#I love them and the stupid vibes they exude

[cashweasel]

Right pick up wrong time 😂

[toruro]

— ✧ isohel

i·so·hel (noun) a line on a map connecting points having the same duration of sunshine

pairing. hong joshua x reader

description. fairytales can be rather misleading, can't they? when you and your mother are ripped away from your life at the castle, you spend over a decade resenting the royalty. so naturally, when you find prince joshua at your doorstep, you’re more than eager to shut the door on him. but as your life takes twists and turns, you happen to find yourself in the arms of a man you never thought you'd have to see again.

genre. slowburn, modern royalty au, angst, fluff

tags. prince!joshua, developing relationships, slut shaming, allusions / references to greek mythology, dialogue heavy, implied se

fic playlist

w/c. 26.2k

a/n. lwk don't like the beginning but i swear it gets better🙄 thank u @cheolhub for beta reading & @jeonghantis & @gyuswhore for reading it over and helping out w this bc i think i was going insane over this story by myself >_<; ... i highly suggest listening to the song isohel by eden! it was a major inspiration for this whole story and i think it encapsulates the vibes really well c: hope u enjoy!

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears.

It’s common in the sweltering heat of the summer when the air is hot and sticky. Maids running around to tend to the evenings balls and parties only for the sweat to breach their fingers and suddenly their stack of fine china goes tumbling to the ground.

A bed of hyacinths sits in front of you as you bring up the hose and spray them down, watching through the tinted glass as two male helpers rush to the woman on the ground, quickly helping her clean up the shards of glass.

Turning your attention back to the plants in front of you, you turn the hose off and roll it back into the corner as you skip to the end of the greenhouse where there’s your mother’s desk space. It’s a measly little space but she hardly sits there anyways, always tending to the gardens in the courtyards, leaving the floral and herbal greenhouses under your care while she’s away.

After all, your mother is a gardener and botanist in the Hong palace, and having been a trusted employee for the past half decade since your father passed, she exudes the little privileges of getting to bring her daughter to work.

At least that’s what you think, because you’re only nine years old and naive.

She teaches you well—you’ve only been accompanying her on the weekends when you don’t have school, but you’ve already picked up on how to tell the differences between an infected plant and an unaffected one, the characteristics of a good caterpillar and the characteristics of a bad one, the exact amount you should water each species, and exactly when you should let the vapor run down.

It’s easy work, and you love it.

You love sitting at your mother’s desk and imagining what it’d be like to be her—successful and working in the castle, doing what you love instead of working some stupid nine to five. You love looking out the glass of the greenhouses every few moments when you pause reading your book. You love the rare moments when you get to lay your eyes on one of the members of the royal family walking by.

You’ve started to pick up on their characters in the small frame of time you get to see them when they pass by. The Queen has kind eyes, the King is a bit intimidating, and Prince Joshua … Prince Joshua has soft features you can’t quite read.

“He’s only a year older than you!” one of your friends from school said when you told her that you stayed at the castle during the weekends to help your mother. “You should marry him and become princess!”

You had to push her away and watch her disappointed eyes when you told her that you hardly get to see him for more than ten seconds, even on the rare occasions that he crosses your vision.

The sound of glass shattering isn’t foreign to your ears, but hearing it more than twice in one hour does have some alarms ringing in your head. When you glance back up at the window, time stops.

Your mother is on the ground. Limbs sprawled out with eyes wide in horror, she scrambles against the rough stone path as a man looms over her. He dons a deep purple robe—the kind that belongs to the advisors of the Court—and your young mind races through the possibilities of what warrants the disgusted look on his face.

“Sneaking around with royal blood. Who do you think you are?”

A man watches, dark and brooding from the corner, and then you recognize him. Advisor Lee. He stops by the greenhouses sometimes—a high advisor of the Counsel and distance relative of the King’s. You’re nine years old and naive, but you are not dense.

Something had happened between your mother and Advisor Lee. Something tells you it’s more than you can understand, but in this moment, you feel you understand perfectly.

“You whore,” the man in the dark robes spits out, punctuating his disgust with a stomp of his feet right by your mother’s leg.

You’re only nine years old, but that is old enough to know that that is not a nice word. Nine years old, and you know that that means a very bad thing. Nine years old and when you look at your mother’s grief stricken face, you are certain that everything is about to change.

Your house was always on the edge of the town. Before the affair between Advisor Lee and your mother, it was because she liked having the space to open a garden in your backyard. The city is crowded and full of bustling roads and buildings—it’s no fit for the small cottage that she wanted.

Now, after the affair, your house is on the edge of the town for a different reason.

The first day after your mother is fired from her position at the castle, you go to school with your head hanging low. It’s in the city, and for the first time in your five years of schooling, your mother tells you to go alone.

“I can’t—I shouldn’t drive you anymore,” she tells you as you pack your backpack. She walks you to the bus station and hands you a paper telling you which stop to get off at and how to walk to school from there.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you two walk up to the little stop by the street, but when you approach the small crowd of people waiting for the next bus to come in, their chatter hushes. Sparing glances at you and your mother, they whisper—some hushed, some blatant, some sad, some angry.

That’s where she stops and puts a heavy hand on your shoulder. “You can take it from here, yeah?” she asks, but you know it’s not really a question. Nodding, you slowly walk towards the crowd of people as the next bus parks in front of the stop.

You don’t turn around and look at your mother because you know that’d be a mistake. Instead, you let your neck droop, following the quiet crowd as they pile into the bus, clutching the strings of your backpack.

There aren’t any places to sit, so you reach for a pole but suddenly the bus starts and you lurch forward, falling to the ground. There’s black and brown dust on the palms of your hand as you push yourself up, no one saying a word or bothering to help as you keep your head down and grip onto a pole.

The knees of your stockings are dirtied, and it’s the only thing you look at the whole ride, it’s the only thing you look at when you silently take the walk to school, and it’s the only thing you look at when you make your way onto campus.

It’s the whispers again, and as you quietly sink into your normal seat, you hear them louder.

Did you hear about her mother? She isn’t allowed in the castle grounds anymore. What did her mother do? I can’t believe she showed up, I’d be crying at home. I wonder what she’s thinking—

Nothing. You think nothing when your teacher announces that class will be starting. All you focus on is the board and your notebook. You spend your recess and lunch at the school’s library, and as soon as the final bell rings, you scurry off campus and towards the bus station.

It isn’t like the morning—people don’t hush and stare, but nine years old is smart enough to know that it’s because they don’t know you’re your mother’s daughter. There aren’t any empty seats just like the morning but this time, a nice gentleman offers you his spot.

You can tell he isn’t so sure of his decision though, when you finally get off at your stop and you run off to your mother who’s waiting for you by the bench. From the corner of your vision, you watch the man through the bus window, jaw tight and gaze cold as he watches you slip your hand into your mother’s.

Your mother doesn’t talk on the short walk home. She doesn’t ask you about school and she doesn’t ask you about what the other kids said. You figure that she doesn’t need to hear it anyways, and so you purse your lips together.

You have a lot to get used to.

Your life doesn’t change much, and you get used to it.

School days are spent with your head buried in a new book with every break you have. Your time at home is nothing but studying and your mother teaching you how to tend to the garden in your yard.

Soon you are graduating and moving on with your life as you make the transition to college, although you can’t say much changes. You study, you read, and occasionally you commission a project. It’s usually just renovating a citizen’s yard, sometimes it’s designing a public garden, but it’s never anything too serious.

Right now, you’re perched on a wooden stool, elbows leaning on the counter as you swipe your thumb over your tongue to flip the next page of your book. The paper is worn through, soft under your touch as a show for all it’s been through—bought second hand from your boss.

Your boss is a kind old man who happened to be a friend of your late grandfather’s, and when his little bookstore was teetering on the edge of being forgotten, you couldn’t refuse the offer to step in to work.

You’re around halfway through the book when you hear the familiar ringing of the bell above the door, head snapping up only to see your boss at the front door with a few envelopes in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.

“Holding up the fort, I see,” he greets with a low chuckle as you stand up and walk over, taking the bag from his hand to help out.

“As always, Mr. Min,” you reply, setting the bag of books down on the counter. “Are these—”

“They’re your mothers. I was walking by your house this morning and she asked me to take these and add them to our stock, since she said she doesn’t need them anymore.”

“Huh,” you say softly, taking out the various books about plants. “Not sure how big the market for gardening books is anymore, but I’m sure I can add it to our catalog after hours today,” you mutter, setting them on the table behind the register as he places the letters in his hand.

“Your mother also told me to give you this,” he says, his tone an octave lower as he plucks out one the envelopes and hands it to you. You knit your eyebrows together, wiping your dusty hands down on your pants before taking a look at it. “It’s from—”

“The castle,” you whisper, holding the envelope closer to your face to make sure you’re seeing it correctly. “Oh my god—it’s from the castle.”

“Yeah. Must be important if your mom felt the need to send it through me instead of just waiting for you to come home and take a look at it.”

“A-are you sure this is meant for me?” you manage to ask, flipping the envelope over a few times to make sure you read your name correctly.

“Yup,” Mr. Min replies, pointing down at where the intended recipient is listed. Sure enough, it’s your name listed in dark and bold ink in one corner, and then there’s that stupid royal emblem of the sun in the other corner.

Your heart sinks to your stomach at the possibilities of what could be inside, raking your mind for an answer. Was something wrong? Was it about your mother? Or was this just some big mistake?

Dear Madam,

The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.

Your reputation with your mother’s work as well as the operation of your own gardens throughout the city, along with your academic achievements at our very own Hong University have reached our ears, and we believe you possess the skills required for a special project we have in mind.

You will have the opportunity to lead this project as you please and earn a notable financial sum in payment for your efforts.

Please indicate your acceptance by replying to this letter at your earliest convenience. We eagerly await your response and sincerely hope that you will be able to grace our kingdom with your talent and presence.

Thank you,

Hong Royal Counsel

You don’t have to read the letter more than once before you scoff, tossing the crisp paper and letting it drift down onto the counter before muttering under your breath, “Who do they think they are?” Crumpling the envelope and letter up, you throw it down into the trash can by your chair.

Knocks on your door aren’t normal. The delivery and mailmen know better than to do that, leaving your packages and mail by the doorstep and doing no more than that.

Knocks on your door usually mean Mr. Min is here for something—picking up some of the veggies your mother grew because the store prices are too high, dropping off a book, or indulging in some pleasantries and casual small talk.

It’s eight in the morning when you hear the soft rapping against your front door. Your mom is in the kitchen and your room, right next to the foyer, has walls thin enough to let the sounds through. You’re on your bed though, and it’s comfortable, warm, and it’s too early to be out and about anyways. You’ve just spent the past nine months laboring away at college, so you’re granting yourself these few moments of peace in the morning.

Pressing your head into the pillow, you try to drown out the noise of your mother conversing with Mr. Min this early in the morning. After you hear the door open, there’s a silence and for a moment, you think you’ve succeeded in plugging your ears well enough.

You’re about to smile to yourself and drift back into a heavy sleep before you hear a loud gasp.

It takes a lot to surprise your mother—you’ve come to learn that in recent years. It takes a lot to stun her, to have her gasp as you just heard. Scurrying out of bed, you press your ear against the wall in hopes to catch a glimpse of what’s going on.

All you hear is silence.

It hardly takes a second for you to shove off your blankets and throw yourself into the hallway, rushing towards the foyer where you see your mother standing in front of the open door. She stays unmoving and you wince for a few moments, eyes still adjusting to the morning light as you make your way closer to the door to see what exactly has her so shocked.

And then you catch it: a glint of that wretched, golden sun emblem stitched onto a purple velvet coat.

“What the f—”

Your mother’s hand flies up and grabs your wrist tightly. It’s the first time you see her move, and as she turns around to face you with dark, warning eyes, you press your lips shut as you glance over her shoulder. In front of your doorstep is a man you never thought you’d get to see in person again, not after that day.

Prince Joshua is just as handsome as the tabloids and social media make him out to be, and his presence in your life also seems to be equally infuriating.

“What is he doing here?” you hiss, pulling your mother closer to you so she’s close enough to hear you.

Her eyes are somber, and you silently wonder how she can be so calm, so docile, so—so tame. “They’re here for you,” she whispers, turning her whole body so her back faces the prince.

“What are you talking about? Why would—”

“The letter sent to you from the kingdom. I thought you told me it was a mistake.”

“It was,” you mutter, eyes glancing at Prince Joshua behind her. His gaze is averted, presumably out of respect for the conversation you’re having with your mother right now, but you can’t find it in yourself to appreciate him for it.

“Then why is he asking for your name?”

You gulp anxiously, eyes flickering between your mother’s eyes and the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to him. It must be important,” she orders, walking forward and toward the kitchen and you grab her shoulder quickly.

“Are you kidding me? Why—why would I talk to him? Why would I talk to any of them?” you argue louder than you intended, and your mother swats your hand away sharply.

“They’re royalty,” she says, voice strained with caution.

“And? It’s not medieval times where they actually rule over us so—”

Your mother sighs heavily and then it hits you that no matter how much logic you try to expend, it’d be futile. “Talk to him. It isn’t quite like you have a choice.”

“You of all people shouldn’t put up with this,” you state and the second the words leave your lips, you regret it. Her face hardens and there’s a cold feeling that sinks in your stomach as she frees herself of your grasp and marches away.

You’re left watching her back fade into the rest of your house as your eyes are wide and you’re becoming increasingly aware of the presence of another person behind you. A person who is very important and very famous and very much a representation of all the things you loathe.

Turning on your heel, you don’t bother to push your lips up into a morning grin facing Prince Joshua with tired eyes and frown etched into your mouth. Taking a deep breath, you glance back at your mother who is in a far off room, deciding that whatever he needs to say to you, she doesn’t need to hear.

Slipping on some slippers, you quickly walk out of the house and close the door behind you, putting you right in front of Prince Joshua who waits for you with bright eyes.

“Hi,” he greets, voice airy and light as he takes a few steps back so he can bow, of which you begrudgingly return. “Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, I was just taking care of some work in the area and was told to stop by and talk to you about something.”

He sounds sincere, and his lips curve into a pleasant expression when he speaks, and you wonder if he’s plain stupid playing dumb to save you the humiliation of the situation—a royal prince speaking to the daughter of ‘a slut who seduced the royal advisor.’

So unable to decipher anything about his true intentions, you ask bluntly, “Is it about the letter I got from the kingdom two weeks ago?”

Prince Joshua chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and you catch the fancy white fabric of his buttoned up shirt underneath the coat. “I mean, yes it is and—”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why do you guys even bother sending letters? It’s the 21st century, you know? Emails exist.”

His face reddens, looking away before pursing his lips together. “Some things are just kept out of tradition,” Prince Joshua reasons quickly. “But I totally understand that, we’ll keep emailing in mind. But for the meantime, that’s, uh, kind of what I’m here for. We didn’t hear back a response, and I would like to take your answer back to the castle for you.

“Isn’t no response enough of a response?”

“Well—”

“My answer is no, if that wasn’t obvious,” you say, turning back to the door. “Is that all?”

“Wait!” he exclaims, grabbing your arm with his white leather gloves. It’s a bit surprising, really—he seems awfully timid for a prince and you’re a bit unnerved by how he hasn’t reprimanded you yet for being disrespectful. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to take on the job? If there are some specifics, maybe we can adjust the arrangement so it’s more to your liking.”

Your eyes widen, bewildered. “What? No I—I don’t care for anything like that, I won’t take the job.”

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine,” he mutters under his breath before his eyebrows knit together as he looks at the ground, seemingly trying to figure something out. “Is it the money? We can negotiate your salary,” he offers and you shake your head.

“No, it’s not the money—I don’t care about the money,” you say harshly. “It’s not any of that, I just don’t want to.”

“Can you tell me why? It’s just, I’ll have to report this back to the Counsel and if I’m not able to recruit you, they’d at least want some reasoning for why.”

Inhaling sharply, it takes all your self control to not let your eye twitch and slam the door in his face. “Are you really asking me why I don’t want to?” Pursing your lips together, you glare at him harshly. “You were there that day, weren’t you?” you ask more quietly, and for a moment you see Prince Joshua falter. “Not that I’d expect you to care but surely you can at least understand why I don’t want to.”

“I-I’m sorry, but I really can’t change the past.”

Scoffing, you turn on your heel and open the door. “I’m not asking you to.”

“Wait—just wait a sec’!” he calls out, stopping the door with his palm before you close it. “You’re in your second year at Hong University, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he continues. “We’ll pay for the rest of your tuition.”

The air in your lungs seems stuck for a passing moment, and you shake your head to yourself, stepping into your house and turning around one last time with cold eyes and a deep frown. “No.”

The prince looks around hastily before blurting out, “We’ll do all of it!”

“All of what?”

“We’ll pay for all of your tuition—reimburse you for what you’ve already paid.” You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. “All of it, plus your hourly wage,” he adds, and you don’t even have a chance to think before you feel your mother’s hand on your back.

“She’ll do it.”

Your mother chuckles as she helps you tie the lavender colored robe around your waist. You’re not sure what she finds so funny about this, but you bite your tongue when you start to catch on how she ties the ribbons with such ease.

Over ten years of being away from the castle can’t erase the time she spent there, tying her own robe every morning before she was stripped of her title, and in turn, also the life she worked so hard to build up.

As you look down at the smooth fabric sent to you a week earlier from the castle, you’re forced to begrudgingly admire the intricate embroidery. The collar and ribbons are decorated with a darker purple stitching that runs in all sorts of twists and turns and swivels around the curves of your body.

“They’ve made them look nicer since I’ve last seen them,” she thinks out loud, matting her hands down your shoulders to smooth the fabric down one last time before taking a look.

“I don’t understand why you’re still so—” You inhale sharply and press your lips together, warning yourself to not say anything more when she shoots you a cautionary look. “Sorry,” you mutter, turning away so you can glance at yourself in the mirror. You do look pretty nice, if you had to admit.

“Just think about the money,” your mother encourages. “They’re covering the cost of all your schooling—all those days spent at Mr. Min’s can now go towards things you enjoy, rather than paying for your university.”

“I guess,” you grumble, adjusting your hair one last time before grabbing your phone and keys, walking towards the foyer.

“You know the way right?” your mother calls out as you slip on your shoes and walk out onto the front porch.

“I wish I didn’t,” is all you say, low and under your breath as you make your way to the car.

The castle lies in the heart of the city, so it’s quite the drive. You’re careful as you try to keep your robes clean, bunching it up to your thighs as you drive, and once you’ve made your way to the castle, you’re sure to make sure the hem of the bottom doesn’t hit the ground.

Reporting to the entrance that was given in your email (why they send emails for instructions but not the actual invitation to your job still remains a mystery to you), you carefully tuck your phone into a crevice of your robes.

The entrance starts at a gate on the east end of the castle, and you make your way to the little hut that sits at one end where a woman in a lavender polo and dress pants sits at a desk. Knocking on the window, you smile nervously as she looks up from her papers.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes!” you say, holding up your phone and pointing to your first day instructions. “It’s my first day here, and I’m not sure how to get inside and all.”

“Did they give you a code?”

“Uh, yeah let me check again,” you murmur, looking back at your phone to find the 5 digit code you were sent. “It’s, uh—32423.” The lady hums and nods, checking something on her computer before looking up at you with a smile.

“That’s correct. From now on you can just come through the smaller gate on the side—it should be to the left of this big gate, and just put in whatever code you have. It changes every few days but you’ll be notified with the new password every time it does.”

“Thank you,” you say, glancing over your shoulder to look at the gate she’s talking about.

“For now, just follow me. Since it’s your first day, I’ll show you the way to the … where was it you need to get to?”

“Right here it says the Advisory Quart?”

The girl’s eyes widen as she sits up from her seat and walks out of the hut, leading you toward the smaller gate. “Seriously?” she asks as she punches in the code, the gate automatically opening once she’s done.

The gate leads to a narrow pathway that runs slightly uphill in the midst of a lush field of trimmed green grass and sparse flowers that was previously hidden from you by the large stone halls. You remember the scene vaguely, but it’s a lot lovelier in person than you remember. Glancing up the pathway, you catch sight of the large castle in front of you, and the vision has an uneasy feeling floating in your stomach.

“Uh yeah, is that surprising?” you respond, hoping the small talk will distract you, even if it’s only a little.

“I mean the Advisory Quart is no joke. Those people work like crazy dogs—” she says with a laugh before looking at you with wide eyes. “Wait, I’m sorry—please don’t tell anyone I said that, they’ll—”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. But please do continue—what were you saying? I haven’t been in that castle in a long—I’ve never been to the castle before, so I’m not up to speed with all the different Quarts and sectors and stuff.”

“Oh well, it’s just that the Advisory Quart does a lot of work … I swear they’re always running around, talking about some new project they’re working on,” she says as you follow her up some steps, nearing an entrance to a building connected to the castle.

“What kind of projects?” you ask curiously.

“Oh gosh, everything, I tell you, they do pretty much everything. From helping the King with his own decisions to doing absolutely random, huge projects, there always seems to be someone who’s on top of everything. I remember I had a friend whose husband worked up there—they were working on designing a whole new ballroom and no one had any idea why! So what are you going to be doing there?”

Chuckling nervously, you aren’t sure if you should tell this girl that you don’t really know. “One of those random projects, I assure you,” you tell her because you’re pretty sure it’s true. After all, you’re almost positive they won’t have you be doing anything that’s worthwhile.

“Ah, well you’ll probably be swamped either way,” the girl says with a sigh as you reach a large wooden door. “Anyways, we’ll part ways here. Just go through these doors and there’ll be a big hallway. Ignore all the different corridors and doors on the side, and just go straight and you can see there’s an open room at the end of this hallway. That’s where your check-in will be, and the people there will direct you to wherever you need to go.”

You blink a few times, taking in all the information before nodding meekly, bowing and thanking the girl for her time as she walks away. Taking a deep breath, you open the door with a loud creaking noise, stepping into the grand hallway.

The walls are beige with ornate accents lining the bottom and top, intricate designs carved into the ceilings that hang chandeliers in intervals. Your sandals clack against smooth travertine marble as your eyes roam the entrances to different corridors and rooms, doors dark and wooden, similar to the one you just entered through.

There aren’t many people in the long hallways, passing by only a few others who seem to have their attention busied by papers or their phone. Some of them are wearing similar fashioned robes to yours, while most of the others are wearing the same lavender colored polo and white slacks as the girl who brought you here.

Smoothing the fabric below your waist one more time as you near the large open room you were directed to, you glance around and find a desk with a kind looking receptionist talking to a man wearing your kind of robes.

Quietly approaching the desk, you stand a few feet behind him, patiently waiting for them to finish so you can step up. Neither of them seem to notice, being caught up in a conversation that seems a bit of a mix of professional and leisurely.

