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telomeke-bbs · 2 years ago

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BAD BUDDY FILMING LOCATIONS 10

This post steps away from the original BBS to look at filming locations for the Bad Buddy episodes of Our Skyy 2 (overlapping with ATOTS as well), that aired in May/June 2023.

I think the fandom was so overjoyed at getting PatPran and the rest of the gang back in Our Skyy 2 that we were willing to overlook any inconsistencies (Pat's Baseball Mom hair included 😂), and this applies to the locations too. 🥰

Anyway, OS2 x BBS x ATOTS didn't use Rangsit University to represent South Technology U, and instead filmed the gang's academia-set scenes in King Mongkut's Institute of Technology Ladkrabang (KMITL).

KMITL is about 30km east of central Bangkok in Nonthaburi province, not far from Suvarnabhumi Airport:

The auditorium scenes were filmed at the KMITL Main Auditorium:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 6.06 – the Archi and Engine boys watch as PatPran appear to fight in silhouette backstage; (bottom) this photograph dated 24 March 2023 is of the KMITL Main Auditorium, located at the Faculty of Engineering (posted on Facebook at this link here) – the seats, acoustic paneling at the rear wall, white parapet around one exit to the right and what looks like a timber lectern with yellow, pyramid-topped pilasters a few rows down from the control room are all a match

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 7.07 – the Archi and Engine boys rush to separate Pat and Pran after the curtain falls; (bottom) this view of the stage in the KMITL Main Auditorium (from a post at the School of Engineering's Facebook, linked here) is a match, with the yellow-brown brick walls, red-brown steps, black-edged projection screen and stage doors all corroborating details

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.4 [3I4] 0.42; (bottom) this image from KMITL's School of Engineering Facebook (dated 24 March 2023 and linked here) shows the KMITL auditorium lobby – note the light fittings and black window frames

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PatPran's discussion regarding preparation and sponsorship of their respective plays was at KMITL's School of Architecture, Art and Design:

(above) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 13.22 – Pat and Pran discuss their level of preparedness and sponsorship of their faculty plays; (bottom) this photograph dated 10 December 2022 was taken at the KMITL School of Architecture, Art and Design – the timber platform, gravel base and garden furniture (at the top left of the image) are a match (image from the school's Facebook, linked here)

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The location of the Archi-Engine charity sweep was outside the ceramic workshop of KMITL's School of Architecture, Art and Design:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 1.49; (middle) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 2.36; (bottom) this image, dating to March 2013 is from Google Maps Street View, and shows the ceramic workshop at the KMITL School of Architecture, Art and Design (map coordinates 13°43'30.8"N 100°46'38.5"E) – corroborating details include the concrete bench and brown vertical bars (behind Mo in the image at the top), the palm tree to the right, the gray corrugated metal roof, and (the biggest tell) the mural made up of clay tiles above the corrugated roof (the image is from 10 years ago though, so some minor details are different)

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The location of the Engine boys' drinking party was in the adjacent furniture workshop of KMITL's School of Architecture, Art and Design:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [4/4] 1.07 – Korn, Mo and Chang the morning after their drinking party; (bottom) a view of the furniture workshop at KMITL's School of Architecture, Art and Design (from the Department of Industrial Design's 360° virtual tour website, linked here)

The corridor where Ajahn Pichai told Pran to get permission to use PhuTian's story for the Architecture play was opposite the Design Studio of the School of Architectural and Design Intelligence:

(top) Location of the walkway on the KMITL campus (from the School of Architecture, Art and Design's 360° aerial tour, linked here); (middle) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [2/4] 12.01; (bottom) photo from Google Maps, dated November 2022 and taken by Anusorn P. (linked here) – note the bridge at the right

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In Our Skyy 2, Pat/Pran's student apartment moved away from Tinidee Hotel Bangkok Golf Club and was represented instead by the Executive 2-Bedroom Suite (Type 5) at Northgate Ratchayothin Hotel/Serviced Residence (248 Ratchadapisek Road, Ladyao, Chatuchak, Bangkok 10900; map coordinates are 13°49'46.7"N 100°33'47.9"E):

The following are some images of Northgate Ratchayothin, with matching images from OS2 x BBS x ATOTS:

(top) An image from the hotel's website, linked here; (middle) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 8.47; (bottom left) entrance door to the unit, extracted from the hotel's website; (bottom right) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [1I4] 10.12 – Ink and Pa drop by with sukiyaki

Northgate Ratchayothin was also the location for Tinn and Gun's tuition safehouse in My School President, although there they used a different 2-bedroom unit (Type 3) – see this link here and write-up here for more info. 😉

The Hightem office, where Pat and Pran go to seek sponsorship for their faculty plays, was also represented by Northgate Ratchayothin (which is why the reception looks more like a hotel lobby than an office one):

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [2/4] 0.41 – PatPran at the Hightem reception; (bottom) the Northgate Ratchayothin reception counter

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The Hightem meeting room was also at the same location (naturally):

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [2/4] 4.49 – Pran presents his proposal to the people of Hightem while Pat pesters Korn for the Engineering version; (bottom) an image of the boardroom from Northgate Ratchayothin's website, that can be rented for meetings (and filming)

The bus station where Pran departed for Chiang Mai and left Pat behind is the Sahaphan Roi Et Tour Company bus terminal. (Map coordinates are 13°49'38.5"N 100°33'23.6"E – the official address is 8/36 ซอย วิภาวดี 17 ถนน วิภาวดีรังสิต Lat Yao, Chatuchak, Bangkok 10900, but Google Maps will take you to a different location if you input this address.)

(top) An image of the Sahaphan Roi Et Tour Company bus terminal, extracted from Google Street View ; (bottom left) an image extracted from a photo on Google Maps (linked here), taken by พรรษชนม์ กุตัน and dated August 2016 – note the yellow hexagons behind the glass in the background, visible briefly at Ep.1 [4/4] 2.26 and 2.29; (bottom right) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.1 [4/4] 2.30 – Pat buys a ticket to Chiang Mai

Once the action moved up to Pha Pun Dao, I did remember enough about ATOTS to know that OS2 x BBS x ATOTS re-used the same buildings up in the mountains. Most of these – unlike settings in other BLs – had been purpose-built for the show, and it was cool to see them still standing, looking good three years or so after they were first erected.

With a bit of searching, I can confirm that the Pha Pun Dao village buildings (Tian's house, the Pha Pun Dao school, etc.) are located at The Union of Hill Tribe Villages and Long Neck Karen in Nang Lae, Chiang Rai province. Due to the popularity of ATOTS, the set buildings can be visited as a tourist attraction in their own right, and are marked on Google Maps as such:

(above) The location of Tian's house (and other Pha Pun Dao buildings) on Google Maps, also linked here (the approximate map coordinates are 20°01'18.6"N 99°53'36.4"E)

There are in fact thousands of photographs posted on Google Maps for this location and I haven't been through all of them. The following is a sampling, with some matching scenes from ATOTS and/or Our Skyy 2.

Here's Tian's home in both ATOTS and OS2 x BBS x ATOTS. Three years later it's looking much more lush with planting everywhere, but it's definitely the same house:

(top) A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.4 [4/4] 3.27; (middle) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [1I4] 3.46; (bottom left) this photograph of Tian's house dated January 2023 was taken by Bogdan Ion and linked here; (bottom right) this photograph dated April 2021 was taken by Rachen Tananchai and linked here

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [1I4] 3.19; (bottom) this photograph partially showing Tian's dining area (the bedroom is also behind that window) was posted by mayu minnie in September 2022 on Google Maps (linked here)– the potted Dieffenbachia (dumb cane) is also a match

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [1I4] 12.35; (bottom) this photograph of Tian's kitchen was posted by mayu minnie on Google Maps (linked here) and dates to September 2022

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.4 [1I4] 15.36; (bottom) this photograph dated September 2022 was posted to Google Maps by mayu minnie (linked here) and shows the dining area at the front of Tian's House

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [1I4] 21.36; (bottom) this photograph of the bedroom in Tian's house is dated September 2022 and was posted on Google Maps by mayu minnie (linked here) – the proportions and details (especially the blue mosquito net, but also the posts and the wall panels of bark/fronds/bamboo) are a match

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [2/4] 3.20; (bottom) this photograph of the Pha Pun Dao schoolroom (with part of its back wall missing) is dated February 2023 and was posted on Google Maps by でんいちタイ語塾 (linked here)

The iconic waterfall that PatPran visit is Huai Mae Sai Waterfall, also in Chiang Rai:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [2/4] 7.13; (bottom) this photograph of Huai Mae Sai waterfall is dated January 2021 and was posted on Google Maps by เชียวชาญ ปานข่อยงาม (linked here)

Filming also took place within the Union of Hill Tribe Villages and Long Neck Karen compound:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.2 [2/4] 1.47; (bottom) this photograph of the corresponding location at The Union of Hill Tribe Villages and Long Neck Karen dated June 2019 was posted on Google Maps by Ruben Torres and linked here

This is a Bad Buddy blog so I'm not going into the Ep.4 PhuTian locations in detail; they're easy enough to find because they were mostly at Emquartier Mall and the Buddy Oriental Riverside Hotel.

Emquartier Mall was also where Ice Paris and Pearwah's music video for the boppy theme song รักติดไซเรน to My Ambulance was set. 😍

But here's just one PhuTian location to close things off for good measure:

(top) Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars Ep.4 [2/4] 10.16; (bottom) image from Drop By Dough Café's Facebook dated 19 March 2023, linked here

[P.S. – here are the links to all the BBS filming location posts:

Part 1 – The legendary rooftop, PatPran’s student apartments, their high school, the white arches behind the Engineering Canteen, the Zero Waste Village and various seaside scenes, their honeymoon suite, the hospital where Pat was treated for his gunshot graze, and the high school reunion.

Part 2 – Pat and Pran’s family homes, the Flagpole Bar, the car park fight location, and the Jae Si Curry House.

Part 3 – Various locations at and around the rugby field, including Pat’s photoshoot with Ink, the rugby bleachers, the iced milk tea (and green tea wave) picnic table, InkPa’s photography picnic, the old bus stop and the new bus stop. Also Khun Noppharnach’s pharmacy.

Part 4 – Pat’s Engineering Faculty (in and around Rangsit University’s College of Engineering).

Part 5 – Pran’s Architecture Faculty (Rangsity University’s School of Architecture).

Part 6 – Various F&B and commercial locations (eateries, shops, malls and a market). Also the setting for Pat, Pran and Wai's fight at the base of PatPran's student apartment building, as well as the scene where Pa says to Ink "Anyone taller than me is fine".

Part 7 – Pat’s post-graduation apartment and Pran’s residence in Singapore.

Part 8 – Various campus locations filmed within Rangsit University’s Digital Multimedia Complex, including the auditorium and the Freshy Day Song Contest.

Part 9 – The LogTech Building and Pran’s architectural office in Singapore.

Part 10 – Locations for the Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy special episodes.

Part 11 – The apartment for rent that Pran went to view in Ep.2, the elevator scene with Pat just after the viewing, and Wai’s apartment.

Part 12 – PatPran’s elementary and high schools, as well as the location of Pa’s near-drowning.

Part 13 – Random locations (Pran searching for his lost earphones, the covered car park where Wai spied on Pat serenading Pran with Nanon's Love Score, the airport car park, the SouthTech U Library, PatPran's rainy day ointment interlude, their motorbike and truck rides in Hua Hin, the approach road to Uncle Yod's bar, the filming location for the music videos Just Friend? and Our Song, and Pran's street address in Singapore).

Will update this list if I can track down the hardware stores – the one remaining location still unidentified! 🤣]

#bad buddy filming locations #bad buddy locations #patpran #bad buddy analysis #telomeke #bad buddy #our skyy 2 #our skyy 2 x bad buddy #our skyy 2 x bad buddy x a tale of thousand stars #os2 x bbs x atots

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marzipanandminutiae · 1 year ago

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authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Oooh, that's tricky.

Death And The Maiden (Carmilla webseries)

One can't stand at a crossroads forever. Eventually, one has to pick a path. And Laura Hollis does. (Vampire!Laura)

Let Me Count The Ways (Carmilla, all media)

Sometimes I'm allowed to love you. And sometimes I'm not. (Musings on the nature of Laura and Carmilla from book to web series. What changes, what stays the same, and what they've been trying to do all along.)

lion-hearted girl (Crimson Peak x Mama 2013 crossover)

In 1976, the last timbers of Allerdale Hall collapsed into the clay with no witnesses. In 1977, Annabel Jean Kingston was born, to considerably greater fanfare. (Crimson Peak/Mama crossover reincarnation AU)

In A Glass, Darkly (Crimson Peak)

I didn't know my husband when we were married. I thought I did, as much as I could. I knew the dry warmth of his long-fingered hand in mine. I knew the rich tones of his voice. I knew what he longed for, but swore he’d never told anyone else. I knew that little twist of his lips when I did something that surprised him, the one he tried to hide. I knew he loved me. I knew nothing. And I wouldn’t until it was far too late.

On Candles, And What Came Of Them (Crimson Peak)

Lady Edith Sharpe would not, perhaps, have chosen to meet her new publisher under such unusual circumstances- not when the consequences of a household accident and an ill-timed laundry day led him to draw extremely mistaken conclusions about her. Just how mistaken, she would not realize until a week later. (Established OT3; borderline crack.)

#tag meme #marypsue #fanfic #my fics #writer self-rec

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a-captions-blog · 10 months ago

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[Image description: A graphic showing the character Sabra from Marvel as well as the actress cast to play her. Text reads:

Boycott Marvel’s Sabra (Ruth Bat-Seraph). Sabra is a Pro-Israel Propaganda character, her whole comic existance is based on protecting the enthostate of Israel. She is a Anti-Palestinian, Anti-Arab & Islamophobic character. Marvel Studios has ignored fans speaking out against Sabra and calling for Marvel to remove the character from the movie. Israeli actress Shira Haas is set to portray Sarbra in Captain America: New World Order. She has shared Pro-Israel posts even during the Genocide of the Palestinians. Contact Marvel: Media Relations E-Mail [email protected] Marvel Entertainment General Phone # 212-576-4000 https://www.facebook.com/Marvel Https://instagram.com/marvel https://marvelEntertainment.tumblr.com https://www.youtube.com/marvel Twitter/X @marvel @MarvelStudios @CaptainAmerica @disney @disneyStudios \End description]

[Caption plain text: BDS has called for a targeted boycott of Pro-Israel propaganda character Sabra!!! Boycott Sabra (Ruth Bat-Sepraph) in Marvel’s Captain America: New World Order!!! As Captain America: New World Order is released I urge all fans who are against Zionism to flood the Captain America tags with messages of Boycott Sabra. All the links provided in the graphic are publicly available from their websites, and social media. Anti-Zionism [is not equal to] Anti-Semitism!!! We are boycotting Sabra not because she is Jewish but because she represents a Pro-Israel, Pro-Zionist message that should not be platformed in any media. Her comics have Pro-IDF propaganda. \End PT]

[Image description: The cover of The Incredible Hulk cover showing Sabra attacking the Hulk next to the corpse of a boy lying in rubble. A box in the corner says, ‘Power and Peril in the Promised Land!’ \End description]

[Image descriptions: 1. A map of Southwest Asia and Egypt with the Israeli flag and the ‘Israeli’ land highlighted in red. Text reads:

Official Name: State of Israel (Medinat Yisra’el)

Population: 6,426,000

Capital City: Jerusalem

Places of Interest: Beersheba, Bethlehem, Galilee, Haifa, Rehovot, Nazareth, Tel Aviv, Mossad headquarters (Tel Aviv), Negev Desert, Jordan River, Sea of Galilee, the Dead Sea, Knessef (Jerusalem), Weizmann Institute of Science (Rehovot), Dome of the Rock

Government: Parliamentary democracy

Major Languages: Hebrew, Arabic, English

Monetary Unit: New Israeli shekel

Major Resources: Timber, potash, copper, clay, cement,

chemicals, natural gas, nuclear energy, phosphates, agriculture, tobacco, construction, plastics, textiles, footwear, fiber optics, aviation technology, communications technology, computer technology, medical electronics.

National Defense: Israel Defense Forces, Israel Naval Forces

and Israel Air Force. Intelligence provided by the Military Intelligence Directorate and Mossad.

International Relations: Member of Interpol, the United

Nations (UN), UNESCO, the World Health Organization and the World Trade Organization. Major economic ally of Belgium, China, Germany, Switzerland and the USA. In 1967, Israel fought ‘The Six-Day War’ with Egypt, Jordan and Syria. The country’s primary superhuman agent ‘Sabra (Ruth Bat-Seraph) has been loaned to the UK and USA in times

of crisis; in turn, the X-Men and X-Factor have cooperated with the Israeli government.

Extraterrestrial Relations: The godly Nauda of the Silver

Hand sent a construct to Jerusalem to absorb power from the people's emotions, but the construct was destroyed by the Young Gods. The Silver ‘Surfer (Norrin Radd) once passed through Israel's borders. Lilandra Neramani and other members of the Shi'ar came to Israel to assist the X-Men in halting Legion (David Haller). Uatu and other Watchers visited

Israel at the same time to observe Legion's actions.

Nonhuman Population: None known

Domestic Superheroes: The Arabian Knight (Navid Hashim)

is a Palestinian who left Israel to enter the service of the Saudi Arabian government. Brightsword (Carter Dyam) is a former member of the Israel Defense Forces, and lost his father in the Six-Day War; he was selected to become one of the Young Gods, examples of the best of humanity, and was presented to the enigmatic Celestials, causing them to judge in favor of humanity's continued existence. Mutant hero Sabra is the country’s premiere super hero and an agent of Mossad, motivated to combat terror after the tragic death of her son Jacob. Windstorm was another superhuman agent who gained her powers from Sabra, but became an anarchist and had to be defeated by Sabra. Messiah (David Kessler) possessed magical powers that he believed were angelic in nature, but upon learning he was powered by demons and working their will, he killed himself to stop them. Gretta Rabin is the young daughter of a member of legislature, and possesses powerful psychic abilities; she is possibly destined to enable the rise to power of a future dictator. Legion was the son of Charles Xavier, and like his father was a powerful mutant telepath; Legion absorbed the psyches of others into his mind, developing new powers for each of his multiple personalities.

Prominent Citizens: Mossad agent Rachel Goldberg participated in a mission to the USA to determine if Mendell Stromm was supplying robots to Palestinian terrorists. Benjamin Abramov was a government agent who alerted Moon Knight (Marc Spector) to the danger posed by

Nimrod Strange’s Slayers Elite, immediately before being assassinated by Strange’s agent Master Sniper; Abramov was survived by his wife Anna. Jordana Altman, an agent of Mossad is another ally of Moon Knight. Wild Rose (Rose Kugel) is an elite Mossad agent who has fought terrorists worldwide, often as an ally of the Punisher (Frank Castle). Racha Meyer was a member of the Defense Forces who encountered the Living Mummy (N’Kantu). Hayyan Zarour was a prominent Palestinian leader who was briefly held hostage by Dr. Octopus (Otto Octavius) while touring the USA. Major Bathsheva Joseph was an agent of SHIELD and later Worldwatch, but died as the result of a time travel adventure with War Machine (James Rhodes). Max Meer was the son of US ambassadors based in Jerusalem, and was mistaken by Achilles for a prophesied future dictator; the true threat was Gretta Rabin. Daniel Shomron operated a psychiatric hospital near Haifa, and was tragically slain by terrorists. Gabrielle Haller was one of Shomron's patients, and became the mother of Legion, Charles Xavier's son; she later became an ambassador to the USA, advisor to the UN Security Council, and advocate for Magneto.

Superhuman Residents: The mutants Magneto and Charles

Xavier lived in Israel for a time prior to either one becoming rallying figures for mutantkind; they assisted Daniel Shomron in his therapy work. Magneto’s clone Joseph stayed at Beersheba while questing to learn his true identity.

Domestic Crime: Have difficulties with drug trafficking.

International Crime: The terrorists of al-Qaeda and Hydra

(including their agent Catalyst) and Nimrod Strange’s Slayers Elite (Jou-Jouka, Kareesh-Bek, Sumaro) have been active in Israel; the Palestine Liberation Organization were formerly designated terrorists. The Hulk (Bruce Banner) fought with the military during a journey through Tel Aviv; later, Achilles of the Pantheon attempted to murder Max Meer in Jerusalem, bringing the Hulk to Israel once again. The mutant criminals Avalanche (Dominikos Petrakis), Mystique (Raven Darkholme) and Sabretooth (Victor Creed) as well as the Neo-Nazi Baron von Blimp and Operation: Zero Tolerance’s Prime Sentinels have been active in Israel.

History: In ancient times, the land of Israe! was the promised land of the Jewish peoples. However, from 70-1948 the country was known as Palestine, and run in succession by Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Christian crusaders and Ottoman Turks. Jews began to immigrate to Palestine in 1882; immigrants increased in numbers during World War I due to the massacres in Nazi- and USSR-occupied territories, and

the state of Israel was finally established in 1948. Israel has been in Conflict with virtually all of its neighbors at one time or another, although the United Nations (and USA in particular) have come to its aid. Israel made itself one of the premier nations in the hunt for Nazi war criminals, and continues to press searches for men such as Baron Wolfgang von Strucker. Strife between the Israeli and Palestinian groups has led to many violent military reprisals, terrorist bombings, local and international interventions.

2. A screenshot of the Marvel Fandom page for Palestine, which reads: Palestine was the name of the land of Israel from 70 to 1948. In the Modern Age, Palestine is composed of two separate territories: Gaza: A thin strip of land, bordered at south-west by Egypt, at north-west by the Mediterranean Sea, and from north-east to south-east by Israel. The West Bank: A territory borded at south, west, and north by Israel, at east by Jordan.

