn't just because you were compelled to treat him equal to his title.

that something more came out of it.

"but..." you mumble, the smile fading when reality sets in again. "is this going to be okay? you're a prince, and i'm just... me."

"of course it's going to be okay. i don't care who or what you are," he comforts, delivery incredibly passionate, you can't fight it. "but more importantly, before you give me your words once and for all, i need to know if you'll be okay with the conditions first. you can be honest. i won't be upset because i would never try to hold you back regarding anything."

"i'm listening," you acknowledge.

"the citizens of utopia have decided to give me a chance. that chance is not only to salvage the nation, but to also prove to them that i'm capable of leading and won't repeat the same mistakes those who came before we did. i don't know how long it's going to take; specifically how many years. but i will crack down on any remaining harmful outlaw members, i will be traveling in and out of the kingdom a lot, and i will be working on making this nation a better place for everyone. that is something i promised to do, and i will do just that."

he takes a deep breath and start again, eyes on yours. "so if you don't want to wait, i won't hold it against you. if there's things or someone better out there waiting for you, you don't have to accept my proposal. but just if you do... if you're willing to wait for me, once the nation is in a stable state and i don't have to stress too much about being all over the place, i promise then, that i will ask for your hand in marriage."

the bold declaration does take you by surprise, hard to grasp that the prince of all people would want to marry you.

"i know it's a lot to take in," he says, "but you don't have to give me an answer now. whenever you're ready."

you shake your head.

"no--i mean, i would love to. no matter how long i have to wait, i think it'll be worth it. after all, the nation is your priority and the people needs you."

he's taken aback by how fast you made up your mind, but overjoy that you want it just as much as he does. he can't be any happier.

"you're sure you want to do this?" he asks again just to be sure, but crossing his fingers you don't just so happen to change your mind.

you nod earnestly.

"i'm sure. besides, i doubt any guy would ever be interested in me let alone want to get married."

he chuckles, a sound you can to listen all day.

"even if they are, they can't get you now. so i don't want to see any of them trying to woo you or something. and you can't give in because you already gave me your words."

it's your turn to laugh, the jealousy endearing on him.

"well how would i know you'll keep your words, too? what if i wait and wait until i'm a grandma with grey hair only for you to take it back? marry someone else instead and say you don't want me anymore?" you tease.

"tskk," he sneer, "that won't happen, because i would never promise anything i knew i couldn't do. so you don't have to worry."

a reassuring smile spreads across his lips as so does yours, seconds passing by when the silence consumes the room and the both of you just stare at each other, completely smitten.

you notice the slightly fallen strands covering his eyes, going to move it with your finger but your hand stopping at his cheek after, a staring contest ensuing before something comes over you, leaning over to deliver a kiss to his other cheek.

when you pull back, the shy and flustered reaction of the prince brings another giggle out from you.

"i believe you, then. go and show everyone that they made the right choice in giving you a chance. go and make the nation a better place for the citizens. no matter how long, when you come back, i'll be right here... for you."

age 20:

you're twenty years old when the district system is abolished, and when you're nearing twenty-one, it will have been a year since you've spoken to the prince, and will be a few months that you've last seen jongho.

he had been given an opportunity to stay at the castle as one of the prince's permanent companions and took it.

as for you, you moved back to what used to be the fifth district, your heart and soul still full of regard for the place no matter how far you run because every last memory of your parents are rooted here.

you didn't want and couldn't ask for anything in return for the loyalty to the royal family during their toughest time, only taking the coins they had kindly insisted on giving and proceeded to find somewhere to settle. make a life for yourself.

the first few months after declaration of adjustments were as tough for anyone else as it was for you. no matter how positive of an effect, changes are always difficult.

the nobles having to reclaim their homes again after migrating from fear of the outlaws; the party finally retreating, and the former having to piece everything back together with the thought in mind that everything won't be the same, but it will be fair.

the lower districts benefitting the most from the changes but time is their biggest adversary, because though good things are coming, they're not going to come in an instant. having to wait days, months, years, for the full glory to show can be defeating.

but nevertheless, it's coming, and tomorrow will be better than yesterday and so forth. a year later and you can already notice the difference, especially the sea that once gave up on the nation ready to ripple once more.

where you're currently at, you couldn't have done it without the help of those around you. hongjoong who gave you full rights to his hideout in the fifth district because he won't have the use for it anymore, having also been promoted to work alongside the prince.

and with the coins the royal family gave you, you put it into materials to hone the skill you're best at, now finally making a living off sewing and embroidery.

over the year, you've renovated the small shack to your liking with the knowledge you carried from your father, building something for yourself you can call home.

you can still recall that feeling; the first sinking realization of being alone and the taste of freedom. you no longer belonged to somebody or owed anything to anyone. no longer the poor kid just waiting for a better life.

you were your own person, and it feels amazing to be free, though you think it would be even better if he was there.

the thought of him crossing your mind every couple of days, wishing for nothing but only the best for him, hopeful that one day, he will return to fulfill the promise.

"those are some fine handkerchiefs you have there," a young man's voice stops you, spinning around to greet him with a smile.

"you crafted them yourself?" he asks, his tone a type of mischievious that you don't even read into.

