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#tag your on fire garbage can

alonetimelover · 8 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: The aftermath of the leak is hard on everybody in dr YN YSN's circle, but especially for her. The gossip, magazines, paparazzi and haters do not help the case.

warnings: hate speech, swearing

a/n: hi! so yes, this is a re-upload of the 3rd part of the physicist!reader. earlier this week tumblr wasn't working with me, not showing this on tags or even my own home page. and with that, i decided to post it again so maybe some more of you could know what's been happening in the world of physicist!reader. i hope you'll enjoy!

part 1 part 2 taglist

@celesteblack08

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The Sun

Oxford Is Firing The Famous 'Higgs Professor' and Harry Styles' Girlfriend Dr YN YSN

Written by John Addams

The infamous and TikTok sensation dr YN YSN, lecturer at Oxford University, is being fired after intimate photos of her and boyfriend, Harry Styles, saw the light of the day.

Starting at the beginning, the relationship between two became a fact over a year ago, when dr YSN went viral for her explanation of the Higgs mechanism based on Harry Styles' music. As we got to know from their joined street interview for meetcutesnyc on Instagram, the relationship florished after meeting at their mutual friend's (Christopher Nolan) party. Dr YN YSN was the science consultant for the director's latest movie, Oppenheimer, and Harry starred in one of his films, Dunkirk - making it happen.

Everything was going smoothly till the morning of three days ago. YN's iCloud was hacked, revealing personal and intimate information about not only the owner but her boyfriend as well.

'Dean is furious,' says our source. 'He cannot believe that the best lecturer could be this reckless'.' After the posed question on whether the decision of firing could be announced any time soon, they said, 'it's just the matter of time. But it's going to be sooner rather than later. Oxford is going to lose a fair and talented professor, but it is not its fault. Someone was the author of those, let's say information that was exposed. And it's going to be their fault entirely.'

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harrysmoustache

liked by hArrysbtch, harryupdates and 23 482 others

harrysmoustache Harry and YN couldn't leave the restaurant safely because a bunch of paps and 'fans' showed up at the location. Not only was it physically dangerous, but the things that were spoken towards (mostly) YN were disgusting. Calling her names and ready to fire her on the spot because of the PRIVATE PHOTOS she took with her boyfriend, which then someone ILLIGALY POSTED ONLINE after HACKING HER ICLOUD. Did y'all forget about TREAT PEOPLE WITH KINDNESS?????

view all 5 402 comments

harrysmoustache and don't make me start on that bullshit that the sun did... RIDICULOUS

harryupdates After all those years, and all those situations that he went through, I'm still surprised that people can be this cruel to him and people that he loves

hArrysbtch they hatin' my girl cause of some sexy photos... bastards

hArrysbtch why would they care what she does after Uni hours??? it's none of your business

scienceandharstyles it's heartbreaking to see a person that gives others the world and shares her knowledge and wears her heart on her sleeve being treated like garbage

harrymylove those were not harry fans

stylesbabie monstrosity

user56 why do y'all care for her this much??? jezz..

⤷ hArrysbtch maybe because she's a good human being treated like the worst person alive just because she snapped a few photos of her and her boyfriend

⤷ user56 wouldn't that be the consequences of her own actions?

⤷ hArrysbtch nope. her phone was hacked. how many times you take photos of yourself and think 'oh god, what if my gonna be hacked and this will be posted?'

⤷ harrysmoustache hArrysbtch ohhh, babes!!! you closed that haters mouth!!!!

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drynysn

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 738 492 others

drynysn During one of my latest lectures one of the students asked about accuracy in Sci-Fi movies, so I decided to start a little series of: Is this SCIENCE or just FICTION? Firstly, we'd look into the scene from Spider-Man 2 (2004). The scene where Peter Parker (Spider-Man) is stopping the train from its eventual crash. he shot multiple web lines, then they stretched and didn't break. One would say it is not possible. But! From the way the scene is shown to us, we are able to estimate how strong the web needed to be for it to happen. After looking up the train's mass, you can estimate its initial velocity (how far it can go per hour, so km/h) by seeing exactly how long it takes to pass the city blocks. (1)

view all 19 934 comments

drynysn (2) You can look up, measure, the distance over the webbing stretches, and then estimate its diameter . You can also count the number of web lines. NOW, we end up with a tensile (fancy way of saying elastic) strength for the webbing that has to be about 1 000 megapascals (mega meaning milion) which is equivalent to about 102 036 704 kilograms per square metre (which is 145 000 lbs/square inch - for you, my American friends on here).

drynysn (3) What is absolutely mind-blowing is the fact that actual spider silk has a tensile strength of 1 200 megapascals. So, if Spider-Man's webbing would be anyway that strong, that scene was very, very realistic. Rating it 9/10. What scene would you like to see next?

scienceandharstyles that is so informative and making this movie even more iconic!! Did you do all the equations by yourself, dr YSN?

⤷ drynysn Yes, I did! Took me some time to analyse the scene but it was worth it!

harryupdates oh, i need to rewatch this movie immediately!!!

harryismylife could the next scene be the one from The Avengers where Mjolnir after contacting Cap's shield makes that blue light? is that even possible?

⤷ drynysn that's a great scene! i'll look over it!

hArrysbtch i love the little explanations in brackets! i didn't need to look up the tensile thingy!

harrysmoustache you're telling me the scene i was 100% sure was as fake as my eyelashes is true???

user45 maybe you should try explaining showing of that body of yours

user75 is this the new way to make money after being fired?

user281 unemployment doesn't suit you but the consequences of your actions finally caught up with you

user374 i think you should start posting one of those photos the sun included in their article - you'll get more attention

comments to this post have been disabled

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrymoustache nad 54 292 others

harryupdates HARRY nad DR YN spotted in a small restaurant in Oxford (i'm disabling the comments cause i don't want to deal with the haters)

view all 74 comments

hArrysbtch MY PARENTS!!!!!!!! ARE BACK AFTER THE WEEKS OF DRAUGHT!!!!!

hArrysbtch and they look goooood

harrysmoustache i missed them so much..

stylesbabie yn looks so tired and sad

⤷ hArrysbtch it's just one phot of one moment

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harrystyles via close friends IG story

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londonboyharry

liked by harryupdates nad 14 302 others

londoboyharry went to oxford to bump into harry. it's better! i met dr yn ysn, drank coffee with her, talked and laughed my ass off! she is the funniest, kindest and most down to earth person i've ever met. also, after i asked her about all the things that were happening around her, she just said 'what things?' WITH A SMIRK ON HER FACE, SIPPING HER LITTLE AMERICANO AND BEING UNBOTHERED

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harryupdates im so happy that she gives no damn to those people online

hArrysbtch I LOVE HER

harrymoustache the moment the legend the IT girl

stylesbabie happy for you!!!

harrysmylife who would want to meet harry when you can meet dr yn ysn?

scienceandharstyles best woman alive

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scienceandharstyles

liked by drynysn, harrystyles and 56 482 others

scienceandharstyles WE GRADUATED OXFORD!!! to anybody who said there was no way to incorporating pop culture with a biology degree? eat shit! i wrote the whole masters based on musicians' impact on fans' hormonal production. hehe. ALSO, it would not be possible withouth the best teacher, academic inspiration, and person I've ever met - dr YN YSN. thank you!

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drynysn MADELINE, I am so proud of you. It would be not possible without your persisatnce and will to find solutions and answers. This is all yours!

harrystyles Congratulations, Madeline! H, xx.

harryupdates congrats maddie!!

stylesbabie very very proud

harrysmoustache did you perhaps use harry as an example in your work?

⤷ scienceandharstyles YES, I did. Only positive affect of his voice, music and visuals...

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oxford_uni

liked by harrystyles, harryupdates and 748 392 others

oxford_uni Acknowledging the upheaval around one of our lecturers - dr YN YSN, the Chancellor of Oxford University and the Dean of The Department of Physics decided to release the joined statement:

Refuting the words ans statements made by publishers not connected to our University, we would like to inform anybody in concern that one of our grates lecturers dr YN YSN is not decruited. The matter of private life is not concern of the University authority, even more when the said privacy was bridged. At this place, we would like to wish luck during dr YN YSN' s new path - becoming a professor.

view all 64 855 comments

harrystyles <3

harryupdates I KNEW IT

hArrysbtch EAT SHIT THE SUN, EAT SHIT JOHN ADDAMS

harrysmoustache HAHHAHAHAHAHA I KNEW IT !!!!!! BABY THERE WAS NO WAY THEY WOULD FIRE HER

stylesbabie thank god! there is still hope for this world

scienceandharstyles Chancellor and Dean with the best decision ever made

harrysmylife now haters what??? ha??

harrysfan87 i believed in you guys i did

londonboyharry becoming a professor???? good luck yn!!!

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 275 others

yourinstagram There was no better thing that happened to me than meeting you. You support means the world. I love you forever.

view all 36 comments

harrystyles Loving you is the greatest honour of all time, my heart <3

annetwist My favourite girl in the world! (besides my daughter)

⤷ gemmastyles Thanks for clarifying, mum

gemmastyles My sister from another mister!

yourbestfriend We need to finally meet up!

⤷ yourinstagram yessss!

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates, annetwist and 10 746 646 others

harrystyles You're just finishing one of your latest publications on the way to becoming a professor. I couldn't have been more proud and honoured to accompany you during this time.

view all 98 757 comments

yourinstagram I love you I love you I love you

annetwist Our smart professor. <3

harryupdates ohhhhhh *melting*

hArrysbtch I'll never get over him posting her on here

harrysmoustache we are back to normal, baby!!!

scienceandharstyles professor YN YSN sounds amazing

harrysmylife BEST. COUPLE. EVER.

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a/n: did you like the way it turned out?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #scientist!reader #physicist!reader

731 notes · View notes

seabirdtxt · 11 months

Text

.Irminsul Push/Pull

You, the Creator, experience your first day with the world's weirdest roommates. [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. mild swearing. very gentle puppet bullying, it's probably the cain instinct or smth. all relationships are currently platonic!

WC. 1.8k

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You’re not super sure what you thought telepathic communication was going to feel like, probably assuming you would hear the voice of the other person saying their message out loud in your head.

In reality, it ends up being more like receiving a text message. In all caps. In your head.

GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.

You sit up in your bed with a frown when the message suddenly crosses your mind. You check outside the mansion’s window, deeming it to be relatively early in the morning. Curious, you slide out from under the covers and shuffle your way downstairs.

Your curiosity quickly turns to irritation as you hear the sound of tools being thrown and voices arguing coming from the direction of Kabukimono’s room, the only currently inhabited room on the ground floor.

You slowly push open the unlatched door and quickly duck to avoid a flying object—what is that? a pair of tongs?—that was aimed somewhere in the vicinity of your head.

“- told you you can’t cook on the forge!” Kabukimono shouts, whiny and furiously stomping around, tossing loose tools around the room. Scaramouche is standing a little ways away from him, holding a bowl of ingredients with a bored look on his face.

“It’s a heat source, isn’t it?” The Balladeer asks, rolling his eyes. “If I can light it on fire, it can cook things.”

“No you can’t! I have to keep it way too hot to cook things,” Kabukimono scolds him, brandishing a metal poker in his direction. “And if you get food crumbs and oil in it, it might affect the quality of the metal! I won’t let you use it, and that’s final!”

“What else am I supposed to use, then?” Scaramouche growls, gesturing widely. “It’s not like this genius Creator of yours, in their boundless wisdom, made a kitchen.”

Whoops. Your eyes scan the room, surveying the damage, until your gaze lands on a terrified Cuppy hiding under a coat rack behind you, close to the door.

“Hey, buddy,” you whisper, inching closer to him. “D’you think you can turn one of the ground floor rooms into a kitchen really quick?”

The little teacup spirit nods frantically and disappears in a puff of smoke, presumably to fulfill your request as fast as possible.

You look around the room again and spot Wanderer hovering above the other two, one leg crossed over the other in a pose hilariously similar to Ei when she’d been meditating in the Plane of Euthymia. You wave to catch his attention, and he looks over at you with a wry expression before zooming over to where you are.

“About time you got here,” he snarks, landing delicately beside you. “These idiots have been going at it for about twenty minutes now.”

“I just asked Cuppy to make one of the rooms a kitchen,” you tell him. “I totally forgot about that, I don’t usually make a kitchen inside the Traveler’s teapot, so…”

“Yeah, you use the outdoor one, right?”

You nod, having briefly forgotten that Wanderer had seen your layout of the Traveler’s realm before. As you’re musing on this, Wanderer darts forward and smacks the underside of Scaramouche’s bowl, causing it to escape the Balladeer’s grasp and sending ingredients flying in all directions, much to Kabukimono’s displeasure.

“What the- why would you do that?!” Kabukimono wails, his argument interrupted. “Look at this mess! Niwa would have a heart attack if he saw this!”

“Half of this garbage is yours,” Scaramouche points out, expression thunderous as he picks up one of the smaller prongs on the ground and uses it to take a swing at Wanderer, who takes to the air and floats out of reach with a smirk.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Wanderer says with a shrug. “I was just getting so sick of hearing you guys whining like babies for no reason.”

“Okay, and you needed to waste perfectly good ingredients, why?” Scaramouche snaps, bending to pick up his now empty bowl and waving it at Wanderer threateningly, visibly restraining himself from flying off the handle.

“Because it’s not like you were gonna actually use them,” Wanderer snaps back. “I am you, and I know for a fact that you can barely make cup noodles if someone else did the preparation for you.”

Scaramouche quickly turns red in the face as Kabukimono laughs at him, so you step in before another argument can break out.

“Guys, come on, I think Cuppy finished making a kitchen,” you say placatingly, hands outstretched and palms up. The three puppets look at you with varying levels of skepticism.

You lead the way out of the trashed room, picking one of the other doors at random and hoping that it’s the one Cuppy chose. Mentally keeping your fingers crossed, you turn the knob and open the door, and freeze in the doorway, prompting at least two of the puppets to peer over your shoulder at the scene inside.

Cuppy did, indeed, choose this room. It’s one of the Mondstat-themed bedrooms, and what the teacup spirit did was put a single stove in the middle of the room and replace the bookshelves with jars and cupboards. Everything else about the decor, including the bed, carpet, and wardrobe, is the exact same.

Wanderer can’t seem to help himself about this, either, and bursts out laughing.

“You call this a kitchen?” Scaramouche asks, pointing at the lonely stove sitting beside the Mond-style bed frame.

“I think he did a great job,” you try, covering your mouth with one hand to hide your amused grin. Thankfully, it seems Cuppy made his escape as soon as he renovated, because he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t get it,” Kabukimono says, and you can feel him pushing someone (Scaramouche) behind you to see the rest of the room, to the person’s (Scaramouche’s) protests. “What’s so funny? A good stove and a well-stocked pantry is more than okay.”

“And,” you interject through your repressed giggles, eager to defend your little teacup spirit. “Having a bed nearby just means you can lay back and relax while you wait for your food to cook!”

“Are you serious right now? It’s just a stove in the middle of a bedroom!” Scaramouche protests, pushing you aside and stomping into the room. He points at the stove, and then at the carpet it’s sitting on. “This cannot be safe, right? This breaks all kinds of safety regulations.”

“We’ll just move it aside, it’s fine,” you say, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“It’s understandable,” Kabukimono agrees. “It’s not like he’s seen a proper kitchen before, right?”

Even Wanderer stops laughing as the three of you stare owlishly at Kabukimono, who shuffles nervously under the attention.

“What?” Kabukimono asks defensively.

“I actually hadn’t thought of that,” you mutter, hands on your hips as you survey the room with new consideration. “He is pretty small, and who knows if he ventured outside of the realm before…”

The other two remain silent, seemingly contemplating Kabukimono’s words but not voicing their opinions on it.

IS IT BAD THAT I FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING?

You hide your flinch well, the sudden message scaring you out of your own thoughts. You steal a glance at Wanderer out of the corner of your eye, where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead pretending to be very interested with the shelf of ingredients near him.

‘I think that's just normal’ you think, hoping he somehow receives your thoughts as well. ‘I didn’t think of it either, so we’re all kinda wrong…’

While you’re distracted, Scaramouche has already started lighting the stove, having kicked aside the offending carpet, and browses the shelves for ingredients. He knocks on a few of the jars with a frown.

“... These are all empty.” He finally evaluates.

“Yeah, that tracks, I don’t actually own anything yet,” you nod. “Everything I’ve ever collected is probably still with the Traveler.”

“Presumably they’d be willing to part with some of their stash,” Wanderer adds sarcastically. “I don’t think they really need several thousand of each ingredient they own.”

“I mean, you never know, right?” You chuckle nervously, thinking of all the bag space your farming must have taken up. How does the Traveler’s inventory work outside of a game-mechanic perspective? You suppose you’re going to find out soon enough.

“If you’re going out to get stuff, I’m coming with you,” Scaramouche declares, crossing his arms as if daring you to refuse his company. “No way am I staying in here with these guys.”

You shrug, and Wanderer doesn’t protest either. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. I’ll head out now so we have time to sort and put everything away before lunch.”

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to get anything done before lunch,” Wanderer mutters, herding Kabukimono out of the ‘kitchen’, promising the other puppet to help him clean up the mess in his room.

“Are you ready to head out?” You ask Scaramouche, ignoring the jibe. You hold out your hand, which the Balladeer reluctantly takes, and you will yourselves out of the teapot realm.

You materialize in one of the alcoves of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, briefly disoriented by the change in location until you see Nahida and Aranyani sitting on the central dais, seemingly having a quiet conversation. Nahida spots you first, waving cheerfully at you both.

“Your Grace! Balladeer! Apologies for relocating you, but we decided that the chamber of Irminsul should remain uninhabited for now,” she explains, hands clasped together. “After all, it’s too easy to stumble and damage one of the branches of information, and I would hate for any of you to blame yourselves if that kind of accident were to happen.”

“That’s fair, thanks for doing that for us!” you smile at her thoughtfulness. Still holding Scaramouche’s hand, you lead the two of you down to the central part of the chamber. “Do you know where the Traveler is? We wanted to ask if they could spare some of the materials I had collected from before I came here.”

“Yes, we saw the Traveler earlier, but they went to fetch some people that Nahida recommended,” Aranyani says, picking up Nahida under her arms and putting the small god in her lap. Nahida doesn’t react, still smiling as Aranyani begins to play with her hair.

“Recommended for what?” Scaramouche asks before you get the chance to. You elbow him subtly, a warning to watch his tone.

“To help us figure out how and why you’ve descended to Teyvat, Your Grace!” Nahida claps her hands together. “It will be good to know in case you need to go back home, or if you wish to return here from your world!”

You nod, grateful at the prospect of having that option. “Who did you call in for this?”

Aranyani cheerfully answers this for you: “The General Mahamatra, and a scholar named Alhaitham!”

You share a quick look with Scaramouche.

“The linguistics guy, and the cop…?” You ask, with a slight wince.

“I don’t think you’re figuring this one out anytime soon.”

#genshin sagau #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #genshin isekai #genshin scaramouche #sagau scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sagau wanderer #genshin kabukimono #sagau kabukimono #sagau x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #seabird.txt #glitch in irminsul au #we do a little bit of clowning on scara in this household

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cafeinthemoon · 6 months

Text

Ever Dream (Apollo x reader)

Chapter 1/1

Wordcount 7,3k

Title Ever Dream

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Symbols ✔ . 1️⃣ . 💛

Warnings: Apollo is extremely inconvenient in the beginning; angst with a soft, bittersweet ending

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A. Finally I can fulfill my promise and post this little story with Apollo!

At first, he wasn't appealing to me at all, but as his character was developed, I found myself liking him (I basically understood that my lack of interest in him and his fight was due to me not moving on from Hades' loss, since snv doesn't feel the same for me anymore) Also his personality is a bit weird in this one bc I've started to write it before his flashback came out, and since I've wrote so much it would be a waste to restart my work to adjust his depiction to something more "pleasing", so I just kept things this way. But I hope you have fun with it :)

“Come out, come out

Wherever you are [...]

Give in, give in for my touch

For my taste

For my lust”

(Nightwish, Ever Dream)

Summer days might be the favorites among the mortals, for they were long and favorable to the body and the heart, as a good presage for the ones who needed it, but that didn’t apply to you. Yes, as many, you appreciated cheerful encounters of friends under the shadow of a tree on a warmth afternoon, as well as playing games in the city’s lake with your sisters, but none of these small delights were enough to make you enjoy Summer above the other seasons. Honestly, you would be happier during Spring, when the beauty of the flowers would be in its apex, or during Winter, when you would stay long periods at home, in front of a good fire, with warm food and crafting to occupy your hands; even Autumn had a special place in your heart, with its meadows of red leaves and winds whispering mysterious tunes.

The thing is that you used to work as a gardener during Spring and Summer, and this latter was always the most difficult one, for the land where you lived was always too hot for any activity to be possible under midday sun, so you would adjust your routine to work at early morning or when the sunset approached.

It was a hard work: the plants would suffer with the heat, and you must know the right moment of the day to pour water in them, in order to not burn their roots; some of them would even become dusty with the lack of rain, only to be harmed after sudden, summer storms, and it would take an entire day for you to clean the fallen leaves, broken branches and garbage brought by the wind – not to speak about the mud; and, as if none of this wasn’t enough, you would have to fight against seasonal infestations.

It was a lonely work, also: there would be days when you would stay in silence for so long that hearing your own voice after going back home or speaking to yourself during work brought a sensation of strangeness. But you enjoyed the solitude, using it to perfect your abilities and organize your thoughts.

Some would say that you should start thinking seriously about your situation, that is, that you couldn’t live only for the plants and that you were already in the age of considering marriage, but you would just escape from their demands inside the labyrinths of the garden. Not that you would get angry with them, though. You understood their preoccupations, but you were aware of where they came from: they didn’t understand that happiness could have many sources in human life beyond building a family.

And, as long as your own happiness came from the garden, you would stay inside it.

***

If the humans who knew you were the only ones watching your steps with what you’d call an abnormal interest, you could deal with it. But fate wanted things to be complicated for you, so your peculiar, solitary routine hasn’t caught only the mortals’ attention.

It happened that, close to your garden’s location, upon a greenish hill, a temple was built centuries ago. A temple to honor the deity whose powers were always strong across those lands – Apollo, Son of Zeus and Guardian of the Sun, Master of Poetry and Music, and owner of more titles than you could remember. You’ve never seen him in person, though it was said that he used that building as his temporary residence on summer days, which explained the intense temperatures during that time of the year; it also explained why the lights of the temple would be fed until late hours and why there would be sound of chords, drums and high voices all day. You respected the work of the people living there, of course, but you’d appreciate a bit of silence during a period that was so difficult for you, and there you had another reason to show up only when the sun wasn’t shinning in all its splendor.

Little you knew that, from the highest spot of the temple, upon a parapet only accessible to himself, the Lord of that house, to whom all those honors were directed, has been observing that lonely, little mortal who would come every day to take care of her flowers with the same dedication as Heracles by the time he had to fulfill his twelve tasks.

He couldn’t remember when was the first time he saw you: the only thing he knew was that, while he stood at that temple, he couldn’t spend one day without seeing you. Every morning, before his worshipers woke up, Apollo would walk up the stairs that led to the private space where the highest balcony of the temple was, and he would sit at it, with his back leaning on a column, to witness the girl’s arrival and her preparations before work; he would stay there, watching in ecstatic silence as she separated her tools, touched each plant with those delicate fingers of hers, examined each spot of them and gave them the necessary treatment, smiling and, sometimes, mumbling to herself.

Not only he noticed your diligence and dedication, but it didn’t escape him how much you were beautiful. Yes, you were surrounded by appealing fruit trees, flowers of the most interesting shapes and shades, all of them between intricate green walls that only added in majesty, yet your figure caught the man’s eyes above all of them – eyes that were trained to not miss anything that could be pleasing to one’s sight.

The god would cheer at himself with the fact that you were oblivious to this, while he, at that height, was completely out of your sight. It was like in the old days, where he would observe the mortal realm from his spot at the Olympus, except that this time there would be no difficulties in reaching you: as one of the city’s inhabitants, you were basically his neighbor, and knowing that building like the palm of his hand, he knew the secret shortcuts that would lead him to your garden’s gates.

At first, Apollo would state that his morning observations were just a hobby, and that with all the work to keep him occupied at the temple and the attentions he would get from the worshipers – particularly from the priestesses – he would soon forget about you and your flowers. However, he wasn’t fool to the point of lying to himself for too long, and soon he would admit that he was interested in you. Well, he was already desiring you, in a way that didn’t happen since… a few centuries ago, maybe by the time of that temple’s inauguration, when he would lure some of the city’s mortals into it. And now, there he was, leaving the comfort of his bed every morning, sometimes even before the sun came up to greet him, for anything but to catch the exact moment when your feet stepped into that garden, wondering how your voice would send shivers all over his body in case you whispered in his ears with the same docility you did to the flowers, how soft your skin would feel if he caught your frail form between his arms, and the heat he would sense once his lips touched yours.

This extended for days, until he finally had enough.

That morning, he watched you as always, but this time something inside him awakened, and he just let his body move away from the parapet and reach for his private chambers, where he caught his best garments and a pair of golden sandals, and then wandered to outside the temple, to the narrow path behind the hill, covered in stones and sand, only known by himself, and in one minute or two, he was standing at the garden’s entry.

Today is the day. The day when I shall make you mine.

***

It should be a pacific, ordinary morning of work at the garden.

You arrived at the usual hour, reached for the spot of the garden where you started working the day before, separated your tools and went to take care of your tasks.

You’ve spent one hour, maybe two like this, so concentrated in what your were doing that the sudden rustling between the leaves somewhere behind you made you startle and drop your garden shears. You turned around…

And found quite a spectacle for that time of the day.

Coming out of a narrow space between two green walls, you saw a young man dressed in garments that you supposed to be only appropriate for the Summer Festivities, not so far in the land’s calendar: he had a white toga around his body, which hems and details appeared to be sewn with golden threads; golden were also the strappy sandals he had on his feet, as well as the laurel wreath on his head. The first rays of the sun reached the space between you at that hour, and the golden light poured itself over the man’s figure as the hug of a beloved one, revealing that the metallic ornaments he carried were, in fact, gold, and conceding a singular glimmer to his eyes, which you thought to be of the same shade. But that wasn’t the only peculiarity seen in his appearance: his hair, falling on straight strands to his waist, were of a soft pink that reminded you of some of the flowers in your garden, but a comparison wasn’t possible, since they were out of sight at that moment.

Yes, the visitor was a beautiful man, though eccentric, so your first thought was that he was the son of a noble family that came to the city to honor the god of the Sun at the temple beside your garden.

He’s probably thinking that the garden is part of the temple’s territory. I must clarify this mistake and lead him back through the right path.

And you were going to do that very thing, but he was faster.

Without waiting for an invitation or at least a question about his presence there, the man approached your spot and stopped in front of you, observing your tiny person surrounded by flowers and tools with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief: was this girl really engaging in physical work this early?, his eyes seemed to ask.

You stepped behind, closer to a bush of wild roses, but glanced over your shoulder before touching the thorns – something that made the stranger giggle. You didn’t like that at all.

The first words said between you were his.

– I’ve always said that wild roses were not my favorites, but the truth is that they’ve scared me and charmed me at the same time, and I just couldn’t deal with it – he stretched an arm to touch a spot above and behind you; not disguising the feeling that he was closer than a stranger should be, your eyes followed his movement and found his fingers reaching for a flower of the bush – A ridiculous mistake from an arrogant heart… – and, turning his golden eyes to you, – Don’t you think, my flower?

Your eyes widened, but you managed to control your mouth to not scoff at those words: you’ve been working at that garden for too long now, and from time to time there would be one and other man who would come to celebrate the Summer Festivities at Apollo’s temple, many of them from privileged houses… and about whom you’ve already had a clear opinion.

Let me see… Extravagant clothing at this time of the day, bad sense of direction, abnormally elevated self-confidence and no regard for personal space. Of course, another womanizer who relies on cheap flirting to win innocent hearts. He knows that this type of chatting only works when the speaker is young and beautiful like him, but things would be very different if we had an old, naughty man in his place.

You knew that, if you didn’t do anything to get rid of him, he would bother you for the rest of the morning, and you wouldn’t be able to complete the works of the day, but fortunately you also knew how to deal with this kind of situation, so you decided to act right now...

By moving aside and bending down to grab the garden shears that he made you drop. You stood up again and started removing the small, green leaves from its blades as you spoke.

– My Lord, I suppose you entered here by accident – you started; and, looking into his eyes, still with the shears’ blades up – Because, you see, despite the proximity, this garden doesn’t belong to Apollo’s temple. No festivities will happen here.

It was with a bit of diversion that you observed the bright smile fading from his pretty face, but you remained impassible, for you were aware that this one was an experienced gentleman and wouldn’t give up so easily.

And he didn’t.

– I must be indelicate and disagree with you, Miss – he moved his hand away from the flower, but, with an eye on your shears, he hid both hands behind his back – For a garden is a never-ending festivity itself, and the one that is going on right here owes all its beauty to the work of your hands.

You swallowed. He did have a way with words, then. But not even this would be enough for you to allow delays in your routine, and you made that very clear.

– If this is the case, my Lord, I must make use of the same indelicacy and interrupt our conversation here – in a swift move of your hands, the shears closed and opened twice with a metallic whisper – And keep working on the garden’s beauty.

And, without waiting for a response, you turned your back on the man and restarted to prune the bush with the roses, just as you were doing when he arrived.

Not even this was able to shake the young man’s confidence, for he just stepped aside and continued to talk, caressing the flowers at the same time. No irritation or offense was sensed in his tone.

– Then I must leave you to complete your mission – and, after a pause, – But I’m trapped here, and you’re the only one who can release me... by letting me know your name.

Your hands stopped and you turned to him again. You weren’t willing to reveal it to him, but if that was going to make him go away, you would do it.

– Y/n s/n.

The young man opened a satisfied smile. But, instead of saying his own name in return, he just stepped back and nodded.

– For this I will be forever grateful, my y/n. I will make sure that Apollo’s blessing falls over you and your work concerning this celebration of beauty.

And without waiting for a response, he turned away and left.

***

If only the Festivities in honor of the Lord of the Sun were shorter, or if your garden was located in somewhere else, the strange events of yesterday involving that extravagant individual would be just a funny story to remember in an encounter between your friends, or even something you would forget after a week.

But, unfortunately, things don’t always go as we plan, so to your surprise – and exasperation – the situation happened again in the next day.

You were pouring water on the soil, in a spot of the garden not so far from the one where your first encounter happened, having only the sounds of the water falling from the can and the early birds singing on the trees as your company, when the rustling noise of indiscreet steps upon the grass caught your attention.

You turned around… and found the shinning figure of the young man smiling at you, his right hand leaning on the tree at his side, his golden eyes upon you with the same enthusiasm of the last day.

You bit your lip.

I can’t believe it. Did he forget everything that happened yesterday?

If he noticed your displease or if he chosen to ignore it, you didn’t know, but he started a casual conversation without waiting for an invitation.

– Good morning, dear y/n! – he left his spot beside the tree and walked toward you with no sign of embarrassment – As I can see, the festivities continue today.

You just gave him a silent nod in reply. The man’s smile widened in contentment.

– That’s good to hear, for today I bring you something that you might appreciate…

Only then you noticed the object he was carrying on his left hand: a bracelet made of gold, in the shape of a vine and with a white gem in its center, with rays surrounding it as an imitation of the sun. You looked at the object and hesitated.

– My Lord, it is not…

But when the words were still crossing your lips, you felt a strong hand holding your wrist and pulling it forward, making you drop the watering can; before you did anything, the man put the bracelet around your wrist and spent a moment admiring it, with your tiny hand between his.

You even tried to pull it back, but the he held you in place. You swallowed.

Heavens, his appearance is the most deceiving thing I’ve ever seen! I don’t know many soldiers who possess this strength!

Because of this, you understood that you might have been in danger since the other day, so that time you kept your mouth shut and waited to see what his next step would be.

And you didn’t know if you should feel relieved or shocked when you found it out.

– Now you were granted the necessary permission, my dear – he spoke with softness; and, pulling you closer to whisper in your ear, – The way to the Summer Festivities has opened to you at the Temple of the Great Apollo.

You had no time to respond, to move away or to show any form of refusal. The man, still holding your hand, pulled you with him and started running between the green walls and trees, rushing toward the depths of the garden and not allowing you to stop.

You glanced behind and your heart ached when you saw your work unfinished and the watering can forgotten on the spot it fell, the remaining water leaking and soaking the soil.

***

The path through which he led you, as well as the environment you found when you entered the temple was what you would sense in a dream: in one moment, he was carrying you by the hand through the green labyrinth, in a pace that defied time; in the next one, you were inside high walls of white, imposing columns with marble flowers surrounding them from their highest to their lowest spot, and countless tables of gold with goblets, jars and trays full of fruits, sweets and other tempting treats that were taken by uninhibited, joyful people dressed in flowing fabrics and barefoot, running, hopping and dancing between themselves to the frenetic sound of chords, flutes and drums. The place was a mixture of sounds, colors and smells that confused and numbed your senses, in a way that you were only able to stand thanks to the strong hold of the young man.

Despite that, you still noticed how strange was that those people seemed to move to the music as if they were just one, yet they acted like they weren’t seeing each other, lost in their particular world, to the point you wondered if they knew what they were doing or if they were just caught under a spell.

Are they really happy, or are they forced into this? It’s unsettling...

The people only showed a believable reaction when you arrived… Well, actually, when they put their eyes on the young man, and started reaching for him with no regard for your presence, pushing, bumping and even stepping upon your feet.

In a way you couldn’t understand, he opened his arms wide to receive them without letting go of your hand, with a satisfied smile on his face that seemed to light up when the first rays of sunshine entered the place, embracing him with the same passion as the people around.

It was when a thought crossed your mind as fast as those rays, and you stared at him with a knot in your stomach.

Could it be that he…?

The chorus around you, chanting the same words in delight, was the confirmation for it.

– Apollo! Apollo-sama! You finally arrived, Apollo-sama! Please don’t make us wait this long for you again, Apollo-sama!

His face brightened up with the call of the humans, as if it absorbed their joy and turned it into vital force, returning it to them with the warmth of the sun; to them, he was god, father, husband and master, and he was more than happy in taking all those roles for himself, in what you saw as a hungry, even predatory way. Though you still found it a beautiful thing to observe, you no longer saw any resemblance with a man in his figure.

He was something else.

Feeding himself with their energies and keeping them gravitating around him is like a diversion to him. How scary.

And with the same diversion, he pulled you to a tight embrace, giving you no choice to walk away, for many people came to him and were no dismissed, so that you were trapped between him and them, and you didn’t know for how long you would be able to breathe.

Somehow, he managed to walk among his worshipers and take you with him before you in fact were smothered, and without decreasing in enthusiasm, he looked around and chanted:

– My children, my flowers! Another day of Summer came to bless you! Enjoy it, cherish it like it’s your last!

Immediately, the people obeyed him and, as if slowly forgetting about his very presence, restarted the celebration, dancing and jumping around and opening the way for you two at the same time, not really realizing what they were doing.

Not wanting to join them and not being able to release yourself from Apollo’s grip, you had no choice but to follow him.

***

You walked up spiral, white stairs with golden banisters, ran through a corridor and ended up in front of an enormous pair of doors, which he opened with a slight touch of his hand.

They revealed a wide room that, even in your lack of experience in these matters, you knew to be worthy of a god: everywhere you looked, you saw comfortable chairs and couches, covered with satin sheets and surrounded by trays of sweets and fruits, and countless jars of wine; there was also a small fountain pouring water, with a jar and cups around it. You also saw books, parchments and musical instruments ready to be used. Everything there was arranged to display beauty and pleasure, as expected from its owner.

Once you stepped inside, you heard the sound of the keys turning to lock the doors from inside and shivered.

– My y/n, will you follow me to the balcony? – Apollo passed to your side – There’s something I need to reveal to you, but it has to be in an appropriate place!

And, without waiting for your response, he tightened his grip around your wrist and pulled you across the room, to reach the said balcony.