3. A strip showing Sabra transforming and flying into the sky. Thought bubbles say, ‘The military are in no shape to go after the Hulk! That leaves me to stop the monsters before he menaces the rest of Tel Aviv! Not as policewoman Ben-Sera, of course...But as Sabra, super heroine of the state of Israel.’ [Editor’s note: The word Sabra denotes a native-born Israeli, the name derived from an indigineous form of frouit- a prickly pear possessed of a sweet interior and a spiny outer surface to protect it from its enemies]. Text boxes read, ‘Quilled cape streaming behind her, the female fury soars into the skies of Tel Aviv! She is determined to preserve her homeland from the ravages of the Hulk!’

4. A photo of the cactus.

5. A photo of people crying over rows of wrapped dead bodies.

6. A series of comic pages depicting the described scene where after fighting with Sabra, the Hulk breaks down into tears over the dead Palestinian boy. Hulk says he came looking for peace but that there is none there and then leaves. Sabra intends to go after him but stops to sit with the boy’s corpse.

7. A series of comic pages depicting the described scene where Sabra, Iron Man, and the Arabian Knight team up to fight. Sabra mentions she would rather be dead than allied with the Arabian Knight.

8. A box where Sabra says, ‘As a monster, you taught me about humanity.’ to the Hulk.

9. A comic page showing part of the described scene, where a woman who received some of Sabra’s power confronts her, intending to fight her ‘on behalf of those who believe no government is better than the one we have.’

10. A comic page showing the Sabra and the Hulk. Believing she has lost, Sabra demands Hulk finish her off without expecting her to beg and that he tells the Americans that Israel is not weak, fears no enemy, and will never submit again. Hulk interrupts her to say he surrenders because it is less brutal than fighting and because it may shut her up.

11. A comic page showing Sabra and some other superheroes, one of whom has a gun pointed at another. Sabra identifies the other one as a Syrian superhero and demands they be shot just like her son was. She mentions he was killed by the Arabs, and the superhero corrects her, saying it was the PLO and that they’re sick of her generalizations. Later, at a meeting, someone points out a Palestinian and asks if she’s going to push him out of his seat and claim it .She responds that she doesn’t respond to child killers.

12. A strip showing Sabra declaring that she is a Mutant member of the Israeli Super Soldier program and that she has been trained by Mossad.

13. A character info page about the Arabian Knight. This reads: Arabian Knight

First Appearance Union Jack #1 (November 2006)

Real Name Navid Hashim Occupation Government Agent

Base Mobile Height 6 ft2in Weight 175 lbs

Eyes Brown Hair Brown

Special Powers/Abilities Scimitar fires force bolts and penetrates almost any material; rides magic carpet, which can also convert into a battering ram or envelop enemies.

Navid Hashim succeeded the original Arabian Knight (Abdul Qamar) when he was killed. Hashim is a Palestinian working for the Saudi Arabians. Alongside Union Jack, he prevented a terrorist attack on London, earning the grudging respect of Israeli hero Sabra. A highly trained fighter, Hashim wields a magical scimitar, and aided Red Hulk and Machine Man to defeat the Sultan Magus. A third Arabian Knight once fought the Black Panther in Wakanda.

14. A comic page showing Sabra being antagonistic towards the Arabian Knight. He states that he’s here at his government’s request to help his friends, not to have his and his country’s integrity questioned. She responds that his rulers denouce terrorism while funding money to its bloodiest practitioners, and he responds angrily that he has personally led strikes against extremist and lost good men doing so and will not be slandered by the likes of her.

14. A comic page where the Arabian Knight implies Sabra should go back to being a mother if she can’t handle being a soldier. She attacks him, saying the sacred role of motherhood was taken from her when Palestinians ambushed a school bus with her son.

14. A comic page showing Union Jack taunting a possessed Sabra by saying she’s working with an Arab, causing her to turn on the Arabian Knight and attack him.

15. A comic page showing Union Jack, Sabra, and the Arabian Knight after a fight. Sabra says, ‘You fought well’ and he responds, ‘As did you.’

16. A comic page showing an Israeli woman admitting she is nervous about serving in her mandatory military service because a friend of hers was paralysed when a rocket hit Gaza.

17. A comic strip where the Arabion Knight and Sabra agree that they have to work together to defeat a villian called Namor. Someone not in the frame remarks that it’s touching that the Jew and the Muslim are agreeing. \End descriptions]

BDS HAS CALLED FOR A TARGETED BOYCOTT OF PRO-ISRAEL PROPAGANDA CHARACTER SABRA!!!

BOYCOTT SABRA (RUTH BAT-SERAPH) IN MARVEL'S CAPTAIN AMERICA : NEW WORLD ORDER!!!

As Captain America: New World Order is released I urge all fans who are against Zionism to flood the Captain America tags with messages of Boycott Sabra. All the links provided in the graphic are publicly available from their websites, and social media.

Anti-Zionism =/= Anti-Semitism!!! We are boycotting Sabra not because she is Jewish but because she represents a Pro-Israel, Pro-Zionist message that should not be platformed in any media. Her comics have Pro-IDF propaganda.

Marvel was made aware of the fact that this character promotes a Pro-Israeli & Anti-Palestinian sentiment when the character of Sabra was announced for Captain America 4, despite fan concern, and calls for Marvel to remove this character from the movie and despite have more than enough time to respond to what type of statement this would promote, a Pro-Zionist, Pro-Israel stance and despite reshoots Marvel has still chosen to keep Sabra in the movie. Shira Haas is the actress playing Sabra, she is Israeli and has shared Pro-Israel posts online even during the genocide of the Palestinians.

Marvel claims they will be reinventing the character however a character whose very nationality and backstory relies on Pro-Israel & Pro-Zionist ideals is irredeemable especially because not once in all her comic appearances does she ever change her Anti-Palestinian stance. Israel is currently committing a Genocide against Palestinians. Since of October 7th more than 30,000 Palestinians, of which over 12,000 are children, have been murdered by Israel. Over 60,000 have been injured, more missing, and millions displaced in Israel's genocide and ethnic cleansing of the people of Palestine. This is in addition the 75 year long occupation, countless war crimes, and 16 year blockade on Palestinians.

Marvel claims to care about Jewish characters, but Marvel hasn't even cast Jewish actors for Jewish Characters like Moonknight. Marvel choosing to back a Pro-Israel, Pro-Zionist character like Sabra sends a very clear message that aligns with Marvel Comics long held Anti-Palestinian sentiment. There are other Jewish characters for Jewish representation, such as Magneto, and Kitty Pryde, who were not created with a Pro-Israel, Pro-Zionist background.

BOYCOTT SABRA!!! Send a message, write a tweet, make a post, and tag Marvel and Disney and let them know why you are Boycotting Captain America: New World Order. I love Sam Wilson as Captain America but I will never support a movie that has Sabra as a character.

For more information about the character's history here is a breakdown of her appearances in Marvel Comics.

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #256 - Sabra's Origin

On the cover of Sabra's origin issue is the image of a dead Palestinian boy.

continued...

As we read the issue, we find Bruce Banner/The Hulk has stowed away on the ship "The Star of David" to Palestine, in the comics it is called Israel, however Marvel Comics has long been erasing Palestine, calling it only Israel.

This is Marvel Atlas (2008) #2 page on Israel

Marvel Fandom Wiki states that Palestine was the name of the land before Israel. While I understand that Marvel's 616 Universe is fictional, it's important to state that they base their locations on Real Life locations, and in 1948 Palestine underwent The Nakba, in which Israeli Forces displaced over 750,000 Native Palestinians and killed countless men, women, and children, stole land and homes, and forced the remaining Palestinians into the Gaza Strip which is the world's largest concentration camp, or confined to the West Bank all of which is under Apartheid laws today, or out of Palestine with no right to return to their homes and lands.

That being said, Sabra was created in 1980, as a Mossad Agent, Mossad is the Israeli Secret Service which has done so much harm to Palestinians. In her first issue she was working as a cop in Tel Aviv.

The Editor's note states: "The word Sabra denotes a Native-Born Israeli, the name derived from an indigenous form of fruit - a prickly pear possessed of a sweet interior, and a spiny outer surface to protect it from it's enemies."

Sabr (arabic, it also means "patience") is a cactus prickly pear that is Native to and found growing in Palestine. Read more about it in this article talking about the politics of Palestinian erasure and the Sabr fruit.

The Prickly Symbolism of Cactus Fruit in Israel and Palestine.

“If you look at most Palestinian villages demolished in Israel, what’s left is cactus fruit and olive trees,” says Qattan. Since 1948, he adds, this has imbued the cactus plant with a “mythical symbolism.”

When Blum’s father started the farm, he knew that many parts of the world have cactus fruit plants, so he wanted to make theirs the best. They chose Dimona, in southern Israel, because of its intense sun and “the Zionist dream of making the desert bloom.”

"Making the desert bloom" is a racist Zionist ideals and propaganda that has caused severe ecological damage to Palestine by destroying thousand years old Olive trees to plant non indigenous trees that are not native to Palestine in a form of ecocide. So even the character Sabra, her very name brings a connection back to the Nakba, the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians & promoting Zionism.

However Sabra's name also has another very real and very tragic memory. One I will discuss here before returning to the comics. Just two years after her appearance in comics in 1980, Israel's war crimes continue.

The Sabra & Shatila Massacre 1982

The article linked above has information of what occurred September 16-18, 1982. There were the Refugee camps of Sabra & Shatila, where Palestinians displaced from Israeli Occupation lived, and they, as well as Lebanon Civilians, were killed by the right wing Lebanese Militia working with the Israeli Military, which took the lives of 2,000 - 3,500 people in 2 days. Raped, tortured, murdered. Many Palestinians know the history of the massacre and bringing up the names of Sabra & Shatila is a constant reminder of the deaths that occurred, the war crime that was committed, and that 42 years later not one person involved in the massacre was held accountable.

The Sabra and Shatila massacre is remembered as one of the most traumatic events in Palestinian history and its memory is commemorated annually by Palestinians in Lebanon and in Palestine.

Marvel promoting a character like Sabra who's very creation ties into the Pro-Zionist Israel a statement that Marvel is promoting a Pro-Israel message. No matter what changes occur to the character in the movie, already her very creation, her very name is linked to the deaths and torture of thousands of Palestinians. It does not matter that she was created 2 years before the Sabra & Shatila massacre, her name is still connected to the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from the 1948 Nakba and the creation of Israel.

For anyone who says "Well Marvel couldn't change her name just because of Political Controversy" let me remind you that when the American Black Panther Party gained popularity Marvel changed The Black Panther's name temporarily to the Black Leopard because they didn't want to associate the character with the American Black Panther Party.

Now that you have an understanding of why Palestinians are rightfully boycotting an Israeli Propaganda character let me return to the the comics.

Back to The Incredible Hulk (1968) #256; this comic is one of the most Anti-Palestinian, "Arab Terrorist Propaganda" comics I have ever read so I will briefly outline the plot: The Hulk meets a poor Palestinian boy who was stealing a watermelon (The watermelon is the symbol of resistance for Palestinians) and Bruce spends time with the boy, Sahad, however Sahad is killed by a bomb. Hulk is enraged and fights the Arabs, Sabra intervenes and thinks Hulk is in league with the Arabs and attacks him.

Hulk takes Sahad's body away and Sabra thinking Hulk was fighting with the Arab Terrorists goes after him in order to protect Israel. However she finds that Hulk wasn't the monster she thought he was. Hulk's angry speech about the Israel-Palestine conflict leaves Sabra shaken and for the very first time she sees a Dead Palestinian Arab Child as human.

"For an instant, Sabra prepares to give chase. She is, after all, an Israeli Super-Agent... A Soldier... A Weapon of War. But she is also a woman, capable of feeling, capable of caring. It has taken The Hulk to make her see this Dead Arab Boy as a Human Being. It has taken a monster to awaken her own sense of humanity.

Reminder this is her FIRST FULL COMIC, this is her ORIGIN, and you would think that perhaps she is more sympathetic to the plight of the Palestinians after this but she isn't. Let's continue with the rest of her comic appearances.

Marvel Super Hero Contest of Champions (1982) #1-3

Sabra is included in the contest of champions where superheroes must team up to battle their foes, she is teamed up with Iron Man, and The Arabian Knight (1st incarnation: A Saudi Bedouin with mystic artifacts/powers). Again, the Anti-Arab racist stereotype of Arab men being misogynistic towards women (misogyny is not a trait of ONLY Arab men, it is something that occurs world wide, however focusing it only on Arab men is racist) as well as the Zionist Propaganda lies that Arabs hate Jews, Arabs vs Jews, Arabs and Jews are enemies because of their religion. Not to mention that this Arabian Knight (Abdul Qamar) is from Saudi Arabia, he has no ties to Israel, so Sabra is judging him because he is Arab and has conflict with him because of their countries, it ties into the stereotype that "All Arabs are the same", Saudi Arabia is not Palestine.

Even after The Arabian Knight saves Sabra, she states her hatred and racism towards Arabs; "I would rather be dead than allied with you!"

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #279 - Sabra once again states it was the Hulk who taught her about Humanity.

Marvel Super-Heroes (1990) #6 - Sabra fights Israeli Anarchists who want to overthrow the Israeli Government and saves the American Ambassador's son, who is deaf. The main villain is a woman who Sabra saved by giving her some of her life energy, and she is upset because she did not want to be saved nor does she want to fight for Israel with the powers Sabra gave her. Sabra takes her life energy back and it kills her.

A constant running theme throughout her comics is that one of Sabra's repeated goals is the protection of Israel even above her own life.

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #386-387 - Sabra thinks the Hulk is in league with people who are trying to kill a boy, and attacks him. Later she thinks Hulk has defeated her and has this speech where she says that Israeli Soldiers are beating their wives out of frustration.

Again, how is that not the fault of the soldiers, why is it even when they are perpetrators of violence it's not their fault because they are frustrated?!

The main plot was that a Jewish man, who survived the German Nazi concentration camps, believed the boy to be the next Hitler which is why he wanted to stop him.

I never downplay the horror of the Holocaust or what Jewish people suffered from Nazis, from Anti-Semitism, throughout their history, but I am mainly focusing on how Sabra's character is in the comics and how that related to Anti-Palestinian, Anti-Arab sentiment.

The New Warriors (1990) #58-59 - Sabra reveals that her six year old son was killed by Arabs, bombed on a school bus, after she urges the New Warriors to kill Batal, a Syrian Super-Agent. Batal then states that it was the PLO (Palestinian Liberation Organization) that killed her son and to stop generalizing all Arabs.

Batal: Well Sabra? There's a Palestinian over there -- aren't you going to push him out of his seat and claim it as your own? Sabra: I don't respond to child-killers

Again, Sabra's racism against Arabs doesn't end at Palestinian Arabs, but extended to Saudi Arabia and now Syrian Arabs. LET ME BE VERY CLEAR THAT SABRA IS BEING RACIST: Batal has 2, TWO, only 2 comic appearances, he is there as security detail like Sabra is, there is nothing about his character that indicates he's anything but a Syrian Superhero, and Sabra still called him a child killer because she thinks all Arabs are child killers. Batal is written with the stereotypical racist Arab Man writing that many Arab characters suffer from, and he does insult Sabra by calling her an "Israeli Pig" after she treated Batal with disrespect, distrust, and suspicion ever since his arrival.

Sabra is then mind controlled into stopping the peace conference and killing everyone who allowed it to happen. She is stopped by the New Warriors.

Sabra's son is never once shown in a flashback, we are only ever told of him and how he died.

X-Men (1991) #67-69, 72-73

Sabra's dead son's name is revealed to be Jacob, she uses her position in Mossad to get secret information for the X-Men.

She later has plans to track down and kill Magneto, but ends up fighting with his clone, Joseph, before being told that wasn't the real Magneto and stopping.

Excalibur (1988) #120-121

Sabra teams up with Excalibur to defend "Israel" from Legion's ghosts. Then she is debriefed of her mission by Mossad.

Uncanny X-Men (1963) #366, 367, 379

Sabra takes Joseph (Magneto's clone) to an Israeli Military bunker where scientists study his DNA and state he is a clone of Magneto. Later Sabra attends Joseph's funeral.

X-Men (1991) #111

Sabra makes a statement about Magneto; Israeli Super-Agent Sabra weighed in on the looming war with her usual candor, "It is clear to me at least that Magneto has become the monster he claims to despise. There are some factions who believe this rumored son of Israel has brought much shame to his countrymen. Factions who believe he should be dealt with once and for all. Okay maybe not factions. But certainly Individuals... like me."

New X-Men (2001) #131-132

Sabra attends a funeral for Darkstar in #131. In #132 Sabra interacts with the mutants, and x-men, and says to Quicksilver (on the apparent death of Magneto), "I'm sorry Quicksilver, but good riddance. Magneto was a master-race lunatic who coherenced the entire Genoshan mutant population into a war with humanity and brought this on himself."

JLA/Avengers (2003) #4

Single panel appearance where Sabra is shown protecting the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Again she is called an Israeli hero.

Side Note: I don't think there's been a single comic where Sabra has a major presence that has not mentioned at least once that Sabra is an Israeli Super Hero, a Mossad Agent, or an Israeli Super-Agent at least once. It's so noticeable that they always mention it and how big of a role it plays in her character.

Excalibur (2004) #5

Flashback two panel appearance of Sabra on Genosha.

Civil War: X-Men (2006) #1-4

Sabra fights on the side of Tony Stark/Iron Man and battles Archangel, then aids an injured Micro Max.

Civil War (2006) #6

Sabra fights on the side of Tony Stark/Iron Man.

Union Jack (2006) #1-4

The Arabian Knight has changed mantles, the 2nd incarnation is portrayed by a Palestinian Hero, Navid Hashim. I make mention of this because in Union Jack (2006) #1 Navid is called a Saudi, then in Hulk (2008) #45 Navid is called a Afghani, however the Marvel Fandom Wiki stated he was a Palestinian and I wanted to confirm it, which I did in:

Marvel Encyclopedia, New Edition (2019)

In the first issue of Union Jack, right off the bat, Sabra has an issue with The Arabian Knight, and is antagonistic towards him.

Navid is written in Marvel's usual racist writing; the misogynistic Arab man stereotype. Navid tells Sabra she should embrace her role as a mother instead of a hero. Sabra snaps and chokes him while telling Navid that Palestinians killed her son. Note how now it's Palestinians and not, Arabs, and not the PLO? Because by now the PLO is no longer considered a Terrorist group, so Marvel can't blame them and instead shift the blame to all Palestinians for the loss of Sabra's son. Arabs is too general, so of course it's the Palestinians.

To this date Sabra's son, Jacob, has still never appeared in any flashbacks, never seen drawn into a comic with Sabra, no mention of who the boy's father is. Nothing except Sabra's loss and hatred of the Palestinians. Even in her first solo comic series, which I discuss further down, does not mention her son. Using the death of an Israeli child to justify villainizing the entire group of Palestinian people is Zionist Israelis do. It's Anti-Palestinian Propaganda.

Later Navid gets hurt and Sabra checks on him, he tries to apologize;

Arabian Knight: About your son... I only meant. Sabra: Don't. We are allies of the moment. Another day I would have driven the dagger home.

Later Sabra, The Arabian Knight, and others are mind controlled by the villain to attack Union Jack. Union Jack is told that he can distract them by turning them against their "natural enemies" and then Union Jack insults Sabra and uses Sabra's hatred and racism towards Arabs to turn her against The Arabian Knight. Sabra calls Navid a terrorist as she attacks him.

The mind control gets broken, and the team rallies to save the day by the last issue. The final exchange between The Arabian Knight and Sabra shows a tense acknowledgement between them meant to show begrudging respect. This is the nicest Sabra has been to any Arab character since her creation. The bar of "showing respect" is literally on the ground.

Secret Invasion #6

Cameo one panel appearance of Sabra in Israel fighting a Skrull.

Astonishing Tales (2009) #6 - Astonishing Tales: Sabra

Tagline in the comic states: Sabra: Whether as an agent of Mossad, or a superhero, the Israeli mutant Ruth Bat-Seraph has never doubted her decision to put her country above self. Fighting alongside the Avengers, X-Men, and Captain Britain, as the patriotically garbed Sabra. Ruth has proven herself a champion to all nations.

"Sabra in Flight" - is one of the most disgusting pieces of Israeli comic propaganda I have ever read thus far in Sabra's comics. For my first time reading it I was shocked at how easily they projected the narrative of Israel as something noble and worth dying for. This piece of utter trash is the very first time Sabra has her own solo comic story. Let that sink in. This is the first time in 29 years since Sabra's creation 1980 that she has her own solo comic story. Sabra's total presence in the comics is 42 years.

The only things we know of her character is that her name is Ruth Bat-Seraph, she was born and raised in a special Israeli Kibbutz (Israeli settlement), that she manifested mutant powers that include; flight, energy quills, poisoned quills, super strength, and life energy transference. Sabra had a six year old son named Jacob who died in a bombing. She has always stated or maintained her solidarity and defense of Israel even above her own life. She is racist to any Arab, especially Palestinian Arabs.

It also important to note her costume changes over the years, her Star of David has diminished greatly from being on different parts of her uniform to just barely being a necklace/neck accessory. Her roles as Israeli Hero is greater than that of her being a Jewish Hero.

This comic introduces us to Ruth at a Israeli social function in Jerusalem, where is with her mother. Her mother tells her not to spill anything on her Sabra uniform, and mentions how people want to talk to her, Their Greatest Soldier. Again the emphasis on her being an Israeli Soldier and a Mossad Agent is hammered home in the first page of this comic.

Mother: "Your dad would be so proud of you, Ruth. To see his daughter in uniform protecting the Nation." Ruth: "I just hate being put on display at these receptions. I am a Mossad Agent after all."

Then the next bit of news we learn is that Sabra has a brother. So now we know she has a mother and brother who is living, and her father is deceased. Next a old friend of Ruth's arrives with her teenage daughter, Yael, in tow, she introduces Sabra to her daughter and leaves them to talk. Sabra then mentions to Yael that she must be getting close to her mandatory military service soon. Yael mentions she is nervous because her friend was in the military and was paralyzed in Gaza.