"yes," you simply reply, always putting on your best behavior when there's a possible customer. "would you like to take a look at them for yourself?"

"i'd love to."

you untangle the basket from your arm and start going through the many fabrics of your creation.

"wow. not only is the creator herself beautiful, but so are the creations. i've never seen these kind of patterns before," he comments, a smirk on that is both amused and flirty, you can't help the way your cheeks immediately reddens.

the man only seems to find the sight even more endearing as a snicker bubbles out of him while you're still just standing there because you've never met someone so shameless before.

you're about to say something when an arm is thrown around your shoulders instead, turning to the source and your body an immediate mix of relieved, joy, and a skipping heartbeat.

"san..." you say by natural instinct, his unreadable expression meeting yours before moving to the young man in front.

"i'm sorry, i told her to not go wandering by herself but she wouldn't listen. let's go back, honey."

he snatches the basket out of your hold with his other hand and hauls you back the other way.

"i've only been gone for a year and you're already flirting with another man?" he accuses once you're able to flee from his clutch, his steps following right behind you as a pout overtakes his face.

"i wasn't flirting. i was trying to make money," you weakly defend, focus on the path back to your place that you believe the word 'cottage' would be more fitting for.

"you're way too beautiful and talented to be out there spending your days talking to young men."

"pfft," you blow, "and you're way too handsome and princely to be traveling everywhere and going to other kingdoms in the presence of other noble and royal daughters."

"and i'd still choose you, baby."

your heels dig the dirt flooring, snapping around from the pet name, a laughter at the verge of coming out.

san can see the amusement on your face, only smirking in response.

"what? i know you like being called that."

this time, you really do laugh and he follows right after, absolutely in love with everything about you. whether that's snarking back or laughing at him.

"whatever you say, prince," you poke more fun at him before dragging him by the wrist into your place.

"cute what you've done," he pass a comment while you put the basket away.

"yes. and i have just about everything i need."

it's just a little bigger than the hideout back at what used to be the third district, but it has the same convenience in that it's close to the river, cutting out trips to the bathhouse which saves a lot of time.

he nods, the dimpled smile never leaving his face.

"so... what brings you here?" you eventually ask, sitting next to him on your bed, the atmosphere shifting because despite enjoying the banter and mischief of it all, you miss him and haven't seen him in over a year.

"we just returned and arrived at the port this morning, so i wanted to come visit and see how you're doing. you know, to make sure no one was trying to sweep you off by your feet."

you playfully land a slap to his shoulder, snickering.

"you're ridiculous. all year long and my love life is so dry, but the one day someone acknowledges me, you just have to come back," you reply with sarcasm.

"i'm sorry to ruin that for you, but you can't take it back. you promised to marry me, and i will make sure every guy in the kingdom knows that."

you remember the first time meeting san, his state of grief making him almost an entirely different person. quiet, stoic, and always in distress, it's the most wonderful surprise that he's actually a child at heart.

able to let loose once in a while and just have fun.

"no need to. you won't have any competitions at all."

he chuckles quietly at that and closes any remaining distance between you two.

"you speak too lowly of yourself when you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

you bat your eyelashes, shying away from his gaze. you just blush way too easy.

he chuckles at the sight and moves the subject along, "but i also came because i have good news. the king and prince mingi of dune have agreed to a treaty."

"really? t-that's great!" you stumble your wording, beyond happy for him because this was everything he wanted and planned for.

"yeah. it wasn't easy but the fact we have aurora did most of the convincing. dune was... interesting to say the least," he says, briefly recalling the month he spent at the kingdom.

"you did it, though" you smile. "it's only going to get better from now on."

"i hope so. but it seems the real challenge just began. this place is going to need a lot of work."

"that, it is. but for now, you just need to relax. rest a little and eat if you already haven't. i can make you some soup, would you like that?"

he nods.

"i would love that."

he loves how comfortale and easy it is with you. when the weight on his shoulders gets too heavy, he can always rely on you to make it better, even if just for a bit.

--

"so where do i sleep?" he asks, walking back in after washing himself by the river with the towel you gave him.

the day had been nothing short of a dream, eating and cleaning together and just small exchanges that multiplies the butterflies in your stomach.

you wish everyday was like this.

"the floor," you joke, the response making him scowl.

"i'm carrying the nation on my back and you're gonna make me sleep on the floor?" he throws the towel over his shoulder, his wet strands of hair swaying along with his movements.

"that bed looks big enough for the two of us." he points with his chin. "besides, we're gonna get married anyways."

you roll your eyes, snatching the towel from him as you go to ruffle his wet hair with it, his shout of protests underneath coming out muffled.

"fine." you land the fabric back around his neck, crawling into bed and scooting to the wall to make space.

he lays down and faces you, your gaze burning into each other's when he cranks out a smile.

"i'll be leaving in the morning and you might not see me again for a while after. don't you think you should give me something to remember you by?"

your brows furrow, your mind jumping to conclusion considering the position you guys are in and the tone in which he said it.

"i'm not gonna have sex with you," you spit, prompting the loudest laughter ever from him, followed by confusion from you.

"no, of course not. i was talking about another of your handkerchiefs."

"oh..." you murmur, feeling embarrassed.

