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lily-blue · 8 months

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Innocent as doves

☆ characters: singer!you & activist!yeonjun ☆ genre: historical au, angst ☆ warnings: sexual harassment, character’s death, mention of blood and violence ☆ summary: your dreams brought you to him; his dreams brought destruction upon the both of you ☆ words: 15,1k ☆ a/n: Gyeongseong is the name of Seoul during the period of Japanese colonial rule ☆ also: happy birthday to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you an amazing day with people who love and appreciate you as you deserve ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story even though she was short of time 💕 ☆ taglist: @soobin-chois

Throughout your teenage years, you had frequently daydreamed about this very moment: the hustle and bustle of the train station, the thick smoke in the air you could almost taste on the tip of your tongue and the freedom your arrival to the capital city gave you despite your big brother’s presence right next to you. Obviously, you loved growing up in the countryside - being the only daughter of one of the leading figures of your small community came with its own privileges -, but hell did it feel good to finally try your wings on your own!

You snapped your head in your brother’s direction when he cleared his throat and took your luggage from you. Fine, you weren’t entirely on your own, but here at least no one knew who you were, therefore no one would treat you like you could break under the smallest pressure. As if a mere rejection could have destroyed your self-esteem and brought your father’s rage upon them when your father was the most understanding person you knew after your mother.

Your smile was sheepish and your cheeks rose-tinted as you let Taehyung lead you towards the exit.

‘After we get settled in our accommodation, I’ll send a letter to our father,’ your brother said, never the one to leave you in the shadows. You acknowledged his words with a curt nod and a reassuring smile. He had no reason to be worried about you. ‘I’ll try to be quick. Then, we can look around in the neighbourhood, see whether there are any jobs available closeby,’ he added, bumping his upper arm into your shoulder lightly, playfully, like he always did when he wanted to earn your forgiveness. As though you had ever been able to stay angry with him for longer than a couple of hours.

If you wanted to be honest, he had never given you any reason to stay mad at him. Sure, at the young age of seven, having your dolls destroyed might have seemed like a crime against humanity, but in reality, even that had been an accident. Taehyung was just too good-natured and caring to cause you or anyone harm on purpose.

‘I would love that, thank you,’ you said, following him down the busy streets with your much shorter legs. Thankfully, you weren’t in a hurry, so you didn’t have to adjust your steps to his as he was walking at a slower speed on purpose. He really was the best!

Your temporary home for the next six months - the time limit you had gotten from your father to find your footing in the capital city - was no more than two corners from the central train station. It was in the heart of Gyeongseong with numerous shops and facilities that catered to those who visited or lived in the city, which made you more excited about your plans for the afternoon with Taehyung. You wondered whether any of the fancy pubs and expensive hotels were looking for a singer. You hoped they did.

You would have especially liked to work close to the square with the pretty fountain that you had to pass by in order to get to your new home. It was lively and loud and everything the Gyeongseong of your dreams was. There were vendors selling fresh coffee and snacks on one side and businessmen in suit and tie entering an enormous building on the other. There was even a paperboy with today’s newspapers in his hands, shouting from the top of his lungs a couple of metres from you.

‘There are so many people! Look, oppa!’ You exclaimed, unable to resist the urge to point at the paperboy despite your manners.

Taehyung shook his head with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth before he grabbed your hand and pulled it downwards, back by your side.

‘Please, try not to offend people you shouldn’t on our very first day here. We’re not at home anymore, little bird,’ he chastised you, his tone lacking the usual playfulness in spite of his soft eyes.

You nodded, apologetic.

‘I am sorry,’ you mumbled under your nose, suddenly hyper aware of how rude you had been and how your actions could have reflected on your family if anyone had paid attention to the two of you.

You gulped down the bile in your throat and followed your brother in silence. You intended to keep your gaze on the ground and your excitement at bay, but after a couple of minutes, your curiosity won and you lifted your chin up high once again. Your eyes were sparkling as your gaze jumped from one spectacle to the other until it met an interesting-looking young man’s piercing one and you almost tripped over your own feet.

It was unnerving, but you failed to look away. He was sitting by a table on the terrace of one of the coffee shops with three other men, all of them wearing the same uniform, and he was observing your surroundings - you - with such intensity that you felt almost obligated to keep up your impromptu staring contest.

For a split second, you were afraid he would stand up and walk up to you and your brother, but that couldn’t have happened due to two reasons. 1) The young man was with other people and even from afar, they seemed to be discussing something rather vehemently, therefore you supposed it was something important. 2) The beautiful fountain in the middle of the square shattered into pieces, the noise and the flying rubble leaving chaos in their wake.

Even though you weren’t close to the now-destroyed fountain anymore, you fell on your butt from the shock and scraped both of your palms when your instinct kicked in and tried to protect you from the fall. People were screaming and crying wherever you looked; some were unharmed, some were bleeding, but luckily none of them stayed eerily still on the ground.

The realisation that the incident had no fatal casualties brought you some comfort and so did your brother’s protective arms that embraced you with urgency. Panting - as your gaze found the young man in the uniform screaming at someone shorter than him -, you found it weird: the relief it brought you that his attention wasn’t on you anymore.

‘Are you hurt?’ Taehyung’s question reached you like it came from under heavy layers of water and you pulled away to be able to look at his face. The dust that lingered in the air stuck to his sweaty skin mixed with the blood that was running down his temple lazily from a wound you couldn’t really see. You lifted your hand to cup his cheeks and hissed when your injured skin touched his jawline.

Taehyung grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands downwards, then pushed them towards you, so that he could take a good look at them.

‘We need to go to the hospital,’ he insisted and you let out a broken huff because what he was saying was ridiculous. People around you had more concerning injuries. Even he had a more concerning injury and he wanted to take you to the hospital because of some scratches?

‘But only because of your head injury,’ you pointed out and seeing how he furrowed his thick eyebrows upon hearing your reasoning, you were pretty sure that he hadn’t realised until that moment that he was bleeding.

He reached up to his forehead, slid his fingers sideways and hissed when his fingertips grazed the wound.

‘It’s nothing,’ he reassured you, but you shook your head and made no attempt at getting up from the ground. If he really believed that his wound was nothing, your wounds were less than nothing and you were determined to prove your point. So determined that Taehyung let out a resigned sigh when meeting your eyes he realised that he had no chance to win this argument. ‘Fine, let’s settle in our accommodation and I’ll bring back some disinfectant and bandages on my way back from the post office,’ he negotiated, but you shook your head.

‘We should buy some on our way home. That way, we can clean and dress your wound before you leave,’ you reasoned, the amused chuckle that left your brother’s throat adding a grotesque contrast to the painful wails of the people around you.

‘Deal,’ Taehyung agreed as he pulled you up from the ground and took your hand.

Without a care for your surroundings or the people in need, your brother dragged you to your new home as gently as he could and let you tend to his wound. He was on his best behaviour the entire time you were disinfecting the cut on his head, so that he could make you promise in exchange that you wouldn’t open the door to anyone once he left.

Within two weeks both Taehyung and you managed to find yourself a job that would be able to cover your rent and living expenses once you used up all of your allowance money. It was a relief, really, since on your tenth day of walking from hotel to pub to a different hotel, you had started to feel a little worried that Gyeongseong might not have had enough room for you. In hindsight, it had been a silly thought, but some things just couldn’t have been helped. Your anxiety, that you weren’t much without your father’s name, was one of them.

Singing at a hotel lobby was as close to your dream job as you could get with your pressing urge to jump on the first opportunity that presented itself to you. If you wanted to be honest, you had always wished to be able to dress in pretty ball dresses during your performances and have your own stage, but your own dresses weren’t that bad, either, nor the new microphone with the silver stand that were provided to you.

It was a promising start.

Hanging out at the bar, sitting by the counter with a glass of juice in your hands, you were waiting patiently for your turn to entertain the guests when your gaze fell on a young man in a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, dark pants, dark suspenders and round glasses atop of the bridge of his nose. His profile was handsome - more pretty than manly -, and you felt enchanted by the sight. It was hard to take your eyes off him.

Maybe that was why you noticed how unusual he was acting compared to the other guests or that the bartender seemed to both keep his distance from him and being weirdly nice to him, like they knew each other, like they were close. For example, they weren’t looking at each other, but the young man’s lips were undoubtedly moving and the bartender was clearly listening, his focus on the other’s words keeping him from walking up to the rich-looking woman near you, even though she had sat down on one of the barstools in the midst of their conversation, ready to order.

You took a sip from your juice and kept watching.

You let your curious gaze linger on the young man’s hands, paying attention to the way his fingers were drumming on the wooden countertop and you found yourself humming for a similar rhythm. You weren’t too good at improvising song lyrics, but you knew a lot of traditional ballads, so you picked one on a whim and adjusted the words to the melody. You pictured the two of you on stage, in front of a bigger audience, loving your admirers as much as you liked each other.

Your cheeks were burning because of your shameless fantasy and they turned a deeper shade of red when the young man suddenly turned towards you and raised a brow in question. You snapped your head in the opposite direction on instinct, like a child caught red-handed in the candy shop.

‘Good evening, miss,’ a surprisingly deep voice greeted you, its owner standing right behind you. Blushing, you wondered just how fast and smooth one’s steps needed to be to change locations so quickly.

‘Good evening,’ you mumbled under your nose, slowly turning towards the man.

Heart beating like crazy, you tried your best to conceal your disappointment when your eyes fell on the person who had addressed you so politely. Instead of wearing a simple shirt, the man in front of you was dressed in a familiar uniform, had a pair of thin lips rather than a full and pouty one and looked at you like he had never seen anyone like you. You weren’t sure why, but the latter made you feel uneasy.

It didn’t take long for you to realise from where he was so familiar; the heavy feeling atop of your chest was similar to how you had felt seconds before the explosion at the square on your first day in the capital city. Now that you were paying more attention to the young man’s eyes and his outfit than his other facial features and how different he looked from the man you had been staring at in the last ten minutes, it was easy to put two and two together.

‘I see you remember me. I won’t lie, it’s flattering,’ he said with a pleased smile, leaning into your personal space more as though the two of you knew each other.

You let your hand fall into your lap and straightened your posture to look more confident.

‘I…’

‘Cute,’ he noted and took a seat on the barstool next to you. ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m chief officer Nishiki Kousuke. What shall I call you?’

You had been taking etiquette classes since you had turned five along with Japanese language classes, singing and piano classes. You had attended your first ballroom dancing class at the age of nine and been taught how to manage a household around the time you had gotten your first period. You knew what the correct answer was - how you should have phrased the words and how you should have had perfect control over your body language. Still, you felt wary about telling the man your name.

You forced a hopefully soft smile on your face while you kept your slightly trembling right hand still with your other hand. You went as far as digging your nails into the inner side of your lower arm to not let your body take over control at the worst possible moment.

‘Cecily,’ your boss called for you, using your stage name, seconds before your resolve could have crumbled and you let out a relieved sigh without meaning to. ‘One more song and the stage is yours, honey,’ the middle-aged woman informed you from the left side of the bar, so you turned towards her with your entire body and nodded as a sign that you were ready.

It was a weird mix of emotions that overcame you once you jumped off the barstool. First and foremost, you were relieved that your conversation with the man in the uniform was over and he couldn’t have done anything about that or pressured you into staying. You were also super glad that you didn’t have to tell him your real name because your boss had already provided him with a name he could call you; something you had completely forgotten about because of how anxious his closeness had made you. Admittedly, you would have much preferred it if he hadn’t known any of your personal information, but it was the least bad, so you could deal with it. Then, you were excited about your performance.

It was because of the latter that your smile reached your eyes when you bid your goodbye, leaving your juice behind with an apologetic frown towards the bartender who just shook his head and poured it down the drain.

You planned to put up a great performance, an excellent performance even. You planned to charm the young man with the rolled up sleeves and round glasses, so that he couldn’t have not walked up to you after you finished your songs, but by the time you stood in front of the microphone and embraced it with both hands, he was nowhere to be seen.

You greeted the guests and wished them an amazing night like you always did, but your eyes couldn’t find him as you scanned the area and it did reflect on your mood a little. Your voice was a little blue, but it fit the ballads you had chosen for the night, so your unprofessionalism didn’t cost your job.

You got paid plenty before your brother came and picked you up, taking you home.

Sunday mornings were your new second favourite time of the week, right after those nights you spent at your workplace, singing your heart out to your audience. Sunday mornings were for you and your brother to discover new places in Gyeongseong: bookshops, clothing stores, coffee shops and diners. This particular weekend, you decided to wake up a tad bit earlier - although still not as early as you normally did on weekdays - and have breakfast outside, so that you could enjoy the good weather.

You didn’t usually drink coffee simply because you weren’t a huge fan of all things bitter, but your brother had found a shop downtown where the owner mixed different flavours into your drinks if you asked him to and the cinnamon coffee he had just made you was from another world. It was delicious, so was the yakgwa his wife had baked freshly in the kitchen in the back of the store.

‘Has that man tried to approach you again since last time?’ Your brother asked after he put the newspaper aside and took a sip from his espresso. He didn’t go into specifics, but even without additional details, you knew whom he was referring to and this fact alone was a tad unnerving.

You wiped your hands into a textile napkin and reached for the newspaper. Finally, it was your turn to have a look at what was happening in the capital city. This time, you were the most curious about the beauty pageant whose finals would be held in Gyeongseong in a couple of weeks, but you also liked skimming through their seasonal recommendations for outdoor programmes and their Japanese poems from independent poets.

‘Only once,’ you admitted quietly, flipping through the pages. ‘I started to stay with the other singers like you suggested,’ you added, not out of obligation, but to reassure him. You didn’t want Taehyung to worry about you too much; you also dreaded the possibility that he might have forbidden you to go back to the hotel if he couldn’t have been a hundred percent sure that you were safe there while he was working. Just like your parents, your brother could be pretty protective sometimes.

‘Good girl,’ the compliment fell from Taehyung’s lips easily, just as naturally as his big palm found a home atop of your head, messing up your braids with how aggressively he ruffled your hair.

You groaned, displeased, and pushed his hand away with a click of your tongue.

‘Oppa! Please, I am an adult now,’ you whined, but instead of fixing those locks that fell into your face, your focus remained on the newspaper and the flavoured coffee in your cup.

Your mother had never liked it when you read by the dining table. She thought that it wasn’t lady-like, hence you should have concentrated on more important things during meals, such as your body posture, your sweet smiles and polite answers whenever someone addressed you directly. She believed that every woman should have stuck to the same topics when joining a conversation: family, suitors and household matters.

However, your father had always had a soft spot for you, hence he had been happy to explain the business and political jargon to you when, every once in a while, you had shown interest in those types of articles. Needless to say, you still didn’t understand every word, but you could rely on context clues.

‘Of course you are,’ your brother agreed with amusement in his voice, but you didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, you kept your eyes on the article that misused the phrase “touch base” in its very first sentence.

It was a boring report on local agriculture and the benefits of trading with the Japanese, not something you usually wasted your time on, however, there was something in the way the writer had structured his sentences that kept you engaged. He used formal language and his statements were mostly general truths, but it still felt like you were reading a book: the text had rhythm and you couldn’t have helped but emphasise certain words in your head naturally. Words like: station, nation, train, eight.

‘Oppa? Did you read this one?’ You asked Taehyung when after the third and fourth reading, your brain made a list of at least a dozen of these words, linking them together and building sentences that didn’t exist.

‘Hm?’

‘This one,’ you pointed at the article with the misused expression in its first sentence and he nodded after one glance at the page, his furrowed eyebrows displaying confusion. Thus, you pushed forwards just a bit more. ‘Do you not think it is weird? Like… that it sounds weird?’

Taehyung took the newspaper from you and read those four, short paragraphs one more time. Then, he gave it back to you with a frown.

‘I mean it does sound like propaganda,’ he admitted in a small voice, making sure that no one around you could hear him. ‘But that’s not unusual.’

You leaned your back against the backrest of your chair and let out a dramatic sigh. Taehyung was right, it wasn’t unheard of that people wrote baseless reports on literally anything that helped the Japanese to be seen in a better light by the locals - according to your father, the more credible these articles sounded, the more money their writers made -, but this wasn’t what you were talking about. You were talking about the hidden message.

‘It sounds like a song,’ you argued, less conscious of your surroundings.

Unsurprisingly, your outburst earned you a reprimanding glance from your brother.

‘Well, not to me,’ he argued and flicked your forehead to remind you of your manners. You straightened your back on instinct and resisted the urge to pout, although you could feel your lower lip tremble because of your suppressed annoyance. You hated when he did this, when he treated you like you were five.

‘But…’ you started, however, soon decided against finishing your sentence when two people took a seat by the table in front of you and Taehyung shook his head in an alarmingly slow motion. You choked on your words and swallowed them down without as much as a yelp.

By the time you finished your cinnamon-flavoured coffee and your brother stole the last piece of yakgwa from the porcelain in front of you, you convinced yourself that the hidden message was all in your head. After all, why would anyone have informed the public - and with that, the local police - about an upcoming bombing and risked getting caught? It would have been stupid. Yeah… utterly, ridiculously, truly stupid. No one was that reckless, which meant that your mind was playing a trick on you.

Leaving, you sealed your lips on the way back to your two-bedroom apartment and didn’t bring up the article even when you got home. It wasn’t worth it, making your brother worried or angry over it.

Three days later, at eight in the morning, a small group of activists blew up the central train station.

You still didn’t tell anyone about the article. Not because you were afraid of the consequences - although you should have been -, but because your brother was already looking for other apartments in the more peaceful suburbs, urging you to quit your job at the hotel, so that you could have moved as soon as he found an adequate deal. You didn’t want to sabotage yourself when it was already a challenge to persuade Taehyung to let you keep working in the heart of the city. Selfishly, you kept the secret to be able to keep your dream.

Before the second explosion, it had taken you ten minutes to get to work. You hadn’t needed to calculate with external factors such as the number of available cabs in the area or the mass on the trams that might have made it impossible for you to get on the vehicle.

Living in one of the outer districts was different. Since you insisted on keeping your job, you had to leave your apartman two hours in advance and be aware of drivers who deliberately chose the longer routes to milk as much money out of you as possible. It was inconvenient, but it was your choice, so you were determined to not show how much you were struggling to Taehyung. The last thing you needed was him reminding you that he had told you so.

Shifting your body weight from one foot to the other, you stayed close to Aeshin, Jenna and Hyolyn like you had promised to your brother, but didn’t join their girly conversation. You did hum here and there to keep up the facade, however, your gaze lingered elsewhere: on the young man with rolled up sleeves and round glasses. He was back, sitting by the main bar and whispering under his nose as though he wasn’t talking to the bartender when the older man clearly paid attention to him.

You wondered whether you were the only one who noticed their strange interactions or the others simply didn’t care. You also wondered whether the same went for the strange article in the newspaper. Were you the only one? Were others out there, too, turning a blind eye to these odd occurrences? Could these two things be connected?

You were dying to know.

Therefore, when Jenna was called on stage and you caught the young man putting something in his pocket from the corner of your eyes, you quickly excused yourself as well and walked up to the bar. It felt like a now or never situation to you and after experiencing first hand how infrequently the other showed up at your workplace and how rarely he stayed, you believed that your urgency was justified.

‘Good evening, sir!’ You greeted him as soon as you were beside him, your smile polite and sweet just the way your mother had taught you. You ignored his raised eyebrow and how he was already half-standing.

‘Yes?’ He asked and for a moment you actually contemplated if it had been wise to sit down and act like you were oblivious to the fact that he was about to leave or he would have used it against you and left without entertaining you with a made-up excuse.

You stayed standing.

‘Have you happened to read the article about the benefits of trading with the Japanese in the newspaper two weeks ago, on Sunday? The writer misused the phrase “touch base” in the first sentence,’ you inquired, paying close attention to the tiniest changes in the young man’s facial expression like you always did with Taehyung, but his mask was impenetrable. Like he wasn’t looking at you, just staring out of his head.

You pressed your lips together, disappointed that you might have been so wrong. However, a voice inside of your head, suspiciously akin to your best friend and forever partner in crime back at home, told you you shouldn’t have given up so easily. After all, it couldn’t have been denied that this man and the bartender were acting weird and seemingly everyone disregarded their weird behaviour like it was the norm.

Or a collective secret.

‘It predicted the bombing,’ you chirped, using the very same tone that always drew a reaction out of your brother without fail.

It earned you one this time as well.

The thought that there must have been a reason for the workers and the guests to look through this man crossed your mind again when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you towards the storage room that belonged to the main bar. A panicked yelp stuck in the back of your throat as you looked around in the lobby and you met numerous unamused looks before people one by one, guests and employees alike, turned in the opposite direction.

You almost tripped over your own foot when you were yanked into the small room and the door closed shut behind your back with a loud thud.

‘Do you have a death wish?’ The young man hissed, pushing you against the wall with both hands. You gulped when your head hit it hard, missing your brother’s gentle palm that always slid between the back of your head and any firm surface when you lost your balance or were too unaware of your surroundings to notice something as big as a lamp pose.

‘No,’ you objected, although your voice came out weak.

Your answer earned you a scoff.

‘Then I advise you not to walk up to random people, talking about things you clearly know nothing about,’ he stated firmly, making your heart beat like crazy with how close his pouty lips were to yours. You could taste the air that left his mouth and phantom the touch of the tip of his nose against your rose-tinted cheek.

