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youngwonhui · 3 months ago

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✦ picture of a perfect rose | ch. 1

*•. member: Seokmin x afab readers

*•. summary: in total years of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice. That will change drastically starting now. Because the young King is unfortunately a good person, loves his mother, and a true believer in good of people. No matter how hard it is to find and how cold he looks outside.

*•. genre: arranged marriage, royalty au, strangers to lovers, slowburn,

*•. wc: 13k

*•. warnings: eventual smut, minors DNI, depiction of food

*•. crossposted on AO3

*•. masterlist

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Until the present minute of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice.

The former crown prince, present King.

Once when you were in children school. Or kindergarten, only it’s manage by the royal family and used to educate any children with a prospect future inside the kingdom’s management. Generals, royal advocates, head of managements, and clerks.

So many clerks.

Of course the position didn’t came guaranteed. Only selected few are taught and handpicked by the core royal family themselves. Nepotism runs deep. No matter how arbitrary the system has made it to these modern days. Although they held no absolute power over governments, the royal family remain dipping their hands in their very own selection honeypot of authority.

It doesn’t help that the head of monarch are previously held by a mad queen. In a silly goofy mood to determined the whole nation that life means nothing. Her legacy left the royal family lists of will that she had cleverly sets in motion in time before her sudden passing.

And now, this is where you met Seokmin for the second time.

It was a normal bleak day. The free coffee spread out in a table outside the library still tastes stale. But its free. So you took one and proceed inside. Finding the only table strategically placed near direct sunlight. The vast gothic library might be your favourite place in the building, but it doesn’t hide the fact that the mostly vacant place are often dusty and dank.

Frowning deeply, you twirl the pen in your fingers. Hoping the calculus problem will solve itself. Blowing a puff of air into the bounded books, you’re fighting the urge to open the window bigger and chuck the probable historic artifact out into the green lawn outside. Being in the royal academy doesn’t mean that you have your future perfectly laid out on a parchment paper. Being an only daughter of a mere merchant and a retired royal midwife lands you this track. You’re perfectly thankful, as its open many ways to a higher opportunities. But living alone among all the oddball bunch of power hungry people isn’t much to your liking.

Sometimes you just want to cook. Simply cook just for other people to fill their appetite. Become someone ordinary and needed.

Your mind wander that day. From the slightly cool breeze flowing through the small gaps of the window and into how quiet the library has been. None directed to the materials in front of you. And none of the usual muffled shuffling and pages turning that’s easily associated to the library.

Odd. But your mind are nowhere to notice the minuscule oddities.

That is until a single sound echoing closer to you. One feet planted into another against the old wooden floor until it stopped right in front of your table. Looking up, unsure, you registered that the person stood before are Seokmin, but your reflexes had truly betrayed you that day. It left you gawking like a bird that has lost its bearing. Mouth wide open as your eyes transfixed into Seokmin’s face. All stoic yet isn’t rigid, not necessary cold but there’s a certain aloofness that had left you wondering that the newly crowned king has been missing some warmth in his life.

With your eyes still trained on one another, millions of thought running through your mind regarding any reason that TheKing would pay you a surprise visit. You barely even registering that said king has taken his seat across you. On a dingy old, probably slightly askew library chair. His personal detailed security are posted in every aisle, all within reach on any sudden distress, but far away enough to not let any conversation between you both made audible.

“You know who i am?” Seokmin begins, still with unchanging expression on his face. You can only nod as Seokmin clears his throat to seemingly prepares himself. “You’re Y/n right?” You can only blink as an answer. Genuinely flustered at the simplest of question. “I’m gonna get this done and over with. After mom- the queen had passed, she had left a few pages of wills. Most are unmentionable to you, or even me for that matter, but there are one item. She’s hoping for you to be the next queen.”

“Pardon me, but by the next queen do you mean-” Even your own thought sounds ridiculous in your head, unable to let your lips to even finished the words. It hangs around the air, floating with the cold breeze.

“Yes.” Seokmin nodded in resolute. “It means to be my wife.”

In total years of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice.

That will change drastically starting now.

Because the young king are unfortunately a good person, loves his mother, and a true believer in good of people. No matter how hard it is to find and how cold he looks outside.

In the event of the late queen questionable passing, Seokmin are left with myriad of tasks and none are personally directed to him. Until the royal attorney handed him the last page of his mother’s will. All filled with only your name and a mention of who your parents are, it continues to her last plea of wanting Seokmin to made you his wife. The next queen.

The request baffled him. Plagued his nights, even before his coronation.

His mother is not the most sane nor logical person he met, but still is his mother. Between the long intricate weaving of time in his life, there are threads where his mother had provide a sense of understanding of what’s good and right in his whirlwind of life. Other than that, his mother might be seen arranging a plan to built unusual building and organization which ceased to be useful. Or firing the head historian of the national museum because they forgot to change the monthly banner exhibition.

Her reputation precedes her. But in the reality of the kingdom ruled in a mixed monarchy, strangeness are the air that most people breathe everyday.

But this strange ‘request’ from the king baffle you the most.

What drove you wilder are you having to go through a class of algebra right after. And only after that, you drag yourself back to your dorm and sat on the ratty old sofa. Only after that your mind eventually caught up on the event on the library.

You scramble to fish out your phone from your bag and quickly dialed up your mom. The light of sunset streaming through the blinds somewhat calms you down as you waited for your mom to answer.

“Hello darling-”

“Mom.” You paused, breath hitched after the soft crackling noises that followed your mother’s voice. “Didn’t you used to work in the palace? For the queen?”

“Yes.”

“Today i got a very strange request. From the king.”

“The king? Lee Seokmin?”

“Yeah. He asked me to be his wife.”

There was silence on the other side. The soft crackling slowly increases to a rustles and shuffling as you realized your mother are moving away somewhere before she could talk about the matter more closely with you.

“Darling,” your mother begins. “H-how? This is no matter to joke about.”

“Mom, me going to this school is already ridiculous enough. Do you think i’m about to add more ridiculous things on top of that.”

“We’ve talked about this, you have every right to go to that school. You’re smart, intelligent and more logical than half of the people that goes there.” Your mother sighed as she paused. “So, it’s really Seokmin? Why though.”

You know it’s a serious matter, but your mother’s innocent question can’t help to draw a smile to your face.

You then explained the event of the day. Mostly about Seokmin. How he left you with his personal number that you can reach and you also explained that he’s doing this out of the late queen’s will.

“And who knows what other things she might’ve mentioned for me. How does she even know me? Is it wrong that i didn’t want to believe any of her words? She’s not a very reliable person, you know. Throughout her life.”

“She’s just a very kind person. For the brief time that i know and cared for her. Rest in peace her soul.”

Upon your mother’s word, you felt a little lump in your throat. Feeling like you just judged a person based on no less than zero personal interaction. The queen could be the most genius person, but you could never knew that.

But it seems like the whole kingdom currently shares your sympathy.

“Mom, what do you think i should do?”

“If you think that this offer is a mean to escape. Then i believe you already know your answer. And before you want to deny that it is not an escape, darling i know you best.”

True.

Your mother know you hate this place. Your mother also knows that rejecting the placement on the royal college will resulted in unimaginable repercussions. Especially is said placement is gifted by the late queen herself. Your mother also know how you’re aware of how sorry she is for you.

“How do you feel mom?”

After a long stretch of silence, your question startles your mother across the phone.

“About?”

“Having a king as your son-in-law.”

Your mother laughs. You terribly missed hearing it.

In theory, the process of being married are clear to you. In theory.

In your weird and somewhat absurd reality, the process of your own marriage went like a whirlwind of tornado hitting you on a perfectly sunny afternoon.

After a short and concise phonecall to Seokmin, which surprised even yourself when the man managed to answer the call at 2 AM. Why are you calling in such hour? You don’t even know yourself.

On the call, Seokmin assures you that the conversation are secure and that he is alone. You’re thankful that Seokmin doesn’t bombard you with question right away. He lets you stretch out the silence. Until you ask him the question that’s been bugging you the whole time.

“Why? Why do you want to do this. You could’ve ignored your mother’s request and went on with your reign.”

“I don’t know how it looks like to you or other people in the world. But i very much love my mother. And the kingdom she left me with. There could be anyone for me to be married to, but- but my mother chooses you. Meaning she somehow believes and trusts you above all.”

“And, do you? Trust her?”

“I trusts her kindness.”

You remember that night, the phone call that you wordlessly ended after Seokmin’s words.

The next day, as if you’re already expecting the sleek black mercedes that picks you up in front of the dorm, you had packed most of your necessities into a duffle bag. On a foggy morning, you left your old life behind.

Welcomed by Seungkwan, Seokmin’s very own PR person/assistant, he lead you through the quiet hallways of the palace and into Seokmin’s very own residence. He assures you that you will have your very own on-site guide and helpers to get you acclimate around the palace. Be it navigation, manners, or any single important point to watch out from other people inside the court. Seungkwan was kind, but you only feel like he’s kind enough because its his job. The ipad he hold on and scroll through the timetable felt like a weapon.

Half of yourself felt thankful for your past education in the royal college, it gets you familiar enough to any person of interest in the palace. As well as attuning your dull senses to the hustle and bustle of the palace around the big day of your marriage.

At least you can choose between sand and beige for the dinner napkin.

For the couple that’s advertised as long time friend and has been secretly close to each other, you barely sees Seokmin. Even when you’re lounging in the parlor where he usually spend the morning getting briefed by Seungkwan or occasionally the head of military. Who you hasn’t yet formally introduced to.

Heck, you’ve caught glimpse of Seokmin’s security more than the king himself.

That’s how your palace life has been so far.

Until the day of your wedding. For the reason of still in mourning of the late queen, you and Seokmin gets to have a more private wedding in the palace rather than the usual extravagance of the past occasion.

Definitely not to blown your cover that you’re not Seokmin’s old childhood sweetheart. And only happened to be here because his mother’s late insanity bequest.

Annoyingly, it was a beautiful day. The perfect weather as most flowers has begin to bloom.

You’re mostly fiddling with the material of your glove. As beautiful it is to compliment your wedding attire, the material felt itchy on your skin. You decided having it off for awhile isn’t a treason. While being gifted a moments of silence as you wait for the ceremony to start, you heard a knock through the door. Soon it opened to reveal Seokmin.

“Sorry, am i disturbing you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You tries to scramble off of your seat.

The elaborate wedding dress however, making you regret not paying attention to how the stylists has helped you to do the most minuscule things such as sitting down. Because now you almost tripped from one of the part of said wedding dress. It happened so quickly and you can feel a double heart attack incoming, one from the fear of ripping apart the beautiful piece of clothing and the other from the possible impact of your body to the cold marble floor.

But it never came.

You unconsciously closed your eyes to prepare for the pain, but instead you’re propped into a sturdy body as hands keeping you secure. One wrapping around your waist and one to your flailing hand.

“Are you alright?”

You snapped back to your surrounding once you realize Seokmin has leaped to your rescue. But of course, you wobble on your steps. Managing to be free of Seokmin’s hold around your waist, yet his hand still held yours to keep you balanced.

“I’m good. Good.” You paused, heartbeat racing and painfully aware of how Seokmin has his hands around yours. “What’s up?”

Great way to playing it cool.

“I- i know i’m not supposed to be here, but i just want to give you this.”

Seokmin fished out something shiny out his pocket. You barely registered the object as Seokmin easily wrap it around your wrist. Your eyes travels back and forth from Seokmin and to the bracelet. The shine of both the jewelry and a small smile on Seokmin’s face felt blinding all the same.

“It was my mother’s. An old one. Because i remember her wearing it when i was little.”

“Your highness, it’s too much.” You paused, catching the slight change in Seokmin’s face upon your words. “I mean it is beautiful, obviously. It might be too precious for me to wear.”

Even from the brief moment you look at it, the intricate details and the shine astound you. You’re thinking about the bracelet.

“I think my mother would love to see it on you. Especially on a special day like this” Seokmin trained his eyes around the bracelet, and eventually to the hand he still held.

In the silence, the weight on your hand grew tenfold. You couldn’t decide whether it’s from the bracelet or from Seokmin’s touch.

In fairness, you should’ve known that being his wife meant having Seokmin close to you and acted like you both shares a deep affection for each other. Emphasis on act.

You feel like you’ve failed even a basic of interaction.

Seokmin didn’t dare to look at your face. Choosing to keep his eyes down and to the span of your wrist and to the connected hands. Eventually he gently lets you go after making sure you’re on your sure footing and nod to you one last time before making his way out.

He stops before opening the door. Turning on his feet and facing you once more.

“And please, just call me Seokmin.”

The next time you see Seokmin, it’ll be down the aisle. With your father by your side. Clinging to his arm, you tries to mask the nervousness. Matching your breathing with every step you take. You had thanked any god that you didn’t cry when your father hugged you just before the door to the chapel opened. His whispers of support with every steps you take.

You had foregoes the glove altogether. You didn’t missed the stink eye the stylist has given you upon that decision. But couldn’t care less.

By the end of the aisle, Seokmin bowed his head to him before accepting your hand. Given reluctantly from your father. You felt the warmth on Seokmin’s touch. It ease your mind a little. Despite the somewhat stoic expression he’s wearing.

Seokmin looks stunning up close. You tries to steal glances every now and then because the officiates are doing god knows what part of the tradition to marry you two. By the looks of it, Seokmin are tuning the words like you, just the same. You inspect the high cheekbone, taut. And a few visible beauty marks adorning just the side of his face. You almost flinch when he faces you altogether.

“…i do.”

Shit, it’s your turn.

“Do you, Y/n Y/Ln take Lee Seokmin to be your husband. Care for him, comfort him, and protect him with all you might, while also honouring him as the King of this court, the very one you resided?”

You hadn’t paid full attention to the question directed to Seokmin, but the ones for you sounded more like a threat by the end. You pray to say no and just flee this instance. Your head almost spinning, quite matching the racing heartbeat that drums your chest ever since those door opens to your new future.

Everything is set in motion the moment you took the chance to call Seokmin that night. But it all felt too real when you see the many pairs of eyes sets to you. From the ones that swore to protect you and varies to ones that wouldn’t hesitate to use you to fulfil their plans. You brought this situation on your own, you might as well held on to the one thing that you believe will protect you.

“I do.”

You squeeze Seokmin’s hand a bit. Scared if the strength leave your body suddenly.

“And with this, and the power vested in me, i declare you both husband and wive.”

With a swift motion. Much like an organized, choreographed sets of movement, Seokmin leans closer and kissed you. Brief enough to not be an awkward peck. He held your hands tighter when the piano and string quartets brought their version of Liebestraum to a crescendo as you slowly pulls away and faced the crowd behind you.

“I present to you. The new queen for his majesty, king Seokmin.”

There are cheers around the room. Spot of tears of your mother by the corner of your eyes. You can’t bear to look directly at her. Fear of her action mirrors at you.

Beside you, Seokmin finally smiles. His eyes creases to a moon, stretching down to his lips that’s opened to his rows of pearly whites. You blinked at the sight, thinking about how unfamiliar it looks to you. You felt privileged.

You have to get used to this.

The reception later that night was something else. Seungkwan kept giving you thumbs up, assuring you that you’re doing great. Seokmin seems like he didn’t need assurance to keep up the act. He remained by your side, keeping you close, and holding your hand to give off the effect. He also often whispers to you who’s the old man in uniform which currently making his way to the two of you.

You feel like your teeth went dry with the amount of smiling you’ve done that night. Your feet is also killing you.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?”

You and Seokmin are quite far away from the guests, so you have no worries of anyone eavesdropping. But him saying this to you in private, during the most public appearance you’ve done throughout the brief time of being a queen? It sent a jolt of surprise through your body.

You’re snapped back when you hear the melodic sound of Seokmin’s laughter. His hand rests on your hips naturally.

“I don’t mean it to sound so sleazy.” He paused to look down at your choice of footwear. Silently noticing how you squirmed and shifts your stance every now and then. “I meant that if you want a little break from all of this?”

Seokmin looks back to the crowds mingling around the vast hall of the main palace. It’s been decorated beautifully. Although modest. Keeping with the lowkey and private vibe. Totally not because of the plan of rushing the wedding.

You took a deep breath, holding on to your third glass of champagne. Scanning the room of people that’s keeping conversation to themselves, but you know the talking points of said conversation. You and Seokmin.

So you decided to pushed through. Treating this like the first test. If you disappear now, you’d feel like you’re losing with the mental game. Seokmin only hold your hand tighter. Before turning to another general- whatever, who had come over to give out congratulation.

Seokmin vacate your side at times. Hushed conversation with his head bodyguard. Wonwoo. Who introduced himself formally just yesterday. Making your way to the snack bar, as you eyed the wide array of finger foods.

“I wouldn’t eat that if i were you.” Your words stopped the hands reaching out across for the beef tartare. “At least not that one piece. Have the one right there, i think that’s still fresh.”

“Why thank you. You save me from a possible food poisoning.”

“Yeah, that one looks like it’s been sitting out here for too long. You have to look for a fresher ones.” You reasoned to the stranger. Clad in a nondescript black suit. Looks too meticulously tailored and with a hint of silk shirt, so he couldn’t be a part of Wonwoo’s team. You remember the one lesson mentioning that the royal guards, head by Wonwoo wore strictly wool shirt.

“Yoon Jeonghan.” The stranger offer his hand, which you accept gladly.

“Hello, i’m Y/n.”

“I know you.” Jeonghan smiled a little. Controlled, and meaningful, while his eyes kept to you. “I mean, yeah. You’re kind of the person of interest here.”

“Why it should be, it’s my wedding day.”

“That’s correct.”

You can’t help to feel like Jeonghan are watching your every movement to study you. Like keeping you in check out of suspicion. But you remain calm. Fighting through this interaction while Jeonghan doesn’t break his gaze at you. Seemingly noticing your awareness.

“Oh, pardon me i haven’t fully introduced myself. I’m the chief of police. A friend of Seokmin.”

You blinked through Jeonghan’s words. Mentally scolding yourself for not keeping more tabs toward the man in front of you.

A man of power which possibly checking out your cover.

“Ahh, of course. Seokmin tells me about you sometimes.” You calmly replied.

Jeonghan only laughs. Somehow it worries you.

Moments later, as absurd as the brief conversation goes, Jeonghan left you abruptly after a stretch of uncomfortable silence.

Not long after, Seokmin comes to you with Seungkwan in tow.

“So, here’s the plan.” Seungkwan begins, huddling you and Seokmin close. You can spot Wonwoo a few meter behind Seokmin. “It’s late and frankly i’m tired with these fake people. You both can sneak out and my team can slowly ushered these party to end.”

“Will it be okay though?” Your concern are quickly brushed off by the two.

“If you want to stay these crowd can lasts until the sunrise. And fear not, because we have all the resource to keep them so.” Seungkwan points out.

“But i don’t want that. They’re essentially partying on the tax money. So if we sneak out, Seungkwan and his team have a reason to break this party.”

Makes sense.

You agreed and Seokmin wastes no time to laced his fingers through yours. He lead you through a few people and then a quieter hallway. Behind, you can hear the hurried footsteps of Wonwoo and his team. You braced yourself for a long walk back to Seokmin’s residence.

Oh yeah, it’s yours too now.

When you steps into the kitchen at the break of dawn, you spotted Seokmin. Hunched over the quartz countertop with a few papers scattered around. The warm lighting only manage to light up himself while the rest of the room remain dark. The sun are barely in the horizon.

Seokmin noticed you with a nod, then turning back to the paper in hand.

Last night, once the front door of the residence closed, Seokmin immediately lets go of his hold. He mumbled a quick goodnight before turning in to his room. You waste no time to abandon your heels and carrying it back to your own room. Adjacent by Seokmin’s.

Woken up by your darn body clock, and an additional hangover, you tries to busied yourself with making yourself an early breakfast. Yet your eyes couldn’t help but glance at the way Seokmin still has his dress shirt and trousers from yesterday. If you’re nosy enough you’ll also spot his leather shoes are still well on.

But you focused on whisking your omelette.

After two fried bread and a glass of juice, you manage to finish your plate. On the other side of the large countertop. Seokmin by the other end.

You feel like you should leave. Ruffle no feathers on Seokmin already troubled mind. But you feel like a plate of omelette wouldn’t hurt him.

Of course you had learned all of Seokmin’s food restriction. So you’re sure of the safety of the food.

“I made too much omelette, you should have some while it’s still warm.”

Your words catch Seokmin’s attention. His eyes glance to you and the yellow buttery warmth that you had sneakily slid into his vicinity. You mumbled a good night before leaving Seokmin to his own device.