"not until we get married at least. then, we can do it," he states with confidence, the thought of taking you to bed and inserting control another way is tempting, and he can't wait for the day.

you smack his chest lightly, as flustered as you are, you can't help the giggle that slips out.

a few seconds of silence pass by before he starts moving closer, his breath ghosting your skin and finger going to caress your cheek.

"i really do want to kiss you right now, though," he confess, "if that's okay with you."

you nod as much as your pillowed head allows you to.

"that's okay with me."

you close your eyes shut, trying to keep from flinching as you await his kiss, moments later only for his lips to crash against yours, his hand moving to your jaw and his body pressing forward as the kiss deepens.

you kiss him like it's the last kiss between you and him; like your life depends on it, the bed creaking under as he takes it upon himself to connect your bodies.

he pulls back much to your disappointment, both of your chests heaving and trying to catch your breath, his forehead bumped with yours and tip of his nose brushing your own.

"good enough," he speaks, his breath still not yet returned, "any more than this and i might not be able to contain myself."

you giggle, placing a soft peck on his cheek, flashing one last smile.

"goodnight, prince."

--

"have a safe trip, and take care of yourself," you bless, blue in your heart as san makes his way back to you after speaking to the coachman.

all the laughters and butterflies of yesterday won't be experienced again until who knows how long. he will be away after this, and you will miss him dearly.

you wish he could stay but you know he can't. he has something bigger and better to worry about.

he stops before you, melancholy in his eyes as well. he doesn't want to leave you but he has to. and as much as he wants to take you along, he can't let you bear the same responsibilities and weight.

he wants for you to be there, when he already made everything better.

"you take care of yourself, too." his hands naturally finding itself cupping your cheeks. "don't overwork yourself."

"i won't."

you place your own hands over his, desperate to salvage his touch for one last time.

"when can i expect to see you again?" you ask.

"i don't have a definite answer, but i'll be back. i promise."

you two share one last kiss before you watch him go off, blue still in your heart, but you know that someday, he'll come back, and it will be to stay.

age 23:

you're twenty-three years old when there's a knock at the door one suspicious morning.

living in the middle of nowhere, and even over the years, you're only able to count on one hand the range of selection there is when it comes to who it could be.

"hongjoong?" you squint, the man you haven't seen in forever looking slightly more buffed; mature, his hair styled and attire new and shiny.

"great seeing you again," he greets, still on horseback and glancing down at you.

"would you like to come inside? for some tea or a drink?" you ask, figuring it's only proper etiquette you do.

"i'm good. i only came to deliver something."

you continue squinting, one hand shielding your eyes from the early sun, reaching out when hongjoong hands you a letter and unfolding it.

"an invitation from the prince?" you read, incredulity as you shoot up to look at him.

"yes. the prince is finally accepting his accession to king and the coronation will be held a week from now. that is all i have for today. i have to head back soon."

you have so many more questions but hongjoong already turns his back before you can ask them, settling for staring at the ink in awe when the sound of his voice picks your head up again.

"i hope to see you there. the prince will be expecting you."

--

you leave for the capital the following day, packing only essentials and enough coins, taking along pearl, the white horse you had purchased a year back for traveling purposes.

there's been a lot changes in the four years since san took the reign, all of them for the better, of course.

some of the homes have been revamped, some new ones added, and everywhere you passed, there are greens and beauty in each sceneries.

the citizens look happier, kids a lot less miserable and even those in the orphanages are coming around to the new implements along with those in progress to solve overcrowding.

members of the outlaws have dwindled over time and quieted.

for the first time in hundreds of years, utopia is able to live up to its name in some form; a place of ideal perfection.

so you couldn't fret too much; be upset that in the three years that have passed, san's only visited you once. because if it wasn't for him, the nation wouldn't have been able to achieve the current state.

you travel to the capital with hope, expectation, and excitement at the fact you will be seeing him again; a strong belief that everything will feel just the same as last time.

you stop at inns to rest when the nights fall and start again at dawn, reaching the destination in five days total, the day before san's coronation.

there isn't any difference to the castle, not even a bit. a touch of nostalgia hitting you when thinking back to the event four years ago.

entrance is easy to get through, showing both of the guards who seems to recognize you, the letter.

tying your horse to the nearest tree, you proceed to the door with a pounding heart, banging on it twice before the castle door creaks from the other side, absolutely no idea who the person could be.

"y/n!"

your eyes widen at the sight, that nervousness replaced by delight.

"jongho!"

before he can get another word out, you're already in his arms, the warmth of your best friend something you missed greatly in the full year you haven't seen him.

you can him hear giggling in your hair, pulling away to that goofy smile of his as one settles on your lips as well.

"you came," he simply says.

"of course i did."

jongho takes you inside, your nosy eyes wandering the interior that's also the same as before but still dazzling with all its history, cracks in some of the wall, and antiques.

you greet the queen and the princess who only gets more beautiful by the years, them welcoming you with warm smiles and you can tell immediately the new changes other than their appearances.

they sound happier; no other burdens or weight pulling them down, carrying it around like a haunting that won't go away.

you walk around the courtyard with jongho after, finally a time and place to catch up. all those time of being with each other, you didn't think you could survive if he wasn't by your side, but to have gone four long years only seeing him once in a blue moon, you'd say that's some character development.