You passed under an arc with a pair of curtains of a peach shade and found yourself in a place that could serve as a common room of a human house by its largeness, except for the fact that it was uncovered; on it, there was wine, fod and water as well, and a couch twice the size of the ones inside the room, yet none of those objects interfered while you walked among them.

Apollo stopped at the parapet with you by his side. With his arm stretched over it, he indicated the entire view.

– Let your pretty eyes enjoy what’s in front of them with no shame, my dear – he laughed – Trust me, the view of your lands from the Olympus is no match for this!

And you were, in fact, impressed with what you saw.

From there, you were able to spot various things, from the mountains that surrounded the city, passing through the town itself, with its marketplace and daily movement, to nearer places… such as your garden, its open fields and the very spot where you were working this morning when Apollo arrived and abducted you.

Your face burned with the thought.

He has been spying on me from here? Since when…?

You never had the opportunity to inquire him on this, because he had no shame in telling you the whole story.

– Since this Summer started, though I cannot precise the day, I’ve been trapped in this balcony, just as I am now – he turned to you with a strange glimmer in his eyes; you sensed his hand letting go of your wrist and wrapping itself around your waist, bringing you closer as he spoke – I’ve been trapped by you, my flower, for I couldn’t spent one morning without seeing you from here, cherishing with your whole figure, your steps, the work of your hands, all for your precious garden…

You put your hands between you and him, in an attempt to prevent him from approaching even more.

– My Lord, with all the respect, this is my work – you managed to speak – I would never be able to properly take care of a garden if I refused to pour my heart into it…

The god’s response was to widen his already present smile, giving to it a hint of something that would be called presumption if he was a mortal man.

– I know it! I know well how these things work, and for this I am jealous – he caressed your face for an instant, his eyes swallowing each traits of yours with greed – I am jealous of your flowers, of your trees, and everything that has been blessed by the touch of your hands…

You gasped.

– My Lord, I think this is going too fa…

Your words were cut off by his next act, which consisted in wrapping his arms around you and lifting you from the floor, taking you to the couch you saw before, not so far from your spot on the parapet. There he sat you down, then knelt to take off your sandals – of course, without missing the chance to let his fingertips wander through your feet and legs. With no visible ways to escape this situation, you could only observe the scene in silence.

The door is locked, I don’t think I could open it as fast as he closed it, he’s too strong for me to put a physical fight and is too lost in his own fantasies to hear a word I say. I see no solution besides climbing up the parapet and jump.

While this thought was still crossing your mind (and your eyes glancing at the parapet), Apollo was already climbing the couch. You tried to move away, but he was faster: holding your jawline, he pulled you close to him, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

– I beg you, my little flower… stop making me jealous… pour your heart to me… be mine…

You opened your mouth to speak, to reply, to try and reason with him one last time, to ask for his divine favor and beg him to let you go, but Apollo didn’t even give you the time to breathe: convinced that actions would teach you better than words, he covered your mouth with hungry kisses, his tongue reaching for yours in a hurry, his hands grabbing your body with voracity. With the lack of air, your lungs started to burn and your eyes got filled with tears.

Your hands, still free, pulled him away by his chin; he stared at you in incredulity.

– Please… my Lord… – you forced your words out, alternating them with gasps – Please… reconsider…

For the first time, Apollo seemed to have his patience tested, and the slight twist in the color of his eyes instilled fear in your heart like you’ve never felt before.

– Too late to think, my y/n… It’s time to act.

He pushed himself upon you on the couch and a second kiss happened, longer and hotter. Now that your attempt to stop him failed, desperation was taking over you, leaving you with two choices: letting him continue or dying for opposing to a god’s will.

The latter seemed less painful for you, so you opted for it.

Beside the couch, just like the other seats at that room, there was a small table with a metallic jar on it; you glanced at it when Apollo let go of your mouth and brought his kisses to your neck, and supposed that it was full. An idea came to you, but you had to be careful.

If I fail at this, it’s over for me.

With slow movements, you managed to bring your body closer to the table’s side, taking the god with you, leaving him too occupied in his caresses to notice anything around. You even reciprocated some of his touches to disguise your nervousness, and waited until you were sure that your hand would reach the jar’s wing.

When the moment came, you stretched your left arm… and your fingers closed around its wing, lifting it from the table with all the strength you could find.

Everything happened too fast for your eyes to follow: catching him in a surprise was your only and greatest advantage, and you managed to do it. The jar flew from the table and hit Apollo’s head, forcing him away from you and dropping the laurel wreath from his hair; confirming your prediction, the jar was full, and the water spread all over the place as the metal clanged against the floor.

You wasted no time: you dragged your body out of the couch and fled the balcony, leaving your sandals and a paralyzed, dismayed Apollo behind. You crossed the room like a ray and somehow unlocked the door easily despite your shaking hands; not only this, but you had the nerve to take the key with you and lock the door from outside to slow the man who would certainly come after you.

***

Your feet barely touched the stairs while you walked down. Behind your back, there was still silence, but you knew it wouldn’t take long until Apollo reached the door and found a way to open it, so you wouldn’t stay to see what was going to happen.

You soon were back to the wide room where his worshipers were celebrating, and it was with no surprise that you found them as happy as before, and that, as you joined the crowd to reach the exit, they barely remembered you. Still, you couldn’t help finding it scary to be squeezed and pushed to all sides by those strangers, who screamed, sang and danced with no regard for each other and for themselves, as victims of a sinister spell.

***

The image of you running away from him was the most terrifying of the nightmares.

Apollo could have ran after you, grabbed you and pulled you back to the balcony. He could have also stretched his hand toward you and used his golden threads to wrap your body and force you to stay, to submit to him. He even managed to raise his hand while you turned your back to him and moved away, passing under the arc that separated the balcony to the rest of the room… but he didn’t do anything.

He just stood there, paralyzed by the surprise with your reaction and the resulting dizziness in his head, his vision darkening as he came to the shameful conclusion.

What I did… there was nothing beautiful about it.

***

The sun was higher in the sky when he regained his consciousness and left the balcony. It must have been one hour or two, judging by its position now – long enough for the effects of the strike to diminish. His head hurt so much that he was sure he would be dead if he was human.

He left the balcony and passed by a mirror, not so far from its entry. He spotted the bruise on his forehead and flinched: it was darker, deeper than he first imagined. Not that he should be worried about having a permanent scar, of course, but it would ache for days.

The god crossed the silent room and stopped by the doors. One look to the lock and he noticed the absence of the key; the shadow of a smile came to his lips.

Clever girl. Trying to slow me down.

He raised his left hand and, working with his golden threads, he involved the doors and pushed them out of their hinges, destroying both with a thunderous sound. He walked out of the room in firm steps, the wreckage cracking under his golden sandals as he approached the stairs and walked them down.

In a minute, he has reached the first floor, where his worshipers continued to celebrate, yet this time a wave of uneasiness has spread silently among them, clearly provoked by the sound of wrecking materials upon there.

Of course, he was eager to leave and start chasing after you, but he was empathetic with the ones who were there just to love him, and made sure they were all calmed down by his words; with this, they were free to go back to their worshiping, knowing that their Lord would be back in a few moments.

He left the temple and rushed to the garden, as his feet were led by instinct to the place that first connected you, but it was with no surprise that he saw you weren’t there; you didn’t even use the garden as escape route. Still, his heart didn’t ache less with the sight of your tools on the soil, and your flowers abandoned, for they meant only one thing.

Not only you were gone, but you weren’t coming back.

***

Autumn came sooner to those lands that year.

The Temple of the Sun closed its gates long before the last week of Summer, and the worshipers returned to their homes with a strange weight in their hearts; it was clear that their god wasn’t content, but the reason was only known by himself, and perhaps as an act of mercy, he protected them from his wrath by sending them away, assuring them of their innocence and promising a warmer season of festivities for the next year.

The days quickly became short, and the winds of the new season were colder than they were in the previous years; the city’s inhabitants were caught in a surprise, and even feared what Winter has reserved for them. The streets were empty, the markets saw their clientele grow thin, the richest traveled to distant lands and the common people were hidden inside their houses. In the wild, the beasts and the small creatures were sharing the same difficulties, and just as it happened with the humans, there was no guarantee that they would make it through the longer period of cold.

Apollo, on his turn, stood in that house alone, instead of traveling back to his place and his divine fellows at the Olympus: he missed their company, but had no strength to face them after the ugliness he created; it has been a monstrosity and a shame, and this was something he must endure all by himself. And so he did it, spending his days and nights wandering among the cold walls of marble, inside which the sound of chords, voices of adoration and the wine being poured in the goblets wouldn’t be heard, and the echo of his own steps were his only partner; the fires lightened by his followers stopped making him warm even before they turned into smoke and cinders, the sweetness of their incense made him sick and the golden altars and objects of devotion turned gray to his eyes.

All because of what he did to you. Because in his eagerness to make you stay, he ended up scaring you away, and the sun that should have kept you content and safe almost burned you to death. How, he asked himself, how did he deprive love from its natural beauty, he who lived to exalt the beautiful? But silence was the only thing to reply.

***

Apollo visited your garden every morning, staying there for a while before returning to his temple and to his dark meditations. Protecting his physical form from the cold with a gray cloak, he wandered through the natural walls that were once green, but now had only brown and red to offer to his sight; the grass was now a shadow of what they were, just dried vegetation that would crack and whiter under his feet, and the flowers came undone to the touch of his fingers.

Many times he passed by the spot where he abducted you, and tears would fill his eyes as he looked at the watering can and the tools rotten on the cold soil, useless after so long time without executing their functions. One morning, he even considered touching them, but when he approached his hand no remnants of your spirit could be sensed in them, and he moved away.

Well, your presence just vanished from the garden itself, and even from the town: sometimes, he would disguise himself among the mortals and seek for your face in the corners of the streets, but he knew the search was worthless. You were long gone.

Actually, you left and hid on the other side of the land, and even your acquaintances haven’t heard about you since Autumn began. But even you couldn’t deny that the season was less merciful that year… and it didn’t take long for you to realize it had something to do with the episode at Apollo’s House. Maybe he couldn’t accept that a mortal woman defied him, and decided to punish her entire land in return; or maybe he just decided to leave sooner, and with him Summer has left. It was hard to be sure when it came to the gods.

However, as much as you weren’t willing to try and seek for his favor against your will in order to save the people of the city, innocent and defenseless against Nature, your heart has been yearning for your garden, your true house, where your happiness and strength and life purpose were. You’ve been struggling to stay in your hideout and wait until the god’s wrath was over, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

One morning, despite the cold and the adversities, you dressed up and traveled back there. You had no idea of what you were going to find once you stepped into your beloved garden, and a thousand nightmares haunted you while you were on your way, and the times when you thought of giving up and return to the hideout weren’t few…

But all of this noise disappeared when you found yourself, in fact, standing before the garden’s gates. A breeze passed by you at that moment, coming from inside the garden, and sent a chill through your body – a chill that reached your heart.

You forced your feet to move ahead.

As you walked, farther from the entry and closer to the depths of the garden, you noticed that the sensation of loneliness that you were anticipating didn’t come. Yes, the flowers were dead, the grass was dry and the birds disappeared from the trees, but you had this strange feeling telling you that you weren’t the only living being wandering among the reddish vegetation.

A sudden instinct led your feet to the very place where your watering can and shears were left the day you were taken away by Apollo. Were they in the same place, still waiting for your return? You’d only know if you reached there.

And you did. And they were there. Covered in dirt, dead leaves and ivy.

But they weren’t alone. Someone was watching them in silence, standing among the desolation as if they were just a part of it that was waiting for you to come back as well.

And, perhaps, they were, for when they turned to you, your heart dropped.

It was him. It was him, there was no way for you to be mistaken.

The golden bright in his eyes has faded away, and so was his smile. The pink of his hair was no longer glowing, and the paleness on his skin was unsettling. He was still the god of the Sun, but the Sun just settled.

Suddenly, you were scared. What if he was there waiting to cease your existence in revenge? What if that was just a vision to deceive you, and you were now in a new trap, from which you had no chance to escape like the first one?

You tried to move your feet, but they wouldn’t obey you. Your heart ached inside you, and your eyes were getting filled with tears.

Is this how I’m going to die, then?

Apollo left his spot and walked toward you. He was still silent, but no sign of his intentions could be sensed, and you were too scared to try and guess them. Still, something wasn’t right – and when you finally had the courage to look straight to his face, you understood what it was.

From his eyes you saw tears rolling. And in his expression there was only room for incredulity and pain. It was when you knew: it wasn’t a vision; it was really him. And he couldn’t believe you were there.

Apollo stopped before you and you flinched, not knowing what to expect. You shut your eyes tight… and no touch, no extravagances nor punishment came.

You opened them again and found the proud god kneeling on the dirt soil, taking his cloak from his shoulders and leaving it beside him on the ground, his eyes glued on you all the time, as if you could disappear at the slightest distraction.

You didn’t know how long you stood like this, having only the winds to voice your anguish, but the silence became unbearable, and you opened your mouth to speak – but, as always, he was faster.

– Forgive me.

Two words only, but enough to shake your spirit and think of how strange reality could become. A god apologizing? When would you imagine such a thing?

– Forgive me, my flower – he repeated, since you stood quiet – For those things I’ve done weren’t but terrifying.

He stretched his hand to touch your clothes, but gave up on the gesture as to prove his feeling of shame.

Again, your heart ached, and your mouth dried out. You couldn’t just stand there with no reaction, no word, after traveling for so long to reunite with your beloved garden. But you didn’t know what to do or what would be right, so you just let your body decide.

You knelt on the soil too, before the astonished god, and didn’t try to stop yourself when you saw your arms throwing themselves around him, your head resting on his shoulder, and your skin shivering to the warmth of that embrace. You should be scared, you should be aware of any spell working at that very moment, you should be disgusted to see him there – but you weren’t.

– Yes, Apollo-sama – you murmured, not recognizing your own voice – They were terrifying. But I’m no longer scared.

And that was true. All your fear was leaving. And with the first signs that the Autumn was going away with it, you were strangely in peace.

#snv x reader #ror x reader #apollo x reader #ror apollo #snv apollo #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie apollo #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok apollo

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thecuriousquest · 6 months

Text

Mind Jack’s Late Night Catch

Yandere Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW, kidnapping, Hitoshi is an incel, sexism, violence, blood/bleeding, chains (not sexual)

Prompt Request: G1 of any character of my choice “Here kitty, kitty”

@weowmeow I hope you enjoy!

Master List

Yandere Alphabet Prompt List

I haven’t written for Hitoshi in a while. Thought this would be a good one to do for him!

—————————————————————————

You race down the dark alleyway, bolting in different directions as your life depends on it. Of course it was him who had to find you! Fucking Mind Jack of all pros!

You wipe the sweat from your brow, jumping on a dumpster to reach an apartment’s fire escape. You hear him below you, the rustling of garbage beneath heavy boots.

“Here kitty, kitty. Why are you running from me?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. It’s unnerving, the potential holding deadly threats.

You clasp the bars of the fire escape and hoist yourself up. You hear his monotone voice trailing right behind you.

Running up the narrow stairs, having to turn in different directions, you move your body numbly, speeding towards the roof. You pull yourself forward with as much momentum as you can, but you feel something wrap around your ankle, yanking you down.

You smack your forehead and nose on the iron step. “Fuck!” you scream, blood spilling from your nostrils, the beginnings of a bump forming just between your brows. You look down at your ankle and see his scarf slowly unraveling as he makes his way towards you at an unhurried pace.

It’s as if he believes you won’t get away from him.

You stand, naucious from the violent fall. Still, you press onwards, not stopping. You know that once you get up to the roof, you’ll be able to unsheathe your wings and fly away. They’re too big and broad to let out of your back on the streets, and they’ll only weigh you down if you try to run with them out.

Damn oversized wings weighted down with what feels like swords instead of feathers.

Once on the roof, you focus on expanding your wings from your back. You feel your skin open up as the feathers begin to protrude, unfolding themselves bit by bit as they were stored up. You grunt, suppressing a cry at their release as you feel the blood spilling down your spine, gathering up in the back of your shirt.

It hurts. God, it fucking hurts. The pain making it feel like knives are dragging along your flesh. You feel like you weren’t made for this quirk. Yes, you love flying, but you fucking hate the process of letting your wings out to flap around.

Just then, as you’re only a third of the way through the process of your wings showing themselves, you feel that damn scarf wrap you up from ankle to shoulder. With one quick tug, you fall over, and your wings start to shove themselves back inside due to loss of concentration.

“No…no!” You look all around for an out. Your eyes scatter the vast roof, needing to find a way to get far from Mind Jack.

He squats down in front of you, taking your chin in between his hands. You don’t look at him. Your eyes still trying to find an exit.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance and shakes your jaw. Your orbs finally land on his violet eyes.

“There we go. Why don’t you just keep looking at me while I explain what’s gonna happen, cute face.”

Instead of seeing his dark grin under his mask, you can hear it in his tone.

You glare at him, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“You, my little criminal, are coming home with me so I can…teach you some manners. Yeah, a woman like you thinking she can get away with whatever the hell she wants? That’s the problem with you females these days. No regard for male authority.”

He lets go of your face to grab you by the hair.

“What kind of bullshit are you spewing?” You sneer at him.

It only causes him to pull you up by your H/C locks and into his chest.

“And that filthy mouth. I’m gonna have to do something about that too. It’s only fair, you know? I’m a hero after all. Heroes are supposed to help. I’ll help turn you into a proper young lady.”

The feminist in you straightens her back and bares her sharp teeth at him.

“You…you fucking pig. Incels like you need to die off. You should’ve been dry come on your mom’s tits.”

Mind Jack slams your face into the concrete below, right next to his boot. You reel with nausea for a second time, grogginess overloading your body. You can now taste metallic in your mouth, slippery and building up until it spills over the corner of your lips.

“You fucking asshole,” you gurgle around a mouthful of blood.

“For now, why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Go to-“ but your sentence dies off in that instant as your mind goes blank, and you don’t even realize how he is releasing you from his scarf and hoisting you over his shoulder with ease.

You’re completely unaware of the journey home as he uses his capture weapon to get there. Tucking you into his bed, shackling your ankle to the footboard, he looks down at you as he removes his mask.

“Go to sleep now.”

And you have no choice but to obey. Unconscious under the covers, you don’t even notice him pressing a kiss against your forehead before he crawls into bed next to you, holding your warm body close to his muscular build.

Tomorrow will be a new beginning for you, and he will turn you into a proper young lady.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #hitoshi shinso #mha hitoshi shinso #bnha hitoshi #yandere hitoshi shinso x reader #yandere hitoshi shinso #yandere shinso hitoshi

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literaryavenger · 3 months

Text

Captain America: Civil War

Summary: When on a mission in Lagos things don't go as you expected, Secretary Ross offers the team a solution.

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x F!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: It's only half of January and I've already been sick, great! Anyway, basically all the other parts of this story were queued and ready to go, so I got some time to rest but now I'm here writing with a fever! So, if anything doesn't make sense or I missed some mistakes, that's why. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After months of tracking down Rumlow, you finally have a chance to get him once and for all.

You’re in Lagos, sitting at a cafe.

“All right, what do you see?” Steve’s voice comes in your ear. You know he’s talking to Wanda, she’s still learning how to be an Avenger.

“Standard beat cops,” she looks around her. “Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…” he trails off letting Wanda finish his sentence.

“Cameras.” she promptly says.

“Both cross streets are one way.” Steve keeps going.

“So compromised escape routes.” Wanda reasons.

“Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve says, “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one?” she asks “It’s cute.”

“It's also bulletproof,” you discreetly point out ”which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” she says and you smirk.

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha answers from a few tables away.

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” you hear Sam ask and try hard to contain your laughter.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” Natasha says and you can see her smirking.

“Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him.” Steve says in our comms.

“If he sees us coming that won't be a problem.” Sam says.

“Yeah, he kind of hates us.” you add.

There’s a minute of silence as you all keep an eye on your surroundings, then you hear Steve’s voice again. “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

You turn around just in time to see Redwing flying under it to scan the truck.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam orders the drone. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram.” Natasha says and your eyes widen a little.

“Go now!” Steve says and before the words are even out of his mouth you’re moving.

“What?” Wanda asks confused.

“He’s not hitting the police.” you say and then you’re all running in the truck’s direction.

Steve and his supersoldier ass get there first, then Sam and Wanda who can fly, while you and Nat are stuck driving your motorcycles as fast as you can, but can still hear the conversation through the comms.

“Body armor, AR-15's.” Steve says “I make seven hostiles.”

You hear some gun fire and then Sam “I make five.”

“Sam.”- Wanda says and, after a few seconds, Sam again “Four.”

“Rumlow’s on the third floor.” Sam says, then Steve says in his Captain voice “Wanda, just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?”-you hear her ask.

“Get it out.” he orders. You can see the green and red whirlpool from the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.” Steve after a few minutes, just as you and Natasha get there.

“We’re on it.” she says and basically jumps off her motorcycle and it skids into an agent.

You make a sharp turn and come to a sudden stop in front of an agent on your right side, so you push your left leg off the bike and, twisting your body, you kick the guy hard on the stomach while also dismounting the motorcycle.

When you turn around Nat cocks her eyebrow at you and you shrug. “What? I’m not throwing my bike at these assholes.” she rolls her eyes at you as you two keep taking out soldiers.

You can see Nat getting dragged by Rumlow, but you’re too busy fighting off some agents to help her. You vaguely hear him saying ‘I don't work like that no more’ and frown, you manage to take out the last one around you and, just as you turn, you see Rumlow launch a grenade into the truck and say “Fire in the hole.”

You run towards it, knowing Natasha’s probably in it, but it explodes before you can get close and do anything, the door flying and Natasha falling out of it coughing.

Once you’re sure she’s okay, you turn around but Rumlow’s already gone.

“Sam. He's in an AFV heading north.” you hear Steve say and, sharing a nod with Natasha, you get back onto your bikes and run to catch up with the truck.

“I got six, they're splitting up.” Sam says just as you and Natasha get to where they ditched the truck.

Natasha jumps onto a car and then another and you follow her. “I got the two on the left.” she says.

“I got the middle!” you say and start your pursuit.

“They ditched their gear. It's a shell game now.” you hear Steve say as you run after your two guys. “One of them has the payload.”

Just as you manage to catch up to your guys and knock one of them out, you can hear Sam saying “He doesn't have it. I’m empty.”

You quickly take down the other guy and search through them. “I struck out, too.”

Then you hear Natasha say “Payload secure.” and you allow yourself to relax.

“Thanks, Sam.” She adds.

“Don't thank me.” he answers and you frown, confused as you start making your way back.

“I’m… not thanking that thing.” is all Natasha needs to say for you to understand, and you roll your eyes.

“His name is Redwing.” Sam corrects her.

“I'm still not thanking it.” she says.

“He's cute. Go ahead, pet him.” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

Your amusement is cut short as you hear Steve’s grunts, clearly still in a fight and you try to move faster to make your way to him.

You catch up right after Wanda, just as Rumlow says “And you're coming with me.” and activates the bomb vest he’s wearing.

You don’t have time to even try and cover yourself as Wanda keeps the blast contained in a ball around Rumlow, his screams the only thing that can be heard.

She launches him in the air and the ball of energy explodes too close to the building next to it, setting a couple of floors on fire.

As you all watch in horror, you barely register Steve asking Sam for Fire and Rescue as you put your hands on Wanda’s shoulders and turn her away from the building. You let her rest her head on your shoulder as she starts crying, your own shocked attention still on the building.

This is not good.

It’s been a rough couple of days for the team after the mission in Lagos.

You’re all back at the compound now, and you’re on your way to the conference room to wait there for Tony when you pass Wanda’s room and hear her talking to Steve.

“Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and… all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” Steve pauses “And people died. It's on me.”

“It's on both of us.” Wanda counters.

“This job…” Steve starts “we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody gets saved.”

You see Vision approach and keep walking to make your way to the conference room, exchanging a knowing nod with him.

When you get there you’re a little startled to see The Secretary of State, but you sit down at the table in silence.

Once everyone gets there, Steve sits at the head of table, to his left Sam, then Vision and then Wanda, to his right you then Natasha, then Rhodey and Tony is sitting in a chair by himself to the right of the table.

Secretary Ross is on his feet in front of the table and, once everyone takes a seat, he starts talking.

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass… I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Definitely not the word you were expecting “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross activates a screen behind him and News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks.

“New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashes into a building and sends a dust cloud that engulfs the camera. Rhodey looks regretful and he glances behind him at Natasha.

“Washington DC.” The three Insight helicarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashing into the Potomac and throwing up a massive wave, engulfing citizens and the camera. You and Sam look at each other, then down.

“Sokovia.” Terrified citizens, running. The city rising. A building falling over. Everyone’s eyes are glued to the screen.

“Lagos.” The burning building. Paramedics moving a body. A dead girl. Wanda is particularly affected by the footage from Lagos. Steve sees this and intervenes.

“Okay. That's enough.” Steve says, looking at Wanda.

Secretary Ross nods to his aide and the images disappear, then he starts talking again.

“For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” he places a thick document on the desk and passes it to Wanda. She looks at it and then slides it over to Rhodey. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place.” Steve points out. “I feel we've done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Steve looks up and meets Ross's eyes. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there'd be consequences.”

You narrow your eyes at him. They’re people, not weapons. Before you can voice your thoughts he goes on. “Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.” He points at the Accords.

“So, there are contingencies.” Rhodey says, familiar with the politics by now.

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Steve glances at Tony “Talk it over.”

He starts to walk away when you speak up for the first time. “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

Ross stops and looks back at you. “Then you retire.” he deadpans.

You simply nod, trying to stifle a grin and, when you look at Natasha, you can see she’s doing the same.

He leaves with his aide and there’s a moment of silence before you all get up and walk quietly to the common room. Some sitting, some standing and Tony laying down on a chair. And then the discussion starts.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” Rhodey says to sam. You’ve lost track of how long the team has been discussing.

“So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam,” He leans in to look at Sam since you’re currently between the two men. “and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“Why am I always in the middle of this?” you say, a little exasperated at the two that are almost glaring at each other now, you make eye contact with Nat and she clearly feels the same way you do.

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam says, ignoring your comment.

“I have an equation.” Vision jumps in and everyone looks at him.

“Oh, this will clear it up.” you say sarcastically and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision explains.

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve asks.

“I'm saying there may be a causality.” Vision clarifies, before going on “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom.” Rhodey says and you roll your eyes while Sam glares at him.

“Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.” Natasha points out.

“It's because he's already made up his mind.” Steve says.

“Boy, you know me so well.” Tony says sarcastically and gets up, rubbing his head. “Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a mug before continuing. “That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort- Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

He puts his phone in a basket and taps it, the phone projects an image of a smiling young man. He looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” Everyone is listening to him intently as he seems to be having a little meltdown, but his words are clearly affecting the whole team.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He pauses and takes a pill with some coffee, then faces you all. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve says.

“Who said we're giving up?” Tony promptly answers.

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions.” Steve counters. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I'm sorry. Steve. That- that is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey says. “This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” you interject, seeing Steve’s point.

“That's good. That's why I'm here.” Tony says, pointing at you. “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that.” you tell him, then Steve talks, nodding at you.

“She’s right. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Steve says.

“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later.” Tony reasons. “That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”

“You're saying they'll come for me.” Wanda speaks up for the first time since this discussion started.

“We would protect you.” Vision says confidently.

“Could we?” you say and everyone looks at you, so you elaborate. “If we don’t sign this we’re criminals for even trying to keep her safe. If we do sign, it’ll be our job to come for her if we get ordered to.”

There’s a moment of silence while you all think about this, before Natasha speaks up. “Maybe Tony's right.”

You all look at her, surprised. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-” she gets interrupted by Sam.

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“He’s not wrong, Tasha.” You add.

“I'm just… I'm reading the terrain.” She explains. “We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up.” Tony says and looks at Natasha, clearly amused. “I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.”

They all start to talk over each other, but you’re focused on Steve’s phone that you can see over his shoulder since you’re standing right behind him. He gets a text that says ‘She’s gone. In her sleep.’ and you frown, watching Steve quickly get up.

“I have to go.” is all he says while dropping the Accords on the coffee table and, when he exits the room, you exchange a worried glance with Sam.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

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daughter-of-sapph0 · 10 months

Text

the reason this website works while others fail is because the main dash is in reverse chronological order and only shows posts by people you choose to follow.

algorithms never work. a computer will never know what someone wants to see more than the actual person. it might give you some content that people can turn off their brains and consume for a few hours. but tumblr doesn't have "content". it doesn't have family friendly short form tiktok videos for people to scroll through for hours. it doesn't have arguments about petty internet drama where people tell each other to kill themselves for disagreeing like twitter does. like, sure those things can exist on tumblr but they aren't the main point of tumblr.

tumblr isn't content. it's conversations and art and writing and music and pictures and movies and experiences and people's lives being shared with their close friends. the reason this website works is because of the fact that their is no algorithm.

algorithms do not work for a website like tumblr. I only want to see the posts and reblogs from people I follow. the people I follow share similar interests to me and share and create posts that I know I will enjoy. even if there's a blog that posts one thing I really like, if the rest of their blog is stuff I have no interest in, I won't follow them.

staff says that the current model unfairly rewards popular blogs.

first of all, rewards them with what? clogged notification? that hardly seems like a positive, and I should know.

secondly, so what? no one cares if anyone is popular or not. follower counts aren't public. blogs don't get popular. certain posts get popular.

also thirdly, their solution to the "popular blogs" issue is to introduce an algorithm which will either:

just promote the posts of blogs with lots of followers, therefore making the "problem" they're trying to fix bigger

recommend posts from smaller blogs who do not want the attention and will end up getting "ew why am I seeing this garbage" on their personal vent posts

completely ruin the whole reason people follow tags and tag their posts in the first place and will end up thinking that non-fandom posts that aren't tagged from fandom blogs should be shown to people in that whole fandom (see point 2)

show posts to people who have no interest in them, such as showing posts about photography to people who only use tumblr to talk about video games, or vice versa

will end up promoting posts by fascists and terfs that staff still will not ban

the whole idea of an algorithm is a fucking stupid idea to implement on tumblr, and I hope that all the executives who decided to push for the idea get fired.

@staff @wip @changes @support this as a warning. no one on tumblr wants an algorithm. you can check the notes on your recent post, and it's all unanimous. people will leave this site en mass if you implement it.

you will not gain more users with an algorithm. anyone who would ever use tumblr has already jumped ship from twitter and reddit and tiktok. all those websites are currently failing because of poor executive decisions, and trying to make tumblr like them will be a death sentence. the only reason people join tumblr is because it isn't like every single social media website.

if new users wanted something similar to twitter, they'd join one of the dozens of twitter clones that will be shut down in a few weeks, like threads or bluesky or whatever the fuck they're called. people don't come here because they want twitter. people come here because they want tumblr. and an algorithm will fundamentally change and ruin what tumblr is

you will not gain users from an algorithm. but you will certainly lose them. it is a terrible decision that no one will like.

#dostxt

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whatyadrawin · 5 months

Text

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 2-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,663 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Moderately strong language

A/n: This is the chapter giving more context and backstory to the Hewitts and the rude farmhand. Things pick up from here and will continue to keep on that exciting trajectory but remind yourself that I am the lord of the slow burn lol, I like building up to the fleshy bits. The artwork is what's keeping these chapters from coming out so quickly, I didn't want to go full flat color this time but goddamn my ADHD symptoms are making shit a lot harder to focus on so please have patience, I assure you all it is worth it. Please enjoy and keep an eye on the masterlist linked above for updates.

tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 2

The next day came with less heat than the first, the sun was frequently blocked out by thick white clouds that rolled against its light causing brief shadows to lay on the land. You started unpacking more and more things from the container you shipped to the house before you moved, making sure that everything that you needed was properly put away. Eventually it was time to head over to Luda Mae’s house and you wanted to make sure to look presentable for tea time. Thoughts of what her family was like raced through your head, you especially wanted to know who the mysterious masked man was. You slipped on a nice pink sundress that you made yourself, you covered your shoulders with a white cropped cardigan and some white sandals that were comfortable to walk in.

You decide to visit the farmhand again in an attempt to make friends so he wouldn’t be so hostile, you grab your things and head down before you make your way to Luda Mae’s home. You spot him tending to a peach tree and you walk over.

“Hey there, I don’t mean to bug you when you’re busy but I just wanted to see if you would take a break and chat for a bit?” you tried to use your friendliest smile.

“Ya can’t see I’m busy girl? Why don’t you go screw off with your riches and leave the farm to the only person caring for it all these years!” his words were so needlessly callous, but you continue,

“I know you’re busy but why don’t you tell me what I can do to help? It doesn’t have to all land on your shoulders anymore”

He laughs to himself and says “Why? So, ya can just fire me when ya get the hang o’ things? Women can’t do this kinda labor, why dontcha just sit there and look pretty”

The sexism was shocking but you didn’t want to let that garbage stop you “I understand you are upset from the change but I assure you I just want to be friendly and helpful”

He turns to you with a smug look “What kinda friendly we talkin’ ‘bout here?”

You get creeped out as he stops his work and looks at you in a more predatory way, but you persist,

“I just mean you don’t have to worry about doing all the work by yourself, I can help you, and by friendly... I just want to have a civil professional relationship with you, nothing more”

“Thinkin’ ya deserve some kinda good treatment huh? How ‘bout me? Don’t I deserve compensation for the work I did all these years? I ain’t talkin’ bout wages neither”

You wonder what he means by that, so you try offering solutions “What do you need? Maybe I can get you a better living situation or more tools to make the work easier?”

He didn’t like anything you had to say, “Ya think it’s just that simple? I like where I live, I like being left ALONE!”

You feel a knot forming in your throat, being treated like this was so hurtful “Ok, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good rest of the day”

He made you feel like shit, all the memories of people bullying you and your old friend were coming back and you just wanted to get away. Your heart was racing with anger and the familiar feeling of an old depression started to creep back in.

You start making your way towards Luda Mae’s home and hope that the walk calms your nerves and lifts your spirits enough to enjoy the rest of your day. The sun was peeking out from behind the thick clouds and brightened the dry road before you, tiny little white flowers sparsely lined the sides of the road and made you smile. You closed your eyes and made your mind blank, only listening to the gentle wisps of the wind rustling the tall wheatgrass, and the crunch of dry dirt with every step you took, some birds could be heard in the distance chirping cheerfully. You felt like you were in a different universe where time stood still and it was just you and the earth around you.

Shortly, you arrive at Luda Mae’s property, she had a wire fence blocking the four grazing cows in and there were a lot of cars sitting in a lot near the main house, it seemed odd but you just assumed maybe one of them was a mechanic. You walk up toward the barn and hope to see that mysterious masked man but the barn is empty minus some clucking chickens strutting around. You make your way up to the door and knock, an older man answers it, he looks you up and down and smiles,

“Well now, I didn’t know it was my birthday” he says. You can hear Luda Mae yell at him to shut up and let you in. He drops the smile and waves you in, making you walk closely to get past him. Luda Mae meets you as you walk in and she introduces you,

“Sorry ‘bout him sweetheart, this is my brother Charlie. Come on in dear, I can’t wait to talk with you, Loretta brought some real good tea for us to enjoy” She gestures for you to follow her and you speak to Charlie as you pass through,

“Nice to meet you Charlie, I’m Y/N*”

He smiles as he looks at you saying “Mhmm, I’ll remember that” you feel a shiver of discomfort after he says that.

You follow Luda Mae through the house which has very old furnishings, its large with high ceilings that are dotted with large fans to circulate the air; The décor was definitely very dated but kept clean, the furnishings may have once displayed wealth in a past long gone. In a large living room, you see a man reading a newspaper, Luda Mae stops at the doorway,

“Hey Monty, turn ‘round a sec”

The man was older, he turns around peering through his large thick glasses “Yeah?”

“I’d like you to meet the young woman who took over Tilly’s orchard!”

He sets down his paper and tried to turn to face you better “Oh! I didn’t know Tilly had children?”

Luda Mae replies “No, this is Y/N, she is a distant relative of hers”

You make a shy response “It’s nice to meet you sir”

He smiles “Well she’s real polite ain’t she? Nice to meet you too kiddo, I’m uncle Monty”

Luda Mae guides you over to the back porch which has Loretta already seated at the table. Luda Mae waves to her and says,

“Loretta, this is Tilly’s family, the one I told you ‘bout”

Loretta was a big woman, her cheeks were rosy and full, her dyed black hair was perfectly styled up into pin curls remniscent of another time, she smiled and said “Well, now ain’t she just a pretty little thing!”

