#what better way to learn how to paint metal than to paint a metal lady

[daylight-anim]

the cool metal lady

[americanwh0rerstory]

The countess’ meal

SUMMARY: you chose to stay in the cortez for a while, unaware that a certain lady was planning your demise…

CONTENT WARNINGS: blood, cannibalism sorta, clothes-on grinding, kissing, MURDER

A/N: some parts are loosely based on the song linked below, i’ve also never written WLW before so i hope this is good <3

SUGGESTIVE AND EXTREME THEMES BELOW, PLEASE READ AT OWN DISCRETION

You checked into the cortez a few days ago, aware of its dark past but unaware of the residents there. you spent a lot of time at the bar drinking Liz’s martinis, but you never spoke to anyone there. Sally tried to make conversation but failed. you just weren’t interested

what you were interested in, was the blonde haired lady you kept seeing around the hotel. an image of elegance and beauty, the pinnacle of feminine class. she had captivated you, and she knew it. the times you’d meet her gaze as she passed, accidentally brushing shoulders in a corridor, the faint metallic smell that blended with her perfume, it had you in a chokehold.

she knew what she was doing, she knew how her actions were affecting you, yet she didn’t stop. the air of charm that surrounded her was too enticing for you, and equally as thrilling for her. she liked the hunt, and you were on track to be her next meal.

it came as a surprise when you found an invitation in your hotel room, the note depicting that the countess wished to have dinner with you. it was unexpected, but you weren’t surprised. the tension had been building with every encounter you had with her.

you arrived at her room by 9:30pm, just the time she told you to arrive at. and once she opened the door you was overwhelmed with her radiance and allure that she seemed to constantly put out, as though it was the scent of her perfume.

“you came,” she says in her typical empty tone, but there was more under the surface. it was evidential by the way her eyes widened slightly, and the way the corners of her lips twitched. the act was almost unnoticeable, but you noticed it with how your gaze was locked onto her face.

her porcelain skin smoother than that of porcelain itself, her pearly-blonde locks of hair that seemed to cascade around her in perfect waves, her impeccable lipstick which gave her lips that perfect lined look, the way she looked down at you from her tall stature. you could gaze at her for hours, like a painting that screamed perfection in all 7000 languages. she was the epitome of class, perfection, radiance.

The dinner went well, you both made light conversation and she didn’t seem to mind the way you stared, if she did then she kept it to herself. you learned how well versed she was in various art forms, and you felt yourself fall further and further into the spiders web, unbeknownst to you how she planned to end this night once you were caught like prey. it was all too easy to her, you were like a moth to a flame.

as for her, she was leaving you to marinate. to soak and bathe in her presence to make you more malleable for her to play with. unknowingly to you, you were her meal: her dinner, lunch, and tea. but she wouldn’t tell you that, nor hint at it until it was too late for you to realise her true intentions of stringing you along for the past few days.

one thing lead to another, and before you knew it you were pinned beneath the countess as she kissed you. that perfect red lipstick marked your own lips in little smears, the heat building up from your chest as you practically poured your soul out into the kiss. it was the best kiss you had ever experienced, and it only got better when you felt her knee press itself between your legs. this was so uncharacteristic to the cold, composed, and stoic countess you had scene around the hotel but that was the last thing on your mind right now. there was nothing on your mind right now, just the way her tongue toyed with your own and the way her knee ground against your clothed core.

you were so lost in the kiss that you didn’t notice her reach for the letter opener on the cabinet beside you both, the metal glinting under the lights of her room. once it caught your eye it was already too late though.

the white-hot pain throbbed in your neck, causing your eyes to shoot open in agony only to be met with her now slightly pleased face. even in such a thrilling moment she wouldn’t show any emotion whatsoever. however just as quick as the pain hit you, it intensified as she pulled the knife out, the fountain of blood rushing out and into her open mouth.

her lips latched onto your neck, relishing in the metallic tasting liquid that sprayed straight from your artery into her mouth. the excess began to spill down her chin, coating her dress in deep scarlet. with the sanguinary scene being a familiar one to the countess, she wasn’t phased by the tears or the gasps and groans that escaped your lips, the strangled breaths were merely the usual for her. she didn’t stop, she just kept drinking until she was satisfied.

her dress was coated in the viscous vermillion that came straight from your body, her lips and chin stained with your blood. you were her meal, and your dying memory was seeing the satisfied look on her face. as the light faded from your eyes, you were clueless that you’d come back. your personal hell, the cortez, becoming your forever home

A/N: i fear i went too descriptive with this, but i hope it was enjoyable and that anyone who read the full thing enjoyed it

[kebriones]

Okay here we go.

Reviewing all old paintings of Alcibiades I can find, part 1

Starting off with the classics. THIS HELMET, I HATE IT I HATE IT. What is it supposed to be?? He's wearing it like one would wear a Corinthian helmet in rest (pushed back on the head rather than down over the face) or at least from the shape of the metal part I would assume it's a corinthian helmet, but all the golden thingies on its front?? Are you meant to be blind when wearing this thing in battle? New technique?? And anyways why is he even wearing it. And one last thing about the helmet which you'll see is a reccuring theme: why does it have feathers. Unless i am forgetting something, fancy helmet crests were made from horse hair.

Moving on from the helmet, i have to say that even though I don't agree with it, his color choice for the outfit is....brave. green with pink. It works I guess, because he looks so confident in it. The sash tied around his middle is kinda whatever but the way he's holding his clamys???? I'm swooning. Very good hand.

Socrates' color choices are also quite bold today. Were they going to a fashion show? Is he advertising IKEA? Who knows. His skin is vet nicely painted though, I like it a lot.

Now of course we need to mention the angel behind Socrates who has a bit of fire on their hair. Is that the holy spirit? Is this some criminal anachronism??!! The angel seems to be judging Alcibiades' "sinuous" pose (i learned a new word yesterday and I feel like I'm using it wrong but I wanted to use it okay. "Sinuous". Idk. Sinuses.)

Moving on to something different. Alcibiades and Pericles! How cute is that, they're bonding like family. Or they're discussing the grocery list. I like Alcibiades' chiton and his hair and how his hand is casually draped over a helmet. Speaking of helmets, look how nice and accurate these are. No feathers anywhere. Also Pericles is wearing his helmet to hide his weird alien head presumably, so this is very legal and we won't execute the artist for drawing Pericles with a naked head.

Here's one of many depictions of Alcibiades' death. The anatomy is good, I very much enjoy that. I also really really like his face. Dark haired Alcibiades works better in paintings imo. His pose is kinda wayy too dramatic, that or he slipped on some lube i mean olive oil on his way out. Anyways he's not doing a very good job defending himself. The lady is trying, I'll give her that, but she's not doing enough. The attacker guy is.... wearing pants, but his top isn't very Persian so that's off-putting.

And of course we can see the javelin sticking out of Alcibiades' side but in my professional opinion, if he was lucky he could survive that wound if it didn't pierce any major organs. He just needed some bed rest and he'd be good to go. Alas, he died. But yeah overall I like this one a lot.

Okay so this one I'm 99% sure it's Alcibiades, if I'm wrong let me know. The dark figure on the left is definitely Socrates, I would recognize him anywhere. I really like this even though Alcibiades looks like his twelve, because he's sitting on some lady's lap, surrounded by other ladies, as he's having his actual lesson with Socrates. Like he's taking notes and everything gfhdgsj he's raising his hand he has a question let him speak.

Also how cute is his hair?? Someone give this child some ice cream.

Here we have no Socrates, which is quite rare. BUT we once again have a very stupid helmet that makes zero sense. And a vey stupid sash that also makes zero sense. But at least we have some drama, like, what's going on here? Is she refusing him??? Is she offended?? Who knows. Anyways very cool fabric rendering but why is Alcibiades so.... barrel-chested. It's kinda scary. Also who's that snitch back there. Does she wanna join.

Overall, I like the colors and the environment here, and the poses are fun. Alcibiades looks like he's reciting poetry but he's so drunk the only thing he remembers is the ship list from the iliad, so that's what he's reciting, and his girlfriend is having a hard time enduring this torture.

Old painters really like putting helmets on head that didn't need them. Like they're IN A BEDROOM why is he in full tactical gear.

This one is one of the weirder ones. I don't know why the vibes are just weird. Socrates is holding his oscar. What did he get an oscar for. I like his outfit it's like he's wearing a shower curtain or a beach towel. Alcibiades on the other hand is straight up naked. Like, that's the level of confidence and comfortableness we should all aspire towards. But I don't like his face, they didn't even try to make him pretty.

Not to mention that Socrates fell into a tub of bleach apparently. Blonde Socrates is even more illegal that unhelmeted Pericles. Maybe that's why i find this piece so strange. This isn't Socrates, this is santa claus.

I do however think the pose is very Alcibiades-like. He would absolutely look at Socrates like that.

Last one for part 1, we have this one! The classic, beloved theme of Socrates taking Alcibiades away from his girlfriends. "Why don't you go play with the boys, Alcibiades? " said Socrates.

No wait wrong story.

Anyways i like this because it has some davinci-ness to the colors and faces and Alcibiades' hair is cute and the girl in white is really trying her hardest to pull him back.

I also like that gigantic column in the back, suggesting that these maniacs were planning on having an orgy right at a temple. They even brought a whole bed over there.

Last thing i like about this one is the way Socrates isn't even really holding onto him. Alcibiades has this haunted/far away look and Socrates can make him follow him just by touching his arm, rather than pulling on him like the girl is. That's because Socrates was half siren, his father had actu

[newmusicradionetwork]

AZRA Inspires Listeners To Go “ALL OUT” On New Unapologetic Self-Love Anthem

Los Angeles based artist AZRA is slated to release her new single “ALL OUT” on March 3rd, 2023. The substance pop singer progresses from her recent punk rock version of Alicia Keys’ “Girl on Fire” and plunges into an era of limitless, authentic self-love. Having garnered the attention of esteemed media like PopWrapped, LA Weekly, Hollywood Life, and The Hype Magazine, the powerhouse songstress seeks to continue invigorating and empowering each of her Azradeities with this single, along with anyone who has ever felt like an outcast or misfit while trying to find their place in the world. “ALL OUT” is a one way ticket to AZRA’s safe-haven – the 6th Dimension – where any and everyone has the freedom to fearlessly and proudly embrace their truth. In moments of insecurity and self-doubt, “ALL OUT” is the song to blast at full volume to gain self assurance and the courage to confront anything in life holding you down. AZRA gives listeners permission with this track to liberate themselves and break the silence they’ve had between themselves and the world. This electrifying single embodies influence from pop icons like Kelly Clarkson, Pink, and Lady Gaga, who are known for powerhouse vocals imbued with passion, meaning, and charisma. “ALL OUT” is the first single introducing AZRA’s upcoming summer EP, setting the tone for this new era to be strong and stormy. Written in Joshua Tree, “ALL OUT” resides within her self-proclaimed sound, Substance Pop, that embodies elements of pop, rock, soul, punk, dance, and shines with purpose above all else. This substance pop track at its core is cathartic, energetic, unhinged, and implores listeners to look inside themselves and embrace what they find. Listening to “ALL OUT” feels like the wind in your face, things flying in slow motion, lighting the world on fire (symbolizing LIFE), and painting the whole town in color. This song is for the misfits, the rebels, and anyone that feels cast aside without a sense of belonging. “ALL OUT” exists at the boiling point between self-doubt and finally embracing the parts of ourselves that we’ve been unfairly taught to be ashamed of. AZRA has gone through her whole life with an electric enthusiasm and intensity that hasn’t always been positively received or accepted; the single serves as a dialogue between AZRA and her younger self that reassures the value she has through all her recklessness. She’s processed these experiences and come to the conclusion that living with your heart on your sleeve will always be better than diluting yourself to meet society’s expectations of how we “should” be. More about AZRA: Pop-rock goddess AZRA is a South Korean-born, Bay area-raised, now multidisciplinary Los Angeles based independent artist making waves with more than just her music. As an accomplished author (The Cupcake Theory), motivational speaker, dancer, model, and musician, AZRA has effectively established herself as a formidable force in the entertainment industry with a promise that any artistic expression she shares with the world will have substance, depth, and purpose behind them to uplift others along their life’s journey. She shares her story through her signature Substance Pop sound – an entirely new genre of music that channels cathartic power pop, rock, dance, and metal influences with heavy 808 beats to electrify your entire body. Keeping in line with the status quo has never been something of priority to the powerhouse songstress. Invigorated by an unshakeable boldness, empowering angst, and life-long affinity for performance, AZRA has learned the importance of never backing down regardless of what society deems acceptable. Channeling this philosophy into creating the 6th Dimension, a whole new world where you can live life to the fullest and be whoever you’ve always wanted to be, AZRA approaches every live performance with the goal of transporting her audience into the 6th Dimension along with her. Breaking through barriers of complacency and uniformity has allowed this powerhouse to embrace her crown, unapologetically, and inspire her fans to do the same. She immigrated to San Jose, CA with her family at 9 years old, and did whatever it took to overcome the hardships that came with having to rediscover oneself after a life-altering change. AZRA now seeks to empower others to fearlessly follow their dreams in spite of their hardships. Connect with AZRA Read the full article

[plus-size-reader]

Dating Eddie Munson HC

~This boy loves you

~He loves you like he’s never loved another person and that means that there is no limit to what he would do for you

~Always holding hands, no matter what you’re doing or where you are

~Which, of course, leads to you playing with his rings, whether they’re on his fingers or not

~For your first year anniversary, he gave you his favorite ring, which you still wear on a silver chain around your neck to this day

~Eddie smells like weed smoke and cheap cologne. The first of which is because he has a nasty habit of sampling his merchandise, and the second is because he feels like it makes him more of a classy guy for you.

~It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that he doesn’t have to, he won’t give it up. He maintains that it’s for you, but at a certain point, you’re sure he just likes the ritual of it

~Spending almost all your time playing D&D, whether you were already a fan of the game or Eddie had to show you the ropes

~It’s basically his favorite hobby, outside of music, and something he is really passionate about sharing with you

~He absolutely calls you “Princess” or “My Lady” because he’s a geek, and it isn’t even close to being a secret

~I 1000% believe you’ve put that boy's mullet up in a ponytail more than once. It’s not nearly as ‘metal’ that way, but at least it isn’t quite as hot

~The Hellfire Club basically regards you as their unofficial leader, and their first lady.

~That means that every bit of girl drama, hot gossip and goings on goes through you, and when Dustin feels like talking, or Lucas and Max get into a spat or disagreement, you have a front row seat to everything.

~...and you’re always ahead of Eddie where the kids are concerned

~”Who is that again?”

~”Jesus Eds, keep up”

~It isn’t his fault. There are just too many of these damn kids, and there is always something new going on with them

~Drawing on the rubber of his sneakers

~Eddie is incredibly sentimental.

~He keeps everything you give him, from little notes with hearts doodled on them to stones you’ve picked up on walks that you like, presenting them to him as if they’re worth more than gold.

~Everything.

~Spending a ton of time together in his room when Uncle Wayne isn’t around, just cuddling, and enjoying each others company until the early hours of the morning

~Eddie thinks of you like a porcelain doll sometimes, making a show of painting your nails, which you leave to dry no matter how messy they are, or putting on your lip gloss just to be a part of every part of your day

~He never fails to brighten your day, with a goofy face or that god awful darth vader impression you couldn’t escape, there’s no limit to what he’d do just to see that smile on your face

~Picnics and romantic lunches outside his trailer at the park, with a blanket and everything.

~Eddie giving you guitar lessons, even if you don’t want them, just to watch you try and learn the skill that he’s already managed to master

~There has never been a bigger softie in the history of the world than Eddie Munson. He plays it all tough and mysterious, but he’s a sweetheart through and through.

~You’re definitely the tougher of the two of you, no matter what the better half of Hawkins may choose to believe

~Eddie is a huge dreamer, and always talks about getting out and doing something better with your lives.

~He wants to go to Hollywood or something, and make a name for himself, so that he can “buy you a big house and an even bigger diamond”

~Because, Eddie LOVES you and that is never going to change.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

*******************

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink. 

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you.  Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

*****************

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

��I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

**********************

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing. 

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

[thekingofwinterblog]

So, one of the reasons I HATE how season 3A handled Anne's thought's one Sasha and Marcy by essentially pretending they didn't exist outside of The New Normal and one brief moment in Little Frog Christmas, is that The show usually is SO MUCH better than this.

And nowhere is this clearer than Olivia and Yunan, in where in one single small episode, the show managed to have two completely separate characters who had mixed feelings on Marcy that hadn't been fully developed or showcased before now, have a good, well written arc that goes from them not exactly being completely big on Marcy, to fully caring about her again.

In Olivia's case, it's this episode that shows something season 2 mainly just hinted at, how Olivia and Marcy has a direct parental/child bond, with her treating Marcy the way her own mother treated her.

In the now though, it's not given a full breakdown of why exactly Olivia isn't quite as hip on Marcy at the moment, but the way i interpreted it, is that she's a mixture of her feeling guilty for what happened to her(Since she still serves Andrias despite it) but isn't quite willing to fully commit to admitting to feeling guilt for that on her part just yet, and that she was greatly disappointed in her qdoptive daughter after learning of Marcy's tricking and stranding her friends in Amphibia.

Meanwhile Yunan, who was Marcy's comrade in arms, was not only directly shown to be greatly disappointed in her(Not too surprising, given we know from word of god that Yunan has a strict personal code of honor) but has come to the rather racist conclusion that human beings in General are naturally likely to be treacherous backstabbers, given the actions of two of the three only humans she has ever met.

However in the end both of them go down into the basement to save Marcy, Yunan because she needs her great intellect, and Olivia because though she has mixed feelings on Marcy, still greatly cares about the girl, but uses the argument that they need her to justify going down to save her.

However in Olivia's case that need for a justification to save Marcy immediately disintegrates when Yunan tries slapping her out of the daze she is in with those metal gauntlets of her.

She immediatly gets both furious and protective, and then immediatly tries to make Marcy feel better.

Because this is who she is, and her relationahip with Marcy. Seeing bad things happen to her adoptive daughter makes any mixed feelings she has melt away, and she goes back to try and nurture her.

Yunan however, who has a much less close bond with Marcy, instead goes through a much less blatant arc as what makes her care about Marcy again, is the thing that brought them together in the first place.

Defeating a common foe.

Their was a relationship built on the kind of bond you only find in soldiers who fought side by side. The kind of bond where you don't really need anything more complex, but still got the others back no matter what.

And here, facing their greatest fears together, that bond is rekindled for Yunan without a single real conversation being spoken.

It's a very nice little arc for both of them, where both the older ladies manage to go back to a point where they both care about Marcy again withouth reservations.

And the the most impressive part is that the show didn't actually spend much dialogue to make it happen.

And to serve as a capstone on that, as both of them watch the birth of Darcy, they are both absolutely horrified. Because both of them care about Marcy, despite the events of true colors.

Hell, the show even managed to give some additional depth to Andrias, as it's shown that deep down, he feels real, genuine guilt about what is happening here... Yet he still choses to stand by and let it happen.

It's q great moment that hoes to showcase that Andrias is not Ozai. There is much more to him... But it does not paint him as sympathetic at all, which is usually the only way many less capable writers is capable of humanizing totally evil villains.

In one episode, Olivia and Yunan managed to explore three entirely different characters mixed relationships with Marcy in a way that Anne's storyline in 3A didn't even attempt to do with either Marcy nor Sasha over the course of one 6th of Amphibia's run.

And it didn't try either. It succeeded with flying colors.

[sallyf4ce]

wolves

chapter IV

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, violence, homophobia

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: (y/n) and travis make up (ish), (y/n) gets hurt again (you really shouldn’t be surprised), larry gets a little moody (i don’t think he likes (y/n) very much), sal makes a move on (y/n) (although he doesn’t know he did)

“You’re (y/n), right? New kid?” Travis looks at you as you press the wet cloth to your nose. You nod.

“How’d you know?”

“Sal said it. he muttered. The disgusted look on his face was proven a facade by the blush on his cheeks.

“You’re in love, buddy.” you laugh.

“No i’m fucking not! You’re so fucking stupid, what the fuck? Who could love a faggot like Sally f-” you cut him off my shoving his head into the wall roughly. You don’t know what came over you, but being homophobic is still homophobic even if you’re in denial. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t about sally, it was just you being an ally. Way to kill the mood, travis.

“You pull that shit one more time and I'll leave you without teeth, blondie. Or would you rather i tell your dad that you hit girls?”

He squirms underneath your palm. “Sorry.” he looks at you with a pleading face.

You sigh and let him go. “S’fine. You need to learn how to control your anger, though, fuckface. You’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude.” stuffing the bloody towel in your bag, you lead him out the door.

“I hate you.” Travis scoffs.

“What did i say?”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“Larry, she’s already closer to travis than she is to us and they just met. Travis is a full-on dick, and they’re being all friendly! I didnt even know that was possible!” Sal chucks his bag in his locker. He hasn’t known you for long, but longer than travis! Plus he’s way nicer, too! Why’d you have to go and get all friendly with his bully?

“I don’t fucking like it either, sally face. Maybe we should just stay away from them.” Larry crossed his arms and leaned against the lockers.

Sal didn’t want to stay away from you, though. You were sweet, he was sure, just a little distant. Plus you just sort of intrigued him. He wanted to know why you were like this, what happened to you, why you had a prosthetic. Maybe it was hypocritical of him, though. He's only told Larry and Ashley about what happened to him, so he shouldn’t be picking at your trauma. you’ll tell him when you feel comfortable with it, but you’d need to be comfortable with him for that. and right now, it seems like you’re pretty comfortable with his bully.

“let’s go, dude. class starts in 5.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

After grabbing your schedule with Travis, you set your stuff in your new locker (which smelled pretty good, surprisingly.) and began walking to your first class, math. Travis laughed at you when you read your schedule outloud and you gave him a whack on the head. What an idiot. He headed off to his first class, english.

you opened the door to the classroom and coughed to get the attention of the teacher, Mrs. Packerton.

“Ah, lovely! Class, say hi to (y/n) (l/n)!” she smiles as you awkwardly wave.

“You’ll be sitting in the back, right beside Sal.” an inaudible groan leaves your cracked lips as you make your way towards him, trying not to make eye contact.

“uh, here.” he moves over. you plop yourself down next to him and open your notebook.

“we’re doing a test right now. i’m pretty sure you won’t have to do it, since it’s your first day and all.” his blue hair bounces as he looks over to you again. it looks fluffy.

“you wanna touch it?” he chuckles. you don’t want to come off creepy, but he’s offering, right?

you reach out your prosthetic hand but quickly pull it back and switch it, realizing you can’t actually feel with it. he chuckles at your mistake and leans in to your touch.

you were right. it felt like clouds, puffy but still silky. it wasn’t combed properly, though.

“Mr. Fisher and Mrs. (L/n), you little lovebirds. hands to yourselves, please.” Mrs. Packerton laughs a little. “Ah, young love.”

you quickly pull your hand back and flush.

“stupid old lady.” you mutter.

“Mrs. P’s nice, she’s just a little… enamoured in her students’ love lives.” sal laughs.

“stop, you’re making her sound like a pedophile!” you cover your mouth to suppress your laugh and sal’s face heats up even more. He made you laugh!