"how are things here for you?" you ask him, walking alongside shoulder to shoulder.

"amazing," he answers almost instantly, "it's crazy. i never thought i'd get the chance to work in the capital, but the royal family's castle? with the prince? it's everything i've ever wanted."

you can't stop smiling, his tone telling of just how much he means what he just said.

"that's great. i'm happy for you. you did always say you wanted all those training to go into something."

he nods.

"and you? how are things down there?"

"much better. it's coming together. the people's the most tame i've ever seen them."

jongho hums in acknowledgement.

"i heard you're going to become queen," he suddenly brings up, and you almost choke in return.

"and who the hell said that?"

"--i did."

the familiar voice that isn't jongho makes the both of you turn around, your stomach dropping and heart palpitating because you know all too well who it belongs to.

you can only stare breathless as he takes a step closer, your throat dry.

he's just as mesmerizing as you remember but like hongjoong, time have passed and he has gotten more bulky, manly, and handsome if that's even possible.

"i'm glad to see you can come," he mumbles, a charming smile on that render your knees weak.

jongho clears his throat, attempting to hide a smirk as he goes to excuse himself politely and walks back inside, leaving you stranded in the presence of san.

everything still feels the same with him.

"yeah. i got the letter," you reply, glancing around the empty area, "though it seems i might have gotten a tad excited."

he snickers, and oh... how you have missed the sound.

"you're the only one i gave a personal invitation to," he unveils.

"oh." your eyes swell, only to break the tension after. "then i guess i'm special."

"you are," he assures, closing the distance and taking one of your hand. "i have promised you that once utopia is stable enough, i will ask for your hand in marriage."

you watch as he goes to pull something out of the pocket of his suit, one of his knees pointed to the ground, his entire body falling with it.

"and now that i've finally reached that goal... y/n, will you marry me?"

it takes a moment for you to process everything, overwhelmed with joy and happiness before you can properly nod.

"yes. of course."

and he will marry you, after the rise to king and acceptance of his title as the ruler of utopia, keeping the promise just as he did to every others.

permanent taglist: @moonchele

a/n: not me talking shit abt wanting broken era to be over only to go & write a 19k oneshot. but i loved writing this & had a lot of fun bc it was v different from what i'd usually write

#i don't know shit abt politics #so go easy #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xiv. this feels like the calm before the storm.

— the one where the world is caving in.

warnings: cheesy pop culture references, aidan and victoria are back, more articles than usual. mentions of panic attacks, anxiety tics, spelling mistakes in the tweets that i am too lazy to correct, forgive me. 2.3k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

'Did Timothée Chalamet get y/n y/ln a role in 'Little Women'?'

By Bridget Thomas

As previously reported by various outlets, actress y/n y/ln has been cast as the youngest March sister for yet another remake of "Little Women", expected to be premiered by the end of next year. However, we can't help but wonder, how did y/n manage to get a role alongside actors of such high caliber, such as Meryl Streep and Best Actress Nominee Saoirse Ronan?

Despite the success of movies such as Supercut and The Hating Game, y/n's acting skills cannot even begin to compare to those of her co-stars, she's a romcom actress, and she's supposed to stay that way. But as Ringo Starr once sung: "I get by with a little help from my friends" and y/n is no exception.

Timothée Chalamet, Greta Gerwig's other main muse, has Hollywood eating out of the palm of his hand, and his influence goes a long way. So much so, that he was able to secure Amy's role for new friend (possibly new something else) y/n y/ln.

Right after they were seen mingling at a party in Paris with y/n's boyfriend (probably soon to be ex) Charles Leclerc, y/n got the call that they decided to give her the role.

Don't we all want a boyfriend who uses nepotism to our benefit?

Seriously, though, how does y/n manage to get this heartthrobs to spare a glance her way and do this stuff in her name? Somebody call the Winchester Brothers, we might have a witchcraft case right in front of our eyes.

Click here to go to the next article.

'Victoria Presley: I still miss my best friend, but all she did was use me.'

By Daniel Gomez

After staying away from social media and her job for a month and a half, beauty influencer Victoria Presley is back and she's not afraid of anything. Not even legal repercussions.

Back in July, Victoria received a 'Cease and Desist' letter from none other than former best friend y/n y/ln, demanding she stopped talking about her in public and to news outlets. This sparked the rumors that Presley had been selling her secrets to tabloids and was the one to reveal the engagement secret alongside actress Mia Kim, Aidan Kim's sister.

Victoria immediately removed herself from the narrative, deeply hurt by her ex-bestie's actions. Now, after gathering her thoughts and recovering from being stabbed in the back, she's giving us this exclusive interview.

"I can't help but miss y/n, she was my best friend for so long. But all she did was use me." Victoria is still in disbelief of y/n's actions, after giving her all her love and support. "I let her live in my house for months, and one day she leaves without any explanation. All to meet that Formula One guy."

Victoria has expressed her discontent with y/n's relationship with Charles Leclerc several times, arguing he is one of the main reasons y/n cut all ties with her and not the rumors that she revealed y/n's secrets to tabloids.

"He changed her for worse. Their relationship is so toxic, they breakup and get back together again and again, and they're just looking for ways to use the other's reputation for their benefit."