Twiddling with your fingers behind your back, you rock side to side on your feet as you wait for the two to finish up talking about how they’re excited for the next ball that’s coming up, not bothering to think about who these people might be and why they’re even invited to it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man at the counter calls out, “I can help you.” He smiles and waves you over before nudging the other man on his shoulder. “Seokmin, go—you’re distracting me.”

The man he pushed is a handsome looking guy, light brown hair falling just above his eyes as he turns around and gives a small smile, stepping to the side but not fully backing away. “Ah, sorry about that. Go ahead, we were just catching up.”

“No worries,” you say quickly, walking up to the receptionist. “I’m here to find the Advisory Quart I think? I was told to report to this entrance, and the lady at the front told me to come here—it’s my first time here so—”

“Your first time in the castle?” the other man asks you with wide eyes.

“Uh, well—”

“Don’t mind him—Seokmin, you know better than to mess with the newbies,” the receptionist murmurs, and you frown at the word. He catches on and looks up at you, holding a hand out. “No offense.”

“N-none taken. So could you help me—I’m really not sure where to go.”

“Yeah of course. Does your email say who you’ll be reporting to?”

“It says here ‘Mr. Park.’”

“Oh okay, his room number’s going to be 77, right down that corridor right there,” the receptionist tells you kindly, pointing at one of the side hallways you saw while walking here. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll let him know that you’ll be coming down so he can be ready. I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Thank you so much,” you say bowing, quickly telling him your name. So caught up in the kindness of these peers, you almost forgot why you were so reluctant to come here in the first place, but no worries, this receptionist does a good job of reminding you.

His lips press into a thin line as raises a brow, asking you to repeat your last name again. When your answer slips from your lips, it’s much quieter. A heavy cloud sinks over you as you realize that even after years away, your family name is still tainted.

“Okay,” the receptionist finally says briskly, and you’re taken aback by how cold his voice has become. “I’ll let him know you’re coming down. You can proceed now.”

He doesn’t give you a ‘good luck,’ or a ‘have a nice day,’ or a ‘do you have any questions,’ despite his cheery attitude from before. Now he’s looking at you with an expressionless face and eyes that won’t meet yours as you shamefully turn away.

So caught up in the disappointment, you hardly notice how the other man—Seokmin—is still watching the scene unfold. As you walk away from the open room, there’s a hand on your wrist. Whipping around, you’re faced with a Seokmin whose face seems unreadable, just like the receptionists. Except something is … different. He seems sincere, and you feel safe.

“You might get lost trying to get there,” Seokmin says rather casually, letting go of your hand and walking next to you. “Come on, I’ll show you the way—I’m working under Mr. Park too actually, I’m his intern—so I know the way pretty well and can fill you in on what he’s like.”

You wonder why Seokmin isn’t acting like the receptionist. Your family name is still somewhat taboo in the city outside the castle, so you were pretty confident when walking into the actual place of the ‘crime scene’ that you’d be even more … generally disliked.

Seokmin seems to be different though, and you can’t quite figure out why.

Seokmin lets you know Mr. Park is mean when he wants, which seems to be always. Direct with his words but also, you have to read in between the lines sometimes if you don’t want to get scolded. You’re not sure what to do with that information, because Seokmin doesn’t tell you much else.

You walk down the corridor with him before stopping in front of a wooden door to your right, labeled with that familiar sun emblem and a golden plated plaque reading ‘77.’ “C’mon, he should be in here right now,” Seokmin says, pressing against the frame and pushing the door open.

Inside is a room unlike the others you’ve seen before. The ceiling is much lower and baskets of plants hang from it, vines lining the limestone walls, and pots and beds of plants sit by the smaller desks that litter the area. There’s a larger desk at the end opposite to the door, and you see a man with grey hair and firm eyes sitting at the ornate chair, reading through a stack of papers.

“Ah, Seokmin,” he says, standing up when he notices the two of you by the door, and it’s not you realize that this man is Mr. Park. Both you and Seokmin bow hastily. “I was waiting for the two of you to arrive.” His gaze then turns to you, and it’s sharp. “What took you so long?” His tone is harsh and you almost wince. “It isn’t your first time in the castle,” Mr. Park says bluntly, and for once you are taken aback because no one has addressed the cloud hanging over your head so directly yet.

“I’m sorry sir, I haven’t been here in—”

“No excuses. Don’t be late again.”

“Y-yes sir,” you reply meekly, faltering in your step a little.

Mr. Park sighs heavily and looks at Seokmin, waving him off. “Go to the Ballroom and ask around to see if they need anything for tonight. Don’t be slow like last time.”

“Yes sir! Right on it,” Seokmin says with a nod, quickly turning on his heel and scurrying out of the room.

“And for you …” Mr. Park mutters as he takes in your figure with an unnerving look on his face. “I need you to lead a project.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head. “Lead a project? I don’t even know what—”

“Word has it that the Prince himself had to bribe you with a whole four years of Hong tuition to get you here. Surely you didn’t think you’d be given light work.” people knew about that?

“Well, I didn’t know much about anything and I don’t even know what work I’m supposed—”

“You’ll figure it out, soon enough,” Mr. Park tells you briskly, walking over to his desk where a large chalkboard sits to its left. Using a stick, he points at a word written in a corner. Garden. “The Queen has a courtyard that she no longer likes the look of. It’s been stripped down, and you’re in charge of turning it into a garden of her liking.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “A-a whole courtyard?”

Mr. Park raises a brow. “Are you saying that it’s too much for you?”

“N-no!” you exclaim quickly. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I don’t get why I would be chosen to do this.”

Mr. Park huffs, and you wonder how such a tiny old man can fit so much sass in him. “If you must know: the Queen loved how your …” he pauses and within a fraction of a second you have a feeling where this is going, “… your mother designed the gardens on the West end.”

Mr. Park walks towards his desk and sits down, not looking at you as he cards through a few binders. “The Queen wants a similar style for this courtyard but since we can’t exactly have her back …”

You wince for real this time as you conclude, “… you tried to get the next closest thing.”

Mr. Park nods, not returning a snarky comment this time, much to your pleasure. “I’m the head of Design & Architecture, by the way, if you have any questions ask me—as long as it’s not stupid. You lead your project—design it and plan it. When you need people to work on it just talk to Seokmin and he’ll assign someone. You have three months to finish it. If you need an extension, you’ll have to get it approved by me.”

“Okay,” you respond quickly, trying to take in all the information at once. “Is there, like, a theme? Anything she wants in particular?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Mr. Park says bluntly and you frown as he points at a desk behind you. “Your desk is there. Any information you need will be there.”

“Y-yes sir, thank you,” you say, bowing and turning on your heel to sit down at your new chair. The desk is dark, wooden, and completely barren except for a thin folder set in the middle. Opening it, there’s a single paper inside with only a few bullet points typed out, and it hardly takes you a moment to read through all of it.

It’s vague—your only real requirements are the adherence to the kingdom’s symbolic purple colors, and inclusion of a general theme throughout the courtyard.

You furrow your eyebrows at the lack of guidance—were you really left to make such major decisions about such a large space in a castle you haven’t been in years? There’s so much room for error and disappointment and rejection, and after the past years of being treated like your family was nothing but a mistake, you aren’t sure if you can handle any more of it.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly nod to yourself in a silent promise. Closing the folder, you stand up. “Mr. Park, sir, do you know where the courtyard—”

“There is a map on the wall. Figure it out.”

You huff, glancing at the large map of the castle next to the chalkboard. This is going to be harder than you thought.

You run into Seokmin just as you leave 77, and he helps lead you to the courtyard. “So you’re working on this one, huh,” he says under his breath as you both appear in front of a large plot of land surrounded by castle buildings on all sides. You’re both standing on the East entrance to the courtyard, and there are four adjacent and opposite entrances on all other sides.

“Uh, yeah,” you say steadily, glancing back down at your minimal instructions before looking back up at the courtyard. It’s a square, and if you had to estimate, each side would be around 50 yards long, leaving quite a great deal of space for you to work with it.

“Pretty big project, huh,” Seokmin says, although his tone seems much more lighthearted than your mood. How the hell are you supposed to transform this in three months?

“Yeah,” you mutter, squinting at the bright sunlight as you analyze the plot.

“You know, I can totally help if you want,” Seokmin begins to say, and you take note of how quickly he talks. “I don’t know if Mr. Park told you but you can basically ask me for help on anything and like, I’m really doing this whole interning thing for fun—” Who the hell works as an intern for Mr. Park, for fun? “—so I’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks. I’ll ask if I need anything.”

“Great!” Seokmin cheers, clapping his hands together before looking behind your shoulder and letting his smile brighten. He waves at someone behind you and you purse your lips together, wondering if you should brace yourself for yet another salty interaction.

“Minnie!” a deep voice greets and suddenly, your feet seem glued in their spot. You know that voice.

“Shua, hey!” Seokmin says cheerily, and you silently cringe. “Crazy running into you here, gosh, I haven’t seen you since last week!”

Prince Joshua laughs, and it reminds you of all those years ago when you watched him from inside the greenhouse. You hate how you remember.

“Yeah, my fencing instructor let me off earlier so I thought I might browse around the castle for a bit,” he explains, and when it all goes quiet and you realize that he must be looking at you, but you don’t dare to turn around.

“Oh,” Seokmin exclaims, as if he’s just realized that he forgot something. You feel a tapping on your shoulder, and for a second you debate just running the other way and never letting yourself return to the castle but for something, you’re planted in your place. “Hey, look,” he says quietly in your ear, “It’s the Prince.”

Like you don’t fucking know that. Nodding, you slowly follow his lead and turn around, eyes trained on the ground as you bow.

“Oh, well if it isn’t that little ray of sunshine,” Prince Joshua says, and it takes everything to not let your eye twitch as you finally look up at him. He’s wearing the same royal uniform you say to him when you showed up on his doorstep and his eyes are crinkled as he smiles widely.

Your face burns as Seokmin’s eyes flicker back and forth between you, and your lips are pressed together in an awkward silence. “You know each other?” His face displays nothing but perplexion for a few moments but then it seems that some of the cogs turned and his lips open wide into a large ‘o,’ and Seokmin waves his finger while nodding. “Oh you’re the girl Shua said he had to offer four years worth of—”

“Seokmin,” Prince Joshua interrupts, putting his hand over his friend’s mouth after catching the look of mortification on your face for bringing it up. “Mr. Park was calling you, I’m pretty sure.”

“Ugh, are you kidding me? I thought this would be fun for the summer but he actually has me doing stuff!” As the two converse casually, you wonder how hard it’d be to quickly slip away.

“Not sure what you expected,” Joshua chides his friend before Seokmin groans and you hear the heavy footsteps of him walking away. He calls out your name once and your eyes shoot up as you bashfully wave your hand at him, bidding goodbye.

You’re left in this corridor with the empty thoughts in your head and the goddamn prince of the kingdom. You half expect him to just wave at you and go about his own business, but it seems like you still have a lot of learning to do.

After all, Prince Joshua is a fickle man. “It’s nice to see you again, Sunshine,” he greets, and you think you might pass out from embarrassment. Glancing around, you see a few maids overhear him using the name and murmuring their own whispers amongst themselves as they rush away.

“H-hi,” you say nervously, suddenly aware that much attention is on you now that the prince is speaking to you.

“So this is what you’re working on?” he asks curiously, not paying a single mind to your awkwardness, walking toward the door which leads to the East entrance to the courtyard.

“Yes sir,” you murmur. You could be snappish outside the walls and in the boundaries of your own home but here, you’re bound by royal courtesy and witnesses that surround you. Compliance is all you can manage out in the open.

“Don’t call me sir—you’re around the same age as me, so it feels weird,” Joshua says dismissively, and you furrow your brows at how casual he’s being. “So,” he starts, looking out at the empty yard of dirt, “you got any idea of what you’re going to do with it?”

“Not a clue,” you reply honestly, keeping your answers brisk. Joshua seems to catch on and he pouts at you. How can a man act so childish? The thought lingers in your head for a moment before he starts talking to you.

“So cold. Brighten up Sunshine. I’ll stop in soon to see how it’s going here—I’m interested!” he says cheerily before stepping back and nodding. You bow as he walks away, waving to you one last time before leaving you in the corridor with not a single thought in his mind.

There seems to be a distinct odd air around the prince, except you can’t quite place why that is.

It’s been three weeks since you started working at the castle—time passes quickly when you have loads of work to do and not much time to do it. You spent the first week hunched over at your desk simply raking your mind for ideas, for anything that would give you even a smidge of inspiration.

77 is rather sparse. It’s only really you and Mr. Park actually working in there, with the occasional Seokmin running in and out to tend to everyone’s miniscule needs.

And then there’s Jihoon, who is the only other person who actually works at his desk, even if it’s only for an hour a day. Jihoon is slightly brooding and always has his nose buried in some work, but he seems standoff-ish to just about everyone. He isn’t unkind though, just … just reserved, and you feel thankful that there’s another person somewhat like you here.

77 is kind to you and your heart. Everyone works on their own schedule and is in their own head, and no one seems to treat you extraordinarily different. You wish the same would go for the rest of the castle.

On the second day of your work, the embroidered name on the fabric over your right breast was clear enough for people to start learning who you were and recognize your face.

But you’re used to the stares—both the subtle and obvious ones—and you are used to the whispers, the guessing games about whether or not you’re a slut just like your mother was.

You’re not, by the way, but you’ve had enough experience with these kinds of people to know that they can guess all they want but you know the answer, and the truth will come to light at some point. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, they'll figure it out on their own. Eventually.

By the second week, you figured out a plan and needed to get to work on executing it. Seokmin seemed to be pleased when you asked him for help on that.

“I need people who can build a pathway,” was all you needed to tell him and then he was on the phone, and then the next day you had ten men ready for you by the dirt field ready to work. “I want stone tiles and it needs to curve exactly like this,” you told them, showing them a scaled down map of the area with a long, curvy line running from the North to South ends, and another even more curvy one running from the East to West end.

They didn’t ask questions, which you’re grateful for, because coming up with it was a whole feat on its own. Explaining it would be a whole other story.

As you walk up to the castle’s entrance today, you catch sight of a girl who sits in her little hut in front of the East gate. She’s the same girl who helped you on the first day, you realize. She was kind then, you remember, but now as you meet her gaze, she turns away and pretends to go back to her phone.

You don’t frown or let the gesture sear your heart because in all honesty, that’s exactly what you’re expecting. Sighing, you make your way to the smaller gate and walk the small way up to the actual castle grounds before heading straight to 77.

Jihoon is sitting at his desk but is just about to get up, sending you a quick nod as he stacks his files and walks out of the room. Mr. Park isn’t here, for once, although you did overhear some information about a ball happening tonight so you figure he must be busy.

You’re thankful Seokmin is here, and you catch him watering one of the plants. “Hey, what are you doing?” you ask him hastily, walking up behind his back before grabbing the watering pot from his hands.

“Um … watering … the plants?”

“These are yarrows,” you emphasize, pointing at the white flowers he was just watering.

“Okay … I am really not sure what to do with that information,” Seokmin says slowly as if he isn’t quite processing your words.

Huffing, you tell him, “Yarrows don’t need a lot of water. You aren’t watering them … I think a better word would be drowning.”

“Oh,” Seokmin mutters, looking down at that pot that’s now rich with soaked soil. “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know,” he apologizes, and you purse your lips together because he does sound sincere.

“It’s okay … sorry for being mean about it,” you add quietly, returning the pot to his hand. “I can send you a list later—of all the plants here and how much water they need.”

Seokmin’s ears perk up. “Really? Thank you, but you seriously don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but I enjoy talking about plants and stuff. And I’d rather the ones in this room be taken care of nicely, so the least I can do is help you,” you offer before retreating to your desk. “I think I need your help by the way, so can you come with me?” you ask, pulling out a measuring tape from a drawer.

Seokmin nods, dropping the watering bucket by his own desk and following behind you as you leave the room. The journey from the Advisory Quart to your courtyard, which is located near Royal Residence Quart, is quite the walk, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little bit pleased that you had someone like Seokmin as company.

“How’s the project turning out?” he asks as you make your way down the long hallways. You catch a few other workers spare the two of you glances and you try to hold your head up and look forward when you respond.

“I’m a little behind,” you admit. “But the construction manager told me that they should be finished with the pathway today, and I asked them to start tilling some other parts of the field so I can get some flora in there soon.”

“Oh really That’s nice—I stopped by the place just the other day and the pathway was looking pretty cool—the color fit in really well.”

“Hm, that’s good … I was worried about that,” you murmur to yourself thoughtfully, pulling out your phone so you can glance at the list of things you need to get done before heading back to 77. Tucking the device back into a crevice of your robe, you smile as you near the East end courtyard entrance. “I gotta get a plaque up here or something,” you remind yourself, looking at the empty space above the entrance.

“You want me to get on that soon?” Seokmin offers and you shrug.

“I guess. I’ll still have to come up with a name for this place …” you say, walking into the courtyard.

“Wow,” Seokmin mutters as he follows behind you. “The pathway looks great!” He pats your back and you throw him a small smile when you look over the two twisting paths that connect the 4 ends of the courtyard. “What was it that you needed my help with again—Oh hey! Shua!”

Oh for fuck’s sake—

“Seokminnie!” that familiar, smooth voice appears from behind you as Seokmin turns on his heel and scurries toward his friend. Slowly and carefully, you tuck your hands behind your back and bow when you turn around and are met with the sight of Prince Joshua. “Sunshine,” he greets with a smile after exchanging his casual pleasantries with his friend.

“Good morning sir,” you murmur as Seokmin bounces up and down on feet from a newfound excitement. How does he have this much energy at nine in the morning?

“I thought I said don’t call me sir,” Prince Joshua tells you, scrunching his face up when you let the word slip from your mouth. “Feels weird.”

“I’m sorry but you’re kind of the prince. I don’t think there’s anything else for me to call you other than ‘sir,’” you huff lowly before slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re not scared of what Joshua might do, per se, but the thought of someone else overhearing your snarky remark has you reminding yourself to be more careful.

Joshua only chuckles. Is there anything that bothers him? “You’re funny,” he comments. “You can call me Joshua, like Minne over here,” he tells you, patting Seokmin’s shoulder affectionately.

Your face sours and you shake your head, “I’m sorry that doesn’t feel right.”

Joshua rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore what you said and instead looks around the courtyard. “Nice pathway. It’s cool that it isn’t straight—is it supposed to be something?”

“Sort of,” you say, turning around to look at the stone on the ground. “It’s confusing.”

Joshua scoffs. “Try me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Why Prince Joshua—or as he would like you to call him, just Joshua—is so curious about a random courtyard is beyond you. “They’re just lines that follow the movement of sunlight. I guess. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“That’s cool,” Seokmin chimes in when he sees you pulling out a roll of measuring tape. “Oh yeah, sorry, I didn’t get to hear what you said you needed help with.”

“Oh yeah, I just want to measure a—”

“Sorry for interrupting,” Joshua says, and you frown when he pulls out a buzzing phone, holding it up to Seokmin’s face. “What did you do this time—why is Mr. Park calling me?”

Seokmin’s eyes widen in panic as you watch the scene unfold. “What?! I haven’t done anything wrong recently. Well I don’t think I did and I’m pretty sure—”

He’s cut off by Joshua pressing his finger over his lip, effectively shutting him up. You almost laugh at the way Seokmin complies so quickly, but hold it back as Joshua holds the phone up to his ear. The sounds that come from the call are muffled but you can vaguely make out the voice of your boss before Joshua sighs and ends the call.

“What are yarrows and what did you do to them?” he asks his friend, and this time you actually do stifle out a giggle. Joshua glances at you as you quickly press your lips back into a fine line, both of you turning your attention back to Seokmin whose ears are turning bright red, shoulders tensing up.

“Oh no—I really don’t want another scolding!” he whines.

“Well buckle up, because he’s asking for you back at 77 right now,” Joshua shrugs as Seokmin huffs, stomping off back into the corridor and presumably back toward the Advisory Quart. “Sorry,” he says, turning to you, “I keep sending your assistant away when you need him.”

“It’s fine,” you say gruffly. “I, uh, I can still do this all by my stuff so it’s not really a big deal.”

Joshua narrows his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t have fencing for another …” He glances down at his star studded wrist watch for a second, “… thirty minutes so I can help out.”

To say you’re mortified by the offer is an understatement. A prince helping out you? He must be fucking with you because—

“Stop giving me weird looks. I know how to help out around here, you know?”

“Duly noted, but I’m not sure how it would look on my end if the prince was helping me out with—” you gesture to the field around you, “—yard work.”

Joshua laughs, and once again you’re left in perplexity. “Weren’t you the one who reminded me that this is the 21st century? I don’t just sit around and do nothing, you know that right?”

“But still,” you mumble.

“Okay fine. If you’re so obsessed with this royal hierarchy thing, then I, as Prince Joshua, am officially requesting you to let me help. Surely you won’t turn that down.”

This man is so weird.

“Fine,” you relent, holding up the measuring tape. “You see that little circle in the middle where the pathways sort of curve around? I need to measure the circumference of it.”

“That’s it?” Joshua asks casually, grabbing one end of the measuring tape as you make your way to the plot. “Oh, I mean I guess it’s kinda big,” he adds, glancing down at the measuring tape. This one only goes up to 15 feet.”

“You’re right,” you mutter to yourself. “Okay here, let’s just use this,” you say, pulling out a roll of thin string and handing one end to Joshua. “If you stand here I’ll just circle it around and measure the length of the string,” you explain, unraveling the roll and walking around the outer edge of the circle, trailing the string behind you.

Joshua just stands in the spot that you placed him, holding the string and frowning. “I feel like I’m not helping much.”

“Trust me,” you reply under your breath. “You’re helping me just enough.” You don’t mean it to come out bitter, but it does anyways.

“What happened to all the royal hierarchy stuff that you were on about?”

Your eyes harden on him as you’ve made it halfway around the length of the circle, pausing to make sure he notices your subtle glare. “If you didn’t know, this is kind of my job on the line, and while you’ve made it clear that what I say doesn’t affect you, I’m not sure the same could be said for what other people see. So I’m sorry if I don’t want people looking at us and getting the wrong idea.”

“What do you mean the wrong idea?”

Huh. And here you thought that with all those royal tutors, the prince would be smart. Too bad for Joshua, but right now, he’s coming off as just about the densest guy alive.

You’ve been working at the castle for five weeks now. Since your last meeting with Joshua (he insists you get rid of the ‘Prince’ and ‘sir’ so diligently now that even in your head, you’ve removed him of those honorifics), you’ve only seen him twice.

The first was three days after he helped you measure the length of your soon to be pond. You were on the phone with a construction contractor in 77 when Joshua popped in to say ‘hi’ to Seokmin (how and why the two are friends, you don’t know, and you don’t care enough to ask). Noticing you were here past the regular working hour of six, he waited for a few moments to let you finish up your call before walking up to your desk.

“You know you don’t get paid overtime, right Sunshine?” he asks, confused on why exactly you were still here.