You both quieted down as Sal continued his test and you doodled in your sketchbook.

“are you okay? after travis, you know.” he hummed, a mix of concern and jealousy swirling in his eyes.

“uh, yeah. i’m fine.”

“You sure? Your lips look pretty busted.”

“It’s all good.”

“why do you hang out with him, anyway?” he turned his test upside down and faced you again.

“what do you mean?” you’re confused.

“he hit you in the face first thing in the morning. If i was you, i wouldn't really like him.” sal gripped his pencil.

“are you jealous?” you question, a smirk on your face.

“No.” his expression is hidden behind his mask. you look into his eyes, trying to make him blush.

the blue is a different blue than the one you saw yesterday. it’s lighter, almost like a porcelain blue.

“whatever you say, porcelain face.”

“porcelain face?”

“your mask, and your eyes, i guess. they’re like a porcelain doll’s.”

he hums.

“what are you then? metal hand? cyborg? fist of steel?”

“you forgot iron fist.”

“iron fist?”

“sure.” you grin. sal’s heart flutters again.

“Alright children, please hand in your tests and nicely file out the class. The bell will ring any moment.” Mrs. Packerton smiles sweetly and starts collecting tests. You grab your bag and leave the class.

Sal looked around the room for a bit, looking for you. A flash of (h/c) hair leaving the room catches his eyes. He tries running after you, but you’re already heading towards your next class.

•Lunch time•

“Shut the fuck up, Trav. I said she was stupid, not stupid hot. I don't know where you got hot from! I literally never said it.” You shoved his shoulder. He just snickered and continued teasing you.

“Hey, (y/n)! Come have lunch with us!” Sal saw you walking with travis. He waved you over from the cafeteria. Travis immediately stopped laughing and sneered. He quickly began walking over to sal, raising his fist.

“Leave us alone, fucking fag-” travis swung at sal but you stepped in front of them, raising your arm to cover sal’s face since he was taller.

Travis throws punches like a wrestler, You already knew that. Maybe you shouldn't have used your real hand to catch it.

His fist slammed into your forearm roughly and you flinched.

“Fuck- travis, go cool off. Now. Leave.” you hold onto your arm. It stings, but it's not broken. You’ll be fine.

“You’re all a bunch of-” he stops mid sentence as you give him a glare. It sort of said ‘you’re gay too, dumbass.’ he scrunched his eyebrows and walked off.

“Oh my fucking god!” a girl with brown hair ran over to you and lightly grabbed your arm.

“This her, sal? Are you (Y/n)?” she looked at you. She seemed very sweet. Kind of reminded you of your cousin.

“Uh- yeah- can you let go?”

She smiles in apology and lets go.

“You didn't have to do that, (y/n).” sal scratches the back of his head. You’ve gotten hurt twice because of him. How are you supposed to be friends if the only thing sal does is hurt you?

“I think maple might have an ice pack in her lunch. Can you come sit with us?” He hopes you say yes.

“Yeah, okay.” you needed the ice pack and travis was nowhere to be seen, so you didn’t really have a choice.

“Hey, (y/n).” Larry grumbles as you walk to their table. It seems he’s upset with you.

“I just saved your buddy from travis. Not to your liking or something?” you look up to him. If something’s wrong, he should just fucking say it. Not beat around the bush like a pussy.

“Yeah. you and travis seem to be getting along well.” he finally makes eye contact with you. Sal and the girl seem uncomfortable.

“We all got our issues, asshole. Some of us just know how to deal with them better than others.” You sneer. He’s allowed not to like Travis, but he’s not allowed to be a bitch to you because you actually understand his actions and choose to help him instead of ignoring him.

“Whatever.” he spits. You turn to sal.

“I’ll get my own ice.” you begin walking away. “Also, watch your dog.” you hear sal chuckle as larry groans. He walks up to you before you can leave, Larry throwing his arms up in the air in disbelief.

“Hey, uh, (y/n)? I’m sorry you got hurt. Could- could i make it up to you somehow?” his hand is on yours. It’s warm, he’s probably blushing hard under his mask.

“Sure, sally. How would you do that?” you spin around to face him. You can see his mask rise a little and his smile peaks through.

“Do you have a phone?” he pulls his cell out. It’s just a simple black flip-phone with a few paint splatters.

“I do, it’s in my locker. I dont have my number memorized, though. Stupid area codes.” you mumble. “You wanna come get it with me?”

Sal looks back to his friends. Ash is nodding frantically while Larry twirls a cigarette through his fingers, still mad.

“Alright.”

taglist: @purelydarling @deadpoetsandhoney @ghostfacefricker6969 @percyyzz @whatsurgamertag @kiillian @potatochic2003 @beingaweebishell @glitterydonutangel @izzydrawsandwrites @angellicbitch @elebeleb @dream-of-eros @mr-bombastic

[heartshyuck]

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst,slow burn, strangers to lovers au, first love, early 1900s au.

Synopsis: Lavenders symbolise purity, silence, devotion, serenity and grace. All endearing characteristics of the gorgeous boy, you met in the fields of purple.

Placed in the late 1930s , just before World War two starts, you flee from your family who are forcing you into a marriage. You lie low in a small village where you meet Jisung in a field of lavenders.

Word count: 23k lmao

Warnings: female reader, misogyny and very backwards ways of thinking, forced marriages, world war two + historical inaccuracy for progression of the plot, drinking

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written and honestly it was a mission, it took about a month to write and I am genuinely so proud of it and really happy with it. Please don't be scared by the length but when I say slow burn, I really mean it!

Your legs seem to be moving on their own, feet hitting the ground at a steady and fast pace, you don’t look back and can’t seem to see what lies ahead but still you run until your lungs burn, run until the bitter metallic taste is at the back of your throat where bile threatens to rise. You run until finally your legs collapse, knees hitting the ground, grazing them and it’s the slight sting of the sediment seeping into the cuts that stop you from passing out. You’re not sure how far you’ve ran or how long you’ve been running, you don’t know where you're running to but you have to escape. 

Escape the life they’ve laid out for you, the one they’ve planned without your input, you can’t live a life where everything is set out, where ’everything is expected and perfect. A life where you’d get married at 18 to a stranger who was of a worthy social class, attend formal lunches with the wives of your husband’s work colleagues and host dinner parties and occasionally large balls in a manor that always felt empty no matter how many paintings you bought to hang on the never ending amount of walls, no matter how many more bookshelves you tried to fit into one room, a place that you’ll always hate. Then to have children by 20, as many boys as possible of course to then not have any say in their upbringing and watch nurses tend to them, your husband educate them and then watch them get married, meet your grandchildren and when you’ve reached a respectable age, death will meet you in your sleep and you’ll be mourned and then forgotten. A life filled with regret, a constant numbness, no fulfilment and no meaning.

You saw your mum live that life, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, always plastered on at any given moment as she walked around the large hall with a glass of nothing but champagne in hand greeting the hundreds of guests that you were never able to comprehend how she managed to remember them all. She never spoke unless spoken to, never put in any input and always obeyed your father even when you could see the frustration bubble up inside her as her eyes glinted and her jaws tightened with the urge to say something.

She would buy gifts upon gifts and shower you in expensive luxuries, spoil you in riches as a form of love and yet it always held another meaning behind it. There was a slight sadness in her eyes as she passed a gift every birthday,christmas and any other reason she found, almost as if she was saying sorry for the life you were going to live and how she’d use these moments as blackmail for when that time came. You’d overhear her quiet sobs when you would sneak around the house late at night, read letters she received from someone you didn’t know and how they wished for her life to get better and for her to find happiness in a world where happiness didn’t exist. You saw your mother cry when your father died, eyes bloodshot red in fear rather than grief. Her life was now uncertain and that's when you decided that you couldn't live an empty life, regretting choices and wishing for death to come to you first.

Your father had always made sure that you would receive a proper education, one where you'd read hours upon hours of the finest English literature, works of science and learned of the past and present politics. He always said "a lady should know about the world around her but should never venture off on her own" you hated that phrase but it was better than what you overheard your friend's father saying to her when she asked for him to explain the concept of communism, "a women does not need to busy herself with politics, for your brain could not even begin to comprehend it" he announced with his nose high up in the air as if he had just said the most inquisitive statement known to man. It baffled you how one could even think that, let alone truly believe it enough to announce it so stupidly in the open, it was obvious that women were capable of understanding concepts like politics, maths and science for you were living proof.

You did better than your brother at grasping algebra, better at them with understanding Versalius's "De humani corporis fabrica" and it didn't take your friend long to understand Karl Marx's theory on communism once you explained it to her. It angered you that this was dismissed especially when your brother soon went off to universities for they had outgrown your father's enormous library and knowledge, there was no more he could teach them but there was still much to learn and you yearned to do the same but as you approached a suitable age for marriage, your everyday classes on Shakespearean English, Tudor monarchy, Greek mythology and Italian art had now been replaced with sewing, crochet, dining etiquette and the differences between napkins, white laced ones for formal lunches, gold embroidery for important dinners and regular silk for everyday use, you'd recite to your mother and the many maids who were on standby.

You've left that world now, left the bustling streets of industrialised London where a black smog always hung around the air and the smell of burnt rubber that stung your nose, you always hated both. Though you grew up in a large estate where there seemed to be a never ending amount of land on the outskirts of London, you never were allowed out to explore. Only allowed out with your mother to pick out fabrics in the markets, surrounded by military men that guarded the general's wife and daughter but now you were alone, no guards, no mother and no black smog to block your view of what lies ahead, only the sun and the ocean sky, clear of clouds as you breathe in fresh air that cleanses your lungs from the toxins that hang in the city air, surrounded by vibrant lavenders that arrive with a strong, sweet smell of pollen which you welcome to replace the bitter rubber your sense of smell only seems to know.

You close your eyes and bask in the warmth of late August , the sun gleaming down on you, rays striking against your skin with the wind between the strands of your hair, blowing the lavenders and they slightly tickle your arms. You’re not sure how long you were in your euphoric trance but you weren't ready to leave yet when the dark shadow was casted over you.

Your eyes lazily open and beauty lies ahead, the sun gleaming behind him, lights him on flames and he burns with a presence so strong you can see it as his aura swirls around you, engulfing you. His features,strong and yet his eyes are soft and even as he's turned away from the sun they sparkle infinitely as they hold the brightest stars, his stare pierces through you and it makes your gut clench as you feel small under his gaze but you don't turn away, daring him to continue staring down on you, well that's what you tell yourself as you can't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes. His face wears a worried expression, his hand out forwards for you to take and place in his and it takes you a while to realise he's trying to help you up, even longer to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, as you just watch his cherry red lips move. You're dazed and for the first time you're not thinking straight, your legs won't move to carry you back up onto your feet but your hand instinctively moves towards him and your own mouth gapes open as it does, and again he repeats himself emphasising the words as his eyes widen further “are you feeling well?” you stare blankly at him, no response until you feel the burning sensation of his hand in yours. A heat that sends shocks through every nerve, it runs through your bloodstream lighting you on fire and as if you were burnt you pull back, shaking off the dizzy spell you rise to your feet, your body finally responding to your screaming brain. A sense of relief washes over you as the fear of losing your mind slowly seeps out as the haze in your mind clears, until your eyes meet his again. “Really y/n, not for a boy” you cry out in your head as your mind seems to be lost in awe looking at him.

You shuffle uncomfortably and it’s just now you realise how much of a mess you look as the embodiment of beauty’s eyes fall down. Your expensive dress torn up, what was once a full sangria and silver ball gown was now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing as it stopped just above your knees, an uneven hem due to the rough ripping which took all of your strength, the white net underneath was visibly stained a brownish yellow, the cuts on your knee not being the only thing the dirt seeped into  but his eyes don’t even seem to stop there, they didn't even seem to notice, only meeting a piece of paper that lied on the floor. He reaches down for it, his eyebrows perk up slightly before handing it back to you.“You dropped this” he avoids eye contact, continuing to stare down, his hand abruptly extends out in front of him and he clears his throat, adding to the excruciating awkwardness between you and you wince at the sudden sound.

“Oh thank you..” you can hear your voice waver and crack and for the first time in your life, your voice isn’t confident, seems like a day full of firsts, your mother would’ve been proud if she saw you acting like this, like a lady she would have put it. Quiet, reserved but really it was just a suffocating stiffness that lingered in the air.

“Jisung” he completes your sentence, a small, shy smile appears on his face as his eyes look at everything but you, the letter still in his grasp he shakes his hand at you slightly urging you to take it. Your fingers brush past his ever so slightly as you take the letter back into your possession, a spark is sent through you and your fingers twitch, as if wanting more but you stop them from moving any further, your eyes slightly widen as you catch yourself falling so easily and if Jisung catches the weird expressions on your face, he chooses to ignore them not saying anything. “You are not from around here, are you?” His voice is light and airy as he speaks softly, as if you were made of glass and any harsh tone could break you, you can’t tell if it’s because of the immense awkwardness or because of the pity he must feel seeing you in such a state. You hope it’s the former and decide that’s what it is, when he starts playing with the edges of his white shirt.

“No I live in London” the words die as soon as they leave your mouth, you used to live in London, you don’t anymore. This only adds to Jisung’s awkwardness and it reminds you no matter how beautiful he is, he’s only just a boy who’s probably around your age. So you smile at him, letting out a small breathy laugh in hopes of lightening the mood, it works as he visibly unstiffens. “Used to” Jisung doesn’t press on the matter any further, doesn’t ask anymore questions, just nods. The unsettling atmosphere sets in once again and your incapability of standing in silence for more than a second, you clear your throat "do you know where this address is?" your tone light and airy, you sound almost clueless and it’s now you realise the true meaning behind every etiquette class, the role of the women is the domestic war, the war on power. For one to rise they must make powerful allies and that’s what this voice is for, to obtain the power of a man and trick them into helping you; so you're glad when Jisung takes the letter back into his grasp and examines the writing at the front, it’s worked.

“I’ll show you the way” and you nod with a slight smile as a thank you, Jisung leads the way and you follow soon behind, with his face no longer in my sight you can finally observe the rest of him. Judging by his height and build, seems like he comes from a well off family. Though there wasn’t a day you felt hungry, you weren’t blind to the outside world no matter how hard your parents tried to shelter you from it. The world is living off rations but the wealthy still have access to more, Jisung must have some sought of status or most likely works for a household with high status considering it seemed like he was running errands, why else would he be in a field full of lavenders and it’s only reinforced by the fine silk that flows as wind rushes past you. Somewhat similar to the material that makes up your gown, or what’s left of it, it’s an expensive material imported from colonies in the empire. He walks with no flaw and so you guess he didn’t serve in the war, meaning he has to be around your age; this new life is exciting and scary, you’re not sure what you want yet but you certainly wouldn’t mind if the boy in the lavender field stuck around for a while.

Jisung’s steps slowed and soon came to a stop outside a large estate, it was nowhere near as big as your parent's manor but comparing it to the small petite houses in the village you could just about see; it definitely was the biggest house in the village. You turned to thank Jisung, mouth slightly opened as the words were prepared to leave until you saw him pull out a key and a heat rose up your neck onto your face, in both slight embarrassment and excitement as you realised that Jisung must live here and your mouth couldn’t help but confirm your thoughts, “do you live here?” you blurted quickly with a slight lift in your tone, which you hope wasn’t too obvious in exposing your excitement.

His eyebrows rise, a small smile appears but he doesn’t answer your question, continuing to unlock the doors and allows you to step in first, a women who barely makes it past Jisung’s shoulders calls out to him, embracing him as she tightly wraps her arms around his waist, Jisung leans back slightly as a way of hoping to loosen her grip as his face scrunches up in pain as the struggle to breath sets in but there’s a constant smile on his face right until he peels her off. It’s then she punches him in the stomach, making him crouch down below her, holding onto his stomach.

“How many breaths must I waste in having to tell you to make sure you fulfill all your duties before you head to the fields'' she nags him and a smile is brought to your face at the violent display of affection, you guess he must be a part of the service team that works for the master of this house, which was exceptionally beautiful in the inside; much bigger than what it lets off from the outside, your eyes can’t help but linger elsewhere and observe the hidden beauty in all the small intricate designs. “Young master” the lady continues to punish him for his action and you head whips around at her words, she hasn’t even noticed you but Jisung’s eyes are constantly on you watching your expressions change as more as more information is being released to you, a smile appears on his face and at first it seems like a smirk but soon you notice the constant pink dust across his cheeks and you realise he’s embarrassed. There’s a strange feeling in your chest, a warmth that spreads and has you clutching your fists as you think at how adorable he is, your eyebrows furrow and you shake both the thoughts and the smile off.

Finally after what seems like hours of you staring at Jisung but in reality was no longer than a few seconds, the petite woman turns to you and acknowledges your presence,  her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes to your side. “Oh lord, my dear child are you okay?” she grabs your hands and ushers you down the hall into a secluded room that takes up a big portion of the ground floor of the house.

The kitchen, filled with plenty of workers,busy hands and food; she shouts at a maid to move a few things around and to make some space for you around the small table that holds vegetables and freshly cut meat. There’s the smell of spices that are definitely too exotic to be from these lands, parcels with German writing and several people cooking dishes you don’t recognise.

You're pushed down onto a small wooden chair that slightly rocks and it is by far the most uncomfortable place you’ve ever sat but you don’t dare complain even after the minutes pass and your legs begin to ache. The maids ran around you and even as you left that world behind, you still somehow ended up in the same position and then you realise it’s the fine silk you wear that sets you apart, the rows and rows of pearls around your neck and rings on your fingers. They don’t ask any questions, just wiping away at the dirt on your legs; the same women at the door pouring a type of alcohol over your cuts and it stings drawing out a hiss from you, “sorry” she whispers and blows slightly on the irritated skin. The kitchen quiets down and the other maids exit, leaving you and the same women who scolded Jisung, she didn’t bother to ask him any questions and quickly sent him away to carry on with the work he didn’t finish, she doesn’t ask you any questions either for it’s not her place to ask. 

She wraps bandages around your knees and your eyes wander around, landing on a picture of her with three little boys, you recognise the smallest to be Jisung, she catches your eyes and smiles “the masters, when they were little devils” she remarks making you and her both let out small laughs, “though they aren't much better now” she smiles fondly as she continues to wrap the bandages, you see love in her eyes and can tell that she raised them.

“The smallest is Jisung, am I correct?” you ask just to confirm your assumption, she nods and smiles, “i can tell by his awkwardness, it’s radiant even in pictures” you scoff and she laughs. "Who are the other two?" Your curiosity seemingly has no end.

"The tallest is master Jeno and the one in the middle is master Jaemin" she says as she cuts the bandage. You take note of their names and match it to their appearances though you assume they've probably changed quite a bit. The tallest, Jeno has crescent moons for eyes as his smile pushes them up, it's adorable. The middle, Jaemin also has a bright smile, probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen but Jisung still stands out the most to you, maybe it’s because you’ve seen how he looks now; the change is definitely visible, he’s grown much taller and into his sharp features. He's definitely handsome, epitome of beauty but by the way he timidly walks you’re not quite sure he knows it.

“Will these do, ma’am?” her hands hold onto a set of clean clothes and you only nod at her as you take the clothes from her hands, calloused and rough from years of labour. "Please just call me y/n" you tell her trying to remove your status and she only nods in return. "And what may I call you" you ask her.

"Daphne" she replies and you notice that she smiles at you, a full smile nothing quite like you've seen before and you'd like to think this what a smile should look like. Genuine. Instead of all the small smiles you recieved, the ones with hidden agendas and meanings, the ones because of who your father was, the one because of your status, name, title, money and a persuasion for your hand in marriage. So many smiles yet none truly considered one. God you hated that life.

"Now y/n let me show you to a room" she leads you out the room and you follow her upstairs, all the maids rushing back into the kitchen after you have left. She turns left and right and you find that the upstairs is far more complicated to navigate, with many different rooms. When she finally reaches a long corridor, she stops to point at the room that awaits at the end. "That will be your room ma'am" and before she even could finish her sentence properly, "y/n" you correct her and she only nods, giving you a soft smile as an apology."Please call for me if anything isn't to your liking" she says and just as she's about to step away, ready to leave you to get comfortable.

You call her back, "Daphne, can you please tell me who this is" you lift up the small blue letter that leads you here to this address, to finally put a name to the mysterious woman who only seemed to want the best for you and your mother. She takes the small letter from your grasp, examining the small font that's slowly fading due to the number of years it's collected dust. Her eyes widen as she reads the letter, her head snapping up to look at you, her lips parting slightly as if her jaw threatened to drop.

"My god" she says as she continues to read, shock written all over her face, "this is from the master's mother, dear" she tells you and you join her in shock as your jaw hangs a lot more obviously in shock. "She worked for your family when she was young" she continues to tell you and the ripples of shock continue to pulse through your body. Your mother and her are good friends from what you've gathered, reading all the letters you found. Yet your mother never even allowed you to mix classes, always telling you to stick with your own people, people who can pay for your time, literally. Yet here she was being friends with a woman considered below her, even considering sending you away to her. The hypocrisy is what shocked you the most, for you didn't think your mother could build relationships if it weren't for a social advantage.

"Can I meet her?" you ask, excited until you see sadness seep into her eyes, she looks down and she shuffles slightly. Her eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall and your own shoulders droop down and a frown is formed on your lips. "I'm sorry" you apologise but she shakes her head and wipes her eyes slightly.

"Don't be silly, you didn't know and it's better you found out through me anyways." She tells you and you're glad that you found out through her too, you don't think you would've been able to handle it coming from Jisung. "If you do not mind me, but when did she pass" you ask carefully as to not break her.

"Last May" she tells you and you hear sadness in her voice , as it slightly cracks and you release a deep sigh as to rid your body from the contagious mood. With that she hands the letter back into your hand and leaves you to wash up, "Dinner will be ready soon, please wash up" she urges you to go into the room.

You walk down the corridor, steps heavy as your heart grieves for Jisung and as you're reminded of your own father's death, though he planned on marrying you to a stranger you didn't love and never truly wanting you to live happily. You loved and still love him with every ounce of your being, all making grief an impossibly hard process. For your heart hurt and your mind could not comprehend why.  Your eyes stung with tears and your hands trembling with pain and still the mind was questioning why you felt sad. Then the guilt blooms, hovering above you, for this man raised you and cared for you and yet you question your grief as you sit by his deathbed. Yet you remind yourself that questioning your grief is better than not feeling any at all, you remember looking over towards your mother who wore black and instead of grieving her husband's death, she felt grief for her widow status that crushed her social status, for who was she without her husband.

So as you remove the many pearls and diamonds around your neck, gifted to you by your mother, you’re reminded why you left that life behind. You won’t be defined by your husband but by what you have achieved and for who you are. Yet you leave on the thin golden chain with a single pendant on your neck, as a reminder for where to come from and how far you’ve travelled. It was a gift from both your mother and father, the one gift you like to think wasn’t used as a symbol of your wealth to attract men in asking for your hand in marriage, the simplicity of this necklace led you to believe that this was a genuine gift of their love.

Changing out of your ball gown or the remainders of it, you feel anew. Stripping out of your old skin and into much comfortable and humble ones, you feel as if your new life is finally starting and though it’s far from what anyone would have wanted for your life to be like, it’s what you want. You’ve been here for just under an hour and instantly you're on cloud nine, floating to where only the sun is. The rays dancing on your skin and euphoria runs within your veins, this is life.  