Sabra then spends the next part of the comic reassuring Yael that it's ok to be nervous and that she was nervous too sometimes and mentions a story where she faced Hydra, and that when Yael goes into the Israeli military (IDF: Israeli Defense Force) she will learn a lot.

Sabra: "You'll learn a lot when you enter the Military. But the biggest thing you'll discover is that you have two families; your military family, and your personal family. Both will always be there for you, and perhaps even sacrifice themselves for you. A hard truth I learned the day my dad died rescuing me."

Yael mentions how her father was killed by surface to air missiles, and then goes on to say she was accepted into the air force flight academy and she always wanted to fly but that she was nervous. She mentions she might go into Military Intelligence. Sabra says that is good too but Yael then says she feels she was always meant to fly. So to convince Yael go into air force and alleviate her fears Sabra then takes her in her arms to fly her over Jerusalem and tells her that this land is what their dads died for. And she is convinced that Yael will make the right choice.

Side Note: Excuse me while I throw up, this entire comic made me feel so disgusted. I always try to write and speak about comics as professionally as I can but fuck this comic. Fuck this Pro Israel Propaganda. Fuck Sabra. Fuck this Pro-IDF comic. Fuck making an entire comic about reassuring a young teenage Israeli girl to go and join the IDF to fight in Gaza, to kill Palestinians. THIS. This is why Sabra will NEVER be able to be divorced from her origins, her character, as a Pro-Israeli Super Agent. No matter what Marvel tries to put into the movie this is who the character is at her very core.

Over 12,000 children have DIED since October 7th. Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian people, but Marvel and the MCU, and Disney think it's ok to have a Israeli Superhero in a Captain America movie? Boycott. Scream out online to them. Tell them we do not want their Israeli Propaganda. Sabra should never ever be used for any platform, movies, shows, animation, comics, ever again. Over 30,000 Palestinians have been slaughtered by Israel in the last few months alone. Never forget.

I'm shaking with rage as I write about this comic but we move on. There's still some comics left to discuss. However in my firm opinion this character is indefensible, she literally is an Israeli Propaganda character. She is propaganda for the IDF.

History of the Marvel Universe (2012)

Cameo Appearance.

Amazing Spider-Man (1963) #685, Amazing Spider-Man: Ends of the Earth (2012) #1

Sabra teams up with Spider-Man and other heroes, she is introduced as a Israeli based mutant, she fights spider robots in Jerusalem.

X-Men (2010) #31, 34-37

In Paris, Sabra greets Storm and later she helps the X-Men using her influence as a Mossad Agent.

X-Men (2013) #9, 11, 16 + X-Men Legacy (2012) #23

Sabra aids the X-Men.

Captain America: Steve Rogers (2016) #18

One page Cameo, Sabra appears to have completed a mission and gathered files.

Avengers (2018) #11

Sabra and the Arabian Knight are at a meeting called by The Black Panther. T'Challa wants everyone to work together, they are currently discussing an issue with Namor the Sub-Mariner, King of Atlantis. Ursa Major makes fun of the situation; "Haaaa, look at Sabra and the Arabian Knight! Even the Jew and the Muslim are agreeing! How touching!

Zionist propaganda of making it seem as if the conflict between Israel and Palestine is a religious conflict between an Arab and a Jew. Making of a Jewish and Muslim character getting alone because they should be fighting is racist, Islamophobic, and anti-sematic. The conflict between Israel and Palestine is NOT a religious conflict, Israel has been occupying and murdering Palestinians for 75 years. It is a conflict between Israel being a colonizer and Palestine being colonized. Israel is committing a genocide as I create this post.

At the end of all her appearances spanning 42 years Sabra has not once changed from her palestinian, arab hating, israeli zionist roots. All we get is her trading a few words back and forth with Arabian Knight and acting like an adult at a table full of kids. There isn't even respect between them. That is all the appearances of Sabra.

Why is important to boycott Sabra? In addition to the character being Pro-Israel, Pro-IDF Propaganda, giving a large platform like the one an MCU movie provides will give the actress a larger platform.

Israeli Actress, Gal Gadot, who is Pro-Israel, Pro-Zionism, Pro-IDF, and was a former IDF soldier, was cast in a high profile role of Wonder Woman, she used her platform, power, and access to thousands of fans to further messages of Zionism and even promoted a Pro-Israel propaganda film to be aired in Hollywood. The film was used to further the Zionist agenda of continuing their genocide against the Palestinians in Gaza. Bearing Witness (2023) is a Israel IDF propaganda film that Gal Gadot endorsed as Israel continued their genocide of the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.

Wonder Woman isn't even Israeli, however the actress used her ties to the character to promote Israel. In Wonder Woman: 1984 there is a very racist, Anti-Arab, Anti-Palestinian message including a scene where Wonder Woman, played by Gadot, saves 4 Arab boys from a missile. Article Link

Why is that scene so controversial? Because Israel murdered four young boys who were playing on a beach in Gaza back in 2014 by a drone missile strike. Article Link

Gal Gadot and now Shira Haas having roles in movies with as much exposure as DC and Marvel movies promotes Israel, and Zionism. Pro Zionist groups have already voiced their approval of Shira Haas playing Sabra.

I will boycott any piece of media that features Sabra, the Israeli Propaganda Super Agent.

Use the Captain America tags to Boycott Sabra.

If you have read this far then please support Palestine. Support Palestinians and fight against Zionism. Comics were created by Jewish Creators, do not let Zionists try to erase their contribution or use comics to promote Zionism. Comics are never created in a vacuum, they are the pulse of current pop culture, of current news. Comics are Political and always have been. Marvel choosing to keep Sabra in the MCU sends a clear message of support for Zionism & Israel.

Find a Protest near you

Donate or Join Palestine Action

Donate to Palestine , HelpGaza , Palestine Donations , Aid Palestine

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#requests #not full transcriptions but they're mostly functionally described by the post commentary anyway #marvel #palestine #rape tw #death tw #child death tw #long description #op if you see this please add the description to the original post (not under a read more)#with any edits you like and no credit needed

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sunbird-tells-stories · 5 years ago

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Clay: (narrows eyes) you have the right to remain silent.

Timber: (narrows eyes right back) I choose to waive that right.

Timber: AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAA

#clay x timber #WildeWest #yes that is their ship name #yes it is stupid #sunbird likes shitposts #crack ships #clay bailey #timber wilde #xiaolin showdown oc #incorrect quotes #source: the simpsons

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lovetorn · 4 years ago

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nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle.

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here.

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing.

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene.

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one.

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber.

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.”

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target.

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?”

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods.

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.”

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?”

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.”

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.”

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.”

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude.

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer.

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head.

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?”

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.”

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.”

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance.

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?”

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie.

“Y/n.”

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly.

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body.

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust.

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home.

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.”

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?”

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.”

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?”

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.”

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust.

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?”

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?”

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?”

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body.

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.”

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths.

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n.

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago.

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water.

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!”

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!”

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive.

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.”

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…”

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.”

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?”

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.”

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.”

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.”

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too.

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush.

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts.

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.”

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.”

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?”

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter.

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it.

“Clay!”

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.”

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it.

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance.

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face.

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before.

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes.

They’re probably just friends.

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm.

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it.

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing.

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical.

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing.

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know.

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?”

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact.

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap.

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.”

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man.

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.”

“Clay—”

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.”

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents.

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him.

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.”

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods.

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.”

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.”

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?”

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late.

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge.

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed.

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself.

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard.

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night.

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly.

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!”

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze.

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!”

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.”

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing.

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.”

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much?

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people.

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is.

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.”

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway.

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even.

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise.

“Dream.” A voice says.

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.”

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it.

“I know.”

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.”

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running.

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds.

“Leave me alone!”

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her.

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely.

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them.

“I’ve got you now, Dream,”

“It seems you do.”

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him.

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar?

“But I’ll spare you.”

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?”

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them.

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind?

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty.

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n.

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey.

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son.

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.”

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night.

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?”

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast.

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.”

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.”

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything.

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!”

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around.

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?”

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?”

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles.

“Ha, ha. SO funny.”

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is.

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs.

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—”

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?”

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.”

“What? Really?”

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.”

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.”

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.”

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck.

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it.

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon.

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens.

“Clay?”

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them.

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!”

“Well, you have to go.”

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?”

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered.

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that.

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking?

“Kill you?”

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten.

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.”

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs.

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?”

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!”

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance.

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her.

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.”

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.”

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder.

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her.

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.”

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon.

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking.

“Woah,” He breathes.

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake.

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her.

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.”

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart.

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless…

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.”

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks.

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.”

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth.

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!”

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens.

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes.

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers.

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.”

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night.

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself.

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that?

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.”

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.”

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.”

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created.

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same.

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.”

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues.

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns.

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever.

—

“Dre—Clay.”

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue.

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks.

“He gave me a straight answer; business.”

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?”

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.”

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes.

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat.

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it.

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted.

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!”

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it.

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,”

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them.

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks.

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her.

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim.

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical.

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long.

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up.

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature.

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water.

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes.

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice.

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in.

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.”

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!”

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face.

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.”

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you.

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?”

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.”

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!”

“Y/n?”

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies.

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl.

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.”

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle.

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself.

What is going on?

—

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed.

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought.

“You,”

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?”

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides.

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!”

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.”

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!”

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.”

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.”

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face.

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering.

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment.

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.”

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more.

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?”

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats.

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit.

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe.

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am.

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream.

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away.

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?”

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.”

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles.

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room.

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs.

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries.

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down.

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love.

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing.

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden.

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk.

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird.

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden.

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed.

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper.

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not.

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots.

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh.

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks.

“I can’t kill you, Clay!”

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.”

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,”

“Y/n,”

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.”

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.”

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder.

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.”

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.”

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too.

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger.

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n.

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices.

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips.

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches.

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity.

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.”

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.”

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence.

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

#dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream au #dreamwastaken au #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #nightmare dressed like a daydream!au #ndlad!au #dream x reader #dream imagine

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

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Monday 19 March 1838

11 50

finish morning F35° at 8 am sat looking Wallaces’ little practical mechanics’ guide till breakfast at 9 5 and sat talking about the journey till very near 10 – had James Hartley just before breakfast about Sunwood road walling off – SW. has set it out at the bottom only 17ft. wide to the outside of the wall – Sat calculating till 11 then went out – Garforth the machine maker just come with Joseph Booth his father David ill and could not come – sent them to Listerwick pit and said I would follow Holt being there, as they said – a few minutes with A- and about William Mallinson and Firths’ man (glazier) come for old glass for mitham – (had some of the old windows from Northgate) – at Listerwick about 11 ½ and had Holt and Garforth at John Oates’ settling about the engine till G- went away at 1 10 – he to settle with B- about the engine house so as to have the masons’ work done in time – I to have the specification ready written out from G-‘s prices as stated this morning by 11am next Saturday at which hour G- and Holt and B- if well enough to meet and sign the agreement at Shibden hall – according to what passed this morning G-‘s job (not including boiler or head geer except [?] and pedestals for it = £35) = £334.16.0 and suppose boiler £50 and engine house £80 and reservoir etc. £20 the total expense of engine = £484.16.0 Surely £500 will do all – after G- went had John Oates and George Naylor the wright and settled about the tubbing – H- seemed well satisfied with JO-‘s plan – plugged as he had mentioned to me save that the lowmost plug 3ft. long and 1ft. thick is in 3 pieces (a great improvement) the middle piece put in wedgewise on the principle of Lewises they called them Devises or what is the proper small irons name used to lift large stones with – the middle piece to 4in. broad and the 2 other pieces 6in. broad each in front and 7 or 8 at the back – of old oak – bolted together – the 4 lowmost planks to be timbers’ 6in. thick and all above to be of the planks already used – JO. to be consulted when necessary and to go down into the pit – I said he should go down and so would I and Holt too – we would all go – all passed off well – said I was much obliged to J.O. but would say thank you again when we had tried the scheme and found it answer – then about 1 ½ or later off to Mitham – a few minutes there – then to Sun wood quarry – Simeon Shaw came – stood talking to him sometime – said if Mr. Pollard had no objection we would settle at Xmas for I should see whether to keep on the quarry or not – the wood fence-walling to be finished this week – Hartley measured the bed of stone to 5ft. 6in. deep, and it seems as if we had got to the bottom – we are at some ackerspire as they call it, but H- thinks there may be stone below it – sometime with Joseph Mann at the E.P. in returning ordering about the wheel covering over etc. JM. thinks we can get what wallstone and fence stuff we want from Sun wood quarry – thinks Jonathan Mallinsons’ holme can be made a good job og taking the old road stuff which can be trenched in at 10d. per yard cube suppose 300 yards of stuff at 10d. = £12.10.0 (met A- going to Cliff Hill as I returned – beyond just above Mitham on the Hipperholme side about 3pm) – home about (before) 4 – with Robert Mann + 4 making the footpath along the end of the terraces to the house – George N-s’c art not there today or Saturday – my own cart bringing engine ash from the new bank for the footpath – they have managed

In going to Listerwick met Mr. Scott of Heckmondwike riding on the causeway.

the underfooting the terrace-walling very well – have a good drain and taken out the clay down to the 36 yards band coal ([?] in Godley lane) and put rubble first and then engine ashes on that – off to H-x about 5 ¼ to Mr. Nicholsons’ for black stuff for 2 petticoats – met Robert Mann and c° going home at the top of the bank – stood talking about wall (it seems Thomas G- wishes for a wall and had mentioned this to Robert yesterday) along the upper conery – 4ft. high random tops = 8 loads per rood at 12 times per day from Dobsons’ = per rood stone at 6 per load 4/. carting 6/8 labour 2/6 = 13/2 x 7 roods= 4.12.2 less trouble and expense than a hedge and double railing on each side at 10d. per yard Vid. Friday p. 110 at the top – a little while talking to John about the hay – terrible – will break the wind of all the houses – had had Mark Hepworth on returning from the quarry etc this afternoon – came for a job – has 5 horses and nothing for them to do – said I would think about it – had he not better take Georges’ carting for a day or 2 and let George plough? – the dunghill too must be got out – Mark seemed all wrong with Mawson – said he had lost £20 by him last summer – thinks Mawson ‘has not much to be ruined with’ I had observed that if he did his railroad job no better than the meer, it would ruin him – came in at 6 ¾ - went into the cellar – port marsala (and Madeira to be opened in a day or 2) – dinner at 7 10 – A- read her 2 pp. of French – coffee – then till 9 50 wrote the whole of the above of today – Packet this afternoon per messenger from Mr. Parker containing note saying Messrs. Risdale paid into the Yorkshire district Bank at Leeds to my credit £2,155 for the 5 navigation shares sold to Mrs. (Sarah) Atkinson and that they expect the remainder of my shares will be sold this week – the parcel containing also the Northgate hotel lease to Mr. Crossland Mawsons’ old lease of the Stump X Inn and Thomas G-‘s agreement for the Northgate land at £40 per annum – fine day – F39° at 9 55 at which hour came upstairs – sat looking over Journal of last year respecting A-‘s Shugden had coal – could find nothing – nor could A- who sat with me looking over my journal and mending my stays till 11 40 and rainy night while I latterly undressed

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punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

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Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Fifteen; Anticipation.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap- animal shapeshifting but thas about it really-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

The very next days seemed to crawl by. As if time itself was dragging through claggy thick treacle.

Nothing moved quickly and Iris knows it’s because she’s anticipating the weeks-end more than any other event she’s ever awaited on in her life.

More than Yuletide morning. More than her birthday. More than buying a new book or taking an early morning walk all to herself. More than a sunny frosted morning where everything seems to glimmer as if crafted from gold, or seeing wildflowers dot the woods with their colour in spring.

She’s waiting on that much anticipated midnight with baited breath. Every second closer to it is both torture and sweet blessed relief.

She fulfils her remaining days with a permanent smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Even her acetous mother remarks upon it. She tells her daughter the fine manner of her engagement must be bringing her joy. Iris bites her lip to keep from grinning.

She clutched her romantic secret all that tighter to her chest. Moulded it like warm clay to clasp around her glad heart.

Mother and Maratella insist on setting a date. And getting her whole ‘bouquet’ of daughters measured for their gowns.

Posy and Flora for they are of course to be bridesmaids, and Iris, of course, for her bridal gown. They get up a merry party to Pembleton one fine clear morning.

The snow and frost govern the landscape once more. Ebbing back in after the recent rain. The brown frost-hardened hills and trees and fields. Governed under the fierce cyclops of a mustard sun blazing in the effortless blue of the cobalt sky. It made Iris think of robins eggs, and the golden buttery buds of spring. When the bulbs and shoots blossom up through the earth with their sickly scent and colour.

It is a fine clear day and it indicates that the end of the long bitter winter approaches. The cold is as ferocious as ever so Maratella insists upon them not catching a chill in the vile icy winds. Shes most kind as to stop to collect the Misses Ashton’s in the Hux’s second largest coach. They are all bid to the dressmakers in the high street. Along the medieval shamble of barrel window and oak timber shops.

The news of her engagement spread far and wide. Before her boots have even touched the cobbles, stepping out the coach, their party is virtually mobbed by matrons and ladies of their acquaintance.

Iris had in mind a silly image of them prowling at the pavements like baying wolves, chasing after the muddy churn of the carriage wheels; anything for to first seize that newest scrap of gossip.

Posy and Flora ladle up all the attention. As does Mama. Proudly boasting - along with Maratella - of the suitability of such a fine match. Iris wants to roll her eyes as Flora greatly exaggerated the romantic manner of Hux’s proposition. She gabbled about a room full of red roses and how Iris wept tears of delight as he swept her into his arms.

The ravenous eyes turn toward her. “May we see the ring, Miss Ashton?” Comes out of numerous smiling mouths like a chorus of cawing seagulls. Iris feels like they’ll rip her glove off themselves if she doesn’t.

Unused to such attention, she blushes as she slips off her grey calfskin glove. Wrenching it off her hand. There is a troupe of awed gasps as they admire the diamond set in the gold band.

Iris feels as if she’s sticking her hand into a dangerous animals maw. Like some exhibit at a zoo. Feeding her hand to the rabid starving tiger’s. There’s so much gasping and in taking of breath it’s a wonder they don’t suck her up. And take half the street with them.

Luckily, Maratella fusses that they’ll be late if they don’t make haste. She then proudly utters that the ladies five, their happy little bridal party, are off to Madame Larousse’s dressmaking parlour for a wedding gown. And Mrs Ashton and Mrs Hux are to see to both having new hats to mark such a happy occasion.

The flock of ravenous ladies ceases. Satisfied with their mauling of Iris and her news and her engagement ring. The party is able to proceed along the pavement unhindered.

They slip into Madame Larousse’s. Greeted by the lanky, heavily perfumed proprietor herself. She was a tall, ungainly woman with poky shoulders and an always over-rouged complexion. And will always, without fail, exaggerate a mildly French accent to gild her words. For she believes that all the best dressmakers and seamstresses were French.

The tall stretch of Madame claps excitedly and demands to see Iris’ hand when she hears they are here to purchase ribbons and lace and all things fit for a bride. She is whisked away by a very efficient assistant. And stood on a pedestal for the next hour and half.

Iris spends that time with swatches pinned to her. Flapped around her ears. Tucked under her collar. There’s so many back and forth decisions from her mother, it makes her quite dizzy. A tape drawn tight around her so many times to squeeze the stuffing out her. Eventually, they stumble to a conclusion. It was to be a saffron orange.

Flora remarked it made her rather look like a carrot.

Around her they lounge on the chaises provided, clutched around the mirror and the box she’s on, and they drink sweet tea. Brown sugar sprinkled and stirred into the earl grey.

They all pose interjections and opinions and preferences on her. Iris just stands there like a tailors doll. Only half there.

She’s caught sight of a swatch of ruby-wine velvet near her thigh and is stroking it fondly. Remembering Lord Rens exquisite bed coverlet. How it felt under her fingers, it took her ricocheting back to that moment. And it calmed her.

That’s how she can stand all this grousing and prodding. It reminds her of her secret and she nearly faints off that box pedestal.

They settle on a pallid frothy blue silk instead. To better bring out the excellence of her mud and twigs hair. Mama chooses the best silk madame has in stock. Says she will have to fetch more in from her supplier especially. From London.

That causes much excitement for Flora and Posy. They’d never had a dress made from material fetched as far nor from a city as grand as London, before.

Posy had selected a teasing slip of pink silk. Flora, for her more fiery hair, chose a delicate pastel pea green. Iris thinks they’ll look like a platter of French fancy cakes.

Then a pang of something hits through her heart with all the intensity of an arrowhead studding there - she hopes Mama lets Posy and Flora keep their new gowns after she’s gone. She hopes very much. They are the stillest girls in existence but they do deserve nicer things than what they get.

By Madame’s husky drawl of a smoky voice is she brought back into the room, the awful pink pink pink room. Stuffed with velvet chaises and bolster cushions and trimmed fringed oil lamps. Great big fat rosebuds sprout up the wallpaper and flourish across the fabric of the pillows on the settee.

It’s as if the whole room is the summoning of the evil fairy in sleeping beauty. Who commanded swarms of brambles and thorns and swamping plants to take over. That was this room to the last pink thread - only it was instead summoned to contain every incarnation of pink roses as far as the eye could see.

Her ears burn hot and pink as Madame talks of London. Relating the gossip back to someone in the village. Matter of fact, a certain Lord-

“Apparantly, you know he sent that tall turbaned butler of his up to London just yesterday...” Madame hushes to them in her hazy terribly-affected French.

“Sent him to Mayfair.” She grins crookedly as she measures from Iris’s hip to her hem. Barking orders at Suzy, her ever suffering assistant.

Maratella seems most diverted. “Pray whatever for?” She leans forwards. Perching her half eaten violet macaroon on her saucer.

“He sent him to Bond Street. You know there is an establishment there that supplies jewels to the palace. Apparantly he came back having purchased something.” Madame says.

