#because the history and build up isn’t the same

[arcane-apidae]

Okay, so you’ve picked up Marx, maybe dabbled in communism, and now you’re all fired up about revolution. 👏 But before you dive in too deep and start calling yourself a “tankie” (or whatever’s trending these days), can I suggest something real quick? Read Animal Farm. 👀

I know, everyone knows Animal Farm, right? But honestly, I’m not sure how many of you have actually read it—and I mean really read it. Animal Farm isn’t just some cute little farm story with talking animals. It’s Orwell’s warning about why communism doesn’t work—and why it never will. 🐷➡️👨‍🌾

The animals overthrow their human oppressors, right? They’re all about equality—everyone is equal. But by the end, the pigs are walking on two legs, living in the house, and looking just like the humans they kicked out. That’s the point. The revolution gets corrupted, the leaders become just as bad as the ones they replaced, and the whole system falls apart. No matter how good the intentions are, when power’s involved, it all falls into the same mess. 😬

You’ve probably seen people online talking about how communism is the future, how it’s this radical change we all need. But let’s be real: look at the countries closest to communism today—North Korea, Cuba, Venezuela. Does that seem like the kind of world you wanna live in? Is that freedom? Is that happiness? Are those societies thriving? Because from where I’m standing, it’s more like a dystopia. 👀

So before you put that hammer and sickle in your bio, give Animal Farm another read. It’s not just a book—it’s history. It’s a cautionary tale that shows us why it doesn’t work and why it never will. We need new ideas, fresh thinking. Use that brainpower you’re flexing for change to build something that actually works. 💡🔥

Stop identifying with the same old ideologies that have been proven to fail, and start building something better. The future’s waiting for you. ✌️🌍

[amethysttribble]

Day 1,854 of people in the Tolkien fandom not knowing what an allegory is

[sapphia]

So for anyone who doesn’t keep up with nz politics, which i’m assuming is most of you, our new radical right government have decided one of their main aims of their term will be to re-interpret the Treaty of Waitangi.

The Treaty is an agreement between Maori and the Crown, now the NZ government. It is the founding document of new zealand and is recognised as a constitutional document today; it is the only treaty of its kind/time still honoured, and it is the steps we’ve taken through the Treaty to provide restitution and build an ongoing relationship with Maori and their iwi (tribes) that has allowed the relationship between Maori and the government to thrive where other indigenous groups have struggled to achieve recognition of their rights.

This is going to be entirely undone. Not only is this issue inflammatory and a threat to race relations in Aotearoa, leaked documents show the proposed “reinterpretation” wants to negate pretty much the entirety of the legal rights provided to Maori under the treaty. For example, the treaty article that guarantees land rights for Maori will be reinterpreted to guarantee land rights for “all New Zealanders”. Which means this article would be essentially meaningless for Maori.

By removing Maori from the context they are trying to put Maori on an “equal footing” with all New Zealanders; they are riding the idea that Maori have special rights and privileges above that of the average New Zealander. Obviously this is bullshit but it’s effective rhetoric and there’s a grain of truth to in that the extent of Maori rights hadn’t been clearly defined due to the ongoing nature of the process. So this has got a lot of people with a poor grasp of the issues very upset and baying for change.

There is a hui (meeting) being held today for all the iwi to begin discussions of how Maori will respond to this. New Zealand politics isn’t very interesting usually, but our progress on indigenous rights, until now, has been absolutely ahead of the field. If you care about indigenous rights globally, you should care about this, because in the same way Australia’s referendum loss has spurred on this action, the loss of rights here will spur other right wing governments to be similarly bold to their own indigenous groups.

Indigenous rights in New Zealand are under attack. They are meeting today to discuss it, and New Zealand will be listening, but I want the world to be listening. Because our government needs the shame of being called out by more than just the people who they’ve already decided don’t vote for them.

Maori have a long and proud history of fighting for their rights, and they’ll do it again here. And I’ll be on the pickets beside them, but there’ll be plenty of my own pickets to attend, because this government is radical in every sense of the word.

So please, even if you’re very far away, stand behind them in this. Keep your eyes on us. Amplify their voices. Don’t let the racism drown them out.

[lilliangst]

biblically accurate, semi-realistic candace or kandake, who was a nubian queen

image renders:

Incoming yap about the current genshin problem:

As a Chinese person swarmed by western media, Liyue means so, so much to me. Seeing the culture that I've been taught to be ashamed of all my life being represented so accurately and positively makes me incredibly happy. It was the first time I saw the famous landscapes that I've visited in person and recreated a fantasy game. Seeing characters wear clothes with similar designs to what I’ve worn and eating similar foods to what I’ve eaten, is indescribable. The euphoria I felt when I first climbed atop of Qingyun Peak and heard the music is something I wish I could experience again.

That being said, Sumeru was a mess, and Natlan is just depressing. What I would give to have people from SEA/SWANA, Latin America, Africa, and Indigenous groups etc. to feel the same way I did when strolling through Liyue.

HYV’s colorism isn’t just stifling their character designs; by whitewashing real-life people, real cultures and even their deities, they are inadvertently whitewashing history. They are taking from actual ethnic groups: learning their history and struggles, then retelling these narratives after replacing their people with bleached protagonists in orientalist clothing.

All this because of what? Out of touch beauty standards? The possibility of lower sales? Dehya is extremely loved in China and her fans donated thousands to a children’s charity in her name. Other Chinese companies like Lilith Games and Bluepoch don’t have this problem. Dislyte is able to consistently pump out gorgeous character designs with varying skin tones and Reverse:1999 makes accurate designs and does in-depth research into the cultures of their characters.

It’s a basic lack of respect.

I've heard that Iranian players were extremely happy and touched by their representation, and that's amazing. And most European, Chinese, and Japanese players are fine with theirs. I just wish this extended to the representation of people with skin tones that are darker.

HYV has shown that they are capable of making characters with darker skin tones and interesting designs, but they will only do that for npcs and enemies. Orientalism, culture mash-ups and inaccuracies across regions is unfortunately common in the game, but the problem with the unchanging pale color of playable characters reflects an obvious and sinister bigotry. I do personally believe that a lot of this has to do with the meddling of higher-ups; many playable characters look like they’ve been white-washed at the end of the process, and just from an art/design standpoint, they fit darker skin-tones much, much better.

It is impossible for Genshin to be a fully “fictional fantasy game” because they chose to bear the responsibility of incorporating real life cultures into their world-building. The criticisms about Sumeru and Natlan are what they brought upon themselves. If you don’t want to represent properly, don’t do it at all. You cannot take everything from a culture and leave their people out of it. They deserve the same respect and research as the region representing your own nation.

For the people who have seen themselves represented in media over and over again, or for those who do not care about being represented at all: even if YOU don't care, others do, and they have a damn good reason for it. This is a big deal, it isn’t too much to ask for, and I will be blocking racists. Peace.

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[theresascove]

aiming for your touch

🏹 archer!ellie williams x f!reader

after years being fierce opponents, tension shifts and she backs you up into an empty room

tw: not proofread, SMUT, modern!au, ex-friends to enemies to lovers, fingering & oral (r receiving), exhibition?, degrading, allusions to more after cut, loser Ellie so Ellie’s a bit annoying?

wc ✎ 1.2k

Ellie Williams. She was annoying as they come. Hearing her name or seeing her face elicited a response from you. Your head would hurt and your heart turned cold like steal. It’s been a long time coming, years of being in competitions with her—and even before that you’ve a history as friends.

You used to smile when you saw her on your doorstep. Now at the end of competitions when she shoots a cocky smile your way—your expression hardens.

Years. You’ve years of rivalry between the two of you. First it was playful but when your friendship turned sour, so did your sportsmanship. Now where you stand fiddling with your bow, you watch her throw arrow after arrow and hitting the mark or narrowly missing it. With all of this time behind the both of you, plus the added fact that she’s been winning round after round—it drives you over the edge. Jealousy, frustration, anger all filter through you any time you come close to the range.

Somehow, some reason why—Ellie also had the idea to be at the archery range at 7AM. Seeing how she’s already set up, she’s been here longer than you have. You ignore her, setting up at the furthest distance from her.

You feel the sun on your back, along with her stare. Oh how you wanted to roll your eyes so she could see. She’s as obsessed with you as ever. You see her in her peripheral vision taking glances at you between each of her shots, watching you get set.

You draw your bow back, breathing deep and angling. And as you let it go, you can already tell you’ve missed it.

“Miss,” Ellie calls out, voice echoing a bit as it travels to you.

You bite at your cheek, ignoring her again as you draw your next arrow back. You hit the target this time, but it’s far off from a bullseye.

“Miss—!”

You sling your bow over your back, crossing the field towards her. Ellie does the same to her bow, moving it to a more comfortable position as a cocky smile graces her face.

“Yes—?”

“I didn’t come here to deal with you, I came to practice.”

“At least you’re aware you need to.”

You shake your head at her in disbelief, “the hell is your problem?”

“Better get back to practicing,” she says, drawing her bow again, “especially if you want to win in a week.”

You wave her off, “fuck you.”

Ellie didn’t call anything out or even speak to you throughout the rest of your time there. Despite that, you still felt her attention shift to you. Her eyes lingering each time you were about to let go. When you started to hike back up the hill towards the center building, hinting that you were leaving, Ellie packed up as well. She closed the distance, walking into the cool building after you.

“Is that it for you?”

You ignore, heading towards the back so you can check back out with the front desk employees. Ellie moves in front of you, cutting into your line of vision and pathway.

“Ellie-“


“Mm,” she asks, eyebrow quirking.

“Why don’t you fuck off.”

“Why don’t you consider this might not just be for you?”

You cross your arms, “why do you do this?”

“Because you’re easy to annoy.”

A man, most likely an employee, walks by—giving you both a look that screams for you two to either shut up or take it outside.

“Well, you’re annoying me and the people here,” you whisper aggressively, moving to walk by her but she conveniently leans that way. She’s close, eyes darting around your face and watching your every reaction.

“Am I really annoying you,” she asks, voice hushed.

“Ellie this isn’t the place to talk about that.”

It’s then that she reaches a hand out, bringing the two of you into an empty office room. The rooms dark, blinds shut and Ellie doesn’t make an effort to even flip the light switch on. Your heart quickens and butterflies flutter about in your stomach.

“Now we can,” she says, shutting the door behind her and stalking closer to you, “unless you want to leave?”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

Her body’s so close you can feel the warmth exuding from her. You can tell she’s nervous from how she never takes her focus off of you, watching your each move to ensure she doesn’t cross a line. She has an arm stretched out, enclosing you and keeping you locked between the desk behind you and her.

“Do I really annoy you?”

“Sometimes, very much, yeah.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, leaning her face so close her lips are hovering yours, “but I really can’t help it. Espically when you shoot that bad.”

“You’re infuriating,” you mumble with a smile, leaning in to close the gap.

The feel of your lips has her cracking, a hand reaching to cup your cheek. She kisses with a fever, a need that’s been hidden for a while just now being uncovered. It’s quiet save for the gasps between you and each press of your lips. Her free hand slide up your waist, moving under your shirt. Her touch is soft, skimming up until she’s at an end—leaning back from the kiss to remove your shirt.

“I’ve been waiting to fuck you for years,” she confesses, kissing your jaw and biting it roughly, “I don’t plan on taking it slow.”

Her hands cup under your thighs, setting you down on the desk. She slots between your legs and your hands slide up her arms to hook around her neck. There’s a hot feeling on your hips as she grips your pants, pulling them off your body. You’re now left in your bra and underwear, goosebumps rising from the chill in the air.

“Shit,” she curses at the sight of you, going speechless. She’s back on you, kissing down the expanse off your body all the while her eyes are looking up at you. Her muscles flex as she holds you, angling your body so she’s in front of your core. She wastes no time, pulling them to the side and licking a stripe up to your clit.

“Ellie,” you inhale sharply, gripping her hair and tossing your head back.

A finger thrusts into your warm heat, while her tongue continues to press down on your clit. She moans against it with a playful smirk. True to her word, she doesn’t wait. In seconds she has you writhing, hips jerking at the overstimulation. Behind the strong feeling, you feel your orgasm build. Just a few minutes ago you couldn’t even stand hearing her voice, now you’re turning into a puddle from her touch.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you babble, disoriented.

She has three fingers in you, aggressive and angling to get you to fall over the edge. A cocky, very prideful laugh sounds from her. She slides your underwear back on, standing and kissing your lips quickly.

“You got me going mad,” she huffs, eyes blown, “damn—can I take you back to my house? I mean only if you want, but.”

“Yes, please do.”

[moondirti]

animalic (2)

← chapter 1 // series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: a game of cat and mouse warnings: enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, guns, death, blood, angst, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as ‘wraith’) notes: remember when i said part 2 would take a while? i lied. the next chapter is fun as all hell so i wanted to churn this one out as build up. teehee i hope yall like it regardless

He let you go. 

He let you go. 

No matter how Miguel tries to vindicate it, he rounds back to the same conclusion. You weren’t subtle, regardless of what you’d have yourself believe; he’d seen the calculations glaze over your eyes the instant he pinned you to the wall. He knew what was coming, how your heavy breathing was a cover for the clicks of his watch – of which he heard regardless – and your squirming a diversion from the movement of your busy fingers. He had a goddamn plan too, a fail safe in case you decided to attack instead of listening to reason. 

(One he’d settled on for the duration of your lost consciousness, for knowledge that you would.)

So, there is no dismissing it. You’re obnoxious and lack precision, and he could have had you halfway back home by now, which isn’t the case – because he let you go.  

The frigid air of his office thrums with irritation, weighing down on his shoulders until they collapse inwards, his hands coming up to rub the weariness off his expression. HQ has been unsettlingly quiet as of late – occupied by only a fraction of its regular population – and the peace worries him. History betrays its status as the precursor to havoc; lulls in the past have fooled him into believing his mission was drawing to a close, only for another anomaly, another mess, to spin that naivety on its head. 

You were one such instance. A year ago, you’d popped up on an Earth that wasn’t your own, and didn’t leave until you’d drawn all that you could from it. It’s an empty husk now, lacking land to propagate its agriculture. Thousands – millions – dead, from the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

Parasite. A fucking parasite who just won’t quit. 

The mantra surges through him, festering from the base of his gut to the cap of his tongue. It bursts out with a roar right then, the sudden violence finding monitors thrown across the room, smashed to bits of orange light and static. It does nothing to sate him, though, the heady anger filtering out like molasses. His back hunches as he draws in thin breaths. He doesn’t count, nor does he attempt to. Instead, he looks for his only real decompressor. 

The video of Gabriella flickers at him from a distant floor, the transparent tablet wrecked with four distinct claw marks. He exhales, pulling it back to the platform with an extended web. 

“Boss,” 

His mija smiles toothily down at his digital self, winding her small palms in his hair for balance as he carries her. He recalls helping with hers, tying it back into shabby ponytails the mornings before a big game. How she wouldn’t let anyone fix it afterwards, not until her elastic slipped off the ends and her bangs hindered her playing. And she’d run to him, whenever, to get it fixed again. 

“Boss.” 

Her jokes resonate still, echoing laughter from when she’d poke fun at how bad he’d gotten at it, amused by the sudden decline in ability. To Miguel, it was one more reminder that the life he led wasn’t his own. 

“Oh Miguel!” 

So much for calming down.

“Lyla.” He looks up at the virtual assistant, her corporeal character a little fuzzy around the edges. She chooses to ignore his dissociative episode, rather projecting a map of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse, a point off centre highlighted in red. His heart skips. Placing the tablet down on his desk, he takes a step closer to survey the pin.

“Managed to track the Wraith down using the day pass you’d given her. Currently stationed on Earth-15, no signs of jumping anytime soon.” 

Parasitic, and stupid enough to forgo destroying a potential tracking device.

Lyla snickers, seemingly able to read the sneer pulling at his cheeks. 

“Seems like she’s afraid of glitching more so than she is you, Boss.” 

His glare snaps to meet her heart shaped sunglasses. 

“Funny.” His assistant shrugs at his admonishment. “Pull up the anomaly cam.” 

A second later, your figure blinks into sight. 

You’re crouched atop a tiled floor, the grout darkened to near-black with grime. In front of you lies a sparse spread of medical supplies; gauze, scissors, and miniature packets of disinfectant wipes. Miguel can’t help but wonder what you think you’re doing, treating your wounds in a bathroom as unsanitary as the one that cramps you. Graffiti littered walls, nests of used paper towels in every corner. You spring up to wash your hands after undoing the old bandages that hugged your forearm, but all that comes out is an inconsistent splutter of grey water. 

His chest twinges, a tug of intrinsic sympathy playing against him. It worsens at the sight of your injury, the consequences of his talons’ assault on you, the puncture points brimming yellow and blackening closer to their middles. He can’t tell whether it’s gotten any better, whether you were good and had it treated by a professional, or made the common mistake of relying too much on your enhanced healing. 

“Gave her a harsh gig there. You always that rough?” 

“When I need to be.” Miguel murmurs, skimming over the conspicuous innuendo.

“Right. Until it comes to finishing the job, that is.” And, despite the offence taken to Lyla’s jest, he can hardly disagree. Newfound resolve hardens within him, sympathy fleeting at its failure to deter him. 

“Set coordinates for Earth-15.” He rumbles, gesturing to his wrist as he walks away. The assistant does as she’s told, shrinking back to an icon on his watch. While waiting for the portal to configure, Miguel cocks his head, taking one last look at your oblivious form. 