‘I did not walk up to a random guy,’ you insisted, short of breath. He pulled away a little to look you in the eyes at that. ‘I walked up to you,’ you claimed, mustering up all your bravery and confidence to be able to keep eye contact. Might it have been because you had grown up with an older brother, but something told you that you needed to earn his respect to get those answers you were looking for. People with thick skin and unwavering hearts were looked up to in every romance book you had put your hands on in your teenage years.

‘You know nothing about me,’ the man retorted and to that you didn’t actually have a good comeback because you were calling him young man in your head since day one and those three facts you did know about him were all pieces of his appearance: the way he dressed, the shape of his lips and his cute habit of drumming on the countertop with his fingers.

You didn’t even know his name.

‘But I am right, am I not? You know about the article. You and maybe Jaewon-ssi, too?’ The second part of your short monologue sounded more like a question than a statement, but it held enough weight for the young man to put more pressure on your windpipe. Mentioning the bartender might have been a bit too reckless.

You lifted your hands to his forearm and dug your nails into his skin to snap him out of it. It didn’t help much, but seconds before you could have started to see stars, he finally let go.

Not being able to lean on him, nor having him hold you against the cold wall anymore, you fell forwards. You crouched down in front of him, trying to catch your breath.

‘Stop sticking your nose into other people’s business, little girl,’ he spat before he leaned down and put his index finger under your chin to force you to look up at him. Your eyes were teary, but lacking anger or fear as you let him do whatever he pleased. ‘I can guarantee you that your suitor wouldn’t be too happy if he knew you’re walking around carelessly, asking questions about the bombings.’

Your furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘What do you mean my suitor?’ You asked, not understanding where this misunderstanding was coming from until the realisation suddenly hit you in the face. You remembered the first night you had seen this man sitting by the bar. Your eyes had met for a sheer moment and panicking, you had looked in the opposite direction. Then, someone had walked up to you and silly you had thought it had been him.

It had been the Japanese chief officer, Nishiki Kousuke.

‘Oh? The Japanese man? He is not my suitor. He is just… well… it might sound like I am full of myself, which I am not,’ you rambled, unaware of the amused smile in the corner of the young man’s mouth. ‘I am telling you, he is obsessed with me.’

The silence that followed your confession was deafening. The longer it stretched, the more self-conscious and uncomfortable you felt, but you also didn’t know what to say to break it.

‘Obsessed with you?’ He asked with a small tilt to his head, one eyebrow raised. His posture and tone reminded you of those times when your piano teacher hadn’t wanted to believe you when you had told him you had been practising and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt super embarrassed.

Munching on your lower lip, you opted for a nod.

To your mother’s dismay, you weren’t always good at it, especially when your feelings were involved, but you had been taught how to read the room and your conversation partners’ facial expressions. It was a must, so that you could leave a good first impression on your potential future husband. Therefore, you stared at the young man attentively, hoping to figure out how he felt about the revelation. Did he believe you? Was he relieved that there wasn’t a courtship he had to be mindful of? Did he feel as hopeful as you did?

After long seconds of silence, you could answer only one of these questions. He put more distance between the two of you, but he believed you.

‘Okay,’ he said as he linked his arms in front of his chest. ‘If you can figure out where to find me, and no, not here. Then, we can talk,’ he gave you an ultimatum, the challenge clear in his tone.

‘I will,’ you promised, anxiously waiting for the clues that could help locate him outside of the hotel lobby, but he remained silent.

He didn’t help you up from the dirty floor. He didn’t give you any hints about where to start your little treasure hunt, nor did he tell you his name. He was simply watching you sitting on your heels, then gave you a nod and walked out of the storage room.

You stayed there, trying to collect your thoughts and process what had just happened until the bartender came in for more soju and informed you that Aeshin was already on stage, which meant you would perform next.

You thanked him and seeing that he wasn’t bothered by your presence, you gave yourself a couple of more minutes before you stood up, fixed your dress and went back to the girls. You should have expected it, however, it still surprised you that no one addressed your absence. They acted like you had been there with them the whole time and something cold and ugly in your chest nagged at you that you should have felt more scared than you did at that moment.

Snapping your head in your boss’ direction when she called your name, you quickly brushed the unease aside and walked behind the microphone with a soft smile on your face. Finally, it was your time to charm the audience.

You started your investigation on your next day at work. You purposely arrived an hour early to be able to strike up a conversation with Jaewon-ssi, but the bartender was sparse with his words and judging with his silence. He was less cooperative than a brick of wall.

The girls were a little more willing. You might not have known each other’s real names, but you had shared many stories about your personal lives over the weeks, hence it wasn’t like they didn’t know that you could keep your mouth shut. You were trustworthy. Maybe not trustworthy enough to get an address, but they did tell you the young man’s name.

Yeonjun. A gift from God.

That night, you were lying in your bed wide awake, thinking of him and what you should have done next. Clearly, he had to be someone important for the employees at the hotel to hide his identity so earnestly. You knew going to your boss or approaching some of the guests who had been there that night when Yeonjun had dragged you into the storage room would have been a waste of time. Should you have gone to the police? What would you have told them? If he had had anything to do with the bombing like you assumed, that would have led to a disaster. You needed to find another way.

After much consideration, you came to the conclusion that decoding another odd article was your best chance. Thus, you started to read the newspaper religiously. You looked for typos and misused phrases in the first paragraphs in case these could have been indications that the article in question wasn’t what it looked like. Then, you tried to find words that rhymed.

It took you weeks, but on a random Sunday night you either lost it or you finally succeeded. You had a location and a time. You knew where to go next.

You were nervous.

You were also super excited about seeing the young man again and finding out whether these hidden messages were real or they only existed in your head and somehow the bombing at the train station had been a mere coincidence. Would the latter have meant that you were crazy? Did living far from your hometown and moving out from your parents’ house have a negative effect on your mental health?

You pushed these thoughts in the back of your mind and locked them away in a box along with those things you didn’t wish to handle ahead of time. You would worry about potentially going mad when you got there; you would worry when you reached the traditional diner you had read about in the newspaper and Yeonjun wasn’t there.

It was the first time you set foot in this area in Gyeongseong. The neighbourhood was on the border of the central districts, thousands of people making it loud and lively as they walked down the streets without a care for their surroundings. It looked more like a bigger town with its own administration than a part of the capital city, but that was why you were so sure you were heading towards the right place. Hence, you held onto your flickering confidence and sped up your steps.

You arrived ten minutes early, but you did so on purpose, because you were more afraid of being late and missing your chance than waiting at an unfamiliar place, completely on your own. You walked inside of the building instead of killing some time in front of it. You greeted the owners with a polite bow and were about to take a seat by the window to be able to keep an eye on the entrance when someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the back door.

‘Hey! It hurts,’ you whined, trying your best to brush the stranger’s hand off yourself until you lifted your head and your gaze landed on him: those pouty lips, the rounded glasses and the white shirt with rolled up sleeves. Yeonjun. You had found him.

You weren’t sure whether it was because of the wide smile on your face that he looked at you so weirdly or because of what you had said, but in the end, he shook his head and let go of your wrist. You pouted, missing the warmth of his touch now that you knew it hadn’t been a random stranger who had tried to drag you out of the diner you had every right to be at - or so you thought.

‘Just follow me,’ he said and turned his back to you before you could have nodded; you felt stupidly happy that he trusted you that you wouldn’t have run away, although if you had given it a second thought, you could have realised that you running away or not showing up at all was almost the same from his point of you. Still, it felt nice.

With your lower lip between your teeth - you were trying to conceal that potentially creepy, bright smile of yours - and your heart pounding in your throat, you did as Yeonjun said and the two of you exited the building through the kitchen. The back door opened to a less busy street parallel to the main road and looking around, you could easily spot the smoking area thanks to all the cigarette stubs on the ground and the excessive amount of ash around the makeshift ashtrays. You hoped the young man didn’t plan to answer your questions there, on the dirty boxes they used as chairs, but he sat down on the one closest to him, so you did the same, albeit with a small frown.

‘What? Is it below you, little girl? Do you need me to bring you a pillow or something?’ The young man scoffed and you swallowed down the retort that was scratching the back of your throat because if you had wanted to be honest, you would have liked to have a puffy pillow or something soft and clean to sit on.

You didn’t want to get into an argument with him that could have potentially upset the both of you. Instead, you sat down and turned towards him with your whole body.

‘Are you the one writing those articles? How many of you are in this together? Is Jaewon-ssi here, too? What about the rest of the staff at the hotel?’ You asked as soon as he met your curious eyes. You had a whole list of questions regarding the bombing as well, but a part of you thought it would have been wiser to start with the less compromising aspect of these odd occurrences in case there was a less compromising aspect of them to begin with.

Yeonjun leaned backwards, putting a part of his weight on his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow at you with an indistinguishable look in his eyes. Observing his face for a couple of seconds, you decided that he was more amused than anything.

‘Do you really believe I’ll tell you everything just because you’re here?’ Yeonjun asked, his question not making too much sense to you at first. Straightening your back, you put both of your palms on your knees and pressed your heels together, not letting him intimidate you or make you feel as though you were unreasonable for believing so.

‘You promised,’ you stated with your chin held high, looking him straight in the eyes.

Albeit quietly, he laughed.

‘I said we will talk. I’ve made no such promises, stupid girl,’ he reminded you with a click of his tongue like he was lecturing a child or a poor dog. You weren’t too fond of either of these comparisons.

‘But…’ you wanted to argue, however, a single look from the young man was enough to shut you up. You bit into your cheek from the inside then nodded. Admittedly, you wouldn’t have been able to recite word by word what he had said to do that night, but because of this, you had a hunch that going into an argument wouldn’t have ended well. ‘I am not stupid, do not call me that,’ so you said instead, being hung up on another part of his statement that you weren’t happy about.

You had spent a significant part of your childhood around private teachers. You had sacrificed so much time studying, practising, reading that being called stupid so nonchalantly felt like a slap. Especially from him, whose opinion you cared about.

‘How did you figure it out? About this place?’ Yeonjun asked instead of apologising, coaxing a resigned sigh out of you with how much ease and disregard he diverted the topic. But at least he wasn’t calling you stupid this time. In fact! He was curious about something that clearly showed just how smart you were despite your gender. Therefore, you could put aside your frustration and forgive him for his rudeness.

‘It was in the newspaper. Your…’ You quickly corrected yourself before he could have told you that your assumption was incorrect. ‘The article sounds like a song. There is emphasis on certain words,’ you explained, preening yourself on the way he was paying close attention to every word that left your mouth. He had to be impressed, there was no other explanation for the slowly decreasing distance between the two of you, him leaning so close to you that he was practically hovering over the makeshift table placed between your fake chairs.

‘Interesting theory,’ he said, voice deep and slow as though he was choosing every one of his words with great care.

‘It is not a theory,’ you insisted, because at that point you were convinced that you were speaking facts. Sure, there might have been other methods for reading those articles. Maybe, there were people out there with actual decoders, people like your brother who couldn’t see the structure of their sentences without additional help, but that didn’t mean you were wrong or just lucky. You had successfully read between the lines twice already. That meant a pattern, not pieces of information obtained by chance.

For a while, the two of you were staring at each other soundlessly. The muffled buzzing of the neighbouring streets was the only source of noise, your heartbeat in your ears. It wasn’t comforting, not at all, but you dug your nails into your palms to conceal your slowly growing anxiety.

‘Do you like chicken soup? Black bean noodles?’ He asked and you furrowed your brows in confusion. It was such a blatant attempt at diverting the topic that calling him out on it would have almost felt ridiculous. He had to know that you would notice. You were sure he knew that you had noticed.

You let out another sigh. It felt like the nth that day, however, it couldn’t have been more than the second or third.

‘Both,’ you said eventually, because it didn’t matter that much to you. You had eaten the food your mother had put on the table all your life and were only recently experimenting with flavours you genuinely liked. Developing preferences took time.

‘I’ll have Min ahjussi bring us some noodles then,’ Yeonjun informed you before he pushed himself further from the table and stood up. He was already a few steps away when his steps came to a sudden halt and he looked back at you from above his shoulder. ‘If you’re still here when I come back… don’t say you haven’t been warned,’ he said, then disappeared behind the same door you had walked through not that long ago.

In his absence, you let your shoulders fall forwards and your posture take on a natural curve. You didn’t understand. Warned about what? So far he had told you close to nothing. In fact! It was you whose lips had been loose. Thus, you came to the conclusion that he tried to avoid answering your question by scaring you away. And you wouldn’t let that happen.

When he came back with two bowls of steaming black bean noodles, you were still there, patiently waiting. Your mouth salivated at the delicious sight and the mouth-watering smell. You couldn’t wait to dive in the heavenly dish and devour it until the last spoonful of thick, dark paste.

While you were eating, you didn’t talk about any of your questions, but silence didn’t stay in your company for too long. Yeonjun made sure of it. He asked you about your singing career, whether it was like how you had pictured it to be before you had moved to the capital city and why hadn’t you looked for another place to perform at when you had moved to the suburbs. You talked about Taehyung, how hard it had been to convince him to let you keep working at the hotel and how Yeonjun was an only child, but had many friends who were like family to him. You had a good time, therefore you had no regrets even when later, on your way to work, you realised that you weren’t any closer to connecting the dots, the articles to the bombing, not at all.

You also realised that you didn’t really care about the mystery anymore. You were perfectly content with this new side of Yeonjun that you had gotten to know that afternoon.

The diner became your safe place without you realising. Whenever Yeonjun wasn’t there to spend some time with you over a nice, warm meal, you ordered yourself a dish you had never tried before and relished in the flavourful bites that for some reason felt like home even this far from your family. You could stay there for hours, sipping on your iced water and watching the streets.

And when Yeonjun was there… That was another kind of home. A warm and fuzzy bubble in which you could find solace when you had a fight with your brother because of his protective nature. A place where you could vent about the guests at the hotel you worked at and voice out how much you missed your parents without the overwhelming fear of misinterpretation and being taken back to them. With Yeonjun, you experienced a type of comfort you had never experienced in your life; it broke down those thick walls your teachers and your mother had built around the real you in order to please everyone around you and protect your family’s name. With him, you were free: free to speak your mind without worrying about offending him, free to eat more than how much a lady should have eaten in public and free to laugh so loud an unapologetic, random strangers could hear it.

‘No, seriously. Is he still bothering you?’ Yeonjun asked between two spoonfuls of chicken soup, shaking his head in disbelief, mumbling about the audacity and entitlement of Japanese people as though it was a genetic characteristic.

Obviously, over the weeks, you had come to know just how deeply rooted his hate for them was. It was blind rage fueled by his father’s execution and his mother’s broken heart that had taken her, too, way too soon, leaving the then-eighteen-year-old boy on his own. You couldn’t say you understood Yeonjun’s concept of revenge as he hadn’t known the face of the person who had pulled the trigger and turned him into an orphan, but you wanted to be there for him, to support him nonetheless.

‘It’s not that bad. I’ve been alone with him for a total of five minutes. The girls came to my rescue as soon as they noticed,’ you reassured him, more annoyed with yourself for letting a situation like that happen than Yeonjun’s disapproving frown, which wouldn’t have been the case if it had been your brother who was looking at you like this, like he had told you so that it was naive of you to think staying with the girls could keep him away.

‘You should stop being so nice to him,’ he said bluntly, although upon meeting your eyes his gaze became softer.

‘I can’t offend him,’ you mumbled under your nose, shoving a spoonful of lukewarm soup into your mouth to conceal your displeased frown. It wasn’t like you enjoyed having chief officer Nishiki’s undivided attention. On the contrary! You would have preferred not having him anywhere near you at all as something in the way he looked at you made your skin crawl. But you couldn’t have afforded sending him away when it was always in public that he talked to you. There was no way you could have been the cause of him losing face.

‘I could tell him you’re not interested,’ Yeonjun offered in a heartbeat, no hesitation, no stalling. It made you blush furiously, the implication behind his claim.

‘I…’ you stuttered, your brain throwing imaginary scenarios at you of Yeonjun walking up to the two of you when the Japanese man approached you at your workplace, of him pulling you behind his back protectively, telling the officer that you were his.

You had never wanted anything so desperately.

‘And why would you do such a thing?’ An unfamiliar voice came from behind you, the scoff at the end of his question forcing you to turn your head towards the source. In that split second, it crossed your mind that maybe the person was talking to someone else and it was a simple case of misunderstanding, but no. The young man, who pulled a chair to your table in the meantime, was undoubtedly talking to you.

‘What are you doing?’ Yeonjun asked, not bothering with greetings or pleasantries. He didn’t even look at the guy, his chocolate brown orbs focused on you, painting your cheeks a deeper shade of red with their intensity.

‘Deflecting, aren’t we?’ The stranger remarked with a pinch of mockery to his velvety tone. It reminded you of the boys in your hometown when they got defensive after being rejected. You didn’t like it.

Whoever this man was, he opened the wooden drawer of the table with ease and took a casual sip from Yeonjun’s soup with his spoon. You watched the scene unfold, mortified, but unlike what you would have expected, Yeonjun didn’t get upset nor did he push the other away.

Only then did it occur to you that they might not only have known each other, but they were friends, too.

‘What do you want?’ Yeonjun grumbled, sharing his side dishes with the guy so naturally, it made you wonder whether either of them realised how they looked from an outsider’s point of view. Like brothers.

You sucked in your lower lip to swallow back a whimper. Could this guy’s earlier question have meant that he didn’t like you? Did he not want you in Yeonjun’s life? Would he have tried to convince his friend to stop spending so much time with you?

‘That asshole’s never alone,’ the guy said, tone cold as ice. Suddenly, you lost your appetite, too nervous about where this conversation was going. ‘We’ve been watching him for months and now you’re telling me you’d fuck up our best chance to get him away from his lackeys for what?’

Yeonjun’s friend swallowed the food in his mouth and checked you out from head to toe. He didn’t seem impressed and it left a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. You were wearing your prettiest summer dress and it had taken you half an hour to create the curls in your hair.

‘A pair of adequate legs?’ He finished his monologue, earning an eye roll with his comment on your looks that clearly made you uncomfortable and self-conscious.

‘Wooyoung, apologise!’ Yeonjun demanded, pushing his bowl to the left side of the table, far enough from his friend to not be able to reach it. Despite his calm tone and unbothered facial expression, his eyes looked angry. Yet, you were more afraid of Wooyoung’s opinion about you than him as though, at one point, your heart had convinced your brain that Yeonjun could have never hurt you.

‘But for real, man! You know, just as I do, that it’s our best chance. She goes on a date with him, she makes sure they go somewhere private and then…’ Wooyoung banged on the table with his fists, his excitement showing. ‘Then, we catch the bastard!’

You gulped, feeling uneasy. On the one hand, you would have loved to have the opportunity to be able to prove to this guy that you were worthy of Yeonjun’s time and attention, and you also wanted to help him get his revenge. On the other hand, the mere thought of going on a date with the chief officer sent an icy, unpleasant shiver down your spine. How were you supposed to make him believe that you wanted to go somewhere private with him? You were a singer, not an actress.

‘It’s seriously not that hard,’ Yeonjun sighed, shaking his head, disappointment soaking into his voice and posture. You watched as he leaned his back against the backrest of his chair and linked his arms in front of his chest with a deep sigh. ‘Repeat after me: I’m sorry I’m such an asshole,’ he said, raising an eyebrow in a way that said: dare to do otherwise.

‘You know I’m right,’ Wooyoung protested, refusing to tear his gaze away from his friend or back down.

You dug your nails into your palms under the table, holding your breath.

‘Fine!’ Wooyoung gave in eventually, scaring you with his sudden declaration. You could feel your cheeks burning up from the humiliation when you realised you weren’t exactly subtle with the way your shoulders jerked upon hearing his loud voice. ‘I’m sorry. Your legs aren’t adequate,’ he said and you nodded on automatic, your thoughts all over the place.

Yeonjun shook his head, but pulled the bowl in front of himself again and didn’t growl at his friend when he stole a spoonful of it immediately.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ Yeonjun grumbled under his nose.

‘Unbelievably handsome,’ his friend retorted, serving himself from your side dishes as well since you hadn’t touched your lunch since he had joined you.

You didn’t protest. You were too busy thinking about their plan to go after the chief officer, what it could have entailed and how much danger Yeonjun could have gotten himself into if they had decided to attack the Japanese man with his “lackeys” around. Would he have gone to jail if they had gotten caught? How long would they have locked him up?

‘I will do it,’ you proposed out of the blue, the determination in your eyes borderline insane. There was no reason for you to willingly put yourself in that position. You weren’t part of their movement, you were a mere regular at the diner they occasionally used as their meeting point and still… The thought of Yeonjun and his friend - but mostly Yeonjun - getting hurt because you were a coward didn’t sit well with you.

You were also stubborn and you wanted Yeonjun’s friend to like you, so that you would have his support when things got better and a lot more serious between the two of you.

‘No, you won’t,’ Yeonjun said. He refused to entertain your suggestion and made sure you knew how much he hated your idea with the intensity of his gaze. It burned holes into your skin and closed up your throat.