“Well work needs to get done,” you sigh heavily, taking a few seconds to clean up your desk and throw away a few old designs you sketched earlier.

“Hey, those looked cool, why’d you trash them?”

“They didn’t work,” you tell him, rummaging through more papers to find the few that you actually wanted to keep.

“Told you,” Seokmin comes up from behind Joshua, patting his shoulder. “She’s a tough judge—even on herself.”

“I get what you mean now,” Joshua murmurs, nodding along with his friend.

Your eyes snap up. “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here—wait, why do you guys talk about me when I’m not here anyways?”

“You’re like the only one that’s nice to me in 77! Well, sort of,” Seokmin reasons with you.

“I mean you do kind of suck as an intern—”

“Hey! I just happened to get distracted a lot. I’m an honest worker, trust!”

You huff, finally finding the paper that you were looking for. It’s a design for a couple plaques that you want posted above the entrances, and you tuck it into a folder.

“Is that in Latin?” Joshua piques when he catches a glimpse of the wording.

“Uh, yeah—you know Latin?”

“He’s a prince. Of course he does,” Seokmin tells you, turning around to nudge his friend on the side. “This spoiled brat has been learning Latin since he was six!”

Joshua scoffs. “Who’re you calling a spoiled brat? You were in those classes with me too!”

You consider wondering about who exactly Seokmin is and why he was in those classes with a prince, why he’s so close with Joshua, and a plethora of questions run through your mind, before you remind yourself that you really don’t care.

“Yeah but—” Seokmin tries to reason with his friend before you stand up and both of their attention are directed at you.

“You’re right Pri—Joshua. I don’t get paid overtime, so I’m gonna get going now.” You bow at him and then Seokmin, grabbing your folder and bag before pushing in your chair and heading to the exit. Awkwardly, the two boys say bye to you before glancing at each other.

“That was weird,” Seokmin says, and Joshua shrugs.

“I guess.”

“Did you actually understand what she wrote or were you just bluffing? I don’t remember shit from those Latin lessons.”

Joshua rolls his eyes and nods. “Yeah, but I only got the second word. Said ‘invictus,’ I think.”

“Huh, cool. Got no clue what that means.”

“It means undefeatable, dipshit,” Joshua groans. “Seriously, how’d you pass that class!”

“Hey, I was a great student—I just have, uh, bad memory,” Seokmin pouts.

“Yeah I can tell … seriously, how did you manage to fuck up the yarrows even after she,” Joshua gestures behind him as if to point at where you exited just a few moments earlier, “sent you all those instructions and all!”

“God, don’t remind me. I actually feel really bad, ‘cause Mr. Park yelled at her too for giving me ‘the wrong instructions,’ but I really just forgot what she told me.” Cringing at the mental image of both you and Seokmin being scolded by Mr. Park, Joshua shakes his head—that is not a pretty scene.

Joshua sighs, the two of them making their way out of the empty 77 and walking down the corridor towards the Royal Residence Quart. “Why’re you even interning for him? You don’t need a job, especially not as one being an assistant.”

“My dad’s pissed at me, remember?” Seokmin tells his friend gruffly, and Joshua purses his lips at the mention of the older man.

“Right.”

“Wanted to punish me for the summer or whatever, but I guess it’s not too bad. The staff are actually pretty funny, and your Sunshine girl is really bossy so she gives me a lot of work to do.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complaining or celebrating.”

“Both, I think,” Seokmin replies, the two of them laughing together. “Why do you talk to her so much? She’s even snappier to you than to me, and trust me, I can be pretty damn annoying.”

“Like I don’t know that,” Joshua mutters teasingly, earning him a punch on the arm. “But anyways, she seems interesting. Like cool, you know what I mean.”

“I guess,” Seokmin says absentmindedly. “Wonder what my dad would say about that.”

“Okay well your dad isn’t the King so I don’t really think it matters what your dad says about it.”

Seokmin raises a brow. “You sure? My dad almost had me transferred out of 77 because he heard I had to work with her.”

“Well that’s his own problem I guess. Just don’t let him bring it up with my dad because I’m not keen on having any more drama in this castle,” Joshua mumbles, stopping in front of the big door that leads to the residence.

Seokmin nods at one of the guards standing by the door, and she presses a code to a small box on the wall and the doors open. “You coming? Dinner’s about to be served,” he calls to Joshua when he walks forward but realizes his friend isn’t by his side.

Smiling, Joshua shakes his head and waves Seokmin off. “I’m gonna take a breather for a bit. Tell them to start dinner without me.”

Seokmin laughs. “You know they won’t do that.”

“I know, I know, but it’s the gesture that counts anyways. I’ll be back in twenty, trust.”

The second time you saw Joshua was yesterday evening just as you were just leaving 77 to head home, your arms full of papers to look through in the night. After getting the pathways cleaned up, you needed to work on adding more structures to the courtyard, but were at a loss of what to make and what to make it with.

With your stack of papers that were littered with different possible materials and architectural structures that you promised yourself to get through by the end of the night, even if it meant pulling a whole damn all nighter.

“Is Sunshine leaving at a normal time for once?” Joshua asks with a faux gasp as he comes across you in the hallway.

With the paper’s digging into your arms, you can only manage to grunt out a short, “Thankfully, I am,” before increasing your pace so you can get all this stuff to your car as quickly as possible.

“Hey, wait!” Joshua calls out from behind you, and you almost whine because your arms are killing you and you aren’t sure how much more of this you can handle. “Do you need help? I can—”

He’s cut off by the sound of your phone slipping from your pocket and crashing to the ground. “Shit,” you whimper under your breath as you try to balance all the papers on one hand while crouching down to pick up your phone with the other. You’re wobbling under all the weight, and you have half a mind to give up right here and now but then a larger hand is pushing itself into your vision.

“Here,” he says, quickly turning over the device to check for any cracks on the scene. In that fraction of a moment, your phone turns on and flashes your very bright and very embarrassing lock screen. Your face burns as you snatch the phone from his hands and tuck it back into your pocket. “Is that Percy Jackson?”

Adjusting the papers in your hand, you shuffle your feet and start walking toward the exit. Joshua follows, as expected. “Uh, yeah—I know it’s embarrassing but—”

“Uh, you did not just say that,” Joshua scoffs, and when you catch the oddly offended look on his face, your annoyance dissipates for a moment. “Percy Jackson is not embarrassing. Those books were like the defining character of my pre-teens.”

You chew on your lip, wondering how you should respond to this. “That’s cool. I used to like the stories too …”

“Seems like you still do, considering it’s like, your lock screen and all.”

“Look, I just have it ‘cause it looks cool,” you tell him bashfully, speeding up the pace of your steps in hopes that it’ll bring this conversation to end faster.

“Uh yeah, sure. Totally believe you.”

“I’m serious,” you huff. “I liked the books ages ago, but now I’m only interested in Greek mythology. It just so happens that the best art of Greek gods comes from Percy Jackson fan artists.”

“Sure. sure,” Joshua says blankly with a smirk teasing at his lips. “Again, totally believe you.” You don’t know why his subtle teasing has you gripping onto your papers so tightly, why it has you gritting your teeth together. And then you remember who this is and it all makes sense.

Joshua is playful and lighthearted, but he is still the Prince, after all.

Your sixth week at the castle, and you’re nearing the halfway mark for your project’s timeline. You’ve spent the past week working on getting some stone benches built into the courtyard, and just this morning you sent in an order to get some plaques engraved.

Mr. Park stopped by when you were checking out your progress earlier, glancing at the pathways and the nearly completed seating. He didn’t say anything, simply nodding and walking along, and you figure that that’s the best you’ll get from him.

Your day goes by fine, for the most part after that. When you take your lunch break at the cafeteria, Seokmin tags along and you’re pleased that for once, you won’t have to eat alone. He has to leave soon after though—apparently Jihoon called for his help, and so you’re left to take care of this afternoon’s work by yourself.

Not that you mind—people let you be in the castle, and it’s actually quite nice for getting work done. When you return to 77, it’s only occupied by Mr. Park who, as always, pays no mind to you. Taking a look at your schedule, you aren’t sure if you feel like smiling or frowning when you see your next activity lined up.

Visiting the greenhouse.

There’s an odd feeling that blooms in your stomach as you walk there. You haven’t been to this side of this castle yet, partly because you don’t need to, but mostly because you don’t want to.

It’s when you leave the walls and take your way out to the Northeastern gardens of the palace that the pathways start ringing bells in your head. The familiar green bushes that you remember your mother tending to. The fields of daffodils, and the little built in canals that lead toward the row of greenhouses—it’s all flooding back to you, and you can’t figure out if you like it or not.

When you first came to the castle, you figured that you could avoid confronting the remnants of your past, but you should’ve known that everything eventually goes full circle.

Which is how you find yourself standing in front of the greenhouse where everything—your life, your mother’s life, all of it—ended on that day over ten long years ago.

Taking a deep breath, you go up to the door of the largest greenhouse ,tentatively tapping on the blurry glass before pushing it open. Peeking inside, you’re met with the familiar sight of flora arranged in neat lines of soil beds.

As you step in, the air is moist and stuffy—when you inhale, you’re reminded of those early Saturday mornings where you sat by your mother’s desk and watched her tend to the plants. The humidity was usually uncomfortable, but you learned to love it. Right now, you learn how much you missed it.

“Can I help you?” a gruff voice interrupts your thoughts, and you whip your head around to find an elderly woman glaring up at you.

“Hi, I called earlier and you said I could take some of the hyacinths. I just wanted to ask which greenhouse they’d be in because—”

“31C,” she says bluntly, immediately turning back around to tend to whatever she was doing earlier.

You watch her for a few seconds blankly, before snapping out of your haze, “O-okay, thank you.” Pursing your lips, you let your head hang low as you start walking toward the door.

“That damned slut,” the woman mutters quietly. You don’t think you want to hear it, but you continue to listen anyway. “Thinks she can just send her daughter over and—”

“And?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been more happy to hear Joshua’s voice.

Looking up, he’s just entered through the entrance you were about to exit through, and while you would usually mull over the possible reasons he would be here, you’re far more focused on watching the bewildered look on this woman’s face

“Nothing sir!” she replies quickly, back straightened as she presses her hands behind her back. 

“Good to hear,” he says simply. You watch from the side as Joshua gives her a look that you can’t really gauge before turning to you with a brighter look on his face. “Seokmin told me I would find you here?”

“I—yeah, he was right.”

“Well I can see that Sunshine,” Joshua chuckles and waves your hand in a gesture to follow him. You don’t have any other choice than to follow him out the greenhouse and into the much freer, lighter air. “What’re you doing here anyways?” he asks when you start finding your way to 31C.

“I need to look at some flowers.” Joshua asks you quite a bit about the courtyard, and although you don’t really get it, you’ve learned that it’s easier to just reply to his questions honestly than try to avoid them.

“For the courtyard?” he piques as you finally find the smaller greenhouse, opening the door to thankfully find it empty of anyone else.

Your gaze lands on a bed of hyacinths as you reply, “What else?”

“Okay, you need to stop answering all of my questions like I’m stupid.”

Huffing, you pull up a pot from under the bed and fill it up with soil before digging your hands into the dirt around one of the hyacinth plants. Your fingers search under the earth before feeling against the roots and carefully pulling out the plant.

“Maybe stop asking stupid questions then,” you suggest.

“Seeing as you think I’m dumb … do you want to tutor me?”

“What?” you deadpan, looking up at him with your hands still in the dirt. “Why?”

“I mean like, you’re smart and all, plus we get along—”

You click your tongue, finally pulling the plant out of the soil and pressing it into the pot. “Not so sure about that second part.”

“Okay well we have some shared interests and stuff—”

“Like?” you counter, walking over to a sink so you can wash the excess soil off.

“Percy Jackson. Greek mythology?”

Your ears perk up at that. “You like Greek mythology?”

“Yes! See! That’s like, already two common interests, Sunshine.”

“More like only two. And one of them is a book series I haven’t read in about nine years so I’m not even sure it counts,” you rebut.

“Oh no, it definitely counts,” Joshua counters, watching you pick up the flower pot and head towards the greenhouse exit. “Wait, we’re diverting from the point here.”

“What is the point again?”

“You need to tutor me!” he whines as he follows behind you, up the pathway back to the castle.

“I need to? Uh, sorry, but I don’t think tutoring the Prince is under my job description.”

“This is a different job though!”

You knit your eyebrows together. “Am I getting paid?”

“You might,” Joshua smirks. “I’ll pay you by the hour.”

Pondering, you chew on the inside of your cheek, before you finally respond, “How much are we talking?”

Joshua grins, shaking his head. “Should’ve known money was the way to your heart Sunshine.”

“Money is not the way to my heart. It’s just the way to get me to tutor you. Don’t mix those two up.”

“Don’t worry Sunshine, I wish you all the best in finding your sugar daddy husband eventually.”

Glaring, you chastise him. “Joshua!”

“Why did you ask me to do this again?” you ask, stepping into the room Joshua has just led you to. It’s near the Royal Residence Quart of the castle, and you’re a bit on edge. Joshua assured you earlier that no one would question why you of all people would be here with him, but you’ve also noticed that the boy can be a bit distant from reality.

“Because,” Joshua starts, watching you look around the room (it is a very nice room; bookshelves line the walls and there’s a grand desk in the middle, a rolling chalkboard on one end and a vintage map on another rolling board scattered off to another end). “I don’t like the royal tutor they have, and you’re smart,” he says casually.

“You can’t ask for another one?” you murmur, raising a brow as he moves to the desk and hands you a folder.

“I could, but my mother would get upset if I keep running through them. I’ve changed my tutors far too many times by now.”

“Ah,” you say dryly. “The extreme difficulties of the royalty. How unfortunate.”

“Sunshine,” Joshua grins, ignoring your snarky comment. “Can you at least pretend you want to be here?”

“Um, I’ll think about it,” you reply honestly, pursing your lips together as you glance at his chalkboard which has a list of things he needs to go over. “What is it that you need help on?”

“Well I’m good at math and stuff but Literature and Chemistry are quite literally killing me,” Joshua says with a sigh, sitting down at his desk.

“Literature?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “You’re the Prince—isn’t Literature supposed to be like, I don’t know, your forte?”

“Who told you that?” Joshua asks with a pout, pulling up a packet of papers and letting it down on his desk with a thud.

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed they’d be having you read Machiavelli or something like that from the age of two.”

Joshua scoffs, holding up the book so you can read out the title. Oh, it’s The Waste Land. “Okay I get that this is a kingdom and all but seriously, who even uses Machiavellianism anymore? That’s from like six hundred years ago.”

“Less than that,” you correct, but shrug anyways and sit down at the chair on the other side of his desk. “But whatever, you need help with The Waste Land?”

“I mean, yeah I’ve read it a bunch but I just never get it and my mom is obsessed with it for some reason and I really don’t want her to make me sit through another read of it so I really need to write up something good on it that will satisfy my Literature instructor and my mom so I can get it out of the way.”

“A paper?”

“Yeah, you know: analyzing themes and stuff.”

“Okay I know what a paper is,” you snap and Joshua rolls his eyes.

“Look now you’re just picking fights over everything I say. Just relax and—”

“I am relaxed,” you huff, but the tension in your shoulders says otherwise. To be honest, you’re still not sure why Joshua decided to choose you of all people, as if you haven’t made it clear multiple times that you weren’t his biggest fan.

You can respect the effort, you guess, but the way he seems so unbothered by your snarkiness is getting a little bit irritating.

“Whatever you say Sunshine,” Joshua says with a shrug, turning the packet and handing it to you. The poem is littered with annotations, underlines, and highlighter marks all over, and you squint for a moment trying to remind yourself of what you remember from the last time you looked at the work. “You read it before? The Waste Land?”

“Uh, yeah, ages ago though. Like back in high school,” murmur, flipping through the pages to jog your memory.

“Why were you reading The Waste Land in high school? Seems like too much, no?”

“Well not everyone was granted the freedom to do as they please with whoever they please,” you tell him, eyes flickering between Joshua’s curious face and the packet in front of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joshua asks, and his voice is slightly whiny.

“It means that people didn’t want to talk to me so I had to spend my time reading. Even if it was ‘too much,’ or whatever you said.”

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice is quiet. See, you remind yourself, clouded from reality is what Joshua is. “Well I—”

“Forget it. I think I’m going to have to go home and reread The Waste Land if you want me to be of any help. What else do you have to work on, or do you just want to do Chemistry?”

“Uh, sure we can move onto Chemistry,” Joshua replies hastily, tucking the paper back into his folder haphazardly before shoving it into a drawer and pulling out a much thicker notebook. “I kinda need help with a lot of it. Like—I’m sorry I just don’t get it—what the hell is an electrophile and a nucleophiles and why the hell I need to know them for alkanes and—”

“Slow down,” you say, sticking your hand out. You grab the notebook from his desk and skip over the contents before looking back up. “If you want me to do this for you, we’re going to have to start from the basics, okay?”

Joshua gives you a look which tells you he doesn’t think he needs to do that, but you open the notebook to a new page, pulling out a pen. Begrudgingly, he nods and leans his head in to see what you’re writing.

He’s oddly compliant when you ask him to be, despite his jumpy and bubbly personality, and for a fraction of a second, you wonder about his potential. Quickly, you push that thought out of your mind.

It’s late afternoon when you reach the courtyard, smiling at the progress. You told the workers to get started on digging up the pond this morning, and you’re pleased to see that there’s already a large dugout in the century.

“Good work!” you chirp to Jungho, the contractor you talked to over the phone. He seemed nice enough over the phone, but you soon realized within the first time that you two met in person that he was just as standoff-ish as the rest. “But we’re going to need to get the insides patted down and compressed so when we put the water in, the soil won’t just soak it up,” you try to tell him casually.

Jungho points his thumb behind him at some of his men. “Yeah we have a guy for that,” he says gruffly, not even meeting your gaze.

“Thanks … maybe have it finished within a week?”

“Okay. Anything else?” Jungho looks around awkwardly, before adding. “Want us to get the water in there too? Then we can get outta … outta your hair and stuff and don’t have to keep coming back.”

“Uh, no—there’s some lining I want to do with the pond, and I’ve got to do that before there’s water in it. But it’s something I want to do myself, so you can just take care of compressing the soil and I’ll take it from there.”

Jungho gives you a weird look but you brush it off. “Alright. We’ll have it finished by tomorrow,” he finalizes, and with that he turns on his heels and walks back to his workers who you can tell were watching him from the corner of their vision.

“Why are those guys looking at you like that?”

You whip your head around, seeing Joshua standing just a few meters away from you on the pathway coming in from the East entrance. He glances around and finds a marble bench that’s just been made, sitting on the edge casually.

“Joshua, you’ve seen people look at me like that before and I think you know exactly why,” you mutter, walking over to where he sits. Joshua doesn’t respond and instead averts his gaze to the ground.

There’s a stray kitten bouncing around at his feet, and he’s quick to drop to his knees on the pathway and engulf her in his large hands. It would be an endearing sight, you think. Sorta, you guess.

“Whatever. You’re still coming in on Sunday right? My instructor prepared this stupid Chemistry exam for me on Tuesdays and I know you can’t help out on Mondays so I kind of really need you to help me on Sunday so I can prep. So please, please, please—”

“You know I’m gonna come in, so you don’t have to pester me so much about it,” you say with a sigh, putting your folder down and crouching on the ground so you can pet the kitten. She’s cute, with wide slanted eyes and soft brown fur, the wet kitten licks feeling warm against your palm.

“But you put up with it, don’t you?” You roll your eyes but Joshua still grins when you don’t disagree.

“I don’t understand you,” you mutter, truthfully speaking your mind as the kitten rolls around in Joshua’s lap. You smile without thinking, and Joshua carefully watches your usually taut face unravel in front of him.

“Are you kidding me? I’m literally an open book. You know Sunshine, you can find my whole life on Wikipedia.”

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that, and it’s hard to tell who is more surprised between the two of you. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you murmur, struggling to hold back another laugh, the kitten jumping out of his lap to play around on the ground under the gentle hands of you and Joshua.

“Not that I would know. You think I’m stupid anyways.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Oh my god, please don’t even try to counter that. When I told you I didn’t know why helium was named helium, you looked at me like I was the dumbest person to ever live.”

“Okay that’s only because you say you like Greek mythology! How could you not put that together—it’s so obvious! Helium and Helios sound totally alike, and everyone knows helium is like, one of the most abundant elements in the sun.”

“Maybe you know that. You’re also insanely smart,” Joshua counters.

“Whatever you say. But for the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe a little dense, but that’s it.”

Joshua pouts. “Aren’t those basically the same thing?” You know he’s only being playful, but something about the way he says it makes you think twice. He’s being sweet. So sweet, it feels almost bitter.

“No. You have a smart head, Joshua. Honest. I think you just gotta learn how to use it,” you tell him, more softly this time.

“Thanks Sunshine,” he replies gruffly and you frown, realizing that your attempts to make him feel better haven’t quite worked.

“I’m serious. What? You don’t think I’m serious?” Joshua shakes his head, and you roll your eyes when you pick up the kitten yourself and pull her into your lap.

“You’re mean. So no, I don’t think you’re being serious.”

You gasp, using the hand that isn’t playing with the kitten to place it over your chest dramatically. “I am not mean. I’m just honest. I’m being honest right now.”

“Whatever,” Joshua quips, turning his nose and looking away pettily.

“Okay, are you actually upset?” you groan, cradling the kitten up to your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re more annoyed because you can’t tell if Joshua is upset, or because you might be the reason he’s upset.

“Who knows. Not that you would care.”

“I obviously care, because I’m asking,” you deadpan, letting the kitten roll around in your arms, letting out a squeak of surprise when one of its claws gets caught in the belt of your robe, making a tear in the silk.

Joshua gives you a funny look when he says, “You can be quite pestering when you want to.”

“Congratulations! You now know how I feel.”

“See what I mean! You’re mean. I want the kitten back.”

You clutch the little close to your chest and nuzzle your face into her neck. “No can do. I’m afraid she’s mine until you admit you know I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Oh my god, is this how it feels when I annoy you?” Joshua grumbles, throwing his head back. “Remind me to never pester you again. Ever.”

“Self awareness is great and all, but like I said, you’re not getting her until you admit it.”

“Fine. I don’t think you think I’m stupid. Happy?”

You hum and shake your head. “Mm, no. Gotta sound more convincing.”

Joshua knits his eyebrows together. “If you’re so insistent on this, then I guess it must be true. I don’t think you think I’m stupid,” he repeats, but his tone is gentler this time.

“Good work.”

Joshua stands tall on a hill. His broad shoulders are sharp with his straightened back and taught jaw. The sky is orange and you watch him from below, the clouds moving slowly above his head in the background.

He’s looking out at something, but you can’t quite tell what. It’s off in the distance, but his eyes are dilated and unwavering for a few long moments.