“I won't let her get away this time.” 

“Put the money in the fucking bag or she gets it!”

Of all the spider-people you’ve met, you don’t believe any have been the hostage in an armed robbery situation. You imagine that they’d come in at the last minute, valiantly swinging through the window, accentuating their arrival in a shower of shattered glass. They’d demand the money be remitted, and all’s well that ends well. But – of course – there’s got to be a first for everything; your record just so happens to be the lamest of the bunch. 

The masked man presses the gun further into your temple, bursting capillaries until the spot starts to ache with a raw tenderness. His body wraps around you, other arm waving wildly outwards, extending a plastic bag to the poor soul behind the register. You take a great gulp of air, staring at the buzzing fluorescents above, and pray. 

Lord, now would be a really good time to phase out. 

“P-Please, leave her be.” The owner throws a potful of crumpled fives into the bag, as if to punctuate her plea. The man is dismissive in face, urging her for more, shaking the receptacle with comedic insistence. You purse your lips, blinking up at the ceiling once more. 

Or make this more exciting, at the very least. 

“And you!” You’re jolted out of being a passive observer, rattled when the man diverts his attention to you. His gun thrusts harder against your forming bruise, adding to the list of damages sustained in the past week alone. You peer at him from the corner of your eye. His roll incredulously, pointing to the bill in your grip. “The twenty!” 

“Is that a real gun?” 

“Wha– Of course it’s a real fucking gun! Put the money–” 

“In the bag. I know.” 

His hold on you slackens, expectant. By contrast, you ball your fist and punch him square in the nose. The hit sends him reeling farther than it should for the amount of space you had in winding back, the feat prompting a deluge of pride to wash over you. It’s bolstered when he drops the spoils in the process, toppling into a rack of chips and cup noodles that consequently cushion his fall. 

Your first save. 

Filled with bravado, you snatch and pass over the bag to the cashier. 

“Here you go, ma’am.” 

But she doesn’t look at you. Rather, her stare remains trained on the man you’d just disabled. Nerves maturating, you join her line of vision, only to be met with the barrel end of his weapon. You catch the vicious conclusion in the way his hand trembles, veins protruding from the pale skin, supplying courage to the finger hovering right over the trigger. You process it all, aware of the ways it can end, at how fast it can sour.  

Before you can so much as act on it, he shoots. 

Your skin prickles. 

You’ve heard stories of people who don’t realise when a bullet strikes them. Their bodies take time to catch up to the pain, cells stuck in paralytic shock, stimulus signals held somewhere between the existential and a will to delay the inevitable. You think you understand what they mean, your mind dragging in a rare bout of silence. Things slow, for a perennial moment, and you wonder how fast the blood loss will kill you.

You can do nothing but follow the man, who scrambles to a stand, letting him take the money – with whatever else – and watching as he runs out onto the street. 

And even still, the pain hasn’t caught up to you. 

Looking down, the case starts piecing itself together. No blood sticks to your shirt, the fabric still as pristine as it had been upon purchase. You check your arms, then your legs, then reach up to smooth over your head. Nothing. You’re okay.

The relief is short-lived when the morbid sound of gurgling meets your ears. Slowly, you turn, bracing for what you knew you’d find.  

The scene unfolds with a distressing intensity as crimson liquid blooms from the cashier’s throat. The torrent is never-ending, every gush of ichor bringing forth a new momentum, splattering its macabre scene over the register. Her eyes gloss over with an unshed panel of tears, and she looks to you for help. 

She looks to you. 

(You don’t admit it to yourself, but it’s the novelty of that fact that pushes you into action.) 

With a swift leap over the counter, you intercept her mid-fall, carefully cradling her weight as you guide her down to the ground. Scanning your surroundings, you search for a means to call for help. A rotary phone catches your recognition, situated a ways off by the back exit. Despite the inconvenient placement, it stands as your sole option at this stage.

In a split second decision, you sling your backpack off, hastily rummaging through its contents. You find solace in your hoodie, gathering its folds to tightly bunch it up, converting it into a makeshift compress.  Knowing she lacks the strength to apply pressure to the wound, you move to wrap it around her neck, hopeful that it’s tight enough to stem the bleeding while leaving enough room for air. 

Urgency fuelling your every step, you leave her side for a fleeting moment, dashing over to call an ambulance. Your medical knowledge only extends so far, and some selfish part of you itches to pass on the responsibility to someone more competent. It’s an impulse that derives from an innate acceptance, that resoundingly insightful voice in your head telling you it's too late. That she’s already dead, had been from the moment the bullet – that was meant for you – missed. 

Perhaps your help isn’t really helpful at all, then. Perhaps it’s your attempt to wash your hands of the sin. You think back to the grey water in the bathroom, how exasperated you had been at your inability to stay clean. 

(You don’t think you’ll ever rid yourself of this.) 

“911, what’s your emergency?” The question crackles through the receiver.

The bell by the entrance jingles, the chime accompanied by heavy footsteps. You press yourself against the wall, the concept of the robber returning filling you with such dread that you feel your stomach tighten and congeal. It’s a heavy lump, icy cold and slippery, and it seems to weigh a hundred pounds.

“Hello?” The operator says. 

But if it was the man, then he'd have to have changed into a navy and red suit. Somehow, your terror worsens. 

“Hijo de la chingada…” The whisper is barely legible, but the deep baritone is discernible enough to validate the assumption pulled from your brief glimpse. You’d recognise him anywhere. 

Shrinking in on yourself, you cup your palm over your mouth. “Hello,” 

“Ma’am? Can you describe your emergency?” 

“There was an armed robbery at the convenience off sixth and Third. Someone’s hurt.” You hardly register the words as they escape you, eyeing Miguel when he crouches over the lady. You’re propelled back to the conclusion of your last meeting; how his claws tore into you, how his persistence didn't falter until you pressed yourself onto him. 

That kiss. 

He runs a finger over your hoodie-turned-compress, wavering, like he can’t quite place where he’d seen it before. 

Or, maybe he can, for he spins to meet your wide-eyed stare. 

You drop the phone, bolting out the back door, charged on a paroxysm of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated panic.

chapter 3 →

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[ajortga]

comfort person

pairing: sam carpenter x female reader

summary: sammy spends time with you after a long day, giving you all the love money can't buy.

word count: 1.7k+

a/n: first sam fic, just had this idea and plan on writing more of her later on. more jenna fics will be out soon:). thank you for 600 followers<3

-

Sam is greeted with the sight of your figure waddling to her after school, her hands making way to her helmet that protects her head. As she takes it off and feels the cool breeze flow through her hair, she her heart strings tug when your smile widens and you walk faster to her.

“Hi, baby,” she says, kissing your forehead gently while playing with your hair. Her arms wrap around you as soon as she places her helmet against the seating of her motorcycle.

Immediately you cling onto her, burying your face into her chest because that’s the only place your head can reach. Her scent invades your senses, sweet and slightly musky from her leather jacket.

Sam peppers kisses against your hair, stroking it softly. It warms her heart (that’s meant to be tough) seeing your slightly grumpy façade melt as soon as her protective arms wrap around you. But, could you not say the same for her? Seeing the way your girlfriend’s eyes soften like ice cream on a hot summer day. Sam isn’t the closed off person that your best friends see, not your Sammy.

She’s the sweetest, making you melt into her arms whenever you have a bad day, cuddles and kisses at night, soothing tummy rubs for bad stomach aches. 

“Hi, Sammy.” You look up at her, eyes a little tired with her arms snug around your waist as she brushes a strand away from your face, studying you.

She softly smiles at you, rubbing your cheek. “Tired?” She asks, a little worried.

You nod, “Just a little. Too many tests.”

“That’s not good,” the taller girl says, voice etched with concern. “You were up studying.” She pauses for a moment, before lifting you on the motorcycle seat, behind her. “What about this? I’ll make you feel better, are you willing to go somewhere or do you want to stay home? I have a surprise.”

You murmur incoherently against her chest, a few muffled words before saying, “Mm willing to go somewhere.”

Sam kisses your forehead, “Okay, hold onto me. When we get home I’ll give you all the cuddles in the world, cook you dinner, and turn on your favorite movie. It’s Friday anyway.”

Your girlfriend turns around and places her helmet on your head, making sure that you’re safe and comfortable before taking off, a soft vroom sounding.

You drive through the buildings and city of Woodsboro, people spilling coffee, apartments into view, parties beginning to happen as you cling onto Sam’s waist.

A turn here, brake here, vroom there. Your eyes close, nuzzling into Sam’s back. It’s not long before you two come to a stop when you open your eyes. 

“Build-A-Bear?” you question, looking at your girlfriend who is grinning at you.

“You know I can’t ignore the way you keep checking on my phone if that Pochacco plush is sold out, right? My whole search history is, “Pochacco plush build a bear” or “Is Pochacco still at Build-A-Bear stores?” Don’t even get me started with, “Why is Pochacco build-a-bear stuffed animal so expensive on eBay?” So we’re going to find that stuffed animal.” Sam scrunches her nose, seeing the way you embarrassingly smile.

For some reason, Sam’s internet on her phone works better than yours, so you catch yourself desperate to see if your Build-A-Bear plush you wanted is still out of stock online.

She ties the helmet on your head against the handles of her motorcycle, extending her hand for you to hold.

You take it as you both walk into the store. “I don’t understand how your phone works faster than mine, Sammy. You barely use it!” 

Sam rolls her eyes, “Not my fault that the wifi just favorites me, mi vida. Come on, we’re gonna get you that plushie.”

Your arm clings onto hers as you place your head on her shoulder, a way for you to show your affection. It’s always sweet to Sam, seeing your clinginess whenever you’re with her. You're skipping with her, teeth shown in a toothy, happy smile.

She doesn’t understand how you do it, she’s supposed to be closed-off to everyone except for Tara. Her sister even has to tease her for it because she finds herself buying flowers for you and making a Spotify playlist for you. “It’s cute, Sam.” Tara assures her, pinching her shoulder.

Sam holds the door for you, in which you immediately cling back onto her. Cool breeze surrounded you both from the AC, the comfy atmosphere of stuffed animals and outfits. You drag her to the Sanrio section where Pochaccos were waiting for you.

Before she could even speak, you turned to her, holding an unstuffed Pochacco while wearing puppy eyes. A smile cracks onto her face as she pulls you into her chest, “Is that all you want? Shouldn’t we get him some clothes so he isn’t.. You know, unclothed?”

“Naked,” you correct, looking up when she rolls her eyes and nods. “Yes, naked. Do you have to make me say it?”

You sniff, “Yes, I do actually. Okay, help me choose the clothes, Sammy!”

As you two hold on to each other while looking at the colorful clothing, she gently circles her thumb against your palm. She reluctantly agrees when you ask her to have her speak for the voice box. You didn’t want to sleep without hearing her. But sometimes, she had to work late, and this was a cute option.

Sam goes through the clothes, pulling out a purple bikini, “What about this one?”

You stare at it, before bursting out into a laugh. “Sammy, Pochacco is a boy! He can’t wear a bikini!”

“Oh yeah? Says who, Y/N? This is a free country!” She argues while your head is buried into her chest, the scent of musk from her leather jacket filling your senses.

“Yes it’s a free country! But I was wanting Pochacco to wear something that fit his personality!”

She sighs, relenting as she puts away the bikini. “I thought our Pochacco would look very fashionable wearing a purple bikini. Oh!” She pulls out a flying ace outfit, with pilot goggles and a fluffy brown bomber jacket. “This one?”

Sam knows she made the right choice as you give her a toothy grin. A grin that makes her smile too. “Okay! Yay! That one.” You watch when she helps you carry the outfits and your bags. 

“How about we get him some overalls too? He can’t always go out wearing the same outfit, can he?”

“I guess not,” you sigh dramatically, “Overalls would be very cute.”

You two dig through the outfits before being able to find the jean overalls. “I have another idea for an outfit we should get.” 

Your girlfriend turns to you while grabbing a pair of tiny overalls, “Oh?” She tilts her head, “What would that be, mi vida?”

The tall brunette feels your hands untangle from hers before you run away, coming back 10 seconds later with your nose scrunched, holding a familiar purple bikini. Her eyes gleam, grinning at you. “Told you, fashionable.”

You roll your eyes.

~

By the time you two are about to checkout, you both are holding a lot of outfits. (Sam insisted as she got your stuffy shoes, hats, scarfs, hell, even a dress.) It made your cheeks burn as you had to look away from her to not let a smile break throughout your face when she was looking for a “I love Sam” or “I love Y/N” shirt. Unfortunately, she had to resort to a “I love you” shirt instead. 

Your forehead is peppered with kisses when you both are in line. You let the sweetness of Sam comfort you as you nuzzle her, burying your body against her.

“Talk about a cute couple,” the two girls say behind you, jealousy and admiration in their tone. 

You two get to a register as Sam pays. Next thing you know, the Pochacco is taken out of your hand to be stuffed. A soft whirring sound buzzes from the stuffing station, fuzz flying in the large container with a bear to decorate on top. You shiver from the AC that is starting to get a little too chilly.

Sam smiles down at you, her fingers threading through your hair. They begin to stuff your Pochacco, his body starting to inflate until it looks like a cute puppy. 

“All done!” The worker says, handing the puppy to you with a sweet smile. 

The cute face stares back at you as you hug him tight, a soft song playing when you squeeze him.

“I’ll get the custom voice box tonight, promise.” Sam says, draping her leather jacket over you, catching the way you begin to feel cold. 

“I love you,” you whisper, letting her kiss you softly. You hold Pochacco up for her to hold, the leather sleeves slightly oversized. You two leave the store and sit against a chair together.

He’s cute, Sam thinks, squishing him gently as you two begin to dress him. You start him with some overalls, black converse, and a heart headband. She notices how you look so happy. It makes her heart squeeze. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s get you some cinnamon rolls, okay? Then we can cuddle up and watch a movie when we get home.” Your arm links with hers as you both head back to the motorcycle, Sam making sure to stay on the side with the cars on them as you two walk.

The rest of the day, you spend time cuddling in bed with a fluffy blanket wrapped around you two. You don't let your stuffed animal go whatsoever. (Sam doesn't want to admit that you brought an extra chair to make the fluffy creature sit at dinner.)

"An extra meatball for him," You point at Pochacco as she sighs, pouring some spaghetti on a small plate.

-

Whenever Sam comes home late, she's greeted with the sight of you, hugging the plushie and squeezing the voice box like you'll die if you don't hear her.

"Hi, sweetheart. Just wanted to let you know that I love you and miss you. Hold tight, I'm always thinking about you and will give you so many cuddles when I get home, okay? I love you mi vida."

You sniff, burying your face into the plushie as you keep squeezing the arm, a different lullaby of Sam playing every time.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ don’t blame me ] n. hischier

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : after a great performance by the captain but a loss for the devils, Nico airs out his frustrations to his girlfriend after the game and she does her best to make him feel better

warning(s) : a v frustrated nico, some yelling, angst w a very happy ending

author’s note : okay look i saw people on twt blaming nico for the ot loss against the caps and was reading what he said after the game and got all sad abt it so i channeled my own feelings into this. it’s short but full of emotion so i hope you enjoy

༺──────────────༻

Over the years, she’s seen how upset Nico can be while he does his postgame interviews. Tonight though, he seems extra distraught about the game despite his own performance.

He played an incredible game. Two goals, an assist, on the ice for four of the Devils’ five goals, and an impressive faceoff percentage. Yet, the boys in red and black lost 6-5 in overtime to the Capitals.

She watches Nico’s interview when it drops while she waits in the car for him after the game. He says they didn’t deserve to win, but she knows that he deserved that win. He barely even talked about his Devils record with those two goals he scored in ten seconds at the beginning of the second period.

Fastest two goals scored by the same player in franchise history, and he skimmed over that question and had a very short answer when he did.

Nico blames himself for the loss, and he shouldn’t because he played some incredible hockey tonight. It’s a shame they couldn’t pull out the win for him. It breaks her heart that he blames himself for that overtime goal. He got caught on a bad change. It’s not his fault.

She wants to text him to let him know that the outcome of the game isn’t his fault, but she lets him have his few moments alone to ponder and think about the game like he does whenever he plays. She knows she’ll get her time with him when he comes out of the Prudential Center.

An hour after the game ends, and a short ten minute nap for her, Nico leaves the building. He walks out with Jack and Timo. He says something to them before he gets in the passenger’s seat of her car.

A frown forms on her face when he doesn’t say anything to her when he gets in. He types something on his phone instead of saying something to her.

“Neeks?” she says to get his attention. He looks up at her when she calls his nickname. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

His voice is low and hoarse like he’s been crying. His usually bright eyes are dark and swollen. She wouldn’t put it past him to shed some tears in frustration that he’s probably feeling. It’s not the first time his team has left him out to dry after an incredible performance. He takes all the blame as their captain too despite none of it being his fault.

It truly does break her heart.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she questions. “Or do you just want to go home?”

“Go home,” Nico replies. “Please. I don’t feel like talking about the game right now.”

She nods silently and puts the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. Nico remains quiet as she begins to drive back to their shared apartment.

At one of the red lights she stops at, she glances over to see Nico scrolling on some social media app and frowns. He lets out a soft sigh before he turns off the phone and looks out the window.