“Pray why would be send his butler all that way?” Flora asks.

“Why, Miss Smith told me so this morning; she suspects Lord Ren has left his heart behind in Bavaria. He is soon to quit Hellford. She heard Clarence Pennington’s butler say that his housekeeper, Mrs Jones states that half his house is shut. And the staff vacated.” Maratella excites them all. Flora and Posy are mortified at such news.

“The house is emptying. And Lord Ren shall soon be gone.” She adds.

Mrs Ashton smiles gladly. “He is journeying back home to his castle I wager...” She delights. The spitting smug nature of her tone was clear. Good riddance.

“Who must he be besotted with I wonder?” Posy asks indelicately.

Iris tries not to be twice as smug. Thinking that she is that very woman.

He goes back to his castle and I will gladly go with him, she thinks.

The giddiness and joy roils in her stomach like golden champagne. Fizzes through her veins and she has to hide a smile. Biting her cheek hard.

“Well. if he is shortly to leave our shores. I’m willing to bet he’ll break a fair few maidens hearts in this county and the next over. Such a striking gentleman. The young ladies will certainly feel his loss most keenly.” Maratella comments in sadness for all the female admirers he’d amassed. They’d all be heart sore now he’s going away.

“You’re blushing Iris.” Flora sing-songs at her. Pointing it out. “Thoughts of your intended sweetheart?” She ribs her sister.

“You are a colossal pest. Flora.” Iris smiles at her. Matter of fact. Her little bug of a sister is quite right. She is thinking about the man she’ll marry.

Only another agonising hour whilst Mama and Maratella select their hats for the occasion. But Iris can atleast sit down and drink some much too sweet earl grey tea. Doesn’t have to stand on that wretched box for another hour.

Eventually their purchases were rung up and settled. Flora and Posy love Iris very much because she buys them two new ribbons each and some velvet buttons for their bonnets. They’re singing her praises as they quit the shop. Trilling like a pair of canaries about their gowns. Iris was glad to spend some of her pin money on them before she leaves for good.

She’s fully appraised of the weight of her actions. And the serious consequence of them. It would be ruinous for her mother and father. It would be a disaster for her sisters. But atleast she was of age and she could marry. Whatever else others might say of her - she fully believes Lord Ren’s intentions are honourable.

They can’t scandalise her for marrying Kylo. Just censure her for running away from Hux and jilting him. She’s certain he’ll recover amicably enough. He doesn’t love her. And his mother is suitably well connected. She could snap her fingers and summon another willing bride. She’s only sorry it can’t be her.

She’s despondent to remark upon the pain she’ll be causing hers and Hux’s family. But in time, they will recover. Posy would do well and Flora will follow in her footsteps. Mother will see to it they catch fine husbands when the time is right. Their mother is most skilled in that area.

The party journeys along Pembleton street. Maratella stops by the haberdashers to seek after some ribbons. Mama is in the milliners seeking after a new pair of occasion gloves. Posy and Flora amble slowly along the street with their sister. Watching the carriages and coaches trundle by. Various riders on horseback too.

A loud nickering snort behind her makes her turn. She can hardly hide the smile that quickly grows across her face when she catches sight of a lone rider on a huge stocky black stallion. Both man and his mount are furiously muscled beasts.

His Lordly attire is its usual. All black. Save for his white shirt and red cravat. The great overcoat frames his wide shoulders and his bulky chest. His boots gleam in the meagre sun. His grin tips up when he catches sight of her.

He looks terribly smug and Iris’s heart feels like it’s trying to ram out the cage of her ribs. This handsome lordly man who stole it away, sets it pounding freely and rampant in her chest.

She tries not to arouse the suspicion of her sisters. They were much too curious and meddling for their own good. She wants to protect her secret and she thinks she’s a proficient enough liar to accomplish it.

They burst into fits of giggles on seeing him. He rides Erland closer to where they are stood and dismounts. His strong boots thud into the frosty mud. His wool coat laps and swathes his body. He tethered himself to Erland. Massive gloved hand gripping the reins. The creature didn’t seem to have any care for wandering off. He just wished to see Iris - Kylo empathises with the horse. He rather feels the exact same.

Iris, Posy and Flora all curtsey to him. He bids them all a greeting. She bows her neck and when she looks up. His eyes fondly fix on her. Warm in the sun. The contrast of him is astonishing. Milky creamy complexion, bordered by the onyx shadow of his hair and eyes. Utter opposites in the juxtaposition.

“Miss Ashton. A pleasure to see you again. I trust you are still well recovered. You look very radiant this morning.” He comments. Walking Erland just that tiny step closer.

The obstinate animal his stallion is, reaches his nose out and snorts into her hand. Nudges her glove for pats and scritches of affection behind his ears. She doesn’t care that she’ll get horse hair on her. She strokes him.

“You are most kind. Your lordship. I am very well.” She smiles slightly. The pretty kiss of rose on her cheeks.

“I need not tell you Erland is pleased to make your acquaintance once more.” He remarks starkly. Hint of irony not lost on her. Erland almost nudges her to fall over with his big strong head. She laughs.

“Your ears must’ve been burning. Lord Ren. For we were just discussing you...” Posy flirts. Batting her lashes at the man.

Hands crossed in front of her. Like she was a genteel little doe. Iris glares narrowed silver dagger eyes at her sister to stop displaying herself so readily. As ever, the little vexation pays no attention. Not when there was a hot blooded male around.

Kylo tilts his head. Intrigued. “Is that so, Miss Posy?” He asks.

“We we’re discussing how heart sore all the young ladies hereabouts will be when you quit Hampshire...” Flora tells him.

Kylo takes her confession in his stride. “It’s true. And I am sorry more than I can exclaim to be leaving such carnage and desolation in my wake. But sadly I do return to Bavaria shortly.”

That handsome expression barely betrays a thing. The cold wind flounces and ruffles that wild hair. A tuft of it drifts in his face and tangled in his dark eyeline.

Iris decides in that moment he truly might be an angel sculpted by gods own hand; or a demon designed by the devil himself. She isn’t sure which of those creatures is all the more tempting.

One thing she’s certain of; He’d win that draw of most handsome, every time.

She quivers when those eyes gaze at her. Peels her right out her clothes and down to her goose pimpled skin. Then Posy has to go and open her foolhardy mouth some more...

“We were just helping Iris shop for her bridal gown.” She preens. “And our bridesmaids dresses.” She comments. Speaking as if she wants Kylo to snatch her up and steal her away to Bavaria. Stuff her in his pocket and run off with her.

“I had heard rumour of your engagement...” He lies. Iris is biting the inside of her lip and smiling genially to hide how wide her excitement wishes to make her smile grow.

“Show Lord Ren your engagement ring, Iris!” Flora bounces excitedly. Iris glares. Reminding her of the inappropriate nature of her words.

“Flora. Lord Ren is not interested in such matters. And I’m afraid we’ve already impressed upon too much of his time...” She insists.

Kylo holds out his hand to her. Steps closer so she has to crane her head back just to keep sight of his eyes. “I am certainly interested. And I might add, most eager to see the bauble that decorates such a fine, pretty hand.” He teases.

She decides he was designed by the devil. And lucifer gave him a silver tongue to boot-

Iris slips off her grey glove and gently lays her palm in his.

The way his fingers curl around hers is criminal. She tips her eyes up to his as he shifts closer and admires her ring. A soft smile tugs at his mouth. The gold winks at him in the sun. It’s a pretty delicate morsel. He can’t deny. But plain. Much too plain. Entirely humble as decoration went.

-it’s certainly nothing to the one he’d had Jomar go all the way to London to fetch for her from Bentley & Skinner on Bond Street.

“It is a fine ring. Miss Ashton. Sergeant Hux is the most fortunate man in England to have you as his intended bride. I’m quite envious of his fortuity.” He says. Bowing to lay a kiss on the back of her palm.

His eyes electrify her. He winks at her and she flushes with heat. Blood pressing up in her face.

“I’m sorry to hear of your leaving England. Lord Ren. Such a shame Hellford Park should be quitted before the summer.” She tells him.

Her palm leaving his. Sliding away from the touch of his hand would have made her wretched were it not for the heat in his bronzed eyes. Made a warmer melting shade by the shimmer of the buttery sun. And their shared secret lifts her heart.

“It is a great shame. But I’m eager to return to Ranlor. I’ve missed my homeland a great deal.”

“The rumour in circulation is that you have a certain lady in mind to return home too.” Posy dares most outlandishly. Iris chides her for her brash rudeness.

“Posy!” Iris calls out.

Kylo seems amused by it. “That would he telling. Miss Posy. Not to mention betraying the confidence of the most honourable lady in question.” He smirks at her sister.

Who giggles and blushes like it’s no ones business. His vampiric charms seeping out of his every pore, truly intoxicating to them, Iris can see it’s influence.

“Is she a great beauty? I imagine she is most elegant indeed and very superior and titled in rank and manner. And of great fortune...” Posy digs for more details. Kylo will reveal none.

“Pray. Don’t be impertinent twice-over.” Iris corrects. Posy pulls a vexed face. Shoves her tongue out at her sister.

Kylo’s chuckling. They were entertaining little chits. Relentless. But he admires something about that sparky quality. Iris had the same sense about her - only more sensible and humble.

“She is the singularly, most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld in all my years.” He promises. “And I cannot wait to have her hand in marriage. She will make me a very blessed and lucky man.” He declares.

“How romantic.” Posy declares in a sigh. Flora dreamily agrees. They’re both veritably Moony eyed. Gazing up at him in wonder as a consequence. A silly girls kryptonite. A handsome and dark romantic man. A Byronic figure to set all the foolish girls swooning at the knees.

Kylo’s eyes sweep across to Iris at a passing glance. He smiles. And it almost undoes her.

“We must be on our way. We’ve availed ourselves of too much of your time. Lord Ren.” Iris says in parting. Trying to herd her vapid sisters away before they flirt anymore.

“We must go. For we are bid to the Hux’s tonight for a celebratory engagement supper.” Posy curtsies boasting as she’s bobbing away.

“Give the Sergeant and his family my warmest regards.” Kylo insists. Knowing what a barb that would be to Hux’s temper.

Iris turns and meets his eyes. Giving him a polite bowed head in parting. When Posy and Flora are otherwise looking elsewhere. She turns back and gives him such a look of longing and delight it makes him grin at her as she walks off down the cobbled pavement.

“Very good to see you again. Your Lordship. Have a pleasant rest of your day.” She insists.

Cajoling her sisters along the path and away before they get any notions. Erland snorts at her as she moved away. She smiles and gladly rubs the flat bone of his nose before she goes. Lord Ren stays standing until she does move away.

Kylo pats his neck, and hauls himself up on his strong stallions back once again. Booted feet in the stirrups. He adjusts on the saddle. Scanning the tumbled windows of the high street proprietors.

In the milliners, he sees a face like sour lemons and thunder glaring out at him. Mrs Ashton’s stony face peering outwards through the glass. Having seen his exchange with all her daughters.

He coaxes Erland into a slow walk. A little nudge in his side. He gives the foul Caroline Ashton his most winning enigmatic smile. And nods civilly in greeting at her as he rides off.

He sees it makes her lips purse in irritation.

Iris can’t resist glancing back at him. She knows those eyes watch her all the way down the street. She can feel them. Two pinpricks of heat, like candles, burning into her shoulder-blades.

It makes her too giddy for words.

They soon catch up with the rest of their party and are whisked away in the Hux carriage. Soaring across the dirty English roads. Mud churning in their wake as cold air and sunshine bounces off the roof.

Mama asks them what Lord Ren. Iris told them he was just politely passing the time of day. She seems satisfied with the answer. Iris fights not to squirm into shivers of desire at the merest intimation and memory of him.

Posy and Flora sing-song his romantic praises all the way home. Mother soon shuts them up with a cross cold stare.

The afternoon seems to fly her by. No sooner than she’s home and she’s readying herself for the dinner they’ll take at the Hux’s residence. Cavenham House.

The not so modest estate in the border of the next county. A gorgeous house if she’s being perfectly honest. Terracotta red bricked exterior, of modern Georgian design. Huge arched white windows. Rococo interior. All gilded with cherubs frolicking on the murky painted ceilings and baroque trim on every door. Rolling scrolls. Frescoes and pastel colours. Gilding, moulding and trompe l’oeils giving the illusion of motion and drama. Raining down from every ceiling.

A handsomely kept garden was also what it was resolutely famous for. Though it would not be pictured to its best quality in this dead winter. Spring will liven it soon. The hardy bright bulbs will crop up through the frost. But for now it remains speckled in snow with only the evergreens surviving.

Iris can see it all as they pull up the long stretch of the torch lit drive. In the coach Maratella was kind enough to send to collect them all.

Once again she was wedged beside Posy and Flora, and their shrill gossiping. Mother and Father opposite. Noiseless and as disagreeing as ever. Silence blazed between them as somber as a churchyard. They were about as animated with each other as two gravestones.

Iris dressed in her navy silk gown with 3/4 sleeves and a sheer white chemisette swirled with stitched white flowers, decorating her shoulders and neck. Meg cleverly weaves that teal ribbon into her hair coiffure again. She finishes the look with pearl droplet earrings and white satin gloves up to her elbows.

They are welcomed inside by stony faced servants in the blue Cavenham livery. Taken into the drawing room to meet their hosts. Maratella had invited some local flavour along also. Everyone’s merry and mingling. Posy offers to play a Handel piece on the Pianoforte before dinner is announced. She does so rather well. Thunks the opening notes in shocking volume but she picks up from that point onwards.

Iris is admiring the scenery from the drawing room window. Even in the dark she can see how lovely the gardens are. It doesn’t dissolve the fact that this house would still be a prison to her. There weren’t bars on the window and she won’t exactly be stitching mailbags - but it will still be her cage.

A handsome cage, she won’t deny. But a cage nonetheless as she mothers the children and lives for planning fine parties to boast of her and her husbands excellence. And slowly becomes a woman of high rank and no substance.

Hux moves to stand by her side, hands folded behind his back. A tall lean column of red, black and white in his ceremonial dress. Medals shining. Hair groomed. Perfectly respectable. Infuriatingly loveless, as always.

“You shall like the gardens in summer. I should think.” He remarks.

“They are most handsome.” She comments. “A fine prospect indeed.” She agrees.

They perfectly form the vision of lovers conversing by candlelight. She can hear Mama and Mrs. Hux cooing proudly behind them. It’s infuriating. Iris can’t spend the rest of her life in a manner such as this; being prodded and manoeuvred and gossiped over like a chess piece on a board.

“I care little for being out of doors. Save for riding with my regiment.” He impresses.

Iris nods. “I am perhaps overfond of walking. I take an excursion each day if I can.” She tells him.

He sniffs. And coldly watches the view before them. “Well. You shall have to make allowances and sacrifices when we are wed. I can’t have you scampering around the countryside when you are with my heir.” He insists.

Iris’s mouth turns dry. She makes little response to his words. He turns away to speak to someone else but she catches his arm to stop him.

“Please I just want to say-“ she starts.

She looks up into his face. The bright copper of his hair and the steel of his eyes. The surety of his rigid auburn brow. She doesn’t dislike him. He’s not an unpleasant man. Just, misguided.

She says what she’s thinking now before she loses the chance. No doubt he’ll think very badly of her when all is done.

“I think well of you. You know. You are a gallant man. Not lacking in honour or credibility. I admire that about you. Hux.” She says. Even if I can’t marry you for it.

He nods. Accepting her words. Then their granite faced butler coughs dryly and announces dinner to the room.

Maratella lets the engaged couple be seated next to each other at dinner. Wanting to encourage the tepid affection brewing between them. Iris doesn’t know what the woman expects from them. They weren’t matched for love but it’s as if that’s what she’s hoping to see blossom.

Maratella is hoping for romance to pass betwixt them.

It could and never will be that. Iris thinks.

Iris remarks inwardly to herself as she sips down her soup a la reine. Served alongside several large golden Bouchée à la reine’s.

The next course is of stewed beef and venison steaks, and a whole champagne poached salmon with slithers of white and black truffles decorating the cooked fish acting as scales.

More seafood came served in the form of fried then boiled sole, heaped in a terrine and a whole platter of pickled crab. A haricott of vegetables and mashed turnips. There was enough food spread on this very grand table, to keep them dining for a fortnight. Mrs Hux organised a feast intended to show off.

She gets everyone to toast to the newlyweds. The gentleman stand to raise their glasses and the ladies stay seated.

The pudding banquet is brought out and quite rightly enough, as she suspected, the whole table is flouncing in ruched fancy french sugar concoctions.

Silken French pies. Syllabubs of lemon and rose and brandy. Ice’s of all flavours. Custard tarts smothered with fat ripe fruit drowning steeped in syrup. Sugar plums and cinnamon and mace laced apple tartlets with baked custard. Iris indulged in some of the tarts and the fruits.

Posy and Flora fall upon creams and dainty fancies like hungry wolves. And eat until they are stuffed.

The ladies retire to the parlour for music and snifters of sweet ruby port wine. Iris indulges in a glass as her sisters and various other young accomplished ladies take to the pianoforte to sing and show off. Posy drags a reluctant Iris up to sing whilst she plays. She grumbles but bends to her sisters will.

She gives a shortly sweet chorus of ‘Let no man steal your thyme’ for it was the only song she could sing comfortably well.

She never much liked performing for amusement. Some girls were a glutton for it. Iris is no such a one. She stands with one hand on the pianoforte and the other folded behind her hip. She sings her choruses and smiles meekly at the small scattering of applause offered for her when she is done.

She heads back to her spot on the settee. Maratella is remarking to her mother how divine it will be to have a songbird in the house once again. Iris sits back in her seat and spends the rest of her evening in silence. Though she wants to say a great deal.

The evening slips past well enough. Night spills past her relatively quick. Another day gone. Another day closer to her happiness. She’s almost too giddy to contain it.

Then the time comes to bid goodnight to their hosts;

Iris watches as Hux fondly kisses her hand. Seeing her off out the rich gilded foyer out into the black black night. Sky so dark it’s a whole void studded with freckling stars. Cold shudders at the shivering trees.

She wants to say something impactful and veiled. To speak of her regard for him. She cannot think how best to do so. She swallows down her thick tongue. Remains a coward.

She can only hope in time, after the wake of her scandal settles. That Hux will find someone better suited than her. Maybe even find someone that he can love? She prays deeply for that little happy happenstance.

She is not so unfeeling as to wish a joyless life on the man who just wasn’t correct for her.

Her teeth grits with all the things unsaid. “I hope you’ll be happy.” She smiles lightly. He thinks her to be referring to the engagement that stands between them.

“I’m sure.” He comments. “Goodnight.” Is his curt response.

It doesn’t incense her. Tonight it vexed her. Caused a tiny crease between her brows. It seemed such fickle words to part on. But she leaves them be-

Let’s those words spirit up into the quiet undisturb of the night. The heavens can have those words. Iris wishes it could have been more. But how appropriate is it that even his parting words are found wanting.

She gets into the coach after curtseying a polite goodbye to Brendol and Maratella. She says something sweet to Iris about her singing. Iris cringes a smile. She won’t be thinking such good things about her shortly. She imagines she’ll curse her name for all of hell and heaven to hear. She’ll wake the sleeping dead cursing the day Iris was born.

Iris thanks her. For her hospitality. For her kindness. Under all her airs and graves, she’s a fairly nice woman and she should find a more amicable daughter-in-law to crow over.

She slots herself into the coach beside her sisters. Listens to the door slam shut. The rattle and crunch of it shifts on the gravel. Rumbled away up the long elegant curve of the drive.

Iris twists to look back. She isn’t sure why she wanted too. But they weren’t a dismal family. And she’s sorry for the pain and offence she’ll cause to them all.

She watches Hux’s stiffly-posed, regimented figure. Shadowed against the night. The scarlet of his blood coat. The ice white of his breeches stained blue, glowing in the night. The stars glimmer off his shining boots and off the pierce of his pale eyes. She wishes him well. She truly does.

They trundle on home. Full of food and as usual with Posy and Flora spouting gossip on and on endlessly. Mother chiming in. Father and Iris retain their silence. Eyes cross firing in a glance when they all agree on something cruel and senseless.

Westwell’s windows emerge gold out the dark. Surrounded by the bustling trees. All of the landscape is merely dark moulded shapes. Looming and shifting in the shadows. The moon casts washy film of silver to try and spill over the cover of smeared clouds.

They are just to the drive when a small dark shape flits overhead. Iris looks upwards, and sees the definable shape of a bird landing on her windowsill. She smiles giddily.

She exits the coach quick. Bidding them goodnight and rushing off up to her room. Her skirts picked up in her hands. Mama remarks how odd it is. Posy shrugs and supposes she’s got a secret missive to read from Hux.

Iris absolutely flies for her door. Twists the handle and launches herself in the room. Shutting the door firmly after herself. Pressing it with both hands flat to the wood.

The warmth of the fire hits her. She doesn’t even pay mind to the tiny crack of her open window. Or her swaying curtains that shift on the breeze.

She can only focus on the huge frame of a dashing vampire stood fireside. One elbow resting on the mantel as he gazes into the flames.

His big frame swallows up the whole room and strangled out all the air. The ochre of the blazing flames captured his skin. Turned that milky-cream of his complexion into pale fire.

She smiles and he does too. “Thank goodness it’s you. I was worried I’d scare seven shades out of your maid.” He drawls softly so his voice doesn’t carry. Smirk curling at the corners.

She crosses the distance. Her feet eat up the floorboards quick. She avails herself of an embrace. Throws herself into his arms.

The cloak of his fire warmed clothing envelopes her as his arms do. He smells like the damp snap of frosty woodland and the acid tang of woodsmoke. The night air of wild outdoors clings to every inch and fibre of his clothes. Swirls about him like a clouding tempest.

He chuckles as she gets herself in his hold. The deep bass of his voice rumbled through her skin and sinking to her bones. Her cheek mashed to his sternum. His arms close around her. Stroking her body through the rasping silk of her dress.