Wind whistles in your ear, and then the sky grows brighter and brighter until it’s no longer orange and suddenly turning yellow and then white. So white that it hinders your vision and you’re wincing through the light until you realize Joshua is not on the hill anymore.

You look around frantically to no avail—you can’t see anything but white with black spots in your vision and you feel like you’re going blind. And you want to scream but when you open your mouth no sound comes and the blowing of wind grows louder and louder until it sounds like you’re at the beach.

Looking around, you see your legs knee deep in ocean water and you’re no longer hearing the rampage of wind and instead the crashing of waves against rocks. There isn’t a hill anymore, there’s a cliff, but still no sight of Joshua.

It’s still so bright, so bright and you close your eyes tightly again until you feel a shade fall over your figure. A gasp escapes your lips when you see what’s above you.

Wide wings, ornate with white and golden feathers, perched over Joshua’s back as he hovers above you. He’s not looking anywhere else now, only you.

His face glows and then he smiles and you close your eyes one last time but when you open them again, all you see is darkness.

You’ve never been great at remembering dreams. More often than not, you wake up with no remnants of the life you lived in your head the night before, and on the rare occasions that you do happen to recall something, it’s only just random snippets that also hardly make sense.

Last night was no different, although you do wake up with an uneasy feeling, not because of what you dreamed about—you don’t remember that—but because you know you dreamed about Joshua. It’s just the wake up call you need to tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, you’re spending more time with him than you should.

It’s a Saturday morning as you trudge out of bed and to the kitchen, trying to settle the weird feelings that course through your veins when you see your mother brewing a pot of tea. “How’d you sleep?” she asks, not looking up from the boiling water.

Shrugging as you grab a home-grown orange, you respond, “Well enough.”

“Can’t believe they have you going to the palace on the weekends too … I never had to work on Saturdays or Sundays.”

You wonder how she brings up her time at the castle so casually—you don’t know if you’ll ever understand her. “I really don’t have to—I can work on my own schedule basically whenever, as long as I get the courtyard finished by the end of three months.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Behind schedule. Obviously. That’s why I’m heading in again.”

Your mother smiles and walks over, ruffling your hair. “I’m glad you’re working hard on this—I can tell you’re enjoying it, as much as you didn’t want to go there.”

“It’s nice, I guess. I get to be creative, and get paid. Really, getting the money is all I care about,” you tell her casually, taking the peel off the orange and popping a piece into your mouth.

“You don’t talk about it much, but I’m assuming people don’t give you that hard of a time? You always come home fine.”

They do, it just doesn’t happen to be anything you’re not used to. Your mind flashes to Joshua and Seokmin for a moment, and you’re once again reminded of the unnerving fact that you did dream about the former, and you can’t even remember what it was about. “Things are fine.”

You’re three tutoring sessions in with Joshua, and it’s finally the day that you pull out your own copy of The Waste Land. “Oh thank god,” he says with a breath of relief when he sees it. “This paper has been bugging me forever—if we didn’t get started on it soon I might’ve combust.”

“I appreciate the vivid imagery,” you say dryly, “but I really did not need to picture that in my head.”

“Sorry,” Joshua says with a shrug as you sit across from him. “So what’re we gonna do today, Sunshine?”

“Hmm, get through the first part hopefully. We can read it back and forth and talk about it together, so you can take notes. It might be easier that way, so you can get all your thoughts and ideas out, and then it’ll be easier for you to write that paper.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I guess I’ll just pack my stuff and—”

“Okay! Okay! I was just joking. Let’s start, please,” he complies easily, and you smirk as you sit back down.

“Good to hear. Read this part.”

You’re around an hour and a half into the lesson, still working through the first part as Joshua frowns when you finish another stanza.

“Do we have to keep going?” he whines.

“Yes we do. Let’s work with this part now. Read it out for me,” you instruct, pointing out a stanza on your own paper.

“Why—” You give him a look. “—okay fine.”

‘You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;‘They called me the hyacinth girl.’—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could notSpeak, and my eyes failed, I was neitherLiving nor dead, and I knew nothing,Looking into the heart of light, the silence.Oed’ und leer das Meer.

When he’s done, Joshua looks up at you blankly. “If I’m being honest, I have zero clue what this means.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve said that every time you read a new section, but I know that’s not true, because you literally always come up with something.”

Joshua scrunches up his face and slaps his hands to his cheeks in frustration. “But now I’m being serious! This is making no sense to me—I hate Literature, okay? My brain is dead right now and I don’t think I can do any more Sunshine.”

“We’ve been doing this for less than two hours,” you say bluntly. “Look—you said you like Greek mythology right? Try and draw some connections. Maybe that’ll make this more enjoyable.”

“I hardly think T.S. Elliot could produce anything I enjoy,” Joshua huffs as he tilts the page so he can read it better, “But fine. I still don’t get what about this has anything to do with mytho—oh!”

“Finally! You get it?”

“Hyacinthus!” You nod eagerly, gesturing your hands to tell him to go on. “Uh, it was that story with Apollo. Shit, what was the story again?” He looks up and taps at his chin, but when you open your mouth to help him out, Joshua sticks a hand in front of your face and shakes his head. “No wait, I remember. The one where they were in love but Apollo accidentally killed him when they were playing a game!”

“You’re right. The blood of Hyacinthus was eventually turned into flowers by Apollo to honor his death or something like that. In the context of this poem … the giver of the hyacinth flower is almost like a sign of—”

Joshua snaps his fingers in the air and grins. “Forgiveness!”

“Well, not exactly giving forgiveness, but asking for it.”

“Kind of like … saying you’re sorry?” Joshua smiles brighter when you nod. “Holy shit, maybe I do enjoy T.S. Elliot.”

You roll your eyes and point at his notebook and pen. “Good, now write that down. You are going to have to write about this, remember?”

Joshua pouts, but picks up the pen nevertheless. “Whatever you say Sunshine.”

“Joshua told me to tell you that he thinks T.S. Elliot sucks,” Seokmin says, coming up to you in the cafeteria as you polish off your own tray. It’s a large and grand area—an old ballroom that turned into a commonplace for the workers.

Large mirrors plate the walls, and across from you, you can watch Seokmin’s reflection as he sits down next to you. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at him, “He’s only saying that because I told him to write the paper himself.”

Seokmin furrows his eyebrows as he places a white box, a little larger than the size of your hand, on the table. Glancing around, you catch people in the mirror watching you with wavering gazes before turning away when they find you looking at them.

Huff lightly, you turn your attention back to Seokmin. “What’s this?”

“Joshua told me to give it to you.”

That’s new. Tentatively, you lift the lid a little to peek inside, only finding a haphazard mess of stuffing paper with something purple concealed underneath. “Would it be a smart decision to open it right now?”

“Oh my gosh, it’s not an explosive or anything.”

“You don’t know that!”

Seokmin rolls his eyes himself this time. “Yes I do. I packed it.”

“Ugh, even worse. I’m not opening it if you’re around. That’s embarrassing.”

“Is not! I think that you should—” Seokmin is cut off by the sound of his own phone ringing, cursing under his breath when he sees the caller ID. For a moment, you consider peering over and taking a look, but Seokmin stands up too quickly. “I gotta go for a second. I’ll catch you before you leave!” he calls out when he’s already pushing his chair in and rushing off into the distance.

You laugh at his hurry, wondering what could possibly ensue such nervousness from the boy, but you quickly remind yourself that this is Seokmin and he gets the jitters when he even has to think about being around Mr. Park for more than twenty minutes.

Soon, you start to clean up your area yourself, putting your trays away and throwing away your trash in the weirdly fancy bins they have scattered around the hall. As your lunch break nears its end, you grab the oddly light box, your phone, and make your way back to 77.

The room is empty, safe for Jihoon who’s got his head buried in his laptop, and you think it’s a good time to check what’s inside. If it is an explosive, you’ll just have to apologize to Jihoon in the afterlife.

Opening the lid, those same, crumpled papers lay on top, but this time you notice a little white card in the middle. Pursing your lips, your eyes flicker to your side to see if Jihoon’s watching (he never is, but it doesn’t hurt to check), and when your privacy is confirmed, you flip the paper over.

There’s a message written in purple pen, adorning a handwriting that you can distinctly recognize as Joshua’s.

Thank you for all the help. I really owe you one.

You aren’t quite sure what he’s talking about, and you make a mental note to ask him about it when you see him later. Right now, you rummage through the papers, hands feeling the space beneath them before they land on a smooth layer of fabric.

Confused, you pull it out, only to see it’s a ribbon, much like the one tied around your own waist. Same color, same material, same emblem, the only difference being …

You glance down at your own robes where the ribbon has a small tear at one end from where the kitten had pawed at you. You have to blink a few times to realize what Joshua’s intentions were, and when you do, you can’t help the warm smile that begrudgingly makes its way onto your face.

Quickly, you tug the ends of the ribbon around your waist and let it unravel, taking the new ribbon and tying it just as your mother taught you. It’s the same thing as the one before, yes, but this is different. This is a gift.

Donning Joshua’s (your?) ribbon, you start to clean up your desk space and tuck your old ribbon back into your bag. You forgot to tell Seokmin you’re tutoring Joshua this afternoon, so as you pack up you text him a sincere ‘thank you’ message, and let him know that you might not be able to see him before you go. You don’t get a response, which is slightly odd since Seokmin seems to always be on top of things, but you shrug it off and remind yourself that he’s busy.

Today, you make your way down the smaller halls with a little skip to your step. Joshua showed you this pathway earlier so it’d be easier to get to his study room without being seen; it’s a nice little series of corridors that are a little dimmer and narrower, but still hold the lavish feel you always get walking through the palace.

You can hear the voices of a few people, but it seems quiet, hushed, and somehow a little heated—in other words, caught up in their own world. Being in the castle for almost two months now, you’ve learned to realize what kind of situations need your caution and which ones don’t. This is the latter.

You smile to yourself, smoothing your palms over the new, not-torn silk ribbon around your waist, as you near the second entrance to his study, about to enter another hallway to the final stretch and—shit.

When you turn a corner, your heart stops.

You turn back and run down the corridor. You don’t know if Seokmin saw you, and quite frankly, you don’t care.

It didn’t take you more than a second to put two and two together and suddenly you’re pushed back into your nine year old body—you don’t really know what’s happening or why it’s happening, all you know is that it hurts.

You’re going to have to apologize to Joshua for flaking on him. Surely he’ll understand that you were just a little bit upset by the sight you had to see.

After all, you did just witness Seokmin, quite literally your only real friend in this damn castle, speaking to Advisor Lee, the man who tore your mother’s life down. And now is when everything starts to click, because you realize that Seokmin is Advisor Lee’s son.

Of course he was close with Joshua—he probably grew up on these very castle grounds. Of course they attended the same classes—his father was the King’s advisor and cousin.

It makes sense now, and in your bleary haze as you make your way back to 77, you’re not sure what to do. You rush past a few other staff members murmuring under their breath when they see you, and you usually wouldn’t be bothered by the sight but now you remember that this is the first time you’ve cried since you got here, and it’s all because of that man who started this all in the first place.

As you lock yourself in one of the staff bathrooms, you catch your disheveled appearance and furiously wipe at your cheeks. Fuck. You shouldn’t be crying. You can’t be crying over this, because god knows you did not spend years thickening your skin for it to be cut open like this.

You should’ve known. Should’ve fucking known.

You try to stop your tears, telling yourself that they’re all the same. That you shouldn’t have expected anything more from these people, that you should’ve picked up on how Seokmin was definitely someone important, that you should’ve never fallen for his and Joshua’s sweet games.

“Shit,” you gasp out as a sob rips from your throat, and you clutch the side of the sink as uneasiness bubbles up in your stomach and spreads through your limbs until you’re trembling.

Maybe you let him get so close because you thought he saw you for something else. Maybe you believed that he saw you as more than a pity project. More than someone who was defined by their past.

Joshua and Seokmin—they knew. They knew everything this whole damn time.

And now you’re angry—you’re so fucking angry. Tugging at your hair, ripping up your clothes, and thrashing your limbs around kind of angry. The kind of anger that poisons your bones and makes your body ache until you can’t take it anymore. The kind of anger that wraps its hand around your throat and squeezes the air out of you until you can do nothing but relent. The kind of anger that has you looking at yourself in the mirror and thinking, what the fuck.

The worst thing is you can’t even be mad at him. You want to be mad at him and you want to be mad at Joshua. You want to have the will to go up to them and slap the smiles off their faces because how dare Seokmin be the own flesh and blood of Advisor Lee, and how dare Joshua know and not have the guts to tell you.

Because after everything, Seokmin and Joshua were your friends and—fuck—they were some damn good friends. Your best friends, maybe, if you ever had the liberty to even know what that means.

And it wasn’t because they were overly nice, or excessively cheery, or because Seokim was always grinning and Joshua was always smirking, but because when they talked to you, they were talking to you, and not some shell of your past.

Finally, now, when you press your face into your hands as your last attempt to calm yourself down, you feel like you can breathe. You’re not sure where your head is at, and something tells you that it’s gonna take a damn long time to figure it out.

You’re a little lost.

You were just trying to get to the South end entrance of the courtyard but you must have taken a wrong turn or something because you’re walking down a corridor you’ve quite literally never seen before. It’s similar to the hallways of the rest of the palace, but it’s slightly taller and a bit more narrow, and the workers walking through wear faces that you aren’t familiar with. You’re a little nervous about where your feet are taking you, and you consider just turning around and retracing your steps when you hear a voice.

Seokmin’s voice is loud when he calls your name, and you press your lips together tightly when it rings in your ears. “What are you doing here? You usually don’t come down to the South e—” he starts to say when walks up to you from a corridor to your left.

“Nothing,” you reply briskly, turning on your heel so your back is pretty much facing him. “I was just leaving actually.”

“What—hey! Slow down! Where’re you going?”

“77,” you mutter under your breath as you speed up your pace.

“Slow down!”

You don’t relent. “Seokmin, don’t you have stuff to do right now instead of following me around?” You can’t see the look on his face, but you can only imagine it’s one of defeat.

“I—” his voice is quieter this time, “Okay.”

The footsteps that were one following you die out, and as you browse the corners of your vision, you conclude that he’s finally left you alone. You should feel relieved—happy that he’s not bothering you now—but sometimes uneasy churns inside of you, and you aren’t sure what it is.

The rest of your day goes as it usually does in a palace. You tend to your work and as it hits late afternoon, you start making your way to Joshua’s study. Once again, you’re not sure where your head is at.

“Is everything alright?” Joshua asks you the second you walk in. “Seokmin told me you looked upset and wouldn’t talk to him so I—”

You inhale deeply before, putting your hands up in a stopping motion. “I can’t tutor you anymore.”

Joshua looks at you weirdly. “What, why?”

“Or talk to you,” you add.

“What—”

“Just—just don’t talk to me. Or ask me to tutor you. Or ask for my help, or ask to help me—you know what just like—I dunno, stay away from me.”

“Sunshine, where is this coming from?” Joshua pinches the bridge of his nose, and you don’t think he’s understanding the weight of his words.

“Why do you even talk to me?” you snap. “Like seriously, if you can bother any worker in the castle, why does it have to be me?”

Hurt flashes in Joshua’s face for hardly a second before he frowns deeply. “I—what’s going on?”

“Do you and Seokmin think this is funny? Being nice to me like—” You throw your hands in the air. “—like I’m some kind of joke?”

“What? No, Sunshine, what are you even talking about?”

“I know who Seokmin’s dad is.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “So if Seokmin still wants to know why I don’t feel like talking to him, maybe consider telling him that I’m not interested in being around someone whose father is literally the reason me and my mom’s lives have been so fucked up.”

Joshua winces at the last statement. You’ve been irritated with him, annoyed with him, and all that petty stuff, sure, but this is different.

“Seokmin isn’t like that, okay? He isn’t—you know—like that.”

“And how would you know?” you snap. “Prince Joshua, what do you know about having people be, quote unquote, above you? You have everything in front of you, and when people look at you and Seokmin it’s not ‘cause of some fucked up scandal which pinned your mom as the kingdom’s slut of the century, it’s ‘cause they literally bow down to your presence and—”

Something tells you to stop yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that you know you’re not actually angry at them. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so fucking tired of being angry all the time that you can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that when you finally look him in the eye, Joshua looks sad.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says meekly. “Seokmin should—we should’ve let you know earlier. I promise we didn’t be your friend just ‘cause of that,” he rambles. “I mean obviously we knew about it but we didn’t wanna bring it up because everyone was bringing it up and—I’m sorry. You know Seokmin isn’t like that.”

“And you?” you quip, but you know your retorts hold no weight. “How do I know you aren’t like—like that.”

Joshua falters and you watch him gulp. He looks tired and his lips are red from how hard he’s been chewing on them as you speak. “Y-you know,” his voice is quiet, “You know I’m not.”

You have your answer before you even have to think about it, but you pause for a few moments, waiting to respond. All that comes out is a shallow breath as you look down and squeeze your eyes shut. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I just—” You sigh weakly. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Joshua doesn’t respond—he knows you’re thinking.

You wonder what to do with yourself. You’re not angry. Not sad either. Uneasy? Maybe. It’s the uncertainty of it all. You don’t understand why you’re not mad, and you don’t understand why you want to forgive him so easily, but you’re starting to realize that you should stop trying to understand the things that might never make sense.

Finally, you nod. “It’s fine.”

“Sorry again. I guess we didn’t wanna make that whole thing all about you. Because like, you’re you, and whatever happened is separate.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Thank you.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

You glare at him. “Dipshit, no it wasn’t!”

“I’m taking this as a sign that you’re feeling better. Am I correct?”

You bite back a smile and shrug. “I guess.”

“Cool, ‘cause I think you’d like to know that my mom stopped by the courtyard the other day.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say? This is all for her isn’t it—hopefully she liked it.”

“Yeah no, she said it was great. She thought the patterns of the pathway were cool and so she asked me if I could figure out why they were designed like that and I said no. By the way, why did you design them like that?”

“There’s this song I like. It’s called Isohel, and when I first heard it, I liked it a lot,” you explain. “Searched up what it means and stuff and then a few weeks later I was taking some filler class for the credits and my professor goes on some tangent about god-knows-what, and somehow he brings up pictures of an isohel map. An isohel—it’s basically a line which maps out the places that have the same duration of sunshine. Pretty cool, I think.”

“Is that what the pathways are? Are they—what is it—an isohel?”

“Mhm. On an isohel map, they’re not always just lines—they come around full circle sometimes so it looks like these funky, squiggly ovals sometimes,” you ramble. “So I took one of those circle-ish things and broke it up and pieced it together like a pathway.”

“That’s really smart.” Joshua pauses. “You’re really smart.”

It’s not the first time someone’s told you that. Fuck, it’s not even the first time Joshua’s told you that, but it feels different now. He means it, you know it in your bones.

“I-I dunno,” you stammer. “I guess. It just relates to the theme of the sun. My mom taught me about it when I was younger—I loved the sun.”

“So that’s what the theme of your courtyard is? Me and Seokmin have been betting on that for ages.”

You scoff, “You guys bet on that? Seriously, do you have nothing better to do with your time?”

“Clearly not!” he shoots back, causing you to laugh. “Are you really feeling better now?” Joshua asks sincerely, and when you smile and nod, he grins. “Hey, I just realized you talked to me about your feelings—”

“Don’t mention it,” you snap gruffly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Joshua clicks his tongue and chuckles. “There’s the Sunshine I know.”

It’s the next day when you walk into 77. Jihoon’s desk is empty, Mr. Park is just about to leave as you enter and you bow to him quickly as you settle in your desk. Seokmin is in the corner watering the yarrows, seeming to not have noticed you yet.

You watch him closely, smiling softly when you notice he stops before he can overwater them. Quietly, you set your stuff down and Seokmin begins to talk. “Oh, Jihoon, Mr. Park was just looking for you—oh,” he cuts himself flat when he turns around and sees you.

You’re not sure what to do, because Joshua didn’t exactly tell you if he told Seokmin about your conversation and what not, but the look on Seokmin’s face is telling you that he’s just a little behind on the news.

“Hey,” you say casually, throwing a hand up to wave at him as you set your bag down on your desk. Seokmin opens his mouth and then closes it a few times, as if he’s searching for the right words but they don’t quite come out for a few moments.

“Joshua told me that, uh, you know that—” He pauses and glances at you, trying to watch for any hints of anger on your face, but none comes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say with a shrug, and Seokmin has to blink twice because he’s not sure he heard you correctly at all.

“W-what?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I said don’t worry about it,” you state again, and then add more softly, “You’re not your father. I get it.” You get it more than anyone. “Anyways, did you get the workers to start planting the hyacinths?”

Seokmin shakes his head once to snap himself back into reality and then shakes his head again a second time. “Wait no, I mean—wait, yes! I mean yes! I did do that—I should go remind them to get on that,” he rambles quickly, clearly a little flustered.

You chuckle. “It’s good to see you’ve been watering the yarrows properly now. Mr. Park finally beat it into you?”

“Y-yeah I guess. I’ve been getting better at remembering them all,” he tells you, starting to fall into a more casual tone. It’s normal, you think. Nice and normal. Nice and normal and just what you need.

“What are you doing here?”

When you turn around with your bag slung over your shoulder, you’re surprised to see Joshua. “Um, working?”

“It’s a Saturday night,” he states, lips pinched together in a funny expression, like he can’t figure you out.

“I think I know that,” you chuckle. “I didn’t know if I could come in on Monday—I need to stop by the university campus for something—so I just came in today to take care of some stuff.”

“You’re a dedicated worker huh … you should just work here forever—the pay is great.”

“Mm, I’m not sure about that,” you say honestly as you look him up and down. It strikes you now that Prince Joshua truly is a handsome man. Dark velvety robes that are even more grand than the ones you’re used to seeing on him, well fit dress pants against his legs and shiny leather shoes that seem to fit his image perfectly. “Anyways, I heard there’s a ball tonight? You’re not going?”

Joshua shrugs as he turns around and starts walking, waving you over to follow him. “C’mon follow me.” You contemplate your choices before telling yourself, what’s the worst that could happen, scurrying on after him. “I left—it got boring, so I got about twenty-five minutes before someone calls me and asks me to come back. My bets are on it being Seokmin ‘cause he’ll get bored.”

You snort at that as the familiarity of this route starts to sink in. “Hey are we going to my …”

“Yeah. Seokmin told me you finally got it named, and I want to check it out.”

“Uh, yeah,” you murmur bashfully—you hadn’t expected Joshua to be that interested in it. You walk through the empty corridors to the hallway that has the North entrance of the courtyard, and Joshua cranes his neck up to look at the golden plaque that rests above the entrance.

“Sol Invictus, huh.”

You nudge him on the side playfully. “You know what that means, Mr. Latin Genius?”