This is not how Nico reacts after games. Either he’s very talkative about the game and how well the team did or he is venting to her about how bad they played that night if none of them played well. Quiet Nico after one of his best performances is slightly concerning. Even after the whole team lost.

The drive back to their apartment is fifteen minutes once she actually pulled out of the parking lot. Nico gets out as soon as it’s in park and begins the trek into the building. She follows close behind him so they can get on the elevator together to go up to their floor.

As soon as they’re behind the safety of a closed door, he pulls the beanie off his head and launches it across the living room until it hits the wall.

“Sometimes I wish they never gave me the stupid C,” he suddenly blurts out. “I let them put all the blame on me and I take all the blame. I do that so they can perform better on the ice instead of their mentality ruining their game on the ice and this is what they do? Fuck!”

She quickly walks up to her boyfriend and says, “You do that because you’re a good captain, Nico. You’d probably let them even if you didn’t wear the C on your chest. That is the kind of guy you are.”

He looks down at her and takes a step back. “You don’t understand,” he replies. “I already blame myself for that last goal they scored. I was on a change and the puck went into the net while I was trying to get off the ice to get some fresh skates on. That’s on me because if I had just stayed on the fucking ice, we would’ve won that game. I would’ve found a way to get a turnover and I would’ve put the puck into the net myself because I played really great tonight for them to barely show up.”

“You’re frustrated,” she tells him. “And that’s fine. You’re so valid in your frustration and feelings, but do not think for one second that the loss is on you. You said it. You played great tonight so this is not on you. It sucks that your team couldn’t back you up.”

Nico runs his fingers through his hair. “Every loss is on me,” he replies. “They can blame me all they want, but I need them to back me up. I can’t keep putting up these multi-point nights for them to fuck it up while I’m not on the ice. It fucks with my head sometimes and I’m over it. I’m so over this because it happened so many times.”

She wraps her arms around his torso and rubs his back. “You’re the best captain,” she reminds him. “This is who you would be no matter what is on your chest. One day, all this will pay off. It will end with you raising the Cup then passing it to Jack. They will get you the Cup before the end of your career. All this frustration you’re feeling has an end. One way or another.”

He buries his face into her hair and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I just need them to back me up,” he mumbles. “I can only take their blame so they can play better for so long before it fucks with me.”

“I know, Neeks,” she replies. “But you’re doing a great job at helping them be their best selves and the best players they can be on the ice. You just have to remind yourself that this will all come to an end at some point.”

Nico nods against her hair. “That overtime goal is on me though,” he tells her.

“Nico Hischier, I’m going to kick your ass if you blame yourself for any part of that loss,” she sharply replies as she pulls away from the hug. “It is not on you. There was nothing you could have done to change that outcome. You put everything into that game and that’s that. You were the best player on the ice tonight in every single statistic. Got it?”

He nods again quietly. “Got it,” he sighs. “Sorry that I’m venting like this to you. I am a little frustrated. It’s supposed to be a new season and I’m seeing things from last season that I thought we already worked on.”

“That’s fine,” she tells him. “Just don’t take it out on yourself, okay? I don’t like this quiet, frustrated Nico. Talk to me, talk to your team, talk to your coaches. It helps.”

Nico gives her a small smile. “I know.”

“Good,” she says. “Now, go take a shower because you still stink. I’ll make us some snacks and we can watch a movie, okay?”

He nods again and walks down the hallway.

Yeah, he’s allowed to be frustrated. Blaming himself is not the best thing to be doing, especially with the way he has been playing to start the season.

There are still 70 something games left to play. He doesn’t need to blame himself on game 8 of the season.

༺──────────────༻

MASTERLIST

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[ronearoundblindly]

A Casual Kiss

Bucky Barnes x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

It's just adorable fluff, really. No warnings. Divider by @cafekitsune WC 547

A lot has happened to Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes over his long life. He used to be a ladies’ man and a traditional sort of soldier. He used to have all his natural limbs. He used to take maybe a touch too much pride in his appearance. A lot has also changed.

Wars change people. Injuries change people. People simply change over time.

And Bucky Barnes has been around a long, long time.

You knew all this from the beginning, of course, because his whole tragic history had already been slashed across newspapers and television by the time you started work in the same building.

He started out cold, then he became reserved, and then he was cautious. You didn’t even know he knew your name until the day he—very formally and awkwardly—asked you out, and the relationship developed…predictably.

That’s the best word for it. Predictable.

There were a few dates before he hugged you goodnight. The next time, he kissed your cheek. The next, you got a chaste peck on the lips. So on and so forth.

Measured increments of intimacy.

It was predictable and still wonderful.

Bucky isn’t good with ‘easy-breezy’ anything, you see. He’s intense and considerate. He plans ahead and for all contingencies, and so you’re taken aback by this random passing in of your department leaving the conference room and Buck’s team coming in.

There’s plenty of people around. Normally, that means a kind smile, perhaps being asked to step aside for a moment so he can say hello and check on your day, maybe check on your plans for dinner, but today? Today is different.

He’s smiling alright, smiling wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen him on the job. His shoulders are relaxed and loose. He’s strutting right for you, and suddenly, like a choreographed dance move, he twists, kissed your forehead, and twists again, still walking but backwards now.

Bucky winks at you as his metal hand finishes a soft graze down your arm.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Love you, doll,” he whispers though at least half the room can probably hear.

It’s not as if no one knows at work. You’ve dated for months, and for that whole stretch, Bucky’s been a perfect gentleman, just very…not casual. This is new.

So why not make it even stranger?

Your boyfriend snaps his flesh fingers like he just remembered something, nearly skipping the couple of feet to your side.

“Hey, so, I know we were doing movie night, but Sam’s taking some folks out to the corner bar. His treat.”

You can’t help but snort.

“Oh? And let me guess. You—who is unable to get drunk—would like to make him pay for the multiple bottles of top-shelf liquor you can consume.”

Bucky waggles an eyebrow, and you’re stunned.

“Know me so well,” he coos, leaning in to plant one more solid smooch on your lips.

Your lipstick stains his mouth until Bucky’s tongue wipes it away.

“I’ll pick you up at your office.”

You’ve hardly controlled the flutter in your gut but now have a grin fighting to break free. All you can do is nod, heading for the exit, thinking:

People always change over time…and sometimes, change is for the better.

A/N: Yeah, so, absolutely no one requested this and I don't care because HE DESERVES THE KISSES.

James Mace and a kiss without motive ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss to distract

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[luvrodite]

HALLWAY CRUSH JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ he's your boyfriend, but you've still got a massive crush on him

Four long, boring hours loom ahead of you when you walk to campus on Monday morning. Lectures all packed closely within the same building, on the same floor, you dread the day. Winter leaves your hands numb as you walk towards the building you’ll be spending your time in today, and you curse yourself for forgetting your gloves, sticking stiff fingers into your pockets.

There is only one other person in the lecture theatre when you walk in, sitting off to the side. You offer them a polite nod when their eyes meet yours, and continue up the stairs to take a seat, thankful for the warmth in the room. The both of you are early, and it’s quiet in the room as you take out your things, the faint smell of something lingering in the air, not entirely unpleasant, but peculiar in the way of old lecture halls. 

It’s this smell you have to endure for the next two hours. When the hour draws closer to 9 and the rest of the few students who actually bother to show up to lectures in person begin to trickle in, you’re already fighting off a yawn and wishing you’d gotten coffee from one of the vending machines in the lobby.

You switch your phone on and off, peering down at the lockscreen fondly. The black and white photobooth strip stares back, three rectangular photos stacked atop each other. The dark haired boy in the picture winks through the pixels at you, and you hide a grin. When your professor walks in and begins to set up, you tuck your phone away, finding a bit of comfort in the pretty smile of a lover.

It only lasts so long, however, and you’re soon back to staring grumpily at a set of slides and fighting back tears at the strength of your yawns–you’ve gone through so many in the last twenty minutes it’s getting rude. It isn’t his fault, your poor old professor, that he speaks so slowly, or that you’re not made for morning classes. After yet another yawn, you rub your eyes tiredly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

The text comes through in the middle of your lecture, an hour into the history of corporations, and you flick your gaze down to the bubble that appears over your lockscreen. Your boyfriend’s contact photo accompanies the message, and you bite back a grin, reading the two words.

>> look up

Confused, you glance up to the door of the lecture theatre that looks out into the hallway, propped ajar with an old textbook. In the background, your lecturer takes a question, and you really should be listening, but you’re wondering whether the message was actually meant for you and then–

Jason, stupidly handsome, and bright eyed, walks past the door, peering in and grinning when you make eye contact. You just about jolt in your seat, unable to contain your own smile when he glances at your professor and shoots you a cheeky wink. Idiot, you think fondly. 

He’s gone before you can blink, leaving you to return to the class once more. Only, how can you, when you’ve got to settle your silly little lovesick heart, grinning like a fool? 

>> you’re so pretty baby

And just when you think you’ve got a handle on your heart, the butterflies spring forth anew with his next text.

i had to sit in the same lecture theatre for FOUR hours today can you believe. anyway made eye contact with everyone walking outside because i was so tired and i just kept imagining this stupid (affectionate) boy walking past and timing his text so you'd see him when you look up. because this is fanfiction. and i can make him do that!

this is separate from the last college!au piece but you can imagine it to be set in the same au if you want! i just think boyfriend jason in a college au is something that can be so special

[achilles-rage]

Oblivious

summary: you're a part of 50 squad, but with street being your best friend, you spend more time with 20 squad. after a rough day at work, street invites you out with the rest of the team. when tan and luca notice you talking to a man at the bar, they take matters into their own hands, knowing that you're both too dense to realize the other's feelings.

word count: 3.1k

request: @heypeople2 - hi! i’d love a friends to lovers fic with street where the reader is on mumford’s swat team, but is friends with all of street’s team and hangs out with them often. maybe two oblivious lovers? if that makes sense!

A/N: i had no idea where i was going with this at first, but i like how it turned out! enjoy<33

TW: none, allusion to smut, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You still remember every single thing that happened on your first day with 50 squad; it was a stressful day, and you weren’t even supposed to go into the field that day because you had suffered a shoulder injury and were still a few days from being cleared for going out into the field. The universe had different plans, however, and both 50 squad and 20 squad were called to the same place. They needed all the people they could get, so you were quick to tell Rocker you could step in. He wasn’t going to let you, not wanting to go against protocol, but the situation was extremely important, so he finally agreed.

You had a group of hostages with you, trying to take them down to the main floor of the building and to safety, when you saw another SWAT agent fall into the hallway a few feet in front of you, who you now know was Street. It was almost a blur how fast you moved, quickly ushering the hostages into the room you were in front of and moving to cover him, taking down the two suspects that had managed to get the upper hand on him.

From that day on, he was smitten. He was impressed by your skill, of course, especially after he learned that you were still injured, but he also thought you were gorgeous. If it wasn’t an active shooter situation, he would’ve had the time to watch your plush body maneuver through the doorway and take down two targets, how strong your thick thighs looked, how your gear clung to your soft belly and chest. Instead, he noticed after all the shooters were taken into custody, when you came over to ask if he was okay in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.

You had noticed how attractive he was too, his broad shoulders, his lean torso. When you went to make sure he was okay, you were asking out of concern, but also because you were curious about him. He immediately continued the conversation when he told you he was alright, wanting to know everything that he could about you, and the rest is history. The rest of 20 squad quickly picked up on this new friendship, noticing the way your eyes would find each other in a room when the other person isn’t looking, and the way you talk to each other. They also quickly realized how truly oblivious you two were, as it seemed that neither of you knew the other person’s feelings.

Now, over a year later, you and Street are best friends, and it’s because of this that you find yourself hanging out with 20 squad more often than 50 squad outside of work, although you still love everyone on your own team.

“Rough day, killer?” you hear from across the parking lot as you step out of the armoured vehicle, groaning softly as you feel the pain in your shoulder. It may have been over a year ago, but after an especially hard day of work, your shoulder still gives you some trouble. It’s nothing some painkillers and a heating pad can’t fix, but until you get home and get them, the dull ache remains.

“You have no idea.” Street chuckles at your response, taking in your figure. He notices the way you’re holding yourself, he’s seen it before, he knows your shoulder is giving you trouble.

“We just got back a few minutes ago, we’re all going to get drinks. A drink or two might help with that.” he tells you, a smirk on his face as you walk over to him, starting to take off your gear.

“Yeah, alright. But it’ll be an early night. Want to share an uber over there? I don’t want to leave my car there overnight.” You want nothing more than to go home and lay on the couch with a heating pad over your injury, but as soon as the option of spending more time with Street appears, you can’t help but say yes. He shakes his head at your words, scoffing.

“I can just take you on my bike. I’m not drinking tonight.” he tells you nonchalantly, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest as he imagines you pressed against him on the back of his bike. He imagines your thick thighs wrapped around him, your torso against his back, even though he knows he shouldn’t be thinking about his best friend like that.

You tense at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You’re imagining the exact same scenario as him, but you can’t help the slight insecurities that race through your brain at the image. Your soft body pressed against his. He’d be able to feel every curve of your body, even the ones you usually keep hidden, knowing that although you’ve grown used to them, and are beginning to like your body again, not everyone likes to see them. You also think of having to sit on the tiny seat of his motorcycle, him having to hold up the bike along with your added weight, and you can’t help the nerves twisting at your insides. Imagining how you’d look squeezed onto the back of his bike is something you really don’t want to have to think about, so you’re quick to respond.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to-” He cuts you off, shaking his head as he speaks.

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to be spending money on an uber when you can just ride with me.” he tells you, but a hopefulness breaks through his features, lighting up his eyes ever so slightly. You pick up on this, and let out a sigh, knowing he won’t let this go. Maybe you can do it just this once, and then tell him it was too scary and you never want to do it again, you think. Maybe then, he won’t ask again.

“Alright, fine. I’m just gonna take a quick shower and change. I’ll meet you out here in 15?” you tell him, smiling softly as he nods. You turn and quickly walk into the building, making your way to the locker room.

The nerves are taking over every inch of your body as you rinse off quickly, your brain going into overdrive as you think about having to ride on Street’s motorcycle. It’s a short distance to the bar you guys usually go to, but it’s still a decent amount of time to be pressed up against Street.

Once you’re showered and changed, you go out to the parking lot, letting out a shaky breath before you get close enough to Street for him to hear it. He notices the way you’re still holding your arm a little awkwardly, and he feels a little bad for inviting you out.

“You take some painkillers already?” he asks softly, worry spreading across his face as you shake your head.

“I ran out. I’ll have to get some on my way home.” He turns and reaches into his bag, taking out a bottle of the same meds he’s seen you use. He never told you, but he went out and bought some when he found out which ones you prefer. He knows how much your shoulder bothers you after rough days, and he wanted to make sure you never have to go without them should you run out.

Your eyes soften as he pulls them out, and you take them from his hands. You take one quickly, then hand them back to him, thanking him softly.

He hands you his spare helmet once he puts the pills back in his bag and gets on, holding a hand out for you to get on behind him.

Your ascent is a little awkward, but you finally manage to get on with his help, your cheeks hot as embarrassment fills your stomach.

He finally starts to drive and you put your arms around his waist tightly, feeling your breath pick up as he turns onto the road. You know he can sometimes be a crazy driver, but he seems to hold back today, perhaps picking up on your nerves.

Street has a hard time focusing on the road as he makes his way to the bar; having you pressed up against him so tight has him fighting every urge to drive right from work to his house and dragging you upstairs to bed. The way your arms are tightly wound around him also gets him a little riled up; how you’re putting so much trust into him. He makes sure to take it easy. If anything were to happen to you because of his driving, he doesn’t think he would ever recover.

When you finally make it to the bar and walk in, Tan and Luca are quick to look over at you two, their eyes immediately going to each other with raised eyebrows as they see the way Street’s hand is on your lower back, and the way you’re looking over at him with twinkling eyes. They’ve been trying to get you two together for months; and they feel like tonight is finally the night they can make it happen. You catch up with the rest of the squad for a few minutes, before you lean to whisper in Street’s ear that you’re going to go get a drink.

“You want me to come with you?” he asks over the music and chatter of the bar, but you shake your head, giving him a soft smile. You tell him you’ll just be a minute before you turn and walk over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with another customer.

“That’s a nice bike you rode in on. What year is it?” you hear a voice beside you speak. You turn with a raised brow, looking up at a man who came into the bar just after you, seeing you getting off of Street’s motorcycle.

“Oh, um, I have no idea.” you tell him, giving him a small smile.

“It’s a nice one, your boyfriend hasn’t told you anything about it?” Your breath catches in your throat at the word boyfriend. You feel embarrassed, but also a sense of pride that he thinks you’re dating him. You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and he doesn’t talk much about it to me.” you admit sheepishly. The man gives you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I just assumed-” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You give him an earnest smile, putting your hand on his arm as you tell him that it’s alright. You can sense he’s a little embarrassed, and that wasn’t your intention. It was an honest mistake.

You’re so focused on the man that you don’t notice that Luca and Tan’s eyes are glued on you the moment the man walks up to you. Smirks break out onto both of their faces as they watch, both of them having the same idea.

“Hey, Street. I think that guy’s trying to steal your girl away from you.” Luca teases Street as he motions over to you at the bar. Street turns in the direction Luca’s pointing at, about to tell him that he doesn’t have a girl, but his words fall short. He looks over just in time for you to give the man a smile as you place your hand on his arm, and he can feel the jealousy bubbling up inside him.