Luda Mae gave you a smile and sits you down in the chair next to Loretta, you set down your basket and go to shake her hand saying “It’s really nice to meet you Loretta, my name in Y/N”

Loretta smiles and Luda Mae asks what you have in the basket you brought. You lift the basket onto the table and show them the fruits you picked for them today. Luda Mae claps in approval saying,

“That is so kind of you to bring some fruit over, I ain’t had a good peach since Tilly passed.”

You still weren’t quite sure about the way Tilly had died, you did not get much information out of the Lawyer and the files said there was no reason for an autopsy since she was so old. You ask Luda Mae and Loretta about it

“I don’t want to open old wounds or anything but, do either of you know how she died? I never got a proper answer”

They both looked at each other and Loretta answered “Well now Tilly was very well liked by everyone who knew her, she lived here a while you know. While yes, she was old, she was still in good shape and the sheriff’s department in the next town over didn’t give us any details, just said it was from old age and left it at that”

Luda Mae chimes in “I am suspicious that Dover did it”

“Luda Mae!” Loretta shouted in shock.

Luda Mae crosses her arms and continues “That farmhand has been a cruel and unappreciative man for as long as I remember, I tried to tell her to get rid of him what with all his talk about taking the orchard someday, but she was too kind-hearted and wasn’t able to keep up with the demands of caring for the trees. She was always looking for the good in people, even the evil ones. Bless that woman.”

Loretta nodded in agreement that Tilly was kind, she looked at you and said,

“You know, Fuller was doing well in the past, there was big business in cattle and meat packing. Everyone was makin’ good money ‘til the ranchers died and their property managers sold off the cattle to northern companies, that killed this towns economy. People were leaving in droves and so was the money.”

Luda Mae looked out into the field and added “It got to the point where we all had to resort to terrible things just to survive, but there was no way I’d let my family starve.”

Loretta gave Luda Mae a stern look, her eyes wide, she cut in “That is until Tilly decided to plant a bunch of fruit trees from the seeds of the fruit she bought from the store. The Texas sun made those little sprouts explode into full size trees, and she had us all fed by the fruits they made, we didn’t have to just survive no more, we were able to live normally again. It was all thanks to her”

You smile at the fact that someone from your family was regarded so highly, it gave you a warm feeling. Luda Mae pours you some tea and follows up with,

“Tilly made sure that we had animals to provide us with bounty, everyone shared what they had, even before the trees were makin’ enough to bring in money, in return we gave her the manure for the trees.”

Loretta looked antsy, she changed the subject “Well now, that’s enough of those depressing times.”

Luda Mae and Loretta started talking about the town and how things used to be, you sat listening to them for an hour until you noticed the mysterious masked man. He was heading toward the barn and you could see him tending to the cows inside, he was even bigger in person, his body looked like it was used to working hard, his muscles were large but had no hard edges as if his strength was supplemented with a rich diet full of American cooking. The man was brushing the cows, plumes of dust and dirt would fly out from each swish of the brush. To see him close was astonishing, you felt like you were seeing a new kind of human, he was so gentle with the animals and yet his appearance was very intimidating. You tried to look and see if you could get a glimpse of his face but his back was turned to you.

Luda Mae notices you looking and says “I see you’ve noticed my boy there”

You snap out of your trance and blush in embarrassment, she laughs and adds,

“He’s a real handsome one if I do say so myself, his name is Thomas. He’s real shy, but as sweet as they come. He’s a good boy, extremely helpful with managing the animals and taking care of the property.” She pauses and puts her hand to her chin “You know, he’s ‘round your age and its high time he meets someone nice, I’m gonna call him over.”

You felt butterflies for the first time in years, you quickly respond “That’s ok, he looks pretty busy, maybe he should be left alone”

Luda Mae smiles “Come now dear, he can come say hi, it ain’t no bother” She calls out to him “TOMMY! COME SAY HELLO TO THIS NICE YOUNG LADY!”

Tommy looks up quickly, he spots you on the porch and freezes.

Luda Mae yells after him again, “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT, YOU COME HERE RIGHT QUICK! DON’T BE RUDE NOW!”

He furiously shakes his head, turns and runs into the barn out of sight.

Luda Mae sighs “I’m sorry sweetheart, he really is a very nice boy, he’s just awfully shy, especially ‘round pretty girls, the poor dear”

You felt a wave of relief that someone else was maybe as anxious about meeting new people like you were, you reply “It’s ok, I’m sure I’ll meet him when he’s ready”

Luda Mae gently places her hand on yours “I’ll make sure of it, he needs to make some friends, it gets mighty lonely ‘round here. With someone as sweet as you I’m sure you two’d get along just fine”

Loretta takes a final sip of tea and gets up saying “Well, time for me ‘n Monty to head home, thanks for the conversation, Y/N, it was a real treat to meet you”

Luda Mae thanks Loretta for the tea and says goodbye, she then turns to you and says,

“Well, I know you probably want to get back to that orchard, please don’t let that prickly pear Dover get to you, Tilly kept him ‘round because he worked hard, no matter how awful he behaved, just let him be, pay him and ignore him the rest of the time. If you make friends with my Tommy, well, I’m sure Dover won’t be a terror”

You get up from your seat and say “Luda Mae, am I in danger with Dover?”

Luda Mae puts her hand on her heart and says “I’m so sorry for scaring you dear that was real thoughtless of me. I’m suspicious of Dover yes, but there’s no way he will hurt you, none of us will let him”

You thank her for the tea and leave from the back porch making your way towards the barn hoping to get a closer look at Tommy. When you reach the barn doors you see Tommy on the opposite side of the barn facing the open doors fiddling with some hay. The butterflies are welling up in your stomach making you feel sick with excitement, you stand there watching this enormous man whose back was extremely wide and his forearms were thick and scarred. You were struggling to take in as much of his image as you could before you could quietly sneak off, just as your eyes started travelling down south, he turned around and saw you.

“I-I’m sorry!” you squeaked as you bolted off down the driveway.

You felt so embarrassed at being caught watching him, you hoped he didn’t think poorly of you. You spent the walk home trying to calm the butterflies and stop blushing -I can’t believe how creepy of me that was, he is going to think I’m a freak!-. When you get home, you see that Dover was in his small house watching something on a small tube tv with a large bunny ear antenna. You feel sad that his accommodations are so meager and decide to speak with him again tomorrow to try just one more time to get in his good graces, you always believed that you could kill them with kindness, especially in the event that he really was a danger as Luda Mae said, then you would want to be in his good graces. You start to make dinner and think to yourself -I hope I am able to properly meet Tommy-.

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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angelsanarchy · 6 months

Text

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 19

Tagging: @ophelialaufey@madamemaximoff06@forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

For the first few months of the shop being open, there had been complaints about noise, property damage, lewd acts and even some random garbage fires. The neighbors were too afraid to call the police but they had no problem complaining amongst themselves. Oystein had called Hammed about setting up an account that way he could get daily deliveries but told him he would only tip double if Y/n was the one to deliver it. Hammed agreed without hesitation but reminded Oystein she still gets to decide if she's going to do the deliveries.

The first week she left the food on the step of the shop and or had someone who was going in give it to Oystein. She was later informed Hammed had to dock her pay because Oystein wasn't receiving his orders. As much as she wanted to go into the shop and beam his order at him, cursing him out. She decided that she would play this game.

She walked into the shop to see he had three customers standing at the counter. She waited for the business to be done and he smirked at her as she approached.

"I see you finally made it in again. I told Hammed that I missed some orders." Oystein explained.

"Yeah he docked my pay. Sorry you didn't get the food I very clearly place on the step and made eye contact with you." Y/n gave a fake smile and Oystein nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear that but it is your job to hand deliever the food, isn't it." She stared at him for a few seconds before walking closer and sticking the food out.

"Yes, yes it is. Here is your food." She place the food in his hands and he smiled.

"Come on Y/n. This can't be that bad. I doubled the tip, doesn't that count for something?" Oystein asked wishing she would let her guard down just slightly.

"Listen, my only job is to make sure that bag of food gets into your hands. You don't double tip for me to stick around and have conversations with you." Y/n explained with a smile.

"What if I tripled it?" He tested.

"As long as your names on the check and not your dad's." She leaned over the counter towards him. He was speechless. No one could cut him up like Y/n. She smirked knowing she had won this round and left the store. Every day she brought him his food, she made sure to put it in his hands or sit it in front of him. She wasn't going to get docked again and she refused to let his comments bother her.

Whenever he tried to start a conversation or make a snarky comment, she would make sure to knock something over or flip a record around knowing he would have to come around the counter just to fix it. She knew it annoyed him. Truth was, he accepted it. All he wanted was to interact with her.

"Hey did you see Enrich sweet talking the shop girl Euro is obsessed with?" Faust leaned against the counter talking to a customer and Oystein took his headphones off.

"Speak freely, asshole. What was that?" He challenged seeing the guy put his hands up.

"Hey man I'm just looking out for you. He's been pushing up on that sandwich shop chick that brings your lunch every day. He's trying to get signed by you." He could feel Faust's eyes on him.

"Wouldn't make much sense to do that if he wanted to get signed." Faust said blowing the guy off and telling him to take a hike. Oystein made a mental note of the interaction and keep his eyes out for whoever this Enrich guy was. She pushed the door open and he leaned back in his chair. She tossed the bag on the counter and gave him the finger before spinning on her heel and heading right back out the door.

"I can see why you like her." Faust croaked making Oystein roll his eyes. He was the only one who was there enough to see the on goings of their complicated connection. He never really

Today his order was running late. He had walked to the door ready to head to the shop and pick it up but he noticed Y//n was actually talking to someone. It was a guy who had come into his shop often looking for records. Nothing truly standout about the guy but he knew he didn't like her talking to other metal heads. He gave her a side hug letting her before she started towards the door. Oystein walked back around the counter so she wouldn't see him and tried to play it cool.

"You're late." He said taking the bag.

"Take it out of my tip." She said quickly.

"What tip?" That caught her attention. She turned slowly and looked at him. He opened the bag and sighed.

"It's cold now. I'm considering a refund and you're worried about a tip?" Oystein slid the bag back towards her and she glanced at Faust who looked away quickly.

"Today is not the day. Don't fuck with me-" She started.

"Look the shop is literally five minutes away. Don't get pissy at me because you can't walk a bag five minutes without it getting cold." Oystein knew he was being a prick but he was salty. She was talking to people who frequented his establishment, who wanted to be signed to his label and she thought he would just be okay with it? Not a chance. He was in fact petty.

Y/n snatched the bag off the counter, cussing under her breath. Oystein and Faust shared a look and they both chuckled.

She returned 10 minutes later with another bag that was not only hot but free according to the note on it from Hammeed. She pulled bills from her pocket and slapped it on the counter.

"You can keep the tip." Oystein said but she laughed.

"Oh no this time you can keep it. Use it. Take it to store and get a razor. You look like a vampiric pedophile, you fucking clown." Y/n seethed before giving Faust the finger.

"You're welcome for the free show." She left the shop annoyed and Faust laughed.

"She might actually kill you." He shrugged sitting in front of the TV once more and Oystein shook his head.

"Probably." Oystein whispered taking his food into his office.

#R!Euronymous #R!Euronymous x Y/n #Film: Lords of Chaos #Alkaline #Alkaline series #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #19/35

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bohemian-nights · 6 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/drakaripykiros130ac/732901209272467456/i-am-just-loving-the-so-called-concern-tg-stans

This is how I find out an anti-nettles tag exists of Tumblr people are so shallow minded and miss the point George's original story people really think just because these dumbass show runner decided the race-bend an entire group of characters for cheap brownie points of representation that it means Nettles no longer matters like no, it may no longer be about race just because the writers are trying to force feminism onto Rhaenyra's character but it's still about class. A low born orphan at just the age of 17 was capable of doing what dozens of well trained knights failed to do. She survived one of the biggest civil wars in Westeros history, she had one of the last surviving dragons of the dance (who cares who's the biggest, oldest, most shiny etc etc it was Nettles and her dragon that outlived them all in the end) AND she was capable if creating an entire culture around herself (the tribes could've easily over powdered her but instead chose to worship and respect her) mind you all she had was a dragon, she had no titles just her name. Also, she's a few of the very few characters in the books that show care and remorse, she mourned Jace someone she barely knew and cried for Driftmark despite having lived a life previously where she was mistreated and starving on the streets. I swear these Dumbnyra stans deserve their names (Dumbnyra), and just because some of us are pro-Nettles, it doesn't automatically make use of team Green, Team Green can kick rocks as well because they are such hypocrites, whining and complaining about how their fav characters were stripped of importance and reduced to a singular thing yet they turn around and strip Nettles's character as a gotcha moment towards to Dumbnyra stans, as if her relationship with Daemon is the only thing important to her character. These stans also need to realize the Nettles is one of George's favorite characters whose stories he'd like to continue.

👆🏽That’s for the fact that this racist(who I should mention I’m blocked by for no reason🤣) actually knows how to tag things properly. I’ll give her that, but who exactly died and made her an authority on Black representation?

Dumbnyra stans this is exactly why people keep calling you people racists:

Do tell me how white a** Alys Rivers(no disrespect, but come on) had more purpose than a girl who shows that Targaryen supremacy is a lie? The girl that shows you don’t need Valyrian blood to claim a dragon.

The girl that George himself said he wanted to write a novella on(never heard him say that about Alys, Addam, Alyn, any of the other dragonseeds, Rhaena, and Baela)🤷🏽‍♀️

They are so blinded by the fact that she “ruins” Dumbnyra(which isn’t what they claim it is which is why they are scared sh*tless of her being on a show they claim doesn’t matter) that they make up lies about Nettles being the most irrelevant character in Fire & Blood.

This can never be irrelevant/unimportant/unnecessary/whatever else you want to say to demean her:

That happened long after the Dance boo boo(when Missy Anne’s a** was long dead 😊).

And if the one who wrote that garbage happens to be reading this(because I know you people are stalking me), f*ck you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You've crossed the line.

You’re a bigot. You have no right to speak on Black representation let alone say we are good on representation that doesn’t even affect you and that you have no understanding of.

And you definitely don’t care about representation because if you did you wouldn’t want Rhaena who has her own arc to replace Nettles who according to you wasn’t Daemon’s lover. If she’s just his daughter or his mentee, well then you have nothing to be worried about. Her presence on the show shouldn’t disrupt your putrid little white supremacist ship or make Missy Anne look bad since what happened at Maidenpool was all a big misunderstanding and Mysaria’s fault😊 You shouldn’t give a second thought to her.

Yes, Black people care about this issue(and even if some of us are a part of Team Green because that’s the majority I see from Team Green actually caring about her, then so what🙃).

Do you see how we are portrayed by the media? Do you see what happens to Black characters in TV shows and movies? To Black women characters? Do you see how they are treated by production and the fandom?

What you people are doing isn’t new. Just look at The Bear, Sleepy Hollow, Vampire Diaries, Star Trek, Star Wars, GOT(see how Missandei was done), and Marvel fandoms(there are more than that I’m just too tired to get into it).

The moment there is even a hint of a possibility that a Black woman might be in a relationship with the fandom hottie, hell the moment a Black woman doesn’t have a stereotypical role, all hell breaks loose and you people look for every excuse and spout out the same tired crap on why so and so is irrelevant, is a terrible character, doesn’t need a man, needs to be cut, should be killed off, should be replaced, etc.

So just because you don’t care doesn’t mean we should accept scraps, or our “irrelevant” characters being cut, or swapped out with race-bent characters. Black people aren’t all the same sweetie and we deserve more than what you feel we do.

If that’s too much for your diminutive brain to handle why don’t we just combine Ulf and Hugh? It’s not too late to cut out one of the two’s roles in post-production. After all, they serve the same role and they are both white.

You know what? How about we combine Black Aly and Jeyne Arryn while we are at it😀

Should we view Helaena and Rhaenyra as the same? I have a hard time telling them apart since they are both white and blonde. They should wear name tags that way we don’t get them confused 🙃

Let me stop there.

Sorry for ranting anon, but I’m so tired of the disrespect. Like how does one character who’s supposedly so unimportant cause so much uproar?

I go in on Dumbnyra stans a lot(and that person shows exactly why), but you are right that all sides of this fandom treat Nettles like she’s trash. If it’s not saying she’s a plot device sent to ruin Dumbnyra from Team Black and that anyone Black can replace her it’s how Team Green is so worried about her being abused and how maybe it’s for the best she gets cut.

Their behavior is utterly disgusting. It's anti-Black, but no one takes anti-Blackness and especially not misogynoir seriously.

Nettles may be a secondary character, but she’s the most important secondary character during the Dance. She starts out literally homeless. She claims Sheepstealer by determination, not by blood. She’s the only one to claim a wild dragon. The only non-Valyrian dragonrider that we know of.

She gets the Rogue Prince to fall in love with her to the point where he’s willing to die for her and disobeys his wife’s orders to save her. She survives the Dance with a dragon intake. Becomes a fire witch and is worshipped by a mountain clan in the Mountains of the Moon(she’s still worshipped by them during the main series). Her legacy is cemented.

I love her relationship with Daemon, but she’s so much more than just Daemon’s love. She’s a survivor. She’s the final girl. She would be seen as special as she is if she was white.

A character like her will never not be needed especially in a world where the representation of Black women in media, particularly fantasy stories, is still pretty bleak.

#bnasks #nettles #bnask #anti daemyra stans #pro nettles #just continue to use the anti tag #f*ck 90% of you in this fandom #netty #nettles asoiaf #nettles f&b #hotd fandom misogynoir #yep this is why y’all are called dumbnyra stans

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jungle-angel · 1 month

Text

Song Of The Misty Mountains (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett live for the nights in early spring when the family can be together

Warnings: Mentions of adoption, birth etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @callmemana @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia @bradleybeachbabe

"Good God I hate cleaning the kitchen," you muttered, scraping the last of the dinner scraps into the garbage can next to the sink.

"At least ya'll don't have to clean the bathroom," Cecelia chuckled. "I swear I have to call a NEST team to come and fumigate every time one or both of those idiots in the living room eats at the Bakshis' restaurant."

"Hah! Better than eating Dad's chili," Joy laughed as she collected the dishes.

You made a face and feigned a gagging noise. The last time you had Art Hawk's chili was at a summer cookoff at Amy and Rose's school during the summer fair and the upstairs bathroom had never been the same since, but damn was it good with a big hunk of cornbread.

You, Cecelia, Joy, Martha, Beth, Monica and the others cleared away and cleaned up the rest of the dishes from dinner, hoping to be able to finally relax as you all filled each other in on the goings on in each others lives.

"Literally cannot wait for summer," Martha Hawk laughed as she helped you scrub the dishes in the sink. "First year Rosie gets to dance in the powwows and my mom's coming down from Idaho."

"And to boot, you get the summer off," you told her.

Martha laughed, an excited squeak making its way in. She was more than excited to be joining you at the school as your teaching assistant in the lower grades and excited at the prospects of finally having summers off again. As soon as Amy's case had officially closed when she turned a year old, Martha had decided a change of field was more than needed.

"Alright, time for a game of fridge tetris," Beth laughed.

You and the girls laughed and chattered away with Amy and Rose popping in and out of the kitchen every couple of minutes. You couldn't believe that the two of them would be starting kindergarten in September. It had seemed like yesterday that you and Rhett had brought Amy home with Rosie arriving barely three days later. Four years had gone by a little too fast and at the beginning of July, the girls would both be turning five.

Once everything was done and settled, the dishes washed, dried and put away, into the living room you went where the men of the family had already gathered and had gotten the fire going in the fireplace. The logs crackled, hissed, spit and snapped as sparks and embers flew up the chimney but the living room was as warm and cozy as ever. The grass outside was coated in the thinnest layer of hoarfrost, a sign that March would soon give way to April and the promise of spring that would soon be coming.

Everyone chattered away, shooting the shit between each other while John disappeared and came back every so often with a drink of choice. "God I live for these nights," he said, taking his spot next to Royal. "Fire crackling away, wind blowing outside and Manhattan in one hand."

The front door creaked open and shut with Billy and Shania Tillerson kicking off their shoes near the rack and joining everybody in the living room. "S'f-f'f-fuckin cold out," Billy shuddered.

"Well here ya big knucklehead, take this!" Cecelia said, tossing the wooly throw blanket his way.

"Thanks Cece," Shania said as soon as she caught it and put it around her and Billy.

Everyone went about their business until Rose and Amy came barreling in, begging for Royal or someone to read them a story.

"Alright, alright, ya'll get on over here," Royal said, finally giving in to their request.

Rose and Amy took their places on the living room rug, the others listening eagerly as Amy handed Royal her copy of "The Hobbit", a story that Rhett had loved growing up, second only to "The Indian In The Cupboard" of course.

Royal began to read aloud, both the girls and everyone in the room listening intently. You and Rhett huddled close together as he read, mesmerized by how well Royal could do the character voices. You had all nearly lost track of the time when his mother's grandfather clock in the hallway rang in the hour of 8:30.

"Alright you two, upstairs," Royal told them. "C'mon, it's bedtime."

Amy and Rose hurried upstairs on his orders, rushing to their room and leaving the others downstairs.

Royal threw another log onto the fire, hissing as it split open and released its sharp scent throughout the room. He hummed as he placed another one in there, low and droning as John joined in along with Thomas, Mo and Art and the rest of them. It wasn't long before you heard those familiar words filling the room, words that spoke of far off mountains, wizards, dwarves and hidden treasure deep in lands unexplored.

"Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread; The trees like torches blazed with light."

Their voices were almost like that of the dwarves themselves, deep and droning in the night as they sang. You and the girls all joined in as the fire crackled away and the sky outside was tinted deep shades of red and pink. When it had all gone silenced, you and Rhett heard a pair of giggles coming from the stairs.

"Alright you two, bed! Now!" Rhett ordered.

The girls ran back upstairs, the two of you hoping that would be the only time you would have to say something.

"Think they'll be back down again?" you asked him.

"Only time will tell darlin," Rhett chuckled as he kissed you.

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #royal x cecelia abbott #amy abbott #joy hawk #martha hawk #rose hawk

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crispy-chan · 2 years

Text

A Song of Ice and Fire

❝ they say the crimson king is as ruthless as the freezing winters of your land...❞

𓏲 PAIRING. prince!minho x princess!reader (ft. guard!jisung x reader)

𓏲 GENRE. fluff, angst; royalty!au, fire-bender!minho & ice-bender!reader, historical drama, action, romance, love triangle/forbidden romance, arranged marriage!au, subzero!au

𓏲 WORD COUNT. 35k

𓏲 WARNINGS. language, mild violence, minho is a jerk at first, cliche asf, mildly suggestive, a brief allusion to assault (but it's stopped before anything happens), blood, injuries and tending to them (i am not a doctor), food, mentions of war and famines, poison, mentions of death, reader gets carried around and has hair that can be put in a ponytail, petnames, includes the rest of skz as various people (TV-14)

𓏲 SUMMARY. when you agreed to marry the prince of the crimson clan in order to sign a peace treaty, it feels like your entire life is crumbling down in front of your eyes. forced to move to another kingdom, you're afraid of being shackled in a loveless marriage. minho's reputation precedes him, and the stories you've heard aren't exactly great. yet the seemingly perfect kingdom has many secrets, along with a dark history that goes beyond anything you would've imagined...

𓏲 A/N. ot related to GoT at all!! just liked the title lol. inspired by the webtoon subZero. this is just a flaming pile of garbage lmfao - i started this fic back in july but i only got like 1k before i gave up. then, i recently picked this story back up since i didn't want to give up on it. a lot of effort went into this, but i recognize that this story isn't perfect. i came to a realization of how much i despise my writing style while i was writing this :<. i'm a tad bit afraid that only like two people will read lol but oh well, we shall see :) on a lighter note, i really hope you enjoy and please don't forget to lmk your thoughts as i'll literally jump with joy :> side note: the reader comes from the azure clan but the royal guard is caled the cerulean guard.

𓏲 SPECIAL THANKS TO. @luvseos for beta reading the prologue-ish part, tysm!! (also, i'm so so sorry i am not able to tag you so i assume you deactivated :( ) @hyuukais and @kurosism for going over the first part of the fic! thank you guys a lot and i really appreciate all of your nice comments and suggestions <3 big thanks to @sw1mmingfoolz for reading through the first part! thank you for all your sweet comments :> and @celestialgyu for going through the entirety of this. I was nearly gonna start crying in the dms tysm <3 @seung-scrittore oh my god leo you are a savior for going through this entire monster!! thank you! i can't stress it enough how grateful i am <33 i really appreciate it :< also sorry for having to correct shitty typos and my malfunctioning grammar lmfao @chaninfused furat thank you for listening to my rambles as i was losing it on main lol. it was really nice and helpful talking to you, especially as your (self proclaimed) no 1 stan lol. also shout out to your arab prince! minho cause i'm still on the agenda and i can't deny i thought of him while writing this. go read danse macabre for some quality prince!minho (and great plot) @choihaiyun for the amazing banner idea/creation <3

MASTERLIST

The night was coated in inky darkness, thunder rumbling outside your window.

It was a cold winter night, heavy snow coating your entire kingdom like a blanket. Loud arguments echoed through the room, various voices from both sides unable to reach an agreement.

You weren't surprised—it was a tough decision to make on your part, or rather, on your uncle's part. The men from the Crimson clan appeared in your kingdom a few days ago with an unexpected offer: a peace treaty. After many years of war, your entire kingdom was in ruins and it came to no one's surprise that your uncle jumped at the opportunity to finally end the conflict that had been going on for over a century.

That was, however, before he had heard the details of said treaty, and after finding out what the last requirement was, he was about to turn it down at lightning speed.

That's when you suddenly stood up, dusting the imaginary specks of dust from your finest gown—the one you were ordered to wear tonight.

“Enough!” you shouted over the loud voices in the room.

Everyone, both your people and the people of the Crimson clan, immediately turned their heads towards you in surprise, not expecting such an outburst from the crown princess. You'd been silent the entire meeting, choosing to keep quiet and let them talk, but you'd had enough. Everybody was speaking over you, arguing over your future like it was some sort of commodity; nobody even bothered to ask you what you wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you finally whispered, “I agree to the marriage.”

. ˚✧・* •

flashback

“A little bit tighter,” you said to Mina, your maid, who was tightening your dress from the back.

It was currently almost five o'clock and you had a meeting with some officials from the Crimson clan in about fifteen minutes.

To your utter surprise, it was them who first reached out to you on forming an alliance. The war had been going on for over a hundred years and your clan was on the brink of extinction.

Pushed back from the mainland, most of your colonies and settlements now laid offshore on secluded islands in the north.

Your once prosperous nation was now a shell of its former self, ridden with poverty, famine, and death.

To put it simply, the Crimson clan massacred your entire nation and left it in ruins.

Every day, you awoke to the howling of hungry citizens who were freezing in their little cabins with nothing to eat, nothing to do. The war had left its imprint on your nation and if you didn’tdo anything soon, nothing would be left of the once prosperous clan.

You fiddled with your sleeve nervously as you walked down the hallway, both Chan and Jisung right behind you. This was a major meeting and they'd rather be found dead than not accompany you on such an important day. The three of you had been through so much growing up side by side, and they were the only people you could consider friends.

Sweat was beginning to line your forehead as you nervously stopped in front of the grand entrance.

Jisung immediately rushed to hold the door open for you and you offered him a grateful nod, taking a deep breath before you entered the den of lions.

Lifting up your dress slightly, you bowed down to the visitors before taking a seat by your uncle.

Ever since your father died in the war, he was the one to temporarily rule the kingdom until a new ruler would arise. Despite his rather meek and quiet nature, he tried his best to be a strong and dependable leader for your people. Unlike your father, however, he was never a good strategist so he left most of the tactical details to Chan—captain of the Cerulean guard and his right-hand man.

The thin cushion you were sitting on proved to be rather uncomfortable after a full hour. During this time, Felix—the general and minister of foreign affairs (and the crown prince's cousin)—unrolled a scroll handed to him by one of his servants. The fiery red emblem of the Crimson clan shone on the creamy piece of parchment, making you feel even more stressed than you thought was possible.

As his slim fingers worked to crack the seal, you could feel your breath hitch in your throat. This tiny piece of paper would determine your future, along with the future of your entire kingdom.

And despite the Crimson guard arriving with words of peace, you couldn't help but stay alert. You felt uneasy as you watched the cunning man's lips tug into a smirk, reading the terms and conditions.

“Lastly, due to the unusual grounds for the treaty, the royal court requires that the Crown Princess is to be wed to Crown Prince Minho, effective immediately.”

. ˚✧・* •

A thick silence engulfed the three of you as you sat in the carriage, too stunned to speak. Or at least you were. The consequences of your words weighed down on you like a heavy blanket, enveloping you in darkness from which you felt as if there was no way out.

Turning your head to your two most loyal men (and friends, of course), you couldn't help but notice how tense they were. Chan, always one to put others before himself, tried to mask the unease but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

He was afraid.

Meanwhile, Jisung didn't even bother to hide his emotions. A scowl was painted across his pretty lips as his hands clenched into fists. He was staring out the window, almost as if he didn't want you to see the burning rage in his eyes.

A sigh left your parted lips as you fixed your gaze on the village you were passing by. All the people seemed to be happy, the roads were clean and flowers blossomed from every little garden. It only reminded you of how little your people back home had.

You felt a pang of guilt in your heart.

I failed my kingdom.

You weren't able to protect your land. It was a sad realization, but it was the truth. It was the reason you had agreed to be shipped off to Crown Prince Minho as an appeasement gift in the first place. It hurt your pride, there was no doubt about that, but it was your duty.

Not because you were a brave princess ready to do anything for her kingdom. The thought of fleeing came across your mind several times, however, there was a bitter reason why you never even considered it an option.

You had nowhere to go.

Your entire land had been occupied by the Crimson Guard for over two decades now. Not to mention that anywhere you'd go, you'd still be recognized as the Crown Princess of the Azure clan. There were probably hundreds of people who wanted you gone, and if you ever set foot in the neighboring kingdom without an official treaty, you were as good as dead.

You've heard lots of things about Prince Minho.

And honestly, they weren't that great. Quite the contrary—the word around was that he was an unimaginable brute, bitter from the loss of his older brother whom he loved dearly. You winced at the thought of having to meet the man.

You've never met him personally—not many people have—but stories of his staggering beauty traveled to your kingdom too. They say his eyes are as sharp and cunning as those of a dragon and that if you look into them for too long, you'll get burned.

Clenching your hands by your side, you sighed, perching your head against the glass as the demons of sleep slowly overtook you.

. ˚✧・* •

“Y/N, wake up!” you heard a hushed whisper as someone lightly shook your body. “Y/N!”

With a gasp, you shot up, hurriedly looking from side to side. “It's okay, Princess, it's just us,” Jisung murmured in a low voice, the voice he used only when talking to you. As the familiar tone reverberated in your head, you released the breath you were holding, placing your hand on your chest to calm your erratic heartbeat.

“S-Sorry, Ji… just another nightmare…”

“Don't worry, I'm here,” his hand slid down your cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Jisung's serious tone made Chan snort, shaking his head at the two of you and the obliviousness you both possessed. The boy looked at you with adoration and love, like you held the Milky Way in your eyes, while you never said anything, presumably not realizing how deep his feelings for you ran.

Or perhaps, Chan had it all wrong and you loved him back… he couldn't be sure, however, that would be even worse. The three of you were about to enter the Crimson palace, the land of the enemy, to offer a treaty. Your entire land's future relied on how well the deal would go, how merciful would the Crown Prince be. There was no way in hell Jisung would knowingly risk the future of your country by getting chummy with you, who was supposed to be wed to him, the Prince, as an “appeasement gift” of sorts.

Chan never really understood the whole royalty schtick.

Sure, he was a royal guard (the captain, in fact) and it was his duty to protect the Princess, but when he was a young teen who just started out at the academy, he had no idea of the inner workings of the palace.

He wasn't aware of all the things that were done behind the curtains, all the hushed deals, and secret affairs. However, most of all, he never would've expected to see you, the little girl whom he knew since she could walk on her own two feet (or rather waddle, to be precise), be wed to someone like Prince Minho.

Nevertheless, the man couldn't help but scoff, a small smile appearing on his lips, despite his best attempt to hide it.

Ever since he was a little boy, Jisung had this sense of duty and obligation to protect you. He was closer to your age than him, so it was natural that the two of you were closer with each other than you ever were with him. Or perhaps it was too natural.

With a light thud, the door to your carriage opened, and a young guard held out his hand for you to take. Ignoring the glare Jisung shot the poor boy, you gladly accepted his hand, slipping your gloved palm into his and walking down the steps till your feet were securely on the ground.

Upon stepping down, you were immediately taken aback. The Crimson Palace was simply divine. The humongous building extended as far as the eye could see, offering a horizontal view of the ancient-looking (but well kept) structure. Despite wanting to appear proper and lady-like, you couldn't prevent your jaw from dropping in awe.

“This is… wow,” you whispered, tongue darting to moisten your lips.

Your throat suddenly felt very dry.

It was then that you noticed how warm the climate was. The surcoat with the traditional fox-fur lining began to feel heavy on your shoulders and you realized that for the first time in years, you actually felt warm outside.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice murmured in your ear, tugging on your sleeve. “Do you think it's him?”

You didn't have to even ask who Jisung was talking about. A cloud of worry washed over you as you immediately straightened your posture, expecting the Prince to appear from behind the swarm of guards to welcome you.

You were left disappointed though, as the person who emerged from the crown wasn't the Prince. Rather, the man that came forward was one you recognized immediately.

He was the one who came to your kingdom prior to your arrival. Felix was his name, if you recalled correctly. The pleasant smile he showed you when he was in your homeland was gone and instead replaced with a sour expression that did nothing but show his distaste for you.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you clenched your hands in worry, momentarily allowing your gaze to drop down.

“Why's he the one greeting you?” Jisung spat out, standing in front of you protectively as if attempting to shield you with his own body. Chan too stepped in front of the two of you, hand immediately reaching for the sword by his side as if preparing for the worst.

“Where is the Prince?” he spat out lowly, his voice audibly dropping an octave. Usually, this would result in the opponents quivering in their boots. Chan could be a scary man when he wanted to and he wasn't afraid to unleash his more deadly side if it meant he would adhere to his duties.

Alas, it seemed like this trick wasn't enough to scare the Crimson soldiers.

A mere chuckle left general Felix's lips as he gestured for the men around him to disperse. Once the soldiers weren't coming directly at you, Chan stepped away with a sigh, recognizing that you were no longer in imminent danger.

Unlike Chan, however, Jisung never left the spot in front of you, his hand still protectively wrapped around your waist. The glare he was giving the Crimson Land's general was pretty intense if you'd take into account that the man was several ranks higher than him and could obliterate the three of you with a single snap of his fingers.

“Jisung!” Chan whisper-shouted from next to you, tugging his younger friend's sleeve. “Stop it.”

The boy shot another nasty glare, this time in his captain's direction, making his eyes widen. Chan was about to yank him from his position when suddenly, your voice rang through the air, clear as day.

“Jisung! I appreciate your concerns, however, I need to meet with the officials of the Crimson Land. Don't forget that we're the guests setting foot in a foreign kingdom.” Your eyes met over his shoulder. Then, with a softened tone, you continued, “I'm gonna be okay, don't worry.”

Maybe it was the strong imploration in your eyes, but Chan suspected that it was more likely the fact that you gently placed your palm on his shoulders that made the young boy step back. It wasn't the first time that the young lieutenant got into a fit and had to be coaxed by you to get back in line.

As a seasoned general of the army, Felix was quite impressed by your commanding tone and by how you managed to convince what seemed like a typical low-rank brat into listening to reason. Nevertheless, he didn't let it show, instead, focused on you—the future Princess of the Crimson Land.

Right?… wrong.

“What is the meaning of this, General?” Chan suddenly spoke up, confused as to why the Prince wasn't already here greeting you and welcoming you to the palace as was customary. You may come from a poorer land than his, but still, you were a princess.