‘Come on, man! Let the pretty lady talk,’ Wooyoung insisted, nudging his friend’s upper arm, then turning his full attention to you when Yeonjun refused to ease up to the proposal.

Your heart was in your throat when you deliberately ignored Yeonjun and shifted your gaze from his furrowed brows and hard eyes to his friend. You hoped that he knew you didn’t do it to upset him. You simply wanted to help and most importantly, keep him safe.

‘Are you going to be there? The whole time?’ You asked Wooyoung, your nails leaving tiny crescent moons in your palms. You wished Yeonjun would have told you everything was fine, that he wasn’t angry with you and that he would keep an eye on you the whole time, making sure you were safe, but maybe that was selfish. He had every right to be upset, didn’t he? If your brother had been in his shoes, he would have already dragged you out of this diner for insisting on doing something so reckless despite his warning.

‘We won’t let him touch you. I promise,’ Wooyoung pledged, his gaze showing his devotion and you foolishly wanted to believe that his loyalty was meant for you, that your well-being would be more important to him than catching the chief officer off guard in a secluded area. Because an innocent human life should have been worth more than meagre ideals, right?

Clenching and unclenching your fists, you allowed yourself a glance at Yeonjun whose eyes were already on you. For a second it looked like he wanted to tell you something. Maybe he wanted to give it another try and talk you out of this crazy idea; maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was childishly excited about the chance to get close to the Japanese man with your help and he was guilty about it. Maybe you were overthinking it.

‘I’ll get you out of there before you know it,’ Yeonjun declared in the end with a curt nod, sending a small albeit genuine-looking smile in your way from the other side of the table.

You reciprocated the gesture with one of your shy smiles and turned back to your abandoned soup. That was all the reassurance you needed.

The first few bites were spent in silence, but then Wooyoung asked about your relationship with Nishiki Kousuke, how had the two of you met and how confident you were that you could have influenced his choice of date location. You admitted that you weren’t too sure you had that much power over the chief officer, but promised them that you would do your best and asked for suggestions of less crowded yet nice places to go on a first date in the city.

Once the three of you went over every crucial detail, you acknowledged with a happy heart that Wooyoung was actually curious about you, about your thoughts of his best friend and the short history the two of you shared. He wanted to know your favourite dishes and drinks, where you had grown up and what you liked to do for fun. His rambles and anecdotes about himself and the guys (including Yeonjun and a bunch of people whose names you had never heard before) successfully took your mind off the mission you had signed up for.

By the time you had to leave, so that you could have taken the tram to your workplace, you were almost excited about helping the boys.

Unsurprisingly, you only had to wait a week for the Japanese officer to approach you again; from there, making him believe that he actually had a chance was a piece of cake. It took you a couple of soft smiles, a bit less resistance. Then, on the third night that he found you sitting on your own by the main bar, he jumped on the opportunity before your boss could have called your stage name and urged you to stand behind the microphone.

Lying into your brother’s face was harder. It left open wounds on your heart that despite his protective nature, he never once questioned your words when you told him that you had to take on an extra shift because one of the girls had fallen sick and couldn’t sing. Still, deep down you knew he wouldn’t have understood, nor would he have let you out of his sight if you had told him the truth.

So that night you said goodbye to Taehyung the way you always did when he left for work sooner than you did. Then, you waited for ten slowly passing minutes, anxiously sipping on your calming tea, fearing that your brother might have left something at home and would catch you red-handed. You had never felt so much guilt in your entire life.

As soon as your hands stopped trembling, you put on your prettiest dress and styled your hair according to the latest trends in the capital city. The silver necklace in your neck was a piece of jewellery you had inherited from your grandmother, while the rose-coloured tint on your lips was the newest addition to your collection. You had bought it at the market during your last brother-sister date with Taehyung on Sunday morning.

Your heart was in your throat.

If you wanted to be a hundred percent honest, you still weren’t too comfortable with the idea of this man knowing where you lived, but Wooyoung and a similarly young man, Changbin had convinced you that you would never have to see his face again after your date, so you had agreed to share your real address and real name with the officer to rock him into a false sense of safety.

While you were waiting for chief officer Nishiki in front of the building, you repeatedly reminded yourself that Yeonjun would be out there, watching over you the whole time. And not just him, but his friends as well. You were safe. You were helping the man find peace through his revenge and then… then you would confess your feelings for him because after this, you would have a chance for a good life without his past haunting him.

‘Good evening, beautiful,’ was what pulled you out of your head, back into the present where Nishiki Kousuke was looking at you like he was about to dig his teeth into you and tear you to pieces.

‘Good evening, chief officer,’ you reciprocated his greeting with a hopefully believable, shy smile. You forced your body to stay still when he reached out for your hand and to not flinch because of the unwanted touch; you forced yourself to see a different face where there were no adorable, pouty lips or a cute nose, no rounded glasses or a warm pair of chocolate eyes.

You liked walking down the streets, window-shopping and snacking on street food, but of course you had never told any of these to your date, so it really shouldn’t have taken you by surprise when he urged you towards his car instead. You followed him obediently, mumbling a thank you under your nose when he opened the door for you to the passenger’s seat.

You were worried that the guys weren’t prepared for following a car.

‘Where are we going?’ You asked, to prevent your brain from coming up with different scenarios on its own, worst case scenarios, scenarios in which you were left on your own and this man would do as he pleased. Would you be able to tell him no if he started to get a little bit too touchy? Would you be able to push him away without angering him and suffering the consequences?

You dug your nails into your palms, looking out the window, trying to figure out where you were and where you were heading.

‘It’s a surprise, sweetheart. You’ll love it,’ the Japanese man reassured you, patting your head and ruffling your hair a little along with it. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you would have found it funny how the very same gesture from Yeonjun had never bothered you, but you were fidgety and anxious, so there was very little that you had found particularly funny.

You still offered the officer a shy smile.

Probably seeing how awkward you felt in the car and hopefully mistaking it for your lack of dating experience, chief officer Nishiki attempted to break the ice with casual small talk. He told you how happy he was that the weather was pleasantly warm instead of unbearingly hot or rainy. He joked about how his uniform got super heavy when it got soaked, he talked about his achievements and his ambitions. You hummed, nodded and smiled in this sequence like you had been taught, asking questions that encouraged him to talk more, filling the silence, as though you were genuinely interested in getting to know him more.

The ride did feel shorter this way and you were grateful for the momentary distraction even though you couldn’t have recited half of what the man was saying. Honestly, you didn’t have the slightest idea when he had started to talk about his father or how he had managed to divert the topic to something so personal without you noticing.

The building you parked in front of was a traditional, Japanese coffee shop with a beautiful, lush garden in its centre. The cherry trees overpowered the distinct smell of roasted bean and dressed the otherwise green scenery into a lovely shade of pink.

‘It is beautiful, but…’ you stuttered, looking around and taking in the breathtaking sight. At that moment, although you knew this man was bad news and his pushy attitude had indeed put you off during the past weeks, you felt touched that he had taken his time to find this coffee shop for your date, for you. It was just that… something felt off about the silence, the complete lack of heartfelt chatters. ‘Are they closed for the day? Are we allowed to be here?’

Logically, it made no sense that the two of you had been able to enter the building if they had been closed. However, people made mistakes and if the owner had left the door open by accident, you would have hated to cause any inconvenience with your presence.

‘We are. I rented the whole place just for us.’ He came up behind you, placing his hand on your waist and pushing you forwards gently, towards the nearest empty table outside in the private garden.

You gulped, but you obliged without any complaint.

In search for the menu, you soon realised that you didn’t need one, because when a middle aged man walked up to you, he already had some snacks in his hands along with two cups of coffee: an espresso for the chief officer and a cinnamon coffee for you like he had known that was your current favourite even though you had only ever mentioned it to Yeonjun and of course, your brother, who had been there when you had first given it a try. With a knot in your throat, you furrowed your brows, but accepted the drink.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ officer Nishiki urged you, smiling at you from behind his cup.

You bit back the comment that he had already seemed to know more about you than you were comfortable sharing. Yeonjun would have laughed at a remark like this, calling you feisty with a proud look on his face, but this man would have most probably put you back to your place. Offending him would have cost more than what it was worth.

So you started talking. You told him about your hometown, why you had come to the capital city and what kinds of food you enjoyed in general. You were so afraid that he would have caught on to every white lie that fell from your lips that you didn’t dare to say anything else but the truth.

‘Excuse me, chief officer! I need to use the restroom,’ you said softly when you finished your coffee and the boys still didn’t show any sign that they were around, watching over you, even though you had unknowingly gotten the Japanese man alone just like they had wished you to. Had they really lost you when you had gotten in that car? Were you on your own?

You walked into the restroom on the opposite side of the shop as slowly as you could without looking unnatural or forced, then leaned over the marble sink and splashed some cold water on your face, mindful of your light makeup. You had to figure out how to put an end to this date politely since you honestly doubted you would have been able to inform the guys about where you were. Argh. You couldn’t believe that all of your effort was in vain.

You snapped your head to the right, towards the door, when you heard a creaking sound: a clear sign that it was being opened. You had thought the coffee shop was empty except for the two of you and the owner, which meant that the women’s restroom should have been a safe place for you where you could have thought through your options without being disturbed.

‘It’s just me,’ a familiar voice whispered, sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine even before you would have recognized to whom it belonged. You pressed your lips together into a thin line, hiding your hands behind your back, so you didn’t hold onto the sink desperately. ‘I didn’t intend to scare you,’ the officer said, and while his tone was gentle, his presence made you feel unsafe.

‘Is everything okay? Did something happen?’ You asked instead of letting your complaints slip through your teeth as the latter would have done no good to either of you in the current situation.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, sweetheart,’ the man reassured you, his words creating an odd juxtaposition with the way he took a large step closer to you then another, crowding your personal space.

If there was nothing to worry about, why was he there? In the women’s restroom.

It was when your shoulder bumped into the wall that you realised your legs were moving on their own, trying to put some distance between the two of you. Too bad the room was small and with the officer between you and the exit, you had nowhere to hide or run.

‘We should go back to our table then,’ you tried, hoping that your act of innocence would pull you out of this weird predicament, but you weren’t so lucky.

Instead, the Japanese man cupped your cheeks and grinned at you, his calloused fingertips fondling the sensitive skin under your eyes before one of his hands slid to your neck, to your shoulder, all the way down your arm until it found itself a new home on your waist. You could feel panic rising in your insides.

‘I would like to go back to—’ your plea was cut short when a pair of rough lips was pressed against your virgin ones, stealing the air from your lungs. It took you a couple of heartbeats to come back to your senses and when you did, you gave your all to push the man as far from yourself as possible.

Unfortunately, your noodle arms could only do so much for your freedom.

‘Hm, you smell so good,’ the man’s nose grazed along your jawline, his mouth attached to the juncture between your shoulder and the base of your neck.

You started to hit his upper arms with your fists, but your grunts and painful groans seemed to only fuel his excitement. You tried not to think of what was brushing against your lower abdomen when he pressed you against the wall with his body.

Even though a rational part of you doubted that anyone would have come to your rescue if you had screamed loud enough, your survival instincts knew no logic when you cried for help from the top of your lungs. You called for the owner, you called for your brother, Yeonjun, Wooyoung, anybody. You were sobbing and begging and all your assaulter had to say was:

‘You’re so pretty when you’re crying.’

You didn’t know when you had started dissociating from reality, whether you had done so to save yourself or you had been just too tired. Anyhow, in one moment the man sneaked his hand under your clothes, torn fabric hanging on your body haphazardly, then someone lifted you off the floor, mumbling reassuring words into your ear.

‘I’ve got you. I’m sorry we were so late. I should have never let this get this far. I’m sorry,’ he said and you just hummed, too exhausted to speak.

With your head against his chest, the darkness didn’t scare you. You let it embrace you and lull you into a dreamless sleep.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, but before you could have freaked out, your gaze fell on a pair of rounded glasses sitting on an adorable nose, a pair of chocolate eyes filled with worry, relief and guilt and a pair of pouty lips that put heart was at ease. You were with Yeonjun. You were safe.

‘Hey, shh! It’s okay, it’s okay. You would never have to see him again, we made sure of it,’ he said, reaching out to the apple of your cheek to wipe the tear off your face even though you wouldn’t have been able to point out when you had started to cry or why you were crying. ‘Is it okay if I touch you?’ He asked for your permission and you nodded, melting under the soft touch of his fingertip. He touched you like you were fragile, like you could have broken the moment he looked in the other direction and maybe he was right. Maybe a part of you was broken because why else would you have been crying if not from the mental wounds that disgusting man had inflicted on your soul.

‘I was so scared,’ you sobbed, ignoring the dull headache in your temples, so that you could sit up and pull Yeonjun close. You hid your face in his neck, welcoming his protective, strong arms around your petite figure.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, over and over like a mantra until your tears waned and your body wasn’t shaking anymore.

You fell asleep without meaning to.

You woke up two more times before you had enough energy to get out of bed, but none of your sleeps took longer than four hours. Your entire being was tired, but your body couldn’t rest; it wasn’t even about your dreams. When awake, your brain was too mushy to reproduce your nightmares. If not for the angry red scratches on your lower arm and neck, you would have assumed you had slept like a stone, completely unmoving.

‘Look who’s here! The Sleeping Beauty,’ Wooyoung exclaimed when you showed up at the top of the stairs, looking down at the interior of the diner that had been your safe place in the last couple of weeks. There were so many people inside. A lot more than you had ever seen in the building.

Offering the boy a small albeit genuine smile, you grabbed the handrail and descended the stairs, perfectly aware of the moment Yeonjun realised his best friend was talking about you. Not because your gut feeling had never failed you before or because you had never made a mistake in your life when reading other people, but because he made it so obvious, snapping his head in your direction and standing up from his chair abruptly as soon as his eyes found you.

‘Hi,’ you whispered when Yeonjun was in front of you, your throat still a bit itchy from all that crying and screaming.

‘You should rest,’ he said, lifting his eyebrows as an indication that he wanted you to go back to his room.

You shook your head.

‘Don’t send me away, please,’ you insisted and he sighed, defeated, when his best friend’s steps came to a halt by your side.

Wooyoung ruffled your already messy hair and gave the other man a glance that you couldn’t have seen, only its consequences: the small twitch of Yeonjun’s lips, his shoulders falling a tad forwards, the light in his eyes burning with the force of a thousand suns. He brushed his friend’s hand off you and held his own out for you.

You took it without hesitation.

Leaving a chuckling Wooyoung behind, he led you towards the backdoor, but didn’t sit down by the makeshift table in the small street behind the diner like he had done the first time you had come here. Instead, he pulled you towards a metal ladder on the right side of the building and nudged you to go first, so that he could have caught you if you had slipped.

Admittedly, you were nervous, but you didn’t fall.

‘Come, sit with me. Here!’ Yeonjun encouraged you to sit on the edge of the roof right next to him and you once again did what he said because his contentment made you happy. You looked at the small package that he pulled out of his inner pocket, the small bites of yakgwa wrapped in his handkerchief mouth-watering.

‘Is there a celebration down there? There are a lot of people here tonight,’ you inquired as you took a piece of honey biscuit into your hand and lifted it to your lips. It tasted delicious.

‘Hn. You can call it a celebration, I think,’ he agreed, munching on a yakgwa of his own, not taking his eyes off you even though the sight in front of you and right beneath your swinging legs was beautiful. As a singer who worked at night, you had already seen this side of the capital city numerous times, but the nightlife from above was breathtaking in a different way. People drinking happily on the terrace, people passing by: it was like a scene straight out of one of your favourite romance books.

‘What’s the occasion?’ You wondered aloud, unsure how long you had been unconscious or whether there was a national holiday you had forgotten about. Or was this an anniversary, a birthday of someone from the boys’ circles?

‘Taking Nishiki out of the picture, it was a huge step forwards,’ Yeonjun explained shortly, in no way going into details about what he had meant by taking the Japanese man out of which picture exactly. Suddenly, his promise of you never having to see your assaulter again came to your mind and you gulped, anxious due to the implication.

You dug your round nails into your palm to anchor yourself. So what if they had locked him up somewhere where none of his subordinates could have found him? What if they had hit him for information and for what he had done to you? It wasn’t like he would have let you go if you had asked him to stop touching you. His no deserved to not be heard, too.

You didn’t realise just how hard you were pressing your nails into your flesh until Yeonjun took your hands in his and forced your fists open. The tiny, crescent-shaped crevices in your palms remained visible after the first couple of seconds.

You shivered when he grazed his fingertips along the wounds, his touch light as a feather.

‘It’s all thanks to you,’ he whispered, eyes bright but undecipherable while he was drawing calming, non-figurative patterns on your skin the entire time.

Your cheeks were heating up under Yeonjun’s undivided attention, your heart pounding with a new level of intensity when letting go of your left hand, he brushed a stray lock behind your ear. It might have been your imagination, but you swore it felt like he lingered longer than it was strictly necessary.

You closed your eyes on instinct, anticipation growing in your chest, pale lips parting slightly. The last person who had kissed you had ruined many first things for you, but at that moment all you could think about was Yeonjun beside you: his hand cupping one side of your face, his rolled up sleeves, his pouty lips. You wondered how the latter would have felt against yours. Would they have brought back horrible memories or erased them effortlessly?

‘So cute,’ he mumbled so close, so super close to your face that you could not only hear him perfectly, but feel his warm breath fanning over your skin.

Yeonjun’s lips were pillowy against yours, tentative, gentle. He made no attempt at forcing his way into your mouth, he was merely nipping on your chapped lower lip as though that was enough. It wasn’t, not really, but you were still grateful for his consideration and decided not to push, either.

Under the starlight, breathing in Yeonjun until your lungs were on fire, you started to dream of an independent country, too, sharing not only a sweet kiss with the activist but ambitions and goals. A peaceful fantasy of a future together.

Although you hadn’t participated in the party the night before, at least not longer than a few minutes that you had spent with Wooyoung and a pretty girl named Jungeun while you had been waiting for Yeonjun to grab some more snacks and drinks for the two of you, you had unintentionally stayed until sunrise, then fallen asleep in a comfortable position on Yeonjun’s lap. Therefore, in the morning, on your way home, you were desperately trying to come up with an explanation that could have placated your brother in case he was waiting for you on the couch, furious.

Taking the stairs, you climbed two stairs at a time, then took a step backwards, to not be too fast even though you had been embarrassingly late. You gave yourself a peptalk three times in those ten or so minutes it took you to get to the second floor.

‘Oppa. I am home,’ you mumbled under your nose as you opened, then closed the front door, hoping to find your flat empty. However, what you walked inside for was anything but that or the scary pictures your brain threw at you ever since you had woken up in Yeonjun’s arms.

The living room was a mess and so was the kitchen and every other room you passed by. Like an explosion had been set off in the middle of your home.

‘Taehyung! Oppa! Are you here? Where are you?’ You screamed, running from one room to the other, trying to make sense of the situation while simultaneously, you were desperate to find your brother. You didn’t understand what was happening.

‘Heh-hre.’ A weak sound came from the bathroom and you tore the door open, almost losing your balance due to how dizzy the horrific sight made you. You dropped on your knees and crawled to your brother with tears in your eyes.

‘What… what happened?’ You asked, your trembling hands reaching out to his bloody face. ‘We have to go to the hospital.’

The choked chuckle that bubbled up in his throat tugged on your stomach in the worst way, but you resisted the urge to throw up because it felt like one of those situations where you had to be strong for the other person’s sake. And you loved him so damn much.

‘Bir-dy… you need… get out,’ he said, using his remaining strength to push you away, but you were stubborn and for the first time in your life, stronger than him.

‘No! Come on! You need to see a doctor,’ you insisted and linked your arm with his, so that you could pull him into a standing position before you somehow get him on your back. That was the only way you could imagine yourself carrying him out of the flat, down the stairs and outside of the building to get yourself a taxi.

‘Get… out!’ Taehyung pleaded, but you brushed his concerns aside and gritted your teeth. He was heavy. He was half-unconscious and white like the wall in your living room. You had to put all of his weight on your shoulders and you just couldn’t take more than two steps ahead without falling head first on the floor.

You groaned because of the pain.

‘Please,’ you begged, unsure whether the blood on your face was yours or his and whether he heard you at all.

You didn’t know what to do.

‘Oppa, please! We need to go to the hospital. Please,’ you screamed, frantic and then…

Then someone put a musty bag over your head and darkness welcomed you as soon as you felt a sharp pain in your nape.

Admittedly, you could be a little naive sometimes. Your father liked to tell you that you were too innocent for this world, but you weren’t stupid. You knew the moment you came back to your senses, tied to a wooden chair, facing two mean-looking men in similar uniforms to the one chief officer Nishiki had always worn, that they wouldn’t let you walk away unharmed even if you had told them everything. So you promised yourself that you would be strong.

It took you three days of constant psychological and physical torture in a dark room with no windows to wish you were dead. It took another two to completely lose hope.

Another week’s worth of rock-hard bread was served to you by the time these ruthless men, who found joy in your tears, deemed you utterly useless.

‘From now on, no more food for this one,’ one of the Japanese said, his tone unamused and nonchalant before he left the room with his lackeys on his heels.

You turned around on the floor where you had been shoved and pressed your burning face against the bloody albeit cool concrete. The pleasant change in temperature coaxed a pleased moan out of your throat.