“Of course I do,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “Sun god, or whatever,”

“God of sun, but you were close enough I guess,” you mutter as you walk through. The courtyard looks different in the night. It’s nearly done, and as the little warm lights you had placed in intervals along the path light up the scene, you can’t help but feel overwhelming pride with how well you’ve done.

“C’mon, let’s sit here,” he says, pointing down at the circular patch of grass that surrounds the pond in the middle. Joshua sits down first and you watch him carefully before quickly sitting next to him as well.

The grass is cool under your skin, but as a comfortable silence envelopes you and Joshua, you start to think you really don’t mind.

“I think lots of people think I’m stupid or something,” Joshua finally speaks up, and some uncomfortable feeling boils in your stomach at the words. “You know, the only thing people usually compliment me on is my fencing, really. And fencing is one of those things that, if you’ve been doing it as long as I have, you sort of gotta be good at it.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“I know. Thank you.” There’s a silence as he reaches over the stone lining of the hyacinth beds, plucking a few from the shrubs.

“Joshua!” you complain. “I had those planted just last week.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbles, handing the two he plucked to you. You don’t hesitate to keep your palms open for him, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms as he does so. You rub the smooth petals between your fingers and a thumb, bringing one close to your chest before taking the other and handing it back to Joshua.

He looks at you, eyes clearly confused, but holds it to his own chest anyways. With your hands behind you on the ground, you lean back and look up at the sky, letting your shoulders relax. The night air pinches at your skin, but the soft fabric of Joshua tuxedo is warm as it brushes next to you.

“Why’d you name this pond Eridenus?” Joshua asks, pointing at the plaque by the pebble lining which spells out the word in fancy lettering.

“You don’t know where it’s from?” you sigh, lifting your head so you can shoot him a stern look. Joshua rolls his eyes and nudges your cheek with his shoulder, motioning you to lean back down at him.

“You know I’m a rascal—I’m forgetful. Tell me what it means.”

“It’s confirmed: you’re a fake mythology fan. I’m suing the universe.” Joshua chuckles and pokes you, egging you to go on. “Do you remember the story of Phaethon?”

Joshua hums. “Uh, son of Helios. Didn’t believe that he was his son. Asked to ride his carriage but lost control and almost burned the Earth?”

You shrug. “Well that’s most of it I guess. He’s racing down to the earth and everything is chaos—rivers boiling, forests on fires, people turning to ash—and so Zeus throws his bolt at him and kills Phaethon right in the sky.”

“Kind of like the story of Icarus. But the opposite I guess. Instead of getting too close to the sun, he brings the sun too close to the earth.”

“You could put it like that. They have the same meaning, I think. But anyways, Phaethon falls out of the carriage and as he dies he falls into this river called Eridenus.”

“Oh.” Joshua’s voice is quiet as you both watch the gentle water lap back and forth in front of you. The small waves hitting the stone barriers of the pound is the only sound that permeates the night sky, besides your shared breaths and the occasional whistling of wind.

“It’s kind of like—” You.

“Don’t say it.” Joshua’s words are crisp and short, and he doesn’t look at you. You want to say the words—I’m sorry—but they get stuck in your throat and ripple through your limbs as you scoot closer to him.

“Anyways,” Joshua finally says, but the word is only followed with silence.

“I think you need to get back to the ball,” you tell him quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder. Your skin burns from where it was previously pressed against him and you silently chide yourself for letting yourself get so close.

Joshua finally turns to face you, and you’re surprised when he chuckles. “So eager to get rid of me, Sunshine?” You scoff, pushing him away gently.

“I-I just don’t want you to get in trouble!” you stutter as you push yourself off the ground, Joshua following suit.

“Aw, so you care about me?” His eyes crinkle up in that familiar way when he says it and you can’t help the childish grin that makes its way onto your face.

“More like I don’t want you to complain to me about how you got scolded!”

“Mm, sounds a lot like you care about me,” Joshua counters, returning your smile with one of his own. You roll your eyes and carefully skip in your dress toward the exit on the North end of the courtyard.

When you almost trip over your robes, Joshua catches you and his rough palm presses against the small of your back as you regain your balance, the two of you giggling together as he drops you off at 77 before heading to the ballroom.

It’s almost laughable how happy you are. Silly you for forgetting that fairytales don’t happen in real life.

The walls look brighter, the chandeliers that hang from the ceiling seem to glitter a bit more, the ground seems smoother; you enjoy walking through the castle in a way you never thought you could.

It’s a normal evening and you’re nearing the end of your time at the castle, but you choose to ignore the odd feeling you get when you think too long about leaving this place. There’s still more work to get done, and you don’t want to spend your time focusing on things that you know will only distract you.

You’re in the middle of Sol Invictus today, looking through a paper and phone as you go through some old plans and checklists, trying to figure out if there is anything you should do before you pack your bags and head towards Joshua’s study.

Just as you’re about to unclick your pen and tuck your things away and head back to 77, someone speaks to you from behind.

“A lovely courtyard we have here.” You know this voice. Everyone knows this voice.

Your blood runs cold as you turn around and face the King, neck craning down immediately as you bow down, stepping away while you hold your hands behind your back.

“G-good evening sir,” you stutter, almost tripping over the stone of your own pathways when you stand up and straighten your back. It’s your first time in years seeing him in person, and you tell yourself as your stomach churns that this was bound to happen at some point.

“Care to tell me about what you’ve got going on here?” he asks, walking around the little stone circle that surrounds Eridenus. “You’re the head of the project, is that right?”

“Yes sir,” you reply quickly, bowing again slightly when he finally goes full circle stopping next to you. His hands are behind his back as you watch him look over the almost complete fields of flowers. “I—uh—it’s called Sol Invictus,” you say. “The—”

“God of Sun.”

“Y-yes sir. Apollo and Helios,” you begin to explain. “Which is why I’ve used these flowers—they’re from one of Apollo’s love stories. They’re quite beautiful, if you ask me, and they fit the kingdom’s colors well.”

The King hums in response. “That’s interesting,” he finally tells you, looking down at Eridenus in front of you. You follow his gaze, staring down at the clear water as you feel your heart rise to your throat in anticipation. You don’t really know what you expect, but if you were preparing yourself for anything, it wasn’t the King saying, “It’s my understanding that you talk to Prince regularly, is that right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and lodges there along with your heart. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

“I was speaking to Mr. Park just yesterday.” Oh. “You seem to be a very smart, professional young lady, and it shows in your work.” This can’t be good. “However, I am obligated to remind you: there are boundaries within these walls between the family and its staff.”

“Of course sir. I understand.”

The King watches you carefully, and just when you think he's done, he continues. “There are guards around the castle at all times. there isn't much they miss, I’m sure you know.” This isn't good. This really isn't good.

“It's quite impressive,” you agree, thumbs pressed against each other behind your back. You hear the king take a deep breath, and you wonder if he sucked the air out of you doing so.

"I've heard the pond here is named Eridenus.”

"Y-yes sir."

"Interesting," he murmurs. "Phaeton asked for a bit more than he could handle, didn’t he?" the King chuckles but you hardly hear it over the way your heart pounds. "Let mistakes be learned from, alright?"

You feel your knuckle might buckle. Is this how your mother felt? All those years ago?

The King’s words aren’t nearly as harsh as the advisor who berated your mother, but still, your body sways—you can’t tell if it’s all in your head with all the thoughts that race through, or if it’s the sheer weight of his words that has you almost stumbling.

“It was good to meet you. I’ve enjoyed what you’ve done with this space,” he comments finally, and you step away to face him 

“The pleasure was mine, sir,” you bid, bowing as he turns and walks back to his assistants who whisk him away. You watch the King fade into the distance and disappear to the North end.

He spoke to you for a reason, and the King was right. You are smart. You are smart and professional, and tonight, you know exactly what you must do.

“We need to talk,” you state firmly, closing the door behind you in Joshua’s study. You’re supposed to tutor him tonight, and he doesn’t look up at you as he writes away in his notebook, a smirk making its way onto his face as he starts to speak.

“That’s all I get, Sunshine? No ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” he teases, but then he looks up at you and catches the grim look on your face and the sound of him dropping his pen echoes through the room. “What is it?”

He stands up so quickly that his chair falls down, but Joshua pays no mind to it, his hands gripping the end of his table as his eyes bore into yours. “What is it?” he asks again and this time he’s hissing it. You know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, but your heart sinks even further than you could imagine.

“Joshua,” and when you say it, your voice is meek. You shouldn’t cry over this—fuck, you hate crying, especially if it’s because of his people. You’ve done more than enough crying over them in your life—you can’t cry over any of this anymore.

“Sunshine, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” Joshua eggs you on worriedly, moving away from his desk so he can walk over to you. One hand cups your cheek, and you’re struck by the realization that this is the most intimate he’s ever been with you.

What unfortunate circumstances, you think.

“Your father,” you say, having half a mind to push his hand away from your face, but you keep it there because you don’t think you’ll have the will to keep on talking if he’s not touching you.

“What about him?” Joshua asks hastily, grip on your jaw tightening.

“He knows, Joshua, he knows.”

“What are you talking about?” Joshua furrows his eyebrows and asks the question but there’s that voice in his head telling him that he already knows the answer.

“A guard saw us at the courtyard and—”

“We didn’t even do anything,” Joshua tries to protest and with just one look at his face, you can tell he’s trying to figure out ways to rebut whatever that stupid guard saw that night.

“Joshua, you know we can’t do anything about this,” you say exasperatedly, your voice a little louder now that you clutch the elbow of his arm that’s holding your face. “I overheard him talking to Mr. Park.”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Mr. Park knows? What about your job? Are you going to get to finish the project? Are you—”

“Joshua,” you choke out, and for once you cannot stop your tears. “I don’t care about my goddamn project, I care about you.”

“You love that courtyard,” Joshua argues, and you wince at the way he’s still thinking about that damn courtyard. You brush his hand off of you and for a second it looks like his heart has just broken in two, but then you reach for his face and hold his cheeks with your own two hands.

His skin is smooth and supple with the light grain of stubble that itches against your palm near the underside of your jaw. “Joshua,” you whisper, and it’s now that you feel the warm drops of water hit your skin. Joshua is crying and you don’t think you’ve seen anything that saddens you more. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry,” you beg, fruitlessly wiping away his tears as he silently cries into your hands.

“Why’re you acting like this is the end?” he hiccups and he must hate the sound because he slaps a hand over his mouth and buries his face into it.

“Joshua, no,” you murmur and pull him into you so that his hands can fall and you can cradle his head into your neck, letting your own tears drip onto the silk of his shirt. “It’s not the end,” you try to reason, but he pulls his head away to look down at you with glassy eyes.

“You—you’re lying to me,” Joshua says harshly.

“What are you talking about, I don’t—”

“I know you. I-I—fuck—I fucking know you,” he spits out, causing you to falter backwards. “Why do you think we can’t work this out? I’m the prince, I can—I can change everything and we can be together—”

“Your father —”

“Who gives a fuck, I’ll be king soon anyways and—”

“What if he does something?! What if he revokes your title?”

You’re met with stillness and you think Joshua might just comply with your silent plan but suddenly he’s shaking his head vigorously.

“Okay, then let him. I don’t care about being prince, I—”

“You can’t throw your life away Joshua, not for me!” you protest, holding his face again so you can focus his gaze on yours.

“It’s my life—why, why not?”

“Because I love you. And you can’t sacrifice this—this amazing life—for me!”

“I-I can’t—I don’t,” he stumbles and searches for words as tears fall from his lashes and roll down your hands, your wrists, your arms, “—can’t do it, not without you.”

“You’ve been doing it for years, Joshua, you’ll learn,” you tell him, using one hand to grip his cheek, the other to wipe away at your own.

“You don’t love me,” he chokes out. “You—you wouldn’t do this to me if you loved me.”

“Don’t say that, please.” You press your forehead against his and close your eyes because you can’t bear to look at his tear-streaked cheeks any longer. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t help but think that this is the calm before the storm.

“We’ll work it out,” Joshua finally whispers, pulling his head back and cradling the back of your neck with his hands. You don’t say anything, and Joshua doesn’t give you the chance anyway. “Let me have you,” he begs. “We’ll work everything out and it’ll be okay,” he says over a strangled sob, “Just—just be with me tonight.”

And so when you nod, he wipes his tears and pokes his head out of the study to make sure the corridor is empty before tugging your wrist and pulling you to his room. It’s big and grand, just as you’d expect for the prince but Joshua doesn’t want you to look at the intricate walls or the tall ceilings or the golden furniture.

Joshua makes you focus on his burning touch and lets you explore his mouth, his body. And stripped, your bodies are so hot and with wet lips against sheen skin, you feel you might melt into each other’s bones.

Teeth against teeth, nails scraping against skin so hard it digs into the muscle, bruising holds, and sloppy kisses—the feeling is so intense and it crashes onto you and Joshua so hard that you have no other choice but to grip onto each other as you would a lifeline.

And your bodies move so languidly through the sheets, like waves against a shore, or like the wind whistling through the air, until you're trembling and drifting off in each others’ arms.

It would have been perfect. Perfect, if only Joshua had woken up and you were next to him.

Joshua is lost.

After a frantic hour of running around the palace, asking if anyone had seen you, looking for Seokmin to see if he had any answers, Joshua finds himself in the middle of Sol Invictus. And he racks his brain for answers, for a smidge of anything that gives him a reasonable explanation as to why you weren’t in his arms this morning.

Joshua is lost.

He’s staring at the ground now, and all Joshua can wonder is if it was all a dream. If that moment you both looked out his glass window at the stars before you kissed him on his bed was just a figment of his imagination.

He wonders if you actually did thread your soft fingers through his messy hair and hold him close as both hit your peaks together, and he wonders if your lips really did ghost over his skin as he drifted off into sleep.

Joshua almost doesn’t feel Advisor Lee’s hand on his shoulder. He only hears his voice, really, and when he does, the sound grates against his ears.

“She’s gone.” Advisor Lee’s voice has always been harsh, and Joshua wonders how the same man could’ve produced something—someone—as lovely as Seokmin.

“What are you talking about?” Joshua is good at feigning ignorance, but his voice still quivers.

“I know. Your father and mother know too.”

Joshua is lost.

Joshua’s eyes snap up and suddenly his hands are at Advisor Lee’s collar. When the older man doesn’t seem surprised, Joshua sags. “What the fuck do you know. What—” He inhales sharply as he lets go and steps back, inching closer to Eridenus. “—what did you do to her?”

“She left herself.”

“What are—” Joshua heaves. “What?”

He’s doing it before he even realizes it. Stumbling toward Eridenus with his lungs and heart mushed together so tight he’s got a hole in his chest, Joshua steps over the stone lining and crashes into the shallow water.

Seokmin’s face pales when he walks in on the scene. Coming into the courtyard from the South end, he sees Joshua’s figure before he even recognizes it’s him.

That’s not Joshua, he thinks as he watches his father stand in front of Eridenus where the prince sits. That’s not Joshua.

Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp and his eyes are bright. Joshua’s smile is full and his hands are always ready to love.

This isn’t Joshua, and Seokmin feels it in his gut when he approaches Eridenus.

Joshua sits in the middle of the pond. His knees are bent and the cold water stops at the middle of his chest, leaving the upper third of his body dry. His royal coat and velvet pants, his polished shoes and silk button up, are submerged and rub against the algae coated rocks on the bottom of Eridenus.

Advisor Lee doesn’t speak as Seokmin stands next to him, Eridenus in front of the two with the prince in the middle. Joshua doesn’t say a thing. In fact, it seems like he doesn’t even know Seokmin is here now. His neck is tilted down and he stares at his soaked slacks blankly.

Seokmin is stunned.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s shoulders are always sharp but now they are hunched over and hardly moving, even as he breathes short breaths through his pale lips.

This can’t be Joshua, because Joshua’s eyes are always bright but now they are dull and dead. Seokmin knows Joshua’s eyes are always bright, but he failed to realize what exactly it was that was lighting them up.

Seokmin thought it was the sun but he was wrong, because even now, as Joshua sits under broad daylight, he is still and his eyes are dull.

Two weeks since you’ve seen Joshua’s face and you miss his smile.

You miss his smile, the one that crinkles up all the way to his eyes when he laughs at one of your snarky comments. The one that shines his teeth and the one that seemed to never leave your sight when you were with him.

You miss his smile, but his laugh still rings in your ear, early in the mornings when you blink awake and late in the nights when you gasp in hearty breaths and try not to cry. When you take the walk through the city to your work at Mr. Min’s bookshop, the ringing of the street vendors’ bells are bright and cheery, and sometimes you can hear Joshua’s laugh in the mix.

One month since Joshua last looked you in the eye and he wishes he didn’t know why you left. He wishes he was oblivious, because then he could be angry at you—he could have a reason to forget, to move on, to stop loving you.

Joshua knows why you left and it hurts more than anything because this is nothing like a betrayal at all. You left because you love him, and Joshua cannot dispute that—not now, not ever.

Sometimes he walks through Sol Invictus and plucks a hyacinth, letting it blow off into the wind. He hopes you’ll find the lost petals one day.

Two months since you’ve been in the castle and your life is normal. Well, as normal as it can get for you.

Your first semester of the new year started a few days ago, and you’ve since moved into an apartment near your campus. Your mother thinks it’ll be good for you, and you understand her sentiment but you don’t think she understands.

Ironic, you think. You’ve gone full circle, really. Maybe it does run in your blood, like all the whispers said.

You realize you’re okay with that. Maybe you made a mistake with Joshua, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you almost royally fucked up your reputation more than it already was (thankfully, the Royal Counsel was better at keeping it under the wraps this time), maybe no one cares. Maybe your life is a little bit more messed up now, but again—you’re okay with that.

You miss Joshua. You don’t think you’ll ever stop missing him. You’re also okay with that. You’re starting to realize that you’re okay with pretty much anything when it comes to Joshua. And once again, you’re okay with that.

Six months since he’s seen you and Joshua’s chest aches. Partly because he was distracted during fencing and took a jab straight in the middle but mostly because he misses you.

He stands on the balcony of the royal dining hall, waiting for lunch to be served as he looks over the palace and the kingdom that spread beyond. Joshua sees the tall buildings, the rows of houses, and the infamous Hong University that lay in the middle of the commontown around the hill the castle sits on, and he wonders.

You told him you’d be taking an astronomy class this semester, which should have started a month ago. Joshua is old enough and smart enough to know that collegiate astronomy is more than just the moon and the sun and the pretty little dots that button the sky, but still, he wonders.

The sun and its sunlight, rotations and revolutions.

Will you think about him?

Joshua doesn’t need to wonder—he knows.

The sun is bright today and even though it’s winter, the clouds are nowhere to be seen. It’s a bit of a rare occurrence for the cold months, but Joshua doesn’t mind. When he looks at the blue sky and briefly glances at the sun, his shadow on the stone floor, the reflection of light against the railing, Joshua breathes in the chilly air, filling his lungs deeply.

He knows.

Eight months and you still hear Joshua’s laugh.

You hear it when wind whistles in your ear as you walk to a flower shop to buy a pot. You hear it when you look up at the sun and imagine you’re in the middle of Sol Invictus. You hear it when you crouch down on your balcony, placing the little hyacinth into the pot and packing soil around the base.

You miss Joshua, you miss his smile, and more than anything, you miss his laugh. Right now, as you bathe in the memories of a man so far yet so close, you realize that you can miss him all you want, but you won’t forget. You can’t ever forget.

Ten months later and Joshua’s chest still aches, but he’s okay with that.

He sucks in heavy breaths as his lungs search for air on the fencing match, his trainer leaving the room, leaving Joshua after his request to take a break. Through the rush of blood in his ears, Joshua hardly hears the door behind him open.

“Mingyu told me you’ve been struggling with fencing recently,” his mother says, approaching him. Joshua shuffles in his fencing gear, throwing his helmet to the side.

“I’ve just hit a stump.”

“Something tells me this is more than just a stump,” she inquires as Joshua kicks off his boots.

Joshua scoffs, “What makes you say that?”

“Joshua, what’s wrong?”

He pauses, about to pull off his gloves when he looks up at the Queen. “Everyone in the Royal Counsel knows. I’m sure you know too.”

His mother sighs heavily when he stands up, and she follows him out the training room and toward the Residency Quart. There’s a silence that gaps the mother and son—not that Joshua isn’t used to it. He still smiles and grins, he hugs and he bows, and oftentimes it is genuine, but there’s a silence that always follows. A silence that he never forgets.

A silence he holds when he watches the same kitten you held cross his path when he walks through Sol Invictus, slightly bigger but just as nimble and heart warming. A silence he holds when his eyes gloss over the set of Percy Jackson books in the shelves of his room. A silence he holds when he sinks into his covers and presses his nose to the sheets, wondering if he’ll ever be able to taste your skin on his tongue again.

“I won’t ever understand what went on between you two,” his mother finally says.

“There isn’t anything for you to understand,” Joshua tells her, heading towards his room, but his mother stops him and he narrows his eyes. “What? I felt bad for her, alright? When I saw her all those years ago when it all happened out in the gardens—”

“Joshua, what are you talking about?”

“That’s what you want to know, right? Why I talked to her? Why I—I love her?” His mother gives him a stern look, but Joshua doesn’t relent. He’s starting to realize he’s been too comfortable with this silence. “I never asked you to understand it, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe because I pitied her or felt sorry for her or all the same stuff, and maybe I didn’t think she deserved to be ostracized for something she never did but—whatever. I’m not asking you to understand, but I am asking you to leave it alone.”

“You’re my son, Joshua.”

The Queen is Joshua’s mother and she doesn’t understand. She may never understand, and Joshua is okay with that because if he’s being honest, he doesn't think anyone will ever understand. He’s okay with that too.

You will understand, and for him, that’s enough.

You get two letters from the Royal Counsel in your lifetime. You received the first over a year ago—the one you opened with Mr. Min standing across from you in his little bookstore under dingy lights and over the dusty counter. The one you crumpled up and tossed into the dustbin without as much as a second though. The one that led you down a long, winding path which brought you to Joshua.

You receive the second now, standing in your apartment as you look down, except this time you aren’t staring at a paper, you’re staring at the screen of your laptop. You giggle quietly to yourself; Joshua must have taken the Royal Counsel up on still sending letters.

You’ve only looked at the subject of the email so far. It’s got your name and the word “request” written in bold, and you wonder what they want.

Glossing over the text, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. “The Hong Royal Counsel wishes to find you well, as we present a request.” Same shit, huh? “You will have the opportunity to lead a project as you please and earn a notable compensation in payment for your efforts.” Yeah, pretty much.

It’s the same thing, you realize. They want you back—for what, you aren’t sure, but you have a feeling that it doesn’t really matter. Because signed, at the bottom of the email isn’t the usual, “Hong Royal Counsel,” but instead is, “Hong Royal Family.”

The little sun emblem sits below the signatures of the King and Queen, and you press your eyes shut and hold the screen close to your chest, silently praying under your breath that is not a dream.