One big warmed hand clasps the back of her neck as the other holds the back of her waist. His nose nudges into the crush of her muddy hair. Her scent teases him just as much as his had, to her. Lavender and sage. The plain spice and calm floral scent.

“I could feel the happiness pouring off you as you alighted the stairs.” He smiles. She steps back and gazed up at him.

“How pretty you look tonight. Dove. You’re exquisite in silk.” He remarks when she steps away. Hand toying with the loose tawny curl at her ear. The sapphire dark of her dress suits her very well. Throws her complexion into brilliance. Does something to make the tones of her hair look rich.

She always looks ravishing to him.

She blushes. “I missed you all day. Isn’t that mad?” She asks.

“If missing is madness, then I’m out of my sane mind whenever you’re not in my sight.” He promises gently.

Big hands cupping her hot silken neck as he leans down to plant a firm, slanting kiss to her lips. His mouth is cold and he tastes of frosty air and wine.

Kissing him is like kissing someone who just stepped inside, taking shelter from a bitter cold wind.

She’s beginning to wonder if there is some clever addiction woven into his lips. One kiss never seems to be enough. She holds his wrists as he grabs her. Makes her feel small in his arms. She’s lost in his hold. It’s powerfully thrilling.

He breaks the kiss and his thumbs stroke at her cheeks. Her eyes glitter keenly at him. He spies the ring on her finger. The one that doesn’t belong there. It makes him smile.

“I’d like to surmise you snuck in here just to steal a kiss. But I suspect a different motive altogether?” She asks.

He broke into a grin that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a smile. She was no thoughtless woman; his darling Iris.

She’s always thinking. Always fretting. Always mulling over things in her head.

That was one of the first things that that came to his notice about her. She tended to be introspective about all manner of things in comparison to her acetous mother who spewed vile words. And her daft sisters who spouted out their every dangerously silly thought.

He kisses her for that clever remark- slow and paced and soft. Languid like melting warm honey. Lips curling to hers.

“I do have some news. But kissing you will always my first priority.” He husks against her rosy lips. Her warm cheeks blaze from under his icy fingers.

“The date is set. We must leave tomorrow eve.” He tells her with a smirk.

Her stomach completely soars in giddiness. She doesn’t have to hide her grin here.

“It feels as if I’ve been waiting at eternity to hear those blessed words.” She cries in happiness.

“Slip away to me after everyone’s gone to bed.” He instructs. She agrees.

“Mother has been pleased with my conduct of late. She’ll have let her guard down over tonight. I’ll leave once everyone is abed. Even the maids.” She tells him.

Stroking her fingers down the finery of his waistcoat where they’re still stood close to each other. The material was so soft. The softest grain of velvet she’s ever felt.

“You don’t have to bring too much. I can buy you everything you may ever need.” He leers. Cupping her cheek. Feeling the smooth of her skin. Right up her jaw.

His eyes carve flinty paths down her neck as he strokes his fingers there. Her pulse quickens. He can feel and hear her blood slushing hot through her veins.

She shrugs. “I cherish very few possessions. Posy and Flora can have the rest.” She insists. Her hand coming up to stroke over his thick crook of elbow with the hand that’s touching her neck.

He drags the edge of the chemisette down and strokes along the flat of her collarbone. His eyes turn into a palette of bittersweet autumn. Orange and gold swirled with flecks of russet brown.

“Is it difficult?” She asks suddenly.

“Restraining from the need to...” Her face fixed on his. Words trailing away. Air bursting with heat and lust. His eyes snap from her neck to her face. Her cheeks bloom rose petal red. Blood red and hot.

“To feed?” He asks her. She swallows and nods.

His other hand catches the back of her hips reels her right in close. She gasps. Air around them thick and full of snapping sparking static. Her hands press to his cavernous chest.

“I have got several hundred years of restraint up my sleeve.” He crooks a smirk.

His eyes flicker to watch her jugular pulse. The thrum of her little timpani heart makes his mouth wet. He knows she’d taste like salt and sickly Turkish roses and warm bronze coins.

He presses the chemisette aside again and nudges his nose against her pulse point. Right at the epicentre of his life’s greatest desire. He hums a kiss against her neck and she almost faints-

“You shake all those very hard learnt lessons right down to their very foundations.” He promises.

“Iris my love, you are the hardest thing, I’ve ever had to resist.” He tells.

Swooping upwards to kiss at her cheek. Sighing in need against her hot warm skin. If he indulges the temptation of tasting her blood. He doesn’t even want to fathom what the raw animal in him will do to her. Such debauchery he’d surely scandalise her innocence to tipping point.

He will have her on their wedding night and not a second before.

Though the rogue in him does think how goddamn glorious it would be to have her on that bed of hers right now, torn out of that gown. Screeching his name for the whole house to hear. And they can listen to her rapture and whimper, and beg and writhe under the man who really does love her.

Bite her neck as he pumps deep into her slick heat. Gather up every groan as she opens those sweet pink thighs for him and claws at his back. He’d kiss her neck until she yanks her fingers into his hair and tugs. Opens that sweet songbird mouth and calls for him in her bliss, with that ambrosial voice.

He holds the backs of her hips and strokes the silk there with arcing curves of his thumbs. Drawing shapes on that stiff silk.

“I must tell you-“ She starts. “I never was much good at resisting you either. Even after knowing what you are. It shocked me I won’t deny. But it somehow in its twisted way, it made all the sense in the world. It didn’t alter me for my knowledge of it. It didn’t even begin to change the severity my feelings for you.” She tells him. Reaching up and stroking along the handsome plain jaw.

Wholly, un-confinably, remarkably handsome.

“My love-“ He begins warmly. “If I had to, I would throw you over my shoulder to carry you up the aisle to marry me. Even if I had to tear you from your bed and steal you away in the dark of night to be mine. I would have done it. Because this, what we share, it cannot and will never be undone. Can never be ignored.” He promises her.

“Vampires love more deeply than any mortal longing. What I feel for you, it is not fickle. It will never fade. Never wane. We love each other and that will last for as long as we exist on this earth. I thought I had better edify you with these clear facts about my nature, before we are to be bound in matrimony.” He pledges to her. Declaring his undying devotion to her.

Iris rather wants to swoon into his chest - if she had ever been inclined to be a swooning sort of woman. Instead she just beams. A smile so glad it touches the frosty barren place his dead heart inhabited.

“These last few hours will be such a torture.” She comments seriously. But giddy. So giddy it felt like her sides would split open. And molten happy gold would pour out.

His eyes turn promiscuous. As does his domineering smile.

“I can safely offer you nothing but pleasure once the torture is done.” He filthily promises.

She blushes. He wants to lift her up and devour her in a kiss again. Taste those saccharine sweet lips in an animalistic kiss. He savours holding her instead.

Tomorrow he can let the animal roam free over his delicate dove. Tonight is the last night it must be caged.

“Not long to wait now. The last of my household servants left today. I sent Jomar and Jones off to London to make passage to France. Erland and Kana remain to take us to Scotland with one driver, and the coach.” He tells.

She liked that he’s bringing Erland to their elopement. It’s quite fitting when the creature loves her almost as much as he does.

“Then it’s just us. Riding into the wild of the Highland. Roaming over the Scottish moors, and glens and lochs, as a Lord and his Lady.” He paints a vivid picture for her.

She sighs a smile. “Us, has never sounded so splendid.” And she beams brighter than the sun.

He clutches her close for another kiss before he slips away.

The appointed hour loometh. And Iris won’t sleep a wink for thinking of his sharp smile or those savage eyes.

She eventually dreams. And thinks of kissing his soft plush lips once more. Like kissing pink rose petals.

The next time she will, they’ll be well on their way to being man and wife.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #vampire au #vampire!kylo #vampirelovestory #very wolves and doves #adam driver #Iris vibes 🕊#Draegan vibes 🥀#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #more swooning #secret lovers

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natural-namjoon · 4 years ago

Text

Ｎｅｎ

“What happens when a small child runs off into the forest and runs into the sweet but mysterious Hongjoong who can make rain with his flute?.”

Ateez as Gods AU

Non- Romantic Hongjoong X OC, Seonghwa is there too.

Fantasy, mystical, no romance

TW// Non-graphic Death, mentions of child abuse, mild angst.

Word Count: 5,139 words

*AN: short one-off that might become a series. idk yet. I wanted to do something different, I felt huge writers block from only writing romantic y/n stories so this is me trying to write something different. Its a cute little one shot of ethereal Hongjoong saving a cute little boy, very sweet, very simple, please enjoy.*

The morning air was warm and dry, the sky was bright blue with no clouds to be seen, which left the sun blazing on a small village nestled upon a densely forested hill. In that village there was a small boy who was about 6 years old who, told to stay inside and finish his chores, decided he was done for the day and with sneaking caution he peeked his small head out of the opening of the hut looking out for a scolding grown-up that might be headed his way, but there was currently no one in sight. Almost all of the adults in the village had been called to a council of the elders that morning because there had been talk of a curse on the land, the village had seen no rain for almost a year and the crops were suffering and food storages were dwindling, if the spirits couldn’t help them they would be forced to leave and make the dangerous journey of finding a new place to settle.

After a few moments of looking around the child decided it was safe enough to venture out. He knew it was forbidden and he knew he could incur the wrath of his father like so many times before but there was a restless longing that had been tugging at the small child’s mind all that morning. With no hesitation the boy made a break for the treeline, wanting to explore and look around, he had not been allowed to ever do so and even though the rainless months left the forest in a dry brown state, it was still better than sitting in the stuffy hut.

Treading carefully between the large trees, the child ran until he could no longer see the last few huts that sat on the outskirts of their settlement. After he felt he was far enough the child slowed down and took his time, looking around. The trees were so tall and imposing but not in a scary way. Nothing about the forest had ever scared this child unlike the other kids in the village. This particular little boy always thought of the trees as guardians, tall and passive, shielding him from being seen when father was angry and providing timber and branches for the fires and huts. After a bit of walking the boy came upon a large channel in the ground, dried and empty, no doubt the location of a small stream that had been bountiful about a year before but now, due to the drought, had dried up. Carefully climbing down into the dried stream he noticed a shiny glint in the dirt. With piqued curiosity, the boy ran over and with small determined fingers, he was able to move the dry clay and retrieve a shiny blue stone.

Completely enamored by the beauty of the small rock the boy didn’t hear it at first, the sound was faint and a little off in the distance but after a moment the tune had the child’s ears perked. It was the sound of a flute, there was a lone flute player somewhere in the forest. The tune was soft and slow and playful but in between the notes there was a hint of sadness, the boy felt a pang in his heart as he listened to the sweet melody and with determination he decided he needed to find the lone flute player. With a skip in his step the boy followed their ears and on quick small feet, made his way to find the magical musician.

After a few confusing twists and turns the boy was eventually able to follow the sound in the right direction, as with every passing tree the sound grew louder and soon the child found his way to a small clearing in the woods where two boulders sat, a smaller one sitting within the shadow of the larger one, the boy hadn't even realized how far he had walked, completely leaving the hill that his village sat on and traveling deep into the valley below. At first, the boy didn’t see anything but then he noticed him. A young man sitting in the lotus position on the smaller boulder, eyes closed, playing the flute. As to not draw attention to himself the boy ducked behind a nearby tree. Peeking around to watch the man. The man was thin and pretty, he also looked young, probably no older than the bigger kids back at the village, but there was something about him that made the child feel like he was much older than anyone the boy had ever met. The man was odd-looking as well, his hair was very dirty and covered in what looked like mud or clay, it made it impossible to know what his real hair color was but his appearance only got stranger, he was dressed in clothes the child had never seen before, instead of the furs and skins the child was used to seeing, this man had on long silver and white robes that looked shiny and pretty. Was this material the infamous “silk” that the child had heard so much about? According to the adults, silk was incredibly expensive and people killed for it, only royalty and the extremely wealthy were able to possess it, but this man had dirt in his hair, surely he wasn’t royalty, the boy thought.

While the little boy sat perturbed and lost in thought he didn’t notice the man had stopped playing the flute and was sitting quietly, a small smile on his lips.

“I see you there, little one,” He called, his voice was smooth and sweet, like the sound of wind chimes. Startled, the boy gasped and hid behind the tree, hoping the man hadn’t seen him.

“It's ok Little one, I will not harm you. Did you come because of my song?” He called out playfully to the child again.

After a moment The boy shyly peeked his head out, the man sat and beckoned the boy over, his eyes were narrow and piercing but kind, and his smile was warm, with a perfect set of straight white teeth, sensing no immediate threat the little boy decided to take a hesitant step out of behind the tree. The child made his way over to the boulder where the man sat, his eyes watching cautiously for any signs that the man was a threat but as he got closer he could only feel the warmth of the man’s smile and the welcoming nature of his stance. The only strange thing that struck the child was how bright and blue the man’s eyes were.

The boy stopped right in front of the boulder, looking up at the pretty human before him. Without saying a word the man patted the spot next to him on the boulder, after a moment of hesitation the boy then clumsily climbed up the side of the rock and sat where he had been directed, the shade provided a nice cool spot to sit in the middle of the warm afternoon.

“There, isn’t that better? I’m sure you walked pretty far huh?” The man asked and the child nodded shyly

“My name is Hongjoong, What is yours?” The man, Hongjoong, said extending his hand out to the boy, but the child only stared at his hand with a strange look, after an awkward pause the boy only shook his head and in a small voice he said,

“I have no name.” Hongjoong furrowed his brows in concern but didn’t say anything, instead, reaching in his satchel to retrieve his canteen. Taking off the cap he offered it to the child,

“Here, drink some water, it's awfully warm today.” Without hesitation the boy grabbed the canteen and drank hastily, Hongjoong chuckled at the child's enthusiasm. He figured the child had travelled far since Hongjoong didn't know of any villages in the immediate area , and he figured he was completely alone out there, but he had been wrong.

The canteen was heavy and cool in the boy's hands and the water he drank from it was the coldest and cleanest water the child had ever tasted, it was crisp and sweet and the little boy couldn't get enough, gulping it down like he was cursed with an insatiable thirst.

“Whoa there, slow down or you will get a stomach ache if you drink it all so fast” Hongjoong laughed placing his hand on the canteen.

The boy stopped immediately, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry.” he said quietly, cheeks going pink, he knew that he should’ve been polite and only taken a little, father had taught him better than that. Hongjoongs eyes softened as he helped wipe the dribbling water from the boy’s chin.

“It’s ok, I would just hate it if you fell ill.” Hongjoong explained.

As Hongjoong was cleaning the child's face, the boy had noticed some more details about the kind man in front of him. Hongjoong was beautiful, almost like a woman, with delicate features like soft lips and long eyelashes but his jawline was sharp and his nose prominent like a man. Hongjoong also was adjourned with so many pieces of sparkling jewelry,he would probably have glittered if standing in direct sunlight. Multiple small silver hoops were placed in one ear and a loong delicate chain hung from the other, he also had many thin silver rings sprinkled with small sparkling jewels all over his hands. All signs pointed to Hongjoong being royalty but the boy couldn't get past the hair. Hongjoong noticed the child staring at his hair slicked back with brown clay and laughed his same twinkling laugh, the child couldn't help but smile at the sound.

“My head must look strange to you my little one but it's something I must do the be here,” Hongjoong explained vaguely and before the boy could press it further he held up his flute.

“I was actually in the middle of doing something very important, and I was almost done, do you mind if I finish my song?” he asked, the flute in his hand was beautiful, wooden and polished with intricate carvings, the boy nodded as he marveled at the pretty instrument in Hongjoong’s hand.

With another brilliant smile, Hongjoong silently lifted the flute to his lips and closed his eyes, there was a pause and then the slow yet bouncy notes erupted from the delicate instrument, and the child was entranced. The sound seemed to envelop the clearing and seep into the forest, ringing out for anything with ears to experience. The song was playful but again the boy felt the tugging in his heart like he wanted to cry and burst out laughing all at the same time. After about a minute of silence, the flute being the only sound around them, Hongjoong played the last note of the song, extending it like a cry into the air and then silence followed. Eyes still closed, he placed the flute down on his lap gently. The little boy sat, eyes wide in amazement, he was about to tell Hongjoong how pretty the song had been but before either could speak there was a loud invasive crash that echoed through the sky and shook the ground, causing the child to jump in fright and subsequently into Hongjoongs arms. Then out of nowhere dark grey clouds rolled in and it started to pour rain from the heavens, letting out a surprised cry the boy leapt from Hongjoong’s embrace and threw his little arms up in amazement,

“ Hongjoong look! It's raining!” The boy laughed, twirling and jumping, feeling the cool touch of rain on his face for the first time in months.

It was the feeling of relief, like swimming in a cold pond on a hot day and knowing his people back in the village won't suffer anymore because of the drought, the small child had never felt this type of joy, and had it not been pouring on them he would have had visible tears. Hongjoong watched the boy, giggling and dancing in the rain and he could feel the child's relief, such an emotional burden this little boy carried, he could feel all the scars this particular child bared and he felt a deep sadness for him. After a bit of dancing and cheering the boy stopped, the rain was pouring harder and the boy was starting to become overwhelmed by the force of the rain.

“Hongjoong I can't see,” The boy said pathetically, trying to wipe the water form his face only for it to be replaced by more rain. Hongjoong chuckled and gathered his things, then lifting this child up into his arms,

“Come my little one lets find shelter until the storm passes.” he said, holding the child close as the boy buried his face into Hongjoong’s silken robes. Hongjoong leapt off the boulder and with a hustle in his step he jogged off into the woods knowing a particular cave nearby where he could put the child until the rain let up. Reaching the cave in no time at all, Hongjoong placed the boy in the back and went to work making a fire. Using a dry handkerchief Hongjoong helped the boy wipe his face and dry his hair. After the boy had all the water wiped off his face he could finally see perfectly, he took a look around the small dry cave, cozy and warm now that it was lit by firelight and then finally the boy really noticed Hongjoong and gasped. The rain had washed the mud and dirt from his head and revealed his hair to be the color of the sea, a deep dark shade of blue, it was beautiful and shined in the fires light,

“Your hair!” the child exclaimed and all Hongjoong did was smile,

“Yes, now you see why I had to cover it up, many people don't like my hair, it frightens them.” He explained. It was true that the blue hair was strange and the boy had never seen anything like it, but it didn't frighten him.

“It's so pretty Hongjoong'' the small boy replied softly, reaching up to touch it without thinking. Hongjoong leaned down and let the child’s small hands gently grasp a long piece that hung in front of his face, the boy smiled at how soft and silky Hongjoong’s hair felt, no tangles or dirt to be seen.

“Hongjoong are you a prince?” the boy asked, letting go of Hongjoong’s hair and looking deep into his blue eyes, again the child was met with Hongjoongs twinkling laughter.

“No child, I am not a prince, where I'm from I don't need to be rich and greedy to live my life, I have 7 brothers and we all live in harmony with the earth and all its creatures,” as he spoke Hongjoong had picked something up off the ground and revealed it to the boy, in his hand was a large lizard, It was black with gold flecks accross its shiny skin. The boy jumped slightly, frightened at how large the reptile was, almost as long as Hongjoong’s forearm but quickly noticed how docile the creature was as it rested lazily in the man's arms.

“It won't hurt you little one, this is a salamander, its ok to say hello. Most of the time earth's creatures are just as curious as you are.” Hongjoong explained, lightly stroking the Salamanders head. The boy followed suit and ran his little fingers over the salamanders head, giggling at the feeling of the creature's cool smooth skin. After the boy finished petting it, Hongjoong gently placed the salamander on the cave floor and it scurried away.

Both of them sat in silence for a bit listening to the sound of the rain, when suddenly Honjoong turned to the child,

“Little one, why do you not have a name?” Hongjoong asked the boy who had started to nod off against the cave wall. The boy shrugged and rubbed his eyes,

“I do not know, my mother and father gave me none, they just call me ‘boy’ and that's it.” The boy shrugged again, not finding the topic all that interesting

“ Are your mother and father nice to you?” Hongjoong asked this time and again the child shrugged,

“My mother and father give me food and father tells me how lucky I am to have a place to sleep, so yes they are nice to me, I guess.” The little boy stayed quiet in thought for a moment then spoke again

“My mother is going to have a baby, I will soon have a brother or sister who will follow mother and fathers orders better than me. I can never do anything right so father has to punish me a lot. I try hard but I wasn't born a good child and my mother says that this baby will be born good so they won't need me anymore.” The boy mumbled out the last sentence, his eyes downcast as he picked at some dirt on the cave floor.

Hongjoong shook with the rage he felt in his heart at the child's words, what he had suspected from the beginning had been true and he knew he never wanted this small boy to suffer again. No child deserved such a fate, to be born to parents who could not see what a valuable and beautiful gift children were. Composing himself before the boy could see his anger Hongjoong sighed and reached out move the hair from the boy's face, tangled and dirty it was currently a mess on his head.

“Little one, may I have the honor of giving you a name?” Hongjoong spoke softly and the boy's eyes widened like saucers.

“ Really, you can do that?” the boy asked incredulously, Hongjoong giggled at the pure innocence the child exuded,

“Yes I can or if you like you can pick your own name, it's your choice.” At Hongjoongs words the boy's face looked as if he told him that pigs could fly. After a moment of thinking the child made up his mind.

“ I want you to choose for me, please?” and with that Hongjoong smiled back and grabbed the child gently placing him on his lap, it was starting to get cold, so hongjoong wrapped them both in a spare silk robe he had, the boy laid his head on Hongjoongs shoulder relaxing in his loving embrace. After another moment of silence and thinking on Hongjoong’s part he finally spoke.

“I've travelled to many lands vastly different from this one and I've met many people who look very different from me and even you, and I've heard many different languages spoken. Based on what I've learned through all my years on this planet I think I have the perfect name for you little one” Hongjoong explained. The boy was almost trembling with excitement

“What is it?! What is it?!” The boy asked impatiently, Hongjoong looked down on the small boy, so young and not deserving of all that he been handed from the cruel world, and he smiled

“I'd like to give you the name Nen. It comes from a far away land called Egypt and it means ancient waters and like those waters you are strong, brave and resilient and more beautiful than anyone cares to realize. I haven't known you long sweet child but I feel like this name is perfect for you, if you will have it.” The boy looked up into Hongjoons eyes, searching for any sign he was lying or could at any moment take what he said back, but all he could find in Hongjoong’s deep sea blue eyes was love and acceptance, two things the boy knew little of.

