#Jane Austen gives the best burns

[an-extraordinary-fate]

“He was not an ill-disposed young man, unless to be rather cold hearted and rather selfish is to be ill-disposed: but he was, in general, well respected; for he conducted himself with propriety in the discharge of his ordinary duties.”

Solid burn! Can you guess who Austen has just introduced?

How about his final dialogue?

“I will not say that I am disappointed, my dear sister,” said John, as they were walking together one morning before the gates of Delaford House, “that would be saying too much, for certainly you have been one of the most fortunate young women in the world, as it is. But, I confess, it would give me great pleasure to call Colonel Brandon brother. His property here, his place, his house, every thing is in such respectable and excellent condition! And his woods,—I have not seen such timber any where in Dorsetshire, as there is now standing in Delaford Hanger! And though, perhaps, Marianne may not seem exactly the person to attract him, yet I think it would altogether be advisable for you to have them now frequently staying with you, for as Colonel Brandon seems a great deal at home, nobody can tell what may happen; for, when people are much thrown together, and see little of anybody else,—and it will always be in your power to set her off to advantage, and so forth. In short, you may as well give her a chance: you understand me.”

Yes we continue to understand you. You will never do anything for anyone that might cost you a thing, but you are anxious for everyone to help in your place. He’s a character I really love to hate and sadly he has no idea he’s bad. The teensiest twinges of guilt he ever feels are quickly brushed away.

I am one of those fans that came to Austen via adaptations like so many others. I don’t think the books were exactly what I expected, but they were even better. I’ve stayed around and continue to come back for the biting humor and satire. It never lets me down. No one gives a back-handed compliment so well or writes a highly irritating character with just enough clarity you know you have met a similar person. May we all be free of the John Dashwoods in our lives.

[minhosimthings]

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

[uglypastels]

Ridlington Park | I | Eddie Munson regency!au

Author's Note: It has been a long, long time, but I am back with another obnoxious AU. I hope you enjoy as we embark on this new adventure in Regency England. This story has been in the works for almost 2 years and is still far from finished, but I am having too much fun with this and have way too many ideas on where to take it, so suggestions are very much appreciated.

Word Count: 10k

Do be warned, Dear Reader, for this story in its entirety may contain:

female!reader. slow burn. forbidden romance. jealousy. pining. smut. alcohol consumption. swearing. OC family. horses. talks of arranged marriage. historical facts as well as trivial inaccuracies.

Due to the adult nature of the story, this author also kindly but sternly requires underage readers to pursue other works. 

The Ridlington Park Collection | Correspondence | Join the Taglist

Chapter One: A Game of Perseverance

“I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.”

– Jane Austen, Letter to her sister Cassandra, 1798

Three stories high, full of balconied windows, the house stood tall and overlooked the entire street. Ridlington Park, they called it, and situated at the centre of life–that is, London–the front door of the building was enveloped in flowers matching the seasons all year long. Currently, it was bright peonies that caught the onlooker’s eye. The perfectly trimmed bushes and trees were planted symmetrically, leading up to the front doors, giving visitors the right impression of what they could await once they stepped inside.

The residing family had spent a good fortune and effort ensuring the house represented them perfectly: clean, fortunate, and grand, but all done so in the utmost respectable and modest fashion as they were never the ones to boast. The walls had a light, warm tone reminiscent of early mornings in Spring, and the interior was decorated with portraits, new and old, beautiful oil sceneries of lands near and far, and busts and vases. 

The evening was slowly approaching, the sun setting over the windows of the drawing room, enwrapping everything in a golden glow. The family sat silently around the room, giving each other the peace and quiet required for an uneventful afternoon followed by a slow night of fortunate sleep. The only sound appreciated was the pianoforte siding against the window, gracefully played by Mother. Four children sat around the separate corners of their world, enjoying the music while focusing on their own activities. Like most nights, these consisted of either reading or needlework, engaging in small conversations with one another occasionally. 

As typical as any evening at Ridlington Park, it was highly unusual for the rest of London– a city which runs on scandals and gossip. Outside, the streets were bustling with lords and ladies of the Ton making their way back home from the markets, gardens and their fellows’ tea parties, gossiping about the latest impropriety to have occurred. After all, such topics, no more than nonsense really, were simply inescapable. And no matter how hard they tried to ignore it all, one way or another, it would always find its way up to the Byrnwick family. Most of the time, you, Gentle Reader, could hold yourself accountable for introducing the rumours proudly, much to your brother’s annoyance, who did his best to turn the pages of his novel as loud as possible as you talked with your mother from across the room. 

‘Have you heard what happened at Lady Faulkner’s ball?’

  ‘Yes, sordid, really.’ Your mother sighed, turning around. ‘I am sure her family is in quite the uproar.’

‘Please,’ Christopher, your brother, shut his book down in frustration, clearly incapable of making any progress amidst the conversation. ‘If she had not wanted to get caught, she should have maybe ought to think twice about being out with a man in the middle of the gardens for everyone to see.’ 

You glared up at him. ‘Well, it is absurd that a woman cannot even stand in a public space with a man without bringing disgrace onto her entire family.’

‘Believe me; she did much more than just standing.’ Christopher scoffed, quickly receiving a cold stare from your mother. 

‘Still, it is unjust.’ You ignored his insinuations. ‘Think of how men are free to go out at any time of day or night with whomever they please.’ You stabbed your needle through the cloth a bit harsher than intended.

‘My, you sure seem to be giving all this much thought. Have you any plans we should know about, sister?’ Your brother smirked.

‘Christopher!’ Your mother scowled. ‘That is quite enough.’

‘I was only joking, Mother,’ Christopher sighed, ‘we all know she is not going anywhere anytime soon.’

You were ready to retort angrily, or at least throw your needle at him, when the doors to the drawing room opened, catching everyone’s attention by storm. Five pairs of identical eyes directly aimed at the door frame, only softening when recognising the intruders. A welcoming of surprised gasps greeted the Lord and his eldest, Nicholas, as they entered the room. Not one foot in the room, and all activities were being put to a halt as the rest of the family gathered around the men—a loving reunion after a months-long journey from the Americas. 

It was a surprising return, for father and son had yet to write of their plans in recent times. The last letter was received at Ridlington Park over three weeks ago, stating that the weather was amiable, if not a bit too humid, and that the family missed each other deeply. The lack of correspondence, therefore, was also an immediate subject. 

‘But why did you not write, dear?’ asked Mother, after embracing her son. Nicholas was too occupied by his youngest sibling to answer; airways tightened in the arms of his 11-year-old sister, Marjorie. His father responded instead:

‘How could we write at sea, my love? The message would not have gotten here any faster than we did,’ the lord chuckled to his wife. He was correct, too, of course. His eyes seemed to surpass the gaze of his present family members in search of the one missing piece. ‘Where is Annabelle? I thought she would be home by now.’ 

‘She is home, with her husband,’ you explained carefully. Your father blinked slowly, coming to terms with this fact he had tried to avoid for so long. Annabelle had married last season and was very well off, to a Duke, no less, but it was still a big adjustment for the family seeing her gone and out of the house. Even with her frequent visits, it was strange to have one head less at the dinner table; one less chair occupied each evening, one less song played on the pianoforte. 

‘Ah, well then,’ Father cleared his throat, ‘then we are complete.’ He looked at his wife and five children. One day, there would be even fewer of them. They will all be leaving the nest one by one. For some, marriage was long overdue, and as a man of high society, he could not wish his children a suitor or a lady soon enough, but as a father, he dreaded the day that the following proposals would take place.

Marjorie, becoming impatient and not as sentimental about her family’s reunion, tugged at Nicholas’ sleeve. ‘Come, you must tell us everything about your journey!’ She kept pulling until the eldest brother had no choice but to follow her and sit on the couch. Soon, everyone else joined on the chaises. 

‘I am afraid there is very little to tell,’ Nicholas said, taking a chocolate biscuit off the tray beside the sofa. ‘It was all rather dull.’ 

‘Do not be ridiculous, brother,’ Fitzwilliam, the second-youngest and still hungry for adventure and the world outside of the Ton, looked at his older brother with high expectations. ‘I do not believe you and Father had been gone this long and did not experience anything worthy of a tale.’ 

You listened on as your siblings bickered, arguing over the value of a story, and its worth of being told and heard. Finally, after listening to it for about a quarter of an hour, you had to agree with Nicholas; it was all rather dull. No wonder neither he nor father did not bother to mention anything but the weather in their correspondence. Their days quickly grew into a pattern one is used to in travel and business. A pattern you might have understood if you cared to pay attention. 

This attention only returned to the room when you heard your name being spoken. The conversation had shifted from the events that had been missed overseas to the town's happenings. Just as dull and irrelevant, some might say, the most interesting thus far was the staff changes at the house, and even these held very little consequence to you, but to this, some may disagree wholeheartedly. 

‘So, the season has begun, has it not, sister?’ Nicholas asked. 

‘Some weeks ago, yes.’ You did your best pretending not to feel an effect from this, occupying yourself with your needlework that was turning out far below the usual standard. ‘But do not worry; you have not missed much. In fact, I think things will finally begin to get a bit interesting with you back home.’ Nicholas had always had a taste for dramatics and had been known for having a very… loving nature. In the past years, you must have witnessed him falling in love at least a dozen times, preparing a proposal to half of these women, going through with it twice now, with one nearly making it to the alter if not for the bride getting caught in quite a compromising position with a footman.

For the next few weeks, Nicholas was known as the heartbroken gentleman, and you would have felt bad for him… if it was not for the fact that women from all over town came around to console him, day after day, of course not knowing that when his bride-to-be had been making arrangements with other men, your brother had been too busy charming ladies himself. It took a month for him to proclaim his love to another woman again.

‘I do not know what you mean,’ Nicholas deflected your comment, quickly looking over to your mother and second oldest brother, Christopher, ‘any fitting suitors I should be aware of?’ As the eldest brother, Nicholas made it his duty to ensure his sisters found good husbands. That meant status and wealth but, above anything else, a good and genteel nature. You remembered how picky he was when Annabelle had been searching for a husband, even more so than your parents. Still, it was something you appreciated about your brother. His protectiveness showed the little heart he still held for you and the rest of your family, as much as he tried to hide it away. 

Your mother bit her cheek, holding in the many thoughts and opinions she must have kept for herself. So did Christopher, who shared a very knowledgeable look of many words with Nicholas, one he understood clearly but you could not decipher just yet. However, you assumed the general message had been sent and received. 

‘If you had seen the choices, brother, you would understand my predicament and situation all too well, believe me.’ Pretending to seem unbothered by the encrypted messages being sent around the room, you preoccupied yourself once more with the needlework. 

‘I believe it is what you believe, sister,’ Nicholas turned back to your mother, ‘do you have a list of names? I shall go through them in the morning, see if it really is as bad as we are being told.’ 

You had wanted to reply, most likely in a dishonourable way, but you held your tongue and fell back in your seat, letting the rest of your family plan out the rest of your life, just like they had always done. 

Unbelievable, Nicholas was home for all of five minutes, and he was already making lists. And knowing him, which you would like to think you did, it was merely a formality for your sake. He would already have a dozen names at the top of his head, ready to send out invitations to men for an audience with you. 

Therefore, you were not surprised when, only a few days later, at the breakfast table, Nicholas told you about all the guests Ridlngton Park would soon be welcoming. 

‘There is Mr Elton, and Mr Brookes will be coming over for tea; I also heard Lord Frankworth is interested in a visit, so is Mr Campbell, and—’ he kept on giving you names, with all of them entering one ear and immediately leaving through your other. You could not care less who wanted to see you, not after spending the last month trying your hardest to escape all of their attempts at promenading, lunching, and chatting of sheer nonsense. 

‘I must ask you to be ready for your first audience before 10; a dress is already prepared in your room.’ Of course, there was a dress. All you could do was smile as you bit into a forkful of egg. 

‘Oh, and there is one gentleman I would particularly like you to meet,’ your father chimed in, almost as if with an afterthought that he recollected at the last minute. You looked up at him apprehensively. ‘I had made a nice acquaintance of his father on our travel. What was his name– Harrolds, no…’  ‘Harrington, father. It was Mr Harrington.’ Nicholas corrected before looking over to you as he shared more. ‘He is a tradesman, quite successful. His only son had joined us on the ship back to England.’ The emphasis on his lineage was made with an apparent inclination. There were no more heirs, meaning the son would inherit the man’s entire wealth. ‘Certainly seems like a reasonable young man, clever too. The two of you will have lots to speak of.’

Well, I certainly cannot wait to meet him,’ you forced out a smile before quickly getting on with your meal despite losing all your appetite. At that moment, your stomach felt like a hollow pit, eating away at you, ironically.

‘You know, if you gave this all a chance, you might find yourself to actually enjoy it in the end,’ your mother commented with a tight lip. 

‘I am sure I shall enjoy it then, as it means that it has all, in fact, ended.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I simply do not understand why this is a must in my life? Why must I marry this instant?’

‘Do not worry, dear. You are still young; you still have plenty of time, ' your father said, missing your point entirely and making you roll your eyes. ‘But your mother is right, too, a more agreeable attitude towards this will make things much easier.’

‘For whom, exactly? Is it for me to enjoy myself, or for everyone else as you will not have to endure me any longer?’

‘Can you really blame us?’ Nicholas mumbled, receiving a kick in the shin in return. He spent the rest of the discussion rubbing the targetted spot on his leg with a pained crease between his brows. You, besides gaining the small victory of maiming your brother, found yourself yet again on the losing side of another family dispute. Like all its predecessors, this battle ended with you pushing back your chair with a harsh scrape of the panelled floor and slugging back to your room where a dress awaited. 

It was beautiful; you could not deny that. Elegant and straightforward, it accented all your finest assets for interested suitors. It was comfortable: not too heavy or too textured in its pattern, it was made of soft material that slipped right on, with the fit of a well-tailored glove. Your hair was pulled up and out of your face, leaving nothing to hide behind. 

‘You look lovely, miss,’ your maid said with a kind smile as she put the final pin in your hair. 

‘Thank you, Claire.’ You muttered, noticing the saddened sympathy enveloping her features as she knew like no other how much you detested everything about what you were about to go through. ‘Have you got any advice? On how to endure it all?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ she shrugged, brushing something off your shoulder. ‘I suppose you could try making them uninterested in you, so they will want to leave sooner.’

‘That thought has crossed my mind,’ you admitted, ‘but I also do not want to put my entire family to shame.’ 

‘Of course, miss.’ Claire nodded. As she finished working on your presentation, you pondered over your possibilities. Indeed, presenting yourself as improper had been your first idea, and its appeal remained, but you were too afraid of the repercussions. If the gentlemen were to think of you as a lady without any manners, all it would do was put your upbringing up for question, something your parents did not deserve whatsoever. 

You also considered spreading gossip about the men coming to introduce themselves, which would scare your mother off them immediately, ensuring they were never to return by your parents’ preference. But it felt cruel to make up such lies. You were sure that in other circumstances, these were perfectly fine men. At this particular moment, you just happened to despise them and everything they stood for.

Perhaps the most appealing option was to simply not attend the audience. To run away and never to return… at least until the afternoon, once all the men had lost all their patience. But that would only cause you more trouble.

The ideas rolled around your head for the rest of the day, even once the suitors sat opposite you in the room. It was all incredibly dull, if not just mortifyingly humiliating, with your mother sitting only across the room, occupying herself with a book, or so it seemed because she most definitely was listening to the conversations attempted on your part.

‘So,’ as most of the dialogues began, the Lord whose name you already forgot spoke, clearing his throat, ‘I hear you read.’

‘Yes, ' you said, blinking to avoid staring too blankly at the wall behind the man, ignoring the balding patch atop his head. 

‘Grand,’ he smiled, somehow satisfied with your response already.