You don’t know what happened, don’t know what Joshua told them, but to be frank, you don’t care. You’re smart enough to read between the lines.

I don’t understand, they're telling you, But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

It’s your first day at the castle. Well, your second first day.

When you park your car at the base of the hill, you smile down at the silk over your waist. You abandoned the new ribbon sent to you by the Court, instead donning the one that came to you in a little white box ten months ago. Sometimes, when you hold it close enough, you still think you can smell Joshua’s skin.

You wonder how long you’ll have to wait for him, but as you look up at the sky, you have your answer.

Something speaks to you when you return to 77. Mr. Park is still gruff and cranky but you swear you see the peek-a-boo of a smile on his lips when you walk in. Jihoon’s there too, he greets you regularly.

And of course there’s Seokmin who is hugging you so tight, it reminds you that he is a full grown man and not a child trapped in a large body. You think he almost cries when he laughs with you about how he almost killed the yarrows again (but he brought them back to life! Trust!), and then he beams and tells you that you gotta check out Sol Invictus.

It’s beautiful.

Bright hyacinths that line from east to west and your heart is happy because Seokmin told you he’d get everyone to finish planting them and he did. The purple petals let wind whistle through its stems and leaves, the rustling echoing off the walls of the castle that surround Sol Invictus.

The water of Eridenus gleams under the sun, the stone of your pathways glows brightly, and as your eyes flicker around, you notice something new. In each corner field of Sol Invictus, sits a medium sized sculpture, each of a pegasus but all slightly different in pose and manner.

And then you see him, his back facing you, standing in front of one of the statues that sits in one of the fields on the west end.

Walk the line.

Tracing the pathways—your pathway—from East to West with your shoes clacking their short heels against the tiles—you know he can hear you, but still, he doesn’t move. His hands are neatly holding each other behind his back as his neck tilts slightly upward to stare up at the pegasus.

“Aethon, Aeos, Pyrois, and Phlegon,” Joshua says when you finally stop next to him, shoulders barely brushing against each other. “This one is Pyrois.”

“Helios’ pegasi,” you murmur, glossing over the fine details and intricacies of the statue.

“I thought you might like them.”

You don’t say anything for a moment and grin, watching his eyes light up from the corner of your vision. “I love them.”

“Thank god. You were taking so long to respond, I thought you were going to yell at me for fucking up Sol Invictus.”

You laugh and shake your head, both of you shuffling as you face each other.

“Hi,” you say so lightly it comes out as a breathy laugh when you both finally look each other in the eye.

“Sunshine.” Joshua smiles, holding out his hand. The light is warm when it hits your skin, and Joshua’s dark hair glints a light brown under the beams. You take his hand and run your fingers over the calluses of his palm; his skin is warm when his fingers grasp around yours and as you look at his eyes, you feel it in your bones.

This is Joshua, this is Joshua, and every path you follow will always lead you back to him.

find an alternate ending here!

edit. thanks 4 making it this far! if ur interested i expand on the concept of an isohel more here and little tidbits here, and it's honestly just a ramble but i hope it makes clear why i made some decisions w the story if ur interested :3 a/n. aaah it's done! as per em's request, i will be posting a one-shot of these two and their lives in the future bc i feel like i robbed u guys of a possibly fluffier ending so keep an eye out for that ... anyways, i hope u enjoyed, comments / reblogs would mean the world to me and >_< thank u for reading!

taglist. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @nishloves @woozarts (strikethrough could not be tagged)

[gortashs-skidmark]

Little E.G. Drabble

Premise: You’re his betrothed, his loved- his lover, and he can be a dick about it sometimes.

18+ MNDI NSFW

CONTENT WARNING: Manipulation, lack of efficient communication, NSFW

𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅

To the public, you were Gortash’s Side Piece, his Partner. But when you’re alone, he is your Enver and you are his beloved.

At his public events, you were draped in elegant fabrics. You sat to the right of the back pews, or stood to the back left of him, or at the side of the supper table. Softened features and an elegant stature, you exuded. In reality you were your own person, quite and obedient but not lacking in character by any means.

You painted yourself up when you had to. You loved to do so, it was a special occasion to make yourself pretty. And on the days you didn’t, Enver sent you to Figaro on a whim.

But Enver knew you better, a secret he cherished from the world. You loved to let your hair get frizzy and wild. you would wear mascara to bed. You got up to piss in the night endlessly, and you’d meet his gaze while he read in bed next to you. You’d get shy and turn red. He didn’t sleep often. And you slept in a lot.

You would stutter over your words and go silent, in shock over your stupid fumble. He’d smile with a little bit of teeth when that would happen. You weren’t akin to magic because you lacked concentration. Easily distracted and inconsistent. You got better, he would implement mediation into your schedule.

If anyone knew you, it was Enver. The in’s and out’s and the deepest colors of your soul. He used it against you, and he would apologize but it didn’t change the next time it happened.

He’s a vain, selfish piece of shit, and you want to look past it so you let him repeatedly run you over, thinking maybe that this time, talking to him about the problem would work. But he just swears it won’t happen again and undermines his promises.

You didn’t speak to people when you were out in public with him. Your tongue tripped over itself often and you were deeply afraid of looking stupid. You had a guard or two blocking anyone from reaching your presence to ask you questions. Enver appreciated this insecurity of yours. You might look crazy if you ever lashed out, being quiet and shy and a beauty to the public. He has you pinned under his thumb at all times out of Wyrm’s Rock.

𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕

NSFW below

What he lacks in length, he makes up in girth. Slightly curved, throbbing red thick dick.

He gives me the energy that he would have an erectile dysfunction. Deeply unhappy with himself about it. He would hide it and plan your intimate time accordingly. You wouldn’t always be looking when he would take pill-form herbs for his problem.

Eventually, after awhile of being together, he’d confess. Maybe you’d caught him a few times taking pills but you’d only ask if he was feeling well or needed to stop for the night. You didn’t think beyond a simple tummy ache he might have, as he was prone to those.

It happened because you had told him something very embarrassing about yourself and he had prodded it out of you, you had a few tears to shed about it. He confessed to make it equal, an embarrassing story for an embarrassing condition. He wanted to stop your sniffles he had unapologetically caused.

After he told you, you tried to tell him it wasn’t embarrassing and that you appreciated the honesty in that moment. It wasn’t his fault, yadda yadda, you still think he fucks like a god. But performance was everything to Enver. He still had his self-doubts.

He gives vibes like come warm my cock while I read over these letters and respond to them. Come suck me under the table in my leather apron after I tweak this invention. Let me push you against the wall of this hallway when no one’s around and kiss you deeply.

He’s a tease. More passing and lingering kisses than usual. A little more tongue, and a little deeper for just short kisses and pecks. Sometimes there were more surprise kisses, where your teeth would clack together, and you’d smile into it. Those kisses were his favorite.

It’s a love that has passed its honeymoon phase quickly, and you coordinate accordingly with him. You don’t have to tip toe around him, you respect his schedule and his frantic mannerisms. And after a long busy week, he’s just happy to go home to someone and lay his stress to rest. With fucking, or cuddling skin to skin. A simple service like cutting up fruit for him, laying out his pajamas, or helping him bathe and shave before bed, because he doesn’t do it in the morning. He will be awake and ready to work at the ass crack of dawn with his insomnia.

His breath always kinda has that smell, like he hadn’t eaten. Or he’s only had coffee that day. His clothes are always clean, his cologne is always sweet like rosewood. His skin is rough and dry, covered in a coat of dark hair. You could coerce him into letting you massage him (put some fucking lotion onto his lizard skin) and wash his face. You’d ask for a stack of blini/crepes with jam and butter, and share a plate with him. These were the small forms of intimacy that softened his looks and let his smile reach his eyes.

He definitely loves to admire, top, bottom, in between. His favorite is to press your body down into the silky sheets and have your legs on his shoulders. It felt a bit awkward to you but he loved feeling your skin sweat this way.

Enver doesn’t pound into you, he takes his time. He watches your face very very closely as he tests the water on your body every single time. Eventually he picks up the pace, comfortably. He wants to climax with you, he can acknowledge it's better than ravaging you for himself.

Sex with him is almost the same every time. If he’s stressed, it’s slower and softer, you’re able to take the lead for him. If you had fought before, he takes the lead- aggressively. He’s very sweet after, physically love-bombing your body after he unabashedly bites and bleeds it.

His lips are as plush as they look. You love kissing him every so lightly and ever so softly to capture how they feel. Unaware, he goes in deeper and you pull away. Trying to re-memorize that softness you’re after. He thinks you’re quite a tease this way.

He adored you, you’re his trophy. A gorgeous glimmering perfect trophy. Everything he needs, you’re quiet naturally and have no need to be trained down to a level he can control. You willingly bring yourself to be everything he wants. The partnership looks sicker in his head than yours.

𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕𐌀𐌔𐋅𐌄𐌍ᕓ𐌄𐌓ᏵꝊ𐌓𐌕

Thank you for reading!! :) there's more to come, and I have some more on my masterlist!

[fishsticksloser]

Heartache

Hobie x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, comfort, slight open ending (but I have a feeling I know what most people will pick)

A/N: I didn't expect part one to be so loved. Wow. I'm stunned and just... Really flattered. Thank you guys so much. Apologizes, I don't use text talk at all, I text like I would talk in person. Also! You can now request Spiderverse characters (as long as they're on my masterlist)

Preface  |  Bad

It's been months since Hobie dumped you. You tried to move on, but it was difficult. You had a box of his things to give back, but yet you couldn't part with some of them. The feeling and smell of his hoodies were a comfort, but you knew you had to give them back. Hobie hadn't spoken to you since that night. You texted to ask when and where he'd pick up his things, but got no answer. You missed him. you weren't sleeping, your eating schedule was also messed up. But you didn't blame him or yourself. Sometimes things are just destined to fall apart.

You hear his car outside, which comes as a surprise. He’s never come back here before. The knock on your door echoes throughout the house, sending goosebumps down your body. You approach the door, heart in your throat, and open it slowly, finding Hobie. His face is guarded, eyes downcast, his usual smirk replaced with a tense expression. He holds his keys in one hand, a duffel bag in the other, and your hoodie, freshly laundered. You can smell the detergent, but it doesn’t get rid of his unique scent.

"I'm guessing you're here for you things...?" You ask softly, not expecting him to come here. You step aside for him to come in.

"We need to talk," he says, stepping inside slowly. You’re not sure if you like this new serious vibe of his. It’s almost as if he’s a bit... frightened? He’s always been so sure of himself that seeing this side of him almost makes him feel like a stranger. He shifts his weight nervously and looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond or say something first.

"Okay...?" You mumble, closing the door behind him. You turn to face him, waiting for him to continue. He stares at you for a moment, biting his lower lip unconsciously before he speaks again.

"I miss you." It’s simple, blunt, and leaves you speechless at first. You know you’ve missed him too. He must have noticed that you hadn’t responded to his texts. "It hurts to be without you... And the more I think about it, the more I realize that you’re important to me." He takes a deep breath, looking down at his jeans for a moment before he looks up. "I don’t want to lose you."

You tug on your clothes anxiously, having not slept well since he dumped you and eating less. "You should've thought of that before you dumped me... And said all those things."

"I know… I’m sorry, Y/N. Fuck... I really am." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I made a mistake, okay? I’m here to fix it. Let’s just start from the beginning, we don’t have to go any further than that. Just, please… give me another chance."

You’ve never seen him this serious before, the gravity of his actions seem to have finally hit him. The usual arrogance he exudes is completely gone, instead replaced with humility, and his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them. It’s almost hard to be angry at him—he looks so vulnerable.

"Hobie..." You shake your head and step away, your back against the door. "You-You can't just expect me to welcome you with open arms. You hurt me... Badly..."

"I understand I hurt you. Please, just… let me make it up to you." He continues. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you, Y/N.” His eyes are filled with emotion, raw and vulnerable. Everything inside of him aches knowing that he could lose you because of his stupidity. He reaches out towards you, his hand outstretched, and his gaze is desperate. "What do I have to do to prove to you how much you mean to me, Y/N?" He asks, his voice breaking slightly.

"If you actually wanted to change and try again, you have to do it yourself." You don't move away from his outstretched hand. "I'm not going to tell you how to fix things, you have to do it because I tried... So many times..."

He looks like he’s about to say something—then thinks better of it, looking down. "You’re right." He says finally, nodding slowly. "What do you need from me… to show you that I want this?" He looks up nervously, waiting for your response.

"Show me that you want to try again... And do it right..." You wrap your arms around yourself. "We aren't together anymore, so... Do what you'd do if you wanted to date me... Like when we first met."

"I’ve missed you so much and I know I hurt you… But I promise to make it up to you in any way I can." Hobie glances into the box of his things, the Spider-Totem still poking out from the pile. He smiles and pulls it out, offering it back to you with a sheepish grin. "Do you mind if I have this back?"

"I gave that to you... it's yours." You nod, holding the box out for him to take. "Everything in this box is yours." He takes a moment to look at the box—memories flooding back as he looks at all the things he had left behind. He nods and accepts the box. "Well... You have my number, so... Whenever you decide, let me know."

"I will." He responds, taking another step towards you. This is an important moment for him: he wants to make sure that he gets it right and doesn’t lose you again for his own stupidity. He reaches out for you again, smiling warmly, with that same boyish earnestness he always wears around you. "I promise to be the best partner I can and make it up to you in any way I can."

"Remember... We're starting over... Like the last 3 years didn't happen..."

"'Starting over, from the very beginning'—I know. It means so much to me that you’re giving me another chance.... And I won’t screw it up." He says with a warm smile, stepping through the doorway and waving back at you as he leaves. "I’ll message you soon."

You watch as he walks away—his black hair glinting in the sunlight, as he heads towards his car with the box of his things under his arm. You shut the door once the last of his things are outside and take a moment to consider everything that just happened. Starting over... Starting over. Which means another first date, another first kiss... So many firsts you get to have another try at. And hopefully this time, he stays. It looks like he really is taking you seriously, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so loved and appreciated—even if there’s something in the pit of your stomach that’s telling you to be cautious. It feels good to feel wanted for a change…

🎸⋆⁺₊⋆♱🕷♱⋆⁺₊⋆🎸

It takes almost a week, but finally, you get a text from Hobie.

🕷🖤: Hey! I was thinking maybe we could meet at that cute café we used to go to? I figured it’s a safe, easy place to talk. Does that sound all right with you?

You: Sounds good. What day and time?

🕷🖤: How about tomorrow afternoon? Like… 2 o’clock? I was hoping after that we could take a walk… Is that okay with you?

You know that he’s been busy recently, so you didn’t want to ask for too much of his time.

You: Sounds good to me. I'll meet you there.

The next morning flies by in a whirlwind of anxiety and excitement. It feels like you’re seeing Hobie for the first time all over again. You feel so nervous just thinking about it—the possibility of it finally working out is so much to handle.

You head over to the quaint little café he had suggested, eager to see him. The café has an outdoor seating area that looks pleasant, and you find an empty table. You take a seat and wait for him, fingers nervously fidgeting on the tabletop. After a few minutes, you see him walking in through the cafe’s front door. He looks over at you, and the corners of his mouth turn up in that signature smirk that you never knew you missed. He walks over and takes a seat in the outdoor diner across from you, looking you over and admiring your appearance before smirking again.

"Hey," he says, holding the menu up for the waiter. "You look nice." He adds quietly, with a shy, boyish smile.

"You're late."

"Am not!" He replies, slightly defensive. You can tell he’s not really upset, but he’s clearly trying to hide his embarrassment and cover it up. He tilts his head back and checks his watch before rolling his eyes. "Yeah… you might be right, actually." He scoffs, shaking his head with a smile. You’ve never seen him look quite this… cute.

"10 minutes." You tell him, pushing his coffee to him. You'd ordered it, knowing what he preferred.

"Alright, alright," he says, chuckling. "Just don’t rub it in. I know I messed up." He takes a small sip of his coffee, watching you over the rim of his cup. The shyness he’s showing is very much out of character for him, and his sudden shy demeanor is almost… endearing? You can’t help but notice how handsome he is. The afternoon sunshine hits his gorgeous face in a way that makes you think, Maybe things really will work out this time.

After you finish eating, you go on a walk. You don't hold hands, you don't touch each other at all in fact. Just two friends out for a walk. Two friends that have a bit of history between them. And two friends who might just be trying to rekindle that lost spark.

You wonder if he notices that you’re keeping your distance, too—he’s been pretty careful not to break that touch barrier. He wants to prove that he’s changed, so he’s trying to play it cool at the moment. As much as it’ll eat him alive being so patient, if he wants things to work out, he’s going to stay on his best behavior.

You two walk past a bench in the park, and he gestures to it softly.

"Wanna take a seat?" He asks quietly, sitting down on the bench and spreading his legs out in front of him. He glances at you, a little curious why you’ve been so quiet—usually, you two have small talk for days. Is something the matter? He seems to ask, through his expression alone.

You take a seat next to him. You're not sure what to say. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to speak. You can see the tension rolling off of him by now—he expected a talk here, and he wants to get it over with. He’s been on edge all day, waiting for you to confront him about... something.

When you remain quiet, he looks away slightly, glancing out at the park around you while he waits for you to speak. "If something’s wrong, we should talk it out." He says after a few minutes, his voice quieter than even it was at the coffee shop.

"What you said really hurt me." You confess, looking down as you fidget with your hands. "You told me that your activism and band were more important than me, that I was second place. I guess... I guess I'm have trouble getting past that."

His head drops a little, and he sighs. "I know I have a habit of saying whatever I’m thinking at a certain moment." He explains quietly. "Without thinking about the consequences of… how I word things." He shifts slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he lets out a sigh. "I guess what I… should’ve said in that moment was that I’m always going to fight for what I believe in, no matter what. But that doesn’t mean I care about you any less…"

"But you thought I was less than." You mumble, not looking at him.

"…You’re not," he responds immediately. His voice is soft, and it’s obvious that he really means it this time—like he’s being completely sincere. His feelings for you are real, true, and as deep as ever. "You’re my partner," he continues. "My soulmate. You’ve always been more important than anything else in my life—I just didn’t see it that way, before. You’re right that I prioritized the wrong things, and I’m sorry for making you feel unappreciated."

"I didn't just feel unappreciated." You shake your head, sighing. "I felt unwanted, unworthy..." Then you whisper. "Like maybe it was because you'd found someone else...?"

"God, no, I didn’t!" He replies, shaking his head and looking at you in shock. If he had known that his neglect would make you think that, he swears he would never have acted that way towards you. He regrets being so self-absorbed—he wishes he could take it all back, but he can’t. All he can do now is show you that he’s changed. "I love you," he says, his voice still quiet, as though it might break if he says it any louder.

You look at him shocked. Those 3 words. He'd never said them before. Those 3 stupid words that you'd always wanted to hear him say. He waits for you to respond, his heart pounding in his ear—he can’t believe he finally said it. He really, truly loves you, and hearing himself say it out loud to you is… so freeing. He just wants to feel your arms around him right now. He hopes that you feel the same way about him, too.

"I love you," he repeats, more clearly this time. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips, though it doesn’t fade his nervous expression as he awaits your response. He’s never that before, though he always felt it… now, it’s just nice to be able to say it without any hesitation.

"I love you too..." You answer, still shocked. He smiles, seeming surprised that you answered so quickly. Though the nervousness is still there, he looks like he’s more at ease now. You can see the light in his eyes come back—he still has a long way to go to earn the trust you once had in him, but maybe his feelings are genuine after all—and that makes it easier to believe in him again.

He reaches out to hold your hand. It’s subtle, but something about it is really sweet. He wants to show you that he cares for you. You take his hand without hesitation, your fingers folding together with his. His hand feels warm against yours, and the way the sunlight glistens off of your skin makes you feel all tingly inside. Something about the way he looks at you… as though your relationship was always going to end like this… it makes your stomach twist in the best way possible.

It’s the first step towards getting you back into the place in his heart that you deserve. At least now, he finally knows where his priorities should be. You’re his top priority—always.

You lean forward slightly, an invitation. Yes... Again, you'd made a deal to start over. But after 3 years... Was that really possible? Especially after Hobie finally said those 3 words.

You lean a little closer, and so does he. He looks at you as though he would die if he didn’t kiss you right now. He kisses you tenderly, his other hand coming to rest against the small of your back, holding you close to him. The kiss is gentle, slow, and passionate. At first, neither of you wants to pull away, but as the moment draws to a close after a few minutes, you both part, breathing heavily. God, you could kiss him forever… and you never want this moment to end.

Maybe it really is possible. You always heard that people who loved each other would be able to stay together no matter what—and now, you and Hobie get to put it to the test.

"Do you think we could try again...?" He asks softly, smiling at you. You always knew he was good with his words, and he knows damn well how pretty he looks at the moment. That charming smile of his would be enough to charm anyone, you’re sure of it.

🕷ᵗᵃᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ: @xxmadamjinxx │ @abbiejoker10 │ @freeingrebels │ @xoxobabe │ @jojo-munson │ @maya-custodios-dionach │ @wisteriaflowersss │ @aaura3 │

[winterlogysblog]

Kiane's Kids and Lancelot

It's definitely way too early for me to post this but I can't be stopped and I won't stop.

So, with this I'll show you all how I think Lancelot views his cousins. Lancelot is character the values his family a lot so I think he might be a bit biased when it comes to them.

Let's start with our girl Tioreh. Tioreh definitely thinks Lancelot is so cool and she cheers him on any chance she gets, she ultimately became his hype woman and Lancelot enjoys it, he may not admit it but he does. Also, with Tioreh's nickname streak (we're at 2) she also has a very special little nickname for Lancelot. I also feel like Lancelot is protective of her and he wants her to always be smiling.

Then we have these two beauties. I mentioned it before that I have a feeling that they might be twins and even if they're not they may just be close with age. The one with the pigtails I feel like she's the most assertive one while the one with the bun is the more calm and composed one, they balances each other out pretty nicely. Based on their demeanor, they're the older siblings, they do give big sister energy and I feel like Lancelot sees them that way too. I think Lancelot feels at ease and comfortable whenever they're around because he knows and trust them that things won't get out of hand and any stupid shenanigans won't slide.

I dunno why, maybe it's just me but I think this little guy vibe with Lancelot the most. The both of them just exudes this I don't wanna be bothered energy which I love. Plus, it's really cute how his hoodie is the same design as Lancelot's just with the added sleeves and pockets.

The we have this cute little gremlin right here. She's definitely the youngest maturity wise and I think Lancelot would tolerate her little shenanigans and finds it endearing at times.

Then we have this guy. I do think he too would vibe with Lancelot quite well, he's a lot more playful and would laugh at a few highjicks while Lancelot grumbles. He's the type that would pat Lancelot at the back and eases him into loosening it up a bit.

Then we have Mertyl. I said it once and I'll say it again. Lancelot does not like him.