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in a daze but soft knocks on the door is what awakens you and you're quick to open the door, not wanting to leave the person on the other side waiting but you’re met with a fist, that seems as if it malfunctions as it goes down by the side of the same person who seems to waking you out of all your dazes recently. Jisung stands there awkwardly, legs crossed and hands behind his back, he stutters as he says “dinner is...um.. It is awaiting” and with that he cuts himself off, rushing the words out of his mouth and quickly turns around, rushing downstairs.

You can only smile at him, how was someone allowed to be that cute. Following soon after him you enter into the dinning room, the smile on your face completely wiped off by the shock of two other men sitting around the table. Your back straightens as your body stiffens, by habit, you’ve been taught to look most confident when caught off guard.

“Sit here y/n” Daphne takes out the seat opposite of Jisung and next to a man you don’t know until he smiles your way, you recognise that smile and it’s still as pretty as it looks in the picture hanging in the kitchen. You smile back at him as you make your way by his side and take your seat.

“Hello, I’m Jaemin” he turns to you, dropping his fork and it clatters as it hits the plate, a beautiful smile across his face and you finding it comforting to think it hasn’t changed at all. He then lifts your hand to his lips, placing them softly on your knuckles all whilst keeping that damn smile held across his lips and staring straight into your soul, heat rises up your body slightly thrown back and he can see the shock in your eyes . Your well crafted facade cracking. His eyes are still boring into yours and you can’t move, stuck looking into his eyes, hands stuck to his until a kick. Coming from across the table, a force hits Jaemin’s shin causing him to yelp, instantly turning away from you and dropping your hand, you notice a small smile on Jisung’s face as he tries to conceal his laughter. You turn to look at where such a force came from, fierce strong features and an intimidating stare yet when he turns to you crescent moons appear, his aura changing immediately and the child in the portrait comes to life. “I’m Jeno” his voice is soft yet clear and all you can do is smile back before replying simply your name “Y/N” you tell him and he nods your way. 

Thinking that silence would now set in was foolish of you, for you should’ve guessed Jaemin isn’t the type to let there be silence and looking back now you could definitely tell he was itching to ask you so many questions. “I guess you have already met Jisung” he turns to you again and you only nod, looking up at the tall boy in front of you but he only stares at the soup in front of him but you know he senses your gaze as he twitches slightly in his seat, holding himself back from looking up and directly into your eyes. “He is not usually this quiet, he will warm up to you soon” Jaemin apologises on behalf of Jisung yet he grimaces at the words that leave Jaemin’s mouth but you smile at Jaemin ignoring Jisung’s expression.

The rest of dinner is filled with small talk between you and Jaemin, him asking you your favourite colour and trivial things like that, you discussed different authors and scriptors to which Jeno also chimed in on the conversation, both very impressed on your knowledge though you aren’t sure if they were impressed because you were a woman or genuinely impressed by the vast knowledge you had accumulated over the years spent in your father’s library however you brushed that thought aside, carrying on with the conversation, eyes drifting to Jisung at times who just sat there playing around with spoon, twisting it between his fingers instead of daring to look at you let alone to add to the conversation. Finally as Daphne takes away the plates, Jeno stands up dismissing himself from the table, “It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I hope you stay a while it was fun having you” he tells you with those same moons for eyes and you thank him for his hospitality “It was a great pleasure to meet you too, thank you for allowing me to stay” you say them at Jeno and Jaemin but they’re mainly directed to Jisung who brought you here.

“If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to tell me” Jaemin smiles, a hand on your shoulder as he stands next to where you sit and you only nod at him, he then comes to your ear, lips so close you feel them brush against the shell “Jisung will come around, I’m sorry if he’s making you feel uncomfortable” he apologises on his behalf for the second time that night and you wave him off with a smile. You could already tell that Jisung is shy and awkward but it’s not confused for hate or resentment, he simply doesn’t know how to act around a female and it’s clear the way he trips over his words and his very own legs but to be fair they are very long.

After everyone left the table and made their ways to their own rooms, you too made your way to bed. Laying there you think back to how far you’ve come, a few months ago this all would have been nothing but a dream and now it’s a reality and the euphoric feeling you imagine is everything and more. Freedom is worth anything is what you’ve learnt, the freedom to live your life the way you want. To be in control of all your decisions, living with the consequences but not a single shred of regret because you chose it and therefore it must have been for a reason. It’s new and exciting but so scary as the colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach, all the possibilities panning out in your head and for some reason as you drift off to sleep that night, you see Jisung in this future of yours.

The sun shined in through the sheer curtains of your room, sunlight dancing on your skin and the warmth made you feel alive as it tingled. The house was quiet and as you look out the window you realise that even the Sun has still yet to wake fully, still sleepy rising out of the horizon. The birds chirp and the lavender fields roar as the wind dances but there in the middle of it all is a figure. Jisung. Your eyes light up and your legs are quick to move, still in your nightgown, hair in a mess you rush to meet him there. The stairs creak as you step down them slowly, as if a child trying not to get caught, you try your best not to wake a soul.

Once out the door you run out towards the purple sea, the cold morning air refreshing to the midday humidity that sticks your clothes to your skin, instead the wind blows through you and you feel free as all boundaries and confinements are washed away but then it hits you, causing your legs to halt. Jisung barely knows you, how weird it would be for you to run up to him at the break of dawn? Very weird you decide as you slowly make your way back to the house, hoping to not make any noise that might draw his attention your way.

Stepping back inside, your back against the heavy wooden door you let out a deep sigh as your eyes fall closed in relief. Thank god he didn't see you, you think to yourself as you just stepped into the living room and your heart dropped down to your stomach, lungs stopping as you see him there. Jisung flicking through a book, his eyes come up to meet yours which are blown out in shock as you stare between him and looking back at the door, his lips fold into a line and you practically see the questions forming in his mind as he scratches the top of his head.

“Good Morning” you say with a smile but the embarrassment isn’t covered well, eyes everywhere but his. He softly replies with a mumble you’re unsure if he actually said anything back or if you just made it up but as your eyes land on the book in his hand and all thoughts are banished. You rush round the table, Jisung’s eyes wide now as it’s his turn to be shocked as you sit down beside him, taking the book out of his hand to have a look at the title. “Ah a classic” you say as your fingers run over the title and Jisung only nods at your words. “Is it your favorite Shakespearean play?” you ask in hopes of starting up conversation, all you get in return is nod of the head but that does nothing but urge you to talk again to fill the silence. “I like Hamlet but i think Macbeth is my favourite. The best character being Lady Macbeth, a strong ambitious women” you state and Jisung only laughs at this causing you to turn back to him.

“She had lost her mind” he laughs again and you smile

“Yes but as a woman she exerts power and it’s not really seen much in female characters in stories and real life” you tell him, explaining how a woman like her is admirable for her strong spirit.

“Yes but doesn’t Shakespear describe her to have a masculine soul that within a femine body, he is saying the ambition and power are masculine and therefore is she really a good embodiment for strong powerful females?” he argues back, questioning you and you can’t help but smile.

“But he uses her and the witches to plant the idea of murder in Macbeth’s head, he shows that they are powerful and can achieve what they want through manipulation which he explains to be a women’s method, they are in control of the men and it shows that if it weren’t for social confinments that they would pursue their ambitions for themselves, is Macbeth really the one in control?” you question him back and he smiles

“You win” he laughs and pride is struck through you, there’s no feeling quite similar to winning a debate but there's sadness at the bottom of your gut as you remember and miss your brothers who you would debate with until frustrations would burst out of you all and it leads to punches being thrown around.

“Let me guess, you hate Romeo and Juliet” he expects you to say yes and you know it’s because he probably thinks their love for each other is shallow but you can’t say you do.

“I don’t actually, aside from the whole love at first sight, I somewhat relate to it” you tell him eyes staring at him but unfocused as you think back to how your own life was in comparison to Juliet’s, “the being forced into something you don’t want and dying for your freedom, in this case her freedom was Romeo but i don’t think he was the only reason she chose to flee, I’d like to think ran away for herself and to allow herself her own choices in life” and then silence as Jisung took in your words, a perspective he had never really thought about, the story was always solely based on romance but then again he had never been put in the position of being forced into something so life changing such as marriage. Jisung couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt to be used so obviously for social gain and being stripped and deprived of anything else that would hinder that.

 Sensing stiffness in the air, you had to do something about it, you finally got Jisung to actually have a conversation with you. “Still Macbeth is the best” and again you manage to get a laugh out of him. The sound is so sweet that angels come down to listen to it, the heavens split open at the first bubble of laughter that leaves his mouth and your eyes light up as your body tingles with pride for causing it, you’re addicted to it and you're itching to hear it again. You need to hear it again.

The moment is cut off though with the entrance of Jaemin and Jisung’s eyes avert to his brother greeting him a good morning as quietly as he did to you and Jaemin sleepy replies in a yawn, rubbing his eye  before sitting down opposite you. “Morning y/n” he greets you and you smile before greeting him back, turning back to Jisung to hopefully start up the conversation again. “So what else are you reading?” you ask and your eyes light up as you scan over the many books on the table before you.

“Oh y/n, you know how to read!” Jaemin jumps up, it wasn’t expected for someone to be literate to the extent they could read Shakespeare or any higher educational scriptures, unless of a high class, let alone a women but your father taught you all he could and then you leached off your brothers who were lucky enough to be sent to school but Jaemin had already been aware of this “Yes my father taught me” you tell him and he nods rapidly.

“Yes I know, I just thought you’d like to know that there’s a library upstairs if you ever get bored and want to read something” he tells you and excitement bubbles up inside you and the instinct to run up there and have a look at their book collection is something far harder to conceal then it should be and Jaemin laughs at your eagerness. “Jisung could use someone like you, he’s always trying to get away from his studies” and you hear Jisung let out a nervous laugh as you turn towards him, completely offended.

“You have the privilege of being able to study and you want to run away from it” you gasp and it causes Jaemin to laugh again but this wasn’t a laughing matter, you were completely serious. You would die to be in his position and something about the way Jisung holds an apologetic look makes you think he knows you would.

“I guess you’ll just have to be with him to help him study” Jaemin offers a solution and your eyes light up at this, the excitement running through your veins. You all know exactly what that means, yes it’s babysitting Jisung to make sure he gets all his work done but it also means you get to study whatever he’s learning and expand your knowledge as far as you can. Jisung seemed hesitant at first but after seeing how you visibly lit up at the suggestion he couldn’t help but agree to take you along with him when he had to study.

After breakfast Jisung led you up to the library, it was a large room filled from ceiling to floor with books, the sight alone made you dizzy with excitement, as you stepped in the beloved smell of old books filled your senses and your hands instantly rushed to run along the spines of every book. Your eyes sparkled as you looked over each one and Jisung watched as fascination completely engulfed you, he couldn’t stop watching as you pick out a book, couldn’t take his eyes off you as your eyes skimmed the blurb, he was mesmerized by what he wasn’t too sure of. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to move on from your figure until you turned to face him, time stood still as he watched more and more of the bright smile that was held across your face be revealed to him, you were beautiful. Once met with yours, his eyes scrambled away as they always do and he was quick to turn around and seat himself at the desk that sat in the centre of the room.

You too situated yourself on one of the more comfortable chairs, opposite to Jisung, you watched him begin to write, his head slanted and both arms splayed out on the table, he was the height of beauty and grace, the gods carved him from marble, so ethereal Aphrodite herself was jealous of his perfection, Apollo envied his grace. Though you were here to study, read as many books time allowed you, your eyes were distracted and little did you know they were distracting Jisung as well. Your gaze causes his breath to halt, his hands to sweat and pink dust to decorate his skin. You were dazed, stuck in a trace of his beauty and had to do something to get out of it, you clenched your hand; nails digging into your palms, pressing hard to wake you. You forced your head to the side, eyes looking at the bookshelf once again but your actions caused Jisung to look up, you can feel his stare on you and a shiver is sent through your spine, too scared to look back at him, afraid you’ll be pulled back into his trance.

“You have a lot of German books” you say, hoping your nervousness isn’t obvious and just to be sure you get up and head towards the books. You feel him staring at every step you take and you just pray you're the only one that can hear the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage as a colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach. Fingers tracing over the German writing on the spine of each book, you try to distract yourself from him and try to compose yourself once again but then his voice echoes through the room, deep and smooth it sends shivers rippling through you.

“My father was stationed in Germany” he tells you as his eyes finally move away from your figure, a sense of relief washes over you as he continues to write once again. Yet you're still too nervous to turn around, too nervous to look at him, he who is the epitome of beauty.

“Still?” you ask, filling in the silence as you pull out another book, examining the words on the front cover but you instantly regret it as Jisung’s eyes fall back onto you.

“After the war he was assigned a higher position in the Rhineland and then after they were dismissed he was asked to stay along the French borders'' he tells you and once again your curiosity gets the best of you and you ask him another question. If you remember correctly, it’s been 10 years since the dismissal of the troops in the Rhineland.

“So when was the last time you saw him?” and instantly you regret the words that leave your mouth, your curse yourself a million times over. Jisung’s silence is all too overwhelming and your chest grows tighter as guilt takes over your body and just as you’re about to apologise, he answers

“He visited last year” Jisung simply states but you can hear the strain in his voice, the pain he’s tried his best to cover yet it seeps through and your glad you can’t see him right now because you couldn’t bare to see the sparkle in his eyes fade slightly as you remember the passing of his mother, that most probably led to his father returning back home. Silence settles again and your frozen by the shelves, the air so heavy it feels as if weights were holding you down, your mind hazy as you space out and as the common pattern goes, Jisung wakes you out of the depths of your mind with a voice as smooth as honey, it provides a comfort that sends shivers down your spine.  “He’ll be back soon though, he’s officially been discharged for retirement” he tells you as if he can feel your stiffness and out of the corner of your eye you see he’s giving you a small comforting smile, just to make the air seem a little lighter.

Time seems to fly past as you both sit there, Jisung’s hands busy writing away as he refers back to scriptures and your eyes busy as you read up on German politics and the structure of the Weimar constitution, that revolutionised democracy, the sun was now high in the sky as noon approached. You didn’t even notice until Jisung let out a loud yawn, arms above his head as he stretched and let out mumbles of how you should stop for today or at least take a break. You only nodded in response as you stretched your own limbs out, you had ended up curled up in the chair with your legs tucked away as you leaned into what you were reading. Jisung couldn't help but smile as he looked up occasionally to see your eyebrows furrowed as you read and he can't help the soft laugh from escaping his lips now as he watches you stretch. "And what is it that you find so funny?" You question him, eyes narrowed but your lips are clearly fighting back a smile and the sight of it flusters Jisung, stammering over his words ``N-Nothing" he answers and you let out a small smile to let him know you were only kidding.

As you both leave the room, you can't help but follow Jisung "and what is it you do after you are done studying?" Your question startled him as he visibly flinched at the sound of your voice and he mentally tells himself to get used to your unquenchable curiosity. "Except for picking lavenders" you tease. He lets out a soft laugh, the same sound you've been itching to hear since this morning.

"Nothing much" he tells as he makes his way down the stairs. Following him down, he makes his way towards the drawing room, sitting himself down in an old velvet chair, you place yourself beside him in a matching one. Your eyes peering over towards his hands that pull at needle and thread and you’re astounded by the sight in front of you, a male who knows how to sew is as rare as diamonds, as impressive as gold. Jisung continuously stuns you, his nimble fingers work diligently as they pull the thread to make patterns across the once plain cloth.

He can feel the burn of your stare on his hands, his chest tightens and his nerves are lit on fire, he is hyper aware of every wander of your eyes. His mind clouded by the mere thought of you watching him, his mind so fixated on impressing you, for a reason he’s not sure of, he doesn’t pay much attention to the needle any longer; a mistake he realises once the sharp point collides with the soft skin of his index, drawing blood. He flinches back away from the sharp contact as you leap forward to cup his hand in both of yours. Pressing your thumb against his finger, applying pressure in hopes of stopping the seeping blood, you slightly blow upon it to relieve it of any pain but Jisung can’t feel any pain not when your overwhelming heat rolls of you and radiates on to his skin, with every touch sparks fly on top of his skin fizzling underneath and seeping into his bloodstream. A fluttering blooms in his stomach and Jisung has no idea what this feeling is, it’s new and exciting. He craves it as his eyes drift to your worried face and once your eyes meet his, the emotion is buried by the overwhelming nervousness he feels engulfing him, his cheeks flush and his breath is caught in his throat. He pulls away from you and quickly stands “I’ll” he pauses thinking what to say next “I’ll get a bandage” he spits the words out as soon as his mind comes up with the excuse.

“I’ll get it, sit down” you stand up and ready to head towards any one of the maids that could help you but your steps are interrupted by Jisung’s voice once again.

“No it’s fine, I’ll get it” he blurts out, hand stopping you as he places in front of you, your head moving back on reflex, and with that Jisung runs out the room; feet moving fast as his left hand tightly wraps around his right index.

You sit there for what felt like forever waiting for Jisung’s return but in reality it was no more than 10 minutes, you were never one to hold patience. So you rose to your feet, eager to find the tall boy that let awkwardness roll off of him. Heading to the direction you saw Jisung turn, you make your way to the familiar kitchen, many busy bodies work their way around preparing for dinner as the clock is nearing sun fall. Your eyes wander the familiar walls with the same pictures you stared at upon the first day of your arrival, until they stopped on the figure they seeked. There he stood by the wooden table that just about reached his waist. He poured flour into a bowl, followed by two eggs and your eyes watched his every moment again and as if he could sense you, his rose to meet you once again. You smile because it just comes so naturally when with him and he smiles back, how could he not?

Inviting yourself in, you step closer towards Jisung, “A cook too” you say, you’re impressed and it’s evident in your voice.

“It’s a basic necessity” he says yet there’s a pink coating that dusts his cheeks, you know he’s flattered by your words despite his own.

“Basic necessity?” you question as you sit down, legs crossed, on an empty wooden chair just by where he stands “I guess I should learn” you state nonchalantly, not expecting the reaction it would provoke from Jisung. His head snaps to turn to you, his eyes searching your face for any indication that you were only pulling his leg, that this was only a joke but those indications never showed because this wasn't a joke, you were serious.

“What? Does a girl have to know how to cook?” you question him in a scoff, an eyebrow raised as you question his thoughts that control his expressions.

“No they don’t but I can be surprised, I know you are surprised I can” he rebuttals, calling out your hypocrisy but to this you only smile, you were glad Jisung could stand his own ground, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

“More impressed than surprised” you state, earning a smile from Jisung once again, you pat yourself on the back each time you manage to pull out that sweet, healing smile that seems to wash all worries away.

“Who’s to say I’m not impressed” he questions you once again and continues to mix the batter, adding more ingredients, again you smile at his words and Jisung feels his heart flutter at every stretch of your lips. He craves to see it more.

“Can you teach me?” your question catches him off guard and his eyebrows leap up into the soft brown hair that covers his forehead, “what I’m not totally hopeless, I’ve read a book on it before” you pout. Laughter rings through the air as Jisung has doubled over, unable to hold in the snorts and his breathing unsteadies as your words register in his head and this only makes your pout more prominent and your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m sorry” Jisung laughs out as his eyes fall onto your expression but he can’t hold it in, a few bubbles of laughter spilling out as he tries to calm his breaths, his eyes glossy as tears threaten to fall and you try to fight back your own laughter as the corners of your lips slightly perk up. “Did you say you read a book on cooking” he can’t even get through the sentence without laughing but he’s quick to reign it back in to allow you to answer.

“Yes” you say proudly, head still held high and Jisung bites down on his lips as the splutters of laughter threaten to escape again. “It’s obviously not the same thing but I’ve read basic methods” you state in defence.

“You make it sound like science” he scoffs at your words and you roll your eyes at his.

“Is it not, the mixing of substances to achieve a product. It sounds like alchemy to me” you explain your thought process and Jisung nods in agreement. Though you can tell he has something to say.

“Alright then, let us say cooking is science” he begins and you raise your eyebrow in questioning as to where this is leading “reading a method for an experiment is not the same as doing the experiment, there are things that are not accounted for, practical errors, measuring errors. The method tells you what to do but not how to do it” and before he can even finish his sentence properly you jump up, startling him slightly as he flinches back.

“And that is where you come in to teach me, guide me through the experiment” you plead but it sounds like he doesn’t really have an option, you’re practically telling him. He sighs but he has to give, how could he not when you're giving him your sweetest smile and when your eyes are practically begging him.

“I’m surprised you want to learn” he questions you “I thought you’d avoid anything that would have been forced upon you” he explains as he hands you an apron.

Your smile extends ear to ear as you take the apron from his hands, tying in behind your back you explain your sudden want to learn “Yes but I’m choosing to learn, this isn’t about adding another quality of a wife to my resume. This about extending my knowledge and as you said it is a basic necessity.”

Jisung only nods at your answer as he hands you another bowl, some ingredients already placed inside “follow after me” he says as he cracks an egg and pours it’s insides into the bowl and then turning to you he see you struggle, knocking the egg against the table softly you try and mimic his actions “Did the book not mention eggs?” he laughs and so does Daphne who observes close by as you send him glares that wish him death.

“Like this” he says as he places his hands over yours, guiding you but your eyes aren’t focused on the egg in your hold, you’re focused on Jisung who’s so close, too close. You feel his breath on the side of your neck and goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin as shivers are sent down your spine. The scent of cotton, jasmine and of course lavenders invade your senses and blur your mind. You can’t help but stare at Jisung, perfection personified as he concentrates on explaining how to assure no shell falls into the batter. Yet the words enter one ear and exit the other as you watch his lips move, your eyes stuck and it’s only when his eyes move up to meet yours does he also realise the little space between the two of you. His hands still holding onto yours, his eyes move down. Slowly they trace the features of your face, the bridge of your nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow and then they stop at your lips. His breathing halts, his heart skips beats as it dances in his chest and when he feels unbearable heat take over him he forces himself away from you. Quickly flinching back, his warmth leaves you, he clears his throat and turns from your gaze that still stares, he continues showing you what to do and no more words are exchanged as the heaviness in the air sets in.

Many weeks go by where you and Jisung spend all your mornings in the library, which had now become your favourite spot in the house, you look forward to picking up a new book every morning, look forward to watching Jisung so focused on his work, telling him all about what you’ve learnt and occasionally sparking up a debate but you also find yourself staring out the window wishing for the sun to only raise itself higher and higher as you wish for midday to arrive, to run away with Jisung down into the kitchen where he continues to teach you how to cook, some days he would take you into town to pick out fresh ingredients or some days into the drawing room where he attempts to teach you how to sow. After a few failed attempts, your patience wearing thin and much blood being drawn from your fingers, you give up on sewing however cooking is a much greater achievement and the outcome was worth every bit of it. The smile on Jisung’s face every time he’d taste something he’d liked, every time you remember a part of a recipe and every time he would sit down at the dinner table and Jeno or Jaemin would compliment your cooking. He felt immense pride in you and it fostered a love for cooking within you.