‘Do you… ride?’ you asked, hoping that at the least your mother heard your attempts at making a connection and would release you from this torment soon enough on the principle of your good sportsmanship.

‘No, God no, horses are far too beastly for my liking, unless we are speaking of the track, of course.’ The man scoffed, ‘However, I prefer more dignified activities, such as hunting.’ 

‘Of course, you do,’ you smiled, but the expression never reached your eyes. ‘What about chess? Do you play?’

‘I do not have the patience to commit to such silly games.’

Patience, you thought, or intelligence? And how ironic of him to speak of perseverance. You watched him take another small sandwich from the tea tray provided on a side table, which you were taught to ignore so as not to be observed as “gluttonous”. After all, no one wanted to marry a lady that ate all day. 

Considering that, you grabbed a plate and a piece of cake from the top of the tray and bit into it. The soft sponge melted on your tongue. In the meantime, you were asked a question, but you could not possibly answer with a mouthful of cake, could you? Once you had finished, you considered grabbing a second portion, but you could feel the judgmental look of your mother digging into the back of your head. 

You put the plate back down and your hands on your lap. 

‘I’m sorry, my lord, could you repeat the question, please. I fear I may have lost myself for a moment.’ And so, it continued. Thankfully, the man excused himself not long after, thanking you and your mama for the time, just for his seat to be replaced with someone else almost immediately. This time, the gentleman was significantly younger, with thick hair atop his head and charming eyes, but the second he spoke, you knew this would not reach much further than the comfort of this room. At the least, you did not see this relationship going any further than any of the other acquaintances you had made that day.

By lunchtime, you felt your eyes burning with fatigue, possibly caused by a constant suppression of tears. How much more could you possibly take of this torture?

‘Mr Elton was quite a charmer, was he not?’ Your mother commented as she sipped her tea. 

You suppressed your initial thought, rephrasing it to cause less offence, ‘He is too stubborn and self-centred. He barely let me speak a single word, too occupied by his own achievements to expect me to have any.’ 

‘Well, Lord Frankworth seemed to care very much for what you had to say.’ 

‘Only because he barely managed to string any thoughts together himself,’ you sighed. 

Your mother tightened her grip on the teacup before smiling. ‘Soon enough, we will find you a perfectly fine young man, dear. You just have to remain open-minded.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of, your next suitor should be here shortly.’ 

You did everything in your power not to groan at the announcement and instead nodded politely. ‘Who is it?’ 

‘Mr Harrington, the one your father was so keen on you meeting.’

‘Ah,’ yes, the American. The only thing that gave you some slight hope in the situation was that Mr Harrington had already spent plenty of time in the company of your father and brother Nicholas and had seemingly gained their blessing. But nothing could help you gain the energy to entertain yet another man with polite conversation. The sun had been beaming into the room since the early morning, only growing warmer and warmer, making the hairs at the small of your neck stick. 

‘Will you just excuse me for a moment, mother.’ You got up. 

‘Is something wrong?’ She looked suspicious but with a glint of worry in her eye. 

‘I am quite fine, just require some fresh air, I think,’ which was not entirely a lie.

‘Alright then, just make haste, child.’ Mr Harrington was on his way, after all. ‘We do not want to keep the man waiting.’ 

‘Of course not,’ you smiled, heading towards the door. When the large panels closed behind you, you picked up your skirt and ran toward the gardens. Your footsteps echoed through the corridors, and you caught several members of the house staff glancing your way with inquisitive looks. 

Ever since you could remember, the grounds around Ridlington Park had a fantastical power about them. It had been the turf on which you would spend countless childhood summer days playing games with your siblings, whether the competitive or imaginary type. But no matter what the six of you could think of, your favourite game would always remain Hide and Go Seek. The gardens were a perfect place for it, with endless nooks and crannies one could disappear into. It was nearly a giant maze, and you had mastered it from a very young age. Whilst most got lost between the shrubbery and flowers, you knew exactly where you had found yourself. 

There were plenty of hiding spots you enjoyed over the years, some that to this day remain a mystery to the rest of your family, but nonetheless, it was the stables you adored the most. It was a safe haven for you on many days, to the point that you had nearly become invisible to the staff working there. 

The stables were located in the far east corner of the grounds, and the walk towards it already cost more time than you had if you had ever planned on returning that quickly. Undeniably, there was a pinch of shame and guilt nipping at your heart towards the strange Mr Harrington, but that soon dissolved when you heard the neighing of Barley Sugar, a golden-brown mare you proudly called yours. A gift and result of a successful business trade made by your father years ago, the horse technically belonged to all of the Byrnwick children, as much as any of the other horses under the family’s possession, but the bond between you and that particular horse just turned out to be that much stronger. 

This was visible as soon as you entered the stable. Barley Sugar went wild at your presence, happily swinging her head from side to side. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ you grinned, petting the horse, who leaned into your touch immediately. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’

But your plans were quickly interrupted by a voice. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ 

❀❀❀

An average sea voyage from the Americas to England should take approximately 16 days, considering the weather corresponds with the sails of the ship. During this journey, passengers would most likely endure days upon days of heavy and tall waves bashing across the ship’s sides, and that is to be expected in favourable conditions.

As Lord Byrnwick and his eldest had boarded the ship headed to London, the sky had been bright blue, and it did not change far beyond that. There was, of course, a risk for the two of them to sail across the world as they did, them being head of the family and its heir. A journey such as this one can go awry in many ways, and if it were not for the dangers of seafaring, there were the Anglo-American tensions to consider. After all, the previous year's war was still fresh in everyone’s mind, and one could not be careful enough when entertaining both sides. Luckily for the Byrnwicks, they were not of the superstitious kind, and good fortune had always seemed to be in the family’s favour up until the very moment they stepped on the boat to return home, many years beyond that. 

Ever the convivial one, the most considerable success of the trip, according to Lord Byrnwick, was not the business or diplomatic aspects of their ventures but the social. The man immensely enjoyed meeting other like-minded spirits from across the pond, and there had been plenty of fine nights at gentleman’s clubs spent over fine spirits and betting games, discussing all sorts of topics and exchanging information on all subjects. Promises were made to keep in touch whilst arrangements were made for more future meetings. It was only the polite thing to do. 

But aside from acquaintances and business partners, an addition to the household had also been made. Of some sort, that is, for it seemed that the two had found a new groom in America.

Now, Gentle Reader, do not conclude of the worst, as the groom we speak of is not the sort one is meant to meet at an altar but the kind who spends his days tending the horses and carriages. The young man, Mr Munson, had been doing precisely that when the Byrnwick heir stumbled upon his conveyance services in town, in dire need of transport for his regular means, which had already been occupied by his father for the day. It was an encounter by utter chance but certainly one with greater consequences. 

Several days later, coincidentally, a letter from London had arrived. Five pages long, each written by a member of the family recounting their most notable memories of the week. The children spoke of the ton's gossip and anecdotes of what occurred at home. Mother, however, took it upon herself to write of more important matters regarding the household. Many topics had to be discussed, but in the middle of her letter, there was mention of the unfortunate passing of the family’s barn manager, Mr Falstipp. It was an unexpected death, leaving the entire house in shock as the man had been working for the family for longer than the children had been alive. But it also resulted in the question of what was to be done now? 

It was likely only because the interaction had been so fresh in his mind that Nicholas suggested finding a replacement for Mr Falstipp here in America. This was an unusual offer, as his father commented, especially since they would not leave for home until another few days, but that was to be resolved by having the footmen take care of the horses for the time being. Besides, Nicholas was sure his siblings would be more than happy to help with the chores. 

The next day, he returned to the public stables and immediately noted how much cleaner they seemed than any other in town. The horses also looked exceptionally well taken care of and content. 

Mr Munson had just been feeding a colt when Nicholas eagerly announced, ‘Mr Munson, may I offer you a proposition?’ 

This, to no surprise, startled the other man for various reasons. ‘Sir?’ 

‘This must be a peculiar request, but you see, as of recently, my family has found itself in need of a new stablehand and from what I have seen you do, you, sir, would be the perfect candidate.’ Nicholas had the smile of a man losing his sanity, but his words could not be more genuine. 

‘Your family—’ Munson blinked, ‘you mean in London.’

‘Yes, and I understand that this might be a problem, but trust me when I say that you will most certainly find England to your liking, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ 

‘As you wish,’ Nicholas agreed. 

Eddie pondered over the offer for a short moment. It would have taken him no time to decide if it was not for what he was to leave behind, but he knew that his current employer would be able to find his replacement in no time, as jobs in town were hard to come by. 

But what must have been even more challenging to obtain was a ticket out of the wasteland he called home. For years, he had dreamt of an escape, never imagining it to be possible, and suddenly, here comes this stranger offering it to him on a silver platter. 

It would be terrifying to move so far away, he knew that, with many risks, but the further away he could manage to go from where he was now, the better. 

Eventually, after a minute of silence that left Nicholas restless and on the verge of embarrassment, Eddie smiled: ‘It would be my pleasure to work for you, sir.’ And he had meant that wholeheartedly. While it had only been a short few interactions that he had had with the man, the young Mr Byrnwick had already shown Eddie far more kindness than any of his prior employers, or any other man in his life, for a fact. Most importantly, the man knew nothing about Eddie’s past, which must have been the biggest selling point in the life-changing choice. 

‘Marvelous. You will not regret this, Eddie.’ Nicholas leaned in to shake his hand, only to realise that Eddie was still carrying the giant bucket of feed. ‘Well, we shall finalise everything on the boat, shall we?’ And so they did. 

A week later, Eddie found himself still in shock at his circumstances. He could not believe he was really to be leaving for England until the moment he set foot on the boat, and even once the sails had set and the American coast was nothing but a grim line on the horizon, the fact did not seem to settle in his mind just yet. 

Over the next 16 days, he had encountered the Byrnwicks only a handful of times. First, to meet Lord Byrnwick who, as head of the household, wanted a final say on the matter. A bit late, thought  Eddie, as the boat had long departed the harbour by then, but his ticket had already been paid for, and thus, he had little else to complain about. He had quickly made peace with the idea that he could make his new life across the ocean work no matter the circumstances. He had done it before, so what is one more homeless night under a new sky?

But the lord seemed all too happy to have found his staff replacement. Overall, the man was nothing like Eddie had expected a gentleman of English high society to be. From his previous experiences, the type often was rather conceited and arrogant, with a transparent opinion of anyone below their class. His new employer and his son, while undoubtedly lordly, had a modest nature about them. Quickly, Eddie had also gathered that the spontaneity with which Nicholas Byrnwick had called upon him for a job opportunity was not uncharacteristic of him, as the young man was rather energetic in his step and impulsive in his actions. 

But no matter how unassuming the men were, they did belong to a different rank of man and, therefore, stayed on the boat to the upper decks, engaging with the rest of their kind. 

The travel moved on slowly, but in the end, it was also a mere blink of an eye moment, and before he had realised it, Eddie had reached the shores of England. It was another day or two of travel to be done by horse. A carriage had been acquired for Nicholas and his father, but Eddie and the rest of the staff that travelled with the family for their adventure rode on horseback. No matter how much Eddie enjoyed the form of transportation, it was a tiring experience after several hours, but it also allowed him to meet the people he was to work with and, through that, those he would work for. 

‘So, what is the rest of the family like,’ he asked Mr Trowbridge, the lord’s valet. If there was anyone who could tell Eddie something, it would be this man. 

‘Well,’ Mr Trowbridge had a particularly nasal tone about his voice that especially came forward at the beginning of his sentences, ‘I do not believe there is much to tell. They are as any other family, really.’ 

‘My good man, you can hardly expect me to believe there is nothing worth telling about these people,’ Eddie laughed. ‘If it puts your mind at ease, I am only asking for the simplest facts—nothing to interest my fancy.’

The valet pondered over this for a moment. ‘Very well. You have, of course, met the Viscount and his eldest.’ He took a moment for Eddie to respond with a nod in agreement. He then took another moment to consider his following words. The longer he took, the more keen Eddie felt to suggest what to speak of. 

‘What about Lady Byrnwick?’

‘Lady Byrnwick is most amiable and has a very caring character, but you will not find her in the stables often unless she is searching for her children.’

‘Not fond of horses, is she?’

‘Rather the outside—-’ Trowbridge cleared his hair vigorously. ‘In the sense that the sun and pollen often leave her poorly. But the children…’ he punctuated his half-sentence with a heavy sigh. 

‘They are a handful?’ Eddie assumed. To this, Trowbridge searched for another description but found himself lacking the vocabulary, leading to a confirmation. 

‘I have worked for this family for nearly three decades, and I will assure you that each member is as proper a member of society as the next. While boisterous, they have been taught to be independent individuals.’ The valet's tone made Eddie consider how much of their good decorum was in gratitude for the man’s own intervention and guidance. 

‘At 27 years, Nicholas is the eldest, and the responsibilities of this role are one of the few aspects of his life which he takes seriously, I cannot put any doubt behind that.’ Indeed, whilst extremely impetuous, the heir’s son also understood the duties of his position and towards his family. 

‘Then there is Christopher. The boy has immense athletic abilities but not much beyond that. For a young man of his age of five and twenty, one would assume he would be able to compose himself with a bit more propriety, but it is very difficult for him. He is adventurous and rarely can sit still for an extended period of time, including his mouth. It is suggested that people be careful of what they say around the man.

‘The eldest daughter, Annabelle, married just before we had departed for America, thus is now the lady of her own house.’ Something in his tone suggested he was sad to see the young woman leave home. This possibly has to do with the fact that Miss Annabelle (Now known as Duchess Annabelle Ramsbury) was the most dutiful and respectful of the six children. ‘The marriage had been long overdue as she had just turned 22 on the day of the ceremony, but a love match was found nonetheless.’ The valet guffawed with pride. It was clear to Eddie that, while considering them a nuisance, the man cared deeply for the family he served.

‘I must admit, Trowbridge,’ Eddie chuckled in this horse’s trot pattern over the uneven paths. ‘When you began speaking of the family, I had imagined the children to be… well, children.’

‘How old are you, Munson?’ Trowbridge asked, somewhat bluntly. 

‘Twenty, sir.’ Perhaps closer to his next birthday than the last.

‘Ah, just the age of the second daughter then,’ he nodded in agreement. ‘She may perhaps be the most… rebellious of the kin. It is all in good spirit, as you must imagine, and I am sure the interest in such nonsense will dwindle as she matures. She is also the most fond of the family horses; thus, you will see her quite often, I expect. But as her sibling, she has mastered the care for the animals as well as the equipment.’ 

As he spoke of your skills, something about Trowbridge's expression communicated particular dismay to Eddie. ‘Is that bad? For a young woman to know how to carry herself around a horse?’ He, for one, certainly did not see a problem in it. On the contrary, it was an instrumental skill to develop for anyone. 

‘It is not exactly lady-like, is it?’ Trowbridge spoke as if that was the only relevant argument on the matter. Eddie had learned from a very young age that some opinions were better left unsaid, and seeing him as the senior in age and position, Eddie thought it unwise to argue with the valet on his first official day of employment. He instead simply nodded in understanding. Instead, he opted to continue the civil interrogation—

‘What of the youngest two? What are they like?’

‘Fitzwilliam is a dapper fellow. He is but seventeen, but very accomplished, though I cannot say he knows how to put his acquired skills to good use. He has ambitions that cannot be denied; it is just a question of whether these ambitions can ever be met. 

‘And lastly, we have Miss Marjorie. A darling girl, I assure you,’ Trowbridge stated. I can only suggest not letting her size fool you, Munson. She has managed to wrap her family around her little fingers the moment she learned to mumble a word, leaving her to cause quite the ruckus for the past eleven years.’ 

‘I do not see how that involves me, Sir,’ Eddie said. By this time, the sun had begun to set over the fields they passed, and soon, the company would break for their overnight travels at a nearby inn. 

