#And it's so hard when I like...read books! about food history! all the time!

[docholligay]

I love looking over someone's blog and trying to figure out if they're an earnest person who can be talked to and is actually curious or someone who is like, 19 and right about everything. (i also was never incorrect at 19, it's just the time)

Anyway, if you want to read a very very good book about the actual history of the hamburger, I really recommend Josh Ozersky's Hamburger: A History. He does have his little annoying tics, but his history is good--the man was a history doctorate and a food writer--and I think it would provide some clarity on the question.

In short, Germany invented the hamburger in the way India invented tikka masala.

[wasitforrevenge]

new romantics

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings: may be some triggering content including tampon is a douchbag at a party, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity but nothing major, smut books mentioned (hehehe) a fight occurs but can you blame him? he’s just defending your honor ugh, two idiots in love who want nothing but each other and can’t admit it, no use of y/n, imagine her as you, because it is YOU! half editted… ill get to it later i promise

word count: 4.5k

summary: your new study partner is better than you first realize… and now you can’t stop thinking about him, but he can’t stop thinking of you either.

authors note: hi first time writing for acotor! been a fan of these books for a while and my baby azriel does something to me!!! so here’s something i spent the night writing it was 10 different things before it was this lol! pls like, reblog and comment! thank you everyone for reading! photo credit to pinterest, and please i strive to do better so any thoughts pls free feel to let me know! thank you for the support! this is the first time i’ve had the energy to write in months so pls dont go too hard

you met azriel in a greek mythology lecture that you both ended up in during the second semester of your sophomore year. getting partnered with an incredibly built and handsome man for a history report your teacher assigned was the least of your problems when you realized how fucking kind and beautiful azriel is on the inside and out.

the real problem came when you realized how hard you were falling for this man when you started hanging out casually, hitting the coffee stand before class or getting food after a long day. you learned so much about him in a matter of months and couldn’t get him out of your head.

you never spoke existence to your feelings for him, mainly because you didn’t want to ruin a very good potential friendship but partly because you didn’t think you were good enough for someone like him. you’ve heard little whispers about his other… activities and you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

at the start of your junior year, you and azriel were practically best friends and it just felt so natural. the way you two were together. the way your conversations flowed and the way the silence was never deafening when you were together. you spent time cuddling on the couch in your living room watching movies and rating tv shows and going to visit parks around town and getting high as fuck. once time you had even gone crazy and took some acid and spent hours at the aquarium watching all the fish. you studied for classes together, the one you shared and the ones you both took on your own.

you and azriel were always testing out new recipes in his large kitchen. its wonderful that he lives alone. alone as in by himself but you cannot glance over the fact that the rhysand and feyre along with cassian and nesta live on the same floor of this apartment building close to campus. you luckly only live 2 floors down, a thing you realized when you managed to see him in the elevator about a week or two after you first started studying together.

you were debating all summer about confessing your feelings to him but could not gather the courage to bring yourself to admit it to him and face rejection. you couldn’t mess up the relationship between you already. he was your best friend and you really didn’t have too many besides him. you’ve met his family and have spend a lot of time with them, they’re all practically adopted you at the point, they welcomed you with smiles and open arms (besides amren but they told you she’s always like that.)

but a couple weeks into the semester, you and nesta were standing in a kitchen of a person you don’t know debating on what shitty cheap alcohol you’ll be indulging in tonight. it was the first big back to school party and it was still hot as hell out so you were dressed in dark denim shorts and nice tank top along with your black converse.

you and nesta instantly clicked when you met. bonding over smutty books and all the tv shows you managed to watch. she’s felt like your first real girl-friend ever, you guys got some comfortable together and every time you guys hung out, it felt like no time had passed. it was refreshing to have someone to talk to. she also happens to be the only one who knows about the feelings you harbor for your other best friend.

as you’re about to pour the tequila into your red solo cup, you hear someone call nesta’s name and she tells you she’ll be right back before scurrying off to whichever of her friends was calling her. leaving you there alone not knowing anyone at the party, nesta told you the rest of the group was going to meet you there but you have yet to see any of them as you turn your head around the room.

as you fill your cup and turn to put the bottle back down on the counter, you feel a hand glide around your waist and are suddenly aware of a man extremely too close your liking. “hey baby” he said as he slurred his words, clearly intoxicated, by the way he looked and smelled. it sent more warnings through your head even after he grabbed you like that. you had to leave, this couldn’t happen. thoughts are rushing through your head. you move your hand to push his arm off you as you turn around to be face to face with a tall blonde with long hair.

“what was that for?” he drags out as he tried to put his hand back on you. you instantly tried to move towards the way nesta went and told him, “please get off!” but he was too fast and held your upper arm in a death grip before he tugged you closer to his chest, his other hand back on your waist like the first time he did it. your eyes close in fear as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, but he’s gone in an instant.

it all happened so fast. all you see is a large, muscular, tattooed arm flying in front of you, hitting the man who was on you just seconds ago. you watched shocked as you finally lock in to the situation before you.

azriel beating the shit out of the man who had just laid his hands on you.

azriel swung his fist again towards him, hitting him square in the jaw, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at him, having another punch already landing with his other fist.

the man doesn’t respond before he swings back at azriel and managed to get a decent swing in, the hit landed to his lip but azriel doesn’t move at all. he’s standing still in the spot, continuing to tower over him.

azriel shoved the man back into the counter and landed a powerful hook right to his nose simultaneously. he cried out as it made contact, “fuck dude c’mon,” he reached up to grab it, blood pouring from his broken nose and busted lip. he steps closer as he removes his hand looking at the red liquid that has held onto his skin, ready to defend himself against the beautiful man that your eyes cannot stray from.

but azriel is faster and before he could even blink, managed to grab a hold of his shirt and pull him up to where his toes barely touched the floor. his hands fall at his sides and his eyes widen in fear as azriel gets closer to his face, leaning down to whisper something in his ear that you can’t hear over the loud music, people partying and the screaming and crying in your heart as you watched this all unfold.

suddenly azriel is tossing the man back into the counter and he barely managed to grab it and hold on, azriel suddenly grows larger, as if he could get any bigger, and leans to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth behind him. and suddenly your attention is focused on the warmth now englufing your wrist. your eyes immediately register the sight of him standing in front of you, this was warm and right, his hands on you. it just felt so right.

his other hand reached out and gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. the way the sense of safety coursed through you with his simple touch just confirmed, yet again, that this was going to be so hard for you to tell him.

“hey baby…” he spoke softly, his eyes darted between both yours. his attention solely on you. he let his finger rub against your cheek as he finished, “are you okay?” you can’t help the feeling the shoots through you at the use of the pet name and the look of shock that painted your face. not knowing if it came from, whether it was from what unfolded in front of you at this party or the fact he still holding your face and talking to you like this, so sweetly.

you blinked a couple times and the realization hit you that you’ve just been standing there, staring into his beautiful eyes. not paying attention to the group of people that crowded around as the fight was happening or the looks you guys are getting from other party goers that still surrounded you. the only thing you can stand to focus on his gaze.

azriel.

“i don’t know,” you almost whisper towards him, feeling his warmth covering you both. before you can talk again, he moves his scarred hand from your wrist, you feel almost… empty at the loss of contact but that doesn’t last long as he slipped his hand into yours and intertwined his fingers with yours as he guided you towards the front door.

you passed by so many people, you tried not to pay attention to all the looks you were getting. girls stared as they realized it wasn’t themselves in azriel’s grasp, but you. it was your hand he was holding. your heart beat at just the thought of it, your nerves were already shot as the events unfolded not even 10 minutes ago and this did not help one bit.

your eyes manage to catch nesta’s in the crowd, her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, azriel holding your hand and leading you out of the party. oblivious to what actually happened to cause this, she gave you a huge smile and two thumbs up. you cant help but silently chuckle at your friend despite the other overwhelming feelings you have. you’ll explain the situation later when you text her but you were sure eventually she’d hear what happened.

he leads you out the front door and looks back at you with a small smile as you trail behind him. he walked you over, without a word and hands still intertwined and you finally notice your next to his old beat up mustang on the side of the street, the one that smells like him and the faint smell of weed that always lingers regardless of the last time he smoked in there.

he opened the car door for you and you released your hand from his and got into the passengers seat. once you were in, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, giving it a tug to make sure it was connected before smiling down at you from outside the car. he shut the door satisfied and walked around the back of the car to open his own door and sat inside.

the silence is comfortable. it always has been, you pray that sometimes it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it never is. you sit in your seat, eyes staring down towards the hand he had been holding, almost in disbelief, that he defended you like that. you’ve never seen azriel angry like that either. he turns to face you, wanting you to meet his eyes.

azriel walked in the front door of the party, after having a pretty day. the customers at the restaurant he works truly sucked today. small tips and even shittier people. all he wanted to do was smoke off some steam and get drunk with cassian and rhys. he knew you were going to be here. cassian mentioned it in passing while talking about nesta so he was also on the look out for you. the girl who managed to catch his heart after having been partnered together. azriel couldn’t help the way he felt about you even though it almost felt wrong to him.

he didn’t want to take advantage of you, he knew you were shy and never really been in a relationship. he found that out when he walked into the kitchen of cassian and nesta’s apartment, and overheard nesta telling cass all about you after her and you hung out for the first time outside the group. so he just tried to ignore his feelings but regardless of that fact you were his bestfriend. he just couldn’t escape you.

and when he walked into that kitchen to see tamlin standing over you, your arm tight in his grip, the way your eyes were slammed shut trying to back away from him. he didn’t even think. he was there pulling him off you before he could even recognize what he was doing. throwing punches left and right towards the man who dared touched you. he barely even registered the hit he managed on no one but him can put his hands on you. he’s had that thought before but never brought life to it, but here? now?

all thoughts of guilt for feeling that way vanished. there was no way he was letting anyone touch you. but him. that’s all he wanted. he wanted you in a way he didn’t think was reciprocated. love was a funny thing to him, something he was never accustomed to until after he met rhysand and cassian.

his family never showed it, he lives with the constant knowledge of that every time he looks down at his hands. he thought about the way you never judged him of them, like it was nothing at all to you but that was everything to him.

the one sided crush he harbored on mor for a couple years was nothing in comparison to the way he felt about you. his few flings he had over the past couple years (after he realized it was pointless liking mor, also… because she slept with cassian) were mildly of convince and of urge but once he met you, he knew he was a goner.

he stopped the girls. the stopped the meaningless flirting and hooks up and took to just pleasuring himself to the thought as you, as shitty as it made him felt after. sometimes he just couldn’t look you in the eye the next time he saw you but you never said anything. you never commented on it and he silently thanked you in his head.

but right now, after he pulled you out of the party, scarred hand in yours, he needed you to look him in the eyes. but you still hadn’t and he couldn’t just keep staring at the face of the beautiful woman in front of him while it was coated with anxiety and exhaustion.

azriel lifted his distorted hand to your face meeting the soft warm skin that was your own. he gently brought your face to meet his gaze and as you locked eyes, the spark hit you yet again.

gods he was breathtaking. dark hair that covered to above his ears, the eyes that seemed to stare into yours every single time they met, the tattoos that covered him and his golden brown skin that you swore shined outright during different points in the day. your heart cannot handle this man.

“please,” he practically whispered you barely even registered that he said it before he continued, “are you okay, what can i do?” the sound in his voice felt desperate as his eyes bore into yours, the feel of his hand on her face, you couldn’t help but lean into his grasp and close your eyes, taking in the feel of him. you responded a moment later after letting out a sigh and looking at him again.

“can we just go home? i just want to sleep” you asked him with a pleading tone as you feel his thumb rub against your cheek for the second time that night. ugh the things this man does to you. all you wanted was for him to hold you, to feel the press of his body against yours. anything to get the feeling of someone else off you. “yeah baby, we can.” he said gently before he moved his hand down to yours and gave you a light squeeze before he turned the car on and shifted into gear, pulling off in the direction of home.

once you arrived back to the apartment building, he parked in the lot next to the front door and moved around the car to open your door, he gave you his hand as you stepped out. he went to put his hand at your lower back as he opened the door for you but decided against just in case that was a lot for you right now. he did not want to make it worse. he could see the fear in your eyes back there, no way would he subject you to that if you weren’t comfortable with it. so instead he just followed behind you, hitting the button to the elevator to take you up to your floor.

the elevator luckily isn’t taking forever today so when it opens, you and azriel step in and he goes to hit the floor for your apartment but your hand reaches out and stops him. “can we go to yours please?” your head moves up to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on where your hand is on his wrist. a second later his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small nod and hits the button for the fifth floor. you remove your hand and lean against the wall right next to him, his hand reaches out and entangles his bumpy fingers with yours.

“is this okay?” he asks you. you can barely hold it in after that, the tears finally fall. he feels the sudden change in your body as he moves closer to you but removing his hand from yours in fear that you didn’t want to touch him. but in reality that’s all you want. you want him to touch you. you want him to love you. you want everything with him. its all just so overwhelming, everything that has happened.

he goes to speak but before he can get a word out, your body is on his engulfing him in a hug around his long torso, he instantly wraps his arms around your smaller frame. he can feel your body shake with tears and all he wants to do is make sure that no one ever makes you feel like this again. you deserve so much better, he only wishes he could be better for you too. you squeeze him tighter and he just holds you until the elevator door opens and you pull away from him. mascara and tears running down your face, you can see it on his shirt. he smiles at you before he pulls his hands to your face and wipes your cheeks off with his rough yet soft hands.

you cant help the laugh that escapes you as he wipes his hands on the t-shirt staining it even more with the leftover residue on your face. he gives you a chuckle before connected your hands yet again, walking with you out of the elevator to his one bedroom apartment. he fishes in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out his keys. he unlocked the door and held it open for you to walk in.

your senses are taken over by the smell of him. the smell of his candle lingered from the coffee table covered with textbooks in the large living room, he has a basket of blankets he keeps in the corner because he knows you get cold watching tv. he has a big L shaped couch which had a 60 inch tv across the room, with a boatload of dvds underneath. something you both agreed was a dying art. you and azriel swear physical media will make a comeback one day but you guys will never forget how they ruined it!

his space was a lot bigger since you have a two bedroom apartment. but it was perfect for him. azriel had loved the way he made his space his own, his bass guitars set up in the corner next to his collection of vinyl records and a record player that rhys and cassian got him when he turned 21… as well as a shit ton of booze. he had a bookshelf that held his favorites, as well as your own.

he bought a copy of almost every book you talked about so that he was in the loop with what you were reading. even the ones you didn’t talk about that he caught on your nightstand or in your reading nook. when he bought one of those and read it, his jaw dropped. he immediately thought of nesta and her smutty books but this sent something else though his body. he couldn’t help but keep reading… he wondered if you thought about him while reading these scenes of them ravishing each other, in every way imaginable. he sure did! his right hand hates him!

and you definitely did to… thought about him in ways that you shouldn’t. thinking about him doing all those things to you. the way you knew he would take care of you. the way you knew you could take care of him, despite how inexperienced you are. the thoughts drove you crazy. it was practically all day and every day at this point. thinking about the way his hands would feel running up your thighs or the way his lips would feel on yours.

now here you are, standing in his living room, just wanting all that and little did you know… he did too.