His future wife for god's sake.

“The nerve of this man,” he growled under his breath, clenching his fists. “Where is His Highness? Shouldn't he be here welcoming the Princess?”

From the tone his voice took, you could tell that Chan was losing his patience. You tried to calm him the same way you would Jisung. Unfortunately, you did not have that effect on him. Chan simply shook your hand off but took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat.

“Sadly, the Prince could not join us now. He had some other important duties he had to tend to. Fear not, His Highness's schedule has been cleared for the evening. He and the Princess may meet in the latter hours of the day.”

“What other duties could he have that are more important than meeting the Princess?!” Jisung scoffed, folding his hands over his chest to show his distaste. He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, sending another glare to the General. The man looked quite… young for his age, and Jisung couldn't help but realize that he must be really skilled to have earned the general's title in his early twenties. Hell, the man looked like he was younger than Chan!

“Now,” Felix continued, “I believe it is my duty to show the Princess around the palace.”

. ˚✧・* •

You would think that Felix was relishing in the way you cowered as you were made to follow him around the palace. Behind every corner, crook, and cabinet, there were at least half a dozen of maids or other palace staff gossiping about you.

“I heard that she begged for His Highness to marry her! She's only after his fortune ”

“Supposedly, she stole food from the food supply, letting her own people go hungry!”

“They say she has an awful temper and hits her own maids!”

“Don't mind them,” he rumbled, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. “It's just idle gossip. They don't have anything else to talk about.”

‘Yeah sure,’ you thought. As if he wasn't smirking at the prospect of your humiliation. He had all the power to order them to stop, yet he let the rumors spread like wildfire instead, leaving you to walk over the scorching trail of embarrassment.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, almost as if trying to create a shield between you and their hurtful words, you let out a muffled whimper.

“H-How did these rumors even spread? I never did anything of this sort…”

The General smirked, his head turning away from you as he gazed at the lush gardens of the palace. “That, Princess, I wonder too…”

. ˚✧・* •

The clock struck seven when the maids were tightening your dress. It had been almost three hours since you'd arrived at the palace. General Felix took you on a lengthy tour of the kingdom's grounds and showed you to your chambers.

Despite feeling sad and lonely, there was no denying how beautiful the Crimson Land was. From the majestic palm trees lining the path to the main gate to the Palace itself, you were still in awe.

How could a building look so beautiful, like it was taken straight from The Tales From the Thousand and One Nights?

You wondered if the Prince was beautiful too… it was no secret that Lee Minho was considered one of the most attractive princes to have graced the face of Earth. The tales of his beauty and intellect reached even the most secluded corners of the Azure Land. Yet these whispers shared amongst the people were also filled with anecdotes of his cruelty and apathy.

You knew more than to believe baseless rumors spread by servants, but the story of his older brother's brutal death was one that everyone knew by heart. It was supposedly this tragic event that caused the Prince's heart to turn into ice…

A loud knock could be heard as the maids secured the last hairpin into your hair.

“Come in,” you stated, praying that your voice wasn't quivering. You fiddled with the hems of your delicately sewn sleeves, attempting to keep the anxiety at bay.

A young man, somewhere around your age, entered the chambers with an unrolled piece of parchment. “The General request your presence in ten minutes. He will accompany you to meet His Highness.”

The way he addressed you informally wasn't lost on you, yet you didn't even find it in you to bother getting angry. Instead, you nodded, gathering the heaps of your skirts before standing up.

You followed the boy into the upper floor of the palace, immediately noticing the sudden change in setting. Although never too pressed on luxury and the way your sleeping quarters looked, it was pretty hard to miss how much more lavish and decorated this floor was. Despite this sudden discovery, you tried to stop the inevitable train of thought that you were building up to.

Perhaps you were kept on the other floor for… security reasons.

Yeah… it was bullshit… you knew. And since you were already self-conscious enough about the deal, it made it even worse.

‘Don't dwell on it, Y/N,’ you whispered to yourself as you were strolling down the hall. ‘There's nothing you can do…’

Swiftly, one of the mahogany doors burst open, General Felix walking out of the room clad in his finest robes. His platinum hair was slicked back and held up by a single hairpin, giving him a more mature and aged look. He gave you his signature smirk (one that promised no good), nodding to the man who brought you and dismissing him promptly.

“Follow me, Princess.”

Hoping to keep up with the General's fast pace, you sped up slightly, the heels of your expensive crystal shoes clicking against the marble floor.

Suddenly, the man stilled, his steps coming to a halt. You squeaked, almost bumping into him, but luckily, you managed to stop right before making contact with his body, dodging the first of many bullets that were to come at you.

“His Majesty is in the last chamber on your left. No need to knock, you can simply walk straight in. He has been anticipating you for the entire evening.”

Taking a deep breath, you start walking towards the door, unclenching your hands that were balled into fists. ‘This is it,’ you thought. ‘I'm finally going to meet the Prince… my future husband.’

Even simply hearing the word itself made you unconsciously shudder, unsure of how to feel about this.

The dark, oak doors to His Majesties chambers were rather plain, you noticed. Unlike the Generals', there were no golden plaques or anything lavish that would point to the crown Prince living there.

You couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.

Heeding general Felix's advice, you reach for the door handle. Fingers tightly gripping at the cold metal, you felt chills run down your spine as you opened the door, walking straight into a lavishly decorated room.

The shelves were filled with artifacts and scrolls, some of them looking more than two hundred years old. A thick aroma of rose and patchouli wafted through your nostrils, attacking your senses. A loud cough tore from your throat as you covered your mouth in hopes of blocking any more of the scent. It felt like you just inhaled a bottle of the most precious bath oils.

Taking a few more steps, you found yourself standing in front of a silk curtain. Looking back, maybe you should've realized that the entire setting was rather… unusual. Later that evening, you would curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

You blamed it on the giddiness from meeting the Prince, or perhaps it was a morbid sort of curiosity that led you to tug at the curtain which revealed…

The crown Prince changing?!?!

A gasp left your parted lips, alerting him of your immediate presence. You were met with a handsome man in his early twenties, clad in form-fitting trousers and a shirt half pulled over his torso. His toned chest gleamed back on you, lingering droplets of water gliding down the smooth planes of pale skin.

A loud cough made you jerk, realizing that you were staring at the Prince who was currently half-naked.

The Prince.

When that last bit sunk in, you yelped, hastily covering your eyes to block your view of the man.

“I-I… I'm-m sorry, Your Highness. I d-didn't mean to—”

Pulling down his silk shirt, the Prince's lips were tugged into a tight line as he watched you fumble with your words, arms crossing over his chest. Though he managed to conceal it, your intrusion managed to throw him off. A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips when he spotted how flustered you were.

Sensing that you weren't going to finish your sentence anytime soon, Minho waited for a couple of seconds, just to make sure, before he started walking away, completely ignoring your presence—as if you weren't even there.

You almost cowered under his menacing aura.

As you watched the back of your future husband turn on you, a sudden pang in your chest made you do the unthinkable: you reached out and grabbed his arm.

The way he stopped in his tracks made your heart beat like crazy, and for a second, you almost forgot how to breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, his lips finally parted as he uttered a sentence that would haunt you for the coming days.

“Let go.”

. ˚✧・* •

After the rather embarrassing encounter with Prince Minho, you ran out of the room in tears, barely managing to hold in your sobs. Out of all the ways you could've met him for the first time, you had to walk in on him while he was changing (courtesy of general Felix—that man really must hate your guts).

Since you heard all the horrible rumors about him, you had hoped you could at least make a good first impression. Hell, even decent would be fine. Well, as always, fate throws fortune, but not everyone catches.

The way you're running down the hall feels most improper.

You're holding your robes high, so as not to trip over them, and waterfalls of tears are streaming down your face. Perhaps you were overreacting… no—scratch that—you were overreacting, no doubt.

You couldn't find proper reasoning for this onslaught of emotions. Was it caused by all the recent stress surrounding the engagement? Or perhaps the fact that you were anticipating this moment, imagining in your head how this exact meeting would go.

Wiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, you sobbed.

“Why… w-why me?”

As you turned around the corner, you were too preoccupied with your current situation to pay attention to your surroundings. You didn't notice the person walking ahead until it was too late.

“Ouch!” you whimpered when you bumped into a sturdy chest, rough hands reaching to steady you at your waist. “You okay?”

Raising your head slowly, you stood up upright, coming face to face with Jisung. His sparkling orbs scanned over your face, taking in the redness of your eyes and your tear-soaked cheeks.

He looked as if he was going to say something, yet instead, he bit down on his lip, holding in whatever angry exclamation that was forming at the tip of his tongue. He shouldn't raise his voice… not when you were so visibly shaken.

“What's the matter, Princess?”

His voice was laced with concern, perhaps a smidgen of anger, and it almost made you choke on your sobs. Your fingers deftly gripped onto the sleeves of his coat as you tried to calm your breathing. His arms felt so warm and inviting that you almost wanted to burry yourself into his chest and forget about everything that just happened.

Carefully peeling your eyes from the ground, you gazed into his, blinking away the tears as you shook your head, letting him know you didn't want to talk about it. Instead, you lurched forward, whispering, “please… just hold me.”

Jisung almost felt his heart snap when he heard you utter those words, holding onto his last bits of restraint like a man thrown overboard would onto a wooden plank. Bending over, the young lieutenant slid his hands under your knees picking you up bridal style.

“Let's go somewhere more private.”

. ˚✧・* •

Turns out that the Crimson Palace offered plenty of nooks and crannies perfect for late-night talks.

“Please… stop it, Jisung. It's embarrassing…” you whined, swatting his hand away. He had been pestering you for the past few minutes to tell him what happened. After he scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the east wing of the palace, Jisung spent almost an hour simply holding you close, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back and caressing your hair.

His comforting touch allowed you to calm down and unwind, an effect he's had you since childhood.

“We've known each other since we were kids,” he exclaimed. “Whatever it is, I won't think you're embarrassing. Plus, I need to find whoever hurt you and give them a piece of my mind!”

You stifled a chuckle. “Geez, good luck with that. I heard that the Prince is an excellent swordsman.”

Jisung spluttered, eyes bulging out of his skull. “The Prince made you cry?! Goddamn, does he have no shame? I'm going to—”

Before he could even finish the sentence, you cut in with a shy giggle, placing your palm on his shoulder. “It's okay, Ji. honestly, I can't even blame him. You know… it was me who walked in on him while he was changing. He must've been just as taken aback as I was,” you sighed.

“Still—” Jisung whined, a pout appearing on his lips, “—he had no business being so mean to you. And that snake Felix!” he exclaimed, anger returning to his tone. “What's his deal?”

A few minutes passed, the two of you sitting on the balcony and enjoying the sunset as the golden hues mixed with the pink ones, creating a wonderful pallet on the sky. Jisung's arm slowly progressed from being propped against the cold marble to securing its (rightful, in his opinion) position around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

Inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, you let your aching body relax, almost melting into his hold. His warm, protective hold, the only one that reminded you of how a mother would hold her child. You always felt safe in his arms.

A sudden ache in your stomach made you realize how hungry you were. Your lips curled into a pout as you exhaled, making Jisung turn around. “You're hungry?”

“Jisung—” you dragged out the last syllable of his name in a teasing way, just like you did when you two were kids. “How could you tell? I was just thinking about getting something to eat.”

The boy chuckled, glancing down before gazing back into your eyes. “I've known you for ages, Princess. I know the face you make when you're hungry, when you're tired, when you're annoyed. I was practically raised to guard you and make sure you're satisfied at all times.”

His tone took a rather nostalgic sound and you swallowed thickly at all the fond memories you've shared with him. “I suppose that's true. Nobody understands me like you do, Jisung.”

“Right? The two of us are perfect for each other!”

Suddenly, your throat felt oddly dry. You were perfectly aware of what Jisung was getting at with this statement, his true intentions clear as the sky on a summer night. And perhaps it was fate that brought you together yet again as Jisung gazed into your eyes, a loving smile across his lips.

Then, quickly, as if he was afraid he would lose the courage, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It all happened in a flash, Jisung's arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, your hands sliding into his hair, gripping onto the locks tightly—as if your life depended on it.

Your head was spinning, the air around you heavy, and the only thing you could pay attention to was Jisungs warm lips molding against yours. It was almost like the world around you stopped spinning, everything—including your surroundings—forgotten in favor of the man in front of you.

It was intoxicating, addicting, heated—like a hot summer evening—and you melted into his embrace like the tip of an iceberg fighting against the last rays of the Sun.

Suddenly, a loud clank could be heard, one akin to someone dropping a heavy object. You and Jisung immediately separated from each other, fear written in both of your eyes. His palm pressed against his mouth, fingers caressing his lips as if he still couldn't believe what he was done.

“Shit!” he whispered. “What have we done?”

This was wrong. Everything that just happened was wrong. How could you have allowed him to kiss you? If anyone saw you, you were done for…

“Y-Y/N–” Jisung stuttered, tears materializing at the corners of his eyes. “I'm s-so sorry… I swear I didn't mean to—I have no idea what came over me–”

“–Jisung,” you cut in, realizing that he was about to spiral. Jisung always put up this tough persona, pretending that he was okay and nothing bothered him, but over the years, you've learned to tell when he was in one of those moods. Push and pull, like the tides of the ocean, your understanding of each other was a two-way street, reliant on how the two of you experienced the presence of the other.

“What happened right now was certainly…” you took a deep breath, just a step too close to freaking out. “Improper. Neither of us should have engaged in such acts. As such, we should never ever speak of it, understood?”

You peered at him from under your lashes, hoping to coax more than just an empty stare from him. Luckily, the boy swallowed thickly, but nonetheless nodded, focusing his entire attention on you.

“That's not to say though that I didn't enjoy the kiss.” You grabbed his hand in yours, shyly looking away. “There's a reason I reciprocated, Jisung. Make no mistake.”

The look he gave you was almost as painful as the expression he made when he first heard that you would be moving away. Like a man starved of his deepest, darkest desires. By telling him that you felt these feelings, these tender emotions reserved for people in love, you were letting him know that although he scored in the first alley (by winning your love), there were other circumstances that would prevent the two of you from taking your relationship anywhere further.

He would have to watch you wed, not to mention he would have to be present during the ceremony. And that's not to say that he wasn't capable of being happy for you—he was, but there was a small seed of doubt that was planted in his mind before you even left your kingdom.

Would you be truly happy?

Or rather, would Prince Minho make you happy?

The tales and rumors that surrounded the… cold-hearted nature of the Prince were known to all. In the back of his mind, Jisung had already performed an assessed judgment of Minho and his entire persona. And he came to a very simple conclusion.

That bastard did not deserve you.

A sudden fluttery motion materialized in the corner of his eye—you were waving your hand in front of him, hoping to catch his attention.

“We should go.” The words fell from his mouth in a quick breath as he shot up, grabbing your hand and running towards the direction of your bed chambers.

“Wait, Jisung!” You exclaimed, trying to shake off his much too powerful grip on your wrist. It was no use—as a trained guard, he was leaps stronger than you and your pleas fell on deaf ears. “Calm down, please.”

“I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry, I've dishonored you. It's my duty to bring you to your chambers as quickly as possible—that's the least I can do.”

A choked sob leaves your throat. But you know that he's right—all that's left for you to do is pray that no one saw you. Relaxing into his grip, you allow the lieutenant to walk you in front of your door.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered, giving you a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Goodnight, Ji…”

. ˚✧・* •

“What were you thinking?!”

Chan's voice rang loud and clear, cutting through the crisp morning air. The Captain measured his subordinate with a bewildered glare, fumes almost seeping from the top of his head.

When he saw the way Jisung nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, eyes cast downwards, something tugged at his heartstrings, making his gaze soften.

“Jisung,” his tone was now calmer and quieter, barely above a whisper. “Why did you do that?”

The younger boy snorted, “Out of all the things you could've asked me, I never expected you would ask that.”

Chan raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You're not gonna say anything? I expected you would have at least a proper excuse.” When Jisung stayed silent, he sighed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, “Why did you kiss her?”

“You know the answer to that just as well as I do. Don't make me say it out loud…”

He sounded broken, like some higher power sucked all the life out of him, leaving only a shell of his former being behind. And Chan hated it. He hated how things had to pan out. He hated himself for not realizing that something like that was bound to happen.

He watched the two of you grow up, side by side. Like two peas in a pod. Jisung and Y/N. the princess and her guard. The two of you spent all your free time together, getting into all sorts of trouble. Chan wanted to kick himself for not putting an end to this fairytale love story before it got out of hand.

Another thought raced through his mind. “Did anyone see you?”

The way Jisung avoided his gaze made it perfectly clear.

. ˚✧・* •

The next morning, you woke up to the birds chirping outside your window. The view from your chamber was so idyllic you almost forgot the events of yesterday evening.

Slipping from under the covers, a loud pounding in your head made you stumble as you whimpered, steadying your hand against the wall. For the first time in months, you placed your hand against your head, closing your eyes as the ice began to cool you down.

You hated using your powers.

They reminded you of all the horrid events in your life, all the things you wanted to leave behind. Yet for some reason, you only felt relief. Like the familiar feeling of ice crystals seeping from the tips of your fingers reminded you of the few happy memories you shared with your parents.

Paddling towards the heavy door, you pushed it open, peeping down the nearly empty hallway. Suddenly, the smell of freshly baked rolls and the sweetest fruit wafted through your nose, making you sigh in delight. It had been ages since you last ate, and the loud grumble of your stomach made you realize that fetching some breakfast wouldn't be so bad after all…

You followed the delicious scent of food down one of the more secluded halls until you reached a heavy mahogany door. The sight made you shudder as you remembered yesterday's events. Luckily for you, the Prince was likely dining in the main dining room, and not in the small, hidden corner of the east wing. Using all your strength, you pushed against the door.

And curse your luck cause once again, you ended up face to face with Prince Minho.

Sweat broke out on your forehead as you took a step back, ready to run out the door and disappear.

“Good morning, Princess,” the General's voice drawled, making your skin crawl. The smirk painted across his lips made you want to throw up, remembering how he purposefully made you walk in on Minho just so that you'd leave a bad impression.

“M-Morning. I'm really s-sorry, I didn't mean to i-interrupt—”

“—nonsense. You're not interrupting, am I right, Your Majesty?”

Minho scowled, redirecting his attention back to the vegetable omelet that lay in front of him.

“I should probably go–” you whispered, reaching for the door handle. The air in the room was thick and heavy, weighing down on you uncomfortably.

“Stay. I'm sure the Prince would like to hear about your first day in his kingdom. Right?” Felix nudged the man, feigning innocence.

“Whatever, Lee. I'll be leaving soon, anyway.”

The general looked back at you, flashing you a bright smile. “It's settled then. Please help yourself.”

Metaphorically backed into a corner, there was nothing left for you to do, other than accept his (insincere) offer. A sigh escaped your lips as you sat down, smoothing the hem of your silk nightgown, suddenly feeling insecure. Had you known that you would dine with him, you would've dressed more appropriately.

“So, Y/N, do you mind telling us how your first day went?” Felix piped while gracefully cutting his pancakes into manageable pieces and dipping them in honey. You couldn't help but notice the dangerous glint in his eyes, a shiver running down your spine.

“It went rather well, although, I didn't really get to explore much of the palace.” You proclaimed, bitting down on a piece of fresh fruit. “I was hoping I could get to go outside and see the villagers too—you know—to get acquainted with the people.”

A smug smile appeared on Felix's face as he pretended that you piqued his interest. “Well, I'm sure that you got to explore other things last night, am I right?”

Your brow shot up, not understanding what he was getting at when suddenly, it hit you. The color drained from your face as you put together two and two, realizing what he meant. Felix noticed the sudden change of attitude, smiling proudly as he took yet another jab at you.

When you make no efforts to explain, he continued, “I am curious though, where did you go after meeting His Majesty?”

The heat rose to your cheeks as you stumbled to answer him without saying anything suspicious.

“I-I was looking for the way back to my bed chambers, but due to my limited knowledge of the palace, I got lost.”

Another snicker. “And did someone, perhaps help you find your way?”

“Y-Yeah… I met one of my guards and he escorted me back to my room.”

“I see. You must be really grateful to have met him, Princess. So grateful that you—”

“Enough!”

Minho's voice sounded much too irritated as he cut his General off before he managed to say anything else. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what this meant. He knew. He knew exactly what happened between the two of you and he wasn't happy about it.

“Felix, I think we should allow the Princess some privacy. The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

You allowed yourself to nervously peer at Minho through your lashes, instantly regretting your decision. When your eyes met, there was so much anger and hostility in them that you shuddered.

“It was very nice talking to you,” Felix winked as he and the Prince walked out, leaving you to drown in your sorrows.

The sound of the door slamming echoed in your head.

. ˚✧・* •

The branches fluttered in the wind, flapping from one side to another, guided by the howling air. You sat perched on one of the benches deep in the gardens, hidden from view.

For the past few days, you roamed around the palace, trying your best to stay hidden from Prince Minho and Jisung.

Steering clear of the Prince proved to be a rather easy task—there was no reason for you to want to spend time with him and vice versa. But avoiding Jisung… that ended up being a lot more difficult than you initially anticipated.

Not that the two of you crossed paths that often, rather, it was the strong pang of guilt in your heart whenever you passed him. Whether he was sparring, practicing, or patrolling the palace grounds with Chan, your heart would break at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes and the generally lifeless energy he exuded.

Little by little, the loneliness slowly got to you, devouring you like a deadly plague until nothing was left. The darkness consumed you in its entirety, and with no one to turn to, you felt like it was you against the world.

The dark clouds in the sky were a perfect visualization of how you currently felt.

Speaking of clouds, you could tell that a storm was coming, thunder beginning to rumble in the background. There was no use sitting like a duck and getting wet.

Gathering the hefty skirts of your azure robe, you stood up, dusting off the dirt from your hands. A heavy raindrop fell from the sky, splattering against your skin. With a sigh, you picked up your pace, running towards the main gate.

. ˚✧・* •

You learned that spending hours at the library isn't something one can just stop doing.

Well, to be fair, there wasn't much for you to do, other than burying your nose in a book, but it still brought back many cherished memories from your childhood. Before the accident. Before all your troubles. Back when your biggest concern was when the sequel of your favorite series would arrive.

The action itself held no real value to you, but it was the idea it represented. It allowed you to pretend that you were just another person in academia, studying to make something of yourself. There was no pressure to be perfect, to marry, to listen to your husband.

It was just you and the bulky, leather-bound tomes. The scrolls made out of quality parchment that smelled like home. Just you and the scent of fresh ink.

The book that was currently perched up on your lap was rather interesting.

“The Crimson Clan; Tales from the Depths and Crevices of the Most Prosperous Nation”

Despite its somewhat… jarring name, the contents of it were rather straightforward and simple. Everything you'd possibly want to know about your new homeland was in here. The foundation, history, and rebirth of this thriving land—all were explained in the most thorough of details.

You even found yourself smiling while reading through the chapter on festivities and celebrations. It stirred something within you, to know that these people were fortunate enough to have so much to celebrate.

Ignoring the slight pang of jealousy in your heart—one caused by the unfortunate circumstances of your war-stricken, poverty-afflicted nation—it allowed you to feel something you haven't felt in a long time.

Something dangerous... Hope.

An emotion you had long given up on after seeing your land in ruins and your people in pain. You cursed yourself for allowing something that could threaten the alliance to even happen.

It seemed like there was no chance for the Crown prince to love you—which hurt you more than you admitted to yourself—but it didn't matter. Marriage out of love was rare anyway. So in hopes of preserving the deal, you decided that you would try your best to win the favor of Lee Minho.

Sans love, romance, or affection.

You would make sure that you'd see this treaty to the end.

. ˚✧・* •

The wind tonight was light and breezy, like a whiff of fresh peonies on a spring morning.

After many days of locking yourself in the library, your joints were aching, leading you to believe that you deserved a bit of a break.

You spent the better half of the week reading through many volumes of the ‘The Crimson Clan’ series, learning everything there was to know about your new homeland. It was certainly difficult, more difficult than you first imagined it to be, but after hours spent cramped in the corner of the library, things were starting to look up.

The unfamiliar words and phrases were starting to clear up, having read them enough times to learn their true meanings. The unusual ways of the nation inked on the pages were beginning to make sense after you understood a little bit of how they were thinking, and the festivals and celebrations were becoming more comprehensible as you read of their origins.

You even kept a small notebook by your side at all times, jotting down the new words you've learned and organizing your thoughts and opinions.

A loud growl of your stomach made panic, looking around in fear that someone saw you. It was rather stupid—there was no one around—but the dread of someone seeing you in such an… unladylike state made you tremble.

Fortunately—just as you predicted—no one was around to witness the embarrassing sounds of your stomach. And maybe this was a sign that you should take a break, and perhaps, get something small to eat.

There's a light bounce to your step as you walk down the empty halls, humming a tune you heard the royal quartet play. The birds were chirping and the weather was lovely—making you suddenly regret that you spent the past days holed up in the library.

“What do you think you're doing?!”

The loud scream had you stopping in your tracks. What was going on?

“I-I'm s-so sorry. I-I was told to c-collect a-all the laundry. P-Please, don't p-punish me,” Came the answer in a much quieter voice.

Turning around the corner, you found a small group of people crowded around two; a servant and a guard. Immediately, you could tell that the guard was threatening the young girl, as she was backed into a corner, eyes wide as a laundry basket lay discarded by her feet.

“How dare you go through my drawers without permission?” he barked, ears turning red in fury. The girl only took a step back, quivering as she realized she hit the wall. “I won't let this slide!”

“Enough!”

All eyes were on you as you walked up to the guard, fuming. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Y-Your Majesty—” he stuttered, anger slowly dissipating, “I was only chastising this, this foolish maid for going through my room!”

You shook your head. “There's no reason for you to yell at her like that for such a simple mistake. You could've explained what she did wrong without scaring her like that.”

You gestured for the girl to come to you, sanding in front of her protectively. Giving her a smile, you remarked, “If he ever gives you any trouble, come to me immediately.”

The man's face turned beet red in embarrassment as he looked down at his feet. “And you, if I ever hear that you're bothering her, you'll be on laundry duty for the next week!”

There was a loud chorus of laughter that followed and the people around you slowly started to scatter, leaving only you and the young maid. She looked to be a few years younger than you.

“T-Thank you, Your Majesty,” she bowed, shyly looking away.

“It's okay. Assholes have to be put in their place, right?”

She didn't laugh.

Embarrassed by your little joke not landing well, you reached out to gently pat her hair. “What's your name?”

“Yuna.”

She was still shaken up, you could tell by her closed-off stance. “Well, Yuna, I think you were very brave today. I'm really sorry you had to go through this, please don't hesitate to reach out to me if anything like that happens again.”

With a wave of your hand, you saw her off, smiling widely as you walked down the hall.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty—” you ignored the calls of the young servant, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “I'm fine, don't worry.”

“Please, Your Majesty… you've done nothing else than reorganize these scrolls for the past few days! You have to rest…”

“No, I'm fine, don't worry. I'm glad to be of some use.”

You moved another section of scrolls and loose leaves of parchment down on the floor, wiping down the shelf with a wet rag. After making sure the surface was perfectly clean, you picked up the scrolls, reorganizing them on the shelves by date and topic.

While doing so, you've also managed to learn more about the kingdom, familiarizing yourself with its history. These ancient scrolls provided you with much more information than the books you read.

The afternoon sun was shining down on you through the large, open windows. The light cotton blinds were no longer enough to protect you from its wrath.

“Maybe it really is time for a break,” You mumbled, dizziness slowly taking over you. You wiped down your forehead with a wetted cloth, swiping over your face and cooling yourself down.

You've been in here for… seven hours already…

. ˚✧・* •

“What?!” The Crown Prince shouted, slamming his fist on the table. His eyes were sharp and focused, glaring down at the poor messenger that was quivering in his boots.

“I'm afraid t-that's all I know, Your Majesty. We've been told that a rebel group has infiltrated our lands. We're currently awaiting more information regarding the size of the group and how far they've reached.”

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped the Prince's mouth as he slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples. The palace was already in chaos after the arrival of the Crown Princess, and this was slowly becoming more than he could handle.

The messenger scurried away after being dismissed.

Before the Prince could even take a breath, another knock on the door made him roll his eyes.

“Come in!”

“Your Majesty,” the old man bowed. Minho immediately glanced up after recognizing him as the man he appointed to watch over you. “Has there been any development?”

The man, face aged by war, pressed his lips into a thin line before pulling out a piece of parchment. His fingers deftly worked to undo the knot on the string, sighing when the parchment finally unrolled.

“There haven't been any interesting sightings of Her Majesty. Every day, she wakes up and eats breakfast before walking to the library. There, she reads through an impressive amount of chapters on the history of our land, takes some notes, and walks back to her chambers where she orders a light dinner.”

The old man paused, looking the Prince in the eye before continuing, “Recently, she has been spotted going to the ancient scroll room instead of the library. A servant told me that she insist on cleaning the room and reorganizing all the scrolls.”

Minho cut the man off, “—Who has she been ordering to clean the room?”

“No one. She insists on doing everything herself, Your Majesty.”

The Prince audibly groaned at the revelation. After what happened, he had wished for you to give him a reason to hate you, but so far, you'd given him none. Instead, you made guilt blossom in his chest by behaving like a responsible future queen a king could only wish for.

So far, you've kept to yourself and educated yourself on the kingdom's history and its traditions. You didn't abuse your power and outright refused help unless it was absolutely necessary.

Running a hand through his hair, he questioned, “Were there any, uh, any incidents? Anything unusual?”

“No, Your Majesty. Her Majesty hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. Although—”

“—although what?” he immediately latched onto his words, ears perked in interest.

“I've had several accounts from servants and other palace staff that Her Majesty got into a quarrel with one of the guards.”

Minho was hanging on his lips, listening intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sipping from his goblet.

“It appears that the guard was verbally harassing one of the new maids. Her Majesty was just around the corner so she stepped in, putting an end to the fight and telling the guard off.”

Minho felt like banging his head against the wall.

Why were you so kind? So perfect? It gave him a headache just thinking about all the things you've done since you arrived. He was hoping that during this period of separation, he would catch you doing something improper, something that would give him a reason to cancel the treaty and subsequently, cancel your engagement, thus annulling your arranged marriage.

But so far, all you've done was for the benefit of others. You have proved yourself to be a kind and intelligent person, which were exactly the traits he would've been looking for in his future Queen.

When he realized that the old man was still standing by his desk, he cleared his throat, “You can go now, thank you.”

Bowing, the man hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving the Prince to drown in his sorrows, consumed by guilt.

. ˚✧・* •

Later that evening, you found yourself in your bed chamber after a long day. Your muscles were aching from standing on a ladder and cleaning all day. Upon entering through the door, something rather strange caught your attention.

There, on your bed, lay a beautiful red gown with golden stitching. Your eyes bulged out of your skull as you took in the gorgeous article of clothing. It was the prettiest dress you've ever seen.

As you took a step closer to admire the garment, you noticed a small folded piece of paper attached to the front of the dress. Skillfully, you pull it out and unfold it, scanning over the message written in neat cursive.

Dear Princess Y/N,

I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot, and I'm aware that I too am partially to blame for that. It has been brought to my attention that you spend every day in the library reading or cleaning the scroll room. As such, I was hoping I could invite you to a proper dinner (hence the dress ;).

When you are free, please stop by my chambers. I would love to arrange a proper date with you.

Sincerely, Lee Minho

. ˚✧・* •

Your heart was beating loudly as you stopped in front of the heavy doors. The handle was platted in gold and the wood was carved with beautiful ornaments, reminding you of the front gate of the palace. You gently pick up the metallic ring and bang it against the door.

“Come in,” Came the muffled reply.

As you nervously walk into the room, you feel like your skin is on fire. Fear clouds your eyes as you worry about the unknown. How would he react once he saw you?

When you found the ruby dress in your chambers, it felt like your heart did a 180. Touched by the kind gesture, you almost allowed yourself to fantasize about all the what-ifs. What if Lee Minho actually cared for you? What if he wanted to spend time with you? These questions were running through your mind like a whirlwind, further confusing your already unstable heart.

When the Prince comes into view, you almost felt the blood freeze in your veins. Clad in a fitting robe with gold fastenings, accentuating his broad shoulders and impeccable physique, you couldn't help but swoon at his beauty.

His trimmed locks were parted in the middle, framing his handsome face. Against the pale complexion of his skin, his rich, chocolate eyes stood out, peering at you with an intensity that brings Chan's infamous glare to shame.

Too busy nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you didn't notice the way his gentle smile fell, turning into a frown.

You were anxious.

Not only that—to Minho's dismay, you looked like you haven't slept in days. The circles under your eyes were prominent, and the way your muscles tensed made his heart shatter.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

The question caught you off guard, but not as much as the soft tone of his voice. He sounded almost…. Concerned?

Your eyes fluttered, giving away just how much you needed some shut-eye as you whispered, “Not really, Your Majesty…”

He expected you to elaborate, but you didn't, leaving him unsure of what his next steps should be.

“You can call me Minho,” he paused, letting the words sink in. When they did, your eyes parted wide, taken off guard by something that should've been so insignificant but held so much significance to you.

‘You can call me Minho’

That sentence played over in your head like a mantra. “Minho,” you breathed out, barely above a whisper. The name was so known, yet still seemed so unfamiliar. It rolled off of your tongue with strange, child-like anticipation. Like it held something deeper.

The Prince smiled upon hearing you call him by his first name. Like honey, it sounded so sweet when said by you.

“Due to our predicament, I think it would be rather foolish for us to stay exceedingly formal with each other, don't you agree?”

Your heart was beating loudly against your ribcage as you squeaked, “You can call me Y/N, too.”

“Great,” he smiled, “I'm glad we're on the same page, love.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks almost made you want to hide your face in embarrassment. Minho chuckled at the adorable sight, fighting the urge to reach out and pat your hair. His smile only grew when you carefully glanced at him from under your lashes.

“I'll arrange for Seungmin, our healer, to come to visit you,” he muttered, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. “I'm sure he can recommend something for you to sleep better, perhaps some herbal tea…”

The two of you talked for a few more minutes. The Prince kept asking you questions regarding your schedule, what you did during the day, and if you had any idea what caused your sleep problems. You tried to answer him to the best of your abilities, occasionally staring off into space as you wondered what caused him to make such a 180 personality-wise.

Placing the parchment into a drawer and slamming it shut, Minho faced you, giving you his full attention. A coy smile played on his lips when he remarked, “About dinner… does next Friday sound good?”

. ˚✧・* •

Anger.

That's all that was on Felix's mind as he strolled down the hall, trying to get away from Minho's chambers. He was sick, sick to his stomach from the conversation he just overheard.

‘Love.’

He wanted to barf. What did you do to cause Minho to behave like that? The general barely recognized his longtime friend in that short conversation between the two of you that he eavesdropped on. Why was he so smitten? Did you manage to seduce him?

It truly wasn't like him to behave like that, Felix concluded, and he was gonna make sure he helped his friend see the light again.

. ˚✧・* •

Your shoulders scraped against the wall as you leaned on it, breathing in to catch your breath. The air suddenly felt thick and heavy as you struggled to calm your nerves. Maybe you should really catch a break?

But there was still so much for you to do… the piles upon piles of books, scrolls, and other artifacts were hard evidence of that.

And much to your dismay, you still haven't been sleeping well, meaning that the exhaustion was slowly getting to you. Your limbs were aching and your entire body felt rather stiff.

“Damn it,” you groaned, sliding down the wall till you were sitting on the freezing marble floor.

“Your Majesty.” A sudden knock echoed through the room, your eyes immediately shooting up towards the door. “Come in,” you reply.

A young girl came scurrying inside the room with a golden tray. She placed it on the table, positioning the tea kettle and the teacup next to a small pile of paper.

“This is the herb tea sent by head healer Seungmin as per His Majesties request.”

“Oh, right. Thank you so much!” you beamed, shooting up and walking towards the table. The maid poured a generous amount of the liquid into the cup, handing it to you with a slight bow.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

Bringing the porcelain cup to your lips, you inhaled the fresh, fruity scent, sighing at how pleasant it smelled. With a relaxed smile playing on your lips, you sipped the warm beverage, enjoying how it heated you from the inside, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

While reading about the kingdom, you noticed that a lot of the authors mentioned the complicated system of the land's foreign trade policy. Despite the fact that you read many books on the topic, it quickly became quite obvious that they only touched the surface of the complex system.