‘It had come to my attention over the years that Mr Falstipp–the previous groom, that is— had been quite lenient on the children and their usage of the horses. This has caused a number of incidents that I would rather not see a repetition of.’

‘Understood.’ 

‘I am unaware of your er– American customs,’ the valet began his lecture, ‘but you must also know that here, ladies are not to ride unaccompanied—something that has been protested in the family to no avail, but it is simply the procedure. There must always be a chaperone nearby to supervise, whether that is a senior member of the family or an entrusted member of the household.’ 

‘I do not expect to have gained that trust just yet,’ Eddie said earnestly.

‘But let us hope you will.’ The smile Trowbridge gave Eddie was kind at first glance, but the movement of his eyes that inspected him told an entirely different story. He knew he still had much to learn about navigating himself around the kinds of people that were the Byrnwicks, even those who worked for them. The moment he set foot on English soil, he knew it would be challenging to fit in if he ever planned to do so. 

The truth is that he did not plan such a change. For you see, Dear Reader, Mr Eddie Munson was also a radical. He did not believe in adapting to society, which was visible in his entire being. One can also imagine the struggle he had to endure when given a uniform to wear. Frankly, the ensemble did not differ much from how the man dressed himself before, but the simple fact that he was told to wear this particular set of clothing upset him severely. 

On the first day after his arrival at Ridlington Park, he had managed to justify himself out of dressing in the required clothing by claiming that the trousers were a smidgen too tight. Without another size available, he was told to wear the clothes on his back until the new, fitted attire arrived.

But the clothes did not even begin to reach the problem of the horses he was meant to care for. 

Turned out, while he had been given all sorts of warnings against the family, what Eddie should have been preparing for was the beasts that homed the stables. The stubborn animals would not let him touch them, and any attempts were met with angry stares and stomping of the hooves. 

‘Easy, there,’ Eddie spoke as softly as he could, taking small steps in any direction that would not enrage the stallion whom he was currently attempting to feed. White Liquorice, a white Arabian, was undoubtedly an animal worthy of a viscount, and from the moment he had stepped into the Ridlington Park stables, Eddie knew that the Kentucky Saddlers and Quarter Horses he grew up with were no match for these and he would quickly have to learn to get on with them if he was to stay here. 

Yes, the first days were hard, but not even one week later, he had gotten used to the rhythm of operations. It helped that, working as the barn manager, he was the one in charge and mostly left alone. Mr Trowbridge had visited him to ensure he was adjusting to the new working conditions, which was kind, but besides that, Eddie rarely saw anyone but footmen requesting the carriage to be prepared for the family. 

That is until one afternoon when he heard the doors open and someone walking inside. He had been around the corner of the stables, cleaning some grooming tools. 

‘Oh, we can both use an escape, I see,’ he heard the intruder speak. It was soft and gentle, most likely referring to one of the horses. Immediately, Eddie was reminded of one of the conversations shared with Lord Byrnwick’s valet. He swiftly got up from his seat and immediately found the culprit. 

He watched you pet one of the horses—Barley Sugar, was it—-petting her in a way he had not yet managed to do confidently. ‘How about I get you out of here, hmm?’ These words triggered him to jump into action. 

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am.’ He stepped forward, but his words startled you, causing you to turn around. As you did so, your foot got caught in an old set of bridles Eddie had still planned on detangling and putting away. The surprise coming with the unexpected presence of someone else, combined with the awkward position of your foot, led you to fall over with a shriek. 

Eddie cursed under his breath as he watched you huff on the ground. ‘Let me help you,’ he extended his hand to you, ‘and my apologies, it was not my intent to—’ 

‘Who are you?’ you said in a tone that could only be deemed skittish, if not directly fearful, but not enough to deny his offer to help you stand. Your reaction was validated as you had never met the man standing before you. You eyed him up and down, and the more details you noticed, the more you were sure that you had just stumbled upon a robbery, nay, a kidnapping. 

The man's presentation spoke for itself, truly. His long hair was dark and unkept, well over his shoulders. His clothes were nothing like the workers around your house were meant to dress like, making him stick out like a very sore thumb. The trousers were old and worn, and the shirt was loose over his upper body, revealing—oh god, was that a tattoo?

It was clear this is how you were to die.

‘Are you here to steal my horses?’ you blurted out before you could think. 

‘What?’ He blinked. ‘No, please, listen—’ but you did no such thing. Instead, you did the only thing a lady in distress could do. 

You screamed bloody murder. 

‘Help! Anyone! Help—’  you would have kept on going, shouting over his attempt at reason until he finally shut you up by placing his hand over your mouth, his other hand sturdily over your upper arm. The two of you stood there for a moment, chests both heaving in all forms of panic, listening for footsteps or any other presence, but the only sound was the soft breathing of the animals around you. 

‘I will let go now, miss,’ Eddie said slowly. Both your eyes were wide from the uncultivated situation that had just occurred. ‘And I will explain everything to you, just, please—and I beg you— do not scream.’ You nodded your head beneath his palm in agreement. Eddie counted to three as he stepped back and finally let go of you. Despite him never blocking your airways, you inhaled deeply. 

‘There is absolutely no reason to panic, ma’am.’ His accent was distant, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. His eyes, large and dark, locked you in, almost making you lose count of the lingering feeling of his hands on your body. He had given you a moment before he continued speaking, ensuring that you would not resume your screaming or make a run for it.

‘What is your reason of being here?’ You inquired. 

‘I work here. Have been, for the past week. I think it was your brother, in fact, that gave me the position. We met on his travels.’ 

Now, come to think of it, you remembered your family's conversation on the day your father and brother returned. There had been talk of new staff—a young man they had brought along with them from America as an official replacement for the late Mr Falstipp. But that did not explain his attire. 

‘You could be fired for breaking the dress code alone, you know. Not to mention for the, uhm, actions you had just performed.’ You commented.

‘Well, you can always report me, miss.’ Eddie, against all his better judgement, smiled. 

‘Maybe I should.’ Your heart was still pounding, and you felt so disoriented that even a simple smile made your head spin. ‘What is your name?’

‘Eddie.’

‘Well, Mr Eddie—’ you began, just to be quickly interrupted.

‘No, just Eddie.’ Eddie shook his head.

‘What do you mean? Do you have no family name?’ You had heard of men bringing in street urchins to work for them, but surely, this man was too old for such charity. And you could not imagine your brother to perform such acts of kindness anyway.

‘I do.’ His smile only widened in amusement at the conversation. ‘Eddie Munson.’

‘My, is it usual in America to introduce oneself like that?’ Never had you heard of a man introducing himself by only his first name, let alone a byname. 

‘It is usual to me,’ he quipped, ‘And it is more common than not introducing yourself at all.’ The way in which he looked up at you from under his lashes felt accusatory, but you could not find it within you to be upset at the critique, so you gave him your name instead. 

‘Pleasure to meet you, Miss Byrnwick.’ He gave you a small, polite bow that reminded you more of how children play Lord and Lady rather than a gentlemanly act. Next thing you knew, a smile was pulling at the corner of your lips, and a small giggle was ready to escape. 

For some reason, you hesitated to say your following words: ‘It is a pleasure, Mr Munson.’

‘Please, call me Eddie.’ While always respecting the titles of others, Eddie never saw himself as one to follow such formalities. 

‘That is most improper.’ You held back the urge to scoff. 

‘But I insist.’ There was something in the corner of his eye that you managed to catch a glimpse of—this spark that no sunlight or fire could match. It was pure mischief, a spirit of chaos. But still, to call a man you barely knew by his first name was simply not right. Your family may jest as they please about your rebelling attitude to primitive customs, but you had to admit that some things ought to be done in a proper manner. And this was certainly not it. 

However, Mr Munson saw it in another light but did not find enough of an interest in the subject enough to argue it further. Rather, he cleared his throat briefly and observed you for a moment. 

How silly you must look in your fancy dress! Your hair was done up to match, and your shoes were most likely covered in mud. There was also no doubt that he had overheard you talking to your horse about running away. You had good faith that he could connect the pieces to form the complete picture. 

A bird flew past a window, making you glance past Eddie’s shoulder in haste. 

‘I hope I am not keeping you from any other plans, miss?’ He finally asked. Could you be so bold as to admit that he was saving you from other commitments by conversing with you?

‘No, of course, not Mr Munson,’ you persisted. ‘I am simply cautious.’ Come to think of it, your screams must have been heard all around the grounds. If those who heard, in turn, had an ounce of common sense amongst them, they would have called for someone in the house. If that was the case, your mother would be here momentarily, and then it was back to the house for you. All you could do now was hide. 

‘May I ask what are you being cautious of?’ Eddie followed you with his eyes as you walked through the stables, looking for a hiding spot. 

‘If you must know, I am currently on the run,’ you stated while looking over a haystack in the far corner. 

‘Ah, so whilst you had accused me of being a criminal, it was you who had been committing the crimes then? Should I now scream for help?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, ' you said, attempting to climb the hay to get past it. ‘I have already brought much too much attention to myself.’ Your foot slipped, making you tumble back down to the ground. The accident made you stop for a moment before attempting to climb again, looking over your shoulder at the man. ‘Are you not going to even try and stop me?’ 

‘Oh,’ it was as if he had awakened from a deep thought or had just realised that what you suggested was exactly what he ought to do. ‘Well, would you listen if I told you not to climb up there?’ 

You pondered his question for a short moment. ‘No, I highly doubt it.’ Thus, you resumed your climbing. As you did, you heard the shuffling of his feet behind you. The next time you slipped up, this time from a far higher distance, he had been in precisely the right place to catch you in his arms. 

‘I cannot assure you I will be able to catch you once more, so it is in good conscience that I suggest you stop, ma’am,’ he said as you got back to your feet. 

‘You are right,’ you admitted. Then you realised just how close the two of you stood and quickly occupied yourself by looking for another hiding place. That is when you noticed it. You had spent years in this stable and knew every inch of the space, yet… ‘Have you moved things around?’ You looked back at Eddie. 

‘Only a little. I’m afraid my predecessor did not have a flair for organisation,’ he explained.

‘That may be so, but I would prefer you would put things back as they were.’ 

‘Excuse me?’ Eddie could not help but laugh at the demand.

‘Your new floor plan has completely disoriented me, ' you admitted. ‘It is unbecoming.’

‘My apologies. I will be sure to put things back as they were, then.’ His laugh still echoed his words.

You had not expected him to actually agree to this request. ‘You will?’ But quickly, you regained your composure and tried to hide the surprise in your voice. ‘Very well, thank you. Then, since you have discarded all of my possible hiding locations, what do you suggest I should do?’ 

‘I suggest you run.’ But it was not Eddie who had answered you. 

‘Mother, ' you gasped. What was it, in God’s good name, with everyone sneaking up on you today? Lady Byrnwick stood at the threshold of the stables with her arms crossed. Her lips tightened into a thin line as she took a step inside. You prepared yourself for a disciplinary outburst, but instead, your mother focused on the man standing next to you. 

‘You must be Mr Munson.’ The kindness in her voice was laughable. The overcompensation of her kindness threw both you and Eddie off. 

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ You noticed that he bowed his head in a much more orderly fashion than he had done to you. 

‘I hope my daughter has not been too much of a nuisance.’ 

‘Not at all.’ Eddie politely replied. 

‘Good, good. Well, I can already see that my son did a good job in finding you,’ she stated as she looked around the retouched interior. ‘And I hope that you will grow to enjoy England.’

‘I’ve had nothing to complain of yet.’ Eddie proudly said with that smile of his, and for a moment, you thought to have caught his eyes on you for just a second. Your mother nodded along with his words in satisfaction, but this cheeriness dissipated as soon as she directed herself to you. 

‘Has your headache cleared, dear?’ Her eyes were spitting fire. 

‘Yes, mother.’ 

‘Then we will be on our way.’ She stepped aside, giving you room to walk outside. ‘Goodbye, Mr Munson.’ Eddie had become the unintentional victim of the venom that perferred your mother's words. 

He was polite enough to look away as you made your shameful walk through the aisle between the horses’ stalls, but you couldn’t help but look behind you one final time as you left and catch his favourable grin. What a peculiar man he was, indeed—one whose presence you immediately began to miss. 

Perhaps that was because of the company you were in at the time. 

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ Your mother scowled. ‘Mr Harrington has been waiting for well over half an hour.’

‘He is still here?’ You stopped in your tracks. This day could not have gone any worse. It seemed like everything you had been doing was working in your favour.

‘Yes, so you better come up with a clever excuse for your tardiness as I will not be embarrassed any longer. I swear, have you no shame?’

‘I am truly sorry mother, I had lost track of the time.’

‘Doing what exactly? What were you doing in the stables, exactly? Considering you had told me you were going out for some fresh air.’ Yes, the air around the horses was not exactly to be called “fresh.” 

Unfortunately, you had no satisfying answer to any of your mother’s questions. Come to it, you yourself were unsure what exactly had brought you there in the first place, not to mention what made you stay. It must have been a sense of child-like naivete to think you could hide from your problems the way you attempted. 

Problems that were coming closer as Mr Harrington walked towards you through the aisle of hyacinths that grew all around you in various colours. 

‘What is he doing here?’ you mumbled towards your mother.

‘Considering the lovely weather, I had offered for us to sit out in the gardens.’ Your mother spoke out loud. That is when you noticed the set table and chairs under a large parasol on the patio. 

‘I hope you do not mind. I took the initiative of taking a stroll in your absence.’ Mr Harrington spoke in a cadence that would have been new to you if not for the fact that you had spent the last hour in the presence of a very similar tone. 

‘Of course, not,’ your mother had regained her ability to smile. ‘May I introduce my daughter.’ And so she did. 

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. I completely lost track of time.’ You apologised and were ready to offer your hand to Mr Harrington when you noticed how filthy your gloves had become. In a panic, you pushed both your hands behind your back, trying to distract the man with a wide grin.

‘The important thing is that we are all here now,’ he manoeuvred, which you could not help but agree with, then led you to the patio. 

The next hour went by faster than you had ever imagined it would. Mr Steve Harrington turned out to be not only a great conversationalist but a rather fascinating one at that. It was only a fault of your own that you were distracted for a larger part of the conversation. There was simply something about the man’s brown eyes that constantly reminded you of somewhere else. He was very charming and, abiding by your brother’s promises, had a great, though perhaps somewhat awkward, wit. It seemed that his confidence, once clearly overt, had been lowered, causing him to stumble over his words at times and laugh at his own mistakes in a deprecating manner, but never enough to make it a bother in your eyes. Truly, it was all rather endearing.

But you could not, for the life of you, figure out what exactly caused these fumblings in his character, as nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with the man. Though you did not see him as an academic or scholar of any sort, from the way he spoke, you could tell he was one of the more clever men you had the fortune of meeting. And his looks were certainly no topic of discussion either. He was tall and lean, with a wonderful smile and soft brown hair that apparently was more common than imagined, as were those dark eyes and the way he held you in his arms—

You took a sip of the cold water as Mr Harrington expressed his gratitude to your mother for the audience and made sure the message would be conveyed to Lord Byrnwick, too. You nodded and smiled along. Even when he bid you farewell and bowed his head, your mind was elsewhere. As if expecting something to emerge from behind the hyacinths, you could not help but glance in the Eastern direction of the gardens. 

‘See, it was not all that bad, was it?’ your mother immediately said, pulling you back to the patio. By then, Mr Harrington had excused himself and was crossing the patio to the exit from the grounds but had turned briefly for a final goodbye, which you met with a polite wave. 

‘No, I suppose you are right, mother.’ You had persevered against all odds. As you watched the gentleman leave, you felt quite content with the meeting—happy, some would even say. The only problem was that you could not make quite clear what, or rather, who brought on this particular mood.

Chapter 2

Thank you so much for reading!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember the best way to support writers is to reblog and share. I love to hear what people think of my stories so feel free to leave a comment or an ask or message.