“Yeah, man. You should go get her, before he tries to take her home.” Tan chimes in, smirking as he sees Street’s fists clench at his sides and his jaw clenched. Street is seeing red at this point, imagining you going home with that man instead of him.

He marches over to you quickly, unaware that the rest of the squad’s conversations have died down, and they’re all now looking at the situation unfolding with smirks.

“Hey babe.” he purrs, wrapping his arms around your plush waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He smirks at the man as he sees his brows furrow, feeling like he’s already won, but wanting to take it further.

“Uh, hey, Street. What’s up?” you ask, confusion laced in your voice as you turn your head to look at the side of his face. You’re used to his flirty tendencies, but this is definitely different than you’re used to.

“Just wanted to see if you were ready to go home.” he says in a low tone, kissing your neck softly. His eyes are trained on you, but he watches the man from the corner of his eye, his smirk widening as he sees the confused expression on the man's face and the way he takes a step back from you two.

“What are you talking abou-” You’re cut off by Street’s lips on yours, his hand coming up and using two fingers to tilt your head towards his. Your eyes widen in shock for a moment before you finally return the kiss, closing your eyes. He’s not sure what came over him at that moment. He’s wanted to do that since he met you, and watching you with another guy at a bar finally sent him over the edge. You pull back after a moment, turning back to the man, but realize he’s already walked away. You turn in Street’s arms, your eyebrows raised.

“What was that for?” you ask, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire, still reeling from the short kiss.

“He was flirting with you.” he states, as if that’s the only reason he needs. You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“He wasn’t flirting with me. He was asking about your bike.” It’s his turn to be confused. He stays silent for a moment, starting to think more clearly about what he just did. He kissed you, and you kissed him back, and you weren’t flirting with the man at the bar.

“Oh.” he says softly after a moment, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, his own still wrapped firmly around your waist despite his racing thoughts.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ Why did you do that?” you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him. You think you saw jealousy in his eyes as he approached, but you’re afraid that you’re just seeing what you want to see.

“I don’t know. I had to. I don’t want to see you with someone else.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear over the music. Your drink is long forgotten now as your heart seems to beat louder. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“Why not?” You match his volume, and he almost has to bend down to hear you. He can see the glimmer of hope in your eyes, and he thinks that since he’s already gotten this far, he should just tell you the truth.

“I want you all to myself.” he states, smirking as he sees your eyes widen. Your lips part slightly as you try to think of what to say. He’s your best friend, and as deep as your feelings are for him, you’ve never had trouble speaking to him until now.

His eyes search yours as he waits for your response, and he sees the way your lips are beginning to twitch up into a smile and the way your eyes flicker down to his lips for half a second, so he takes his chance.

His lips meet yours again in a soft kiss, and it takes everything in him not to push you against the bar and take you right there. One of his hands reaches up to your jaw, tilting your head up into the kiss, deepening it. He smiles against your lips as you let out a soft whimper, and his other hand moves to squeeze your hip softly.

Your mind is reeling as you kiss him, and you’re not even worried about the way his body is pressed against yours as you get lost in the kiss. It’s not until you hear a loud clinking of a group cheersing their drinks that you pull back, breathing heavily. You have matching grins on your face as you stare into each other's eyes. Street’s eyes dart around the room before they land back on you. He leans in and whispers in your ear.

“You want to get out of here?” You bite your lip as you nod, neither of you even bothering to say goodbye to the squad as you make your way to the door.

The team have been watching the whole time, and they all fight back cheers as they finally see you two give in to one another. Chris chuckles as she watches you two leave, nudging Tan’s shoulder as she speaks.

“Finally. I was beginning to think your ideas were trash.” she teases him, which makes him shrug with a smile.

“They’re both idiots, but they’re perfect for each other, I guess.” The rest of the team agrees with Tan, and their conversations slowly move away from you two to other things, but none of them can wait to tease you two tomorrow.

When you get back to Street’s apartment, he immediately pushes you against the wall, his hands moving to your face as his lips meet yours in a searing kiss. You put your hands on his chest as he slots his knee between your legs, making your whimper softly.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he murmurs against your lips, hands going down and clawing at the hem of your shirt, desperate to see all of you.

You smile against his lips, raising your arms as he pulls your shirt over your head. His lips are back on your in an instant, trailing down your neck to your chest. He nips and sucks at the exposed parts of your chest, and you tilt your head back to give him more access, one hand traveling to the back of his head.

“Please.” you manage to get out through pants, and that’s all he needs to haphazardly guide you down the hall to his bedroom. You bump into a few things on the way, but as soon as he has you sprawled out on his bed, everything else in the world is forgotten.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 45!

what a week... i'm greatly enjoying all of the post-8x06 buddie fic (many more recs to come!) and took some time to revisit old favourites, which can be found in previous rec lists. enjoy!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

all that we need | not1_2write | 26.4k | M

When Buck buys a Powerball lottery ticket he doesn't think much beyond his need for change to air up his tire. He forgets all about the ticket until word spreads that the winning ticket was sold in LA and hasn't been claimed yet and pretty much dismisses it. After all, there's no way he won the lottery. Turns out no, he really did win the Powerball, to the tune of 295 million dollars and just in time for Christmas. He's going to make sure the 118 has the best Christmas of their lives. And just maybe he'll have a good one too. idk about all of you but i do dream about winning the lottery regularly (way too often for someone who's never bought a ticket, that's for sure). this is such a lovely look at what buck would do with a whole lot of money <3

i take this magnetic force of a man | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 9k | M

Turns out, he isn’t actually afraid of commitment. He’s just afraid of committing to the wrong thing, or the wrong person. Ana, obviously, had been a mistake, because he hadn’t been ready, and he’d put other people’s expectations above his own wants and needs. With Marisol, he’s done the same thing. Moved too fast, doing what he thinks is the right thing according to who? His parents? For Chris’s benefit? Again, pushing past his own comfort, discarding any doubt because it doesn’t fit like… Like Buck. blanket rec for one of my favourite authors who has been posting incredible fics lately!! this one in particular is so beautifully written and so romantic and just so very buddie <3

if i need to rearrange my particules i will for you | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 7.9k | GA

Eddie catches a cold and Buck takes care of him while having a minor, non-platonic emotional crisis. this is definitely influenced by the fact that i've been ill myself but wow truly nothing hits as hard as buddie taking care of each other when one of them isn't feeling well. the bed sharing in this is so good <3

let me | facewithoutheart/@facewithoutheart | 1.6k | T

Eddie doesn't think he needs romance. Buck, respectfully, disagrees. AKA the fic where Buck picks Eddie up and kisses him breathless against a wall. and buck is so right for doing that!! i love it when buck turns eddie to jello <3 so lovely!

second child, restless child | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 23k and counting| M

how Evan and Maddie make it out of Pennsylvania, and Buck and Maddie build a family. okay so listen these past few weeks i've been doing this thing where i only rec finished fics, and every time i scroll through my ao3 history for these rec lists, i come across this one and go oh i wish i could rec this already. and then i realised wait it's my rec list i can do whatever i want, and so then i did. anyway, mind the tags for this one, but wow are you in for a treat here! i love the character dynamics (chim is brilliant in this!! and maddie!!) and i'm so so excited to see the rest of this fic unfold <3

said that i was fine, said it from my coffin | justhockey/tumblr | 7.3k | T

And it doesn’t matter that he feels like he’s dying. Like the version of himself that he’s always been is suddenly a stranger to him - just a mask he’d spent his entire life hiding behind, without ever even realising he was wearing it. It doesn’t matter that Eddie is…that he’s gay. Because he knows - as surely as he knows that the sun will rise again tomorrow - that the only person he has ever, and will ever, truly love is Buck. And Buck isn’t his to love. another blanket rec for an author who's been posting incredible fics!! this one in particular has such brilliant eddie characterisation and i just devoured it the second i got that little ao3 email hehe

there's no place like home-spun | icewhisper | 4.1k | GA

Buck has spent most of his life trying to find something to settle fidgeting hands and the restless need for a home. He found the key to the latter when he was thirteen. He finds the former in a cozy home on South Bedford Street with two of his favorite people. (AKA the Buck-crochets fic that literally no one asked for.). this fic makes me want to learn how to crochet. i am the least crafty person ever and i have like minus time but just know that if two weeks from now i'm posting about yarn and crochet hooks and whatnot, it's all thanks to this fic. i love buck who crochets so very much <3

you get your dreams for free | llovely/@butchdiaz| 14.9k | T

five times buck and eddie cuddle drunk and one time they cuddle sober. buddie bed sharing my absolute favourite. i read this late at night curled up under three blankets and it hit just right <3

[copajay]

knight in shining armor

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

masterlist

can you tell I’m in love with writing period pieces (even if they’re not that historically accurate…) btw, italics is y/n's thoughts and bold is euneok's thoughts.

summary: y/n’s a college student majoring in history on a school trip to a historical castle in england. somehow she and her academic rival, eunseok, get stuck in a secret chamber in the castle which ends up transporting them to the 1300s! will the pair overcome their differences and manage to get back to the 21st century? (not proofread)

date: 04/09/24

scenario themes: time travel, enemies to lovers, period piece

idol: song eunseok or eunseok of riize

concept: fluff, fantasy

warnings: swearing

word count: 12k (i got a bit carried away)

song eunseok is an exchange student from korea who makes your college life a living hell.

you love studying history, especially the entirety of medieval england. you’re even writing your senior thesis on english nobility during the medieval period.

unfortunately for you, eunseok excels at history as well.

since you have such a huge passion for history, you’ve always naturally excelled at it. you tend to be a bit of a try-hard when it comes to school and that bit increases tenfold when it’s anything history-related.

it’s immature to compete so openly with a peer at this age. to many, ‘rivals’ are a high school concept. and yet, something about the way eunseok knows every detail about chinese foot-binding practices and confidently leads discussions about the cold war makes your eye twitch.

history is your thing.

you know you sound crazy, but it’s not like it was completely one-sided. eunseok hates not being the smartest in the room.

he worked his ass off to learn english, leave korea, and get a scholarship at your university. there’s no way he was going to settle for mediocrity.

and of course he noticed how intensely you glared at him when he answered a question you were dying to answer.

just like you noticed how annoyed he was when you would mention getting a slightly higher grade than him on a paper.

you were both in the same major which meant you had a lot of overlapping courses, and unfortunately for your professors and classmates, you almost always ended up in the same class.

for the most part you tried to ignore eunseok outside of class. sure he was the bane of your existence for the hour and a half lecture on roman architecture, but outside that he was none of your concern.

eunseok on the other hand found himself thinking of you quite often. it’s not like he always disliked you. in fact, he found your passion for history admirable, and he thought your dedication to your coursework was cute.

but when you began treating him coldly and sending him glares from across the room, he was quick to react in the same way.

eunseok isn’t stupid, he knows why you dislike him, and that if he was less of an overachiever, you’d maybe warm up to him. but he’s not going to jeopardize his grades and hard work to please some girl… no matter how much he’d like to get to know said girl.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, but there isn’t a soul on this earth that could waterboard that information out of you.

to put it simply, you can’t stand each other.

but right now that doesn’t matter. nothing matters. because you’re going on a trip set up by the history department to riize castle in england.

it might just be another old site to everyone else, but it's your absolute favorite castle. you know the entire history of the building, you've studied the floor plans an embarrassing amount of times, and have spent most of your childhood yearning to go there, and that dream is finally coming true.

and not even eunseok could ruin it for you... or so you thought.

your flight was set for 3 am, and while the other students were groggily arriving at the airport one by one, annoyed at both the timing and the expenses they'd have to cover for the trip, you were elated.

that is until you received your boarding passes and found out you would be spending the entirety of the 10-hour flight from california to england seated next to the one person you abhor.

maybe he's less insufferable outside of class, you thought to yourself.

after your group boarded you sat down next to him and the two of you continued to sit in awkward silence until takeoff. but once the plane began moving, you noticed eunseok starting to shuffle around and breathe heavier.

"are you alright?" you asked, glancing at his trembling hands gripping onto the armrest. "yes." he responded immediately.

"don't you go back to korea every school break, how are you scared of flying-" before you could finish your sentence, eunseok grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly.

you were about to interject but you realized the plane was beginning to ascend so he must've been frightened.

his hand was warm and soft, despite his trembling, the foreign feeling of his hand on yours was comfortable.

as soon as the plane was fully in the air, he let go of your hand as if nothing happened and picked out a book from his carry-on.

"um.. are you okay?" you questioned, confused at his sudden behavior change. "i get a bit nervous during takeoff and landings, i'm usually fine during the rest of the flight so you don't have to worry about me holding your hand for the next ten hours." he deadpanned.

"a bit? you were shaking like a leaf." you chortled. he rolled his eyes in response, going back to his book.

it was then that you realized you stupidly hadn't brought any entertainment with you for the trip, and your flight didn't have wi-fi either.

you decided the only thing you could do to remain sane in this situation is fall asleep, it was 3 in the morning after all.

leaning your head as far back as the stiff seats would allow, you closed your eyes and drifted off.

approximately five hours later, you woke up with a crick in your neck and an odd numbness on the side of your mouth. opening your eyes slowly, you were greeted with the site of eunseok's shirt directly beneath you with a large wet spot.

holy shit.

you fell asleep on eunseok's shoulder and drooled all over his shirt. if he didn't say anything this far he's probably going to the next 5 hours you're on this flight.

you haven't moved your head yet, scared that if you indicate you're awake, he's going to hold this against you until the end of time.

panicking, you accidentally jolted your stiff neck up, causing your chin to collide directly with eunseok's.

fuck. well there goes my cover.

"ow!" you both exclaimed in unison. "was drooling over me not enough? you had to break my jaw too?" he grumbled, rubbing his chin.

"you could've moved my head!" you defended, flustered. straightening yourself up, you wiped the side of your mouth awkwardly.

instead of responding, he grabbed a napkin from his bag and handed it to you.

"thank you." you said, taken aback.

why is he being so nice?

"i'm... sorry for ruining your shirt," you mumbled. "it's no big deal." he shrugged.

was this the same eunseok that commented "worst thing I've ever read." on your peer-graded essay?

maybe you could mend things with him during this trip. after all, he did seem pretty excited when the announcement was made.

"so... have you ever been to england before?" you began, initiating small-talk.

"can we just sit in silence?" he replied coldly.

nevermind, he's still just as much of an asshole as ever.

shit. why did I say that? eunseok thought to himself.

the truth is, you made him nervous. whether it was your icy stare or your intimidatingly vast knowledge on history, he could never let his guard down around you.

the rest of the flight was spent with the two of you refusing to so much as face each other until landing.

as the plane was about to descend, you noticed eunseok starting to take deep breaths. part of you wanted to extend a hand, but the other part of you wanted to throw him off the plane.

deciding to be the bigger person, you asked "are you alright?"

"I'm not a child." he croaked.

"I didn't say you were." you sassed.

"then stop talking to me like I am one." he began, growing more irritated.

the two of you began to go back and forth, and before you knew it you had landed. eunseok managed to forgot all about his fear because of how unbelievably petty the two of you were.

"will you guys shut up!?" a passenger behind you shouted, causing the both of you to stop arguing.

annoyed, you got out of your seat as quickly as you could and made a beeline for the baggage claim, waiting for your bags.

how do you keep getting forced into these kinds of situations with him? were you some kind of monster in your past life? was he your karma?

once you and the rest of your group received your luggage, you headed to the hotel. due to the time zone difference, it was already 9 pm in london so your group supervisors told everyone to get some sleep so you could head to the castle in the morning.

whether it was because of the nap you took on the plane, or simply how excited you were, you couldn't sleep at all.

staring at the clock reading 1 a.m. in your hotel room, you decided to try catching a glimpse of the castle before everyone else woke up at 7. it wasn't your brightest idea, but it's not like you had anything else to do.

you managed to get past your sleeping roommates, throwing on a jacket and slipping out the door. coincidentally, eunseok couldn't sleep either, and he decided to go for a walk around the hotel at the same moment you decided to leave.

spotting your figure leaving the hotel and heading off towards the street, he couldn't help but follow you.

was this extremely stalker-ish? yes. but what if she got hurt or kidnapped? we're in a different country after all. not like I care if she gets hurt or kidnapped... but if she did it would ruin our trip! so I have no choice but to follow her eunseok reasoned.

it didn't take long for him to figure out where you were going. the hotel is extremely close to the castle, after all. once you reached, you stared at the castle from afar, marveling at it.

you waited for this moment your whole life, and it was even more beautiful in person. there's no way you could turn back now. you have to see it closer.

carefully maneuvering past the gates, you managed to miraculously sneak in, and there didn't seem to be any security guards present.

what the hell is she doing? this is illegal!

what the hell am I doing? this is illegal!

you thought about turning back, but your curiosity was eating you up inside. you had to go see what the interior of the castle looked like.

thanks to your insanely intensive study of the building, you managed to find a secret opening that not many people knew of and you quickly slipped inside, hoping nobody would notice.

however, someone--that someone being eunseok--definitely did notice. and he mentally cursed himself for following you this far, wondering why he couldn't bring himself to turn back.

slipping through the opening, he entered a completely dark hallway, unsure of where you were.

you had dreamed of walking these corridors your whole life, and even without any light you were able to manuever around the halls.

unfortunately, eunseok couldn't say the same, and when he started walking, it didn't take long for him to bump into a stand of knight armor.

the loud crashing was enough to trigger an alarm system and turn on emergency lights, which exposed both eunseok and you to one another.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you shrieked "what the hell are YOU doing here?" he retorted.

you knew it wasn't long until authorities would arrive, so you grabbed eunseok and began running further into the castle.