“hey az…” you uttered towards him. he was already next to you as you spoke, “can we lay down please?” your voice was barely a whisper.

he didn’t even need to speak, he just brought you to his room. he lead you to sit on the corner of the bed as he turned and riffled through his dresser, pulling out a large dark green shirt and handing it to you with a smile, “change into this, i’ll be right back.”

“can i take a shower?” you asked azriel shyly. “yes of course, one sec.” you watched as he walked out the room and shut the door behind him. you took your shoes off and placed them by the bedroom door next to azriel’s shoes. he came back in a second later with a fresh towel and a water bottle.

“here you go, you already know where the shower is,” he says with a small chuckle. you give him a grateful smile and a thank you as you took the items from his hands and gave him one last look before heading into his connecting bathroom.

you turned on the hot water and you stripped out of your clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom. you got in the shower and felt instantly better. the way the water followed hot you could feel the touch of the man from the party washing away, only to be replaced with thoughts of azriel touching you instead. you reviled in it.

you washed your hair and body with his shampoo, conditioner and body wash. silently thanking him for not using 3-in-1 (nesta found out that’s what cassian used and flipped shit) you finished your shower and dried off with the towel he gave you.

you put on his t-shirt that made its way down to your mid thigh when it was on completely. you loved when you were covered in him. you walked back out into the room and didn’t see azriel so you took your seat at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to come back. you sat there and picked at your nails, feeling so wore out you didn’t even want to cry anymore.

azriel came in two minutes later, dressed him long flannel pajama pants and you can see the band of his underwear peeking out as he gets closer to you. he changed after you went into the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen to make sure he was stocked up on the tea you liked and the snacks you guys enjoy together, just in case you got hungry.

he ran around his living room and cleaned random odds and ends. putting dishes in the sink, folding the blankets thrown on the couch and organizing his cd collection. anything to busy himself instead of thinking of you in his shower. anything to get his mind off the amazing woman just in the other room. he hears the shower turn off and waited a few more moments before heading back into the room.

he moved the covers down to make room for you as he said, “after you princess,” with a smile on his face. you returned it and stood up to make your way to the bed but not before turning to hug him again. his arms wrapped around you as you mumbled “thank you azriel,” into his chest. you hold on for a few moments before releasing him. he looks at you before motioning to the bed, “i would do anything for you, you know that.” you felt your cheeks grow red at the thought, at the knowledge that he would.

you climb into the bed and laid your head on the pillow, turning to look at azriel, you wondered why he was still standing. “az are you coming?” you said bashfully. he blinked and bent down to the bed to be eye level with you. “i’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.” you could feel the way your face dropped in disappointment as you registered what he said. he saw it too and felt it deep in his chest.

he stood up and was about to say goodnight but you beat him to it, “azriel please i need you.”

you could feel how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care. you just needed him. next to you right now. he said nothing else as he moved the blankets again, but this time he was under them. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your hand found it’s way over his fast beating heart and his tattooed arm wrapping around you. the warmth and scent of him took over everything in your body. you finally felt safe. your legs tangled together as you eventually fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

“i need you too.” he said to a room with no one awake but him to hear.

part 2??? i would love to write one! let me know what you think! i’d love to keep writing for acotor so yay! pls enjoy :) i’m on the edge of my seat writing this hehe

[theostrophywife]

SWEET TOOTH

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🤍 pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: so american by olivia rodrigo.

🤍 author’s note: just a cute and fluffy little piece because enzo gives off major boyfriend vibes.

It was a well-known fact that Lorenzo Berkshire had a terrible sweet tooth. 

So well known that his mates often hid their stash of sweets from him. Not that it deterred Enzo. If anything, he saw it as a challenge of sorts. 

As Lorenzo ransacked his roommate’s belongings, it should’ve occurred to him that Regulus was far too clever to leave his candy in plain sight, but his attention was focused solely on stuffing as many chocolate frogs into his mouth before his surly friend returned. In his haste, Enzo failed to notice the strange metallic taste until practically inhaling his third frog. 

Still, he figured that it was probably fine. How much damage could a chocolate frog do anyways?

Unfortunately for Lorenzo, that pesky little question would be answered soon enough. 

After carefully rearranging Reggie’s things, Enzo happily skipped off to breakfast. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he spotted you in the Great Hall. With a murderous expression, you swiped a chocolate croissant out of Mattheo’s reach and glared at the curly headed boy. 

“Make one more move towards my food and I’ll snap your arm like a twig, Riddle.” 

Theo snickered and draped an arm over your shoulder. “Come on, bella. Mattheo just wants a taste.” The twat wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And so do I.” 

You flicked his arm off and rolled your eyes. “For the last time, I’d rather gouge my eyes out, Theodore. You’d think you’d be sick of rejection and embarrassment by now.” 

Nott merely smirked. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Could’ve woken up in mine instead, if you stopped playing hard to get.” 

“Keep pissing me off and you’ll wake up to a bed full of cockroaches.” 

Mattheo cackled before ruffling your hair. “Turn that frown upside down, Y/N. Guys don’t like a grump.” 

“I do,” Enzo blurted before he could think better of it. “I think Y/N’s cute when she’s mean. Especially to you two idiots.” 

Theo and Mattheo gaped, their gazes pinballing from you to Enzo. They were no doubt expecting you to smack your best friend upside the head, but instead you shrugged and bit back a smile. 

“Really?” Theo remarked incredulously. “You’re letting that slide? You threatened to tie my tongue into a bow the last time I called you cute.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, Berkshire doesn’t annoy me as much as you do.” 

Enzo beamed as he slid into the seat beside you. “Wow, I feel special.” 

Clearly, he was well aware of the sweet spot you had for him. Though you’d never admit it. Just like he’d never admit his long standing pathetic little crush he had on you. Except, he did sort of slip up just now, which he unfortunately would continue to do for the rest of the day. 

Lorenzo couldn’t help it. The compliments he normally kept to himself just kept spilling out of him. 

When you were studying in the library during free period, he found himself speaking thoughts that he usually saved for his inner monologue. “I like the way you scrunch your nose when you read. It’s adorable.” 

Surprised, you peered up at him from your book. His words were rewarded by an uncharacteristically shy smile. It was enough to make him momentarily forget his lack of control over his mouth.

Later in History of Magic, Lorenzo stared at you instead of focusing on completing the assignment in front of him. You tapped his nose with the end of your quill playfully. 

“You alright there, Enz?” 

“You’re so beautiful, it’s distracting. I can’t even focus on my notes.” 

You flushed in response and Enzo found that he rather liked making you flustered for a change. Maybe a case of loose lips wasn't so bad after all. 

During lunch, Lorenzo glared at Draco as the blonde asked you a question about the Draught of the Living Dead potion. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, cousin?” Draco asked after a moment. 

Enzo continued glaring at him and inched closer to you, draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Look at Y/N like that again and I’ll turn you into a ferret myself.” 

The other boys snickered while Draco backed away from you. His brief stint as a rodent clearly traumatized him enough to balk at the threat. You turned away from the recounting of the infamous fourth year incident and faced Enzo. 

“Are you feeling alright, Enz? You’ve been acting strange all day.” 

Come to think of it, Lorenzo did feel a bit different. Unfiltered, unadulterated, and perhaps a tad bit unhinged. Oddly enough, it was freeing in a strange sort of way.

“I’m fine. I’m just saying what I’ve been thinking all along. Usually, I’m too scared to speak my thoughts out loud, but I’m not now.” Enzo scrunched his nose. “Also, the chocolate frogs I stole from Reg tasted kind of funny.” 

Before he knew it, you were marching right into the boy’s dormitory with him in tow. He shuffled hurriedly behind you as you yanked open the door to his dorm. Regulus lounged at his desk, flipping through the pages of his book and not bothering to look up as the two of you barged in. 

“Learned your lesson yet, Berkshire?” 

You frowned as you snatched the book out of Reggie’s hands and threw it over your shoulder. “What the hell did you do to him, Regulus?”

Regulus shrugged nonchalantly. “Slipped a bit of Veritaserum in my chocolate frogs because I knew the little weasel had been secretly stealing them behind my back.” 

“Hey!” Enzo exclaimed. “That’s rude.” 

“Is that why he’s acting so strange?” 

The youngest Black leveled an amused glance at you. “Define strange.”

“Well, he’s been complimenting me all day. He even threatened to turn Draco into a ferret for looking at me. It’s like he has no filter at all.” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Veritaserum makes you tell the truth.” 

You paused, taking in his words. “So everything Enzo said today…” Enzo smiled brightly as you glanced warily at him. “He means it?” 

Regulus nodded in confirmation. “Mhm, I’m afraid young Lorenzo has a little crush on you.” 

“Hello?” Enzo exclaimed. “I’m literally right here.” He turned to face you. “Also yes, I do have a crush on you. I have for ages. I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t noticed. I’m not that great at hiding it.” Your jaw dropped as he pivoted back to Regulus. “You’re a twat for dosing my candy, Reg.” 

“Your candy?” Regulus huffed. “I bought that with my hard earned money.” 

“You mean your allowance that mummy and daddy sends you every month? Please, Reg, you have more galleons and candy than you know what to do with. Honestly, it’s a bit selfish not to share.” 

Before you could put a stop to it, Regulus launched himself at Enzo. The boys wrestled, smacking and taunting each other like toddlers. With a frustrated sigh, you pried the two of them apart. 

“You two are honestly ridiculous.” 

Enzo pushed Regulus off of him and brushed off the front of his shirt. “Yes, but hopefully you find it cute and endearing, right? Well, me. Not Reg. I don’t really think you’re into the whole tortured poet thing he’s got going on.” 

Regulus glared at his friend. “Rude!” 

Enzo shrugged. “What? It’s true. Don’t worry, it works for some people. I think that redhead in Gryffindor likes you, but you’ve got to stop being so goddamn oblivious. She obviously wants you to break her back like a glow stick.”

“Lorenzo!” 

You smacked your best friend on the arm for his rather candid commentary, but it was half-hearted. You were too busy trying not to burst into laughter given the fact that he was completely correct. Said redhead definitely had a thing for Regulus. 

“I’m just stating facts. Anyways, if he didn’t want to hear it, he shouldn’t have dosed me.” 

You tugged Regulus by his tie. “You did this to him. Now you’re going to help me get this under control. Do you understand?” 

Regulus sighed in defeat. “Fine.” 

For the remainder of the day, you kept a close eye on Enzo. Though you and Regulus were both babysitting him, your best friend didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed rather thrilled with spending the rest of the day by your side. Truth be told, you didn’t mind either despite the fact that you had to pull Enzo out of a sticky situation more than once. 

As you watched him during quidditch practice, you nearly fell out of the stands when Lorenzo cocked his head at his captain and narrowed his eyes. “Flint, why is your head shaped like that?” 

It was by sheer luck that Regulus swooped in to save the day and promptly dragged him off to perform drills at the far end of the field. At the end of practice, you thought it would be safe to lounge in the common room, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Enzo snuggled to your side, his slightly damp hair tickling your neck. The familiar scent of citrus and cedar distracted you momentarily as he stared at Tom. The older Riddle was currently hustling Theo through a game of chess. 

“Tom, even though you scare me, I still think you’re hotter than Mattheo. Just don’t tell him I said that.” 

The entire room fell into a hush as Tom directed his smoldering gaze towards Enzo. You tensed beside him, fingers curled protectively around his arm. 

Finally, Tom spoke. “It’ll be our little secret, Berkshire.” 

“Salazar save us all.” 

When dinner rolled around, your fight or flight response was completely shot. Thanks to Enzo’s current condition, you were on constant alert. 

By now, the boys were perfectly aware of his inability to lie and the twats found his predicament particularly hilarious. All except Mattheo, whose ego had taken a hit after Theo told him all about Enzo’s confession to Tom. 

“I can’t believe you think Tom is hotter than me,” Mattheo grumbled. “That’s just completely mental.” 

Theo pinched his cheek. “Don’t worry, Matty. I’ll always think you’re hotter.” 

“How can you two flirt at a time like this?’ You sighed exasperatedly. “One of your best friends is under a truth spell and all you care about is being the hot brother?” Mattheo protested, but you held a hand up to halt whatever stupid remark he was itching to say. “Where is Regulus? I should wring his stupid neck for putting poor Enzo through this.” 

“I think he’s talking to that Gryffindor,” Theo said with an eyebrow wiggle. “Finally. Maybe dosing Berkshire wasn’t so bad if it gets Regulus laid.” 

As if on cue, Enzo snapped his fingers in front of Draco’s face. “Cousin, you really need to lay off the bleach. I think it’s seeping into your bloody brain. You’ve been staring at Granger so intently that it’s starting to freak her out.”

The boys snickered as Draco snapped out of his trance. Before the blonde could reprimand his cousin, you stood up and grabbed Enzo’s hand. Your best friend grinned as he linked your fingers through yours. 

“Oh, we’re holding hands. This is nice,” Enzo shuffled to his feet as you tugged him out of his seat. He didn’t seem to mind being dragged out of the Great Hall. “Hey, have I ever told you that your eyes remind me of the sunset? You’re pretty. I really want to kiss you.” 

You pointedly ignored the kissy faces Mattheo and Theo were making. “We’re leaving. Let’s go, Enz.” 

Enzo waved to your friends and grinned. “I hope we make out.” 

The boys snickered as you turned beet red. “Lorenzo!” 

“Yes, dear, coming!” 

With the promise of an impromptu movie night, you managed to coax Enzo back to his dorm. He shuffled in your lap, nuzzling into your touch as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Reg says the serum should wear off in an hour, so you just have to hold off until then.” 

“Oh,” Enzo said with a tinge of disappointment. “That’s a bummer. It’s kind of nice just saying whatever was on my mind.” 

“Enz, you told Theo he smelled like day old lasagna and then you hit on Tom. Tom!”

Enzo’s honey eyes blinked up at you. “What? He’s hot. You’re telling me you wouldn’t hit on him too?” 

You shook your head. “Psychopathic maniacs aren’t really my type.” 

“What’s your type then?” You fell silent for a beat before Enzo nudged your elbow with his nose. “C’mon, it’s only fair. I’ve been making a fool out of myself all day. Grant me this one, love.” 

You sighed, knowing that you’d cave to his puppy dog eyes. “I do have a crush on this one guy.” 