However, Victoria is certain the relationship won't last much longer, since y/n has her sight set on co-star Timothée Chalamet. "y/n has liked him for a while. When the rumors of his relationship with Kylie Jenner came out, she assured me she could steal him away with a flick of her hand."

Meanwhile, Victoria is focusing on her beauty line and its evergrowing sales. "I'm competing directly with Rare Beauty and Fenty. I'm in the big leagues, the way I deserve to be."

Click here to go to the next article.

'Aidan Kim reveals tracklist for "MIRRORS" and moves the release forward.'

By Paul Dean

Aidan Kim fans won't have to wait until October 5th anymore since their idol has decided to move the release date for his debut album forward by one month.

While we believe this decision was influenced by the news of ex-girlfriend y/n y/ln making her acting comeback in a high category movie, his fans also begged him to 'remind everyone of how awful y/n is' and judging by the titles of his upcoming tracks, we're sure he's leaving no crumbs.

Check out "MIRRORS" tracklist here:

In Your Pocket

All The Things I Hate About You

Him

Cry Me A River

Stabber

Stupid Love Letter

MIRRORS

Round and Round (Star-5 Reprise)

Yours and Mine (Star-5 Reprise)

Blinding Lights (The Weeknd Cover)

No Lie (With Mia Kim)

We can't wait for Aidan's insight on his relationship and breakup to y/n, we're certain the details are juicy! Don't forget to presave "MIRRORS" on Spotify and Apple Music!

Monza, Italy, September 3rd.

1...2...3... deep breath in, 4...5...6, breathe out.

You repeat the process five times until your heart has set in your chest and isn't trying to break free anymore. Until you've stopped squeezing your thighs with your palms and you can keep your eyes open without feeling like the red decoration is stabbing your eyeballs.

It's good that you can manage your anxiety before it turns into panic. You're still embarrassed about The Spain Incident, although neither Charles nor Carlos fault you for it at all. Still, every now and then, their panicked faces flashback in your mind and you feel sorry for them all over again.

You don't want this weekend to turn into The Monza Incident. Not when Charles' contract renewal was announced a few hours ago and he's on Pole Position, this weekend has to be perfect. Or as perfect as possible, for your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The weight of the word has multiplied by a thousand in your mind. Silly, when you really think about it. But palpable in a way that has butterflies flying around your stomach every time you think about the word and Charles' smiling face appears in your mind.

He's your boyfriend and you're his girlfriend, and this was a mutual agreement you reached with panic still holding you by the throat, only soothed by Charles' soft lips against your temple and his warm hands rubbing your skin.

You agreed to come to this Grand Prix because it will be the last one for you for a while. Filming for Little Women starts soon, and though they have a couple of races in the States, your schedule can be a little unpredictable. Also, you're hoping to score more roles soon.

You breathe again, deep enough that your lungs ache and lightheadedness threatens to rise through your body. You're overwhelming yourself, again.

According to the world, you’re not skilled enough to be in a movie with Saoirse and Timothée and should give up the role to someone who actually deserves it. Which you won’t do, of course. That someone who deserves it is yourself. It has taken a lot of pep talks in the bathroom mirror to brainwash yourself into believing it, but you’re getting there.

Plus, there are more things to worry about with Victoria back on her bullshit and Aidan's album coming out in two days. There are so many things to fix again, just when you thought you were getting there. Of course the two people that hate you most in the world have to mess with you again.

"Already here?" Carlos asks the second he crosses the door to the Suite. "It's way early."

"Good morning to you too," you let the air out of your already burning lungs and smile at Carlos. "I have nowhere else to be."

You could be at the Paddock Club, mingling with whatever celebrity or rich local is there. Or even visiting McLaren, since Lando offered to 'show you the garage', something Charles didn't like, of course. The secret of your newly earned girlfriend-boyfriend titles is one you try to keep close to your heart.

As if that has worked before.

A wave of anxiety runs down the back of your neck when you remember the tweet you saw this morning about a Deuxmoi tip on Charles and you. What could the exact price be, to reveal your relationship to the world?

"Have you had breakfast? Looks like you're going to throw up," Carlos says, sitting in the sofa opposite yours.

It's at least the fifth time he's told you that during the weekend. You know he does it out of a place of concern, but it still rubs you the wrong way. You also need to look perfect, not like you're going to throw up.

"I had breakfast back at the hotel, it's just the lighting."

"Sure?"

"I'm fine, Carlos. How are you?"

Carlos shrugs, he's not being the center of attention this weekend despite this being another home race for the team. "Good."

"Didn't you have to be at the meeting today?" you question, although it's obvious that by his getting there just now, he didn't.

"Had my PR reminders yesterday. Charles is different."

Of course. He has to know what he's allowed to say about his renewal and what he should not speak on at all.

Your own team advised you not to let yourself be seen at Monza. Mildred would have pulled you out of the plane if it had been up to her, and Walter would have helped her hold you hostage until the weekend was over.

They're both trying to find out about the Deuxmoi pictures too, although you doubt they can reach an agreement of any kind with whoever holds them to stop them from calling People Magazine up.

This whole avoiding being seen thing makes you feel wrong. As if you were doing something bad with Charles instead of just finally letting the love you've felt for him for months show. You hate it.