"what are you doing? we need to leave!" he yelled.

"if we leave, they'll just catch us on our way out. we need to hide somewhere they won't look."

dragging him by the arm, you rushed into the old servant chambers, diving into the closet. well... what you thought was the closet.

what it actually was was a secret set of stairs that the two of you fell down, leading to a small room that you've never seen before.

impossible. i've watched every virtual tour, studied every reconstruction plan, read every primary source document... and i've never heard of this room.

"great. now we're stuck in a dark, cramped, dusty room in the middle of a castle that's going to be searched any second now and it's all your fault-" eunseok ranted, stopping midway when he saw you staring bewildered at the room.

"what's wrong with you?" he poked your shoulder.

"i... didn't know this room existed." you whispered.

"it's an old castle, I'm sure there's plenty of secret rooms everywhere... you think this is where the servants used to smash?"

"shhh" you urged him, hearing distant footsteps.

"what are we gonna do?" he sighed.

"let's just lay low until they leave. I doubt they'll look for us here. and don't touch ANYTHING. this room might be undiscovered and contain hundreds of year's worth of preserved artifacts-"

you were interrupted by eunseok toppling over a candle.

"EUNSEOK!" you whisper-shouted. "I'm trying to get some light in here." he defended.

fishing in his pocket, he pulled out a lighter before picking the candle off the floor and lighting it. once the room was illuminated, you could see your surroundings much better.

the room was stacked with cabinets and shelves containing miscellaneous items, it must've been used for storage. it seemed to have some personal items that belonged to servants.

you heard the footsteps start to get closer, and a voice appeared right outside the closet doors. looking to eunseok, you began panicking.

"blow the candle out! now!" you whispered.

eunseok blew out the candle and right as he did, the door creaked open.

shit.

shit.

"I know my rights!" eunseok yelled at the foreign figure coming closer.

"what are you talking about?" a woman's voice echoed throughout the room.

a middle-aged woman appeared with a candle in hand, dressed in a long cloth dress, similar to the ones maids would wear centuries ago.

"are you some kind of role-play tour guide? I didn't even know they did those tours this late into the night." he asked, confused.

"what? why is he speaking like that? and why are you two alone in here? and what happened to your clothes?" the woman interrogated.

the both of you had messed up your clothes running through the castle and falling down the stairs. your shirt was ripped up and dusty and his jacket was covered in cobwebs.

"oh, I see. the two of you are following eleanor and harold's example and fooling around in here! how many times must I tell you kids not to fornicate in the storage closet! go back upstairs and fulfill your duties." she reprimanded the two of you.

"told you they fucked in here." eunseok whispered to you.

you shoved him in the arm before responding "ma'am I appreciate your dedication to your job, but can you just tell us if you're going to turn us into the cops or not?"

"what are the... cops?" she exaggerated. you fought the urge to roll your eyes. you might be obsessed with history, but at least you can accept the fact that you live in the present.

"let's just leave." you turned to eunseok. "and get arrested? absolutely not." he crossed his arms.

"who is getting arrested?" the woman gasped. "you know damn well who, lady." he scoffed.

"lady?! I'm simply a chambermaid! have you hit your head?" she exclaimed.

"you know what, you're right. I'd rather get arrested than deal with this crap any longer." he sighed as the two of you began making your way up the stairs.

when you reached the top, you noticed the decor had changed drastically and the windows were letting in sunlight. wasn't it just 1 in the morning?

men and women dressed in modest, cloth clothing were running in and out of the halls and rooms.

"y/n... what's going on?" eunseok tugged at your dirty shirt. "it must be some kind of role-play experience? I'm not sure... how long were we in there?"

"you two must change out of your soiled garments!" the elder woman said, handing you a long dress and eunseok a matching set.

"wait! what's your name, and what's going on?" you sputtered, just as the woman was about to walk away.

"now I'm sure you've hit your heads. I'm agatha, head chambermaid and in one week from now is the duel of knights. we are hosting for the first spell in a decade and tis in a week. now get up and get to work!" agatha demanded.

dumbfounded, you and eunseok simply stared at the clothes she handed you. "let's just go along with it. maybe we can pretend we're a part of whatever this is and avoid getting in trouble." you urged.

"what about the rest? won't they notice we're gone?" he worried. "let's just focus on getting out of here."

he nodded in response and the two of you rushed to find a place to change into your clothes. once you were changed, you walked out and led eunseok back to the secret entrance.

to your surprise, the parking lot that was once set up in front of the castle had been replaced with a moat. a large moat at that. with a ginormous drawbridge leading to a dirt path. the city looked different as well, with the cars being replaced with horse carriages and once large, gray buildings now appearing much smaller and made of stone and wood.

"is there some city-wide renaissance fair happening? are we getting pranked? where's the cameras?" eunseok whipped his head around, waiting to see john quinones pop up at any second.

"is this a dream? did i go unconscious during the fall down the stairs? quick, y/n! pinch me."

you did so eagerly.

"ow! what the hell? I didn't mean literally." he complained, rubbing his arm.

"will you shut up? i need to find out what's going on." you huffed. pulling out your phone, you saw that there was no signal or wi-fi network available nearby. "that's weird, I swore the website said the castle had guest wi-fi." you muttered.

"i have an international data plan, let me try," eunseok whipped out his phone, only to find there was no signal on his device either.

"do you think... maybe, we're actually back in the medieval times?" you shuddered.

eunseok never laughed louder in his life.

"yes, y/n. we time traveled like we're in back to the future! should I call you marty? or do you want to be the old scientist?" he cackled.

"his name is doc brown. and I'm being serious," you began, "how else would all these buildings change overnight, and why else would all these people be wearing clothes from a different time period. look around: there's not a phone, car, or even pavement road in sight. there's no way we were in the castle long enough for them to make all those changes either."

"let's just talk to an actual sane person here and I'm sure they'll explain everything." he assured.

just then, a young woman wearing a silk blue gown walked past, surrounded by two men in armor.

"excuse me, miss. sorry to interrupt your little role-play party but my friend and i were wondering if we could use your phone to make a quick call." eunseok asked.

one of the men rushed forward, "halt! how dare thee speak so freely to her highness, the crown princess."

eunseok rolled his eyes, "i'm not hitting on your chick, dude, i just want to use a phone."

the armor-clad man suddenly put his sword up to eunseok's neck. "what the hell?" eunseok exclaimed.

"release him! who are you sir and why doth thee use such... peculiar language?" the princess implored.

"you people are psychos. no way you're taking this shit so seriously." eunseok grumbled, rubbing his neck after the guard let him go.

"answer her highness!" the other guard insisted.

"we are travelers, here to observe the duel of knights! I must apologize for my companion, he is delirious from traveling all day." you interjected, grabbing eunseok and beginning to walk away.

"wait! your companion is… quite handsome. and his odd way of speaking is rather charming. i wish for him to compete for my hand during the duel!" the princess chirped.

"yeah right, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna-" eunseok was interrupted by your hand slapping over his mouth.

"whatever you wish, your highness." you responded, bowing curtly.

"wondrous! I would also like to invite thee to stay at my manor. surely a handsome man like you is a person of importance." she batted her lashes at him.

"no thanks weirdo-"

"we would love to! we thank you kindly for the offer your highness!" you interrupted eunseok again.

"oh I must have misspoke. I did not invite your mistress, only you." she spoke, shooting daggers at you.

"mistress?!" you gasped which made eunseok send you a shit-eating grin.

"actually, I would prefer my mistress stays with me, if that's alright 'your highness'" eunseok mocked.

the princess rolled her eyes and agreed reluctantly. once the princess and her guards were out of sight, you turned to eunseok. "see how those men didn't hesitate to hurt you? we're clearly in a different place!"

"yeah, a place where people have lost their minds." he scoffed.

"and her dress! it was real silk and embroidered with gold! I doubt a cosplayer has enough money to pull that off, especially in this economy." you tried convincing him.

"fine. lets say we really time-traveled to the 14th century and the princess wants me to join a little duel for her hand. does that mean...

... that i'm hot by both modern and medieval standards?"

you may not like eunseok, but he is quite attractive. it's no wonder his looks attracted the affections of a princess.

"eunseok! will you take this seriously? she wants you to participate in the duel of knights for her, do you understand how dangerous that is?" you practically screamed at him.

"yeah yeah the duel of knights is a fight to the death between the most skilled swordsmen of a kingdom for the right to court noblewomen and the princess. i know it may be hard for you to believe but i passed our medieval history class y/n." he quipped.

"and you realize you will be fighting those men to the death, right?" you asked.

"sure, i'll fight a bunch of history nerds in party city costumes." he chuckled.

you grabbed him by the arm and began pulling him in the direction of the city center… or what used to be the city center and now looked like a town square.

"we really need to talk- about boundaries because you-hey! can't keep dragging me around like a ragdoll-" he struggled as you continued tugging him into the busy streets.

"i'll stop when you quit being so stubborn. i'm gonna show you just how real this is." you stormed.

by the time you reached the city you were greeted with a sign that read 'SM's southern district' in big letters and below it in a smaller font was inscribed 'taverns, traders, and shops'.

perfect.

the two of you went inside a tailor's shop since you deduced that if you were going to pretend to be people important to stay at the castle, you should dress the part.

as soon as you stepped inside, the tailor called out "good morrow strangers, thou must be travelers from far hence."

"why yes, and we were-" you started before the tailor cut you off, "is there anything I may help you with, good sir?" he ignored you for eunseok.

you forgot that as fun as the medieval period was to learn about, it was hell to live through as a woman.

trying to bite your tongue, you waited for eunseok to respond.

"yeah, can we get some fancy clothes?" he asked nonchalantly.

you sent him a glare as the shopkeeper stared at him puzzled, "I'm afraid I do not understand your way of speaking."

"what he means to ask is if we may purchase some refined garments?" you asked, clearing your throat, only for the tailor to continue to ignore you.

sighing, eunseok repeated, "may we purchase some refined garments?" the tailor's head snapped up and he grinned, "of course, good sir! for the lady as well?"

"yes." you stated through gritted teeth. no response. "yes." eunseok repeated once again, to which the tailor nodded.

as the tailor went off to find some clothing for the two of you, you turned to eunseok, "I thought you were a history buff, how do you not know how to speak to these people?" you interrogated.

"first of all, i specialize in east asian history. second, I didn't think I'd ever actually have to rely on my shakespeare lessons from high school."

the tailor came back rather quickly with suits for eunseok and a few uncomfortable-looking but beautiful dresses for you. at least they didn't wear many corsets in medieval england.

"I shall fit them to the both of your measurements and you will be able to pick them up in a few days time. services included, the charge will be 30 pounds, good sir." the man said, awaiting eagerly for eunseok to pay.

"right... one second, good sir?" eunseok hesitated awkwardly, turning to you "you don't have any money, do you?"

"my wallet should be in my pocket... shit I left it when we changed our clothes in the castle. ask him if we can pay him when we come back to grab our clothes." you urged eunseok.

"how the hell do I say that?" he panicked. "just try your best!" you whisper-shouted.

turning back to the tailor, eunseok sputtered out "may we pay... in a few day's time... perchance?"

the shopkeeper looked confused before laughing, "doth thee wish to pay at which hour you come to pick up the garments?"

eunseok nodded vigorously which was enough to communicate the message across to the tailor.

once you left the shop, eunseok breathed a sigh of relief "okay, I believe you. we time-traveled, nothing makes sense, and I'll do anything to get back to the 2020s."

"let's head back to castle, grab my wallet, and we'll figure out what to do from there. we already have a place to stay anyway." you declared.

"if you weren't... yourself, I'd find it hot how calm and collected you are about this," he admitted. you shot him an annoyed look.

"sorry I don't know how to regulate my emotions... or my thoughts... or words. we traveled back in time. we're marty and the doctor guy." eunseok began rambling.

"it's doc brown. and calm down." you grasped his shoulders. "we're going to get out of here, because i need electric plumbing and I refuse to die of syphilis. but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our time here. you and I both love history right? well now we get to experience it ourselves!" you exclaimed.

there's that look in her eye, the one she always gets when she's talking about history. I could stare at her forever... what the hell am I thinking? it's been a long day and I should get some rest.

you noticed eunseok spacing out while looking at you so you shook his shoulders a bit which jolted him awake, "so what do you say?"

"fine. let's experience your nerdy little medieval fantasy. but, we find out how to get out of here as soon as possible in the meantime." he agreed.

as you guys made your way back to castle, you were stopped by guards in front of the moat. "who art thee and what business doth thy have at riize castle?" a guard barked.

"we were personally invited by her majesty the princess to stay at the castle until the duel of knights." you reported. you saw the guard contemplating a bit before giving the other guards the signal to let you in.

breathing a sigh of relief, you headed towards the castle doors. after a few steps you realized eunseok hadn't moved from his spot.

"what are you doing? let's go back inside!" you scolded him. he looked completely pale and visibly shaken as he started towards you, "y/n. if we're really in medieval times... does that mean I have to fight during the duel of knights?" he fretted.

"i can't die yet. i haven't gotten cross-faded yet! do they even have weed here? I told myself once I leave korea I'd try it but what if I don't even get to experience that-" he began rambling once again.

you grabbed onto his hand, similar to how you did in the plane before trying to calm him down, "you won't die, because you won't fight anybody. we'll find a way to get back to our time before then, it's in a week so we have plenty of time. and you can always just try getting out of it by asking the princess!" you assured.

"you're right!" he exclaimed, squeezing your hand and pulling you into a hug. by the time you processed what was happening, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

that can't be right. butterflies... over eunseok? maybe I'm just touch-starved.

he pulled away rather quickly though, awkwardly trying to move past you to rush into the castle gates as if it would somehow undo his action.

fuck. did I make things awkward? did I kind of like the hug? wait-why do I care? we're just classmates who time-traveled together, nothing more and nothing less.

you followed after him until you reach the room you stumbled out of a few hours prior. digging through the pile of your old clothes, you were able to find your wallet.

fortunately, you exchanged some of your dollars for pounds at the airport. unfortunately, modern-day pounds look nothing like the ones they used in the 14th century.

"I don't think he'll even take these." you sighed, waving around the colorful bills with queen elizabeth's face stamped on them.

"we'll just say it's currency from... wherever we're from." he shrugged.

"and where's that?"

"uhhhh... america?"

"europeans haven't even heard of america yet." you rolled your eyes.

"which is why it'll work perfectly, they'll think it's some secluded, far away town." eunseok reasoned.

you don't know if it was eunseok's annoying presence or the lack of sleep you've had in the last 24 hours, but you felt a migraine coming on. massaging your temples, you decided you should take a nap before you try to find a way back to the future.

"let's get some rest, we can worry about everything else later." you yawned.

"where are we gonna sleep? the princess didn't even tell us which room we'd be staying in." he remarked.

"maybe we could ask agatha." you figured, walking towards the center hall.

"stop wandering off! we could get lost, this place is huge." eunseok argued.

"we won't. I know this place like the back of my hand." you assured.

"nerd." he commented, under his breath. for the sake of your sanity, you pretended you didn't hear anything.

with all the people rushing around the castle corridors it was nearly impossible to pinpoint agatha, and you ended up walking headfirst into the chest of a tall, handsome man wearing a padded shirt, usually worn by knights underneath their armor.

the man was slightly sweaty and holding a leather-wrapped sword in his hand, he must've been a knight coming back from training.

"art thou alright, madam?" the man asked. i am now.

eunseok let out a loud cough behind you, "she's fine. let's go, y/n."

"doth thou not recognize me? perhaps the two of you are not from here." the man reasoned.

"we're travelers, from... america." you hesitated.

"america? where is that?" the man questioned.

"tis a small town up north." you stated, trying to sound as sure of yourself as possible.

"makes sense." the man nodded "what business do you have in my castle. i've never seen you around, and I reckon I would remember a face as enchanting as yours."

am i getting hit on by a hot knight? maybe staying here isn't such a bad idea after all.

"your castle?" eunseok replied.

"yes. i am the crown prince, anton. now remind me again what you're doing in my castle?" anton asked.

"the crown princess invited us, my... brother here is to compete in the duel of knights." you quickly added.

"brother? I thought you were supposed to be my mistress-" eunseok started before you cut him off.

"do you know where the princess may be? she hasn't yet told us in which room we shall be staying." you asked the prince.

"ah, forgive my sister for she is very easily overexcited. I doubt she put much thought into housing you two as guests. I'd usually turn two strangers away, but you're an exception," he stared at you intently, "i'll arrange a room for the two of you shortly. in the meantime, would you care to join my family and I for dinner? it's the least we can do as hosts for you as you've traveled so far."

"we'd love to!" you exclaimed. "wondrous! I shall see you in two hours for dinner. the maids will help you to get ready." he smiled, kissing your hand before he walked away. you felt your cheeks heating up as you waved him goodbye.

"I thought you were tired. now you wanna have dinner with the royal family?" eunseok grumbled.

