#I have a song picked out for I think half the party members?

[squigglebug]

I should make a deadlands playlist

[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)

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/19/2024

no silly little witticism here this week! just heartfelt thanks for helping me pay my rent this month :)

listening

absolutely wild pick from last week's spotify weekly recommenced, Things Will Fall Apart by Louis Cole feat the Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. it's been on loop all week for me and im a little sad it won't pop up in my spotify wrapped

when you make a dance pop song with a full orchestra backing, it has a really interesting effect somewhere between Golden Age of Hollywood swashbuckling film score and marching band?

Yes, understood Things will fall apart just likе they should This little shred was good Don't think it through Things will fall apart, they always do At least, something's always true

the syllables are so choppy they don’t even register to me as English at first, i was fully willing to believe this was German for the first couple lines. like @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, i have a deep fondness for works about putting an era to bed. or works focused on the sunsets of things, or one of the last living practitioners of an art. putting the chairs up on the table, sweeping the floors, and turning the lights out and locking the door behind you. this song has that sort of quiet post-wake-party remembrance.

however once you think the song has ended but it keeps going, you can turn it off. you don’t really need that extra minute and a half of strings and light vocalizations.

Lately, Louis Cole has been doing live shows with the Netherlands’ Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. Cole recorded nothing with the ensemble. In a press release, he says, “Sometimes, when I’m mixing my own solo stuff, I’ll feel like a song needs a little magical dust. But mixing an entire orchestra and your own rhythm section, there’s so much human energy! You don’t have to add any magic. It was there the whole time.”

i don’t hear many pop songs this millennium with a full orchestral backing. perhaps i need to look harder. unfortunately spotify took this extreme interest in this song as a newfound extreme interest in electroswing, which is really not what this song is. i hope this artist does more albums like this so they can wear grooves in my brain

-

reading

very hard to focus on anything book length this week. some depressing local news (my local paper's links do Not want to preview nicely here, which is annoying:

At a city council meeting in October, district Vice President Dan Joyce told council members that the management district was not attempting to "criminalize homelessness." The city’s civility ordinance bans people from sitting, lying down or placing personal items or bedding on sidewalks from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m.

cool piece from our pals at 404 Media. i am So fascinated by crime infrastructure

Based on interviews with malware developers, hackers who use the stolen credentials, and a review of manuals that tell new recruits how to spread the malware, 404 Media has mapped out this industry. Its end result is that a download of an innocent-looking piece of software by a single person can lead to a data breach at a multibillion-dollar company, putting Google and other tech giants in an ever-escalating cat-and-mouse game with the malware developers to keep people and companies safe.

(via longreads) my interest in how and why systems fail extends to invasive species management. plus i used to live in florida just above the everglades and these fuckers (the snakes) were everywhere

[I]magine thousands upon thousands of pythons, their slow digestion transforming each corpse into python muscle and fat. Unaided, Florida’s native wildlife doesn’t stand a chance. “That’s what I think about with every python I catch,” Kalil says. “What it ate to get this big, and the lives I’m saving by removing it.” Biologists are taking a multipronged approach to the issue. They have experimented with enlisting dogs to sniff out both pythons and nests—a technique that has proved difficult in such hot weather and inhospitable landscapes. Ongoing projects use telemetry to track pythons to find “associate snakes.” Researchers use drones, go out in airboats, or even take to helicopters to locate their subjects in the interiors of the Everglades. Always, agencies and individuals are looking for the next best methods. “But for now, the python contractor program is the most successful management effort in the history of the issue,” Kirkland says. “We’re capturing more and more—something that is indicative of the python population out there and indicative of us getting better at what we do.”

-

watching

continuing noirvember, watched hitchcock's Notorious to see if i still dislike hitchcock. the answer is yes. there are bond girls and there are hitchcock girls, and not that bond girls are paragons of female agency in film, but hitchcock girls are mostly fluttering little pathetic things. a scrap of agency they showed in the beginning of the film becomes a running joke and something their noses are rubbed in for the rest of the film. not for me!

patrick mcgoohan is leading me into some real dad-ass movies. Ice Station Zebra (1968, dir. Sturges) is a real you're stuck at home sick with your dad and it's on TV for the whole afternoon kind of movie. they truly do not make two and a half cold war submarine espionage films in super panavision with an overture, intermission, and interact music any more. i get why howard hughes was really obsessed with this one. it is a suspense film, but full of people competently going about their business, which i find oddly comforting.

unfortunately i do not feel this really needed to be two and a half hours long. the loving closeups of sub interiors and instrumentation really did keep me amused, though. despite how cluttered every shot is with actors, there is tremendous clarity of purpose and motion with the camera movement. just a really technically brilliant film.

how similar the russian and american control rooms and instrumentation were made me chortle. ties nicely into a little diatribe mcgoohan goes on much later in the film, "The Russians put our camera made by our German scientists and your film made by your German scientists into their satellite made by their German scientists." funny and darkly true! every allied nation had some sort of Operation Paperclip going on! mcgoohan is the focus of every scene he's in, as a spy who is really hanging on by the last remaining shreds of his fingernails.

i had a good time with it, but one of many cold war suspense films im glad exist in the world but don't necessarily need to see again. it might join Escape from New York as a film i put on when im very sick though.

-

playing

this pc needs some sort of replacement something, bc it has a really persistent overheating problem. it only tolerates powerwasher simulator on the lowest possible settings and genshin impact on basically mobile settings. it does not even want to run new vegas. i popped my head out of goodsprings to look out over the desert at the Strip and it said no thank you! too many polygons! naptime!

speaking of genshin, major update this week and new character i will be pulling for. she has a sister who died in the last patch, which i do Not care for as someone with a beloved little sister, but her moveset and skills are unique so far in the game. i feel like her skills are little too complicated for me to fully take advantage of with my "hit enemy very hard until he is dead" playstyle but she has a limited flight ability that will genuinely be very useful for exploration.

if i do not get her when i hit pity on the banner i won't bother pulling another nine times or whatever, bc the next patch has a character i really desperately want and i am saving for her

-

making

the local crew is all getting art this year, bc i already have bristol board and a selection of small frames and zero budget. people who have pets are So easy to get gifts for bc u can simply get them stuff for their pet or that looks like their pet. way less gray cat than black cat merch in the world tho

aiming to send out international holiday cards by the end of the week, and canadian cards by american thanksgiving. the rest of you they'll get there when they get there ok

[cwritesforfun]

Karen Sirko x Fem!Reader: I Love You, I'm Sorry

Inspiration is from the name of the song, I Love You I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams lol

Y/N = Your Name * I do not own any of the DJATS characters or plot *

Flashback in Italics

Masterlist

Your POV

You were the sound technician that traveled with the band, Daisy Jones and the Six for years. You went on two tours with them and both were cut too short. It was sad, sure. But those two opportunities helped you in the music industry and you made so many friends. One was Karen Sirko.

Enter Karen Sirko. She was the keyboard player for the band and your eyes were drawn to her as she played every time. Unfortunately for your job, you had to pay attention to the rest of them too.

You still remember the first time you two kissed. It was at a party.

The party was a Halloween party and you had dressed up as a zombie with your friends who were crew members for Daisy Jones and the Six. You hug Camila as you enter the party and grab drinks with friends. One of your friends leans over and says, "I think Karen keeps looking over at you." You reply, "Maybe she just likes my costume?" Your friend answers, "Uh I would say that, but she watched you at rehearsal all week for the upcoming tour. And oh she's walking over." You reply, "You and gossip, geez." You hear, "What gossip?" You see Karen standing there and you answer, "Uh just two crew members hooking up." Karen replies, "Really? Huh? Good for them I guess. Can I show you something, Y/N?" You answer, "Sure thing." You follow Karen and you realize that you're walking to her room. OH... show me what now!?!? Karen lets you in her room and then shuts it behind you two. Karen then says, "I think we should kiss. It makes sense. We practically eye fu** each other every day anyway." You reply, "Sure." She then pushes you against the wall and kisses you.

You sigh. You would've done anything for Karen at the start of your secret relationship. You were both so happy. You would often sneak into random closets or random rooms to make out. There was one close call and then Karen started pretending to date Graham in front of her band, so no one would get suspicious. Graham thought it was all real. You think Karen started believing she loved Graham at one point too.

You're grabbing food from the table for the crew and you start eating as you walk. Karen appears next to you, smiling widely. She holds out her hand and says, "Follow me." You reply, "Hi, uh I was going to eat. We could eat together instead." She pulls your hand and says, "You know I can't do that. Come on." She pulls you into a random room and you set your food down. Karen pulls you closer and starts kissing you. You lightly push her off and say, "I don't think I can do this anymore." She pulls away and gasps, "What?" You answer, "I love you, I'm sorry... I know we were keeping it casual, but I love you. I don't like being your little secret, I want to show you off as my girlfriend." She sighs and says, "Babe, come on. You know this band is only a small stepping stone for me. And, this relationship is something I want to keep casual. I just don't want to tell anyone." You say, "Ok that's fine then. But, do you love Graham?" She replies, "No, but it's very easy with him. It's nice." You pick up your food and say, "I wish you all the best in your future with Graham and with your music goals." She half-smiles and you leave the room. You see Graham in the hallway and say, "Your girlfriend is in that room on the left by the way." He smiles and thanks you.

You ended up being transferred off the Daisy Jones & the Six tour to another band's tour because you were the youngest and newest. That was their reasoning and honestly, you were not mad. You wanted space from Karen.

You later found out that the Daisy Jones and the Six tour ended abruptly not to your surprise.

You moved on with a new girl and you were having fun living the life you wanted. It was all good.

You saw the Daisy Jones and the Six documentary in theatres. It was engaging and beautifully done. You noticed yourself in the background a few times. The ending when the band was reflecting on things, well it shook you and messed your life up.

Karen was interviewed and the narrator asked if she loved Graham, which she admitted she did. She said she lied to him because she wasn't ready to settle down and she knew he deserved someone who wanted that now. The narrator asks Karen if she's been in love since and she admits that she never knew she loved Graham if not for you. Yeah, she said your name and admitted she loved you too.

Your brain was spiraling and you were freaking out after learning that.

You end up breaking up with your girlfriend because you realize you still love Karen.

You're sitting at a bar drinking when you hear your name next to you. You turn and there is Karen. She's smiling softly and she takes the seat next to you. She exclaims, "Hi Y/N." You reply, "Hi Karen... I saw the documentary." She takes a deep breath and asks, "And what did you think about it?" You answer, "I thought it was honest and real and beautiful." She asks, "Did you stay until the end? What did you think about that?" You answer, "Uh I thought you were brave to admit that to the world." She asks, "I love you Y/N, I'm sorry I lied all those years ago... if you're okay with it, I would love to take you on a date." You agree and you leave the bar then go on your first date.

You're happy that Karen loves you and you love her.

@leonchef ~ enjoy

[anakin-pilled]

𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 - anakin skywalker x fem! reader (part three)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem! reader

wordcount: 9.4k

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of EDs, body dysmorphia/body issues, fainting, mistreatment, hospitalization, crying, reader being emotional, anakin being a reckless driver, half proofread bc i got lazy (will probably edit another day, its late af as im posting this)

rating: 18+

author's note: hi, i'm so sorry for the delay on chapter three! life got really busy and i found myself not having enough time to write, but now life has settled and i finally had enough time and inspo to finish this chapter. i literally forced myself to stay home this weekend and finish this chapter bc i'll be traveling this week and won't have time to write. i hope i made up for it by making this chapter longer than usual!! let me know if u have any questions or comments. reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated xx

creds to saradika for the divider!

You originally had no plans this weekend, but after much persuasion from one of your closest friends, you decided to attend some party that a friend of a friend was hosting. It was better than being locked up in your apartment all weekend, letting the thoughts of Anakin consume your mind and slowly pick away at your sanity. After all, it gave you the chance to dress up prettily, consume free hooch, and maybe find someone to get under and help you get over Anakin. 

The water in your porcelain sonic tub was doused in a fragrant Crimson Jelly Spire oil and mixed with the fragile petals of a Jasmine flower. The combination of spice and sweetness left your skin refreshed and smelling good. The midday light of Corscant filtered through the windows and cast the nearly all-ivory refresher in an ethereal lighting. The water swished around you as you hugged your knees to your chest and laid the side of your cheek on top of them. You trained your eyes on the refresher’s ceilings before blowing a loose piece of hair out of your face. You ran this bath about an hour ago, but you had yet to get up because your mind was occupied by him. Staying away from Anakin was harder than you anticipated. Your mind recalled, for about the hundredth time today, two instances that happened over the last few rotations.

The first instance with Anakin left you unnerved and unconfident in your self-proclamation to stay away from him. 

The benefit concert was only a few rotations away now, so you started practicing. Even though you were only performing songs that you already performed and rehearsed before, it still didn’t hurt to practice even more. This was going to be broadcast across the Republic, so you had to be perfect. 

You holed yourself up in your practice room for the majority of the day. The only time you saw Anakin was in the morning when your protocol droid prepared breakfast. You told Anakin that you would be practicing with your team of dancers for the day, so there was no need for him to stay with you all day. You encouraged him to take the day off and reassured him that your practice suite was located in a safe building with 24/7 security watch. Anakin insisted that he at least drop you off. He could take the time to stop by the Temple and check in on Ahsoka’s training.

That was hours ago. It was nearing your twelfth hour of continuous practice and you were exhausted, to say the least. Your vocal cords felt raw from the amount of singing you did today, and the legs in your muscles were spasming from the constant repetition of your dancing. You dismissed your team members around two hours ago, you didn’t think they should be subjected to your perfectionist tendencies. One of them, a Pantoran girl named Chione, voiced her concern for you. Chione was one of your oldest dancers, she joined your team during your first mini-tour around a few Core planets and has never left your team since. You considered her one of your closest friends.

“Are you positive that you’re okay to practice on your own? You’ve barely had any food today. I don’t want you fainting with no one to help,” voiced Chione in a dulcet tone. She was always looking out for your well-being, especially because she knew how hard you could be on yourself. Chione was a source of bright life in your life and one of the most genuine people you’ve ever known.

“I’ll be fine, Chione. I had a heavy breakfast, and I’ve made sure to eat energy pudding bars and stay hydrated during our breaks,” you reassured your friend. She looked unconvinced, but you rushed her out of the room with a kiss on her cheek and a promise to send her a message once you arrived home.

Now that you had the studio to yourself, you decided to go through a few more drills and focus on the routines that you struggled with the most. You weren’t always a perfectionist. Back when you lived on Bar’leth, you were neither the smartest student in your grade nor the dumbest student–you were perfectly average. You didn’t feel the need to engage in your classmates’ cutthroat competition or push yourself more than you required. Even when it came to your musical prowess, you sang and studied instruments because you enjoyed it and it brought you happiness. If you were stuck on learning a certain composition or hitting the right note, you would always put in your best effort, but you never lost any sleep over it. You knew that if you were to put pressure on yourself, it would take the enjoyment away. Music was yours, without any strings, expectations, or attachments to soil your relationship with it.

That swiftly changed once you were signed a record deal with one of Coruscant’s most famous record labels, Interstellar Records. You didn’t even know it was possible to become famous at the intergalactic level. Most of the artists you listened to on Bar’leth were artists from your planet. The galaxy’s population is enormous–Coruscant alone has around three trillion people! You never imagined that your name would known anywhere besides Bar’leth. Yet, luck seemed to be on your side on that one fateful day.

The story of how you were discovered is quite simple. Your school hosted an annual festival for the anniversary of the formation of Bar’leth’s government. It’s a joyous holiday where students are encouraged to promote Bar’leth’s culture through food, traditional customs, and performances. Families and regular citizens flock to the school to join and watch the students at the festival. It’s a day you look forward to every year. Each class section is assigned to a particular event. The graduating class of that year is always assigned to open the festival with a choir rendition of Bar’leth’s national anthem. You were asked to lead the choir since the music instructor knew of your talent, which meant that you would be the main singer. Little did you know that one of the executives from Interstellar Records was at the school festival. One of his nephews attended your school, so that was his reason for being there. As soon as you got off the stage and the festivities started, you were immediately pulled to the side by your school’s headmaster who introduced you to the executive. He spoke to you about your talent, and how he believed that you could make something of yourself with proper training and a recording label to manage you.

That was five years ago, and a lot has changed since then. After finishing your last year of government-mandated education, you moved to Coruscant and began your career as a professional artist. Life suddenly flipped. Your upbringing on Bar’leth was humble. You came from a decent, middle-class family and lived in a standard home. Suddenly, you lived in a fancy Coruscant apartment with the former senator Sheev Palpatine, and you were always surrounded by a team of managers who dictated your schedule from morning to night. You were given vocal training, attended dance classes, and sat through etiquette and media training courses all while trying to produce your debut record. The first year of your career was marked by sleepless nights due to the sheer amount of activities on your daily agenda. Many times throughout the first year, you debated if this was a smart decision.

You continuously pushed yourself through it because dreams weren’t achieved by themselves. You had to work to make your dreams come true. This was just part of the process. At least that’s what you said to reason with your inner self to avoid any feelings of regret and anxiety. Yet, throughout that first year, you were also exposed to a darker side of the industry that you weren’t equipped to handle as a barely legal adult. When you signed that contract with the label, you also signed away any right to individuality and personal autonomy. 

You had a certain image to uphold as a public figure and this image was controlled entirely by your label. You were like clay that they could bend at their will–constantly being prodded and 

molded until you were nothing short of perfection. Your clothes were preselected each day, hair was only done in styles the label wanted, and pre-answered scripts were given for interviews. Worst of all, even your diet was dictated by the label. How much you ate, what you ate, and even when you ate was all at the discretion of the executives. They even went so far as to weigh you weekly to make sure you were staying on top of your weight. If you weren’t at their goal weight, they subjected you to intense periods of exercise. It was an abusive cycle that fundamentally altered your self-esteem. Slowly, you became a shell of the person you once were. You didn’t find enjoyment in your career anymore, something you were once so passionate and excited about. The harsh regime of your management extinguished that flame. All that mattered to you was if you were meeting your label’s expectations. You were consumed by the weight of their expectations. You drowned under their judgment, and each criticism was like a blaster shot straight to your heart. The executives weren’t satisfied no matter what you did. Practice hours went from a few hours of your day to half of your day. You slowly cut contact with your friends from home and lied to your family when they asked how you were doing. You couldn’t bear to tell them the truth. You were miserable.