[sseniita]

hero vs domesticity

part 1

Hero’s search for a new hobby had been extensively efficient, just like her. The villain was glad the hero kept busy and over time the late night talks and flirty banter of their ‘nemesis’ days came back organically, albeit with some unforeseen circumstance, seeing as there is no longer any conflict of interest between the two. It started with the hero and her constant showering of gifts and services. When he came home dinner would be served and hero would be close by finishing up a painting, reading a book, or perhaps even baking something sweet for dessert. She’d do chores around the house, and offer the villain little favors here and there. The villain was beginning to expect the hero constantly at his side whether it be watching a movie or reading on the couch together. This notion of comfort was replaced by an intriguing anxiety when hero’s pastries began showcasing hearts and she began to dye her flour pinks and reds. Her paintings slowly morphed into things that oddly resembled the villain and she began reading Jane Austen. That's when it hit the villain- the hero hadn’t left the house in almost 3 weeks and might be getting cabin fever- also hero might be his best and only friend. 

He lingered on his thoughts for a minute. Hero was truly their only friend. They stopped trying to kill each other long ago, opting for scheduled ‘fights’ on top of buildings, in which the hero would bring the drinks and villain the snacks. Perhaps that’s why this felt so natural, why they had gotten used to it so quickly. He had always closed people out, worked alone, and didn’t have time for trivial friendships. But somehow the Hero latched on and wouldn’t let go. He glanced at her, across the couch biting her thumb, colour on her cheeks. Villain had finally got her some clothes, so now she sat in a cosy crewneck and loose jeans. Her hair was tied up with an elastic used to wrap up blueprints and evil schemes, and her face was intent on finishing her chapter. She was comfortable. She looked perfect. Perhaps she always was, and perhaps the villain always thought she was too. 

They were conflicting feelings at best. In the past, he’d drown any and all feelings immediately without even naming them but now they were inclined to explore and willing to learn, just as they had been for the last few weeks. He could feel the unfamiliar sense of burning on his cheeks. 

“It’s Christmas next week.” 

The villain realised he’d been rereading the same sentence of his book and looked up at the hero, cosy with the pillow on her lap holding her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

 “Pardon?” he blurted out. 

“It’s the 18th. I wasn’t gonna say anything but I thought- if you want of course- we could put up a tree? We’re the only house on the street without Christmas lights too.” The hero looked shy. 

“Oh. I see. Um, it’s been a while since I celebrated it actually.”

“Really?” The hero looked more shocked than appropriate. Having pictured an idyllic life, that heavily implied Christmas. The villain shrugged. 

 “I don’t have any family close by and well, seems like extra effort I didn’t want to put up with.” 

“Oh…” The hero slowly shifted herself back to her book disappointedly. Villain didn’t give her the chance to shoot her famous puppy eyes. 

“But- you’re here. We could get a tree? If you help me out, we can put the lights up.” After hearing that it didn’t seem necessary with the way the hero lit up. 

The villain didn’t want to waste any time on getting the hero out of the house for a while, he lent her a jacket, the biggest scarf he could find, and they went out to pick up a tree. Villain shot a look at his neighbours’ silent, teasing looks at hero as he held the passenger door open for her, he reminded himself he hasn't brought a girl over to his place since his university days. He then reminded himself he wasn’t 12 and got in the car. 

It seemed something about a car ride made the hero really open up. Nothing the villain hadn’t anticipated, she was nervous about making other friends, getting a job and was starting to feel like a burden. 

“A burden? You cook me food everyday and cupcakes once a week.” Villain noticed both the hero and him were getting a bit softer- he smiled. 

“Well ya. But I use your water, heat, electricity-”

“Since when is a favor required to be paid back?”

“We're enemies-”

“Last I checked you’re retired, name.” The villain had started calling hero by her birth name after he fished it out of her. Normally he referred to her as her hero name or any other pet name that made hero red with embarrassment, the exact same red that appeared when Mr.Darcy said his speech in the latest chapter she read. 

The hero would be lying if she didn’t feel a pang of guilt knowing she was living cozy and taken care of when there were people that needed help. Every time she heard police sirens she stood up and walked over to snoop through the windows. She made sure not to leave the house knowing she wouldn't be able to control herself and dive into action the first chance she got. The guilt got worse when she realised she didn’t want to go back- if it were up to her she’d stay in the villain’s guestroom forever- she quickly dissolved that thought regardless of the longing stares, lingering hands on her arm or shoulder when the stood too close together, and the way he’d only eat the baked treats that had little hearts on them. Hero assumed she was going insane.  “I guess you’re right...” The hero hadn’t gotten the courage to refer to the villain by his name even if he told her it the first night she moved in. “...name.”

part 3

[writingmochi]

cast: beomgyu ✗ fem.reader (ft. billlie’s haram and stayc’s sieun)

synopsis: a girl, a folktale, a boy, and a shifting reality

genre: psychological horror, folktale retelling, thriller, slow burn, drama, historical au, nobility au, regency au, medieval au, rich kid au, fantasy au, angst, fluff, a bit comedic in some parts

based on: folk tale cinderella with inspirations from video game omori (2020) and movie everything everywhere all at once (2022)

word count: 18748 (18.7k)

warning(s): unreality! (be very careful!!), child negligence, anxiety-inducing, mental breakdown, discrimination, suffocation (warning for claustrophobics !) implicit violence (no detail), a bit of suicidal tendency, a tiny bit suggestive, will be very meta in some parts, fast pace flow that might give you whiplash, unique stylistic choices (ever-changing typeface fonts and colors), slow first act that i shred into pieces as fast as lightning :] (if i forgot some, let me know!)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction also do be careful and read the warnings at the top + (y/f/n) = your full name. i swear i didn’t intend for this one-shot to be this long but i guess it is necessary since i wanna pull out the rug under y’all :D this one-shot is a part of the happily never after collab hosted by @soobisms and @svhnflwr so do check the other works too!! thank you so much for letting me participate in this spooky collab !!

an atmospheric playlist!!

a small local cinema stood in between a hardware store and a pet shop. signs hanging outside with lights fluttering in and out of liveliness because of broken wires beneath them.

from the outside of the glass doors, you’re visible. leaning against a counter you stood behind, an open book of pride and prejudice by jane austen in your hand rested on top of it. you wore a white shirt tucked behind a dark blue apron. the smell of popcorn cooking in the popcorn machine behind you fills the room. the theatre's door was open, but no one came in or out. no other person besides you in the small building. a small family business your father made before passing away, leaving you with your stepmother and stepsisters who don’t understand your father’s aim in creating an independent cinema. always striving to look the best while running the family’s savings out and making your household more and more in debt because of their credit cards and their low credit scores.

your father was a filmmaker, an indie filmmaker who hasn’t reached his stardom when the grim ripper took him away too young. well, it took both of your parents too young.

you were born into a family of people thinking outside of the box, your parents both practice art in their different ways, your father is the art of the visual while your mother is the art of the numbers which includes being the financing hold of the cinema you stood in today. they met during their college years and their love of stories persists to you. you always thought it’s hereditary, your love of stories, cause nurture isn’t enough to produce such love. that love holds onto you as you remembered reading to your mother your first ever story you made for a story competition for school at her deathbed when you were 8 years old. how she was always the one that tells you a story before sleeping. but because of the condition, you’ve grown up to replace her role while she becomes yours. you go back to your room in the empty house and you leave her to sleep. father is still at the cinema serving his collection of indie and old films that night, not being by her side on their shared bed. she didn’t wake up in the morning.

you’re a tough girl who has the resilience of your mother, ready to grow up without one. but your father disagrees and marries his then-middle school lover who has two daughters older than you but around the same age. he still took the cinema job seriously, and still has employees working under him while he travels away to film festivals or shoots at exotic places as his job as a filmmaker. the days when he’s gone, your stepmother and stepsisters treat you in whatever they want to treat you.

one day, father traveled to a mountainous place with waterfalls and valleys around it near the end of your middle school era. father brushes the skin below your eyes before he goes, reminiscing about how the love of his life also has dark circles resembling yours because of working too hard. he promised to bring back home footage of them and the unedited movie to you. but, he didn’t come back. all the cast and crew of the movie, along with the passengers on the airplane, got swept by the wave in the ocean, never to be found.

the will come out and all of them settled that as your stepmother is his wife, she will inherit the house and his savings. but what the lawyer gave tween you was a certificate of the cinema your biological parents built, your name written on it as the inheritor. you felt sorry that you have to let the employees know your father passed away and have to let them go for financial reasons, but the staff treats you with kindness, and almost familial love as if you are their own younger sibling who also loves cinema and untold stories as they do. your stepmother and stepsisters cannot touch nor change the cinema because they have to come to you first. you won’t let it go as it’s the only piece of your parents’ legacy in the world other than yourself.

other than taking care of a small local cinema in a one-man show, your love of stories got you to study literature. books and other forms of media are escapism for you and your parents. they showed you spielberg‘s movies like e.t. since young to grow your imagination of having an extraterrestrial friend or the sound of music when you first see julie andrews on the screen, singing in the meadow. your parents give you children’s books since you were young and you remember by the time you’re in high school, home life was a nightmare that the school library becomes your second home, going home late after class to have more time to escape rather than facing the reality of your stepmother and young adult stepsisters—not like they care you were home or not. you use the money you got from the percentage of inheritance from your father and use it to pay for your early years’ tuition for university studying literature. and you continue your parents’ dream of introducing cinema to people, sharing stories more down-to-earth than those blockbusters in the other theaters.

holding your classic novel close to your chest, you sit in your class today in your oversized, dull-looking outfit. other students around you panic as they pull out their book review from a task given by your lecturer last week while you already gave yours two days ago. you lean back in your seat as the lecturer lectures about this week’s topic, folk tales.

“we know folk tale as a story so simple that it is interpreted as fairytales for children. however, folk tale is more than that.” the lecturer speaks at the front, and the lights from the projector above them shine down on the screen behind them who is walking whilst talking.

“folk tale is a tale of folklore. folklore is an explicit way to show one’s culture and share it with other people. think of it as the greek tragedies we have learned about before, where they teach us about aspects of life and nature through the challenges faced by gods and men. folklore is like that but purely made by humans to show one’s expression and one’s belief. it is shown through proverbs, legends, and what we are learning today: folk tales.”

you’ve known folk tales before from the children’s books you’ve read that might be too harsh to tell children. maybe because you read the brothers grimm version, but you understand they make it scarier as a cautionary tale for the kids in their time since danger and risks are everywhere than today where technology can help prevent them. so when your lecturer told the class to pick one folktale to make a review of, your mind goes blank.

yet, deep down, you felt a certain story you want to choose. you have to write them down for the lecturer before anyone does.

you fast-walk to the lecturer who sits at the desk in front, a paper with written names of your classmates and the tale they picked beside it. you skim down the list, letting out a sigh of relief before you wrote the name of the folk tale.

cinderella.

closing the front doors of the small cinema, you meet the night sky of the town. you walk towards the bus stop, skyscrapers shining a few blocks down. your parents didn’t predict this but the cinema now rests near the area of wealthy people, where conglomerate lives and works at. the capitalist nature of them stranded the local business that is made by passionate people, in favor of something they are used to that costs much more than what you have. your eyes glance towards the passing apartment building you know children of conglomerates live to separate from their parents since it’s near the university you go to, while the bus you are in goes past it and towards the outskirts where the middle-low income lives.

after you put down your shoes outside the front door, you step inside your well-looking house with expensive pieces of furniture and the newest, trending tech devices. well, you went past it to climb to the second floor and to the end of the hallway where a doorknob exists if you look closely enough. the door's color camouflages with the surrounding wall. a creak coming from the door being open, you climb up and arrive at the rooftop of the house, a little nook in the attic for a hermit like you.

you set down your bag as you grab your sleeping clothes before going back down to the bathroom at the back of the house which you’re allowed to use to clean and freshen yourself, hoping none of your sisters nor your mother wakes up right now. the cold water creates chills on your skin as it’s nearly an hour until midnight when you went home, you moved past the dirty kitchen with dirty dishes beside the sink, knowing the other people living in this house know you and your willingness to clean their mess—because you learned the hard way when you said no, the distinct sting forming on your cheek.

climbing back up to your attic, you open the laptop you own since the start of high school. you search for cinderella on wikipedia when you scroll to see different versions of them that existed in this world. from french to brothers grimm, to rodgers and hammerstein and disney. as you read the descriptions of them, they all told the same story.

specks of dust cover the corners of the attic as the candle you lit up flatters from the melting wax, the wick cannot hold more before you blow the flame away, a bit of the dust flung from your gush. the moon staring at you from outside of the window as you rest on the mattress on the floor, your eyes droop as your mind can only think one thing.

a girl with an awful family goes to a ball and meets a man. she left something behind so he could find her. all of them end the same, no matter light or dark, to earn a happily ever after.

-

something pecks the skin of your arm.

humming a low note, your eyelids open to a silhouette in front of you. a small creature right beside you.

you heard the chirping become more prominent as the silhouette fills up with color.

a blue bird tilts its head as it looks at you.

“oh, good morning,” you mumble before hearing more chirps around. that’s when you sit up on your bed and look to see the small critters you considered your friends.

“good morning to all of you.” the small critters climb up to your sheets and give a small hug to your covered calves, the birds leaning their feathered head to you while the rats’ small limbs give a ticklish sense that wakes you up. you view outside your small tower to find the sun has risen above the horizon before the muted sound of a bell ringing echoes down the stairs.

your body reacts as you prepare yourself for the day, telling the critters to help you in putting the ingredients for today’s breakfast in the kitchen. in contrast, you prepare yourself, changing from a sleeping gown to one of the abundance of white dresses you own for the outfits you wear every day. feet step down from the small tower that is your room and an inventory for your household, you meet the refreshing breeze and green scenery of the backyard of your estate. quickly, you grab the white apron of yours and start cooking for breakfast. your friends help you grab the ingredients while you cut them up, putting them all together as you make breakfast for the sweet tastebuds.

as you put the unfinished cake onto the large oven area of the kitchen, you flap the fire using a fan to increase its burn. but ashes come and stain your white outfit, though you are used to it by now. the grey of ash and dust with the smell of smoke is a thing that you and the people in the house associated with yourself. after finishing adjusting the fire, you pour the hot water into the teapot on the tray at the top of the wooden table along with the ceramic cups. your friends scrambling around the kitchen to help you put cutleries on the tray before the bell is ringing again, now clearer as it hangs beside the exit of the kitchen.

you lift the tray with both hands, mumbling a small “thank you” to the critters as you walk to the dining table from the dirty kitchen. you go through the house's hallways as carefully as you can and arrive at the dining table to see your stepmother on the edge of the dining table, looking imposingly at you coming.

“what took you so long?” her elegant voice calls to you as you set the three cups on her side and two sides beside her, pouring each of them their tea leaves and hot water.

“i’m making a chiffon cake for breakfast, mother.” your small voice sounded as you look to see the two empty seats beside her. it’s not weird for them to wake up later in the morning. so you spoke, “do you want me to wake them?”

“no, focus on breakfast.” mother said before sniffing the surrounding air, looking down at your grey-colored clothing because of the ash.

“oh ashfool. go back to the kitchen…” after giving a small nod, you return to your cooking. pulling out from the oven and putting the delicious chiffon cake that is your late mother’s recipe onto the large plate, fresh fruits and jams all around it with small plates to serve the delicacy. the rats that help you wash their hands with the drops of water from the tap before you return to the dining room to see that your stepsisters have woken up and sipped their tea.