You slept in and only woke up when the sun is high.

After getting ready and scrolling through your phone for your schedule, you could hear loud shuffling footsteps from the parlor. You curiously follows it, exiting the room and walking down the hallway. There was a little commotion, loud argument thrown around the room, strangely the sound came closer to you.

“Oh, Y/n-”

Almost loosing your footing from the surprise appearance of Seokmin and his close friends following behind, a hand shot up and steady your faltering balance. Preventing you to eat shit in front of some probable generals.

“Hello, good..morning?”

“It’s well past noon.”

“It’s the day after their wedding, shut it.”

“You both. Clam it.”

There’s following murmurs and voiced out thoughts from Seokmin’s friends. You try to hide the embarrassment that’s spreading from your neck.

“I, er, i have some urgent meeting. Seungkwan can assist you for today.” Seokmin hurriedly pivot around you, his hands slowly retracting while eyeing his friends to follow him. “I’ll be in the study if you need me.”

With that, out goes Seokmin and in goes Seungkwan.

You tries to keep a straight face but the initial embarrassment never left your mind. Even after Seungkwan led you to the palace tea room and a few garden. Even after he introduces you to the PR team that will follow you.

You had secretly anticipating some sort of hostilities towards the position you earned. But you had never thought it would come from someone as close as Seokmin’s own close friends.

“…and then, you can prepare for tours and visits. The first one, since you- Y/n.”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“Are you listening to me?” Came a stern question from Yeri. A new assistant assigned to you. Now that you’re officially a queen.

“Tours?” You answer abashedly.

In the late afternoon, you had offered Yeri a quick break with tea and then begins her briefing that’s barely making it’s way to your attention. You only mindlessly sipping the warm chamomile as Yeri rambling on across the kitchen island.

“Sorry, i’ll pay attention.”

Yeri sighed, glancing at her wristwatch before making her way to your side. Your eyes follows as she take a seat and not-so-gently placed her ipad on the table.

“I know this is hard. And so sudden. But you’ve been so good, all that etiquette classes and all the royal bullshit.” Even in her whispers, you can hear Yeri’s strong and her aura of determination. “I am sorry i couldn’t help to assist you sooner, but now i’m here. I will help you. But you have to help me too, these visitations and tours are important to build your public image to the people. Also it will be the foundation for your own defense against anyone who would want to harm you.”

Yeri’s words rings in your mind that night.

She left after you prepared dinner, not before she repeated the whole itinerary for the upcoming visitations and tours. You tries to help with managing things that you can truly do. Simply because, you don’t wanna be seen just parading around the country in sleek cars and clothes. You truly want to do something within those public appearance. Yeri gave you nods of approval before scribbling plans as she munched on the wagyu-don you had whisk out in hurry. Her hums after each bite sends your worry away for today.

The next morning, you’re woken up early again. Although there’ll be no going back to bed.

You dragged your feet into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee to keep you awake in the early hour. You don’t expect the coffee machine is occupied by another person.

“Good morning.”

You can only manage a hum as a reply. Partly conscious of how you must’ve look, just crawled out of the bed and in your mismatching pyjama.

“You want some coffee?” Seokmin asked you, after the noise of the coffee grinder had ceased and he skilfully tamping and operates the coffee machine.

“Yeah sure.” Came your reply.

“Americano okay with you?”

Can’t really find the words, you ended up nodding lightly. The sun barely peeking out from the blinds covering the huge windows, and Seokmin is awake and offering you coffee. You shook your head to gets your head back into your senses.

“Do you not sleep?”

Your question doesn’t came unprompted. His shirt doesn’t have a noticeable creases that shows if he’s slept in it. Instead, it looks like he’s sat leaning on his back the whole night.

Seokmin gaze at you for a moment, caught off guard from your question.

“I fall asleep in the studies. After the others gone.”

“Your friends?”

“Yeah, you can call them that.” Seokmin chuckled, pouring the espresso into cups before the hot water to finish the Americano. He wastes no time to take a sip of the scalding hot drink.

“Do you want breakfast?”

“You know we can call the cook to came over and do it for you right?”

“I know.” You already picks up a pan and turn on the burner. “But i like doing it by myself. Why? Am i not allowed to?”

“No- no, i just don’t want you to think that you have to cook and clean around the place.” Seokmin waves his hand hastily.

“Don’t worry i won’t clean. I’m not good at it. I just love to cook, i might need someone to do groceries though.” There’s a sizzle coming from the pan, it follows the rhythm of your knife against the chopping board.

Seokmin suddenly feels his appetite growing from the new sight in front of him.

“Remind me again why we should give you sweatpants?”

“Yeri, would you rather i run sprint or getting tackled in the football fields? Either one, I can’t do in vintage Dior dress. Now give me a pair of sneakers too. I know you packed some on the trunk.”

Yeri huffs before signalling to someone. You chuckled in victory, handing Yeri your previously worn heels. Then you make a show of stretching in front of her. The smile remain on your face.

Today was your visitation to a school on a countryside. Coincidentally, the school celebrating a sports day. Luckily you were invited to participate.

“Okay, you can run.” Yeri eventually answers, before typing away on her phone. Presumably to report to someone.

“Yeri, sprint and football both required running.”

“Alone, please run straight and alone. I can’t have you get tackled or hit with a ball. Sprint it is.”

You smile in victory, Yeri huffed before scanning your surrounding. There are a sizeable crowds taking place. Both student, parents, and teachers keen to the spectacle of the new queen running and possibly even stumbling on the concrete.

You don’t know what came over you. Saying yes to the invitation with no hesitancy whatsoever. The tour was getting a bit exhausting in repetition. Waving and shaking hands with people you barely know. Your smile had begin to turn too fake for your liking. So the minute you’re offered an invitation, you quickly agreed. Needing some sort of change.

You’re aware of the crowd around you, scattered bodyguards mingling. You don’t fear for danger, only of embarrassment. In case you pathetically stumble on an untied shoelace. But you appreciate the certain anxiousness that came over you. It distract you from the situation inside the residence.

“Please, please don’t get hurt. Or fall embarrassingly.” You can hear Yeri softly whispers as you took your position at the start. Beside you, a few chosen parents and teacher stood in line.

“Weird, you’re reading my mind.” You said with a smile.

“For someone who’s scared of falling, you’re looking too chipper your highness.”

You have gotten close with Yeri. Spending days almost together will do that. It also doesn’t help that she’s the only one who treats you kindly. Like another human being.

You gave her a reassuring pat before shooing her away. The MC has announced that the sprint is about to start. You sighed before taking your position.

Just like it’s name, it passes by quick. The shotgun signal at the start and your body moves. Legs reacting to the sound as you grit your teeth in determination. In theory, your body know the mechanics of running. So you let your heart pumps adrenaline and your legs move, one after the other.

Before you know it, it was over. Yeri came rushing to you, a little skip in her step as you eventually finishes the length of 100 metres. You can only catch your breath, fighting the urge to lay down the floor. You truly underestimated the importance of warming up.

“Oh my god, you didn’t fall.” Yeri whisper through a smile.

“Do i win?”

“One of your competition is the PE teacher. You stood no chance.”

“Well. I think i sprained my ankle for nothing.”

You only grin when Yeri hissed beside you.

The whole ride back to the palace, Yeri looks like her hair burned down. Muttering how Seokmin would have her head. You waved off the thought as you walked limply beside her. Skilfully avoiding people to minimize unwanted gossips among the court.

Eventually arriving at the empty residence, you went straight to the sofa and plopped down. While Yeri hurriedly fetching you ice to compress your ankle. The sight of her fussing over you brought a warmth in your heart. A complete opposite behaviour from your own husband.

“Well at least the public likes it right?” You tries to lighten the mood, but Yeri throws you a glare.

“Okay maybe it was a good idea to build your image. I admit defeat your highness.”

You raises your palm for a high five but only left hanging.

Suddenly a loud banging of door being opened stole the attention. It came from Seokmin’s study. The sound of people arguing then became audible to you.

“Well then we can tell them to fuck off.”

“Seokmin, we have to be delicate with this.”

“I have tried but-”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I will if it’s the matter with the government and those darn ‘nobles’.”

Before you could avoid any eyes, Seokmin appears in the parlour. Welcomed by the sight of Yeri compressing ice to your raised ankle. And still clad in a sweatpants.

Wonwoo cleared his throat to break the silence. Immediately, Seokmin turns to him and gather his scattered thoughts.

“Chan, please update me on the situation. And know that the argument still isn’t finished.”

The other, Chan—who you had learned is a five star general, huffed a sigh before bidding a curt goodbye and left the residence with heavier thuds in his steps.

There’s a lot of glancing around the room. The tension are rivalling a mexican stand-offs. Who would talk first and opened the can of worms on what’s going on. This is totally not how you imagined today will went out.

“Okay, how about we called it for today? Would you look at that! It’s time to get off work. Come on everyone let’s step out.”

Seungkwan bites the bullet. Ushering people to shuffle out of the residence and left you with Seokmin. Yeri gave you an apologetic look before stepping out. Dodging your silent plea for help as she handed you the cold compress.

After the front door clicking close, Seokmin broke off of his frozen state and silently sit near you. It felt like ages since you saw him. Being on packed touring schedule and Seokmin holed in meetings of his King duty, you had unknowingly missed being in his presence.

“Tough day at work?” You begins, feeling out the mood as you kept the ice on your ankle. Seokmin only chuckles.

“I almost burst a blood vessel arguing with my friend. So, yeah, tough.” The exhaustion are apparent in his voice. “You? Care to explain what happened?”

“Long story short i should’ve done more warmup before doing a 100 metres sprint. Now i have a slight sprain.” You gestures to your ankle. Seokmin’s eyes could bore a hole to your leg.

The initial tension still remain in the room. Seemingly growing higher since not it’s only you two in the residence. Seokmin return his gaze to you.

“Are you sure it’s not bad?” Seokmin peruse, only now you could catch the tiredness lines along Seokmin’s face.

“I walked here, i’m fine. Been through worse.” You tries to brushed over the attention. Not used to getting it from people. Certainly not from Seokmin.

“Please be more careful next time.”

You nodded with a tight smile.

Feeling assured, Seokmin leaned back at the sofa. Eyes closed and sighing in abandon. The tension within himself broke after his question to you. No other people around, not even Wonwoo posted in the corner.

“Care to tell me what the argument was?”

Seokmin tries not to be surprised at your question. He knows that you’re aware of how the meeting in his studies often ended up in raised voices and disappointed faces by the end of the night.

You also never tries to pry, but it seems like Seokmin needed the care.

“I’m sorry you have to see and hear that everyday.” Seokmin huffs. “I’m trying to implements law to keep the nobles in check. But know would’ve known that they had their corruption runs deep. And Chan kept being worried in case there’s a civil unrest if i suddenly change the rules around.”

“Wow, the nobles are doing corruption?”

Seokmin lifted his head at your question, but immediately broke into a smile as he realizes your sarcastic notion.

“I just wanted things to be better.” Seokmin silently admits.

“Everyone does. You just have to keep your head Seokmin, remembers that everyone here will help you.” You said it so mindlessly, unaware of the weight of it.

“Thank you, for all the help. I appreciate all the meal you cook and the snacks too.” Seokmin laughs, the bright tone sets a smile on your face.

“Well you’re welcome. I’m a whiz at the kitchen right? You need all the snacks with the all nighter you’ve been pulling.”

Seokmin cleared his throat. The new feeling of being nagged at is a thing he hadn’t felt in a long time. You tried your best to keep your focus on your ankle, knowing that looking at Seokmin might spark another burst of embarrassment. Turning you red all over.

“Have a good night.” Seokmin mutters before abruptly leaving you.

You’re thankful for Yeri to rearrange your touring schedule to a halt. Letting you take interview in the residence as your ankle slowly heals. The downside are the increasing amount of people that will see you and Seokmin right at the residence. It keeps you on your toes to keep up with the act. That includes the new arrangement of your sleeping situation.

Because which newlyweds who rushed their wedding would sleep on a different room?

A fake one.

So Seungkwan suggested you to avoid getting to your room. At least not directly from the hallway. You need to go to your room through the connecting door from Seokmin’s room. You almost laugh that day when Seungkwan brought up the idea. Trying to brush over who would pay that much attention to you. But your laughter slowly dies down when Seokmin, Seungkwan, and even Wonwoo stare at you incredulously.

You comply. Seokmin assures you that the lock in the connecting door are working perfectly fine.

“You want to have lunch now? I ordered Vogue they can come in an hour or so. They already sent the clothes, you can take your time.”

“Lunch sounds good. Have you reviewed the location where they want to shoot?” You said as you massaged your neck. Who knew posing for pictures is so hard.

“I talked with Seungkwan too, he suggested one in the parlour and one maybe in the studies since his majesty will only return late. Vogue can only concur with us.”

“Seokmin’s studies?”

Upon Yeri’s confirmation, your curiosity grown. That’s the one place you haven’t yet explore in the residence. You’ve been amazed at how the residence has been designed. A modern place where a crown prince used to spend his free time. Somehow decorated homely enough for you to feel a sense of coziness instead of alienated.

An hour quickly passed by and the vogue stylist has kindly directing you through poses after they set up some lights and camera. The picture in the parlour was done in a jiffy. You held back a skip before entering the study room. All while skillfully answering the questions from the interviewer.

“As we let the staff set up the light, can we talk about this space?” The interviewer queries.

“Well, simply put, this is where the work gets done. Quite literally.” You paused, realizing that Seokmin has entered the room. Silently stood behind Yeri and a few of the floor staffs. He barely walked pass the door, but you can notice him easily. “We share the space to do meetings and read whenever we have a free time. There’s an old fireplace, carved a long time ago for the second queen as a present. It was derelict when they were found ten years ago. Hidden in the room no longer used in the old palace. But the late queen, Seokmin’s mother, are determined to restore it, and she beautifully placed it here. Quite a hidden gem if i must say.” You smiled, giving yourself a pat in your own back for remembering the history lesson from a few weeks ago.

“I think it’s good to make this one look more natural, so we won’t have you posing like earlier. We can just continue with the interview and the photographer can snap a few framesa in the middle.”

“I trust the photographer to capture me in a good light.” You replied, hiding your nervousness behind a smile after seeing that Seokmin remain at his spot. Seungkwan and Wonwoo flanked him, following to be your audience.

You return your attention to the interviewer. Already pointing at the array of vinyl displayed on one side, as well as a guitar. You slowly lead her to it, hoping the image training paid off well. Seeing how tense Yeri are behind the camera.

Half an hour felt like a lifetime. You managed to answer well throughout, also not forgetting to be as natural as possible to avoid sounding like a robot—Yeri warned you the whole morning about this. In the closing stage, you’re seated on an old chair by the window, behind you are the fore-mentioned fireplace. The photographer quickly captures it before the interviewer’s last question.

“Lastly, we’ve noticed the king’s affinity with art. But we can’t seem to identifies any of the paintings hung. From the hillside view in the parlour and the few scattered in this studies. Can you tell us who the painters are?”

The question caught you off guard. Sure you’ve noticed the various painting around the residence, even the main palace. But not one tutoring session has explained it to you closely. You tries to remain calm, gripping the armrest of the chair like it’s a lifeline. Behind the camera you can see Yeri is ready to step in and stopped the interviewer.

“It was my mother.”

The whole room was silent, recognizing the answer came from the king himself. Seokmin has his hand in his pocket, painting the aloofness around himself and the visiting staffs. He made his way to you, a smile so bright you almost forgot to breathe.

“As you might know she graduated top of her class from an art college.”

You stood to welcomes him. Seokmin’s hand wrapped naturally around your waist. He gave you a small squeeze to snap you out of it. Smiling back at Seokmin before to the camera.

“Her majesty does love to paint. As you might know she often gifted it to a few places around the kingdom.” You added, thanking your memories from watching news in the TV. “I hoped i can live up to her standard. Although i am not as skilled in art as she is. At least i can be as kind as Seokmin to the people. Despite the short time to getting to know each other.”

You’re unaware, but Seokmin kept his gaze to you. Absorbing your words as he kept caressing your back. He’s well aware that you’re prepared to answer any question in this interview. Yet this last one surprises him. Kept him thinking about your words and actions.

You heard a few snaps of camera before the interviewer declared the interview is over. Yeri and Seungkwan cordially bid them goodbye as well as discussing the output matters. Throughout the whole time of cleaning up, Seokmin never left your side until the last crew eventually escorted out of the residence with the security team. It was well pass dusk and Yeri eventually bid her goodbye.

And then it left only Seungkwan and Wonwoo discussing over in the parlour.

“Thank you. I truly didn’t know it was the queen’s painting.” You admit, earning a smile from Seokmin.

“Don’t worry, not many knows. It’s like a private collection.” Seokmin has retracted his hand around you, but he kept close as you both making way to the middle of the studies. There’s an air about him now, vibrating and giddy like he just came back victorious from whatever battle he faced outside.

“You look different. Happier than you were this morning.”

You quickened your steps, trying to catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s face. To which he turned completely sideway upon your sudden attention. A bubbling of laughter in his throat. You almost felt bad for not hearing it. But also relieved, about the air around him that has changed. The tiredness might need time to fix, but at least Seokmin smiles more.

How you had wish for the night to end just like that.

“Seokmin…”

Wonwoo’s voice was never that grave. Barging through the door of the studies, startling both you and Seokmin. Which wastes no time to follow Wonwoo, you instinctively follows. Closer to the parlour where you can hear the sound of the TV blaring the news.

There’s a nagging feeling in your chest. Even before you can see that Seungkwan are holed in the corner, in what seemingly a deep and serious call. Wonwoo, now with Seokmin by his side are merely a few metres from the TV. The images, even from afar astound you. It was not long until every phone in the residence rang. Seokmin takes one offered by Wonwoo.

In trance, you kept your eyes on the news.

“A tragic fire broke out in a school in the rural area. The fire suspected to have caused by defective electrical equipment that had sparked off from one of the facilities in the school building..”

Your gasp filled the foreground of the somber room. The news from TV serve as a gut wrenching background.

Not far, Seokmin eyes bore to the floor, lost it’s focus as he listens to the call. Seemingly briefing him of the situation. As minutes passed, the strain in Seokmin’s face grew. Matching the rigidness that has start ever since he enters the room.

“It’s Jeonghan.” Wonwoo provides an answer.

“The chief of police?”

“The very one.” You turn a questioning look toward Wonwoo. Wanting more information than what’s being televised. Wonwoo sighed, “Jeonghan is involved because the area is one of the place he’s currently investigating. A few of noble family members and some minister are suspected in corruption. Mainly causing a lack of development around the area.”

“Is it hindering the fire department?” You tries to conclude. Wonwoo solemnly nod.

“It’s not yet aired but until now there’s still not enough fire truck in the site due to the poor condition of the road. And the fire are predicted to the spread into the forest and possibly civilian houses if the firetruck situation remain as of now. They’re trying to dispatch a helitanker but the area is a bit far away.”

“Is there any casualties?” Your question brought a faltering look from Wonwoo. The stern bodyguard looks like he’s weighing his own choice.

“Y/n you…”

A sudden booming noise from a door being closed shut catch the room’s attention. You can see Wonwoo and Seungkwan exchanging a knowing look before Wonwoo sent a signal through his comms.

“Keep the perimeter around the lake garden. Make sure to not be visible to Arthur. But keep him in your sight.”

As Wonwoo informs his team, you eventually realize that Seokmin was the source of the noise. He had stormed off of the residence and into the dark garden. The mention of Seokmin’s codename caught you off guard.

As a newcomer, it didn’t take you long to figure out Seokmin’s habit. Especially if you have a whole crash course to learn about him. But looking closer and privy to the night and morning where he’s not forced into the spotlight, it helps you learn that Seokmin, despite his status and somewhat cold expression he wore, is a kind man with a beautiful smile, who loves his mother and thrusted upon the responsibilities of making the kingdom a better place.

You couldn’t think of a much bigger burden to bear than this.

The night tapered down to a grave silence. Seungkwan and Wonwoo left one by one, having to attend many meetings and checking up on Arthur.

It’s well passed midnight when you found yourself remain wide awake. It’s not that you’re even trying to sleep. Gazing out the window in your room, you can almost see the moonlight bouncing off of the lake surface afar. You haven’t heard any signs of Seokmin returning. Worry eating away your mind.

Avoiding your phone and the tv, in the dark, you sit on the sofa in the parlour. The light from outside are bright enough for you to see Seokmin if he returns.

You can’t deny that the worriness you felt stem from a feeling you had come to avoid nowadays. Seeing glimpses of Seokmin privately, far from the eye of the media, and fighting headstrong against the law constructed decades ago just to see a sliver of justice.