Eventually, the constant overwork and abuse by the label became too much for your body to handle and one day you fainted in the middle of practice. The medic at the medcenter informed you that your body shut due to exhaustion and malnutrition. Due to you being one year away from being a legal adult by the Republic’s standards, the medic was forced to report this incident to the authorities. Holonet tabloids somehow got a hold of this information and leaked it on their celebrity gossip pages. This prompted an investigation from the Intergalactic Federation of Musicians, the trade guild dedicated to musicians, performers, and songwriters, who determined that your label was not properly upholding their side of the contract. The IFM fined Interstellar Records and voided your contract, which left you free and away from their abuse.

It took you a few months to recover from the whole incident. The best course of action was to move back to Bar’leth while you healed. Your career didn’t stop there, however. Right before the situation, your debut album was released. Hence, you were practicing for upcoming promotions the label scheduled you for. The release of your debut album was quiet–until your face ended up on the Holonet’s hot spot after the initial news broke. The people of Coruscant, and even some people from neighboring planets, pitied you. You never intended for anything to be this way, but the story that the tabloids ran against you worked in your favor. You, a young fresh-faced, and doe-eyed girl from a smaller Core planet, were a victim of the cruel entertainment industry. Everyone blamed the label, rightfully so, but the amount of support and influx of love from Coruscant’s citizens catapulted you into fame and stardom. The public wanted to see you win (until they didn’t). Other recording labels were knocking at your door, trying to get you to sign with their company You were hesitant, not wanting to experience the same trauma. Senator Palpatine offered his help in negotiating the contract bids as an apology for not noticing what you were going through before. After all, you were still living with him while you were still signed to Interstellar. You didn’t blame him as you hid your problems well. Regardless, it all worked out in the end as you were signed to a new label, under terms and conditions you saw fit.  Four years have passed since you signed onto Nebula Music Group. Your fame instantaneously increased after signing with them. Gido was assigned your new manager, and you were extremely thankful for him because he played a major role in ensuring you were properly treated and supported by the label. Nebula Music Group had more trust and faith in you than Interstellar, so they allowed you more authority and creative liberties in the music-making process. Because of this, you could produce authentic, critically acclaimed, popular albums. Your last album, Last Words of a Shooting Star, broke a record with the highest sales of sound slugs in history for a female artist. You did mini tours around the inner and mid-Core planets. Despite your initial hardships, life was turning out better than you envisioned. You had a second chance at your dream. You liked to consider yourself fully healed from the situation, but that was far from the truth.

Take now for example.

In moments like this, when it’s only yourself and the mirror, your mind can’t help but flashback to the horrible treatment you suffered at the hands of those people. You know that no matter how much therapy or how far removed from the situation you were, a part of you was still stuck in the past. 

Chione was right to be concerned. This wasn’t the first time you stayed behind and continued practicing on your own, often to the point of exhaustion and breaking down. She’s caught you in these moments before, where you were so focused on perfection that you failed to take care of yourself properly—staying dehydrated, skipping meals, and not sleeping just so you could devote more time to practice. You would gladly damage yourself for it. You couldn’t help it. Insecurity was embedded in your bones. You knew that as a young female in the industry, you had a short shelf life (or at least that’s what your previous label hammered into your brain). Once the industry deemed you expired, you would be nothing. Thus, you needed to be so perfect, that even past your expiration date, people would still want you.  You were nothing without desirability.

You looked at yourself with hard eyes in the mirror. Your eyes landed on the deep, heavy-set eye bags under your eyes. A scowl appeared on your face. You then moved your eyes to your arms, which never seemed skinny enough for you. A knot formed in your throat. Lastly, you laid your eyes upon your stomach. No matter how many meals you skipped, what diet fads you went on, or what food you prematurely threw away to avoid finishing, your stomach never looked the way you wanted. A sigh escaped your throat.

It was futile to worry about these things now. At a time so late in the day, nothing good would come of it. You inhaled and exhaled breathing as if you were absorbing and releasing all of your previous negative energy. Putting on a fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes, you gave yourself one last look before continuing to practice.

The song you were currently dancing to belonged to the glimmick genre–a genre of music that was associated with frenzied sounds and rapid beats. As an artist, you were most comfortable with the sparkle-bop and pop genres. That was your domain, and it was the genre that made you famous. However, you wanted you wanted to experiment on your recent album to get out of your artistic comfort zone and reach a wider audience, so you included songs of different genres, with glimmick being one of them. Due to the nature of the glimmick genre, your song “Atom of the Pneuma,” required an intricate, fast-paced dance with movements that you were not familiar with. The choreography for this dance was sharp and pristine, contorting and bending your body to resemble straight, angular lines. Most of your choreography featured lighter dance moves, with flowy movement and softer forms. It was the reason you stayed later than the rest of your team–you wanted to hone on this particular routine before the benefit concert.

Your legs were bent, hands placed on top of your thighs as you caught your breath and prepared to replay the song just a few more times before calling ending the day. You got into position. The song started and filled the room with a pounding, rich techno bass that bounced off the walls. You began to move your body to the beat while your right arm was simultaneously moving it to create a pattern that extended from your body outward. Your head followed the beat as well, which left you slightly dizzy. You learned to block out any negative sensations when dancing, a practice you learned from the days when you danced on little sleep and little food. The unpleasant sensation went ignored until you spun your body around and lost your balance resulting in an unceremonious fall toward the hard wooden floor. You placed your arms to cushion your fall out of reflex, but the fall never came. A pair of large, calloused hands were placed on your waist, holding you steady. The hands gently guided you toward the floor, forcing you to sit. 

You raised your face toward the ceiling, trying to see who it was that miraculously saved you from your fall. The bright lights of the practice room invaded your eyesight and you could only make out the fuzzy outline of the person. Tiny, black dots swirled your vision as you tried to regain your composure. The feeling was overwhelming. You could feel your breath quicken as you tried to calm yourself. This wasn’t the first time you have fainted from overdoing it, but it was never any easier each time. You hated the feeling, you hated the coldness that washed over your body, you hated how your vision failed you, and you hated the dull panging inside your head. 

You shut your eyes, barely focusing on the person next to you. Your nails dug into your palm, the pain distracting you from the uncomfortable feeling and forcing you back into the present. After a few more moments, you opened your eyes again and turned your vision to the only other figure in the room. You could feel the warmth of their body next to yours–the warmth overpowering the previous coldness your body felt. 

“Anakin,” you whispered. 

“You okay there, pop star?” Anakin softly replied. “You almost took a nasty fall, you could have sprained your wrist or hurt your head. We wouldn’t want that before the big day, now would we?”

His brown curls gently caressed his face as he looked down at you. He was kneeling over you, eyes scanning over your body to make sure you were okay. You didn’t even hear him enter. How did he get inside? Access to this room was only allowed by people with logged fingerprints and/or other DNA indicators.

“Just give me a minute please.” You still felt lightheaded.

Anakin stood up and walked toward your practice bag and grabbed the container of water that was sitting next to it. He then proceeded toward you, sat next to you, and put the tip of the container to your lips. You titled your head back as you drank. After a couple of gulps, you answered Anakin’s question. 

“I apologize if I frightened you. I must have overdone it and got lightheaded because of it. I assure you that I feel better now and can continue my practice,” You tried to stand up before Anakin’s hand caught your wrist and dragged you back toward the ground. Your response was cold and robotic. That’s because you were in a different mode right now, your more “professional” mode which consisted of one thing only–to never give up until you were blue in the fact. It was ingrained in you from your past training that even if you felt like complete bantha shit, you couldn’t stop practicing just because you felt slightly off. Perfection could never be achieved if you stopped every single time you felt bad.

“Just take a moment to relax. You nearly fainted. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you continue to practice in this state,” Anakin reasoned. He pitied you because he knew the exact look of determination on your face. 

“I can’t stop. The benefit is only a few rotations from now. I have to get this routine down, or else I’ll look like a fool on stage,” you argued back. You turned, but Anakin kept a firm hold on your wrist. 

“Stop being stubborn and just take a quick break.” The seriousness in Anakin’s tone made you want to cry. His voice projected across the now silent practice room. You were already feeling bad from almost fainting and now you were being emotional too. You slipped to the ground and hung your head low as tears welled up in your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice wavered. Putting in this state always puts you in a weird headspace. You swallowed the tight knot that formed in your throat. You didn’t want to cry in front of Anakin.

Anakin noticed the waver of your voice and how you refused to meet his eyes. He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so harsh, but he didn’t want you to hurt yourself either. 

“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t mean for my voice to sound that way,” Anakin hesitated before putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort. He felt slightly awkward. He didn’t know you very well yet, so he didn’t want to invade your personal space, but he recognized that you needed some comfort.

“You should leave. You don’t have to deal with me. I know the Chancellor asked you to watch over me, but this is too much. I promise I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened.” You don’t know why you let that small detail split to Anakin. Perhaps you just wanted someone else to know that you weren’t fully healed from your past. You tried to do your best to hide it from the rest of your team, only Chione being the most knowledgeable on the subject. 

“I’m not going to leave you. It’s late and you should be heading back to your apartment. I came to pick you up. Gido said you hadn’t arrived home yet and that I could find you here.”

You sighed at Anakin’s response. There were a few moments of silence before you began speaking again. “I’m sorry. You’re just being a decent person, and I’m here trying to push you away. I don’t mean it.” You took a deep breath, “I just get in a weird headspace whenever I’m practicing sometimes.”

Anakin didn’t want to pry, but he could tell there was a deeper meaning behind your words. 

You started speaking before your brain could even comprehend what you were saying. You were desperate to let out all of your negative feelings. “Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough sometimes? Like the whole world is waiting for you to trip and fall?” You glanced at Anakin with glassy eyes.

You continued to tirade. “I know my life may look glamorous, and it is. But no one ever talks about the dark side of being in the public eye, especially as a female. They treat you as if you’re some spectacle for their entertainment as if you’re not a living being with consciousness and feelings. Even those who are supposed to be there for you end up on the same side as the critics and haters.” Your chest was now heaving up and down as a result of your heightened emotion. “Even when I work my ass off to be perfect, so I can meet their standards and so they can finally shut the kriff up, they find another thing to comment on just to tear me down.”

“Yes, I understand the feeling.” And Anakin truly did understand. Anakin wanted to comfort you, he felt empathetic as he watched you cry. Do you remember how I told you how I joined the Jedi at a later age than most?” You nodded as you sniffled. “The Jedi council didn’t want to take me in at first…but Qui-Gon convinced them to take me in because he saw potential in me, potential as the Chosen one. Master Qui-Gon died before he had the chance to train me, so his Padawan, my former master, requested that he take me up as his Padawan. No Padawan had ever been trained at such a young age, but the council accepted his wish as a dying request from Qui-Gon.” Anakin still recalls that day–he was waiting outside the council’s room–in wonder at the grand pillars of the Jedi Temple. It was so grandiose and had a sense of holiness, two things he never witnessed on Tatooine.

“I had to work twice as hard as the other younglings to get up to speed. Most of them already had years of experience with the Jedi, they knew how to properly wield the force and the Jedi scriptures were ingrained into their beings by that point. Eventually, I surpassed the younglings and surpassed the expectations of the council. But even then, the council has never fully trusted me. I feel they’re always scrutinizing me, watching for my next mistake too. I’m not the most conventional Jedi, and I don’t always play by the books, but I’m a Jedi through and thorough. No matter how many times I prove that the council, or even my former master, they don’t believe in me. We’ve been fighting this war for Maker knows how long, and they still refuse to make me master, despite being the poster boy for this war.” 

“Wow, Anakin…I didn’t expect that from you.” You honestly didn’t expect to find yourself relating to Anakin, you were on completely different sides of society. How could you, a pop star, relate to a Jedi? It comforted you in a way, to know that you weren’t the only person to go through feelings of inadequacy and frustration. “How do you deal with it?”

“When I was a Padawan in training, I didn’t deal with it most healthily. I was snarky (he still is), and rebelled against my master’s teachings. I was stubborn, hoping that if I showed off my power, I could finally be appreciated by the council. I was wrong to do that, it’s how I lost my right arm.” Anakin then slipped off his glove to show you the silver mechanical prosthetic. You gasped, not expecting to learn this information. Anakin continued, “I still like to show off, but as I matured, I realized that I didn’t have to define myself by the approval of others. I know that I am capable, and I will keep working hard until the council recognizes that.” 

“You don’t deserve that. I know we only just met, but I’ve only heard remarkable things about you. The Republic wouldn’t stand a chance against the Separatists against you. I mean no offense to the other Jedi, they’re all vital to the war effort too, but we need someone who takes risks and isn’t afraid to be unorthodox. I don’t know much about the Jedi, but I know one day you’ll make a great Master.”

This heart-to-heart chat with Anakin was unexpected but welcomed. You appreciated that he was honest and open with you–someone who was practically a stranger still. He didn’t have to come all this way to pick you up nor did Anakin need to comfort you in an hour of need, but he did. However, Anakin didn’t let the conversation marinate too long, suddenly embarrassed at the information he shared with you. 

Anakin stood up from the ground and reached his hand toward you. You accepted his hand and Anakin pulled you up as well. “Are you feeling better now?”

Despite the dried tear marks on your face and the incoming headache you were about to face, you told Anakin that you did feel better. You weren’t ready to divulge your entire past with Anakin just yet, but maybe one day the two of you could become friends. Did that count as an attachment? You weren’t sure. 

“Let’s get you home, pop star.”

“Thanks, General.”

The second instance with Anakin was in an unconventional situation, but it brought a smile to your face when you recalled it. It was only the fifth day of him being assigned as your bodyguard. The incident at the practice room happened on his third day there. You wanted to speak to him more after that night, but you found yourself pulled in all directions by your management team. You supposed you should be thankful–you promised to stay away from Anakin. The only issue is that you didn’t want to stay away from him anymore.

Anakin walked into your living room after talking with Obi-Wan through his commlink. Obi-Wan was updating Anakin on his most recent diplomatic mission on a nearby planet. A heated conversation was taking place between you and Gido. 

“You’re being ridiculous! It’s not even that scary and you can’t keep on relying on others to transport you places,” Gido said as he pinched his nose with a hand, a look of frustration on his face.

“Of course I can! I’m rich. I can just hire chauffeurs!” you taunted in reply. You knew your argument wasn’t sound, but you just wanted to vex Gido at this point. Deep down, you knew your manager was right. 

“What about when you’re old and retired? Who’s going to help you then? Certainly not I. I’ll be dead!” He pointed an accusatory finger at you.

A glare embraced your face at Gido’s words. You scoffed before turning your body, not realizing that Anakin entered the room. He had to stop sneaking in like that. Those damn Jedi. 

Anakin looked at you two with a curious look. Having joined the conversation toward its end, Anakin did not know what you two were talking about. Heat ran up your neck and toward your face as Gido explained with a deadpan expression.

“My dear friend here does not have her Republic driving license, despite being an adult. I’ve been telling her to get her license for years, but she always manages to procrastinate. And every time I tell her, she brushes me off her shoulder.” He pointed at you with an accusing thumb.

With a high-pitched tone, you defended yourself, “I know how to drive!... Sort of. Look, I just don’t like driving. The skylanes are always chaotic and the last time I visited the Ministry of Transport, it took me hours to update my identification and the workers were extremely rude. I’m not going back there if I don’t have to!” 

“And I keep telling her, she needs to get her license. Kid, don’t be stubborn. Wouldn’t you feel more independent if you could drive around yourself?”

“Oh, stop bullshitting me, Gido. You just don’t want to drive me around because you hate the sky lanes as much as I do!” It was true. Gido groaned and mumbled every time he had to drive you places, complaining that he wouldn’t need to take you to run your errands if you had your own license. You couldn’t help it–you enjoyed dragging Gido along and you knew he secretly enjoyed spending time with you. 

Anakin had a solution to both of your problems. Driving was one of his fortes. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would disagree, but Anakin knew he was the best pilot in the galaxy. Yes, Anakin could be reckless, but there was never a landing or move he couldn’t pull off. The innate talent he had as a young boy flourished when he moved to Coruscant and began his Padawan training. Having access to much more refined and newer technology allowed Anakin to perfect the craft of piloting. 

“I can teach you how to drive. I’m the best pilot in the galaxy.” The seriousness on Anakin’s face indicated that he wasn’t joking. 

You gulped. The heating sensation returned. You began to shake your head from side to side with wide eyes. Your hands moved in front of you as if to mimic the movement of your head, waving off Anakin’s solution. 

“I don’t think that necessary,” you protested. 

“Actually, I think it’s very necessary. Only the Maker knows how long you’ll push this off. Anakin, would you mind doing this favor? I have a few meetings with the company, we need to finalize the last details for the benefit. Feel free to use her airspeeder parked outside–it’s one of the newest models,” Gido stated.

Anakin grinned. He really did miss his yellow Eta-2 Starfighter, but he would never deny the chance to operate new technology.

That’s how you found yourself outside sitting in a neatly parked J12 Twin-pod on your apartment’s landing platform. The airspeeder belonged to you, though you’d never driven it before. The airspeeder was one of the newer models on the market. The surface was wrapped with a special pink-tinted chrome wrap making the car look sleek and expensive. Gido, your chauffeur, and occasionally Chione, were the only people to ever drive it.

You looked out the window and saw Anakin approaching the passenger side of the airspeeder. “Karking hell, I’m really doing this,” you thought. You detested driving. It made your palms sweaty and shot your nervous system. To make matters worse, you would be stuck in the confined airspeeder with Anakin! So much for trying to keep your proximity from him. You were both scared and embarrassed. Here was Anakin, the most famous Jedi at the moment, teaching pathetic you how to properly drive. Surely he had much better, more important things to do–like lead a war planning meeting or something. 