“What’s his name? Enzo asked as he sat upright. “His house? His dorm number? I might ask Tom to hunt him down for me.” You glared at him in response, causing him to raise his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Blame the serum.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “To answer your very nosy questions, he goes by a nickname, he’s in Slytherin, and we’re currently in his dorm.”

“Oh my god. The emo act worked on you, too?” Enzo smacked his forehead in distress. “For fuck’s sake!” 

“It’s you, you idiot. I like you.” 

Enzo beamed. “Thank Godric! This is the happiest day of my life.” He bounced as he talked, eyes shining brightly. . “Do you want to go on a date with me? We could go to Hogsmeade. Wait, no. That’s not good enough. Let’s go to London. Or Paris. Fuck it, I’ll borrow Malfoy’s jet.” 

You giggled at how ridiculously adorable this boy was. “Enz, slow down! First of all, I’d love to go on a date with you. Hogsmeade is perfectly fine, but we should probably wait until you’re back to normal.” 

Enzo sighed. “Fine. I suppose I can wait. But you’re staying to  cuddle, right?” He flashed those honey eyes at you again, perfectly aware that you couldn’t resist him even if you tried. To add to his plea, Enzo jutted his bottom lip into a pout. “Please?” 

“Sure, Enz.” 

With a triumphant grin, Enzo pulled you against him. He leaned forward to kiss your cheek, making you melt. As you continued watching the movie, you couldn’t help but revel in the affection Enzo showered you with. He was a great cuddler and he smelled nice and oh gods you really, really liked him. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Enzo murmured against your ear. “Mostly because I can’t, but I definitely have a boner right now.” 

“Lorenzo!” 

You burst into a fit of giggles, which caused Enzo to laugh as well. He only snuggled closer, burying his face into your neck. “Sorry that I find you super hot and pretty and cute. Honestly, I’m the victim in this situation.” 

You smacked his arm. “Oh my god, just shut up and cuddle.” 

Enzo grinned as he wrapped his arms around you. “Yes, honey.” 

[shalotttower]

A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Slipped Through The Cracks

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: angst, domestic violence, bruises and cuts, heartbreak

Summary: Three years ago, you married your fiance while staring into the eyes of the love of your life. Spencer watched you get married to his brother when he had the chance to stop it. He should have. Three years later, you go running into his arms because your husband isn’t who you thought he was. Spencer let you go once, he won’t do it again.

Square Filled: go through me for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

A wedding day should be special. It should be the best day of a woman’s life. You’ve dreamed about the perfect wedding since you stumbled upon your mom’s dress when you were six. You even made a toilet paper veil to go with your short white dress you only wore for church on Sundays. You should be crying because you’re overwhelmed by the happiness, not because you’re terrified.

You’re standing at the altar with your fiance but all you’re thinking about is his brother. Spencer Reid is supposed to be the one you’re marrying. He’s supposed to be at your side, ready to promise you the world. Instead, it’s his older brother, Zack. Zack is… scary. He’s dominant. He’s possessive. He’s controlling. It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be but compared to Spencer, he’s the devil.

“Do you, Zachary Reid, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife to cherish and to hold, to love until death do you part?”

He squeezes your hands and smiles.

“I do.”

“Do you, Y/N, take Zachary Reid to be your lawfully wedded husband to cherish and to hold, to love until death do you part?”

You open your mouth to respond but pause. Three seconds. That’s all you’re given to think about this decision. You look from Zack to Spencer who is standing right behind his brother. Spencer is the best man. There’s so much history between you three. You love Zack, don’t mistake that, but you’re in love with Spencer. When Zack was having one of his moments, you turned to Spencer for comfort.

Spencer was the one who stayed up with you when you couldn’t sleep. He’s the one you told all your secrets to. He supported you when you wanted to go back to school to get a bachelor’s degree. He came over when you were sick to take care of you when Zack was busy with work. He always gave you an extra present at Christmas time and on your birthday after everyone else had gone to bed.

He was your New Year’s kiss every year until Zack caught you two. He wasn’t mad but it wasn’t suspicious that Spencer sported a black eye the next day. He’s your best friend and soulmate yet you’re marrying someone else. If he feels the same as you, then this last second is his moment to say something.

He doesn’t.

“I do,” you say and pull your eyes from Spencer.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Zack pulls you close and kisses you in front of everyone. Cheers erupt and music plays as everyone celebrates this new chapter in both of your lives. The celebration moves to the reception area where everyone enjoys good food, good music, and each other’s company. The first dance begins and Zack pulls you onto the dance floor. He holds you close to him and sways softly to the music.

You look past his shoulder at Spencer who is watching you two with hooded eyes. He’s always been an easy book to read but at this moment, you can’t read a goddamn thing he’s feeling.

Now

You should have seen this coming. The warning signs were always there. Even before he laid a hand on you, something was telling you to run and never look back. It’s hard to say no to a man like Zack. He wants things done his way and if they aren’t, he turns into a whole other person. Someone darker. Someone with bad intentions.

He made it damn near impossible to leave.

The second an opportunity arose for you to leave, you took it. It’s why you’re running in a rainstorm toward the one person who can make this better. Even if he can make it better for a few hours, you’ll take it. You might have a few hours before Zack knows you’re missing if you do this right. You made sure none of his men or staff saw you on your way out.

Your tears blend in with the rain so the only indication that you’ve been sobbing is how puffy your eyes are. You’re in pain but the thought of going back to Zack brings you more pain than any of the physical wounds on your body.

When you get to his house, you lean on the door frame to catch your breath. It hurts to breathe since your ribs are poking your lungs but you manage. You knock frantically on the door until he opens the door. Spencer’s eyes widen when he sees the state you’re in. Torn dress, bruised skin, and soaking wet.

“Y/N… what…?”

You fall into Spencer and he wraps his arms around your body to keep you from crashing to the ground.

“Please help me.”

Spencer looks around to see if there is someone around to make you behave this way but sees nothing. He pulls you into his house, ignoring the pools of water on the floor. He brings you to the couch and sits next to you so he can examine your wounds.

“What happened? Does Zack know you’re here? Does he know you’re like this?”

It’s because you feel so safe with Spencer that you don’t think twice about telling him this. Once you say it, he’ll be the only person you have ever told about this part of your life. Zack has everyone on his side so no one will believe you.

“He’s the one who did this to me.”

Spencer turns on a lamp so he can see you better and gasps when he sees just how badly you’re bruised. You have a black eye, there is a yellow bruise under your chin that’s healing from the last time he hit you, your arms are both purple and a sickly yellow from the different stages of bruises, and he’s sure if he took off your dress, he’d see more bruises.

“Fuck.” Spencer doesn’t curse often so you know it’s a big deal when he does. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” Panic flurries in your chest at the thought. Zack has eyes and ears everywhere. “No hospital. You’re a doctor, right?”

“Not that kind of doctor,” he winces. He sees the desperation in your eyes and sighs. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

Spencer leaves the room and comes back five minutes later with a hefty first aid kit. It hurts when he touches your bruises but you let him try and clean you up. You know he wants to ask because you can see it in his eyes but he respects you so he doesn’t.

“Zack and I went to a coffee house before going to his work. We were in line and he was on his phone. The guy behind us started a conversation with me. It was nothing. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. He was really nice but that pissed Zack off. When we got to his office, he accused me of cheating on him. I tried to tell him I never have but he wouldn’t hear it.”

“Is this the first time?”

“No,” you whisper. “It’s the fifth.” Spencer takes some gauze and dabs a cut on your face to clean some of the blood off. He’s shaking from how angry he is. “When it happened the first time, he kept saying how sorry he was and how much he loved me.” Tears spill over your eyes. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“He won’t hurt you ever again, okay?” You nod and he continues to clean you up as best as possible with his first aid kit. “Alright, the bleeding has stopped.” He gently caresses your face. “I shouldn’t have let you marry him three years ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask with a whimper.

“I thought you deserved better than me.”

You cry. “You’re the best there is, Spencer.”

Don’t do this, Spencer. This is wrong. She’s hurt and vulnerable. The little voice inside his head is telling him not to kiss you but he finds himself leaning toward you. You close your eyes expecting to feel his lips. Instead, your phone ringing is what interrupts you two. You don’t have to see it to know who it is. You take your phone out of your pocket and see Zack’s name on the screen. Spencer immediately snatches the phone from your hand and answers it.

“Zachary,” Spencer answers with venom.

“Where is my wife?”

“With me, but if you want her, then come get her. You’ll have to go through me to do it. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with an FBI agent.” Zachary is flabbergasted and stutters as he tries to think of something to say. He could never stand up to Spencer despite being older. “Get a lawyer. You’re never seeing her again, you dick.”

Spencer hangs up on your husband, and you stare at him with parted lips and wide eyes. No one has ever stood up for you like this before. He looks like he is going to get up, and you grab at his arms to stop him.

“Please don’t leave me,” you beg.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls you into his lap and kisses your head. “I’m not a doctor, Y/N. You need to go to the hospital.”

“As long as you come with me. Tomorrow. Tonight, just hold me.”

“You got it.”

With ease and comfort, he scoops you into his arms and brings you to his bedroom. You’ve been with him for nearly an hour but it’s the safest you’ve felt in a long time.

x

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[hiraya-rawr]

lover from another nation ~ hcs .

characters !! all the genshin men i could think of rn...

note !! it's been a while since i've written hcs for a lot! aaaah just some thoughts i had today (i had a few culture shocks here and there when i met up with new friends hahahah)

~ m o n d s t a d t ~

grabbing zhongli by the hand to dance and sing in the middle of the square because mondstadters live for the festivities! he quickly learns to freestyle dance along with you, moving with the crowd and cheers and wine. (remember that Tangled scene? yes)

kaveh wasn't sure how to react the day you ordered hard liquor on your first date. sure, your freedom and love for a good drink is one of the things which made him fall for you but wow– are you really gonna down that many glasses on a date? what do you mean you're still sober?

ayato finds himself in love with the way you sing. it doesn't follow the rules of inazuman opera at all; it's much more freeing (much like how his house help sings as he does chores) and you'd tell him stories and the history of your homeland in the form of songs. no mondstadter could ever forget the songs they grew up listening to!

heizou being almost appalled by your rather... robust and reckless nature. you don't have any backup plans whenever a situation goes south, you simply hold his hand, smile, and say "we go where the wind blows!"

~ l i y u e ~

diluc having chopsticks as part of your dining utensils because sometimes, you're more comfortable eating with it (let's not forget often having rice on the table! he must learn the joys of garlic rice with his steak <3)

dainsleif stays by your side as you offer incense and fruits to your ancestors. he whispers quiet prayers, bows when you do, and helps you clean their altars. he finds solace in the familial piety of liyuens– it makes him wish he could honor his ancestors with the same kind of peace as you do.

kazuha getting tongue tied over the language being so similar to inazuman but also so different– why are some of the characters the same? why are the meanings different? there's a bit of miscommunication in the start, but you both find your own ways to understand each other when words fail.

we all know gorou has always wanted to climb the mountains of liyue and you made it possible! meeting him by the docks and touring him around your home nation, you made sure to pick hiking routes with the most scenic spots, even managing to tour him around the jade palace and the floating lone island.

~ i n a z u m a ~

kaeya has no idea how you sit on the floor while being comfortable. you've made him sit with you once while reading a book, after that, his bones ached for days! shaking every time he stood back up!

albedo met you in the irodori festival- he painted you for practice and spark between you started. the long distance was difficult at first, but his long letters always had a little drawing of you and you'd send back the scent of cherry blossoms. klee would also send you letters, asking you to come visit soon!

childe loves a new fighting style; like most sword users in inazuma, you followed the raiden shogun's teachings– swift, efficient, and at one with the sword. he loves how you fight and it's often how you end your dates!

cyno was almost confident that you were playing a prank the day you said you'll make him your specialty and you showed him a platter of raw seafood. it's "sashimi and ngiri" you say, and he waited for you to explain the pun of your joke. it wasn't a joke.

~ s u m e r u ~

thoma is quite used to mondstadters and inazumans, two very different cultures, then he meets you and your sumeru upbringing! you show him how to cook foods that can be eaten with hands, and your menu is often so colorful he can't help but admire it!

itto doesn't really understand the study culture of sumeru, but he totally supports whatever it is you're talking about and tries to add in comments (his comments don't exactly make sense though...)

scaramouche, in his "path of redemption and healing", unwillingly gets involved with you as you show him around the beautiful parts of sumeru! you argue that he needs a different, better outfit with a color scheme that matches his vision. he insists that the hat stays. you tell him he looks like an aranara.

~ s n e z h n a y a ~

al haitham was almost concerned the day you got a heatstroke after being in the desert for no more than a few minutes. snezhnaya has prepared you for harsh weather, but never the heat. soon enough your lover is carrying around heatstroke-first aid packs just for you.

bundling up tighnari's fluffy ears before setting foot in snezhnaya because you just know the cold would practically freeze them off. his tail also gets wrapped and bundled warm in the large coats you wear, protection from the harsh snow. he says he looks like a big lummox.

note !! alright, choose your favorite dynamic! i personally think mondstadters with liyue/inazuma would be interesting maybe because i want to force feed them the joys of rice...

// if i misinterpreted a culture then umm... just know it wasn't intentional and let's consider it a real thing in teyvats culture 🫣😎

commissions || general m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08

[petermorwood]

Potato Crisps / Chips on Tasting History

So we've just watched Max's latest...

...and I was grinning a bit because I posted about Dr Kitchiner's 1817 (non-US, definitely non-Saratoga) crisps / chips recipe a month ago.

That image was from an American edition of his book; I've found a pic from the original - NB that these slices are floured before frying.

For reference, here's a two-penny piece from about 1797; the coin would still be current 20 years later:

...and here's how thick the potatoes should be sliced. That's 4mm, which is 2mm less than "a quarter of an inch" (6.25mm).

The slices will get even thinner as their moisture evaporates during frying, and, given the nature of recipes, potatoes cooked this way are probably even older than 1817 and Kitchiner's is just the first appearance found so far in print.

*****

The first recipe for "Game Chips" (an accompaniment to grouse, pheasant etc.) appeared, per the Wikipedia link, in a 1903 book published by famous chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935):

"Chip potatoes - these are potatoes cut into thin slices; this is usually done with a special plane. (A mandoline.) They are put in cold water for 10 minutes; then drained, dried in a cloth and fried until very crunchy. They are served hot or cold and generally accompany game roasted in the English style."

However, per Escoffier's Wikipedia page, much of his work was based on that of Anton Carême (1783-1833), whose dates are squarely coincident with Dr Kitchiner's Potato Slices.

Given the amount of cookery to-and-fro between England and France after the Napoleonic wars were over, it's impossible to say who first came up with the idea of potato crisps.

The French loved dainties - "un petit quelquechose", a little something - which the English pronounced and dismissed as "kickshaws", something over-fussy yet insubstantial. Yet those same English also loved roasting things with their appropriate accompaniments.