Bonus:

Nasiens

With all the theories swirling around, if it ended up being true. Oh boy! What kind of face would Lancelot make? How would he feel? That this guy that he traveled with and became great friends with ended up being his long lost cousin. I think I'll cry

[reveluving]

i can only see you ; ken x reader

warnings: fluffy fluff (ken just loves your hugs & kisses!)

a/n: WHERE THE SIMU!KEN FICS AT DAYUM (ok but you can actually read this as Ryan!Ken too!)

» fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

Ken loves your hugs. Like, if hugs were illegal, he'd probably face 32 years in prison for just how much he adores embracing you, and he'd do it again, no regrets, no questions asked.

He especially loves it if you're just passing by while doing your own thing, only to wrap your arms around him while he's sitting down. He'd rest his head on your tummy or chest, looking up at you as though you hung the moon.

The moment only gets sweeter if it's a rainy day; just the sounds of rain pitter-patter against the windows and the neon lights of the busy road coming through it. Not that he'd ever decline your affection on any other days, but the gloomy showers that he's not exactly used to since coming to the real world only makes your presence, let alone hugs and kisses so much more meaningful.

The best part is getting to hear you giggle whenever he nuzzles your tummy. He won't let go, not even if you try to take a step back—imagine a comical imagery with his ass remaining seated while he stretches his body because letting you go is not an option.

You'd cradle his jaw, stroking the apple of his cheeks with your thumbs before giving him a kiss the tip of his nose, then one on his left cheek, then another on the right, another one on his forehead. Ending each peck with a loud smooch!

Just kisses after kisses, not leaving a single part of his handsome face untouched.

By the time you're done, he has this dreamy look on his face. Blinking slowly with a stupid smile on his face. The embodiment of kicking his feet in the air, like that one GIF.

"What was that for?" He'd asked, huffing a little laugh like a man who had a drop too much.

"Nothing," You'd shrug, grinning, "Just felt like kissing you."

Bonus if you have lipstick on! Doesn't matter what the colour is or if they're sheer, creamy or glossy. Ooh, he just wears them like a medal!

Expect to be paid the same way, but in a more romantic way possible. He'd dip you, sway with you to a soft/city-pop or lofi-ish song, or kiss along your arms before locking his lips with yours.

Being hugged and kissed by you is one thing, but being called 'handsome' as his default petname is just the most delicious buttercream icing on the cake! Like, he could just he vibing and suddenly, you'd come up behind him to peck on his temple before asking, "What're you doing, handsome?"

And he'd melt. Oh my God, he'll just sag in your hold, and once you pull away, he'll chase after your lips with his own readily puckered up.

Impressing you everyday is the key to life, or so he says. Doesn't matter if it's a backflip, serenading, perfecting a recipe of yours or even just surviving the day, he'd do it all, because he has you by his side. Your cuddles and/or kisses of appreciation is the best kind of payment of them all.

And no matter how much confidence he exudes, he can only hope his love is just as meaningful to you as yours does him.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

P.S. In need of some Simu!Ken thoughts PLS DON'T LET MY INBOX GO DRY SEND SOFT THOTS. I REPEAT. WE NEED MORE OF MR KEN LIU 🗣🔊🔊❗

[cyborg-franky]

I am kind of dead guys, sorry. But I can finally post these works I've had tied up in a project! @op-xreader-zine

Thatch x M Reader [reader is called 'handsome'] SFW Modern AU WC: 1.500

Thatch nodded to the barmaid as she poured him another drink, sliding it across the bar to him. He gave his thanks along with a bright smile and a wink and the woman rolled her eyes but the smile didn’t leave her face. Thatch was a regular here and they were all used to his charm and flirty ways.

Leaning against the bar, he glanced around the crowd, the darkness of the dance floor, neon lights decorating the walls. Every table was cast into bright colors as the lights chased each other across the floor, towards the stage, and back again. He always came here Friday night, and he loved watching the live band performances, regardless of if the music was to his personal taste or not. 

He just loved the vibrancy of this bar, people having a good time, and letting go after a hard day. Thatch adjusted, taking a swig of his drink, seeing the door open and only just seeing it in the corner of his eye. He didn’t normally pay any mind to new people who swung open the doors but tonight was different.

Tonight Thatch saw him. 

Love at first sight seemed like a stupid concept for someone his age but there was definitely interest at first sight. Thatch watched the stranger walk to the bar, leaning on the bright white glowing surface as he waited for the barmaid.

His eyes trailed over the man in front of him, taking in every feature and how he was dressed. Thatch brushed back a loose strand of hair, adjusted the leather jacket on his shoulders, and sauntered over to him.

“Here for the band?” Thatch asked, striking up a conversation, wearing his award-winning smile, and putting on the charm. 

“Yeah, I’ve been a fan for a while,” you said with a nod, watching Thatch’s expression and admiring the man's face: the crow's feet and laugh lines, the large pompadour, and his nicely put-together outfit.

“Good choice, I like a man with taste!” Thatch beamed and waved over the barmaid. “What are you havin’?” 

You didn’t normally let people try and pick you up in a bar, but he seemed different. The warm bubbly energy exuding from him, the smile on his face, he had a nice vibe about him. And well, he was pretty handsome. 

“Surprise me,” you said, smiling, watching as he quirked an eyebrow, his smile just growing before the barmaid headed towards them.

“I like someone who's up for trying new things!” Thatch chuckled and grabbed the cocktail menu that was on the bar, setting it down flat and glancing over the assortment of bright and wild concoctions, seeing if he could read the sort of person you were. You watched with interest as he paused at a few, seeing his finger dance over the options on the laminated menu.

“Can I get two of this one please?” The handsome man ordered two of the bright red cocktails. The barmaid nodded and went to work creating the drinks.

“I’m Thatch by the way, nice to meet you.” You glanced down at the hand offered to you, grinning as you shook it. His hand was bigger than yours, the handshake firm, like the feel of a good friend you haven't seen in ages. 

You gave your name and couldn’t help the pang of disappointment when he pulled his hand back just in time for the barmaid to set down the drinks. “Well then, cheers to a great night of good music and new friends?” He quirked a brow as he held his drink up.

“Cheers!” You clinked your glass against his before bringing it to your lips, sipping the drink and then nodding, making a happy noise. “This is good, it’s like you know me already,” you said and plucked out the cherry that was bobbing on the surface, munching it with another pleased nod, enjoying the sweetness it brought.

“Well, I still plan on getting to know you even more throughout the night, that is, if you want to?” Thatch was trying to act nonchalant but you could tell he was hoping for some company tonight, and honestly? He was nice, handsome, and your type.

“Sounds good!”

–

The night was going great. Before the band started up you and Thatch enjoyed a few drinks, talking about your lives. You found out he shared an apartment with a friend, that he owned his own restaurant, what he was into and you shared your life with him. He was hanging on to your every word, asking plenty of questions.

It had been too long since you had this sort of banter with someone and you were enjoying your time with Thatch immensely. You bought this round, rum and cokes, as you heard the singer of the band announce they were about to start.

“Let's go then handsome.” Thatch smiled and offered you his arm, which happily you took. Both of you headed to the stage. He was so tall and stocky he didn’t have to try very hard to get near the front. 

The performance was amazing. You felt the loud music rumble in your body, the vibrations running along the floor and up your legs. You sang along with every song and even though Thach didn’t know the words he would still smile at you, seeing how into the show you were. He’d sway with you when the softer songs played and made sure no one bumped into you.

It was nice—more than nice, it was amazing. The band soon finished up their set and you both sat down at a table, another drink in your hands; this time it was a green cocktail with a slice of lime bobbing in it.

“What did you think of the band?” you asked, wanting to know what he thought, interested in his opinion, interested in him.

“Not my normal kind of music but I could see myself listening to them once in a while, yeah. What about you? Didn’t disappoint I hope?” Thatch asked as he leaned forward on folded arms.

“Nothing about tonight has been a disappointment.” You smiled at him, sipping your drink.

You spent ages with him, chatting, joking and just basking in one another's company. You liked Thatch, liked him a lot actually. And as much as you didn’t want the night to end, the bell ringing to signal closing time would have to be when you parted ways.

“Oh shit, the last bus was hours ago,” you groaned as you glanced at the time on your phone. Thatch sighed and played with his beard, running his fingers through it, trying to think what to do.

“This isn’t me trying to be creepy, but where do you live?” 

“Oh like, thirty minutes from here?” You didn’t fancy the walk home this late; even with the street brightly lit, you felt anxiety spike before you heard him laugh. 

“Yeah, me too! Would you like me to walk you home?”

“I— would you mind?” you asked and he shrugged. 

“Not at all. Plus I get to spend more time with a handsome guy, why would I mind?”

You couldn’t tell if it was the cocktails that warmed your cheeks or the words he’d said, either way, you could feel the heat rising. You nodded and followed Thatch out of the bar, the cool summer air hitting your flushed face and making you shiver, rubbing your arms as goosebumps pricked over your skin.

“Want my jacket?” he asked, already shrugging it off before you could decline. As Thatch helped you into it, you couldn’t help but feel safe and warm in the oversized jacket, smelling his cologne. He was a find, wasn’t he?

Once again, he offered you his arm and you took it without hesitation. The sky was dark, dotted with a few bright stars, the ones determined to shine their brightest even with the city streets below lined with lights. You liked Thatch, you liked how deep and pleasing his voice was. The silly comments and jokes that had your face hurting from how much they made you grin.

Trees lined the sidewalk, covered in string lights, bringing a certain magically romantic feeling to the walk with him. You felt like a teenager with how your heart raced and you kept stealing glances at him. 

“So this is your street, sir?” Thatch asked and let you move away. 

“Yeah, it is.” You couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that the night was ending.

“So, maybe we’ll see each other another time?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head, and you nodded. 

“Yeah, I guess so...”

Then something came over you, something you didn’t normally do but Thatch was different “Unless you want to come in for a coffee? And I mean actual coffee and not you know,” you added, cheeks flushed before he chuckled and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Sounds good.”

A chance meeting had ended up the start of amazing possibilities and you thanked the stars in the sky you’d decided to go out that evening. 

Thatch felt like every wish on a shooting star to find someone perfect had come true.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies about us, about latest drawings, about twst in general and about other stuff.

I also added some new high resolution pngs of recent drawings on our Ko-Fi shop in case you want them… 👀

Anonymous asked:

I went to go check on your second account today (I was on a trip recently and wasn't checking twitter). But I couldn't find it? Was it nuked?

Yeah, but it’s back now! Fortunately…

Anonymous asked:

long time lurker, first time asker here bc OMG 14 YEARS?? CONGRATS!!! MAY YOU TWO HAVE MANY MORE 🥳

Awwhhh thank you so much, Anon!! <3 This is very sweet!

Anonymous asked:

14 years?! Tbh it feels so weird knowing people on the site are in relationships and such. It always feels like everyone here is just depressed single 20-somethings screaming about fandoms at each other all the time HAHAHA

I wish the both of you nothing but the absolute best!!! Seeing the both of you keep unabashedly being you even in the face of hate and shitty antis and whatnot just helps me so much with my own courage. I used to be a huge people pleaser, and it’s been so refreshing to instead ignore all the nasty people out there and just be my own problematic shipping self! I’m sure it’s the same for many others as well!

Of course, I can’t go on without mentioning your absolutely delicious art! They’re so gorgeous I’m always super excited whenever you upload! You really knocked it out of the park with the recent Sebek/Jamil piece. I’m frothing at the mouth seeing Jamil’s dark expression!!!

Also please give Mila lots of pats for me. She’s super cute and I love her face <3

I get it, Anon lol To be honest, I feel like if I weren’t lucky enough to meet Katsu, I would’ve been single as well. Maybe Katsu would too.

Thank you so much for your kind words!! I am super happy to hear that the way we deal with these issues help you out as well in a way. I say it a lot, but I can’t stress it enough: I really want people to be self-indulgent when it comes to fandoms and art… please, keep enjoying stuff that you like! <3

And thank you for enjoying my art, especially that Sebek/Jamil one! It’s funny because it was one of the sketches that I didn’t like too much initially, but Katsu did, so I worked on it a little bit, fixed some stuff, and ended up liking it as well. So it’s extra nice to hear that it ended up being a good drawing.

(Mila got both pets AND smooches with the words “this is from our tumblr Anon”.)

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

About your new Halloween illustration: Sebek looks like he's trying so hard to look cool in front of his Malleus-sama where Jamil is exuding cool guy mafia vibes.

About the Actual Kitty Shroud Brothers: ASTAJSKSINDHH ♥️♥️♥️♥️ OMG SO CUDDLY CUTE AND PAWSSS *ahem* I love how you can clearly tell which is which and the personality between each one.

Jamil is just so effortless! He is way to cool… Poor Sebek gotta try harder lol He really wants to be the coolest and most handsome gent around.

And THANK YOU SO MUCH I’m so happy you liked the kitties!! I want to draw more kitties now… 🥹

Anonymous asked:

"(gym teacher/badly performing student)"

Gee, I wonder who

(related to a reply about Vargas being a top)

Hmmm, could it be a certain third year that was forced to do punishment exercises during the Vargas Camp? Who knows…

Anonymous asked:

Curious if you've ever thought of it. Have you ever considered a Human or Beastman! Grim?  Top or Bottom? Who would fit him the best out of the cast?

Good question, Anon!

Ironically, I find it kind of difficult to imagine Grim as a human or a beastman, and whenever I try, I imagine something similar to his animal form – a hungry little gremlin lol I should draw his humanised form at least once!!

He’d probably be a bottom. The type that acts big and cool but in actuality just wants to be coddled and cuddled. The type that does something stupid and reckless and then looks down all guilty and mumbles that he’s sorry. He’s also an “ore-sama” type of character, and for some reason we tend to see those as bottoms, so I guess that tracks lol

As for the ship, I don’t really know… maybe Ace? Or Yuu since he is the one that ends up taking care of this animal lol But also Stitch because why not.

Anonymous asked:

Have you ever watched spy x family? It might not sound interesting with how family friendly is but I have a feeling you could like the main male lead and his bratty dark haired brother-in-law

Unfortunately, Anon, it’s a bit too straight and family-focused for us; I doubt we’ll be able to push through the main characters’ dynamic and story :(

Still, thank you for your recommendation!

Anonymous asked:

Are you interested in romance games? If so you should check Touchstarved, good world-building set in an post apocalyptic medieval era, the love interests are eye catching and if creating a oc to ship with is not your cup of tea the guys dynamics between each other have a lot of shipping potential~ (two are exes/fuck-buds/situationship)

I think I heard about it, but never really dived deeper into it. We’re not suuuper interested in romance games, but it looks interesting! We’ll keep it in mind :)

Thank you for your recommendation!

[crystalelemental]

Full tier list is here, breaking down the F-tier. Time to expose my Hater Tendencies.

Red Realistically, Red is not inherently awful, my hate is a byproduct of the franchise itself constantly pushing him as the biggest most importantest trainer ever to live, and I despise that. He exudes nothing to me. I think his challenge in GSC also sucks, the remakes actually made it way worse, and Let's Go's conditions are so annoying I refused to even entertain the idea. I have no respect for him, and think the general fanon perception of selective mutism is giving credit where it's not due. He's just supposed to be strong and silent warrior man archetype, which is boring as sin, and people are out here making him actually interesting. Stop it. I'm trying to be a hater.

Brendan "Your dad's a gym leader so I thought you'd be a guy." "Unlike you, your dad seems tough." Brendan is a piece of shit masquerading as your first "nice" rival and I never got over the bad vibes. Fuck this dude.

Flint He looks stupid, and is in love with Volkner. Atrocious taste.

Thorton He's just kind of a dweeb, and then Masters had a really early event where he's supremely rude to Hilda for literally no reason. His vibes are rancid.

Flannery Every tier has one I look at and go "I am being a little unfair, but I must be true to my feelings." Flannery is that pick. I cannot stand Flannery for entirely unfair reasons, but nothing gets me past it. I'm sorry, it's an ongoing hangup, but I cannot get over how much I hate when they make a female character whose thing is being shy or self conscious, and put her in a revealing outfit. Like come on. I know what this is and I'm mad about it. Consider her my entry point onto some guys being just really skeevy about female character designs.

Volkner "Oh, I'm so bored of battling because no one is a challenge to me, guy who isn't even on the Elite Four." Get over yourself, loser.

Klara/Avery I'm lumping them together. I hate them both equally. Galar is already fighting an uphill battle with its atrocious aesthetic, and these two being petty losers is doing nothing to help their case.

Sordward/Shielbert I mean...do I really need to explain? His head is a penis. Literal dickhead. Worst post-game segment of the series.

Ball Guy Originally omitted, decided to include just to shit on garbage reddit meme culture. Masters, you fucked up putting this thing in here.

Mohn/AZ Okay, these two are the actual, beyond all else, bottom of the barrel losers. Why? Because they are the only inclusions that I think actively harm their games. In the case of Mohn, the only emotional center Gen 7 has is the Aether Fam, and the husband/father is literally just hanging out on an island. We know where he is. He's the bean man. And this angst gets absolutely annihilated over the fact that he's literally just right the fuck here. USUM even has him interact, only to shut down a real resolution with him. Like great Lusamine, glad you've decided to move on, that is a choice, but like. We're all really going to pretend like this wasn't the entire core of the issue and just let it all go in a half-cooked scene? I wish he never showed up.

AZ is much the same. His presence as an eternal entity wandering the earth bothers me, because honestly bro, it's been 3000 years. Do you know how quickly people change who they are? I'll give you a hint, it's fewer years than that. And at no point was there any real attempt to like. Reflect or undo his previous actions? Like you could've dealt with the machine since you knew where it was, man. You could've done literally anything. And his resolution is supposed to be one (1) battle with you where he suddenly feels like he can just let go of the weight of his sins of creating a doomsday weapon that runs on Pokemon life and committing a genocide with it. Hooray. Glad we wrapped that up. He should've just been a cautionary tale that existed in history, not a literal guy who continues to be here. I hate him so much.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hej! so first of all I'd like to thank you for all the amazing work you do, honestly you're my hero.

second, I wanted to know if you know any fanfictions with both stiles and derek point of view (preferable they being enemies at the beginning) because I've been looking for some like this and can't find. thanks!

I love alternating POV. Here's some with enemies to lovers for you.

Witch in my woods by changez

(1/1 I 5,003 I Teen)

Leaving his pack, Stiles is inexplicably drawn to the West Coast. Unbeknownst to Stiles, someone is inexplicably drawn to him.

only you can mend by bibliosexual

(1/1 I 7,226 I Mature)

The roommate part seems like the best idea of them all, at least for the first day or so of knowing him, before Stiles shows up.

Scott McCall is nineteen, athletic and cheerful with a surfer-bro kind of vibe. There’s something about his face, his goofy puppy grin and floppy hair and warm brown eyes, that reads as inherently wholesome. Derek likes that a lot. He likes the way Scott introduces himself with an easy, “Hey, man, nice to meet you,” and he likes the gentle yet firm way he shakes Derek’s hand. He’s the opposite of everyone Derek associated with in New York. He’s the kind of person Derek needs right now in his life. He’s going to be the perfect roommate.

And then there’s Stiles Stilinski.

How to Uncook an Egg by suburbanmotel

(1/1 I 15,406 I Mature)

It's all fun and games until someone gets their stupid feelings puked on.

//

Derek stares. “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

Stiles groans and surges forward, mouth on Derek’s mouth, hands in Derek’s hair, on the sides of his face, the back of his neck.

“No strings attached, ok?” Stiles says, breathless, against the side of Derek’s face, his jaw, his ear. “We can do that, if that’s what you want.”

“Is that whatyouwant?” Derek says. His hands are under Stiles' shirts, sliding against smooth smooth skin, up his sides around to his back, down the notches of his spine, everything warm and smooth. “Is it?”

Stiles just kisses him hard, harder and Derek just keeps kissing him back.

Or:

Derek never stays the night. Stiles pretends he doesn’t mind.

Baby and the Body by never_love_a_wild_thing

(8/8 I 28,179 I Teen)

Stiles recreates models' Instagram photos with his baby. At a fashion show one day, he runs into the model who's pictures he uses most often (and most ironically). Somehow they work through the animosity and find a family.

From The Wreckage by orphan_account, Winchesterek

(5/5 I 58,058 I Explicit)

The only thing Stiles wanted was a little freedom. He wanted to be able to walk where he wanted in the forest, wanted to be able to do what he wanted when he wanted and most of all he wanted to be an adult, especially because he was one. The last thing he wanted was to feel trapped by the Argent's rules about curfew. He understood that there were werewolves and getting too close to the were-border was dangerous, but hell if he was going to let that stop him from having a little fun.

Needless to say, fun was overrated and all Stiles wanted was to go home to his friends and father now.

Tell Me It's a Sure Thing by ofherlionheart

(10/10 I 67,451 I Mature)

Beacon Hills is a small town, something of a supernatural haven from hunters, but only because the Nemeton exudes so much twisted energy and attracts such ugly nasties on the regular that no hunter wants to get within a hundred miles of it. It is the hollow sanctuary where Derek and Lydia, like many others before and after them, ended up after fleeing from the nightmare of their old lives.

Then M. Stiles Stilinski arrives. Bodies begin to appear, hunters become bold enough to venture across town lines, and secrets begin to surface. But somehow, in spite of the growing chaos … Stiles is making it better.

You Don't Always Get What You Want by deadly_nightshade, Nerdy_fangirl_57

(7/? I 63,105 I Mature)

Stiles doesn't understand what he could have done to deserve this. Not only has the entire student body been out to get him since he first stepped foot into Beacon Hills High, but now he has to endure the constant bullying without his best friend Scott by his side. All in all school is survivable, even with all the harassment. That is until he finds out that Derek Hale, basketball superstar and Stiles' most persistent bully, is apparently his soulmate. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Derek can't believe this. It has to be a joke, it has to, because there is no way in hell that a freak like Stilinski could ever be his soulmate. He despises him more than anyone in the universe. So what if Derek thinks he has a cute nose, no one needs to know. Besides it doesn't matter anyway, he still hates Stilinski with every fiber of his being, his cute nose doesn't change a thing.

let slip the dogs of war by creationmyth

(12/12 I 86,920 I Explicit)

He stares at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are faintly blotchy, flush sparsely coloring down his neck. His eyes look glassy and half-crazed. “Get it the fuck together,” he growls lowly to his reflection. “You loseeverything. Get fucking used to it.”

He can’t stop thinking about it. How Derek looked at him, said his name reverently rather than disdainfully.

Stiles sits on the shower floor, shivering even though the spray is far too hot. He keeps replaying the words over and over -sometimes the person someone shows us and the person we choose to see are two different people.

For the first time, Stiles takes a moment to seriously consider that perhaps he has never known Derek Hale at all. 