The passenger door opened, and Anakin effortlessly climbed into the passenger seat and sat down. Your back stiffened, and suddenly the airspeeder seemed tighter. You shot an uneasy glance toward Anakin, who only smiled in excitement.

After the other night in the dance room where you had that conversation with Anakin, you felt less apprehensive around him. He was more human to you and less of a mysterious figure, less of a pretty face who made you nervous. You still found yourself mousy and internally reeling in his presence, but Anakin was becoming akin to a friend. You started conversing more during mealtimes, slowly getting to know each other. 

“Alright, pop star, first we’re going to start with the controls. You have to fire up the engine by flipping this red switch. After the flip is switched, check your mirrors to ensure you can view directly behind and on your sides. Be careful with your blind spots. You don’t want to get rear-ended because you forgot to check for it. Coruscant sky lanes are no joke. With an airspeeder as pretty as yours, I’d hate to see it get destroyed. ” Anakin pointed toward a red button near the right side of the console, located next to the steering gear. “You got that?” Anakin questioned with one eyebrow raised. 

Once again, Anakin felt your energy through the force. It was way calmer compared to the first day, but he could still feel your energy buzzing. Perhaps you realized that his presence was nothing to fear. 

“Go on. Turn it on,” Anakin commanded. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you heard the baritone voice command you. It reverberated several times in your head. Anakin’s voice was manly, and extremely attractive. You felt jealous that his soldiers got to hear that voice every day. 

You reached toward the switch and flipped it upward with a shaky hand. The airspeeder lit up from inside, indicating it had come to life. There wasn’t an initial turbo–this was one of the main features of this model. It was supposed to fly seamlessly through the air. You placed your hands on each side of the steering gears. Not knowing what to do next, you looked at Anakin for guidance. 

Anakin stood up to stand directly behind you. He reached out his arms and placed his hands on top of yours. He then leaned down to the side of your face and explained, “I’m going to show you how you properly place your hands on the steering gear and how to move it while you’re driving.” Anakin moved your hands toward the middle of the gear. 

“Have a tight grip on the gear. The tighter the grip, the more control you have over the speeder. The higher sky lanes get more wind traction, so it’s especially important to have control in those lanes.” You nodded to show you were following. Anakin suddenly turned the gear harshly to the left, “Don’t do what I just did. When you turn the gear harshly, you jerk the speeder. If you’re switching lanes or turning a corner, switch on your indicators so other drivers know which way you’re going.” Of course, Anakin never followed his own advice, but for your sake, he played it by the books. 

It all felt too intimate. Your head was in a rush, which probably wasn’t the best state to be in while you were about to drive. Anakin’s hands engulfed yours. The difference between his callused hands and your perfectly manicured hands drove you crazy. You could see the veins exposed on his ungloved hand. The sight of the green veins made your stomach turn warm. Much like his face, Anakin’s hand was sculpted by the Maker themself. Not even the finest marble statues could compare to the piece of art that was Anakin Skywalker. 

“...Lastly, when you’re making a turn, do not turn the gear all the way around. The speeder has a built-in function that automatically rotates it. If you turn it all the way, you’ll make a sharp turn, ruining the internal tachyon drive regulator. Do you think you can handle this? Gido told me about the last time you tried to drive.” The last time you tried to drive, it resulted in several fines and almost caused a crash–the tabloids were on your ass for weeks after that.

You completely spaced out while Anakin was speaking, too focused on your inner thoughts. Hearing the teasing tone of his voice brought you back. You hated being undermined. You would prove to Anakin, and Gido, that you can drive perfectly fine and that you have nothing to be scared of. 

“I can you assure that not only can I handle this, but you’ll be amazed at how quickly I learn,” you sassed Anakin back. You were lying. You couldn’t handle this, yet you couldn’t look like a ditz in front of Anakin. 

“Let’s start flying. Don’t be nervous. I’m right here if you need me.” 

Anakin sat back in his seat and observed you as you started maneuvering the aircraft. He directed you toward a sky lane to merge into. “I’m going to guide you to a specific path where the air traffic isn’t so busy. It should be easier for you to fly since there isn’t as much chaos.” 

You kept a strong grip on the steering gear. Coruscant Prime, Coruscant’s only sun, was shining bright. The Weather Control Network did a splendid job at keeping Coruscant’s weather optical today–it wasn’t too windy and the sky was clear. You took it as a positive sign. 

The airspeeder flew steadily through the air. Anakin was surprised. The way Gido described your driving, he assumed that he would need to take control of the speeder earlier. You weren’t doing a terrible job so far. Aside from the occasional jerk or harsh turn, you managed not to crash so far. 

Maybe Anakin thought too soon. “Watch out! Watch out to your right!,” Anakin exclaimed. You tried switching lanes, but the speeder behind you wasn’t slowing down to let you in. You narrowly avoided an accident at the last second by going back into your lane.

“Oops–I didn’t mean that,” you said with a giggle and a shrug of your shoulders. “How am I doing so far?”

“You’re not doing too bad, with some more practice, you should be able to get your license in no time. Why do you hate driving so much?”

While still focusing on the sky in front of you, you explained to Anakin, “I love Coruscant and all that it has to offer. But the sky lanes in Bar’leth are much calmer and less congested. I grew up used to that. Even after all these years of living here, I still can’t stomach the driving here. It’s horrendous! I much prefer to have someone else drive, that way the pressure won’t be on me. I know Gido’s right, I need my license, but can you blame me? We’ve already witnessed almost two accidents! How did you get so good at flying?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a pilot since I was a little boy. I used to tinker in the garage, building and modifying parts for my own podracer. I even won the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine,” answered Anakin.

“Why did you want to become a pilot?” you wondered. Anakin seemed like like an intentional type of person–his actions, thoughts, and opinions were direct reflections of him and what he felt inside. 

Not many people outside of the Jedi temple knew Anakin’s true origins–that he was a former slave. The first ten years of his life were filtered solely through this lens, it came to impact much of his opinions on life, politics, and society. He didn’t like speaking about it and avoided the topic as much as he could. Anakin hated his life as a slave and he hated slavery with every fibre of his being. However, Anakin especially hated speaking about this past life now because every time he did, he was reminded of how he willingly chose to leave his mother on Tatooine. Anakin felt like he was the reason she died. He wasn’t strong enough or fast enough to save her from the Tuskens, but maybe, just maybe, if he stayed with his mother instead of leaving with Qui-Gon, Shmi Skywalker’s death could have been avoided. 

Anakin didn’t respond to your question. When you looked at him, his face was scrunched up in a deep thought. 

You were about to say something else when you saw something approaching the speeder from the corner of your eye. You quickly glanced to your left, only to spot a human male nearly hanging off the side of his airspeeder with a cam held up to his eye. You groaned out loud which caught Anakin’s attention. They came at the worst time possible. You were trying to learn how to drive for Kriff’s sake!

“The paparazzi are following! Can’t they just leave me alone” you ranted. You needed them to get off your trail, fast. You had a complex relationship with the paparazzi. You hated the way they invaded your privacy and fed the Holonet tabloids with material to gossip about. For every bad picture, outrageous rumor, and leaked news, there was a paparazzi behind it. They caused you so much pain. At the same time, the very nature of your career relied on the paparazzi to dispel news and reveal your current state of affairs through pictures. They were unofficial members of your public relations team. Every celebrity knew that they needed the paparazzi as much as they hated them. You couldn’t imagine what ridiculous headline they would come up with now.

The man got closer and closer to your speeder as he tried to record you on his cam. He was mere inches away from crashing into the side of your speeder. You started to panic and your hands lost your tight grip as you started to tremble. Even the slightest movement to the left would cause a crash, potentially sending both of your speeders tumbling below. 

“Anakin, what do I do? I don’t know what to do! They’re too close,” you yelped. Any closer and the paparazzi’s camera would touch your speeder’s window. 

“Stay calm, pop star. I got this.” Anakin’s tone was cocky. He had something up his sleeve. This wasn’t his first high-speed chase, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. Anakin switched into General mode. His hands swiftly moved across the dashboard as he pressed a multitude of buttons and flipped several switches. 

“What are you doing?!” You hated how high-pitched your voice sounded, the fear slipping out of your voice a squeak. 

“Relax. I’m just taking control of the speeder. This speeder model is programmed so that in case of emergencies, the co-passager can take control of the speeder and drive it.” A panel opened on the console and an additional steering gear emerged into view. Anakin gripped the gear and turned it to the right. The speeder lurched to the right, putting more distance between you and the paparazzi. 

No longer needed to grip the gear, you turned toward Anakin and shielded yourself by facing your back toward the window. The Holo Net wouldn’t be getting anything out of you today. Those insatiable nerfhurders had no boundaries sometimes. 

“You better hold on tight. Things are about to get bumpy.” The only way to get these paparazzi off your trail was by speeding up and losing them in the endless zigzags of Coruscant. Anakin wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your safety. He felt his fingertips buzzing with anticipation–the past few rotations with you have been enjoyable and peaceful, but he needed an outlet for his energy. Ever since the Clone Wars started, Anakin was constantly on the go, so his body and mind were accustomed to this. Fortunately for Anakin, flying was the best outlet for him. 

“What do you mean? Anakin, I’m begging you. Please don’t do anything crazy. I get motion sick-” Your words were cut off as the speeder accelerated. “ANAKIN!!!,” you screamed. You then quickly shut your eyes again. You couldn’t bear to witness the scene in front of you. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Anakin was driving significantly faster than what was allowed by the law. 

The speeder weaved in and out of lanes. At one point, Anakin squeezed in between two speeders before hitting the turbo boosters. The paparazzi were still hot on your trail, but at least they were no longer directly next to you. You finally opened your eyes and saw that you were nearing the retail district, CoCo Town. Suddenly, the speeder nosedived toward the ground and you tightly clung to the gear in front of you for stability. The paparazzi were still chasing you, their speeder also diving below. 

“Anakin do you have to be so reckless?!,” you shouted as Anakin laughed. 

“My apologies–it was either that or let the paparazzi stalk you. Which one did you prefer? I didn’t have time to ask while you were panicking,” he replied in a sarcastic tone. You were about to rebuttal, but Anakin continued talking. “As soon as I land this on the ground, we’re going to get out and run. Let’s try to lose them in the crowd.”

The speeder lowered onto the ground and Anakin quickly parked the vehicle on a landing platform where several other speeders were parked. The doors unlocked and you both quickly stepped out. Before you could even completely step off, Anakin grabbed you by your waist and lowered you onto the ground. He then grabbed your hand and started running in the opposite direction of the speeder. You looked behind you, only to see the paparazzi had caught up and were now looking for you. After a quick scan, one of their eyes caught yours and they looked toward each other before running in the same direction as you and Anakin.

You could barely think about the paparazzi chasing you down as your mind relished the feeling of Anakin’s hands engulfing your waist. Anakin was a statuesque man, it made sense that his hands would be the same. Your skin burned at the touch. You shook your head to wane off the thoughts and redirect your focus in front of you. 

Anakin’s back was facing you, his wide shoulders moving up and down as you ran through the crowds together. His curls bounced with each step. You apologized to each person you bumped into, slightly embarrassed to be in a situation like this. Why did this have to happen to you? Couldn’t they have picked another celebrity to torment today? You heard from the jogan fruit vine that the Holodrama actress Alexis Cov-Prim was getting out of rehab today. Wouldn’t that be a juicer headline than you learning how to drive? You already had one bad story from driving, you didn’t need another. 

Anakin made a sharp turn around and corner and dragged you into a store named “Madame Acantha’s Emporium.” You kept your head low as Anakin greeted the storekeeper. You didn’t want to risk being recognized again. As you looked around and observed the store, you noticed the store sold a variety of womenswear from dresses to accessories. Anakin scanned the store for any suspicious figures before turning towards you.

“Grab something to disguise yourself with. We can’t stay in here forever.” You started browsing through the racks of clothes, pulling out a large knitted sweater before walking over to the accessory area and picking out a pair of daytime spectacles and a vibrant magenta wig with a bob cut. Anakin couldn’t disguise himself as he was too big for the clothing sold here. That didn’t matter as long as you could disguise yourself. 

You quickly walked over to the changing rooms before switching out your outer layer for the sweater. After putting on the sweater, you grabbed the only elastic on your wrist and tied your hair so the wig could fit on. Once the wig was secured on your head, you put on the daytime spectacles and walked out of the changing rooms. You rushed towards the cashier and quickly asked her to ring up the transaction before throwing your credit chip on the counter. The employee, a humanoid woman of a species you couldn’t name, quickly rang up the transaction before handing you a receipt and bidding you a good day.

You turned towards Anakin and asked, “Does this look alright? Do I look like myself?”

Anakin stepped closer to you and grabbed the sides of your face. He slipped some of the wig’s hair through his fingers before adjusting it so it sat properly on your head. His fingers lingered for a second before he nodded. “I can’t even recognize you. Let’s go before they catch up.”

Anakin walked out of the store first and scoped the street. He looked left and right before quickly going back inside. He grabbed you and shoved the both of you behind the first rack of clothes he saw. You were about to protest when you saw the two men from earlier, the one who was recording had his camera by his side. They went up to the shopkeeper at the cashier and began to converse with the lady, most likely asking her if she had seen anyone with the same description as you. While they were distracted, you and Anakin looked at each other and secretly decided to make a run for it.

You both ran out of the store and into an alleyway nearby. You saw the paparazzi running past the alleyway as you were catching your breath. Then, you started to giggle. The whole situation was absurd. You, standing in an alleyway, with a bright wig and sunglasses–obviously a terrible disguise–and Anakin Skywalker, the most famous Jedi at the moment, dressed in all of his Jedi garb with his lightsaber attached at the hilt.

“What are you laughing at?,” Anakin asked, one of his perfectly shaped eyes arched. You must have looked crazy. 

“I’m laughing at the situation. I look like a clown,” you replied. “Let’s go, I’m hungry after all that running and chasing. Let’s get something to eat–my treat.” You then walked out of the alleyway together. Before you stepped into the public view, you turned towards Anakin, “Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what I would have done without you to save the day.” You gave Anakin a look of genuine gratefulness.  

The both of you proceeded in the direction of the shops.

“Come on, pop star. I know a great diner that my old master loves. It’s called Dex’s Diner. Have you ever been there before?” Anakin asked. 

The both of you arrived at Dex’s Diner and proceeded to order half the menu. You spent hours in the diner, the both of you enjoying each other’s company after the crazy events of the day.

You spent the same evening replaying all of the times Anakin touched you and how each touch made you feel. 

You decided it was time to get out of your head and back into the present. If you stayed in the sonic tub any longer, you wouldn’t have enough time to get ready without feeling rushed. You stood up from the sonic tub and grabbed the plush white robe sitting on the table next to it. You then put the robe on and walked toward the mirror. 

You grabbed the brush and started brushing through your hair to ensure that any tangles and knots were out. After deciding your hair was neat enough, you put the brush down and started moisturizing your body with your favorite lotion. You would let your hair air dry until you figured out how you wanted to style it. The lotion was made from the musk-rose plant and mixed with tiny hints of vanilla. When you were done moisturizing your body and applying your skincare, you walked out of the room and into the closet directly in front of the refresher.

To say your closet was huge is an understatement. When you finally earned enough credits to afford a high-rise apartment, the one thing you told your realtor was that you would not compromise on a small closet. The closet was lined with shelves and racks, each holding either your clothes or your shoes. In the middle of the closet sat an island, constructed with cream-yellow Selonian marble, that stored all of your accessories. A floor-to-ceiling mirror and lounging chaise were perched at the far corner of the room. You walked over to the shelf that held your dresses and began to sift through them. You felt the soft silks, thin taffetas, and the gorgeous gemwebs of your collection.

“Aha,” you muttered as your hand finally landed on the gown you were looking for. The gown, designed by one of the most in-demand fashion ateliers, was a floor-length, demicot silk-lined tight velvet black gown with a curved necklace. The upper half of the gown was pale pink and covered in a multitude of tiny sequins and pearl studs. One shoulder extended out into the shape of a single petal, which was also fabricated with sequins and pearls. You paired it with a pair of black gloves that extended to your mid-bicep. The dress was as much haute as it was a piece of wearable art. If there was one thing you loved about being wealthy, it was the clothes. 

You laid your evening gown on the chaise before traveling to your vanity and beginning on your makeup. Since the gown was extravagant in itself, you decided that a more subtle makeup look would complement the overall look more. You wanted people to focus on the gown and all its intricacies and craftsmanship. After glossing your lips with a matching shade of pink, you finished your makeup and moved on to your hair. You settled on a suitable hairstyle and allowed your loose face-framing layers to enhance the shape of your face. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror once more before deciding you were ready to go. You walked out of your room and towards the living where Anakin was waiting for you. 

To be continued...

(Here is a link to the dress, which was designed by Miss Sohee. One thing I love about the SW universe is the fashion, so I wanted to include a dress that reflected that. Like, come on. Have you seen Padme’s and Satine’s outfits?)

taglist: @angie2274 @bunnylovesani @0709fullofstars @js-favnanadoongi @payton-dixonreader

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

[didhewinkback]

chug

a something old blurb about the beer whale (whale beer?) (wheer?) (bhale?)

warning: slight smut at the end bc i know thats what the people come to see

---

“Just stand where I can see yeh’” was the request he mumbled into your hair before kissing you on the cheek and heading to the huddle, leaving you free to roam, beers in hand, determined to enjoy the show from a new vantage point, surrounded by the crew members you’ve gotten to know and love over the years. 

You spent the first half with Sandy and Sarah and the catering legends, giggling and dancing to the songs you all knew like the back of your hand at this point, locking eyes with him when he brought out Wet Leg, big smirk on his face as he sauntered up to the mic, eyes burning into yours while he sang one line of the chorus over and over, fire in his eyes when you sang it right back to him. 