Floating in and out of consciousness, you stared at the dirty wall in front of you. You didn’t want to think about what was happening in the outside world, yet you did so nevertheless because the more one wished to shut out a thought, the more it stuck. You wondered whether Yeonjun was okay. Had your brother gotten to the hospital in time? Had anyone noticed that you were gone?

You hit the concrete with your pulsing fist. At least two of your fingers were broken and your nail was missing from one because of one of the very first interrogations you had been put through. You were pretty sure it had gotten infected and not just that, but several other scars on your body.

You felt so tired, so exhausted. You prayed that this time it would finally come to an end. The pain, the heartache.

In your dreams, you were happier.

In your dreams, Yeonjun came for you and saved you. He took you to your brother and both of you healed from your traumas slowly but steadily.

In your dreams, Yeonjun not only found you, but also pulled you close as you were watching the Japanese flags go up in flames all around the city.

In your dreams, you won.

Delirious, you turned your head towards your cell’s door when it opened, your chest being filled with a scene of eternal peace as you were staring at the person who was looking down at you from the threshold. At that moment, you felt it in your guts that this was it, that no harm would come to your way anymore.

the end.

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #txt scenarios #historical au #ssbyme #txt angst #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun angst

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pennylanefics · 1 year

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Summer Lovin' - Surfer!Jake Kiszka | Chapter 1

a/n: finally!! i finally finished it. i am so beyond excited for this story! i have no set schedule yet, so updates will be sporadic, and as this is the only chapter done. but i am so looking forward to this!

a huge shout out to @maud-gone for listening to me and helping me work out this story :) i've had the idea for a while but thanks to her, it came to this sixteen chapter series <3

if you'd like to be tagged in this story, please either message me, respond, or send me an ask and i'll add you! if you'd like to join my regular taglist, please fill this form out :)

word count: ~ 2.2k

listen to the playlist :)

Newport, California.

The sun was shining brightly and there was a cool breeze in the air as you stepped outside of the rental car, parked in front of the well-known beach house your family has been vacationing in for years, ever since you were little.

The start of the summer meant traveling out here in May and staying until August, a couple weeks before school started. This was routine for your family, having started when you were six, and it was one you were looking forward to this year, with graduating college and all, not a clue what you want to do for a job, and time to relax with no responsibilities.

As your dad unloads the car, you wait for your luggage to be taken out and set on the ground and look around at the familiar sights. The bright blue sky, the contras of the sand and the waves crashing against it, the bustle of people already forming as everyone goes about their life.

You loved spending the summer here, it had started to feel like home at a certain point, and you are always eager to get out here and enjoy the fresh, open, salty air and feel the warm sun on your skin every day.

“Here you go, (Y/N),” your dad drops your suitcase down on its wheels. You pull the handle up and roll it up walkway to the porch. Stepping inside, you are greeted with the familiar sight of the soft, pastel blue walls of the living room and matching beach-themed furniture and knick knacks all around.

This year, your older sister Hazel invited her friend Rae, meaning they got the room with two beds and you and your younger brother, Donovan, got your own single rooms. That was a plus this year. But the downside? Spending most of your days alone because they would be spending most of their time together.

And sure enough, the first day as everyone settled in their respective rooms, you could hear Hazel and Rae laughing together down the hall, making plans for what they want to do first and what they’re planning on doing tomorrow.

Sighing softly, you take a seat on the bed and stare out the window, taking in the beautiful view of the city and ocean. Now, you were really wishing you would’ve taken your parents' offer of you bringing a friend instead of your sister. But you didn’t have anyone to ask at that point in time, that you’d be okay with spending an entire summer with.

But you were planning on making the most of this summer anyways.

“Hey, we’re going surfing tomorrow if you wanna join. I know you don’t surf, but you can come sit on the beach and read,” Hazel comes up to you after dinner as you are heading back to your room. Turning towards her, you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh really? I don’t wanna intrude on your day, though.”

“No, don’t worry about that. Come with us. It probably won’t be crowded until the peak of summer, so you’ll get some relaxing alone time.”

“Are you sure?”

“(Y/N), seriously. It’ll be a nice day. We can go to the pier afterwards and grab some gross, greasy food.”

“That does sound good. I guess I’ll tag along.”

“Great! We’re planning on leaving early in the morning, that’s always the best time to go out in the water.”

“Alright, I’ll be up.”

You walk into your room, quietly shutting the door. Grabbing your beach bag, you start packing for the morning so you don’t have to rush. Throwing sunscreen, a towel, the book you’re currently reading, and a few other necessities like headphones, sunglasses, and a couple packs of small snacks like Cheez-its and pretzels.

The rest of your night is spent staring out the open window, watching the waves crash onto the shore and the city night come to life, the pier bustling with people enjoying dates or a small little family trip, stopping to play arcade games or take a look at little boutique shops.

–

Sun filters into your room through the open windows, your curtains pulled back from the previous night. Squinting your eyes, you groan, stretching to reach your phone alarm going off. Just then, a loud knock on your door startles you.

“(Y/N)? We’re leaving soon, you are going with us, right?” Hazel’s voice sounds muffled from the other side.

“Yeah,” you grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up. Quickly, you get dressed in you suit and throw on a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, slipping your flip flops on and grabbing your bag.

Walking out, you find Hazel and Rae sitting on the couch, waiting with their bags.

“I’m ready,” you murmur, feeling like you were already a burden. But Hazel smiles widely and guides you out of the house and down a path along the beach. She doesn’t go straight there, and instead continues straight, right to a little surf shop somewhat hidden by palm trees and shrubs.

The sign above the open entrance reads “SURF SUPPLIES”, simple and to the point. And it was exactly that. Hazel and Rae walk in and immediately look around. Though it’s a small shop, one side has rash guards and other suits, a metal stand holds wax for surfboards and sunscreen, and the opposite side of the shop houses surfboards of all sizes, as well as boogey boards.

No one appears to be in the shop, the desk in the middle empty and no signs of anyone working. That is until a blonde-haired man walks out. Your entire body freezes as he approaches your sister and her friend. A smile spreads across his lips, and your heart races.

He’s beautiful. His hair was shoulder-length, pretty messy, like it hadn’t been combed this morning, but very well taken care of outside of that. He wore a simple white linen shirt that was fully unbuttoned, aside from a couple at the bottom, but that did nothing. His beautifully tan chest was on show, along with the silver medallion resting against his body, a contrast that sent heat to your cheeks.

He introduces himself to them as Jake, though you don’t catch this, as you are too busy drooling over him. His voice breaks you out of your daze, though.

“Can’t take cards for board rentals, cash only. But there’s an ATM over in the corner.” He turns to you in your direction, and meets your eyes, since you are standing right next to aforementioned ATM.

Hazel walks over to it while Rae continues chatting with the blond, however his eyes never leave yours. He’s stuck on you and Rae notices this; so, she walks over to Hazel to give you two a chance to meet. But Jake does nothing, instead going behind the small wicker desk to count the cash in the metal tin that he brought out with him.

You pretend to look through the rash guards while taking a few quick glances over at him. The way he concentrated on counting the bills, his pink, plump lips parted slightly, the way the breeze flowing in blew his hair away from his face, making him appear angelic.

“You need a board too?” He asks you out of no where. Gazing at him, your eyes wide, surprised that he said something to you. He glances up with a small smile, almost like he caught you looking at him. You feel your face flush with heat and you step closer to the counter. “Or are you just interested in the sights?”

Great. So he did notice.

“I don’t surf. I’m just joining them,” you say. He hums and nods in agreement.

“Maybe one day?” He smirks, leaning onto the counter. You smile softly and shake your head, looking down just as your sister and Rae walk up to the counter.

“Okay, two boards, please,” Hazel hands him the right amount of cash for two rentals. He takes it, slides it into the metal tin, and walks over to the board selection. The two girls follow as he helps them pick their boards out, going over size and how tall they are and all that.

You continue to watch Jake, the way his lips move as he speaks, how he gestures with his hands gliding along the board, showing them the movement of how to apply the wax if needed, though they were already set to go.

With that, the two girls walk out of the shop, and you follow like a lost puppy, but not before taking one glance back at Jake, who slyly winks at you as you disappear out of sight.

You pick a spot to sit in, though more like Hazel and Rae did, as they drop their bags and towels and immediately spring towards the water to paddle out. You shrug your shorts and shirt off and apply some sunscreen all over before wiping your hands with a wipe to rid the residue from the cream and pulling your book out.

As the hour passes, you switch between reading and resting your eyes for a bit to just tan under the blazing sun. With it being just the start of summer, the rays weren’t so harsh yet, but you knew over the course of these couple months, it’d be a lot hotter.

As you were coming up on hour two, you reapply some sunscreen in spots that were getting a little irritated, when you see a blonde man running towards the water with a surfboard. He hops over the incoming wave, and by a slight view of a necklace that catches the sunlight, you immediately know who it is.

Jake paddles out a little bit away from Rae and Hazel, swimming out to the same spot to chill on his board until a nice wave comes in. You set your book down and watch him as he swoops in on a wave with ease, paddling a little bit before rising and standing on his board, riding the wave out.

He turns rather sharply against the wave and follows through with it, dropping off by falling into the water, the board attached to the brace on his ankle so it doesn’t float away. Staying out there, he rests between waves, allowing others to take them, like he’s been doing this for years.

Your book was a lost interest at this point, and so was your sister and her friend. Your main focus was Jake, having a ton of fun just watching him either catch a wave or fall off his board. Soon, he comes back into the shore to take a break, just as Hazel walks up to you.

You hadn’t even noticed they came out of the water, and you are trying to cover yourself.

“We’re thinking about eating at that Italian and seafood restaurant on the pier, you wanna join?” Hazel asks.

“Sure, I’m starving.” As they dry off for a moment, you take a quick glance back over at Jake, who faces your direction. Within seconds of your head turning, he smiles widely, flips his hair back with his hand to remove it from his face, and throws you the shaka sign.

“Who’s that?” Rae wonders, looking over at you, noticing the way you were staring at him.

“I don’t know,” you lie, beginning to pack your bag. Hazel laughs and shoves you playfully.

“It’s that guy from the surf shop,” Hazel figures out. “You were practically drooling over him while we were getting money out.”

“I don’t recognize him, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you continue to try and deny.

“Oh, so you don’t think Jake’s cute?”

“Is that his name?” You ask, genuine. Hazel can’t help but burst out into laughter, which causes a few heads to turn towards you out of annoyance.

“He told us his name, were you not listening?” You shrug and stand, ready to leave now. But, not before you look back over to where Jake was standing, though now, he was watching the waves, trying to prepare for the next one to swim out to and catch.

“I wasn’t really paying much attention,” you mumble, turning away to look at something, anything else but Jake or your sister.

“I think (Y/N)’s got a crush,” she sing-songs, Rae having to join in on the teasing too.

“It’s not a crush! I barely spoke to him, I probably won’t see him again, so forget it.” It was only the second day here and you were beyond annoyed with your sister already. “You know what, I’m just gonna go back to the house and make a frozen pizza or something. I’m not feeling up for italian today.”

You walk away with no other words spoken, leaving Rae and Hazel confused as ever. But Hazel always does this. Whenever you think a guy is cute or have a crush on him, she has to pester you about it, as if you are a child. And you were over it.

Yeah, you think Jake’s cute, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And in your mind, you knew nothing was going to happen.

But boy, were you in for a wild ride this summer.

—

taglist: @maud-gone @doodle417 @digitalcalamity @rocknrolls-child @fan-girl-97 @writingcold @thecoldwind @allieisacrybaby @saremar1 @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @stardustchxrds @jakekiszkasmoon @gretavankleep37 @gold-mines-melting @averagemisfit03

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between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place · 2 years

Text

@moonykat asked: First of all CONGRATS ON YOUR FIC-AVERSARY!!!!! ✨✨✨✨✨ You've been blessing all of us with your talent all this time, this fandom wouldn't be the same without you!!!!! 💕💕💕 Can I request some Wakanda Stucky, this line is from a song in Spanish called 'Eres' and translated it goes like this 'You are. When I wake up, the first thought I think about, that's what you are. What my life lacks when I don't have you, that's what you are. The one and only precious thought in my mind.

Kat!!! I was about to answer your ask/prompt but stupid tumblr ate my draft 😥... Anyway, thank you so much and right back at you! Thank you for being here and sharing your beautiful art with us 💚💚💚

Here's a sweet and spicy ficlet for you (though I may have mixed up the cinnamon and the angst ...)

how I loved you? like this, 0,8k, M

Read it on AO3

or under the cut

you sure about this?

He leaves his heart in a cryo tank in the royal palace; it’s been frozen for a long time anyway.

the best thing—for everybody

The guest house sits in a speck of a village straddling the bounds of the capital—it reminds him of a home in another century; he stays there until Natasha comes for him.

just a kid from Brooklyn

They hit the Raft in the gray hours before dawn and leave behind one guard in a cell, strapped into the straitjacket—a message.

too dumb not to run away from a fight

They cross the globe—Singapore to Cuba to Istanbul to La Paz—being chased and chasing, rumors and intercepted whispers.

not sure I’m worth all this

The inconspicuous flip phone he carries dings like clockwork, marking another week—minor breakthrough, adjusting the process, just a little while longer; outside the flimsy window screen he hears another city bustle, come to life for the night, and wishes he could lose himself in it, stumble through the streets with the same heedless abandon.

you always stand up

He sees ghosts of the dead and the living—on street corners, through a tea shop window, in the rear-view mirror of a borrowed truck; he does a double take and they’re gone.

I can get by on my own

Sam sits with him on a moon-drenched rooftop in Beirut and listens, while he fumbles with words that are too big and too small and doesn’t end up really saying anything at all.

thing is—you don’t have to

Wanda learns how to tune out their nightmares while they sleep.

he’s my friend

It’s a Tuesday in the middle of the Siberian winter and his hands grow numb, unfeeling fingers cracking the screen that reads: It’s done. He’s waiting for you.

till the end of the line

Natasha finds him; they’re in the air within the hour.

∞

There’s a room on the topmost floor of the palace. It is sparse but full of color—the open balcony, a painting, a fiery sunset streaking the walls. A man stands by the open windows, his back to the door. Chestnut hair falls to his shoulders; the left one is wrapped in a blue cloth.

His heart drops and shatters on intricate stone-laid floors. No—it’s the ice that shatters; the heart beats and bleeds.

“How long have you been awake?” Asking hurts, like picking at a scab that’s been infected.

“Month—six weeks, give or take.” The man by the window turns. Bathed in the warm light his eyes are colorless; not shadow but shards of crystal, fractured light spilling through. He’s an idol of serenity—something to be worshiped.

It’s a heady mix of pain and wonder that catches his breath in his throat. “I didn’t know.”

A nod aimed at the floor. “I wasn’t ready.”

The words cut, quick and cleansing, fresh blood pouring from a never-healed wound. His body has moved without invitation; he stops, shakes his head, swallows it down.

“That’s okay, Buck.” You don’t have to be ready, ever. It’s enough that you are.

That name spoken aloud causes something to shift, a flicker of movement behind the glass.

“Steve.” It’s wavering, raw, urgent—everything he feels.

Bucky takes a step toward him. And another. He’s close enough that Steve could hold out his hand and touch him, feel him as flesh and bone. He is here.

Bucky’s staring right at him. “Stubborn punk,” he mutters. “You ever gonna ask for something for yourself?”

It’s staggeringly familiar; it’s time and space bending and dropping him through a wormhole; it’s a blow to ribs left exposed in a fight.

Steve’s heart lodges in his throat. “How could I?”

Bucky sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose—the gesture too human for such sacred beauty. “Fine. Then do something for me.”

“Anything.” It’s automatic, knee-jerk.

“Remind me.” He takes another step. “How.” They’re chest to chest. “You loved me.” Their breaths are mixing together.

Steve’s eyes sting. If he focuses on that it will stop the world from tilting out under his feet and dropping him into space.

“You don’t remember?”

A smile, then. “Wanna make sure I do.”

He braves a touch. His hands find solid warmth, movement, life.

“Like this,” he says into the nest of dark curls, that secret spot of soft skin, the racing pulse underneath.

“Like this,” he says against bitten lips.

“Like this,” he breathes with eyes closed and foreheads leaned together.

Like this—fabric pulled to the side revealing skin, inch by luxurious inch—like this—eyes travel, followed by fingers, followed by lips—like this—nails clawing in careful desperation, limbs crushing, teeth drawing blood to the surface—like this—the bed a heavenly cloud under his arching back—like this—he spreads himself open, vulnerable, defenseless—like this—urging, begging, praying—like this—fallen, surrendered, branded, claimed—

Like this: a body tucked next to his as velvety blackness falls over the plain.

#em's fic-a-versary #stucky #stucky ficlet #wakanda stucky #stevebucky

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scarletooyoroi · 11 months

Note

"It's not much, but..." The rest of her sentence hangs in the air between them, as she carefully settles two bowls of Heartstring Noodles on the table they occupy by the open window of her lodgings in the harbour - the gentle bustling cacophony of the city tempered by the murmur of the waves nearby. Thoma is the first guest she hosts who isn't a fellow adeptal student; surely this must explain the slight nervosity (excitement) that animate her eyes a little more than usual and creates a flutter in her chest.

Yes, the excitement of novelty and new milestones in a companionship. That is exactly what it is; and her master, upon hearing listening to her talk about her and Thoma's most recent adventure (for the twelfth time), had suggested that a homemade dish would be a most appropriate way of showing her new companion her gratitude. More partial to fresh medicinal herbs herself, Shenhe doesn't cook often, but... the effort and dedication she has put into the dish is more than obvious in the delicate, delightful fragrance that rises from the piping hot bowls. Thoma has been so patient and open-minded with her, ever since they first met and she pointed her spear at him; an extra effort on her part is the very least she could do.

"My master says that a homemade dish is a widely accepted gift, when one wants to show appreciation and express hopefulness for a shared future with a companion." Shenhe recites like a model student, evidently a little proud of herself, and a little fidgety. Thoma did mention that he cooked for his master, back in Inazuma, after all - he must be a much better cook than she is, and have a much more refined palate... what if he doesn't like it? Uh-oh. Hoe embarrassing that would be (so much more so than if it were Yanfei or Ganyu - huh, why would that be, she wonders?) Shenhe lightly shakes her head, and offers a muted, quiet smile. "I hope you like it. And that my master was right and I didn't break any important social rule from Inazuma... right?" (but what if Thoma is the one receiving a gift - a little token for u while i painfully slowly get to your ask because it's going to be long and it deserves i do it justice :') )

Finding himself situated within this unknown dwelling had been the last on his list of expectations. (Double that, when you believed that she openly lived within the wild, Adeptal blessings ensured she could manage well.) The entire time during this journey, in her own Shenhe way, a sense of intent managed to be derived from her expression that normally holds as a definition of composure.

Patience. That would be the key word of his stay here, he found himself surprised in her adamant hold on this position. Truthfully, who wouldn't let their curiosity get the better of them after gaining her time and attention?

Thoma's response was welcomed and predictable, abiding by her wishes as being a guest within this newly mentioned home, allowing for a novel known as Scroll of Streaming Song. It was a new purchase from a merchant they rescued, and the contents of some Winged One easily captured his attention, yet, he found himself unable to fully focus.

For the sound of culinary work tied with the growing prominence of a delightful smell begins to roam.

Nothing could've truly prepared the ex-outlaw for what was to arrive in her presence and in her hands. Heartiness would be the best way to describe the scent, and witnessing the careful way she handled the dishes, allowing for the ornate Liyuean bowls to cover the surprise in itself until professional hands allow her presentation to be fully absorbed by the eyes. Of all the things he expected, never, within the 0.1 second instance of a singular glance..

Did he expect his heart to pound at the sight of a heart.

Was he... reading this correctly? An unspoken thought managed to emerge in ripples from his mind, that intent of a symbol normally associated with certain emotions made his unconscious take a stab at the very idea. "Shenhe.." His voice spoke with amazement however, the luxurious scent and the raw level of craftsmanship required to create art from a dish, it surely stunned him a sense of wonder. For a moment, his mind played with the picture of her creating this.

Primarily it was that same look confused as a gaze of nonchalance. In other instances she'd have a knitting of her brow in focus, in order times (primarily the chopping) did that mercilessly haze briefly cross her sights before it flipped back to the Shenhe definitely of normalcy. For the time being, he takes the moment to simply focus on her voice, to drink in the motivation of what allowed her hands to create despite many hailing her hands of being that of a destroyer.

Everything within this moment just clicks despite the very easy pitfall of misunderstanding that could be made. Even if it was difficult to not let the idea flit around, how the talk of future companionship being woven together with a good meal, of both of these bowls of savory broth and professionally made noodles holding a symbol that could make give off the idea of this being a date more than anything else.

Thoma partly wants to grab these runaway thoughts by the hair and yank.

It's the earnest nature of these thoughts that finally unfurl those wings. Initially a touch speechless, it dawns in the silliest timing while multitasking the acts of looking up towards her and admiring the efforts made on this place. ..To do this much, to hold the intention of wanting to write so much more to the story better known as them. Even the rarity of a smile that glimmers like diamonds.. for all the emotion that found itself repressed through red rope, the power of what drums within her heart was actually this happy at the thought..?