“Thank you…” was all the boy breathed before he buried his face into Hongjoongs chest and cried, he cried out of joy and relief and happiness, finally he had a name, finally he might actually be worthy enough to be called a good child.

“My name is Nen. “ the boy cried and Hongjoong held him tighter, fighting the urge to cry himself. After calming down they sat together in silence as the rain outside continued to pour, Nen feeling warm and protected in Hongjoong’s arms.

“Nen would you like me to accompany you back to your village when the rain stops?” Hongjoong asked, curious to see what the child would say,and almost as if without thinking Nen spoke quickly and honestly.

“I don't want to go back..” was all he could reply, Hongjoong pondered for a second before he responded, testing the waters.

“Would you like to come home with me? The place I come from, there are other people there with me and my brothers, other children and grown-ups who were treated unfairly in their old lives. We welcomed them to our home and they came with us to find peace and happiness because where we live, there is no sadness or pain and if you really would like too, you can come with me too.” Nen sat up to look into Hongjoongs face again, trying to find any hints that he was kidding or fooling him but again Nen found no trace of badness or malice in Hongjoong’s eyes and for the 3rd time that day Nen cried,

“Yes! Please, Hongjoong I want to go live with you and meet your brothers and all the other nice people, Please!” Nen cried and Hongjoong held the weeping boy again laughing at his display of joy.

“Ok my dear Nen, we shall go once the rain passes, but that might not be for a while, so you should sleep. Would you like me to play you a song to help you sleep?” Hongjoong asked, arranging the spare robes he had into a makeshift bed with Nen resting his head on Hongjoong’s lap.

“Yes please.” Nen snuggled up into the robes, getting comfy and excited at the idea of hearing Hongjoong play again.

After Nen became comfortable, Hongjoong wasted no time bringing his flute to his lips and playing a soft slow lullaby, sure to help the child sleep. Nen very quickly felt like he was drifting, the soft sound of the flute mixed with Hongjoongs scent coming off the robes- rain and tea leaves- lulled the boy and soon he drifted off into a deep sleep. All of Nens fears and worries would be forgotten, all the pain he experienced would be like it never happened, Nen would be reborn and forget what suffering and neglect even felt like. Hongjoong would be there though to guide little Nen into his new life and he vowed to take care of the child for as long as Nen needed. The last thing Nen remembered was dreaming of colors, bright and warm. They welcomed him to a new beginning, there were other people like Hongjoong had said,with smiling faces and welcoming arms and behind those people stood 7 men all various heights, dressed in multi colored robes like Hongjoong wore and each man had bright hair colors, they were Hongjoong’s brothers. Nen, feeling a little frightened at first, slowly relaxed and walked into the bright picture ahead letting his short life go and forgetting it all together, this was joy, this was love and this was peace. Just as Hongjoong had said. Nen really didn't understand where he was but he was happy and that's all that mattered.

Hongjoong waited until he finished his song to check the child, once it was over the boy had stilled, his pulse stopped. Every time he did this the people he took always slipped after the first few notes but he always finished the song as a way to honor those who made the journey from this life to the afterlife. Almost like a eulogy in the form of a song. Once he put his flute away he stood and gathered Nen’s small body in his arms. Fixing the boy's hair and wiping any dirt he had on his face. Out of the Corner of his eye Hongjoong saw the salamander form earlier crawl out from a gap in the wall. Hongjoong rolled his eyes, turning away from the creature.

“I figured you had left. I know this wasn't exactly what I had planned but Nen found me in the middle of nowhere, that's not a coincidence” He turned back and in the Salamanders place stood a man, tall and ethereal, just as beautiful as Hongjoong but with stronger, shaper features and long black hair draped languidly over his broad shoulders. The other man stood and narrowed his almond eyes at Hongjoong

“You said you weren't going to take sacrifices anymore, what changed? Brother.” the man spoke in a deep voice and Hongjoong sighed,

“Seonghwa I know you heard what Nen told me, you heard about the life he has had to face at only 6 years old, I'm sorry I wasn't going to just take Nen back to that village. You can say it’s their sacrifice for the rain but I don't regret my decision.” Hongjoong explained sternly.

Seonghwa said nothing as he walked over to Hongjoong and Nen, black and gold robes flowing behind him, gently he reached out and placed a hand on the child's head, feeling the same sadness that hongjoong felt for the poor boy.

“I know Hongjoong, I heard everything and I probably would have done the same thing but now the village will think that our kindness comes with a price, we are trying to show the mortals we are benevolent Gods and we are not to be feared. Once they find Nen’s body they will know that you took him as payment for the rain.” Seonghwa explained grabbing a piece of Nen’s hair to show it turning silver, a common trademark of the people who were sacrificed to the Sky God. With each victim of a God, there are signs or ways to know which deity had been present and for Hongjoong, God of the heavens and sky, it's the hair turning silver or white.

Hongjoong didn't say anything, he understood where his brother was coming from, he and his brothers all tried to work with humanity and help them in any ways they could and they wanted to show the humans that they can help without needing sacrifices and bloodshed, Hongjoong had heard the prayers from the people who lived in the drought stricken area and he fully intended to give them the rain without payment but he couldn't leave the boy, Hongjoong knew Nen was better off, he had to believe Nen living forever in paradise would be better than staying on earth and continuing to be abused.

Without saying another word to his brother, Hongjoong took the child and exited the cave, making his way back to where Nen’s village was. He could be on the outskirts of the village in the blink of an eye but he decided to walk and take his time, needing to come to terms with his own selfish act. A part of him didn't regret taking Nen but the other part of his soul knew that he had acted rashly and basically robbed Nen of his life. The child wouldn't be able to grow up and experience life, he would forever be a child. Humans were destructive and evil creatures, born with greed in their hearts but not all of them grew to be monsters, if he had let Nen live would Nen had grown to be a monster like his father or grow to become someone important who would have made great changes in his community or was it all futile seeing as though Nen could just as easily died at the hands of his father. This division of what was right versus what was needed tore Hongjoong apart,he messed up but he had to take solace in the fact that regardless of everything that's happened, Nen was happy now. Hongjoong could feel Nen’s joy and he knew the child waited for him to come home. Hongjoong had finally found his way to the hill the village sat upon and stopped in front of the stream that sat in the outskirts of the village, it had previously been a dried up channel in the dirt but because of the rain it was full and thriving all over again. With gentle hands he laid the child face up in the shallowest part of the stream, upon first glance it looked as if the child had just fallen asleep in the water but the pale skin and silver hair were indicators that the child had been taken by the sky deity.

In their world, gods were real and every human knew that although the humans both worshiped and feared the Gods. All Hongjoong ever wanted was peace on the planet but for centuries, humans always seemed to stand in the way, abusing the land and creatures, taking more than needed and killing each other because of greed and malice and he had always felt that it would get worse. Hongjoong wanted things to change, that's why he and his brothers swore to help the humans so there would be no fear and finally the gods could coexist with the humans, that was why the humans were created right? Hongjoong didn't really remember how or why humans were created and he honestly didn't even remember how he himself was created, it had been a few millenniums, but he always wondered why he was created, was it to be worshipped as a higher being or did he silently wish to be like the humans. Hongjoong didn't know and he felt like all he did was spend his time trying to figure it out. It didn't help that his own brothers did not share his views, the majority of them taking their place as gods who, though benevolent, were to be worshiped by the humans and they saw themselves as superior in every way. He led them well though he couldn't change their attitudes.

“Come Hongjoong, Nen is waiting for you back home with the others.” Seonghwa said softly,having followed Hongjoong to return Nen to his village.

Seonghwa had stood watching over his brother and leader, as the blue haired god stood at the stream's edge, deep in thought. All hongjoong could do was nod, long blue hair falling over his face. He felt a twinge in his gut, he knew things would get worse, but hopefully only because it would eventually get better. The sound of men approaching the stream could be heard close by and the two ethereal beings retreated silently into the forest, wishing silently for a better tomorrow.

#hongjoong fanfic #kim hongjoong #ateez au #natural-namjoon works #ateez angst #non romantic #non romantic ff #no romance #kim hongjoong x OC #ateez as gods

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gimmesumsuga · 6 years ago

Text

Of Chivalry and Seduction

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x reader

Word count: 10K

Warnings: Vaginal fingering, unprotected sex. It’s fairly vanilla for me, really...

An ever-so-slightly early Happy Birthday to @readyplayerhobi ! I hope you love it ^^

“Sir Hoseok, how long is it you intend for us to stay?”

A smile tugging at his lips, Hoseok looks down to his Squire from atop his horse.

“For as long as Lord Kim is willing to tolerate us, I expect,” the knight replies in good humour and Jungkook smiles happily from where he walks on a few paces ahead, reins in hand. This is by no means their first visit, and Jungkook knows as well as anyone that Kim Taehyung would likely never let them leave if he had his way.

The journey from Hoseok’s homeland to that of his noble friend’s is by no means arduous but it is long, and after three days worth of riding he can think of nothing better than sitting in front of a nice warm fire, a stomach full of mead and a bed that consists of more than a pile of woollen blankets on cold and sodden ground.

“They're expecting us,” Jungkook observes, pointing ahead to the plume of smoke rising on the horizon from one of the houses many fireplaces. “I can’t wait to get into the warm; I swore last night my very blood had frozen stiff.” Hoseok makes agreeable humming noises as Jungkook continues to chatter idly, his steps echoing those of his horse’s hooves, and it’s only as they gradually emerge from the forest’s treeline that his Squire falls silent, the clay and timber walls of their destination such a welcome sight that Hoseok can already feel his spirits lifting with anticipation.

“Kim Namjoon!” The stablemaster’s head shoots up at the sound of Hoseok’s shout and when he sees them approaching his left hand rises to wave a greeting from where he’s stood in the centre of the courtyard, the reins of a young chestnut filly clenched in his right.

“Sir Hoseok!” he hails as he walks towards them. He smiles broadly and bows from the waist once they meet, addressing Hoseok first and then Jungkook second, nodding his head. Jungkook bows in turn to his elder. “We worried you’d come upon some misfortune along the way.”

“Nothing more than we could handle.” Namjoon nods at Hoseok’s dismissal of their concerns, his gaze falling on Jungkook.

“I’ve no doubt.” His tone is warm - his look fond - and Hoseok has to hold back a laugh at the sight of his Squire’s cheeks turning pink and his eyes lowering to the floor.

If there’s anyone or anything that can make Jungkook blush, it’s Kim Namjoon and his illustrious dimples. He does so at least ten times every time they visit, and for weeks after they leave all his Squire can ever talk about is the things the older boy has have taught him - not that Jungkook will acknowledge it whenever Hoseok might point it out, mind you.

He dismounts his horse without further delay as Jungkook keeps him steady, wincing as he attempts to stretch out the stiffness of his limbs.

“Shall I stable him for you?” Namjoon asks, offering to take the reins from Jungkook’s hand as the filly next to him playfully bobs and nods her head.

“N-no,” Jungkook stutters quickly, his head snapping up. “I can do it.”

“Let Master Kim handle him, Jeon.” Hoseok understands his Squire’s desire to seem independent and capable but it would seem ungracious to reject the stablemaster’s kind offer, and after glancing at the knight and seeing Hoseok’s pointed look, Jungkook finally relinquishes the reins of large black creature into Namjoon’s capable hands - albeit somewhat reluctantly. “See to my belongings,” he instructs, taking off his leather riding gloves finger by finger and then depositing them into Jungkook’s waiting hands, “And then return to assist Master Kim with whatever he may ask. Do your best.”

“Yes Sir,” the two men reply in tandem, each taking a bow. Hoseok pretends not to notice the way their eyes both meet as they straighten but smiles to himself as he walks away, confident that Namjoon will make sure the younger man works hard and stays out of trouble.

As he climbs the steps that lead up to the entranceway of Taehyung’s home Hoseok knocks his boots against the steps to rid them of the layer of mud coating their soles, loathe to tread the mess inside. He reaches the last step just in time to see the front door swing open wide and at the sight of a familiar figure stepping through it with arms spread open wide Hoseok laughs happily, rushing forward into the embrace that awaits him.

“My friend!” Lord Kim merrily exclaims as his arms encircle the Knight and pull him close, chest to chest and cheek to cheek. “It’s been far too long since I saw you last!”

“It has, my Lord,” Hoseok agrees as the young Lord finally releases him, happiness moulding Taehyung’s supple mouth into the same box-shaped smile he’s possessed since they were small.

“You know I care little for such formality,” Taehyung says with a dismissive wave of his hand at Hoseok’s use of his title, “From you, at least.” He steps back from the doorway, ushering his friend inside. “I’ve had the fires lit and your room prepared. Are you hungry?” Taehyung talks just as quickly as Hoseok remembers, barely pausing for a reply as he leads him from the entrance hall. Hoseok follows after him obediently, admiring the rich deep purple of Taehyung’s tunic as he walks ahead with a bounce in his step. It’s an impractical colour choice, certainly (most of Hoseok’s own garments are far plainer; all greens and browns and beige), but Taehyung has never cared much for the practicalities of life. Born into a wealthy and well-respected family, he’s had no need to.

“I could certainly eat,” Hoseok confirms, and as they enter Taehyung’s dining room in which a long dining table seats and a large fire crackles, his extravagant friend clicks his fingers at the serving girl stood in waiting. She scurries off as they take their seats, Hoseok trying not to wince once more at the lingering ache in his buttocks.

“You look well,” Taehyung observes, his deep brown eyes surveying the Knight up and down in the seat he’s chosen, closest to the fire.

“As do you.” He speaks honestly, no need for flattery between such lifelong friends. “Tell me the news; you must surely have plenty to share since last we spoke.”

Needing no further encouragement, Taehyung launches into an epic tale of all the recent comings and goings of the lands over which he resides; the glorious summer just passed and the bounty of the harvest that followed. Their food arrives whilst the young Lord is still in mid-flow and the leg of rabbit placed in front of him has Hoseok’s mouth near watering at the sight of it; the hard cheese and slices of apple at its side an added bonus.

“Ale?” Taehyung suddenly asks, grabbing the Knight’s waning attention. Ever since the food had arrived Hoseok had had some trouble focusing on whatever it was that was being said, to be frank.

“You know me too well,” Hoseok smiles, crunching down on a crisp slice of apple as Taehyung once again clicks his fingers in mid-air to summon service.

As is proper, the serving girl attends to her Lord first and foremost, and to be honest, Hoseok doesn’t even really think to pay you mind until ale is suddenly spilling across the table in front of him and onto his plate, spreading rapidly towards his lap.

“Forgive me!” you gasp, and as Hoseok abruptly pushes his chair back and rises out of harm’s way you rush to correct your mistake, dabbing up the mess you’ve made with your apron. “M-my apologies, Sir. My lord. I- P-please, forgive me.” With strands of hair falling across your face as you frantically right his fallen tankard Hoseok’s gaze is drawn to your heated cheeks, and when you finally straighten to face him he’s caught off guard by appealing you are in spite of the terror in your eyes.

“Worry not,” he finds himself saying, gesturing down the length of his figure to display that he’s still dry. Your gaze follows the path of his hand and somehow you seem to grow even further embarrassed when your eyes meet again, quickly looking away as you dip your head and bow. “No harm was done.”

Behind you, Taehyung rests with his chin in the palm of his hand and mirth twinkling in his eyes.

“You might do well to fetch the Knight a new meal, though,” he says in good humour, “One that’s still dry.” You spin on the spot with a start to face your employer, almost as though you’d forgotten he was there.

“Oh!” You pick up Hoseok’s plate quickly, dipping repeatedly as you back away from the table in the direction of the kitchens. “Yes. Yes, of course.” You turn on the spot and scurry away as fast as you can, unaware of the way Hoseok keeps his eyes on you until he can no longer, your figure disappearing around a corner out of sight.

He sits back down, shuffling his chair back toward the table as Taehyung finishes pouring the ale he’d so been looking forward to. Thankfully, there’s plenty left despite the spill. The two men bring their tankards together and toast to their good health before Hoseok takes his first sip, and it’s with a deep sigh of satisfaction that he places his drink back down on the table and licks his lips free of lingering foam.

You return just a moment later with Hoseok’s fresh plate held in both hands and your gaze fixed on your feet. You mumble apologies again as you put it down, and try as he may to catch your eye before you leave - eager to learn their colour - you seem to steadfastly avoid looking his way. A pity - he’s sure they’d be just as pretty as you are to behold.

“Her face is unfamiliar,” Hoseok comments whilst chewing his first mouthful, a fresh leg of rabbit held in both hands. He’d like to sound nonchalant but unfortunately, Taehyung knows him far too well to believe his statement to be entirely innocent and he looks up, a smile tugging at his lips as his jaw works to chew.

“It would be,” Taehyung replies having washed down his mouthful with another swig of ale. “Her service was offered to me in place of her father’s debts,” he explains. “The King’s increase in taxation has caused much hardship - bountiful harvest or not.”

Hoseok hums sympathetically at the frown that appears on his friend’s face. Though Taehyung was born blessed with riches he was cursed with a large heart as well, and as such, the Lord has always found it troublesome to witness the suffering and woes of those less fortunate than himself. Too often has he offered up some of his own wealth in their place, and though others of similar standing might call him a fool for doing so, Hoseok has always admired him for it.

“She’s a fine one to look at.” Taehyung chuckles at Hoseok’s statement, his one cheek puffed out from the great bite of bread he’s just taken.

“That she is.”

“You’ve noticed?” Hoseok’s eyebrows rise and Taehyung gives him a sideways look, corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

“You know I’ve never held much of a fondness for skirts,” he grins and Hoseok laughs as Taehyung leans back in his seat, one hand rested casually on his stomach. “But I still have eyes.”

The knight nods as he chews, the ache in his stomach on its way to being sated with each mouthful of spiced and tender meat he swallows down. No doubt you’ll cross each other’s paths again during his stay, and if that should be so then Hoseok won’t turn down the chance to get to know you better.

“In any case, let’s not dwell on talk of your passing fancies,” Taehyung grins, “We’ve far more pressing matters to discuss than the fairer sex, my good friend.”

***

The pressing matter, it’d turned out, was nothing more than Taehyung’s burning desire for a hunt. For as long as Hoseok can remember it has a been a tradition for them to do so during his each and every visit, and this occasion is no exception. At the break of dawn three days after his arrival their small party had headed out into the forest on horseback, Taehyung and Hoseok leading the charge and Namjoon and Jungkook to the rear, conversing jovially back and forth.

Although tiresome, the trip had proved fruitful; Jungkook sharing the journey home with a young deer that Hoseok had brought down with his bow and many arrows; numerous rabbits hanging from each of the saddlebags of Namjoon’s horse. Even their pockets had been stuffed to the brim with all the edibles they could find - a bounty fit for a king. Each man had returned with a smile on his face and a song in their heart; an enjoyable day had by all.

“What a feast!” Taehyung exclaims, clapping his hand against Hoseok’s shoulder as they re-enter the manor. They take the tradesman’s entrance to avoid dirtying the floors unnecessarily, Namjoon and Jungkook walking in front, carrying the deer carcass between them towards the kitchens. “Tonight, we eat like Kings!”

“I look forward to it,” Hoseok smiles, laying his arm across Taehyung’s shoulder and ruffling the younger lord’s hair affectionately. “Though I feel as though I should take to my bed rather than the dinner table." Though he’d thought his body recovered from the long journey here, as soon as he’d mounted his horse those muscles had once again begun to cramp in protest. Even now, his thighs are aching with every step.

“Then go rest. I’ve had a fire prepared in your room and a bath for you to soak,” Taehyung tells him with a warm smile and Hoseok’s eyebrows rise at this new information, coming to a pause. The chance to wallow in a nice, warm bath is a luxury he can’t often afford, so he deeply appreciates his friend’s kind gesture. On witnessing Hoseok’s obvious enthusiasm at the thought Taehyung’s smile grows. “You’ll feel a new man in no time.”

“You treat me too kindly.”

“It’s no trouble,” he assures his older friend, “What’s mine is yours, after all.” With a parting smile and a pat of Hoseok’s shoulder, Taehyung takes his leave.

The matter of climbing the stairs proves rather a more difficult task than Hoseok would like thanks to the soreness of his limbs, but step by step he eventually reaches the top with a groan and a grimace. After so many years of riding, you’d think his body would surely be used to it. Perhaps this is the price to pay for growing older; Jungkook never seems to have such troubles.

Hoseok can already feel the heat coming from inside his room before he’s even stepped inside, and there’s a smile on his face as he unlatches the door and imagines how blissful it will feel to sink into such warmth. It’s smile that grows even wider when the scene that greets him is that of you busily preparing the long soak that awaits him; a light sheen of sweat across your brow as you frown with the effort that it takes to lift the pail of water that’s been heating on the fire and transfer it to the nearby tub.

You don’t even realise his presence at first, occupied as you are, and Hoseok’s glad of the opportunity to stand and watch you work for a little while, leaning his body against the doorway and folding his arms across his chest, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You’re humming quietly as you work, singing the odd word here and there in blissful ignorance of the gaze that’s traversing your body, appreciating your form.

You’re a beauty to behold - truly, you are. Hoseok hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since the first moment he saw you - not now, not then, not in the days that have passed in between - and over time he’s become increasingly fond of you, from the little about you he knows. You’re always polite, well-presented and eager to please despite how hopelessly clumsy you may be, tripping over your feet and banging your elbows into doorways with nary a complaint.

You’re shy, too. He’s certain of that. Despite his persistence in trying to have your eyes meet you’ve continually shied away from his looks and his smiles, your gaze dropping to the floor and your cheeks aflame with heat. At first, he’d worried that perhaps his interest in you had been unwanted until he’d begun to catch you staring whenever he’d subtly glance your way. Moreover, your lack of coordination seems to be all the more severe in his presence; too flustered to simply put one foot in front of the other or pay proper attention to wherever it is you’re going.