You duck down to the front of the stage for the second half, ensuring the lads were well hydrated with water and beer alike, feeling like your heart was going to burst watching him have the time of his life on that stage. In utter disbelief at what the past two and half years have been for him and you both, watching him soar to new heights you always knew were possible but couldn’t imagine seeing play out in real time, the boy whose school band played at your 15th birthday party now singing to stadiums across the world, loving every second and being loved in return. 

He’s at his best when he’s up there, his big, open heart ripe for the taking, making the crowd of thousands feel like a small room of his closest friends, relishing in the attention, the screams, the insatiable energy, gratitude radiating out of every fiber of his being. It’s enough to make you weep when you think about it for too long, an impossible to articulate experience of watching the person you love most in this world achieve their dreams over and over again. 

It’s overwhelming, mind-blowing and also really fucking fun, you think, cheers-ing with the lads as you started another round of beer (it is the end of tour after all), watching as Harry runs across the stage, picking up his water bottle, poised for the classic whale, almost like clockwork. But this time, he pauses, doing a quick double take when he sees you down front with the crew. 

He gestures to your half drunk cup, ushering it towards him as you hold it up to the cheers of your group, Brad’s long arms aiding the transfer as Harry takes it from him and after smiling back at the band, downs it in one go, much to the delight of the lads. They’re goading him on, chanting his name, but everything whites out around you as all you can focus on is the way his throat moves, the beer that misses his mouth falling onto his naked chest, dripping down in a way that makes you feel warm all over. Never one to mind a messy face.

It’s over in seconds but feels like it went on for ages, a time bending effect he always seems to have on you. He winks at you before placing the cup down, facing the crowd fully as he spits it into the air, wide grin on his face as you all cheer before he runs to the other side of the stage.

It’s much later, after the final songs, the emotional thank yous, the celebratory post-show drinks on the beach with the whole crew, that you stumble into bed together, both a bit drunk off the booze and each other, burning up from one too many lingering stares across the party, whispered conversations about how good he looked up there, your beer all over him, his ripped chest gleaming in the spotlight. He’s pressing you into the mattress in record time, hands sliding all over your body as his lips leave their mark on your skin, breath catching at the never-ending stream of praise leaving your mouth as you get lost in each other, in this night, consumed by overwhelming pride and love and the carnal need to have each other close. 

“You’re proud of me, huh?” he grunts into your ear, hand sliding down your thigh to hike it up around his hip, the new angle making the both of you moan out loud. “Y’ love me?”

“Yes, H. Fuck. So much, I -”

“Want y’ to show me,” he says, voice deep in your ear as he smacks a kiss to your cheek, your temple, biting at your lips while his hands slide up your body, interlacing your fingers to hold your hands over your head, his chest sliding against yours. “Be my good girl and show me how proud y’ are, how much y’love me. Want to see it. Want to feel it. C’mon baby, show me -”

So you do. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

---

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[moralesmilesanhour]

lil' baby crush

summary: gwen pays miles a visit and gets him to go to one(1) college party. wc: ~1400 a/n: this isn't canon-compliant in that gwen is gay and miles is bisexual here. he's like the 'damn nobody want u fr' 'im sayin like!' image. enjoy!

Miles sighed and sunk down into his chair, the blue light from his laptop illuminating his face. He was currently the only one occupying the shared dorm room, working on an essay that wasn’t due until next month while his roommate was out doing…whatever he was doing. 

Partying, probably.

Despite what he’d often told his parents to explain his sudden disappearances, Miles didn’t really do parties. 

He’d had a taste of them in the form of school dances at Brooklyn Middle: you get there, maybe talk to your friends a little, then stand around trying to figure out how, when, and for how long to dance while the same ten songs rattle your eardrums. 

If he wanted to blast his ears with music for several hours straight, he figured that’s what his trusty bass-boosted headphones at home were for. No complex social ballet required. Even better, he could choose the playlist. 

But it sure made for some boring-ass Friday nights.

Miles got up and rolled his shoulders, fully prepared to go lie in bed for another hour, when he caught a familiar golden light flash across his window. He grinned to himself, wondering which member of what Hobie had affectionately called ‘the Spider-band’ had swung by for a visit.

Tap, tap, tap.

Gwen’s white mask appeared in the frame. She waved as Miles padded over to the window and pushed it open wide enough for her to climb through. Just as her muddy converses were about to touch the floor, he raised an eyebrow.

“Gwanda, you know better.”

“Right, forgot about that,” Gwen laughed, kicking them off. “Old habits, y’know?”

Miles shook his head and grinned.

“So, how’s the thing with MJ going?”

Gwen removed her mask, revealing shoulder-length blonde hair. It fell in choppy layers, and she had replaced the soft pink dye at the tips with a fiery orange.

"Well, it's…going."

Miles crossed his arms.

"Gwen…You did talk to her, right?"

"Y-yeah! I spoke to her," Gwen gnawed at her bottom lip before mumbling, "Once. On the subway."

"Absolutely tragic," he exclaimed dramatically as he fell back on his bed. "My best friend has absolutely no game!"

"Oh, you're one to talk! You think I forgot about 'the shoulder touch'?"

Miles sat straight up.

"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."

"Just saying," Gwen hopped off of the window sill and sat at Miles' desk. "Enough about me, though. How's campus life? You get wasted at any parties yet?"

Miles shrugged.

"I got invited to one nearby that's supposed to be tonight, but I stayed back. No club meetings this week, either, so…"

Her eyes widened.

"So you're just sitting here?"

"I'm being productive," he corrected, pointing to his laptop. "See? I'm half-way done with that essay, I could probably turn it in a week early."

"Miles."

"What? I'm chilling, Gwen, seriously! Just me and my, uh…" Miles glanced at his bookshelf. "...crossword puzzles."

Gwen stood resolutely, already having made a decision in her head.

"Pick an outfit, we're going to that party."

"Whoah, whoah, wait, hold on–"

Miles hopped to his feet as she threw open his closet and began rummaging through it. 

"Since when do you wear sweater vests?"

She held up several hangers with sweater vests of various colors.

"I wanted to look distinguished…?"

"Nerd," she snorted. "Oh, this bomber jacket looks sick! Feel like going out with it?"

Miles laughed, "Something tells me I don't have much of a choice."

"Correct," Gwen smirked, tossing the jacket at him. "I’m gonna have to borrow one of these hoodies."

-

After a twenty-minute walk (Miles didn’t want to risk swinging), the two stopped in front of a run-down apartment building. Loud music and spinning lights from mini disco balls spilled out of the windows.

"This is it," Miles breathed. "If my first party sucks or gets raided by the cops, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Never know until you try," Gwen replied. "Shall we?"

The place was already packed. There was a lively beer pong game happening in the kitchen, while a pack of students were strung along the walls in the living room puffing clouds of marijuana smoke into the air. The group in the middle of the room, of course, was dancing. Or something that closely resembled dancing.

Miles glanced across the room, scanning the sea of swaying bodies when he noticed one lounging on the couch.

The figure was staring down into a red solo cup, a full head of blonde, ear-length dreads obscuring half of his face until he looked up. 

In a devastating miscalculation, Miles let himself stare a little longer until he realized that their eyes had met. He froze, as if the stranger’s dark eyes kept him in place.

Gwen followed his line of vision. She’d seen that look on Miles’ face before: once when they first met at Visions, and again when Hobie had invited them to a concert and she’d caught Miles ogling the bassist. 

She grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"I'll be by the speakers. Go get 'em, tiger."

Despite his sneakers feeling like they were made of concrete, he took a step forward, then another, keeping his eyes on his target all the while. 

The other boy tilted his head in amusement. 

"Um," Miles began, "I-Is this spot taken?"

"Well, I'm sitting in it, so…"

Real smooth, Miles.

"No! I mean, like, next to you–"

The boy’s eyes became crescent moons as he burst into laughter.

"Relax, I know what you meant. Spot's free," he gestured towards the empty area on the couch to his right.

"O-oh, cool. Thanks," Miles laughed awkwardly. The couch sank beneath him when he sat down.

How the fuck do you flirt with dudes?

He could barely fumble his way through flirting with women, riding almost entirely on them finding his utter lack of game endearing. Now here he was, glancing back and forth between the stranger and a wall.

"Yo, you want a drink?" The boy asked, snapping Miles out of his thoughts. "You look like you need one."

He was probably right.

"Sure, I don't mind."

He rose to his feet, revealing more of his outfit: an oversized black tee layered over a white shirt, with a red kilt draped over a pair of dark wash jeans. A real Jaden Smith type, it seemed. But maybe Miles was into that. 

It wasn't long before he returned with a second solo cup, which he pushed into Miles' hand. 

"So," he asked with a grunt as he sat, "Why you not dancin'?"

Miles snorted, and shook his head.

"I don't dance. Was never too good at it."

"Ah, but is the point of dancing to be good at it?"

"Don't get philosophical with me now, I'm a STEM major," Miles grinned, then took a sip of whatever was in his cup. 

He tried his best to hide his disdain for the brown liquid, but the grimace on his face made it evident. "I didn't catch your name, by the way."

"Call me TJ."

"That's a cute name–I mean, a nice name," Miles winced at himself. "A very…normal name."

TJ laughed, revealing a gap-toothed smile that made Miles' chest swell. "Thanks. Yours?"

"Miles. Miles Morales."

"I think your name's cuter. Bonus points for alliteration."

Miles felt heat rushing up to his ears and cheeks. He hadn't had enough to drink for him to blame it on that. 

"So, why aren't you dancing?" He asked, changing the subject.

TJ shrugged. 

"I prefer to people-watch."

"Oh, so when you do it, it's 'people-watching'," Miles made air quotes with his fingers. "I see how you move."

"And yet here you are, talking to me anyway. No idea why you chose me to sit next to, by the way. It's hella empty seats."

Miles bit his lip. 

"I…didn't come over here just to find a seat, actually." 

TJ raised a bleached eyebrow. 

"So what did you come here for? Clearly not to get high, your pupils look normal."

Miles took a deep breath, his heartbeat louder in his ears than the music.

"You, um…You're…"

Holy shit, just say something!

"Do you like boys? I'm not asking for a friend."

Oh my god. Not like that.

TJ blinked, then a smirk began to spread across his face as he came to a realization. 

"Why, yes. Yes I do. You wanna get outta here? I know a place with actual food."

Miles let out a breathy laugh.

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

"I think I have some idea. You're sweating."

Before he could respond, Miles felt his phone vibrate in his jacket. It was Gwen.

-gwanda: finally!!

-gwanda: if u don’t get his number im gonna be so mad at u. be back by midnight!!

He rolled his eyes.

-miles: ok mom

Miles shut off his phone and rose to his feet, as TJ had already done. He took a deep breath.

“Shall we?”

[neukdaez]

Hello there! If possible could I request a K smut based on one of the songs he just recommended on weverse 🤕

🎧🎵 “Lie to me” by No Guidance

‘Tell me when I leave you'll be feeling lonely

Telling all the boys, I'm your one and only

Tell them I'm on the only one that make you horny

That's why you're such a freak for me’

You should’ve seen my face listening to the song while reading the lyrics cuz so true king I’m such a freak only for you >< Thank you 💖

the truth don't feel so good, the lies don't hurt as bad

rating: explicit (smut)

member: k

notes: fem-bodied!reader, fwb setup, mild (?) angst, unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, slight praise, university setting, nicholas is reader's ex

a/n: yay my frist drabble on this acc! i love this request so much and i love this song a lot so i had a lot of fun writing this. hope you all enjoy!

*divider by cafekitsune*

kei is a proud man. a proud, jealous man, at that.

kei knows what he wants, knows what he deserves. hell, he knows that people drool at the mere sight of him when he walks the halls of this university.

but his pride is dwarfed time and time again once it's you who's looking.

effortless, the way your smile pulls him in. he thinks it's the prettiest smile he's seen on anyone. charming, the voice that dances past your mouth, the only thing he hears when you talk. searing, intoxicating, your touch when you run your hands over his back, pulling him closer to you.

kei is a proud man, but in the stolen moments, when you tell him he's the one, the only one, he knows that even the embodiment of hubris themselves would crumble under your hand.

even to those who aren't privy to your hypnotizing ways in the bedroom, you're known as someone who people just liked. kei sees it in the many times he has to stop by your side when you run into someone you know on campus.

he's been like that for a few weeks now. what other people might call as 'scary dog privilege' is merely a lovesick puppy following you around.

you love having kei close by, love the moments you share in between classes, grabbing ice cream or boba or a quick snack while he pulls you close and holds your hand.

make no mistake, he's not a boyfriend. he's just one of many. well, one of a few.

actually, one of two.

nicholas is your ex. was your ex. is? maybe? you're not sure at this point. all you know is that he drives you everywhere and picks you up and kisses you when no one's looking. and he fucks you on his couch when time allows.

kei is...a friend. one you've known for years but who you've kept a safe distance from. nicholas could sniff him out back when you two were still an official thing. tells you that kei is up to no good, that he orbits around you, waiting for you and nicholas to break up.

and he was right. nicholas was always right.

nicholas was also right when he said you'll always come back to him, even after you two broke up.

he didn't say anything about staying, though. right?

so you come and go, leaving when you're sick of nicholas' selfish ways, falling right into kei's waiting, patient arms. you know kei loves it that it's him you run to every time. you know he loves it so much that he wouldn't dare say a thing about how fucked up this whole thing is, for fear that he might break the delicate balance between your indecisive ways.

"he wouldn't stop talking about how he fucked this one girl at a party," you grumble, kicking off your shoes near kei's dorm room door. he's on his bed, leaning against his headboard, focused on his laptop.

"yeah?" kei responds absentmindedly, typing away on his keyboard.

you huff, sauntering over to him. you plant a knee on the bed, on one side of kei's hips, throwing your other leg over his supine form. it's only then that he looks up, watching your every move.

you situate yourself right over kei's crotch, not even bothering to stay still as you pull your shirt over your head, letting your bottom half rub against the mound in kei's pants.

kei shuts his laptop, depositing it on his nightstand, hands easily finding their place on your thighs.

"getting right into it, huh?" kei teases. you smile, leaning down to kiss him.

"i missed you, that's all," you whisper as you pull away momentarily.

kei knows this is a lie. a half-truth at best. you just came from nicholas' place and he confirms it with one look at your neck, peppered with bluish-red spots.

you're insatiable, you're the selfish one here. but at least he made the roster, right?

you grind down on kei, smirking as you hear him moan against your lips. his large hands run up your back, undoing the clasp of your bra expertly. you let it fall, tossing it off to the side.

you feel kei's arms wrap around you, flipping you under him, frame easily trapping you against his mattress. you look up at him, hair mussed, lips parted and deliciously pink. you can't help it, you kiss him again, burning with want.

kei tugs at the drawstring of your pants a little too forcefully and you yelp when you feel the waistband snap against your skin.

"oh come on, baby, you've taken more pain than that," kei taunts, pulling your bottoms and underwear down. you giggle, knowing how right he is.

"oh yeah," you confirm as kei levels himself back up with your face. "and you're the only one who can make it hurt so good."

another lie. maybe. kei doesn't care to know what you and nicholas do in the bedroom, save for whatever you tell him.

kei plants a kiss on your nose, your face scrunching up cutely. he leans back momentarily, tugging off his own pants and boxers. he looks divine to you in this moment, black shirt hugging his figure perfectly, his bottom half completely bare, cock leaking and waiting to be inside you.

no words are exchanged as kei slots himself between your legs, pushing in with little difficulty. you're already so wet at this point, already used to his size, that there's no need for any prelude.

kei knows when it's going to be one of those times.

when there aren't any particular strong emotions swirling beneath the surface. when you come onto him almost neutral, but still eager for him, for his cock that splits you open so perfectly. he knows when to toss you around like a common whore and he knows when all you want (but can't say) is to be held, fucked lovingly onto the bed.

right now is one of the times when all you need is for kei to be close and whisper that he loves you.

even when you say it back and don't mean it.

"i love you," kei whispers as he starts to move, already dangerously close to reaching that one spot within you.

"i love you, too," you reply, pulling him against you, letting him bury his face in your neck.

you wrap your legs around kei's torso, relishing in the soft grunts that reach your ear as he fucks you, filled with passion but hinting at something almost like desperation.

kei gets like this sometimes. overcome with emotion, his feelings momentarily catching up to him, cursing nicholas in his head, cursing you, calling you every insult in the book for not truly loving him back.

but kei is a proud man, is he not? he won't let you know just how miserable he is while playing this game.

"fuck, kei, just like that," you pant as his thrusts grow harder, more intense.

kei pulls back, steadying himself as he looks right at your face. you reach up to brush his hair away from his forehead. he leans towards your hand, kissing your palm.

your heart jolts, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"i love you," you repeat to kei. "i fucking love you."

kei squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back as he quickens his pace. you let a whine rip out of you as you feel him deep within, stretching you so good.

your eyes meet once more and despite the growing knot in your abdomen, the rising temperature in the room, and the sweat threatening to drip down from your forehead into your eyes, you keep your gaze fixed on kei. watching him look down at you lovingly, adoringly, hungrily.

"you're mine, right?" kei asks, voice almost breaking. you nod immediately.

"'m yours," you mumble, already feeling the beginnings of your orgasm creeping through.

"shit, i'm gonna—"

you don't even get to finish your sentence as your whole body stiffens, your back arching off the bed. euphoria envelops you and kei holds you firm, holds you down as he finishes not long after, pumping his cum deep in you.

kei presses his nose behind your ear, where your shampoo comes off the strongest, mingled with your perfume, the same one nicholas always bought for you.

the two of you lay panting, spent and satiated. kei pulls off you a few seconds later, sitting back on his heels. you prop yourself up on your elbows, a lazy smile gracing your lips.

"you're amazing," you praise, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

kei affords himself a chuckle as he stumbles off the bed, grabbing a towel and handing it to you.

he hopes it isn't a lie this time.