That's why you decided to schedule a meeting with one of the advisors of the royal court, a man named Hwang Hyunjin. You've heard many things about him, from his socialite, flirty nature to his love for pies.

It's the reason were in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist as you sifted the dry ingredients into a bowl. After that, you cracked a few eggs into the mixture, stirring it till you had a dough-like consistency.

All and all, it took you about an hour till the pie was finally in the oven. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, you smiled at the sight of your creation. It may have not been the nicest looking pie you've laid your eyes on, but you were proud nonetheless.

Once it was done, you pulled it out with a pair of oven mitts. Excitement washed over you—it smelled exquisite—and you were ready to present it to the self-proclaimed pie man of the city.

. ˚✧・* •

The wind was light and breezy, tousling his hair as he stood on the balcony, bending down over the railing. From the corner of his eye, he saw you, walking through the garden in your outdoor cloak, smiling from ear to ear. In your hand, you held a box, and he could only guess what was inside.

Jeongin—one of the guards you've befriended during your stay—greeted you with a tip of his hat as you passed the gate. You grinned at him in return, commenting on something that made the boy visibly blush, looking away shyly.

Despite only watching you from afar, Minho couldn't help but smile softly. Every day, his heart seemed to yearn for you more than before.

And Lee Minho was a man of principles… he followed his heart.

. ˚✧・* •

The night had fallen. In the sky, countless stars were shimmering like scattered moondust and glimmering like lost beacons of hope.

The meeting with Hyunjin went rather well if you could say, and you left his house feeling like you've learned a lot. Despite his flirty nature, he seemed to have known that there was a certain line he shouldn't cross, given that you were to be wed to the Prince, so he only allowed himself to occasionally wink at you, gloating over the bashful smiles you gave him.

“You make a lovely baker, Princess,” he complimented, eating another spoonful of the pie. You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you.”

Once you arrived back at the palace, you slipped into your silk nightgown, sighing at the cool sensation that spread over your body. You weren't used to such fine materials, your kingdom being way too poor for such luxuries, but it seems like the Crimson clan had enough money on their hands to afford these expensive items.

You asked one of the maids to bring you some boiling water. Once she arrived, you pulled out the sachet of Seungmin's herbal tea and prepared the beverage.

You drank it while watching the stars from your balcony. The air was chilly and cool, the wind fanning your cheeks. As you sipped the drink, you couldn't help but feel drowsy, like you were about to fall asleep. Your mind felt foggy like it was being put to sleep which alarmed you. You were just fine earlier. What caused this?

You tried to stand up, but you were unable to, instead stumbling over your feet and falling to the ground.

On second thought, the marble floor of the balcony was pretty comfortable, you realized, as your warm cheek pressed onto the cool stone.

. ˚✧・* •

Minho was starting to grow concerned when you didn't answer after the fifth knock. Standing in front of your door impatiently, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, pondering. Should he come in?

He waited for a couple more seconds, just in case you were walking towards the door, but when nothing happened, he knocked for the final time.

“Y/N, are you okay? I'm coming in!”

Without missing a beat, he rammed his shoulder against the door using all of his strength. After the second try, the hinges finally gave out, the door bursting open and allowing Minho to run in.

“Where are you? Y/N?!”

There was alarm in his voice, and it took all of his willpower not to panic. Your bed was empty, and he noticed how it was made, the blanket neatly folded over the length of the wooden frame. You would always make your bed yourself, the maids would tell him.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he scanned the room, searching for a clue—anything, really—that could hint at your whereabouts.

If something happened to you…

Fuck. He didn't know if he could ever forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

And while he was busy muttering all the curses he knew, he caught something from the corner of his eye. A fluttering motion. Turning his head, he noticed the white curtain dancing in the evening breeze. And the curtain was leading from the balcony…

Aha!

He ran to the glass french door, immediately spotting your crumpled-up body on the cold marble. Bit by bit, he felt his heart crack at the sight. What did you deserve to be lying on the ground, passed out like that?

“Y/N,” he cried, kneeling beside you and cradling your face in his hands. He pushed the stray locks of hair out of your face, gently thumbing the apples of your cheeks.

“Oh, Y/N! What happened to you, my love?!”

The desperation in his voice was heavy, and with hooded eyes, he gently slid his hands under your frame, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. He pressed you close to his chest as he walked back inside of your room and laid you on the bed.

. ˚✧・* •

“Will she be okay?”

The healer rolled his eyes at the Prince, applying the soaked cloth on your forehead. It was the fifth time His Majesty had asked, and quite frankly, it was beginning to get on his nerves. Seungmin had just come down from a fever, so he had to step in, covering for his sick friend.

He never would've imagined the Crown Prince to have such a desperate side to him. Misery definitely didn't suit him, he decided. It wasn't a good look on him, or perhaps, it was the fact that it shattered the cold image he had created in his mind of the Prince.

“She likely just passed out due to exhaustion,” he said in a gruff tone, swiping the hair away from your forehead. “Her muscles seem tense and she hasn't been sleeping well.”

“I-I know,” Minho's voice cracked. “I hoped that the herbal tea would help…”

A beat of silence followed. “Well, I think my job here is done, Your Majesty. She should come to in a few hours,” the young healer muttered, grabbing all his belongings. “Call me if anything happens.”

The door thudded, leaving Minho alone with you in the room. The feeling of distraught crept over him, clawing at his heart as he watched you lay peacefully beneath the covers.

It was during times like these that he felt utterly useless. There was nothing he could do, and realistically, he should've accepted that. Yet there was a part of him that yearned to do something, to help you, to relieve the pain.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized something. The two of you hadn't known each other for long enough for him to know how to make you feel better. No, regrettably, he wasn't in possession of such knowledge.

Yet he knew someone who was.

His insides twisted at the thought, almost as if his gut was trying to talk him out of this. Thinking about him only made him remember his short-lived jealous streak—an emotion he didn't want to feel again.

Han Jisung. He didn't like him, far from it, he rather despised the young guard, for multiple reasons. The first one was his loud nature—mere days after the arrival of the Cerulean carriage, he was already the talk of the town. He heard at least a dozen maids giddily chirping about his supposedly gorgeous smile. It didn't help that he joined the sparring club as soon as he could, allowing a large amount of the female population the privilege of oogling his toned physique. He was the center of attention anywhere he went, winning the favor of all the palace staff.

But what irked him the most was undeniably how close he was to you. Minho knew it was childish to foster such jealousy for the guard. Despite his rather surprising self-awareness, he couldn't help but feel a prick of envy whenever he saw him, especially after hearing that the two of you made out in his palace, despite the fact that he was supposed to marry you in the near future.

In spite of all the things he listed in his head, he wasn't blind to the fact that you cared for him deeply. Just as Jisung must've cared for you. But he knew. He knew that this was the one thing he could do for you.

So despite his better judgment and the erratic beating of his heart, Minho headed out of the room in search of a person he never expect to look for in the first place.

. ˚✧・* •

To say that Jisung was confused would be the understatement of the century.

It wasn't every day that the Crown Prince came looking for you, especially if you kissed his future wife.

He entered the empty changing room, leaning his back against the wall with an unreadable expression. Jisung didn't know if he should bow or not. He decided that it would probably be improper not to, so he managed to awkwardly lower his torso, the shirt he was putting on still caught around his shoulders.

Once he was decent, a loud cough from the Prince made him look up. “I need you to follow me.”

When Minho noticed the uncertainty swarming in his eyes, he clarified, “Y/N fainted. I think she could use waking up to a familiar face.”

From then on, it was a blur. Jisung bolted out of the room like thunder, leaving Minho. Not wanting to be left behind, he ran after him, following his trail back to your bed chambers. His heart finally shattered as he watched the young guard disappear inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

. ˚✧・* •

Ever since you awoke to Jisung besides you, your heart felt just a little bit lighter. Despite the constant workload you inflicted upon yourself, there was still a void in your chest, left behind after the two of you practically cut off any sort of interactions.

It had been weird at first, but to be fair, the weirdness, or so to speak, had begun when Jisung, your best friend and guard—had kissed you, right inside the palace of your future husband.

It came as a surprise to you how easily the two of you had glossed over the initial awkwardness.

“Wait– sit down, Y/N. You shouldn't be overexerting yourself,” his hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into the covers.

“Oh please,” you groaned, “I'm fine now. I must've gotten a bit light-headed, you know, from the change of air pressure and all.”

Jisung snorted, “We both know that's bullshit, Princess.” Then he took on a much softer tone, “But even if you're feeling better now, you still should rest.”

You tsked, but in the end, you complied. You knew he meant well and you didn't want to worry him anymore. Instead, your palm reached over to his, gently encasing his hand in yours.

“I know that it's hard, but we must address the elephant in the room, Ji…”

You could feel him tense, eyes glancing anywhere but at you. He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out, allowing the pregnant silence to envelop you. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he glanced back at you, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“I'm sorry, Y/N. I know I never should've done that,” his hand gripped tightly onto yours. You carefully watched his face, only to realize—to your unease—that he started crying. There were tears streaming down his face, leaving faint trails of moisture that glimmered under the light. You watched in horror as the sobs wracked through him, muffled sounds leaving his parted lips.

And the only thing you could do was gently rub his back, blinking to suppress any tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“Ji—” you whispered, but Jisung cut off. “—I-I'm really s-sorry. I know I've caused you a lot of pain,” he sniffled, looking away in embarrassment. “It's hard for me to f-follow boundaries without overstepping them—especially since the line between us has always been s-so blurred—but I clearly went too far.” Another sniffle. “A-And this time, m-my reckless actions had dire consequences…”

And the dam broke.

Tears were now streaming down your face like a waterfall, staining your cheeks as you whimpered, “Sungie, please…”

He understood your silent plea, hand reaching out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I'm so s-sorry,” he sniveled onto the top of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Sungie…”

After a couple of minutes of enjoying the warmth of his embrace, you pulled away from his chest. “T-This is probably the most we've ever apologized to each other,” you sniffed, a small smile appearing at the corners of your lips.

“Y-Yeah,” Jisung whispered, running his thumb down your cheek, wiping away the moisture. “My pride usually got the better of me…”

A pleasant silence settled in the air as you watched Jisung, eyes carefully following the way his facial expressions changed. He seemed unsure of himself, something you weren't necessarily used to which made you frown.

Glancing at you, Jisung noticed how intently you were watching. Grasping your hand, he worried his lower lips between his teeth before muttering, “I think Minho likes you.”

“Jisung,” your eyebrows shot up, unsure of what to make of this statement, which sounded more like a prank than anything, “what are you saying?”

A small pout appeared on his lips when he realized you didn't believe him. “I-I—”

“—Yeah?” you implored impatiently, a sudden wave of giddiness washing over you. “Why do you think that?”

“As much as I hate that snobby bastard, I couldn't help but notice that he seems to care for you all of a sudden,” Jisung muttered under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes. “He's the one who brought me here — he came running to me like a madman just to tell me that you fainted.”

“Why would that be unusual though? What if he just wanted someone else to wait with me? He probably didn't want to deal with me—” you pointed out hurriedly, not buying the whole schtick.

“S'cause he said something about you ‘wanting to wake up to a familiar face’ or whatever... Awfully cheesy, I know,” he chuckled, fidgeting with his fingers, “but he really seemed worried about you. His clothes were all disheveled and his hair was messy… he probably stayed by your side for at least a few hours.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks making you look away in embarrassment. This was all it took for you to feel like a lovestruck teenager once again. Your heart was beating inside your chest at the mere possibility of him actually caring for you.

“I should probably go—now that you're up,” Jisung stood up, dusting off his leather pants. His expression turned into a hard mask of unreadability as he walked off. “Sleep well, Sungie,” you managed to call after him before you heard the door slam shut.

The steady beating of his heart contrasted with the tears trailing down his cheeks as your last words echoed in his head.

And just like a mother hen has to part with her little ones, Jisung parted with you.

This was the end of the two of you ever sharing anything other than a platonic relationship, and with a heavy heart, he acknowledged that it was time for him to move on.

This time, for good.

. ˚✧・* •

“Minho!” you called, running down the hall in hopes of catching up to the Prince. It was past breakfast, and you were walking towards the main gate when you spotted the handsome man strolling through the corridors of the palace.

Briskly, the Prince turned around after hearing his name being called, mouth stretching into a grin when he realized it was you who was calling him.

“Good morning, Princess. How are you? I hope you're well-rested after yesterday's events.”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn, “Yeah, pretty good! I'm just tired and achy but other than that, I'm perfectly fine,” you flashed him a smile.

You couldn't help but notice how his smile froze, a worried expression painting his face. “Are you alright? Should I call the head healer to make you some brew—”

“—No! It's fine,” you interrupted, not wanting him to needlessly worry. “Really, I'll be okay.”

A heavy silence engulfed you as you stood in front of the Prince, pondering over how you were going to thank him for yesterday. Finally, after a long series of deep breaths, you turned to him.

“By the way, um, I wanted to thank you for… you know… what you did yesterday.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired, placing his hand on your arm. “Oh, you know,” the heat rushed to your cheeks, making you look away shyly. “You were the one that found me, right? Jisung told me that you stayed with me for over an hour before you brought him to me…”

“Oh…”

You missed the way the apples of his cheeks turned a shade of pink, fumbling with the hem of your sleeve. “Well… I'll have to go now,” you whispered, your words barely audible. Before you could overthink your actions (which would inevitably lead to you chickening out), you leaned closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his jaw.

“Goodbye, Minho,” you waved with newfound confidence, crinkling your eyes. Minho could only watch as your figure disappeared around the corner.

He hadn't felt so euphoric in ages.

. ˚✧・* •

“Hmm,” your foot tapped against the ground, hands on your hips as you chewed at the nib of your pen, scanning the market. At first sight, the place reminded you of everything that your own kingdom wasn't. It was lively and crowded, and there were so many goods you didn't know in which direction to look.

Truly a feast for the eyes, you noted.

But despite that, you knew that the Crimson land, just like any other land, had to have its own set of issues.

Issues that you soon discovered ran a bit deeper than you originally had anticipated. After countless short ‘interviews’ (if you could even call them that) with the local citizens and villagers, you found out that there was a reoccurring pattern of corrupt, lesser-powerful royals in charge of the adjoining regions under the Crimson rule abusing their powers.

“Count Choi raises the taxes by a little bit every year,” an elderly woman complained, lowering her voice as a string of colorful curses rang from her lips. Frustration could be seen in her angry gaze—you could tell how powerless she felt.

A middle-aged man, similarly to her, shared how Viscount Kim suspended the stream from the river to the well, cutting off their immediate water supply.

“It's nearly impossible to reach His Majesty in any way. Or at least since the…” he immediately paused, looking around in fear of being overheard. “...Since his brother died in the war,” he whispered urgently, shaking his head.

“But even if we could set up a meeting with him, I highly doubt anyone would be willing to.”

It surprised you to hear just how much his own people feared him. Sure, Minho wasn't exactly the most… hospitable person when you first met him, you wouldn't even go as far as to say that you were friends, but the look of fear in the people's eyes was unmistakable.

As far as you could tell, the people were utterly terrified of him.

Noting down all the new information into your handy journal, you made a mental note to find a way to bring it up with Minho as soon as you could. Perhaps once you two finally managed to have the promised dinner together…

‘Just a few more days’ you realized with glee.

A loud thud almost made you drop your notebook as you realized where you currently were. Coughing awkwardly, you briskly walked over to one of the more secluded stalls, not wanting to stand still in the middle of the busy marketplace crowd.

A sudden smell of freshly baked rolls wafts through the air, making you keen. You turned around over your shoulder in hopes of finding the stall that managed to produce such lavish-smelling treats.

“Hello,” you walked up to the small booth, greeting the elderly lady behind the counter with a smile. In front of you layed pastries of all shapes and sizes, arranged in multiple rows. Almost salivating, you scanned all the treats—you felt like a kid in a candy store. There were so many options and quite frankly, when presented with so many choices, you felt at your wit's end.

“You aren't from here, are you?” she chuckled, wiping her hands into the apron around her waist.

“Oh… can you tell so easily?” you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, heat rushing to your cheeks.

She smiled, “Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It isn't quite often that we see foreigners here and we can usually tell by seeing them shop around.”

“I see. Do you mind if I ask you to recommend me something? There's just so much to choose from and I'm afraid I'd stand here all day if I had to choose,” you giggled bashfully, looking down in embarrassment. It was true though, and with so many choices, you were bound to ponder over something as simple as what you should eat for ages.

“Of course,” she bent down and picked up a large pot. “Jeongin! Bring the sugar dragons!”

Your brow raised upon hearing the familiar name, a smile appearing on your face when you saw the familiar figure come in through the door. The boy looked like he had just rolled out of bed, dressed in what you assumed to be his comfortable clothes. His hair sat messily atop his head, likely uncombed, making him look even more adorable.

“I'm coming!”

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he placed the large container on the counter, pushing the hair out of his face. Only then did he notice you standing in front of him, smirking with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Y-Your M-Majesty–” he stammered, taking a step back. His eyes widened into the size of dinner plates, causing a chuckle to tear through your throat.

“Jeongin,” you cooed, grinning at the sight of your friend (at least you hoped you could consider the boy your friend). A rosy blush rose to his cheeks, dusting them with a soft, peachy hue. Stuttering, he awkwardly attempted to bow as his mother watched, unsure of what to do.

She ended up following suit, lowering her head as a string of apologies left her lips. “It's okay,” you tried to placate the two of them, repeating over and over how you didn't really care for royal greetings anyways.

Moments later, all three of you sat around a small table in the middle of their living room, munching on the little sugar dragon popsicles.

“What are you doing here anyway, Princess?” Jeongin's tone—to your relief—took on a more laid-back quality as he slumped back into his chair.

“Oh, nothing much,” you remarked, noticing how Jeongin's mom was now watching you intently. “I thought I could actually come to see the village myself and meet the people of the land I will soon rule.”

You sipped some freshly squeezed juice jeongin graciously offered you before continuing, “I figured I could ask around and figure out some points of friction,” you gestured towards the market outside the window. “Since I still don't get recognized in public, I figured people would tell me there was something bothering them.”

“That's very nice of you to do,” Jeongin chimed, picking up all the plates from the table. “Did you find out anything interesting?”

“Oh, definitely,” you lean over the table, immediately launching into a detailed explanation…

. ˚✧・* •

A strangle of curses left your lips as you sat on the chair, focusing all of your energy on creating a spark of ice. Your eyes were shut in concentration, brows furrowing at the realization that you likely wouldn't produce any anytime soon.

“What is going on?!” you whisper-shouted under your breath, staring at the tips of your fingers as if that would ever help. You had bumped your head earlier in the morning while preparing some morning tea and to prevent a nasty bruise from appearing on your body, you thought that you could cool the sore spot with some ice.

Except it wasn't working at all. It was like you never had any powers, to begin with, the feeling reminding you way too much of how you felt back when you were a toddler, forced to focus all your energy into manifesting the first slivers of ice.

‘This is bad,’ you realized, beads of sweat forming at the top of your forehead. ‘Really bad.’

The realization of what would happen if it were released to the public that you lost the ability to control your power hit you straight in the face, causing your heartbeat to steadily grow.

There were so many officials and high-standing people in the palace, hungry to find anything as simple as an unrelenting rumor or idle gossip to discredit your position as the future queen of the nation.

And the fact that you couldn't summon your powers would definitely be enough grounds for them to try and annulate the treaty.

The whole point of this marriage was to unite the two kingdoms and create a powerful empire, one that could afford to stay at peace. It was expected that the two of you would produce an heir soon after the marriage, followed by (hopefully) many more children to come, some of which would inherit Minho's fire-bending ability while others would learn how to control ice, like their mother.

And despite the fact that you would never be forced to battle anyone, the information about your sudden ability-loss would certainly make you an easier target as you would be rightfully deemed weaker and more vulnerable.

“Damn it!” you groaned, wiping off the tear that slid down your cheek with the back of your wrist.

‘This wasn't going anywhere,’ you concluded, so you decided that you had to distract yourself asap. Picking up your trusty, leather-bound notebook, you began to flip through the pages until you found the one you were looking for. At the bottom, there was an address scribbled down in smeared ink.

It was the address of the local orphanage.

While talking to one of the villagers, you had found out that there weren't that many teachers in the regions that would teach poorer people. He explained that because of that, some children (especially the orphans) grew up struggling to read, write, or even do simple calculations in their heads.

And since no one really paid any attention to you, slipping out of the palace with two bags filled to the brim with clothes, supplies and some food was the easiest thing in the world.

Damn, maybe the palace should update its security.

. ˚✧・* •

“Hello,” you greeted the children lined up in a row, “I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello Miss Y/N,” all the kids greeted back in unison, beaming with happiness despite their torn clothes and streaks of dirt on their faces. Your heart clenched at the sight, making a mental note to remember to bring some washing oils next time you came.

The head of the orphanage, Jihyo, welcomed you with open arms, enthralled that she had someone who seemed interested in the well-being of the little kids.

“You know,” she wept, wiping the tears off her face, “It isn't often that we get volunteers here, especially ones that are willing to teach these poor kids some skills that would help them once they become adults.”

You nodded gently in understanding, handing her your handkerchief. “I'm glad to be of service.”

Once you handed her the bags filled with goods, she busted in tears once again, hugging you with so much fervor you were afraid she'd crush your lungs.

After that, she lead you to the room where a small chalkboard hung on the wall of the modestly furnished space.

Setting down your materials on a small table, you grabbed a piece of chalk before writing on the board the contents of today's lesson, underlining it twice.

“Now, who can tell me the alphabet?”

. ˚✧・* •

After the first day of volunteering at the orphanage, you realized that it was something you enjoyed a lot. It gave you a sense of pride and fulfillment, knowing that you were helping these children who had so little, and you told yourself that you would bring the lack of proper funding for these institutions to Minho's attention since you didn't really hold any power yourself as of right now.

Every time you saw them smile as they read a word out loud or calculated something in their head, your heart burst at the sight of their happy cries and cheers.

“Here you go,” you handed the young girl with pigtails the last piece of pie that you bought on the market before coming here, wiping your sticky hands into a towel nearby.

“Thank you,” she chirped, gleefully swallowing down the pastry with a grin. “You have a really nice dress, Miss Y/N,” she suddenly spoke up, staring at your yellow gown in awe. “And you're really pretty and smart too! Just like a princess… I wanna be just like you when I grow up!” she pumped her fist in the air, giggling softly.

“Aww,” you coo, touched by her kind words. “That's so sweet of you to say, Rosie. You're really sweet and pretty too, you know that?” She smiled bashfully as a gentle blush colored her cheeks.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” you inquired, gently brushing a stray lock from her face. After her furious nod of approval, she grabbed your hand, leading you towards one of the cushions on the floor.

. ˚✧・* •

“There, you go! All done,” you grinned, patting her head after fastening the last of the fancy hair clips you took out from your bun into her braided hair.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” she turned around to pull you into a hug, “you're the bestest person in the world.”

“Uh-uh,” you tutted, wiggling your finger in front of your face to show your disapproval. “You know that's not true, Rosie. Miss Jihyo has been taking care of you for so long and she's the most caring person I know. She's the bestet person, don't forget that.”

“Ahh, you're right,” her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “She's the bestet person in the world but you're right after her.”

“Thank you, Rosie,” you whispered into the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “And you're the sweetest little girl I know.”

. ˚✧・* •

“Come in,” you muttered against your pillow, too tired to leave the sanctity of your bed and open the door. A loud click could be heard as a tall figure stepped inside your room, shutting the door behind.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You immediately recognize the soft, husky voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to sit upright with the sheets still tangled between your limbs. “M-Minho! Hi–”

The man chuckled at your distressed state, cooing when you buried your head in your hands in embarrassment. ‘Cute,’ he thought.

“I'm not interrupting you, am I?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. You promptly pulled your legs up to your chest to make more space for him. “N-No, I was just taking a small nap since I didn't sleep well last night.”

“I see,” his brows furrowed, “you're still having trouble sleeping?”

You could feel your heart combust at the question. It was stupid, beyond stupid, and you knew—however—it was like your heart had a mind of its own, completely ignoring your rational thoughts.

“I think I'm still getting used to the new setting, perhaps the change of weather,” you added lamely, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown. Suddenly, Minho scooched closer to you, making you look up.

“I'll go ask Seungmin if he has anything other than the tea that he could give you,” he placed his hand tenderly on your thigh, rubbing the soft flesh with the tips of his fingers. The gesture caused a pleasant shiver to run through you and you sighed. “Thank you.”

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, enjoying the balmy silence before Minho cleared his throat, catching your attention.

“U-Uh… so, I know we haven't been able to spend much time with each other,” the corners of your mouth twitched, and you were very close to reminding him why the two of you didn't meet.

Upon seeing your expression, his cheeks flush. “I know it's because of me—I'm really sorry we had to cancel our dinner plans—Felix ambushed me with an unplanned meeting so I had to take care of that…” he trailed off, his hand still resting on your supple skin.

“It's okay, Minho. I understand that you have many responsibilities as the future King.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't excuse me canceling so abruptly,” he reasoned. “I was hoping we could have the dinner next Saturday—I've had my entire schedule cleared for the day so we can even go somewhere after we eat.”

The smile you gave him was positively contagious, and he found himself beaming. “Okay, then it's settled.”

. ˚✧・* •

As you're walking down the alley leading to the orphanage, you couldn't help but feel like you're being watched. After turning around multiple times to check if you see anyone trailing behind you, quickening your pace in hopes of losing the person, you still can't shake the eerie feeling.

Jihyo had warned you about walking to the orphanage. She mentioned the army barracks being stationed nearby, as well as a brothel just a few blocks down the neighborhood. It wasn't the ideal place to run a children's home, but due to her limited funding, she had to settle for the less than quintessential location.

“Sometimes, there are drunk men wandering the streets,” she whispered hushedly, looking over her shoulder to make sure none of the kids could hear her. “Please be careful, especially after dusk…”

Her warning echoed in your head, making shivers run down your spine as you scanned your surroundings. As you briskly hiked your dress up in hopes of having more mobility, you heard a sudden thud, panic flooding through your veins.

‘Just a little bit more,’ you thought, sighing in relief as you slung the door to the orphanage open, stepping in and shutting the door behind you.

Immediately, you were swarmed with kids flocking to you, little Rosie reaching to envelop you in a tight hug.

“Hello, Y/N,” they all chirped in unison, some grabbing your dress in attempt to pull you into their study room. “Hey, hey!” you giggled, patting their heads. “Don't worry, I know how eager you are to learn. I'm coming!”

And just like that, you're pulled into their own little world, pointing at the chalkboard as you explain today's topic at hand—multiplication. It's a hard topic to grasp, especially for kids who have never gotten a proper education. The children's ages varied—from as young as four or five to the eldest being in their preteens. And because of the huge age difference, you were forced to tailor your explanations to them depending on which category they fell into.

The youngest bunch was occupied with drawing basic shapes (you sat them at the back of the room and handed them some colored pencils along with a few sheets of paper). The rest of the kids were seated before you, all staring at the board intently as you tried to explain the mathematical operation to the best of your abilities.

“Each bird in the sky has two wings. But if there's three of them, how many wings are there in total?”

Judging by the way they all frowned, you could tell they were deep in thought. It took a few seconds, but finally, one of the girls raised her hand.

“There are six wings, right?”

“Correct!” you beamed, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Moving over to the board to grab a piece of chalk, you began to draw three birds in total, writing small numbered indexes above each wing.

“See?” you gestured towards the board, “there are six wings in total. Well done, Yujin!”

. ˚✧・* •

“Remind me again, Felix, why are you bothering me in the middle of work?” Minho sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. His golden crown lay on the table beside him, discarded, as he found it pretentious to wear the ornate piece of gold when he found himself in solitude.

“Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty,” the general snickered, reaching for the paperwork on Minho's desk. In a swift motion, he slammed his hand down on the table, seizing the papers from his hands and placing them on the armchair behind him.

Minho could only scowl at the blatant show of disrespect, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I found out some very interesting information about the Princess.”

Upon hearing that, Minho's ears perked, causing Felix to chuckle. ‘He had become weak,’ he thought, so smitten for that girl.

When he was sure he had his attention, he continued, “A little birdie told me, that the Princess has been sneaking out of the palace quite often.”

Minho's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but unfortunately, Felix had noticed.

“Why would that be of my concern, Felix? Y/N isn't my possession—I have no interest in controlling her every move. If she feels like taking a breath of fresh air, who am I to stop her?”

“I don't think you're understanding what I'm trying to convey, Your Majesty,” he drawled, smugness radiating off of him in waves. Minho had to hold himself back from decking Felix in the face.

With a groan, he looked him dead in the eye, “then tell me, Felix, what is it that your little spies have found out?”

“She's been sneaking out to the eastern part of the district,” the General noticed how the Prince's throat bobbed. “Almost every day, she leaves in the morning and returns in the evening. Apparently, it's in the area near the barracks and the illegal brothel down on Scarlet street.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued, the only thing that could be heard was the rapid beating of the Prince's heart.

“Oh, and also, one of the servants caught her sneaking into the supply room,” he handed him a report, “there have been things going missing in the past two weeks, and it is starting to affect our scheduled monthly budgeting…”

As Felix watched the gears spinning in Minho's head, he couldn't help but grin wickedly. This was exactly what he had wanted—to plant the seed of doubt in the Prince's mind, allowing in to slowly grow over time until it would eventually take over him.

And you had handed him the perfect means to do so on a silver platter.

“Where do you think she has been going?”

The question slipped from his parted lips in a quiet breath, and Felix couldn't help but admire how calm and collected he sounded. But then, the cracks in his facade slowly started to appear as the corner of his mouth twitched.

And that's when Felix decided to lay the last blow.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I'm betting she's secretly meeting with the loverboy…”

And that's all it took for Minho to storm off, leaving a pleased Felix alone in his office. The Prince's hands were clenched into tight fists, steam practically rising from atop of his head.

‘Stop it!’ his inner voice suddenly commanded, snapping him out of his fit of rage and back into reality. This was you he was talking about. Kind, open-hearted, and diligent Y/N.

What a fool he was, he realized, wanting nothing more than to give himself a smack. There was no need to get unnecessarily angry—he could just go to you and ask you to explain. Especially since that part of the city was very dangerous—perhaps he could just warn you about the potential peril.

After the short pep talk, he finally stood in front of your heavy doors, knocking gently on the dark wood.

He knocked once… Nothing.

Twice… Still no luck.

And when he knocked for the third time without you responding, panic slowly flooded his veins.

You were nowhere to be found.

He searched through your room, turning everything upside down but there was no trace of you.

He knew you were a free spirit but did you always have to worry him so much?

Slamming your bedroom door behind him, he ran down the hall, thinking about where you could have gone. And that's when it hit him—perhaps Felix was truly right about your supposed whereabouts.

Realizing that made shivers run down his spine—he didn't want you anywhere near that street, especially so late at night.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, throwing on his overcoat and grabbing the small decorative dagger that hung on the wall. It was his brother's.

After informing one of the servants of where he was headed, he ordered a small group of soldiers to be sent in the same direction in case things truly went south.

“Please, Y/N… be okay.”

. ˚✧・* •

As you stepped outside the orphanage, you cursed at the realization of how late it was. You hadn't planned to stay for so long, but you found yourself helping Jihyo with some chores (and there were so many of them), like washing the laundry, cleaning the living space, and preparing some of the food for tomorrow.

Your mind wandered back to your plans for the upcoming days. The date of your dinner with Minho kept coming closer and closer, which made your heart race. The image of the two of you sitting next to each other, eating some good food and laughing at each other's jokes like a normal engaged couple made the heat rise to your cheeks.

But you couldn't help it—ever since you and Minho had smoothed out the initial misunderstandings between you, you seemed to have fallen for the Prince. Sure, he was cold at first, something that made you keep your distance from him, but you slowly began to realize that there was much more to Lee Minho than meets the eye.

Under his perfect facade, you found him to be a vulnerable man, who was forced to build walls around himself in order to protect his emotions. He loved his brother dearly, and you could tell that his untimely death shook through him like a storm, leaving his soul broken into pieces.

It was just your luck that he seemed to be warming up to you, actually making an effort to interact with you and ask you about your health.

Suddenly, you heard a loud thud, accompanied by some loud voices. Your heart stilled in your chest as you paused, listening intently for any other noises.

You didn't have to wait for long, as a plethora of men's voices echoed through the night, making you realize that they were drunk. Very drunk. Their voices were slurred, sounding like they just got wasted at some bar nearby, but that didn't help to soothe your unease.

Drunk people meant angry people, and you didn't want to risk being in their presence to find out just how angry the men got here.

You began to run straight ahead, hoping that you'd slip by without them even noticing, or at least fast enough so they wouldn't be able to react in any way. You could hear their voices getting closer to you, but alas, you were almost at the end of the street. Hopefully, you'd just take a turn and leave this nasty street behind.

Wrong. What you didn't account for was the light from the only flickered lamp at the beginning of the street getting weaker and weaker. You realized that you had tripped way too late, unable to brace yourself for the fall. A shrill scream left your parted lips, as you cursed yourself for being so damn clumsy.

“What was that?” one of the men grumbled, suddenly sounding perfectly sober. A chorus of mumbles ensued as they all tried to figure out what had just happened. You felt your life wither in front of your eyes as one of the guys pointed in your direction.

You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping in the process again, but your attempts at getting away were feeble at best. A calloused hand clamped around one of your wrists, pulling you back into a rough body. You wrinkled your nose at the heavy smell of liquor.

“What are you doing here so late at night, pretty girl,” the man slurred, hand reaching to grab your cheek. You had to fight the urge to spit in his face, instead choosing to simply wrinkle your nose in disgust to mask the growing fear coursing through your veins.

“J-Just on a late night stroll… my husband is expecting me home in a few so…” you trailed off, hoping your voice sounded steady enough to convince them. You prayed that the ‘husband’ card would be to your advantage and they'd let you go if you mentioned that you were already with another.

Was it horrible that you had to go to such means? Sure, but at this moment, the only thing you cared for was getting out of here as soon as possible, your pride be damned.

A chorus of oooh's could be heard, followed by boisterous laughter. “You say you have a husband, little one?” the man's grip on your wrists tightened as he ran the rough pad of his thumb down the apple of your cheek. It was now that you realized how powerless you felt without your abilities. You would've kicked his ass if you could just freeze his hands and get out of his grip, but with your current predicament, it wasn't possible

“Well, it seems like your husband really doesn't care about you, little lamb. Especially if he lets you out all alone so late at night.”

The words cut deeper than you expected them to, like someone plunged a knife into your chest, twisting in and rearranging your insides.

“Wait a second!” one of the men in the back shouted, catching the attention of his companions. “She seems familiar…” he trailed off, grabbing your face roughly and moving it to inspect you from different angles.

A few seconds passed, followed by a loud gasp. He dropped your face, mumbling to himself, “i-it's her… it's the Azure Princess for God's sake!”

You winced at his revelation, cursing under your breath. You were hoping they wouldn't recognize you, unable to predict what they would do if they had realized that you were in fact the future Queen. From what you've gathered, your popularity here wasn't exactly what you had been hoping for.

Well, it seems like you would find out soon enough…

“Now well well well,” the man grinned, revealing his rotted teeth as he walked around you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. “This changes everything, don't you think, sweetheart?”

“It doesn't change the fact that your breath stinks, Smelly,” you spat back, trying to hold in the gagging noises in the back of your throat. The man's face turned beet red, fumes nearly coming out of his ears as the other men tried to stifle their snorts, looking away and masking their laughter with a few awkward coughs.

“Damn, she's feisty,” one of them chimed, quickly shutting up when he noticed their leader's piercing glare.

“It seems like you haven't understood the gravity of your situation, witch.”

When you heard him growl, regret washed over you almost immediately. ‘Stupid, Y/N, stupid!’ you chanted in your head, wincing as you felt his grip on you tighten.

Suddenly, a fluttery motion materialized in the corner of your eye. It was pretty dark, the singular lamp at the end of the street not doing a good job of illuminating the area, but you were positive that you saw something move past you.