You're wrong to compare your current situation with your past ones. Aidan was your first really public romantic relationship, but before that, you didn't hide your partners either. Of course you weren't that famous, but even then, you didn't entertain the thought of scurrying around like criminals.

"He'll be fine, y/n," Carlos adds, looking at the way your foot keeps stomping the floor, like you're some kind of hyperactive bunny. "He's on Pole. You can pray for Max's downfall, though, maybe that'll help."

"I don't pray for people's downfall," you click your tongue, crossing your legs to stop the tic.

Karma and all that.

"Maybe you should." Carlos winks at you, and your conversation is finished as Charles leaves his meeting.

You can tell something's off just from the way his shoulders tense, but he smiles at you the moment your eyes meet.

"Everything okay?" you ask before he leans down to reach your height as you sit and pecks your lips.

"Yes, everything's good."

He's lying.

─────────

What was the point of coming to Monza if you're only watching the race through the screens?

You don't think the sun has touched your face at all since you got to the circuit, and you really want to be out there. But you stay put in your seat as the formation lap occurs right outside of the Suite.

It will make no difference, though, Charles is focused on the race, as he should be, rather than whether you're watching him through the TV.

Soon enough you know what will make a difference.

It's some kind of miracle that Charles has managed to regain the P1 position after the disastrous pit stop Ferrari put him through, and maybe Carlos was actually praying for Red Bull's downfall since Max has his very first DNF of the season and Checo can't get past George in P3.

Charles is going to win Monza again.

The decision making tree branches in front of you in a matter of seconds, people at the Suite are already talking excitedly and someone asks if you want to go down, there are four laps left.

You get up from your seat, aware that if life was anything like that videogame you played a couple times on the set of Parisian Valentine with your co-star, the "This action will have consequences" legend would appear on the screen right now.

You follow the Ferrari worker out, but even between the excitement and celebrations, you manage to hear what the PR Manager really thinks of your presence in the Paddock.

"She’s such a PR nightmare,"

She switches to Italian when your eyes fly to her face. And you can only wonder what cruel yet entirely accurate thing she said.

It's worse than a nightmare. It feels like the apocalypse all over again. And the weight of the world is back on your shoulders, feeling like you're messing up what was a weekend out of a dream for Charles.

You flashback to Monaco and the way Mati pulled you out of your head and locked your phone in her purse. You wish she was here more with each passing second. You cannot tear your eyes away from every single tweet speculating about your presence, about your relationship, about your intentions. It's overwhelming.

But Charles' happiness is what matters. He's absolutely ecstatic, even after the mishaps during the interviews where his PR training had to kick in and lead reporters back to Formula 1 related questions.

The thought that maybe you should have tried to make friends with more people occurs to you when you arrive at the celebration in the private club and Charles is dragged away from you. He tries his best to hold on to your hand, but the truth is people want to be with him and not you, so you let him take the spotlight he deserves and enjoy it.

"So, are you and Charles dating, then? Didn't you use to be engaged?"

You half-smile at the girl who just asked you the question, so boldly it takes you aback. But you guess her eyes are so bright from how much alcohol there is in her system, she's bound to be direct with liquid courage running through her veins. She's pretty in that dark hair, dark eyes way that has you momentarily doubting your own looks.

The extra heartbeat that takes you to reply, has her eyes shifting around the room before settling on Charles, who is finally walking back to your side.

Your boyfriend hands you a drink and smiles at the dark-haired girl and her friend, politely. "Are you having a good time?" the question is mostly directed towards you, but both girls jump at the chance of saying they're having the time of their lives and congratulating Charles for such an epic win. But they prompt you to join the conversation a few seconds later, so you're grateful for it either way.

There's a song in Spanish playing on the speakers and Charles is doing his best to sing the words while encouraging you to move to the beat with him. With his arms around you, things feel a little lighter, the whole in your chest that anxiety carved out is slowly filling with the love you feel for him, and the happiness of the day outshines the darkness of the thoughts in the back of your mind.

That is, at least, until the first notes of 'In Your Pocket' replace the previous song, after the DJ announces it's a special request. It's a remix, obviously, so people can dance to it, but a few of them have stopped moving altogether just to be a little less discreet about eyeing you.

"C'est pas amusant," you hear Charles say to one of his friends, who is hiding his mouth behind a tall glass of alcohol, his eyes still betray his enjoyement.

"It's fine," you squeeze Charles' arm, trying your best to smile although you're being put in the spotlight and there's nearly nothing worse than being the butt of a cruel joke. "It's just a song."

You wondered many times what those surrounding Charles thought of you. They didn't know you, after all. His brothers were nice to you when you saw them around the Paddock, and it wasn't like you'd hung around the rest of his friends. Did they mock him when tabloids called him a homewrecker? Or did they believe he'd just embarked on what seemed to be a dead-end relationship?

"I'm sorry, soleil, they're just— they're idiots," Charles adds, his hand reaching for yours. He looks genuinely upset and you can't help but hate whoever requested the song a little more for spoiling Charles' mood rather than for making fun of you.

"Charlie, it's okay, I've been through worse," your reassurance doesn't soothe him, so you squeeze his hand and he presses his lips to your temple. "I'd rather listen to Bad Bunny or something, though."