[raplinesmoon]

Outro: Propose - BTS as different kinds of people you'll meet at a wedding

Ok so I'm literally going to a five-day desi wedding extravaganza soon, and with the summer and wedding season coming to a close, it got me thinking of how Bangtan would be at a wedding, should you happen to run into them (wouldn't that be the dream?) 💜💜💜

Kim Namjoon - The Politico

Yeah, weddings are fun and all, but when I tell you this man is starved to get into it with someone and anyone over politics, religion, art, literature, etc. He's not going to pick a fight, but will respectfully hand it to any drunk uncles that say something completely out of line (and he can do it sober). Is being eyed by mothers as a top-notch prospect for their children, so it’s no shock when you’re introduced to him and end up hitting it off😍

Kim Seokjin - The Unofficial Photographer

Will literally push the real photographer aside to take pics on his iPhone. Claims to be taking pictures of the happy couple, but half of them are just selfies and thirst traps. Somehow ends up in every single photo, stealing the spotlight with his handsomeness. Will upload a video of Hoseok dancing to Tiktok that will go viral the next day. Picks you up by tapping you on the shoulder and offering to snap a photo, and of course you fall for it 🙄

Min Yoongi - The Bacchanalian

Literally cannot survive the night without a strong drink in his hand, because listen, people are a lot. Will be found lurking near the bar, exuding a quiet, mysterious aura that catches the attention of anyone nearby, whereupon they'll probably try (and fail) to flirt with him. Turns overly affectionate when he's had too many, side hugs everyone in sight. You catch him in one of those moments, where he accidentally spills his drink on you, and you don’t mind at all 😵‍💫

Jung Hoseok - The Champion Dancer

You will literally have to peel him off the dance floor. He gets up and dances to every song, and knows the words to all of them. Often seen with a circle of people around him, marvelling over his spectacular moves. Takes any sort of choreographed dance assignment wayyy too seriously, much to the chagrin of his fellow wedding party members, but the performances will always end up being a banger. Saves just enough energy to ask you for a slow dance at the end of the night, and you can’t say anything but yes🕺🏽

Park Jimin - The Gossip

The way you’ll see this man at every table, talking to anyone and everyone. Why? Because this man is here for one thing and one thing only: tea. And he’s charming enough to get it out of people. Catch him spilling secrets from table to table, until eventually drama ensues and he sits back and watches it all unfold with a smirk. You confront him about the chaos and he feigns innocence, pulling you into a back room to convince you he’s done nothing wrong 😏

Kim Taehyung - The Hopeless Romantic

Literally pulls up to the wedding with stars in his eyes because LOVE!! Waxes poetic about the beautiful couple and how everything is perfect from the decor to the DJ. Snaps photos for his own wedding Pinterest board and hits up the vendors just in case. Eventually has to step out into the hall and cry because being single is hard. That’s how you find him in the hallway, the two of you lamenting over dating together, but you both leave the wedding a little more hopeful ☠️

Jeon Jungkook - The Wild Child

Weddings make him restless bc not only is there people anxiety, but he’d rather be doing something. Invests his energy into corralling the children and playing airplane with them… which eventually leads them all to go outside and start an impromptu kickball match. Runs into you when a kick goes wrong and ends up smacking into you, but you can’t stay angry at him for long 😮‍💨

[scarletttries]

My lovely @kendallroyenthusiast Kelsey, thank you so much for your sweet message and I loved hearing the details of your wedding! I'm obsessed that you wore a black dress, I think that's so badass and I bet you looked like an amazing vampire queen 🥹 Also between Horror films and making excessive playlists we have so much of the same taste! 🥰 I ship you with.. Lukas Mattson!

- Lukas Mattson can't believe it when he's forced to accompany an aging Logan Roy to hospital after he collapses at another one their supposedly gentle business strolls. He's never liked being in a hospital, always associating them with the worst days of a person's life, but his mind very quickly changed on that when you appeared as Logan's emergency department nurse. Your calm professional demeanour, mixed in with a few dark jokes at Logan's expense would have him falling for you hook line and sinker, considering pushing Logan over more often so he'd have an excuse to come back and see you.

- Instead he decides to ask for your number, offering you to take you out to a small local concert with a very famous band that only a few very rich people in the know get to attend. You'd spend the night swapping stories over beers in between sets, and jumping along to songs you know, a huge smile plastered on Lukas's face from the second he picks you up to the moment he returns you safely to your front door, calling it a good night with a kiss on the cheek rather than risk overstepping.

- It would become tradition that whenever Lukas was in town he'd take you out; dinner, shows, aquariums, museums, galleries. Half the time he'll hire out the whole place so he doesn't have to share you with anyone else, making the most of the precious moments you get to spend together.

- He'll miss you more and more in the time he has to spend away, asking you to make him playlists that are the full length of his journey home to you so knows when he hears the final song that you're almost back in his arms. As you get more comfortable together, he starts to fly back into town more and more, growing to really appreciate the quiet nights in too, laughing maniacally at your sarcastic commentary of horror films, enjoying the way you fit perfectly leaning against his chest because of your height difference.

- One day he simply cannot bring himself to get on his flight away from you, and that's the day he decides he has to propose, to do something to cement your relationship so even when he's away you know he's only thinking of you.

- The next time he's back in town he takes you out to one of your favourite museums as usual, but for once you realise that you're not the only people there. As you walk through the main entrance you bump into a friend from the hospital there on a date too. And then across the foyer you see one of your family members you swear you haven't seen in years. Just as you start to think this is just the absolute strangest coincidence, Lukas leads you in the main exhibition hall and the breath in your lungs stills as dark flowers fill every space, candles lining an aisle on the floor, at the end of which is all the close friends and family you could imagine. As you turn to Lukas to ask what the hell is going on, you realise he's dropped to one knee, presenting you with the most intricate diamond ring you've ever seen. His eyes tear up in front of everyone as he tells you how you've become his home, and he can't imagine being away from you for a second longer.

- The wedding is surprisingly traditional for two less than traditional romantics - an enormous church with almost floor to ceiling stained glass windows, covered in the same flowers and candles as your proposal. Lukas in a classic Tuxedo, waiting down the aisle as you float down in your stunning white dress, his hands trembling as he carefully lifts your veil to seal your union with a kiss in front of all your friends and family.

- The party is held at a five star hotel Lukas has rented for all your guests, the wait staff bring drink after drink of the finest wine as you eat a delicious meal that your guests will be dreaming of for years to come. When the dance floor finally filters out to just you and Lukas, he'll make a big show of carrying you bridal-style to the lift, a penthouse honeymoon suite awaiting the two happy newly weds.

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY EXCLUSIVE!

MEET SSICK, THE NEXT GENERATION ROCKSTARS — by Seospicy.

“Live is our thing."

The frontman of the trio that has been making a roar in the music industry, Han, boldly states.

"I’m not saying no other bands can touch us, but that’s our expertise. I think there are so many bands who are better than us at recording, writing songs, singing, and playing guitars or whatever, but in terms of creating an atmosphere I think we’re the best."

The confidence is backed by the number of people squeezing themselves into the pit and filling the entire venue to experience that atmosphere.

Lucky for them, the band will be more than happy to play all of their biggest hits. It's the 'SSICK' thing: giving people what they want.

Unlike other bands, they don't shy away from playing their hits in their show, one after another, and remembering that all of the tracks in their recent albums made it to the chart, they probably have to play the whole lot.

"People pay for tickets with their hard-earned money and they are willing to wait outside for hours to see us," the 23 years old Felix provides the simplest of reasons behind their hits-packed setlist.

Meeting Han at a college party back in 2018 and forming a band with him weeks later felt nothing less than him taking on the right path as he proudly admits that being a drummer for a rock band is his dream.

He fits the name of the band with his unique way of drumming, Felix confirmed that he learned a lot from watching Keith Moon who was famously known for his eccentric drum playing.

"It’s only right that we give them what they want!" Felix finishes with a gentle nod.

His bandmate's words only convinced Han that the show must go on. Ignoring their tour manager, Vin, who has given him three options to handle the situation: sing as normal, get the audience to help him sing, or pull the gig.

"We're not pulling the gig!" Han persists with a scarf tightly wrapped around his neck and regularly drinks his bottled water.

If Ssick has made it this far- two sold-out shows, a top 10 debut album, and a headliner for a festival this summer - it's all because of Han's work ethic, about which he’s earnest to the point of being endearing.

Half an hour before the show, the rest of the band again propose canceling the gig, Han won't even hear it but he's up for a compromise, he won't be playing instruments tonight.

"Hyunjin is so good. He plays like there’s 10 of him anyway," Han says and, at the same time, professes his admiration for Hyunjin's incendiary guitar skill.

As for Han, who gladly gave up playing guitar for the band and picks up the bass ever since, playfully adds, “I’ve hated guitar since I started. It hurts my hands. It’s heavy. It cost me money to buy when I was a kid. They break."

Hyunjin might have been the last to join but Ssick wasn't the first band he played with. He has toured with a band as an additional member, the experience helped him hone his skill that Felix and Han felt like they have to step up their game to get to his level of greatness.

However, the twin, what fans like to call them due to their birth dates only a day apart, stated that the band feels brand new the second Hyunjin decided to join and completed the triangle.

"I feel like they're the right people to create something together with," Hyunjin sheepishly talks for the first time during the interview.

Opposite to his explosive and electrifying stage act, Hyunjin is mostly quiet off the stage yet he doesn't refuse to tell the one thing we're all dying to know.

"First, they don't insist their music on me," he elegantly answers, legs crossed with his hand touching his lower lip.

"I've been with bands that already set their roots without my involvement so it's nice to finally be a part of something from the ground up," he adds.

It seems like it's the first time the other two learning about it too. It's this tender moment like this that can't be captured on camera that speaks the loudest.

Han bursts the silence by tapping Felix on the shoulder, "I thought you offered him money to make him join us," he jokes.

It's still a mystery what Felix did to appeal Hyunjin as he refuse to tell going into the details, but he surely did his job well.

The atmosphere is there the moment they step into the stage. They opened the show with their latest single and despite Han's voice is not at its hundred percent, he made it alright until the end of the first three songs.

With head bowed down, he apologized in advance to the people who made ten thousand tickets sold out in under twenty minutes for his unfit condition to carry a gig.

"I'll make sure everyone goes home with a beer tonight," he promises some sort of consolation, an unconventional one.

After playing their big radio hit, 'One', it's one that worked to make people's head turns and turn them into fans, it somehow rejuvenates him that everyone wondering what he apologized for.

But that doesn't mean he forgot about his promise, as everyone got a can of beer on their way out of the venue.

Considering that Han wrote most of the band's songs, no one doubted that it was coming from his pocket.

Instead of using the chance to brag, he chose to reminisce the time when Felix and him sitting on the carpeted floor of the tiny studio they rented from the old days, weeks after knowing their debut album shoots up to the fourth rank.

"I remember asking Felix, ‘Are we doing this right?’ and Felix went 'Ah, but we’re keeping our feet on the ground'."

Felix testifies to his story by nodding along to what Han saying.

"I said: ‘Isn’t that what rock ‘n’ roll’s about? Aren’t you supposed to lose your feet for a bit?’" Han concludes.

Well, rock and roll aren’t fueled by humility, after all; it’s fueled by guts, guitars, and guys with a hunger for more.

-

READ MORE SSICK ON SEOSPICY'S UPCOMING FIC SERIES: ON TOUR.

RELEASE DATES:

06.09 PART I - SOUNDCHECK.

06.16 PART II - OPENING ACT.

06.23 PART III - UNPLUGGED.

06.30 PART IV - ENCORE.

(With previews available every Thursday!)

[keldae]

The way you said “I love you”: On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, the late sunlight glowing in your hair

Gale had had his share of lovers over the course of his life, starting with trysts at Blackstaff Academy with his fellow students, eventually leading to his ill-advised relationship with Mystra. After the goddess had cast him out, he had believed himself to be a man doomed to die alone, courtesy of the orb in his chest. As his studies with the Netherese magic had progressed, leading him no closer to a cure for his affliction, he felt his hope for a better life falter, withering to only faint embers and ashes. And it was nothing less than he deserved, he felt – this was the price he had paid for his hubris.

Being abducted by mind flayers and infected with a parasite, well – that was just proof that the gods, Mystra in particular, wanted him to suffer before he died.

And then he’d met Deviali.

The half-Elf wasn’t the type of woman he would have ever expected himself to go for in his previous life – she was uncouth, and uneducated, and fiery. She bragged about being a pickpocket and thief, claiming there hadn’t yet been a lock that she couldn’t pick. She was sarcastic, and jaded against all the gods, and a little too willing to fight dirty. Gale suspected that if he’d ever encountered her in Baldur’s Gate or Waterdeep before their abductions, she would have seen him as no more than a pocket to be picked (and he hated to admit that she probably would have been very successful in that endeavour).

But the more time he spent in her company, the more he saw her true colours come out. She was compassionate, and cared more deeply about other people than she pretended to – Gale didn’t miss the way that she sat with the pretty tiefling bard, helping her write a song, or offered words of encouragement to Wyll’s fencing students, or argued with the druids about granting the tiefling refugees shelter for a little bit longer. She didn’t hesitate when asked to look for the archdruid, Halsin – Gale wasn’t sure if her eagerness to find the druid was due to her hope that he could cure them from the parasites, or simply for the hope that he could make the other druids see sense in dealing with the tieflings (or perhaps it was just the urge to go kill goblins with abandon? It was hard to tell.).

She was persuasive, talking her way into the goblin camp, or soothingly trying to reassure the dog with its deceased owner that she was a friend, or arguing with one goblin until she rescued an owlbear cub from its cruel torment. She was sneaky, and mischievous, in stealing from the goblins – and later, from the githyanki creche. She was… Gale thought he could chalk it up to ‘pragmatism’ when she shrugged off Shadowheart’s confession of being a Shar worshipper, or Wyll’s admittance of being a warlock bound in a pact with a devil. Even when Gale was on his knees before her, holding her hand on his heart and showing her his terrible folly with the Netherese tome, he wondered if her insistence on keeping him around despite the magical bomb in his chest was simply due to the fact that a trained wizard in their party was useful, volatile and damned as he might be.

Yet the look of anguish in her eyes as she had seen his trauma, and the way she checked in on him every few hours to make sure he was managing the orb as well as he could… 

No. He didn’t dare let himself think that it was any more than pragmatism. She just doesn’t want me to erupt and kill us all, he thought. That is self-preservation more than anything else.

But when he took it upon himself to introduce her to the mysteries of the Weave after the tieflings’ celebration at their camp, and saw her desire for him… it was a shock to him. He was a damned man, the rejected Chosen of a goddess, who had to keep an incredibly tight rein on his body and mind, lest the bomb in his chest explode if he got aroused or agitated. He could see the other members of their party seemed to have their eyes on her – Shadowheart and Lae’zel, he knew, were both pretty open about fancying her. And even after his transformation, Wyll was a handsome man, and had a compassionate heart and a sense of justice to compliment Devi’s own morals perfectly.

Yet Gale was the person she imagined herself kissing. Gale, the reject of Mystra, the walking bomb who could detonate at a moment’s notice! Confusion and trepidation warred in his mind before giving way to elation at that realisation – that the woman who could have chosen any partner that she wanted fancied him. 

He couldn’t indulge his desire to bed her, of course, not with how volatile the orb was in his chest. But now… now he had a renewed incentive to find a cure for his condition. And while he sought a cure, he thought, he could make the effort to court Devi properly – or at least as properly as he could while on the road (or in the Underdark) with an illithid tadpole in his head. It was a task made all the more difficult with Mystra’s doom laid over his head, despite Devi’s rage at the perceived injustice of it all.

At the least, one positive of Elminster meeting the party on the road was the orb being stabilised. Now Gale could indulge his fantasies of Devi in the privacy of his tent without worrying about if he was going to kill everyone in a wide radius around him. He could flirt with her without danger, beyond the risk of one of their friends rolling their eyes hard enough to strain a muscle in their skulls – and it still amazed him that she flirted back with him just as much.

And when he finally managed to pull her away from everyone in the shadow-cursed lands and took her to bed in the illusions of the Weave, he felt more complete in her arms than he ever had with any of his previous lovers – even Mystra.

Now, as they walked through the sunlight on the road to Baldur’s Gate with the rest of their party, he took the opportunity to openly admire her. She was more than the petite body, red hair, brilliant green eyes, and the piercings and tattoos that she sported. She was kind, and protective, and loyal to a fault to those she cared about. 

She paused at the crest of a hill, turning back to look for him among the group, the late afternoon sunlight setting her hair aflame like a beacon. Her eyes lit up when they landed on him; she patiently waited until he got to her side and took her hand in his. “Gods, I love you,” she murmured, setting her free hand on his chest over his heart.

“I love you too,” Gale softly answered, leaning in to chastely kiss her lips. “Any particular reason?”

Devi shook her head. “Just… thinking about how close I came to losing you,” she quietly said. “And how I’m never going to forgive Mystra for what she ordered you to do.”

Gale shook his head and smiled. “You give me a reason to continue living, darling,” he said. “You fought for me when I never expected anyone to do so. I love you beyond what mere words can convey.”

Devi smiled, and rested her forehead against Gale’s for a moment. “We’d best catch up to the others,” she finally said, “otherwise we’re going to be left behind.”

“They wouldn’t abandon us,” Gale responded with a soft laugh. “Considering most of them can barely cook anything, they’ll surely miss us by dinnertime.” Still, he didn’t resist when Devi resumed walking down the road with him, his hand in hers, where it belonged.

No, he might not have looked her way if he had ever encountered her before their adventure – more fool him. But he was, in that moment, grateful for every mistake and upset circumstance that led him to this woman who he loved.

[jokeroutsubs]

Joker Out Subs - Queue and A / 6.12.2023 Amsterdam

Hello and welcome to a very special episode of the JokerOutSubs podcast. On the 6th December I was fortunate enough to be able to travel to see Joker Out perform in Amsterdam, and while there, myself and another member of JokerOutSubs decided to interview fans in the queue outside the venue. The following is a compilation of some of our favourite responses, as well as a short interview with Mark Pirc, who works with Joker Out in creative and visual direction.

We hope you enjoy this episode of 'Queue and A'.