You fell for Seokmin’s little smile whenever he sees you whipping out an omelette in the morning. You fell for the mere second you see Seokmin teasing Wonwoo just before they head out of the residence door.

You fell for something so close but so unattainable.

Because what is your presence other than a queen from contract. Kept just as a pawn. To keep Seokmin’s defense tight from the corrupt nobles’ lackey he could possibly be paired with.

It’s smart actually. To hell with a love match, keeping the new king’s circle tight with a person you know would never back stabbed you might be a tactic as old as time.

Your thought are abruptly cut by the sound of the door clicking close.

You pushed the ache in your chest aside when Seokmin avoided your gaze altogether. The tightness in his jaw matches the frown on his eyebrows. He marches quick to his room. Your steps following close behind. Gazing closely on the connecting doorway as Seokmin paces around his room.

“Seokmin, they’ve managed to put down the fire. At least it didn’t spread to the woods.” You try to comfort him, but only met with an empty gaze pointed at you.

“Two teachers and two firefighters.” The fact doesn’t fly by you. Eventually finding out the casualties, only so far. “If i could catch the people responsible for this! If could just implement the law faster, maybe this doesn’t have to happened.” The words seething through Seokmin gritted teeth. You understand his anger, trying to calm him down so he could think clearer.

“There’s only so much you can do Seokmin. And its not being angry with yourself.” You pointed out, but the scornful smile tugging on his lips shown you otherwise. So spiteful of such anger, yet it’s being falsely targeted to you.

“Of all the things i can do as a king, i haven’t been able to do one right thing. Not one. This corrupt kingdom is just a fruit of labor from someone as selfish as my father. I never asked for this.”

Seokmin’s voice turn to a low hiss of whispers, but the sentiment remain. The tragedy has turned his vision askew. He’s no longer angry at himself, now you get sucked in to his diatribe of ‘woe is me’. You took a deep breath to calm your own frustration down.

“Wake up your majesty, nobody asked for any responsibilities. But alas, they’re born into situation. And that also includes you. The people suffering doesn’t have time for you to weep over your own fate like this. They need their king. They need your love and care. It’s the first thing they need.”

“What good is love going to do? I can’t even marry one that i love! I’m tied down with someone i barely know.”

It hurts. Knowing that Seokmin barely feeling half of what you do and being the target of his anger.

Seokmin catch a second the moment the words left his lips. He regretted it immediately but make no action to says so.

His pride wouldn’t let him.

Although the same pride couldn’t bear the sight of you looking small by the doorway. Nails almost scratching to the wall as you gaze to the floor. So Seokmin turned away, cowardly plotting way to escape another mess he brought upon himself. Just because he can’t control his frustration.

“Then you must love me.” You blurt out. Desperation in your words as tears brimming hot around your eyes. Unfocused gaze yet it sets towards Seokmin. His turned back, straight and wide as ever. The burden weighing them almost went unnoticed if you only see Seokmin from the media.

But you aren’t. You see him differently, quietly, by his side.

You meant to say it out of spite. Taunting Seokmin to try to love one thing before even a thousand more. But half of you found yourself begging. Maybe more than half.

You must have it. Love. His love. Because not of the principle that you’ve been fed throughout your whole life, or the thought of being one of Seokmin’s failure, but because you feel like Seokmin needed it as well. A place to care without burden, without a mask, and without boundaries of his affection.

“What is my love? Why does it mean so much that i love something— someone?” A hoarse laughs escaped his lips. A defeated one. To what it still came untold. But the weight, it pours down to his body like gravity, bending him down to his knees. “Why should i love when obviously it means nothing. Nothing. When the one i put my faith into came to stab me at my back.” His voice tapered to nothingness, blending to the quiet sound of the room.

You approach his hunched figure with sureness, stopping in front of Seokmin. Not long until you joined him on the ground. Cold and somewhat unfeeling.

“Then give your one last chance to me. Faith, all and everything. Even your disappointment. If there’s still some left, then let me beg for your love. I might not be able to fix all that is wrong, but i am willing to help in every other way. Give you time to passed this testing time and let you be who i know you are destined to be. A wise king.”

Time. Then time will be the hurdle you has to face.

Maybe after time, Seokmin will love you too.

If you pretend that night didn’t happened, maybe it really doesn’t. What truly compels you to say such things to Seokmin? You must’ve went nuts. Out of embarrasment, you don’t even tell your mom about the outburst when she calls you in the morning.

The next morning where Seokmin is already out of the residence the moment you open your eyes.

Thankfully Yeri has arrange a meeting for you and a few relief organization to plan a food donations for the suffering areas. It keeps your mind busy at least. Rather than replaying every words you utter that night and feeling more and more pathetic as each day passed.

You were about to exit the meeting room when Yeri hold you back and reminding you of an additional events for tomorrow.

“You know, the public wants you to give out medals to the captain of the fire station.” Yeri said once only you both remain in the room.

“Medals? They are not even done cleaning up the debris and building the emergency school for the children. Do you think the public are celebrating too quick?”

“You and i both know this isn’t about the public. Some of the royal family members want this over and done with as quick as possible.” Yeri reasoned with a huff. You can’t help but sigh, completely understanding her position. The main palace might already be arranged and decorated already for this occasion as you both speak.

“And you and i both know and those ‘royal family’ might as well have a hand in the corruption.” Yeri only gives you a tight smile upon your words. Offering a comfort with a touch on your shoulder.

“Let’s talk about it later. Come let’s have a lunch, i’m sure Seokmin is nearby.”

“Does he have meeting in the palace?”

After Yeri’s affirmation, you make a quick trek back to the residence. Muttering something around you want to cook lunch or forgetting to turn off the oven when Yeri’s questions your incredulous action. To be fair the royal dining hall is closer, so scurrying back to the residence just to cook is absurd.

But right now you’d choose to fill up your step counter rather than possibly meeting Seokmin. Or worse, talk to him.

Unfortunately the sight of you making a quick walk back to the direction of the residence instead of walking alongside Yeri to the dining hall is witnessed by Seokmin himself. He was staring outside into the garden when he spot you across. Behind him was a loud chaos noise of his friends arguing which another amendment should be introduced the fastest. He could’ve stayed at home for this. Watching movies he hadn’t finished or the book he has put back down. Seokmin could’ve just had Seungkwan for the report, but here instead. Like yesterday, and a few days before.

Seokmin realizes he’s been avoiding to see you. He realizes when he felt hungry despite having a full breakfast cooked for him from the dining hall. He felt sleepy despite the amount of caffeine he consume nowadays.

To be fair he should be feeling guilty about this. On top of the apologies he should be saying to you, Seokmin avoided you. He, the one person who brought you here. Who dragged you into this mess, and created more mess. Seokmin felt himself shrinking. He’s a king of a nation, he shouldn’t be feeling like this. His father’s words rang clear in his memory.

The words that brought the mighty king to his own demise.

His mother would be disappointed with Seokmin if he keeps up with this act.

Seokmin took a deep breath, concluding that apologizing to you is the first thing he do once he’s finished for the day.

“Seokmin if you’re done gazing longingly outside, we still have to plan for tomorrow.” Jeonghan’s voice break his thought.

Right, medals and firefighters.

Unfortunately for Seokmin, he return back to the residence and welcomed by the sight of you sleeping. He doesn’t mean to peek but the connecting door was not closed properly and he couldn’t find you everywhere. You were sleeping with three pillows. One for your head, one on your back, and the last one you hugged. By your side, the ipad screen are still showing whatever show or movie you ended up sleeping on.

His guilt grown. Even from your sleeping form, Seokmin could tell that you’re exhausted. Needing support even in you sleep. How lonely you must have felt until you uttered those words after Seokmin’s anger.

‘Don’t cry!’

‘Don’t smile!’

‘Don’t show them your weakness!’

‘You’re in line to be a king. Act like one!’

The memory of his father was never a fond one. That’s why Seokmin prefers to be with his mom. The stern reminder rang in his head, but Seokmin has grown numb to it.

“How the heck does this happened?” Yeri mutters low enough only for you to hear. You could imagine her usual stoic face remained unchanged, but you knew her head must have been running awry. You kept your face straight.

“To be fair, the invitation did say for them to be dressed in uniform.” Your response met with a huff from your side.

Seokmin stood a few steps ahead on a pedestal, currently placing a medal around a framed picture of what you recognized as one of the firefighter fallen victiom the fire. The very picture held by a very disheveled fire captain. Still in his dirty uniform you had expected worn during the fire. Behind the captain, the lieutenant are clad the same, holding another framed picture. Waiting for medal.

When asked for pictures, Seokmin nodded pointedly to the two firefighter before stepping back aside. Your poker face is tested today, because Seokmin resorted to stood beside you, as the two firefighter stood side by side with the framed picture in their hand. Medaled and held proud.

The murmurs around the royal hall grew louder.

The invited spectators, consists of few selected media, high ranking generals, and nobles broke into hushed conversation.

You still haven’t understand what is the need of those nobles being here, but then you remembered the banquet that will be held later. Some people does use any excuse just to have a party.

After the pictures taken, you and Seokmin are escorted out of the hall, and after that, the two firefighters. Once safe into the hallway and the door behind you close, there’s a collective sound of exhale from around you. The lieutenant stopped before Seokmin and gives him a hug. You presume they know each other.

“It’s been awhile, your majesty.” The lieutenant whispers before pulling back. Hand remain on Seokmin’s shoulder.

“Shut up Mingyu.”

The lieutenant—Mingyu, smiled brightly at Seokmin. Although Seokmin can’t seem to shown the same. A heaviness settles among the crowd when Seokmin look at the retreating figure of the fire captain. You could see from afar the hi-vis stripe of the uniform slowly growing smaller before taking a turn at the corner.

“I hope you understand him. It’s nothing personal.” Mingyu remarks with a sigh.

“Please tell Seungcheol that i’m sorry.” Seokmin voice sounded low, he kept his voice close to his friend but you manage to catch it.

“We both know that it isn’t your fault Seokmin. It’s not your fault that when we filed for the development of fire prevention system around the area, it was never processed for two years straight.”

Seokmin is silent. It was never meant for a jab, but the fact hurt still. The fact that it continues to happened now under Seokmin’s reign as a king.

Mingyu, gives Seokmin one last friendly pat before bidding everyone goodbye. You quickly offers him a bumbling bow.

“Oh, hello. We haven’t officially introduced yet. You must be Y/n. I’m Mingyu. I’m sorry we have to meet like this. See you later.”

The large physique truly deceive you. The young lieutenant, have the energy more resembling a huge puppy. While you steal a glance to Seokmin, you can’t help but think that the two presumable friend have quite the polar opposite vibe.

“Seokmin, i’ve been informed that the visitors have started to crowd the diamond hall.” Seungkwan break the silence.

“Is that where the banquet are held?” Seokmin questions earned a quick nod. “They couldn’t be more subtle about it huh? Choosing the biggest room for eating and drinking things they don’t deserve. The last thing we know is they invited a whole string quartet or a DJ for entertainment.”

Seokmin couldn’t hide his frustration, the words spewing out of his mouth surprises you for a moment. But you understand his frustration. And so does Yeri, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, and the people around you. Seokmin might just be the only one brave enough to say it out loud.

Seokmin cleared his throat, a tinge of embarrassment on his face is visible before he turn on his feet and march on the long hallway. The security team following quick with Wonwoo on their tail. Seungkwan motion for you and Yeri to lead the way. The three of you eventually walked together.

“Hey Seungkwan,” You begin as you walk. “Was that um, planned? For the lieutenant and captain coming in all dirty and with the framed pictures?”

You felt a sense of relief when Seungkwan nodded. Even with a tight smile. The, you can hear Yeri’s dramatic gasp before a resounding sound of her smacking Seungkwan’s arm.

“When invited to be medaled, at first Seungcheol didn’t even agree to come here. The fire station didn’t even have time to mourn and they’re still busy helping the neighbourhood to distribute some disaster relief. Mingyu of course is following Seungcheol.”

“Then, what changes their mind?” You found yourself asking, though your gaze fixed ahead. Past the broad shoulder belonging to Wonwoo and into the black hair far ahead that you came to recognize.

“Seokmin of course. He gave all the idea of what happened back there. Even providing to stash the firefighter gear and the pictures somewhere for the two to change into. Because none of them wouldn’t make it past the front gate if they dressed like that. Eventually Seungcheol agrees. I don’t even know if they will be at the banquet or not.”

Of course Seokmin would persuade them to come. Because Seokmin knows the repercussion they’ll face if they reject a royal invitation. If only Seokmin can cancel the invitation and the event itself of course it would be easier.

If only Seokmin has that power.

What he held seemingly only the illusion of it. Because if he declares war against the old and powerful nobles, they would certainly fight back. Colluding with the government and creating unrest among the people. It would cripple the economy of the kingdom.

Seokmin couldn’t certainly sleep with that.

“Y/n, are you ready?”

Your confusion hangs off the air for a moment. Until you realize that you’re arriving at the diamond hall. The noise of peoples can already be heard.

The feeling of exhaustion already clouded your nerve.

The plan of sneaking out later is already in your mind.

It wasn’t easy but you pull it off.

Of course you informed Yeri, as if she doesn’t have a tracker on you.

The diamond hall are fully packed by people. If not conversing on a stock blatantly, they’re laughing off of a pointless matter. You almost feel sick from the sight of grubby hand fighting over any filled glass of champagne. After an hour, you begged Yeri to sneak you out. You can’t hear more of obscene gossip passed among the nobles and socialite.

Yeri eventually agrees. Showing you to the blind spot exit and you thanked her repeatedly before walking off.

She makes sure to remind you to avoid any eyes and have your phone on. You waved her goodbye before following the hidden hallway. A light skip in your steps.

Passed the empty gallery, and the hall of portraits, you looked around the big library before deciding that the place is too eerie to stay alone. Eventually you found your hideout in the palace old keep. Now only a staircase tower.

You walk down the dusty stairs, taking off your heels before, circling the wall and decidedly stopping a few steps before the lower window. The big window overlooks the side garden of the palace. The background of green hills providing a picturesque view. It reminded you to one of the painting in Seokmin’s residence.

You wonder if the cherry blossom trees would bloom in time.

With a sigh, you take a seat on the stairs. Although your ankle has gone significantly better, wearing heels and walking around the big palace still wear your legs out. You might as well asked Seokmin to change a law to allow you to wear sneakers daily.

That is if you have a chance to talk to Seokmin. You’re not dumb enough to realize that he’s been doing the same thing you do. Avoiding each other. You cringe yourself once again to the memory of that night. You tries to calm your mind instead, listening to the sound of the blowing breeze outside the window.

Suddenly, your peace is disturbed by the sound of the door opening and closing. You followed the sound down. Craning your neck down the banister. To your surprise, you’re met with the sight so familiar.

“Seokmin?”

With the same surprise painted on his face, Seokmin climb up the stairs. Never leaving his eyes off of you. Lost at what to do, dusting off any dirt on your hands and dressed. Among the confusion, you ended up bowing your head to him.

“No need to be so fidgety or courteous around me. Where’s the one who scolded me a few nights ago?” Seokmin tries to joke, a small smile played in his lips but it flutters away as fast as the wind. He cleared his throat to hide the embarrassment.

Leaning against the big windowsill, his gaze turned to where yours were a moments ago. Stuffing his hands to the pocket of his trousers, you began to relaxed a little. Fidgeting the hem of your dress before taking a seat back on the staircase.

“Well, that very one is still here. She just have an unfortunate choice of footwear for today’s event.” You chuckled, slightly massaging your sore calf.

“And it brought you here? Walking up the stairs with those unfortunate choice?” Seokmin’s head jerked towards the abandoned Prada heels. Neatly put against the wall under the windowsill.

“You think too highly of me. In fact i walk down the stairs. ‘Unfortunate choice’ already abandoned in my hand.” You laughed, impulsively throwing a jazz hands after pointing out where you enter the staircase tower. “How do you even found me here?”

“Well i happened to live here longer than you. In fact this was the very place i run to each time— each time things get rough.” Seokmin admitted silently. “Well, young Seokmin i guess. ‘Cause things get rough almost everyday nowadays, and i can’t just find the opportunity to visit this place each time.”

Imagining teenager Seokmin, fleeing his then security detail and climbing up the stairs to hide brought a smile to your face. Never in your lifetime that you would think that a young crown prince shares a humanly side as almost all population of teenager. Finding their own way to shape up the world when the real one starts to crush down on them.

You certainly remember yours. Hidden bushes of wild roses where there’s only enough space for you to crawl and be safe under the envelope of nature. It has seen your tears and lonely thoughts. Does Seokmin share his too? Sitting small by the massive window, among the cold walls and dusty staircase. Legs curled up or probably scraped when he stumbled to the hard floor while trying to sneak out.

“Weird flex, but ok.” There’s a resounding laughter from Seokmin. You couldn’t find any reason to not love it. His laughter bouncing off the stone wall, loud and free. Simply laughing from your little joke.

“Guess it is, but i am me. So…”

Deciding to love this side of Seokmin is easy.

As easy as agreeing to marry him. Or even begging him to love you a few nights ago. You’d be lying if you feel a little disheartened at the minimal changes Seokmin has shown to you as days passed. It feeds to the thought that all he feels towards you is apathy. That you clearly doesn’t mean any—

“I am, terribly sorry about that night.” There, Seokmin finally says it. A tonne of weight felt like its been lifted from his shoulder. “And about what you said,” hesitation dripping from Seokmin’s voice. He’s turned from the window and facing you fully. The warm sunlight painted his cheekbone beautifully, but you keep that to yourself. “Do you mean what you ask for? Can i— can i trust you? Will it be enough?”

It’s cold when you make your way to Seokmin, barefoot against the floor. His eyes never left yours, trying to find— read your answer. He’s met with a subdued smile, your hair looks glowing when its met with sunlight from the window.

Entranced.

“You trusted me to be your wife didn’t you?”

He thought he shouldn’t be, but the words somehow excites him. Rushes of adrenaline flow through his vein, atoms that spark his nerve. Warm his soul with every blink of your eyes. The same one that entranced him when he lift up the thin veil on your wedding day.

“That, i do.”

Relief immediately adorned your face. Relaxing every muscle in your body as you extended your palm to Seokmin. He fights the urge to grab it and pulls you flush, for now his self restraint won. Or does it considered as a win if he doesn’t have you by his touch?

“For now, that’s enough.” You assures Seokmin, who still stood stunned staring at your hand. “Maybe it will not be in some time by the future. Then, you can ask me for more.”

When Seokmin still hasn’t took your hand, you bit your lower lip. The sudden realization that you’re once again, begging for him. For whatever it is that you thought would let him open himself to you andase his struggle. When Seokmin remain statued, you flinch away. Pulling your hands back to your side and make a quick swipe at your abandoned shoes before trying to scurry away down the stairs.

Emphasis on ‘try’.

Because Seokmin’s quick reflex has stopped you even before you make even one step passed him. Well, as quick as he can after the brief moment where he short-circuited just by the sight of your offer of physical contact.

“Pardon me— i,” great he even stammer. Grimacing to himself, Seokmin tries to push his self-deprecating thought for later time. He tightened his grip on your elbow, bringing your attention back to Seokmin. “I do. And i will. I trusted you, for now.”

The proximity and the low baritone you rarely hear from Seokmin, it sent a jolt down your spine. Rendering you speechless and hitched your breath. Your eyes eventually casted downwards to Seokmin’s grip. He slowly loosened said grip. Reluctantly at that.

And with that, you make your leave. Heels in hand, and feet still bare as you climbs down to the tower’s exit door.

The small cloud of dust you left behind send Seokmin blinking his eyes. Confusion and a new feeling settles on his shoulder. Shaking his head to try to compose himself, Seokmin thought tonight’s dinner will be an awkward one.

Yet he can’t help to look forward to it.

next chapter

#svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #svt scenarios #lee seokmin #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom x reader #j writes: poapr

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hl-obsessed · 9 months ago

Text

WARNING! it's a long one - 54 fics listed! 🙈💕✨

•°•°•°•°•°•

✨💎 Lend Me Your Broken Parts by @dizzy-pixie17

(M, 2,4k)It's been five years, but when Lottie doesn't know what else to do to console a hysterical Louis, she calls Harry.

And despite everything, Harry comes.