"eunseok, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. eating dinner in a castle with medieval royalty! how many people can say they've done that?" you beamed.

eunseok held back a smile as you gushed about the opportunity. why is she so cute today?

in a matter of minutes, a young woman approached the two of you, ushering you into a room.

"...here is the closet, and finally, the washroom. I shall give the two of you your privacy now." the woman bowed her head before exiting quickly.

"that was a quick tour." eunseok joked. "she must be busy preparing for the duel." you figured.

"ugh, don't remind me of the duel." he dramatically collapsed on the bed. "wait... is there only one bed?"

am I being lazy and using the one bed trope? guilty!

"I'm honestly too tired to care. scooch over." you shoved him to one side of the bed as you made yourself comfortable on the other. you wouldn't usually be so bold, but you were exhausted. after nearly getting arrested and getting stuck in the 14th century, you deserved a nap.

eunseok, on the other hand, was more wide awake than ever. he didn't want to look immature and get up the second you laid down, but he was even more nervous around you right now than usual.

looking over at your figure, he was shocked to see that you had already passed out. he couldn't hold back the small smile on his lips while watching you.

what the hell am I doing? I look like a creep. he thought, snapping himself out of his daze. deciding to wash up, he headed the the bathroom.

great. a large tub, a couple of buckets, and a hole in the ground. not a single source of running water in sight.

venturing out of the room, he tried calling one of the maids rushing past for some water but everyone seemed to be preoccupied.

annoyed, eunseok decided to try finding water himself. just because y/n's annoyingly obsessed with this castle and knows how to talk like these people, doesn't mean I'm completely lost without her.

after a few minutes of wandering around the castle, eunseok was completely lost.

unknowingly, he stumbled into the throne room while the princess was in the middle of receiving a lecture from her advisors.

"you mustn't invite complete strangers into the castle. do you understand how harmful that could be?" one of the advisors warned.

eunseok tried leaving as quietly as possible but it was to no avail as the princess spotted him almost immediately.

"you! traveler! what is your name?" she chirped, jumping up and heading towards him.

fuck.

"eunseok, your highness." he shared through gritted teeth.

"what an odd name! I suppose tis because thou are from a far away land. my brother told me you were from am-amiri? amera? what ever it's called." she rambled.

"i am princess giselle, and between you and i, you're my favorite contender for the duel of knights. oh how I hope you win and earn my hand." she gushed.

"i hope so too." he responded nervously.

"the prince told me the woman you were with is your sister, did you not refer to her as your mistress earlier... sir is your sister your mistress?" the princess gasped.

"umm, no! where I'm from we use the word mistress instead of sister. silly, isn't it?" he hesitated, holding his breath as he waited for giselle's reaction.

the princess burst into laughter, "how amusing! oh please don't die during the duel so you may make me laugh for the rest of my life." she cooed.

the hairs on the back of eunseok's neck stood up. even if he manages to survive the duel, he'll have to spend the rest of his life married to a loud-mouthed princess in a castle with no electricity.

I have to find a way to get out of this time.

"if you would excuse me, I should wake up my, er, sister for dinner!" eunseok mumbled, turning to walk away.

"nonsense! I'll have a servant do so. you may have the privilege of sitting with me until then." she assured.

"well, I was actually thinking of washing up before-"

"why would you need to wash up? you look perfectly clean." the princess interjected.

eunseok was anything but perfectly clean, but then again, that was by 21st century standards. in 14th century england, even royalty only bathed about once a month.

I can't believe it's gotten to this point, but I really wish y/n were here right now.

as princess giselle kept eunseok company, you were lightly shaken awake by a familiar figure: agatha. once you finally sat up, you heard her gasp.

"aren't you the servant from earlier? what are you doing in the guest bed?!" she shrilled.

"well... we're travelers invited by the princess. besides, it was you who assumed we were servants." you tried shifting the blame.

she put a hand above her heart, "goodness! that explains your odd clothing and speech. oh I apologize deeply. how can I make up for my terrible mistake?" she begged.

you felt bad seeing how apologetic agatha looked, but you remembered there was a favor you needed. "very well, then I demand full access to the storage room in the servant chambers." you declared.

agatha sent you a puzzling look, "what's so special about the storage room, my lady?"

well for starters, it's an opportunity for me to study a room never heard of by most historians. and a way for me to figure out how we got here, and hopefully, how to get home.

"i... liked it?" you said lamely. agatha simply nodded, "anything else?" she added.

"a piece of paper and a writing instrument, please."

"for your lord?"

right. most people, especially women, were illiterate during this time.

"um... yes!" you lied, not wanting to make yourself stand out anymore.

"I shall see to it." agatha dismissed herself.

as soon as she left the room, you collapsed back onto the bed. all you needed was some quality alone time-

the door burst open again, with a flock of servants pouring in. "we must prepare you for the dinner!"

for the next thirty minutes, you were stripped, clothed, had your hair done up in an elaborate hairstyle, and exposed to powders and cosmetics you were 99% sure were toxic. you almost didn't recognize yourself in the mirror, but you had to admit the dress was flattering and you might even copy the hairstyle when you get back to your time.

as annoying as it was, it was fascinating to experience everything you've read about in books up until now. the history nerd in you couldn't help but marvel at it all.

by the time you arrived at the dining room, you were greeted with the sight of eunseok sitting next to the princess, looking mildly irritated. you spotted an open seat next to the prince directly across eunseok and decided to sit there.

shooting the boy a small smile, you sat next to anton who immediately began talking to you.

eunseok took in your appearance, staring intensely at you.

she looks stupid... with her big hair, obnoxiously red lips, long gown, perfect smile-snap out of it!

"lord eunseok, why are you staring at your sister like that?" princess giselle asked loudly, catching your attention.

you turned your head quick enough to see eunseok staring at you with a look of... admiration? impossible.

he turned tomato red and cleared his throat, "I was... wondering what we'd be eating for dinner! I'm famished."

"once mother and father arrive, we may begin eating." prince anton assured. he turned to you, "tell me about your family, lady y/n. aside from your brother here, of course."

eunseok rolled his eyes. why's he so concerned with y/n? and why is this princess on my case?

after a few minutes of you and anton conversing and eunseok stealing glances of you while giselle talked his head off, the king and queen arrived.

you immediately got up and curtseyed to them, gesturing for eunseok to bow. "your majesty, tis my pleasure to dine with you." you resounded.

"my children have told me much about you. do tell me about this 'america'" the king mused.

the rest of the dinner consisted of you and eunseok making up ridiculous facts about america and your backgrounds. occasionally, you'd send each other knowing looks and have to stifle your laughs. it was the closest the two of you got to bonding this whole trip.

by the time the dinner came to a close, anton rose up slowly. "I wish to make an announcement." once he had everyone's attention, he continued, "I have completed my knight training this year, and I have father's word that I will be able to compete in the upcoming duel of knights."

"excuse me?" the queen cried out, "it is far too dangerous. and whose hand will you be competing for? your sister's?"

"of course not. I will be competing for lady y/n's hand."

"WHAT?" you and eunseok yelled in unison. "I understand this may come as a surprise to you, my sweet y/n, but I truly feel we have developed a connection."

we met two hours ago!!!

"NO!" you screamed, resulting in horrified looks on everyone else's face, "I mean... no, your highness. I could never expect you to put your life at risk for my hand, PLEASE reconsider." you begged.

"nonsense. the last ten knights left standing win the duel, and I am sure my son is capable of coming in tenth place at the very least." the king argued.

"charles, he is but a boy-" the queen began, angrily.

"he is twenty for christ's sake! I was even younger when I competed. there will no more discussion, anton will be competing for lady y/n's hand and lord eunseok will compete for giselle's." the king settled

fuck.

fuck.

"what the hell are we going to do?" eunseok panicked once the two of you were back in your room. "if we don't leave before next week, I'm going to die fighting for a girl I don't even want and you're going to get married to that guy!"

"you care about whether or not I get married to the prince?" you teased. "what? no, I- shut up." he deflected.

"relax. I got us unlimited access to the storage closet. whatever brought us here is in there, I know it. we'll look through it tomorrow and find out how to go home." you determined.

"and if we don't?" he gulped. "then we'll figure something out." you resolved, holding onto his shoulders. "we'll be alright, we have eachother." you smiled.

you couldn't explain why you were being so nice to the man you swore you hated just yesterday, but something about the vulnerability of your situation made you desperate to hold onto the only ally you have.

eunseok's heart rate increased in response to your words and close proximity, he couldn't help but stare at your lips. "they overdid it with the lipstick." he commented, mindlessly.

"it's a mixture of berries. and I know." you giggled.

before you could say anything else, eunseok began leaning in. his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, and it felt completely natural.

your friends always joked that the two of you were just covering up sexual tension with the whole rivalry thing, and you're embarrassed to admit you may have fantasized about kissing eunseok before, but you never in a million years thought it would actually happen.

the kiss was slow yet passionate, there was an unprecedented amount of emotion in it, you felt like you were drowning in it.

eunseok was on cloud nine, it was better than any other kiss he's ever had. his hands wandered to hold your waist tightly as yours flew to his hair.

you don't know how long the kiss has lasted so far, but you know that you never want it to end.

except it does. when the prince and princess walk in on the two of you.

as soon as you heard princess giselle scream, the two of you pulled away, but it was too late. they had seen enough.

"you people are sick! I should have known it when you said you call your sisters your mistresses!" the princess cried out.

before she could say another word, you and eunseok dragged the siblings inside and shut the door. "what the hell are we going to do now?" eunseok frantically whispered to you.

"we have to come clean." you said, which eunseok shook his head 'no' to almost immediately.

"anton, giselle, we lied to you." you confessed while eunseok stayed silent.

"I knew it! there is no america. are you thieves? or spies? who sent you?!" giselle accused.

"there is an america, and we did come from there. but we came from a different america than the one that exists today... we're from the future." you shared.

it didn't take long for both siblings to burst into laughter. "the future? do you take us for fools?" anton choked out.

"it's true! eunseok, show them your phone." you insisted. he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, causing it to illuminate.

"sorcerers!" giselle screeched.

"it's not sorcery, it's technology! it's made from various metals and allows you to communicate with people across large distances." you explained.

"sounds like sorcery to me." anton commented.

"y/n, you've spent years studying this stupid castle, don't you know anything about the residents? there has to be some information you have on the royal family that could convince them." eunseok looked to you.

"well I wasn't able to study much on these two because they both died young..." you said quietly.

"WHAT?" giselle screamed. "how dare you even suggest that?" anton stood up angrily.

"the records I read said you passed away during the duel of knights when you were 20 and that giselle was unable to take over the throne afterwards because she disappeared one night and was presumed dead... but some say she fell in love with a commoner and eloped with him." you shared.

this caused giselle to gasp loudly, "you... i... i believe them."

"how?" anton interjected, "she just said I'll die and you'll elope with a commoner. you show interest in every nobleman you come across and get over them in a matter of days. there's no way you'd fall in love with a common man and elope."

"I've been pretending to be boy-obsessed so nobody finds out that i..." giselle hesitated "i'm in love with mark."

"the stable boy?" anton cried out. "he always mentions the possibility of eloping but I never took it seriously-" she began.

"you two can sort out whatever's going on with mark later, can we go back to y/n and I time-traveling?" eunseok interrupted.

"how did you even end up here?" anton asked.

"in our time, your castle is a historical monument. eunseok and I managed to sneak in, but we were about to get caught so we hid in a storage room. when we emerged, we were transported to your time." you explained.

it took the siblings a while to process your story, but they agreed to help the two of you find a way to get back to your time. once everything was settled, anton asked to speak to you privately--which eunseok did not like.

"I'm sorry for lying, anton, I was just trying to avoid getting in trouble." you apologized, breaking the awkward silence.

"I understand. I've been meaning to ask about you and eunseok. are the two of you...?" he began.

"I don't know what we are. this whole day has been confusing for the both of us." you answered honestly.

"right." he replied, sadly. "well, I wanted to ask you specifically about my death. does the future really say I die in the upcoming duel?"

"i'm sorry anton... i know how excited you are for it."

"excited? i'm dreading it." he chuckled dryly. "i've only ever shown interest in being a knight because of my father. he was a knight back in his day, that's how he courted my mother and became king."

"wait, so you don't want to compete in the duel?" you queried.

"absolutely not! I'm terrified. I've always wanted to be a writer, but my father told me I have no time for silly dreams like that. I'm the heir to the throne, after all."

I feel horrible, most of the documents i read mentioned anton as an eager knight-in-training, but I guess history books aren't always accurate.

you grabbed anton by the hand and began taking him back to where eunseok and giselle were.

"so you really don't think I'm handsome?" you overheard eunseok asking giselle. "you're okay-looking... but I just needed a cover-up for my late-night rendezvous with mark." she shrugged as eunseok's face fell.

"eunseok. giselle. we need to do something before we go back in time." you announced.

"and what's that?" eunseok responded.

"we're getting anton out of the duel of knights." you declared.

"but how? father is adamant on him competing." giselle protested, "and I doubt he'll believe your time-traveling story."

"we'll just have to figure out a way." you said stubbornly.

although eunseok and giselle seemed uneasy, anton sent you a grateful look which was enough.

the next few days were spent with you and eunseok exploring the storage room and you writing down as much as you could about the contents of the room as well as the royal family.

eunseok agreed to help giselle meet with mark in secret and you agreed to help anton with his writing. in return, the siblings helped you look through the castle library on anything related to time-travel.

to avoid the awkwardness of sleeping in the same bed with eunseok after the kiss, anton offered up his room and slept with him instead.

there was now four days left until the duel, and you still had no idea how to get back or take anton out of the competition. anton and eunseok seemed to get a lot closer though, either through sharing a room or the mutual dread of having to fight to the death in a few days time.

"y/n, can I speak with you. it won't take up much time." giselle asked you. "of course, what's up?" you responded.

"what's up?" she repeated, "what is the matter." you corrected yourself. you and eunseok let down your guard when it came to speaking in old english since the siblings already knew your secret anyway.

"you said in the future, I disappear. mark keeps asking to elope, especially with the duel of knights approaching as many men will be aiming for my hand." she worried, "I'm scared, y/n. I don't wish to leave but I don't wish to lose my beloved either. what do I do?"

you honestly had no idea. maybe it was a bad idea telling them their fates, but if i can try helping them avoid it, I should.

"I think you should try telling your parents. how bad could it be?" you said, stupidly.

"are you serious? they would murder him and i for even suggesting it. royals and commoners don't belong together, of course you wouldn't understand." she stormed.

"okay, okay I'm sorry. I really don't understand. I'm used to modern royalty, where the prince of england married an actress and left the royal family, then got to go on oprah." giselle shot you a confused look, "but if you never try, you'll never know."

"i suppose you're right. but I'm far too terrified of my parents." she sighed. before you could respond, eunseok called out to you, ushering you and giselle to join him and anton.

"we found a way to get out of the duel!" he shared excitedly.

"and how is that?" giselle asked, unconvinced.

"knights are covered head-to-toe in armor, right? we'll just pay two knights to replace us! anton said he's got the money covered."

"yes, I have the money covered, as they say in future america." anton added enthusiastically.

"and you've already found these knights?" you asked, "how do you know they won't tell the king?"

"we did, and anton made them swear because they are under an oath to serve him." eunseok shared proudly.

"don't you think that's a bit wrong, abusing your power? and what's gonna happen at the end of the duel when you have to take your helmets off?" you badgered.

"will you stop being such a baby, y/n? we'll tell them to keep their helmets on, and both you and giselle will be there anyways so you can cover for us." he argued.

"well i'm sorry that I want to make sure your little plan is foolproof so you don't, y'know, die." you fumed.

and just like that, the two of you began arguing again. giselle and anton gave each other a worried look before rushing out of the room, leaving the two of you yelling at each other.

"you're getting a bit too comfortable here, don't you think?" you scoffed.

"comfortable?! you think I want to spend the rest of my life in the 14th fucking century?" eunseok retorted.

"well you've barely been any help in looking for a way back. i've been the only one searching that stupid room for any traces of how we got here!"

"maybe because we've been searching that room for four days and haven't found anything. excuse me for trying to make sure I don't die before I find a way to travel back, if there even is a way."

you stepped closer to him, still seething "you piss me off to no end, song eunseok. you're the last person I wish I was trapped with in this stupid century!"

"do you really think you're my perfect idea of a travel buddy? my life is a mess, all thanks to you!" he snapped.

"I didn't ask you to follow me like a crazed stalker, did I? so why did you?"

eunseok finally went quiet. it seems like he didn't really know the answer either.

you were irritated, but you didn't want to keep arguing, so you decided to walk away before he started up again, "I'm going to town to pick up our clothes from the tailor."

up until now you've been wearing the servant clothes agatha brought you to bed and borrowing the royal sibling's clothes during the day. it'll be nice to finally have our own sets of clothing.

you tried to organize your thoughts but you were still thinking of eunseok. it's not like you haven't argued with him before, but they've never been so... personal.

it pained you to say but his words hurt you. you don't know when you started caring about what eunseok has to say but some time along the last four days you've been trapped here, you started to feel more strongly about him.

and you definitely can't forget about the kiss. you can't believe the two of you just acted completely normal after that. you were too scared to bring it up and so was eunseok.

he's so confusing. one day we're making out and the next we're screaming at each other... and it doesn't help that I can't read him at all.

by the time you were done reflecting on your entire relationship with eunseok, you reached the tailor's shop. walking in, you greeted one of the workers there before informing them of your prior visit.

as the worker brought out your clothes, he held his hand out waiting for the payment.

shit. I didn't bring any money. and it's not like the money I had would've done much anyway.