Goodness did it makes his cheeks burn.

"Not at all.. No. Actions like this, we're under no professional banner. Shenhe, we're companions, and things like this.."

"They're about as genuine as you can honestly be. Thank you for this honor. The work you must've put into this.."

That effectively fed his eagerness to take in the height of her efforts first hand. Part of him actually feels bad for having to dismantle a portion of the heart in order to secure the noodles and chicken washed over with a savory broth. Securing a fine portion within his chopsticks, they're rolled modestly before being drawn to his lips. While having no genuine clue of her cooking ability, as always, the faith he carries for her decides to just believe. Simple as that.

Thoma's belief would find itself scrumptiously rewarded. Without even meaning to did, his voice hum in delight, the fine spice supporting the seasoned meats and noodle, how the broth in itself was so agreeable to the tongue. There's hardly a beat missed as the warrior's heart found itself dancing in joy. His chest felt the pressure that conjures delight, feelings that only add to the delicious heat working wonders within his mouth. Shenhe would be able to witness that satisfied smile initially scrunched due to his chewing, only to grow much more wider as its swallowed.

Directed towards her, those jade eyes would hold a particular shine as her kindness spoke the loudest of all.

"How long have you been honing such an ability.. hahah, more than just good, Shenhe. Restaurants wouldn't hesitate in making this a staple!" Such a paradox matter on top of that. For as long as he knew her, the holy unknown of her appetite's needs (merely herbs alone until the most recent days?) never could've conceived this prediction. The possibility of her being a natural would be hard to deny if she wished to pursue it.

"This is delicious.." His voice was heavy with this contentment that blanketed it over his heart. Tempted as he was to take another portion (his utensils were already slowly gathering them), a welcoming spark settles within them.

"What you've done is really sweet.." For a flowing second, that familiar, jovial tinged ring of his laughter managed a soft echo through the walls of her home.

"Thank you. Please, let's take the moment to enjoy this together.." After all.

Wouldn't such a particular dish be brought to the zenith of its taste if enjoyed together?

@maquiscursed

#maquiscursed #| Tucked Letters #shenhe & thoma (the refreshing depth of your heart) maquiscursed #okay so there's so many tender and mischievous things to unpack here #First of all Cloud Retainer WE SEE U!!!#and Thoma learning of Shenhe's life. So the gravity of efforts like this get multiplied #the idea being struck of really seeing 'his' feelings for her spun in that sense #i hope you wanted fluff city cause this is what you got #not to mention.. This hit his secret quota. Gifts woven from the warmth of the heart #it gets him so soft

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existentialmagazine · 6 months

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Review: Peri Rae’s new indie-folk single ‘the ocean (i could die)’ soars through acoustics, rising orchestral elements and a story of escapism through nature

Singer/songwriter Peri Rae uses her formative experiences to write guitar and vocal driven indie-rock songs, delving into the more intimate details of her life and how she views the world around her.Her infectious personality and open lyrics immediately connects her to audiences, and has seen her garner attention through TikTok, an opening slot for Alfie Templeman, BBC Introducing features and plentiful live show performances. Now sharing hew new single ‘the ocean (i could die)’, Peri seeks to be the one that returns a sense of repose back to your own life.

Just like its title, ‘the ocean (i could die)’ is filled with an utterly dreamy soundscape sure to provide you with the most tranquil lulling sensations, reminiscent of the intimacy and grounding qualities you’ll find only within nature’s grasps. Tenderly led by quickly plucked acoustic guitar, there’s an immediate delicacy portrayed within the sound’s paired-back instruments, and yet within its speeding nature it’s equally uplifting and bright. Carrying through it a bittersweet sense of moving forward to greater things but letting go of fond memories, this haunting sound conveys a depth without even needing the lyrics to accompany it, easy to relate to your own experiences. Delivering her vocal lines with a brisk and airy approach, Peri’s vocals float into soft higher notes that feel safe and comfortable while emotive all the same, similar to the gorgeous talents of the singer-songwriter Dodie. As the song strives forward with a yearning for life, ‘the ocean (i could die)’ builds with violin strings, steady shaken percussion and deep twangs that sound orchestral, seemingly showcasing a rejuvenation of life and Peri’s mood through the cascading, heightened sound. Entwining these mellow layers of instruments into one soothing serenade, ‘the ocean (i could die)’ whisks you away like you’re breathing in the fresh air of the coast for yourself, a short but sweet break from life’s tumultuous nature. The chorus later sees more intense, raw feeling drums and gritty electric guitar strums, a striking shift in tone from the song’s otherwise folk-based assortment of sound. Continuing this living and growing sense of sound as things progress, Peri not just captures the sense of Mother Nature’s freedom but delivers a sound that seems to parallel it, offering you an always changing escape filled with both lows and highs - but either way, it’s always worth taking the opportunity to listen.

But the captivating landscape of ‘the ocean (i could die)’ isn’t all it has to offer, delivering a narrative seeking adventure, to embrace wildlife and let go of a build-up discontentment with life. As the haunting lyric ‘living to survive’ floats through the sound, Peri emphasises the way her existence has shifted from truly appreciating the world, to simply getting by because she must. Continuing ‘I live to be naked, but I have to be at work in an hour’ , it’s clear that Peri is deeply grounded in being natural and free, but her bustling city life and 9-5 limits her every opportunity to feel the roots of why she’s really here. Almost alluding that this industrialised lifestyle is a nightmare to her, Peri sings ‘even in my dreams I breathe the city air’ , feeling utterly trapped and overwhelmed by a life she no longer feels is directed by her own wishes and desires. Her mental health suffering in this environment only greatly builds, painfully pouring into lines like ‘I could die if I don’t get out of here’ , yearning to break out of the world’s hustling expectations and instead get back in touch with simplicity and new experiences. As she brightens up while she transitions towards a life that she’s so desperately hoped for, Peri sings ‘I’m feeling more elated, how could I ever go back?’, finding her own peace in surfing, hiking, swimming and simply taking in the fresh air without looming deadlines there to hold her back. Though some may find the city to be their ideal home, there’s no doubt that the qualities of the ocean, grassy fields and pure escapism aren’t some of life’s most cherished attributes, bringing you down to appreciate the smallest of things.

Check out ‘the ocean (i could die)’ here to appreciate Peri’s heavenly sound and a story we can all likely relate to, finding our way and learning to put our needs first.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#tatiana

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years

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Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

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heartshyuck · 3 years

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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.

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kira-the-whump-enthusiast · 2 years

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Scorched Earth - Chapter 1

Synopsis: The demon Hjordis was once a living weapon for the Rosemont Guild, aiding in their ambitions to conquer the region of Oshar, but he was labelled a traitor, tortured, and left for dead. Content: Fantasy setting, nonhuman whumpee, villain whump (kinda), guilt, starvation, past torture, left for dead, restraints, wishes for death, deaths of minor characters, mentions of mass murder (not shown on screen), mentions of burnt buildings, manhandling I guess? And a little bit of begging. Note: Hjordis is kinda pronounced like “yur-dis.”

--- Hjordis walked through the devastated city while the sun rose behind him. The tread of his boots on the cobblestone road was the only sound he could hear. The silence was unsettling, because even at dawn, a city as big as this one should be bustling with activity. But, it wasn’t, and Hjordis didn’t want to dwell on the reason why. It was pointless to try to avoid it, though. It was because the Rosemont Guild had besieged the city, and it had fallen. Hjordis knew that he should be happy, overjoyed even, that the Guild won. But he could barely manage to smile at the celebration last night, because something was eating at him inside. Walking through the city, he was reminded what that something was. Guilt. This was all his fault. The stench of death in the air was obvious. He guessed that the reason none of the residents were out and about was because they were all dying inside their homes. As he walked, Hjordis saw a starving boy a few hundred feet away. He swallowed air. That was his fault too. They were all dying because of him. When the city wouldn’t give itself up to the Guild, it was he who had killed all the crops and poisoned the main water source. It was easy with his powers, and it was nothing he hadn’t done before, but being the cause of all this suffering… Was there anything he could do to make up for it? Hjordis was nearing the starving boy when he remembered there were some things in his pocket, so he took them out. A fancy piece of bread and an apple from last night’s celebration. The smell of fresh bread was faint, but the boy noticed it and looked up at Hjordis with wide, hungry eyes. Hjordis looked around to make sure that no one was around. The coast was clear, so he knelt down next to the boy and held out the bread. He immediately reached out to grab it, but then put his hand down. His eyes flit between Hjordis’s ivory hair and the heavy gold pendant he was wearing. “It’s fine, go on. Take it.” Hjordis hoped his voice sounded reassuring. The boy had definitely recognized he was a demon. And not just any demon, that demon. The one who could destroy enough food and water to sustain a city for five years in five minutes. The necklace always tipped them off. It was supposed to. The boy eagerly took the bread. He wolfed it down, and it was gone in two bites. Hjordis handed the boy the apple as well. He ate a little slower, trying to savor the juicy fruit. The boy’s lips curled into a hint of a contented smile, but Hjordis could see that he was still very hungry. Hjordis wished he had more food to offer. At least the boy wouldn’t be suffering for too long. The city had been marked for destruction, as the inhabitants were labelled too likely to rebel. They would all be killed. At least it would be quick. Giving everyone a prolonged, torturous death was simply a waste of effort, so— “What the hell are you doing?” Hjordis jerked his head in the direction of the voice. His face paled in fear as the voice’s owner approached him. Katla, a Guild member with deep purple hair. How much did she see? “I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here either, and he could get away with this by having dirt on her as well. “I was authorized to keep an eye out for possible emigres with Ragnar. Why are you here?” Katla answered, with a frown. His heart sunk as he looked to the side and saw a man leaning against the wall. He hadn’t spoken, so Hjordis hadn’t noticed him. Hjordis thought that maybe if Katla had been authorized, he could argue that it was only her word against his, but with someone else as a witness? This wouldn’t end well for him. “I…” Hjordis stammered. He tried to come up with a possible reason he was allowed to be here, and he felt her belief in him slip away with each second that passed. “Hey, listen,” Katla snapped. Hjordis jumped. “If you don’t come up with a very good explanation for why you’re entering the city and feeding the enemy without authorization, I might think you’re a traitor.” The last word was filled with an extra poison. “I— I’m not— I’m not a traitor. It’s just—” Hjordis felt his heartbeat race and heard his voice falter. Katla rolled her eyes. “Ragnar, come help me turn in the traitor.” She grabbed one of Hjordis’s arms. Ragnar walked over and grabbed the other. Hjordis struggled, trying to break free, but their grips were stronger. They started to drag him out of the city. His boots scraped against the cobblestone road. Hjordis noticed that the boy was gone now.. Did he run away? There was nothing but empty streets to look at as he was dragged away to whatever fate had in store. Gods, what are they going to do to me? — It hurts. Everything hurts. Hjordis could barely think because the pain was so bad. His back was on fire, and even without looking at it he could tell it was in tatters. Every part of his body ached, and the amount of blood he must have lost by now caused his mind to feel hazy and made his thoughts unclear. He was curled up in a wooden cart that was travelling on an unpaved road. The rough cart ride really wasn’t helping. There were uncomfortable jolts every minute, and Hjordis had accidentally slammed into the side of the cart a couple of times. Each time he couldn’t help but cry out from the pain. When he did, though, a voice told him to shut up. He tried to stay quiet. Focus on his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out. He could only manage shallow gasps. The rain also wasn’t helping. Hjordis was soaked to the bone from being exposed to the open air, without even a shirt on. But of course they had to leave the necklace, he thought bitterly. The heavy chain made his neck cramp. He didn’t know how long he had been in this cart. He remembered that they would be taking him somewhere far away, so they had probably travelled for a long time. Hours, maybe. The cart suddenly stopped. Even though he couldn’t think straight, Hjordis knew what was about to happen and he held back a scream. Two arms lifted him out and into the air. They weren’t gentle, and he felt a twinge in his ribcage. “Please— please, no,” he begged, “Please don’t—” He was dropped onto the ground on the side of the road. The mud splashed into his open wounds, and he somehow felt even more uncomfortable. He watched as the cart drove away. Leaving him here. Hjordis wanted to call out, Don’t abandon me, please, but the words died on his tongue. It was useless, anyways. The Guild was leaving him here to die, and the only reason they would come back was for his corpse. They’d show it to everyone to send a message. This is what happens to traitors. They were tortured, then abandoned to succumb to infection, cold, blood loss, or thirst. Whichever came first. Hjordis tried to be a little optimistic. At least it was raining, so he’d die quicker than most who shared his fate. He rolled over to his side and pressed his knees to his chest, trying to conserve some body heat. They had tied his hands behind his back for good measure, so he couldn’t wrap them around his legs. It didn’t calm the shivering, but it made him feel just a little bit safer. Hjordis tried to focus on the patter of the rain to distract himself from the agony his body was in, but the downpour reminded him of something. It was raining just like this when the Guild found me. The thought felt like a stab to the heart. That day, he was so happy that someone had saved him, wanted him, even. And now he had been thrown out like trash. It wasn’t fair, though, he wasn’t a traitor. He really wasn’t. He would have died for the Guild and its goals. It was just a piece of bread and an apple, he argued in his mind. He knew that it looked like he was sympathizing with the enemy, but… Was there really another explanation? Maybe he had become a traitor without even realizing it. Maybe he deserved to be left for dead. No, he definitely did. He recalled the starving boy, the one he had given the bread to. He had been on the street, alone. Had somebody abandoned him as well? Maybe he dreamt of something better than this life. But, Hjordis’s last view of the city was of its burnt ruins. The boy was dead now. No sugarcoating it. It’s all your fault. Hjordis winced and closed his eyes. He was so tired. But he had a feeling if he slept, he wouldn’t wake up. Not like he deserved to wake up, though. But after a prolonged attempt at falling asleep, he found that it was impossible. The anguish he was in was too great for his body to relax. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. It all blended together, rain and mud and thoughts and pain and wishes for either sleep or death to take him. He was sure it had been hours, though, when he heard another cart approach. Then he heard a voice. “Oh gods, are you okay?” Hjordis didn’t open his eyes, or respond at all. Did the Guild come back? That had to be the case. Anyone else would leave, he was certain about that. If he gave away the fact that he was still alive, then they’d abandon him again. Then he realized he was still shivering. He could barely feel it with all the other sensations gnawing at him. No one would ever believe he was dead. They’d leave him now. They definitely would. A sudden touch to his shoulder pulled him away from his thoughts. He held back a cry, trying his very best to keep silent. The touch was surprisingly gentle. Two fingers pressed his jaw lightly for a minute. “I’ll get you some help… don’t worry, you’re going to be okay,” the voice muttered. Hjordis didn’t know what to say back, so he kept quiet. But he could tell that this person was no Guild member. Who were they? Why were they even saying that? Didn’t they recognize the necklace, at least? Hjordis opened his eyes to see who this odd stranger might be. They had long blonde hair and dark brown eyes, and they were kneeling over him. “Oh, you’re awake!” They exclaimed. Hjordis saw a smile form on their face. They paused for a moment before speaking again. “I’m going to pick you up to get you in that cart, okay?” They pointed at something out of Hjordis’s field of vision. He managed a weak nod. “Sorry in advance if this hurts. I’ll try to be gentle,” they said. Hjordis held his breath in anticipation. The blonde stranger walked behind him and tried to pick him up. First they put an arm under his knees. That one didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t keep himself from wincing when they touched his back. They lifted him up, and he dangled in the air for a few moments, and then he was placed in a cart. The feeling of rough planks on his back was uncomfortably familiar now. He turned, and out of the corner of his eye, saw the stranger jump onto the horse that was pulling the cart. They pulled on the reins and squeezed the horse with their legs. The horse and cart started to move at a slow pace. The stranger glanced back at him. “I’m taking you to Giesnus. It’s not that far from here.” Hjordis’s eyes widened at the name of the city. Giesnus was enemy territory, and surely this stranger knew who he was. Were they taking him there to do even worse things to him? He wanted to crawl out of the cart and put as much distance as possible between him and that city, but he was too exhausted to even try. To the Rosemont Guild, he was only a traitor, but he had committed possibly even worse atrocities against the other factions. The stranger had probably picked him up so he could be tried for his crimes. Yes, that had to be the reason, but if that was the case, then why were they so kind? “Don’t worry. You’re going to be safe,” the stranger said. Hjordis didn’t expect that. Safe? Was he really going to be safe? For a moment, he let himself believe that there was a possibility that it could be the case. It certainly made things a little easier to bear. His eyes felt heavy, and the road was less bumpy now. He felt a little calmer, and it was enough so that he could finally drift off to sleep. --- AN: Hopefully I’ll get the next chapter posted in a week or two! Also I kinda wanna infodump about the world’s lore,,, Idk if anyone wants to hear about it though 😅 I hope that if you read this far, you enjoyed this! Tysm for reading it, it means a lot to me <3

#whump #whump writing #scorched earth #oc hjordis #my writing #past torture #villain whumpee #left for dead

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mel-the-fangirl · 3 years

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Toss A Coin to Your Witcher (Part Three)

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 4,365

(Part 1, Part 2)

Happy Holidays, Cavillry! I really truly hope that you all had some socially distanced fun! Here’s a little gift from me to everyone. I really hope everyone enjoys this last part to this miniseries as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Warning: I have never written anything even remotely close to smut and this story gets a teeny bit smutty so please be gentle with me.

Please like and reblog or leave some replies if you liked it!

Taglist: @novareign1, @libbymouse, @calwitch, @soldade, @happiness-in-the-dark, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @wolvesandhoundshowltogether, @zealoushoundrancheclipse, @seanh-boredom, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @writingforhenry, @weallhaveadestiny, @suueeeeeee

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“Because. We kissed."

Kissed.

Did you hear him right? Did he just say you kissed? You two kissed? And you didn't remember?

Just the thought of it made you dissolve into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

A valiant effort on his part, truly. He really looked frustrated and confused that you didn't remember. What a brilliant actor.

"Phew!" you brushed the tears from the sides of your eyes and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand

"Right! As if I would ever forget kissing someone like you.” you gestured to him from head to toe, “Specimen.”

“Alright,” he crossed his muscular arms against his equally muscular chest, “I am one hundred and ten percent sure it was you and I’m not about to let you change my mind, madame.”

The challenge was clear in his voice and honestly? It was really hot, his whole stern and smug vibe actually made you forget that you were trying to defend your honour.

How could he just look like that? All tall and handsome and muscular? It threw you off your game. He looked like he was God's favourite.

"Aren’t we going to dinner?" you asked, now openly staring at his eyes

"Oh, god. Of course, you must be starving. I apologise." he dropped his proud stance and immediately grabbed your coat from the rack

Henry graciously helped you put it on, his arms lingered around you just a tad bit longer than needed but it was all very good.

Something must have caught his eye as he stepped away from you. He gave you a small smile and made a move to lean in.

Oh, was this happening now?

Okay, sure. What the hell right? Since he claims to have already kissed you before maybe he needed to be reminded.

You could do that. You knew how to kiss, you’ve kissed people before.

As he leaned in, the smell of his cologne invaded your senses. It was musky but also floral. Combined with his naturally clean, fresh scent, you could just picture yourself on a leisurely stroll with him in a field somewhere, the pristine air carrying the scent of earthy wood and spring flowers all around you. Henry would be gazing at you adoringly and he’d be in a soaked white shirt even though it was a sunny day.

Armed with that picture in your mind, nothing could go wrong. You were definitely feeling it.

You tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to meet him halfway, more than ready to feel those luscious lips on yours. You shut your eyes, just to make it more romantic.

His arms wrapped around you and you went in for the kill.

That’s when the worst possible thing happened. Well, perhaps not the worst thing but this was pretty fucking close.

Instead of the soft lips you were expecting, your lips met the soft material of his sweater.

Yes, that’s right. His sweater.

You, Y/N Y/LN, had just planted a big ol’ smooch on Henry Cavill’s sweater.

Your eyes snapped open and you wondered what you did so wrong in your past life to deserve this. How could you have misjudged the situation so wrongly?

The second Henry felt the tiny amount of pressure on his shoulder, he knew he fucked up. He had no idea why he didn’t just tell you that the collar of your coat was sticking up, why did he feel the need to straighten it himself? Now, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to embarrass you.

But, it was a little too late for that now, wasn’t it?

You both stepped away at the same time, seeming to look at anything else in the room but each other. It was nice of him to also feel embarrassed on your behalf but, you felt like everyone the world over was cringing out of their skin from secondhand embarrassment.

“So, dinner?” Henry offered you his strong arm, grinning at you like nothing happened

Was it possible for him to be even more perfect? As you looped your arm through his, you found out that it was.

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The expansive cityscape was laid out before you from the secluded trellis covered terrace of the restaurant he chose. The view was beautiful, the lights of the city sprinkled across buildings, homes, and streets, the inky black and blue sky stretching far beyond.

Gazing out at it should have made you feel calm, at peace. But you were a bundle of nerves. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think that you’d be on a date with Henry Cavill and you wouldn’t have imagined that he would be accusing you of forgetting that you shared a kiss.

“Look,” you rested your arms on the table, looking at him as seriously as you could without getting lost in his eyes, “I swear, if we really did kiss, I would remember.”