Look How Well I Play the Bare Truth by Missbeautifullywritten17

(NR, 8,7k) When recently single (to the general public, of course) Harry Styles gets nominated to an Oscar for playing a gay policeman in the 1950s he thinks it is the most wonderful and, at the same time, painful thing it could have happened to him. How is he supposed to say how much Tom and Patrick's story means to him without revealing he is being closeted himself? How is he supposed to go on with his life after receiving the most important award there is for simply playing the bare truth? Well, maybe the rainbow dress he is wearing would be enough of an statement...

Or, the one where Holivia stunt ends, dwd flops and My Policeman gets lots of oscar nominations. Now, it is March 2023, Louis can't be there with him even though his bearding relationship with Eleanor and bbg are already done and he is in the process of coming out himself (apparently, coming out was one thing, but them being a couple... that was perjudicial for their careers and shall remain hidden). So what he does instead is a rbb photocall with the one and only Niall Horan while they watch Harry on the TV screen.

Meanwhile, Harry Styles remembers his past and finds himself on stage with an oscar in hand and, perhaps, his only chance to be free.

Cigarettes and Fuckin’ on the Windowsill by carmelstyle

(NR, 2,4k) Harry comes back from Italy after filming “My Policeman” and stunting. Louis isn’t happy about that last bit.

Or: Sex in front of a window.

Rest in Peace by @stfustucky

(M, 2k) Sometimes, when he looks back on things, there’s a small, angry part of Louis that wishes he’d never met Harry. If he’d just missed that audition, if he’d just stayed in bed, he never would have fallen in love with curly hair and bright green eyes and dimples he’s never gone a day without kissing since. Most times, when he looks back on things, Louis blames himself. The very solar system revolved around Harry and Louis had the closest orbit, flying close enough to feel that warmth in every atom of his body. He should have been paying closer attention, should have opened his eyes and stared into the sun and seen what was happening.

Harry has inoperable brain cancer at the age of 26. Louis watches the love of his life slip away.

guide you home by @nauticalleeds

(G, 0,8k) It’s been a while since Harry’s been able to appreciate the night sky, been a while since his life wasn’t full of hectic schedules and interviews and jet lag. He looks at the sky a little longer, watches the stars blink back at him and thinks about another bright presence he’s been missing.

Taking out his phone from his pocket, he thumbs at his screen to open a new message.

Full moon tonight, he types, and presses send. He keeps the app open, expecting the message to come instantly.

It does.

the peace ring is back in louis' ass? by @greeneyesfriedrice

(E, 1,2k) peace ring adventures with harry and louis! probably not what you expect!

Singing My Name Like Your National Anthem by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(T, 1k) “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Louis just scoffs at that, dismissing Harry quickly yet lovingly in a way that only he has ever seemed to manage. “Good luck getting me to be anywhere else love.”

Harry sighs. “Louis you can’t afford to get sick too. Your album release is next week, you’re booked solid.”

Louis just shrugs. “And if I get sick then we’ll rebook all of it. Or damn it all to Hell for all I care. As much as I want my fans to hear the album, there is nothing more important to me than you.”

✨ Second Time's A Charm by @dizzy-pixie17

(M, 4,7k) “Harry?” Oli Wright said nervously into the phone. “Um… How… how’re you doing?”

Harry’s heart was already picking up speed because there was only one reason Oli ever called him after midnight.

“I’m alright,” Harry answered. “What’s going on? Is it Louis?”

“Uh… yeah,” Oli admitted. “There’s been an accident.”

The one where Harry finds out Louis broke his arm. For the second time in one year.

A Boyfriend for Christmas

(G, 5,5k) Louis' co-worker, Gemma, asks Louis to be her date for Christmas dinner. She needs a fake boyfriend to keep her family from harassing her about her singlehood. Louis adores her, so he doesn't mind helping out--until he meets Gemma's handsome younger brother.

Feeling It Now by @ireallysawanangel

(E, 7k) When Louis hooked up with a hot guy in the bathroom at a music festival, the last thing he was expecting was for that guy to be one of the headlining acts at the festival.

✨ Seal The Deal by @itsnotreal

(NR, 2k) Harry’s been getting Louis Tomlinson’s mail for months, even though he told the mailman that he lived in apartment two and Louis lived in apartment eight.

✨ It's Thursday. Let's Get (un)Dressed by @bananaheathen

(E, 9k) When Louis is peer-pressured into downloading TikTok over the holidays, he fully expects to hate it. And he does hate it. All of it. Well... except for aspiring OOTD influencer, @ harrystyles.

Your Silhouette Over Me by orphan_account

“Alright don’t forget the mission, get Louis laid,” Louis shouted over the music.

“Don’t know who Louis is, but I support it.”

Louis turned towards the contributing voice and saw the bartender leaning in front of him, his elbows resting against the lip of the bar. He had brown hair that fell in loose curls just above his collar bones which were perfectly on show due to the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his abdomen. The shirt’s sleeves were cuffed up along his inked bicep and the pattern was something that Louis would expect a dad on vacation to wear, not a young bartender.

“He’s Louis,” Zayn said, jutting his thumb in Louis’ direction.