“thank you, (y/n).” the younger of the sisters said in a nasally way as you put the contents on the tray to the dining table. meanwhile, the older gives a smug smile before you give a small nod and walk to the corner of the room where a chair sits. your designated chair.

your gaze moves from the women at the table to the interior of your childhood home. from the memories of your mind, you can remember being in that exact spot with your own father and mother: the earl and countess of the house and the land surrounding it. then, mother fell into an illness and passed away. father then remarries, making the house of the earl and his daughter into a home of an earl, a countess with two titles that she got from her deceased husband who is also an earl, and three ladies from two separate lineages, with you being the youngest. father died on his way home outside of the town known for the roses. he promised you a bouquet of it when he returns home, but he never did because his aide comes to your home and tells you the devastating news.

it is almost an instinct that when your father died, the other women start to ridicule you and not include you in affairs. even if your father remarry, he still had a soft spot towards you rather than his wife and stepdaughters—maybe because you are his blood and bone. you are also a lady in this home—the only lady of your house who is still alive, but they pushed your status down the river and make you the caretaker of the house instead, while they take advantage of the lands your family owns from your great-great-grandfather that are handed down by hereditary.

as you eat the leftover meal from yesterday’s dinner, you overhead the women at the table speaking about the upcoming debutante ball that is happening in a few days for the social season this year. many names of other gentlemen are mentioned, but not many do you recognize. the ones that you don’t. you heard your name being called by your older sister as you stood and walk towards them, seeing the leftover cake which earns you a small smile to know you can at least taste your cooking.

you tidy the cutleries up onto the tray when you picked up, “what about (y/n)?” as it comes out from the younger of the sisters. you always realized that although all of them behave cruelly towards you, she is much tamer than the other two. probably because she is calmer and a few years older than you, she sometimes considers you in their conversations.

“she’s also a lady. isn’t the more debutantes we have, the more chances we can get for a wealthy, high-status husband?” you paused your movement before turning around. you’ve always heard about the debutante ball and the social season, carriages of high-status people walking in and out from the path in your land to arrive at the balls that are organized for this season. your parents used to take you in those balls back when you were a child, remember the men and women older than you debut themselves so they can find suitors, getting you to meet the other children of earls, marquees, and dukes that you’ve now forgotten because of the isolation.

“no, she can’t join us.” mother speak in a stern voice. “i don’t want to take care of her card when i already have the two of you. besides, she is the caretaker of our home. you do know your position, right ashfool?” your head lifted as she talks to you. all the suppression you had for you to retaliate is rushing down your blood, but you perceive it as an unladylike feature.

“i do, mother.” you gulped down your saliva. feeling the tension released but sadness overcome your emotion as you missed the festivity you had as a child. bringing back to live your life as a hermit that you think even the people outside of this house don’t know that you exist. the name, maybe, but not your being.

“ooh, i want to request a rotisserie chicken for dinner tonight.” the older of the sisters said before you return to clean off the dust that accumulates in the house this morning after cleaning the plates. you give a small nod and left the women themselves. at once after turning the corner, you listen to their snickers as they talked about you and your dirty, ash-covered clothing, how you won’t be a debutante, and if you do, no one will ever recognize or approach you.

later in the afternoon, you pick up a basket by the door of the kitchen as you go to the front gate of your home to go to the marketplace in the middle of the town. you found out there is no chicken meat left at home and that you have to buy in the market far from where you are. closing the gate, you walk on the path and examine the large land of yours and your ancestor’s estate as you go past.

you remember hearing your father say to your mother how with land that size, they could teach you whatever they want. they always wanted to teach you how to ride a horse so it’s easier for you to travel than hire a carriage service. but, after your mother passed and stepmother replace her, she forbids the house to have a stable for horses as she doesn’t want her children to do such unladylike behavior. it was the only decision that she has included you in her consideration. other than that, she ignores you and belittles you behind your father’s back. instead, you took care of stray animals that are there ever since she passed. your actions of giving them food and not bothering them earn your little friends, as you liked to call them. you’ve always been able to understand animals and they seem to understand you too.

birds whose chirping you recognize follow behind you as you stride down the empty path for horses and carriages. you could sense the breeze blowing between the trees as you can get a small glimpse of a rooftop of a large building on the edge of the horizon. the royal family’s castle near the center of the town. you pass a few houses of other marquees, earls, and dukes that are scattered on the road when rustling came from the trees beside you. ears piqued as you turn your head to the side.

“easy…” you heard a low voice fading closer as the leaves and bushes shakes. body retreating towards the other edge of the road…

“AHH!”

gravity pulls you back as you discover the neighs of a horse that just burst out of the forest onto the dirt track. its front hooves rise before the horse falls on its legs erect, standing in front of you. you watch the rope being pulled from the side of the mane as a view of a figure sitting on the saddle, making the horse face the way you are going. a hand reaches for the mane, caressing it while they calm them down in almost a whisper with indistinct words.

you look up to see a man around your age in the brightest white shirt you’ve seen. the breeze blows as you try to get up, which makes his hair floats also. your grunts make his head incline towards you.

“oh!” he exclaimed. his short brown hair covered his forehead as you successfully stand up. from beneath the horse, you can see that a pair of legs landed before walking behind it. you view the man and your mind immediately thought about him being one of the sons of barons, earls, or dukes in this land. the finest man you have ever seen in a long time. even the aura of your father exudes from him, but more playful.

“are you alright?” the man said as you brushed your dress that has faded dirt stains on it.

“my apologies. rocky here got startled by a bird flying in front then he went off course.” you give a nod before looking at the horse who is staring at you, sadness in its eyes. you walk to the front and gently open your palm that is not holding the basket in front of its nose, which it sniffles before its ears moved to the side, giving a soothing gesture as it relaxes.

“i forgive you,” you spoke to the horse and then looked at the man who lets out a small smile. feeling the awkwardness in the air as you took glances at each other.

“i should go.” you give a small nod and turn your body toward the road.

“wait.” you paused in taking your first step. “are you going to walk to the end of the road?” the man’s questions make you face him again. his eyes show an apologetic look.

“i‘m visiting the marketplace.” you nudged your empty basket forward.

“let me bring you there, miss…”

“(y/n). my name is (y/n).” your vision looks at the horse, who is flinging its tail around as it listens to both of you conversing. you’ve never interacted with a stranger before, but him just openly asking you to let him bring you to your destination was something almost fictional. you can’t believe someone as nice could exist. the legs that are holding you up are tensing from the amount of walking as the fatigue spreads and now reaches your brain to signal.

“i- don’t you have any other destination you want to go to?”

“not really. i was riding around on rocky to sightsee. trying to find some freedom.” the man said as you took a closer step toward him.

“and how should i trust you, mister?”

“beomgyu.” the man said his name as he breathed out, making his shoulders slump in relaxation. beomgyu.

“mister beomgyu.” you give a nice small smile as you see his eyes widen before wandering around the frame of the forest he is in with you, supposedly thinking of something.

“i’ve already hurt you and i supposed this could help me repay it.” beomgyu voiced as he nods his head, letting himself trust his words. you hummed before you stare up at the saddle on the horse.

“i can say that i’m not that hurting but I would love it,” you replied to his request before he beams a smile toward you before you step closer to the horse’s body. as you try to figure out how to climb the horse with the basket, you tilt your head in confusion. that is when you felt a pull from it and something touches your shoulder. turning your head to find beomgyu behind you.

“let me help,” he speaks as he puts your basket on the ground. he guides you where to put your feet on the saddle and hands before putting his hands near your waist in case you fall as you heave up on the horse. your dress lifts until above your knee before you smooth it down, holding onto the back of the horse as you perceive it move slightly beneath you. beomgyu gives you your basket then does the same as he climbs to sit in front of you, giving a small command to rocky as the horse walks down the path.

“i’ve never heard of you before.” the man talks as his head turns towards you while you move closer so you can talk and he could understand you.

“well, i supposed you don’t need to,” you replied. beomgyu lets out a chuckle.

“someone as beautiful as you must have to be the talk of the town.” your eyes widen as your face gets warm from the blood flowing, nudging his arm playfully as giggles erupt from him.

“thank you, uh, i guess.”

“your guess is right.” he looks forward to the road as more of the rooftop of the castle is more visible than before. the marketplace near it is now closer than ever.

“the social season is upon us.” beomgyu breaks the silence.

“ah, yes.”

“if i haven’t seen you it means that you haven’t had your debut yet?” the man tilts his head as you can sense rocky’s behind getting jumpier than you like it, making you lean closer to him with your hand on his side, the basket pressing to your body.

“well, i haven’t and i don’t think of going this year.”

“why not?”

you let out a small smile, “i supposed it’s not my right to be there. i’m,” you shook your head. “i’m a child of nobody.” yet, you are a child of somebody, but the demeaning comments made by the lady in the house make consider as not one of them. sadly, no one cannot be by your side to defend you either.

“but i want to meet you there.” you lock into eye contact with him as your hand lands on his waist after moving the basket to rest on top of your thigh. you let out a small chuckle.

“that would not be necessary. i assume you are a child with influential parents, by the looks of you being able to own a horse, have to be there?”

“well, you got me.” you and he let out a giggle as you can now find more roads branching out from the road you are on. “my mother wants me to find a wife. i always ask her to wait but now with the ball, she seems as if she can’t wait any longer.”

“i do hope you find the right person.”

“but i want to be with you. especially right now. i rather be here with you than at that fancy ball. it is…” you can see beomgyu’s smile, making you lean closer and view the side of his face clearly as he turns to look forward. “i’ve never felt so free.”

his words resonated with you. this is the first time that you ever felt this free, walking outside to enjoy the scenery with someone who is feeling what you are too right now. beomgyu is a stranger to you, but what you are having with him is something more.

something familiar.

-

“another two mugs of beer, please.”

“coming.”

you grabbed the drying clean wooden mugs on the table and walk to the barrel that sits sideways, twisting the tap as the beverage pours out in a dash as the liquid becomes foamy. you see your friend, haram, navigate the aisle between the customer to place down each food sieun, your other friend, is making in the kitchen. haram walks past you as she goes to pick up other plates of dishes made, she points towards the table where the people who ordered sits. you walk and let out a smile on your face as you put the mugs down in front of the two men who are eating roast meat, their waves of laughter combined with the others in the tavern.

“thank you, beautiful.” one of them said as they give you flirty eyes. you give a nod and go back to your station behind the counter as fast as you can. you still can’t believe how your mother can keep up such manners and emotion for a long time while doing her work. so elegant yet meticulous at the same time.

your parents always love to cook and they created a tavern together. a small quaint tavern in the middle of town where anyone can be here to get away from any work they’re doing in the day. you grow up assessing the bustling business from both your father’s kitchen and mother’s counters, that is until she passed away from a dangerous plague you’ve also caught. you knew you wanted to say by her side for the longest time as you isolate yourself with her when you both caught the illness, even if it means leaving the world together at such a young age. but someone somewhere made a change of plan for you as you live to survive, watching your father marry a neighbor of his who is a widow with two daughters around your age.

back in your home, your father always loves to make new recipes for the family if he receives new ingredients from his farmer friends. but, your stepmother always dislikes what he does. she doesn’t enjoy seeing a man in the kitchen as she always told him to pursue a more ‘masculine’ career like sieun’s father, who is a blacksmith. his love of food persist until he died because the kingdom drafted him into a war with the neighboring kingdom. because he passed prematurely, the only one who can work for the tavern is you. since after you finished your education that you don’t have any work to do or any suitor for you, you invited both of your friends to work with you at the tavern.

you taught haram how to serve customers, being the person who can help her release her stress and emotions toward you. then you taught sieun your father’s recipe as she wants to be the cook—you know she can do her part perfectly when she told you about being near sharp objects and heat. you take the role that was your mother’s and the manager of the tavern altogether, still in contact with your father’s friends as suppliers for the business. it is weird to hear a woman as a business owner, but because haram’s mother, a dressmaker, also owns a business, she helps you in managing all these things.

your stepmother doesn’t enjoy seeing you succeed independently. so with the power of her being married to your father before he passed, she demands you to give 1/3 cut of the profit every month that was supposed to help in your supplies and making the tavern better. you cannot deny her as much as you want to because if you are, words of disgust will spread around you that if you cannot respect your parent, you cannot respect your customer either. ironically, she and her daughters can’t respect you even though they live in your father’s home and not theirs. as a result of that, you let yourself live in a spare room of the tavern as you don’t want to be connected to them once again. you don't want them to treat you like a servant when you return to your own house.

as you dry the clean mugs, eyes on the open space full of people where someone is playing the lute, the entrance opens as a cloaked figure comes in. the cloak is raggy, almost trailing the wooden floor and even though they’re inside, they aren’t dropping their hood. people who wore something similar to this are most of the time travelers or maybe fugitives, but it doesn’t matter to you as you are here trying to survive. voices muffled and the tunnel vision you got on the cloaked figure makes you didn’t aware of something slamming in front of you. you twist your head to the sound to catch a man mumbling his words, trying to enamor you for free beer. all you can do is shake your head and say “no” while furrowing your eyebrows. as fast as the air travels, you see a glint of light slice the air while finally noticing that he’s wearing armor on his figure, pointing his shortsword at you. a knight.

both of your hands raised as you step back, slamming your bosom against the cabinet behind you as the knight’s voice penetrates the air and even the melody of the lute at the back. you look at haram’s shocked face as she walks to the knight.

“please, sire. we can finish this calml-"

“NO. THIS WOMAN HERE HAS” he hiccuped while pointing towards you. “has insulted me and-“

“stop!”

your head turns toward the source of the unknown voice. eyebrows raised to see the cloaked figure that enters the tavern right next to the knight. the knight in a face full of rage turns his body to face the figure before his face fell. “your h-“

“you are clearly too drunk to act. i suggest you go back to your quarters wherever it is.” the figure said wisely. because of it, the knight seem to sober up for a bit and retracted the shortsword back into its hilt on his body. he looks between you and the figure.

“m-my apologies.” the knight mumbles before scurrying away. haram’s gaze follows the knight before turning towards you, communicating through your eye contact as you give a small nod so she can continue doing her work. you then turn your head towards the cloaked figure as they let out a sigh.

“thank you.” you quickly gather yourself and pour one of the clean mugs a beer for the figure. you gently slide the filled-up mug to them as they looked down at it.

“it’s on us,” you tell them so they don’t have to pay. the figure’s shoulders slump before they sit down on the barstool.

“thank you,” they replied before pulling their hood off. a man with the upper part of his black hair tied to the back and the ragged robe he wears hides an expensive-looking outfit beneath it. a few seconds to study their face is enough for your eyebrows to rise.

you recognize that face. you’ve seen that face before.

“a traveler?” you asked, trying to subside your suspicions about the person because the face is too familiar to your liking.

“not exactly.”

“fair enough,” you replied as haram sends a message to prepare more mugs of beer as the lute continues to play now with the violin singing along.

“what brings you here, sire?” you put the mugs on the counter as haram picks them up and serves them to the tables.

“i’m scouting the town. everything felt new to me,” he said as he take a sip of the beer you served him.

“i thought you are not a traveler.”

“i-“ he paused as you turn your view somewhere else, hoping that could help him speak comfortably. “what i meant by ‘not exactly’ is that i live near the outskirts of town. i’ve never been in town before, especially at my age because i have so much to do.”

you nod your head, but your critical mind makes you think back on the clothes underneath the robe. “you must be a wealthy man then, sir. wearing such clothes beneath such a dirty robe.”

your comments earned a surprised look on his face as his mouth opens, trying to answer your questions. “i’m here visiting to attend the masquerade ball.”

the masquerade ball is the ball that the royal family has made in celebration of the prince’s birthday. though you recognize the king and queen, you never knew the prince as he is always so hidden or it is because his parents didn’t allow him to interact with peasants like you and your friends. the royals prepare this ball so that the prince can find himself a wife as he is around your age. a bachelor in need of a partner so they can rule this kingdom together. so it’s weird that even with such a close-off prince, the family still invited all the bachelorettes who don’t have a man to come so the prince can find the right suitor, all wearing masks so their inner self shines instead to make the prince interested. you didn’t plan on going but you sure know your stepmother and stepsisters do.