"I-um, I don't think I can give you the payment just yet," you stuttered, nervous.

"why not?" the worker asked, already putting the clothing back.

"because-"

"because i'll be paying." you heard a familiar voice ring from behind you. what is he doing here?

eunseok walked past you and handed over the old-timey pounds to the worker, taking the sets from him in the process.

once the transaction was finished he walked past you and out of the shop, completely ignoring you. confused, you caught up to him.

"did you seriously follow me again? what's your problem?!" you exploded on the street, catching the attention of nearby townsfolk.

"I saw that you left your wallet and didn't even bother asking for money from the prince or princess. you're welcome for saving you the embarrassment and a trip back-and-forth from the castle." he retorted, stopping to turn to you.

"I don't want to argue. not right now, and not in public." he sighed "good. because neither do i." you sassed, walking past him deeper into the district center.

he rolled his eyes and continued after you, "where are you going?"

"does it matter? or were you planning on stalking me again." you retaliated.

i should just leave her alone if she's going to be so difficult... but this place is sketchy and confusing, and it's getting dark.

"I don't think it's safe to walk around alone here, it's almost sunset." he called out.

"I'm a grown woman, I can handle myself." you refused.

"fine." eunseok said, turning to walk back to the castle.

you spent the next two hours making a mental map of the district, excited to write all about it later. you had to admit this was a much more fun way to learn about history than sitting around with a textbook and reading all day.

unfortunately for you, there weren't any clocks around, so it was easier to lose track of time. you figured it must be around 9 p.m. and decided to head back to the castle.

after about 15 minutes of wandering the streets, you realized you were lost.

fuck. I can't believe I'm about to prove eunseok right. whatever, he's probably living it up at the castle, especially since I'm not there.

on the contrary, eunseok was worried sick. "what if she was kidnapped, or fell down a well or something?" he ranted to anton.

"we shall find her, there's no need to worry." anton assured as they headed out the castle gate.

as the two of them began walking, eunseok couldn't help but overthink.

I shouldn't have let her walk away. and I can't believe the last conversation we had was an argument. what if something bad happened to her? how will I forgive myself?

eunseok doesn't know when or how he became so worried about you, but what he did know was his heart was pounding just thinking about you.

"what... relationship do you and y/n share?" anton inquired as they walked. "we're just school peers." eunseok answered coldly.

anton laughed in response, “peers do not thrust their tongues into each other's mouths."

eunseok's ears turned red upon hearing the younger boy's comment.

"they also wouldn't worry as much as you are right now." anton added.

"she's my ticket back to the 21st century, of course I'm on edge. I need her help finding the way home." eunseok shrugged.

"whatever you say." anton smiled.

"are you into her or something?" eunseok asked, trying to sound casual.

"pardon me?"

"do you wish to wed her?" eunseok sighed. I'm definitely not gonna miss these shakespearean conversations.

"well... she is strikingly beautiful... and strong, and intelligent, and-"

"okay I get it." eunseok cut him off, erupting another laugh in anton.

"but she seems to only have eyes for you. besides, I'm a bit more preoccupied with the duel as of now." anton commented carelessly.

she has eyes for me? eunseok thought to himself again and again until they reached a nearby tavern.

it was then that the pair spotted your figure arguing with a clearly drunken man. before he knew it, eunseok rushed to your side to defend you from the man until he heard your conversation.

"you've gone mad if you think euripides is anywhere close to sophocles!" you yelled.

"you're the mad one, sophocles couldn't have written medea but euripides could have easily written oedipus rex in his sleep!" the man yelled back.

of course she's arguing over history. what a nerd.

"pardon us sir." eunseok interjected, dragging you away by the arm.

"hey! I wasn't finished. and stop dragging me." you ripped your arm away. "now you know how I feel." eunseok scoffed.

"y/n! are you alright?" anton asked. "yes, I'm fine. and I was just about to make my way back to the castle." you asserted.

"point in the direction of the castle." eunseok challenged. you pointed in a random direction hoping it would be somewhat close.

"you were going to head north, further into the town when the castle is down south." eunseok smirked.

if he didn't look so good right now I'd smack that smirk right off his face.

the walk back to the castle was dead silent, with poor anton making the occasional comment trying to spur conversation, but you and eunseok weren't having it.

when you finally reached the castle, anton excused himself leaving you and eunseok alone.

sighing, eunseok broke the silence first, "I was worried about you."

you whipped your head up. did i hear that right?

"I don't hate you. I hope you know that." he went on.

"I don't hate you either." you added. for the first time in a long time you looked at him in the eye.

the tension was palpable, but before you could act on any of your emotions, eunseok turned away. "goodnight, y/n." he walked off.

ouch. I know I said I wanted him to leave me alone, but not like this.

time passed by until it was the morning of the duel. you and eunseok had been growing even more desperate to find a way back home, and giselle and anton were getting even more nervous about the duel approaching.

eunseok had remained distant since that night, and although you hadn't argued since then, you also haven't really spoken much.

you missed him, but you had more important things to focus on.

as the knights began suiting up, you and giselle headed to your seats at the top of the arena. the arena was full of thousands of people, ranging from commoners to nobles.

if everything went to plan, the knights pretending to be anton and eunseok would win the duel, one of them would pretend to be injured and the other would carry them off into the stables where they would switch places with the real eunseok and anton.

of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. 'eunseok' was slain within the first ten minutes.

despite you having no connection to them, it hurt you to see young men lose their lives for a tradition meant to please the rich and powerful. and it hurt even more knowing that this tradition would continue for a few more centuries.

however, not everyone else shared your sympathies, as the majority of the crowd cheered excitedly with each kill. that was... until 'anton' was slain an hour in.

the entire arena went silent and the king jumped out of his seat, "stop the tournament! stop it now!"

oh shit.

the king ran down to check on his 'son' only to reveal a complete stranger under the helmet. still teary-eyed, the king roared "what is the meaning of this?"

we're screwed. we're so so screwed.

just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, the real eunseok and anton entered the arena, assuming the silence meant it was over.

"son! what have you done? answer me, boy!" the king seethed. "i... i don't wish to be a knight." anton confessed, eliciting gasps from the crowd.

"what on earth has gotten into you? is it that boy next to you influencing you?"

"no! I never wanted it. you know I've always wanted to pursue writing-"

"nonsense. you are to be a king. and a king is to be able to fight for his people. will words on paper solve wars? no. only a sword will protect your throne."

dejected, anton nodded before eunseok interrupted, "weren't you just crying over your son's death?"

another round of gasps travelled through the arena. "how dare you speak to me that way? I should have your head cut off!"

"all I'm saying is, if anton listened to you and fought, he'd be dead right now. is forcing him into combat worth losing your son?" eunseok reasoned.

the king faltered for a moment before recovering, "he is not enough of a man to look me in the eye and you want me to let him pursue his childish fantasies?"

in that moment, anton snapped, raising his head, "if I am to be heir to the throne than you will treat me as such. my whole life I've done what you wanted me to do, and look how that would have ended," he paused, pointing at the corpse on the floor.

"father, i assure you I am grown enough to discern what I want and don't want. and what I don't want is a life of a knight. I am not an extension of you, I am my own person, and most importantly, I am a writer." anton concluded.

the crowd erupted into cheers at the prince's heroic delivery until giselle ran down, seemingly inspired.

oh no.

"and I am in love with a stable-boy!" she declared loudly.

just like that, the arena was dead silent again and the king went red with anger.

"this is all your fault!" he pointed at eunseok "you, and that sister-mistress of yours!"

the crowd began murmuring, confused.

"guards, execute them!" he declared.

now you were definitely screwed.

you saw eunseok running out the back as giselle and anton held their father back. panicking, you ran through the back of the arena, meeting up with eunseok.

"what the hell are we going to do?" he panted. you grabbed onto his hand and began running into the castle. you're not sure why, but your gut was telling you to head to the storage room.

once you reached the room, eunseok whispered "won't this be the first place they'll look for us?"

" just hurry up and light the candle, I have to grab my papers." you rushed. he found a set of matches and lit the candle as you frantically searched for all your research.

you heard voices gathering around the outside of the door.

"y/n. if we really do die, I need to tell you something." eunseok began dramatically.

"I love-"

he was interrupted by a banging noise on the door. you quickly blew the candle out, hoping the darkness would somehow make the two of you invisible.

but it was too late, the door flew open, and a man came down the stairs holding a... flashlight?

"stop there! london police, you are under arrest for trespassing."

"what?" you muttered, confused.

"oh my-OH MY GOD. we're back... we're back! what year is it?" eunseok asked the officer desperately.

"are you two on some sort of narcotics?" the officer asked.

the two of you were then escorted to the police station where your group supervisor had to bail you out. you and eunseok were grinning ear-to-ear the entire time.

you were informed that you couldn't go on the tour as a result of your trespassing and you couldn't care less. "I know how much you were looking forward to it, are you sure you'll be okay?" your friend asked, worried.

"I'll be fine! go enjoy it for me." you assured. I'm sick of that damn castle anyway.

after taking a long, warm bath, you settled onto the hotel couch before hearing a knock on your door.

opening it, you were greeted with the sight of an awkward eunseok.

"hey... can I come in?" he asked, nervous. "yeah." you smiled.

"I'm still trying to convince myself that was all real." he chuckled.

"me too." you breathed "but at least it's all behind us."

"yeah, thank goodness." he agreed.

"what was it you were saying before we got arrested?" you asked innocently.

"um- I was saying, i... wonder whatever happened to giselle and anton! surely there's some more information on them now that anton survived the duel." he changed the topic.

"you're right!" you exclaimed, rushing to your computer to google their names.

"it says here that the king passed away from a heart attack due to shock and anton inherited the throne, but he didn't want it so he passed it onto giselle. he went on to become a successful writer and giselle married a common man named mark, they had a son and a daughter named... eunseok and y/n!"

"you think they're sister-mistresses?" eunseok joked.

"gross. anyways, anton's most famous book is called across centuries and it's about a pair of lovers that time traveled." you gasped.

"well that definitely can't be about us, we're far from lovers." he laughed.

"right..." you agreed quietly.

"well, I guess that now that we're out of the medieval period, I can get out of your hair." eunseok began, standing up.

"wait." you spoke up suddenly. if giselle and anton could confess in front of an entire kingdom, than i can confess to a single guy.

"eunseok, i..." you began.

fuck. I can't bring myself to finish my sentence.

"you what?" he asked.

"I'm..."

"are you alright?"

"no! yes-i mean no?" you sputtered.

"i'm gonna go let you rest." he nodded, slowly backing away.

"I love you! I'm in love with you. please-please don't leave yet." you practically begged.

eunseok's jaw fell to the floor.

"I don't know how or when I started feeling this way, and I get it if you don't feel the same way but I had to tell you. I'm-"

you were interrupted by eunseok's lips crashing onto yours, and for once you didn't mind the interruption.

"will you be mine, lady y/n?" he asked dramatically, shortly after you two parted from the kiss.

"why yes, my knight in shining armor." you laughed.

[archonofdivinity]

Oliver Fog - The Representation of Trade Unions Post-War

When most people talk about Oliver Fog, it’s never through an analytical lens. He is mostly used for the sake of shipping and sibling headcanons. And if his backstory is ever addressed, it’s normally taken wrong. Oliver isn’t a character who just hates work. In fact it could be argued that he is a microcosm of trade union representatives in his time period.

First I must discuss the importance of trade unions on Oliver’s character especially of 1953. I say 1953 because Oliver mentions that he has not worked overtime for 211 days in his anecdote. Trade unions at the time were much more powerful than they were today, and had much heavy tight links to the UK Labour Party, which was undoubtably much more left wing than it is today. The leader of Labour at the time was Clement Attlee who, while no longer Prime Minister, was one of the most influential socialists in UK history and helped to set up the NHS. I bring this up due to Attlee’s influence on the country and left wing politics as a whole, and as a civil servant, Oliver would have been aware of him.

Let’s now take a look at Arsenal. Oliver says he was a fan of them as a child since they were a popular team, but for that we must look at Arsenal’s history to find out how old Oliver would have been. Seeing how Oliver turns 15 in 1952, he would have been born in 1937, just before the outbreak of WW2. Highbury Stadium was build in 1939 and the Football League was suspended for the duration of the wartime period, meaning that it was impossible for Oliver to have seen them at a young age. The earliest he could have seen the team by walking out on his own was at the age of 10. At this point in his life, Oliver would have lived through the death, devastation and brutality of a wartime period and how it left Britain bankrupt. 

Arsenal’s red colour palette is also telling due to it being his favourite team - red is a colour that politically means left wing ideologies, and in the UK is a reference to the Labour Party, as well as its anthem The Red Flag, a socialist song about the labour movement. It’s possible that the fact Oliver’s favourite team being Arsenal was picked especially for this comparison, but at the same time it might just be me leaning in too far.

Oliver has a persistent want of an eight hour work day in reference to the social movement prevalent after the Industrial Revolution, where working hours were long and children were exploited for labour. While the UK to this day doesn’t have an eight hour limit to the work day, there have been major strides, and it was first accomplished in 1889 by the founders of the modern day GMB union. The fact Oliver specifically becomes part of this social movement is telling of his feelings about rights. There’s also his hatred of overtime, which adds onto this.

Oliver’s rant to A Knight could also be alternatively read as a rant on a predatory structure or system.

I’m not even supposed to be here! I’m just a boy, but because of your dreamed-up notions of purpose and responsibility, I was forced to become a Fogwalker. I never wanted to walk amongst the fog. I’m terrified of it… I just want to… I just want to stay alive.

Oliver is without hope at the beginning of his anecdote, lost in not knowing why he so readily took up the position of the Fogwalker. By the end of it he’s become aware of his true beliefs.

The Fogwalker is one who steps into the fog and brings light to others. Fundamentally, it’s a joke like any other, mundane as tightening screws or scooping manure. But that’s not all it is. My father once walked through the fog to bring me hope. On that day, he did the same. “This is my responsibility, and it is our responsibility.” […] On that day in 1952, he also brought hope to the people of London. The hope of survival.

Personally there are a few hints that Oliver falls along left wing ideology such as socialism. This could be especially true of his beliefs in social activism of his attitudes towards labour rights. Let’s take a look at his new garment. 

Version 1.8’s location is Russia, presumably in the 1910s before the Russian Revolution that would later set up the groundworks for the Soviet Union, so already the fact the garment comes out in this version specifically is telling. This garment set as a whole is called ‘Constructivism in Concept’. Constructivism is a theory where people acquire knowledge through experience and conversations, not through just seeing things, which could be reflective of Oliver’s anecdote. The garment itself is ‘See You At The Workers Club’. Workers’ clubs were something set up in the USSR and was a place for workers and their families to relax and also a place for propaganda. It was also sponsored by trade unions. I had to use Google Translate for the writing on the sheet metal, and the text reads, roughly, “let’s protect the eight hour working day”.

It’s easy to interpret Oliver as a microcosm through what he does and what he says. As a whole, he is a complex individual, a traumatised overworked teenager.

[room-surprise]

IS LAIOS A FURRY? AN ANALYSIS.

(Laios imagining himself transforming into a wolf in Marcille's mindscape.)

(SPOILER WARNING FOR THE ENTIRE MANGA! This is an excerpt and elaboration from The Essay about cultural and linguistic references in Dungeon Meshi)

WHAT IS A FURRY?

The furry fandom is a subculture interested in anthropomorphic animal characters. Some examples of anthropomorphic attributes can include human intelligence and facial expressions, speaking, walking on two legs, and wearing clothes, but not all of these traits must be present at the same time. Warrior Cats, The Lion King, Zootopia and Sonic the Hedgehog all have huge furry fandoms, to give a few examples.

Many furry fans feel a deep connection to these characters and desire to “become” one through designing their fantasy alter-egos (a furry persona, or fursona), making artwork, role-playing, and if they can afford it, building and wearing costumes called fursuits that allow them to dress up as their fursona in real life.

(Laios' ultimate monster design, you could argue this is his fursona that he's been dreaming about, and refining since childhood.)

Ryoko Kui self-identified as a furry on her blog a long time ago, saying that she “was a furry in high school.” I’ve been unable to track down the original artwork or blog post that states this in order to cite it properly, but I think by looking at Kui’s extensive history, interest, and skill in drawing animals, monsters, and anthropomorphic characters, one can clearly see the “furry” influence.

She has a very clear interest in the intersection between humans and animals, several of her characters are furry characters, and a lot of her work appeals strongly to furry fans in ways that work made by non-furries often does not. She even makes an extremely specific joke about the Japanese furry subculture in a comic about Lycion and Laios arguing about authenticity, which I will get to in a moment.

But whether or not Kui has ever considered herself a furry, I think it’s safe to say that she’s on the internet enough that she must be aware of the subculture, and so it’s possible that she wrote Laios with that in mind.

Laios’ intense desire to become a monster, the way he repeatedly fantasizes about being a dog or wolf, his fascination with all animals (but especially monsters), his skill at drawing animals (and lack of skill in drawing people, or anything else), his interest in becoming a beast-man, and his desire to visit a kobold country because they look like dog-people, all paint a very vivid picture of his interests, and his experiences match up astonishingly well with the experiences of many people who identify as furries.