The bartender nodded approvingly, “then I definitely support it.”

~~~~~~

Or the one where Louis went out one night after work, wanting to get laid, and then ended up meeting a bartender named Harry Styles.

you drive me wild (you know you do) by @missandrogyny

(E, 6,6k) Their management informs them that they have an interview right before the ARIAs, and it isn't until he's in a suit, seated on a couch between Liam and Zayn, that he gets the idea.

The interviewer, Angus, smiles at them, right before the cameras roll on, and a metaphorical light bulb goes off inside Louis' head. He's perfect. Well, not as perfect as Harry, but enough. He's attractive, attractive enough to drive Harry crazy, and he doesn't even think of the consequences of his actions, just decides right then. It's all Harry's fault anyway. Louis should be allowed to have a little fun.

(or: Louis flirts with the Australian interviewers and Harry gets possessive.)

Love In Conversation by @hellolovers13

(T, 4,9k) King Arthur Baking Hotline.

Your bread fell flat. Your cookies crumbled. Who do you turn to? The King Arthur Baker’s Hotline.

Louis has a severe baking breakdown.

Thankfully, he gets help from baking-hotline operator Harry.

✨💎 i've secretly always wanted to be yours (and for you to be mine) by @bottomhaztoplou

(M, 1,6k) Harry has just presented. Louis needs to know that he's okay.

Only you by @germericangirl

(E, 4k) Harry comes home from filming a particularly intimate scene for My Policeman. Louis is jealous, Harry doesn’t understand why. They talk it out, more or less…

✨ Whoever, However by @brooklyn-babylon / @twopoppies

(E, 8,9k) Louis could feel his heart rate pick up as he positioned the camera and Harry slowly stood up. They both knew what came next –– it had been clearly outlined in the advert Harry answered. The studio Louis worked for was filming a new series of camboy videos. Louis’ job was to make it look like amateur porn –– sweaty, sensual, dirty –– but well lit and edited. He was an artist, thank you very much.

—-

Or: Louis has a much better day at work than he’d expected.

home at last by @greeneyesfriedrice

(E, 1,9k) Harry turns, a wide smile on his face. Louis stands in the doorway to their shared bedroom, his right arm held close to his body and in a makeshift sling.

He makes sure not to fully ram into his husband, but it’s been almost one month, so sue him if he’s excited.

Everything by @tommokat

(E, 4,3k) He’s got a job he loves, fans he adores, friends to call on and family to claim. He’s traveled the world, broken records, set new ones. He’s 13 years into a relationship with the love of his life, the man he can’t wait to start a family with. He’s a three-time Grammy award winner getting railed by his husband in the back of a SUV in the middle of LA traffic. He’s got everything. What more could he want?

Post Grammy’s SUV Celebration Sex

Devil in my brain, whispering my name @lunarheslwt

(E, 9k) Or, Louis, a demon, shows Harry, an angel, just how good it can feel to give in to temptation and sin.

Only You, Always by @larryficwriter

(NR, 5,5k) “Hey Haz,” Louis says, tensing because he can tell that something is wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees Liam hurriedly busying himself with the Xbox.

Harry walks over to Louis, eerily calm. Louis’ gulp is so loud he’s almost sure that Niall and Zayn could have heard it. He leans down, his breath tickling at Louis’ ear. Honestly, Louis can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine

“Bedroom.” Harry practically growls into Louis’ ear and then he walks away, just as calm.

For a second Louis is frozen. Just the tone of Harry’s voice has Louis twitching in his trousers. Louis knows what’s about to happen, he can just tell. And it is a far cry from the fight that he had been expecting. Louis gulps again, looking over to Liam. The tips of Liam’s ears are flaming and Louis’ about seventy-three percent sure that Liam had heard what Harry had whispered. Liam is specifically avoiding Louis’ gaze. And then it hits him that he should be up; he should be moving.

or how Harry reacted to the "Lilo Kiss" incident

Won't You Please Come Around by @allwaswell16

(M, 5,8k) Harry has lived in London for a month, and so far the only friend he's made is his sister's cat, Mr. Whiskers. When the lock on the window breaks, Mr. Whiskers begins exploring his new neighbourhood a bit too thoroughly and brings back mementos of his escapes.

Or a Valentine's Day story where Harry has a really fit neighbour, and his cat is a thief.

I Hope You Choke (on those words) by @imogenleewriter

(E, 3k) Harry Styles had been head of security for concert venues for over eight years.

Never in his career had he seen a musician as reckless when it came to personal safety as Louis Tomlinson.

After making his job a living nightmare, Harry decided he needs to talk some sense into Louis.

If only there were some way to shut him up.

You Could Give That Aspirin the Headache of Its Life by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(M, 3,6k) Louis had once heard that the chances of being struck by lightning are 1 in 700,000. He wonders now, how those odds compare to randomly being seated next to your ex boyfriend on a 10 hour flight.

Honestly, if the universe is going to insist on ruining his life, he really would have preferred the lightning thing.

(Or the one where Louis is a football player who gets stuck on a flight with his ex-boyfriend Harry. The universe might be conspiring against him, or is it?)

You Can See It with the Lights Out by @larryatendoftheday

(M, 8,6k) In a universe where you know as soon as you meet your soulmate, Harry's been shaking hands his whole career, waiting for the one.

Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup

(G, 4,4k) Or, where you have a tattoo of the first thought your soulmate has when they see you.

✨ If the world was ending, you'd come over, right? by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 6,3k) "Is Harry with you?" Louis blurted out, his free hand tapping anxiously against his knee.

"Louis?"

"Yeah. Is Harry with you?"

On any other occasion, Louis knew Niall would have yelled at him for calling in the middle of the night. But Niall must've sensed the urgency in his tone, his voice immediately taking on a lighter touch.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's been staying in the spare room. Why? Do you want me to get him for you?"

"No!" Louis panicked. "Just- check on him please? Make sure he's breathing and everything?"

✨ My Arm Might Be Broken, But I Won't Be Broken Down by @boosbabycakes28

(T, 2,4k) Louis broke his arm for the second time and he is bored out of his mind. He has nothing better to do than mess with his husband.

✨ Together We're the Greatest by @hellolovers13

(E, 4,6k) “How the fuck does this always happen to you?” Louis huffed, pulling Harry's limp body into the half fallen apart car he'd borrowed for this. Well, he didn't intend to give it back, really, but insurance covered theft, did it not? And this thing was basically held together with duct tape and good faith, so really, the former owners should thank him for taking it off their hands.

It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last

With the Bomb Lighting by @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k) “Hey mate, sorry for the delay. Pop divas I swear…”

Harry’s eyes jolt open with record speed and he notes in horror that the man that had been filling his fantasies mere seconds ago is now filling his laptop screen.

“Holy shit, is that your dick?”

(Or the one where Harry is doing Zoom interviews to promote his new album, but his time management skills are lacking. Louis is the writer interviewing Harry for Rolling Stone when he accidentally gets an eye full. They figure it out).

the sweetness of your words knows no bounds in making my heart leap by @bottomhaztoplou

(M, 1,4k) At the end of his heat, Harry writes a letter.

At the beginning of his rut, Louis writes one back.

Meant To Be (Arse First) by BayouSexual

(T, 4,8k) Zayn groans in response, and Louis can hear the slow rustle of his bed sheets in the background. “Is it another ‘you woke up in the back parking lot of a Tesco’s with no pants and I need to come get you before the cops do’ panic or more of a 'I can stay in my bed and lend you an ear’ kind of panic, because I drank a lot more than you did last night, Lou.”

“Uhh,” Louis replies eloquently, “more like an 'I have two giant, blood red handprints on my naked arse, and no, they aren't from a good shag’ kind of panic.”

------

Or the one where your soulmate mark appears on your body where they first touch you and stays there until they touch you for the first time.

Aka the one where Louis's soulmate must like bums.

Makes Me Feel Alive by @itsnotreal

(E, 8,3k) Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

Completely Oblivious by @itsnotreal

(G, 1k) “Are we dating?” Harry looked very confused.

Louis huffed, “That’s what I’m asking you!”

Or an interaction with a stranger helps these two finally figure their shit out.

✨💎 Your secret's safe with me by @lightwoodsmagic

(M, 7,4k) He knew almost everything about Haz, considered him his best friend. He knew his favourite movies and books, how he liked his coffee, knew how many pets he had and what he was most afraid of. Louis knew how to calm him down when he was panicking, and that he’d lost his virginity to his ex-boyfriend when he was 17. He knew that Haz had curly hair, green eyes, that he was tall and considered himself slightly awkward. He knew his Instagram account that only had aesthetic pictures or ridiculous jokes, but in the all the time that Louis had known him, he’d never learnt, or been allowed to know, Haz’s full name, what he sounded like, or what he looked like.

Louis didn't care.

Or, when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. It's not until he's at Royal Variety that he swears he can hear it again.

✨ Let The Ocean Worry About Being Blue by @greenblueish

(E, 5,6k) In a society where young adults go through the so-called Colour Test which determines their affiliation to a Colour - Blue, Yellow, Red or Green - and thus where they'll live, work and socialise for the rest of their lives, Harry is finally about to take the Test. Born and raised in Yellow, he met his boyfriend when he was still a teenager - against the government's recommendation. Louis, however, changed from Yellow to Blue two years ago. The problem: Harry needs to receive a Blue Test result as well, because a relationship between two people who live in different Colours is forbidden.

The Touch of Your Hand by @larry-hiatus

(E, 8,2k) Louis has decided to bite the bullet and get himself a dick piercing. He knows it’s going to hurt, but what he doesn’t know is how to calm down when he finds himself on the brink of a panic attack in front of the incredibly attractive piercer, Harry. Luckily, Harry is really sweet and offers to help ease his nerves.

You Don’t Have to Be Lonely Tonight by @neondiamond

(G, 2k) Louis is stuck working the Christmas day shift at the coffee shop. Harry is the sad stranger who comes in to spend the day there.

✨ In Jest by @londonfoginacup

(T, 4,8k) Louis, who smiles at Harry as he reclines in his chair. Louis, whose soulmark is visible thanks to his low-cut top.

Louis, Harry’s soulmate, who seems to either be blissfully ignorant of that fact or maliciously ignoring it.

Harry would really like to know which.

✨ you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7,6k) Harry doesn’t mean to fall in love with Louis’ scent when they first meet after the Alpha joins Harry's study group, but after Harry leaves a sweater behind by accident and it comes back smelling like Louis, he can’t really help it. Nor can he really help continuing to leave his things behind in hopes that Louis will take them home and drench them in his wonderful, mouth-watering scent. He just has to hope Louis will play along.

Or, 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

We All Scream for Ice Cream by @wishingforloushair

(M, 3,1k) Harry snatched the flyer back off the noticeboard, waving it at Liam. “BJ in your PJs?” he repeated.

“What? I’m not giving you a blowjob, Harry,” Liam said, looking slightly affronted.

“See?” Harry rounded on Niall. “No one thinks of Ben and Jerry’s when they read BJ.”

“Well, they should,” Niall said, snatching the flyer back. “Not everyone is a disgusting heathen like you two.”

“It says BJ in your PJs?” Liam asked, sounding aghast. “On all the flyers?”

“You told me it was catchy!”

When Resident Advisor Liam left his boyfriend Niall, and Niall's roommate Harry in charge of advertising the end of semester ice cream celebration for their hall residents, he should've expected it to end in disaster. Niall created an entirely inappropriate flyer, offering a very different experience than what they were planning to offer. When distributing the flyers, Harry meets Louis, an older student studying Drama, who is far more interested in BJs that doesn't involve Ben and Jerry's.

AKA crack/fluff with a bit of smut, based off of that one viral poster 'BJs in your PJs'

✨💎 Odds Are That We Will Probably Be... by @lululawrence

(NR, 0,6k) From the moment Louis learned no one would survive past the evening, the only thing he knew was that he had to get to Harry.

✨ I Knew From the First Time by @lululawrence

(NR, 6,1k) Or the one where Harry definitely doesn't take a sneaky pic of Louis on the Tube. Absolutely not. (Except maybe he does.)

All You Want's Under Your Nose by @wishingforloushair

(E, 3,5k) Louis decides to treat himself to a new sex toy, but is perplexed when he sees a man in the shop placing each vibrator against the tip of his nose and sneezing. Curiosity gets the better of him, and it turns out the man, Harry, is a sex-god who knows far too much about sex toys and promises Louis that if a vibrator makes him sneeze it will definitely make him come. Of course there's only one way to find out for sure...

On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13

(T, 1,6k) Harry Styles: a day in the life

☑ Stuck in a dress

☑ Abandoned by his best friend

☑ Date with hot neighbour

All in all, not the worst day ever

If Life Is a Photograph by @allwaswell16

(T, 2k) Harry gets plucked out of the crowd to take Louis’ crew pic on stage in Guadalajara.

It Was Electric Touch by @allwaswell16

(E, 2,2k) Harry, assistant to The Snuts' manager, has been indulging in fantasies about the headliner and founder of the Away From Home Festival, Louis Tomlinson. He gets the chance to indulge in the real thing at the after party.

Just Two Stars Passing By by QuickedWeen

(E, 5,1k) Harry blew up on TikTok and became a fashion commentator during the pandemic. Now, all of a sudden, big channels are asking him to cover their red carpets and premieres. Somehow he ends up covering arrival fashion for the 2024 Euros, and somehow Louis Tomlinson already knows his name.

A Late Summer Day by @gettingaphdinmomo

(NR, 0,5k) Today

I realized

you are home.

I almost told you

I love you.

Figure This Out by @haztobegood

(E, 2,4k) Louis is everything Harry could have imagined when he’d typed “silver fox enthusiast” into his Grindr profile. Too bad he's probably scared Louis off by giving him too many expensive gifts.

✨ Booked and Busy by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 9,2k) Booking the Away from Home Festival is the biggest opportunity of Harry’s up-and-coming career to date. It’s just an added bonus that the festival is hosted and headlined by his longtime celebrity crush, world-renowned rockstar Louis Tomlinson.

Despite his excitement, doesn’t expect Louis to watch his set. Or to visit his dressing room ahead of his show to wish him good luck.

Or to flirt with him.

But seeing as this is the most monumental night of Harry’s life to date, he might as well make the most of it.

***

A fluffy, smutty PWP where Harry performs at AFH 2024 and gets a lot more than he bargained for.

.🌸🌸🌸.

✨ you gave me a ring, lad! by @theeliampayne

(G, 0,2k, Liam & Louis) In which Liam visits Louis at a concert and "give me a ring, lad!" is taken more literally than Louis intended.

like air to me by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5,3k, Louis/Zayn) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

.🌸🌸🌸.

🌿 part 1 (+50k) 🌿 part 2 (30-50k) 🌿 part 3 (10-30k) 🌿

#my fic recs #28th appreciation #larry fic #larry fics #hlficlibrary #larry stylinson fic #larry stylinson fanfic #larry fanfic #fic rec #HAPPY 28TH!!!

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adafruit · 7 months ago

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🎄💾🗓️ Day 9: Retrocomputing Advent Calendar - The Apple Lisa 🎄💾🗓️

The Apple Lisa, introduced on January 19, 1983, was a pioneering personal computer notable for its graphical user interface (GUI) and mouse input, a big departure from text-based command-line interfaces. Featured a Motorola 68000 CPU running at 5 MHz, 1 MB of RAM (expandable to 2 MB), and a 12-inch monochrome display with a resolution of 720×364 pixels. The system initially included dual 5.25-inch "Twiggy" floppy drives, later replaced by a single 3.5-inch Sony floppy drive in the Lisa 2 model. An optional 5 or 10 MB external ProFile hard drive provided more storage.

The Lisa's price of $9,995 (equivalent to approximately $30,600 in 2023) and performance issues held back its commercial success; sales were estimated at about 10,000 units.

It introduced advanced concepts such as memory protection and a document-oriented workflow, which influenced future Apple products and personal computing.

The Lisa's legacy had a huge impact on Apple computers, specifically the Macintosh line, which adopted and refined many of its features. While the Lisa was not exactly a commercial success, its contributions to the evolution of user-friendly computing interfaces are widely recognized in computing history.

These screen pictures come from Adafruit fan Philip " It still boots up from the Twiggy hard drive and runs. It also has a complete Pascal Development System." …"mine is a Lisa 2 with the 3.5” floppy and the 5 MB hard disk. In addition all of the unsold Lisa machines reached an ignominious end."

What end was that? From the Verge -

In September 1989, according to a news article, Apple buried about 2,700 unsold Lisa computers in Logan, Utah at a very closely guarded garbage dump. The Lisa was released in 1983, and it was Apple’s first stab at a truly modern, graphically driven computer: it had a mouse, windows, icons, menus, and other things we’ve all come to expect from “user-friendly” desktops. It had those features a full year before the release of the Macintosh.

Article, and video…

youtube

Check out the Apple Lisa page on Wikipedia

, the Computer History's article -

and the National Museum of American History – Behring center -

Have first computer memories? Post’em up in the comments, or post yours on socialz’ and tag them #firstcomputer #retrocomputing – See you back here tomorrow!

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bullet-prooflove · 9 months ago

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Ten Years: Dean Winchester x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @deanobssessedgirl @cosmic-psychickitty @cinderellasmissingshoes

Companion piece to:

Gatlinburg - Dean falls in love in a tiny town in Tennessee.

With You - Dean tells you he's going to stay the night.

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Feral (NSFW) - Dean gets feral when he sees you with another man.

Six Pack (NSFW) - You realise the man waiting for you isn't Dean Winchester.

Memories (NSFW) - Michael invades your home whilst you're away.

Sweet Dreams - Dean thinks about how this all started.

Deals With the Devil (feat: Michael)- You wake up with an angel in your bed.

The night that Michael shows up in your bed, is the night you end up at the Fire Tower indefinitely. Your supervisor is happy for the help because things on the mountain they’ve gotten a little wilder recently and you know that’s a reaction to the archangel that’s currently residing in your home.

Michael’s presence is fucking with the eco system, tipping the careful balance that you and the other forest rangers have spent years trying to maintain because the mountain doesn’t like it when others encroach on its territory. The spirit is old, dawn of time kind of old. The magic that guards the National Park it’s ancient, primordial, and it’s the only thing that’s keeping Michael away from you because even archangels know better than to fuck with Gaia.

You check your phone for the millionth time before you settle yourself into the metal single bed. Every ranger that stays in the tower tries to make it home for their rotation. You flick on the fairy lights that hang around the edge of the window as you tug the grey fleece lined blanket up to your chest. Dean brought it back to you after one of his trips because he knows it gets cold up here on the mountain.

You’ve been trying to call Sam since you found the archangel in your bed but it goes straight to voicemail. You turn it off and set it on the crate you use as a nightstand before you snuggle down into the blanket. The scent of Dean’s aftershave still clings to it from the last time the two of you were up here, making love to the sound of rain pattering against the windows.

As you lie there, your eyes fixed on the lights your mind drifts to Michael’s offer.

“All I’m asking for is one night.” He had whispered against your skin. “One night where I get to feel what he feels, that I get to experience you, enjoy you. You can have him back after that, you can be with the man you love again. Don’t you want that?”

You want that more than anything but the cost, it’s just too great because Dean will never forgive himself, it would torture him to the end of his days and you can’t do that to the man you love.

During your second night on the mountain, you ignite the firepit in the clearing at the base of the tower before setting up two camping chairs, close to the flames. You snap off the bottle caps off two IPAs from the microbrewery in town before placing one in the cupholder of the spare chair.

It doesn’t take long for your guest to join you. It never does once you’ve cracked open that first beer and this brand Mountain Brew, it’s his favourite. You hear the wind rustling through the trees before Guy steps out into the clearing, his hands tucked into the pockets of the black aviator jacket. He wears worn Levis and a threadbare navy blue Airforce cap on top of a thick head of white hair. He’s been this way ever since the day your father first brought you here at the age of eight to meet the spirit of the mountain. The rangers in this region are all legacy families, it’s in your blood to protect the people here from the things that go bump in the night.

“I’m gonna be here for a while.” You find yourself telling him as you stare into the fire. “Things out there…”

You trail off because you aren’t sure how to explain what’s happening in the outside world.

“It’s your hunter isn’t it?” He says as he drops into the empty chair beside you, picking up the IPA. “Somethings happened to him.”

The spirit of the mountain, it likes Dean. It has since that nightmare with the Wendigos. His affection for you, the fact that he cleans up after himself and deals with the shit that needs to be dealt with in, all of that has endeared him to Guy.

“The two of you make a good match.” Guy had told him one night when the three of you were roasting smores. “I couldn’t have picked a better mate for a daughter of the mountain.”

“What does he mean by that?” Dean had asked you later, his head propped up on his arm as he watches you undress from his position in the bed. “Daughter of the forest?”

You’d explained your heritage then, how the rangers in this town were descended from Gaia, how every single one of you was connected to this forest in some way which is why you protect it.

“And now you know everything.” You had told him as you lingered at the side of the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts. “Does it change anything for you?”

“Nah, I knew you were special.” He’d told you as he caught your hand, pulling you down on top him before he gathers you up in his arms. “A little bummed out that you’re not one of the X-Men though.”

“Yea it sucks.” You’d said as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “No powers, just a shotgun and a ranger’s uniform.”

“You do look hot with a shotgun though.” He’d reminded you, his fingertips combing lightly through your hair. “And in uniform.”

Over beers in the present you tell Guy about the situation with Dean and with Michael. He listens diligently and without judgement, his expression remaining impassive throughout.

“There’s a way.” He says after a few minutes of silence. “But it’ll require some sacrifice on your part.”

“Anything.” You say resolutely and he sets his empty beer bottle down alongside the others.

“I can make a weapon.” He confides in you, his thumb peeling at label on the bottle. “Something that can kill Michael, that will leave the hunter intact.”

“What’s the catch?” You ask and he inclines his head towards you, his lips pursed together grimly.

“Ten years.” He says and you frown because you don’t understand the meaning behind his words. “Crafting something like that, something that can kill an archangel it takes a lot of power, power I’m currently using to lock down some of the bigger grizzles that wander these parts.”

He means the monsters that he keeps caged, the ones that would tear apart the region if he didn’t keep a firm grasp on them. You deal with the small stuff, the ones that pick off campers and steal small children but anything bigger than that..

Well let’s just say you’d all be fucked.

“If I create this weapon it’ll leave me weak, things will start to slip and …”

The sentence hangs in the air and you know exactly where this is going.

“You’ll need to draw energy from me to stop that from happening and the only way you can do that is if I’m here on the mountain.” You sigh as he gives you that look, the one you’ve come to know so well.

“It takes ten years to replenish that kind of expenditure.” He explains, setting out the parameters. “That means you won’t be able to cross the boundary where the National Park ends. You’ll have to give up your freedom, your home, the life you have...”

It means that you’ll be stranded here like Rapunzel in the Fire Tower, on an indefinite watch for the next decade. The alternative doesn’t seem much better because as long as Michael’s out there, you can’t leave the shelter of the mountain anyway without putting yourself in danger. That archangel, he’s going to snap soon and it’s going to be violent and bloody when he does.

At least this way Dean will be free, he won’t be trapped in his own mind, screaming and clawing at the walls.

“Ten years.” You say quietly before you take a sip of your beer. “I can do ten years.”

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural #spn

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serendipdipity01 · 25 days ago

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viii. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

mary on a cross - yellowjackets ♱ CHAPTER EIGHT series masterlist

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

[ ₂₀₂₁! ]

It was a little after four when Annie Jo Chambers finally stepped out of her classroom.

The sun outside had dipped low enough to stretch across the linoleum floors, catching the edge of the glass doors at the end of the hall in a spill of gold. But inside her room, it was all fluorescent fatigue. The kind that seeped into your skin and sat behind your eyes like static, like memory you couldn't shake.

She rubbed the side of her neck, thumb grazing the cross necklace at her throat—habit, not thought—and blinked down at her hands. Smudged with charcoal. A pale streak of ultramarine down the side of her thumb. The tips of her fingers were dry and cracking, little half-moons of pigment stubbornly clinging under her nails. She'd spent the last hour grading mid-semester portraits and writing long, careful notes in the margins. Encouragement with edges. Suggestions she hoped wouldn't be read as judgment.

A finished piece still sat drying near the window. It was good—unsteady in places, but bold. Confident. A sharp profile outlined in silver marker, the face rendered in blocks of oil pastel like fractured stained glass.

Callie Sadecki had signed it in the bottom right corner with a single, deliberate C.

Annie would be lying if she said she hadn't looked Callie up in the student records the moment the name showed up on her class register. It wasn't curiosity, exactly. Many of the alums from Wiskayok High stayed in their small town. Some even came back with their families, just like she had. But it was something else. Something harder to name.

Something like instinct.