Henry studied you quietly amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant beyond the French doors. It was endearing to him, how quickly you would sometimes switch from confident assertiveness to awkward fumbling.

For you, it was a test of endurance to look past the god-given good looks and focus on trying to anticipate what his next move was.

Turns out, it was one in your favour.

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

You almost did a spit take with your wine. Thank God you weren’t wearing anything white.

Okay, act cool. That should be easy, right? You were an actor after all. Just be cool. Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw, stop sweating.

"I must've been mistaken. I truly apologise."

He looked so sheepish, you actually reached over to put your hand on his. You tilted your head and gave him an understanding smile. A wave of relief washed over your body and to Henry, it showed. Your rigid posture finally loosened and you even managed to lace your fingers through his.

"I totally get it. I mean, with our jobs? We meet dozens of people everyday, it's not hard to be confused."

His heart leapt into his throat at the contact, it felt like his entire arm was covered in live wires but he would endure it just to savour your hand in his.

"Let's focus on our date, yeah?"

"Yes, absolutely," you nodded enthusiastically, "Please. Tell me all about you."

"Oh, but I'd rather hear about you."

You were flattered, really. But just in case this was never going to happen again, you needed to get him talking and sponge up as much information as you could.

"And you will, but let’s hear about you first.”

He wanted to argue but you were already looking at him expectantly and despite your short time together, he was already struggling to say no to you.

So, he talked, and talked, and talked, much more than he’s ever dared to talk in his whole life. And you listened, absolutely captivated by his eloquence, his intelligence, his passion, and his wit. Not to mention his voice, deep and silky and hypnotising. Why people thought he lacked personality was a mystery to you.

“I do love theatre,” he explained with a mouthful pasta. It was adorable, no questions asked. “I wish I had that courage and longevity to just deliver every single night for months on end.”

“I actually started out in theatre.” you nodded your head as he widened his eyes at you questioningly. “Yup. I did a decent run of The Tempest at the Yard a year back.”

That’s when the ball dropped. Time seemed to stop for Henry, his drink hovered in the air just as he was about to raise it to his lips. It had finally made itself known, his smoking gun. He faltered only for a second before masking his triumphant smirk with his wine glass.

One harmless little question out of his mouth had you turning as red as the cherry tomatoes artfully scattered in the salad that was set before you.

“Ah, yes. Didn’t you play Miranda?”

You stopped stirring your iced tea and furrowed a brow at him.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Did you catch a show?”

“I did. I was at the opening night after party as well.” he enunciated this part slowly and clearly, hoping that your eyes would spark with recognition

But they didn’t.

“Isn’t that a shame. We could have done this earlier if we crossed paths that night.”

Henry pursed his lips and nodded, mildly disheartened but nonetheless, he pressed on.

“I do recall meeting you though.”

This again?

You huffed and set your utensils on your plate. You laced your fingers together and looked him in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes.

“Okay. If that is the night in question then I will admit that I… may have kissed someone but it wasn’t you.”

“Well, well, well…” he raised an eyebrow at you and you instantly coloured

It wasn’t one of your finest moments and you figured you would never have to dig that memory out of the vault but here it was.

“I know how this sounds,” you shook your head disapprovingly at him, “But it’s not. Okay. On God, it wasn’t you.”

Henry nodded yet again, narrowing his eyes at you. The silent treatment and judgy look he had on forced you to keep talking, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“It wasn’t you, Henry. Okay? It was just some random dude in a nice sweater and a signet ring or something.”

Alarm bells started clanging in your head as your eyes swept over your dinner date. Nice sweater, check. A signet ring resting on his pinky, check.

“It wasn’t you.” you repeated in more of a whisper, more to convince yourself than anything else

Throughout your debate, bits and pieces of that night started to come back to you. The most embarrassing part came to mind first, it would probably be your saving grace but, did you really want to tell Henry Cavill what you thought you did?

“Am I really that bad a kisser? That you felt the need to completely erase it from your memory?”

His tone was joking but you could see in his eyes that he was a little bit hurt. It was going to be a cold day in hell if you were going to be the person to make Henry Cavill doubt his skills in the kissing area.

“I kissed a male prostitute that night, okay!” you yelled out in exasperation

Thank God your table was situated on the terrace or else a restaurant full of people would have been in on your little secret. As your voice echoed off the walls, you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself. How much embarrassment were you going to endure?

“A male prostitute?” Henry repeated slowly, clearly having a difficult time processing this new information

“Yes.” you groaned, leaning back in your seat and covering your face with your hands

---One year before---

The curtains closed to thunderous applause, whistles and standing ovations. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to keep your breathing steady.

Did that really just happen?

You looked around at your castmates and wrangled them into a group hug.

“Did I really just do that?” you asked Marge upon meeting her backstage

“Yes, you did! Now go on and get changed. It’s after party time.”

With that, she sent you off with a smack on your ass.

You’d only known Marge for a few months since you arrived in London but you liked her already. It’s not like you had a choice though, really, she was the only one you knew.

“How about that one, that one over there?” Marge slurred, shoulders knocking into yours, less than discreetly pointing out some guy in the crowd of party goers

“Shh! Marge!” you giggled, more than a little tipsy yourself

Opening night was a smashing success, it was your first ever gig anywhere, really. You were so nervous the entire time, you thought you were doomed to fuck up and forget your lines or something but that moment never came.

“HEY! REVIEWS ARE OUT!” someone yelled in the crowd

“Here we go.” you murmured, knocking back your drink and tugging Marge along

The huge crowd gathered around your director, who was standing on a stool. It was a tight squeeze since a good chunk of the people who came were already hammered. Someone from behind shoved you forward and you rather inelegantly fell into the arms of the man next to you.

“Whoa there.” you could just make out the deep velvety voice above the murmurings of the crowd

“Oh, God, I am so sorry, I-” you trailed off when you finally laid eyes on your rescuer

Oh, wow.

You couldn’t decide which feature to focus on first. The captivating eyes that were a shade of blue that your alcohol-soaked brain couldn’t even comprehend, the strong chiseled jawline you needed a protractor to measure, or the perfect stray curls that fell onto his forehead?

Decisions, decisions.

“Are you alright? You almost fell.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms as he helped you stand upright.

God, he was handsome, an observation you thought you had kept to yourself.

The tall man chuckled, still holding on to your forearms, “Thanks very much. I’m He-”

“And Y/N, my incomparable Miranda!” a booming voice interrupted him from the front of the room

“Fuck, that’s me.”

You broke from his grasp and fought your way through the crowds, leaving your hero looking out after you.

“Newcomer Y/N Y/L/N’s performance as Miranda is the glittering centrepiece to this refreshing, masterful take on an enduring classic,” the director read aloud, allowing the crowd to raise their glasses to you

You smiled at everyone, inadvertently meeting the eye of your tall handsome man.

When the crowd dispersed, you and Marge found yourselves back at the open bar, eyeing up every guy that passed by.

“Y/N, you’re on the fast track now. You killed tonight, now it’s time to pick your prize! How about that one? In the corner? Looks tall, shaggy hair…”

“Marge, that’s a ficus.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that other ficus has been looking over since we set up camp here.”

You followed the tilt of her head to the same guy from earlier, the achingly handsome one. He raised his glass to you and you waved sloppily back. It was the alcohol, okay? Open bar, what were you gonna do?

Marge whistled low, sizing him up from head to toe, “Y/N, that’s a male prostitute if I’ve ever seen one and I have seen a lot of ones.”

The fry you had chomped down barely made it halfway down your throat before coming back up again, “What? No! Marge, he’s not.”

“But he is. Y/N, that man is tall, hung, and handsome. There is no man that tall, hung, and handsome that isn’t either an actor or a male prostitute.”

“Tall, hung, and handsome.” you mumbled, raking your eyes over him as discreetly as you could

In your inebriated state, you completely forgot to ask Marge why he couldn’t have been an actor. Why did her mind immediately head for the strip club? And why did yours follow suit?

“Imma go and bag myself a stripper, Marge. Okay?”

“Yes! Use protection!”

Before strutting off or more like stumbling off, you downed some more booze which probably was not as good of an idea than you thought. Not even halfway to him, you decided that you were teetering in your heels a little bit too much, so you took them off.

“Oh. Hey there.” the same silky smooth voice from earlier greeted you

“Ah, fuck. You’re tall.”

Looking up at him made you dizzy, like standing at the top of a giant skyscraper and looking down at the very edge.

He chuckled and you watched entranced as his face just lit up like Christmas. You decided then and there that you would like to kiss the Christmas, very much so indeed.

The liquid courage in you was really doing its job. You took his hand and dragged him away from the party. This was fine, wasn’t it? It’s not like he was complaining, he looked rather amused actually. Things like this probably happen to him a lot in his line of work.

“Well, now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” he asked teasingly once you two were tucked away in a dark corner

The combined effects of the excessive alcohol, the high of your first successful job, and the way this sinfully handsome man was looking at you made your next move the easiest thing in the world.

You balled the front of his sweater in your fist and tugged him down towards you. He was too tall.

Who on earth was this ballsy, clumsy, beautiful, talented stranger?

Henry didn’t get the chance to ask before his lips came crashing down and immediately, wildfire.

A shockwave of frenzy ran through his body, he needed to feel you. He was all hands and lips and ragged breaths. His lips traveled down the smooth path of your throat, nipping and sucking as he went. You were putty in his hands.

“Jump.” he growled

You did as he asked and he latched his hands underneath your thighs and planted you against the wall. His lower half pressed into yours and you knew that Marge was right. Your hands raked through his hair and you reveled in the feel of him, strong, confident, in charge. His large hands made their way to your bottom and he squeezed gently.

A breathy moan escaped your lips and you knew you needed to have more of this man. Your fumbling hands made their way to his belt buckle but he set you down on your feet and held you steady.

“What..?” you whispered, suddenly disoriented

“I really should take you on a date first.” he panted

Sober, you definitely would have taken him up on his offer, male prostitute or not, but you were far from it and your head was still spinning so you thought you’d shut your eyes for a while and have him catch your unconscious form.

With you over his shoulder and your shoes in one hand, Henry made his way to his car and drove you safely home, relying on the satnav and your slurred directions.

He laid you gently in bed, brushing the hair away from your face. You snored in your drunken sleep and Henry smiled at the sound.

This was an encounter he was sure he would remember for a long time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, that was me,” Henry nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out. “Exactly as you remembered it.”

Tall, hung, and handsome, huh? That wasn’t anything new to him. He’s been described using far more… graphic detail, if his time searching his name on Tumblr was anything to go by. But hearing it come from your mouth turned him several shades of red.

You, on the other hand, had no words. Again. But you figured that it was all Marge’s fault.

“So, I suppose I was right?” he confirmed, unable to contain the self-satisfied smirk on his face

“Uh, yeah,” you sighed, absolutely exhausted from your little trip down memory lane. “Yeah, I guess you were right.”

Slowly, you met each other’s eyes. A moment passed before you both dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Do I look like a male prostitute? Did I exude that kind of energy at the time?” Henry guffawed, shoulders shaking

“God, I don’t even know how I thought that! I was super drunk, okay?” you covered your face with your hands, mortified and extremely amused at yourself

The laughter died down and you were left gazing at each other fondly. Dessert had long since been over and the night went on, the candlelights on your table and scattered around the quiet terrace intensified the feeling that was passing between you.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened and settled on your lips. Unlike all the other times today, you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t feel like you were about to make a fool of yourself, you felt completely calm.

“Would it be alright with you if we picked up where we left off that night?”

Ever the gentleman. You smiled and made your way over to him.

“Hi.” you made yourself comfortable on his lap and you laced your arms around his neck

“Hello, there.” he whispered against your lips

It was probably not the best place to do this, in a restaurant where upwards of twenty people were just beyond the terrace doors but you were in your own little world.

You were endlessly thankful that you were sober for this, you would never forgive yourself otherwise.

When his lips finally met yours, you wondered how on earth you ever forgot such a feeling. It was gentle and soft, as most of these things start, his thumbs caressed that apple of your cheeks then he laid a chaste kiss on each.

You breathed long and hard as his hands splayed on your back, pushing you closer to him. His warm tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip before exploring your mouth, the taste of you mixed with the subtle taste of wine was exquisite and he wanted more. He drank you in, holding you flush against him.

“Wait.” you took his hand and led him to the far side of the terrace to an alcove enveloped in a curtain of lush vines

“When did you spot this?” Henry asked, breathless as you sat him down and straddled him once again

“On the way in.” you had the audacity to blush

“You had plans for me already?”

“A girl always comes prepared.”

Nothing would ever prepare you for the sight of his full length, once his trousers were lowered, it was over for you. Henry took control by shoving your underwear to the side and impaling you onto him. You inhaled sharply, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“Are you okay?” he struggled to control himself, having you quivering on top of him was severely testing his restraint

“Yes. Please. Move.” all you could manage were monosyllabic answers

And move he did. It should be illegal to be this good.

The night air was cool but you were both slick with sweat, you two had lost your tops a while ago and Henry’s tongue swept across the valley of your breasts and marked his territory everywhere he could. His thrusts were enough to bruise you but you never wanted anything more than to feel him.

“Henry,” you gasped out as he continued to hit that spot that made you see stars

He could sense that you were close, you were tightening around him and gripping him like a vise.

“Let go, lovely.” he whispered in your ear, committing the way your face twisted into a mask of pleasure and desperation to memory

You rode him furiously, the sound of your flesh colliding over and over again mingled with your hoarse moans, you were certain that someone would hear you but at that moment all you cared about was reaching your peak and with Henry Cavill at the helm?

His large hand clamped around your mouth as you came, you writhed and arched your body uncontrollably as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out of you and began to finish himself off, he did not expect for your hand to join his and he did not expect to come so quickly once it did.

“Jesus.” he panted, reaching over to smooth your hair out of your face

You shivered, suddenly very aware that you weren't wearing anything at all. Henry helped you dress quickly and wrapped his own coat around you, rubbing some heat into your arms.

When you refused to look him in the eye the entire ride back to your flat, that’s when Henry started getting nervous.

It’s not like he could ask you if you enjoyed it? I mean, he could but that would make him look like an amateur and he would really like to think that he was no amateur in that area. So instead, he took your hand as you stood in front of your door.

“Y/N, I would love to do this again. The date, not the sex- I mean, I would like to have sex with you again but that's not what I'm after-Holy shit."

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Henry rubbed at his face with a hand and sighed, "Do you think you'd like to see me again?"

"Do you think you'd like to stay the night?"

Both of you asked your questions at the same time and you both looked taken aback at them.

"What makes you think I don't want to see you again?" you wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him

"You were silent the whole car ride?"

He looked so unsure and a little afraid that you couldn't help but squeeze him. How could someone be both heartbreakingly handsome and adorable all at the same time?

"I was just summoning up the courage to ask you to stay the night!"

"Oh thank God."

He swept you off your feet and threw your door open but, you didn’t end up in bed (you’d get there later), you ended up in the same place you started, on the couch, with him spectating and occasionally helping out as you played Witcher 3.

The next morning, you woke up to a text message and a forwarded article from Marge,

“HOW BEING A STAN GOT Y/N Y/L/N HER MAN”

YOU TWO ARE EVERYWHERE. CHECK IT OUT! I TAKE CASH, CHEQUES, AND LAVISH GIFTS. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A muscular arm gently wrapped around your bare waist and a tender kiss was pressed onto your shoulder. You looked back at your handsome bedfellow and smiled.

You’d take a look at it later. Right now, you had better things to do.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the man from uncle

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sehunniepotwrites · 3 years

Text

AS YOU WISH | J.JH | ONE

cover by @seostudios

SYNOPSIS. He was a boy, she was a girl— can I make it any more obvious?

But actually, she was a cursed genie of two thousand years who longed to be freed of her gilded cage and he was a modern but lonely boy who hoped to free her. He just didn’t expect to fall in love with her in the process.

GENRE. angst, slow burn, romance, genie!au, reincarnation!au, royal!au, thief!au PAIRING. jeong jaehyun x female genie!reader MINOR CHARACTERS. mark lee, moon taeil, jeong sungchan WORD COUNT. 10.6k+

WARNINGS. stealing, mentions of cuts and wounds, blood, physical beating, derogatory name calling

ONE: PAST | TWO: INTERLUDE | THREE: PRESENT

2000 YEARS AGO, THE KINGDOM OF NEIHO

“Stop, street rat!”

Heavens, how you hated that name. You ached to yell a taunting insult back but you were afraid of the royal guards catching onto your identity by hearing the sound of your voice.

“Grab that lousy thief!”

The calls of the guards continued to sound throughout the pathway as you ran for your life. The heavy bag of riches slung along over your shoulder pounded against your upper back as you felt the wind in your hair. The extra weight was beginning to weigh you down but you did not falter. Your strained legs propelled you forward and you stole a quick glance behind you— the burly men with swords were gaining on you and you could not let them.

“Wait— there are two of them!”

You cursed when your partner was spotted. From the corner of your eye, you caught a flicker of his cape turning a corner. You were supposed to be the diversion. The blazing sun burned your skin through your hooded cloak but you had to keep pushing. For them.

You would do anything for them, even give your life for them, just as your mother did before you.

Apologizing as you passed, you threw down displays of fresh produce to throw the guards off. You would come back to help clean up later.

You pulled the cloak down to better conceal your face before sprinting into a hidden nook in the village center. The bolstering guards ran past your hiding spot moments later, their leader barking commands to his subordinates before they all went their separate ways. Peeking behind a wall, you watched as their backs grew smaller and smaller and let out an audible sigh.

You made it another day. With a wide-eyed grin, you pushed yourself out of your hiding spot and walked an easy path to the outskirts of the kingdom where people were waiting for you.

If the guards were smart enough, they would have easily found you by they searched the outskirts of the kingdom’s stone walls. There was an opening in the walls, big enough for one person to fit through. You frequented that small hole often with a large sack hauled over your back. As soon as you passed that point in your path, you tossed your cloaked disguise into a nearby bush before trekking on to your final destination.

The path was lengthy but at least you were in the shade instead of under the blazing sun. The clanking of your stolen riches kept you company as you navigated through the many trees. It wasn’t long until you reached an open area filled with a variety of people. Lousy tents made of the thinnest cloth and held up by fallen branches surrounded the field and in the center was a large fire pit. There were clotheslines, cooking supplies, and a short supply of food scattered around the makeshift camp.

The plentiful conversations hushed when you dropped the sack at the end of the path. A shuffling of footsteps and the tinkling sound of coins clanging against each other reached your ears before another figure plopped down beside you, his body falling splat onto the soft grass.

“I refuse to do that again,” a boyish voice groaned beside you. It came from a boy around your age, give or take a few years, with messy brown hair and the cutest set of doe eyes. His thin face and sharp jawline were lined with dirt but he was still what you considered handsome.

“Minhyung, stop your fusing,” you scolded as you ruffled his hair. The boy whined at your actions, moving away to escape your teasing. “You say the same thing every single time we do this, however, you keep coming back to help me.”

“They almost caught me this time around,” he told you. “I barely escaped— one guard grabbed me by the ends of my cloak and almost saw my face! I thought you were the distraction!”

“I was,” you fired back.

“And yet, they still found me,” Minhyung reported dramatically, swinging an arm over his eyes. There was a beat of comfortable silence as the breeze came rolling in.

“But was it worth it?” you asked with a soft voice.

A pair of dirtied feet appeared in your vision. You and Minhyung tilted your heads up to find a small child, not even five years of age gazing at you expectantly. The child’s body was extremely malnourished and their cheeks were horribly sunken in. They looked bashful as they outstretched an arm towards Minhyung.

He sent the child a tiny smile, his mouth curving up at the ends, as he produced a small loaf of bread from beneath his cloak. The child’s eyes sparkled in delight as they snatched the piece of food from Minhyung’s hold and eagerly bit into it. You patted the child’s head lovingly as you hand them a grip of gold coins. They shuffled back to their family who gave their thanks.

As the other people in the open field started to line up to receive their share, Minhyung simply replied: “Yes, yes it was.”

You grinned at your fellow thief— you thought it was worth it, too.

Your gaze shifts to the high towers of Neiho’s palace peeking from behind the treetops. But sometimes, you pondered over how effortless life must have been when living like royalty— was it easy when everything was provided for you?

Unlike what most people assumed, living the life of a royal was far from easy.

Jeong Yuno, the Crown Prince of Neiho, had a sudden urge to bang his head against the library wall. He refrained from doing so, the action being far from princely. He looked up from his pile of parchment paper with glazed over eyes, the ink from his quill drying from the lack of writing. There were rows of untouched books lined up at his desk and none of them were of his interest. They skirted on the topics of Neiho’s history and politics; although it was something he was already versed in, he hated the subject unlike his younger brother, Chansung, who excelled and loved it.

Yuno longed to touch the atlas that was stationed on his tutor’s desk. He wanted to study it, chart a course to another far off land, and mark it with ink as he visited place to place. But instead of traveling, the crown prince drowned in his studies while his tutor looked down upon his distracted self.

“Prince Yuno, have you heard a single word that has left my lips or is your head still up in the clouds?” Moon Taeil, the kingdom’s main historian and tutor, scolded. His wooden stick struck the surface of Yuno’s desk and the shocked boy jumped. From his own desk, Chansung snickered behind his thin hand.