(I'm writing this just over a week after Christmas, and have been well reminded that the phrase "Roast (turkey / goose / beef) With All The Trimmings" is still in common 21st-century use.)

If those roasted things were game birds, only those above a certain level in society would be eating them, so it's not unreasonable to assume a rich-person game bird would attract fussy, time-consuming rich-person trimmings like, okay, Game Chips.

One thing's for sure, Potato Crisps - and Game Chips too, so hard luck, Escoffier - are almost certainly older than even Tasting History could prove.

*****

BTW, they also existed at a time when "English Food Was Bland" is more fake history.

Sauces put out on the table in fancy bottles had fancy labels ("bottle tickets") showing what was in them, and the contents were often far from bland.

Quin sauce was anchovy-based, hot and pungent.

Harvey's was a spicy sauce similar to Worcestershire, ketchup was probably mushroom and also spicy; the other two need no elaboration.

AFAIK the two crescent-shaped ones in the next pics are deliberate imitations of an officer's rank-gorget.

Finally a generic Not-Bland label that would go on any number of modern bottles (antique silver, yours for £250)...

*****

And after all of the above, I could do Very Bad Things to a packet of Tayto Cheese 'n' Onion. A packet?

Why stop at a packet when A Pack takes less time to say?

After all, It Is Written that:

"Reading One Book Is Like Eating One Potato Crisp Chip."

And also that Nothing Exceeds Like Excess...

[ravens-two]

PAC: Your Next Romantic Relationship

This reading includes:

the person you'll be dating next

The extended reading includes:

when and how you'll meet this person

what the relationship will be like

any 18+ messages

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone. Also, this content is 18+ only!

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Who are you dating next

Eight of Cups, Moon, Tarragon - Regeneration

The first thing I'm getting for this person is that they could be a scientist or work in research, maybe even as a teacher. They seem like really deep thinkers and people who are very well-read or that tend to read a lot. Besides spending a lot of time and energy on their work - that seems to be their passion - they also look like they really enjoy traveling. Some of them may have to travel for work (and now I'm seeing that some are archeologists or something like that), but most seem to travel for pleasure. No matter what your next person is someone who has travelled a lot and has seen a lot of the world - and even if they haven't travelled "that much" it could be that you haven't travelled much at all so that's why it seems so much.

Your person is also a very deep thinker. I'm getting something very specific about them which is that they like to get to the depth of any subject. Let's say that you're talking about your favourite dishes, your person wants to get to the bottom of the subject, they want to analyze why you love those dishes, the memories you have of them, how hard or easy they are to cook, then they may get into the culinary arts in general or the history of food or something like that. Do you know what I mean? Once you start talking about something with them it's like they unravel the subject as if it were a ball of yarn.

Your person seems to be an introvert. They don't really like crowds and tend not to go out or party too much, they prefer to keep to their friend group or to small groups in general. I feel that this is also related to how much and how deeply they like to talk, it's better suited for smaller groups. For some of you it might also surprise you that this person is more spiritual than you thought. They might not practice anything in particular (including religion), but they very much believe in something bigger than them and are very open to the spiritual side of things. This is also someone who has been through a lot and has had to reinvent themselves multiple times. I feel like your person is very wise and has a lot of life experience specifically because of this - they've just been through so much shit that would have broken down any other person.

When it comes to their appearance I'm seeing pale skin - and depending on skin tone you can even see their veins - and dark hair. Mostly black and brown hair, but I'm also seeing red (dyed I think).  In general, they seem to be taller and leaner. Even for the men they don't like they are very muscled. I'm also seeing that some of them have dark circles under their eyes. So what I just heard was that they "look a bit like a fucked up Tim Burton character come to life" lol. I do think that they are good-looking but in that Timothée Chalamet type of way. Also, I think that your person has huge eyes!

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 2

Who are you dating next

Three of Wands, Strength, Marigold - Positivity

The first thing I'm seeing for this pile is tanned skin and defined muscles. Your person looks like they spend the whole day under the sun. I'm literally seeing them wet as if they had just come out of water. An interesting detail I just got is that they have body hair, especially for the men they seem to have hair on their chest and tights. I feel like for most of you this person has really dark eyes, the lightest color I can see here is a darker shade of hazel eyes. No matter what they have warm and very expressive eyes. It's the type of eyes that you feel safe just looking at them, honestly.

Speaking of warmth and safety I think that your person just radiates those vibes, especially if they're a man. They seem/are someone who's reliable and handy, basically someone who you can call at any time of day or night and you know that they'll find some way to help you. They also seem the type of person who really cares about the safety of your friends, not just yours. This is very specific to some of you, it doesn't really apply to everyone, but your person also has a bit of a himbo energy. Like they have a really good heart, very good looking and strong looking too, but not much going on in their pretty head. But, again, this is just for some of you! For most of you this is someone who is pretty smart and very aware of the current political/social climate.

One of the main things I'm seeing is that your person is very hopeful and definitely an optimist. They try to cheer you up whenever they feel like you're feeling down or when you need just an extra push of motivation. The thing that keeps coming up though is that isn't just for you it's for your friends, their friends, the people around you two. It makes me think of those guys who only want to buy a drink to the girl they're interested in instead of the whole group and it's the polar opposite of that. If you're hanging out with your person and your friends, your person will make sure to treat your friends well and make them feel welcomed.

For some reason I feel like your person might be a firefighter or EMT, I'm not sure why, but it seems like more of a physical/manual type of work. This person doesn't look like they're sitting behind a desk the whole day. They might work the night shift too. No matter what they do, their work is a source of satisfaction for them and their "way to contribute to society" so it's important that their work aligns with their values. This person has a bleeding heart and they're always trying to help whenever they can. They might do volunteer work or community work of some kind, but this is someone who really cares about their community and the world around them. A bit random, but your person might cry very easily, just like watching a commercial or something like that. It seems that they are very emotional. A bit like pile 1 in that sense, but I also feel that your person has been through a lot and that's exactly what made them kinder and made them worry more about the people around them. Very, very specific but I think that hunger and poverty is something that really "hurts" them if that makes sense. It would be the thing that they would just erase if they could.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 3

Who are you dating next

Sun, World, Sweet corn - Ritual

Okay, the first thing I'm seeing is that your person loves eating and cooking and feeding people to be honest. They see meals almost as a sacred ritual that helps to create stronger bonds with other people. I feel like they're really good cooks, especially because they have a good palate. Your person also seems like the type of person that is really close to their family, like calling/texting them every day, sharing a meal together every weekend, that kind of stuff.

This person might have OCD or something like that, but their daily rituals seem very important to them. They are someone who loves routine and feel a bit anxious when things don't go as they had planned. Honestly, that seems to be the biggest issue for them they get really disappointed/annoyed when they plan something and it doesn't happen, even in simple things. Let's say that you two plan to go watch a movie and eat popcorn, but when you get there there ins't popcorn. Well your person is devastated. It's only for a couple of moments, but yeah it really hits them strong.

With the Sun and the World though, this is a very successful and hard-working person, but also someone who is very happy go lucky. Like they genuinely believe that life is beautiful and a miracle and they will romanticize even the smallest things. They seem like the type of person who will just tell you "it's going to be fine" even in the face of something absolutely tragic and that couldn't possibly "be fine" (somehow they may end up being right though).

They seem to have a very child-like and radiant personality too if that makes sense. In a way it's because they really attract other people's attention just for being themselves, but also because they just seem so genuinely happy and joyful. When they laugh it makes other people want to laugh as well. You may get an instinct to protect them at times, because it seems that they are too innocent for this harsh world. They're definitely dreamers and they think that even the smallest action can change the world. They have strong beliefs about what they think is wrong with the world and what should be changed.

When it comes to appearance I'm seeing blonde or light brown hair, maybe even some ginger here too or maybe a brass tone. In general, I'm seeing really long hair, especially for the women, and mostly wavy or curly. Although I think that the shorter your person's hair is the curlier it is. For their eyes I also lighter eyes here, even the brown eyes are more of a honey shade. The most striking thing though is that your person - no matter what they look like - is very beautiful. They get other people's attention precisely because of how physically striking they are. I feel like they tend to be very symmetrical and their bodies are very good looking too. It seems that they tend to be taller and curvier, both men and women.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 4

Who are you dating next

Two of Wands, Ten of Wands, Peppermint - Success

While doing the reading for this pile "Ocean Eyes" suddenly came up so I really feel like your person is probably going to have blue or green eyes, maybe even hazel too. I also feel like their eyes have this very emotional quality to them, it's like you could get lost them in them because they're so expressive. Honestly, I get a very big Ian Somerhalder vibe here like with the dark hair and very light eyes and that contrast. I think that in general your person is a person of contrasts, of light and dark and even contradictions.

Do you know that Walt Whitman's poem "Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself / (I am large I contain multitudes)"? I think that they really embody these lines. I'm also getting Fernando Pessoa's "I am nothing. / I shall never be anything. / I cannot even wish to be anything. / Apart from this, I have within me all the dreams in the world." Your person is very, very poetic pile 4. Maybe they're into literature (especially the classics) or they really love reading/writing poetry. This person is very deep, but again, filled with contradictions. They are hard to understand because they seem to be many things all at once. It's a very Gemini energy to be honest.

Apart from this your person is also very successful. They may come from money or they worked really hard until they got to where they are. No matter what though they dedicate a lot of their time to their work, to the point that they can't even rest properly because they can't take their mind off work. Some of them might also have some personal project or a business that they feel very passionate about and are just waiting for the right time to "launch" it. They're someone who makes a lot of plans, but not like in pile 3, more in the sense of making a plan to break down the steps that they need to take. This is for organization not control, if that makes sense. They also seem to really enjoy traveling, but either don't have much time for it or they end up getting tired in the middle of their trip. They feel like the type of person who has wanderlust, but also gets homesick easily. 

They are introverts for sure, and although this doesn't mean that they're antisocial it really does feel like they spend more time at home or by themselves. To me this feels more like they never really get the company that they crave. They really need mental stimulation, and the people around them can't really offer them that. Something that's coming up is that they might struggle with the little demon and angel on their shoulders sometimes. I feel like the little devil sometimes really wants them to cause some mischief or chaos and they try to control this. Honestly, what I'm getting from this is that they may annoy you on purpose, for their own amusement. I don't think that this is toxic, it's more meaningless stuff that will make you laugh rather than really annoy you.

What I can tell you pile 4 is that your person is very, very unique. I think you'll know it's them as soon as you meet them because you'll think that you've never met someone like this.

check out the extended reading on patreon

[violenteconomics]

remember this post i made about ace and epel (and eventually the other freshmen) pranking their upperclassmen?

yeah, so, here’s an idea for a significantly less funny prequel:

the first-years actually met their housewardens as kids, where they got very attached to one another, but absolutely none of them remember this. 

i’ve got a drabble written for riddle, ace, and deuce, but for the others, i’m completely lost, lol.

^

(warning: mentions of child abuse)

^

4-year-old ace trappola, a pint-sized brat who loses a ball in dr rosehearts’s backyard. since dr rosehearts has an extremely sour reputation around town for being impossible to be polite with, ace decides it’s not worth the patience it’ll take to knock on her door. so instead, he climbs her fence to retrieve it.

that’s when he notices the boy sitting by the windowsill, with a thousand books stacked all around him, looking very intrigued at the book in his hands. ace has never seen someone so engrossed with a book that doesn’t even have a picture on the cover, and having absolutely no filter, even at that age, he simply walks up to him and asks what he’s doing.

at first, riddle tries to shoo him away, knowing how his mother will react when she finds out there’s a random kid stepping on her perfectly-cut grass. eventually, though, ace’s childish stubbornness wins out, and riddle tells him about the history book he’s reading.

[ace is alice and riddle is alice’s sister in this scenario in case you don’t get the reference, they make me insane, okay—]

everyday, ace comes back to the windowsill at the same time (at riddle’s request, because he only has so much independent study time) just to listen to him. everyday, he says that it’s stupid, boring, and he can’t believe riddle actually reads book without pictures. everyday, he comes back to sit under riddle’s windowsill and listen to him go on about food chemistry.

but then dr rosehearts finds out.

ace doesn’t really know what happens after she showed up to their doorstep, looking down on him like he was a bug underneath her heeled feet, but next thing he knows, his dad’s telling him and brother that they’re moving to a different town. he tells ace that their house just isn’t pretty enough, but ace is young— not stupid.

(in the future, whenever ace scores high on a test, and riddle will smile and tell him he��s proud of him. every single time, it leaves a bad taste in his mouth for reasons ace can’t explain.)

^

5-year-old deuce spade only knows ace as “the kid who moved out”, but through some wicked twist of fate, he’s the next person to lose something in dr roseheart’s backyard.

deuce’s mom actually used to work for dr rosehearts as her secretary, but deuce doesn’t really like her, because she used to make his mom work long hours with little pay in return. his mom lived in dr rosehearts’s medical practice more than she actually lived in the crappy apartment they could barely afford. he was so glad when she quit.

but unfortunately, dr rosehearts’s house is right next to the park, and losing balls in her garden is unfortunately very common for most kids in the neighborhood. and since deuce really doesn’t want to talk to her, he jumps over her fence instead.

this time, riddle’s the one who notices him.

riddle’s missing ace a lot (he never found out why he stopped coming around), so to fill the hole in his heart, he invited deuce over. sheepishly, deuce walks over and lets riddle tell him about the book on agricultural trade he’s been reading. deuce doesn’t quite get it as fast as ace did, but unlike ace, he’s patient and hard-working and oh-so earnest in his attempts to understand.

of course, dr rosehearts isn’t going to help this relationship in the slightest. a few weeks later, she waits for deuce right outside the fence, before dragging him off once he’s out of riddle’s view. she mocks his attempts at trying to learn something that’s clearly above his mental capacity, for trying to be someone above his station, for knowing the rules and being too stupid to stick to them.

(“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules?”)

when she delivers deuce back to his house, his mother says nothing. when she tells him they’re moving to a bigger house on the complete other side of the queendom, deuce doesn’t argue.

(deuce couldn’t tell you why doing so bad in school frustrated him to the point of becoming a delinquent. he really couldn't.)