“understandable.” you give a small smile as you rub the rug you’re holding to clean up the liquids on the counter that are remaining.

“do you intent to go to the ball?” his question earns a short giggle from you as you shook your head.

“why should i go? i mean, look at me.” you open your arms so that he can study your dusty-colored dress underneath your brown apron because you always stayed by the ashes of the fire to see your father cook. even now as you and sieun talk about making new recipes in the kitchen. you aren’t called ashfool by your stepmother if it weren’t for it.

“someone like me could not be a suitor for a prince.”

“but aren’t you tired of the cycle you have to go to?” he presses on.

yes, you are tired. but it’s what you need to survive.

“the ball going on at night time is bad for me, especially if i leave the tavern to my friends. the tavern is always full at night.” you sigh before looking somewhere else than him. “it sure sounds fun.”

“and i enjoy your company here with me.” the man said as you face him as fast as you can. “we could talk more at the party if you come.”

you let out a chuckle as you turn to see haram raises a pointer finger towards you so you can grab a mug and fill it up from the barrel behind. though there are barstools where you are working, nobody seems to care enough to interact with you, and this man is the first one. so when you heard he enjoys your company with him, something flutters inside you.

“i’ll try my best. if i could find the right dress and mask since the ball is in a few days.” you give a warm smile as he replicates it on his own. “you sure have a promise you have to fulfill, sir…”

“it’s beomgyu. and i make sure i’ll fulfill that promise.”

-

the thick cable of your laptop charger rested beside it, plugged. having such an old model means the battery is so bad it is leaking and you don’t have enough disposable income to repair or even fix it. your task for the folk lore paper about cinderella is around a third done as you don’t have any other things to do while multitasking. you eat the leftover salty popcorn you made last time—even you can say it sickens you, though it’s your favorite snack to eat.

your sticky fingers make you rub them on the blue apron you’re wearing, seeing it being stained by the grease before it’s dry enough for you to write again in your document, finding the right words to write with the multiple tabs talking about cinderella opened on the browser. with a theater to yourself, you prepare to watch the cartoon disney’s cinderella near the end of your shift, closing it early as if anyone wants to come to visit, anyway.

you glance at the cd case of disney’s cinderella beside the laptop as your hand grabs another popcorn while you read back on what you are writing, knowing you have to proofread it again so the words don’t come out weird. that’s when you hear a grunt and footsteps as the traffic sounds enter the cinema with you in it for the first time. a figure walking before the glass door closes. a man with boyish manners who is around your age enters as he comes and approaches you. he has brownish with a red undertone colored haired and mullet that falls to his nape, wearing a blouse and leather pants that you figure out cost so much.

as the man comes closer, you can’t help but see his face.

wait.

didn’t you see him before?

the face is so familiar.

and you can only pair one name with this face.

“beomgyu?”

“of course, you know me.” he said in an exasperated way before standing in front of the counter, agitated. “okay. sorry. i, i need someplace to hide.” he replies before looking straight at you, eyes meeting with an intense stare.

“why-“

“i’ll tell you everything. any place to hide?” beomgyu looks behind to the glass doors before turning back.

“i- well- you can hide behind the counter underneath the cashier.” you point towards the counter beside you as you let beomgyu walk to your side and sit with his back against it. the counter is fully made of wood, unlike the display case you stood in front of with the lights off because what should you display when no one comes? well, beomgyu did. you looked down at beomgyu who is calming himself down before the sudden sound of traffic enters again as a large man enters the room and walks towards you imposingly.

“excuse me, miss. have you seen choi beomgyu?” the man asks.

your eyes widen before you unconsciously let out a pout. is he that important of a person that someone is trying to find him? is this man someone he knows? or is this man someone dangerous and is beomgyu’s opponent?

“i- no. i haven’t seen choi beomgyu and i don’t know who he is, actually.”

“i see. thanks.” he turns around to walk the entrance before pausing. you’re glad that you didn’t let your vision leave him.

“how much is a small serving of popcorn?” the man asked before turning around and walking back to the counter.

“you want popcorn?” you squint your eyes at him.

“i’ve been running after mr. choi. i also need a snack, alright?” the man—exasperated—says as you give a nod, glancing at beomgyu for a split second to catch him looking at you before turning around and preparing the serving for the popcorn. receiving the heat from the machine, you close the lid again and walk to put the popcorn on the counter as the man is opening his wallet. you glance down at beomgyu as you gesture with your hand in a dash so he can move to the side and stand in front of the cashier. as he scoots, he accidentally hit the wooden material.

“ack.”

“what was that?” the man lifts his head as he looked at you, who is already preparing a painful expression on your face.

“it’s me. accidentally hit the cabinet, hehe.”

the man gives you the money and grabs the popcorn, “hope you have a good business today.” he said before leaving.

“yeah, i hope you find him,” you said back as the glass door closes before you slump your hand on the counter. you heard the giggle from beomgyu’s corner as he stands up beside you. “it’s your fault.” you glare at him.

“i know, but i didn’t expect my bodyguard to just order popcorn.” he continues laughing as you rolled your eyes, back to your laptop to do your task. you sense another body getting closer to you as you glance at him, blinking your eyes.

“(y/n), huh?” you received his mumble as you see him look at the screen of your laptop on the first page where your name is written. you hummed as a reply.

“this is a cinema?” he asked as he looked around. you let another hum of agreement.

“local cinema. a family business.”

“any interesting movie you play? blockbusters like the mcu movies or just newly released ones?”

“not really.” you lift your shoulders as you reply. “the movies we have are the ones that released the latest a year prior. we have all kinds of blockbusters there and also old ones like star wars episode 4 and jaws.“

“isn’t it just watching it on tv?” you let out a chuckle at his question.

“do you watch movies on your tv anymore? or do you use your laptop to open a streaming service to view it?”

“heh, touché.” his answers make you laugh as you can’t focus on your writing. he joins in too. you felt the sense of familiarity when you are with him, a connection from beneath you slowly rising.

“if you’re asking, my dad is a filmmaker and film connoisseur. he made a local cinema so indie movies can air their movies here and we can show people more movies from the old ones to obscure ones here unlike the theaters you know. we made money but occasionally, specifically the room night when we played the room by tommy wiseau, and people just flocking in. but day-to-day business, yeah it is this empty.” you emphasized the last two words as beomgyu looked at you who are pouting your lips. his eyes move to the cd case beside your laptop.

“what’s that doing here?”

“something to check out for my uni paper. doing a task about the cinderella folktale.”

“ahh…” beomgyu paused, “when are you watching it?”

“later probably?”

“can we watch it now?” your creases folded.

“you wanna watch it now?”

“yeah. i could give another opinion to be added to your paper.”

maybe another voice of opinion can help make your paper better as only a one-sided opinion can’t highlight the richness of the story.

“sure.” you agree.

beomgyu’s eyes lighten up as he requested drinks for both of you and a bucket of popcorn, which he promised he will pay double the actual price. you roll your eyes before a smile shows on your face as you guide him to the open theater door of the cinema, letting him walk into the small hallway full of soundproof walls your dad made into the small cinema which only comprises ten columns that are in a slope and five rows to the side, walk away on both left and right. both of you picked the seats right in the middle. you moved back to the entrance of the lobby room and turned the ‘open‘ sign to ‘close‘ and locked the door as you don’t anyone coming into the cinema without your supervision.

foot stepping on the carpeted floor as you go to the projector room and put the cd in the dvd player, the light dims from the small window from the room after you press the button. as the grandiose 1950s orchestra plays to the intro of the movie, you fast-walk to your seat beside beomgyu. he rested his bucket of popcorn in the middle while your drinks are on the other side of you two. you let out your breath as you see the book open and introduce the prologue of the story. the story of a young girl of a widowed gentleman who married his second wife with her two daughters. the man died and the wife’s true nature comes out where she is jealous of the young girl while always forwarding her and her daughters’ interests.

Thus, as time went by, the chateau fell into disrepair, for the family fortunes were squandered upon the vain and selfish stepsisters, while Cinderella was abused, humiliated, and eventually forced to become a servant in her own house. And yet, through it all, Cinderella remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn she found new hope that someday, her dreams of happiness would come true.

a white space you are in.

a rectangle window shows a scene of you and beomgyu sitting down in the theater watching the movie now in front of you.

yes, you.

you looked at the other windows that are surrounding you as you look at yourself in three different states.

buying something in the marketplace.

cleaning tables in the tavern.

watching a movie with a man.

the same man you met in all three instances.

as you looked down on yourself, you’re wearing a flowy blue dress that dances the air yet no wind is present here. hands open in front of you as you see the tint in your skin slowly fading. yes, the tint of the blue of fading away too. saturated. turning gray.

like ash.

ash…

“ashfool!”

you turn your head to see your stepmother who is now wearing a floor-length light purple dress by the open door of your house. your stepsisters climbing into the carriage that is taking them to the debutante wall with their white dresses that contrast the last of the setting sun behind them. blinking your eyes to gather yourself up, you turn to look at your stepmother and give a small “my apologies.” for letting your mind wander away.

but it felt like someone is watching you.

“take care of the house. clean the floor of our rooms. we will arrive after midnight so i want you to prepare tea.” you nod along the way as she rambles, walking down the step of the patio of the home as you lean against the door, already closing half the door away. as the door of the carriage closes, you said “take care.” before the carriage strides away and you push the door close.

you listen to the footsteps approaching behind you as you lean your head against the door. turning around, you view the magic and sparkly presence of your fairy godmother you met two days ago. seeing her holding a beautiful white dress and pair of gloves with accented blue accessories for your hair and a pair of glass slippers she handcrafted only for the size of your feet.

after beomgyu and you part ways outside of the marketplace because he has to go back home, you bought everything you needed for the rotisserie chicken your stepsister requested before going back home on your feet. as you arrived, made dinner for them after they have gotten home from whatever they are doing. while you clean the dishes up and prepare yourself to rest for the night, you realize light coming from a garden and a yelp outside. your curiosity makes you move to meet a lady sitting on the ground; in a glitter dress that reflects the moonlight, around the age of what your mother is supposed to be if she is alive.

she introduced you as your fairy godmother as you squint your eyes in confusion. but it changes when you recalled her saying, “your mother bestowed me to protect you.”

that night, you talked to her as if you are talking to your parents again: openly and enthusiastically. you mentioned how sad you are the past few years and mention the man you met earlier in the day. the mention of the debutante ball she hears makes her react happily as you watch her rambling about what kind of dress you have to wear for the ball. yet, you stopped her as you don’t want to pressure her to get you to go.

“aren’t you excited to see your prince?”

“he’s not my prince, and he’s also not a prin-“

“i can consider that boy to be like that for you.” as she touches your nose with her pointer finger, sparkles come from them.

yesterday is the most hectic day in your entire life as you have to take care of the house and the occupants while also your new guest. even though she wanted to help you with her magic, you always deny her as you want to do your job on your own. your critter friends also want to join the special occasion as the fairy godmother gives a spell to them that makes them talk. for the first time, you hear your friends talk and interact with you more than they did before—more dynamic especially as you can assign their voices to each other. you listen as your fairy godmother asks request for them to be your butlers and horses and they agree—wanting to make you happy as your eyes glisten from hearing their intentions.

looking at the mirror in your tower, you see yourself in the white dress that is a staple for a debutante ball but the blue accessories give a difference to you that could help you slightly stand out, making you remember the different flower colors on your stepsisters’ hairs. you look at fairy godmother appearing behind you wearing a blue dress similar to your accessories holding a fan for the dance card, looking at the reflection of you proudly as her hands caress your upper arms.

“your mother would be so proud,” she muttered as you have tears glistening in your eyes, feeling the vast happiness from your heart as the pain subsides for a moment.

as you walk down the tower, you find a carriage made of pumpkin—that doesn’t resemble a pumpkin at all—that fairy godmother got from the inventory with a few of your critter friends turning into butlers and horses. you give a smile to them as godmother walks into the carriage and guides you inside.

“we have to arrive there early so stepmother won’t catch us.” you voice out to her.

“sure, dear.” she flicks her wrist as you heard yelping from outside and a rush of winds and the trees move fast as the carriage lands on the road with more streetlamps on the side. the bustling crowd of the town is fading in as fairy godmother whispers to the horses to follow the other carriages to the castle.

you can see outside the many carriages that carry other debutantes lining up from the small window at the front of the carriage, the door being open by the butlers at the main entrance. sweat forming on your palms as you rub them against your covered knees before your godmother puts her hand on yours, smoothing it down with her thumb as you look at her and catch a glimpse of your mother for a few frames of time. you smile as you took a huge breath when you see the butler arrives at the door of the carriage and open it. the man’s hand opens to help you stand up and step down from the carriage where you watch other people walking to the door. your godmother stood beside you as she escort you to the entrance with the others, no sign of your stepmother and stepsisters, no sign of beomgyu.

every debutante is to be introduced when they arrive and enter the main room where the queen and her son are stationed. you just learned that the son is also debuting this season from godmother as you are preparing to go the day before. the queen wants to find the right partner for him. you notice a sparkle coming from the godmother beside you as you walk near the announcer—a name and title showing up at the bottom of the list when godmother steps up and points your name. as the door opens, you held your head high, introducing yourself to the bustling crowd.

“lady (y/f/n) of house (l/n).”

though you are on top of the staircase, you felt almost everyone turning their heads towards you, their stare piercing into you. godmother beside you as she guides you down the flight of stairs; meeting the eyes of boys and girls your age, their maternal figures that chaperone them, and a throne at the end of the hall elevated. the queen sat in the middle with the small yet luxurious seat beside hers. a man stood in front of it, eyes focused on you. the prince.

it seems weird to know that the mothers of the sons go to your godmother who is surrounded by them asking for a place in your card that she holds when your eyes are looking only at one spot. the steps coming from your glass slippers seem to ring in your ears louder than the crowd itself as it opens in front of you as they look between you and the prince. your eyebrows lifted as the prince walks down from the throne beside his mother’s, their facial features much more prominent. medals hanging on their torso as you see the familiar smile on their face.

beomgyu.

when he steps in front of you, you curtsy as best as you can after having not curtsy for a long time because of your isolation. “your highness…” you mumbled.

beomgyu looks at you as you return to your position. a hand gently takes yours as you watch him leaning down to kiss your covered hand. “lady (y/n).”

you let out a small smile as you can receive godmother’s voice approaching you. “dear, i didn’t get the names because i want to consult with you fi- ohh your highness.” you glance beside her to watch her curtsy.

“you can rise,” beomgyu mutters as you looked behind him to see the queen stepping up to walk behind him as you and everyone near her presence curtsy.

“your majesty.” you acknowledge her presence before raising your head. her chuckle in the most elegant and ethereal way you’ve ever heard.

“i supposed my son here wants to write in your card?” the queen asks towards beomgyu as he gives a nod. you look at godmother, pupils trembling in your eyes as you don’t know what to answer, recalling your practice session last night with her after a long time of not dancing. you wanted to curse on whoever put so many dance styles in one ball and the need to learn all styles. so as a bargain between you and her, you only wanted to do one dance, and it’s only with beomgyu if you met him. with the revelation of him being the prince, the burden grows.

“of course, we would love to.” godmother said beside you as she puts the name on your card while you look sheepishly at him, who is wearing a beautiful suit. that was when you picked up the string quartet playing from the corner as people went to the edge of the room and left the middle spacious for all the dancers.

“may i, my lady?” beomgyu gently speaks as he opens his hand to you. you were holding your breath the whole time as you finally let it out when you put your hand on his.

“we may.”

beomgyu brought you to the middle of the space where other people dance. you brought your hands into the right position that you learned last night and he reciprocates, hands on your hand and waist respectively as you slowly dance, following the melody of the music. feeling the glass slippers light taps on the floor.