“My apologies,” the crown prince bowed his head, his ears turning crimson from being caught by the snippy tutor.

“Well, since I have gained you back from the skies, might you list Neiho’s past rulers and achievements in order?”

Yuno bit back a loud groan. He was in desperate need of a sweet escape. His gaze floated out the window and onto the blooming marketplace below. It seemed like the liveliness was calling his name.

One of the things you loved about your mother was her storytelling. You heard stories of all kinds of love while growing up on the fly. She painted clear pictures of people falling at first sight, of hate turning to overflowing affection, and so much more. Your mother sold you tales of star-crossed lovers that found their happy endings before she passed; her fables of love sounded nothing more than poppycock and folly.

That is, until it occurred to the unsuspecting you.

It was a usual day for you in the city— hood up, cloak flowing in the wind with a sack beating your back as you were on the run from the royal guards stationed in the marketplace. You weaved in between the townsfolk, your nimble body easily pushing through nooks and crannies when you bumped into something— or rather, someone strong.

“Oof!”

“Oh!”

The large sack you carried added some extra weight, leading you to topple over the stranger that ran into your smaller build. The stranger was about to mumble a quick apology before you heard the bellowing of the persistent guards.

You cursed. There was no room for hesitation when you were caught in a tight spot such as this. With staggering breaths and a pounding chest, you grabbed the man’s hand and navigated through endless alleyways and store fronts. You mastered the art of escaping at a young age while he had trouble keeping up with your speed.

And so, your first adventure with the man you would soon learn to love began.

Your hurried steps brought you to an unattended rooftop. You put one foot on the ledge and leaned your body over to glance at the commotion in the market. Down below, the guards were scrambling through the bustling crowds in a failed attempt to find you. Watching them struggle on their search sent you into a laughing fit that your then mysterious companion echoed.

With a heaving chest and rushing heart, you finally looked up at him for the first time and saw the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. Despite only seeing him from his place on the balcony or painted portraits before, you immediately knew who he was: The Crown Prince of Neiho. He had deep chocolate eyes and jet-black hair that highlighted his sweat stained skin. His cheeks and ears were flushed with a rosy red as he gasped for air. He was dressed in a horrible excuse for a disguise; the high-end material he wore and golden shoes were purposefully stained. It was as if the prince wanted to be found.

You quickly retracted your dirtied hand from his soft one and immediately dropped to your knees. “My sincerest apologies for placing my soiled hands on yours, Your Highness. I ask for your forgiveness,” you said with a bowed head, your disheveled hair covering your embarrassed face.

Yuno let out a hearty laugh, one that was deep but still sounded like the lightest bells in your ear. “Please, none of that,” he said, helping you to your feet.

“If anything, you helped me escape from those wretched guards,” he sent you an angelic smile and you swore the heavens were smiling down on you at that moment. “I should thank you.”

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder as you felt your face flush with an unfamiliar heat.

“May I know the name of my savior?” Yuno questioned teasingly, his eyes looking deep into yours.

“Perhaps another time, Your Highness,” you said quite cheekily before running back into the crowd.

The second time you met Prince Yuno, you were both on the run once again. In a way similar to what you had done in the past, his hand slipped so fluidly into yours before you sprinted through the town square. You knocked a fruit cart down as a diversion and the guards struggled making their way through the mess. Through your hooded cloak that flowed in the breeze, you turned over your shoulder to chuckle at how helpless the so-called protectors looked.

“We must stop meeting like this, Highness,” you breathed out as you kept up with his speed.

“Why? I quite enjoy meeting like this,” he threw back at you with a sheepish grin. There was a glimmer of adventure in his eyes and you chuckled.

The hood of your cape fell back, revealing your face for a quick moment before you tugged it back up. It was too late, though, for he had seen your face. Having only heard your voice before, Yuno’s steps faltered at the sight of you. Taking charge at that moment, you overtook him and jerked him into an unpaved path.

You took him over and under until you found a safe haven on top of a building— your makeshift home. Ratty cotton sheets were tied to poles for shade and a pile of pillows was bunched together to make a bed. Random trinkets were scattered along the rooftop along with a scarce supply of food and sacks of stolen treasures leaning against a wall. You wordlessly made yourself comfortable, pouring yourself two cups of water from a jug and handed one to the stranger in your space. He took it graciously and gulped it down, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he did so.

“From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, my dear savior,” Yuno spoke to you for the second time that day.

“It was nothing, Your Highness,” you responded, waving him off as you sat at his feet.

“I feel like this was fate or destiny calling,” Yuno suggested out of the blue.

“This?”

“Us, meeting again,” he answered smoothly, his voice as melodic as a mother’s lullaby.

“I suppose it is.”

“Seeing as destiny brought us together, might I know your name?”

Despite being of a higher status, he didn’t seem as selfish as you thought he would be—Yuno seemed kind and trustworthy. You let down your walls and stuttered out your name. The dark orbs that you got lost in flashed with recognition and you wondered if you made a wrong move by revealing your identity.

“You!” he shouted, his voice booming loudly. “Yes, I have heard many things about you.”

You glared at him with panicked eyes and you rushed to cover his soft lips. “Are you insane, Highness? Speak like that and they will surely find us here!”

“My apologies,” he replied, tugging at his earlobe in embarrassment. “My excitement got the best of me.”

You snorted at his answer, “Excitement?” you probed. “What is there to be excited about?”

“It is not everyday you meet the infamous thief that steals from the rich to give back to the poor,” Yuno grinned with dimples sinking into his soft cheeks.

He was not wrong; you did steal for a living to help the less fortunate. Unlike many others your age, you were able-bodied and felt the mighty need to provide for others who needed extra support. This had been the fifth time the guards had almost caught you but it didn’t matter. As long as the children on the street did not starve, you would risk your life over and over again.

Your mother, compassionate and altruistic as one could ever be, had done so in the past and you were determined to carry her legacy. You wanted to make her proud.

“Are you going to arrest me then?” you challenged with a brow. You took a large step back, ready to be on the run if the situation called for it. “If that is your intention, Your Highness, it is in my best interest to leave you.”

“Oh, no! If anything, I agree with your actions,” he relayed, arms shooting out to keep you in his reach. The Prince’s touch pierced your skin with comforting warmth and you shudder at the odd sensation.

“The Royal Advisor, Rowena, insists on high taxes and taking from the poor while feeding the rich,” he started to explain, taking a seat on the dusty steps.

You hummed, recalling the many times you had laid your eyes on the advisor— she held her head high and wore a permanent, almost sinister smirk on her gorgeous face. Her eyes were as red as blood and hair as black as night. She was beyond intimidating, more so than the Royal Family and their guards.

“What she is doing to the people out here, it isn’t right,” Yuno added on. “They are suffering and I feel as if it is my duty to stop her.”

“I feel as if it is mine as well,” you replied.

“I tried to tell the King of how Rowena’s suggestions have been affecting the community outside the palace walls but it is as if she has him under a spell. He hears not a thing I say,” he explained exasperatedly.

He let out a defeated sigh as you crouched next to him. You let him speak, seeing how distressed he was by the whole situation. “He only listens to her and my younger brother, Chansung; he is the smarter sibling. I am nothing but a pretty face that represents the kingdom,” the prince chuckled darkly.

“Highness—” you tried to intervene, not enjoying how he was belittling himself. He stopped you before you could even begin with a mere glance.

“It is not I who deserves the throne, it is Chansung. I can barely do a thing when my mind is elsewhere. How can I rule when my mind is not focused on the needs of my people?”

You place a tentative hand on his knee to ground him before his thoughts send him spiraling.

“I apologize,” the runaway prince blurted suddenly. “I do not know you and here I am, spilling out my innermost thoughts. You must think I am a fool.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I imagine you have no one to discuss this with within the palace,” you comforted him with a kind smile. You encouraged Yuno to continue, hands urging him on. “But if your mind is not here, then…”

Yuno shot you an empty grin, the upturns of his lips not meeting his reddening ears. “I have been trapped inside the palace since birth. Raised inside these walls all my life. I am safe and sound with a set future here and yet…” his voice trailed off, looking at the overview of the kingdom. His stare then gravitated beyond the kingdom walls.

“And yet?”

“I want to go beyond our borders. I know there is more the world has to offer. I have read about it in books but I want to experience it in person, write it down, and bring back what I have learned to better Neiho.” There was a sense of longing in his voice and you could almost relate to his yearning.

You took a seat next to him, your knees touching his. Your body turned towards him, torso leaning forward to give the prince your undivided attention. “What have you read about so far, Your Highness?”

“Please call me Yuno,” he said gently, clutching onto your hand. You tried to tug it away, flustered from the sudden contact, and he only tightened his clasp.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you replied, “I mean, Y-Yuno.”

The instant his name left your lips, he sent you the most dazzling smile, his pearly white teeth perfectly framed by the pink of his lips and the curve of his dimples. Whiskers appeared around his closed eyes and his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and you found yourself falling down the rabbit hole one called love.

Ever since that fated day, you arranged countless meetings in random nooks and crannies of the marketplace. Yuno taught you the many things he had learned from his readings while you showed him places he had never been before. He brought you books and taught you how to read. You taught him how to fend for himself in the forest.

You often found yourselves weaving through crowds as the guards attempted to follow your trails. Laughter bubbled through the prince’s chest as you tugged him along with intertwined fingers. Your heart leaped huge lengths across your chest every time he glanced your way through his fluttering eyelashes and you wondered if he felt the same.

Your days with Yuno always ended on that same rooftop, overlooking the beautiful sight that was Neiho, and you adored every second of it.

One night, you blurted out, “Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Yuno glanced up at you from your lap, head tilting with curiosity. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, clean hair as his hand played with the ends of yours.

“Do you?” he countered. The point of your elbow dug into his toned stomach and he winced.

“I asked first,” you said and he laughed at your argument.

“And I am the Crown Prince,” he threw back and you pouted at his response.

You were quiet for a moment, gathering your thoughts together before answering your own question. “Yes.”

“And what do you wonder about?”

“There are times I wish for a life where I am comfortable, where I’m not breaking my back for someone else’s sake.” Feeling a bit vulnerable, you drew your hands away from his head and wrapped them around your waist— it was your first time to reveal this hidden thought of yours.

“It’s not that I want to stop helping them,” you explained tentatively, “I just wonder what it would be like to start living just for me, without the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

Yuno only hummed in reply. You shook your head, snapping yourself out of the daze you were in. “Your turn to answer,” you pushed the heavy question onto him.

“I suppose so, yes,” he mused simply. “I would like to be a traveling scholar, see the world through my own eyes. I often wonder about a life of travel, you know this.”

You did know this—Yuno told you this many times.

“There’s another thing I wonder about, though,” he slipped in.

“And what is that?”

“I often wonder what life would be like if I had you by my side.”

You coughed at his sweet words, not at all expecting to hear a statement like that. He reached up to pat your back as you choked on air, giggling at your antics. Your breathing returned to normal and his fingers found their way to yours. With entwined fingers and hearts, he called your name endearingly as his head rested against your lap. You returned his earnest stare under the light of the moon with the same intensity, “Yes, my prince?”

He rolled his eyes at your response.

Yuno, hidden in a ripped cloak, brought your hand against his plump lips and looked into your eyes as he kissed your knuckles. “I arose from bed this morning with a sudden realization.”

“Have you come to the conclusion that Chansung is the better looking royal?” you poked. He gave you a look of betrayal and you giggled at his furrowed brows and flared nostrils.

“It was nothing but a joke, dear,” you laughed, running your fingers through his thick locks of hair. He huffed loudly, turning away from your playful gaze.

“My attempt to confess my love and she makes a fool out of me,” he mumbled under his breath but you could not catch his words.

“You would make a great jester,” Yuno added with another roll of his gorgeous eyes.

“I don’t think I would enjoy being the laughing stock of nobility,” you answered, poking at his soft cheek. He swatted your hand away in annoyance but your fingers were persistent. You continued to sink your finger into the skin of his cheek until he caught it and nibbled on your fingertip. Yelping, you drew back your hand and narrowed your gaze at the prince.

It was his turn to laugh at your reaction, blessing your ears with the sweetest melody. “My darling, you would never be a laughing stock to me.”

Although your finger throbbed, you were happy to see the playful side of the prince— he often had a stoic expression when addressing the people of Neiho from the palace balconies. The sight of his bright smile was enough to light the whole kingdom tenfold.

“What would I be then?” you asked mockingly.

Yuno shifted to face you, his ethereal features glowing in the starlight and captivating you in ways you could not explain. There was a fluttering feeling in your stomach and an intense pounding in your chest as Yuno gave you the simplest answer, “The love of my life.”

His words sent your heart soaring to the highest of places.

In that moment, it mattered not who you were and where you were because you were the love of his life just as he was yours.

Arriving at the clearing deep in the forest, you released the bag of stolen goods from your hold. Panting out breaths, you did your best to steady your heartbeat. The racing palpitations of heart felt different somehow, maybe because for once, they were not caused by the adrenaline of running away but by the highs of being deeply in love.

A gorgeous smile broke out on your face and you hadn’t a care if you looked like a crazy loon.

“Where have you been?” A familiar voice blasted from above you. Looking up, you saw Minhyung seated on a tree branch. He leaped down, landing directly on his feet with a playful smirk.

You coughed the grin right off your face. “I had to take a little detour is all.”

“A detour?” Minhyung questioned.

“Yes, a detour.”

Your friend circled you, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Quite unusual for your detours to last until sundown,” he teased, “and you look like you’re walking on air.”

You tried to bite back your grin and you failed. You could never hide anything from Minhyung, he had seen you through it all. He was your brother after all— not by blood but nevertheless, he was family.

“I met the Crown Prince,” you muttered under your breath.

“Do speak up, you know how I hate when you mumble,” Minhyung teased, using the words you often fired at him.

“I said, Minhyung, I met the Crown Prince,” you repeated with a louder voice.

You watched as Minhyung’s eyes widened like saucers and how they gleamed with intrigue as he squeezed you closer to him. “You met Prince Yuno?!” he gasped. “How— why? What?”

“Keep it down, will you please?” Clamping a dirtied hand over his mouth, you tried to shut him up. He simply licked your palm to which you smacked him across the head.

“Well, this isn’t our first time meeting. We’ve met many a time before,” you started off, going down your short history with the prince. Minhyung listened attentively— his admiration for the Royal Family, much like many of the other Neiho citizens, ran deep.

“How is he in real life?”

“Nothing short of wonderful,” you sighed, head turning back to face the city. You wondered how he was doing, if he made it back through the palace gates without any trouble from the guards he was escaping from. “He is like the brightest star I have ever seen, so beautiful and radiant but still so far out of my reach.”

Remembering the sound of his laughter and the look in his eyes, another soft smile appeared on your face. It was a smile Minhyung had never seen on your features. You appeared as if you were the star you just described, shining brightly for one person and one person alone. The light in your eyes was almost too blinding, he wanted to look away but Minhyung couldn’t.

It had been so long since he had seen you this happy— the last time you smiled so cheerfully was with your mother so many years ago. You adopted a harsher look throughout the years that Minhyung was beyond ecstatic to see that happiness still existed within you.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you answered gently. “He told me to call him Yuno.”

“And did you?”

“Of course, Minhyung,” you said with a chuckle, “it would be wrong to not obey royalty.”

“Yes, you’re quite right,” Minhyung hummed back.

“He is filled with kindness and loyalty to the kingdom, which is admirable.”

“But?”

Thinking back to the conversation you had with the prince, your eyebrows stitched together when recalling his dreams. “His heart aches for adventure and knowledge, things he cannot find here if he is to be King.”

Minhyung searched your face for a glimpse into your head. “Isn’t that what you’re looking for, too?”

Looking your best friend and fellow thief straight in the eyes, you were posed with a thought that hadn’t even crossed your scattered mind. “I suppose it is.”

Minhyung laughed as you came to the realization. The two of you sat in silence as you breathed everything in.

“The Prince isn’t that far from your reach then,” Minhyung posed with a childlike grin. “He is much closer than you think.”

The first time Yuno kissed you was underneath the setting sun. Hidden behind the stone walls of the palace, he pressed you into a dark corner where no one could catch sight of your unlikely pairing.

It was a long day for the both of you— you had snuck into the houses of nobles, stealing their smallest treasures to sell in order to feed the hungry while he shadowed his father during his audiences with the people of Neiho. Your secret rendezvous started with exchanging stories about your eventful day with shared laughter and the sweetest of touches. Yuno’s smooth hands ghosted against your dry ones several times, each touch sending tingles down your spine.

His arms caged you in between his strong body and the hard stone wall as his face hovered in front of your own. Your breath hitched as his intense stare shifted from your eyes to your parted lips. It was the dead of winter but you had never felt hotter under his fiery gaze.

“May I kiss you?” you found yourself asking as his plump bottom lip grazed against your own. You were shocked by your own bravery and you knew he was, too. Your heart pounded loudly like a beating drum and you swore the prince could hear it as well.

“Do as you wish,” the prince replied almost breathlessly, captivated by the way your eyes kept flickering to the lack of space in between your bodies.

“But is that what you wish for, Yuno?” you countered with a sultry tone. He gulped loudly at how confident you were and nodded almost too eagerly, lips barely brushing against your dry ones. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then, your wish is my command,” you smile before closing the distance between. A light press of your lips onto his was all it took to send your world spinning round. Yuno deepened it by leaning his body against your smaller build, a hand tilting your jaw up in a different angle.

He held you so gently, making you feel as if you were royalty. Hands in his hair and his arms around your waist, his kiss made it seem like you had chased the blowing winds and touched the pastel sky. His love rose you to the heavens above and you soared with a rush of freedom you had never felt before.

You kissed as the sky cast a golden glow upon your bodies, too lost in each other to realize you were the focus of someone’s envious gaze.

While you flirted with the life of crime, Yuno made his way through the hallowed hallways of Neiho’s palace. His heavy steps echoed throughout the empty path but he couldn't even hear a thing— his mind was littered with scattered thoughts. He marched his way to his younger brother’s quarters, determined that would be the day he would reveal his heart to his kin. The crown prince groaned in frustration, decorated hands messing with his jet-black hair as he tried to piece what to say.

How did one even start this conversation? Yuno never had a conversation as deep as this with his sibling before. The only person he poured his heart to was you.

Does he start with not waiting to take the throne or with his dream of travel? Should he begin with his skepticism over Advisor Rowena and the poor conditions of their people?

Yuno stopped in place— Rowena. He cringed at the thought of her. He heard the rumors swirling around the circle of nobility. The servants in the palace could never keep their mouth shut at the whispers. There were tales of the King making the advisor his betrothed for the sake of a flourishing kingdom.

He couldn’t fathom how his father came to this as a viable option for the betterment of Neiho.

Yuno thought traveled back to you and what you stood for: how your gigantic heart only thought of others. He recalled how your body was drenched with wounds and scars and yet, you still kept going for the people that had everything to lose. He wanted to find ways to make your life easier but he knew he couldn’t find them inside Neiho’s borders. He had to leave in order to find that solution.

Yuno had no idea how long he contemplated in front of Chansung’s room before the door burst open. Yuno let out a shocked yell as his brother cocked an eyebrow at his older sibling.

“Brother, how long were you going to stand outside my door before simply coming in?” Chansung leaned against the wall as Yuno placed his hand over his rapid heart. He tried to catch his breath much to his brother’s amusement, but he was a bundle of nerves.

“Chansung,” he exhaled, still clutching his chest, “how did you know I was here?”

“It is impossible to not hear your stomps and groans through the wall,” the younger prince poked. “I imagine the townsfolk down below could hear your pacing.”

“Of course,” the older prince said with a roll of his eyes. His younger brother wordlessly invited him in by opening the door to his chambers wider and he breezed through, taking a seat on Chansung’s plush mattress. Chansung closed the door behind him to find his usually composed sibling with his head in his hands. A symphony of defeated sighs left Yuno’s lips and Chansung set a comforting hand on his brother’s back.

“What ails you, dear brother?” The younger implored.

“Chansung.”

“Yes, brother?”

“Have you ever felt like there was something more out there in the world, just waiting for you?”

Chansung paused at Yuno’s question, retreating his hand from his brother’s body. A silence surrounded the room as the younger sat next to his sibling.

“I suppose I haven’t,” Chansung answered with a hum. He turned to face his brother, finding the crown prince’s face contorted with furrowed brows and sucked in cheeks. “I knew that my place was always here in the castle and I have always taken that role seriously.”

This was true. Chansung always buried himself in his studies, gathering enough knowledge to to soon overtake the place of Yuno’s future advisor. He studied religiously to not let his people down, just as his Father and Rowena currently were.

The older nodded silently, the black strands of his hair shifting to hide his eyes as he did so. He tugged on his earlobe, a habit he picked up when he was deep in thought or stressed beyond belief. Chansung caught sight of Yuno’s tell-tale and his lips pursed on trying to figure out as to why his brother was stressed.

“See, Chansung, that’s the difference between us,” Yuno broke the deafening silence.

“What is?”

“You are the one who deserves the throne, not I.”

“Brother!” Chansung shouted in defiance. “Why would you say that? You would make a great king!” He pushed with such force. Yuno smiled, his brother always had seen the best in him.