[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

[mikimakiboo]

I've started writing backstories for the Time Travelers gang so I might as well continue

Starting with Dust ! ( I stole the idea of him having a passion for history from @ancha-aus but shhhhhht )

So so so

When Dust was a child he wasn't really the best kid to have, he was kind of a trouble maker, stealing from stores, starting fights at school, disturbing the classes (except history classes, he was actually very invested in this class), bad grades, ... he started smoking at 14 and would sometimes smoke illegal substances that he would acquire at school (as it wasn't a very clean school, but clearly his parents didn't care about what kind of establishment they sent their son to), come back late, stay in the streets, and all things that would earn him a few trips to the police station, tho they weren't very hard on him because he was a kid and they knew he wasn't mean but rather lost as his parents weren't guiding him as they should have

So basically Dust could do practically all he wanted because he knew his parents didn't care about him anyway

His parents were actually pretty tired of him, especially because his little brother was nothing like him, he was very calm, had good grades, was helpful, ... he was everything Dust wasn't, and so his parents only wanted one thing: for Dust to leave so they could keep only his brother

So when Dust turned 18, his parents gave him a suitcase and a bag, and he was out of the house the very next day

He quickly got a job in some fast food as to not stay homeless too long and because he needed to eat so he needed some money, couldn't rely entirely on stealing, so he started working and rented a shitty apartment in a shitty building but at least he had a roof above his head so he didn't bother to look for something better

He worked for two years and at twenty he figured he wanted to do something else, something a least a little better than working at a fast food, something he liked, so he started saving money each month until he had enough to apply to college and study history, the one and only class he always was interested in

So he started studying, working on the side as he couldn't afford to stop working, and was really invested

But unfortunately investment doesn't do everything and money became too tight for him, he couldn't paid both his bills and his classes, so after two years he sadly had to drop out of college and never got a diploma

He however didn't lose his passion and kept watching documentaries and reading books, his dream being saving enough money to travel and discover the runes of the old civilisations

Now talking about trauma

The fact his parents never showed interest in him no matter if he did good or bad and threw him out the moment he turned 18 did affect more than he realizes it because it is the major reason why he always feels like he's not good enough, like he can't be a good company, that people (the tt gang) cannot possibly like him, that's just impossible, his own parents didn't like him so them ??? Impossible

He just doesn't think he's worth it and he is having a hard time accepting that yes, they do love him for himself and not what he could have to offer them, because they don't see him as a waste of space like his parents always did

He's just used to people either not noticing him or being disappointed in him so he now has a very low self esteem and it will take some time to accept that he is lovable (the gang will help him)

[magneticecstasy]

clandestine ✤ joel miller part i — new horizons

series masterlist & foreword | ao3

moodboard is not an illustration of how reader should look, just for the ~vibes~

fic summary: it’s september 2016, you're in your final year of sixth form college and joel miller joins the teaching staff as your new history teacher. over the course of the academic year, boundaries are blurred, crossed and ruined when joel begins to reciprocate your insatiable crush on him; what should be so wrong just feels so right.

rating: E | pairing/AU: teacher!joel x student!fem!reader

chapter warnings/tags: (6.5k) this is an 18+ fic so mdni! dubcon (due to student/teacher relationship, both parties are consenting otherwise), age gap (reader is 18, Joel is in his early 30s), power imbalance, inappropriate relationships (teacher!Joel is not a good teacher), fetishization of new-adulthood (if you squint), some pervy!Joel, inexperienced!fem!reader is hornee™, pet names (Joel calls reader darlin’, sweetheart etc.), minimal description of fem!reader where possible, reader has hair and is generally able-bodied, otherwise undescribed where possible.

a/n: ahhhh the first chapter of my first fic finally out!! i won't lie i am so nervous to post this but reading other lovely fics from the pedro pascal cinematic universe™ written by some amazing people has inspired me to write and post my own. any feedback is greatly appreciated, especially as a new writer. i hope you all enjoy the teacher!joel brainrot as much as i do.💞

account tags (let me know if you'd like to be added): @sugadolly can't wait for you to read this! hope you enjoy!💓

Tuesday 4th September

8:44am

The calm corridor echoes with the sound of your shoes hitting the ground hard as you run to your registration period before halting suddenly.

“I’m here, Mrs Marvelley,” you holler at your form tutor as you tumble into her classroom in a rush and fluster. “I’m here before quarter to,” you pant, heavy rucksack in tow, having just bolted up two flights. You arrive just as she calls your name on the attendance register, narrowly avoiding a late mark that you were keen to avoid on your last first day of school.

She rolls her eyes, and mumbles something along the lines of “You’re lucky.”  

Usually punctual to form registration and lessons, you were delayed countless times this morning by classmates wishing you a belated ‘happy birthday’ for last Sunday, your 18th. Born at the start of September, you're among the oldest in your year, one of the first in your cohort to reach adulthood. Many of these conversations with friends animatedly recapped the events of your party the previous Saturday. The gathering was a typical teenage house party: no parental supervision, loud music, junk food, with a few bottles of booze and packs of cigarettes acquired on the sly through nefarious means, with way more people that you’d initially invited. Luckily, your close friends helped with the cleanup operation the next day, and your parents' trust in you remained intact and you stayed in their good books for the time being.

Realising the time, you part ways with your friends, each heading to your respective form classes, a wave of contentment washing over you. Unfortunately, someone had to go and ruin it.

Taunts of ‘look at her, MILF in the making’ , and ‘best time to start an OnlyFans is now, babe’ from a crew of boys you’ve never liked echo down the corridor. Their cruel laughter at their own remarks colour your anger a violent crimson. 

“Oh, get fucked ,” you seethe through clenched teeth, flipping a middle finger in their direction, all the while praying you won’t get caught for the foul language. Turning on your heel you swiftly retreat, eager to escape the confrontation.

A few metres down the corridor, you overhear the boys’ guffaws being cut off by a chastation from a voice that’s foreign to you. Rounding the corridors’ corner, you decide to hang about and eavesdrop on the hecklers’ punishment.

“Now boys, I know y’all don’t know me yet but I don’t think this is a great introduction for my first day here.” The voice is deep, gravelly, laced with an American accent that you guess as Southern—maybe Texan if you had to be precise. Must be someone new, maybe a teacher? A member of Senior Leadership? You’re sure you’ll find out during registration if you were to ask around.

“I-I-It was only a joke, sir,” one of the crew pleaded to him. Not so big and bad now, eh?

“Oh sure , sure.” The voice drawls, laced in sarcasm. “Funny ‘cause it was lookin’ like you were botherin’ a young lady.”

“Oh sir, don’t be like that, it was just banter,” another boy pipes up.

The unknown voice lets out a deep huff. “Do you need your heads checked? Y’all were spoutin’ some real sexist things, and that ain’t a joke, boys — it’s not ‘banter’ ,” the gruff voice now raised, seething. “Seein’ as your ‘jokes’ have now landed yourselves in after school detention tonight, I think ya’ll need to come with me to get your detention slips signed.”

The group of boys groan in unison and you hear one swear under their breath. Oh shit, they’re in for it, now.

“Hey!” The pitch of his speech deepens, harsh and guttural, a threatening aura now looming in the air. “Let’s not make it two after school detentions in a row for insubordination.” The boys are now deathly silent. “I recommend y’all shut your traps and follow me. I’ll email your tutors and let them know why you’ll be late for registration. What a disappointin’ start to the year, boys…” The husky voice trails in the opposite direction, still berating and scolding the group.

You’re itching to text your friends about the clash that just went down, but just as you’re about to hit send, the bell rings for morning registration. Shit. You tuck your phone away and hustle towards your form classroom, hoping to avoid a late mark.

9:03am

Your form group was small, fewer than 15. A few of them were familiar faces from your early years in primary school, while most were friends you had made during your time at the local high school. There were also a few new acquaintances from other schools in the area, including Chelsea, notably absent from your registration period this morning.

Despite only meeting her last year when you joined the college, she’d quickly become one of your closest friends. She was in your History and English Lit/Lang classes so you often spent time together, as well as studying and revising at each others’ houses, and over time your friendship blossomed. The first year of your A-Level courses were a journey for you both: you laughed together, cried together, comforted each other through the meltdowns triggered by the towering workload and disheartening feedback on essays you’d slaved over.

This morning’s registration period is extended by 20 minutes, seeing as it’s the first day back and there’s a lot to catch up on; new schedules to coordinate and potentially revise in the case of any timetable clashes. This was to be followed by a ‘Welcome Back’ assembly held in the main hall of the sixth form college, that you don’t doubt will be boring as hell.

Your head is buried in your new school planner, setting it up for the upcoming year, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you are greeted by the beaming face of Chelsea.

“Chelsea! Hey!” you say, surprised but happy to see her. “Dude, you are so late.” You stand to pull her into a tight squeeze of a hug.

“Babe, I know —my car was being a bitch this morning, took forever to start,” she exhales, exasperated. She breaks the embrace, drops her backpack on the floor and sits at the desk next to you.

“Shows you for driving an absolute shitbox,” you tease, attempting to lean back into the rigid plastic seat.

“Hey, don’t talk about Gizmo like that, it’ll hurt his feelings.” Chelsea throws a mock frown at you. “Not like your hunk o’ junk is much better.”

“Guilty as charged,” you banter, arms up in mock surrender.

“ Anyway …Happy belated birthday!” she exclaims, pulling out a small, colourful badge from her bag. “I know I couldn't make it on Saturday, so I wanted to give you this now. You gotta wear it all day.”

You look at the badge; it is vibrant and cheerful decorated with hearts and stars, with a playful ‘Birthday Girl!’ written in glittery bubble letters. A mix of emotions washes over you. You are so pleased by the thoughtfulness of her gesture—Chelsea was always a giver—but a little embarrassed by the idea of wearing a badge in front of everyone on the first day back.

“Awh, Chelsea, you didn't have to…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“I know, I know, but I wanted to. You deserve a little extra celebration!” she grins, pinning the badge to your blazer proudly.

You feel a warmth spread through you. It is touching to know she had thought of you and made the effort despite missing the actual day. You glance around, noticing a few curious glances from your classmates. Embarrassment mingles with gratitude, and you smile at her warmly.

“Thanks, Chels," you say sincerely. “This means a lot.”

Chelsea flashes a wink. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

With that, you begin recalling the details of the altercation you overheard between the boys and the new staff member. You provide a concise rundown, explaining how the boys suddenly started harassing you, describing how this new, mysterious person defended you after you had presumably left. Chelsea is as astonished as you are to hear the entire story.

“Wait, you have no idea who it was? And he was American ?” Chelsea raises an eyebrow, then narrows her eyes, probing you further for details.

“Southern? I dunno. And, nope, sorry, no idea, hon,” you shrug, “I didn’t think to get a look at him. Didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, y’know.”

Chelsea ponders, drawing out her words. “Hmm, interesting...”

“Do you know of any new teachers taking over this year?”

“Not a Scooby-Doo clue, mate,” her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. She pauses a moment, lightly tapping the desk with her fingertips and pursing her lips. “ So … Did he sound hot?”

“Chels! You can’t say that!” You gasp, shocked at her question, hitting her arm playfully.

“Oh come on, I just wanna know the deets!”, she defends whilst punching you back in jest. “Did he sound old, young—you gotta give me something to work with?!”

“I dunno how to describe it, umm… he was…” you trail off, replaying the snippets of what you overheard like a movie. 

The voice was a rich, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine. His tone had a weathered maturity, a deep, husky resonance that carried the weight of experience. There was a touch of warmth, even when he was angry, like a low rumble of thunder on a hot summer night, both comforting and electrifying. It was the kind of voice that could soothe a troubled mind or set hearts racing with a whisper. The kind of voice that you were desperate to hear again, that sparked your curiosity.

“It was, like, deeper, husky— I don’t fucking know , Chels!”, you attempt to surmise before breaking out into a giggle and your cheeks warming into a blush.

“A-ha! So, he was hot! You jammy bitch.”

“We don’t even know what he looks like, so we can’t say for definite if he is or isn’t hot yet.”

“Well if he sounds fit, he probably will be.” There’s a proverb in there, somewhere, if you look hard enough.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”, you jest. Chelsea laughs and it’s infectious, both of you giggling at your wild hypotheses.

Your conversation is cut short when Mrs Marvelley calls for the class’ attention. She begins handing out your new timetables for the year, and you grab yours from her eagerly, hoping that it’s not terrible.

“These are your timetables for this year. I’ll give you a few minutes to check them over. If there’s no issues, head up to the main hall for assembly. If there are issues, you need to go down to the admin office and speak to Mr Jones. I repeat, you need to see Mr Jones.” She spots a hand raised amongst the group. “And, no , Dan, he won’t change it so you get Fridays off, no matter how much you beg and bribe him.” A few quiet snickers ripple across the class.

Looking at the timetable, your eyes are drawn to a different set of initials where you expect to find AW, for Mr Walker, one of your lecturers who seemed as ancient as history itself.

HIST/A2

JM

Rm. 93

A few of your other peers also spot the change too and break out into a slew of overlapping speculative discussions.

Is he dead? Wouldn’t surprise me—My sister heard he had to get a hip replacement, second one musta gave out finally—I guess Mr Walker ain’t walking anymore, hahaha, what? C’mon, it’s just a joke, Miss, be chill—Who’s JM? You reckon it’s a guy or a girl? I hope they’re nice, not like Mr Hall. He’s a dick—Can’t believe they haven’t sacked him yet. 

“You good? Everything okay?” Chelsea asks, standing to collect her belongings.

“Yeah, no issues here.” You follow suit, packing your bag to leave. “‘Cept Mr Hall is still teaching History.” 

“ Ugh , tell me about it. Let’s hope this fresh meat isn’t as much of a twat as he is.”

“That’s wishful thinking, Chels, but I got my fingers crossed. Anyway, time for us to be bored out of our minds for an hour. Let’s go.”

10:28am

As you’d predicted, the Welcome Back assembly dragged on for what seemed like millennia. You’d been sitting there that long that your ass had gone numb. Led by the assistant headteacher Mr Faulkner, it was the usual presentation, welcoming everyone back after the summer, a few announcement of extra-curricular activities commencing this week, with some interesting musical performances from the Music students and a refresh of the colleges’ rules, expectations and consequences: 

Try your best.

You are a representative of the College, in and out. Conduct yourselves in a manner that does not put the institution into disrepute.

You are in your last year now, make it count.

Surely, this all could have been in an email . It was basically the same trifle they spouted last year. 

Before you feel yourself fall asleep out of boredom, the last announcement catches your attention, and urges you and Chelsea to sit up in your seats.

“Before we end our assembly today and let you go to break, I have one last announcement—an introduction, actually,” Mr Faulkner announces, wrinkled hands clasped tightly together. Microphone feedback echoes awkwardly through the speakers. 

Shallow murmurs ripple across the hall. In sync, you and Chelsea flash each other a knowing look. This could be the end to the mystery that plagued you both all morning.

“As you may be aware, we had to bid farewell to our longest serving member of teaching staff, Mr Walker. Over summer, he underwent some surgery and he felt that it was in his best interest to retire after an illustrious 45 year career in teaching. He sends his best wishes for your year ahead and apologises for not being able to do so in person. We thank him for his many years at this College and wish him a speedy recovery.”

Chelsea leans to you. “ Jesus Christ, he doesn’t half go on, does he? Just get to the fucking point, man, ” she whispers before Mrs Marvelley quietly shushes her and raises a hand in a silent apology. You chuckle under your breath, silently agreeing with your friend. A shiver of excitement races down your spine, making your fingers tingle, a slow and steady anticipation building within you.