Other days when the weather prohibited it, Jisung would take you out into the lavender field. You’d sit in between the rows and rows of purple, picking at the prettiest ones.The sun high in the sky, august warmth embracing you as the wind blew over the roaring fields, dancing between your hair. “Look I learnt this from a book” you sit beside Jisung, his head snaps up and his attention is on your fingers now as they twirl the thin stems in and around each other to form a knot. “Purity, silence, devotion and grace are what a lavender symbolise” you begin to tell him “and you Jisung” you place the intertwined lavenders behind his ear, he’s visibly flustered as his cheeks turn hues of pink and it only urges you on “are exactly that” you whisper to him as if the lavenders had ears and could hear your confession, for these words are for Jisung’s only.

Jisung’s eyes widened as each word that was revealed to him, his heart thumping in his chest and his mind set on fire as chaos engulfed him. His thoughts scrambled and instantly his mind went to countless different possibilities as to what those words meant but looking up at you his mind cleared for he only saw beauty. The beauty your eyes held, as they sparkled infinitely each time they skimmed over the countless words on a book, the beauty your smile held when someone complimented your new found cooking skills, the beauty in your voice each time you called on him as the new found nickname “sungie” which caused his heart to melt, the beauty you held in the way you carried yourself never letting anyone put you down. Jisung adored you in every way, embers in his chest that grew into a flame, which spreads through his entirety burning all. A blissful pain sits at the core of him, aching, he longs for you but do you long for him? Is he but a fool to fall in love with a stranger, the stranger in the lavender fields. Is he a fool for falling in love with you? Is this even love? His eyes fixated on your lips, he examines the curve of them, the colour, their beauty. As if they were magnets he’s drawn to them, slowly inching himself forward, so close he could feel the warm air that made it past them.

So close and yet so far is he to you, the sweet smell of lavenders is dizzying, the sunlight burns your skin but against Jisung’s it only illuminates his, he glows. The urge to place your lips on top of his, eats away at your skin, the want crawls under and down your spine, shivers resonate throughout your body as he nears. The world falls away, the slight buzzing of bees fade, the tickles of the grass dissipate and you only feel Jisung. His presence, the brush of his knee against yours and the warmth that radiates off him. Your heart stops, you stop breathing, anticipating what’s about to happen next until suddenly Jisung’s head snaps to the right and reality comes flooding in as you hear both your names ringing and ripping through the air. “Jisung! Y/N!” Daphne shouts and Jisung jumps up answering for both of you “We’re coming!” Left completely stunned you sit there, mind in chaos as your embarrassment engulfs you. Your eyebrows furrowed, you think to yourself how you could allow for yourself to fall into his spell. What were you thinking? That’s the problem, around Jisung you can’t think, everything happens on pure instinct and desire. Then as if you had rewinded time, a shadow is casted over you, a hand is placed in front of you to take and as he did on that first day, he snaps you out of your daze. “Are you feeling well?” he asks in that same soft voice. Your hand twitches to move towards him and it takes everything in your power to stop it from falling into his grasp once again.

“Fine” it comes out much colder than you expected it to as you rise up to your feet on your own, his hand is left hanging awkwardly to which he slowly closes before placing it behind his head as he bites his bottom lip and your eyes can’t help but fall on them again, they which were so close and yet so far. “Let’s go” and this time you lead him out of the lavender field.

The walk back to the house is silent, the same awkwardness that hadn’t made an appearance in so long settles in the air, it’s thick and heavy and you can feel it weigh you down. Upon arriving back to the house, a carriage awaits outside, a military emblem on the back and your heart drops, eyes widen and your steps stop. “It couldn’t be” you let out at barely a whisper.

But the slightest sound from you is enough to have Jisung’s head snap up towards you, for he’s been waiting for you to make a sound, any sound to rid this atmosphere. "What is it?" He asks also hushed, his eyes follow yours and there it leads to the carriage, a smile rips through his face and he runs ahead.  Confused you rush your steps but the anxiety building up in your chest stays, the lump in your throat is still hard to swallow.

“Y/N!” Jaemin calls you whilst waving his hand eagerly, calling you to come quickly and as you step closer the constraining feeling in your chest dissipates as the figure that steps out of the carriage is an unknown one to you. You stand by Jaemin’s side, who radiates excitement off him and you can’t help but smile as the little boy in the picture is standing right before you, the same eager stance and pretty smile that even the sun envies. The man exists and immediately pulls Jeno into an embrace so tight and you swear you see Jeno’s eyes sparkle as tears threaten to fall. Jisung is much less subtle at concealing his tears, he sobs into the man’s shoulder and it’s only then you presume this is their father. Jisung’s eyes are red and he sniffles as his father let’s go of him and your heart clenches at his adorableness. Jaemin is as happy as ever, hugging his father as tight as ever, eyes closed in pure bliss. You’re smiling like a fool as the heartwarming scene unfolds in front of you, so busy looking at the happy smiles and the stray few tears that are still running down Jisung’s cheeks you don’t notice the new acquaintance step in front of you until he clears his throat and you jump to meet his gaze.

“You must be Y/N” he smiles extending his hand and you place yours in it, shaking it. “I’ve heard a lot about you in all my son’s letters” your eyes widen and your turn to the three boy, Jaemin with that damn smirk on his face, Jisung avoiding your eyes and as always finding his shoes much more interesting, thank god for Jeno who offers a comforting smile assuring it’s all good things. “Sir you’ve raised three fine men, who have all welcomed me” you bow your head in thanks and he smiles once again.

“I couldn’t possible take any credit for it, it’s all thanks to their mother and Daphne of course” he turns from you to her and she pulls him into an embrace “Thank you for looking after them” he says barely audible but Daphne catches it and just as softly replies “but of course”. As everyone heads inside you wait until Jisung is by your side to start heading in as well, “Crybaby” you whisper with a teasing smile you nudge him with your elbow, he scoffs as he’s wiping his tear stained cheeks but he can’t help smile back at you.

Seated around the dining table, as always by Jaemin’s side and opposite Jisung, their father sits at the head of the table and more food than ever is being served tonight in celebration. You’re much more quiet tonight despite Jaemin continuously making sure you feel involved in the conversation, you’re eternally grateful for him. “So Y/N, why did you leave home?” their father asks so casually it almost goes unnoticed by the boys but Jisung almost chokes on his water, Jeno’s eyes widen and Jaemin almost immediately tries to shut down the conversation “Father” he gives him a pointed look, jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head.

“Jaemin, it's okay" you smile towards him, "freedom i suppose sir" you answer the question and Jisung's father squints his eyes, as he lets out a hum in acknowledgement of your answer. "Even after all your family has done for you?" He continues to question "you come from the family my late wife used to work under, am I correct?" And you simply nod "yes I do".

"The late General's daughter" he states "I wonder if he's turning in his grave at this moment" Jisung's grip on his silverware tightens and you notice his knuckles turn white and once again Jaemin's stare is begging his father to stop as Jeno looks over to see how affected you are by his cruel words. You don't falter though, you know what you've done can seem selfish but it was necessary "I'm sure he is" you laugh out "but he's always known I'm never one to listen" you continue to pick away at the food on your plate and you can feel all there gazes falls onto you, as you look up Jisung’s eye bore into yours as he mouths a soft “sorry” to you and you smile back at him shaking your head.

“I assume you’ve run from marriage” Jisung’s father starts up conversation again and you only nod as an answer “Are you against marriage?” he asks and it’s if he wants tears to fall from your eyes as he keeps pushing where he knows it’ll hurt. “Of course not but I would like to pursue a higher education or experience the world first” you explain, still keeping your calm.

“You think a woman is capable of doing such things?” he asks again and it’s this question that really makes your skin crawl and your jaw tighten. Questioning your methods of gaining freedom is one thing but looking down on all women and claiming them unable is one you can’t stand for. “I think we are very capable, I think the suffragettes have made that very clear and sir didn’t you work with the Weimar Government, they were the first government to allow women to vote I would think their initiative would have rubbed off on you” and he only smiles at your answer.

“I was stationed in Germany and worked under the Weimar Government up until their collapse, you’re correct” he begins to tell you “I have to tell you that I agree with your view, I’ve seen much that women are capable of doing” he says and your eyes widen at his words “I think what you did was brave and admirable, my three boys could learn from you, I hope you can lend Jisung some of your courage” he smiles at you and your jaw still hangs as does everyone else's around the table and as you look up to find pink hues invading Jisung’s cheeks once again, if you didn’t know any better you would have thought it were always like that regardless. You nod at their father before answering back “I think I’m the one who’s learning a lot form Jisung sir” and the shades of pink darken

The atmosphere had lightened again somewhat although the topic on war was not a light one at all, as their father expressed his worry about sending his three sons off to war and how in ruins the country would be again, worry sat in your chest. Jeno and Jaemin are strong all physically, emotionally and mentally but Jisung is the sweet boy who wouldn’t hurt a bee. “What do you think of the current situation of our country Y/N'' Jeno taking you out of your thoughts, you head snaps up to him “I think the war is unavoidable despite our economic stance, Germany has already invaded Czechoslovakia and it’s only time before they invade Poland meaning our involvement in the war is definite whether we want it or not'' the table falls silent as they process your words and it’s not until Jisung’s father begins to nod and expand on your thoughts but you zone out as you watch Jisung fiddle with the knotted lavenders you had gifted him and your lips can’t help but curve.

The next morning a book awaited you on your vanity, a scarlet red cover with gold print, you ran your fingers along. “Sonnets'' it read and as you flicked open to the first page, familiar handwriting appeared “A collection of my favourite - Jisung” a smile spread across your face as it usually did when your thoughts ran to Jisung. You sat down flicking to the first poem “Sonnet 18” a giggle escaped your mouth and like a schoolgirl already aware of the beauty Shakespear's arguably most famous sonnet holds, the giddy feeling of butterflies blooming caused your heartbeat to quicken and a heat to rise.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And too often is his gold complexion dimm’d:

Annotations surround the poem as Jisung highlights and picks out certain lines. The second line is underlined and next to it he writes “Though you are lovely, temperate is definitely up for debate” he teases and you scoff at his words. You read on and lines four and five are underlined and his annotation reads “The eye of heaven is you who shines gloriously throughout the day and yet too often you allow yourself to dim. Don’t.”

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or natures changing course untrimm’d;

By thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

“You are my eternal summer, your beauty is one that isn’t possible to vanish, it’s infinite unlike summer which collapses in winter” you read on as lines nine and ten are underlined.

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

The the final annotation as the last three lines are highlighted, Jisung says “Your beauty shall remain eternal so long as my heart beats, so long as i live and breathe, so long as my eyes can see your beauty, I only seem to think of you now as i read this poem and in this poem the memory of you shall live on” you heart beats erratically in your chest, you’re breathless as his words halt your breathing. Forgetting such simple acts as thinking and even breathing seem to be a regular side effect in the presence of Jisung, just the mere thought of him. Your palms grow sweaty, your heart clenches reading over the words again and again, you pinch yourself. For this moment, seems like nothing but a dream, your heads in the cloud, you're living in the heavens. The feeling is suffocating, your own throat is closing in on you, the pain in your chest spreads like wildfire, your whole body aches with admiration for him. Yet the constant question looms over your head, what does he really mean by this? Is his feeling the same as yours? Or is he portraying the beautiful friendship you both have built over the weeks? One thing is sure and it’s that you can’t ruin that, can’t let the heavy air seep in once again and weigh you down.

The days folded out as normal, Jisung’s presence still as overwhelming as ever but you couldn’t help but find serenity in it, he was soft spoken yet his silence speaks the loudest for him, his grace and beauty as  were one to be envied by all but you were nothing more than grateful for being able to witness it day after day, it were as if he had walked out of your dreams. The stolen glances, lingering stares as he smiled or laughed, he stole your heart and he wasn’t even aware it was his anyways. Sitting opposite him, you stare not caring if he or anyone catches you for your far past the point of holding any shame and allowing your eyes to do as they please.

"I have something to announce" Jeno suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence, all eyes turn to him and he audibly gulps. You’ve never seen him so nervous, fiddling with his silverware you almost mistook him for Jisung. He clears his voice before speaking, taking in a deep breath he prepares himself for the words that are about to leave him, “I am to marry” he says quickly waiting for a response, an outroar, a gasp and maybe a few tears but none of them come.

“About time don’t you think” Jaemin laughs out causing the rest of the table to release small giggles at Jeno’s expense, “You have been all giddy and heart eyes at that girl in the village since we were all but five- OW" Jaemin's face twists in pain, hands rushing to his shin as he's cut off by a harsh kick. Jisung and you burst into laughter not being able to hold it in any longer.

"And what are you two laughing at" Jeno punches at Jisung’s shoulder, immediately causing him to halt his laughter as he rubs his shoulder “Well brother, it’s not like it is a secret. Even Y/N knows” and you giggle again as Jisung enlightens Jeno on his obvious swooning.

“What?” Jeno’s eyes widen as he turns to you and you can’t help but laugh even more. “We visited the village and your eyes were stuck, Jeno you walked straight into Jisung” you burst out laughing as you recall the memory. Once the laughter, the teasing, the amount of huffs that leave Jeno quiet down your left with comfort, a bliss that you’ve never felt before, a smile that just won’t leave your face. It’s a beautiful feeling and you wish to memorise it for if numbness overtakes your body, you can relive this exact moment of the solace you found in those around this table.

“Is that three out of the four of us in love?” Jaemin smirks as he lifts his glass to his lips, looking around the table, Jeno scoffs at his words but confusion is written all over you and Jisung. Did Jaemin know that your heart only seems to beat for Jisung? How did he know? Who was the other person? Was it Jaemin or Jisung? If Jisung, who did he love? The questions ran through your mind in circles and it only spewed more questions to follow, your head was spinning stuck in the spiral of curiosity, but curiosity always killed the cat.

But cats have 8 other lives right? That is what you had decided later that night, sat beside Jisung on the stone wall, letting curiosity take over you - slightly. Your legs dangled, swinging them back and forth, whilst Jisung’s gaze was set on the crashing waves of purple as the moon pulled them back and forth; yours were stuck on him. The moonlight illuminated, captured his beauty in a way the sun couldn’t, it seemed the goddess of the moon saw greater beauty in Jisung than Apollo could ever begin to understand.

“I could not fail to realise that sonnet 23 was not amongst your favourite” your eyes darting out towards the fields as his turn to you, “It’s one of my favourites” you tell him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but do you not think it’s a bit cliche” he laughs and your eyebrows shoot up in slight disbelief “and sonnet 18 is not” you scoff, finally meeting his eyes.

“Sonnet 18 is beautiful” he argues and he swings into you, nudging you slightly, rolling your eyes you nudge him back “Sonnet 23 is just as or dare I say more” and he smiles slightly, eyes turning back to the night sky, the clouds running over the moon and Jisung is left amongst the stars. “How so?” he dares to question.

“It is, for one, far more romantic” you begin “the thought of one loving you with so much passion, so unconditionally that it can not even be professed by words yet the love they feel is so strong they need an escape, to tell that person what they can not truly express fully, to let them show you how much they love you. To hear with eyes as Shakespear so beautifully put it” you nudge him again and he looks down at you, a smile as radiant as the sun,moon and stars combined graces you and again Jisung has stolen your heart in complete silence

“Yet what I love about Sonnet 18 is that it is not too romantic, that the love that Shakespear professes can be for a lover or a friend, he speaks of all the imperfections of summer yet still he loves it, he describes the person he loves as someone who defies all the imperfections for in his eyes they are perfect imperfections when it comes to them” he nudges you back with a slight giggle but you can’t return his happiness for you have been stung as his words seep into your mind.

“Oh for a friend” you whisper, he hears your words but not the sadness behind them as he continues with that bright smile “and that is why it was so perfect to give to you” his words are daggers to the heart, piercing through, it shatters and the fine pieces scatter throughout you and the sadness seeps through every fibre, cell and atom of your body.

“Are you feeling well?”he asks and worry sweeps the smile off his face as he finds the glossiness of your eyes, the slight redness as well as the unusual silence from you. “Fine” you answer jumping off the stone wall, “Just tired” you say looking out to the goddess of the moon one last time, unable to turn and look at the art she admired most. “Goodnight Jisung” you say as you turn back to the house, not sparing him a glance for he stole your heart and then broke it. 

Though that night your tears mixed with moonlight until Morpheus took you to dream and then the next morning tears mixed with sunlight as Apollo pulled his golden chariot, with swollen eyes and a throbbing head you promised this wouldn’t affect the beautiful friendship that had bloomed. Jisung may not love you the way you would like but he still loved you, as a friend. The mere thought of the word stung, another aching rippled through you and your bones quacked.

Many dusks and dawns had passed and since,you’ve managed to create some distance between you and Jisung but as once said distance makes the heart grow fonder and you curse whoever uttered such truth. For every stolen glance and accidental touch seemed to make your dormant heart beat with every intent of being heard as it rose to your throat, suffocating you.

Jeno’s upcoming wedding being the greatest of all excuses to run away from the burning presence of Jisung, for you would flee to the village with Daphne and pick out materials, help Jeno’s fiance pick flowers, handwrite invitations with Jeno and accompany Jaemin on whatever errands he had been sent to do. No one questioned how you decided to spend your time, other than of course Jaemin who couldn’t help but let his curiosity lead the words that spewed out of him, to which you told him he’d regret someday.

“Just tell me Y/N” he groans as he carries the large basket of apples “Why spend your time with me instead of Jisung” he continues to pursue the answers you deny him of.

“Maybe because, and I dare to say, I like your company more” you pinch his cheek and laugh at the pout that forms on his face “What answer are you looking for Jaems, what would you have me say?”

“I want you to say you are helplessly in love with my brother who is just as in love with you however both of you are too busy quoting literature that is up for interpretation rather than professing your feelings because you lack the courage to do so” you freeze at his words and he also comes to a halt, turning towards you his eyes, sympathetic “you both are as obvious as Jeno” he lets out a small laugh.

“He does not love me Jaemin” your voice stern as you try to convince one who believes in fairytales, your steps quicken and he chases after you “and how exactly do you know?” he questions, curiosity endless.

“He said so, he said he gifted me Sonnet 18 as a friend.” You scoff at the absurd word that causes so much pain and you say it with spite everytime.

“Like I said he lacks courage and as my father said you, Y/N, can help him gain it” he tells you, eyes wide with hope and you admire Jaemin for being a hopeless romantic and you only hope he meets someone who completely fulfills his ideology of love.

“I don’t think I possess such courage anymore” you break it to him for Jisung has broken your heart once, how can you have the courage to allow him the chance to do it again.

Jeno’s wedding arrived much sooner than expected, as the weeks rushed past in much haste as the many busy bodies prepared for the beautiful evening and as hard as you tried to separate yourself from Jisung, the universe liked to disrupt those plans. To the place it all started, so close yet so far apart, you stood rows away from Jisung picking only the prettiest lavenders as per Jeno’s request. The air was thick and heavy despite the August breeze that ran through the fields, an unfamiliar heaviness sat between you two for even as strangers you were far more comfortable. Maybe it’s due to the curiosity you held back then, for the boy in the lavender field, beauty that wasn’t done justice by the word but now that you know him, adore him and are in love with him and now that your heart belongs to him but his not to yours. There’s a void left for the seeping awkwardness to fill, an uneasiness sat in your gut and every moment was excruciating to bare as your heart pains at every beat that belongs to him who does not seem to care.

“Lavenders wouldn’t be my first pick for a wedding” he speaks up first, the silence with you was something he wasn’t used to, you always made sure to replace it with continuous talking and contagious laughter and now that you weren’t, it didn’t feel right to him but you only nod in response not entertaining his thoughts any further. Jisung preferred silence, his thoughts more coherent, his emotions understandable, the silence was comfortable and not overwhelming but with you he couldn’t stand it, mind always wondering what you were thinking, what you were feeling, he needed to know. 

So he carries on speaking, “If it were up to me, Irises and carnations” he expects an interrogation, your endless curiosity asking why that would be his pick but it never comes. So he continues speaking, giving you the answer you didn’t ask for “Irises mean faith, fitting for a lifelong vow” he laughs as he looks over to you stoic expression, cutting off his soft laughter he again begins to speak “and carnation, white ones that symbolise-”

“Eternal love” you cut him off, turning to him, finally speaking yet your tone is monotonous and there is no emotion evident on your face. There’s slight fear in him and it rises, a lump forming in his throat that he can’t quite seem to swallow “Exactly” he choked out, voice strained.

You let out a breath that seemed to be weighing you down, you couldn’t let him continue talking about the meaning behind the flowers, your heart couldn’t take it for aching stops momentarily and instead it flutters and swoons across your chest but then reality hit and it shatters all over again, the pain shooting through your bloodstream.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks as he always does and you answer “Fine” as you always do, even though you both know it’s a lie but he doesn’t push any further as always. The longing feeling for you to look at him and spill all your worries and feelings to him is so great but he doesn’t want to push you to nor does he expect you to trust him with that vulnerability when he himself does not have the courage to do the same back to you.

“I’m going to leave after Jeno’s wedding” you announce working up the little courage you have left, if you say it out loud then you’ll have to follow through. “Thank you for everything” you brace yourself to meet his eyes once more as you turn. “What? Why?” concern so evident in the way his voice wavers, eye glossed over as tears threaten to fall.

“I left to seek my own happiness in life, to make a mark on this Earth yet instead I ran from relying on my family to relying on you and yours” again your voice is completely void of emotions, yet every part of your body was screaming. Longing for the warmth, solace and peace you had found here and it’s at this point you curse yourself for memorising that bliss for all you will do is miss it.

“Did you not feel happiness here?” he screams out, harsher than he expected as he voice comes out rough and broken and you stand there eyes wide for this was the first time the pure,silent and serene boy that stands in the lavender fields has allowed so much emotion to course through his body and you can tell by the way he shakes, the way he struggles to breath and the shock that immediately washed over him upon hearing his own voice raised “I’m sorry” he mumbles in a heavy exhale.

“Thank you for everything Jisung” you offer him a smile as you leave, avoiding his question, leaving him standing alone in the lavender fields.

Leaving the basket of lavenders with Jeno, you rush up the stairs and only when behind the safety of your door do you allow the tears to come streaming down your face, sobs escaping and you hold your mouth to conceal them as you take deep shaky breaths to steady your breathing. Your whole body aches and shakes as it mours the end of your stay, the tears cloud your vision and as you lay down to ease the heartbeat in your head, you cry yourself into a slumber. Even as the dreams swirl around you, pulling you into the unconscious, reality never truly slips away, it haunts you as even in the world you build you can’t stray away from it. The ability to dream of anything further isn’t a possibility, he doesn’t love you and that’s the reality. Why bother dreaming of something that isn’t meant to be. Yet you can’t help but dream of him. His eyes, his smile, his warmth, the pink dust that always decorates his cheeks, his laugh and his existence.

In your days you are held hostage by the daydreams, the what ifs. It felt like you had loved him in every lifetime, you wonder if any had got it right? Had any been loved by him? Your body lies stiff, falling in and out of consciousness but your mind never leaves him. Days go by but time becomes nothing but a construct, eating only becomes a chore.

“Y/N?” a soft voice calls as the door narrows open, a steady stream of gold shining in. You don't move, your head feeling like it's weighed down but you can easily identify the soft voice that speaks. "I brought you something to eat" the footsteps near you, the heavy thuds vibrating through your head. Your eyes peek open to meet Jaemin who crouches down beside you. He moves the few stray strands of hair behind your ear, noticing the wet glimmer of your cheeks he wipes away the tears that stain them.