“you look beautiful tonight.” beomgyu compliments, blood rushing, getting your face warm.

“thank you, your highness. you as well.”

“please stop with the address. makes me feel awkward.” his nagging results in both of you giggling as you dance. brushes of other women’s dresses grazed you as you both move around.

“well… this is me…” you mumbled to him.

“and this is me. you did lie to me when you said you are a child of nobody,” he replied with the words you spoke to him last time.

“it is a long story to tell.”

“and i want to listen to it all.”

“don't you have more dances to do? besides…” your eyes gaze at him as he guides you in the dance, sensing your arms aching for staying in the same position much longer than what you practice. “you are the one in need of a wife.”

beomgyu looks somewhere other than you, the same thing he did when he was thinking from the last time you saw him. humming flows to your ears from. “my dear mother wants me to find someone to dance to but i told her about wanting a specific girl i met on the streets for my first dance.”

you bashfully glance at him as you focused on your footwork to push the nervousness behind you when he continues, “and my last for the ball as well.”

-

“it will not work.”

“it is!”

“it is working. hold still.”

you hold on to the frame of the mirror before you as you sense a pull on your abdomen that is so strong you almost fling. as the ribbons are pulled from behind, you look at the reflection in the mirror, holding your breath. colorful dresses upon colorful fabrics stack in the cabinet almost the whole four walls of the room. sieun fanning your face and wiping your sweat using a handkerchief while haram stood behind, tying the ribbon. haram’s mother, the owner of the shop, looks proudly at the three beautiful women as she pulls out the masks she made.

after the conversation with the mysterious traveler named beomgyu and the promise you both partaken in, haram quickly asks her mother for dresses so the three of you could go to the masquerade ball. luckily, she had dresses she created inspired by her muse: her own daughter and her friends. a beautiful pink flowy gown with large sleeves until her hands. while sieun also wears a similar one to haram’s, but the dress is yellow and black with ribbons tied to the front. yours was undoubtedly blue—said the dressmaker—that trains down until it grazes the floor before you wear your shoes.

haram’s mother shows the three of you the three masks corresponding to your dress colors from the leftover fabric when she makes it the day haram told her they’re going until today. you put on the mask that covers the upper part of your face and ties the ribbons behind your head as if you are wearing your dress, feeling it pressing down on your cheeks and a frame forming around your vision. you were smoothing down the gown when you hear the light sobs coming from the older woman as she looks at the three of you, no words cannot express what emotion she is expressing as she let tears go down her cheeks while smiling as wide as she could.

“my daughters have grown up so well," she said as she hugged haram, before standing in front of you and sieun.

“your mothers would be proud.”

the woman pushes the three of you out of the shop as you watch other people in suits and dresses and walk to the imposingly enormous castle in the middle of the town, all wearing masks and clothing according to the theme. walking closer as you enter the castle gates, there’s a view of buffets of food placed outside for all the low-income citizen that comes to eat. a gracious gesture by the royals to show their selflessness behind their luxury. servers even wear uniform masks as they bring the trays of drinks and light meals across the ballroom that leads has a stair that branches out for the royal family to arrive at the top of it, where you can see the king and queen behind their regal masks and outfit, no presence of their son otherwise.

your eyes spin around along with the movement of the people that dance in the middle of the room, trying to find the man with tied hair somewhere. both of your friends stayed on the sidelines as they served themselves free food and drinks, letting loose for closing the tavern just for today. eyes glance towards your shoulder as you feel a tap to see a finger as you trail it to the figure wearing white and gold, the mask resembles the flow of his outfit as the black hair is let down with a length until the end of his nape. looking up, you see him wearing a beautiful crown made of flowers, branches, and beautifully carved shards of glass that you’ve seen both the king and queen also have in their own crowns.

the prince.

“your highness.” you bow your head whilst trying your best to curtsy, holding for a few seconds before you felt a caress on your forearm as you return to your earlier position and see him gently kissing your hand before looking back up at you.

“may i dance with you?” he asks in an ethereal sounding voice, his posture poised with a dust of elegance exuding from him. the prince wanting to dance with you? of course, you can’t deny it as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment. but your mind is still wandering to at least find the man you are here for.

“you may,” you reply after landing your eyes back on him as he brought you to the middle of the room as the other dancers seem to move away for you. muscles becoming tense as you look to the others with your arms flailing to follow the right pose before the prince held your hand and body in place in his.

“try to relax and follow my lead,” he said with you nodding right after as your body moves on the floor, following the melody of the music and the flow of other dancers. you notice that the couples dancing were staring at their partner’s eyes, but the reality of you dancing with the prince and having to meet your eyes with his is daunting. your mind goes elsewhere as you let him move your body however he sees, wondering if beomgyu came here or not.

“what are you thinking?” your head moves to the voice in front of you as you met the prince’s piercing eyes behind his mask.

“my apologies, your highness. i was wondering if my acquaintance has arrived yet,” you speak truthfully as your eyes on his focus on the mask that covers his cheekbones instead. you move with the others in the dance and both of your body rotates, following the flow that has been created you can glance at the entrance as you waited for beomgyu to arrive, but the prince immediately felt how your body becomes rigid as you see a group of three women entering the room instead. though it’s almost a week ago since you last met them, you can recognize them by their hair colors, their postures, and their dress colors.

your stepmother and stepsisters.

“i- i have to go.” panic seeps into your words as the prince turns his head to the entrance. you search everywhere for the nearest exit but failed as the sea of people around you covers it. you told your friends that you were only here for beomgyu and will return home to the tavern if you met him, hoping to have at least an interaction with him for a few seconds before your stepmother and stepsisters arrived. the last time you met them was the day you told them you won’t go to the ball, which changed with the appearance of beomgyu the next day. but you still remember the ridiculous comments you got about how if you’re there, you won’t change the prince’s attention anyway.

“i know where we can go.” a whisper said into your ear as your eyes gaze at the prince’s presence near you, his breath caressing the skin that is not covered by the mask on your face as a tug pulled on your arm where he guides you away from the sparse space into the crowd. you see other patrons seem to bow their heads to the prince, but he ignores them when you arrive at a set of doors and open them to the hallway bustling with servers.

he brought you along the hallway before arriving at a terrace with a garden before you, hedges stand tall as you step down to the garden and enter the hedges. your feet stumbling on the gravel path as he walks straight then turns a few corners as you look at a beautiful fountain with patches of flowers around it. breath heavy, he pulled you to the stone bench near the fountain as your eyes glare at him.

“you need to go back, your highness. it is your ball after a-"

“i needed that time to escape,” he speaks while ruffling his hair, the crown on top of him nudges as he picks it up and put it down beside him, stretching his head as he’s free from the heavy-looking accessories he has to wear.

you stood up as you walk to the cut you come from only to be bombarded by the hedge walls surrounding the two of you. wanting to leave as you don’t want to make the prince feel uncomfortable when you should find your friends so you can return home.

“please stay.” the other person said as you turn your body around. the ends of your dress meet your ankle as you watch the prince leaning his head down. when he sees the front of your feet in his vision, he lifts his head. as you look at him from your standing position, his face is shined by the moonlight above you. that’s when you see it.

beneath the mask around his eyes, shadows forming under them, skin sunken as veins shows near the skin’s outermost surface. how is straining his eyes so that he could wake up and stay awake.

“you should rest, your highness.” you bluntly speak as you see how his lips pouted before he lets out a chuckle.

“it’s too obvious, isn’t it?” his irises move down, knowing what your comment meant.

“yes, it is.” you blinked your eyes before looking away.

“i didn’t ask for this.” your eyes stayed looking at the water sprouting out of the fountain as the prince continues to talk.

“a masquerade ball. my parents truly use this occasion so that i could find a match or they could match me up with some noble daughters from all over the kingdom, saying that you’re getting too old when in fact i just arrive at the adulting threshold.” he sighs as you turn your head to the side, seeing the prince from the corner of your eyes.

“everyone was too busy for the ball that i don’t have any time to settle down my mental and physical being for something i don’t prepare and had no say in preparing. though the banquet is noble enough, we can focus on that instead rather than putting on this lavish event.” you nod along with his words, attentive to the change of volume of his spoken words as it gets louder and louder. hands in front of you together, you turn your body to see the prince’s head facing the night sky, giving the view of his neck and adam’s apple as he breathes the fresh air.

feet moving across the grass, you stood beside him and said, “happy birthday…” as a small comment as you recall the purpose of the ball held today other than for him to find a wife.

you didn’t expect his hand to move out and grab yours in his, reminding you of how he holds you for most of the time you are here. his head tilts down and you notice the sparkles in his irises, a small smile tugging his lips.

“thank you. you’re the first one to remember.”

-

your hands rub against each other as you sit on the bus on the way to your meeting place beomgyu and you agree. fingers playing on the ends of your father’s favorite blazer you kept that you’re wearing on this cold night above the blue dress you got from the thrift shop—a great-looking dress that you felt sorry for its earlier owner who can’t see the beauty of it.

after the movie finishes—where the whole time you talked about the characters, their motives, the plot, and the impact of it—beomgyu grumbles as he sees the alarm from his airplane-mode-on phone ringing, reminding him of an upcoming meeting he has where his dad invited him to. when he opens his calendar to check the time, you get a glimpse of a reminder of a charity ball at the end of the weekend. beomgyu notices it too as he paused before looking at you and then at the reminder.

“would you be my date for the charity ball?”

he would then persuade you, saying that you and he can slip away when people are eating their dinner. you had fun that day at the cinema with beomgyu he succeeded in his attempt and you have to prepare for a ball you know will include so many influential rich people—conglomerates—while you don’t even have savings as much as the amount they spend on a lunch in a three-star michelin restaurant.

stepping down from the bus stop at the park near the hotel where the ball is held, you can see a black suv with a man standing in front of it. beomgyu’s bodyguard who you met before watching the movie and after when beomgyu called him to the cinema, a sigh of disappointment comes out of him as he realizes how you perfectly lie to him while beomgyu is rolling his tongue to him before they left. the man seems to detect you under the flickering streetlights as you approach the car. his body turns to the backseat door and his hand rested on the handle.

“mr. choi was worried you would not come. so he stayed in the car.”

when the door opens, beomgyu’s body jerks from the sound as he faces you in a suit and tie combo. the frown on his face is replaced with a smirk as he helps you climb into the backseat with him, his bodyguard returns to the driver’s seat and drive the car away. you didn’t realize your hand was still in his before you let go to rub them on your blazer, glancing to the side to catch beomgyu’s eyes admiring you.

“you look great!” he breaks out. “whose blazer is this?”

“ah, i don’t know the brand, but it’s my dad’s,” you replied, trying to blend in some lingo that his crowd might use even though when you spoke it does sound a bit out of touch.

“i don’t care what brand it came from. yet it looks great and compliments your dress.” he rambles, giggles coming from you as you face beomgyu.

“thanks, gyu.” your sudden nickname of his makes his eyebrows raised before he lets out a wide smile that reaches his eyes.

“my pleasure.”

yet you aren’t prepared for the number of flashes coming from the camera as you walk down the red carpet into the ball. the backdrop behind you mentioning beomgyu’s family business with many interviewers asking him for an interview. gaining steady breathing, you tried to act as relaxed as possible. but, it isn't possible with the amount of exposure you have.

you sense beomgyu’s hands wrapping down to your lower back as you both pose for the pictures, letting out a smile that can highlight you the most before he escorted you away into the large ballroom of circular tables and chairs around it. beomgyu’s hand still rested on your back as he guide you and tap the shoulder of a middle-aged man. the man turns around and you see a face similar to his as the man gave a hug to beomgyu before looking at you.

“is this your date?” the man asked.

“yes, she is. dad.” your eyes widen as you realized you stood in front of beomgyu’s dad, the chairman of this conglomerate himself. you can see him scan you and the outfit you wore—smile slowly widening before he turns to pull the hand of a middle-aged woman who turns to glance at beomgyu and you.

“oh my- beomgyu. you didn’t tell me your girlfriend is so pretty.”

girlfriend?

your eyes turn to him as beomgyu sheepishly laughs along with the woman he calls—and you just realized—his mom, noticing the resemblance of them in beomgyu. his mom approaches you and tugs you away to the tables, moving past the tables at the back to arrive at the table near the stage where a podium stands. beomgyu follows behind the two of you as his mom looks at you enthusiastically. she sat both of you down in the seats beside each other.

you wanted so much to talk to beomgyu beside you but when you think got the opportunity, someone else always cuts you off. that’s when you finally felt the dread building up and the realization of the aftermath of the captured image of you being here with someone as important as a conglomerate’s son.

your stepmother could figure it out or your stepsisters could find something on the gossip news with your picture in it.

the event went by in a blur as your body move on autopilot, while your mind just think of the worst things that might happen to you when you arrive home. you can hear them calling you selfish for hiding such a high-profile connection from them before they degrade you and say you don’t deserve to be in connection to someone like him and it should be them cause they will nurture the connection better than you. you either look at the three-course meal being served to you or your lap, occasionally to the stage as you see the performance and the mc guiding the event. the air inside the room sends a shiver down your skin as you sit without your blazer, knowing it resting behind you on the chair you sit on.

your eyes glance towards the stage to see beomgyu giving a speech on the podium before looking away, not realizing he stayed his gaze on you for longer than you did on him.

the applause rings in your ears as hands settle on your shoulders when beomgyu leans down and whisper into your ear, “you want to get out of here?”

“yes,” you spoke, already having your blazer and purse in your arms.

that’s what it takes for beomgyu to excuse both of you as you both want to ‘take a shot at the bar’, when in reality he slips you away to the outside world from the kitchen and arrive at a small alley as he and you run together down the streets envelop by the night, finally being able to breathe for all the suffocation you held as he is also doing the same to you. you walk past buskers performing on the street and a road full of people with street food carts all over. ordering a few snacks as you watch the buskers perform, giving them money as appreciation.

“why did your mom say that i’m your girlfriend?” you said as you lean back on the bench overlooking the river, a large bridge where vehicles can go across right beside it as skyscrapers from the other side glimmer along with the stars.

“gosh. i’m really freaking sorry to bring you into my trouble.”

“well, too late ‘cause you did.” you let out a giggle at him while he finishes an ice cream cup.

“long story short, my mom and dad expected me to come with a date for this year’s charity ball. but i haven’t found one so i thought “why not?” and asked you before i go."

“well, why me?” you nudge your exposed shoulder to his covered one. the only thing coming into your mind is for you to tease beomgyu.

“i just have this feeling that for as little as our time interacting, you know me so well.” beomgyu lets out a sigh as he looks straight at the river in front of you. “like i’ve met you before in some past lifetime i might have.”

eyebrows furrowed, you shook your head as you don’t want something to seep into your min-

wait, why are you thinking like that? no. continue with whatever you’re doing.

“i- i guess i could sense that too?” you replied, head bops in confusion.

“right?” he turns his face towards you. he looks at his hand between the two of you before looking up, “but i never thought mom would immediately comment on you being my girlfriend. she’s- well-“ he paused as you pursed your lips. “you blend in well enough that she didn’t think you were out of place.”

something struck into your mind after he said, ‘cause even though he considered so, you didn’t. you don’t assume you blend in enough. you felt like you are a snowball in the middle of magma, melting slowly as you almost succumb to pressure before beomgyu noticed and took you away.

“thank you, gyu.” you said as you look at him shyly. “i didn’t feel like it though.”

“but you did so freaking well,” he said as put the empty ice cream cup on the other side of him, scooting closer to you on the bench. you look at your thighs touching as beomgyu lifts his hand, so it doesn’t squish between the two of you. sensing something cold press again your cheek, your eyes move to see a hand that belongs to beomgyu before looking at him in front of you. your eyes wandering from his wide eyes, cute nose, and plump lips.