“I’d like to formally introduce you all to our newest member of staff to join our College. He is a former lecturer from across the pond and we are so grateful to have him join our department of Humanities and Social Studies. So please give a warm welcome to the stage, Mr Joel Miller.” A lulled applause breaks out across the hall. Mr Faulkner takes a step back from the mic and your eyes scan towards the front, looking for this ambiguous Mr Miller to join the stage.

And that’s when you spot him. Probably one of the most attractive people you’ve ever laid eyes on. The kind of person that makes your breath hitch, cheeks hot and heart skip a beat. You’re silently praying to a higher power he has an American accent as he climbs the few steps up to the stage.

Time feels like molasses as your eyes drink him in. His hair is a rich brown and pairs deliciously with his eyes, falling across his head in tousled waves. The boyish curls, a little dishevelled, frame his face perfectly and suggest a softness that beckons you to touch them. Though sparse in places along his strong jawline, the uneven growth of his facial hair adds an irresistibly raw, untamed allure, hinting at a blend of tenderness and roughness that you find insatiable. A textured beige blazer drapes over his broad shoulders, accentuating and hugging his physique with each movement. Underneath, you could see a burnt orange button-up shirt, which complements the warmth of his skin. An undone top button reveals a slight glimpse of his chest, firing your desire to see more .

Lost in him, your mind wanders as you envisage how his salt-and-pepper scruff would feel against the soft skin of your cheeks, peppering wet, sweet kisses trailing down your neck and body, and before arriving at the delicate creases of your thighs. Sweat drips down your back as your tummy flutters and tightens, and you cross your legs to seek any sort of purchase to relieve the building pressure in your core, a wetness beginning to pool in your underwear, cheeks blushing at the sight of him. Almost immediately you decide that you want him to absolutely ruin you.

A familiar voice drawls across the hall’s speakers, snapping you back to reality. You glance around to see if anyone noticed your reaction. Thankfully everyone is facing the front, focusing on the assembly.

“Uh, hi folks, thanks for having me,” Mr Miller utters into the microphone, a soft nervous smile blooming across his face. Bingo. Mystery solved at last.

You whack Chelsea in the side in an effort to get her attention and she whips her head round. It's him, you mouth silently, that’s the guy.

“No, shit. I told you he was gonna be fit.”

Saying he was fit felt like an understatement. He was immaculate, a commanding masculine energy radiating from him. To you, he's a masterpiece that's rough around the edges, sultry perfection with a touch of brooding reality.

“I ain’t one for public speaking so I appreciate y’all being so kind in welcoming me here today. And thank you to Mr Faulkner for that, uh, introduction,” he says, a soft chortle escaping his mouth. “I’m honoured to be joining such a prestigious department and hopefully live up to Mr Walker’s legacy. No pressure, amirite?”

He chuckles again, joined by a comforting wave of murmured chuckles from students around you. You’re transfixed, hanging onto every word he says.

“In all seriousness, ‘m looking forward to settling in, getting to teach history, doing what I love — thank you,” he finishes, punctuating the sentence with a slight nod. Taking a step back from the mic to allow Mr Faulkner to finally wrap up the assembly, you choose to ignore the assistant head and pour your focus entirely into Mr Miller.

Head tilting like a curious puppy, you pay close attention as he slides his glasses up his aquiline nose with his middle finger and runs his large hand through his hair, touseling his curls. You begin to fiddle with your delicate chain necklace, fingertips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as a warm giddiness prevails over you causing your cheeks to burn harder. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s perfect.

“What? ” Chelsea whispers, poking her finger into your side. “ What did you say? ”

“Huh?” you murmur. Confused at first before awareness sets in, your eyes widen like a deer in headlights, realising what you’d whispered aloud. You’re about to respond and promise to tell her at break, when Mrs Marvelley's sharp whisper cuts through the air, causing you and Chelsea to freeze in your seats like statues.

“Girls ! That’s enough.” Arms crossed tightly across her body, she leans in to avoid drawing attention to herself as she delivers a quiet but harsh scolding. “Stay here at the end of assembly. You have detention for constant whispering. Now, be quiet . So incredibly rude,” she hisses. 

Avoiding Mrs Marvelley’s scathing eye contact, both you and Chelsea offer mumbled apologies, a mix of sorry Miss and won’t do it again . For fuck’s sake. Detention was the last thing you needed on your first day back.You’re kicking yourself for sitting at the end of the row instead of the middle, where you would have quietly gossiped without getting caught usually.  At least it was only technically 50% your fault with Chelsea involved, when you thought about it. You pray she didn’t overhear you gushing over the new teacher—the thought itself makes you feel nauseous.

The assembly rolls to a close at long last, and students and staff begin to file out of the main hall. In the hustle and bustle, you lose sight of Mr Miller and a feeling of longing waves over you as if you miss him already like a pathetic puppy. Meanwhile, you and Chelsea remain seated, bracing yourselves a stern lecture from your form tutor. You exchange glances every now and again, struggling to stifle your laughter despite your present situation. It’s always funny how being forbidden to speak makes everything seem so much more amusing.

11:07am

Mrs Marvelley escorts you back to her classroom at breaktime and delivers a scorned lecture as she logs the detention on her prehistoric computer, almost punching the keys of the keyboard. The computer was probably as old as you, if not older.

“Girls, I cannot believe that you were being so rude, whispering constantly like that. Every single time I looked over, you were just talking . You’re meant to be the good girls in my form class — really let me down today. Imagine what impression that makes on Mr Faulkner or even Mr Miller who’s new to this college, the pair of you gossiping like that.”

Neither you or Chelsea interrupt her, knowing better to just accept the scolding than to argue back. Admittedly, she’s laying it on a bit thick, it wasn’t like you’d committed any serious infractions or catcalled and harrassed another pupil like some people you know. It was just gossiping. All the same, you feel a pang of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.

Mrs Marvelley twists her thin wrist to check the time on her watch.

“Alright ladies, you’ve got 10 minutes left of your detention but I need to pop out to speak to someone next door. It'll be a few minutes. Can I trust you both to stay here until I get back?”

You and Chelsea nod without saying anything. Mrs Marvelley leaves without a word and you’re both left to your own devices.

You fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of your skirt, running it through and round your fingers before pulling at it to snap it off. Readjusting in your seat, you let out a lengthy sigh. The previous arousal in your underwear feels a little uncomfortable now, both literally and figuratively. It’s not even lesson 3 yet and it’s been a helluva day , you muse.

“Mr Miller got you all worked up, eh?” Chelsea teases, nudging her leg into yours. It was like she read you like an open book.

“Don’t you start,” you warn, rolling your eyes, your slight irritation palpable in the sideways look. But she was right. You’d barely laid eyes on him all of 5 minutes and he was already driving you crazy. “Was it obvious?”, you ask quietly, bracing yourself for the worst possible answer that your new crush on Mr Miller was clear as day.

Chelsea’s familiar hearty laugh echoes through the room. “Only because I know you so well by now. Oh, and the fact you admitted that he was, what was it? ‘So fucking perfect’ ?” She teases, her fingers waggle in the air, forming imaginary quotation marks as she quotes you.

You groan with embarrassment. “I can’t believe I said that, I’m such a dick .” You groan again, louder this time, flopping into a pathetic lump on the desk, head buried into your arms. If the ground beneath you could split open and swallow you whole, you’d welcome it with open arms. You would prefer it actually than being stuck in college for the rest of the day.

Chelsea rubs your back, her hands radiating a warm heat as she circles your upper back, maintaining a consistent pressure. Usually when she rubs your back like this, you’re throwing up into a toilet the morning after a heavy night of binge drinking in a random field somewhere—the session hidden from your parents obviously—but it’s still comforting all the same.

“You’re alright, mate, honestly.” She insists, hands moving down to give attention to your lower back. “Nobody heard ‘cept for me. Hell, I barely heard you, but I got the message.” 

Peeking out of the lump, revealing your flushed face, your eyes meet Chelsea’s. You pout at your pitiful demeanour. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

There is one last thing you need to do to feel fully assured of yourself. You offer Chelsea your little finger. “Pinky swear?”

She locks her petite finger with yours and offers a tender smile, gently nodding. “Pinky swear.”

2:04pm

The rest of the day passed without any further mishaps. You had double Spanish followed by independent study and lunch before your last period - History with the enigmatic Mr Miller. Lining up in the corridor, it feels stuffy even when you remove your thick blazer and loosen your tie. The rhythmic tapping of your fingers against your thigh does little to settle the butterflies in your tummy. You’d made a tactical judgement by standing towards the end of the line; you were waiting for Chelsea and you didn’t want to seem too keen. The shrill ring of the bell pierced through the rustle and bustle of the corridor, both clouding your mind so much you barely take notice when the rest of the line heads into the class. Mr Miller is standing at the door welcoming your class in.

His eyes lock with yours and your heart does a flip. As you make your way into class his lips curve into a soft smile, inviting and warm, and you feel like the air’s been punched out of your gut. Shit. You return with a weak smile and enter the room before you pass out.

Usually decorated with replicas of historical artefacts, boxes of old dusty textbooks and old wall displays of work from students who’d long left the college, the classroom was bare, empty like a blank canvas. The desks had been rearranged from rows of tables into groups, allowing for four people to sit. You decide to take a seat towards the front, near to where you sat last year with Chelsea. She trails in not long after you and smiles with a ‘hiya’ under her breath.

“Well, this is different.” She says scanning the classroom, unpacking her bag before sitting in the seat adjacent to you. “Least it’s not as dusty with Walker’s junk everywhere.”

“His stuff wasn’t that bad. It was just too much of it.” You follow Chelsea’s lead and get your equipment out for the lesson. As you’re getting your notebook out, your elbow nudges your pencil case and its contents spill on the floor. 

“Fuck’s sake ,” you whisper under breath. Flustered, you’re about to get out of your chair when you feel a shadow over you.

“S’alright, I got it.”

Mr Miller looms over you before getting down to grab the contents of your pencil case from the floor in one swift motion. Since this morning he’s removed his blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The sight of his forearms, tanned, strong and just so masculine , makes your heart flutter, a quiet thrill running through you at the thought of those arms wrapped around you, entangled together.

“There you go, darlin’.” He says, holding them out to you, a soft laugh reveals his smile lines. “Saved you gettin’ up.” Taking the handful of pens out of his hand, you swear you feel electricity in the split second his hand gazes against yours.

“Thanks, sir,” you manage to say without squeaking too much.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His velvety words dance across his tongue and you almost want to believe that he’s being this hot on purpose to torture you personally. 

Returning to his teacher desk he settles in the leather office chair and begins logging in and setting up his teaching resources. He completes the attendance register with no hitches; apart from the way he says your name has your head spinning. Satisfied that he can start the lesson, he rises from the table and stands near the board, ready to present, clicker in hand. 

“Alrigh’ folks, welcome to final year History, you’ve made it this far.” He leans casually against the wall in the space between his desk and the board before continuing.

“I’ll be level with you. It's period five on your first day back. It’s my first day. Your lil’ brains are probably information overloaded right now bouncing ‘round your heads.” He pauses and run his hand through his curly hair which is a lot more dishevelled compared to this morning. “I’ve had to meet almost too many people to meet within a day.”

He sounds gruff, like he’s worn his voice out from lecturing all day.

“Bet some of y’all are wondering how you’re still upright after the day you’ve had. Hell, I'm wondering how I’m still standing.” He chuckles, a rich, deep sound that seems to vibrate through you. A few from your class join in with a soft laugh. His irreverent humour puts your mind at ease and you appreciate his honesty.

“‘Won’t overload you with too many of the scary details of what’s going to happen this year but we’ll do an overview. That sounds good to y’all?” The class and you let out a mumble of agreement. “Let’s jump in then; this is your intro’ to The American Dream: reality and illusion, from 1945 to 2003.”

For the next half an hour, he shares an outline of what this year’s course will entail in terms of assessment: formative essays every few weeks to check your progress with course content, a historical enquiry assignment due in April, followed by your final exams in June. He goes on to describe some of the key events you'll study this year with confidence: the Cold War, the Civil Rights movement, the rise of popular culture and media, Watergate, the war on drugs, 9/11, and the U.S. invasion of Iraq. It’s quietly ironic that the college has asked him to teach on this module, and you wonder what Mr Miller’s perspective could offer when teaching some of the topics that he’s probably lived through himself.

The broad scope of subjects felt overwhelming looking at them in one go, yet it was the challenge you craved. History as a subject was one of your passions, even when it pushed your limits. A poor grade on a painstakingly crafted essay would upset you, but it didn't dissuade you either; it ignited a fierce resolve to prove yourself. Your old teacher Mr Walker was always so supportive of your interest in his subject, keen to hear your opinions and debate with you. His feedback on your essays was always fair, highlighting both the strengths and drawbacks in your analyses and opinions:

I like the way you’ve considered this, it enriches your main, overall argument. However, in paragraph 7, it feels a little weak and undersupported. Next time, you should consider looking at these sources I’ve suggested and how they may alter your argument. Good work on the whole — Grade: 20/25.

It was a shame that your work wasn’t appreciated by your other History teacher. Mr Hall's biassed grading, favouring certain students with A’s while giving you C’s and D’s, felt unjust. And it wasn’t because you thought your work was better; you’d heard through the grapevine that this particular group would pay seedy websites to produce their essays in all their subjects, slap their own names on the work and submit them. Others complained to Mr Walker about it but it fell on deaf ears, and lacked concrete evidence to prove the plagiarism so the issue never went further, despite it appearing to be an open secret. However on results day, your quiet determination paid off. You revelled in the sweet victory of an A, while the boys, once so favoured, faced the sting of D’s, E’s and U’s. You wondered if you’d be believed now if you brought the issue up again.

Throughout the lesson you earnestly take notes whilst you listen to his lecture, to jot down the important information and to show him that you’re listening intently, aching for a crumb of approval from the new teacher. The way he speaks commands the room, drawing the attention of the whole class, oozing a confidence that only comes with experience. Each word rolled out with a noticeable Texan accent, dripping with a natural, unforced charm. 

The introductory lecture draws to a close, to your disappointment. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“I hope I ain’t completely frazzled your heads, anyone got any questions?” Mr Miller offers a slight smile as he scans the room, his brown eyes meeting yours. For a second you feel his gaze on you, praying he doesn’t see your cheeks starting to warm for what feels like the hundredth time, your uniform feeling unbearable against your skin. As luck would have it, the bell rings, saving you and the class begins to pack up their belongings.

“Oh—before you go, I have this handout you need.” He turns to collect the stack of papers from his desk. In the meanwhile, you put your blazer on and start to clear away your things at an unhurried pace, waiting for everyone else to clear the room before you ask Mr Miller about what happened this morning with the boys. Chelsea’s ready to go, looking at you expectantly.