“It seems like you aren't realizing the gravity of the situation, you fucking bastard!”

You gasped upon hearing the familiar voice, tears of joy prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“M-Minho,” you croaked, relief washing over you like a tidal wave. You shifted slightly, noticing that the man's grip on your hands had loosened slightly, but not enough for you to break his hold.

Minho stiffened at your hoarse voice, anger flooding through his veins. His arm was currently slung around the man's much broader figure, pressing the tip of his dagger to his jugular. His other hand was extended towards the rest of the group, flames bursting from the tips of his fingers.

The men took a few steps back, clearly frightened by the sudden display of power. They all knew what this had meant since only the royal bloodline possessed the ability to wield fire—the Prince had come to get you.

And by the sound of it, he was livid.

“I'll say it only one more time, you pathetic piece of shit, before I fucking burn you to the ground,” he seethed into his ear, pressing the tip of the blade deeper into the man's skin, a few drops of blood dripping down his hand.

“Let. Her. Go!”

Everything that happened after that was a blur. You could vaguely remember the events that followed Minho's sudden appearance. The bastard who held you didn't want to give up, but after feeling blood trickling down his neck, he unwillingly let go of you, pushing you to the ground with a thud.

He turned around to fight with Minho but he never really stood a chance in the first place, the young Prince blowing a gust of flames in his direction, tearing a shrill scream from his throat. After that, the two sparred for a short while, and despite his smaller stature, Minho had managed to land a fair share of blows on the much larger man.

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, making it look like he was far gone as he landed a final blow on him, spitting on his wrecked body. You watched the scene with wide eyes, trembling in the chilly, evening air.

Never in your life had you seen a man as angry as Minho was right now.

He was panting, deep, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips as he tucked the dagger behind his belt. Slowly, as if afraid he would scare you, Minho turned around, eyes finding yours.

Upon seeing you shivering on the cold ground, he felt something tug at his heartstrings.

“Princess—” he rasped, wiping his bloodied hand into his leather pants before carefully walking towards you. He crouched beside your figure, running his thumb down your cheek to wipe away the trail of tears that'd fallen.

“You're probably cold, aren't you,” he slid off his coat, gingerly placing it on your shoulders. You accepted the warm garment with a quiet ‘thanks’.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered, hands sliding under your body and hoisting you up into his arms. You snuggled up into his chest, pressing closer to him in hopes of obtaining some of his body heat.

“Let's get you back,” he bent down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead, smiling gently—a stark contrast to his wrath you witnessed mere minutes ago.

On the way back, once you fell asleep in his arms, Minho allowed himself to let go, unable to keep the strong facade any longer. A few tears trickled down his face as his grip on your form tightened.

‘You must've been so scared,’ he realized in anger. Why were you out so late? Why didn't you protect yourself? From what he had heard, you were quite the powerful ice-bender, and Minho for the love of God couldn't figure out why didn't you try to do anything against the men.

“Your Majesty,” Changbin, the captain of the 1st legion saluted, wincing at the state of his ruler. “I apologize for the delay, we had some troubles during our departure.”

“There's a man lying unconscious a few minutes walking from here. Go and bring him back. I want him sent to the dungeon,” Minho muttered darkly.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

. ˚✧・* •

When you awoke to the birds chirping, sunlight was streaming through the flimsy curtains, making you squint. Your head was pounding, a dull, steady ache accompanying the numb pain around your wrists.

A sudden movement made you look down, noticing Minho half-sitting in what looked like an uncomfortable chair, his head and torso lying over your lap. The morning rays of the sun were illuminating his face, like a glow cast gently on him by the angels.

“Minho—” you stirred him awake, tenderly brushing the sweaty locks of hair from his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible in response, groaning into your duvet. “Hey, hey—wake up.”

With a sudden jerk, he shot up, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he slowly came to. “Good morning… uh, how are you feeling?”

“Morning,” you responded lamely, scanning his face and spotting the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he had barely slept all night—which he probably had—but the sight made your heart clench.

“W-Wait a second… morning? How long was I out?”

Upon hearing the panic flaring in your voice, he responded as calmly as he could. “It's okay, don't worry. I, uh, I brought you in yesterday at night so probably about ten hours?”

All the memories of the previous night started to flood back, making you feel dizzy. The world was literally spinning, your head feeling heavy when Minho gently propped you up, helping you find a more comfortable position.

“Go back to sleep, okay?”

And just like that, everything went black.

. ˚✧・* •

“Good afternoon, Princess,” a familiar friendly voice chirped, walking through the ornate doorway. Groaning, you peeled your eyes open, coming face to face with Jeongin, who was holding a tray full of fresh pastries and fruit.

“My mom prepared these for you, they're fresh out of the oven.”

There's a forced cheerfulness in his tone, and you assumed Jeongin was trying to comfort you, not wanting to bring your spirits down.

“Thank you.”

He set the tray on the night table, careful not to hit Minho (whose head was still laying on your lap) with the assortment of treats he brought.

“How long has he been there, do you know?” you suddenly spoke up, keeping your eyes trained on the Prince. You had a suspicion that he hasn't left your side but you were hoping it wasn't true.

“I'm not sure, actually,” Jeongin shrugged, “but I heard that he carried you here all the way. And judging by his appearance, he probably stayed all night with you. He was really worried.”

Glancing up at Jeongin, you tried your hardest to muster up a smile. “Yeah… that sounds like something he would do…”

. ˚✧・* •

It took another few hours for you and Minho to finally talk.

After Jeongin left, you munched on one of the sweet pastries before pulling over the duvet and lying back in your bed. Your hand was gently curled around his hair as you let the exhaustion take over you once again, closing your eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms.

When you awoke, it was already evening, judging by the sun setting behind the windows.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Minho's raspy voice startled you into a seating position, eyes widening. “Ah, sorry… I, uh, I didn't mean to startle you,” he winced, hand reaching for yours as he gently interlocked your fingers.

“Um, it's okay,” you croaked, “I was just surprised, that's all.”

The uncomfortable silence lingered in the air for a bit longer, making you wince. It felt like you had just gone back to being awkward together, and it pained you so much to be unable to talk to him freely.

You shifted in your seat, your hand gently tugging at Minho's in the process, bringing it closer to your own lap. Your ears perked up when you heard him let out a pained groan, panic immediately flooding your veins. You glanced back at him, noticing the soiled bandages peeking from under his linen blouse.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, hastily reaching for the shirt and gently pulling it away, inspecting his injury. You were met with what looked like a knife wound, sloppily wrapped in plain bandages that were soaked with blood.

“What happened to you? Are you okay?” the questions began to roll off your tongue in a swift manner as you peered at him from under your lashes, distraught.

Minho, visibly taken aback by your concern, merely shrugged. “It must've happened while I fought off that bastard—I think he managed to graze me with his knife…”

“Grazed? Are you kidding me? Minho, this gash looks deep, did you at least get it disinfected?” you exclaimed worriedly. The way he guiltily avoided your gaze answered your question.

“For God's sake,” you groaned, kicking off the blankets and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. Alarmed, Minho immediately reached to push you back down.

“I'm just going to get the healing kit,” you murmured under your breath, feet padding against the cold, marble floor. Once you returned, you gestured towards the bed.

“Sit down on the bed, you dummy,” you gave him an incredulous look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll clean your wound.”

A soft blush coated Minho's cheeks as he sat down on the bed, nervously tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. You placed the box on the chair he previously occupied, taking out all the items you would need.

Clearing his throat, Minho muttered, “I didn't know you were a healer.”

You smiled gently, preparing an herb decoction in the small washbasin. “I'm not, I just know a thing or two about treating wounds—there was a shortage of healers in our kingdom during the war.”

“Ah,” Minho awkwardly bit his lower lip, evading your gaze. “I see.”

After you were done with the herbs, you turned around to face him, pointing at his shirt. “Can you take it off? I, uh, I need to access your wound to properly wash it.”

“Yeah, of course,” his lips curved into a smile, hands reaching to pull the shirt over his head. If he noticed the heat rising to your cheeks, he didn't mention it, instead basking in the way your gentle hands began running over his torso as you carefully unwrapped the bandages.

After you were done, you placed the soiled gauze on an empty tray. Your cheeks were warm as you took in Minho in all of his—albeit slightly disheveled and injured—glory. Smooth planes of toned, sun-kissed skin that felt like heaven under your fingertips.

He was so… warm.

And you meant that in the most literal way—his body heat was unmatched. Perhaps it was due to the warm nature of fire, or the generally hot lands of the Crimson land, but his soft skin was radiating so much heat.

Not to mention his hair—dark and touseled, so unlike his usually tidy and neat updo. You had to resist the urge to run your hair through his curly locks.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to him, face heating up in embarrassment. “I-I… I wasn't—”

“Weren't what? Staring at me?” he smirked, his ego swelling up after having caught you staring at him for so long. Well, to be fair, it was nice to know that he had a similar effect on you as you did on him. When he noticed how flustered you were, his tone took on a softer edge.

“It's okay, Princess—no need to be embarrassed. After all, we will be soon husband and wife.”

Sadly, his statement only riled you on more as you grabbed your supplies.

“This may sting a little,” it's the only warning you gave him before beginning to gently run the wet cloth over his wound.

“Ah-ah,” he moaned in pain, clutching onto the bedsheets as if his life depended on it. Your eyes widened at the sinful sound, bitting at your lower lip.

“S-Sorry.”

Once you deemed the wound clean enough, you placed your palms against his toned chest, gently pushing him down on the bed.

“Stop it,” you grumbled, pinching his waist once you saw him wiggle his eyebrows suggestively… “It'll be easier for me to properly rinse the wound with the herbs if you're laying down.”

Chuckling, Minho submitted to your wishes, his back making contact with the bed. You kneeled beside him, grabbing a clean cloth before dipping it in the herbal tincture. Once it was completely soaked, you gently wrung it over his wound, wincing as he groaned in pain.

You repeated the process a few more times, until the wound was relatively clean, save for the few streaks of blood on the pinkish flesh.

“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled quietly, reaching for a small tin. “I'm almost done.”

“It's okay, no need to apologize.”

After that, you applied some sage salve onto the wound and proceeded to tightly bandage it with a new gauze.

“Thank you,” Minho slid up into a seating position, pushing the sweaty hair from his forehead. You could tell that he was still recovering from the stinging sensations, breathing shallowly.

“It's no problem, just make sure to visit the palace physician to make sure everything is alright.”

When he didn't respond, you noticed how tense his shoulders looked. His brows were furrowed, almost as if he was deep in thought and he kept balling his hand into a fist before unclenching it. Seemingly, something was bothering him.

“Are you okay, Minho?” you decided to voice your concerns, nervously biting your lip.

“I–, uh… yeah. Don't worry about it, it's kinda stupid,” he chuckled anxiously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Hey, hey… look at me,” you gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you. “Your happiness matters just as much as mine. If there's something bothering you, please tell me. Maybe I can help…”

“That's the thing,” he laughed bitterly, “I don't think you can help me with this.”

You peered at him, confused.

“It's just that— I…” the words seemed to get caught in his throat. “Were you with Jisung last night?”

As soon as he uttered the sentence, his head fell into his hands, embarrassed. “No, whatever, you don't have to answer. This is just the jealousy speaking—I shouldn't be concerned about that when your life was in danger yesterday—” he rambled on, clenching his hands into fists—a habit you have picked up on as a sign of stress.

“Minho,” you stroked his cheek with your palm, “Please, just look at me.”

He slowly lifted his head, eyes staring into yours. You noticed the wetness at the corners of his eyes—were those tears? You didn't ask, however, not wanting to put him on the spot. He seemed to struggle with being vulnerable and open with people, so you figured it would be better not to mention it.

“Why would you think I was with Jisung?”

“I don't know,” he grumbled, wiping his eyes. “You seem to like him a lot… and when Felix told me that you were sneaking out to the eastern district, I-I, I just figured you were secretly seeing him, you know… since the barracks are in the east too.”

“Oh Minho,” you thumbed the tear rolling down his cheek, “I didn't even know that the barracks were nearby. I promise that's not what happened. Me and Jisung, um, we talked it out already and there's nothing between us. We haven't actually spoken for ages…”

“I know… I should've known,” he corrected himself, “but I don't want you to cut him off completely, Y/N. I understand that he's someone close to you so please, don't feel like you can't spend any time with him. At least not too much,” he added after a short pause, making you giggle.

“Alright. I appreciate it, Minho.”

Despite Minho initially looking like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, you still felt like something was bothering him. Gently, you nudged him in the side, whispering, “Is that all that was bothering you?”

“Actually,” he breathed out, “it's not. There's so much about you that I don't know. You're such a fucking mystery to me, you know.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, making the coil in your stomach tighten. Running a hand down his back, you whispered, “what exactly do you want to know?”

“Everything. Like what body wash you use cause it smells fucking amazing,” he grumbled, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Why thank you,” you giggled, attempting a curtsy in your seating position, “I use the same vanilla body wash I've used for my entire life.”

After a moment, his hand reached out for yours, gently interlocking your fingers.

“If I'm being honest, I still don't understand what exactly happened yesterday. Why were you out so late? Where even were you?”

“I was at the orphanage,” you mumbled quietly.

“Come again?”

“I was at the orphanage,” you repeated, this time louder, looking away in embarrassment. "When I found out in what poor conditions the place was, I decided to come every day and help clean the place and teach the kids how to read and count.”

“Of course you did,” Minho breathed out in exasperation. “I was so damn stupid—the missing supplies—I should've realized it was something like that. I know how sweet and selfless you are, Y/N, and trust me, it's one of your most magnificent qualities, but for once, just for once, could you have been a little selfish and thought of yourself?”

“What do you mean–”

“I mean that you shouldn't have stayed so long, but most importantly, you should've defended yourself!” he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he ran his other hand through his hair.

“They say that you're one of the most powerful benders from the Azure kingdom, so how come you didn't do anything to fend them off? They should've been small fish compared to you…”

And there it was. Minho had just asked the million-dollar question that you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. Your heartbeat quickened as sweat started to gather on your forehead.

“I-I…” you meekly whispered, the words not coming out. Minho noticed the apparent change in demeanor, as well as the way your shoulders began to tremble.

“Hey, it's okay, don't worry. You can tell me anything,” he coaxed you, gently gripping your waist and placing you on his lap. Brushing the hair out of your face, he whispered, “you can lean on me whenever something's bothering you, you know? That's what I'm here for.”

“I lost my p-powers, Minho.”

There… you said it. You uttered the sentence you hoped you would never have to say out loud. You awaited his reaction, the anger, confusion, and frustration that would follow.

Nothing.

Gently peering at him from under your lashes, you found his lips to be curled into a soft smile. Pity, you quickly realized. Oh no, he would break it to you know—the engagement would be broken off, your kingdoms would be at war again, you realized in panic.

“I-I couldn't tell you since I knew how important that aspect was to the royal court. As soon as they find out,” you hiccuped, “they'll formally break off the engagement… and my people… the Azure land c-can't take more war, Minho! We'll be obliterated so please, d-don't—”

“Do you seriously think I would break off the engagement because of that?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“Seriously, Y/N, I know I acted like a selfish prick at first, but do you really think that lowly of me? That I'd send you back home along with my army hot on your heels just because of that?”

Your eyes were glossy, “I… I don't know,” you admitted after a while, blinking away the tears. “Everything was fine before, but one day, I just couldn't summon them. And I was too scared to tell anyone since the final clause of the treaty is that the two of us marry and produce a powerful heir that should inherit both our abilities…”

Minho blushed furiously at the mention of an heir, the tips of his ears turning beet red. “I, uh, we'll find a cure, don't worry. If I have to, I'll travel with you far and wide to visit every healer in the kingdom.”

His words soothed your fears as you melted in his embrace. “T-Thank you, Min.”

He softened at the nickname. “Don't worry about it, everything will be okay.”

The two of you sat like that for another couple of minutes, Minho rubbing your back as you calm down from the onslaught of emotions. It was a bit embarrassing for you to cry in front of him, but despite the slight distress, you were glad you got those things off your chest.

And it seemed like it was quite a productive conversation for Minho as well. You could tell that it was rare for him to open up as much as he did. He wasn't used to being vulnerable in front of others, especially after his brother's passing.

Later at night, after he had carried you bridal style to your chambers, he told you that the two of you could visit the orphanage together first thing in the morning. After that, he kissed you on the forehead and wished you sweet dreams.

The cool breeze slipping from the open window made you shiver as you tangled your limbs into the sheets. A particular sentence from Minho had stuck with you, something that he said in between his frustrated exclamations of how careless you were.

“Please, Y/N. I was so scared history would repeat itself. I can't lose another one… I can't lose you…”

. ˚✧・* •

“Here you go,” Minho handed you fresh pastry, paying the woman as the two of you strolled through the market. It was pretty early in the morning, the sun still rising, as you walked hand in hand.

“You can't wear this,” you poked him on the shoulder, “everyone will recognize you.”

“So what? You're not really that incognito yourself,” he pointed at your face. “Soon, everyone in the nation will recognize you as my wife, and therefore, their lawful queen.”

“Minho,” you smacked your lips, hiding your embarrassment. “C'mon, let's go.”

The Minho that stood in front of you now looked quite unlike the Minho you were used to from the palace. His hair was dissheveled, the mop of unruly curls sitting atop his head and glimmering more than any crown could.

He was dressed in simple clothing, natural colors, and clean lines, both of which accentuated his sturdy build and the rugged charm he exuded.

You, on the other hand, were dressed in a plain, beige dress that fit around your body snuggly, a thin, leather belt fastened around your waist.

“Wait a second, I have an idea!” Minho exclaimed, tugging at your belt loop to bring you closer to him. His hand gently brushed against your neck, fingertips igniting all the sensitive nerve endings.

He pulled out a beautiful silken scarf, looping it under your hair before tying a knot, bringing your locks into a ponytail. “There, now you'll fit in.”

On your way to the orphanage, Minho acted as your tour guide, pointing at all the noteworthy monuments and retelling you the history of the city like he was a walking textbook. When you pulled out your trusty leather-bound notebook to take some notes, he immediately asked about its contents, and when he jutted his lower lip, you couldn't deny him.

“Well… it's actually just notes I took on the kingdom's history, culture, and the problem areas. I talked to some of the citizens and asked them about possible areas of friction.”

The memories of your amateur interviews came back to mind, heat rising to your cheeks. Minho seemed awfully intrigued, ears piqued in interest.

“I had told myself that I would bring up these issues once we shared some dinner but since that never happened…”

You trailed off solemnly, causing Minho to wince. He knew it wasn't proper of him to flake out like that but the sudden meeting that Felix sprang on him required his immediate presence.

“Anyways,” you turned the page in your notebook, beginning to read off all of your notes, “I was told multiple times that some of the men in power abuse their status. They leverage things like fresh water and raise taxes and there's no one to stop them.”

Minho frowned at the revelation, unsure of what to say. “That's not all,” you continued, looking him in the eye. “Apparently, you're very hard to reach—countless people have tried to set up an audience with you but they were never allowed—and these are only the few that aren't petrified of you.”

“Hmm, I honestly didn't expect that. Most of the internal affairs like requests for an audience go through a couple of people before they reach me—I'll have to ask them about that.”

Once the two of you reached the orphanage, Minho's hand nervously found yours. You could tell he was beginning to feel anxious, so you resorted to caressing his knuckles with your thumb.

“Don't worry, the kids will love you,” you beamed, brushing a curly lock from in front of his eyes. Minho blushed at the affectionate gesture, your hooded gaze unhelpful to the pink blossom on his cheeks.

“If you say so…”

Tapping your knuckle against the unpolished wood, you knocked a few times. When the door opened, Jihyo popped up from behind, grinning upon seeing you.

“Hey, welcome,” she pulled you into a tight hug. Only then did she notice your companion, welcoming him with a wave. “Are you Y/N's husband?” she gushed, holding the door for the two of you to enter. Heat rose to your cheeks at her words, but Minho simply smirked, “Not yet, but we're engaged.”

“Ah, this is so sweet,” she placed her hand in front of her lips, cooing. “Young love—it's so refreshing to see nowadays.”

As soon as you stepped into the cramped living room, a dozen or so kids immediately flocked to you, welcoming you with a smile.

“Hii, Y/N. Did you bring any sweets?”

“N/N, I missed you so much.”

“Who's this man? Why did he come with you?”

You chuckled at their inquiries, gently stroking their heads. “One by one, guys. I have something for you, don't worry, Gyu,” you nodded towards one of the boys who instantly lightened up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Aww, I missed you too, Rosie,” you hugged the pigtailed girl, turning around to face Minho. “And this is… Lino, he's very excited to meet you all—greet him warmly, please!”

Minho flushed at the nickname, barely concealing the smile that was peaking through his scowl. You laughed at the expression he made, the sound still ringing in his ears hours later like the most beautiful melody.

To see you like this, he couldn't get enough of it. He stood by the large glass window, resting his back against it as he watched you from afar, drunk on the sight. Not that looking at you wasn't a blessing in and of itself—far from that, actually.

Minho used to pride himself on being able to resist all things irresistible.

He learned how to accept defeat, and how to deal with things he never thought he would get in life. How to deal with the repercussions of watching people from afar have what he desperately wanted, but never thought he could have.

A normal, domestic life.

It used to ache him so much… after his brother's untimely death, he was faced with more than one cruel occurrence. He would have to be King. and because of that, any sort of life, with just a semblance of normalcy, should've been ruled out. Right?

Wrong… maybe.

The joyful screams and beams of laughter rang through the air as you chased around with the kids, your dress floating around whimsically. Oh how he longed for you to smile like that in his presence, he longed to be the cause for your happiness, just like these little rascals seemed to be.

The last blow to his already fragile and tender heart was when one of the girls jumped into your arms, which resulted in your holding her like one would hold a newborn, rocking her from side to side. He nearly burst at the sight, mind immediately wandering to what your kids would look like.

‘Fuck,’ he thought. It almost felt like you were doing this to him on purpose, trying to rile him up. He dismissed the idea though when you turned around to face him, a wide, innocent smile on your lips.

“C'mon, Min. Come join us, we're gonna play tag in the backyard!”

And just like that, Minho knew there was no going back.

. ˚✧・* •

“Teach him a lesson!” one of the men shouted, earning himself at least a dozen ‘yeah's’ from the gathered crowd. “Show him how it's done here in the Crimson land!”

Ignoring the hollers, Jisung wiped the blood from his busted lip, straightening up as he waited for the General to strike again. Unfortunately for him, the loud noises around him proved to be detrimental to his ability to focus, slowing down his reaction time.

Another round of applause rumbled as Felix managed to land another blow on him, this time hitting him straight in the jaw.

“You're awfully slow today, aren't you,” he remarked, brows shooting up. Jisung shot him a nasty glare, “And you seem awfully chatty. You think you can manage to win this battle by talking me to death?”

His taunt didn't draw out the reaction he wanted, the General not even blinking. “No, but I might beat you into a pulp if you don't step up your game, loverboy.”

Jisung ground his teeth at the taunt, knowing fully well what Felix was getting at. His irritation must've shown, as the most shit-eating grin appeared on the General's lips.

He just hit the nail in the coffin.

“Don't call me that,” he tried his hardest to sound intimidating, but it rather had the opposite effect. “Why shouldn't I? Isn't that who you are—a guard helplessly in love with the Princess? You must know that relationships like these are merely fantasies, right?”

When the lieutenant didn't answer, he continued, still watching his moves with a hawk eye. “Face, it—you'll never get–”

And that was all it took for Jisung to clench his fists

It wasn't for about ten minutes that Felix was declared the official winner of the match as he landed the final blow, punching his opponent in the gut. Jisung was sent flying across the makeshift ring, coughing up a bit of blood.

As he sat on the dirty floor, surrounded by a few dozen men, soldiers and farmers alike, he felt like the ground should swallow him up alive. His cheeks were warm, a soft shade of red blossoming from his neck upwards. Whether it was from the exertion his body went through or the bustling humiliation coursing his veins, he couldn't tell.

Tears welled up in his eyes making him hiccup, his lashes fluttering as Felix delivered the last kick… Before he could splutter out the words to give up, the ground was torn from under his wobbly feet and everything went black.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty!”

The loud knock wakes you from your peaceful slumber, a tired groan escaping your lips. “Coming,” you muttered, slinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

You paddled on your bare feet towards the wooden door, opening it to come face to face with one of the guards. Immediately, you felt a twinge of embarrassment as you realized that you were only wearing your silken night slip. The guard, however, didn't react in any sort of way, handing you a large rose bouquet wrapped indelicate wrapping paper.

“His Majesty ordered for this to be delivered to you,” he noted, before bowing down and walking away. The heat rose to your cheeks as you stood in the doorway with the large assortment of flowers, startled to the core.

You never would've pegged Minho as the romantic type…

Inside your room, you placed the bouquet on the table, noticing that a small, paper note had been attached to one of the flowers. Your fingers worked gently to unfold it, reading the contents in one go.

For Princess Y/N,

I hope you like them, sweetheart ♥ can't wait for our dinner tomorrow…

LMH

. ˚✧・* •

Later that day, you and Minho bumped into each other during lunchtime, and he suggested that the two of you grab something from the kitchen and sneak out on the balcony to eat.

“I looked over the issue with Count Choi and Viscount Kim,” he mentioned after swallowing down the last piece of the chicken pie. “Indeed, the two of them had gotten many complaints on how they ruled their regions; I can't believe this hasn't been brought to my attention.” his fists clenched, showing how frustrated he was with the situation.

“There's nothing we can do about that now, Minho. I'm just happy that we found out. It seems like this is a recurring pattern thought…” you trailed off solemnly, gazing at the city.

“Yeah. I'll have to have a little talk with some of the men in the Royal Court—this behavior is unacceptable.”

“It's good to know that you are interested in these things, I can tell that you care.”

Minho looked away, trying not to seem fazed by your words. His hand found its way onto yours, gently enveloping your palm, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.

“I'm also looking into what can be done for the orphanage,” he relaxed his posture, tipping his head towards the blue sky. “So far, it seems that they lack mostly funding, so I'm going over it with the palace accountant—it seems like we'll be able to give them a more than healthy sum every month that should be more than enough to run the place smoothly. They should also be able to afford to employ one or two more people to keep the place running.”

Your smile brightened at the thought of Jiyho having some support, both financial and physical. She worked herself nearly to death, doing everything she could to keep the place going.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered, your words barely audible.

The Sun was glimmering, painting the sky in hues of gold. You gazed into the distance, a sense of newfound longing in your heart. “The sky's beautiful, isn't it?” you entwined your hand with his, voicing out your thoughts.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” came his breathless response. Your heartbeat quickened in surprise as you slowly turned around to face him. His lips were gently parted as he gazed at you with an intensity you've never seen before like you held the entire Milky Way in your eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, your fingers numbly clutching onto the hem of your gown.

“You know you're the smartest, kindest, most stunning woman in the entire kingdom?”

You spluttered, unsure of how to respond to his words. The weight of his compliments hung in the air, an unexplainable tension forming between the two of you. Minho's gaze softened at your bashfulness, hand cupping your face.

“I mean that, you know,” his thumb gently stroked your cheek, causing you to nearly melt from his mere touch. “I know it's been difficult for you to adjust to your new life, but I want you to know that I'm so proud of you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, lashes fluttering at the pretext of what was going to happen next.

“I've been waiting for this for so damn long,” as if on cue, Minho breathed out, his warm breath fanning your cheek. You could almost feel the plush of his oh-so-soft lips on yours, excitement running through your veins.

Yet it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you when you heard the door crash open.

“Your Majesty!” a guard in his early twenties burst in, bowing down.

You instantly jumped away from Minho, flustered from the sudden interruption. On the other hand, Minho's reaction was completely opposite to yours.

“What is it?” he grumbled, a light blush blossoming on his cheeks. Why did this always happen to him?

“We have just received a report that a famine had broken out in the northern villages. The last few caravans sent by Your Majesty had been attacked, resulting in there not being enough resources to keep the people in the area fed.”

A beat of silence followed before any of you spoke, the guard promptly excusing himself and leaving the two of you to wallow in the remains of the depressing statement. Your hand was still holding on to his, so you could feel the way he tensed. His brows were drawn together, lips set in a firm line as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

“Minho,” you tried to gently call his name, rubbing his back in hopes of soothing his anxieties. You were worried too, but you could tell how much more this affected him, despite his best efforts to hide it.

“Y/N,” he nervously bit down on his lip, “I know we were going to spend some time together—”

“Go,” you reassured him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I understand that this is a situation of utmost importance.”

His expression relaxed into a smile. “Thank you, I appreciate you being so understanding.”

“Oh please,” you waved him off, “it's nothing. I would gladly accompany you if you'd like, but I fear I would mainly impose…”

“Nonsense,” he held out his hand for you to take, like a true gentleman. “I'd welcome your presence. Besides, it's about time that the officials start getting used to seeing you around—after all—you don't think I'll the only one to decide on all the matters, don't you?” he grinned.

“If that's the case, I'd love to come.”

. ˚✧・* •

The air in the council chambers was as suffocating as the freezing winters of your land.

The room was laid out rather nicely, you presume. A voluminous ornate table at which all the council members gathered, large windows allowing copious amounts of sunlight to stream in through, and elegant paintings of the entire royal bloodline hanging off the walls.

Minho, as the Crown Prince and rightful heir to the throne, occupied the head of the table, and with the crown perched on top of his head, he looked more like the menacing ruler everyone made him out to be. You were sat right by his side, ears piqued as you listened intently to their conversation.

“Councilman Moon,” Minho's voice bounced off the walls, the authoritative edge ever so present. “I don't understand the point you are making. There's a famine breaking out—in what world is that not a priority matter for us to discuss?”

“If I may,” you intervene, gathering the attention of the rest of the councilmembers and Minho himself.

“Of course, Princess,” he spoke softly as if reassuring you with the gentlest of smiles.

“Thank you. So I wanted to follow up on what the Prince had said,” you brought your hands from your lap to the table. “Allowing a famine to spread would be way too risky—especially once it spirals out of control… Trust me, I have seen my Kingdom nearly fall apart due to there not being enough resources,” your brows furrowed at the unpleasant memories. “And that's not to mention that it would be a terrible decision to make, morally speaking.”

One of the men let out a distasteful scoff, and everyone's gazes immediately focused on him.

“Is there something amusing that you'd like to share with the rest of us, councilman Jung?” Minho snarled in his direction.

“Not exactly, Your Majesty. I merely believe that the Princess shouldn't speak on matters she outside of her scope of understanding.”

Before Minho could respond, you cut in. “Why do you believe that I possess no understanding of this topic? I have seen what hunger had done to my people, and I merely want to prevent history from repeating itself here.”

“What do you propose we do then, Your Majesty?” one of the kinder council members spoke up, intrigue lacing his tone.

“Well, first of all, I'd suggest that each caravan carrying supplies is accompanied by a small cell of soldiers that will make sure that no one comes to harm and that the supplies will be safely delivered to their final destination.”

Immediately, councilman Jung interrupted you, fiery gaze piercing through you.

“And where do you suggest we find all these soldiers? Trained men do not grow on trees, Your Majesty.”

“There's plenty of soldiers in the barracks right now, if I'm not mistaken,” you retorted, challenging him. “The war has ended, which means that most of the troops are now back home. Undoubtedly, there should be enough manpower to make sure that basic resources are redistributed in the land, isn't that correct?”

“Indeed, it may appear so, but what if conflict won't cease? The union has not yet been officially consummated, so who's to say what may or may not happen?”

Silence followed, and you were sure that if you tried, you would've heard a pin drop.

“E-Excuse me?” you managed to stutter after a while, frustration and confusion mingling inside of you. “What do you mean by that?”

“Yeah,” Minho cut in angrily, “what do you mean by that, councilman Jung? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you were the same person that suggested we force the Azure kingdom to surrender since you believed that they would not agree to our terms. But they have, and Princess Y/N seated here beside us is living proof of that.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty, I didn't mean to—”

“Not to mention that I do not appreciate your accusatory and rude tone. You spoke as if doubting the validity of this union. The official wedding ceremony will be held shortly, but that doesn't give you a reason to spout such denunciatory ies.”

The rest of the council was quiet, everyone holding their breaths as they watched the brawl between the cantankerous councilman and the Prince.

“To bring this meeting to an end, I propose that we go with the Princess' idea. She made many righteous points and I believe that this is the minimum we can do for our entire nation to remain prosperous.” he shot councilman Jung a venomous glare, effectively silencing him.

“And lastly, I would like to add something that should have been obvious in the first place.”

Scanning the room, eyes lingering on each and every one of the men present. “In no way are you to ever disrespect the Princess in such a manner, have I made myself clear?”

“Transparent, Your Majesty.”

. ˚✧・* •

The man ground his teeth, nervously walking around the room with his hand curled in his hair. This wasn't what he wanted to hear on a fine Saturday morning, not at all.

A guard slipped into his room, handing him the folded piece of paper and whispering in his ear. “Everything will go according to plan. He folded under the pressure immediately and agreed to do as you say.”

At least there was some good news.

. ˚✧・* •

The Sun had already begun to set when you started to get ready for your much-anticipated dinner. Despite how excited and giddy you were, the anxiousness stored in the back of your mind prevailed, causing you to stress unnecessarily.

You opted to prepare another cup of fresh tea, the healer having brought another batch. It was an improved recipe, he told you, and before you even took a sip, you could smell the sharp scent of apricots filling your nostrils.

A few isolated petals of a blush pink hue floated amongst the mostly-clear liquid. You downed most of the tea in a long, drawn-out gulp. The loud ticking of the clock reminded you that you were indeed on a time crunch, so you stood up, heading towards your closet to pull out the prized item of clothing.

Placing the red gown against your body, you twirled around like a giggly twelve-year-old, your heart racing at what would become of today's evening. You gently peeled off your simple dress, slipping into the bright-red one. Shivers ran down your spine as the satin made contact with your heated skin, leaving a blissful trail of tranquility.

You tied the bow at the back, tightening the gown at your waist before looking in the mirror, a pleased smile forming on your lips.

All that was left now was to tie your hair into a slightly more intricate updo that you would usually do, followed by a light spritz of your favorite vanilla-scented perfume.

A sudden wave of nausea crashed over you.

You had to bring your back against the wall, inhaling deeply to calm your erratic heartbeat. ‘Everything will be okay,’ you tried to tell yourself, pressing your hands to your cheeks. There was no reason to be worried, but then why was your heart racing like a horse running through a field?

It was one of those… that supposed gut feeling that you've heard, even read of. But you merely ignored it, sliding on a plain, gold bracelet around your wrist that matched the golden hems and stitchings of your dress.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your chambers, both excitement and qualm coursing through your veins.

. ˚✧・* •

The halls were unusually empty, void of the customary liveliness and buzz you had attuned to.

The sleeves of your gown draped over your shoulders comfortably as you walked towards the grand dining room where you were supposed to meet Minho.

You nearly felt on top of the world, so much having changed since you first arrived. It felt like you finally had something to look forward to in this union—perhaps—that you wouldn't be shackled to a loveless marriage as you had previously believed.

The room was just a few more turns away. You could already smell the unmistakable aroma of brassiered chicken and many other southern delicacies.

As the tip of your foot made contact with the ground, you felt like the world was being torn from under your feet. With a quiet gasp, you folded over like a ragdoll, falling limply to the ground. A sudden burst of cramps ramped through you, causing you to convulse on the floor, hoarse cries of pain leaving your dry lips.

Once the sudden rupture of pain came to a stop, you nearly moaned in relief. Sweat lined at your forehead as your hands tried to grasp against the marble floor, attempting to support you into a seating position. But to no avail.

It took approximately a minute or two for the world around you to go pitch black.

. ˚✧・* •

Tick tock.

Minho watched the grandfather clock tick on the wall, brows furrowing at your absence. It was currently six-forty… you were ten minutes late. If it weren't for the dozen or so maids and cooks lining the wall of the dining room, he wouldn't have been as worried as he was now.

‘News traveled fast,’ he recalled, and what other new gossip could there be on a fine Saturday evening if not something as scandalous as the Crown Princess standing up her fiancé.