The conversation he’d overheard between you and another of the serving girls had also helped put his mind at rest. Passing through the kitchens late one night in search of food he’d heard the sound of your voice and been unable to resist its draw, lingering outside the larder door to listen in on whatever it was you were giggling about. His chest had tightened when he’d realised it was him you were speaking of, a pleased smirk appearing on his face when you’d relented to your friend’s ceaseless questioning and admitted in hushed tones that yes, you thought he was handsome - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Your friend had begun teasing you immediately after your confession - much to your dismay - and Hoseok had found it very difficult not to let his laughter give him away when insinuations had been made about whether or not he’d invite you to see his lance; perhaps even let you touch it. It was a joke that had amused him thoroughly but had earned your friend an audible slapping amongst squealing laughter.

That had been two nights ago now and the memory of your whispered words of adoration haven’t left Hoseok’s mind since. He’s been waiting for a moment exactly like this one to get you alone and speak to you. Hopefully, he might be able to put you enough at ease that you might actually manage to look him in the eyes and maybe - if luck is on his side - you might even allow him to touch you. Fortune has certainly favoured him enough to bring you here, after all.

You bend low over the side of the wooden tub and the Knight feels something sinful stirring deep down in his gut at the sight of you inadvertently presenting yourself to him; back arched and pert behind rising up in the air as you check the temperature of the water.

Lord, how he aches to touch you.

“Good day,” he greets when he can no longer bear to simply stand and stare, resisting the urge to laugh when the sound of his voice makes you startle, near jumping out of your skin as you straighten. Your mouth hangs open for a second at the sight of him before you promptly snap it shut, looking anywhere but directly at his face as you wipe your hands on your apron, nervous.

“G-good day, Sir Hoseok.” Your stilted reply makes him smile as he closes the door behind him and secures the latch. “Your bath is ready, as my Lord requested.” You dip your head as he walks towards both you and the tub, stepping back for him to take a look inside. The water looks divine, it’s warmth evident by the light steam rising from its surface.

“So I see.” Your eyes dart away again the moment Hoseok looks back at you, your lips pressing together. “You have my thanks.”

Your hands continue wringing at your apron, your head turning even further to the side as you add in a mumble, “I hope it pleases you, Sir,” as though addressing the floor.

“I’m sure it shall,” he reassures you, unable to keep himself from doing so. He wishes he could do more - wishes he could still your fidgeting hands by taking them in his - but it’s enough to see the hint of a fleeting smile on your lips at his kind words.

“Then I’ll take my leave,” you say with a slight curtsey, holding out your skirts and dipping your head, and you’re just a step or two from the door when suddenly Hoseok calls your name. He steps forward, stopping himself from touching you just at the very last moment when you turn and your eyes widen as they focus on his fingers hovering in mid-air, just an inch or so from your arm.

Suddenly Hoseok finds himself just as flustered as he’s seen you become so many times before, swallowing as he lets his arm fall back down to his side.

“I’d be grateful for your assistance,” he quickly begins to explain, “My limbs are so sore from the hunt I’m not sure I’m fit to even undress.” It’s you who’s swallowing now, trepidation evident on your face as you consider the task he’s asking of you, your eyes drifting down his body and back up again before pressing closed for a moment.

He shouldn’t have asked this of you. Although it may hurt to do so, Hoseok knows he’s more than capable of bathing unattended. This an abuse of his station. He shouldn’t-

“Forgive me, I’m sure you have other-”

“It’s alright,” you interrupt, eyes opening, and Hoseok feels all his breath leave him as you meet his gaze for the very first time. “My lord instructed for me to aid you as best I can, so I shall.”

“Thank you,” Hoseok says softly as you approach, your attention turning to the task at hand as the distance between you closes. You lick your lips as your hands lift to approach the laces of his shirt, pausing.

“May I?” Hoseok nods and you very gently pull the knot loose, loosening the collar and exposing more of his chest to your eyes, gaze travelling from left to right as it traces along his collarbones. You don’t seem to be breathing as far as Hoseok can hear, and taking pity on you he performs the next step in your stead, pulling the bottom of his shirt free of his pants with what he hopes is a kind and encouraging smile. Taking hold of its hem, he hears you finally take a gulp of air as you lift it up and over his head to expose his torso, and though he may wince at the way his arms protest at the motion he’s almost thankful that it hurt. At least his excuse for having you stay isn’t so much of a lie, this way.

He’d almost forgotten about the scar that mars his left pectoral until he notices you staring at it, and when you realise you’ve been caught looking you quickly lower your gaze, sheepish.

“A jousting injury,” Hoseok says in way of explanation, knowing that you’re too well-mannered to ask the question he knows is on your mind. You glance at it again and then up into his eyes, worrying your lip. “A pointed lance shattered my armour.” Two lines appear between your eyebrows as you frown and it takes a lot of effort for Hoseok not to want to lean down and kiss them away.

“You lost?” you ask and Hoseok smiles, head cocking slightly to the side as his chest inflates with pride.

“No. As his lance broke my opponent fell from his horse.”

“And you did not?” He adores the look of wonderment and admiration he can see in your eyes as you look up at him with a smile curling the bow of your lips.

“No, I did not,” he confirms and as your smile widens, his does too.

There’s a pause between the two of you but it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as perhaps it should for two almost-strangers when stood toe to toe. He sees your gaze lower to his lips but before he can gather the courage to place his hands on your arms and draw you closer, you look down and the tension between you breaks.

“Shall I… remove these, also?” you ask slowly. Your hands reach out towards the tie of his pants and as they go your fingertips brush fleeting against his stomach. Your touch makes his abdominals twitch, blood rushing between his legs.

“Please.” His voice is husky when he speaks, heart pounding within his ribcage as he watches your deft, gentle fingers untie the knot of his pants. Your thumbs slip into their waistband and then you’re carefully sliding them down, sinking to the floor as they go to help him step out foot by foot, and when you look up at him from underneath your lashes Hoseok’s sure you’re going to send him to an early grave, his heart near stopping at the sight of you.

Both of you are well aware that he’s aroused. His hardening length is impossible to miss inside his undergarments and yet you pretend as though you don’t see it, averting your eyes as you rise from the floor, not knowing quite where to look.

“Shall I have these washed for you?” You turn away and begin to neatly fold his clothes, keeping yourself busy.

“Thank you,” he nods, more than a little pleased by the way he can see your hands lightly shaking as you work; your heart thumping so hard that he can see each beat of your pulse as it bounds beneath the delicate skin of your throat. It’s reassuring to know that you’re just as affected as he is, even if it isn’t so outwardly obvious.

Hoseok leaves his undergarments on as he steps into the tub and sinks down into the water. The warmth provides instant respite for his aching muscles and has him groaning with pleasure as he slumps even lower until the surface of the water reaches up to his chin, his eyes falling closed.

“I’ll take my leave if it so pleases you, Sir.” His eyes snap open again when you speak, sitting up a little straighter. You linger unsurely at the side of the bath with his clothes hanging over one arm, that ever-present blush filling your cheeks with colour.

“It would please me more should you stay,” he replies with a smile, lifting one arm out of the water and laying it across the rim of the bath to extend his hand out towards you. “A woman’s touch for my aches and pains.”

Once again Hoseok sees the hesitation in your eyes, noting the way you bite your lip as you look from his hand to his face and then back again. He’s not afraid you’ll reject him anymore, though. You wish to stay just as much as he does, that much is clear.

He sees the motion of a swallow in your throat before you take a deep breath and nod your head just once, short and decisive.

“As you wish.” Hoseok watches keenly as you put aside his clothes, laying them neatly on his bed and then placing your apron with them, his chest tightening as you approach the bath, rolling up your sleeves one by one. You kneel by the side of it and once again it seems as though you’re avoiding his gaze as you reach over the edge and pick up the washcloth that’s floating along the water’s surface. As you wring out the excess water he leans forward, granting you access to his back and shoulders.

“For how long have you been in our Lord Kim’s service?” he asks at the first touch of the cloth against his back where you rub it in gentle circles between his shoulder blades.

“Two months now,” you reply quietly as you dip the cloth back into the water and then press it to his back again, slowly working your way lower. In the quiet of the room with nothing but the gentle splashes of water and crackling of the fire to fill the silence, Hoseok feels almost unnaturally aware of every one of your touches; even more so when he lets his eyes fall closed and his head flop forward. You’re gentle yet firm, and as you start to rub across the breadth of his shoulders - your free hand coming to rest upon his bicep to hold him steady - he feels as though he might be in heaven.

“Are they treating you well?” It takes a great effort for him to keep talking as you ease away the knots that have plagued him for days, biting his lip to resist moaning when you slip the cloth up and around each side of his neck in turn, his head leaning from left to right to make it easier for you.

“Lord Kim is… a little eccentric,” you answer slowly. Hoseok gets the feeling you’re choosing your words rather carefully and it makes him laugh, knowing exactly what it is that you mean. “But he’s been nothing but kind to my family. We’re forever indebted to him, in more ways than one.” Your hands leave him and Hoseok’s eyes automatically open at the loss of your touch, his head turning to seek you out. “Lean back, please,” you prompt politely and the Knight does as you command, shuffling back to sit up straight with his torso twisted to face you.

Tentatively, you bring the cloth to his chest.

“He’s a good man,” Hoseok comments and your eyes briefly flicker up to meet his before darting back down again to the task at hand, front teeth pressing into your lip.

“He is.” The two of you fall silent again as you diligently work and whilst you’re not looking Hoseok’s takes the opportunity to study you. You have the sweetest look while you concentrate; the lightest furrow of your brow. You’ll tilt your head this way and that, showing off the angle of your jaw and the tempting curve of your neck, and more than once Hoseok feels his fingers twitch under the water with the want to reach out and touch you.

Soon enough, it’s almost more than he can stand.

“Tell me,” he begins, his abdominals tensing when you drag the washcloth across them, leaning so close that he can smell the natural scent of your hair; sweet and intoxicating. “Have you a suitor waiting at home? Some handsome young man awaiting your return?” Abruptly your hand stills - caught off guard by his question.

“N-no,” you answer stiltedly, glancing up at him and then straight back down. “Father intended to but…” You trail off, lifting your shoulders, and Hoseok finds himself both a little glad that you never had the chance to be betrothed to someone else but also a little guilty for feeling that way. It’s only having left your home that’d kept that from happening, and it’s obvious from the sudden moisture in your eyes that you must miss the family you left behind.

Unthinkingly, Hoseok places his hand upon your own where it rests against his chest and you startle at the sudden contact, blinking rapidly as you look up in surprise. Your hand feels warm in his and when he squeezes it comfortingly, smiling, you swallow.

“Is there-” You sound a little breathless - even more so when Hoseok reaches out with his free hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear and then lets his palm linger on your cheek, skin soft as silk. “U-uh…” He knows what your own sense of propriety is keeping you from asking. Is he intended for another? Is there a Lady back home to whom he already belongs?

“Would I do this-” Smiling, Hoseok uses his grip on you to gently coax you closer, your eyes widening as the distance closes, “-if my heart belonged to another?”

Helpless to resist you’re drawn against his lips, your eyelids fluttering closed as a first kiss is pressed to the corner of your mouth and a second to your bottom lip, cushioning it between his own. Your mouth is soft and pliant, just like the rest of you, and as you lean into him and begin to return his affections the washcloth drops from your hand into the water with a splash that goes unheard. His left hand joins his right to cradle your face in his palms and wet your cheeks, yet you make no effort to protest against the droplets of water that slide down your neck.

It’s not until Hoseok attempts to coax your lips apart with a brush of his tongue - eager to discover if you taste as sweet as you appear - that you suddenly seem to remember yourself; gasping as you abruptly pull away and out of his grasp.

“S-sir Hoseok,” you sputter out as you stand and back away from the side of the tub, the tips of your fingers pressed to your lips. “Forgive me, please, I- if I gave the wrong impression, I- I mean- Oh lord, forgive me, I never intended to-”

Similarly alarmed by the strength of your reaction, Hoseok finds himself rising to stand within the walls of the bathtub as well, no thought given to closely his wet undergarments cling to his skin as he exits the water.

“Why do you run away?” he asks urgently, frowning at the way you hasten to look elsewhere, shading your eyes to block him from your sight.

“It… this isn’t right,” you explain, flustered, “It isn’t proper. If Lord Kim found out he would-”

“He would what?” Hoseok interrupts with a laugh. His easy-going friend would be more likely to congratulate him on his conquest than ever be angry. He steps out of the tub as you nervously bite your bottom lip, the soles of his wet feet slapping against the floor as he goes. “Do you find me ugly? Have my affections been misplaced?”

The question is a pointless one; you’d be both a fool and a liar to deny your attraction to him. You’re a good girl, though, and rather than speak dishonestly you remain silent and coy, sneaking glances at him from under your eyelashes that are driving Hoseok crazy. He knows your answer anyway; the exaggerated rise and fall of your chest makes it clear.

Watching you - watching the way the blush of your cheeks grows and spreads down your neck and across the top of your chest with every stolen glance you take - Hoseok soon realises what it is you need. You need him to take the lead; to take the responsibility for whatever happens next out of your shaking hands. He needs to make you feel so much that it overwhelms your ability to think so that it makes it that much easier to give in; to succumb to what the both of you so badly crave.

He steels himself, slipping into his knightly persona and letting a seductive smile settle onto his face as he straightens his back.

“I heard you the other night, in the kitchen,” Hoseok says softly, pleased when you sharply look up, eyes wide. He starts to walk towards you and is even further emboldened when you almost take another step back but then falter at the last moment. You hold your ground until he’s stood right in front of you, looking up to meet his gaze as he peers down the length of his nose at you, drawn in by the sweet innocence of your timid expression. “If what you said is true, then you are just as pleasing to my eyes as I am to yours.”

You swallow so hard it’s audible over the crackling of the fire, pressing your lips together, and when Hoseok glances down he sees your skirt fisted in your hands, your knuckles white.

“Were you speaking truthfully, dove?” he asks, delighted by the way your eyes seem to gleam at the careless term of endearment as it passes his lips.

It takes you a little while to answer, your eyes darting this way and that before you finally find your tongue. “I… I was,” you admit, and that’s all that Hoseok needed to hear to have him take you in his arms, pulling you close as his mouth once again descends upon yours. You whimper sweetly as he kisses you with all the passion he can muster, one hand threaded in the back of your hair and the other firm upon your waist. No longer do you deny the kiss from deepening, tilting your head back into his waiting palm as his tongue slips into your mouth to brush tentatively against yours.

The noises you’re making - the sweet moans and gasps every time his fingers press into your flesh - they’re driving Hoseok close to madness. If you will allow it he would like nothing more than to take you to his bed, but your persistent shyness and the enthusiasm with which you’re responding to his touch has planted seeds of doubt in his mind. You deserve better than for your innocence to be lost in such a way; to be seduced by the desires of a near stranger.

“Tell me,” Hoseok murmurs between kisses. He loves how eager you are; how you continue to chase after his lips even whilst he’s trying to speak. “Have you… have you known a man’s touch before?”

His question catches you off guard, a startled look upon your face as you pull back just enough to look up and into his eyes.

“I…” you begin, clearly embarrassed at having to talk about such a thing. You hesitate, glancing down at your toes, and Hoseok wonders whether you’re worried he’ll judge you harshly for your answer - whatever it may be. “Just once… with one of father’s apprentices.” Your confession comes as a relief, truth be told, but he can see the way you’re searching his gaze in hopes of reassurance, your hands clasped tightly together where they're sandwiched between your torsos. “You… you don’t think poorly of me, do you?” Hoseok smiles kindly, running his thumb across the slant of your cheekbone as he leans in to brush a fleeting kiss across your lips.

“Not at all, my dove,” he soothes, feeling you melt into him as he kisses you again. Your hands unfold to rest palms against his chest, your short nails pressing into his pectorals as he squeezes you tighter against him. “Did you like it?” He hears your breath hitch in your throat as he strays from your kiss-swollen lips, trailing his own across the angle of your jaw.

“It w-was fast,” you answer haltingly, sounding unsure. Hoseok frowns on hearing this, his head buried in the crook of your neck, lavishing your skin with affection as his hands work to loosen the cross-cross of laces at the front of your dress. “And rather… painful,” you add and at that the Knight can no longer hold his tongue. He straightens, scowling.

“A gentleman would’ve prepared you,” he says, “Should’ve taken the time to make you feel good.” Blushing, you shrug your shoulders but say nothing, and it only infuriates Hoseok all the more that you don’t even know how much better it could be - how much better it should be. “I would never hurt you,” he tells you emphatically, cradling your cheek in his hand.

The way you lean into his touch has his heart thudding hard against his ribcage; a hundred warring emotions coursing through him as you tilt your head into his palm and momentarily close your eyes. Yes, he desires you, but more than that he finds himself possessed by the strangest urge to protect you and nurture you - to show you all that it is that you’ve been missing all this time, not knowing any better.

“I took a vow when I became a Knight.” Your eyes open, sincere interest easily read on all your features. “An oath… to obey a code of chivalry. To keep faith and speak the truth… To protect and to serve.” Very gently, he leans to steal a kiss as his hands return to the laces of your simple bodice, pulling them loose as your chest heaves beneath. When he pulls away it’s only by an inch - enough that your noses still touch and he can feel your breath upon your face with every shuddering exhale. “Will you let me serve you, sweet dove? Let me worship you as you deserve?”

Your mouth opens but for a moment it seems as though you’re powerless to answer, blinking in quick succession before you whisper a short and breathless, “Yes.”

Hoseok has no intention of asking you again; that one simple word was all he could ever need. As his mouth finds yours as he pulls and tugs at your dress with a renewed sense of urgency, loosening the ties so far that the course material slips from your shoulders without any further encouragement. He swallows the gasp you make as he greedily cups your breasts in each palm, squeezing and kneading your goosepimpled flesh.

Your nipples are firm - taut - and as he bends and sucks one into his mouth it hardens even further under the ministrations of his tongue.

“Hoseok!” you gasp as he puts his teeth to good use, tugging lightly at the sensitive bud till you’re arching against him, squirming in his grasp. Not wishing to overwhelm one so lacking in experience, he resists the temptation to linger there too long.

“Yes, my dove?” Hoseok replies between the kisses he begins to strew upon you, working his way back up your neck as your head tilts back and he slips your arms from your dress. He pushes it down to hang around your hips, your whole torso flushed with the heat of desire. You’re so pliant when he kisses you again - so submissive. You let him possess you fully with nary a sound of complaint save the small whimpers and whines of pleasure you release as his hands explore every inch of your skin, and Hoseok can’t get enough. He wants more; so much more.

“You never finished undressing me,” he whispers into your ear when he pulls away, smirking as you shudder at the feel of his hot breath.

Ever obedient, your trembling hands move at his bidding. They travel down his chest and into the waistband of his linen undergarments, holding your breath as you ease them down over his buttocks till they fall in at his feet. It feels like hours that he’s been wanting you, his shaft hot and heavy where it stands erect between his legs and brushes against your skirt.

“A-and now?” you ask softly, biting down on your lip as he smiles salaciously back at you, dragging his thumb across the swell of your bottom lip.

“Now yours,” he encourages and once again it seems as though you lose all ability to breathe, completely silent as you rid yourself of what modesty remains. “Good girl.” Hoseok’s whispered praise seems to lessen some of the anxiety he sees in your face when you next look up, his kiss easing away some of the tension that’d stiffened you against him.

“I’m going to touch you now, dove.” You nod, exhale shaking at the warning Hoseok gives as his hand caresses down your naked form, taking good time to enjoy every inch of what God gave you; squeezing your buttocks and tracing the palm of his hand along the curve of your hips. It pleases him when you instinctively widen your stance and tilt your pelvis to allow his hand to wander upward, fingernails grazing your inner thighs.

“Hoseok,” you whisper into his neck as your arms come to rest around his shoulders to lean your weight on him, weak-kneed and breathless. Your voice sounds almost pained, throat tight. “It aches .”

“I know,” he soothes, only full realising the depth of your desire for him when his touch encroaches on the wetness that has coated the tops of your thighs, smearing all over his fingertips. “It’ll feel better soon.”

“Please,” you groan helplessly, pushing your hips forward, and at that Hoseok can no longer find the will to resist you. He slips two fingers between your folds and upwards to where you’re most sensitive and presses with the tips, curling one arm tightly around your waist to hold you still when your body jerks at the foreign sensation.

“Did he touch you here?” Hoseok questions with his voice pitched low, aroused beyond words by the sounds you’re failing to hold back with each feather-light touch. He feels you shake your head into the crook of his neck, a whine spilling out of you when begins to rub the swollen little nub a little faster - a little harder. “More fool him.”

Your thighs are clenching around his hand but he knows it’s not to try and keep him out - not if the way you clutch at the roots of his hair is anything to judge by as he’s drawn to the heat of your core, so wet that the circling of his digits is audible even past your heavy breathing.

“Did he put them inside?”

“N-no,” you stammer, anxiety tautening your muscles at even the threat of being breached, and Hoseok swears to himself that should he ever meet the man that treated your first time with such disregard he shall make him live to regret it. He retreats momentarily, hand placed unthreateningly in the small of your back to caress the softness of your skin.

“Dove,” he calls, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder and look at him, worrying your bottom lip with something that appears an awful lot like shame in your eyes. It breaks his heart to see; they’re far too pretty to ever look so sad. “I shan’t hurt you,” Hoseok repeats softly, leaning in to place the softest of kisses to your lips. “Should you ever want me to stop, you need only say.”

Your fingers are playing nervously with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck and Hoseok tries not to let his own ticklishness show as goose pimples rise along each of his arms.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Though nervous, your words sound earnest, and with smiling lips Hoseok kisses you again, resisting the urge to rush before slipping his hand back between your legs. “Please,” you mumble against his lips when he hesitates, and at your plea Hoseok finally slowly presses one finger into your tight, wet insides.