Charles laughs and pulls you out of the dancefloor, to a more private part of the club where you both can catch your breath and share a few kisses, unafraid of people staring at you.

New York, United States, September 7th.

You know you're in trouble when Mildred calls tells you that you need to be at her office ASAP. She also used that condescending 'I'm the adult' tone that send you back to when you were fifteen and got in trouble with your mother, so it's another indication that she's angry at you.

Of course you know why, the words 'PR nightmare' haven't left your brain in days. And the moment you set foot in New York, Mildred was all over you about every single thing that was being said about the Monza Incident—aka seeing your boyfriend like any normal person would.

"This isn't ideal," Mildred says after a while, she has been explaining the public's perception of you for the past half hour. "It's like you—"

"Like I fucked up?" you cut her off, squeezing your knees to stop from biting your nails.

"We were rebuilding your brand, y/n. People think you waited for things to die a little so you could go public with Charles. Aidan's new album is not helping your case."

If you thought 'In Your Pocket' was bad, nothing compared to the rest of the songs. Some in which he called you a list of things including a homie-hopper, drama starter and said you settled for a 'bum' when you could have had a 'rockstar'.

"How is that my fault?" you don't intend to sound so whiny, but you can't help it. Why are Aidan's actions always your fault somehow?

"People are talking more about how you are dating a Ferrari Driver after spending months saying you weren't, rather than the fact that you landed an incredibly important role."

"We haven't told anyone we're dating,"

Mildred rolls her eyes despite her best efforts to remain professional. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

"What do you suggest we do?" you ask, knowing you won't like the answer.

─── team principal radio: ❝remember when I said it wouldn't take me one month to update delicate and then it took me longer than that? I'M SO SORRY LMAO. also not loving this chapter but i just want it out of my way for now i need it off my drafts, but don't worry this time i'll try for the next not to take me a century. thank you if you're still here, your patience means the world to me i love you all so muuuuch♡❞

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[ovaryacted]

Honest question, how do you think Leon would propose?

Love ya Nic, have a great day/night! ❤️

Omg, anon, I'm so sorry I haven't answered this until now even though I truly wanted to when I first saw it! I literally was grinning from ear to ear thinking about this and the different ways Leon would propose to his significant other. Thank you so much for this ask, it really made me happy. 🫶

Now, I think the way Leon approaches marriage will definitely depend on where he is in his life. He can be both attentive and intentional on the proposal itself, or he's more focused on the final product and ends up being an impulsive knucklehead. So I will break this down based on the different versions of him, and I hope you enjoy my thoughts on this!

RE2R - Baby boy, most definitely would be very considerate towards the whole process. I see him taking a more romantic approach despite being shy, taking their partner out to dinner, and spending a pretty penny on the whole thing. He'll get a bouquet of roses, take you to some nice restaurant in the city, and does some real corny shit like put the engagement ring in the dessert, or he'd actually get on one knee and ask you properly. Either way, I think this specific version of Leon would give you the sweetest most intentional engagement, and it would be more endearing because he's nervous the entire time and scared you'd say no but when you kiss him, he's all smiles afterward.

RE4R - Now Leon is a couple of years older with more life experience under his belt that he didn't necessarily ask for. If he was lucky enough to have a partner that he wants to marry, he would still be considerate enough to actually ask them but the proposal would be more intimate and personal. He'd probably take you to somewhere quiet and scenic, he'd want it to be more private and away from other people to ease his own anxieties. He may or may not get on one knee in front of you or decide on just holding your hands, but he would still ask you, or say that he wants you in his life for as long as he's here. Much more sentimental because he's an emotional type of guy, and he's the type to probably have the ring in his pocket instead of the case itself, but it is still a lovely gesture.

ID! - For sure goes back to his romantic roots. Similar to him in RE2R, I still see him doing the whole restaurant thing, but probably rents out an actual section in the restaurant so it's more private. He has the entire night planned, takes you to a nice exclusive dinner (cause duh), is very smug and corny about things, and woos you with his silly jokes before popping the question seriously. Afterwards, he'd take you to a nice hotel room with champagne and really treats you to a nice night out because it's what you deserve.

RE6 - Now at his age and with his level of trauma, it can go either nicely, or very impulsively. If he's intentional and wants that special moment, Leon will plan it out and do it properly. But I think it would be more realistic if he's impulsive, or just never finds the right way to propose to the person he loves. He'd come back home with the ring sitting in his pocket but wouldn't ask you for weeks. Every time he thinks it's the right time to propose to you, he either chickens out from asking at all, or he gets sent off on another mission and isn't able to come back for some time. He wants to do it right, really does, but he'll eventually grow impatient and just blurts out the statement like a dumbass. At least here, he'll probably say it when he's desperate, just says "Marry me" as he's kissing you over and over. It's embarrassing, but once he realizes he can't live without you and doesn't want to wait any longer, he will just say it because it's better if he did than if he never gets the chance to do it in the first place.

Vendetta - Good luck on getting him to ask cause he literally won't. The question may or may not slip out into a drunken mess of words that he won't remember in the morning, or you'll mention something about marriage and he'll brush it off. That man would not give one fuck about getting married when he literally doesn't think life is worth living. If you want to marry him, it will take a lot of convincing him that he's even worth the emotional investment. Leon wants to feel love and reciprocate it, but he's also scared that if he does get married, it'll turn into collateral so he would be less inclined to even want that.