"What's wrong?" He whispers as if any harsher tone would break you, as if you weren't already broken. You shake your head as your only reply, voice too weak and broken to speak up. You would love to talk to Jaemin, to spill all your worries and heartache but this is a pain too painful to speak of. His hands hold onto your cheeks wiping away any of the stray tears that still fall. His warmth is comforting but it only makes you yearn for Jisung’s more.

Jaemin doesn't leave you that day, he sits by your side in silence. He holds your hand and wipes away your tears, he doesn't attempt to mend your heart, he just sits beside you as it cries out the pain. "It will heal, it will mend itself" he whispers to you as you drift off into the unconscious once again.

It’s the constant knocking at your door that drags you out of the depths of your slumber, pulling you back, the light that streams in as the sun is about to set and you wonder how long you have slept, what time it was and what day it is. Then another knock calls your attention from the window and Daphne steps in “Y/N” she says and her voice is high in surprise as she examines the puffy redness around your eyes. “I was expecting you to be already awake, it is almost time to head to the wedding” she chooses to ignore the wet stains on your silk pillow, choosing to bite her tongue. You choose not to answer her back afraid your voice was raspy and would break, you crawl towards the edge of the bed and swing your legs over as you make your way to the chair that neatly holds your gown for the night, the night that has finally arrived,your last night.

You can see her face change, each one expressing the internal turmoil within her as she questions whether or not to say something. “Just say it Daphne '' you sigh out in a weak smile as you change into the many layers that need to be placed under the gown.

“Ah well” she begins nervously as she fiddles with her loose strings of her apron, she stutters and stumbles over her words but you’ve been taught patience by Jisung as he’d do the same.You smile at the memory of him stuttering, blush across his cheeks as he got nervous causing him to stumble over his words more. You loved seeing him so flustered, loved seeing him progressively become so comfortable around you he never stuttered, became so confident and articulate it was as if he became another person but the same dust of pink never faded but the more you think of him the more it pains and your heart swells as it aches. “You see y/n” she finally spits out as if she had been wrestling the words “If this is your last night, would you not want to leave with a loving memory?” she asks nervously. 

“So it seems word has travelled” you let out a small laugh as you turn to her to pull the strings of your gown and as her hands move to tie knots she laughs as well “Nothing gets past me” and her nervousness visibly dissipates. No more words are exchanged as she helps you ready for tonight, no more words are needed as she sees you slip into the depths of your mind, thinking of what your next act is.

As she places the same pearl necklace you wore the day you came here around your neck, clasping it, she finally turns to leave and through the mirror you see her hesitate but she turns back around a smile across her face “It was a pleasure to meet you ma’am” she says with teary eyes “Y/N” you correct her as you rise quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around her and from the corner of your eye you see Jisung standing at the end of the hallway, witnessing the goodbye he run back down stairs. You saw the glossiness of his eyes and though you would love to leave as a happy memory, would he allow it?

You nervously make your way to the drawing room, there he sits in a black suit, his hair neatly styled yet it looks not much different to everyday. He should not look this good but he does because he is the epitome of beauty. He is beauty personified. You let out a deep breath before you step into his line of view, preparing yourself for whatever is to come next. “Jisung” you call softly but he refuses to look up at you, you can hear him sniffle and his breathing is heavy and you almost could trick yourself into believing he loved you the way you loved him. You sit beside him and take his hand in yours, rubbing small soothing circles by the knuckle of his thumb you attempt to speak, “I am leaving” you choke out,the words are stuck in your throat and he rips his hands away from yours, turning completely with his back towards you. You sigh once again, “Let’s me leave with good memory” you beg, voice small and shaky. This was not the y/n Jisung first met, not the y/n he knows now and definitely not the y/n he fell in love with for you were never one to speak so quietly, yet here you are broken. So he puts away his own selfishness to feel sadness, anger or whatever pulsing emotion that runs course throughout his body.

He turns back to you, eyes glossy and a pout on his lips as he raises a long string of black silk. “I cannot tie it” his voice breaks slightly and you can’t help but smile at his cuteness. You take the silk from his hand and wrap it against his neck, slowly weaving it in and out of itself, you form a knot. “Learn this from a book?” he teases and you can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Falling back to where you were with Jisung was never hard, falling in love with him all over again was never hard. “my father taught me” you say as you pull the silk slightly causing his head to jolt forward. A smile perks at his lips as he lets out air from his nose as a form of laughter and you don't realise the lack of space between you two until you feel it brush against your skin and you near closer, eyes drawn to his lips. Your breathing stops and your heart sporadically jumps around in your chest, beating louder than ever.

Jisung’s eyes are closed as he waits for your lips to be placed upon his but they never come and his eyes jump open at the sound of Jaemin’s voice, your warmth escaping him. So close and yet so far, his eyes land on you who’s now moved as far as possible from him. “Y/N, do you know how to tie a tie?” he walks in looking down at the balck silk he holds around his neck but he cuts himself off as his eyes rise to find you and Jisung awkwardly sitting beside each other. “Oh am I interrupting?” he asks in a chuckle as he raises an eyebrow and you shoot up onto your feet, making your way towards him “No not at all” you wave your arms as if it would convince Jaemin. You grab onto both ends of the silk strand, repeating the same movements as earlier and looking down at the silk you can practically feel Jaemin’s smile that beams from above. You weave the string in and out of itself and pull tight around his neck causing Jaemin’s head to pull back “OW '' he huffs out in a pout, you pat down his tie and with a smile as gleaming as his was a mere moments ago, you apologise. 

“Oh y/n you know how to tie a tie, thank god” Jeno rushes in with his father soon after him both holding the same black silk around their neck “Does nobody in this house know how to tie a tie” you laugh in disbelief. “Our mother used to do them,” Jeno whispers as your hands make their way up to form the same knot you’ve made twice already. He thanks you silently with a sweet smile, those crescent moons you adore showing up.You move on to their father, tying his tie neatly and much more carefully than the rest. “Thank you for everything, y/n” he bows his head to you and you whisper “It’s nothing” shyly. “It’s been a pleasure having you become a part of our family” he continues and his words are like a stake to your heart, the same aching reappearing as nothing fails to remind you of your departure.

“Thank you for welcoming me bu-t'' you're cut off instantly 

“no buts y/n, you are family” Jeno interrupts and if it was anyone else you don’t think those words would have held such meaning for Jeno is a silent lover, showing his affection through sweet smiles, concerned looks and kind gestures; he was never one for words of affirmation. So you smile, ignoring the tears that prick at your eyes, ignoring the deep breaths that leave Jisung and the solemn sadness on Jaemin’s face.

“We need to go” Jaemin looks down at his pocket watch, as always sensing the tension in the room and ready to dissipate it, he urges everyone out the door and as you’re about to step out, a warmth engulfs you as Jisung catches your hand in his. Turning back you are met with a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes that hold a sense of sadness as they glimmer in the setting sun.

Hours after the sun had sunk into the horizon, the moon well into its reign, music rang through the center of town as everyone gathered to celebrate the new chapter of Jeno’s life. A ceremony so beautiful, you were sure you witnessed true love when Jeno’s eyes set on his bride that walked the altar.

After all the tears, it was finally time for the bubbling of champagne to intoxicate your bloodstream and to allow the music to take control of every swayed movement of your body. Standing under the yellow dimmed lights, Jisung glew a gold you didn’t know existed but easily was the prettiest you had ever seen. His cheekbones high and lips painted pink, golden flute in hand and silk tie loosened you could easily say he was the prettiest here, outshining all. For Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty lived through him, simple acts such as greeting guests left you stunned. Eyes chasing every movement of his, from the way his hands moved as he spoke, to the way he smiled once seeing an old friend, the way he laughed softly in conversation and when his eyes travelled back to you when he thought you weren't looking.

And to pull you out of that trance was none other than Jaemin, “Would you and Jisung stop exchanging lover eyes and dance already” he whispers as he places himself beside you, you scoff at his words and slightly nudge him with your elbow.

“Are you so bored that your eyes follow mine?” you question and his simple and instant “Yes” make your eyes roll as far as possible but you can’t help but smile. “When will you find your own love story? This is one hopeless”

“So when were you planning to tell me you were leaving after tonight” his words don’t come as a surprise, nothing goes past Jaemin but it still doesn’t fail to make your every movement halt as guilt overtakes you, turning to him you begin to explain “I was going to tell you as soon as the night was over, it was unexpected I promise” you say softly.

“I don’t suppose i can change your mind in any way?” he asks hopefully, still with the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to. You shake your head slowly, unable to say the words that will so obviously ruin the both of you but Jaemin is never one to sit in sadness, always being his priority to make you feel better. 

“Would you allow me this first dance?” he bows down asking for your hand and with that you place yours in his, placing a soft kiss to the knuckles he pulls you into the center of the floor. Legs moving to the beat, Jaemin’s hand on your waist he guides you through the waltz, breaths heaving and smiles plastered on your face he bends down once more to place a kiss on your knuckles as the music dies down declaring the end of the dance, a sad smile spreads across his face and he whispers “Goodbye” against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes who hold nothing but despair. Yet the hardest is to come when you turn and automatically your eyes find Jisungs, who just happened to be looking your way.

You offer him a smile before heading towards him “And why are you not dancing, I’m sure plenty of girls are just about dying to be your first dance” you tease him and he laughs along with you, hands rising they scratch the back of his neck as he prepares to confess to you “I actually do not know how to dance” he spits out fast hoping you don't catch his words but you do. Eyes widening and mouth agape, you let out a gasp 

“Jisung you do not know how to-” you're cut off by his hand on your mouth as he looks around to see if anyone has heard the sentence about to leave you. 

“Quietly, I think the whole of London can hear you” he says in a whisper still looking around. Removing his hand, you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Let me teach you” you whisper back and he turns to you, eyebrow raised as he assesses how good of a dancer you could be.

“I am not entirely sure, who did you learn from? A book?” he teases, still completely in character until you shove him and his laughter comes spilling out “You used the joke once already” you roll your eyes 

“I was taught by trainers actually, do you forget I was to be wed” you scoff at his assumption and rise to your feet, hand extended for Jisung to take. He stares at you, watches the way the light bounces off your skin causing you to glow, your eyes glimmer, smile bright and the confidence and charm you carry in inexplicably attractive as you stand under the moon, offering to be Jisung’s first dance and it’s here he decides you’ll be his last.

The moment his hand is in yours, you drag him straight to the crowd, the music is quick to start and you waste no time in giving out instructions. “Place your hand on my waist” you order

“Your what?” Jisung’s eyes are wide as he cluelessly asks

“My waist” you repeat again, emphasizing each word and you drag his hand up and place it on your waist for yourself. Then putting your own hand on his shoulder, you pull him a little closer. “Just follow my lead” you reassure him as you witness the petrified look on his face.

“Left foot forward” you say to him as you move yours back, “Right foot forward, feet together” you continue to guide him through the dance as you spin around the room, ‘Now left foot back, right foot back, now feet together” you repeat the sequined dance around the room, music thumping through your body and you convince yourself it’s that you feel and not the heavy beats of your heart as the space between you and Jisung seems to close more and more. As he leans in so close you can feel the air that leaves him, fanning over you. You look up and his eyes are set on you, only adoration is held in them and Jisung thinks it’s now or never as he tries to fully close the gap between you two, to place his lips on yours but then you let go, head turning to the right “Now we switch you” you say as you land into another man's arms, repeating the same steps you did with Jisung moments ago with another. So close and yet so far is all Jisung can think whilst his eyes watch you twirl about the room.

Once finally back in his arms, the music seizes and he’s forced to remove himself from you. You can’t help but smile at him as he looks down at you, breathing heavily with a flush of pink to his cheeks yet he seems to be gleaming in the buzzing sensation of a waltz. The air is heavy with sweat and alcohol, the room is filled with chatter and loud laughs but that all falls away once you look at Jisung. So you dance to every song as if you were the only two people to exist, for this was your last night and this was your last dance.

Endless glasses of champagne later your dancing feet carry you outside, the cool summer nights air washes over you, clearing your mind of the foggy mist of alcohol yet the coolness of the moonlight is overwhelmed by the warmth of Jisung’s presence as he stumbles next to you, tripping over his own legs he lands in your arms. “I think you drank a little too much” you laugh down at him.

“No I am perfectly fine” He quickly stabilizes himself, straightening out his clothes and you can only smile as he shakes off your support. “If you say so” you turn to the night sky, looking up to the moon who you haven't had the courage to face since. The wind rushing past you, crickets croaking and the stars blazing across the sky, your legs about to give way as the alcohol circulates your body, you find purchase on a stone bridge, Jisung following soon after you. The water trickles down under you, the calming sound washes over you and the solace you so missed seems to make an appearance once again as you allow yourself to surrender to Jisung’s presence. Silence sits between the two of you but it’s not the one you wish to fill, insead you choose to let it engulf you not wanting words to taint this moment. Your last moment.

Jisung however doesn’t think he can hold it in anymore, the liquid courage is just about enough for him to declare his roaring love for you, a flame that won’t go out no matter how far he pushes the idea of you away. He wasn’t sure if this was love but the ache in his chest all these days proved it could be nothing but love. The longing to be by your side as you found happiness, found your own way into this world and to watch you become who you want, is unbearably strong. This is his only chance before the goddess of the moon takes you away with her, for when the sun rises, you'll set into nothing but a memory. So here Jisung turns to you, staring at your beautifully carved features, moonlight highlighting every perfection; deep breaths he calms his nerves. Adrenaline rushing through every nerve, he finally builds the courage and out the words he never knew would feel so good to pronounce “Y/N I love you” it comes out in a whisper but by the way your eyes widen, breathing halts, Jisung knows you’ve heard.

“Jisung you are drunk” you laugh off

“Drunk lies are sober truths” he says in all seriousness, his eyes are begging for yours to turn to him and so you give in to their silent cry. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, for I thought soulmates were nothing but a fairytale until mine spoke to me upon laying eyes on you. I denied my feelings towards you, for I didn’t know if it was love I felt for you or not but I do. Love, adoration, affection and warmth. The moon only looks beautiful with you under it, the sun only shines with you beside me.” he professes and the sincerity in his voice strucks you, for every fiber of your being longs for these exact words but can you believe him?

He inches closer, his scent and warmth trapping you in a trance and you can’t find it in yourself to back away as he moves towards your lips, his breath mixing with your own, the flush off his cheeks that are illuminated by the moonlight. Everything is perfect except he’s drunk. Though your heart screams for you to close the gap, place your lips on his and kiss him until he’s breathless, your head scream the opposite, move back, wait till the morning when his head is in the right place, don’t allow him to make a mistake that’ll hurt you and when were you ever one to not listen to your mind. “You are drunk”  you whisper to him, so close he can almost feel your lips move against his, flinching back, ignoring the cry of your heart that desires nothing more than to feel Jisung’s confession. Jisung’s eyes open to find you pulled away, for once again he was so close yet so far.

“We should return” you jump up, step fastening back to the crowds of people who were still dancing and laughing. Jisung’s hurried footsteps rush beside you, his hand holding onto your wrist, he pulls you into him. Arms wrapping around you so tight, he’s afraid you’ll pull away and that he’ll lose you. You already pulled away from him once, you’re not sure you have the power in you to do it a second; so you let him hold you. His face hidden into the crook of your neck, he speaks into your skin 

“Love for you fades the exhausting hours till Kingdom come, for even then my soul only speaks of you, my heart only beats for you. Let me love and let me give, for both are infinite” he confesses once again.

Your arms instantly wrap around his figure, you allow your love to course through your body to his, you hope he can feel your heartbeat, the steady pace that keeps you alive for his existence, and him only. For without him what was the purpose of living? You stand there under the moonlight, red strings wrapped around you, Eros’s arrow shot through you, and hold onto each other.

Walking back, hand in hand, smiling like fools. The air smells sweeter, the world seems brighter as your heart skips a beat every now and then “In all honesty” Jisung breaks the blissful silence, his voice deep and smooth and it sends shivers down and through you just as it did the first day. Once your eyes are on him, giving him your undivided attention he continues “I lacked the courage to gift you Sonnet 23 but I wanted to” he tells you “Promise” he makes sure you believe his words and you can’t help but smile.

“You still lack courage, this is the alcohol’s courage” you tease him, swinging your arms back and forth as you walk on. He giggles at your comment because he knows it’s true, if it wasn’t for the liquid courage he doesn’t think he would have been able to confess to you but he’s glad he has because if he hadn’t, would he ever get the chance to?

“So will you stay?” he asks, voice hopeful and eyes pleading as he pouts, in hope it would convince you but you didn’t need anymore convincing, for if you want to follow happiness and happiness just so happens to follow Jisung, who were you to seek for more elsewhere. “Perhaps” a smirk makes it way up your lips as you give him vague answers. “I will take that as a yes” he laughs out, holding onto your hand a little bit tighter, to ensure you really weren’t going anywhere.

Love is a complex feeling, one that causes an unbearable amount of pain; as if your chest had been slit open, heart pulled out and crushed. An aching pain resonates throughout your whole body, endless tears and you don’t think you can live to see another sunrise yet it’s euphoric in every way. From the tingling sensation at just the sight of your love, the shivers, the heat that takes over, the trance you left in as their words hypnotise you, the warmth of their presence and sweet scent. In Jisung you found peace,solace,serenity and love.

“Jaemin” Jisung calls out as he can just about make him out in the distance “Y/N said she has decided to stay” he shouts out like a child, excited he’s jumping up and down and you find yourself smiling and laughing again, for with Jisung it’s the only thing you seem to be able to do. Yet as you draw closer to Jaemin and the guests he happens to be wishing a farewell too, your smile and heart both drop.

“Y/N” one of the two men calls out as your figure becomes more apparent to them, disbelief held in their voice as they call out to you. Jisung and Jaemin eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes widening as they wonder how you are acquainted.

“How do you know our y/n?” Jaemin asks, always being the first one to dissolve the awkward silences, the men are taken aback clearly by the way their jaws hang slightly.

“She is our sister” the taller stutters out, your blood rushes cold as the words leave his lips, what would happen now? Would they allow you to just roam free? You thought for a second before you mentally scolded yourself, they would never allow that. They will force you back. “I am not returning” you spit out, not beating around the bush, you get straight to the point.

“But you must, mother is left worried" he tries to grab onto your wrist but you move back not allowing him to get a hold on you.

"Worried for me? Or that the season is almost finished?" You question him and guilt is evident in his eyes as your question takes him aback.

"Don't be silly" your younger brother tries to calm you, "we just want you home" he tries to convince you.

"I am perfectly fine on my own" you stand your ground even though you see the frustration in your older brother, creep closer and closer to the surface "I have no intention of returning" you continue to press forward.

"Do you not feel shame, what would father have to say?" He dares ask. Shame? The word linger in your head for you to wonder if your brother truly knows the definition of the word or were all those years at Oxford a waste. For how had this brought shame upon you or your father, how does a want for purpose,happiness and freedom lead to shame?

"For if father was alive, this problem wouldn't have occurred. He would have listened" you hissed, jaw tight as you teeth clenched and the words slipped out through the small cracks.

"How naive of you to think'' he laughs and finally latches onto your wrist, holding tightly he's prepared to drag you to the carriage until another holds you back. Jisung’s hand holds onto your arm, pulling you back, looking back you don’t think you have never seen such fierce eyes. A red you never thought you’d see engulf Jisung, he’s not prepared to let you go. "Let go" your brother's voice is stern as he clenches his jaw yet Jisung doesn't budge.

"Jisung this isn't our place" Jaemin whispers, defeat in his voice and he is right. What say do they have in this? If you don’t even have a choice, who are they to decide but then again you are certain a man’s opinion will most definitely be heard by your brother over your own anyday. “Let go of her,” Jisung threatened.

Your brother couldn’t help but scoff at his words “She belongs to me, I am her blood and she holds mine and my father’s name” his grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you towards him once more, your eyebrows furrow and you wince in slight pain, Jaemin instinctively flinches forward before stopping himself, getting involved will just make it worse he reminds himself. You smile at him weakly in hopes it can put him at ease but as both your arms are being held hostage, both cuffs tightening as the seconds go by not one daring to back down.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone” Jisung spits back “She is free to do as she pleases and she chooses to stay here” he continuously argues in hope of changing his mind , yet what can he possibly do? Now that they have found you, what is left for you to do? They will not let you live on how you wish, they will not leave without you and even if they didn’t take you tonight, they will come back for you. It’ll only cause chaos, you will again become a burden on someone else. “You do not own her” he repeats.

The words you so despise form on your tongue and as you open your mouth to say them, Jisung’s eye beg you not to. He knows what's to come and even as every ounce of your being screams and cries as the words are spoken, you let them leave you regardless. “Let go Jisung” voice weak, shaking.

“But you said you would stay” his voice shaky, encased in sadness, his grip weakens but his hold stays, unable to let you go once he’s finally got you but you were always a dream to him, one that never seemed quite real and though you mixed with reality, almost coming true, he was but a fool to believe you could be his.

“I said maybe” your voice quiet, breaking a promise you didn’t make, breaking his heart and breaking yours that was just put back together.

“She said for you to let go” Your brother interrupts, a smirk on his face that Jaemin has a dying need to punch off but he retains himself. Jisung lets go of you hesitantly, his hand still lingering onto the skin of your forearm and you take in his touch one last time. He watches you leave, tears falling from his eyes for you were so close yet so far.

The tears from that night, months ago, have yet still to dry for every living and breathing moment is lived in agony, longing turning into nothing but numbness as it engulfed your being and became you. Days and nights merged, smiles are a forgotten act for it felt awkward even attempting. The large manor is silent, it perfectly resembles the void in your chest. You live as a ghost, sleepless nights and empty days your mind always occupied with the thought of Jisung.

His eyes that held the universe, his warmth the sun envied, his smile were solace was found, his laughter that was contagious, voice that was soothing, beauty unmatched, the gods were both proud and envious of their greatest creation. The years went by and yet the image of his is as clear as ever, preserved in your memories, you live on in your dreams that can’t escape reality. So close and yet so far from each other.

You sit in the empty rooms, walls bare for the art never compared to Jisung’s beauty, you never found art that could express the definition of art as well as Jisung did. Each time looking at Jisung you found a new feature to adore, hidden beauties that appeared when the moonlight hit his skin, features highlighted by the golden rays of the sun. No art seemed to do that, no art seemed worthy of showcasing.

Your library remains empty, clearing it out of all books, you couldn't bear to look at one again. For everyone of them taunted you with the memory of him. The way he used to sit in the center of the room, arms sprawled out on the desk, his head so close to the paper as he would write. Your eyes would follow every one of his movements, so distracted you would forget about the heavy book in your hand. Yet now with a book in hand, your eyes search for distraction. Yearning to find him, to make the pink blush, that you so missed, appear as he couldn't take your stare any longer. The adrenaline of when his eyes suddenly come up to meet yours, the scrambling of his when you catched his stare. You missed it all.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day” the performer begins, as you sit around the large table for dinner. Your every movement halts as the words leave his mouth, your mind runs back to the lavender fields, into the small room at the back of the house, finding the scarlet red book. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate” he continues on but no you are not temperate. Your heart aches, your eyes sting and a wave of nausea over takes you. Your fist smash into the table, legs standing up, you push the heavy velvet chair back

“Stop!” you shout, voice hoarse and broken, you can’t help the tears that roll down your cheek. You can’t help the way your whole body shakes upon hearing those words, you can’t help but miss him. The whole room stares at you, a heavy silence settles, the only sounds are your whimpers as you sob in your palms, falling to your knees. Their eyes lingered, terrified. No one dared to speak to you first, let alone the events of the night. Afraid they would cause you to break down once more but they failed to see it was they, who stole happiness away from you, stole freedom and ripped your heart out of your chest. You wandered aimlessly through the many halls, staring out of windows you wanted the sun rise and fall, watched the goddess of the moon shine down on the earth yet neither held the beauty they did when Jisung was by your side.