You tense again but the eager way in which you return his kiss lets him know to carry on, and the longer he moves his digit back and forth inside you the more you seem to melt, holding onto his shoulders tight and gasping once you’re finally relaxed enough for him to add a second. Ceaselessly he pleasures you, paying close attention to what best makes you moan and then repeating that motion over and over again till you’re mewling, forced to smother the sounds you’re making with his kiss.

“I feel… I f-feel…” Your thighs are starting to tremble - your walls impossibly tight around the relentless motion of Hoseok’s fingers - and despite the alarm he can hear in your voice, Hoseok knows you have no need to fear. “Oh, gods!”

“Don’t be afraid,” he speaks against your lips, unable to keep his own pelvis from rocking in time with the motion of his hand, seeking the where his length presses hard against your hip and soils your skin with his want for you. “Fly, little dove.”

Hoseok feels the moment you ascend, your body stiffening as a cry of ecstasy bursts forth from you. You soak his digits, your orgasm spilling out onto his palm in a series of vulgar noises as he gently eases you through it. You become boneless, clinging onto him for support.

“Are you well?” he asks you gently, nudging his nose against yours to rouse you. You have your eyes closed and your breath hitches, a shallow frown creasing your forehead when oversensitivity strikes and you start to squirm, pelvis tilting away from his touch. He withdraws his fingers from inside of you as you kiss him, both of your hands coming up to cradle his face as if in thanks, pressing your body flush against his.

“Yes.” You place kiss after kiss between words; his lips, his cheeks and his chin. “Yes…. I… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiles, groaning in both pleasure and surprise when you surge forward and suckle on his bottom lip, suddenly feeling bold. As your tongue eagerly licks into his mouth Hoseok can’t help but put the mess you made of his hand to good use. He coats himself with your slick, palm wrapped tight around his length and hips rocking back and forth in an attempt to provide some of the relief he so desperately needs.

The kiss breaks, your eyes closed and his head bent low to lean his forehead on yours.

“Lie with me,” you whisper huskily, batting your eyelashes up at him, and as the words pass your lips Hoseok could very nearly sing with joy. With no further delay he scoops you up, legs wrapped around his waist, and as you shriek and giggle - clinging on for dear life - Hoseok laughs along, kissing your neck all the way to his bed.

You look a vision lay amongst his pillows; your flushed chest rising and falling heavily with excitement as he climbs on top of you, bracing his weight on one forearm.

“You’re beautiful.” He brushes your hair back from your face, awestruck by the captivating smile that spreads across it at his praise. “My sweetest summer blossom…” You exhale a happy sigh when he leans in to join his lips across yours with affection, your hands settling on his shoulder blades. Gently, he coaxes apart your legs, and he takes the arching of your back as he nestles the tip of his length between your folds as your willingness to continue on.

You feel better than he ever could have imagined as he begins to push inside; your warm, wet walls squeezing tight at the intrusion. With his lips melded to yours, he steadily sinks into you, only stopping when a pained whimper meets his ears. He intends to pull away for fear of hurting you but you won’t let him, clinging on tight.

“Please, don’t stop,” you beg of him, lifting your head off the pillow to kiss him once more, and though his mind is full of worry his body seems to care not, slowly pressing forward anew. As he reaches his end, buried deep within, your body shakes.

“Are you alright, my dove?” he asks, just as breathless as you with the will it takes him to hold back and not begin to move right away.

“Y-yes,” you answer after a time, wriggling your hips beneath him to grow accustomed to the feeling. A strangled moan bursts forth from his lungs unbidden at the feel of it, gripping onto the pillow tight.

“Careful,” he warns once he manages to re-open his eyes, looking down on where you lay with a playful smile upon your face, “I may be a Knight but I am still a man; as lustful and wicked as the rest.” A vixen in disguise, Hoseok nearly comes apart when you clench your silken heat around him in reply.

“I trust you.” Your voice is soft and so is your gaze, your touch gentle as your fingertips stroke down the length of his back. “Show me?” How is he ever meant to resist such a plea from one so sweet?

Seizing your lips in a bruising kiss, Hoseok begins to move; a slow and steady pace that gradually builds with every moan you release until the two of you are moving together in earnest - your hips tilting upward to meet his every thrust. You cry out when he sucks your nipple into his mouth; whimper when his fingers tangle in your hair.

“Faster, Hoseok,” you plead, tilting your head back into his palm and digging your nails into his shoulders with a look of ecstasy written on your face. “Please, Lord!”

He’s powerless to resist. He redoubles his efforts, a bead of sweat trickling its way down his temple as his pelvis meets yours again and again and his weight presses you into the mattress. Deeper and deeper he drives into you, groaning your name into the curve of your throat.

“God,” he moans lustfully, “You’ll be my end, dove - my ruin. You-” Hoseok can no longer speak, all coherent thought stole away as your own pleasures builds and your inner muscles start to contract and pulse around him, driving him towards release.

There’s never been a more exquisite sound than the cry of pleasure you release when you finally unravel beneath him, grabbing at his neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss as it washes over you. It very nearly makes Hoseok lose all control, barely a second passing between him withdrawing from you and spilling his release all over your stomach with a strangled groan. Even in the throes of rapture, he’s transfixed by the sight of his seed decorating your skin in droplets of creamy white.

He shudders as even the touch of his own hand becomes too much; loosening his grip and sitting back on his heels to catch his breath as you do the same, thighs clenched together and one hand pressed to your brow. You don’t seem too concerned about the mess he’s made across your stomach but courtesy demands he come to your aid.

“One moment.” On shaking legs he climbs from the bed and finds his undergarments where they’d been left strewn upon the floor, still damp from his bath. “It’s a little cold,” he warns, chuckling as you jump when the fabric meets your skin. He casts it aside once you’re both suitably clean, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket when he comes to lay beside you.

You turn your head on the pillow, your eyes flickering back and forth between his own. It seems as though you’re gathering the courage to say something and Hoseok gives you a smile in encouragement, rolling onto his side to face you.

“Was that… satisfactory?” Hoseok’s powerless to resist the urge to hold you in his arms, pulling you close and tucking your head under his chin as you return his embrace with a soft and breathy sigh.

“More than,” he reassures you, gently kissing your crown.

The two of you lay entwined for some time, warmed by the fire that still crackles in the hearth. Sleep calls to him in his state of tranquillity, almost pulling him under before he feels you shift, rousing him from his near-slumber.

“I should attend to my duties,” you say regretfully, attempting to sit up and finding it quite impossible with Hoseok pulling you in the opposite direction, dragging your mouth onto his. He kisses you until your body becomes lax again, too happy in his arms to continue the fight.

“Stay,” he bids you, smiling when you tunefully laugh.

“You can’t keep me here forever.” It’s the truth that you speak, but Hoseok can’t abide the thought of releasing you. Again he kisses you again and again and again, his heart somehow thrice the size where it beats inside his chest.

“Come away with me, dove.” His words are impulsive but he means them nonetheless, true in his convictions. “When I leave this place, stay by my side.”

You pull away before he can kiss you again, an incredulous look on your face.

“I… It’s a generous offer - one I wish I could accept,” you begin, unable to hide the disappointment you feel. “But… my duties; my father’s debt. My Lord would never allow-”

“Is that a yes?” he interrupts.

“Well… yes, but I-” This time, Hoseok silences you with a kiss; one he’s in no hurry to end.

“Leave Taehyung to me, my little dove.”

It takes some time for Hoseok to eventually relinquish you from his bed, begrudgingly parting ways so he may finish his bath and you can assist with preparing dinner.

He’d intended to not make it too obvious what had come to pass between you, planning to ignore your presence as much as he was able until having spoken to the young Lord in a more private setting.

It proves impossible, though. The moment you step foot into the dining room later that evening Hoseok’s eyes are drawn to you, an irresistible smile tugging at his lips and butterflies in his stomach at the coy smile you try to hide by looking down at the floor on your approach. His voice is just a little too husky when he thanks you for filling his mug - his gaze lingering on your just a little too long - and by the time you’ve left the room and released his attention, Hoseok’s already been found out.

His friend is staring at him from across the table with a smirk on his face and one eyebrow raised, drink in hand.

“Is there something you wish to tell me, dear friend?” Hoseok takes a large gulp of his ale before answering, mischief in his eyes as he stares over the rim at the man sat opposite in colourful robes, head tilted expectantly to the side.

“Do you recall earlier this day,” he smiles, placing down his mug, “When you said the words ‘what’s mine is yours?’”

“Aye, I remember,” Taehyung answers, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table in curiosity. “Why do you ask? Is there something you need?”

Hoseok’s eyes meet yours from across the room, his heart thudding at the sight of your soft, bewitching smile.

“I have a favour to ask of you, my Lord.”

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theweirderpieces · 4 years ago

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Can we agree that this pandemic has ruined enough things? Want to help with preventing it from ruining yet another one? The Evangelical Parish of the Augsburg Confession in Świdnica, Poland is currently trying to raise funds for the conservation and restoration of it’s church - one of the two remainig Churches of Peace, a UNESCO world heritage site. The matter is urgent: a local goverment subsidy has been withheld (the reasons are unclear, but I’ll take a gander that it’s due to huge loses of tax revenue that local goverments in Poland have seen as a result of fiscal reform and pandemic-related recession). Without raising the funds on it’s own, the Parish will lose access to EU funding. Since during the pandemic the tourist traffic is much smaller than usual, crowdfunding is pretty much the only option.

Why is this important?

The Church is a memento of the Thirty Years War (1618-1648) - the total war before total wars, a conflict that has shaped much of Europe’s modern culture and history. During and after the war the Habsburg emperors tried to forcefully re-catholicize the Protestant territories under their rule. The Churches of Peace were the last foothold of religious freedom in the Habsburg-ruled 17th Century Silesia. As former Protesnant churches in the region were being seized by the Habsburg army and handed over to Catholics, the king of Sweden pushed for the Lutherans to be allowed to build new churches in which they could practice their religion freely. It was one of the conditions of the Peace of Westphalia.

There were, however, many restrictions on what they could actually build. For staters: no masonry. The builders could only use timber, clay, sand and straw - which makes the conservation of such a structure incredibly demanding. The churches could not resamble a traditional Christian temple and they couldn’t have spires or belfries. They had to located outside of the city walls, but within the reach of a cannon shot. Plus, they had to be started and finished within one year.

Photo by Sławomir Milejski at Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0 pl (x)

The architect Albrecht von Säbisch went above and beyond the technical possibilities of his era and created Europe’s largest timber-framed religious buildings whilst keeping the strict deadlines. If innovative carpentry is not your thing, the Churches of Peace are also notable for their unique sulptural and pictorial deocration. While Protestant churches tended to be rather austere, especially when it came to religious imagery, wooden and timber-framed structures flipped this tendency on its head. As if to compensate for the inferiority of materials, the walls of the Churches of Peace (and other similar structures, such as the wooden Articular Churches of Slovakia) are covered floor to ceiling with paintings, sculptures and ornaments so rich and detailed as if they were meant to rival the splendors of Papal Rome during the Counter-Reformation. This gives us a rare glimpse at how the Baroque artistic conventions, many of which were invented in order to glorify the Catholic Church, could be modified to represent a different religious dogma.

Photo by Jar.ciurus at Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0 pl (x)

These days the Church in Świdnica is a symbol for international and interreligious reconciliation efforts. The chancelors of Gemany and the prime ministers of Poland prayed for peace together here in 1989 and in 2014. In 2016 Dalai Lama visited the Church to sign the Appeal for Peace, alongside with Poland’s spritual leaders of Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and Buddhism.

To support the conservation efforts you can donate to the Parish’s fundriser at the link above. Please spread the news using the hashtag #ratujmykosciolpokoju (save the Church of Peace). I’ll be posting about the Churches of Peace until the end of the month in order to bring attention to the fundraiser.

#ratujmykosciolpokoju #baroque #Architecture #baroque architecture #poland #silesia #śląsk #schlesien #świdnica #schweidnitz #church of peace #timber-framed building #german art #polish art #thirty years war

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turdblossommm · 5 years ago

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Marry Me {8}

Summary: Bucky and the reader are hopelessly in love with their best friends who are getting married, where the pair first meet. Will there friendship turn into something more or will it crash and burn?

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/N: Hello *rises from the grave* I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a hot minute, but you know shit happens and life kinda sucks. But I’m back and I’m going to try and be consistent.

part seven // masterlist

Bucky wasn’t an early riser so getting up before the sun was completely unheard of, and then being thrown in clothes that were just a little too snug really irritated him. You laughed as he grumbled into the coffee from the thermos. You passed a breakfast sandwich to tame the beast who got a little to hangry sometimes

“Okay everyone you know the drill, we walk North and shoot North in our specific quadrants” You shoved the map in Bucky’s day pack and nodded with the rest of your family. “We never shoot South okay?” Everyone nodded once again, this was a completion for all of you but being safe was the most important part

“Come on Buck, we got a Tom to kill” Bucky followed you through the tree to a blind that was ‘home base’. Bucky watched in complete wonder as you silently walked through the woods without snapping a single twig while he stepped on every possible twig.

“Blind C is occupied find somewhere else fuckers” Bucky rolled his eyes at you as you spoke into the radio

“You’re so going to lose” Your cousin Clay’s voice cracked over the radio

“No Tom has ever been killed out of quadrant C” Braxton scoffed

“Then you have nothing to worry about” Bucky chuckled at the mischief in your voice

“So what’s the plan? How do we do this?” Bucky asked

“First we whisper” You raise an eyebrow “We call them in and then we’ll get out and look for them” He watched you ‘call them in’ with some sort of wood that rubbed together and it made a turkey sound

“Why do you guys do this?” Bucky whispered as he carefully stepped over a fallen log

“It was something my grandfather always did with us, he worked on railroads and he was always away but he always managed to get home for Thanksgiving” You quietly slid down the small hill

“And now it’s a competition?” He chuckled

“Yeah were scattered all around, half my cousins live in Minnesota the other half in Ontario, even Braxton lives in Montana. Thanksgiving is the only time we all see each other and this competition is the only thing we all have in common” You smile “And there’s always a fight for the turkey legs so this was one way to settle it”

“Turkey leg?” YOu nodded

“This family has thrown hands over a turkey leg, hence why the winner gets them” You explained to him as you two moved through thick timber towards an open field.

“That’s a little far for a turkey leg” You shrugged as you crouched down and called again

“We’re degenerates from up country, it’s in our nature” Bucky followed your actions and watched the field for any movement. After two hours Bucky was bored, you made him leave his phone and he was so bored he could cry.

Bucky looked over to you to see if you were dying of boredom too, but you were everything but that. Bucky felt a small smile on his face grow as he saw the fire in your eyes, he only saw that in the few glimpses he caught of you working in the lab with Tony. Bucky saw the constant tension you held in your shoulders was gone.

Seeing you with no makeup, clad in full camoflaudge with the lower half of your face conceded by a mask to keep warm. You have never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, this is the real you, crass and sarcastic with a side of sweetness that was rationed carefully by you.

You caught movement in your eye and saw Bucky reaching for your face, you looked over and met his ocean eyes, filled with warmness. You leaned into his face as it graced your face, you closed your eyes and basked in the warmth from his hand. You gelt him pulled the velcro holding your mask up, it fell to your lap taking it’s warmth with it. He pulled your face closer and you met him half way.

When his lips met yours you were confused, you two didn’t kiss unless something else was to follow. You had kissed Bucky many times but this time was different, you two were about to have sex this was just a kiss he wanted which scared you. He can’t fall in love with you, that’s part of the rules. This kiss is uncharted territory for you two and you were scared and confused

But you also liked it and you never wanted him to stop kissing you like this. He kissed you in a way you haven’t been kissed like in a long time. They way he held your face was so careful and his lips were gentle. Despite all the times you’ve seen each other naked this is the most intimate you’ve ever been with him. You felt him pulled away and you almost groaned as his heat was replace with the cold

“Holy shit Y/N look!” Bucky whispered and you wiped your head around and saw a massive Tom standing in the middle of the field. You grabbed Bucky’s shot gun and shoved it in his hands and he brought it up and peered down the barrel

“Breath” You whispered and placed your hand on his shoulder “Remember squeeze the trigger, not pull” Bucky lined the scope up with the turkey and closed his eyes before squeezing the trigger. Bucky’s ears rang as he watched the turkey drop

“I did it?” You smiled and spoke in the radio

“Dinner is served mother fuckers” You laughed and Bucky smiled “Are you okay?” You asked and he nodded

“I’m fine”

“If you want to cry that’s fine, I did too when I killed my first animal”

“Was it a turkey?” You shook your head as you wiped the small tear on his cheek

“It was a 600 pound elk and that was a bitch to pack out, luckily its just a bird”

“Why are you so cool?” Bucky sniffed and you threw your head back and laughed

“I’m not cool Buck” You grabbed his hand and pulled him up “Now carry your turkey” You gave Bucky the general idea of plucking a bird on your walk back to the raptor. You smiled as you pulled up and all your family had made it back to the ranch

“Come on Y/N!” Claire, your cousin yelled “Let someone else get it next year”

“Yeah you can’t have it five years in a row now” Ben huffed

“Actually Bucky killed it” You smirked at your family and Bucky’s cheeks warmed as all eyes turned on him

“W-well she called it in” He rubbed his next

“Well you better clean it before it get sour” You dad smiled and clapped Bucky on the shoulder

Bucky smiled as the sunlight streamed in through the cracks of the barn, he loved the way they rested on your bare skin. He lightly ran his fingers over the soft skin on your back as your sighed in contentment. He pressed a kiss behind your ear and you rolled to meet his blue eyes

“Morning” You smiled and hurried your face in his chest

“Good morning” You sat up and he pulled you back down

“Not yet”

“Bucky” You giggled “We have to cook breakfast, it’s our turn” Once you coerced Bucky out of bed and dragged him to the house to make breakfast, Bucky watched because you know the possibilities of the house burning down would be high if Bucky came near a burner. The rest of the day was spent helping your mother cook with your uncles and cousins played a game of football

“Buck get your ass out here” Braxton yelled from outside

“One sec” Bucky yelled from the porch where he sat with you sipping on a beer. He leaned over and kissed your cheek before running out to the field with your brother. You joined your mother in the house, passing the prom picture of you and Frank. You ran your fingers over his face

“I miss you” You whispered before walking into the kitchen. Your mother watching out the window at the men in the family playing a poorly called game of football. Your eyes caught Bucky running from Ben, his hair falling out it’s bun

“You haven’t had anyone over for the holidays since Frank, I assume you gave up on the superstition”

“Mom Frank was my soulmate, the one good love I get in this life. Bucky and I are just friends”

“Sweatie Frank is gone and you can still love him, but that man out there looks at you like the world revolves around you” You shook your head “Your relationship with Frank was so toxic all you did was fight, both of your were stubborn teenagers. And then he died honey, you didn’t get to grieve prop-“

“Mom stop!” Your mom’s heart broke as she saw the tears form in your eyes “I’m done talking about Frank” You climbed the stairs to your bedroom, not caring that Muriel’s stuff was scattered around the room.

Bucky walked up the stairs to your room, per your mom’s instruction. He slowly pushed the door open, he noticed the room probably hadn’t been decorated since you left for college. Back Street Boys and NSYNC posters covered your wall with FFA memorabilia. He eyes landed on you hunched over a picture on the edge of your bed

“Want to talk about it?” He asked pulling you into his side and you wiped your nose with your sleeve

“This is Frank Castle, the only other man I’ve loved except for Clint, except Frank loved me back” You chuckled

“What happened?” Bucky asked

“He died, killed in action” Bucky closed his eyes “They said he was hit directly by the blast so there’s no way he felt anything” You sniffed

“How old were you?” He rubbed circles on your shoulder

“I was 20, he was 22. We were going to get married when I finished school so I could live on base with him” Bucky pulled you in for a hug and held you until your sniffles stopped “Sorry coming home always reminds me of him” You wipe the makeup from under your eyes

“No worries”

“I think dinner is ready” You nodded and followed him down the stairs and took your seats at the dinning room table, it’s only ever used for Thanksgiving. Your father prayed and blessed the food and thanked God for a bountiful harvest this year. Your dad carved the turkey and gave Bucky the leg

“And you gets the other?” You father asked and Bucky smiled and turned to you

“Y/N, she would’ve shot the damn thing if I took another second” Your family laughed as Bucky handed you the leg. Dinner was full of laughs and goodhearted conversations from your family, it was times like Thanksgiving that you are thankful for your dysfunctional family. You watched your niece and nephew play in the living room with everyone ate pie

“Sing Auntie Y/N” Your nephew yelled as his dad brought out the guitar

“Y/N doesn’t sing anymore remember” Clair called

“I’ll sing” You smiled at the children and Bucky saw your parents head whip away from their conversations to their children as Braxton counted you off

“Kiss me mother kiss your darlin’.

Lay my head upon your breast

Throw your loving arms around me.

I am weary let me rest

Seems the light is swiftly fading

Brighter scenes they do now show

I am standing by the river

Angels wait to take me home” The blue grass tune was soft and light, relaxing others in the room, Bucky couldn’t help but stare in awe

“Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'

See the pain upon my brow

While I'll soon be with the angels

Fate has doomed my future now

Through the years you've always loved me

And my life you've tried to save

But now I shall slumber sweetly

In a deep and lonely grave

Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'

Lay my head upon your breast

Throw your loving arms around me

I am weary let me rest

I am weary let me rest” A content smile found it’s way across your face as the children climbed on your lap and demanded more songs. Bucky learned against the door frame as he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He turned to find your father with a smile on his face

“Keep on doing what your doing, she hasn’t sang since Frank” Bucky nodded as a warm feeling spread across his chest that grew hotter when you turned and smiled at him.

A/N pt. 2: God I forgot how much I actually like this part

Taglist: @hailqueenconquer @2ptonpt

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au #sad bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #buck #Winter Solider #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #winter solider fanfiction #clint barton #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #Avengers #avengers au #marvel #Marvel AU

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