“Chels, I’ll meet you outside. I wanna ask him something.” She nods in understanding and offers a knowing wink as she leaves. 

The almost vacant classroom suddenly feels stuffy as if it will swallow you whole. Mr Miller has his back to you, shuffling and organising his already messy desk as you approach him.

“Umm, hi, Mr Miller…” you start, nibbling on your lip so hard you almost draw blood. You hear your blood pumping in your ears, heart pounding like a relentless drum.

“Oh, sorry darlin’ I didn’t realise you had a question,” he turns and sits, leaning back in his office chair, relaxed. “How can I help?” A dangerous question for your little wound up mind. I don’t know, maybe bend me over on that desk right there and fuck me so hard I forget my name?

“Uh, no, actually. It’s about something that happened this morning.” You say instead, taking a seat on the edge of the desk closest to his. Mr Miller’s expression changes, a mixture of concern and confusion, unsure of what you’re referring to. Thumbing the sleeve of your blazer, you begin to explain. “I think it was you I overheard dealing with a group of lads being a bit gross this morning…” you trail awkwardly, dropping his eye contact, hoping he catches on.

“Oh yeah, I remember now. What about it?”

“I just wanted to say thank you for sticking up for me, I—err—appreciate it.” 

“ Oh… ” Realisation washes over him and he sits up in his chair. “Those boys were bothering you , huh? I’m sorry they were being like that. Ain’t right to talk to a lady like that,” he murmurs, his finger grazing against his bottom lip. The way he says it, dripping with charm, makes your heart swoon.

“You don’t need to apologise for them, they’re dickheads, anyway.” You offer a soft chuckle, feeling a little awkward about the situation.

“Dickheads they might be darlin���, but they needed to learn a lesson on how t’be respectful. Guess they don’t teach that over here.” He shrugs nonchalantly and a slim smile appears briefly on his lips.

Leaning forward in his chair he perches elbows on his knees, his large hands interlaced, he catches your eye and looks at you intently. “They bother you again, you tell me, alrigh’? I will deal with them.” He murmurs, voice deepening, eye contact unwavering. “I’m serious. Any word or comment, you come to me .” 

Shit. I’ll come for you if you want. You swallow hard and you feel slick arousal begin to dampen your underwear again in response to his command. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll let you know,” you try your best to sound unaffected by his commanding allure.

“Not a problem, darlin’. Now, get outta here and enjoy the rest of the day.” His smile is like a gentle caress, as warm as his gaze. He rises from his chair to see you out. You hop off the desk, bag slung over your shoulder and walk over to the door.

“One last thing,” he stops just short of the door, his tall frame towering over you. You look up to him; you guess he’s shy of 6 foot. He holds the pink, sparkly ‘Birthday Girl’ badge from Chelsea, still attached to your blazer, like he was inspecting it. 

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape in realisation and you sigh softly, attempting to hide your embarrassed face before meeting his gaze. “It was my 18th on Sunday and my friend got me this because she missed it, and made me wear it all-day.” You let out a nervous laugh, realising how silly the situation was to explain aloud to your teacher.

A lingering smile tugs at his lips, his eyes flitting down and up your body. “Well,” he pauses, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his thumb brushing against the colourful badge before his hand grazes down your arm, sending a jolt through your body. “Happy birthday for Sunday, darlin’, I hope you got everything you wanted,” he coos.

You have to swallow hard to stop yourself from letting out a whimper in response, aching for him to touch elsewhere instead.

Your thoughts are spinning like a record of the things you can’t say right now; I want you for my birthday, that would be the best present. I want you to touch me, suck my tits, fuck me, make me cum before you ruin me. Make me feel like no one else has. I wanna make you feel so good, I wanna be good for you. I’ll be so good, I promise. 

“T-Thanks,” you stutter, breath hitching. You excuse yourself before you let illicit thoughts pour out of you and make your way to the car park to meet Chelsea. Your head is spinning, replaying the interaction over and over; the sound of his gruff voice, the way he looked at you, his light touch over your blazer, the way he had you like putty in his hands. It drowns yet excites you, teetering on edge between being turned on and utterly overwhelmed, the cruel truth dawning on you.

You have a crush on your teacher and you’re probably—definitely—absolutely fucked.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, I love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!💞

[specialagentartemis]

regarding your utopian book idea, i've had this idea for a story (in my head it's a tv show but lets be real it's staying in my brain forever) about criminals in a super powered setting going through a restorative justice system, and all the ways that it can be messy as hell.

Like their core belief of "if the worst mass murderer in human history (immortal OC) can take just one step back from the edge, anyone can, over and over again, and we have a duty to help them do it" is *true*, but it is not easy, or even logistically possible in some cases. And human cognition and psychology is so messy and it is human nature to fuck up and there is just. a lot.

anyways just wanted to share i got excited when i saw your post i too. like to think about things.

So many utopian stories I read (and granted, I haven't read a lot, but I've read several) are clearly aiming to imagine a nice and peaceful world, a perfect society one where we believe in restorative justice and all that... but utterly fail to imagine how it would work if it was populated with real human beings, so everyone in the story is incredibly homogeneous and Just Nice. There's no conflict because everybody does the right thing the first time - and if there is any conflict, it's quickly resolved through talking about it and everyone apologizes and makes up within 24 hours. No real differences of opinion exist, and nobody ever does anything actually bad.

It's frequently boring even at the best of times, and at its worst, it does the opposite of the "inspiring hope!" that it intends to do - it makes me cynical. It makes me think, gotcha, you think peace is only possible if everybody has the exact same attitudes and beliefs and personalities and holds no strong opinions because that's the only way to eliminate conflict. That doesn't inspire hope - if anything it inspires despair, because that is not going to happen.

So I would be so interested in a story like this, that takes on the ideals of restorative justice and rehabilitation head-on, that goes, okay, how will this actually work? When people do bad things - and they will - even in a society that raises and educates children to have respect for each other well, that has eliminated structural bigotry, that has eliminated capitalism and poverty, that has a flourishing artistic scene where anyone can express themselves, that has guaranteed food and housing and medical care for everyone with no strings attached, that has the enshrined right and structural support for people (including children) to leave situations they don't want to be in, that has most hard-labor and exploitative jobs replaced by automation - what is the actual response? Even in such a society, some people will still hurt other people. It will happen. There has never been a society on Earth where people didn't hurt other people sometimes. There will be people who want incompatible things. There will be resources that more people want than can have. There will be conflicts that need to be addressed and managed. And obviously writers aren't obligated to solve every world problem perfectly (if it were easy, we'd have done it by now), but attempts at writing utopia that simply go "no there won't!" are both boring and dishonest.

All of that is to say: I would love to watch this hypothetical show, to see a genuine attempt at grappling with such a theme!

[channieskies]

EAT [LEE KNOW]

Pairing: Chef|Lee Know + AFAB|Reader

Genre: Smut, Drabble

Synopsis: After a successful cooking class, you book another night with the brilliant and handsome man that taught the class. Only to find out you booked the wrong Chef Lee.

A.N: Please reblog or leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. This was barely proofread, please disregard the mistakes.

Word Count: 3,000 + [~13 minute reading time]

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. NSFW warnings are under the cut.

Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction.

Warnings⚠️: MINORS DNI! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], creampie, oral (male and female receiving), anal play, food play (please let me know if I missed any)

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Being single sucked. Especially when it comes to eating meals. That being said, single and lazy just didn't mix well. You dreaded making meals for yourself, but your pockets told you needed to. So when your friend invited you to a cooking class with the world-renowned chef Lee, you were ecstatic. The class lasted about three hours from start to finish. There was wine and food, and chef Felix was one of the most beautiful men you'd ever laid eyes on. Well, at least in your opinion, he was. Your Saturday night was almost complete. Almost. Being single really, really sucked.

By the time you left, you were tipsy, full of good food, and a little wet from your interactions with the sexy deep voiced chef. He had such a pretty smile and beautiful freckles littering his face like stars. You were completely taken by him. The rest of your weekend seemed to fly by without a hitch. So, by Monday morning, you were ready to sign up for a private lesson with the chef. Your friend told you the company she went through for the lessons and the rest was history.

The next week seemed to creep by. It usually does when you are excited for something. By the time Friday came along, you couldn't wait to get out of work and get home, practically speeding on your way there. You got ready for your lesson, took a shower, and put on a date night outfit that you had stored away since you learned long ago that the dating pool was trash. You waited patiently for eight to roll around so you could see chef Felix again.

When the buzzer rang to let you know someone wanted to come up, you quickly rushed over and rang them up. You rubbed your nervous hands on your skirt as you waited for your bell to ring. When it finally did, you inhaled a quick breath before opening the door. With a wide smile on your face, you spoke, “Hi I'm Y/n-- wait- you aren't Felix.” The smile quickly slid off your face as you examined the young man in front of you.

He had soft brown hair, downturned pouty lips that resmbled a cat, and very hard to miss bunny teeth that you noticed as he smiled. He was taller than you , though you wouldn't say he was a giant, nowhere near it, really. He had on a gray sweater with cute little geometric patterns all over it and dark denim jeans. He had a large canvas bag full of groceries in one hand while the other gripped what seemed like an apron.

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He flashed you a mischievous smirk. You could tell something more was behind it. “I’m the head chef, Minho. Chef Lee Minho. Felix is my sous chef. He took over classes while I was away in France on business. I can't promise to offer the same experience since we are two totally different chefs, with different styles. But I promise to make it worth your while.” How could you say no to that? His dazzling smile was very convincing, and it's a part of the reason you let him in. you stepped back and widened the door a little more for him to come in.

“You have a beautiful home.” Minho complimented as he took a look around your downtown apartment. It had a rustic and industrial charm to it with its exposed brick and high ceilings. It was a nice apartment, especially considering you had gotten it for dirt cheap.

“Uh.. thanks.” You clapped your hands to draw his attention away from your bare walls - your apartment desperately needed decor. But you didn't have the time to do all of that. “Shall we get to cooking?” you asked and pointed to your nearly spotless kitchen. He followed you to it and put down his bag. You both washed your hands first, and he helped you with an apron that came free of charge when you purchased a class. Once you were prepped and ready, you got started.

It started off slow. He explained the menu and told you a little about his background. He was from Korea but studied in Japan before traveling to different Asian countries to learn different cuisines. He moved back to Korea and started training under Chef Baek Jong-won, one of the most renowned chefs in Korea. Then he became head chef at one of the oldest restaurants in Seoul before opening his own restaurant that now sits at one Michelin star. “So how about we start with green curry, then stir fried glass noodles with vegetables for an entree, and coconut custard filled donuts with a frosted pineapple drizzle for dessert?”

You honestly thought all that sounded a little complicated for someone who admitted to being lazy when it came to cooking, but it also all sounded incredibly delicious. “Sounds delicious.”

He was surprisingly easy to work with. He explained why he did the things he did and helped to customize them for everyday life. He stood to the side of you, his body touching your side ever so lightly as he guided your hand. You could feel his breath on your as he concentrated on the task at hand. You tried to swallow the thoughts that plagued your mind, like how good he smelled or how nice his hand felt on top of yours. your mind even dove as deep as your imagining his pretty face between your legs.

You let out a shaky moan as your mind slowly delved deeper into the abyss. “Are you okay?” He pulled away slightly to look over your face from the side.

“Y-yeah, it just smells so good.” He smiled and let out a sigh of relief, thinking that maybe he had made you uncomfortable by being too close. To make the atmosphere a little lighter, he asked if he could play a little music in the background. You agreed, hoping the music would help you take your mind off things. He synced his phone with your Bluetooth speakers, and Club boynnd's “naturally” softly started to flow from them.

He moved back to your side and reached for the spoon, his hand landing on top of yours once again. “Want to taste?” His voice sounded so smooth as he asked. Of course, you nodded, absentmindedly pressing your thighs together. He let you taste the chocolate you'd melted. He smeared the warm chocolate across your bottom lip, and your tongue almost instantly darted out to taste it. Your eyes met as you took your bottom lip into your mouth. You tasted the slightly sweet yet bitterly sticky substance on your tongue.

“It's delicious, chef.” It was like your eyes were locked in a battle, waiting to see who would cave for the other, first.

“May I taste it too?” You nodded, unsure of what move he was going to make. With the same spoon, he dipped it back into the chocolate, smearing it on your lips once again. He searched your eyes for affirmation, and you nodded.

It was like a switch went off. The next thing you knew, you were sitting on the counter, trapped between his strong veiny arms. His lips were on your, savoring the remnants of chocolate that resided on your lips. Your arms rested on his shoulders as your fingers found refuge in his soft hair.

Your tasks had soon been forgotten about as you passionately made out in your kitchen. The song switched to Kelela’s “Blue Light”, but neither of you could hear a thing at the moment. He pulled back and took your hand in his. He isolated your index finger, making it stand alone. He dipped that finger into the chocolate and put it into his mouth. He took it on, sucking every last bit off your finger. “Delicious.”

The way he looked at you as he said it made your womanhood ache with need. He pulled you down off the counter, turning you around, fingers moving up your back, signaling for you to bend over. He moved back briefly to turn off the burners on the stove. The last thing he wanted to do was burn down your kitchen. He was back behind you in no time, his pelvis pressing against your ass as he leaned forward. “I just wanted to let you know that I enjoy eating just as much as I enjoy cooking.” He let out a short, humorous, puff of air.

With that said, he pressed his lips to your slightly exposed neck, nipping that skin and leaving tiny marks. First, it was the apron, the strings untied, the fabric falling right to the floor. His fingers trailed under your shirt, pushing the fabric up. He wanted it off, and you took the hint, pulling the clothing up and off, tossing it on the floor. He trailed kisses down your back, letting his agile fingers work on removing your bra. The straps fell, but with your arms on the counter, the bra partially stayed in place. Next was your skirt, which he didn't bother unzipping.

He rolled your tight skirt down under your ass, relishing in the sight and his recent accomplishment. He licked his lips, his hands rolling over your skin. He tugged your panties and your skirt all the way down and crouched down behind your. “Wow..” You looked back to see what he was doing, only to feel his warm hand spreading your cheeks. “Fuck… I can't wait to taste you.” And that he did. He leaned in and bit your ass softly, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to mark your gasp at his actions. His tongue traced the indents his teeth left before you pressed a chaste kiss to it. His breath was hot on your entrance as he moved his attention to your waiting pussy. “I guess someone is a little turned on.”

You chuckled lightly at his accusation. “Says the one who was all in my personal bubble. It's hard not to feel something when a man as sexy as yourself is that close.” You admitted not knowing what had come over your. Nothing was said on his end as he dug into his meal. He dipped his tongue into your entrance just to pull it back, a trail of your wetness following the pink muscle. He wanted to just taste your first. His tongue slipped back in his mouth, and he grunted.