So, have you been to a Joker Out gig before or is this your first one?

Baby Boo: It's my first one. Baby Boo: I've been there yesterday, in Den Haag. Grace/JOS: Oh, how was it? Baby Boo: It was amazing! Grace/JOS: Are you looking forward to repeating it again tonight? Baby Boo: Yeah! Grace/JOS: And did you get here ok? Because I know the boys had a little bit of a tough time! Baby Boo: Oh well, um, my one and a half hour trip took me three hours, so… (all laugh) Grace/JOS: So you're glad to be here now! Baby Boo: Last night, and it was my first one. Grace/JOS: Oh you went to Den Haag! And how was it? Baby Boo: Ahh, I'm still emotionally and psychologically recovering! (All laugh). Grace/JOS: What, from the gig or from the journey here? Baby Boo: No, the gig, because you look forward to it for months and months and months, and then you have all these hopes but you don't think they'll happen, and then everything good happens. Grace/JOS: Oh, amazing! Baby Boo: And you know, I got a pick from Jan Grace/JOS: (gasps) Baby Boo: So I've already won. (All laugh) Grace/JOS: Maybe you get another one tonight, who knows? Baby Boo: Maybe! I'm going for Nace (laughter) but I already promised, if I got a Nace pic that I would give it to ---- here because she… Baby Boo: I'm a Nace girlie Grace/JOS: Nace girlie, yep! So, as I say, have you been to a gig before? Baby Boo: I've been. I also went yesterday, but I also went to Tavastia in Finland. Grace/JOS: OHHHH NO WAY?! You witnessed it, in all it's glory! Baby Boo: Yes, I went to the second one. I saw it being announced and I was like, you know what? Travelling to Finland it is! (Laughter). So I went, and I had the pleasure to see Kaarija also! (Laughter) I was at the second gig, so it was amazing. Grace/JOS: Oh incredible! Baby Boo: This is my twelfth gig. Grace/JOS: TWELFTH? Oh my God, which other ones have you been to? Baby Boo: Er, so I count the Eurovision pre-party in London, and then I did night two pre-show, live show night two, er…grand final (laughter), did both nights in Dublin, did the whole UK tour and then we saw them in Oslo as well. Grace/JOS: Oh my God, so committed! What about you? Baby Boo: I have a few less, I did both nights in Dublin and then in Oslo, and now I'm here! Baby Boo: Manchester and Glasgow, and Glasgow was the best one so far. I also went to Stockholm and Wroclaw Grace/JOS: Oh, amazing! Baby Boo: (continues) Den Haag yesterday…I can't even keep up, I've been to that many now! (All laugh). I'm losing count, and then I have the UK tour booked next year. Grace/JOS: Ohhh, I'll see you there! Baby Boo: Yes to two, as of yesterday. The first was in Vienna, the Halloween gig and the second one was yesterday. Grace/JOS: So you saw the pilot costumes? Baby Boo: I did! (All laugh) Grace/JOS: And how was that? Baby Boo: Oh that was an experience for sure! (Laughter) I'll just say, my sister was so jealous, but I sent her loads of videos so that was fine, but oh my God, it was an experience. Grace/JOS: Amazing, I'm very jealous.

So is there anything particularly that you're looking forward to seeing tonight, any particular songs you want to hear?

Baby Boo: Er, I'm really hoping because I've seen that they played it last night, the full setlist. Grace/JOS: Ohh, yeah yeah yeah, fingers crossed. Baby Boo: Proti Toku, because we missed out in Oslo (laughter), I'm so upset! Grace/JOS: We all want Proti Toku! Baby Boo: Omamljeno Telo, thats my bitch! Grace/JOS: YAAAAAAAS! (Laughter) Baby Boo: Yeah, I would love to hear the NGVOT, and especially Kris talking Dutch hopefully! Grace/JOS: Kris girlie, then? Baby Boo: Yeah definitely! (All laugh)

So, Bojan occassionally says both 'welcome' and 'Umazane misli' in different languages, so how would you say those phrases in your languages?

Baby Boo: So, welcome is obviously 'Willkommen', and the other one is 'schmutzige Gedanken'. (All laugh) Grace/JOS: That sounds sexy. Schmutzige Gedanken! Baby Boo: Yeah, they said that in Vienna as well. Grace/JOS: Oh did they? Yeah! Baby Boo: But really really well too, like without an accent, as if they were natives. Grace/JOS: Oh incredible! That's really nice! Grace/JOS: Now, see, you're from England so welcome is 'welcome'. Umazane misli, do you know the translation? Baby Boo: Sometimes they say 'dirty thoughts'… Grace/JOS: There you go! Baby Boo: But if they're trying to be posh, they say indecent no-…in-…indecent notions? (All laugh) Grace/JOS: I love that, 'if they're trying to be posh' Baby Boo: I can't even say it, because I can't try and be posh. (All laugh) Grace/JOS: And…welcome and Umazane misli? Baby Boo: Uh, welcome is 'witajcie', and Umazane misli, we can actually say 'umazane myśli' Grace/JOS: Oh, so really close then! Baby Boo: Yeah! But at the show, they said, I think, 'brudne myśli' Grace/JOS: So, did you say Iceland? Baby Boo: Icelandic would just be 'Velkominn'. Grace/JOS: Ok, and what about Umazane misli, or 'dirty thoughts'? Baby Boo: I don't know, that isn't in my… Grace/JOS: That's not in your vocabulary! (Laughs) Baby Boo: No! That's not in the family chat language (All laugh) that I know of my Icelandic that's still there, is not 'dirty thoughts' Grace/JOS: How do you say those two phrases in Dutch? Baby Boo: So, welcome would be 'Welkom' and… Grace/JOS: Thats nice and easy Baby Boo: Yeah, nice and easy! I think 'dirty thoughts', I would personally say it's difficult to translate but..I would say… (laughter) Grace/JOS: The blushing has begun… Baby Boo: Yes…um…'geile gedachten' (giggles) Baby Boo: Welcome in Welsh is 'croeso', and then, um- ugh, I'm not even going to pronounce it in Slovenian, I'm really sorry (all laugh) is 'meddyliau budr', something like that. Grace/JOS: We'll go with that, yeah! And what about Irish? Baby Boo: Ok so, for welcome you can say 'fáilte' or 'fáilte míle', that just means a thousand welcomes because we like to exaggerate shit (all laugh). And then for Umazane misli you say, 'smaointe salach'. Grace/JOS: Sm- smointe? Baby Boo: Smaointe salach Grace/JOS: Salach. Baby Boo: Yep!

So speaking of languages, most of Joker Out's songs to date are in Slovenian. How do you feel about that? Is that a plus for you or is it a minus?

Baby Boo: Yeah, I really love getting to experience music in other languages, and I love when the music just like, can, um, translate emotions, without having to understand every word of it. Grace/JOS: Thats such a cute answer, I love that! Baby Boo: Err, for me it's really nice to have, like, different language, because I enjoy learning new languages so it helps with learning new words as well Grace/JOS: Have you learned any Slovenian? Baby Boo: Well I'm still trying because there's not really…well, for me it's not really easy to get access to how to learn, so I'm still looking into that. Grace/JOS: Have you got the Memrize app yet? Baby Boo: No, I haven't Grace/JOS: There you go, so there's a reccommendation for all our listeners, the Memrize app has Slovenian on it. Baby Boo: Well, I don't really care, because I like music from every country. If I just like the vibe of the music it's OK for me, um, so, I listened to a lot of music before I knew how to speak English, and then I liked a lot of stuff too, so, it's pretty much the same for me. Grace/JOS: I love that answer, yeah, that's such a good point as well. Baby Boo: I really like that it's in a different language, because they're so much more expressive, because if you, like, choose New Wave and Novi Val, it just packs so much more of a punch. All: Yeah… Baby Boo: So I like it in their own language more. Baby Boo: I do want to say though, I'm not against them doing English the way some people are. Baby Boo: no, no, no! Grace/JOS: Sure! Baby Boo: Because I think they should do what they want to do, and not every song has to be this intense, poetic masterpiece, sometimes they can be fun and that's fine. Baby Boo: Um, for me, it feels quite freeing to listen to songs that aren't in your language, because you don't have to think about what it's about, or like, I dont know…there's some of their songs that sound really happy, like, um…ne… Grace/JOS: Ne govoriva več o tem? Baby Boo: Yeah that one! Um, it sounds happy but it's not, but if I want to listen to it and think that it's happy then I can. If I want to listen to it and think oh, this was like, a sad time for Kris, then I can also do that. I just think… Grace/JOS: So it's music for every mood! Baby Boo: Yeah! I just think music…you don't need to listen to music in your own language to like the music.

And, do you have a favourite meme or inside joke that's related to Joker Out?

Baby Boo: Oh no! Grace/JOS: Oh dear, what? (Laughs) Baby Boo: Soon! Grace/JOS: SOON! (All laugh) None of us ever want to hear that again, ok? Baby Boo: Honestly, the ones in the last couple days, if they hadn't been for a gig I was going to about them not getting there, they would have been funny to me, because all the just, the faces on random objects… Grace/JOS: Ohh, the ones they've been sharing on their stories, yeah yeah yeah! Baby Boo: I enjoy that, yeah. Grace/JOS: Yep, any from you? Baby Boo: Honestly it's still Kaarija related, I'm sorry (laughter) but it is the 'are you?' All: ARE YOU?! (Laughter) Baby Boo: I gave Bojan yesterday a bracelet that said 'are you?' in Slovenian Grace/JOS: Oh, amazing! And how is that said in Slovenian? Baby Boo: I didn't throw it, because I'm not a jerk who throws things at people (laughter), it's just 'si ti?' Grace/JOS: Oh yeah, of course, yeah, absolutely. Baby Boo: Favourite meme, favourite inside joke right? Turtle… Grace/JOS: TURTLEEE (laughter). Do you know what, we've had a couple of people say that today, that's a popular one! Baby Boo: Yeah, because like, what, like Nace just stops the interview for like a minute or two (laughter) just to like, passionately talk about turtles. Its like, that was like the moment that I was like, oh my God Nace. Grace/JOS: So do you have a favourite meme or inside joke that's related to the Joker Out fanbase? Something just popped into your head, I can see it in your eyes. Baby Boo: How fat Kris' arse is. (All laugh) No, I'm being deadly serious. It was the first thing I noticed when I was watching the Carpe Diem music video, I was like, he's got a really nice bum. That was the first thing I noticed, so, I love how it's ongoing. Grace/JOS: That is my favourite answer of the day so far! Go on then, what about you? Baby Boo: I've just been repeatedly saying 'slay pose!' Grace/JOS: Slay pose! Yes, love it!

So, can you describe your favourite member of Joker Out without saying their name or the instrument that they play?

Grace/JOS: You were born ready for this question! Baby Boo: Dresses in the colours of a badger, of the forest. (All laugh). Grace/JOS: Hunting colours! Baby Boo: Is feline! Is somewhere else even though he's onstage, he's not actually there. Grace/JOS: I love it. We all know who you're talking about. Baby Boo: We all know. Baby Boo: Um…ohh! It's a puppy in the form of…more of a lion. (All laugh) Grace/JOS: What?! Baby Boo: He's pretty intense but gorgeous. Grace/JOS: Ok… Baby Boo: Um…he's adorable definitely, and he has some very good vibes with another one of the band. (All laugh) Grace/JOS: Ok, ok! Baby Boo: And lots of tattoos. Grace/JOS: And lots of tattoos, alright, yep, ok. Baby Boo: Well, I have one but it's only related to the show yesterday. Grace/JOS: Oh, go on! Baby Boo: Sinterklaas! Grace/JOS: Sinterklaas, ok! (Laughs) Yeah, I think we can guess who that's about! Baby Boo: Big beautiful brown eyes, whatever you say handsome! Grace/JOS: (Laughs) Yeah! Baby Boo: My ones more like, smash (All laugh) but if I had to actually describe him, um, what was that thing they call him? A troubadour. Grace/JOS: A troubadour, oh yes OK, I think we all know who that is. Grace/JOS: A sunflower? Wait, hold on. Baby Boo: Like, he- he is a sunflower. If a sunflower was a person, it's him. Grace/JOS: Thats really sweet, what a nice way to describe someone! Baby Boo: I watched an interview the other day, back from the Eurovision days, where the interviewer showed them flags, right? And they had to sing the song that that country had sent that year, and my favourite member actually defended my flag, the Austrian flag. Because he was saying 'thats not the Austrian flag!' Grace/JOS: Oh yeah! That's not what it looks like! Baby Boo: The others were like yeah, it is, and he was like, no no no, it has a…it has a…now I don't know the word, it has a bird in the middle. (Laughter) That's my favourite member. Grace/JOS: That's such a nice one! Baby Boo: Can I add to that? So that same guy, I know exactly who you're talking about (laughter), I did a Manchester flag. It was an England flag and I'd written Manchester on it, everybody signed it in the queue. After the show he was like oh yeah, I seen your flag, I thought it was the Georgian flag, but he said to me 'did you come from Georgia?' And I said 'no' (all laugh) I drove two hours to come, and he was like 'oh! Is it not the Georgia flag?' and I said 'no, it's the England flag'. Then he said, 'oh, the Manchester flag!' (all laugh) and I said 'no, the England flag!' and then he looked at me, really puzzled, and he went; 'I didn't know England had a flag.' (All laugh)

And, could you tell us any positive stories or experiences that have come into your life due to being a part of this fan community?

Baby Boo: Well, I've made a lot of friends in this community. Yeah, you can see over there, none of those people I've met before (laughter) but for today they are my best friends now. Grace/JOS: Queue friends are the best kind of friends for sure. Baby Boo: Yeah, I think they help a lot with panic attacks and all that kind of stuff in your life, and new friends and all that kind of stuff. And my English is getting better. Grace/JOS: Oh amazing! Oh that's incredible! Baby Boo: Well, the show yesterday was really fun, I had a great time, um, I've been to many shows but the crowd was really nice here, and normally it's just everyone wanting to push in and here everyone was just chill, helping eachother, so it was a really great experience. Grace/JOS: Oh that's amazing! Baby Boo: I was planning on going to The Hague concert by myself, um, and then a message came from a girl on the page like, hey, does people want to go together? And then a group was formed, and this group is like, my closest friends right now, so I really love them. Grace/JOS: That's so nice! Baby Boo: She's one of them. Baby Boo: I met her in the group chat. Grace/JOS: I was gonna say, so group chat again for you? Baby Boo: Yep. Baby Boo: We met! We met first gig in Dublin, and then the next thing I know they announced the Nordic tour. We did try for Helsinki but obviously that was not going to happpen. Grace/JOS: Bloodbath. Baby Boo: Yeah! And then I was like, I bought these Oslo tickets, we're going to go see my best mate there, and she was like 'cool', and then here we are, and we've booked four more dates for the next tour as well. Grace/JOS: Oh, incredible! So the real Joker Out is the friendships you made along the way. (Laughter)

To be continued >>

Interviews by IG @GBoleyn123 Audio editing and design by IG @s_aaaraa Umazane misli clip from IG @ch4rlie.21

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 20

Chapter 20 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, seeing Chrissy attacked has them all on edge, which isn’t helped when they return to the cabin and find it completely ransacked. Eddie missing from the scene. The search for him only sets them on the path to more danger.

On AO3.