Summer has come to find you once again, those who say time heals have never been broken. Time doesn’t heal. Time forgets, the world may move on but you do not, you cannot share the same ecstasy the birds sing, the happiness in summer flowers, For now you hate flowers, you hate how their beauty and meaning are only reminders of your longing.

“How about lavenders for the drawing room ma’am, I’m told they are your favourite” the maid asks, her mission to make you smile, to rid you of the constant tear stained cheeks; nothing but a failure is awaiting her. Just the mere thought of lavenders causes your skin to crawl, for nothing symbolises him more than the vibrant violet. Yet you turn to her, a weak smile and you nod because maybe the scent will help ease your heart and just maybe you’ll find serenity in them once more.

Though days were long, summer left in a hurry for now autumn was here once more. The leaves had already begun to brown and the vase filled with lavenders, which sat upon the grand piano, had wilted now - their scent and comfort decaying with them.

And soon followed the day, the world knew would soon be coming, had arrived upon us, September 1st 1939:

“we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” you read Winston Churchill’s words in the papers, war has arrived. The heavy ring sits on your finger as you stare out the window reminiscing the day you were watching the carriage be prepared and though it is your two brothers and the Earl’s son leaving you can’t help but let your mind imagine Jeno,Jaemin and Jisung, For the war will take them further away from you, to barren land filled with death, guns pointed at them, bombs dropping at anytime. Though the war has imprisoned many,taken from others, you thank it’s timing for it has liberated you momentarily. The Earl’s son waved goodbye to you and though you raise your hand to send him off to a war you’re not sure he’ll return from, you have no intention of calling him your fiance whilst he is gone and if he returns you have no intention of calling him your husband. You pity him in that memory.

“Ma’am” a voice calls out to you, you don’t recognise who it is for every voice sounds the same but regardless it pulls you back to the world of the present for the war was already well into its sixth year. Though your body is here, your heart and soul never left Jisung for he had stolen that long ago. You turn to find a small envelope, blue like the ones that found you happiness. “To y/n'' the handwriting is familiar but to you all letters were painted the way Jisung’s hand did, for your eyes can simply not forget but it is what the letter contained that brought a soul into your lifeless shell.

As an unperfect actor on the stage

Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Sonnet 23 with annotations is what your eyes fall upon, the second line underlined it reads: “With great courage I put aside this fear to confess to you such words that I cannot express on my own.” Your hand runs over the lines, the smell of gunpowder but there is a scent that you so long for. The scent of lavender still lingers onto the parchment which ripples under your clutch. .

Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;

The next lines highlighted “For this feeling was just as strong as rage yet it was where I found peace, my heart weakened at the sight of you and from that moment onwards it belonged to you.” A smile naturally took over you, the flutter in your chest an ecstatic feeling you forgot.

So I for fear of trust forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,

And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,

O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

“Know that I cannot express the words my soul speaks, for we are worlds apart so allow the empty words of the English language, attempt to convey my love. Look not at my words only but at the way the fool I make in your presence for my mind is clouded with you, heart beats for you and soul yearns for you. For you are my sonnet 18 as a friend and sonnet 23 as a lover.” Tears fall unnoticed, for you hear his voice so clear in your head, for six years you waited for a single word from him and here he has gifted you a sonnet between lovers, so how could you possibly love someone else.

“Yours forever Jisung, the boy who waits in the lavender field”. You sob as you read those words, a fresh new wave of tears staining the parchment as the longing to be in his warmth and comfort is washed upon you as if it were that day you were forced away from him. Opening a wound that never could fully heal.

Waiting is a virtue of love, it proves your love, for it feels equivalent to death and yet you still wait but there is a point in time where you can wait no longer, where you must stop waiting and strive for love now. At this exact moment, it is time. For you are ready to give up the world to run to Jisung, to find the beauty in the moon once more, to find solace in the sweet smell of lavenders once more, to find the warmth of the sun once more, to find happiness once more. For happiness was the only reason worth living.

You're not sure how long you’ve been running, legs moving on their own, you don’t look back you’ve learnt never to look back, never return. As the metallic taste at the back of your throat rises, oxygen running thin and your legs almost collapse from exhaustion. It’s as if you jumped out of the past, gown torn at the train station, you’re left in rags but it’s different this time. For before you ran to find your happiness and now you run to where happiness lies. In a field of lavenders.

Every fiber of your being pulses with the need to see him, hear him, touch him. To feel his warmth once more, to have his voice send serenity through you, to see his eyes again and to smell the sweet scent that lingers around him. You’re not sure what souls are made of but whatever it is yours and his are the same. For your heart yearns for him, desperate, it aches every living second of everyday without him. For a life without love, is a life unlived.

The rows and rows of purple are in sight and there in the middle of it all stands him, waiting. Jisung doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, he can tell by your footsteps, your breath, your scent and the sudden ease he feels. You are there. Yet he does anyways for the memory of you has haunted him for the past 6 years, on the battlefield, in the barracks, he would only see you, only hear you but he couldn’t touch you; for you were merely a dream mixing with reality.

But here you are standing in front of him, Your expensive dress torn up, now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing. He smiles as nostalgia washes over him, was this real or were you just a fragmented memory. Was he simply remembering happier times, a time where you were in his grasp. “Jisung” you call out, voice soft and unsure, a hand reaching out for his own, to make sure what you saw in front of you wasn’t a hallucination, a cruel trick your mind played on you. Slowly a warmth overtook your hand, sparks sent through your skin and into your bloodstream and the beating of your heart returned. Tears formed but never fell because one of you needs to be strong, Jisung sobbed as he fell into your embrace, gripping onto you. “Never leave again” he chokes out, breathing heavy and uneven. “Promise me” he whispers into your hair.

Pulling him back to face you, his eyes are red and puffy yet they burn with passion, his cheeks stained with tears but the pink dust is always still there, you smile at him closing the gap and finally placing your lips on his. The taste of salty tears invade your mouth and your lips move against his and he kisses you back, placing his hand on your cheek he pulls you closer, thumb brushing over the top of your cheekbone. Your knees weaken and you grip at his shirt, desperately clinging to him as your knuckles turn white, as he kisses you with passion overflowing with each soft movement, sincere and full of the love he can't express through words. The scent of lavender is overwhelming and intoxicating, you press yourself against him. Your lungs burn as he kisses you breathless, sparks flying into your bloodstream and unbearable heat takes over whilst your lips move as one. Pulling away, chests heaving as you pull in as you regain all the oxygen you exchange, Jisung places his forehead on yours, his cheeks pink and in between breaths you whisper against his lips “I promise” and again he pulls you in, lips crashing on yours.

This is your first love, it may not be your last but it will be the one you remember most, for it taught you how to love, it taught you the struggles of love and it taught you to feel loved. In search of fulfillment and meaning, you weren't looking for love but it found you and soon after fulfillment and meaning came in the form of a boy in a lavender field.

© (jisungiest) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

[carters-coffee]

False Gift

Word Count: 1089

Warnings: minor/brief mention of blood and animal death

Subject Name: Alcina Dimitrescu

She was a beautiful creature of elegant stature. Born into nobility and wealth, she conducted herself with a grace that made her seem startlingly out of place in the small village tucked away in the mountains. A ray of light in the dusk, bright and charismatic, always sporting a smile that belied the turmoil within. The loneliness she had endured. 

She had been incredibly sheltered as a child. If her societal status wasn't enough to quash common play with other children, her condition certainly was. A curse of the blood, her father had called it. Others in the family had it. Cuts and scrapes didn't cease their flowing, bruises took far too long to heal. One accident would be all it took to drain her body dry. Of course little Alcina had to be protected. Locked away from danger. From the world.

Make no mistake, it was a rich and favorable life she lived. She had a good relationship with her parents and the maids. She was taught proper etiquette and how to conduct herself, as all ladies must learn. She read and wrote and painted and learned to play piano. Always enriched. Always cared for. She would grow into a fine woman.

Yet when she sat in her room on that lavish window seat, looking out to the beautiful spring day, she could feel a cold creeping in, wrapping its gnarled claws around her heart.

Cadou Affinity: Most favorable

Stoic. Prideful. These were the words that would come to mind when one watches the sophisticated woman perched on the cracked oak examination table, the epitome of poise as Mother Miranda approached her with that wicked needle. 

Alcina was by no means large in stature; in fact she was shorter than The Mother, but her straight shoulders and bright eyes boasted of great importance. One could not see her eyes only shone from the anxiety that twisted in her chest. Couldn't feel what she felt when she tried to swallow and found her throat was dry as cotton.

Brain Functions: Normal

She had seen the effect the Cadou had on Mother Miranda's… peons. The way they had lost themselves, their humanity. The ravenous beasts they had become. Mother Miranda promised she wouldn't share their fate. She was special.

She couldn't bring herself to watch the gleam of metal disappear beneath her skin, so she looked to Her Mother for reassurance. The cold still clutched at her heart, but this would make things better, right? This would fix everything. Mother's gift would free her of the blood curse. She would be important.

Regeneration rate is incredibly fast. The subject can heal any external wound within seconds, and grow her nails into claws in mere moments. Rapid regeneration also means an increased body size.

Pain ripped through her like hellfire as muscles grew and stretched far faster than humanly possible. The agony made her want to claw her way out of her own body, to scream or thrash or anything that would make it go away, but she didn't have the energy. All she could do was curl in her bed, seeking comfort in the fetal position as she rode out the storm that ravaged her insides. Cries of pain echoing through the halls subdued to exhausted whimpers as the hours ticked by.

Like all great storms, it eventually passed. Like all great storms, the damage lasted long after the wind and rain ceased. 

Flawless skin was now marred by stretch marks from the sudden growth- jagged streaks on arms and thighs and breasts.

The great castle Mother Miranda had bestowed upon her was suddenly far too small. She found she had to duck simply to pass through doorways, and she wasn't used to the cramped quarters, often painfully hitting the corners of desks, or filling the hall with the deafening sound of shattering glass as she knocked over a vase.

Her clothes, obviously, no longer fit her. Of course Mother Miranda had new dresses tailored right away, but even resized, they didn't fit the same. Where once supple curves were gently sculpted by fabric, now bulging muscles were strained by the seams.

Alcina thought of her Mother, her true Mother, and the lectures she had to sit through as a child on being a proper lady. A proper lady is delicate. A proper lady is feminine. A proper lady is soft. Ladies conduct themselves with grace and flow like a flower in the wind.

She didn't feel very lady-like when she gathered all her old clothes and threw them into the fire, the light of the flames reflected in her eyes. Flickers of gold within gold.

Note: Due to hereditary blood disease the subject must ingest human flesh and blood on a regular basis to maintain regeneration properties.

I suspect that if the subject's regeneration is not properly balanced then she may mutate uncontrollably.

She couldn't bring herself to do it. She had always been a gentle soul. One of her most vivid memories as a child was the meltdown she'd had when her father came back from a hunt with a magnificent red stag. Much to her father's frustration, she refused to eat any meal made with the beast's meat. Try as she might, she could not banish the image of its cold glazed eyes staring blankly ahead, the steady drip of dark blood from the wound in it's chest.

Now, the metallic aroma emanating from the gilded chalice made her gag. How could she possibly drink it, knowing it came from one of her own kind? Someone's life blood swirled in this chalice, someone who once had a love and family and interests and quirks. A real person. A person like her.

But her body did not accept her probity. The Cadou pulsing through her blood cared not for morals or guilt. It cared only for flesh.

So hellfire ripped through her body once again, worse than ever before. Muscles tore and bones rearranged and anguished cries fell from her lips while tears of crystal fell from her eyes.

Her body was not her own anymore. Or perhaps it was more her own than it had ever been. Was this what she was now? A monster? The cold no longer clawed at her heart… It had spread in tendrils beyond the confines of her ribs, like fungus.

Like mold.

Only Mother Miranda would see her in this form. The disappointment in her eyes was almost too much to bear.

An unfit vessel for Eva

My Ao3

[blonde-in-charge]

Wildcard, Chapter Four

Summary: Steve Rogers found you on the side of the road after a mission involving Hydra and convinced the Avengers to take you in. You have no name, no memories, and no idea of what you are capable of. All you know is that you are a super soldier with more hidden abilities than you care to admit. The first step to finding answers was to train you. Nobody, including you, knows what is up your sleeve. (Slowburn)

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Random Hydra guy

Warnings: Fluffy!Bucky, Flirting, bed sharing

Words: 2.5k

The ride to the safehouse was relatively quiet besides the sounds of the road outside of the vehicle you were in. The drive took about 2 hours, and you had no idea where you were. By the time the agents had dropped you off, the sun had started to rise over the small cabin. The SUV that had dropped you off, drove away quietly behind you, while you and Bucky looked at the small house. You looked at each other and then raced inside. You were ahead of Bucky, trying to get to the bed first but he grabbed you around the waist and spun you around with him as you squealed out. He set you down and you pushed him aside to open the bedroom door. Bucky tried to grab hold of the shirt you were wearing but was just short as you threw yourself onto the bed. You rolled over. Your hair sticking up in every direction as you grinned triumphantly. Your face was heated from the small workout racing the soldier provided.

Bucky groaned as he walked back into the living room to fall backwards onto the couch, “How am I supposed to sleep on this thing?” 

You laughed from the other room before walking out and joining him on the old couch, plopping down with a sigh, your thigh resting against his. The last twelve hours has been the most Bucky has ever spoken to or even touched you. You were still processing the way he held you while you slept. That was the first time (that you remembered) you had been held like that. You sighed softly at thought and Bucky turned his head to look at you.

“Everything alright?” He asked and you nodded your head, not looking at him. You knew you were easy to read and you were afraid if you looked into those steel eyes, your fears would come true. You have always had a soft spot for the soldier, you never truly realized what it meant until now. You haven't let yourself really have feelings after your rescue, you wanted to be the easiest to work with. You haven't even cried since you had been found, now when you were around Bucky, your stomach would do flips and you barely even knew the man. You knew what he had been through and how he took his coffee, but who was Bucky Barnes? 

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” You asked him, staring up at the ceiling.

He studied you with his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, “I think I always knew I would become a soldier when I was younger.” You smiled at the thought of a baby Bucky running around with toy guns, so innocent. “Did you always want to be…. An accountant?” The question made you let loose a sharp laugh. You shook your head and covered your eyes with your right hand.

“No, I decided I wanted to become an accountant senior year of high school.” You smiled slightly at the foggy memory, “I had always wanted to be a police officer or FBI agent. I wanted to help the world in whatever way I could.” You could feel Bucky’s eyes searing into the side of your face. You cleared your throat, “Do you remember your parents?”

-

The questions went back and forth for what felt like hours. You learned Bucky spent the most time around Steve's mom, he had two sisters, his favorite color was green, and he hates olives. You had told him what little you remembered of your family, about your little sister. You didn't remember their faces very well but you remembered the dynamic. You told Bucky about your random love for olives and he started dramatically gagging. Your laugh echoed through the cabin you shared with him. For the first time in eight months, you felt light. You had somehow shifted to one end of the couch and wrapped yourself in a blanket, Bucky sat on the over end with your feet in his lap. The more you talked to him, the more memories you accessed. 

“Okay, okay. Who was your first girlfriend?” You asked as you stood up from the couch in search of a bottle of wine. You heard Bucky chuckle as he thought about it. You emerged from the kitchen with two glasses and a dusty old bottle of red. 

You had Bucky open the bottle and pour the glasses as you returned to your spot on the couch. “I think my first girlfriend's name was Ruth?” He said squinting his eyes as if it would help him remember. 

“Damn Barnes, how many girls have you been with?” You asked, taking a glass of wine off of the coffee table. 

He shook his head and leaned back against the cushions, “No, it's your turn to answer now. How was your first boyfriend?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you gently slapped the hard metal of his shoulder. 

You closed your eyes searching the memories that surfaced on your brain, “Josh? His name was Josh Noah, I was 16, maybe?” You drew a blank when it came to remembering faces and you didn't push yourself to. You opened your eyes and smirked, “So, you were a ladies man, huh?” 

You laughed as heat rushed to his cheeks, painting his face but he didn't look ashamed. “Yeah, I got around quite a bit.” You studied his face as he searched through his thoughts. You smiled slightly wondering what a date with Bucky Barnes would be like. 

You sipped at your wine and made a small face at the flavor. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't like what you had at the tower. Bucky laughed at you and you stuck your tongue out at him in defiance. You absentmindedly reached out to touch the cold metal of his arm and he flinched away from you. You gave him an apologetic expression as you pulled your hand back, “Sorry, I should have asked first.” 

“No, no. It’s okay, I haven't really had anyone touch me in a long time who wasn't trying to attack me.” The way he said it made a heat rise to the surface of your skin all over your body. You looked up into his eyes and felt your stomach start to do backflips once again. You reached your hand back out slowly and splayed your fingers against the metal forearm. 

You adored the man in front of you, you knew the types of nightmares he had. You wished you could just take them away. “Bucky, you deserve all of the good things in life.” You made circles with your thumb as you spoke softly. “Your past does not define you. Your favorite color changes and so do you. You are not the bad guy anymore.” You didn't know what possessed you to say it, but you had to. Bucky just stared at you with wide eyes. You smiled softly before leaning back and taking your hand off of his arm. You brought the glass up to your lips and chased down all of the liquid in it. You frown at the uncomfortable burn in the back of your throat as you stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen once again. You were hungry for the first time in the last 24 hours. You looked at the clock and realized it was almost dinner time. You and Bucky had sat on the couch for hours just getting to know each other. The feeling in your chest started to rise once again but you pushed it back down to wherever it came from. You pulled the sleeves of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, over your hands as you searched through the kitchen for ingredients. The house had been stocked with all the things you would find in the tower, you added a mental note to thank Steve for the shopping list he had created. You peeked out into the living room to see Bucky was exactly where you had left him. Oh god, you broke Bucky Barnes. You leaned against the entryway to the kitchen and cleared your throat.

“Do you have any objections to taco soup?” You asked him, crossing your arms.

He snapped out of whatever haze he was in and looked at you, “Tacos in a soup?”

“Yeah, it's actually really good. Wanna help me cook?” You gestured into the kitchen as he nodded and stood from the couch.  “Hey Buck?” He looked at you and tilted his head as you spoke, “Did I say something wrong?”

He looked panicked, “No! You didn't say anything wrong I-” He sighed and ran his hand through his long hair, “I never realized how much I needed to hear that until you said it.” 

You understood where he was coming from, hell you would have shut down if someone said those words to you. You nodded before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen to start the cooking. You want to eat dinner at a decent time so you better start now. 

Taco soup was the poor kids dinner from college. The only real ingredient that wasn't in a can that you needed was ground beef. Everything else was in a 79 cent can. You browned the meat in the pot while Bucky went to work on opening the cans for you while you cooked, you smiled at him as he passed each one to you and you added them to the pot. You finished combining all of the ingredients and placed the lid of the pot on. 

“Okay so,” You looked up at the clock on the wall and did the math in your head. “Let it boil for about 20 minutes, then we can eat.” You walked over to the fridge pulling out sour cream and shredded cheese, setting them on the counter top. You looked over at Bucky, who was eyeing the soup questionably. 

“It looks like we are boiling the rust off of something.” He stood up straight and looked over his shoulder at you as you shrugged and pulled out two bowls.

“I could just let you starve, but I actually like having you around.” You shrugged and swatted him away as he poked at your side. You leaned against the counter top and watched him. The kitchen was not very big, making the space crowded between you two when you were both working around the kitchen. He came to stand next to you as you both stared at the boiling pot in silence. Your stomach growled loudly which made him chuckle. You smiled, the laugh you elicited from him made you feel like you were floating. You smiled brightly at him, watching the way his chest moved as he laughed. He looked down over at you and you realized you were staring. You averted your eyes back to the boiling pot in front of you and sighed loudly, which he dramatically copied. You grinned and shouldered his side, getting a well deserved, ooph. Bucky turned around as the minutes counted down and pulled out two bowls and spoons. You turned off the stove top and lifted the lid of the pot, taking a deep inhale of the delicious scent. You were starving, so you were quick to fill the two bowls with a ladle. You dressed your soup up with a spoonful of sour cream and half the bag of cheese, while Bucky only dressed his with a handful of the cheese. You both carried your bowls to the small round table in the corner of the kitchen. You sat in one of the small wooden chairs, sitting criss crossed as you always did when you were comfortable. You raised one spoonful of the soup to your mouth, blowing on it gently before actually tasting the contents. It was delicious, as it always was. You really enjoyed cooking, it came so naturally to you. You looked up and saw Bucky was thoroughly enjoying his soup the same way you were. You both ate in a comfortable silence until you were full. You stood up from the table and reached to grab his empty bowl.

He smacked your hand away playfully and stood with you, “Let me clean up, you did all the cooking.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to place your empty bowl in it. You wanted to say something snarky, but you knew he genuinely wanted to help out. You lost the war in your head so you let him take your bowl away to the kitchen. You decided to change out of the clothes you were wearing and into your pajamas. There wasn't much to the cabin, it wasn't an open floor plan and it only consisted of a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and one bathroom. You knew there was a shed out back that served as a weapons vault, and you also knew the bathroom mirror that opened up into a medical supply cabinet. You maneuvered past the couch to the bedroom. You pulled Bucky’s shirt off over your head and threw it onto the corner of the room, you put your bag on the bed and rummaged through it. You pulled out an old tee shirt you knew was Steves, you pulled it over your head and worked on stripping your legs out of the leggings you wore. You wanted to remain in your underwear but you also didn't want Bucky to feel uncomfortable, so you pulled on a pair of cut off sweatpants and walked out of the room. Bucky was trying to set up the couch to be somewhat comfortable for the night. You leaned against the door frame of the room and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Hey, Buck?” You asked. He looked up and met your eyes, “Can you sleep in the bed with me tonight?” 

You weren't able to read his eyes, you watched as he stood up straight and contemplated the offer. He nodded his head, “Yeah of course I will.” He stripped the couch of its blanket and walked up to you. You smiled and led him into the room, shutting the door behind him. “I just need to use the restroom, then I'll be ready.” You nodded as he dropped the blanket onto the bed and disappeared into the bathroom with his duffle bag. You slipped off your shorts and crawled into the bed. The sheets were so soft against your skin, the feeling was welcome. You fluffed up the two pillows behind you before sinking down into the bed. You turned the lamp off besides you and sighed. The bathroom door creaked open and spilled light into the room. You could see the outline of Bucky, the light clicked off and you listened to him approach. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled back the covers. He laid beside you and covered himself up, tucking his right arm behind his head. You rolled on your side to face him. 