The file had been easy enough to access. She had clearance for that. Her own name was on half the art curriculum, after all.

Jeff Sadecki. Shauna Sadecki.

She had stared at them for a long time when they popped up. Just those two names, typed plain in the system, quiet and heavy as a stone in her lap. She hadn't seen either of them in—God, forever—but the moment she read them, it was like a room she'd boarded up in her brain swung quietly open.

She shook the thought off like dust and stood up, flipping the lights off without ceremony.

The building had the particular hush of a high school after hours—dead vending machines, lockers half-ajar, the faint hum of custodial equipment echoing from the science wing. A damp mop smell floated in from somewhere down the corridor. Every door she passed was closed, dark behind its square windows.

She walked slow.

There was no one to rush home to, not really. The kids had their own orbit now. And Thomas—well. Thomas would be with Rowan. Probably still on the field, holding a sheet of music or waiting in the back of the band room with his usual unshakable calm.

The air shifted slightly as she passed the gym hallway.

She turned her head and paused.

The trophy case gleamed under a slant of overhead light. Polished glass, clean aluminum shelves, the faint squeak of her own shoes as she stepped closer without really meaning to.

It was there.

The 1996 Wiskayok Yellowjackets girls' soccer team photo. The one they took the day they won state and clinched their ticket to nationals. It was a little sun-faded now—edges curling slightly under the matting—but the expressions on the girls' faces were still sharp.

Jackie at the front, beaming like she'd already won the Olympics. Taissa, unsmiling but fierce in the center. Laura Lee with her hands folded like a choirgirl. Van, mid-laugh. Mari with her arms slung around someone's shoulders.

And—

Tucked all the way to the right, posture ramrod straight, chin slightly lifted like she was still trying to be perfect. Her hands were folded behind her back. Laura Lee stood beside her, looking like she belonged in a yearbook for saints.

And just above Annie's shoulder, half-smiling, half-squinting into the sun, was Natalie Scatorccio.

Annie stared at that expression longer than she meant to. Natalie looked careless. Loose. Not drunk, not high. Just easy. Like for once she hadn't realized anyone was looking.

Annie's own reflection stared back at her in the glass.

The girl in the case was seventeen. Long dirty-blonde hair. That too-careful face. The one always waiting for permission. The one always praying not to be noticed too much or not enough.

The woman in the hallway was forty-one. Brown hair just past her shoulders. A cardigan over a tucked-in blouse. Keys looped around her wrist. A silver cross glinting just under the hollow of her throat.

Her smile came before she could stop it. Just a twitch of something at the corners of her mouth.

Then—

Her phone buzzed.

The sound felt too loud in the quiet. She flinched, blinking down at the screen.

Esme: Going out

Esme: Don't wait up.

That was it. No emoji. No punctuation. Just five words, dropped like a cigarette butt on the pavement.

Annie stared at the message. Read it again. Then clicked her screen off.

Esme had been born looking sideways at the world. That tilt to her chin. That old, knowing glint in her eyes—like she was already waiting for the part where people disappointed her. Daring them to. She wore scuffed combat boots with her daily outfit and doodled skulls in the margins of her geometry homework. Her hair was the same shade Annie had once had—before the box dye, before the change. Dirty blonde and wild, refusing to tame it unless she "absolutely has to." She chipped her nail polish with her teeth and refused to say please to anyone who hadn't earned it.

Some days, Annie caught herself staring too long. The way Esme moved through a room. The way she never apologized for it.

It was like living with something she'd already lost once.

A second buzz.

Rowan: Jazz band ran long. Going with Dad to grab food. Want anything?

Annie's mouth softened.

Rowan was sixteen. Taller than he should be. All limbs and oversized flannels and hoodies, sleeves shoved up past his elbows, notebook full of scribbled time signatures and loose sketches of guitars he wanted to build. He took after his father—quiet, soft-spoken, gentle in a way that never felt weak. He still held doors open. He still said thank you to cashiers. He called his sister Ezzie, even when she told him not to.

Annie didn't reply.

Not yet.

She kept walking.

Her car was parked in its usual space—second row from the end, next to the lamppost with the busted bulb. The drive home was automatic. She didn't turn the radio on. Just let the wheels hum over the blacktop, hands at ten and two, eyes on the familiar curves of the road she could probably drive in her sleep.

The house came into view just as the sun began to fall behind the tree line—old colonial bones, porch swing half-rotted from weather, ivy crawling up the railing like a warning. The lawn had gone a little wild this spring, and the rose bushes needed pruning.

She put the car in park. Reached for the folded paper in the depths of her purse.

It wasn't sealed. Just a plain white sheet, folded once down the middle, like the Jessica Roberts woman had done it in a hurry.

You deserve to have your story told. I'll be waiting.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She looked up—

And froze.

The porch. Several of her potted plants had been knocked over. One cracked in half. Soil scattered like ash across the doormat. The herbs she'd planted in early spring—rosemary, basil, a little thyme—were half-yanked out, roots exposed. The door was shut.

But something felt off.

Not an animal.

She stepped out of the car, slow. Her shoes crunched over the gravel. She slipped her keys between her fingers like brass knuckles. A long-ingrained reflex. Something Molly once teased her for—What're you gonna do, poke somebody real hard?

Her eyes caught a shape at the end of the block.

A pale blue Fiat, parked just slightly out of place.

Someone was in it.

Then—

Gone.

The engine murmured, and the car rolled off around the corner.

A chill raced down her spine. She swallowed it. Moved to the porch.

The door wasn't broken. Just closed.

She turned the knob with her pinky. It creaked. The foyer was dim.

At first, it looked untouched.

Then her eyes adjusted.

The desk drawer had been opened. Bills, receipts, handwritten letters—all spilled across the floor like someone had wanted something and hadn't found it. Her bag lay open. Her sketchbook on its side, a page ripped out. The pen she always kept clipped to the strap snapped in half.

She shut the door behind her. Turned the lock. Double.

Her chest was tight. Her breath shorter now.

She moved to the kitchen. Opened the drawer beside the fridge—the one with the old rolling pin, the scissors, the spare flashlight. She gripped the rolling pin in both hands.

She could hear something. Maybe. A shift upstairs. A footstep?

Her fingers clenched tighter.

Then—

A voice.

Low. Raspy. Familiar like a scar.

"Still a little jumpy, huh?"

Annie froze, turning slowly.

And there—leaning against the wall like she'd never left, like she still belonged there—

Was Natalie Scatorccio.

Hair dark. Jacket the same. Eyes sharp under tired lids. She gave Annie a lopsided smile.

"You gonna hit me with that thing, Chambers?"

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

[ ₁₉₉₆! ]

It had been hours since Coach Martinez died. Hours since his body bucked against the cold forest floor, blood soaking the back of his windbreaker, mouth frozen mid-scream. And now, they were hauling what was left of him back toward the wreckage.

No one spoke. No one had offered a different plan.

The girls had fashioned a makeshift stretcher using sheets Misty had scavenged from the plane—already stained, torn at the corners. A patchwork shroud. Travis walked ahead, face pale and empty, while Javi shuffled behind with his eyes locked on the bundle they carried. Annie Jo could hear Molly's breath rasping just behind her, short and strained. Her shoulder still hung stiff at her side from the crash, and she'd refused help. As if pain was something she could trade for control.

Branches scraped Annie Jo's calves as they trudged through the forest, feet sinking into soft moss and scattered pine needles. She couldn't feel it, though. The pain from her ribs, and the pulse in her head were far worse.

By the time they reached the crash site again, the sun had fallen below the tree line. Cold settled into their bones like something permanent. Natalie was the first to move, flicking her lighter open with a sharp metallic snap. The orange glow lit her face in flashes—cheekbones sharp, brows furrowed. She knelt by the half-crumbled fire ring and coaxed a blaze to life with practiced ease.

Annie Jo didn't hesitate. She lowered herself beside Natalie, wincing as her ribs flared up again, and leaned her head gently against her shoulder.

Natalie didn't flinch. She just let it happen.

Across the clearing, Laura Lee looked up from where she sat with the others—her expression unreadable. A flicker of something passed over her face. Without a word, she stood, brushing dirt from her pants, and disappeared, nearing the plane crash. Shauna, Taissa, and Van followed behind her like shadows.

Annie Jo lifted her head slightly, just enough to watch her sister's silhouette vanish into the plane.

For a moment, she felt untethered—like the bond they'd spent sixteen years building had snapped without sound.

She blinked and looked away.

Molly had taken a seat near the fire, her legs folded tightly beneath her. Javi sat beside her, hands wrapped around his knees. He hadn't spoken since they found the coach's body. Molly reached over slowly, like she didn't want to startle him, and placed her good hand over his. He didn't look at her, but he didn't pull away.

Travis was gone. He'd disappeared somewhere between the edge of the woods and the crash site, and no one had the energy to call after him.

Eventually, the others filtered back to the fire. Laura Lee sat stiffly beside Molly, her arms wrapped tight around her stomach. Van flopped down next to Taissa, a torn package of Corn Nuts in her hand. Shauna sank into the dirt next to Jackie, her face unreadable. For a long while, they sat like that—just listening to the fire crackle, its light dancing across faces drawn tight with grief and exhaustion.

Blankets were passed around. Thin, scratchy things scavenged from the luggage, still smelling faintly of stale detergent and airport terminals. They only had enough for everyone but one.

Natalie held the last one.

Without a word, she draped it over Annie Jo's lap.

Annie Jo turned to her. "You should take it."

Natalie gave her a look. "You're hurt."

"So are you."

"We'll share," Natalie said, and before Annie Jo could protest, she tugged the blanket across both their shoulders. Her fingers brushed Annie's as she did it. Brief. Barely there.

The fire snapped. Sparks danced up into the dark.

Shauna was the first to speak.

"I'm sure the plane has an emergency transmitter," she said suddenly, her voice scratchy from disuse. "It's probably been sending out a distress signal this whole time."

Everyone looked at her, startled. It was like a spell had broken.

"They'll be here by morning," she added, more softly.

"Still..." Jackie muttered, drawing her knees to her chest. Her eyes flicked sideways to Van, who was crunching down on a mouthful of corn nuts like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to the present. "Maybe we should conserve some food? In case it takes longer?"

Annie Jo shifted. Jackie's tone was careful, but her body was rigid. There was tension there—something brittle underneath. Annie could feel it like static on her skin.

Van turned, mouth full. "You want to save the Corn Nuts?"

Jackie didn't answer.

Annie Jo sat up a little straighter, sensing it now—something sharp and sour behind Jackie's words, something more than just practicality. Guilt. Maybe even fear. And Van... Annie Jo could practically feel the heat rolling off her.

Then, from across the fire, she heard a sniff.

Annie looked up.

Laura Lee sat with her chin on her knees, gently rocking back and forth. Her fingers twisted around the frayed lace of her sneaker. A tear slid down her cheek, carving a silent path through the soot on her skin.

Annie moved to stand, but her ribs screamed in protest—and then Taissa's gaze caught hers. There was silent message in the girl's eyes. Stay still. Don't hurt yourself.

Taissa reached over, placing a tentative hand on Laura Lee's arm.

"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?"

Laura Lee blinked hard, her lip trembling. "This is all my fault."

Annie Jo's heart stuttered. The fire cracked. Heat brushed her cheeks, but her blood went cold.

Oh God.

She felt Natalie shift beside her, her posture straightening—alert now. Annie could feel the unspoken words thrumming between them.

Did Laura Lee see something?

Annie didn't dare breathe.

"I did something really bad." Heads turned in Laura Lee's direction The girl didn't look at her sister. "I kept messing up at my piano lesson last week. Mrs. Brophy kept yelling at me. Sharp. F sharp. F sharp. I just... couldn't take it anymore."

Annie furrowed her brow, her shoulder's visibly relaxing. Mrs. Brophy. Always with the ruler tapping against the keys.

"So I called her a bad word. Just in my head, but... God heard me." The dirty blonde watched her sister shrink into herself, hands twisting together in her lap, her body a knot of guilt. "Now we're all being punished."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

"What word?" Taissa asked, softly. Not mocking, just curious.

Laura Lee shut her eyes. Her whole face scrunched with shame.

"...Cunt."

A beat of silence—then Van snorted.

Taissa gave her a weak swat, but it was too late. Laughter started rippling through the circle, uneven and gasping and raw. Shauna cracked a smile. Natalie let out a sharp bark of disbelief. Annie Jo couldn't help it—her body shook with it, sudden and unfiltered, though the laughter hurt in her chest.

Then, one by one, the laughter began.

She looked across the fire. Laura Lee's cheeks were pink, but a smile crept across her lips anyway. The tension slipped from her frame. She giggled—a small, hiccuping sound—and caught Annie's eyes.

It wasn't teasing.

It wasn't even forgiveness.

It was something else.

An invitation.

Not an apology, but a silent confession.There was something knowing in her eyes, something gentle but fierce—like she understood something that Annie Jo wan't sure of yet.

It made something in Annie's stomach twist. Her smile faltered. Her throat went tight.

"I steal shitty clothes from TJ Maxx," she said flatly, like she was reporting the weather.

"What?" Van blinked, half-laughing.

"I return them for credit. Store credit I don't use. I have, like... thousands of dollars in TJ bucks."

here was a beat—and then everyone laughed again, harder this time. The sound was like a crack in the dam.

"I—okay," Jackie said, grinning. "I used to sneak downstairs and watch Color of Night just to pause it on Bruce Willis's wang."

The laughter bubbled up, spreading like wildfire through the circle, swallowing every sound but their own voices. In that fragile, fleeting joy, no one noticed Misty standing apart by the fire, the axe gripped tightly in her hands. She held it still, watching the metal glow orange-hot in the flames, the heat reflecting in her eyes. Then, slowly, a shadow passed over her face—something unreadable, dark and distant. Without a word, she turned away from the firelight and slipped silently into the trees.

Annie Jo couldn't stop herself from glancing the way Natalie's face lit up when she laughed. She looked different like this—softer, the sharp edges smoothed. Her laugh came low and bright, curling up from somewhere real.

Annie looked at her.

Really looked.

The heat between them wasn't just warmth. It was a current, slow and circling, alive in her chest. Annie's eyes caught on the curve of Natalie's cheek, the smudge of ash near her temple, the hollow where her collarbone met her throat. Her whole body was vibrating and still at once.

Natalie glanced over and caught her watching.

Their eyes locked.

And this time neither looked away.

Annie felt her pulse spike behind her ears. She opened her mouth—she didn't know what for—but then—

A scream.

High. Sharp. Animal.

It tore through the dark like lightning splitting a tree.

Everyone froze.

Then chaos.

Shoes pounded against roots and pine needles. Taissa was the first up, Van close behind her. Shauna and Jackie took off next. Annie Jo moved without thinking, her body dragging itself upright on adrenaline and instinct, ribs screaming in protest.

Natalie ran beside her, their shoulders brushing, the cold biting at their faces.

They reached the clearing in time to see Misty drop the red-hot axe.

It clattered against the dirt with a metallic thunk.

"What the fuck, Misty?" Taissa clapped a hand over her mouth, as they skidded to a halt.

Coach Ben lay sprawled on the ground, half-conscious. His breath came in shallow gasps, teeth clenched against the pain. But it wasn't until the smell hit Annie Jo—burnt flesh and something darker, deeper, like iron and rot—that she saw it.

His leg.

Or—what was left of it.

Blackened at the end. Seared shut.

Gone.

She reeled, stumbling forward a step. The world tilted. Misty stood over him, hands shaking, throwing the axe to the ground.

Annie looked at her.

Misty looked back.

Wide-eyed. Not frantic. Not proud. Just... eerily calm. "I had to stop the bleeding," she said, facing the younger Chambers girl. "For good."

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

[ ₂₀₂₁! ]

Annie Jo didn't move.

The rolling pin in her hand stayed clenched like a lifeline—or a weapon. Her knuckles were white against the worn wood, pulse hammering so loud she could barely hear the silence. She stood frozen in the center of her kitchen, breath shallow, heart somewhere up near her throat.

And Natalie stood there like a ghost.

Just inside the doorway, her boots scuffed and wet, jacket clinging to her frame like a second skin. She looked older, of course—harsher, hollowed. Her hair was cropped short and naturally dark, the eyeliner around her eyes uneven, like she'd slept in it. If she'd slept at all. Her face was lean, sharp as a blade, shadows pooled beneath her cheekbones. But the eyes—God, the eyes were the same. That gray-blue storm Annie had never outrun.

Natalie stepped closer, into the light.

"What the hell are you gonna do with a rolling pin?" she said, voice low, half-smirk curling at her lips.

Annie raised it a fraction higher, her grip still tight. "What the hell are you doing here, Natalie?"

The other woman blinked, once. Then she took another slow step forward, eyes flicking around the room—over the tile backsplash, the stack of fourth-grade art projects stuck to the fridge with magnets, the casserole dish still crusted with baked ziti waiting by the sink.

"Nice place," she said, toneless. Then her gaze slid back to Annie, sharp again. "So... Did you send the postcard?"

Annie's mouth opened, jaw tightening. "What the hell are you—"

"I did a little digging and you'll never believe what I found," a new voice chimed in, too bright for the moment.

Annie spun.

Misty Quigley was halfway down the hall, holding a fanned-out stack of her mail like she'd just won a game of poker. She hadn't changed much—same unnerving energy, same creepy confidence—but the glasses were trendier now, in a librarian-on-stimulants sort of way.

She dropped a few envelopes on the counter."Let's see... electric bill, water bill... but this one— a lovely postcard with some very ominous symbolism," Misty said, holding it up delicately between two fingers. "Caught my attention."

"You have got to be kidding me," Annie muttered, lowering the rolling pin with a clatter onto the counter. "Did you knock over my pots? You do realize this is breaking and entering, right?"

Misty just beamed.

"I could call the cops," Annie snapped.

Natalie snorted. "Sure. Bet that would go over well."

"You," Annie pointed at her, voice shaking, "are supposed to be in therapy. Far away. Not in my house. Not—here. And you—" she turned to Misty, "—I don't even know what your job is anymore, but I'm pretty sure 'federal mail thief' isn't part of it."

"Right now, I'm a citizen detective," Misty chirped, like it was a Girl Scout badge.

"Oh, go to hell."

Before anyone could fire back, the front door creaked open behind them.

A voice called out, half-muffled by rain. "Honey? The flowerpots are knocked over again. That raccoon's back."

Then he appeared—tall, damp from the drizzle, wearing a windbreaker and balancing a pizza box in one arm.

Thomas Fielding.

He stepped into the kitchen, pausing when he saw the trio. A flicker of confusion passed over his face, then something else. Something wary.

"I... didn't know we were having guests," he said carefully. "Good thing I got pizza."

Rowan stood behind him, peeking around his dad's elbow. Natalie didn't flinch, didn't look away. But Annie felt it like static in the air—the moment of recognition passing between her husband and the woman in her kitchen.

Thomas's eyes met hers. "Everything okay?"

Annie crossed to him, took the box from his hands. Her touch was light, but her voice dropped just enough to make her meaning clear. "We'll be done in a minute. You and Rowan go wash up."

A pause. Then a nod.

Thomas gave Natalie one more glance before turning, guiding their son gently back down the hall.

When the sound of their footsteps faded, Misty's voice filled the silence.

"No way," she breathed. "You married Thomas freaking Fielding? And you have kids?!"

Annie snapped her head toward her. "Watch the volume."

Misty grinned like it was Christmas. "What are their names?"

Annie exhaled. "Rowan. And Esme."

Misty clapped like a game show host. "Adorable. Which one's adopted?"

Annie stared, deadpan. "Jesus Christ."

She rubbed at her temple. Her gaze dropped to the postcard Misty had laid on the counter like a trap. Black ink. That symbol. A time bomb dressed like junk mail.

"We're getting off track," she said tightly. "What the hell are these?"

Natalie stepped forward, her fingers brushing the edge of the postcard. She flipped it over, her face unreadable.

The moment Annie saw the back, her stomach turned to ice.

That symbol. Branded into her memory like frostbite.

She stepped back instinctively, her breath caught. "Oh, hell no," she whispered. "I'm not—I can't—"

Her voice faltered. She shook her head, eyes still locked on the card like it might burn her.

"You both got one?" she asked.

Natalie nodded slowly. "I'm sure the others have too."

Annie's brows furrowed. "Have you... talked to anyone else yet? Or did I get the break-into-your-house special treatment?"

"We were hoping to ask you the same thing," Misty said cheerfully, peeling open the pizza box and grabbing a slice like she lived there. "Been keeping in touch with anyone lately?"

Annie scoffed. "You think I have time to be pen-pals with people?"

Her mind flicked, quick and unwilling, to Shauna, who she could easily reach out to if she wanted. But she didn't want to. Then her stomach clenched at the thought of Callie: sullen, smart-mouthed, always lingering just a little too long in the back row of Annie's classroom, talking to her after class. Too close to Esme. Too close to something they weren't ready to face.

She blinked hard, redirecting.

"The last time I spoke to Molly..." She paused, her voice softening. Trying to change the topic. "She was living somewhere quiet. In the country, I think. She and Travis wanted to get away from it all. She was happy."

Natalie's jaw ticked. Her gaze found the counter.

"I knew she didn't send it," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Annie looked between them. "Wait—you thought I did?"

Misty didn't answer—just gave that trademark smile, the kind that made Annie feel like she was being weighed and catalogued. Natalie shot her a look.

"I'm a teacher," Annie snapped, stepping forward. "I grade watercolor portfolios. I teach freshman girls who cry over torn scrunchies and post passive-aggressive Instagram stories. I don't have time to play Blair Witch Reunion with you two."

Misty licked her fingers, shrugging. "You're still someone with secrets."

"That's rich coming from you," Natalie muttered, eyes still on the counter.

The tension sparked again, subtle and familiar. Three women suspended in the middle of a kitchen—but suddenly Annie wasn't in her kitchen anymore. She was seventeen again. The smell of wet pine needles in her nose. Natalie's breath warm in the cold. Blood and something holy in her throat.

She looked up at Natalie, chest rising slow.

"Don't," she said, voice barely audible. "Don't start."

Natalie's voice dropped into something more gentle. "I didn't."

Their eyes caught.

A long, aching moment. Like a thread stretched tight between them. Not broken. Just hidden under years and years of dust..

Misty's voice broke the spell.

"Ah. Just like old times." She smiled, pushing the postcard toward them. "But my friends, we still need to find out who the hell did send them."

Then—

A door slammed.

Footsteps, wet sneakers squeaking across the tile. Esme rounded the corner, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, mascara smudged like she'd gone through something and hadn't decided whether to care. Her eyes scanned the room, slow and deliberate, taking in the strangers at the kitchen island.

She stopped dead in the doorway.

"Mom?" she said, dragging out the word like it tasted sour. Her eyes swept across the scene: Misty eating pizza like it was her last meal, Natalie standing cool as hell in her boots and leather jacket, and Annie—frozen in the kitchen like a deer in headlights.

"I didn't know you had... friends," she said, lips curling with practiced teenage contempt. "This some kinda Bible study thing?"

Annie exhaled. "That's real nice, Ez. Grab a slice and go."

Esme didn't move. Her eyes caught on Natalie. A flicker of curiosity passed across her face, sharper than usual.

"Cool jacket," she said.

Natalie smirked, slow. "Thanks. Your mom used to have one just like it."

Annie's head whipped toward her, eyes wide. "Don't—"

But the damage was already done.

Esme's eyes narrowed. First at Natalie. Then at her mom. She squinted like she was trying to line up a shadow from the past with the real thing.

Then she rolled her eyes, snatched a greasy slice of pepperoni, and turned on her heel.

"Whatever. You're all freaks," she muttered, disappearing down the hallway.

Silence fell in her wake.

Misty dabbed her mouth with a napkin and looked at Annie, eyes dancing.

"Well, Jesus," she said brightly, standing up. "She's a little Natalie!"

ADDITIONAL CAST!!

𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝖾𝗅 — [ᵐᵃᵈᵈⁱᵉ ʰᵃˢˢᵒⁿ]

𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁— [ᵛⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵃᵗᵗⁱˢ]

AUTHOR'S NOTE

And that's why we lock our doors, kids.

But really—who wouldn't want Natalie Scatorccio and Misty Quigley to show up unannounced in their kitchen?

Thank you so much for reading Chapter Eight! We've officially entered the adult timeline—stepping into the wilderness of the present, where that cursed symbol is back and the past is knocking (literally).

We also finally meet Annie Jo's kids: Rowan and Esme Laura Fielding. I've been dying to introduce them, and I hope you're as intrigued by them as I am! My pinterest boards are going crazy!

If you're enjoying the story so far, your support means the world. Reposting and commenting helps more readers discover the fic, and I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on the chapter.

Next chapter: even more Annie x Natalie tension (you know the kind), plus a sprinkle of Travis x Molly... we need ship names, right??

Question of the Chapter: If you were in the adult timeline, what do you think you'd be doing when Misty finds you?

Until next time!!

#yellowjackets x oc #yellowjackets #yellowjackets oc #natalie scatorccio x oc #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #travis martinez x oc #natalie scatorccio #fanfiction #wattpad #oc #original character #shauna shipman #travis martinez #jackie taylor

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 months ago

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This Is Why Dictatorships Fail

April 10, 2025

He blinked. But we don’t really know why.

Whether it was the stock market cascading downward, investors fleeing from U.S. Treasury bonds, Republican donors jamming the White House phones, or even fears for his own portfolio, President Donald Trump decided yesterday afternoon to lift, temporarily, most of his arbitrary tariffs. This was his personal decision. His “instinct,” as he put it. His whim. And his decision, instinct, or whim could bring the tariffs back again.