[blackberry-command-cap]

SWTOR OC catalog 🧀🧀

yea ok I don't have energy for fancy formatting but have some rambling descriptions (I guess it's fine tho bc if I gave introductions in real life it would not be any more coherant (more often than not I go to introduce someone and turns out I had their name wrong for WEEKS) )

but yes here are all my SWTOR OCs

Ga’eon Kachymov AKA Glen Iruusi AKA Lord Srije Narakati AKA TBD (Yes I like coming up with names why do you ask)

tagged oc: worst sith ever (+ anxiety)

Male Mirialan Sith Warrior. Complete cinnamon roll and worst possible person to be a Sith (affectionate). Baras took advantage of his inclination to trust (AKA gullibility) and messed him up big time. Anxiety and Imposter Syndrome made worse by the constant threat of death. But he’s got Vette and the Force and his love for plants, so it'll probably be okay?

Hopefully going to end up married to Jaesa Willsaam (but in my head she’s a totally different person) with two+ Mandalorian kids but either of them could definitely mess that up between here and the end of the class story.

Currently playing through Corellia (home stretch let's goooo)

A’la’zena AKA Cipher Nine

tagged oc: a'la'zena

Female Twi’lek Agent. My best attempt at Chaotic Good. Arrogant, contrary and despises feeling controlled more than anything else (Act II was nearly enough to turn her genocidal and it probably would have succeeded if not for bugboi). Always does the right thing but by her standards, not anyone else’s. Enjoys luxury and partying with her BFF Kaliyo. After Act III, took the Black Codex and disappeared. Now she runs a grassroots Space Illuminati 2.0: Chaotic Good version. Yes, it’s probably going to fail spectacularly. Yes, she’s pink. Don’t tell her.

Happily married to her emotional support bug with one adopted kid who will have no hope of a normal childhood. Shae’zena’s sister.

Currently done with the class story, with no intention of doing the expansions and plans to do a second playthrough.

Master Periflynn AKA the Bar’san’thor AKA area man officially so done with this

tagged oc: periflynn (tired)

Male human Consular (HC him as near human species that lives far longer). Practical above all else and duty bound to the Jedi. The only sane person in the entire Republic and very tired of dealing with everyone else’s messes. There to get things done and has no patience for pointless rhetoric or stupid people. Please stop putting him in management.

Proficient deadpan snarker, slicer, mechanic, and swoop bike pilot. Geeks out about software with Theran Cedrex. Nadia drags him to all the important ceremonies he’s supposed to appear at. Despises impractical ceremonial robes more than anything.

Diligently following the Jedi “no romantic attachments” policy and completely fine with that.

Currently done with the class story, with plans to play through the expansions at some point.

Captain Shae’zena

tagged oc: chaotic woke ✌️☮️🌼

Female Twi’lek Smuggler. Biggest ray of sunshine ever who also kicks butt. Flower child california hippie vibes. Takes nothing seriously except when innocent people are getting hurt, and then she's deadly serious. Founder of the Feminism Brigade; supports #killiklivesmatter

Largely exists because all my other OCs are very polite and serious, and I wanted at least one chill snarker who can say all the things that the others would think but not say.

Corso Riggs and *sigh* Doc currently under consideration for the position of bf. Depends on whether he (either of them) learns to respect her or not. Theron is also a definite possibility :D

Currently on Alderaan, with plans to play through at least KOTET.

Other, less developed OCs/OCs I may or may not actually play

Ffeud - Male Chiss Agent. Manipulative bastard who also somehow exudes the overwhelming impression that he is a trustworthy friend who would never lie to you and never did anything wrong. Unclear how he does it, because every aspect of that impression is completely wrong. Potentially force sensitive? A’la’zena immediately hates his guts.

Valkerie Beausoleil - Female Human Inquisitor. Literally and figuratively the black sheep of the Beausoleil family due to her ✨raven black hair✨ and strong force sensitivity. Disowned by her family, she becomes Sith anyway, determined to free the Empire from the rule of old complacent traditionalists set in their ways.

[hughungrybear]

Thoughts on I Feel You Linger in the Air

Finally finished watching this series and I've got feelings 😅

First of all, I am in utter awe of Nonkul Chanon. I have watched this man play leading roles in several Thai lakorns (see Hormones, Bad Genius, 46 Days, The Revenge, and Find Yourself, to name a few), and he always exudes "teen heartthrob" vibes. However, he really managed to sell his role as the hopeless gay romantic, Jom, quite effectively.

Second, though I like the series, in some ways, I feel like I missed some crucial plot details despite watching the uncut version. Yes, it was established early that Yai and Jom were fascinated with each other because of their shared dreams/visions before Jom time-travelled to Yai's era. However, it still feels like we skipped a few steps when Yai confessed his romantic feelings for Jom. Between Episodes 5 and 6, there's not much of a courtship between the two. Suddenly, we have boyfriends 😅

Third, I have so many reservations about the master-slave dynamics of this series. I know the imbalance between their stations in life is central to the plot. However, even in this modern age, Asian master-househelp romance is still frowned upon. We are still being disinherited and ostracized for daring to love and marry somebody "below" our station. As such, I did not have much faith that the romance between Yai and Jom (or between Eeang Peung and Maey) would have a "happy ending". Moreso since it's a same-sex romance. This ain't an era of acceptance. So, the way the series implied that the only way for these lovebirds to have a happy ending is in the present time, where they are essentially equals, makes a lot of sense.

Fourth, I would also like to applaud the villains in this series. I have been watching Thai series for the longest time, and this is one of the few times that I desperately wanted to reach inside my computer screen and wring multiple characters' necks for their greed and stupidity. Honestly, it's a toss between Robert and Lumyai whom I wanted to kill first 😅. Next on my list are Yai's parents and that fvcking matchmaker/master arsonist, Uncle Dech. I just get soooo irritated watching their scenes. (However, I would like to apologise to Fongkaew. I thought she was just a natural-born cheater - much like her reincarnation. Turns out, she's not only an okay character, she's also a badass 😅).

Fifth, I like Ming. I sincerely want to see him live a happy life regardless of the era he is in. He is inherently good, plus he is the only one who can see how truly shitty their situation as a slave is. Also, it takes great courage and kind heart to continue loving someone without asking anything in return. Other characters that I love are Auntie Prik and James. I also want them to be happy whichever era they are in.

Despite its brilliance, I doubt if I'll ever re-watch this series. I don't have it in me to repeat all the whirlwind emotions I felt while watching this series. Now, where is my ice cream? 😅

[devisrina]

thoughts on the final hsmtmts trailer?

I'm glad that Kourtney gets her time to shine and that she is working through her anxiety and doing better. Her vibes are spectacular.

RINA - Ricky sneaking into her bedroom door, omg, it was beautiful. Also, Gina's room is so pretty. It reminds me of the bedroom in Drake and Josh.

I can already feel the hate that Gina is receiving. She and Ricky got presented badly in the Doc, it would be better for them if they lay low until the hype dies down. She does care about Ricky and would obviously want to be public with him, but the timing of their fame plays a factor in this.

I can't wait to see more of Gina's dancing skills.

I mean, it was kind of obvious that their friends would pick up on Ricky and Gina being a couple.

I feel bad for Miss Jen. They really need more drama kids to be in their hsm 3 production.

It was exciting to see some of the old hsm cast and coach bolton presenting hsm 4 with open auditions.

I am annoyed with the Mack plot, I just hope Gina doesn't get hate from the fandom for this. It's kind of stupid.

I love Monique giving Kourtney advice.

YAY Maddox and Jet are back. Hopefully Jetney will be a thing and Madlyn.

Ricky being a nerd is so adorable. I love the Seth Cohen vibes he exudes.

I love all the rina dancing scenes.

Ricky crying, I love his character growth so much.

But yeah, there are my thoughts. I can't wait to watch more. I can't wait to see the rina endgame. Can't wait to see Ricky graduate and where he takes his life next. Hopefully we get a proper send off, I love the whole cast. Honestly the trailer left a lot to be excited for.

[solar-halos]

do u ever think about the way olivia rodrigo invented music

just kidding i know the emotions she sings about have existed since the beginning of time but im just now realizing that if i was born in the taylor swift era i would 100% be a swiftie bc i was thinking abt olivia rodrigo’s music the other day and unironically had the thought “wow she literally invented having emotions” before i managed to catch myself. but honestly i think it’s crazy how accurately she captures all these feelings of insecurity and heartbreak (and now joy!) so perfectly!!

“lacy” and “pretty isn’t pretty” seem so similar on the surface, but i feel like lacy is more of a gradual realization that no matter what u do—or how ur actually perceived—you will never feel as feminine as u want to. there will always be people (aka Lacy) who are gonna be effortlessly elegant and beautiful and feminine and feeling jealous of that is so fuckin stupid but that doesn’t stop u from caring. and then i like “pretty isn’t pretty” bc i feel like that’s the aftermath of Lacy. idk the part abt her trying every shade of lipstick really hit bc when i was first experimenting w makeup i remember feeling so insecure that none of them seemed “my” color. also i really like the gradual buildup of “it’s in my phone/head/magazines/the boys i bring to bed” bc i feel like that describes the pipeline so well

anyway now let’s get into the new songs she released. i’m actually not sure if they’re new bc when i searched it up after it popped up on my spotify google said she released this back in 2023? so idk. but her youtube channel literally has this all released within the last few days. but my favorite thing about these songs is how im in the same era she’s in rn. that happened to me with “sour” and “guts” reopened a lot of those old wounds, so i absolutely love the healing theme (? i know that’s not the right word but it’s hard to think rn) this album has. let’s start off with obsessed since that popped up for me first

obsessed? yeah, obsessed with this fucking song. seriously. “if you knew how much i thought about her you’d think i was in love” already starting off on a banger. also i watched the mv and i loved it. this song literally couldn’t have came at a more perfect time, yall ever just randomly remember that ur s/o has dated ppl that aren’t u before? chilling realization, really

scared of my guitar? “i can’t lie to it the same way i like to you”? “i lay in your arms and pretend that it’s love”? “i’d rather be tied to someone even if they’re wrong”? oh my god. i was literally thinking about this the other day. like, being in a relationship bc u want to be or if it’s bc you’re scared of being by yourself. and i also like the fact that it’s insinuating that the other person is the better half. bc sometimes it does feel like literally just loving someone when you struggle so much with the thoughts i mentioned is just the same as stringing them along. but then also i think it’s nice to pretend you’re in love bc obviously at the beginning of a relationship you have no idea if it’s ever going to go that far, so i think we often fall in love with the idea of being loved. which sounds a bit corny when i put it like that, but scared of my guitar made *me* feel like a tortured poet bc i used to be like “im chill ! :o)” and then open up ao3 and write a billy taupe/lucy gray story like girl…. that’s not the same as olivia rodrigo being folksy and cute

speaking of being folksy and cute, “girl i’ve always been” is so folksy and cute! i literally hate country music so fucking much (i’m sorry… one time this guy in hs played God’s Country in front of the class for a presentation and he stood there kinda ominously so ever since then i’ve kinda hated it) but this song was nice i liked it! i like the confidence it exudes, someone already mentioned this in the comments but it really is giving off lucy gray vibes, especially “with venom on my tongue u ask me who i’ve become” like okayyy someone needs to write a billy taupe/ lucy gray inspired story abt that line immediately. i don’t really have much more to say since this one was the one i found the least personally relatable, but i love the sassiness of it all!!

stranger. this one was a FUCKING banger, this was the sort of era i was in when guts released so im so glad miss olivia rodrigo could put the feeling of realizing u don’t *need* someone u thought u literally couldn’t live without into words. “i always thought it was some comforting lie ppl told” literally. also the call back to “enough for you” by saying “if im not enough for you then you’re not enough for me either” :,). i think growing up is quite nice

so american. fav! <3 <3 <3. “he’s like a poem i wish i wrote” hands down my favorite lyric fucking ever. i LOVE this song. like i said with “lacy” and “pretty isn’t pretty” bleeding into each other, i think the same applies w this song and “scared of my guitar.” like after u get over ur fear of ur guitar u realize that ur so american and suddenly wanting to get married and be in love doesn’t seem so selfish anymore. i really, really love this song (if i haven’t already mentioned that)

sorry, i know this was a long post! stranger had me bursting into tears so i told Boyfriend i needed to write in my “notes app” abt it so everyone say hi Boyfriend. but seriously im feeling so american rn i literally was like “leave me alone and don’t touch me im feeling explosively emotional” and he was like ok! here’s some fruit. and then now im writing on my phone about songs i love. like is there any better feeling??

[heretyc]

Now I Become Death, Destroyer of Mount Massive Asylum

I. LOVE. THIS. Miles is my favourite protagonist [for obvious reasons!!] so this'll be fun :D

I'll be combining both in a way. I loved them too much lol

And I love specifics! Don't apologize!! Specifics are extremely helpful. I love you for this 🥰🙌

I added a little extra bit at the end, if that's okay? Just to add some more angst and floof. <3

(❁)----------------------------------------------------------------------

"You sure you wanna do this, Miles?"

Other than the jeep's engine running, it was totally silent within the car. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, and the sun was setting in the mountains, making the sky a vibrant orange before the clouds swallowed it whole.

Miles was silent at first, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows. You knew this look quite well; it was his look of thought, when his mind was louder than anything in the outside.

With a huff out of his nose, he picks up the camera that sat on the dashboard, checking its contents before looking to you with a serious gaze.

"I have to. No one else will expose this place...their families need closure. And the truth."

You sigh, swallowing a ball of nervousness. "Only you would run into a haunted asylum and try to expose the people within it."

Miles only smirks at your reply, turning the Jeep off. "If not me, who else? You?" "Oh, fuck no. I'd be driving home and eating in front of a Netflix show. Let the feds handle this shit."

Miles merely shook his head, chuckling. "Ohh, you poor thing. If only you knew." And with that, he opened the Jeep door, stepping out onto the gravel. You do the same, albeit confused. "What do you mean?" Miles shook his head once more, "Nevermind. Not important. So...how should we enter?"

You put a finger on your chin, "hmm"ing, before making a noise of acknowledgment. "We don't. We leave."

"Not an option, kid."

"Fine! Whatever." Miles scanned the gate with a raised brow, only to see a ripped opening in the side. He waved you over, crouching under it and over the gate. When he's done, he looks to you. "Don't get cut." "You just take the fun out of everything, don't you?" "Yup."

Thankfully, you did not cut yourself, however, you did come face to face with a menacing building, its lights on, and its vibe... unwelcoming.

A man stood in front of the windows, just staring at you. Screams of horror could be heard, and you cringed. "It's not too late to back out, Miles...it's okay." You mumbled, "I know you want to help these people. That guy's email was extremely concerning. But you don't have to do any of this. You can just...let martial law do its thing." Miles shook his head, and a sad, yet hardened look came on his face. "Look," he pointed to heavy, military vehicles, and it was obvious that this place got so bad the military had to bring its sturdiest of machines. "Martial law did its thing and perished. Kid," He turned away from the asylum to face you, putting his hands on your shoulders, a serious look in his eye. "I understand that this all seems...stupid. But I have to do this. If not for me, for them. Far too many people here suffered at the hands of greedy government fucks." He took in a breath, but he smiled. It was small and was meant to comfort you to some degree. "You can go back. Take the Jeep, if you want to. But I need to do this." "Miles...you're not saying you'll run back to the office? I've seen your cardio..." "Hah. Very funny. Anyway, the offer still stands." "Hell no. We ride together, we die together." You could feel the appreciation exuding from him. He was more than capable of doing all of this alone, but he liked your company. "Thanks, kid. Now...how the hell do we get in...?"

(❁)----------------------------------------------------------------------

"That is the last time I enter a fucking window, Miles."

You heaved and huffed, wiping off some shattered glass from your shirt. The front doors were locked. Obviously. So Miles suggested a window. A window, of all things.

"What can I say? I always notice windows of opportunity."

"You bastard." Miles laughed, albeit it was quiet. He motioned you to stay quiet as he pointed to a wooden door. "We don't know what's behind that door, we need to stay quiet." "Message received." "Good."

With utmost care, he slowly opened the door to...nothing. It was creepily silent, as opposed to the sounds of horror made moments prior. You stayed close to him, crouched, and breathing slowly through your nose. It had smelled...sour. Though that's to be expected when people have died here.

This is going to take a while.

(❁)----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Why did you have to let a bald fuck take you, Miles?" This was the worst day ever. Mondays are typically awful, but not this awful. While Miles was trying to turn the power on, he was taken by some priest while you were distracting a variant. How did you know this? You saw it on the cameras, of course! A short, bald priest was dragging Miles' unconscious body through the hallways, with naked, machete-wielding variants following behind.

Fuck.

Your knuckles were bruised, and your legs were tired. You knew coming here was a bad idea. You regret not taking the Jeep. Because then, you could have called people to grab Miles, and put an end to the hell that was Mount Massive Asylum.

The number of variants you've had to punch, and stab, and maim...it was tiring. The combination of running and fighting took you out. Miles was nowhere to be found. And this concerned you. Was he dead? No. He couldn't be. He's survived many things. Food poisoning, listening to opera...he's unstoppable.

But now you're doubting him. For every minute that goes by when you don't hear Miles yelling out for you, you doubt that he survived. Who knew what those naked assholes did to him? Or the priest, for that matter?

You wanted to cry. Really, you did. But there was no point in it. You cry and you lose the ability to see variants rushing toward you.

You had your knife on you, but it was seriously outmatched by the machetes some variants had, so you had to run. Where are they getting them from??

But you meet once more, in the underground facility. Where all the experiments must have taken place. In a blue room was where you embraced.

"Oh god, Miles...what happened...?" He huffed out a laugh, but he, too, sounded exhausted. He had black rings around his eyes, and his fingers...oh god. His fingers.

"I encountered some...asshole. He's juice, now." He smirked, but you were confused. "Juice...? Is that a metaphor?" "Kinda, yeah. Anyway...you okay?" "No. Not at all. Being okay in this place is impossible." "Understandable." He hugged you once more. It was tighter this time if that was even possible. He smelled like fading cologne and blood.

"We're going to die here, kid." "...What?"

It was so sudden. But said so...intensely. He was serious. You could tell by the tone of voice. The face. The look of knowing. Of horror.

He took you out of his embrace, but he kept his hands on your shoulders. He swallowed before he spoke, "The fuck who started all those experiments? He's still...alive, somehow. An old fucking crypt keeper. And he told me to kill the Walrider." "So do it! Whatever that is!" "We know too much. It's a trap. He won't let us out knowing we've seen the depths of that asshole's treatment." He gulps, the grip on your shoulders getting tighter. "We...we'll die here."

That's not fun to hear.

"...I think I'm okay with that."

"No. Don't say that." Miles shook his head; he was horrified to hear your words. "Death is not something to take lightly. He doesn't know about you...you can make a run for it while I distract them."

He may die, but you may live. And that wasn't an outcome you wanted. But Miles was Miles, and he was stubborn.

He insisted on coming here.

He insisted on buying you lunch every day.

He insisted on braving the haunted halls of this hell hole.

He insisted on doing workouts with you, no matter how whiny he became.

And now he's insisting that he dies. Just so you can leave. And live to tell the tale.

"Do what you have to." You whispered, hugging him once more. The embrace lasted for longer than it should have.

But the warmth of life cannot compare to the coldness of death.

(❁)----------------------------------------------------------------------

He was dead.

Miles Upshur was deceased. By the sound of it...he perished by gunfire.

You walked out of the asylum, tears rushing down your face, his camera in your hands, and blood coating your being.

This was all a mistake. But Miles just had to do the unthinkable. To bring justice, to bring closure...

He was amazing that way. And this footage will make it home, where you will submit it to the nearest news station. And you will watch as Murkoff burns to the ground as you snack on chips and mourn Miles. You were sure of it.

The bastard loved corn chips. You will eat them in his honour. He was the big brother you never had. And now he's gone.

The Jeep shined under the light of the rising sun; the keys still sat in the ignition. It's like he prepared for you to leave within an instant.

Before opening the Jeep door, you heard a noise. It sounded...odd. Like nothing you've heard before.

Looking back at the entrance, you were shocked to see a man in black. Ghastly by design, and its eyes were on you.

Was that...Miles?!

You stared, horrified. But the figure only stared, then nodded at you.

With a smile, you entered the Jeep, keeping an eye on them.

Even in death. Or undeath, you should say, he will always keep an eye on you.

Miles Upshur was dead.

Keyword: was. Not anymore.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

And with that, the Jeep squeals as you drive out of there, searching for the nearest highway. It comforted you to hear an explosion in the back. He likely blew the place up...as he should.

It was time.

You would avenge Miles, and everyone in the asylum.

But first...a shower is very much needed.

Damn blood.

[hjnxx]

ok just bc im curious. and u dont have to answer this but in a parallel universe, if hijinxx was aespa, who would be who? also if u had to make them bg additions, what groups would they be in?

also im excited to know more about yuina’s secret relationship 👀 i can relate to her so much bc i too left a major career field for a newfound passion. im about to parasocialize w her so hard lmao. /j

AHYEON -> KARINA. i say this mainly because she the oldest, but ive seen many clips of rina babying the other girls and like. thats ahyeon to a t. she loves her girls so much. it’s not really about her position in the group and more about who ahyeon is—karina to me exudes maturity and poise, yk? there’s a quietness to her, even when she acts a lil silly. / as for what boy group i would put her in…. definitely ateez. she was the first female trainee to approach the boys and form a bond with them, so they get along really well. her and hwa in the same room… those are literally my parents sorry.

MICHA -> NINGNING. originally i was going to give ning to yuina but honestly… with the kind of allure ning had to me when i was first getting into aespa? definitely micha vibes. like remember when people were calling ning britney spears’ prodigy??? micha. vibes. the stardom quality, the stage presence, the aura?? heo micha the woman that you are. goodness gracious. / right off the bat, im putting her in nct. she screams 127 to me. ( she probably intimidates the fuck out of the trainees tho LMAO… tyong would love her tho. she gives neo vibes. ) ngl if she was an smrookie she most likely would have made the aespa lineup.

YUINA -> WINTER. they both just have that cutesy vibe to me. stupid pretty and can really kill it on stage. but total menaces. i feel like i see a lot of winter biases when im in aespa territory and its the same for aces, too. yui is definitely most biased ( tho micha is not far behind… ) out of the four girls. / hmmmm. maybe seventeen. yui doesn’t have siblings but she definitely gives ‘has a ton of older brothers’ vibes. into the performance unit she goes. i feel mingyu and cheol would have the biggest soft spot for her.

EUNJI -> GISELLE. i feel like every time i see giselle she’s always either laughing at something stupid or saying something incoherent ( ex : stupid cheese cat karina clip ) and like. yeah. eunji vibes. / to be honest my first thought was riize……… sohee would vibe with her character i feel. but then i was like. skz…… her and jeongin would be like two peas in a pod. ying and yang. eunji is not a menace like he is but she’s so good at the innocent act lmfao. she’d fit right in ( and probably have a fat crush on minho. me too girl. )