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You said quietly to the figure next to you.

“Goodnight, doll.”

[organic-guacamole]

episode 209 spoilers below

I'm so late today but here it is

I love EJ, he's finally learning to be happy. I'm so proud.

Ms Jenn = every boomer during zoom calls, like jeez yes we can hear you stop shouting at me.

LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKE ABOUT QUARANTINE "these dark times" "you mean spring break?"

ah yes, remember when we thought covid was just gonna give us a longer spring break? good times

SEBLOS

damn the passive aggressiveness from Carlos and the absolutely over it tone from seb✋

CASWELL COUSINS!!!!! THEY'RE THE BEST!!!!

we needed more if this kind of goofiness for the first part of season 2 that only such an iconic duo can provide.

old old movies-

is it even that old, or is Nini being a gen alpha rn-

i choose to imagine EJ being scared of the movie and hiding in Ashlyn's shoulder while she keeps a straight face and then EJ pretending to be tough afterwards

aww redlyn are soulmates.... yknow, if gingers had souls

(please ignore me)

y'all saw how EJ's face *lit up* when Gina logged on? how dare you tell me he doesn't like her

ofc she's no damsel in distress, she's Gina porter, she's amazing.

so do we think she'd be the type to just glare at suspicious people? or bark at them

do they not know that Rini broke up? or is Ms Jenn just wanting Nini to suffer through her heartbreak to make her a better actress....

speaking of, why is Nini in the call? she's not in the show anymore. Unless she is, even after the rose and the song got cut, which would be so unfair to all those that auditioned properly before she even came back but whatever, she's the main character I get it 🙄

big red is a hero honestly, Nini better thank him for changing the subject like that

I can't-

i won't work you over the break-

this woman would 100% work her kids 24/7 if it was legal and idk how to feel about it.

YES GINA USE THAT CHARM

QUEEN

FRENCH QUEEN

SHE LEARNT FROM THE BEST (antoine obvi)

smh the airport lady, eavesdropping on Gina's call.

The way she was so happy to answer EJ's call, "eej"

I love them your honour.

EJ WITH PAINTED NAILS YES PLEASE

great now we need to see Gina, Ashlyn and EJ having a complete spa day and EJ getting really into it and Gina and Ashlyn take pictures of him when he's laying down in a robe with a mask and cucumbers on his eyes.

finally we get to see Gina's side of portwell

the way she considered it as flirting, this is the sign she asked for in episode 6 come onnnnn

no is Asher/jack really doing tiktok dances in an airport-

Ricky is me. I am burrito.

oh Lynne, sweetie, I'm sorry but the blonde hair is not it

is that even the same lady or-

THE BEAN

THE CHICAGO BEAN

THE BIG OLD METAL BEAN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY 😭

jetlag is my go to excuse for anything... I haven't travelled in 2 years.

"welcome to the Lynne and Mike gossip show. where we talk about our depressed son that we both neglect in certain ways! And now a word from our sponsor, Nord VPN..."

SO MANY CANDLES

WHAT DEMON IS LYNNE TRYING TO SUMMON IN HIS ROOM-

is Nina becoming social media obsessed EJ from season 1? AND SHE LIED ABOUT HAVING SONGS TOO PLEASE WHY ARW THEY RECYCLING THE SAME PLOT-

Gina smiling at the picture of her family on Instagram makes me so happy, idek why.

EJ's nails are so pretty, we needed to see it more (unless he had it on for the rest of the episode and I just.... didn't notice🧍🏽‍♀️)

oh not the tiktok kid✋

yes ma'am end this strange mans whole tiktok career

sir take a hint and leave

GINA NO DONT SAY YOUR LAST NAME HE COULD BE A HUMAN TRAFFICKER

Ricky, walking in style✨

weird kid, ok then Lynne, can't you see he's this close to the edge?

not all your fault baby Ricky, Nini sucks a bit more

RICKY YOU DIDN'T COME DOWN HARD ON THE SONG-

YOU ASKED WHAT IT WAS ABOUT AND SHE SHUT YOU DOWN-

PLEASE DO NOT BLAME YOURSELF

ok but the deleting comment thing was very bad

still don't know if I like Jack honestly

hmmm so Nini's calling herself Nini instead of Nina in her little egg seat, while trying to write a song without inspiration.... Nini, honey, Ricky was your muse, he inspired you to write all those songs, even if it wasn't good for the relationship.

that doesn't mean you gotta get back with him, or that you can't write a song that not about him butttt it'll take some time

the rainbow sticker in her box and her rainbow shirt-

anyways wbk she's not totally straight

Jack are you a criminal?

quick, Gina, check his ankle for a tracker

THE YES AND PRACTICE STRIKES AGAIN

the way Gina wasn't into it in episode 6 but she's used the technique twice now

stole her grandma's Pomeranian-

Jack where the hell did you pull that out from-

the fake crying killed me, that looks like so much fun though

anyone wanna raid a first class lounge with me?

wait so is jack not gonna go in with her?

wouldn't he go in too? help look for the credit card? SO CONFUSED

the first class lounge guy was so into the drama though, watch his face when they start arguing 😭

sorry to break this to you Kourtney, but you haven't even blocked the second act yet soooo...

take that as you will

I love how all of them are totally dissing the dance off

that's the most realistic part of this show tbh

shouldn't Nini have asked how she knew....since the start? why is the fact that her best friend has knowledge of a North high secret now dawning on her...

Howie is sweet honestly, at least he's trying to help. but I stand with Kourtney, don't take him back just because he sang an amazing song, and is giving you a heads up on what's gonna happen...

KOURTNEY IS ME TRYING TO LEAVE AN ONLINE CLASS

I hate school

ooo Nini's writing a song about bad internet connection 🤩🤩🤩

I never lie, except when I do-

son that is the creepiest thing you could say to a stranger that you've been "helping"

2 truths and a lie👀

he's an Ariana fan 100%

called it.

OLDER BROTHER-

WHAT-

free spirit? damn so brother porter was in that horse movie

so has she been kissed or not?????????

I feel like she's moved more than 15 times though so possibly

but then if she's moved so much, and before east high she never opened up to anyone, she's never been kissed then?? damn

same though Gina so let's be besties please

heartbreak president is a great song title idea, give Nini a call rn

but wait

is the no strings attached feeling thing about her telling Ricky she liked him? she thought she was moving away so she thought it'd be no strings attached???

guys I think I figured it out insert the "I've connected two dots" meme

THE DUKE SWEATSHIRT

IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND'S

OMG I LOVE I LOVE

NOT THAT I KNOW OF???

ma'am did you just kill me

yes you did

Lynne and Ricky have such a weird relationship

YES IT DID SUCK

TODD SUCKS

LYNNE SUCKS

yeah I get that you wanted Ricky to like Todd BUT THAT WASN'T THE TIME

right so we already know that Ricky was so desperate to keep Nini cuz he didn't want to be like his parents, and now Lynne's talking about this-

Richard needs a long hug

yes Lynne, it is your fault. thank you for finally admitting it.

YES DYE YOUR HAIR

BLOND HIGHLIGHTS RICKY WILL RISE AGAIN

"sometimes the best, last thing you can do for someone you love, is let them go."

gotta admit I teared up at that point

not me thinking big red was calling ms Jenn cupcake for a hot second-

Carlos please omg, you're at the "beach" and they're leaving for the pool?

also, why not just do the call from the hotel room please omg

"don't ask me"

"Carlos"

OMG WHAT HAPPENED

big red wants the tea

O M G

SEB IS JEALOUS

JEALOUS SEBBY IS MY FAVOURITE THING IDC

I'm surprised ms Jenn knew how to give Nini permission to screenshare tbh

So lily's been stalking the East high kids and spending time editing this video while she's supposedly in an immersion trip.... right

EJ and Ashlyn's picture is so chaotic, what even is happening there

"slacking off" bestie its spring break, obviously they're confident enough that they'll get it done in time so why not focus on your own musical.

jealous seb = sassy seb

please what if those guys Carlos is posing with are his cousins or something and that's why he's so confused about Seb

6 YEAR OLD EJ I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Nini saying she's obsessed with her ex, that's not weird at all 👍

I can just tell Matt had a blast harassing Julia with those puppets.

Jack please dont be like that, "yet"

chances are you'll never see eachother again 🥰

(honestly sometimes I really miss those friends I made on trips and stuff when we'd spend the day or week together, only to never see them again....those were the good days though)

Ashlyn and Nini should write more songs..... something better than this one at least

Nini: "im good"

cue the Tia Mowry (please I can't spell) crying gif

oh I forgot Ricky was in the show for a hot second

1. where did Gina get to film this without people being around

2. did she just... randomly change her clothes???

ok but the transition between Carlos and EJ

*chefs kiss*

now everyone shut up, EJ's singing

oh i think I'm pregnant

HIS MUSCLES

YES KOURTNEY

I love how big red and Kourtney went from being "the best friends™" to the couple in season 1, to kinda close themselves and having their own plots

sebby makes me so happy

props to biggies editing skills honestly

PORTWELL BEING SIDE TO SIDE I CANT

AND SEBLOS OMG

big red lives for the drama

"wow" so true Ricky

no he is not cute, stop it

"holding" ok that's kinda cute

yeah EJ's a lucky guy😌

jokes aside, it's not that hard to exchange numbers-

keep in touch if you want

ok I really like Jack now

if he comes back in season 3, maybe have him be LGBTQ+ ?

like the only out characters they have rn are Seb and Carlos and they're like the sterotypes, yk?

I'd love to see jack kinda break the mold

Ricky's breaking my heart

that song just hurts

the only thing

now I don't hate Lynne????????

HOW DARE THEY WRITE IN A PROPER REDEMPTION ARC FOR HER

UGH IM SUPPOSED TO HATE HER FOREVER

I mean I don't live her now but she's good

but honestly

"mom can I show you something"

IT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL

THE PICTURE AND EVERYTHING OMG

I'm sobbing please help

Gina saying she's just waiting for the right guy and then EJ coming to the airport to pick her up late at night without her asking, offering to bring her back in the morning so she won't have to Uber, bringing her a granola bar (WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT SHE FORGOT TO PACK) and without expecting anything in return???

ms ma'am you've got a keeper right there

her smile at the end was so heartwarming I really can't.

this episode was great.

it felt really short but I liked it, great character development for Ricky, Lynne and Gina.

Cant wait for next episode to see more of EJ being the ideal boyfriend /hj

[kechiwrites]

tension headache

Ground Zero x Publicist!Reader

wc: 2.2k

“Being Ground Zero’s publicist comes with its own set of challenges, luckily there are quite a few benefits to sweeten the deal.” warnings: anal play, dirty talk, light degradation, light spanking, d/s undertones (or overtones w/e), bakugo being the king of bullies

author’s note: i’ve been writing this since august and it’s finally done. special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​, @some-kindofgnome​, and @nightly-tales​ for betaing! 

Your head is throbbing. The sort of building tension headache you became most familiar with in high school; the kind that starts in the morning and gets stronger with every little irritant. You’re sure it's a tension headache from having your shoulders hunched up to your ears most of the day, a seemingly ever-constant by-product of trying to keep Pro Hero Ground Zero from biting a journalism student's head off. The obscenely large TV hanging above the receptionist’s desk plays Ground Zero’s greatest hits on mute as your heels click-clack towards the steel and glass elevators. 

It’s almost the end of his patrol and you know he’ll be up soon, sidekicks and assistants (two this month, because the first had the good sense to resign soon, lucky bastard) in tow. Four consecutive texts rattle your phone in your pocket to confirm this. Each one an iteration of “on our way up!.” Waving at his secretary, you let yourself into his office setting your purse on the floor. Further behind you can already hear the clamor of voices and activity that announces Ground Zero’s arrival, people no doubt scurrying out of his warpath lest they incur his wrath. He pushes open the heavy door and says nothing to acknowledge your presence. 

Your forehead throbs with irritation at the snub. You know it’s only a matter of time before either of you begin to push the other’s buttons but your employer seems to have a secondary quirk he uses only for you.

You like to call it Extreme Irritation.

“Would it kill you to be nicer to the press?” You give first, sitting on the overstuffed leather couch pushed against the easternmost wall underneath a frankly, unnecessarily large, framed photo of U-A’s graduating class. “Why do you insist on making my job so hard?”

“Can’t pay you for fucking nothing,” he scoffs, leaning against the desk in the center of his office. Carefully he divests himself of his gauntlets, handing one to his senior assistant, and placing its twin onto the desk next to his big gaudy nameplate, muttering; “Take this to Yumikawa, I think I broke the fucking thing.” When he’s halfway past the threshold, Ground Zero adds, “And tell her to do better with her shitty paint jobs!” His gaze snaps to the newest recruit, a tiny shivering thing who looks like a stiff wind could blow her over, “What the fuck are you standing there for? Go with him! Do I have to fucking tell you everything?”

She practically leaves a dust cloud in her wake. You roll your eyes and begin reading through news updates on your tablet, nails clicking lightly against the screen. Tweet after tweet and article after article summarize Ground Zero’s latest exploit, every title and byline more sensational than the last.

“Ground Zero Overshadows Daring Rescue with Another Tirade!”

“Is Ground Zero the Meanest Pro-Hero Ever?!”

‘imagine ground zero calling you stupid 🥴 #imahole’

You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the startlingly large amount of retweets on that last one. Finally, the pro hero deigns to address you; “I did as you asked, I smiled, I laughed, I didn't blow anyone up.” He actually sounds proud. You blubber in shock. “You called the reporter a fuck wit! They can't even air that!” For good measure you hold up the tablet to replay a heavily edited fancam of Ground Zero sneering at some poor junior reporter. “Isn't that what you wanted? Less of my insults on TV?” He is so smug, it drives you crazy. “Not like that!” You toss the tablet onto the couch beside you and stand, stomping towards Bakugo, who’s leaning against his desk, clenching his jaw, arms crossed, as if he didn’t spend the entire morning making you wish you’d never laid eyes on him. The two of you are growing more and more irritated with each other and it’s evident in the rapidly rising volume of your conversation.

"I'm serious, if you want to be ‘Number One’,” you stress through your teeth, “people have to like you, at least a little bit. That. Includes. The. Press.” Every word is punctuated with a strong poke to his sternum, and you try to ignore the pain of jabbing your finger into his brick wall of a chest. It feels as though the pristine white collar of your button-up shirt is digging into your throat while you try to restrain yourself from biting his stupid, perfect nose off.

Now it’s Bakugo’s turn to roll his eyes, “People like me.” He looks to his sidekicks for confirmation and you pointedly ignore them bobbing their heads in unison.

“Who?! Who are these people that like you?”

Bakugo gestures wildy at his sidekicks, “They like me!”

“They’re afraid of you! They respect you but they don’t like you!” You shake your head in disbelief.

“You like me!” He barks at you.

You almost choke on your surprised laughter. He really was absolutely ridiculous.

“I have to like you, you pay me!”  

“That’s right. I sign your cheques, you deal with all the media bullshit and make me look good.”

“You make it impossible for me!” If it weren’t for the intense tunnel vision your arguing was giving you, you would have seen Ground Zero’s sidekicks inching slowly towards the door.

“Well maybe you’re just shit at your job!” He turns away from you to push papers to the side of his desk, the gesture a clear dismissal that only serves to rile you further.

“Oh fucking bite me, Katsuki!” As soon as it’s out you slap your hands over your mouth, eyes wide as dinner plates.

You were exhausted and tense and so mad but it’s not what you agreed on, never at work and never in front of subordinates. In an instant it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. Bakugo’s expression is furious when he whirls on you. You chance a look over at his assistants and all colour has left their faces, ‘Impressive,’ you think idly, ‘Considering Haruto is literally purple.’ 

“Out. Now.” He growls, and his teeth are clenched together so hard you think they might shatter, his throat is rapidly turning red and his hands are clenching and unclenching around nothing. The sidekicks hesitate and you’re a little grateful for their loyalty. 

“Fucking out. NOW!” He yells, and they nearly fall over each other trying to get out the door. 

“And there goes the loyalty,” you murmur while you watch their hasty retreat. “I’m sorry,” you say, turning to face him head-on, apology punctuated with the slamming shut of his office door. You focus on the wall of windows behind him, the city skyline slowly lighting up in the nighttime, preparing for an infamous Ground Zero meltdown. “That was inappropriate, especially in front of subordinates.” Idly, you wonder what the theme this time will be; Disrespect? Insubordination? Or just a good old-fashioned dress down? He’d become quite wordy over the years, you were almost beginning to enjoy them.

While you muse Bakugou inches closer to you, cheeks a mottled red. His shoulders rise and fall repeatedly, like he’s bringing himself down from the peak of his anger. For a moment you think he’ll just outright scream in your face, but when he pulls you, first towards him and then past him until your stomach presses against his desk, you realize quickly what he’s planning. 

His forearm presses against your back until you’re bent over his desk, your hands palm down between the wood and your chest to prevent your face meeting the cool oak. It’s bordering on humiliating how easy he can manipulate you. But they don’t teach hand to hand combat in the business sector, and although you’d toyed with the idea - being in a high-risk industry and all - you never put stock in seriously learning. 

The blond’s hand snakes over your shoulder, slightly damp palm advancing until it’s pressed against the smooth flesh of your throat. Katsuki pulls you towards him this way, and for a short moment breathing is a laboured task. The other hand makes quick work of divesting you of your skirt and underwear, coming down in an instant to make contact with your bare ass. He rubs at it covetously, a shallow attempt at soothing your stinging skin. 

There’s no formality when he thrusts into you, only a few seconds between feeling  the head of his cock parting your embarrassingly slick folds and him being fully seated within you. You grit your teeth against a whine, fingers scrambling for purchase when he withdraws and fucks into you again, and then again, pace slowly gaining momentum until you can swear the heavy oak desk (and seriously that thing weighs a fucking ton) is shifting with the force.  Your stomach presses painfully into the gilded metal decorating its edge but it’s good. Katsuki is so fucking good at taking you apart with every inch he drives into you. Above you he mutters lowly about how fucking wet you are, how eager you must’ve been all day, waiting for him to fill you. It goes on like this for a while, you bouncing between his hips and the desk, him whispering filthy, untrue shit in your ears that makes your nipples hard and your breathing shallow. 

He places his free hand on your back, first up under your shirt, then slowly slides it down, until it’s resting on the roundness of your ass again. You don’t know what he’s planned till his thumb’s parted you, sliding softly over the clenched furl of muscle above your stretched open cunt. 

“Bakugou, no!” you whisper hoarsely, your voice just edging on hysterical as you struggle against his hold. 

“Excuse me?” He hisses between his teeth, thrusts not slowing for a second. The hand around your throat tightens and when he pulls you closer so his sneering mouth is brushing the shell of your ear, you unwillingly tighten around his dick in response. 

“(Y/N),” his voice is almost pleasant, and had you not been split open on his cock in his office, you’d ask him who taught him an ‘interview voice’. 

“Can you tell me who's name is on the building?” While he teases you, you can feel yourself getting wetter around him, thighs tensing and relaxing with the sensation of being spread open beneath him.

“Yours.” You wish you could fall through the fucking floor.

“I’m sorry?” His thumb presses a little more insistently against your pucker. The pressure is foreign, but not at all bad. Dear God, you’re really about to let him do this to you.

“Yours, sir.” You pant, the burning sensation in your cheeks and neck a mix of exertion and shame.

“Fucking say it,” Katsuki tightens his hold on your throat and your whimpers are barely audible over the sound of his hips brutally meeting your ass.

“G-Ground Zero.” you choke out through your clenched teeth. 

“Oh good, so you can read!” Katsuki releases you from his hold and you fall forward. With every thrust, your feet lift off the floor, and you lurch forward like a ragdoll. Katsuki pushes his thumb further inside you, belly-laughing when you cry out in pleasure.

“Where’d all that resistance go, sweetheart?” His digit fucks in and out of you in tandem with his cock, keeping you full constantly. “You know what? Next time, I’m gonna take my time stretching you, keep you wide open, maybe you can wear a plug for me, huh? And then after you’ve been soft and needy all day, I’ll slide right into you, fuck you till you gape for me.” 

You’re incapable of firing back, mouth occupied with moaning incoherently while you drool against the desk. Katsuki chokes off his own moan, using his unoccupied hand to hike up your leg so he can have easier access to your clit. The calloused pad of his fingertips press hard against you. He goes so slow, pushing and nudging at you until your entire body feels feverish and your climax takes you by surprise, forcing a yelp from your lips when your legs begin to shake. 

“That’s it. Come for me. Come on my dick.” Once he’s sure you're done, he pulls his finger from your ass and releases your leg, blanketing your back with his chest. His hips are quick to lose their rhythm as he fills you, ropes of his spend coating your insides. Katsuki shudders against you, hands running a course along your hips. He pulls away, the evidence of your time together sliding down the inside of your thigh without Katsuki’s cock to hold it in.

“I’m going back to working for Hawks.” Your voice is hoarse when you can finally speak again and levering your chest up off the desk onto shaky knees only serves to make your head spin more. You glare at your boss your boyfriend as he dresses.

Katsuki’s grin is derisive while he tucks his softening dick away, “Like fuck, you love working for me way too much to work for that fuckin’ pretty boy.” He leans down in front of you and slides your underwear up from your ankles back into place, followed by your skirt before pressing soft lips to your forehead, smoothing his hands over your cheeks. 

At least your headache is gone.

taglist: @enjifuckersupreme @pleasantanathema

[benevolentcalamity]

By My Dark Sword [Fume Knight]

"Accursed creature of the Abyss! Begone!"

"You're the bane of humanity's existence, [Name]! A font of misery!"

The scars the stones left on your skin linger even in the heat of this tower. People chased you here and there until you'd found sanctuary where they could never even dare try to reach you. For you, your only options were to run about Drangleic until you found a proper place to hide, and risk being found again and executed by the angry humans that blame you even now for the Undead Curse.

Why for, though? The answer is simple.

Born in the Abyss from the scattered pieces of Manus, you found a form to go by and tried to live amongst humans. After all, you like them were born of Dark, which Lord Gwyn had previously feared, and in turn feared Humanity.

You once had asked, why would humanity revere and love what hat tried to destroy them. Maybe that's why they felt you no longer belonged with them, for in minutes they prosecuted you for slandering the Great Lord's name, or some other crime they felt was overdue for punishment.

Your existence, then. The flesh and blood you had been born with: that is your crime.

Leaving formalities out of the way, your time has run out and you're here, in what is known as the accursed Brume Tower. A peerless giant, an endless torch in a night of hatred, accepting of what dares walk inside and survive. And from how the monsters within cower at seeing you, as if knowing what you truly are, this place is your new home, and your tomb, in one fell swoop.

Better than the piercing chill that awaits outside, and possibly the ever-omnipresent hatred of Humanity towards what should've been embraced rather than the Flame.

... Very well. If you cannot escape your nature, then you shall embrace it.

And with the authority of a child of the Abyss, you plant your seed of Dark, where you can bother no one, but those who come for your head will be punished. For no longer will you live in the shadows of those who embrace Gwyn's quivering Ash; only those who can embrace the Dark, their past, will ever be fit. That, or the Chosen One, willing to slay all of you to link the fire.

So it is written, so it shall be.

__

You are (quite rudely) roused from slumber, unsure of how long it lasted, from the distinct sound of the tower being opened.