The Republicans who lead Congress have refused to use the power of the legislative branch to stop him or moderate him, in this or almost any other matter. The Cabinet is composed of sycophants and loyalists who are willing to defend contradictory policies, even if doing so makes them look like fools. The courts haven’t decisively intervened yet either. No one, apparently, is willing to prevent a single man from destroying the world economy, wrecking financial markets, forcing this country and other countries into recession if that’s what he feels like doing when he gets up tomorrow morning.

This is what arbitrary, absolute power looks like. And this is why the men who wrote the Constitution never wanted anyone to have it. In that famously hot, stuffy room in Philadelphia, windows closed for the sake of secrecy, they sweated and argued about how to limit the powers of the American executive. They arrived at the idea of dividing power between different branches of government. As James Madison wrote in “Federalist No. 47”: “The accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judiciary in the same hands … may justly be pronounced the very definition of tyranny.”

More than two centuries later, the system created by that first Constitutional Congress has comprehensively failed. The people and institutions that are supposed to check executive power are refusing to restrain this president. We now have a de facto tyrant who thinks he can bend reality to his will without taking any facts or any evidence into consideration, and without listening to any contrary views. And although the economic damage he has caused is easier to measure, he has inflicted the same level of harm to scientific research, to civil liberties, to health care, and to the civil service.

From this wasteful and destructive incident, one useful lesson can be drawn. In recent years, many people who live in democracies have become frustrated by their political systems, by the endless wrangling, the difficulty of creating compromise, the slow pace of decisions. Just as in the first half of the 20th century, would-be authoritarians have begun arguing that we would all be better off without these institutions. “The truth is that men are tired of liberty,” said Mussolini. Lenin spoke with scorn about the failings of so-called bourgeois democracy. In the United States, a brand-new school of techno-authoritarian thinkers find our political system inefficient and want to replace it with a “national CEO,” a dictator by a different name.

But in the past 48 hours, Donald Trump has just given us a pitch-perfect demonstration of why legislatures are necessary, why checks and balances are useful, and why most one-man dictatorships become poor and corrupt. If the Republican Party does not return Congress to the role it is meant to play and the courts don’t constrain the president, this cycle of destruction will continue and everyone on the planet will pay the price.

#Anne Applebaum #The Atlantic #techno-authoritarian thinkers #de facto tyrant

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ivan-fyodorovich-k · 3 months ago

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He blinked. But we don’t really know why.

#*sigh*#nobody should have this much power

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eugenedebs1920 · 8 months ago

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Pennsylvania Lt. Governor, Austin Adam’s, “The election was free and fair in 2016 when he (Trump) won, it was free and fair in 2020 when he lost, and it will be free and fair in 2024.”

As a previous sports player I can tell you. You can’t just love the game when you win. You are not going to always win. Losses are part of the experience. They’re part of life. Sportsmanship is a life lesson. You win some, you lose some. Either way, you’ll be out on the field ready to go next chance you get.

That is where Trump fails as an adult, as a role model, a politician and a leader. Being gracious in defeat. Defeat is inevitable, doesn’t mean it has to be often, but it is inevitable. To do that takes humility. A trait Trump lacks.

You can’t just love your country when you win. You can’t just be the president of the people who voted for you. You can’t say you’re American, then do all you can to tear down the core of our nation.

This is why anyone with moderate knowledge of history and/or political science would call Donald Trump a fascist. He claims every news organization is “fake news”, except which ones? OAN, NewsMax, and a branch of his campaign, Fox News. That gives away the game right there! So the press is fine as long as they aren’t critical of you? Your policies and actions are fine to be covered, as long as they’re not controversial. That’s part of a fascist political stance. Ask any of those reporters Putin had thrown out a window!

If you have any background studying nineteenth century through twentieth century Europe and Asia it’s clear to see the similarities in the rhetoric, the perceived problems, and the way to fix them. For too long, centuries, fear has been used as a tool to subdue the masses. Whether that’s fear of a military or police state, fear of invasion from a foreign enemy, fear of higher taxes, fear of immigrants. Fear is a powerful emotion. It grips your chest to where it’s hard to breathe but you could jump over a small building at the same time. It’s a natural instinct. All things feel fear at one point or another. It’s a survival tactic. Fascists, and many politicians, use fear as a tool to sway their population or voters towards them. Using such a raw and visceral human instinct.

That fear is often about a thing, a movement or a group. Far too often in modern society this fear, which transmutes into anger, is directed at those different than the majority of the population. Mostly directed at immigrants. From WWII to the genocides in Africa. An enemy is created for the people to extrapolate their anger upon. Donald Trump is a master at this. This is fascism

Before a single vote was cast in 2016, Trump was telling his supporters at rallies that, “The only way we’re going to lose, is if they cheat”. Coincidently he did win, and no fuss was made, no recounts ordered, no lawsuits filed. In 2020, when he botched the pandemic response, made an ass of himself, and us, on the world stage, when he wouldn’t condemn racism or white supremacist groups and told them to “stand back and stand by”, when he had added nearly $8 trillion to the deficit, when he had broken every rule, every norm, all etiquette and ethics, there was no way he would “win in a landslide”, as it was said.

The American people were sick, broke, couldn’t work, dying by the thousands, stuck at home, frustrated. For him and his supporters to have the slightest doubt that he had the chance of losing is preposterous! Of course he had a chance! He dropped the damn ball numerous times!

His continued lies about the election system is the most damaging thing a “leader” has ever done to our democracy. He has sown seeds of doubt, that, just like weeds, will take a long time to eradicate. For over 200 years we have been the symbol for free and fair elections, the model for the peaceful transfer of power. Now, because Trump lost, we’re all the sudden not!? We’re a 3rd world country!? Or as Trump puts it, we’re the world’s garbage can!? That’s fascism too!

Na tho! It’s him that is garbage. It’s him who can’t be trusted. It’s him that is poisoning the blood of our nation. It’s him who is thin skinned, yet always putting others down. And it’s us.

It’s us who are going to show the world that we still are the America we portray ourselves to be. Leaders! Thinkers! Good, honest people! Kind! Compassionate! Empathetic! Strong.

Let’s show this wanna be dictator and the rest of the world who we are! Let’s show our dignity and self determination. Let’s vote Kamala Harris as the President of the United States of America!🇺🇸

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kimberbohwrites · 2 months ago

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Talons

Chapter One: Alkaline

Summary: Set before and during the events of “Veilguard” this story follows Lady Valentina Rivera, Merchant Princess of Antiva — a patriot fighting to save her nation from the threat of the Antaam invasion. She’ll need to use her own considerable power as well as her allies within the Antivan Crows to save their country and the world from the gods.

A Viago De Riva x OC (not Rook) story that spoilers: will turn Viago x Teia x OC ;)

Tags/Warnings: SMÚT, sëx, eventual polyamory, PWP, there is a plot and a it’s good one, canon typical violence, spoilers for DA: Tevinter Nights, spoilers for DA:TV

2.6K words | Read on Ao3 or Below

Her back slammed into the panel as their mouths met in the dark, locked in a passionate and clandestine embrace in the warm evening air. He’d pushed her back with such force, but she hadn’t missed how his large hand had shielded her head against the hard panels of the wall. Hard but with that sweet side he worked to hide, that was Viago De Riva.

All hard planes and angles, deadly, dangerous and discreet. Viago’s sweet spot was likely his deepest secret, for few played it as close to the vest as the fifth talon of the Antivan Crows.

A noblewoman from Antiva City and an Assassin, each time they met under the heavy cover of night they were throwing fuel on the flame that would surely devour them both. It was a foolish risk from two people as calculated as they are but passion rarely played alongside logic. Maybe they’d wisen up someday but until that time they were content to let their fire light a way to one another in the gathering darkness.

His hand feels around on the familiar wall to find the handle to the door that leads to her bedchambers. He’d been waiting on the ledge of the large picture window in her sitting room, seemingly just part of the shadows until he wanted to make himself known to her. However, she hadn’t been startled when he slipped in through the window. She’d received his calling card, a sleek black feather on her pillow when she’d returned home from the last long meetings of the day.

Her heart always sank a little when she tossed the feather into the fire within the hearth. Viago had instructed her to burn the message as soon as she received it when they’d started using this system long ago. The feather meant he was in town, free, and interested in visiting her that evening. Getting her response back to him involved little, if she wanted to see him she simply put out all the lights in her chambers and left a window open.

An assassin and a gentleman, she could always refuse his visit by leaving even a single candle lit and the windows closed. He never disturbed her unless he received her consent. Theirs is not a world where trust is given freely. Politics and contract killing have this stark thing in common — trust misplaced spells certain death. He’s killed more people than she can conceive of and yet she trusts him more than most.

The door swings open behind them and he maneuvers them through, his lips never leaving hers as he closes it behind them. She’s pushed once more, until her back is against her own bedroom door

All command and power, he holds her in place with her neck exposed to him. A low growl rumbles in his chest as his kisses stray from her lips and down her jaw His lips and teeth brush her neck as he sucks and bites on the soft flesh. She swats at him lazily.

“I have meetings” She moans as her head rolls back against the wall.

He groans and pulls back, his frustration only just showing through his practiced regal facade.

“Take it off” He commands as he waves a leather-clad hand at her, stepping back and drinking in her form with dark eyes.

Ordinarily, Valentina took orders from no one and hadn’t since she had been a child. Even then her compliance always come with tantrum and tears. She had always been independent and just maybe a little high strung.

Things are different in their arrangement. It’s not that she’s more obedient with him, he’s just someone lucky enough to know just how to earn her acquiescence.

And he craves it.

Demands it.

With a coy smile she slowly lets the straps of the long silk nightgown she’d worn just for him, fall down her shoulders. One after the other, with unhurried movements from her graceful hands, fingers adorned with jeweled rings each worth more than most homes in the city.

Shiny trinkets from her Crow.

He has few tells but she’s come to learn a few of the subtle signs of his approval, or disapproval.

Most are so small it that it took a mind as clever as hers ages to identify. The slight way his dark eyebrow shifts when he’s in a bad mood or the minor purse of his lips on the rare occasions when he’s surprised. But sometimes when he’s tired or very eager, his tells are not so subtle.

“Now. Princesa.”

Frustration, tempered with eagerness fold together like steel in his voice.

Valentina feigns a look of surprise at his reaction as she lets the fabric of the nightgown pool on the floor beneath her in one motion. She loves when breaks through that cool outer shell of his, she craves the taste of the heat within.

As her naked form meets with the cool night air she can practically feel him now — his passion radiating toward her in thick waves.

He’s on her again in a flash, stepping toward her at the same time he reaches out to pull her in. She collides against him, his leathers clinging to her bare skin as his gloved hands make their way down her back. He’s walking her back with him, pulling her toward her bed in the center of the room as he kisses her breathless.

She can’t help but picture how this all must look from the outside — an unmarried, wealthy, merchant princess, naked in the arms of a fully leather-clad Antivan Crow.

The mere thought of the scandal would drive Chantry sisters from here to Orlais into a fit.

But it only makes the need growing within her keener.

With one last lingering kiss and the grace of a dancer, he leans her back. She lands on her back in the bed. Lust builds in her as he stands back and begins to slowly remove his gloves. Pulling each finger loose before removing it, like nobility, he never breaks eye contact with her.

“I cannot stay long tonight, Val”

He says it with a growl in his voice as he places his gloves neatly on her bedside table.

She pouts at him from where she lies naked and waiting on her covers.

“Don’t give me that look,” He sneers as he approaches with that confident stride and climbs into the bed and over her, “I won’t leave you wanting.”

The feel of his bare hands on her body is so rare it’s like it’s own special sin. His hands are always at least partially gloved, the master poisoner had become all too aware of just how easy poison is absorbed through the fingertips. She can’t help but gasp at every searing touch of him on her as he traces his way down between her legs.

His mouth traces sloppy kisses with tongue and teeth down her ribs as he works his way down her body. A small whine forms in the back of her throat, her breath is already coming in sharp pants of need. Here was a man who tested every drop of liquid, every food, everything for poison — hungrily worshiping her body with his mouth.

The unspoken trust of two powerful people bound by mutually assured destruction is a powerful aphrodisiac. It courses through her veins like lyrium to an addict every time he touches her.

She’s not proud but by the maker, she is desperate.

“Please,” she breathes out before she can stop herself

Val can feel that same foxlike grin against her hip as he continues his conquest down her naked body.

“Please what, mi amor?”

“Viago, please”

It was rare for her to beg but those occasions seemed to happen more in the presence of her Crow.

“Your manners are lovely your highness, but you need to use your words” He grows as he nips at her inner thigh lightly.

She is dripping against the sheets, almost frantic with need.

“Don’t make me say it,”

“Come on, princesa”

“Please, Viago, please I want to cum”

She’s rewarded instantly as he licks a deep stripe up her center.

“Good girl”

He murmurs it as he dives in to her dripping folds, hungrily licking and slurping against her. With a quick motion he positions her legs over his shoulders and holds her fast as she begins to writhe against the sheets. One of her hands balls up in the fabric while the other takes a firm grasp of his dark, thick hair and gives it a gentle tug of appreciation.

Before he can suppress it he moans against her as he hungrily licks at her clit. She smiles in victory but it is short lived as two of his fingers enter her with an assassins tactful skill, her smile lost to a lusty gasp of pleasure. He’s too good with his hands and his long fingers work into her with a clear goal — that spot he knows will undo her.

Within seconds his fingertips have found their mark and she’s blabbering desperate sounds that would make a brothel worker blush. His mouth is sucking and nipping at her clit. She can feel his facial hair against her most sensitive area and it’s pushing her closer to her climax. The combination of the coarse texture and his hot wet tongue are quickly becoming too much.

Her mind goes clear as his hands and mouth work against her — no pressures, no titles, no Crows. It’s just the pleasure he gives and the way her body greedily takes, it’s just them. She comes against his face, breathlessly gasping his name like the most holy of chants. He devours her, working her through her climax with his body.

When she wakes again it’s with a start, expecting him to have left her already. She sits up groggily to see him pulling his gloves back on with his usual efficiency.

Her body has already been cleaned of the evidence of their lovemaking and she’s been tucked under clean covers.

“Stay” She breathes it softly, knowing the answer.

He lets out a sharp sigh and she swears in that moment she can see a debate raging behind his eyes. Or maybe she’s foolish and just seeing what she wants.

When they were younger, back when they had first met, things had been easier. They had spent nights together in bed wrapped in each other arms until the sun rose. She’s not sure he’d ever been carefree, but his heart had been lighter then and he’d carried less troubles. But that was before he’d become the Fifth Talon of the Antivan Crows.

“I can’t”

“I- I know, I shouldn’t have said anything”

He sighs again, carding a hand through his thick curls.

“No it’s not that, I just — I have someone with me tonight”

“Who?”

Surely it couldn’t be Teia, she thought even as her mind went there first. Valentina had not met his fellow Talon and sometimes romantic partner but they were aware of each other. The talk of the elven woman’s deadly beauty had spread widely across Antiva. Even with her considerable wealth and power, Valentina would have been stupid to cross a Talon and so they maintained a truce of quiet respect. It may have seemed like a complicated relationship, sharing a man, but it worked for all parties and very few people outside their closest circles were aware.

That hadn’t stopped rumors of her potential Crow lover from spreading wildly across the city. But in Antiva, a powerful house having close connections to the deadly and elite assassins was quite common and so the rumor wasn’t given much more than a passing thought in people’s minds.

A loud crashing sound from the street below drew her attention back to the moment.

Viago winces, struck by the sound, his brows knitting together in frustration as yet another sigh puffs out from his chest.

“Uh… Viago?” A voice calls up nervously in what was both clearly an attempt at a whisper but still very much a yell.

“Andraste’s fucking ashes” He curses under his breath

He walks to an opened bedroom window and glares down his nose to the street below.

“Silence, idiot” He hisses loudly

Val sits up in bed, letting the sheets fall to her bare waist as her head cocks in curiosity. Her and Viago had been carrying on like this for almost a decade now and in that time she had never known him to bring someone along on one of their meetings.

“Did you bring a fledgling to stand guard?” She can’t help but sound amused

“No… I left them at the docks but they found their way here,” His sighs and runs a hand through his hair again, “I don’t know how the most incompetent rookie I’ve ever trained always manages to find me.”

She laughs. Clearly this “rookie” is someone special — Viago would have already killed them for spying on him if they weren’t.

“That’s cute, you’re a momma bird” She laughs

“Quiet” he snaps at her as he crosses the room back to her, dropping a lingering kiss on her forehead that was at odds with his harsh tone.

“I’ll be in Trevino next month for business” she announces as mundanely as one might announce the weather.

His eyes crinkle, the only sign of a smile he will give most times.

“Goodnight, Princesa” His words are quick and then he’s out the window he’d come in through and into the night.

Her back meets the bed once again as the weariness of the day overwhelms her. The noble and wealthy houses that comprise the Merchant Princes of Antiva were reeling from the Antaam threat. Most of her days lately are consumed with meetings and summits about the spreading violence and how it threatens not just the wealth, but the freedom of their country.

Theirs is a country positioned in the best and worst ways possible — on one hand and one side they have the bounty of the sea that provides the wealth and comfort their people are able to live in. On the other side is the Tevinter Imperium, an ever-scheming viper waiting to strike. They had kept the balance for so long but that delicate thread was severed when the Antaam began threatening them from their beloved sea.

Threatened on both sides and without a standing army, it had been up to the ruling houses of Antiva to respond to the threat. When she’d taken over as leader of her house she’d instructed and financed the creation of a small militia to protect their trade interests. Now she was trying to build a small army from nothing to aid in the protection of Antiva City.

The Crows, usually the strength that kept the world from considering Antiva, had been weakened considerably. Half of the Talons had been murdered when the threat of the Antaam invasion had first made itself known. Valentina’s heart raced at the memory of how Viago had come seconds from death himself during that very attack. She knew exactly where on his dark skin he still bore the scar of the adder’s bite which had nearly ended him.

Before she could wear her mind further, she slipped away into a heavy, slumber — her eyelids were heavy from the evening’s activities with her assassin. The stress of the day attempted to follow her into her dreams, but to no luck for her mind was occupied already by darkened blue eyes set within the glowering visage of Viago De Riva.

Dividers by: Olenvasnyt on tumblr

Please reblog/comment/like

#dragon age smut #dragon age fanfiction #veilguard fanfic #viago dragon age #viago fanfic #viago de riva #dragon age viago #viago x oc #teia x viago #viago #viago brainrot #viago x teia #datv viago #da viago

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thursdayisbetterthanfriday · 5 months ago

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Cybernetics with Chinese Characteristics & why we suck at the real Grand Strategy Game

Part 2 - The Quickening

Back in 2023, I wrote this more blog-like post about the mid 20th century McCarthyite purges of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and the knock on effects that had - Namely the inception of the Chinese nuclear program, one-child policy and Chinese computing scene.

Since nothing is new under the sun, we have recently witnessed yet another example of America shooting itself in the foot, yet again, due to it's McCarthyite style purge of Chinese technology.

The release of the Chinese created AI system DeepSeek R1 last week has lead to the largest US stock market loss in history with NVIDIA stock decimated.

A record $465 Billion was wiped off its valuation in a single day. In 2024, the government of Turkey spent this much in a year on it's responsibilities?

Why did this happen?

As always, a lot can be put down to US foreign policy, and the in-intended implications of seemingly positive actions.

Do you want to start a trade war?

Back in the relatively uncontroversial days of the first Trump Presidency (Yes it does feel odd saying that) there were scandals with hardware provided by Chinese company Huawei. This led to the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2019 which explicitly banned Huawei and ZTE's hardware from use in US Government institutions. It also meant the US had to authorise US component manufacturer purchases by these companies.

Crucially this had a 27 month window. This allowed both companies to switch suppliers, and production to domestic suppliers. This actually led to Chinese chip advances. Following on from this came the 2022 move by the US Department of Commerce: "Commerce Implements New Export Controls on Advanced Computing and Semiconductor Manufacturing Items to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) ". This further limited the supply of semiconductor, supercomputer, and similar hardware to the PRC and associated countries.

Ok, well so far this is fairly dry stuff. You might think it would hamper Chinese development and, to some extent, it did.

It also proved to be the main catalyst for one financial quant.

Meet the Quant

Meet Liang Wenfeng (梁文锋). Educated to masters level, Liang was keen to apply machine learning methods to various field, but couldn't get a break. Finally, in the mid 2000's, he settled on a career investigating quantitative trading using machine learning techniques.

He became successful, founding several trading firms based around using machine learning methods, but his interest in base AI never seemed to cease. It was in 2021 that he started purchasing multiple NVIDIA GPUs to create a side project, leading to the creation of DeepSeek in 2023.

Now, due to import limitations, there were limitations on computation. This, however, did not stop DeepSeek's programming team.

Instead they used it as their strength.

Constrains Breed Innovation

For many years, the Western model of AI releases have focussed on making ever larger and larger models.

Why?

Let's break this down from an evolutionary point of view. Modern Western technology companies are largely monopolistic and monolithic. Many of these companies have previously hired staff at higher salaries not to fill roles, but to deny their competitors, and middle market firms, high-flying staff.

They also closely guard trade secrets. What's the training data? What algorithms were used in construction? Guess you'd better chat up some Silicon Valley bros at parties to find out.

For these kinds of firms, having control over large models, housed in data centres makes perfect sense. Controlling model deployment on their own computing systems, and not using local machines, means that they can not only control their systems more carefully, it also means that they can gatekeep access.

If your business model is to allow people to access your models on your servers, and your employees are focussed on making the biggest, best, models, there is no impetus to innovate more efficient, smaller models.

Companies such as OpenAI therefore have the following traits:

Research/Model focus on size over efficiency

Profit driven culture, with emphasis on closed source code

OpenAI's initial focus was as a non-for-profit developing Artificial General Intelligence. This became a for-profit driven company over time. - “I personally chose the price and thought we would make some money.” - Sam Altman

Staff working within paradigm they set in the early 2020's with established code libraries and direct contact with hardware companies creating chips

Significant capital investment - Upwards of several $ billions

DeepSeek, in comparison, is slightly different

For DeepSeek, necessity made innovation necessary. In order to create similar, or better models, than their counterparts, they needed to significantly optimise their code. This requires significantly more work to create, and write, libraries compared to OpenAI.

DeepSeek was started by financial quants, with backgrounds in mainly mathematics and AI. With a focus on mathematics and research, the main drive of many in the company has been exploration of the research space over concerns about profitability.

DeepSeek has also done what OpenAI stopped years ago: actually releasing the code and data for their models. Not only can these models therefore be run via their own gated servers, anyone can replicate their work and make their own system.

For DeepSeek, their traits were:

Research/Model focus on both efficiency and accuracy

Research driven culture, with open nature - “Basic science research rarely offers high returns on investment” - Liang Wenfeng

Strong mathematical background of staff, with ability to work around software, and hardware, constraints

Low capital investment of around $5.5 million

From an evolutionary point of view, DeepSeek's traits have outcompeted those of OpenAI.

More efficient models cost less to run. They also more portable to local machines.

The strong ability of DeepSeek's research focussed staff allowed them to innovate around hardware constraints

Opening up the code to everyone allows anyone (still with the right hardware) to make their own version.

To top it off, the cost to make, and run, DeepSeek R1 is a fraction of the cost of OpenAI's model

House of Cards

Now we can return to today. NVIDIA has lost significant market value. It's not just limited to NVIDIA, but to the entire US technology sector with the most AI adjacent companies losing from 10% to 30% of their valuation in a single day.

The culture, and business model, of OpenAI isn't just limited to OpenAI, but to the entire US technology ecosystem. The US model has been to create rentier-style financial instruments at sky-high valuations.

US tech stocks have been one of the only success stories for America over the past few decades, ever since the offshoring of many manufacturing industries. Like a lost long-unemployed Detroit auto-worker the US has been mainlining technology like Fentanyl, ignoring the anti-trust doctors advice, injecting pure deregulated substances into its veins.

The new AI boom? A new stronger hit, ready for Wall Street, and Private Equity to tie the tourniquet around its arm and pump it right into the arteries.

Like Prometheus, DeepSeek has delved deep and retrieved fire from the algorithmic gods, and shown it's creation to the world. The stock market is on fire, as the traders are coming off of their high, realising they still live in the ruin of barren, decrepit, warehouses and manufactories. The corporate heads, and company leaders reigning over the wreckage like feudal lords, collecting tithes from the serfs working their domain.

A Tale of Two Cities

The rise of DeepSeek isn't just a one-off story of derring-do in the AI world: It's a symbolic representation of the changing world order. DeepSeek is but one company among many who are outcompeting the US, and the world, in innovation.

Where once US free-markets led the world in manufacturing, technology and military capability, now the US is a country devoid of coherent state regulated free-market principles - its place as the singular world power decimated by destroying the very systems which made it great.

"Our merchants and master-manufacturers complain much of the bad effects of high wages in raising the price, and thereby lessening the sale of their goods both at home and abroad. They say nothing concerning the bad effects of high profits. They are silent with regard to the pernicious effects of their own gains. They complain only of those of other people." - Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations

By selling the jobs of working class communities to overseas businesses, destroying unions and creating rentier based business models without significant anti-trust measures, US business and political elites have sealed the present fate of the country.

The CCP led, but strongly anti-trust enforcing, China has been able to innovate, ironically, using the free-market principles of Adam Smith to rise up and create some of the world's best innovations. The factories, opened by Western business leaders to avoid union/worker labour costs in their own countries, have led Shenzhen, and similar cities, to become hubs of technological innovation - compounding their ability to determine the future of technologies across the world.

Will America be able to regain its position on top? It's too early to say, but the innovative, talented, people who made America in the 20th century can certainly do it again.

As Franklin D. Roosevelt once said: “The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself...

We know now that Government by organized money is just as dangerous as Government by organized mob.

Never before in all our history have these forces been so united against one candidate as they stand today. They are unanimous in their hate for me—and I welcome their hatred.”

Until then, here's a farewell to the American Century 在那之前, 再见美国世纪

#cybernetics #cybernetic #ai #artificial intelligence #DeepSeek #OpenAI #ai technology #long reads #politics #us politics

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viviennewestwooddoll · 5 months ago

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I Hope You Had The Time Of Your Life Ch. 2

BSD High School AU

title stolen from green day

wc: 4k

dt to hannah for leaving comments on the google doc for this LMFAO

Master List: Ch 1

don’t take anything i write serious this was made purely for comedy lol

Tags: crack fic, high school au, slow burn kinda? minors using substances (weed nic and alc), brain rot, american hs experience, dazai is rich, soccer chuuya, atsushi is so tired of ts, shirase cameo, verlaine is here, dazai is oblivious, dazai fell first and harder, enemies to lovers, musician dazai, musician chuuya

(if the formatting is weird it’s bc i’m posting from my phone whoops)

————————————————————————

Atsushi Nakajima had work that day, annoyed he wouldn't be able to catch a bite after school with his friends, rather he would be taking orders at Chick Fil A in 85° weather for 6 hours.

And slave away he did, that is until a certain red camry pulled up.

“Oh god is that the 100 nugget camry...” his coworker Lucy said in the lane next to his. She gave Atsushi a look of sympathy, then put on her customer service voice as she took her current order.

Atsushi groaned, seeing Chuuya pull down his window with Dazai and Shirase, the vice-captain of the soccer team alongside Chuuya, in which the latter had notoriously led the boys soccer team to nationals every year since he joined.

Rumor has it that every D1 soccer team from all state colleges across the country had contacted him by the time he turned 16.

“Yo Atsushi, whats up?” he grinned, knowing the last time he ordered food with the boy he caused him to become a social outcast and disliked by all, only winning them back when he surprised them all by washing their cars during his break (Chuuya felt bad, volunteering to help him since he was the indirect cause of this) (He blamed Dazai more, but of course that asshole would never help or own up to it so he took the fall).

“Hey, try not to break the system this time, okay?” the white haired man said nervously, eyeing Dazai.

Dazai laughed, Shirase shuddering imagining what he could possibly do this time to outdo his last stunt.

“Don't worry, I'm only getting a single kids meal! I got too many toys last time, I had so many cows that I eventually dumped them all in Chuuyas glove compartment–” Dazai said, cutting himself off, realizing he spoke too much.

Chuuya slowly turned to him, eyes wide.

“Do not tell me you fucking put 20 stuffed cows in my fucking glove compartment.”

What did I do to make myself the witness of their crashouts, Atsushi thought to himself.

Shirase glanced, side-eying Atsushi, both sharing a wary look.

Dazai remained silent, staring straight into Chuuyas eyes, not even showing a hint of expression.

“If I open this shit and see 20 cows fall out, I'm kicking you out my car and you're going inside to order your own food,” Chuuya warned.

Chuuya slowly leaned over, looking at Dazai as if he was giving him a chance to redeem himself and fess up, but he knew not to leave high hopes on the man, shaking his head as he opened his glove compartment.

The entire floor quickly filled with cows, leaving Dazai with no room to even move his feet.

“Should I moo-ve them?” Dazai said, smiling softly.

Chuuya remained silent, taking a deep breath in.

“Well technically,” Dazai said, putting an index finger up like he was some condescending nerd.

Chuuya turned his head swiftly, warning him to drop it.

Shirase had known Chuuya since he was 7, playing soccer with him since their rec days, and everyone knew that if you managed to piss Chuuya off enough, it's better to drop it and even apologize. Nobody had ever dared to see how far they could go, that is except for Dazai, of course.

At this point, even Lucy was looking over.

“Only 19 cows fell out, Chuuya,” he said, smirking.

Chuuya turned to Atsushi, “Sorry, just get me two grilled chicken sandwiches-”

“I left a cow hidden in your room—where? You’ll never know,” the brunette giggled.

“Get the FUCK out my car,” Chuuya shouted. “Last time I bring you here, fucking bastard,” he said quickly reversing, definitely breaking at least 3 traffick laws. Parking in the nearest available spot, he unlocked the door, prompting him to get out.

Dazai groaned, obliging. “I predict you will be back in half an hour? Maybe shorter depending how fast you speed to drop off Shirase.”

“Fuck no, Im not coming back. Find a new ride, Kunikida, an Uber—better yet, get your license so I never have to drive you again,” he said, pulling back to Atsushi, aggressively swiping his card.

He smiled at Atsushi, as Shirase jumped from the back seat to the front.

“Have a nice day, okay?” he said, seeming genuine. Atsushi thought to himself how different Nakahara was from interacting with Dazai to literally anyone else.

That was Chuuya for you; short tempered, yes, but one of the most kind people Atsushi had interacted with, the only person to ever piss him off being Dazai, and while Atsushi had enjoyed being friends with the latter, he couldn't help but wonder: who didn't he piss off?

I should put in my two weeks, Atsushi thought to himself.

————————————————————————

Shortly after, Atsushi had decided to take his break.

After going to the bathroom, he ordered a lemonade and relaxed in a booth.

He laughed, opening a video of a cat Ranpo had sent him.

“That's so me core,” a familiar voice said.

Atsushi choked on his lemonade, coughing as he looked up, making eye contact with Dazai, now leaning over to look at Atsushi's phone.

“What the–”

“Hey I was watching that! Go back!” Dazai whined.

“Dazai what? I'm in the middle of my shift,” he sighed.

“No,” the brunette pointed. “You're on your break,” he said superficially.

“Yeah but—look.” Atsushi said, with a slightly annoyed tone.

Dazai looked curious, usually not ever going so far to annoy him. That was only reserved for two people, both of whom had the worst temper Dazai knew.

“You really can't be bothering me while I’m working,” Atsushi explained. “It bothers the customers, and as much as I seem as I hate working here, the money’s addicting,” he said passionately.

“So I can't risk it, whether you show up,” Atsushi looked around, “high,” he whispered, a hand cupping his mouth.

That made Dazai crack a smile.

“Or just holding up the line and arguing with Chuuya, I can't risk getting in trouble again. The nugget incident was so bad, I only recently got on everyone's good side—actually Chuuya was the one who cleaned up your mess!” Atsushi said suddenly, singling the man out.

Dazais face changed to a grotesque one, rolling his eyes.

“Ugh I can't stand that slug, he's so slimy and gross in everything he does. Why did he even clean the cars in his free time? I can't understand doing something for someone he barely knew–no offense Atsushi” the white haired man shrugged, “for free,” he continued.

“I mean it's called being a good person,” Atsushi said sarcastically, smiling at him slightly confused.

“Whatever, I refuse to talk about Chuuya Nakahara after he abandoned me here,” he said dramatically, sulking in his seat.

After taking a sip from his lemonade, Atsushi sighed. So much for a peaceful break.

“So what is it?” Atsushi asked suddenly.

Dazai opened his eyes. “Hm? What is what?”

“What is it that makes you hate Chuuya?”

Dazais eyes widened, as if he had been waiting for this moment, suddenly perking up, quickly fixing his posture.

“Don't tell me I'm going to be here for a while, you do realize I'm still working, right?” Atsushi shrunk in his seat.

“I'm going to give you two answers, one short and one long–”

“One short answer will do, thank you–”

“It was a dark and stormy night–”

“Real answer, please”

Dazia laughed, loving to mess with Atsushi.

“Ok fine, we're going back to freshman year,” he said, suddenly souring his face towards Atsushi.

“When I met him”, softening his face as he looked past Atsushi. Atsushi couldn't quite see what Dazai was looking at, but whatever it was, he knew that it was not present in the room, rather a memory of the past.

————————————————————————

2 years ago, freshman year

Dazai Osamu hated school.

It wasn't like he was bad at it, in fact he had always been one of the top students, receiving perfect test scores without even bothering to show up. He always loved the look on the principal's face after he had sent him a letter threatening to take him to court for his insane amount of absences, just to receive the highest score on the state tests and maintain his straight As all year round.

Fortunately for that principal, Dazai was in high school now.

Yokohama High was the county school, having over 2000 students. The population was attributed towards the board's decision to combine Yokohama Middle with Suribachi Middle.

Having enrolled in AP and honor classes, to the dismay of his counselor, warning him that he cannot miss as much as he did in middle school since “high school didn't let this slide”, he was dreading the workload. Not that he couldn't do it, he would have to put in slightly more effort than he did in middle school, and he knew he would maintain straight As for the next four years.

Locking his door, he began his walk to school, already dreading the icebreakers he would do with people he knew his whole life, with the addition of those from Suribachi.

Hopefully nobody was too weird from there, Dazai thought to himself. He knew the school was below average, compared to Yokohama High, and had a reputation for having the most fights in the county.

The school was big, way bigger than he remembered. Being two stories and having a football field, soccer field, as well as a field for every sport imaginable, and a theatre inside for those interested in the art, it mimicked the standard American high school, having not been updated since the 70s.

The student parking was flooded with people chatting in their cars before the bell rang, which was a minute away. Normally, he wouldn't bother even showing up this early (literally a minute before the bell rang), and would show up halfway through first. But, Dazai wanted to see what the student life looked like in the morning, just this once before he never bothered to set his alarm for 6:45 again.

Dazai heard the bell rang, and everyone scurried to make it on time, yet he didn't even bother to speed up.

As we walked in, he tried to remember where his class even was. He had psychology first, so it was in the history hall, conveniently at the second floor all the way in the back, making it the last hall.

Groaning, he went up the stairs and walked until he reached it. The school must have had mercy on the students, since not a single teacher bothered to force them down to the tardy station.

Knocking on the door, he stood awkwardly, feeling like he should have altogether skipped at this point if he had to feel his peers watch him walk in in silence.

“Ah welcome..?” his teacher, Mr. Gide, had asked him, unsure of who he was.

“Dazai Osamu,” he said smiling, hoping to charm his teacher, budding a relationship for his recommendation letters in his college application (it was four years away, but Dazai was ready to play the long game to get his cards right to attend his desired university).

Sitting at an empty desk, he quickly was bored by the time it was 8:45.

He had already read on the subject in his free time, and knew until a second course college level on psychology. This was child's play.

Groaning, he quickly reached for his pencil case, finding his cart. Maybe being high will make this more enjoyable.

————————————————————————

Dazai got into smoking on a whim, finding no benefits of vaping itself, but liked using carts or smoking a joint, since he got high— always a fun experience. (most of the time, unless he greened out then he really regretted it).

Trying to ghost with his disposable, he heard someone walk in. Freezing, he considers that maybe he took too long and his teacher had come in, ruining the “budding” friendship he formed.

But this was no Andre Gide, Dazai blinked to himself.

His hair was the first thing he noticed, copper waves framing his face and tousled, messily reaching to his ears. And those eyes, god they were awful. Dazai had never seen anything worse, intense blue eyes as vast as the ocean. Gross. His outfit wasn't any better, wearing some ratty hoodie that read Suribachi-Sheep King Cup , with shorts and busted up Air Forces. And of course, a geek bar that marched the color of his horrid eyes. Oh and he was short—how could Dazai fail to mention? He looked like he just left seventh grade. Dazai was annoyed that those stupid eyes bothered him so much. He had to make his complaint known.

“Damn Suribachi really does have the weirdest people,” Dazai snickered.

The boy, totally caught off guard, almost dropped his vape.

“The fuck?” he said, his face retorting to an angry expression.

“Last thing I expected while hitting my shit was seeing some kid walk in with fluorescent eyes and hair,” he sighed, continuing to hit his cart. Maybe his cart was laced. That's why he felt his heart rate rising. He was going to need a new plug.

“Aw hell nah,” the boy said, suddenly approaching Dazai.

Oh?

“I got in a fight every week for the first semester of eighth grade, and never lost a single one,” he said, eyes shining with ill-intent.

“That's not really something to be proud o-”

“Youre a fucking twig and look like a twink with that fit. Who do you think you are with an Alex G shirt, really? Go cry to Elliott Smith and find a poor girl to manipulate, I know your type too well…?” the boy said, sneering at him.

“Osamu Dazai,” the brunette said, raising a brow.

“Whatever, I'm not about to start shit on the first day,” he said, hitting his vape.

Dazai rolled his eyes, “Suribachi brought the ghettos here, loud as fuck at 9 am for no reason,” he sneered.

Before the boy could respond, they heard walkie talkies.

Make sure nobody is skipping, and don't forget the history hall bathroom.

“Aw fuck-” before Dazai could finish his sentence, he interrupted, with the boy dragging him in the stall.

The boys were now standing on the toilet, ensuring that it looked as if the stall was empty.

As if it was perfectly timed, the door opened, heavy footsteps and keys jangling.

Both boys stopped breathing, Dazai gripping onto his cart, he was caught smoking last year and was suspended. His mother and father were livid, to say the least. He can't let that happen again. The boys were silent, staring at each other with a knowing look. Maybe they weren't so different after all.

“History Bathroom cleared,” a voice said into the walkie talkie. “It does smell like one of those weed pens though, and artificially sweet”.

As soon as the person left, Dazai sighed, stepping off the toilet.

“Listen, you're annoying and loud and snobby,” the boy began.

Turning to Dazai, he continued, “But I'm no narc. So I don’t fuck with people getting caught for their shit, and wouldn’t leave anyone so they get in trouble,” he said.

“I just made varsity soccer, and worked really hard to get into it,” he said proudly. “And even though I’m from Suribachi Middle,” he eyed Dazai suspiciously. “It doesn't mean shit for who I am, where I come from does not qualify for who I'll become. I'm going D1, and everyone will know the name Chuuya Nakahara as they do Messi or Mbappe. And anyone who disagrees can suck it,” he smirked, bumping into Dazai on purpose as he walked out.

Dazai thinks he stopped breathing halfway through his speech. God he has to stop smoking.

Dazai didn't make it back to class that day.

————————————————————————

Afterschool Dazai was replaying that conversation, now intrigued by this Chuuya kid. He'd never seen someone so contradicting; rude and loud, yet empathetic and honest. Hell, Dazai would've left Chuuya to explain himself if the roles were reversed

Yet, he somewhat enjoyed talking to him. That fire in his eyes and the passion he spoke with was unlike anything Dazai had seen before. When Dazai pondered what his future was, it was what his parents drilled in his head: Go to School, Get his Degree, Be a Lawyer like his father, Take over his firm, Get Married, Die. (He personally fantasized giving his parents the finger, getting his law degree for himself and himself only, and cutting everyone off the second he got into his undergrad, moving to a faraway city, then dying)

Maybe he would end up liking Yokohama High.

Dazai had been forced into piano lessons since he was younger, standard for the son of one the biggest CEOs in the tri-state. His fathers firm was regarded highly, and his family lived in a gated home with a pool and 10 bedrooms, maids and all, unbeknownst to Dazai how this wasn't really the norm. It was just his life, one that he simply viewed mundane.

His family had high hopes for him, being tested as a genius as a child, leaving his parents excited. They weren’t so excited, however, as they realized their son didn’t give two shits, and saw their fortune with little care. All Dazai wanted to do was play guitar, hit his cart, date women that unfortunately fell into the trap of his affliction and chrome hearts, and die before he got too old for his liking.

So by now they were used to his laziness.

Mother: Please go to the piano this time, Natalia isn't cheap. We don't hire the best for nothing Osamu.

Read.

He skipped last week and the week prior, napping after listening to vinyl that he found in his father’s dormitory from his own youth.

Maybe he should go today, if his dad asked he definitely wouldn't have, but he has a soft spot for her, convincing his father all those years ago to let him go to a normal school instead of those stuffy private schools with literally 5 people in a class. He begged her to let him meet actual real people, and she agreed, seeing the benefits from Dazais argument.

Before Dazai could respond to her text, he felt something hit his face. And hard.

Dazai fell on his bottom, analyzing his medical knowledge from that book he read if he showed early symptoms of a concussion.

“Sorry, I–” a voice ran up to him, retrieving what he realized was now a soccer ball.

“Oh it's you, nevermind. I'm not sorry then.”

Dazau looked up, seeing double. Of course Chuuya of all people possibly may have concussed him. Chuuya was now changed into a black uniform shirt, reading YOKOHAMA VARSITY SOCCER

“Chuuya!” he cried out dramatically, rubbing his forehead.

Chuuya rolled his eyes, yet looked slightly concerned, helping Dazai up.

“It didn’t hit the top of your head, which is how people get concussions in soccer by the way. It hit here,” he said, touching the top of his forehead. “That's where we normally do headers from. So you're fine, probably,” he said.

“Yeah but I think I have a concussion–no wait. That triggered a brain aneurysm. I saw not one but two of you. For all I know I can die by the end of the night,” he gasped, staring at Chuuya with wide eyes.

“And I hope you do. Cut that shit out, that's not how that works. I play soccer, and also know some medical shit for my own benefit,” he sighed. He turned back, “I got to head back to practice before coach makes me do suicides for being late—”

Dazais face brightened.

“Suicides? That sounds morgue, I'm so in.”

Chuuya looked at Dazai, and suddenly broke into a laugh. He smiled towards Dazai, dimples revealed. That same feeling he had earlier when he was smoking was back. He so was quitting smoking, his mother would be proud.

Chuuya wiped a tear away, “You couldn’t possibly handle it, a suicide isnt some thing you just casually do. You sprint an entire football field, but the catch is that there's checkmarks. When you reach the first checkmark, a couple yards or so down, you sprint back to the start, and sprint back to the next checkmark, which is even further down, and this cycle continues until you reach every checkmark and can finally sprint the field down. If you wanna kill yourself for fun, be my guest”.

“Okay well, I’m busy anyways,” Dazai huffed, as Chuuya rolled his eyes.

“I'm not just casually a national certified youth pianist for the hell of it,” he sneered.

Now it was Chuuyas turn to be perplexed. “You're that good?”

“Why yes, and why is that so surprising?”

“You don't seem like you could commit to anything,” Chuuya said straightly.

Dazai gasped, stepping back and placing his hands on his heart.

“Maybe you're right, but that's not true for everything. If only you knew how good at guitar I am–”

“You play guitar?!” Chuuyas eyes lit up at that word.

“Also yes, and I'm going to ask again the same question: why is that so surprising?” he said, pointing to his outfit, and waving his cart carelessly.

Chuuya shook his head.

“Put that shit away before my coach sees,” he hissed.

Dazai shrugged, shoving it back in his massive baggy-jeans pocket.

“I just…I was trying to find someone to play with that's all, Shirase,” (who’s Shirase? Dazai thought to himself) “and the others couldn't care about it, so I’ve been looking for someone to play with—but I wouldn’t with you that's for sure!” Chuuya snorted.

Dazai’s ears perked.

“You play guitar?”

Chuuya’s ears turned slightly red.

“Yeah, I do. And I’m one hell of a guitarist,” he stated, now looking Dazai directly in the eyes, daring him to poke fun at him again.

“Not that I'm doubting your abilities, but how good?” Dazai eyed him cautiously.

Chuuya takes a step forward, smirking.

“Better than you could ever be,” he states.

“Holy fucking shit Chuuya,” a thrid voice intrudes.

Both boys nearly jump, turning to face a white Mercedes with a blonde man who looked like he just loved to talk about French films from the 60s.

“Verlaine?!” Chuuya shouted.

“The hell you doing here I have like half an hour left–”

“Kouyou said that you forgot your water when she drove you today, so I came to drop it off,” the blonde man smirked, throwing a large jug at him.

“Oh thanks,” Chuuya muttered.

“Yeah so are you going to explain to me when you got a boyfriend?”

Both Dazai and Chuuya’s faces paled, the former's mouth dropping to an ‘O’, while Chuuya began shouting a series of curse words that were enough to make a child cry.

“I'm not– what? How did you even–with him?!”

“Hey I'm not one to judge,” he snickered.

“Later loser, I'm getting food before I come back, and maybe or maybe I won't get you some,” the man said, speeding off leaving the boys in a cloud of smoke.

Dazai turned to Chuuya.

“I am so going to need to hear you play guitar now,” he grinned.

————————————————————————

“And that, Atsushi,” Dazai concluded.

“Is how I had the displeasure of meeting Chuuya,” he sighed dreamily. “Seems like only yesterday we almost got suspended for our delinquent behaviour–”

“The last time you showed up here you were literally high—”

“Ah ah ah!” He shushed the white haired man, “I'm not done. I actually didn't go to piano that day, my poor mother, maybe I'll buy her food from here, she's never had Chick-Fil-A,” he muttered.

“And going back to the start, I told you I have two answers: a long one and a short one. That was the long answer. The short one is because he is loud, aggressive, and maybe as good at guitar as me,” he laughed.

Atsushi stared at his senior with a look of pure… shock to say the least. He truly has no words to say to his story.

“Thanks for the story, Dazai, I got to get back to work though,” he sighed.

Dazai nodded, seeing the man walk stiffly, smirking as he returned to his post.

It's been half an hour, he should be here right about—

slug: ill give you five fucking seconds before I leave you

mackerel: i knew you'd come back!

Read.

“If it isn't my favorite chauffeur,” Dazai laughed, as he entered the passenger seat.

Chuuya shook his head, “I really don't know why I put up with you, you make me sick,” he scoffed

“It's all because of that geek bar and cart!” Dazai gleamed.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Chuuya stared, confused with the absolute lack of context.

“I'll explain later, we have some guitars to attend to,” Dazai said, relaxing in the seat as Chuuya recklessly pulled out.

————————————————————————

guys can you tell i played soccer for ten years 🤓

anyways thanks for reading! i need to make a schedule bc i love writing this. also here is a silly doodle i made based off this chapter

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