DI! - A little more sensical than he was in the past, Leon at this point will either do a proper proposal, or he will unintentionally suggest that he wants to marry you. He's the type to buy the engagement ring the moment he knows he wants to be in your life for whatever is remaining of it, and he'll keep it hidden or tucked away for months, or carry it on him as a reminder to ask you one day. In a moment of weakness, he can also just pop the question as he's being with you in bed, loving you. His eyes will crinkle as he smiles, looking at you with so much affection that it'll probably come out as a hypothetical like "What if we got married?". You entertain the idea, not thinking he's serious but when he goes quiet after a second and gives you a bashful stare, you just say "You're not serious are you?", and he holds the ring in front of you like "Very serious". It's sudden, it's even a tad bit silly, but it's him and you can't help but say yes anyway.

#ovaryacted asks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fluff #resident evil headcanons #ovaryacted thoughts

[writingforstraykids]

Hii! So I don’t know if you’ve already posted this… but if not, could you please do soft thoughts for Changbin?? (He’s my bias)

Thank you!!! I love your work btw!! 💗

I tried my best since I don't really write for anyone else but Min, Chan, Lix and sometimes Innie now. I do hope I did your imagination justice🖤 thanks to @zehina, niki and kylei for their ideas☺️

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Changbin loves coming home to you after a long day, resting his head in your lap, and relaxing. He loves it when you run your hand through his hair, soothingly massaging his scalp as you tell him about your day. He doesn't stop planting tiny kisses on your other hand and your thighs, getting sleepier with every passing second he spends in your comforting presence.

Speaking of headscratches, he loves when your nails are a little longer or you get them done professionally because he loves the way they scratch his scalp just perfectly. Especially on nights when he has a hard time falling asleep.

Whenever you're not feeling well, whether at home or in public, his hand naturally finds your back. He rubs soothing circles on your lower back or all the way up and down, assuring you he's there.

Changbin always has an extra bottle of water with him, not wanting his beloved partner to dehydrate. He always makes sure to have one with him, reminding you as often as he can to "just take a little sip" and then relax for another ten minutes. Especially in the summer when you're out having fun with him, you're very glad about this sometimes annoying habit.

A, for you, rather amusing habit of his is helping you put on your socks and shoes. You have no idea why, but this man is on his knees faster than you can comprehend and makes sure you're all comfortable in your socks. Then he puts on your shoes for you, and if needed, he ties your shoelaces tightly enough for them to stay that way the whole day. He can get really sulky if you "forget" to tell him and won't let him help you.

If you're the type for candles, he has your back. No matter the occasion or time of the year, this man can find you fitting candles: lavender for when you're stressed, sweet pumpkin-themed ones for Halloween, red roses for Valentine's Day, or cinnamon and orange during Christmas time. He never fails to amaze you, and by now, you have an amazing, unique candle collection, keeping one of each flavor to remember forever.

Another one that has started quite early in your relationship is matching with him. It started with matching your outfits by color before adding matching sweaters. For your first anniversary, he got you matching keychains, and soon after, you had matching phone cases. Several ones, in fact, so you could change them as often as you'd like, and he always makes sure to change his own accordingly.

Changbin won't let you carry your own stuff for once. He's always hovering, holding your bag for you, grabbing your drinks and snacks, and if you'd let him, he'd hold your phone right under your nose the whole day as well. In his eyes, you shouldn't have to carry anything since you have a "pretty strong boyfriend who can take care of you." Yes, your coffee will still fit into his hand next to your shopping bags, handbag, wallet, keys, and donuts.

He loves acting silly with you, especially when it's only the two of you. Whenever you put on your playlist with girl group songs, he'll go crazy with you, outdancing you with ease. It's frustrating, really. You have no chance against those hips and goofy smile.

He craves your attention every second of the day. Binnie wants to wake up next to your sleeping face, to hold you as you sleep, and to the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest. Your heartbeat is his favorite sound, right after your laugh. Whenever he can, he places his head on your chest to listen to it beating and smirks at it, picking up pace when he calls you by one of his ridiculous pet names.

Speaking of ridiculous nicknames, Binnie is definitely the type for it. He calls you by the longest and weirdest-sounding pet names you only see in memes. Getting a laugh from you in return feels like another win for him. He'd do everything to make sure you're happy.

He is your number one fan, and he will never deny it. If you ever doubt yourself and he notices the slightest sign of it, he's there. Hyping you up and comforting you in everything you do. That also means he'll do everything to make you comfortable. He'll pick up your favorite food no matter the time, hold you close, or just let you cry on his shoulder for a bit.

He loves your body in every single way. If you ever have trouble accepting your body and don't tell him, he'll be pouty all day because he wants to help. If you want to change something out of comfort and not self-hatred, he's there every step of the way. He'll hype you for your new hairstyle or color, he'll help you pick out new outfits, and oh, he'll be the happiest man alive if you ever join him at the gym.

He carries you for fun. If he wants you to join him at the gym, cook dinner with you or watch a movie he'll pick you up and throw you over his shoulder carrying you there. Especially when you playfully protested against doing whatever he had in mind. You love him so much for this quirky habit.

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