A challenger? A brute who hath braved the creatures outside and has now come for you? You're not adept with a blade like your dear sister Nashandra, and Alsanna no longer embraces your shared nature. All that's left here is you, the monsters here only a barrier to whoever dares disturb you.

Swallowing, you melt into the shadows - a skill you'd learned simply from your fear changing slowly to boredom - and from the lens of the darkness you can see what dares challenge the tower.

It's a knight, brave and true. His armor's scorched black or painted in cinders, not as though you can tell, and his stance implies great power. Your insides quake; he's here for you. He must be.

Before you can stop yourself, you command through the shadows, "Halt!"

He does, body and head turning to find you.

"This is the Brume Tower, sanctuary to the Children of Dark. There is nothing for you here, Sir Knight!" You quiver. "If you wish to press on, I will not stop you, but it will not be me or the flames within that will snuff out your Ash."

His arms lower a bit, but just as you expect him to turn and leave like a wise man would, he nods. "So be it."

Dammit... So this knight is either brave or foolish...

Where is your blade? If he's here, it has to be to slay you, free the people of his homeland from fear of you and your sisters, just as humans and Lords alike will do.

Shuffling through the ashes - a natural consequence to fire being almost everywhere - you find your longsword, prepared for if this knight can brave the trials Brume Tower has for him. You will say he looks powerful, but... Will his sword bathe in your black blood?

You're lucky to be alive this long, you suppose.

Father... If only I could know if this knight should fall here.

As if on cue, there's a horrendous sound, one you'd only heard once, that shakes through the ground and reaches you. The tremors send your heart down into your stomach, and as if like a reflex you throw your arm toward the entrance to your little room. But, with the effort of trying to erect a fog wall or cast some kind of protection, your arm shakes in fatigue.

Swallowing, you grip your blade tightly, ascending the stairs. Not that you have a chance against a knight of any sort, but...

But...

If I die, what'll happen?

Hearing the resounding clanks of metal footsteps, you hold your sword with both hands, keeping your feet together and rolling your shoulders back. You swallow as a great shadow is cast on the far wall.

And in time, there he is, the knight himself.

At first he's brandished his greatsword, expecting a terrible monster to be guarding whatever could be here. However, he appears to notice you, visibly lowering his guard.

"Who are you?" You ask. "You, who has braved the Brume Tower and the monsters and scourge within... Pray, which king sent you for my head?"

"No king," He replies. "Legends spoke of a Creature of Dark. I came here to see if the legend is true. Lo, what I find is not a creature, but a fair lady."

"Nay."

His head tilts. "Nay?"

You shift a bit on your feet, examining him a bit without taking another step. "You stand before [Name], child of Manus of the Abyss. The creature of Dark you seek is right here." You remove one hand from your blade, spreading your arms out as a show of peace. "If you seek to kill me, I invite you to try. For that is your history, is it not? Any great king's knights would expunge the Dark."

With a sigh at realizing this was going slowly, you plant your blade in the ground beside you. "I will ask you again: Who are you?"

He puts a hand to his chest. "I am Raime, once a knight of Drangleic under King Vendrick."

"Exiled," You nod. "What a pity. And you came here, be it to slay me to redeem yourself or, carve a piece of the world yourself."

It's inside him, you can feel it. One touch from him, or a swing of that mighty sword, and the darkness itself will cease to be. If his sharp gaze beneath his helmet doesn't kill you, that will, if he approaches with murderous intent.

"But tell me then, Sir Raime-" You're more buttering his ego than anything, as is your nature "- what good is a dog, with no master to guide it?"

His blade lowers, and you reach out your hand.

"If you seek a new master, then come here," You beckon. "Embrace your banished fate, and kneel before me."

Much to your surprise - more that you're still alive than him listening to you - he does approach, kneeling and putting his head down.

"O, lordless knight, bereft of hearth and home, hear me," You sing. "If you shall swear by your strength to become a Champion of Dark and guardian of the Child; a blade that shall hunt our enemies..." For a moment your hand lowers in your own hesitation, but your resolution in living raises it again. "Then I shall protect you, safeguarding your body and soul with the power of the Abyss within me."

His hand effortlessly raises his greatsword by the hilt. "I will be of service to you, my fair lady."

Smiling, you put your hands over his, and soft streams of vantablack emerge from your heart and into his armor, seeming to taint it inside out. Now a fragment of your soul rests within Raime, and he is bound to you until you both die.

You then kneel down yourself, lifting your blade from the ground and tapping him on the shoulders.

"I hereby dub thee Sir Raime, the Fume Knight of Brume Tower," You pronounce. "With your protection of my wicked life, I in turn shall provide succor, however it may be asked for."

His head raises, and from his knees he stares up at you as you kneel to his level, softly placing a hand on his arm.

As is your nature, you can feel yourself corrupting him, the sharp eyes beneath the helmet glazing over with infatuation, admiration, redamancy, carnal desires from killing for you to ensuring you're guarded and loved in each way possible. Your Dark seeps into him and wraps his soul up, until his very mind is set in his almost religious dedication to you.

"My wondrous knight," You coo. "May you be one with the Dark forevermore."

His own hand raises and cups your cheek. You lean in and he pulls you closer.

"And by my Dark sword, may I be forever at your side."

Yes... Yes...!

With such a power within him, you can very much tolerate this. All the souls in this ruined world can go wherever they're beckoned - all you will want or need is here.

Sir Raime, once a knight of King Vendrick of Drangleic, now a feared Fume Knight at your stead.

You, a Child of Dark, born a splinter of Manus, made simply to carry the spread of the Abyss in his stead.

And there's nothing and nowhere you'd rather be.

[seodami]

Dearest treasure | KTH

|PART 1| |PART 2| |PART 3|

Summary: Every kid in town was afraid of Kang Taehyun, the old -slightly creepy- man living alone for years and years in the same run down house. Every night he would go into his backyard with a shovel and dig a hole into the earth. No one knows why and there are kids rumouring about him burying people. Jungwon was a bright kid, wanting to find out the truth behind this widely spread rumour for a school project. And what he found out would change his life forever.

Genre: fluff, angst, flashbacks, story of life, snippets of life, tiny bit humour

Warning: old Taehyun, mention of death, mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, death

Word count: 10152 (all 3 parts together)

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x reader, (Yang Jungwon)

Note: Wow okay so this story took me a while to write and I listened to hours of das music to finish this🥺 this was honestly an emotional rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it’s finally finished so I can post it on here yayyy!!! I hope you like it an enjoooyy (please tell me if you cried I would really appreciate your responses haha bc I did)

Main Masterlist

2089 (present)

Jungwon took a glance down towards the camera clasped tightly in the palm of his hand. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly moved up to the big house in front of him. Former white paint - now a dirty grey almost everywhere - was already peeling itself from the walls, dozens of thick ivy tendrils sneaking up to the dirty windows and even further. It looked just like the old spooky houses, Jungwon had secretly seen in horror movies his parents were watching. And it especially felt like it as well.

The cold wind was slowly whirling around the dead leaves on the ground, freeing the view to numerous mounds of earth spreading over the whole front yard and probably even backyard. Some were fresher than the others. Some were older than the others.

Jungwon could feel a wave of goosebumps hushing over his body, clearly not only being the cold winds fault. With one last reassuring nod to himself, he courageously made its way over the small path through the chaotic front yard towards the old wooden front door.

It had terrified him when he was a bit younger to even lay eyes on this house, let alone go any near it, and quite truthfully, Jungwon still felt a tiny wave of fear coming through. He had heard many things around this neighbourhood and school...creepy theories as to why the old man living inside this house was seen digging holes in his garden. From murder to even paranormal activities, everything was possible, referring one of the older kids at school, Park Jongseong, who tended to love scaring innocent young students with these stories. And he even heard parents trying to discipline their children, threatening them to pay ‘Killer Kang’ - that was the old man’s unfortunate nickname - a small visit if they did not behave. It was as if this small town didn’t have anything else to talk about than a lonely, slightly creepy, man. And if he remembered correctly, he never saw or heard anyone even trying to talk to him. So what did they know?

Jungwon heard a lot. To say the least, he questioned himself quietly if he should have just chosen another topic for his video and interview for a school project. He could have. But something deep down told him quietly not to judge too quickly, not to judge a book only by it’s cover. His parents and his grandmother taught him that early on and it stayed with him ever since. He wanted to give this poor scrutinised man a chance to actually explain himself. Why was he always digging these holes into the ground? Maybe he really was a serial killer and this would be Jungwons biggest mistake, but where’s the fun in not even trying? Right? He could only lose, well...his life...

The 14 year old boy quickly shook his head, trying to stay positive. And then he finally pressed the rusty bell on the side of the door. He heard nothing at first, it was as quiet as it could get, no steps, no talking, no TV. The eerie feeling hanging in the air didn’t make it any better for Jungwon to stay calm and not giddy. “You can do this! He’s not even creepy.” He tried to hype himself up.

He almost wanted to ring again, as his heart sunk. Damp slow steps were coming closer and closer, making him hold his breath unconsciously. The door opened in an awful slow motion, revealing the old man everyone was afraid of. White hair framed his sunken in face full of deep wrinkles. He used a walking stick to stand, his position was crouched forward, so he was about the same height as him, maybe even a bit smaller. And when Jungwon met his eyes, there was a glint in them, that almost scared him off like all the other kids would have. But he stayed put.

The man didn’t say anything, just stared at him, awaiting him to explain this very unusual visit. Nobody had ever dared to ring his house. Not even the mailman thought of doing so.

“Good Morning Mr Kang. Uhm ...I am Yang Jungwon.” The young boy began with slightly unstable voice, trying to get a hold of himself. “I am a student at Namgang Highschool and we are currently doing individual video projects containing an interview with someone we find fascinating and want to learn more about. And...I was wondering if...if maybe it would be possible to...interview you?” Jungwon managed to squeak out, hiding his trembling hands from Mr. Kangs boring hawk eyes.

He still hadn’t said anything, looking up and down the underaged student. Then his eyes met his shaky ones again. “Is this a joke again, boy? Because I have no tolerance for silly boy pranks.” He finally muttered out in a harsh tone, letting Jungwon flinch the slightest. He quickly shook his head, implying that this was his last wish to do.

“No sir, no I swear this is a very serious question and project. I wouldn’t dare to do anything but.” The boy rambled, now fiddling nervously with the hem of his uniform jacket. The man pulled his glasses somewhat higher on his nose before he gave the student a hesitant nod.

“You are the first person for years daring to come talk to me...” he noted absent minded, eyes wandering behind the boy to check if there really weren’t any stupid kids hiding inside the bushes. “How...extraordinary.” He muttered, clinging onto his walking stick as he began turning around.

“You said fascinating people, boy? I have to disappoint you, there is nothing interesting about me, I dare say.” A small sigh left his mouth, beginning to close his door slowly but Jungwon was quicker. What had gotten into him? Was it the surprise at his not so cold attire or maybe has he just gone crazy? But Jungwon wanted to know more about his story. There had to be more.

“Sir, no please. You may think so but quite frankly you are the talk of town every day.” Jungwon began but got stopped hearing the other one scoffing displeased. “Killer Kang...I know this nickname they all give me. Do you use it too? I don’t want to have anything to do with people like this.” His tone got harsher again.

Jungwon frantically shook his head again. “I don’t. I would never. This is the reason why I chose to interview you in the first place. I want to hear your part about everything. I think it is only fair to give you a proper chance to explain. They just don’t know.” He gave the man a pleading look. Mr. Kang hesitated again, letting the boys words sink in. He didn’t seem like he could harm a fly, he thought. Was is worth the struggle?

He didn’t know what or why he was doing it but the next thing Jungwon saw was him walking slowly into the house again, leaving the door open. Should he follow? A quick look over his shoulder told him he should. Jungwon couldn’t believe he really meant it so he still stood unsure, fiddling with the silver camera in his hands, metal cooling against his sweaty palms. “Are you coming, or what?” The now softer voice of the white haired man asked still trotting forward in a steady pace.

This woke Jungwon immediately out of his trance, stumbling clumsily stuttering and rambling while thanking him over and over again. He had made it.

He entered the dark hallway, suddenly being hit with a strong smell of a typical musty grandparents house. It remembered him of his own grandmother’s one, where he spent almost half of his childhood. With one swift movement, he gently shut the door and followed the tracks of this houses owner without forgetting to put his shoes off. There were some stacks of newspaper laying around randomly, old picture frames hanging on some of the white and dark green walls and old brown rugs adorning the cold floor. He noticed a small picture of a young lady in a baby blue dress, sitting on a self built swing while smiling ear to ear. But he quickly moved on. It was as every other old people’s home, Jungwon thought.

“Boy, say, do you want a cup of tea? Or water?” The young student heard the now calm voice asking him, seeing as they arrived in the living room. An antique looking glass chandelier was hanging right in the middle, brown couches placed generously inside the big room. Jungwon was surprised. He expected to shake with pure fear in his veins, but why did it feel like he was just visiting his grandparents? A friendly visit. That was the first moment he knew he misjudged the famously feared old man.

“No thank you. I was wondering if I could maybe...film the whole thing? The interview? I prepared some questions already if that is fine with you.” Jungwon timidly pulled out the camera behind his back and soon enough some pieces of paper. There was a moment of silence, Mr. Kang just looking speechlessly at the innocent and oh so polite brown haired boy. His heart already told him, despite his inner conflicts, that he was a nice boy. A really well-behaved kid. He could tell him, he could understand, and maybe even help. At least that was his hope.

“You are really something else. Jungho was your name?” With small steps he wandered to one of the couches, plopping down painfully slow with a nasty crack of his bones into an already deep hollow on the couch. Just like his grandparents. Jungwon by now was really overwhelmed by the mans compliance and...kindness?

“It’s Jungwon, Mr. Kang.” He added, earning an understanding nod from his side, followed by a motion of his hand for him to sit down. “Of course, of course. You can set up the camera on the table if you have to. It was a long time ago since...anyone filmed me.”

It didn’t took long for the eager student to put his camera on the table in a good angle. His script was already sprawled all across his lap and with nervous looks in between, he asked the man if he was ready to begin the interview. Jungwon was aching to know the truth behind the misunderstood lonely person in front of him. He finally wanted to clear the unpleasant rumours about him, wanting to know what really was behind his actions.

“Ready, boy.”

Jungwon clicked the red recording button on his camera, sitting down on the couch behind it. And he did not waste any time to start.

“My first question for you Mr Kang, has to do with your widely spreaded nickname. As you told me earlier, you were already aware of such name. What do you think about it?”

It was the second time, he heard him scoff in annoyance. “It’s ridiculous what people tend to gossip behind someone’s back when they are bored. Whoever believes these ignorant, mindless comments should go to school again and get educated. This nickname... ‘Killer Kang’ -“ he stopped to caugh out loudly, repositioning himself more comfortable in his seat before continuing to talk. “ - holds absolute no truth in it. I can’t seem to think why somebody even invented it.”

Jungwon immediately nodded in agreement, earning a small nod from the man himself. “That was exactly my point. It looked almost like people just invented some crazy untrue theories when they cannot seem to understand a certain...action.” He tried to find the right words. “It’s probably nothing new to hear, but people around this town, I think they came up with this name solely to...to find an explanation as to why...the holes...I mean you digging them with a shovel in your garden...is that...” he lost his voice in the end of his sentence, not wanting to say any wrong words.

But Mr. Kang just nodded, looking out of the window with a distant look. He suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s probably not the answer you or all the people would like to hear. All the foolish theories. It’s something far more...simple.” He looked over to Jungwon, soft eyes under the thick crease above them. He was ready to tell someone. Just anyone. He longed for a conversation for too long, maybe that is why he agreed in the first place.

He was so lonely.

“Let me tell you my story right from the beginning. I hope you do have some time, boy, it might be a longer story.”

And then he began to tell his story. Your story.

[ratinthedeadhouse]

Forbidden Love

My heart is devoted to the one I shouldn’t love...

Fyodor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Trying to keep it fluff.

"... A demon you say?" You question with hesitation, pale face bearing a frown as you try to put all the puzzles together. "That man is the super ability user and a terrorist that Yokohama is so desperate to catch? The very man, I spent countless evenings going to museums and libraries with? The very man with his astonishing diamond brain had helped me solve several murder cases?"

Silence settled between you and other Special Division Forces agents who glared at you with fear or utter confusion.

Nobody knew of your accidental connection with Fyodor Dostoevsky, or simply known as Demon Fyodor, and it sure was a surprise to you when your (e/c) eyes noticed a familiar face on all the screens and papers in the office with a screaming title: 'Wanted Criminal. Terrorist. Fyodor Dostoevsky. Highest rank ability user. Ability unknown.'

You honestly had no idea who the mysterious slender man was when you first met him at the museum. He looked charmingly tired, sharp purple eyes looked deeply into your soul while you both stood, rather awkwardly, near a woodblock painting that depicted the suffering of young children and women. Their weak bodies engulfed by flames, others were drowning in the peaceful veil of water. Despite the horrible scenario the colours united in harmony making you both stare at it for longer than you should have.

"The choice of the colour pallet... It mocks their suffering" you stated after a while, rather talking to yourself but hoping, subconsciously, that a curious stranger with a funny white hat would respond to your comment. To your amusement he did.

"Mhm," he nodded at first, pinching his chin like philosophers do while thinking and then slowly added: "Maybe the painter wanted to tell us that not all sufferings are recognizable at first glance. I noticed when walking up to the painting, the bright colours made me think of happiness and kindness, however, now that we stand closer to it we see that their very souls are in terrible agony" Fyodor's voice was soft like moonlight rays with a gentle touch of a foreign accent.

"I suppose... It depicts life itself. We never know how much one suffers due to the façade they’re putting" you said with a sad smile. At this very moment you looked delightful, Fyodor found a strange pleasure in watching your serious face merging into a saddened frown. And oh, he did it on purpose. He could've chosen a less explicit interpretation of the absurd painting but in his calculated mind he knew that this version would strike you the most... And he was right.

You still didn't move from the tiny painting, twirling a strand of your silky, (h/c) hair around your finger, beautiful eyes glued to the painting but your thoughts wandered far away. 

It took one glance from Fyodor to understand your entire being, no matter how complicated you think of yourself - to him you are an open book, and he could not resist the urge to live the faint mark on one of those innocent, white pages. 

“I apologize if my interpretations upset you, miss...” started Fyodor with a polite smile curving upon his frail face, but was interrupted by your sudden enthusiastic reply:

“Oh, please don’t apologize. One is a fool if they are not moved or hurt by art” your voice was gentle and soft and Fyodor couldn’t help but love your words. 

Perhaps you two were more similar than he thought at first. In any case, enchanted by your watchful careful eyes, your smile and graceful movements of your hands, your speech and voice - he couldn’t just let you go like that, out of his sight. 

A man tilted his head sideways a little, looking pleasantly amused, letting his dark locks fall upon his cheek, gently. “It seems that I found a charming lady who shares a similar view on things with me” something bittersweet hid in his words but it didn’t matter to you. 

With a small, delightful laugh you move your right hand forward: “My name is, (y/n). A pleasure to meet you” 

Expecting a handshake you watched as the man in a long dark cape came closer, gently grabbed your pale small hand and softly kissed the back of your hand;

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady” he murmured watching how your pupils dilate. “My name is Fyodor. Would you agree to spend the rest of the evening in my company?”

Walking around with a stranger whom you’ve just met seemed like a ridiculous idea... But you felt safe around him, although his eyes were dark as a bottomless well, you agreed but made a promise to yourself to stay on guard. However, he cast away all your suspicions in just a few hours. 

You became good friends, discussing ancient Myths and modern poetry embarked on philosophical journeys sitting in the dim corner of the library simply enjoying the presence of each other. He even played his cello for you under the mocking bright moon. His words and the depths of thought sometimes caught you off guard however, you were able to track his line of thoughts and in return challenged him with your endless and charming affection. 

Fyodor never learnt what the word love truly meant. He could explain its psychological and physiological effect but never experienced it himself. He was in absolute control over his feelings and that is why he felt confused when you would meet him with a bright, loving smile that changed into a slightly concerned frown when you noticed dark eye-bags on his face. Why did you notice it? Why did you care? Who gave you the power to capture his heart so suddenly and so... wrongly? 

For the first time in a long while, Dostoevsky felt as if he made a dreadful mistake. At first, he thought of you as a pawn. Easy to move and easy to get rid of. But you reminded him of himself... yet you were so much better! Despite your intellect and wittiness, you had a warm, loving heart, that even accepted a demon like him. It all changed when you finally opened up to him about your placement of work. That’s when he realised how forbidden your relationship would be. Soon you would find out anyway about his identity, his goals and... it would wound you. Deeply. 

Soon he stopped coming to the museum where you two would usually meet. You remember that day. You took his favourite tea from the shop and held it in your cold hands while the hot drink burnt your fingers. 

‘He will never come again’

You felt as if you lost a piece of your heart. But you never cried about it and kept all the memories of the mysterious man named Fyodor close to your heart, or rather what was left of your heart. 

But now it all makes sense. The puzzle is complete. You stand in the room full of your colleagues who proceed to glare at you in silent amusement and your heart leapt in ecstasy. The adrenaline rushed through your blood as your cheeks turned red - you felt like the main character of your own story, engaged in a forbidden relationship with the demon himself. 

You didn’t care about the consequences but on entering the Special Prison for the restrained Ability Users, shadows of doubt crept within your heart. 

“Please wait here, ma’am. You sure you want to interrogate him?”

“Yes” 

“In terms of emergency, we won’t be able to assist you immediately... ” 

“I understand”

The heavy door was shut behind you, a metal desk was drilled into the floor and so were the chairs. No windows - just solid rock walls that reminded you of a medieval dungeon, except there were no cracks at all. Finally, you heard footsteps and another door before you was opened. 

“Good afternoon, Fyodor,” you said in a strict tone trying to hide your excitement as much as you could. 

His lilac eyes widened in surprise, thin lips parted as he watched you right there before him. In his head, he tried to process why you came out of your way to see him? Did he not abandon you back then? Did you not realise what a hateful��creature he was? 

“(Y/n)... Why are you here?” he questioned curiously. 

You were now completely alone in the interrogation - underground cell. He watched you come closer to him with a soft smile looking with kindness into his soulless eyes... 

“Why, you ask? Because I love you. That is the only concept you failed to fully understand. Monsters have hearts as well, they just need to learn how to love” words fell softly from your rosy lips while Fyodor closed his eyes and chuckled to himself. 

“Talking to you is pure joy (y/n)! Love is the ultimate atonement of all human sins. Even a Devil needs someone to love him at the end of his immortal life...“

“... Angels did fight for Faust’s soul at the end, despite all his reckless deeds” you added referencing the work of a German poet, Goethe. 

Fyodor sighed. He reached his slender cold hand towards you and you grabbed it without hesitation. 

“Will you be... my angel, (y/n)?”

You nodded raising your bright eyes at him. A soft kiss was placed upon your forehead before he hugged you letting you bury your face in his shoulder. You were like a blooming flower in his deadly grip... but he would never hurt you. Ever. 

People say the forbidden fruit is sweet... But is it so for the forbidden love that burns like fire?

 lmao part 2 is gonna be saddddd (if I get the motivation to even write it)