Ships: steddie & buckingham

Warnings: general season 4 shenanigans, child abuse mention, hate-crime, homophobia, f-slur, bullying mention

~~~~

Chapter 20: The Escape

Steve screams Chrissy’s name loudly and shakes her, despite the fact he knows it won’t do anything to save her.

Behind him, the others get there and see what has happened. Max is rushing forward, already pulling off her own headphones to give to Chrissy, but she is stopped by Lucas, who yells: “Are you insane? Vecna is looking for a target right now.”

“Do you expect me to let her die for me?” Max screams back, an again going unspoken. “She needs music.”

A part of Steve wishes Lucas hadn’t stopped Max, but he knows that wouldn’t have solved anything. Right now Chrissy needs music and Steve knows how to get it. He quickly scoops Chrissy up, hating how light she feels as he yells: “Get out of the fucking way!”

The party scrambles to let him pass as he carries Chrissy down the stairs, relieved she isn’t floating yet. Robin is at his side, Nancy at his back. Nancy asks: “Where are you going?”

“She needs music, I’m bringing her to music,” Steve replies.

“You’ll never make it to the car,” Nancy argues. “It’s too far.”

“We don’t have to make it to the car,” Steve tells her.

“The piano,” Robin exclaims, picking up on what Steve is saying as they hustle down the stairs to the now abandoned piano where once a happy family sang.

Right as he crosses the threshold, Chrissy floats out of his arms, hanging there in that horrid, ominous way. She always loved flying, but not like this. Steve wants to pull her back to earth, but knows music is more important to get right now.

So he lets Robin tug helplessly on Chrissy’s shoe as he takes place at the piano. Steve is the only one who gets to make Chrissy fly, not this Venca creep, and he is the one that knows how to get her down safely. Always there to catch her.

It’s been almost half a year since Hopper’s funeral, when they broke into his house to steal a suit to wear. However, the song still comes to him, having been burned into his memory. He thanks god for the strict French nurse, who had taught him.

Everything around him disappears as he starts to play. Hands gliding over the keys as the notes of We’ll Meet Again float through the air. The piano is a little out of tune, but it adds to the charm, well, Steve hopes so at least.

He doesn’t know all the words, but he knows the chorus, so he sings: “We’ll meet again. Don’t know where. Don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.”

After that Robin takes over. She’s a decent singer and Steve wonders when she learned this song or if she has always known it. However, as long as she keeps singing Steve doesn’t care. The two of them keep on creating the music, hoping that Chrissy will come back to them, instead of leaving them behind.

The room is filled with the haunting piano and Robin’s surprisingly nice voice.

It seems to take a life time.

It only takes a minute.

Steve thinks it will never end.

The moment never really begins.

Then Chrissy is collapsing down to the ground, limp for a second, but seemingly still breathing. Of course Steve gets up immediately to check on her, right behind Robin. However, he is pushed back to the piano by Max, who demands: “Keep playing! He’s still here.”

Naturally, Steve plops back down on the bench without question as he starts up the notes again. It is harder this time, because he keeps trying to look back to where Chrissy is gasping, trying to come down from her encounter with Vecna.

He hears Robin ramble in that concerned comforting way of her and when he glances back Max is next to Chrissy too. The only one, who can know what she might have gone through.

Dustin, however, has disappeared outside with Lucas, but soon returns with a recording device, so they can tape Steve’s playing. It has proven effective, so it’s their best shot for Chrissy. Especially since the other tape is broken. Robin singing again just in case that’s important.

Once they get the tape, they put it in the backup walkman Steve brought and by god is he relieved as they hand it to Chrissy, meaning Steve can leave his bench.

Steve doesn’t waste a second, sliding out of the piano bench and running to where Chrissy is clinging to Robin. Though she lets go in favor of falling into Steve’s arms when he drops to the floor next to her.

“Oh god, Stevie, she- she was there,” Chrissy sobs and Steve holds her closer, knowing she is talking about her mother.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he assures her, as he strokes her hair, not wanting to give too much of her private details away to the party around them. “She’s not there. You’re not with her. You here with me and Robs and the others. You’re safe. You’re alive. I got you. I always got you.” He kisses the top of her head.

Chrissy cries a little more, hiding into Steve’s chest as Robin rubs her back, obviously unsure about what else to do.

When they have all come down from the crazy experience, they go to the Wheeler house. All of them collapse on the couches, not having been spotted by Karen or Ted. The exhaustion after the adrenaline drops makes that all of them forget about anything but sleep.

The next morning, they go by the grocery store. They’re all stuffed into Nancy’s car, probably looking a little insane as they pick a six-pack and some snacks and stuff to make dinner. If they need to hide Eddie for a little longer, Steve can cook for him. A good home cooked meal can do wonders for the soul.

But as they get to the cabin, Nancy gasps and hits the break in a way that tosses them all around in the car.

Steve is about to make a comment to her about safe driving, when he notices what made her react like that. The door to the cabin is open, the glass broken and on the walls is smeared in red spray paint the word FAG next to it is MURDERER.

His blood runs cold as he stumbles out of the car, aware of the kids behind him, who now see what has been done to his cabin. There has always been the sense that the cabin still belongs to Hopper in a way, his presence felt in location, security measures and room. However, looking at it now, Steve has never felt more like he owns it.

His cabin is his home. His safe space. He loves living there, finally having a place of his own that he can exist in without judgment or prying eyes, only letting in those that he wants there. And now that has been violated.

In his horror, he hasn’t even realized what that could mean for Eddie, who had been hidden there, until Dustin is running past him, calling out: “Eddie? Eddie!”

Without thinking, he snaps his arm up and grabs the back of Dustin’s sweater. Dustin looks back, frowning and looking offended as he exclaims: “What the hell, dude! Eddie might be in there. We need to find him.”

“I know,” Steve replies. “But maybe there is someone else in there too.”

That gets everyone’s attention as they look from Steve to the cabin, its open door now looking like a gaping maw instead of a welcoming entrance beckoning.

So far no one has commented on what is painted on the cabin, but Steve feels the words’ judgment as he takes the lead. When there is danger, Steve knows what to do. When they might get hurt, Steve is in the front.

Inside, the whole cabin is overturned. His couches are shoved to the side and blankets are strewn around. In the kitchen all the cabinets are open. Looking into the bathroom, he sees the shower curtains have been pulled down.

The doors to his own room and Hopper’s room are cracked open. His own room is better for hiding, so he pushes the one open first. His heart beats in his chest and he hates that he does not have a weapon as he waits for someone to jump him. The door creaking slightly.

Empty.

His closet is open, clothes tossed around. His bed is a mess and the window is open. But the room is abandoned, no one is there.

Hopper’s room has met the same fate and Steve curses whoever has done this. How dare they invade Hopper’s place. El’s last memory of her dad. Her one wish for this cabin in which she found kindness and love. He vows to clean up everything to how it had been when all this is behind them, so El can still come home properly.

“It’s abandoned,” he calls out. The words a relief as well as a mystery, a terrible mystery. The cabin might not have a threat, but Eddie has disappeared to and none of them know where he might be and what might have happened to him.

“Where is Eddie?” Dustin asks, sounding scared. Steve immediately hates how he sounds. Hates how he doesn’t have an answer. Hates how he is focusing on keeping himself from panicking so he can’t focus on finding an answer.

“I can’t see his clothes anywhere,” Nancy says. “Maybe he took them and ran.”

“Why would they even come here?” Robin asks.

“Who came here?”

“The basketball team,” Lucas speak up and they all look at him. He explains: “It must have been them. They’re on a war path. They think Eddie killed one of their own. They want his blood.”

“But Eddie didn’t do it,” Dustin points out.

“Well they don’t know that, do they?” Lucas snaps. “All they know Patrick died in his trailer with only him there. They hate his guts, Dustin. Just like they hate yours and now mine and Steve’s and everyone who has ever dared to not be cool and popular.”

It’s quiet, Dustin looks as if he’s been slapped in the face, staring at Lucas as they both breathe heavily.

Lucas then looks away and says: “And I wanted to be part of them, just so I wouldn’t be hated by them. They’re hunting us right now. I’m- I’m sorry, I should have listen to you and Mike. I was just so tired of the bullying.”

Steve readies himself to step in if Dustin makes a wrong move. He knows how Lucas has been struggling and he doesn’t want Dustin to ruin this. But he is pleasantly surprised when Dustin replies: “Hey, I get it. If I had more hand eye coordination I might try your method too.”

That gets a huffed laugh out of Lucas and he holds out his hand that Dustin shakes, before pulling Lucas into a hug.

Right when they let go, the radio that has been left by the party so Eddie could contact them, which has now been abandoned on the table, crackles to life. Eddie’s voice says: “Dustin, can you hear me? Stevie? Wheeler?”

Dustin fumbles for the radio, clicking it on with a breathless: “Eddie! Holy shit. Are you okay? Over.”

“Nah, man. Pretty- Pretty goddamn far from okay,” Eddie replies. He sounds rough, shaken up, but not hurt. Steve hates that he is relieved by the emotional devoid tone, because it at least means that Eddie is safe.

“Where is he?” Nancy asks.

“Where are you? Over,” Dustin repeats.

“Skull Rock,” Eddie answers. “Do you know it?”

They do know where that is, so they tell Eddie they’re coming. Steve slips on a comforting sweater, needing something soothing right now. He also grabs his nail bat from under his bed. Something made Eddie flee, it cannot be good and he wants his bat with him.

The walk is silent at the start. Steve keeps thinking back of his cabin, on how they knew to look there, knew to target him. That the kids saw what had been spray painted on the front.

Robin must feel his gloomy mood, because she slides up next to him and takes his hand. She squeezes it and he squeezes back. A gesture of silent support. She knows what is going through his head, she gets his fear and she is here for him every step of the way.

Chrissy also catches up with them, bumping her shoulder against his as she takes off one of the headphones. She quietly asks: “Are you okay?”

He looks at her, concerned eyes looking back. Chrissy has always been too kind for her own good honestly. So caring. He smiles at her and says: “I will be. This isn’t the worst that happened this week.”

“I know, but you can still be upset,” Chrissy tells him.

Steve hadn’t fully considered that. Sure, he is upset, but they have to move on. The town is getting worse and Vecna is still on the loose. They have to stop him and clear Eddie’s name without anyone getting hurt, so they don’t have time for Steve to mope. Chrissy makes it sound easy though, like of course he is allowed to be upset.

“Thanks,” he nods. Then is quiet for a beat, before he says: “I just don’t get why they always have to come back when I think I’ve gotten rid of them. I haven’t even done anything.”

“Well, you did house Eddie, you know. I think they don’t care about anything else you might have done,” Robin pipes up, then winces. “Bad comment.”

“It’s okay, Robs,” Steve laughs. He doesn’t mind her off the cuff comments. They can be quite funny and are a quirk of her. He doesn’t get annoyed, he only snaps if he feels under stress or hurt and she often knows when not to push.

“I also don’t think it would have mattered,” Chrissy adds. “I know those guys, if they’re convinced of something, they won’t stop chasing it. You’re just collateral.”

And Steve has been part of that crowd for years, witnessed them from Chrissy’s perspective for half a year and has been their target for a while now. He knows how they can be. How they don’t need evidence that it’s true, just the knowledge that it hurts. He sighs: “I know.”

“It’s gonna be okay, dingus,” Robin assures him with a soft grin.

“Yeah, I’m sure they won’t do anything with that weapon on you,” Chrissy says, nodding the nail bat he has been swinging absentmindedly.

He looks down at it and laughs, a bit surprised, he had forgotten he is carrying it and that is registers as scary. The nail bat for him is protection, not something to be afraid of. He smiles: “Yeah, I can take them.”

“Like that Russian guard,” Robin pipes up and Chrissy raises her brow at them when Steve nods in agreement.

“But I don’t want to kill anyone,” Steve amends. The bat is for non-human monsters, the kind that don’t stay down after a hit. Steve doesn’t think if he can stomach it if he’s responsible for someone seriously getting hurt, or worse.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin waves him away. “At some point you gotta stop pulling punches, dingus. I am not capable of saving you if you throw yourself in danger like a dumbass. Look at these arms,” she shakes her arm in his face, “noodles! Incapable of fighting a grown man.”

Steve starts to laugh at Robin. Then Chrissy comments: “I think you could fight someone. You’re pretty strong, Robs.”

The look on Robin’s face is incredible. She turns entirely red and splutters a bit. Steve is now fully laughing at her and she shoves him away with a loud: “Shut up, dingus.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve laughs, putting his hands up as backs away. He wants to laugh a little bit at Robin’s expense, not out her.

He realizes that with them there, he has forgotten a little about why he was in a mood and now he can pay more attention to where they are. He calls out to Dustin: “Hey, we’re going in the wrong way.”

“No we’re not,” Dustin stubbornly replied.

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way,” Steve says, walking a bit faster to catch up with Dustin.

“It’s North. I’m positive. I checked the map,” Dustin tells him in that way that tells Steve Dustin thinks he knows best.

A little annoyed, Steve points out: “You do realize Skull Rock is a super popular make out spot?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t popular, until I made it popular, alright? I practically invented it,” Steve informs him. “We’re heading in the wrong direction.”

He starts walking in the right direction, Dustin might be smart, but Steve knows he’s right here, so he doesn’t listen as Dustin complains: “Steve. Where are you going? Steve!”

“Stop whining,” he just tells Dustin as he waves everyone to come with him. “Let’s go. Trust me.”

Reluctantly Dustin follows as do the others as Steve leads them through a familiar forest. He turned Skull Rock into a make out spot when he was still King Steve, before Nancy he kissed many girls there, wondering why it never really felt like the movies.

Dustin is now walking next to him, looking a little sulkily down at his compass. Steve knows he’ll get over it if he gives him a moment, so he lets him stew as they walk side by side.

Sporadically he turns back to check on everyone. Lucas and Max are seemingly having a good conversation, Chrissy and Robin are joking around as well and Nancy is diligently watching the rear. He makes eye contact with her and she sends him a smile, he smiles back before looking ahead again, wondering why that made him uneasy.

Before he can think too much about it, Dustin suddenly says: “Was Lucas right? You know, when he said the basketball team hates you for not being cool and popular? That doesn’t make sense. You are cool.”

Steve’s heart constricts at that. He knows that Dustin has always looked up to him and he loves the blind faith the boy puts in him. It’s one of the few things he has never wanted to take from any of the kids; their trust in him.

“I’m glad you think so, dude,” Steve says as he scrambles for what else to say.

Dustin shoots him an annoyed look and complains: “Steveee,” obviously realizing how Steve is deflecting.

“Henderson,” Steve counters snappily, before taking a breath. He doesn’t want to fight with Dustin right now, he is too worried about Eddie and being a target himself, so he amends: “It wasn’t the worst, I just lost a fight against Billy and the results were very publicly visible. There isn’t really a social recovery from that.”

“But you’re Steve,” Dustin says, like that means anything. And to Dustin, it probably does.

“I am,” Steve smiles, unable to help the sadness that clings to his voice.

“You are like the coolest guy, I remember Mike yammering on about it when you and Nancy got together,” Dustin replies. “And Billy should have left you alone after Max’s threat.”

“He did, he did,” Steve lies. “Rumors just fly and I was loosing popularity long before that. It just happens sometimes, no big deal. Didn’t you say yourself that popularity is just a construct for high schoolers.”

“I mean, yeah,” Dustin agrees and Steve is glad he is seemingly letting it go, though never entirely of course. “But the basketball team are high schoolers. We need to get into their heads.”

“Dustin, you’re also a high schooler,” Steve points out, faintly amused by the turn this conversation has taken, but feeling the fear creep into his chest as well. He doesn’t want Dustin to press about the basketball team, doesn’t want to lie to him, doesn’t want to think about telling him the truth either.

“It’s different,” Dustin protests.

“Sure it is, buddy,” Steve tells him, going for condescending in the hope Dustin will get offended and defend himself instead of asking further.

“It is,” Dustin insists, taking the bait. “Because I am a mature person, who is above popularity contests, while basketball players by the virtue of being a basketball player, obviously do care, therefore are susceptible to those sort of things. In order to get into their minds, we have to understand that.”

“Lucas plays basketball,” Steve points out the flaws in Dustin’s logic. It’s hilarious that the kid is calling himself mature when he is so clearly kid-like on some fronts.

“He doesn’t count.”

“How so?”

“Well, he came to his senses and saw he was wrong.”

“And what about me?”

“You are on thin ice, but you also distanced yourself – I’m proud of you for that by the way.”

“Oi, don’t get cocky with me now, you little shit!”

“I’m not!” Dustin squawks, then immediately amends: “Well, maybe a little bit. But I’m almost always right.”

“Really?” Steve raises a brow.

“Yeah, like right now,” Dustin replies. “I checked the map and compass a thousand times, Steve. We need to head North and right now we’re not going North. We’re never going to find Eddie like this, I mean it.”

In a twist of beautiful irony, they come up on Skull Rock. Steve doesn’t answer Dustin directly, just exclaims: “Oh boom. Bada bing, bada boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man, in your stupid, cocky little face.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Dustin frowns, because he is a know it all, who can never be wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve waves him away as he scans the place for Eddie. “Even with it staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. Can’t admit you’re wrong, you butthead.”

“I concur,” a voice says behind them and they whip around, only to be filled with relief when it is Eddie, unharmed and well. He grins: “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve shouldn’t find his little breath and the way he hoist up his jeans hot, but he does, so he just stares dumbly at Eddie for a second, as Dustin says: “Jesus, we thought you were a goner.” He pulls Eddie into a hug while Steve pulls himself together.

He watches as Eddie hugs back and hears the exhausted tone in Eddie’s voice as he replies: “Yeah, me too, man. Me too.”

His heart aches for Eddie, who is obviously going through hell. He just had to flee from Steve’s cabin, a place they thought he would be safe. A place Steve thought, he would be safe. And now that is gone.

It is gone and all the emotions that he had managed to forget while bickering with Dustin come bubbling right back up. He doesn’t know what has happened, but he will never forget arriving at the cabin and seeing it like that, just like his car at graduation. The image is something that will stick with him forever and he can’t imagine what it was like for Eddie to be present as they did it.

Needing to remind himself that Eddie made it out okay, that Steve isn’t alone in what happened and that they’re both shaken up, but have each other, he lets his bat fall and reaches out and pulls Eddie into a hug.

The action is a little clumsy with Eddie stumbling as Steve pulls him in, needing to steady himself before he is able to hug back. But when he does, it’s soothing. Steve can feel parts of his shoulders unclench as he feels Eddie’s warmth under his hands, his breaths against his skin, the way Eddie holds on to his sweater.

“I am so glad you’re okay,” he whispers fiercely. “I- I got so scared when I saw the cabin. They- they graffiti-ed it, broke my front door. Fuck- Eds, they got in.”

Eddie rubs a soothing hand down Steve’s spine. Steve feels kind of guilty, because he should be comforting Eddie right now and instead Eddie is comforting him, but it’s too nice to step away from. Especially when Eddie whispers back: “I’m okay now, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m sorry about your cabin.”

Steve lets out a laugh, it’s a little hysteric and a little too close to a sob, but it’s a laugh. He steps back before he can get emotional in front of everyone and tries to play it off. “I do not care about my cabin right now, dude.”

He catches Eddie’s eye, heart fluttering when Eddie grins at him the moment their eyes meet. Eddie pats his pockets with a twinkle in his eyes as he says: “I’m glad about that, don’t think I can pay you back right now.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Steve informs him.