It was highly unusual for you to be late, that was what struck him first. What's more, it would be nearly unheard of for you to turn up late knowing how important today's dinner was for your image, especially amongst the palace staff.

Adjusting the collar of his crisp white blouse underneath his navy suit, he swallowed thickly, brushing off the nonexistent dust from his pressed pants. The golden fastenings of his jacket clinked, grabbing the attention of the people around him.

He nervously bit down on his lip, ignoring the curious glances from some of the younger maids as he kept his eyes trained on the clock. He knew that there was one more thing on their minds right now, and it was undoubtedly the odd color of his outfit.

It was unusual for a Crimson ruler to adorn the colors of the perceived enemy. He was taking a huge gamble by wearing navy, but he had hoped that the sightings of the two of you each wearing the other nation's colors would stir something within the people.

‘I hope you comes soon,’ he thought, sighing at the sight of the now cold food…

. ˚✧・* •

Jisung was walking down the hall when he suddenly noticed something peeking from around the corner. It was a small tuft of red fabric, or at least it seemed like it from afar.

He began walking briskly towards the spot—it was highly unusual for the palace floors to be littered with anything, having been cleaned multiple times a day. As he was getting closer and closer, he could see more of this supposed ‘piece of cloth’, rather, it was beginning to look more like… an arm?

His eyes widened in surprise, mouth ajar as an unconscious body came into view, limbs twisted under a gorgeous red gown.

“Y/N?!” he cried when he finally recognized you, his insides clenching at the sight. Your lips were parted, a sliver of drool on your cheeks. Nearly instantly (or as quickly as his shocked state allowed him to), he bent down to your level, fingers pressing to your neck to check your pulse.

‘Thank god,’ he thought, feeling the albeit slowed drumming of your heart. His hands slid under your body, hoisting you up with a grunt. His stomach was still aching from having been kicked there repeatedly by the General, but the adrenaline proved to do wonders for him once again as he briskly walked down the hall, heading for your bed chambers.

When he passed a maid, he immediately ordered, “The Princess is unconscious! Go get the palace healer and inform His Majesty about it.”

The girl hastily nodded, running off in what he presumed to be the direction of the infirmary.

. ˚✧・* •

For the nth time in the past few weeks, Minho felt his heart plummet to the depths of the sea. There was a weird buzz in his head, one that drowned out everything else, as the last bits of cohesion exited his body.

He had just been informed that you were taken into the infirmary by Jisung and that he requested for him to come as soon as possible.

When he had hoped there was a solid reason as to why you didn't arrive, this wasn't what he had meant.

Before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him in the direction of your bed chambers, heart erratically pounding against his ribcage. His ears suddenly picked up on what seemed to be an argument between two males. The closer he got to your room, the louder he heard one of them scream while the other begged for him to stop.

What the hell was going on?

His question was answered as soon as he burst through the door, panting, eyes scanning the room. He noticed you lying on the bed, frumpled, with your limbs curled under the sheets. Your face displayed a twisting of emotions, mainly pain, and exhaustion and it looked like you were knee-deep in a living nightmare.

Before he could come up to you and check how you were doing, he noticed something that concerned him highly.

In the corner of the room kneeled Jisung, pressing Seungmin to the floor, rage written all over his face. The healer underneath him thrashed in his hold, begging to be released.

“I'll ask you again: what the fuck did you put in that cup?” he growled in his ear, twisting his arms against his back. Seungmin writhed, bitting down on his lip. “I-I didn't do anything—you must've been mistaken!”

The two of them seems so engrossed in the brawl that they didn't even notice the Prince standing above them, livid.

“What's going on?”

His tone was dripping in authoritativeness, anger licking away at his insides. Both Seungmin and Jisung immediately snapped their heads towards the Prince, the latter spluttering to form a coherent answer.

“I brought Y/N inside and asked for them to call for you and a healer. This guy over here tried sneaking something into her water while I was tending to her.”

Minho's eye twitched as he glanced at Seungmin with newfound anger. “Is that true, Seungmin? Should I expect the palace healer to sneak things into people's drinks now?”

“Y-Your Majesty, I-I was merely…”

“You were merely what, Seungmin? I'm dying to know here,” he replied venomously.

“I-I… okay, I admit I did it, okay?” he suddenly burst out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Both Minho and Jisung watched him, stunned.

“You admit to what?” Jisung grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up until he was facing him directly. “What did you do?”

“I… the General… he,” Seungmin hiccuped, “He threatened me and my family. He said he would make me and my family suffer if I didn't…”

Minho clenched his fists, nearly growling, “What did he tell you to do? Answer me!” All of his attention was on the young healer, rage coursing through him.

“He made me add poison to her tea!”

Silence. If he had tried, he could've heard a pin drop.

Then, all the muscles in his face contorted into a mask of pure fury and disgust. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, nearly drawing blood as he pushed Jisung away, grabbing the trembling healer and pinning him against the wall.

His stare was icy, venomous, even but what scared Seungmin, even more, was the calmness in his voice when he spoke, “What did you put in her tea?”

“I-I'm not sure… the General just gave me a s-small pouch of flowers and told me to add it to her tea mixture. I r-really don't know, please…” he cowered under his stare, trembling.

His pathetic sobs were interrupted by a loud cough coming from your bed. Minho immediately let go, running towards you as Seungmin's body slumped to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through him.

“Y/N,” he called out for you, gently moving your head to the side so you were facing him. Your cheeks were warm, just like the rest of your body, and you felt unimaginably dizzy like the entire world was spinning around you.

“M-Minho,” you croaked, pupils dilating as you clutched onto his hand like it was your lifebuoy. “I-I feel sick…”

His heart cracked upon hearing your voice… so broken. “I-I…”

Before he could even say anything, something burst through the door, causing him to look up.

Or rather, someone.

“What happened?” Chan panted, directing the question at Jisung, but Minho was the one who answered, bsikly explaining what he had heard from Jisung and the servant.

“The Princess was poisoned?” a higher voice shouted in disbelief, only coming to view as she stepped out from behind Chan, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

Minho seemed to recognize her from passing, but couldn't exactly place her face. Her hair was swept into a simple bun and she was dressed in a plain dress with an apron, making Minho believe she was one of the maids.

“I-I, uh, if I may, Your Majesty,” she gestured in your general direction, averting the Prince's eyes. “May I have a look? I have some knowledge in toxins and maybe I could…”

“Please,” he cut her off weakly, “Go ahead.”

Yuna crouched down beside you, wiping the sweat off your forehead with her sleeve. “How are you feeling, Your Majesty?”

“Y-Yuna,” you smiled at her, hand reaching to grab hers. “How have you been?”

“I'm sorry, I don't think it's the proper time to discuss this now,” she turned around at the three men behind her. “Please bring me some water and a clean cloth.”

Once Chan handed her the filled washbasin and a rag, she dipped the fabric in the water and placed it over your forehead.

“I'll need you to tell me exactly how you're feeling…”

You began to describe the type of pain you're going through, the nausea, and the pounding of your head. Yuna took notice of the way your pupils dilated, the gears in her head spinning as she tried to figure out what could've caused your poisoning. After all, the first step to finding an antidote was identifying the poison.

Suddenly, she turned around with a jerk, scanning the room. “Do you still have the mug she drank the tea from?”

Jisung immediately sprung up, grabbing two that were on your table and handing them over to the girl.

“It's useless,” Seungmin rasped from the corner of the room, guilt written all over his face. “The General was positive that it would be over once she drank it,” he supplied unhelpfully, ignoring the nasty glares he received.

Despite the healers' words, Yuna looked inside the first mug, frowning when she saw nothing. It was empty. When she began inspecting the second one, a gasp erupted from her throat as she dropped it.

The ceramic mug shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“T-That was a petal from…” she turned around to look at them, all hanging on her lips. “T-The Nerium Oleander…”

Chan frowned darkly, having heard the name somewhere before. “Isn't that the flower they used to poison—”

“Y-Yeah… it's how the Prince of the West was poisoned hundreds of years ago.”

Minho glowered, remembering the story from a passage in his history book. It was the most infamous case of poisoning, something remembered by all. His heart clenched at the thought of you facing the same end.

“I-Isn't there anything you can do?” he pleaded, voice cracking midway as he glanced back at you, tossing and turning in your bed.

“I—” she bit down on her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she racked her brain for a solution.

“I'm not sure about this,” she began, running a hand through her hair, “But I believe I read about garlic having particularly good antitoxins for poisonings such as this one.”

“Whatever you need, tell me… I'll bring it to you,” Minho pleaded.

“Okay. I'll need a few cloves of garlic, some activated charcoal, and a medicine trunk—preferably the one from the main infirmary.”

. ˚✧・* •

An excruciating ten minutes later, Minho returned, panting. He handed Yuna all the things and she immediately got to work, carefully propping you against the headboard. Your head lolled to the side, eyes struggling to stay open.

She added a spoonful of the black powder into a cup of water, thoroughly mixing it. When it all dissolved, she pressed the cup to your lips, gently tipping your head backward. “You have to drink this, Your Majesty.”

In your weakened state, you gulped down the dark liquid, gagging at the nasty texture. Once you finished, Yuna handed you a glass of plain water which you gratefully accepted. “This will make sure you get the full dose,” she explained.

“Now,” she chopped up the garlic into thin pieces, placing it in the mortar with some other herbs, “I'll prepare this paste for you to eat. It won't be tasty, but it should hopefully combat the toxins from the oleander.”

Once finished preparing created the foul-smelling paste, she fed it to you in spoonfuls. You groggily swallowed it down, clutching onto the sheets with newfound vigor. Who knew, maybe you'd even survive this ordeal…

You took the moment to survey the room, finally feeling conscious enough to gather what had exactly gone down. You saw Seungmin crouched in the corner of the room, head in his hands. Chan and Jisung were sitting by the table, both distressed.

Last but not least, Minho was standing, his back propped against the wall. His hair was disheveled, matted locks pressed to his forehead and a singular tear ran down his cheek, causing your heart to shatter.

It took you a few moments to register what he was wearing. The navy suit hugged his body and showed off his built physique, the golden fastenings only adding to the whole visage. It dawned upon you that he'd chosen to wear your nation's colors, just like you would've worn the scarlet dress.

“Minho,” you suddenly croaked, catching the attention of everyone in the room. The Prince's head snapped toward you, eyes watering. He immediately ran to your bed, kneeling beside you as he grabbed your hand in his, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

“How are you feeling?”

A loud cough tore from your throat, promptly providing him with an answer. “Oh, Y/N… everything will be okay, alright? I-I promise…”

Then he turned around, gaze hardening. “Captain,” he looked at Chan, hands clenching into fists. “I want you to go find General Lee and arrest him at once.”

Venom was dripping from his tone, and Chan immediately understood that this wasn't just a question. It was a command.

“Where should I put him, Your Majesty?”

“The dungeon,” he muttered darkly. “I want him locked up with all the criminals he had put behind bars himself.”

Chan saluted, running off to find the General.

Meanwhile, Yuna finished preparing the antidote, a sigh of relief escaping her parted lips. “I'm done, Your Majesty. Quickly, we don't have much time to spare.”

You promptly opened your mouth, allowing her to feed you spoonfuls of the potent mixture. Your gag reflex was activated as soon as the bitter flavor attacked your tastebuds, but knowing what would happen if you refused, you involuntarily swallowed down every last bit.

“Water, p-please,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling like you would throw up. Minho jumped to his feet, filling up the cup from the pitcher and bringing it to your lips. He benevolently tipped the cup, supporting the back of your head with his palm. As you greedily gulped down the liquid, he threaded his fingers between your locks, tenderly massaging your scalp.

“What should we do now?” he asked Yuna, placing the cup on the nightstand. The girl looked at him with wide eyes, nervously twirling a strand of hair between her finger.

“Now… now we wait. If I did everything correctly, the antidote should be contouring the poison. Her Majesty will have to rest for a few days, that's for sure—no exerting her mind or body—but after that, she should make a full recovery. But if I didn't…”

“No,” he cut her off. “Don't say that. I'm sure you did everything that you could and I trust you, alright?”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

“You should go rest up. I'll stay here with Y/N and make sure everything is alright. I'll call for you if anything happens.”

. ˚✧・* •

The following days were some of the hardest moments in Minho's life.

However, the excruciating pain he went through while having to watch you writhe in discomfort didn't compare to the suffering you had to be going through.

Despite his exhaustion showing in many ways, namely the dark circles under his eyes and his clothes sticking to his sweaty body. All and all, he felt almost disgusting, but he refused to leave you side for more than a few minutes.

After a few days, it was obvious that you would make a recovery. Minho nearly weeped in joy when you suddenly sat up, looking him dead in the eye as you muttered, “You stink.”

He breathed out a short laugh, a light, husky sound that you thought was beautiful.

“How are you feeling?” he then asked, eyes watering as he took in your whole body, relief washing over him.

“I'm fine, just a bit numb,” you answered truthfully, lifting your hand above your head in an attempt to stretch your sore muscles. “Although I am craving some chicken pie…”

Minho chuckled, patting the top of your head with a gentle laugh. “On it!”

It was later that night that you realized how incredibly lucky you were as the two of you each enjoyed a few slices of chicken pie.

. ˚✧・* •

“Please, Minho,” you stubbornly jutted your lower lip, throwing your sock-clad feet in the air as you watched your fiancé button up his blouse. His expression remained stone-cold, but you could already see the cracks in his resolve.

“Why won't you let me come see him? If I'm going to be the Queen, I should at least be able to face my enemies, don't you think?” And in a much quieter tone, you added, “I'd at least want to know what made him hate me enough to try to poison me…”

“Y/N,” Minho sighed, rubbing his temples. “I really don't think it's a good idea for you to see him right now—you're supposed to be resting, remember?”

“I know,” you groaned, “but it's been over a week—I'm fine now, okay? Besides,” you gave a lopsided smirk, “If you don't want me to exert myself, you can always just carry me there…”

Minho blushed at your words, clumsily buttoning the last button up on his shirt. “I, uh, still… I really don't like the idea of you being in the vicinity of that bastard.”

With the way his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a thought popped up in your head. “By any chance… you didn't,” the words dried in your mouth, “you didn't hurt him, did you?”

The Prince immediately understood what you meant by the word hurt. You were asking him if he had tortured, or perhaps even killed the young General who had dared to commit the highest form of treason. To be fair, Minho had all the prerogative to do as he pleased with him after he'd attempted a hand at the future Queen's life.

A slow, controlled breath left his lips. “No, I didn't. I had thought about it though, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't even bring myself to face him. The two of us grew up together for God's sake.”

You could hear the frustration in his tone as you gently rubbed his back in hopes of soothing his nerves. “But you know what angers me the most?”

Knowing that it was a rhetorical question, you didn't answer, allowing him to continue. “I hate the fact that I didn't see it coming. I noticed that he behaved a bit weird around you, but I chalked it up to him looking out for me, wanting to make sure I marry someone he deemed worthy…”

“Minho, please, don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control. It's no surprise that you didn't see it coming—nobody suspects the people closest to them, that's just how it is.”

“I know,” he released a shaky breath, “But I can't help but feel like I failed you.”

“Oh please,” your hand reached to cup his cheek, “Don't say that. Now let's go, I think there's a General waiting for us to visit.”

“Alright, but you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, suppressing the smirk that formed at the corners of your mouth. “Sure.”

“Stay behind me at all times, alright? The dungeon's a dangerous place and knowing that you'll be going there without being able to protect yourself makes my skin crawl.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I'll stay by your side.”

. ˚✧・* •

The stairs leading to the dungeon were dark and damp, the pungent smell of mold causing your nostrils to flare. Minho was walking in front of you, your hand clasped in his as he carefully guided you down the spiral staircase.

Once you arrived, your eyes flew from one side to the other, taking in the crumbling stone walls.

There were about a dozen or so cells in the dungeon, and only about half of them were occupied. On the far left, you spotted a mop of silver curls, akin to Felix's. You quietly pointed in that direction, whispering, “Is that him?”

“Yeah.”

Slowly but surely, Minho walked up to his old friend, an odd sense of fake confidence to his steps. You trailed behind him, fire in your eyes as you awaited the moment you'd come face to face with the man who plotted your near-murder.

The closer you came, the more your heart plummeted in your chest. The heels of your boots clanked against the cold stone, complimenting the pitter-patter of the water draining down the sewage system.

“General Lee,” Minho spat out venomously, hand reaching to push you behind his body. You nearly rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, but you found it endearing nonetheless.

Felix's head was slumped down, facing the ground as the two of you approached. More than two weeks had passed since his arrest, and the harsh conditions of the dungeon were beginning to take an evident toll on him.

“Felix,” you finacé called again after he didn't respond, worry beginning to show on his face. “Answer me.”

Slowly but surely, the General raised his head, not bothering to straighten his posture that was held down by the shackles holding his wrists above his head. His bloodshot eyes were oddly glassy, a shiver running down your spine once you made eye contact.

“Well well… to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Minho growled, “don't be cheeky with me, Felix. Not after you've committed the highest form of treason.”

The man attempted to raise his hands up in defense, an apologetic smile appearing on his lips when he was stopped mid-way by the bounds on his wrists. “Then why has the royal couple decided to pay me a visit?”

“You should already know by now,” Minho clenched his fists, tearing his gaze from his once close friend, “that I want answers. I want to know what made you do the things you did, Felix?”

The frustration in his tone was evident, and you wished you could just take him from this place. Your earlier need to see Felix face to face diminished into dust.

“You know,” Felix suddenly spoke up, his grave tone echoing in the dimly-lit room, “I've always been jealous of what you had.”

After a short pause, he continued. “The money, the fame, the love… it felt like you had the entire world at your fingertips, while I had to wrestle through all the stages of life with nothing to my name… not even a home to return to.”

“Felix… I-I—”

“No, Your Majesty,” Felix cut him off pointedly. “This isn't just about poor orphaned Felix. No. This about who made me an orphan in the first place!”

To say that Minho was stunned would be a gross understatement. His eyes were filled with confusion as he peered down at the man he once considered his closest friend. The two of them grew up nearly side by side, and if it weren't for Minho’s royal duties kicking in prematurely due to his older brother's death, they likely would've been even closer.

“I-I don't understand… if you hated me so much, why did you pretend to be my friend all your life? Not to mention, why were you after Y/N in the first place? She didn't do anything!”

The tremor in his voice became clearer, something that you noticed when his hands began shaking. “I still don't get it, Felix… you tried to kill her for fucks sake! When she didn't do anything to deserve it…”

Suddenly, he looked straight at you, locking eyes with you as he snarled, something akin to anger and resentment bubbling up in his throat. “Maybe she didn't, but her worthless scummy people definitely did.”

Felix's eyes darkened with an emotion you weren't able to place, and if looks could kill, both you and Minho would be six feet under.

“You know,” he growled, hands jerking in the binds, “our father was a real piece of work.”

“Our? What the hell are you talking about, Felix,” Minho snapped in bewilderment. What was going on? Why was he feeling like he was about to hear something he didn't like?

“He thought he got rid of all of them,” his voice cracked midway, causing your heart to shatter. “B-But my mother managed to run away with me and hide near the northern border.”

Finally finding your voice, you whispered, “A-Are you trying to say that—”

Instead of answering your question, Felix's hands burst into flames, the fiery inferno licking away at the metal cuffs. A maniacal laugh tore from his throat, causing you to freeze in your spot.

The metal binds around his wrists began to melt, silver liquid dripping down on the floor. His eyes were darkened, and frankly, it was the most scared you'd felt in your life. Utterly terrified would fit better.

The General, after having regained footing, walked up to the metal bars, the only thing separating him from you and Minho. A lopsided smirk appeared on his face as he whispered, “didn't realize you had a younger brother, did you, Minho?”

The way he said his name… you could tell it stupified the Prince. His eyes were wide, hands trembling as he stood rooted to his spot, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. Hearing Felix address him like that sure did a number on him, especially hearing the venom dripping from his tone.

It was like he was talking to a completely different person.

His lips parted, and in a soft breath, he whispered, “Do you know what happened to us after that?”

A gentle shake of the head was enough of an indicator for him to continue. “The Azure soldiers raided the village and killed my mother. I was locked in the basement as she let out her last breath.”

And then, almost instantly, fire erupted in his eyes. He grinned uncontrollably, hand surging forward as a mass of fire, shaped into a sharp dagger cut through the air.

“NO!” you screamed, realizing what he was about to do. Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto your fiancé's tunic, and in a frenzy, you pulled back, both of you falling to the ground.

You winced under his weight, wheezing before you noticed the small burn mark on Minho's cheek. He was dumbfoundedly rubbing at the gash as if he was still processing what had just happened, blood seeping through his fingers.

By now, the guards must have had heard the hubbub as a dozen or so soldiers ran down, bursting through the door and making quick work of restraining the former General.

And what worried you the most was how easily he let them take hold of him. Not once did he attempt to fight back, even though you were positive that he could've obliterated them with his newly-revealed powers. And even without them, General Felix was undoubtedly one of the most feared swordsmen and fighters in the nation.

As two of the guards escorted you and Minho out of the dungeon, you couldn't help but turn around one last time, catching Felix's smug leer.

“This isn't over,” he mouthed with a grin, holding your gaze for a few more seconds before one of the guards rammed his head into the cobblestone.

. ˚✧・* •

The chirping outside the window caused you to stir in your sleep, sighing as you cuddled back into your fiancé's toned chest.

“Are you awake?” his raspy woke you up, a whine escaping your lips. “As a matter of fact, I wasn't…”

A throaty chuckle left his parted lips, a sound you found wholly attractive, but you'd never tell him that. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to him, enjoying the warmth he exuded. It was on days like these that you were grateful that Minho slept shirtless.

After the unpleasant incident with Felix in the dungeons, he insisted on taking an entire week off. It was something that the two of you desperately needed—some alone time to heal from the unsettling experience.

All and all, you were happy Minho had made that choice. The two of you got to spend loads of quality time together, indulging in each other's presence. The mornings were particularly nice, especially when Minho pampered you with kisses, his wolfish hands running all over your body.

“Did you drink your medicine yesterday?” he murmured in your ear.

“Yes, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He had been asking you the exact same question for the past week, making sure you drank the herbal mixture that would revert the toxins from the poisoned tea you had been unknowingly drinking.

A sudden smack echoed through the room.

“Minho,” you cried, rubbing your sore bottom. “That hurt!”

The Prince chuckled, a teasing grip on his lips. “Oops, my bad.”

Turning around, you stared him in the eye, pouting. “You just wanted an excuse to slap my butt, didn't you?”

He huffed in response, “Please, that was just a light tap.”

Despite your best efforts to hide the corners of your mouth lifted up into a smile, “Two can play this game, you know?”

Minho's eyes widened when you reached out your arm and smacked his bum. “Ouch! That's not fair, you hit me a lot harder!”

His whines were cut short as a sudden knock sounded through the room. The both of you stilled, holding in the bursts of laughter. Something like this was always bound to happen at the funniest moments.

“What is it?” Minho called, too lazy to get out of bed. His hand was gently stroking your cheek, a gesture that always made you melt into his touch.

“Your Majesty! The dressmakers will arrive shortly. Where should we house them?”

“Give them one of the larger rooms in the southern wing. You can tell them that Her Majesty will be ready at noon.”

You grasped Minho's hand in yours, entwining your fingers. “The dressmakers?”

“Yeah. I requested the most famous tailor to design your wedding dress. She only works with the highest quality fabrics and is known throughout the kingdom.”

“Minho,” you murmured. “You didn't have to go that far. If it came down to it, I'd marry you in a jute bag if I had to. ”

“Nonsense,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, heat rising to your face. “I only want the best for my angel.”

“Ever the romantic,” you snorted, pulling him closer. Your nose bumped into his collar bones, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne.

“Only for you, baby.”

After a while, Minho dragged you out of bed, claiming that the two of you needed to go on with your days. You enjoyed a hearty breakfast before you were forced to separate—you heading towards the dressmaker while Minho went to take care of some paperwork.

. ˚✧・* •

“Your Majesty,” the woman, Chaeryoung, greeted you with a curtsy, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. Even at first sight, you could tell that she had impeccable taste. Her gown looked like something straight out of a fairytale causing you to open your mouth in awe.

Clasping her hands together, she chirped, “Let's get you dressed in some of my finished pieces so we can get an idea of what suits you best, alright?”

Two hours and approximately twenty dresses later, you were finally done. The design you two came up with was still in the works, but you've established a few key elements.

Firstly, the dress would be made out of angora silk—the softest and most expensive type of silk there was. Heat rose to your cheeks when Chaeryoung told you, squashing your meek protests.

“I will not tolerate anything less for the Queen's wedding dress.”

Secondly, you decided on the silhouette; a basque, ballgown-like overskirt that flared at the waist with lace trimmings. It was a rather pompous design in your opinion, but Chaeryoung assured you that you would look fantastic. And in a sense, you would be fulfilling your childhood dream of wearing a princess-like gown at your own wedding so without much reluctance, you agreed.

Your hair would be pinned up into a twisted low bun with some scarlet peonies woven in—a simple updo that wouldn't take too much attention off your face. On top of that, you'd adorn a modest, sheer veil with jewels at the hem.

Stretching your arms above your head, you stepped into Minho's bedroom, plopping yourself on the bed. The sheets were infused with his smell, something you had come to love while falling asleep by his side.

. ˚✧・* •

“You know, I never actually brought anyone here,” Minho mused as the two of you walked through the secluded park hand in hand, his warm palm enveloping yours.

“How come?” you piped, looking at him intently, a bright sort of curiosity glimmering in your eyes. The palace gardens were vast, in fact, you figured they could've been bigger than the grounds of your palace back in the Azure land.

His eyes suddenly filled with sorrow, “My brother used to take me here all the time when we were little.”

“Oh,” the word left your lips in a partial breath, immediately feeling guilty for having asked in the first place. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no. Don't be,” Minho responded, “It's okay, don't worry. I'm just happy that I get to spend some time with you. I'm sure my brother would've liked you a lot…”

“You think so?”

His hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his chest. “I know it.” A teasing smirk appeared on his face as he pinched your side, leaning down and connecting your lips in a heated kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but eventually, you melted into his embrace, hands sliding around his neck to tug at the strands of his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling away in a breathless daze. “I-I… thank you. For everything.”

The sincerity in his eyes almost made your knees buckle, your hand reaching to caress his face. It wasn't usual for Minho to show vulnerability, and you were happy he felt comfortable enough with you to share such personal moments with.

You leaned towards him, pressing your lips to his in a much shorter sweet peck, smiling brightly. “He would've been so proud of you, Min.”

Minho looked puzzled for a second, before a look of understanding spread across his face. Warmth filled his orbs as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of your jaw, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Then, he gently brushed the hair out of your face before he kneeled down on one knee. Taken aback, you lifted your brow, unsure of what he was doing. The light breeze tousled the locks in front of his eyes, the scene beginning to remind you of one straight from a romance novel.

“Y/N,” he began, gazing into your eyes with such intensity it made your head spin. “You know, I never would've expected to fall in love with you,” he spoke softly into the whistling wind, breaking your gaze for a second.

“Our first meeting was surrounded with unpleasant circumstances, but because of that, I feel like I can appreciate the bond we've built even more.”

You nodded wordlessly, silently agreeing with every word he said. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he continued, “And I've come to realize how wonderful of a person you are. Never in the twenty-two years I've been alive have I met someone as kind and selfless as you, not to mention you're a real goddess,” he added with a wink.

“Minho—” you spluttered, feeling bashful under the waterfall of compliments he was issuing you. “I-I, uh, I mean…”

“It's okay,” he pressed his thumb to your lower lip, effectively silencing you. “Let me do all the talking, sweetheart.”

When you nodded timidly, he carried on, “And one afternoon, I realized that I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I want to wake up by your side every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want us to rule the land together and start a family with you.”

His hand dug into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box. He opened it with ease, holding out the delicate ring with a small ruby stone in the middle.

“Y/N, I'm asking you not as the Prince, not as the future King, but as Minho… Lee Minho. Will you marry me?”

You brought your trembling hand to your mouth, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you whimpered, “Y-Yes. I'd l-love to…”

A relaxed smile appeared on his lips, previously tense shoulders relaxing as he slipped the wedding band on your ring finger. It fit like a glove. Bringing your hand to his mouth, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, holding in the joyful screams that chafed at his throat.

You placed your hand onto his cheek, pulling his head up so you could lock lips once again, the warm tears searing your flesh.

And just like that, the two of you enjoyed your last week together before the wedding preparations came in full throttle.

. ˚✧・* •

“Minho, please,” you burst into your now shared bedroom with pleading eyes, “Help me hide!”

“What did you do this time?” your fiancé raised a brow, an amused chuckle escaping his parted lips. He was sprawled across the bed, long legs nearly dangling off the edge of the mattress with a leather-bound book in his hand.

You hated to admit it, but Minho could pull off anything while looking sinfully attractive.

Shutting the door behind you gently, you took a deep breath to steady you heartbeat. After all, you had run all the way from the southern wing. “For your information, I didn't do anything. But they were gonna make me choose what color napkins I want for the reception. Do you hear that? Napkins—”

Minho had to stifle a laugh at the frustration in your tone, sitting up to pull you onto his lap. You fell into his hold with a slight yelp, heat rising to your cheeks at the close proximity.

“How 'bout I make it up to you, baby?”

The blood stilled in your veins at his flirtatious words, immediately feeling yourself curl into a ball at his playful actions. Minho noticed the change instantly, guilt washing over him.

“Hey, hey,” he cupped your cheek, tilting your head upwards until you had no choice but to look at straight at him. His chocolate orbs held nothing but fondness, which helped you relax into his touch. “There's no need to be shy, Princess. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

You leaned in closer, resting your head against his chest and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “I'm sorry, I know you'd never do anything like that,” your breath hitched in your throat. “I'm just a bit nervous about the wedding, that's all.”

“Why are you nervous? Are the preparations not going well?”

You shook your head softly, “No, that's not that. I'm just anxious about how the people will think of me as their new Queen…”

“We've been over this a million times,” Minho murmured against the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “And my initial opinion still stands—they will love you. You're a good person and sooner or later, they'll realize that you have their best intentions at heart.”

“I hope you're right,” you sighed. He responded with a smile, “Don't worry. I know I'm right…”

Then, he leaned down until his lips were ghosting above yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

Afraid that the words wouldn't leave your mouth, you nodded, fluttering your lashes as he sealed your lips with a heated kiss. You felt heat spread all across your body, as if the warmth from his lips was seeping into your every cell. His hands slowly lowered from your waist to your thighs, the pads of his thumbs gently running over the sensitive skin.

It sent electric jolts that went straight to your stomach, warmth pooling at your belly. You pressed yourself closer to him, mewling at the feeling of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

After what felt like eternity, Minho disconnected your lips with a groan, lips curling into a teasing grin.

“I think this has been a long day for you. Wanna cuddle before we go to sleep?”

“Yeah,” you yawned, exhaustion slowly taking over you. “I'd love that.”

. ˚✧・* •

The day had finally arrived.

After weeks upon weeks of meticulous and rigorous planning, you were finally about to step out and walk to the altar where your union would be officially sealed, the treaty officially coming into effect.

And despite the fact that you had been preparing for this moment nearly your entire life, your heart felit like it would jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.

You would be marrying Minho today.

You would become the Queen.

And for some reason, you felt a tug at your chest. Fear and excitement were coursing through you, the stark contrast of emotions swirling inside of you like a tornado.

Your hand dropped to your chest, picking up the shimmering, crystal pendant that Minho gifted you a few days prior.

“Your Majesty,” Yuna's voice sounded through the wooden door, causing you to look up. “You'll be up in a few minutes.”

Taking a deep breath, you mustered all your energy to respond in a calm and collected way. “Of course… I'm coming.”

Stepping out of the dressing room, you readjusted your dress at the waist, smoothing down the nonexistent creases on your robe. The soft silk felt like heaven under your fingertips, and you grinned appreciatively at the delicate lace hems.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, Your Majesty,” Yuna giggled, unable to hold it in. Her hands immediately reached to readjust the red peonies woven into your hair, making sure that everything was in place.

It all went by in a blur; you were suddenly pushed down the aisle, a chorus of cheers and applause ringing through your ears. The velvet carpet crunched under your heels, and to your surprise, you noticed that the edges of the rug were lined with fresh peonies, not unlike the ones in your hair.

It seemed like Minho was really pushing this whole flower aesthetic, and if you were honesty, you were living for it.

When your eyes met, it felt like fireworks erupted in your chest. Minho had impeccable taste, that much you knew, but this was the first time you'd seen him dressed to the nines like this.

A crisp white suit adorned his body, the snug fit merely accentuating his broad shoulders. His russet hair was gelled to the back, revealing his forehead with only a few strands falling from the slick updo.

You nearly gasped when you saw the azure colored pocket square was neatly arranged in his breast pocket, the shade unmistakenly reminding you of your nation's true colors.

Everything went quiet, the screams and the hollers of the people dying out in favor of all the eyes slowly gravitating towards you. You could feel every single pair of orbs on you, a shiver running down your spine. As you walked down the aisle with the large, orchid bouquet in hand, your eyes locked once more. He gently took ahold of your hand, the two of you walking the last steps to the altar together.

“Princess Y/N of the Azure nation, do you take Prince Minho as your lawful husband that you will cherish in sickness and health and promise to stay faithful to for as long as the two of you shall live?”

Inhaling, you responded, loud and clear, “I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

Everyone cheered, throwing their hands in the air as Minho pressed a kiss to your lips. It was short and sweet, yet managed to convey so many emotions, like hope and promise for a better future.

Your finger was now adorned with two rings; the one he proposed with and the simple wedding band that matched his.

Never in your entire life had you felt such a rush of endorphins. Blood was coursing through your veins, the excitement, and the atmosphere filling you with a sense of warmth.

Minho suddenly grabbed your hand, raising it above your head with a smirk. “Do you wanna show them?”

You nodded almost instantly, knowing what he wanted to do. Simultaneously, frozen icicles shot from your hand, bursting through the air as Minho did the same, except it was fire that was bursting from his fingertips.

The crowd started cheering at the showy display of power as loud chants tore from their throats.

“Long live the Queen!”

. ˚✧・* •

Jisung was watching you from the swarm of people, craning his neck to watch you from his seat in the fourth row. Next to him, Chan glanced down at him, clearly worried for his friend as he mumbled, “Are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded in response, refusing to tear his eyes from the scene in front of him. Minho had just kissed you in front of the entire kingdom. He knew he should've been happy for you, especially after seeing that genuine smile on your lips along with the glimmer in your eye.

But Jisung couldn't help himself from feeling a pang of jealousy in his heart as he watched you and Minho's hands connect. Despite knowing that you were now married to another man, he couldn't just let go of his feelings for you.

And as he watched the two of you smile at each other from under your lashes, gazing into each other's eyes like lovestruck fools, Jisung's heart shriveled up in his chest like a decaying flower on a summer evening, blown away by the breeze till nothing was left but dust.

. ˚✧・* •

epilogue:

A maniacal laugh tore from his throat as he perked his ears. He could hear the wedding bells all the way down here.

The freezing temperature no longer affected him, skin having grown numb to it a long time ago, and the damp smell seeped through every thread of his tunic, irreversibly marking it with its unbearable stench.

His eyes glimmered under the moonlight, sharp and cunning as always. He was a calculative man, for sure, and right now, he was weighing out his odds.

Perhaps escaping wouldn't be as hard as he had initially thought…

a/n: my longest piece to date :) I hope you enjoyed and I applaud you for coming so far! please please let me know your thoughts :< it's what keeps me going on here :> also, shout out to the people that can recognise who was based off of who (as in which character from subZero)...

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dresden-syndrome · 1 month

Note

Whumpers of the state:

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was?

14) Your favorite torture method?

Whumpees (class IV):

8) How would you describe your whumper?

36) What does your whumper usually force you to do? Which of these things do you hate the most?

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was?

14) Your favorite torture method?