Western fans often call Laios as a “furry,” or a “monster fucker” mostly as a joke, however I think this should be taken as seriously as interpreting him as asexual or autistic, which are other labels fandom commonly applies to him in a more serious manner… And, incidentally, there is a great deal of overlap between the autistic, asexual and furry communities, so if Laios is one of these things, it’s also very possible that he’s some of the others, too… Even if Kui didn’t intend it, and simply modeled Laios after “some people she’s known” without realizing they were furries, autistic, or asexual, or any combination of the three. This happens frequently in fiction.

I think the most accurate broad labels for Laios would be “therian” and “monster fetishist,” because I believe these two terms encompass the canonical behavior we see from him in the manga and extra materials in a way that I think “furry” and “monster fucker” do not.

JAPANESE FURRY FANDOM: KEMONO VS. KEMONOMIMI

Japanese furries use the terms kemonā (ケモナー) to describe themselves, or kemono (ケモノ) to describe the characters they create and love. Both words mean “furry,” as in, covered in fur.

In the What-If comic where Lycion and Laios meet, Laios awkwardly says that Lycion isn’t a real furry because turning into a beast-man didn’t change him into a wolf on the inside.

“Isn’t that just like wearing a pair of animal ears on a headband and saying you’re a beast-man?” Laios asks, to which Lycion derisively tells Laios that he is just a “beast-man wannabe” or “poseur.”

This is a direct reference to one of the major conflicts in the Japanese Kemono fandom: are characters who are mostly human, but have animal ears and tails really kemono, or do they not count? The general consensus in the fandom is that ears and tail alone are insufficient; these characters are called kemonomimi, literally “beast ears”, like the headband Laios references. Most “cat-girl” characters fall into this category.

A real kemono character includes a muzzle instead of a normal human face and/or an animal-like appearance on the body surface, such as fur, scales, or feathers. According to researcher Inokuchi Tomohiro, this is due to the recognition that "disconnection from humans" is a crucial factor that distinguishes between kemono and non-kemono. He then defines kemono as "an animal that is depicted as a non-human being, but with the potential for mutual understanding/communication with humans.”

By this definition, Izutsumi in Dungeon Meshi is a kemono (furry) and not a kemonomimi (cat-girl), since her body is covered in fur, and she doesn’t have human breasts, but a more beast-like torso. The Winged Lion, the Goat, Kuro the kobold, and possibly the orcs are all kemono (anthropomorphic animal) characters as well.

IS LAIOS A THERIAN?

Though the terminology is very modern, and wouldn’t exist in the Dungeon Meshi setting, it’s possible that if Laios existed in the modern world he might identify as a type of Otherkin known as a Therian. Otherkin and Therians are sometimes part of the Furry fandom, but the two subcultures do not overlap completely.

Otherkin are a subculture of people who identify as nonhuman. Some Otherkin believe their identity derives from spiritual phenomena (such as possessing a nonhuman soul, reincarnation, or the will of God), ancestry, symbolism, or metaphor. Others attribute it to unusual psychology or neurodivergence and do not hold spiritual beliefs on the subject.

Therian refers to people who identify specifically as a real animal of the natural world. The species of animal a therian identifies as is called a theriotype. Therians mainly attribute their experiences of therianthropy to either spirituality or psychology, and often use the term "species dysphoria" to describe their feelings of disconnect from their human bodies and their underlying desire to live as their theriotype. The identity "trans species" is used by some.

Therians may seek out opportunities to perform species-affirming acts like wearing costumes, adopting animal-like behaviors such as making species-specific noises, eating species-specific foods, or moving/performing actions that their theriotype would do.

For example, someone with a horse theriotype may experience joy from snorting and neighing, pulling a cart, stomping their feet, or having a vegetarian diet. Someone with a shark theriotype may want to swim every chance they get, or enjoy eating a lot of raw fish. They may have special accessories they like to wear that make them feel connected to their theriotype, like animal ears on a headband, an actual animal’s tail or a symbolic tail hanging from their belt, an animal tooth necklace, or even just a t-shirt that has an image of their theriotype on it.

In Laios’ case, we know that he likes to imagine himself as a wolf, and in the real world he enjoys/is proud of his ability to bark and move like a dog. He’s practiced and performed this dog impression so often and so well that Falin thinks it’s his most noteworthy and amazing skill. He clearly holds hunting dogs in high esteem and admires them, and says that he learned many important life lessons from spending time with them. He enjoys playing with leftovers from monsters they kill (bones, skin, seeds, fur, etc.) and sometimes tries to collect them for either practical or sentimental reasons… And at the end of the manga he takes the pelt of his ultimate monster form and chooses to wear it as a cape, something that he continues to do for the rest of his life, possibly just because he likes to wear it, or because wearing it eases the pain of no longer being the ultimate monster.

It’s also possible that he’s only wearing it because he thinks it is a pragmatic, politically expedient move, but I think Kui very clearly communicates to us that Laios likes his monster cape, and it is the one thing he immediately thinks of when he wants to try and be king “on his own terms.” He’s willing to accept being king… if he can wear his monster cape. Whether or not it’s a good idea to wear it is secondary to the fact that he wants to do it.

Otherkin and Therian are of course both modern names for this phenomenon, but the concept of people strongly identifying with and being fascinated by animals is as old as humankind itself, so it isn’t impossible that Laios may feel this way, since so much of his behavior overlaps with things a Therian might do or feel.

MONSTER FETISHISM

In English, the word fetish originally described an object believed to have supernatural powers. Fetishes are often used in a spiritual or religious context. However, over time the word fetish has been used so frequently as a euphemism to describe a type of unconventional sexual interest that “sexual fetish” has become the primary meaning of “fetish” in English.

Fetishism is a sexual fixation on an activity, inanimate object, living thing, or human body part that is not normally involved in sex. The object of this interest is called the fetish; the person who has a fetish for that object is a fetishist. The current medical consensus is that sexual fetishes are very common, and as long as they do not negatively impact a person’s life, they are harmless.

Like the English word fetish, the Japanese word 趣味 (shumi), has multiple meanings, such as “hobby”, “interests/tastes”, but it is also used euphemistically to refer to “sexual taste, vice, or fetish.” What meaning is intended must be intuited by the context surrounding the word. I believe the other words used to discuss fetishes are the loan words フェティッシュ (fetisshu) or フェチ (fechi), but these are extremely blunt and direct, and shumi is preferred in situations where polite euphemism, ambiguity or plausible deniability is desired, or is perhaps even necessary in order to make a joke.

Shumi is used throughout Dungeon Meshi to describe various people’s interests, including Laios’ interest in monsters.

Meanwhile Namari’s interest in race-specific weapons and gear is never explicitly identified as shumi as far as I’m aware, but she is called 武器マニア (weapon maniac) in the World Guide, and in the Bicorn chapter, Chilchuck labels her as 武具フェチ (armor/weapon fetishist), and uses the English loan word フェチ (fechi) which is very unambiguously “fetish.”

(The official English translation from Yen Press changed this to “armor fiend.”)

It seems odd to me that Namari’s interest in weapons and gear is identified by most readers (though not Yen Press) as a fetish, but Laios’ interest in monsters isn’t always, when their behavior around their special interest is shown to be the same in the manga:

Both Namari and Laios blush while talking about their respective interests, and get embarrassed and/or excited about the subject. In the post-canon comics, Laios blushes, hides his face, and has to be prodded to confess to Yaad, Kabru and Marcille that he wants to have his body eaten by monsters when he dies. He obviously finds the idea embarrassing and titillating somehow, and is too shy to admit it out loud until they force him to do it. He also blushes on several other occasions in the manga while thinking or talking about monsters.

I think this is because having a “weapons fetish” is normalized: many people have a fetish for weapons or armor and find it sexy. However the idea of a monster fetish makes people uncomfortable because in a story were monsters exist and are a type of animal, they assume Laios having a monster fetish must mean he wants to participate in bestiality.

This is not necessarily true. A fetish of this nature can (and most often does, for reasons of morality and safety) exist entirely in the realm of imagination, and the sexual fixation may not even involve the act of having sex with the fetish object.

WHAT IS A MONSTER FETISH?

In a world where monsters exist, a monster fetish could involve a sexual interest in the sight, smell, sound and feeling of a monster (looking at or creating artwork of monsters, observing monsters in the wild, wearing a monster costume, or owning monster pelts or body parts that can be safely touched, smelled, etc.), the experience of hunting monsters, eating monsters, the fantasy of being a monster, or the fantasy of performing sexual acts with or as a monster.

The fantasy element could be Laios simply wanting to be a monster, and that giving him sexual gratification without any further scenario being necessary, or it could be imagining himself as a human having sex with a monster, imagining himself as a monster having sex with another monster, or imagining himself as a monster having sex with a human.

All of these possible scenarios would fit under the “monster fetish” umbrella. We know Laios canonically does at least six out of these eight things, but we don’t know whether or not he derives sexual pleasure from them… However, we do know that talking or thinking about monsters makes Laios blush in a way that interacting with other human beings does not, and blushing is often a sign of intense emotion or sexual arousal. Kui’s meaning is intentionally ambiguous, but both meanings should be acknowledged: Laios might be emotionally excited, or he might be sexually excited and Kui is leaving it up to us to decide which it is.

This is, specifically, why I think “monster fucker” isn’t an accurate label. We don’t have enough evidence to assume Laios wants to have sex with monsters, or for monsters to have sex with him. All we can tell is that he becomes excited by the subject of monsters, and often times it is specifically the idea of eating them or being eaten by them that gets him the most excited.

VORAREPHILIA

Because so much of Laios' interest in monsters revolves around eating them and being eaten by them, and Dungeon Meshi's plot revolves around the very concept of eating and being eaten, let me make a brief side-bar to discuss the extremely popular, but niche furry sub-culture of vorarephilia.

Vorarephilia is often used as the butt of jokes on the internet, and very poorly understood by most people, so I felt taking a moment to explain it would be beneficial. Most people are probably not even aware that a fetish like this exists, and therefore aren't able to identify that the things Laios is interested in are something he shares with an entire subculture of real people.

Vorarephilia is a fetish that revolves around the fantasy of devouring or being devoured by another person or creature. The prey can either be swallowed whole and alive, or killed and then eaten... But the former is vastly more popular, and most fetishists imagine themselves as the prey, not the predator.

The fantasy of being eaten or eating someone else is just an extreme form of power exchange. Since vore is an impossible fetish in the real world, it exists entirely as artwork, writing, or verbal role play.

Like in most sex practices, the majority of people want to be the submissive partner, and have someone else do the work of pleasing them. You could compare the "predator" in a vorarephilia roleplay session to a "dom" and the "prey" to a "sub" in BDSM. Incidentally, most predators identify as women, and the vast majority of prey identify as men.

Kui's personal work seems to involve some themes that are similar to vorarephillic art.

And Dungeon Meshi features a lot of content which appeals to vorarephiles.

Meanwhile, the many tiny Laioses being eaten by the Ultimate Monster is a classic example of Macro/Micro, another niche furry sub-culture that sometimes overlaps with vore... A giant monster eating mouthful after mouthful of tiny humans is a classic theme.

The vore fandom is extremely diverse, some of them are furries, others are not, and the exact element of devouring and being devoured that appeals to every one of them can be totally different.

What the demon does to Mithrun and Thistle, and Laios does to the demon, is specifically a fetish called "soul vore", where someone's personhood/soul/awareness is eaten and (usually) destroyed by the predator via some kind of "digestion"... Often while the prey is conscious and aware of the process.

For many, the fear and pain the prey experiences while dying is essential to their enjoyment... And remember, most people want to imagine themselves as the prey!

The art on these pages is indistinguishable from things you would pay thousands of dollars for if you hired a furry artist to draw them.

It's also very important to note that on the other end of the spectrum, some vore fantasies revolve around the prey wanting to be loved by someone so much that they would devour them completely, so that they can absorb the prey and keep them with them forever.

Sometimes it's about wanting to become part of something greater that the prey admires or idealizes… the way Laios admires monsters. He explicitly states that when he dies, he wants to become a part of the food chain… While blushing furiously.

And although it isn't about Laios, I think it's important to note that Mithrun's desire was for the demon to finish eating him. A key part of his depression is the fact that he felt he wasn't good enough to consume, that the demon didn't love him enough to want to eat all of him.

I won't go further into vore or macro/micro, because I want to keep this post as simple as possible, and it's already quite long... But if one wanted to dig even deeper into what specifically Laios' interests are, beyond the very broad umbrella of "monster fetishism", I think vorarephelia would be worth considering.

DO OTHER CHARACTERS THINK LAIOS HAS A FETISH?

Characters frequently notice that Laios gets very excited when he’s talking about monsters: he talks louder and faster, his pupils dilate, he blushes, and he forgets what he’s doing, where he is, and what the appropriate behavior for his situation is. This behavior almost universally causes other characters to react with intense scorn, disgust and disapproval.

I don’t think it makes sense for everyone in the manga to react as negatively as they do to Laios’ behavior unless they think there is something off-putting, unsavory, or creepy about it. Their reactions mean they must think Laios’ interest isn’t innocent. It isn’t just a hobby, but of course none of them will say this explicitly, it would be much too direct and rude, and also it wouldn’t be funny if they started accusing Laios of wanting to participate in something as horrible as bestiality.

Part of the joke Kui is frequently making is that nobody says what they’re thinking out loud. For example, at the end of the manga, Kabru gives Laios a disgusted look and warns him to “not talk about your hobby (shumi)” while addressing the participants of the feast. I think we can intuit that hobby/shumi in this instance is probably meant as a euphemism for fetish, otherwise why would Kabru have such a disgusted look on his face? If he just meant hobby, his expression would probably be much more relaxed. Shumi being a euphemism is the joke.

Another example is the fact that Chilchuck frequently calls Laios a psychopath, sick in the head, etc. Those are extremely harsh things to say if he thinks Laios has a completely innocent interest in monsters. He doesn’t call Senshi a psychopath, even though Senshi is equally interested in eating monsters… Because Senshi doesn’t engage in any of the other, suspect behavior that Laios does. Senshi’s interest in monsters is perceived as innocent, while Laios’ is not.

For clarity’s sake: I am not arguing that Laios’ interest in monsters is canonically a sexual fetish, I am only arguing that there is evidence that it is, and that other characters in the story perceive it to be a sexual fetish, whether it actually is or not.

DOES LAIOS THINK HE HAS A FETISH?

People who have fetishes, especially extreme fetishes that are not normalized, often try to hide them. They do this out of fear of social disapproval, and feelings of shame, because they feel guilty for having abnormal desires. This is true even though the majority of fetishes are completely harmless, and morally neutral.

Most people also know that things which provoke sexual excitement are supposed to be kept private, and it’s not acceptable to express those feelings in public spaces, so even if they see something related to their fetish while in public, they will repress their sexual feelings about it.

Laios, who has difficulty understanding social rules and nuance, is aware that his interest in monsters is socially unacceptable, even though there are many other social things he is not aware of.

Laios has spent most of his life hiding his interest in monsters as much as he can, and it is only during the events of the manga that he starts to express himself openly, because his monster knowledge has become useful for their survival, because Senshi encourages him, and because Falin isn’t there to act as a social buffer for him.

But Laios knows people won’t approve, he knows something about his interest in monsters and the way he expresses it will cause people to react negatively, like in the post-canon comic where he doesn’t want to tell his friends about his desire for his corpse to be eaten by monsters, and the part of the finale where he is hiding in the woods, too ashamed to let people see him because they now know that his greatest desire was to become a monster, and not reviving Falin, which he thinks is the "correct" desire that he should have had.

(This of course ignores the fact that the desires the demon preys on are unconscious, and cannot be controlled by the victim.)

This likely means that Laios has encountered negative reactions to his interest in monsters so frequently, and they have been so intensely negative, that it has trained him to conceal his feelings. It is one of the social rules that he has learned.

Laios thinks there is something shameful, wrong, and inappropriate about his desires related to monsters so he thinks it is something he needs to hide.

IS ANIMAL/MONSTER FETISHISM ANACHRONISTIC?

Some may feel that being a furry, a monster fucker or a monster fetishist is something only modern people do, and therefore anachronistic for Dungeon Meshi’s setting. However humans have been admiring, dressing up as and pretending to be animals for rituals (including fertility rituals) since the dawn of civilization, and continue to do so in the modern era every time someone dresses up in a “sexy cat” costume for Halloween, or wears a multi-thousand dollar fursuit to a furry convention.

There are many instances throughout history of people wearing pelts, masks and tails in order to “become” animals, poetry and art of people fantasizing about either becoming a beast/monster (modern werewolf erotica), or having a beast/monster ravish them (the many, many times artists choose to depict Zeus turning into an animal to have sex with women), or coming of age rites that involve animal sacrifice and the adoption of an animal-like persona as part of the process of becoming an adult.

The stigmatization of this behavior, where “sexy cat costume” is normal and “fursuit” is weird, most likely originates from the disappearance of religious and social context for it. In the past, the admiration, imitation and idealization of animals by humans was part of many cultures, but the modern dominance of religions that forbid the worship of anything other than one, immaterial god has left no room for such things, and so society can only view it as the deranged behavior of abnormal people, who have something “wrong” with them, rather than a harmless, common human impulse to admire, fantasize about, and imagine themselves as animals.