“Chansung, one cannot deny the truth,” the crown prince smiled at his sibling. The upturns of his plump lip showed the prince’s fondness for his brother and a twinge of regret for not being the royal people expected him to be.

“I have known what people have expected me to be and I have tried my best to live up to those expectations but...” Yuno began. He stood up and walked towards the open balcony, Chansung following in his wake. The elder leaned against the railings, hands resting on the cold stone as his sibling chose to press his back against it.

Townsfolk caught a glimpse of them from down below and enthusiastically yelled for the royal duo’s attention. The younger greeted them with matched excitement, bringing his hand up for a wave while the elder just nodded at them with a forlorn expression taking over his handsome face. He stared at the crowd a little longer than he should have, his mind wandering to the thief that stole his heart. His deep chocolate eyes traced the busy streets and alleyways, through the ways of the marketplace and the housing area until he could no longer see the outlines of the path.

“But you feel as if you belong down there,” Chansung finished for him with a hint of understanding.

“Yes,” Yuno breathed out.

“Brother, you have always had a knack for escaping,” Chansung joked lightheartedly to ease his brother’s troubled heart. It was not everyday a royal revealed he wanted to be one of the people after all.

A hearty, deep rumbling laugh escaped the crown prince’s lips. “I suppose I was not as discreet as I could have been,” he said with the shake of his head, “I was too busy running away from the guards to leave quietly.”

“I suppose not,” the younger chuckled along, the sounds of their laughter drifting with the winds.

“But Yuno,” Chansung’s voice called, “will you be alright?” His voice grew faint towards the end of the question and Yuno caught what his sibling was implying. Would the crown prince be alright after leaving a life of comfort?

“Yes,” Yuno smiled, his eyes shining in a way the second in line had never seen before, “for I will be happy.”

“Will you really be happy?” Chansung asked softly, his voice choking at the thought of his brother leaving him behind. He shook the sadness away and grinned widely at his sibling.

“You are leaving your favorite person behind after all,” he teased, barely dodging a playful punch to the chest. Yuno slung his arm over Chansung’s broad shoulder, bringing a hand to ruffle the other’s neatly styled hair.

“When have I ever called you that?”

“Come, Yuno,” the younger man said with a proud smile, “we have much to discuss before we bring this to Father.”

Yuno laughed once more, his heart bursting with an infinite amount of joy. He was one step closer to being free.

Nothing could take away his happiness, or so he thought. Neither brother realized the person lurking in the shadows, hanging onto every word with disdain.

“He wants to abdicate the throne for a measly street rat? How could this be?” Rowena asked herself as she stormed into her secret hideaway within the palace walls after hearing the conversation between the siblings. The fabric of her robe flowed behind her and the mighty jeweled staff pounded against the floor as she rushed her way down steep steps.

“All these years of scheming my way to the top will be wasted if he leaves with that peasant,” she spat harshly. Passing by the mirror hanging on her wall, Rowena paused in place to admire her looks. Running a hand through her shining black locks and stroking the sharp line of her jaw, she wondered what you had that she didn’t.

She had the looks, the intelligence, and the kingdom in the palm of her magic hand while you merely survived by committing to a life of crime. Why wasn’t the prince in love with her?

“Yuno and the position of queen was to be mine,” the advisor hissed, hazel eyes darkening with envy with each word she spoke. “I have not wasted my energy spelling the king only to settle for the second born.”

Her reflection disappeared from her view, a bundle of smoke and clouds hiding her away before dispersing into a sweet image of you and the prince together.

A terrifying shriek left her lips at the new reflection. Picking up the closest item within her reach, she hurled it into the mirror projecting that horrifyingly romantic image. The crack of the glass echoed in throughout the room and it fueled her bubbling ambition.

As her grip tightened against the length of her staff, she felt a new plan hatching in her head and dark magic coursing through her veins. “Prince Yuno and Neiho will be mine, make no mistake about that.”

You thought your love was too good to be true and he tried to convince you otherwise— you were a mere village thief and he was the Crown Prince. You came from practically nothing while he was of royal blood and yet, your fragile heart couldn’t help but fall for the lost man behind the crown and jewels. Your relationship was against the fates and the aligned stars but the prince had the strongest urge to rewrite them just to keep you by his side.

“I have scheduled a private audience with the King tomorrow.”

“And what will you discuss with him, love?” You stroked his fringe away from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your gentle hold.

He nestled into your palm, sighing at your warmth. “Renouncing the throne,” Yuno announced casually.

“I beg your pardon?!” You almost screamed into the night.

The prince ignores your little outburst, continuing his explanation. “The life of a royal is not the life I wish to live. I want to live a life of travel and adventure.” He sat up to clutch your hands in his. “I want to live a life with you, if you will have me.”

“With me?” You managed to mutter. “Out of all people, why with me?”

“Because I’m in love with you. Any day with you would be an adventure.”

“But I don’t have anything— no riches, just rags,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. He took you in, dirt smeared face and ripped clothing, and still looked at you like you held the world in your hands. Yuno saw the stars, the sky, the whole entire universe in your eyes. He didn’t need anything else— he just needed you.

“I love you more than anything else in this world but all I have to offer you is everything in me. I’m not sure if that is enough,” you bit your lip, teething gnawing down on your sensitive skin out of nervousness. He was the boy who had everything and he was willing to give everything up for a life with you.

Yuno brought your injured knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently, holding your gaze with a soft one of his own. “My love, that is more than enough. You are more than enough.”

“But what about the villagers? What will happen to them if I were to leave?” You sputtered out, worrying about others rather than yourself.

He smiled at your selflessness. “I have already discussed this with Chansung. He is aware of the village’s situation and is willing to make changes to better their livelihood.”

“I can’t leave them behind,” you pulled your hands away. “They need me.”

“He is willing to work with your partner, Minhyung, to reach out to our people. No man left behind,” he replied with a smile. “We thought of all the options.”

You wanted to go with him but they were all you knew. Protecting the villagers and providing them with hope was always your number one priority— you had never thought of anything else. Would your mother be disappointed in you if you left them all behind or would she be happy to know that you have found a potential shot of happiness?

“Please, just think about it, my darling.”

“And Minhyung, he asked me to think about it!” You shrieked while running through the trees, a sack of gold hitting the small of your back. You looked behind you to see your younger partner-in-crime giving you the smuggest smile.

“Well, are you thinking about it?” He questioned, curiosity burning in his doe eyes. He wiggled his brows to tease you and you wanted to slap him with your heavy sack.

“What is there to think about? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Why is that?” Your friend pushed.

“Because you need me, they need me.”

“Do we really need you or is it you that needs us?”

You frowned at him, not understanding his words. “What do you mean by that, Min?”

He laughed, nose coiling up cutely as he did so. “You have been stealing all your life, it’s all you know how to do. It’s familiar.”

“I do not see where you’re going with this.”

“You love him and you want to go with him but you’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“The unknown.” Minhyung gestured to all the riches you’ve stolen gathered by your feet. “This is all you’ve known but wouldn’t it be nice to do something more?”

“But this is all you’ve known too, Min,” you countered defensively.

“True, but by working with Prince Chansung, I can broaden my horizons.” There was this proud glint in his eye. “I can help more people. And you—”

“And me?”

“— you can finally be free to see what’s out there just like you’ve always dreamed of doing with nothing holding you back.”

Your friend grabbed hold of your hand, his larger one clasping over your own. Minhyung’s grip tightened around your palm to reassure you. “You can be selfish for once, to think only of yourself, and it will be perfectly fine.”

“Min, I want to be selfish but I’m frightened of everything— life beyond the walls and forest. What if everything out there is not what I think it is? What if I’m not prepared to leave this familiarity?”

Minhyung whispered your name as you began to spiral down a road he could not follow.

“And being in love with a prince for that matter! Love could be fleeting. Any given day after I leave with him, Yuno may not want me. He could turn his back on me and leave me to die. He has options, Min. I, for one, am not that lucky.”

Your friend squeezed firmly on your shoulder before reaching down to take hold of your hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and placed each hand on a shoulder, leading your fingers to tap against your skin. Minhyung encouraged you to follow along as he began to guide you through deep, calming breaths.

As your heart rate and thoughts began to settle, you wondered when Minhyung grew up to be the strong boy who stood beside you.

“Life is frightening. We know that more than anyone, flying by the seat of our pants,” Minhyung said with a chuckle of his own. “It’s alright to be scared of the unknown but it should not stop you from living your life the way you wish to live it.”

As you took another breath, you nodded to acknowledge his words.

“Do you want to live a life with the Crown Prince?”

“More than anything in this world,” was your firm reply.

Minhyung grinned at you, “Then that should be enough. Your love will be enough.”

Tugging him into a hug, you tucked your head into the crook of his neck. The act of affection was a “thank you” you cannot express with words. You only hoped your friend would understand the meaning behind the gesture. Luckily, with years of experience being your partner-in-crime, the young Minhyung was able to between the lines.

“Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” he said, placing a faint kiss against the crown of your head. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know.”

Minhyung, the younger and more energetic one of your thieving duo, ran ahead of you into the clearing to make the first drop of goods. You laughed at his excitable demeanor— you knew he would be the person you would miss most once you hightrailed out of the kingdom. He was the only family you had left but there he was, happy that you were finally setting yourself free.

The upward curve of your lips dropped when you heard his voice yell out for help. Heart racing, you let go of your sack, legs running faster than ever before to come to your best friend’s aid.

Once you caught a glimpse of him, your heart dropped to the floor, right by your soiled and tattered coverings you called shoes.

Minhyung was fighting against the hold of the strong guards that always chased your tail. His hands were handcuffed in chains and tears were running down his sunken cheeks as one guard repeatedly abused his small frame. You screeched at the vulgar sight unfolding before you— your little brother was being beaten to a pulp.

Three rough strikes to the stomach was all you could witness before you went flying towards him, hands outstretched to catch him as his body fell to the floor. You never reached him, another pair of guards preventing you from doing so. They immediately cuffed you and pulled your struggling frame towards them. Your shouts and frantic cries for the injured Minhyung were hushed when a restricting feeling took over your vocal chords.

Opening your mouth, you tried your best to make a sound but you found yourself mute.

A horrifyingly disturbing laugh came from behind the trees and you scuffled to find the source through your tears. The tall and sleek figure, dressed far too nice to be caught in these parts, approached you with the most evil smirk. Her back was straightened, chest puffed out, and head held high with pride as she used the tip of her staff to lift your head.

“So you are the one who caught the crown prince’s eye,” the figure said, her voice as piercing as her glare. “The little thief.”

“You,” came your choked reply as she released the spell she casted on you.

“Oh, so you know of me?” she laughed haughtily. “Say my name then, child.”

Refusing to do what she said, you turned your head to look at the unconscious Minhyung who was slumped across the grass.

“I said,” she hissed, using her hand to force your gaze back at her. “Say my name.”

“Rowena,” you growled. “What do you want from me? I have nothing you want.” Her sharp nails dug into your skin and you winced at the pain. The royal advisor clearly did not appreciate your snark.

“That is where you are wrong, my sweet child,” Rowena almost purred back. “You possess the thing I long for most.”

You scoffed at her answer. “And what would that be, witch?”

“Be careful with your words, street rat. I can end your friend’s life in an instant if you fail to hold your tongue,” a nail scratched your cheek, leaving you with a new cut. A thin stream of blood flowed down your face, dripping onto your tattered clothes as Rowena watched amusingly. “You are in possession of Prince Yuno’s heart when it was destined to be mine.”

You fought the urge to laugh, “You are doing this out of jealousy?”

“Hold your tongue, riff raff. You forget who is in control here, I can easily command my men to strike another blow on your poor fri—”

“No!” you yelled, cutting Rowena off, suddenly desperate to get on her good side. “Don’t hurt Minhyung; he has nothing to do with the situation!”

Minhyung weakly called your name and you ignored his cries.

“But he is a thief and it is a great crime to steal in this kingdom,” Rowena drawled on teasingly, like a cat playing with a hopeless mouse.

“No, please,” you begged. “You mustn’t hurt him.”

“Then you must do something for me in return, peasant,” Rowena laughed at how easily she had you wrapped around her finger. You appeared to be strong, but your overly selfless heart was weak.

“I will do anything you ask me to if you leave Minhyung alone,” you petitioned. You couldn’t let anything happen to Minhyung— he was the only family you had left. “He’s a brother to me.”

Minhyung’s head shot up at his new title while he gasped for air. Locking eyes with him, you smiled painfully. He was always at your side, protecting you when he could. Now, it was your time to protect him.

“I will let the boy live if you come with me without a fight,” Rowena schemed, grin growing wider by the second. She had you in the palm of her hands. “He is of no importance to me.”

“He is of the utmost importance to me,” you said, the familial love seeping through your veins. Though physically far apart from him, you hoped he could feel the love you had for him. Minhyung violently shook his head, as if to tell you not to go. He refused to let you sacrifice yourself to let him live, you had done enough for him as is.

“I will go with you, Rowena. Just allow me a moment to say my goodbyes.”

The guards holding you and Minhyung back looked at their commander for an order. With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, you and your friend were freed of your confinement. You quickly shuffled to your feet and Minhyung fell into your arms as you sunk to the ground.

“Oh my stars, Min,” you sniffled as you took him in. Sandwiching his fallen face in between your hands, you stroked his cheeks and pushed back the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead. “Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be alright if you stay here with me,” Minhyung replied with tears welling up in his soft brown eyes. Minhyung was always the crier between the two of you. He cried more at your mother’s death than you did but this time, you let your tears cascade down your cheeks, knowing this was the last time you would see your best friend.

“You know I can’t do that. I can’t let anything happen to you, you have gotten yourself hurt because of me,” You gather enough strength in your shaking hands to squeeze his cheeks, something you always did to cheer him up. “I refuse to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I refuse to let you go,” Minhyung raised his hands to hold onto yours.

“I have made my choice,” you whispered harshly, “and that is to keep you and the others safe.”

You take a moment to hug the younger boy in your arms, trying to commit the feeling of Minhyung in your memory. Flashes of your best friend growing up by your side ran through your mind as your fingers stroked through his hair. Pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head, you shut your eyes and bit back a sob. “Do me one favor? Find your happiness, wherever it may be and never let it go, alright?”

When you released him from your hold, Minhyung whined at the loss of warmth.

“You’re my brother, Minhyung. I love you,” were your last words to your thieving partner before you turned away from him and his heart wrenching sobs and willingly stepped into your doom.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

What started off as secret meetings and stolen kisses in alleyways was ending with you chained to the floor of the palace’s throne room while your lover watched helplessly from the side. He screamed your name and struggled against the hold of his guards but you shook his head to silence him.

Stop, you begged in your head, make it stop.

The King and Prince Chansung did nothing to help you or their kin, only staring blankly at the chaotic scene unfolding in front of them. They had no choice; they were bewitched to be at the sorceress’ beck and call, just like the many guards that protected the kingdom. If only Prince Yuno had realized it sooner.

“Why are you doing this?” Yuno yelled, his deep voice booming throughout the large room. His harsh glare, a look you had never seen on him, was focused on the lady seated on his father’s rightful throne.

“Why?” Rowena echoed. “My darling prince, I did this because of you and your wish to renounce the throne for her.” Her extreme distaste for you was apparent as she hissed the last word.

She left her seat, leisurely sauntering over to Yuno with a smile as if it was a casual meeting when the situation was far from it. Rowena squatted down to reach his level and Yuno hastily turned his head to the side, refusing to meet her eyes. His jaw tightened and his teeth grinded against each other as she forced him to look her directly in the eye. “Marry me and crown me as your Queen. Only then will I let her go.”

Instead of answering the witch with words, he chose to spit in her face instead. “Never, you hag. You are not worthy of ruling Neiho, nor will you ever be.” Yuno’s voice was ruthless and unwavering, just as a prince’s should be. Even in a moment like this, your heart swelled with pride at his bravery.

“Long live King Chansung,” he jeered, which only set Rowena off. “He is the next, rightful ruler of the kingdom.”

“If this is how you want to play, so be it, Prince,” Rowena laughed in his face. The sound of her cackles made shivers run down your spine and cold sweat broke out in a number of places. You were scared of what was to come.

Using her staff to help her back up to a standing position, Rowena made her way towards you with a menacing stare. The curve of her lips grew wider as you flinched back in fear. You heard the clanking of metal chains as Yuno wrestled against the guard’s hold. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

“And what will you do, Yuno?” she threw back. “There is nothing you can do to help her now.”

Only a few steps from you, she points the end of her staff in your direction. A gleaming emerald jewel taunted you as you sucked in a breath. “You, peasant, have always given selflessly without expecting anything in return so selfless you will remain,” she started to say, a gust of wind bursted out the end of the jewel. It first surrounded her figure, then you, before spreading throughout the room.

A golden lamp appeared out of thin air, floating in front of your face before you felt the spark of dark magic course within you. It released you from your physical binds only to leave you immobile. A pair of gold cuffs materialized on your wrists and tugged you closer to the lamp.

“No longer will you be able to act selfishly for you are bound to this lamp and to these chains until a master wishes you free,” she explained. The taunting laughter that would soon haunt your memories echoed in your ears as ideas for a curse were thrown into the wind. “It will be at least two thousand years until you have the chance of seeing your precious prince again, that is, if Prince Yuno finds you first.”

“What? No!” Yuno howled across the room as you were slowly consumed by a dark cloud. Calls of your name were heard but you could not respond as Rowena began to chant,

“Golden lamp of antique old, Bind her body, mind, and soul. May she obey her master’s whim, Turn her future dark and grim. Freedom comes with just one wish Unless it is a true love’s kiss.”

The smoke spread throughout the room, leaving the surroundings in a haze. As the evil enchantress concentrated on the curse, the hold on the others in the room fell through. The king and Chansung snapped out of their daze only to watch the horrific separation begin to take place.

“Brother, what is the meaning of this?!” Chansung shouted to get his sibling’s attention, bringing an arm to shield his eyes from the powerful gusts. His father gripped at his youngest’s sleeve as the gale turned into a hurricane with you in the middle.

Yuno failed to hear his brother’s questions, eyes zoned in on you as your freedom was slowly stripped away from you. The sight of you crushingly accepting your fate tugged on his heartstrings. This wasn’t the ending he wanted for you. This was far from it.

"Remember me! You must remember me," he yelled over the commotion. You watched him struggle over the smoke as you cry out for him.

"How could I ever forget you?" you reassured him with a broken smile. You felt the tail end of your body being pulled inside your new cage and tried to fight the unbreakable force.

Yuno screamed your name once more. You locked eyes across the room, his dark orbs spinning with love and desperation. You wondered if your wet irises looked the same as his.

"I will find you! I will search until the ends of the earth until you are by my side again.”

You wanted to laugh at his hopeful optimism— how did love get you into this situation?

As much as you wanted to believe Yuno would find you, the situation was bleak.

Rowena’s body rumbled with a laughter so sinister, so piercing that you flinched at the sound as her dark magic ran through your veins. “I would like to see you try, my prince, but until then, you and the throne belong to me,” she sneered.

Ignoring the enchantress’ claims, his eyes continued to search for your disappearing figure. “I will come back to you, I promise!” Yuno’s deep voice rang into your ears.

“I hope you will,” you whispered a defeated reply back.

“If not in this life, then I will find you in the next! Mark my words!”

“Yuno…”

“In any version of reality, my darling, I will find you and I will choose you every single time. Do you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously as you choked back your sobs.

Just as the last bits of your being slipped through the spout of the lamp, Yuno broke free from the guards’ hold and rushed to your side. You reached out a hand and his fingertips grazed yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he mumbled through choked up sobs. His shaking hands grabbed at the dreaded lamp, clutching it to his broad chest like it was the most precious thing on earth.

The sight of him so desperate before you was reminiscent of the star-crossed lovers you heard about during your younger years, the ones that ended in the worst of tragedies. You pondered if this was your own personal tragedy, if this particular scene would haunt you for the rest of your cursed life.

You exchanged one last glance. One last touch.

Your hand clutched his cheek like it was made of the most fragile glass and the pad of your thumb stroked his soft skin. Yuno leaned into your touch, wanting to soak in his last moment with you. A spark flickered the place of contact, a sizzle of bright dust oozing from your fingers— your first dose of magic and you couldn’t even use it to keep him by your side. A glittering tear fell from your cheek and landed on his skin.

It was then you muttered your last words to the man who claimed your heart before being completely tugged into your golden cage, “As you wish.”

author’s note. hello, my darling readers! i know many of you have been waiting for this release for the longest time. this is the first of three (or four) parts. this part has been done for quite some time now; i’m just struggling to get the rest of it out.

but i thought it was too good of a story to just sit there in my google docs. i had this need to finally put part of it out into the world so here we are! i’ve been writing this since october and i would like to thank the many people who have helped me with the plot so far: kira, my chaotic gc, allex, and joyce!! ily all!! <3 this is for you!!!

part two is finished and i’m in the process of editing it! will it be out soon? who knows?

taglist. @rindomo @yshbaewenjun @hannie-dul-set @itsapapisongo @babyyynatty @notnctu @w0nni3wrld @yuta1forme @lucyinthesunshinee

i lost my original copy of the taglist so i’m sorry if i missed people! (especially since it’s been so long!) please let me know if you would like to be added to the list for future parts!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #as you wish

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