" There's nothing complex in getting a class 4 traitor for personal use. If your position is high enough and you want to take a more... personal approach to breaking the enemy, you choose a subject, file a request and he's yours; he will be stated in the list of your State-supplied personal belongings along with your home, car and radio. And unlike a house or a radio, the State grants you the right to use him however you want. Those traitor boys can be obtained either at a facility using class 4 subjects or a class 4 detention unit - in that case you'll need to wait before the detention time ends. I've picked mine at detention; I needed exactly him so the wait was worth it." "Favorite method of torture? First, I appreciate your language, comrade. You don't seem like one of those humanists pitying the most vicious enemies of our socialist order; those have no place in State Security. Their barbaric actions are a torture to our peace and prosperity, torture is what they rightfully deserve. Ever since the old days of firing squads and bourgeoise vermin left from the past and battles for West Berlin, I've done my help at bringing the counter-revolution to my knees. One of my favorite ways was exactly that: bringing to their knees. Then lay them down and press my boot over their head. Step at them. Make them kiss it. They need to know for sure who's in power. They need to know their place." "Now I don't interrogate at our detention prison that much; I have my own pathetic traitor boy struggling to learn who he belongs to. Same method with him. He knows how our new military boots feel like, even when he acts like he doesn't. Wait there, comrade. I can bring him for you to see." -Erhardt Wilhelm Günther, Minister of State Security 28/X-1963.

8) How would you describe your whumper?

36) What does your whumper usually force you to do? Which of these things do you hate the most?

"Scumbag. War criminal scumbag. Look, if anyone, except our allies, saw what he's doing it's gonna be a new war crime trial for all Europe to see. Can't wait for that. Can't wait for that sicko tyrant in cuffs for crimes against humanity, like they did in Nuremberg back when I was in my momma's stroller. This fucking country needs it again, really. Look what he's done to me. It's so... I'm sick of it. Look at that dog collar, look at that fucking branding tag like on a cow... I'm trapped with him and everyone's fucking glad he's torturing me here. Honestly for now it's the worst, he's the worst..." "You know what he forces me to do? Ok, ok, I know I'm a piece of garbage, I'm helping those sadists and making them happier when I should fight for our people to be independent and make them free... No? Just because I'm forced to? You're kidding me. They wouldn't have anyone to fall on his knees and sitting on anyone's lap at parties if I wasn't there. Can I not tell what's the worst they've been doing to me please? Just beat me up for being a fucking collaborator if you want. Next time that sicko demands something - whatever, lay under the table, get on the knees, sit still when he pets and kisses me, wear those disgusting kiddie pants, talk in German, read "The State and Revolution" or something - I won't do that, I'll run, I'll bite if anyone touches me. It won't end well, I'll have to do that. But I need to try again. Maybe I'm a collaborator but not the easy one to break." -Class 4 subject SB-7067 (Radím Štušek) 28/X-1963.

#whump #whump community #whumpblr #historical whump #military whump #totalitarian whump #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #defiant whumpee #whump oc #whump ideas #captive whumpee #correspondence #whump ask

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ariaste · 9 months

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Hello hello! If it’s all right with you, I would like to vent for a moment: Back in the day, I used to be really into BBC Sherlock. I know it was bad, but it was “Be Gay (solve) Crimes” and I couldn’t resit. One of my favorite parts of the fandom was reading fan metas. I enjoyed reading your ridiculously long meta! I am not very clever and I enjoy reading people noticing things that I can’t. It’s fun watching people passionately pick up clues and put them together.

I don’t think I’m the only one getting superwholock flashbacks lately. Sherlock also tried an unreliable narrator in S4 and it was an absolute shit show. People thought thought the finale was fake, it was so bad. TBH, the entire show was a dumpster fire that thought it was more clever than it was. Moffat was a good writer for single episodes for DW, but a garbage show runner. And they called us crazy for picking up what they were putting down.

But Good Omens gives me a spark of hope. It is unashamedly queer, fun, drinks its respecting women juice, and, unlike moffatiss, I think Neil and the crew may actually be clever enough to pull something big off. I adore the Discworld series and Sir Terry, and I have faith Neil will to do right by him.

Good Omens is restoring my faith in nerdy queer fiction and reminding me why I love fandom so much. Please keep up the crackhead theories. I love them 💕

Thank you, that's very kind!

(Ended up writing a very long reply about the response to my essay and also about queerness in media. Idk why i am writing such long posts these days SORRY LOL. Anyway I'm putting it all beneath the cut so I can tag it without clogging people's dash or the tag pages)

It does make me sigh a little when I see people scornfully comparing my long essay to The Johnlock Conspiracy or saying that they're having Sherlock flashbacks, because the both the contexts of the shows and the methodology of the theorizing are VERY different. To my mind, a more direct comparison of methodology would be the Gravity Falls fandom's "Stan Has A Secret Twin" theory. Writers and showrunners DO like being sneaky and clever from time to time, and many of them are much better at it than Moffat is.

But whether or not my theory is right or not is... kind of irrelevant to me? I wasn't out to force anyone to agree with me, AND writing it was a really fun way to spend a weekend, AND I'm proud of the work I did and the story I told, AND it felt good to have a satisfying workout at the Brain Gym. So even if I'm proven utterly and completely wrong, I won't feel like I wasted my time. :)

Good Omens is a great show, and I am SO HAPPY to see it (and other shows!) embracing queerness, sharing the fans' enthusiasm for the story, and honoring and respecting the fans' love rather than punishing them for it. As more and more time goes on, I think we're going to see more and more shows like that, because some of the people who grew up reading tumblr discourse are going to be showrunners themselves one day, and they'll have learned serious lessons about what it feels like when the audience is met with love rather than disgust and disdain. In fact, we're ALREADY seeing more shows like that than we had 10 years ago! There is so much canonical queerness on-screen these days that the me of 10-15 years ago is ASTONISHED and feels wealthy beyond counting. Of course, there is so much further to go, but man... when i was a kid, we had to walk uphill in the snow both ways just to see two dudes making sustained emotional eye contact, and we were grateful for it. (Jokes but also.... kind of real tho)

We've seen the exact same thing happen in scifi/fantasy publishing in the last seven or eight years, too! (Went off on a long tangent about Queerness In Media from an insider perspective, continuing below a cut so I don't clutter everyone's dash)

Even as recently as 2013--ten years ago--you might not have even been able to get your book published if it was openly gay. Hell, you might not have been able to get an agent to represent it, even. It would have been labeled "unmarketable" and passed over; if it DID get published, the queerness would have been camouflaged and downplayed and hidden in the marketing as much as possible--you wouldn't have known by looking at the cover that it was queer, you wouldn't have been able to tell by reading the back cover that it was queer. In literally 2016, seven years ago, a few months before I got my first book deal, I remember having a conversation with a friend and being very very worried that if I wrote books as queer as I wanted them to be, I would be "pigeonholed" as "ONLY writing Gay Books", that I would be passed over for any of the publisher's marketing budget and publicity efforts, that I would be sidelined and ignored... In 2016, I thought I was facing a choice of writing stories with more "mainstream appeal" OR writing the books I wanted to write and potentially undermining the rest of my career.

That didn't happen, thankfully, because in the next couple years there was this incredible explosion of queer scifi/fantasy. You see, ten to fifteen years ago, a truly stunning percentage of my colleagues -- writers, editors, publicists -- were writing and reading fanfic, and they carried their tastes and story-hungers with them as they grew up and got Real Adult Jobs at publishing companies. And suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a lot of us came of age all at once and there was this absolutely enormous wave of queer SFF that in my opinion has brought us into a new golden age of the genre: The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir, The Chorus of Dragons series by Jenn Lyons, She Who Became the Sun by Shelley Parker Chan, Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie, The Tensorate series by Neon Yang, Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon, Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki, The City in the Middle of the Night by Charlie Jane Anders, the Birdverse books by RB Lemberg, The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickenson, The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri, Reforged by Seth Haddon, The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps by Kai Ashante Wilson, Ocean's Echo by Everina Maxwell, The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin -- and these only the ones I could remember off the top of my head in 30 seconds, and I have a flavor of ADHD that makes my brain go blank when people ask me to think of specific examples of things! It is harder for me to think of a SFF book published in the last 7 years that ISN'T queer.

And then almost exactly a year ago, my book A Taste of Gold and Iron came out with THIS COVER:

Which. Is not so much a step forward in openly queer SFF as it is a fucking gauntlet thrown down in challenge. I cannot impress upon you strongly enough how much I would not have gotten this cover 10 years ago, and that's if the book was even accepted for publication in the first place. This cover SCREAMS gay fantasy romance. There is no attempt to hide it or camouflage it. It is advertising exactly what it is, right up front.

I got the absolute privilege and honor of having this cover--and I do consider it an incredible honor--because of the work that all my colleagues put in with their own work. Each queer book that got published wedged the door a little wider for the next one, and then a little wider still for the next one, until finally someone could get their foot in the door and squeeze across the threshold, which opened it a little wider again. So when I look at this image, I don't just see a beautiful cover that I am delighted to have on my books--I see an entire history of slow, steady progress by so many incredible writers who risked damaging their careers just to drag us to a point where a book as gay as this one could get a cover as gay as that one and STILL get the full and enthusiastic support of both the publisher and the audience. And the most incredible honor and the most humbling privilege out of all of this is the fact that the success of this book meant that the door was wedged open another little bit, that I got to contribute in this small way to the efforts of everyone who came before me, so that ones who come after us will find the door flung wide -- or that there's no door left at all to block the way, because we've collectively torn it down.

So yes, @eyona, I think that having your faith restored little by little is a very good thing, and I am delighted that Good Omens is doing that for all of us. And what's even better is that even if Good Omens doesn't play out exactly how we want it to, that's... kind of okay? Because there is always the next one, and at the very very least, Good Omens is wedging the door open further so that the next one can have an easier time of it. We don't have to walk uphill in the snow both ways just to get a moment of emotionally charged eye contact anymore. We don't have to starve anymore, not like we used to back in the bad old days. And that alone is a wonderful thing. :D

#good omens #a taste of gold and iron #publishing #queer media

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shimmerwindow · 3 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Eleven

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None!

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag list: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire @gardensgatekeeper

Thanksgiving break had arrived, a welcome reprieve from the constant stress of classes. Everything had been ramping up lately on the climb to finals season, as your mental health had started to dwindle. Your world was crumbling, piece by piece, and you were desperately trying to get all those pieces back into place as the weight of life held you down. You hoped that finally getting some time alone would be helpful.

Loneliness had always been your closest friend, though it felt harder to cope with now that you’d gotten a taste of actual friendship. It had been tainted with love and lust, but it was friendship nonetheless, and you missed it dearly. This time of year in particular was always difficult. You could never afford the holiday travel cost to get back home, so you’d always just stay in the dorms, alone.

It was harder now, watching your fellow classmates in the hallways. Some looked ecstatic, smiles gracing their faces as they held their phones to their ears with one hand, the other hooked around the handle of a suitcase. Others looked exhausted, dark circles under their eyes as they shuffled their tired feet down the hall.

Being here with so few others had its perks. The showers were much cleaner, and on a few lucky occasions, you were the only person in the room. You kept yourself busy, finally cleaning the garbage heap that was once your dorm, and putting the finishing touches on your projects that would be due in the coming weeks. Through it all, though, a lingering feeling of sadness loomed over you like a dark cloud.

It was only the third day of the week-long respite, and you couldn’t take the feeling anymore. You drafted a text. One to Sam. Your last correspondence had been weeks ago, now, and something in your heart ached when you saw the date next to the messages. We don’t talk anymore, you thought, and that was the loneliest feeling in the world, for so many reasons.

hey, wondering if you and the guys are around/busy? bored and stuck in the dorms lol

You hadn’t even managed to close the app before you saw the tiny text of read appear under your message. It was almost instant.

back home for the week! maybe we can hang when we’re back? hope you've been well

You didn’t bother replying. What was the use, with all the unspoken words behind every sentence? You gave his message a heart, and put your phone back in your lap.

This was a situation you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. You tried to think of how far back you would go if given the chance. If you knew then what you knew now, would you never go up to the roof that night? Maybe you’d quit smoking altogether. You barely smoked these days, only when you were particularly stressed. The smell reminded you too much of him. As did everything else, in all honesty.

The light was quickly disappearing from the sky, stormy clouds obscuring the rising moon. Maybe a walk would ease your nerves. You shrugged on your coat and slipped your feet into your shoes, heading out into the chilly air. You hated Sam for so many things now, so many things that were not his fault. You could no longer take your favorite path down the least-traveled side of campus, not since you spotted his car there.

Your mind began to unravel in the solitude. Campus was empty, with a dead air to it that made you the slightest bit uncomfortable. Normally, a lack of people would be everything you’d hoped for, but it was no longer comforting to you.

An array of paths sprawled out in front of you in your mind. There seemed to be no way forward given your current position. You’d tried to take the advice of Josh and Jake and talk to Sam, but you couldn't find the words. Everything you wanted to say just felt wrong when you would practice it in the mirror. And, on top of that, you weren't sure if you would be able to hold your composure when he actually gave you a response. Would you be able to keep a poker face if he told you he was dating this girl? You had no idea, and didn’t feel like finding out the hard way.

Visions of Sam danced in front of your eyes as your feet naturally quickened their pace. You didn’t have time for this. There was already enough weighing on your mind, the added stress of all this was too much. You feared that you’d made a terrible mistake, choosing to sleep with Jake. It was an action that had been deliberately calculated to sever your tie with Sam, whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not. You’d told Jake he was not part of a revenge scheme, but that had been a lie, you now realized.

You said it wasn’t about Sam. But it had always been about him. Everything you did revolved around Sam. He was now the center of your world. This was more than a crush. You started walking faster. This was more than just finding him cute. You started jogging. This was more than wanting to be close friends with him. You started sprinting across the grass, your shoes leaving trails in the damp grass.

You couldn’t outrun him. You couldn’t the last time you’d been here, running across campus, trying to get away from him, hoping you could exhaust yourself out of being able to think. It wasn’t possible, not anymore. As you collapsed into the grass under a tree, your head spun, every word Sam had ever said to you running through your mind all at once, his image brighter in your mind than ever before.

The last of the leaves shuddered off the tree one by one in the light breeze. The dying grass tickled the palms of your hands when you laid them flat on the ground, your chest heaving. Tears ran down the sides of your face and all of this felt all too familiar. You hadn’t been able to say it back then, but you couldn’t hide from it anymore.

You loved him. You were deeply, desperately, unshakably in love with Sam.

The first flakes of snow began to fall. Delicately, small white flakes drifted down to you, landing on your blazing cheeks and collecting in your hair. Winter was here. Just as you decided to stop lying to yourself. Soon, the semester would end. You would be alone once again. You wouldn’t see Sam every morning, and you could free yourself of his constant influence. It was all so indescribably perfect and terrible, every feeling you had about him so painfully unresolved.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to dream. To fantasize about him in the ways you had always repressed so deeply. The calluses on his fingers, would they be rough against the soft skin of your cheek? What would it feel like to have your lips against his neck, your fingers running through his hair? It hurt so beautifully to let all of it in, two months of emotions washing over you all at once in a bittersweet haze.

Jake had meant nothing, when you got right down to it. But you’d put yourself in a precarious situation, now. Social dynamics you didn’t quite understand swirled in your head, confusing you, you couldn’t even remember all the details at this point. All you knew was that you’d taken what was offered, at the cost of losing what you needed most. Above all, you were scared. Nothing would be the same now, and you'd ruined something that could have been so beautiful – you were sure of it.

* * *

In some ways, it was nice to finally say it out loud. The rest of Thanksgiving break passed by like molasses, each day dragging on longer than the next. You’d done nothing but wallow in the agony of unrequited love, but it was somewhat easier now that you could say it. Love. When the semester resumed, you put on a brave face in front of Sam, though you were sure it was written all over you. There was no real use hiding it anymore. If he didn’t know then, he knew now, in the way you stared at him at the end of every class.

It was the final week of your regular schedule, and you felt a kind of nostalgia walking into the lecture hall for the last time. It would be a work day, the professor announced.

“Well!” Sam said, stretching his arms above his head and turning to you. “I think we’ve got this in the bag.”

Indeed, you did. The two of you had worked rather seamlessly together, more than you’d expected. “Yeah, I think it’s done.”

“Wanna turn it in together?” He gave you that smile, the one you had every inch of memorized.

“I think we only need to submit it once. You can do it, if you want.”

“No, together!” He pulled up the submission screen and added the finished file, neatly titled with your full names. Seeing them next to each other like that was strangely jarring. Before you could protest, he snatched your hand off the desk in front of you and brought it over to the mouse on his laptop. That warm, rough hand stayed on top of yours, pushing your fingers down to click the mouse button once.

And just like that, it was over. The class that had originally drawn the two of you together was done, it was all over. Nothing tethered you to him anymore but the fraying social ties you’d so carefully neglected. Pondering it for too long made you feel tears threatening to well up in the corners of your eyes.

“Finally done.” His voice broke you from your reverie, his hand sliding off of yours. “You wanna come over some time soon?”

You didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you could ever be alone in a room with Sam ever again. You recalled the words of his brothers, though. You needed to talk to him. Even if it was only to find closure, to be given the opportunity to truly cut him out of your life without guilt. “Sure, if I’ve got time. Finals, y’know.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he chuckled. “I’m in the same boat. And I have to move all my shit back to the house, too.”

He did look much more exhausted than usual. Those eyes, that already had an air of tired behind them, seemed heavy. Dark circles adorned the spaces below them. His hair was pulled back, and had lost some of its usual luster.

“Maybe once I’m done with everything I’ll text you." Maybe.

He looked at you, and closed his laptop with a finger. “Sweet. I’ve been missing you.”

“Really?” The word slipped out in shock.

“Of course. What’s a sky without the sun and moon?” He gave you a little shove and a grin. Unbearably endearing, to the point you almost felt embarrassment over it.

“Will you ever stop being so cheesy?”

“Don’t think it’s physically possible, actually.”

“So you’re not staying in your dorm?” You asked.

“No, isn’t the place closed during break?” He looked at you, confused. "You're staying there, though, I'm guessing?"

You nodded. “Normally, yeah. They let some people stay over the break. Like, international students, or people who can’t go home.”

“Can’t…go home?” He looked at you like he was treading on very treacherous ground.

You waved a hand at him, giving a sheepish grin. “Oh, it's not like that. My parents are just really far away. And they downsized recently, so I don’t have a room there anymore. It’s smarter for me to just stay here.”

“Oh, right, right.” He propped his elbow on the desk, resting his cheek against his palm. He looked utterly captivated by even dull talk. “Seems like it would get lonely in there this time of year.”

“Doesn’t bug me much. You get used to it.”

“Probably nice to finally have some peace and quiet, huh?”

“Oh, god, yes.”

“Hoping I’ll finally get some of that at the house. The guy in the room next to me, I don’t think he's spent a single night alone the whole semester. Loud as fuck, too.”

You laughed at that, immediately picking up what he was laying down. “God, that sounds obnoxious.”

“I’m worried it won’t be much better at the house. It never is.”

There was something behind his eyes when he said that, something that made your palms start to sweat and your eyes take in a bit more light. Fear, regret, something in the middle of the two. All that ran through your mind was thoughts of Jake, how you would have to stop. You’d need to quit all of them, that entire family.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat and spoke over your silence. “I’m gonna run, if we’re done here.”

You nodded, suddenly struck by the feeling that you might cry at any moment. “Sounds good. I’ve got some shit to do, anyway.”

The two of you parted ways, and you were both burdened and light as a feather as you headed to the library to kill time before your next class. You didn’t have anything to do, in reality, but you needed time to center yourself.

Walking into the library did you no favors. You could see the quiet corner where you and Sam had sat together; that was months ago now. You sat as far away from that spot as you could, but your eyes lingered on it. If you could go back to that moment, would you change a thing? Would you have given up the blissful joy of being in love to avoid the way you now felt shattered to pieces?

A small part of you thought that, perhaps, it had all been worth it. Just to know him, during this time, had been enough. Maybe in your next life, you would meet him again, and he would point out the stars to you with his arm draped around your shoulder while you wore his sweater. The one you loved, the one that complimented his eyes. Maybe it would look just as good on you.

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #inr #i never really

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

coffee cart girl (pt8)

words: 3,586 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: you can find previous parts under this tag :) warnings: none tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.

Time passes as it always does, days on the calendar sometimes feeling like months while others compared to seconds. As far as you know, there’s about two weeks of filming left…and then that’s it, Elvis is officially over—left the building so-to-speak. Things will move forward quickly after that for a bunch of different reasons. Not only because you’ve been on other film sets to observe the process, but your relationship with Austin will also begin to change. You just hope it’s into something positive.

It's hard to believe that in fourteen days you will no longer be stealing kisses behind closed trailer doors with the excuse of bringing coffee.

You’re excited and terrified all at the same time, looking forward to the unknown while also dreading it. Austin even has more to bring to the table because now not only does he get to balance the ins and outs of your relationship, but he also gets to wade through the film coming together, how it’s going to be received by an audience, what it’ll do for his career.

You’re beyond thrilled for him—but also can’t help but acknowledge that there’s a voice in the back of your mind that occasionally asks what happens next?

“That’s why I think your character Sydney needs to put her foot down for herself.” Austin leans over to tap on the page of the script that’s open on your lap. You’re seated on the picnic bench outside the food tent, milling over the notes Austin has left you. It’s been a back-and-forth process, mostly taking it scene by scene.

He offers to show it to someone else, like Baz for instance and you’re just…not sure if it’s ready for all that. Not sure it’ll ever be ready. Maybe you can submit online to some sort of film festival and be happy if it gets a hint of recognition.

Take advantage of your actor boyfriend, your brain supplies—and then pitstops on the word boyfriend because…that’s just a whole other can of worms. Obviously you and Austin are dating but you haven’t moved to using official titles, at least not out loud with one another. No one’s trying to make anything feel causal or unimportant, it’s just…

Labels feel like a big step.

You purse your lips, taking a sip of coffee, “Sydney is standin’ up for herself, it’s in the dialogue.”

Austin takes a step closer to you, slightly in your space but just enough distance to convey friendship. Despite Jillian knowing, you both want to maintain as much privacy as you can—the only people in your relationship are you and Austin. No one else needs to know your business, especially on set. Drama has the capability of catching fire here. Austin’s friendly with everyone, doesn’t matter if it’s fellow actors, extras, the lighting crew, or a garbage collector he met just once in passing. He treats everyone the same, it’s something sweet about him that you really like.

Hollywood hasn’t gone to his head.

You two being friendly is nothing out of the ordinary.

“I think she needs to end up with someone other than Paul.”

You snicker lightly, closing the script. “You’re not supposed to like him, that’s the whole point—it’s a tragedy that she ends up back with him, back where she started.”

“I think you need a better endin’.” He says and it’s not anything malicious, like he thought the one you currently have is terrible or something. But you think Austin’s a bit of a realist mixed with romantic—he likes the idea of your character Sydney falling in love with her best friend in the script, Alec, but the whole focus is supposed to be on Sydney realizing who she is.

And how sometimes we choose to settle instead of ourselves—hence Paul.

You open your mouth to say something else when a few extras, girls you’ve seen before on set—Ponytail and Pink lipstick, pass through the tent and smile over at Austin.

“Hey Aus,” Ponytail smiles, giving him a soft wave.

Austin’s attention is drawn away at his name and he smiles genuinely back at her, turning to speak, “Hi Chelsea,” Then he nods towards the other girl who’s lingering around the fruit. “Robin.”

You lick your lips, trying not to pay too much attention, looking back down at your script as if you’re busy. You and Austin just…passing one another in the tent too, saying hello to one another. Your ears are open, however, Robin moving to stand next to Chelsea—you can hear the soft giggle in her voice when she says,

“You were great with the performances today—I dunno how you always seem to have so much energy for those moves!”

Austin laughs softly and you can tell his cheeks are gently pink at the praise without even looking at him. Something so ironic about Austin is that he is so talented, and yet, he seems to have zero clue about how much he effects other people with his hard work half the time. He’s got the whole bedroom eyes thing down cold, knows how to innocently flirt with a camera or someone conducting an interview.

But when it comes to receiving compliments? He suddenly turns into a really cute puddle. You like the humbleness, it makes him even more attractive than he already is, but you also hope he knows how much he deserves comments like that. He’s earned them.

“Thank you,” He tells them, “I really appreciate that. Honestly it’s just lots of practice.”

And stamina—a soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth at that thought before taking another sip of coffee. Once the girls have moved on outside the tent, Austin turns back to you with a small smile, snagging the coffee that you set down next to your thigh to steal a sip.

“Hey—you could get your own you know.” But you’re teasing, you don’t mind sharing. Least not the coffee.

“Yours always tastes better…just a common fact.” He smirks, licking his lips.

Humming, you set your script aside. “You know…you do deserve those praised comments, right.” You glance around for a moment, making sure you’re alone before playfully tugging on his shirt. You leave your hand resting there along his chest, “Even though they couldn’t stop twirling their hair as they told you.”

Austin raises his eyebrows, locking his blue eyes on you. “Oh interestin’,” He drawls out, that Elvis twang sometimes hard to eliminate from his syllables, “I didn’t peg you as the jealous type.”

Your mouth opens and closes a moment, fishing for words to say but your cheeks are already splotching pink, “I am not jealous.” You laugh, removing your hand so you can cross your arms over your chest.

He grins, checking the time before putting your coffee back down. “Sure, your mouth is sayin’ one thing, your flushed cheeks another.”

You blow out a long breath that flutters your lips before rubbing at your cheeks with the back of your hands. Austin chuckles, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Too quick, far too quick—a soft sound of protest coming from your throat even though you know why.

“Even though you’re totally not jealous, as you’ve said—” Now he’s just being the worst, “But if you were…” Austin trails off a moment, leaning closer as if to tell a secret. “I think it’d be kinda cute, that’s all.”

“Go to work.” You laugh, gently pushing on his chest and causing him to take a step back.

Watching him leave, that smile stays on your face paired with a warmth in your chest that you’ve just gotten used to associating with Austin.

Most of the time you just end up staying overnight on set. It’s like a given thing at this point, spending the night with Austin in his trailer, having extra clothes in your car to change into if need be. No one really notices you anyways other than Jillian. It’s amazing that you two haven’t gotten caught yet—not that you’re really trying to hide or be sneaky but…

You and Austin are on the same page that until the movie is finished, keeping your relationship under the radar makes sense for a bunch of different reasons. He’s not ashamed of being with you, your insecurities chipping away every day with Austin’s reassurances. And it’s not so much something he has to tell you, but rather it’s in things you do with one another—touches, intimacy, small, shared looks when you pass one another on set. There’s a comfort there in being with him.

Admittedly, you’re a bit more careful about going out on dates, keeping the PDA to a minimum. At least for now.

You run a hand through your hair as you exit a pizza place nearby, Austin holding the door open for you leave. Smiling a bit as you take another look at him, sometimes you just find yourself in disbelief that so much has happened over a period of time. While you and Austin were always friendly when you delivered coffee, as he is to many people on set, you just never imagined it’d develop into something real.

That he’d share the same feelings for you.

A few topics of discussion continue from being inside at dinner, curling your hair around your ear, “Yeah but I mean—isn’t that kinda like a ‘right of passage’, taking things from set when the movie ends?”

Austin smiles a little, “You just want one of the lace shirts.”

Your cheeks tint pink because…okay, are you that transparent? It’s obvious Austin looks great in a bunch of Elvis’s looks but there’s just something about those floral lace shirts that do something to your insides. Unsure which is your favorite though—the black or the soft blue. Ugh, or the pink.

“That’s…I mean, I would never ask for one of those but,” You grin.

An amused noise leaves his throat, “Right,” He shakes his head, “Think I like the comeback special leather suit the best—might take that if I take anythin’.”

He gets his car keys out of the back pocket of his jeans, playing with them between his fingers a moment. You both took separate cars again, just to be careful—seems like there’s always eyes somewhere when you least expect it, and you know when the film finally airs it’s only going to get more difficult.

“You gonna keep changin’ the subject?” Austin asks carefully and you sigh, tipping your head back towards the sky.

“I just don’t think I’m ready for my script to be shared with anyone else, Austin.” You know he’s only trying to help and he’s right that it needs to be looked at by someone other than just him—a producer, another writer, a director, someone with the capability to make things actually happen for you but—

But it’s definitely a sensitive button to press. You’re not ready.

“You’re not gonna be able to take the next step without it,” He points out and you swallow over nerves building in your throat, “I’m just sayin’ it’s good, you deserve to have other people see you.”

You’ve put a lot of heart and passion into the piece and he knows that—you appreciate him gently pushing and prodding but, at the same time, it’s hiking your anxiety up to a new level.

“Can we just—” You put your hand up to stop the conversation where it is, “Drop it?”

Austin sighs softly—it’s not quite annoyance, nor frustration, but you can see in his eyes that he’d rather keep pushing the encouragement. You know he’s coming from such a good place and you didn’t mean to snap at him, exactly, but he has to understand that it took a lot for you to be able to even feel comfortable sharing it with him. Pushing beyond that is going to take a bit to get used to.

You open your mouth to say something, maybe apologize or explain—

“Y/N?”

You turn a bit at the sound of your name, pausing near your car. It takes a moment to figure out who’s approaching you, your eyes widening just slightly because,

“Oh Jackson,” You smile, a little thrown because it’s been a while since you’ve seen him—your ex. Not to mention that you’re slightly disoriented from dinner, the conversations with Austin, mind whirling about the possibility that you could, in fact, share your script with someone higher up and everything that might come with that.

“Hi,” You laugh gently, moving to hug him because he’s smiling too. He’s just gotten out of his car nearby, squeezing you back as you settle in his arms. It’s not terrible to see him—while things didn’t work out between you two for many reasons, you both had ended things amicably.

There wasn’t any animosity even though you hadn’t stayed friends.

“I thought that was you,” Jackson says as he pulls back. “You loved this place.”

You hum, sticking your hands in your jacket pockets. He looks completely the same, maybe a bit more clean shaven. Tall, blonde, muscular but not overdoing it. He works with kids, rock climbing classes mostly, and your life was just going in a completely different direction than his was. But he treated you right—you suppose that’s good to mention.

“Uh,” You clear your throat, turning to look at Austin who has been… quiet, which is a bit peculiar. Austin’s a friendly guy, he has no issues introducing or even inserting himself into a conversation. You realize he’s probably just being polite but…there’s also something in his blue eyes. Right along the edges, something that reaches into your body and squeezes.

There’s a hesitancy there, jaw slightly working as he regards Jackson—almost like a trick of the light because as soon as you recognize it, it’s gone.

“This is Austin.”

Austin smiles, putting his hand out to shake Jackson’s, “Really nice to meet you man.”

If Jackson recognizes who Austin is, he doesn’t say anything. He just clasps his hand and shakes, nodding his head. You kinda rock back on your heels a moment, letting out a breath. Little awkward but…could always be worse, right?

“Well I’ll uh,” Jackson motions to the pizza place. “I’ll let you guys get on with your night,” He turns to you. “We should catch up soon.”

Nodding with a soft smile, “Definitely.”

You wait until Jackson is in the pizza shop before you turn back to look at Austin, exchanging a small look with him. He clears his throat, taking the cap off he usually wears when he’s out. His hair falls a bit onto his forehead, regardless of him running his hand through it.

“So Jackson, hmm? He seems nice.”

You raise your eyebrows, your mouth opening slightly before a laugh tumbles out. “Yeah he is nice,” Taking a step closer, you touch the lapel of Austin’s jacket.

Takes you a moment to really put it together, the way Austin is angling his body towards you, the slight darkness of the blue in his eyes, chewing on words in his mouth that he won’t say as his jaw works.

“Didn’t realize that would make you jealous,” You throw back at him nonchalantly, mirroring words he teased you about earlier in the day.

There’s an eyeroll from Austin which kinda just confirms your commentary, a grin beginning to pull at the corners of your mouth.

“You wish baby,” He just throws that pet name out into the open like he’s talking about the weather and it completely disarms you, stomach twisting in heat. He reaches out and puts his ball cap on your head, playfully pulling on the bill a bit.

You bat his hands away with a choked laugh, “I don’t gotta wish, I’m right. In your words from this afternoon, I think that’s cute—”

Austin grabs at your chin with his fingers, pulling you close for a kiss. His lips are insistent, almost a bit possessive in a way that makes your heart completely drop to your knees. Leaning against his chest, the intimacy ends naturally, pressing a kiss to his lower lip just because.

He smiles down at you, your noses brushing in a bunny kiss.

Good to put that whole ‘no PDA’ thing out the window every so often.

The thing, at least, about Sal is when you do your job in a quick and efficient manner, she tends to leave you alone on your breaks. It seems like she might be loosening up a little with the end of the film on the horizon, but you’re not gonna hold your breath. You find yourself at Austin’s trailer in-between the morning and afternoon coffee runs, sitting nearby as he strums the guitar on the couch. You were editing your script but…Austin playing the guitar is extremely distracting, not to even mention attractive.

He's in-between scenes right now, sixties hair—maybe something from the comeback special era? And wearing his own clothes; light blue jeans and a white t-shirt, sweater on a chair nearby. Seeing him with the guitar is one of the most organic things you think exists on this set—he just picks it up, plucks at the strings, and begins singing. It’s mostly on and off, nothing completely put together, to practice his voice and to keep him as genuinely Elvis as possible.

Well lawdy, lawdy, lawdy Miss Clawdy--Girl you sure look good to me

You smile, your eyes drawn time and time again to him playing—it’s kind of hard not to stare, the beautiful sounds he can make with his voice when he’s not even trying very hard.

Well please don't excite me baby, I know it can't be me

He notices you watching, strumming a few more chords before he stops. Curling your hair around your ear, you lean back against the kitchenette counter, “That was nice, I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

Austin taps the top of the guitar with his fingers, “It was originally written by Lloyd Price in 1952 but Elvis recorded it in 1956—introducing New Orleans sound to Southern whites.”

Sometimes you forget how much research he’s done on Elvis to be able to really slip into his skin for this movie—music and films, documentaries and novels, pretty much anything he could get his hands on. It’s impressive to say the very least, two years of prep really paying off.

Austin pauses for a moment, his one hand moving to run his fingers along his jaw in thought. Checking the time on your phone, you know you should probably get going soon—you promised Jillian you’d have lunch with her. Putting the script into your bag, you turn to see him still with that same contemplative look on his face.

“What’s goin’ on?” You ask, “Something wrong?”

Austin shakes his head, a gradual smile on his face as he looks at you. That definitely makes you feel a bit better…sometimes you feel like you’re holdin’ your breath around him, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe waiting for him to realize that he could be doin’ a whole lot better than this, than you. But that moment never comes.

“In a few weeks I got these interviews lined up—interest pieces about the movie before the film’s out.”

You nod slowly, “Right, to build the hype so people go the theaters.”

“Right,” Austin clears his throat. “I uh, I was thinkin’ that you could come with to a few, if you wanted. Wait in the wings for me backstage.”

You laugh softly at the expression before— “Sure, but wouldn’t that make me your—” And you stop right in your tracks.

Austin holds your gaze for a long moment, nodding, the intensity of his blue eyes somehow highlighting the sharp lines of his face—jawline, cheekbones. You smile a little, moving to stand right in front of him as he sets the guitar aside.

“Are you askin’ me to be your girlfriend?”

“Maybe—” He purses his lips, “You think Chelsea or Robin are available?”

You scoff out a laugh, reaching to muss up his hair but he’s quick to grab your wrist, tugging you forward until you’re sitting on his lap. You make yourself comfortable, straddling his legs as you look down at him. Hands on his shoulders, your one thumb grazes along his neck, causing a shiver to run down Austin’s spine.

His grasp is on your hips for a moment to squeeze, “I didn’t mean to push you before, about the script.”

God—you feel like so much has happened in such a short amount of time that you almost forgot about the small disagreement you had about your script. You know he has all of your best interests at heart…and maybe you are letting insecurities get the better of you but, it’s a lot to put out there.

Rejection is not an easy emotion to always come back from.

“I know—I didn’t mean to clam up,” You smile a little, shrugging your one shoulder. “I’m just scared.” And even that’s a bit hard to admit.

Austin draws you closer, leaning up to press a kiss to your jawline. “No matter what you decide? I got you.”

It may not turn out how you want, but with Austin’s support? It definitely feels like something you can handle—no matter what.

Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate any comments, likes, reblogs and asks. Can’t believe there’s only two parts left to the series! Looking forward to what might come after :)

taglist: @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan, @jasminex12

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #ccg #ccg series

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