“You taste amazing.” He went back for a second helping trailing his tongue from your clit all the way to your asshole and back again. you lived alone, there was no need for you to conceal the way he was making you feel. Your voice bounced off the open walls of your kitchen and living area, mingling with the music. He pulled away just before you came, much to your disappointment.

“Maybe I should make things a little sweeter. Turn around for me.” You almost questioned what he meant by that only to remember this was a kitchen, and he was a chef. This was his playground. He stood to his feet and grabbed the spoon for the chocolate, raking a hefty amount into it and smearing it over your breast and down your stomach.

Next came the cinnamon sugar that he carefully sprinkled over it. He stood back, admiring his work before nodding at the final project. “Now all that's left to do is eat.” He smirked as he moved closer, his body trapping you against the counter again. He left kisses from your mouth to your chest, where he started to lick the chocolate, cinnamon-sugar from your skin. He sucked on your nipples making sure not a bit of the sugary concoction was left.

He nibbled and licked his way down your stomach until he was face to face with your womanhood. He lifted your leg and put it over his shoulder before his face was back between your legs, helping you to reach the orgasm you missed out on before. Your fingers were tangled in his brown hair, tugging on the tresses hard as you came. Your legs shook and almost gave out, but thanks to his grip on your thigh and the counter, you stayed in place. “I could eat out every day with you.” He said as he pulled away, his mouth a glistening mess from his meal. He put your leg down and guided you down to the floor where he was.

He moved in for a sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He pulled away to discard his apron and his almost suffocatingly hot sweater. You were presently surprised by how well built he was. With his apparent affinity for sweets and the handsome yet cat-like face he sported, you didn't expect him to look like that at all under all that clothing. Even the scar on his stomach was something to be admired. He noticed you staring, so he lifted your chin with his index finger. “Enjoying the view?” You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. you were thirsty and would willingly admit it.

“Let's not stare too long, I still have things I want to do to you.” Your heart was racing from his words. “Would you like a taste before I start the next course?” He tilted his head down and looked at you through his damp bangs. It was hot in the kitchen even with the burners off.

You pretended to think about it, already knowing your answer. “I'd love to taste,” he grabbed the bowl from the counter while still on his knees.

“Have at it.'' You weren't a skilled chef, but you are good with your mouth. Before you even touched the chocolate, you made sure his pants and boxers were discarded.

It was your turn to be in awe once again. How were you this blessed to have a man ready to fuck you, who not only had a gifted tongue but a gorgeous cock as well? You wasted no time. The angry veins and the fact that his member was at attention for you made you even more eager to have him in your mouth. You dipped your fingers in the chocolate and painted a few stripes on the shaft of his cock before licking it off and taking him into your mouth. His hand rested on the patch of hair right above your neck as he gently guided your head up and down his length.

You were amazing. It took every bit of him not to cum in your mouth. Your hands worked on his balls for added pleasure, your tongue twisted around the tip every time you pulled back. His eyes were rolled back, it was his turn to groan along with the music. You pulled away, a hand twisting around the shaft of his member. “Cum for me.” you stuck out your tongue, rubbing the underside of his tip over your wet muscle. His eyes closed, his hand gripping the back of your head as he released into your mouth. you let the liquid dripped from your tongue and down your chin. You only managed to get a little of it down.

“Fuck..” He was spent but his stamina was no joke at all. Plus he was enjoying how sexy you looked under the overhead potlights. your skin glistened with sweat and he could smell your sex as he still had spots of your wetness on his face. “How does it taste?” Your tongue darted out to lick up the mess on your chin and he used his thumb to rake up what was left. You sucked on his thumb, letting it go with a pop.

“I need to be inside you now. Like, right now.” He stood and helped you up. He bent you over the counter once more. To him, you were so fucking sexy it wasn't hard for him to get hard again, seeing that he was already semi-erect. He fluffed himself, his eyes transfixed on the view of your ass and glistening pussy on display. You were bent over just waiting for him to completely devour you.

That alone was enough to get himself hard again. Lifting one leg and letting it rest on the surface. He slid in your wet entrance, your walls wrapping around his member, squeezing it. He gripped your ass cheeks as he slowly started to pound into you, not even concerned if you adjusted to him or not. His member slid in and out of your creamy wetness as you screamed his name over and over. You loved how he filled you up. You couldn't get enough of how good he felt.

Sweat beads rolled down his cheeks. It felt like a sauna in the kitchen, even if it was an open space. But that didn't deter him at all. He had a goal in mind. He wanted to see his cum drip from your cunt. Just the thought causes his member to twitch inside of you. One hand wrapped around your throat as the of his thumb readied to slide into your asshole. He let spit drip from his mouth and used it as a lubricant. He rubbed his thumb over the hole before sliding it in and bending it as he fucked your. You choked out a moan.

So, that was the kind of man he was? Your eyes rolled back as he pulled his thumb out to slide it right back in. You knew you wanted to fuck Chef Lee, you just weren't expecting it to be a completely different one from the other night. But you weren't complaining. The gorgeous man who was currently drilling you into oblivion was perfectly fine to you.

His fingers tapped on your throat, “Cum for me, Y/n. Cum on this dick so I can cum inside of you.” You let out a euphoric sigh, your hand gripping at his wrist. your walls convulsed, squeezing and hugging his cock as you came for him like he asked. He grunted feeling just how tight you had gotten. His thumb slipped in a little more as his pace picked up. your leg shook, his pace sending you straight towards the edge of your third orgasm.

He snapped his hips into you a few more times before his seed glazed your walls as if they were the dessert he described earlier in the evening. He pushed in before pulling back. He pulled his thumb out of your ass, watching it slowly go back to its original tight ‘o’. He spread your cheeks and looked at the white substance that peeked out of your hole. Satisfied with his work, he took a seat on the floor as you slid to your knees, still gripping the counter. His cum slid out your cunt due to the awkward position you were sitting in, which caused him to chuckle.

“Looks like we have a mess to clean up.” He said speaking of the disaster zone your kitchen had become. There was chocolate on your rugs and smeared on the cabinets and cum and spit on the floor in multiple spots from your messy blowjob and his cream pie. There was a buzzing noise as your little robot vacuum made its way into the kitchen for its scheduled cleaning. There was silence between you both as you watched it work before they burst out laughing. This was a cooking lesson neither of you would forget.

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A.N: Please leave a like or comment to let me know how you feel. I'd love a little feedback. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

_______________________________________________

[Rewrites, Reposts, and Translations are Prohibited]

[aphroditelovesu]

I have another TLQ request for you, but only if you want to do it!

I want to request a oneshot or reaction blurb where Reader meets Bucephalus. I used to do some horseback riding, and all my horse books always mentioned him. I always loved the story about how he was frightened of his own shadow and how a young Alexander helped him overcome it by directing him towards the sun😭. Honestly, I would be freaking out just as much (if not more) about meeting Bucephalus as I would be about meeting Alexander.

As a bonus, maybe he (Bucephalus) actually likes our girl and even let's her sit on him and maybe ride him a little? Some sources claim that he only let alexander ride him. The fact that he lets reader do it too could encourage Alexander's infatuation with her. It would also be an interesting story for historians. However, I'll leave the details up to you.

Thanks again! 💞😊

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: I'm not sure if it turned out good, but... It's what I managed to do with the little time I have, I hope you like it anyway and feel free to give me your opinion! Good reading and sorry for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluffly and soft yan!Alexander.

❝📜 word count: 1,185.

The place where they kept the horses was, to say the least, disgusting. You couldn't judge, not much, considering where you were, but still they could have been a little more careful with the poor horses.

This irritated you and it wasn't a small matter. You should have a serious talk with Alexander later.

You looked around, making sure no one was around. Knowing that all the servants and slaves, by god how you hated this part, were busy as the camp would soon move again, you decided to try your luck and take a horse for a ride.

You felt like a criminal, and in a way, you were.

Although all you wished was to be able to ride a little. There wasn't much to do in the camp at the moment, Alexander and the others were busy in war councils and you found yourself bored. Wanting a little action and no bloodshed, preferably.

Sighing loudly, you looked at the available horses. There weren't many, just those mounted by the cavalry and the generals and the King.

Okay, maybe there were several.

You weren't picky, anyone would do. Your goal was simple; take a horse, sneak it out of camp, that was the hard part, ride it for a bit and then give it back. It couldn't be that difficult, could it?

You looked at the horses who ignored you. Everyone was interested in their food.

All but one.

You smirked when you saw that a black horse, a stallion, you noticed, was the only one who didn't ignore you. Instead, he looked back at you as if challenging you.

He was daring you to get closer to him, to ride him.

Your heart skipped a beat, you knew who that horse was.

Bucephalus.

The legendary horse of Alexander the Great.

''Hey...'' You whispered the words, not sure what to do.

You always liked animals and you couldn't deny that you had an affection for horses and look where you were. Head-on with one of the most famous horses in history. How should you react? No, doing so was beyond your comprehension, but then again, everything that had happened in your life in the last few weeks was beyond comprehension. So finding Bucephalus was normal, even.

At least it wasn't Incitatus, you were grateful for it.

Bucephalus whinnied at you, still looking at you with those deep black eyes. They reminded you of someone.

''Eh... Mister Bucephalus?'' As soon as the words left your mouth you scoffed at yourself. Really? By god, (Y/N), what is wrong with you? It's just a horse.

Except it wasn't just a horse. It was the horse.

You looked at her in wonder. He was magnificent, his fine black fur, his physical size and intense black eyes were beautiful. You dare say he was the most beautiful stallion you had ever seen in your entire life.

Absolutely wonderful.

''You're amazing, aren't you?'' You approached unconsciously and brought your right hand to his snout, stroking it slowly and gently. Bucephalus didn't back away but he didn't make a sound, he just stared at you.

With courage drawn from God only knows where, you decided on a more direct approach. ''Do you mind if I... Ride you?''

It probably wasn't what you should have done but there were no witnesses at the time, right?

Bucephalus whinnied in response, although you didn't understand if it was a yes or a no. You bit your lower lip and guided him out of the place where he was being kept.

You were either very brave or very stupid. Or maybe you were both.

You saw that he was still wearing a saddle, which meant that Alexander had ridden him earlier and hadn't had it removed. You almost cursed him for it out loud, almost.

''Where do you think you're going with my horse?'' You jumped up and your spine froze when you heard the voice that had been disturbing you for weeks.

Fuck.

You turned to look at Alexander. You gave a humorless laugh, ''I... Well, you see...''

He crossed his arms and glared at you.

''Alright. You see, I was bored and wanted to ride a little.''

''With Bucephalus?''

You decided to play dumb, ''Bucephalus? Oh, I didn't know it was him...''

''You didn't know?'' He said very slowly and you knew you had been caught. But to your confusion and relief, he started laughing.

You looked at him confused and he stopped laughing but kept smiling.

''You lie better than that.''

He was right. Even a child would lie better than you had lied now.

''Sorry.'' You mumbled softly. Alexander approached you and touched your face gently, you looked at him and blushed when you saw the way he looked at you.

With adoration and love. Just like he had looked at you at the wedding and on your wedding night. You blushed a little as you remembered the last part.

He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, ''There's nothing to be sorry for.'' He whispered and you felt your body heat up a little. By the gods, what had this man done to you?

Alexander pulled away a little, ''Did you say you wanted to ride for a bit?'' You nodded. He smiled, ''Ride with me.''

You blinked in surprise.

''Are you sure?''

Alexander nodded.

''Alright then.'' You took a deep breath and watched Alexander guide Bucephalus out. You can't help but notice the bond they had, Alexander's affectionate and even protective way with Bucephalus. The whispers that Alexander whispered to his horse and the caresses.

You followed them and stopped in front of Bucephalus.

''Mount him first, let's see if Bucephalus will let you mount him.'' Alexander said, still stroking his stallion's head.

You nodded and tried to mount Bucephalus. To your surprise, he didn't try to move or run away, he just stayed still while you climbed onto his back.

''Try to guide him a little.''

You took the reins and kicked it very lightly in the side and Bucephalus began to move forward. You smiled and didn't notice Alexander's smile as he walked behind you and Bucephalus.

This was truly incredible, he thought, the fact that Bucephalus let you ride him proved that you were indeed perfect for him.

Alexander watched with satisfaction as you rode Bucephalus, looking quite pleased with yourself. It made him happy, seeing you so happy. He had gotten the feeling that you were sad these past few weeks and that didn't sit well with him.

You should be happy.

He would deal with it later. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, he realized that very quickly. Alexander loved you so much that he would be willing to give up on conquering the Persian Empire if you asked him to.

You were his greatest weakness and his greatest strength.

You truly were his perfect Queen. And Alexander will be damned if he lets you go. You would never leave him, he will make sure of that.

[rebellenotes]

i need to act as if my life is a video game so i dont spiral into depr3ssion so i made a 30 day challenge lol. im gonna log it on here starting from tomorrow!!! and here it is if u wanna try it too. i literally just came up w it so idk if it's... doable?? but i tried to make it as self-compassionate and realistic as possible. tag it with "rebelle 30 day demure challenge" if u do it so i can see!!

rebelle's 30 day DEMURE glow-up challenge ♡₊ ⊹

workout:

at least 30 minutes of exercise (dancing, strength training, yoga, walking, etc.)

hydration:

drink 2 liters of water :3 stay hydrated, pookie.

mindful eating:

focus on whole, yummy (healthy, if that's what you want) foods, but no stressing over it! it’s not about restricting (*≧ω≦) it's okay to treat yourself~ be mindful of what you eat, but don’t obsess <3 we're not falling back into unhealthy eating habits! if this is too hard for u if you have a history of obsessing over diets, literally skip this part and just eat normally.

skincare routine:

morning and night: cleanse, moisturize, and don’t forget your sunscreen in the morning (✿◠‿◠)

active hobby:

dedicate 30 minutes to a hobby that brings you joy (writing, djing, playing with your cats) (^o^) no passive stuff like scrolling social media !! (i mean you can doomscroll but not during your allocated 30 minute hobby time!!)

mindfulness/gratitude:

spend 5-10 minutes meditating, journaling, or reflecting on things you're grateful for (✿´‿`) orrrr if ur like me just write down random thoughts in a notebook, it doesn't have to be so serious!!

progress photo:

take a cute daily pic to track your progress. it's about celebrating little changes, not perfection!

limit screen time before bed:

reduce screen use 30 minutes before sleeping to get that good beauty sleep (✿◠‿◠) maybe read book instead or tire out ur pets so they sleep through the night (and let you sleep through the night too)

track record for reflection:

log days when you couldn’t finish all tasks, but use it as a time to reflect! no guilt~ remind yourself: "tomorrow is a new day!" (•‿•)/ this is for preventing fear of failure ending up in giving up altogether. it's a marathon, not a sprint!!