Before Eddie can reply to that or defend himself, they are interrupted by an indignant Dustin, who demands to know: “How long has this been going on?”

“What?” Eddie asks, like he honestly has no fucking clue what Dustin is talking about, something Steve knows is a lie, because the edge of a dimple is showing.

“This- this canoodling!” Dustin exclaims and Steve has to bite the inside in his cheek to not laugh at the kid.

“Don’t be dramatic, Henderson,” he tells him, aloofness always coming easy to him. “My house has just been broken into, I’m allowed to be worried about the fugitive I was housing there. Maybe instead of being weird catch Eddie up on that Vector creep.”

“You-” Dustin starts, pointing at Steve in an accusing manner, before dropping it in favor of recounting all their discoveries and the absolute mess that has been the last 24 hours.

As Dustin talks the others chime in with additions to what they experienced to create a full picture for Eddie, who isn’t looking like he has much faith in the operation. Steve can understand that, especially when they move onto how to kill Vecna, for which they would have to go into the Upside Down. Something that isn’t really possible right now.

Their options look pretty bleak.

However, something in the conversation must have triggered Dustin, because he starts to pace up and down as he mutters to himself. Both Steve and Eddie track his movement with curiosity until Eddie leans in and asks: “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?”

“Cursed?” Steve repeats. “No, no, he’s fine. Mental? Absolutely.”

That gets a smile out of Eddie again, though Steve can’t feel satisfaction at that, because they both startle when Dustin suddenly yells: “Boom! Bada. Bada. Boom. I was right! Skull Rock was North.”

“Seriously? You’re serious?” Steve asks. He knows Dustin is a cocky little bastard, but this is a little extreme. But Dustin hums as he nods. Steve gestures around them: “This is Skull Rock, okay?” Again that stupid little hum and nod. “You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong! Right now.”

“Yes,” Dustin agrees. “And no.”

“Oh my god,” Steve mutters to the sky. He can’t with this kid sometimes. Next to him Eddie snorts at his misery, the traitor.

“This worked correctly when we left the Wheeler’s house. Correct when we got in the car on Curly, but it started to slip the further East we went. Now it’s way off,” Dustin explains. “When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.”

“So you’re using faulty equipment. You’re still wrong,” Steve argues, feeling a little silly, but also annoyed. He is right, goddammit. He found Skull Rock. He won’t let Dustin take that from him. He needs the win.

But then the conversation quickly devolves into something Steve can’t follow and he is reminded of just how smart Lucas is as well when the kid easily catches Dustin’s drift. Steve can barely follow the first part, but he does get that there might be another gate.

“Snack sized gate,” Robin nods, also understanding and Steve loves her and her wonderful, dorky mind. Chrissy obviously does too with the way she snorts at that.

“How? Why?” he asks instead, because those are valid questions. Portals are never good news. The only times Steve has seen portals is when monsters crawl out them.

“No idea,” Dustin answers honestly. “All I know is that something is causing this disturbance and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Chrissy and Max from this curse.”

With those words, he starts to walk away and fear grips Steve immediately. He calls out: Where are you going? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dustin stops and looks back at him. “Eddie’s still a wanted man, who got attacked, I might add. We can’t just go hike in the woods.”

“This little steel capsule,” Dustin holds up the compass like the dramatic nerd that he is, “might be the key to saving Chrissy, Max and Eddie.” He focuses his attention to Eddie, who has been disappearing a little into the background, which is unlike him. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?” Dustin asks him.

“I say, you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which – if I’m totally straight with you – I think is a really bad idea,” Eddie tells Dustin and Steve nods, glad the other isn’t letting the kid run towards danger. “But, uh, the Shire- the Shire is burning.”

Steve feels his insides plummet at that, he vaguely recalls this from one of Eddie’s rambles and it sounds like he is going to agree with Dustin. Something that is confirmed to Steve when Dustin starts to jump excitedly like an idiot. Eddie gets up and it feels like the beginning of the end as he says: “So Mordor it is.”

Everyone takes that as a sign to start moving and Steve picks up his bat as he mutters: “What’s Mordor?” to himself, watching Eddie forget his stuff and run back. A little bitchily he says: “Get your stuff, dude. Let’s go.”

He feels like he’s allowed to be annoyed with Eddie for agreeing to Dustin’s bullshit.

During their walk through the forest, Dustin drags Eddie along with him, excited about the prospect of adventure. Eddie doesn’t look wholly convinced, but Steve isn’t saving him either. Eddie dug his own grave, let him lie in it.

Steve, meanwhile, is watching the rear of the group. The bat swings casually, the weight comforting in his hand. If anyone tries anything, he at least won’t be unarmed.

Eddie never really said what happened at the cabin, but that only makes Steve worry more. Eddie is never quiet. Whatever happened, Steve won’t mind making Jason loose a few teeth.

It’s dark by the time Dustin has lead them to the edge of the lake, right to where Fred must have died. Nancy looks a little green and clings to Steve’s arm, who supports her. After Barb this can’t be easy on her.

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asks, voicing their confusion out loud.

“Whenever the demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening,” Nancy says, having pulled herself together into her mask of professionalism. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve says, not liking where his night is going, because if there is a gate on the bottom of that Lake, Steve knows who is going to check it out. And that is him. He’s not letting anyone else do it, even if he hates the idea of doing it himself.

They go look for a boat unearthing one near the docks. Eddie and Steve carry it to the water, it’s not a big boat, can fit maybe five people, max. Not all of them can go.

It’s clear the others have noticed too, but no one comments on it as Robin steps in, before helping Chrissy aboard as well, then Nancy. Steve wants to protest that, but is distracted by Eddie climbing past him, who is followed by Dustin.

Well, Dustin attempts to follow him. Eddie, however, stops him in his tracks with: “Hey, hey, hey, are you trying to sink us? This thing holds four people, tops. Okay?”

“It’s better this way. You guys stay here with Max. Keep an eye out for trouble,” Nancy explains and Steve realizes they mean to leave him behind there. Just the babysitter again.

“You keep an eye out,” Dustin snarks back, not wanting to be left behind. “It’s my theory.”

“They’re right, Dustin. Leave it,” he speaks up, already thinking about he is going to get aboard as he stealthily puts his nail bat in the boat.

“Since when are you on their side,” Dustin exclaims.

“Since they’re talking sense,” Steve rolls his eyes at Dustin.

“Yeah, listen to Nance,” Robin tells Dustin from where she is making Chrissy more comfortable on the boat.

“Who put her in charge?” Dustin asks, indignantly.

“I did,” Robin replies cheerily and Steve has to work not to laugh at that bitchy comment.

With that Dustin gives in and hands over the compass to Nancy, though he obviously does not want to and will make that clear to everyone. Steve doesn’t care if he complains about it for the rest of his life, as long as he stays away from the danger.

Steve pushes off the boat and quick steps aboard. Eddie has left a space open for him, obviously anticipating this while Nancy frowns, which Steve ignores in favor of apologizing to Dustin, whom he is leaving behind, much to Dustin’s dismay.

Nancy is less annoyed with his presence on the boat when he and Eddie start paddling so the three girls can investigate the waters to look if they see anything.

After a little bit, the compass starts going wild. They have found the gate. Well, probably. They still don’t know for sure. Robin is checking in with Dustin in the most Robin-like manner, informing Dustin that: “Your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital ‘ahh!’”

She hasn’t realized what that means yet, but Steve has, so he is already taking off his shoes and socks, wanting to get ahead of protests before anyone can notice. Nancy, of course, notices: “Steve, what are you doing?”

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this out,” he informs them, hoping he sounds authoritative enough for them to let him go. “Unless one of you four can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and certified lifeguard for three years, then it’s gotta be me. No complaints, alright?”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Eddie backs him up, though Steve thinks that is more out of fear, which he can’t blame the guy for, especially as he watches him fumble with his pocket, probably looking for a smoke.

“I do not want to go down there,” Chrissy agrees, looking anxiously at the blackness pooling all around them.

Steve takes of his sweater, hearing crinkles behind him. When he turns around, Eddie is the source of the noise. He is holding some cigarettes like Steve suspected, but he has also tied a plastic bag around a flashlight so Steve will be able to see down there. Eddie offers it to him with a soft: “Hey. Good luck.”

And it hits Steve that what he is about to do is dangerous. He might not come back, he might not see any of them again.

With lead in his heart, he takes the flashlight from Eddie, letting their fingers touch. Then he looks at Robin, imprinting what she looks like in his mind, before doing the same to Chrissy. He turns back to Eddie then, decides to be a little bold, since it might be the last time.

So, he gives Eddie a one over, getting stuck on his lips between which now is a cigarette, before looking in those deep, dark, beautiful eyes. He winks and says: “Thanks,” before diving into the cold water.

Steve swims down, muscle memory taking over as he searches for the gate. He finds it looking gross and glowing. Sickly in the lake bed. He reaches out to touch it, feeling oddly compelled to do so, startling back when it seems something is trying to reach back.

He needs to get away from it, he thinks wildly, as he kicks off from the bottom and breaks back out on top. He holds on to the side of the boat and reports: “I found it.”

The four, who he must have startled by his sudden appearance, lean back towards him and ask: “You found it?”

“I found it. Yeah, I found it,” Steve confirms, still panting slightly from his time without air, his heart beating fast after the scare. He wants to get out of this water. And soon.

He is about to ask for a hand back onto the boat, needing to tell them to get out of there, because the gate looks out of place. Dangerous. When he feels something wrap around his leg. His eyes grow wide and he catches Robin looking back.

Her excited exclamation to Dustin dies on her lips and she reaches back out to him, the question about whether he is okay never reaching his ears as the something yanks him down.

Steve struggles and fights, but it’s no use. The water around him turns into a slimy feeling as Steve is dragged through the gate. Into the Upside Down.

~~

A/N:

I love conversations between people too much, which gets in the way of plot, but we are getting there, no matter how slow!!!

[iamyoursinblog]

Bossy

Summary:

When being arouses by you turns him into a bossy and dangerous man!

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon was barely holding on to the party because of your dress. How the hell does he supposed to perform when all his thoughts are just to fuck you. He hates that he couldn't touch you in public. But he hates even more that you used it to tease him. He barely restrained himself from growling as you moved sexually to his song. He practically breathed a sigh of relief as he walked off the stage. He grabbed your hand while no one was looking at him, and pulled you backstage. He dragged you into a closet under the stairs. "Namjoon!" you tried to pull away when he pinned you against the wall lifting your dress. “There are so many people around! What do you think you are doing?" you tried to stop him while he was unbuttoning his pants. He squeezed your throat, pressing you back against the wall, pulling your panties down your thighs. "My babygirl, you should have thought about that before make me so horny!" he growled as he thrust into you with force.

Min Yoongi

You were sitting with the members in the living room watching a movie. But he couldn't focus on the movie because you kept running your fingers thoughtlessly over his thigh. As if your low-neckline dress wasn't enough to drive him crazy. He's practically seething with excitement, trying to control himself. You got up, heading to the kitchen for popcorn. “Didn't I say what would happen if you will keep dressing so sexy?” he said lowering his voice as he followed you into the kitchen. You flinched in surprise as you turned towards him. "Baby" you practically whispered as he continued to slowly walk towards you. "Yoongi" you tried to stop his hand from pulling down your dress from your shoulder. He quickly grabbed your hand, turning your back to him and pressing your belly against the table. "What are you doing? The members are in the next room!” He could hear the fear in your voice. "In that case, I advise you to be quiet," he growled, ripping off your panties.

Kim Seokjin

He practically growled as you leaned in next to him picking up something from the floor in such a short dress. He licked his lips while watching your half-naked ass. He chuckled realizing that it was just the two of you in the studio right now. He grabbed your hips pulling you towards him. “God, Seokjin, are you out of your mind?” You tried to escape by looking around. “They can come in here at any moment” you practically screamed at him as he sat you on his lap, pressing you against his hard cock. You moaned as he stroked your crotch removing your panties. “Then you need to take care of it quickly,” he said as he unbuttoned his pants.

Jung Hoseok

You were at a party, but his eyes were riveted only to you. Or rather, your shirt was too open, exposing your breasts on display. He couldn't help but growl as you jumped to the music, drawing all the guys' eyes to your bouncing boobs. You approached him smiling broadly, making his jaw tighten at the sight of your breast. Your wet skin and hot look made his arousal unbearably painful. He grabbed your hand as he walked towards the back door. He pushed you into the mop closet, quickly closing the door behind him. He squeezed your throat with his hand before you could say anything as he unbuttoned his pants with his other hand. "Let's see how you'll be jumping on my dick baby!" he growled as he picked you up and pinned you against the wall.

Park Jimin

“Here, try this,” you leaned over on the kitchen island putting a piece of meat into Jungkook’s mouth. Jimin’s jaw tightened at the sight of your ass in the short shorts. He felt his pants getting tighter as you kept wriggling your juicy ass next to him, feeding Taehyung and Jungkook. "Bedroom! Now!" he said as you returned to your seat, meeting his gaze. “Crazy” you chuckled as you looked down at him. You returned to your conversation with Taehyung and Jungkook, completely ignoring him. He stood up from his chair, and sharply turned your chair in his direction. Jimin threw you over his shoulder, leaving a hard slap on your ass, making Taehyung and Jungkook choke on their drinks. He headed into the bedroom, sinking his teeth into your buttocks, making you moan. Jimin threw you on the bed taking off his shirt and throwing it on the floor. “Apparently you thought you had a choice!” he growled, practically ripping off your shorts.

Kim Taehyung

Everything inside him turned upside down when you showed up to the parties. Fuccck, she's too sexy!, Taehyung practically growled. He couldn't take his eyes off you. His gaze swept over your every curve, which was accentuated by this tight dress. He didn't even hear what Hoseok was saying to him all this time. “I'll be right back, hyung,” he quickly said to Hoseok, and without waiting for an answer, he headed towards you. He is as lucky as ever today, he thought as you headed towards the restroom. He grabbed your arm, dragging you into the nearest room with force. “Oh my god, Taehyung! What are you doing?" you stared at him blinking as he locked the door. “Bent over the table! NOW!” Taehyung growled, causing your eyes to widen. “Are you completely crazy? Don't want. There's a lot of people here," you snorted, taking a step towards the door. Taehyung laughed softly as he blocked your path. “You seem to misunderstand.” Taehyung lowered his voice as he met your gaze. “That wasn't an ask!” he said unbuttoning his pants.

Jeon Jungkook

His jaw clenched as he watched you dance too sexy in the club. He fixed his boner, resting his elbows on his knees. Damn, you're definitely getting into trouble, he hissed under his breath as you bent too low, exposing your hips till ass because of you too short dress. You have a minute to go to the stairs!, he quickly texted you, heading for the stairs. "Darling" you appeared with a big smile. He grabbed your hand as he quickly headed down. He dragged you into the parking lot, heading for his car. "Jungkook! Stop now! Jungkook!" you kept trying to pull your hand out of his grip. He released you by opening the back door of the car. He took off his jacket, throwing it with force into the back seat, making you freeze in place. He slowly unbuttoned his shirts as he walked towards you closer. "Either you get in that fucking car or I'll fuck you right on the hood of my car!"

REACTIONS:

Wrong time!

Smirk

That dress!

Enemies

KISS

Peeping

Just dance

Simple plea

Bossy

_______________________

LIST

_______________________

[twilightknight17]

Decision's Eve - Part 2

We’re having a happy, empty dream. But we’ll wake up eventually.

That’s not a good sign.

Aigis is watching from a distance as we walk into school, and won’t talk to any of us, running off once Junpei notices her. Even though we all still live in the same dorm, apparently Yukari, Junpei, and Minato don’t know her or Akihiko and Mitsuru that well.

Who knows where Ken, Fuuka, and Koromaru are.

Actually, it’s kind of unnerving that they aren’t mentioned at all.

Mitsuru gives the valedictorian speech, and it’s just uncomfortable. There’s no bond left there.

………ow.

How long did Ryoji say this would delay the Fall, again?

The credits are completely black with ominous music. Definitely makes you feel good about your decision. Then we get a cutscene that just continues the ominous music, with a muted color palette. But hey, they’re letting Mina pick emo songs to watch the world end to!

I still think it’s hilarious that they ask if you want to save clear data after getting the bad ending. Like, I get it, because it’s a choice and it’s not necessarily wrong (even though it is), but still.

Anyway, huh. What a weird thing that didn’t happen. I think I blacked out for a minute. Where was I?

Oh, yeah.

Absolutely no murder in this house, dearest.

Oh boy, here we go. XD

Ryoji, I don’t know why you think turning into a big buff persona that could carry me in his arms is going to convince me to kill you. Although, looking at them side-by-side like this, Thanatos isn’t actually like… taller than Ryoji. I guess that’s to fit in Minato’s room?

You’re at least partially human. So yeah, appeal rejected. Live and love, dumbass. ;D

That’s actually a much better argument if you want me the player to attack you. XDDD Minato still won’t, but I’m having a Maruki flashback and thinking about knifing him again.

...that’s why I can’t kill you. Because you’re special too, and I’m going to protect this world we love.

And that is why you are 10000% better than Maruki!

(You do have the option to change your mind and kill him there, but I’m assuming it just leads to the same exact events.)

Because of you. Because you loved me enough to come back to me. Now we have a chance.

…?

Oh. ...oh.

He’s giving me the music box he bought in Kyoto.

Atlus.

ATLUS.

ATLUS WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO ME

“Core P3 experience” and yet you can probably save Chidori and social link with Aigis and have new events with your non-link party members (instead of just giving them links??), and you used like half of Hamuko’s Fortune social link for Ryoji’s events and made everything the knife’s edge of romantic up to the point that he LITERALLY TELLS YOU HE WANTS TO BE MORE THAN FRIENDS.

And yet you changed it so he bought a music box in Kyoto instead of the ring.

I’m just going to lay on the floor.

Can we at least actually hear the music box?

No?

Okay…

…………….so I guess this and the music box don’t happen if you don’t do all of his hangouts.

Does this happen when I get all of Junpei, Ken, and Akihiko’s hangouts, too?

Just make them social links Atlus for fuck’s sake. T_T

(Saturnus is cool at least.)

We should be spending our remaining time making out, since, you know, Ryoji invited Minato to his own room, and even Elizabeth knows what that means. But instead, we go back downstairs so that Ryoji can explain to everyone how to confront Nyx.

He looks so morose at how chipper Junpei is. It’s kind of funny. X’D

Anyway, he explains that if we’re going to confront Nyx, we have to reach the top of Tartarus by January 31st, the Promised Day.

Not if we have anything to say about it.

Ah, yes, the demise. Her husband Erebus, I presume? XD

Everyone reassures him that we’re ready to fight, and Ryoji prepares to leave.

I keep telling you that it doesn’t matter what form you’re in.

...awwwww. T_T

And then he’s gone. Fucking hell. Time to go to Tartarus and level up until I can fuse Thanatos.

The new year dawns with a renewed sense of resolution for all involved. I genuinely think my teammates are feeling better than they have all month.

After it’s mentioned that the girls went to the shrine in kimonos for the first visit of the year, all of us go as well, mostly because Junpei wants to see them in kimonos.

...he’s not wrong. They look lovely. <3

But we have one month left to prepare, so next time, it’s probably back to Tartarus.