“you were amazing,” he mumbles as you can feel his eyes not focusing on yours, but downwards.

as your breath hitches, you close your eyes and wait for him to the first move. both of your hands on your lap linked as you waited for the feeling of his lips on yours. but it never comes, so you open your eyes.

and see a split vision of three men trying to kiss you at the same tim- what?

a force pulls your body from behind you as you arrived at white space to see the three different windows of a couple almost kissing, all in a pause frame. all are from different times when you notice that all the women have something blue worn on them while the man beside her all have differing hairstyles. the longer you look, the more you realized the women are you and by proxy, the men in front of them are all beomgyu.

you stare at the three different filters on each window. the one where you are wearing something from a regency era has an ethereal filter with more white highlights and a tint of pink and purple. the one where you wear something a game of thrones character would wear is more neutral and brown tone while the last one with the backdrop of the city is more neon. all wearing age-appropriate clothing, but something just doesn’t feel right.

the three windows are on the three sides you could see. and if it is a room, there must be a fourth wall.

so, you turn around to find a full-body mirror in front of you reflecting your current state. the dress you are wearing is losing saturation every time you walk forward. not only the dress but also your skin tone as it contrasts with the white that is surrounding you. like smoke in a clear sky, like a speck of dust on a clean floor.

like ash falling down from a burning fire.

ash.

soot.

cinder.

looking at yourself hauntingly, you suddenly hear something coming from the mirror. not in front, not inside, but behind it. you step carefully on the white floor as you walk around the mirror that stood behind you without support. you catch a glance of a wall of text appearing on a floating laptop behind the mirror—you recognize it as yours. when you walk closer and skim-read the text, you take in what it’s trying to say.

Cinderella is a folk tale with thousands of variants throughout the world. The protagonist is a young woman living in forsaken circumstances that are suddenly changed to remarkable fortune, with her ascension to the throne via marriage

wait.

“a young woman living in forsaken circumstances, having dead biological parents and having a stepparent and step-siblings who, with no reason, hate her for being her. a young woman who found remarkable fortune by magic or coincidence, maybe even fate that could ascend her to the throne or any position of power,” you mumbled out.

isn’t this just your life?

but not your life, singular. but your lives. all three that you can see on the windows previously.

you who have a stepmother and stepsisters meet beomgyu who is a stranger that sits in a position of power and you both become infatuated with each other. all three of you went to a ball to meet your respective beomgyu, a prince charming or equivalent of it.

if you followed the cinderella story you know, you know what will happen next. you have to go home by midnight, stepmother and sisters then found out about your whereabouts at the ball. the prince charming will have to find you so that you both will accept your attraction and both be married so you can live happily ever after.

happily ever after.

you peer back at the laptop expecting to see the wall of text where it’s replaced by a question.

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

you blink your eyes to arrive back at the cinema from the start of your story, scrolling the document file you open for your task as you try to find any error. nothing came onto your radar other than the abundance of ashfool written in your file.

ashfool is a story of a girl…

… then ashfool has to live with her cruel stepmother…

bewildered, you see the cd case beside the laptop you put. taking a glimpse at the case cover to find something not what you remember.

disney’s ashfool and the cartoon main protagonist wearing a gray dress instead of-

what color is her dress again?

and why does she resemble you?

you quickly open the other tabs on your browser you remember are all the resources you need to write your review and you get the same thing. ashfool replacing the word you forgot. so, you open your own letterboxd account to search for the movies with your nickname to find the list that widens your eyes.

ashfool. ashfool. an ashfool story. another ashfool story. ashfool 2: dreams come true.

all media related to ashfool has your face and beomgyu‘s face on it, through photography; drawing; animation. all of them. your breathing quickens.

you close your laptop as you hear a muffled noise not from outside, but inside the theater—something playing. you run inside the door, finding the winding cushion-covered hallway colors saturating as you stare at a movie with you on the screen, the only colored thing in the whole theater. a movie of you in what seems to be a school, mumbling about losing your mp3 player in the school’s homecoming dance, before you look away into the locker you opened as the camera focuses on beomgyu walking by. holding onto the said mp3 player.

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

your head turns to a voice calling you as you realize your stepmother sitting on one of the seats in the cinema, wearing clothes half and half of a modern and nobility dress. her glaring eyes stare towards you with a smug smile on her face. her body leans forward, eyes piercing into your soul as your heart beats faster.

“now you know that in every reality. i will always be there. your sisters will always be there. we will always be there to let you know.”

as she finished her sentence, you see her stand up before movements sound arise as you see clones upon clones of your stepmother all turn towards you.

“you don’t deserve beomgyu.”

and they all move towards you, the clone nearest to you grabbing onto your body as you pull with all your might to let go. the crowd stamped towards you as it was too late to push the clone away when you can feel the hands reaching for you, scratching your skin with all the hatred she has for you.

you don’t deserve him.

you don’t deserve your inheritance.

you tried to struggle out of the sea of bodies as you use all your abilities to climb out. pushing and pulling to find a cracking space you can push your limb out. but with every movement to your success, another hand pulls you down and your clothes shredding by the sheer force of power. all the energy flowing out of you as the volume of colorful fabrics trying to swallow your monochromatic self. your eyes clouded with tears as you just want it to stop.

please, stop.

please, stop.

the only thing for them to stop is for you to stop.

and so you stop and let yourself succumb to them. sitting in a fetal position as you sink into the sea of your stepmothers, you try to focus on your heartbeat. the pain marks on your body sting you are still clueless about what made you deserve them.

the pressure pressing on you from all sides as you cover your body and face as much as you can, tears and snot staining your skin as you do your best to rock yourself to calmness.

to put the pain subsides as you accept your demise.

“(y/n)?” you felt your body being shaken.

your breathing comes out rapidly as you shake your head, not wanting to know who called you.

you rather you don’t know than suffer.

“please…“ you heard the desperation coming from the voice.

you lift your head while still having your eyes covered by your eyelids. the eyelids shield the piercing white environment as everything that you heard becomes nothing in your ears, remnants of it floating in the air as it fades out. only the sound of faint footsteps walking closer to you is now in focus.

you felt… safe?

because of that, you slowly open your eyes. the brightness gives a sting to your eyes as it waters more to help get it away. the blurry vision makes you look before you a blurry silhouette, lines so soft it blends. rubbing the moist coming from your eyes, you can finally see it

shades of blue.

three different shades of blue on an outfit.

head lift higher, you see the faces of yourself, all crouching down and looking at you. all versions of you you’ve seen before from the windows. the regency era you wear an outfit with the lightest blue color while modern era you wear the same thing but in the darkest blue out of the three of them.

“you okay?” she said. as the other lends a hand out for you to reach. when you put your hands on your other version’s hand, you could observe how saturated you are. your skin with all the tints bled out, only leaving you in a husk of a shade of gray. standing up, you can see the three windows you saw but with all of you missing. because they’re here with you.

“did all of you know?” you asked.

“well. all of us is you.” one of them said.

“and there are more than the four of us.” another speaks as she tugs your hand in hers as the four of you walk in white space beyond the three windows you find yourself in. no mirror to be seen.

instead, they show you more windows where you and beomgyu almost kissed. all in different attires, different situations, but you recognize underneath them it has the same premise. you look at yourself and him in tight suits with fire behind the two of you. another window shows you and him having animal ears as if you are hybrids. more of you in school uniforms, hospital environment, the edge of space, a clay version. all telling the same story of you and him.

“but did you know our story is a folk tale?” you asked the other three as they turn towards you.

“as said by my professor.” one of them speaks up. “folk tale is how we communicate our culture. a story to tell. supposedly every story always came from a fact and your story indeed happened in every timeline.”

“aren’t we-“ you try to articulate. “tired doing the same thing over and over again?”

“being tormented the same way with our stepmothers in each version?” one of them said as she finished your question.

but it’s noticeable how different all of you are. how different your upbringings are. you all have the same mind, opinions, and ideology. even though you are the same person. you can read the expressions of the other you as they glance at each other, even giving nods as they all turn to you and gave you a nod, knowing you will also say it.

“this is our only way to get happily ever after.” all of you said, except you who is as grey as your fuzzy mind.

ignoring their stunned faces, you walked past windows upon windows of you and beomgyu in different times; different worlds; different parts of history; different universes; before stopping at one of them you recognized. the only one that is moving.

a small local cinema stood in between a hardware store and a pet shop. signs hanging outside with lights fluttering in and out of liveliness because of broken wires beneath them.

from the outside of the glass doors, you’re visible. leaning against a counter you stood behind, an open book of pride and prejudice by jane austen in your hand rested on top of it. you wore a white shirt tucked behind a dark blue apron.

the you from the start of a story you are reading right now.

you do remember it, right?

“we have to stop it,” you mumbled as you step back only to be greeted by the three versions of yourself you were with. you glance back to find rows and columns of you seating on the theater seats—watching the window you were just watching. their hands grab you as they pulled you to an empty seat right behind where you stand, but instead of sitting on it, the seat suddenly deforms as you are being drowned by it. white void slowly fading into black.

that’s when you see the other windows fading in and out as you are seated on a seat that they dragged you into. all of them show the same thing. the three of you you were with before walking back home from the ball.

you are running back home from the debutante ball as the clock struck midnight. fairy godmother helping you reach near to your home with the magic she helped for you and your critter friends before she fades away—her time helping you here is done. white dress torn as you walk barefoot on the dirt. holding the only glass slipper left as the other slipped from your foot as you run away to your carriage. terrified eyes trembled after being caught by your stepmother on your way out.

you are now walking back to the tavern with your drunk friends on either side of you. no meeting beomgyu and also a no to the prince as you rejected his advances. the dress being ripped as you push yourself out of the hedge maze when your mask falls as the prince is following behind you. eyes meeting your stepsister’s as the look of shock on her face crushes you before you left her to go report to your stepmother. letting out an enormous sigh as you arrived at the dark tavern where you brought them into your room before they collapsed on the floor.

you hear the vibration coming from inside your blazer as beomgyu stops his movement. the terrifying messages from your stepmother bombarding your phone before she then calls you. your hands shaking because of the tons of message notifications coming in above the unanswered call. you left beomgyu alone at the bench in panic, leaving behind your dad’s blazer on the bench to run to the nearest bus stop to go to the cinema. knowing them, they could threaten you by touching or vandalizing it if they want to as you remember the threat they've made in the past.

then, more and more windows show up as it shows you all the ways your stepmother torments you with your stepsisters. physical and mental pain occurring as you were told you were a “bad kid”, a “terrible person”, and “not deserving of nobility”. even you catch an animated version of yourself trying to get out of the room by using the force and your shoulder to the door that didn’t budge.

wait. an animated version of you from the regency era.

turning your head on the screen, you watch how school girl you is being pushed into a spaceship from the surface of the moon, leaving you there to not escape. you see yourself in what seems to be an adventurer outfit being swallowed by a haunted house as the phantom of your stepmother commands every piece of furniture to pin you up on the floor.

all of your reality seeps into each other.

the chair you sit in suddenly stops as it turns you to the side to see walls upon walls of white typographies of only two words—cinderella and ashfool—before the chair forces itself forward so you can collide with them and the other walls smash into you as words upon words swim and touches your skin. they ask you to embrace who you are, who you are fictionally is real.

you always are and always will be ashfool.

the black and white blends into the color of your greyscale body as they pressed into you. you’ve always felt that you are suffocated ever since your mother died. you don’t want to blame your father because he is your only guardian in front of the genuine nature of your stepfamily. but it just isn’t fair to know that in order for you to live happily, you have to face such torment and pain all the time.

you let your eyes close, letting your mind focus on other things instead of the words scraping your skin so they could mark you up. the vision behind your eyelids is black as the black background helps perfectly, every ash in your vision slowly dissipates as you steady your breathing.

don’t worry.

you’re okay.

there has to be something that could help you escape this cycle.

something to help you deviate.

deviate.

a shining white dot appears in your vision. no pressure coming from around you as you can now stand up. the only word that is sticking into your mind is 'deviate'.

deviate so you can reach your freedom.

deviate so you can make your own choices.

deviate so your life isn’t tied to a folk tale.

deviate so you won’t be attached to a cliché fanfiction plot.

you took a step closer to that white dot.

the steps you are taking are getting wider as you turn it from a step to a walk.

“are you really sure about this, (y/n)?” you heard your own voice calls you as your head turn to see yourself in the animated version of a cinderella dress. all you can do is nod your head as you continue forward.

“gosh (y/n) just give it up already. it’s not going to work.” another one of your voices speaks to you as you see yourself in a disco attire of wide pants and a vest. but, you turn that walk into a stride.

tens upon tens of your own voices call out to you as all of you turn up to look at yourself approaching that widening white dot in a black void. stride turn to jog. jog turns to dash. and dash turns to run, as more of you stood in front of yourself—trying to make you understand that this is how it’s going to be. that what you are doing is not going to work.

but no. you understand differently from them as you pushed them away with a strength you didn’t know you held as you are only a few steps away from the white light floating above the ground of the void. carefully stepping closer to the item as none of the other versions of you trying to stop you. you notice that the white dissipates as you met a floating glass shard. looking into one side, you see a reflection of your ashen self with no one behind you—but you glance to see other versions of you standing idle.

both of your hands reach both sides of the shard as your surroundings forms into a glass cave where asymmetry geometric shapes create mirrors so you can see yourself. well, different versions of yourself wearing something blue. in the front, back, left, right, above, and below you. the only one that shows you in ash color is the shard you hold. carefully lifting the shard to your eye line, you can see how dead you look. how terrifying your appearance is with a frown mixed with sadness from such a battle of strengths and wits.

you look like you want to quit.

you look like you are ready to leave reality.

you look like your job here is done.

glancing once more at the versions of you in the mirror-like glass wall before your reflection in the shards. you let out a smirk as only one thing came into.

you throw the shard you hold onto the glassy floor. it shattering creates a domino effect from all the glass around you. you can only let out a smile.

so, how can we deviate ourselves?

your eyes opened as you looked at the masked prince in front of you, knowing the identity of the person behind it. your hands reach to ribbons behind you as your mask falls from your face. the prince holding still as you caress his face.

“let your eyes close.” your hand moves to the mask he wears and pulls it off, throwing them to the ground.

“beomgyu,“ you whispered before leaning to connect your lips to his.

“deviating by him knowing the real you. that’s great, (y/n).” you turned beside you as you see the same you in the window as the kiss turns heated at the fountain. the mask is now in your hand as you grabbed them to hold it near you.

you looked at prince beomgyu standing before you as the string quartet stops when you heard the announcement of your stepsisters’ name as they enter the room. instead of running away, you stay still on the dance floor as your stepsisters and stepmother arrive at the balcony and you show your head held high as you face them.

the look of shock on their faces as you tighten your hand in beomgyu’s before godmother steps in to persuade you to let you go. turning around, you tell her, “let them. all of us here will see their genuine nature,“ when your stepmother quickly walks towards you, hand lifted before your vision zooms out to the window as you see yourself getting slapped. head still held high as the others scrambled to help you stay away from her.

“deviating by letting the others know how much of a monster they are. wonderful!” that you in the window said to you as she step down from her glass slippers and give you one of them, holding it in your hand.

your phone vibrates as beomgyu tries to kiss you by the river. you see the number of bombs being dropped on you as your stepmother texts you tons and tons of articles of you and beomgyu before she called you. beomgyu and you look down at the contact name and vibrating phone before you stand up and impulsively throw your phone with all of your might to the river, seeing it dropped into the water by gravity a few meters out before you turned your head to beomgyu.

“it’s a freaking long story. but do you wanna run away with me?“ a hand opens to him as beomgyu lets out a cheeky smile before he grabs them, dragging both of you away down the path into the night.

a white blazer drapes onto your shoulder as you see modern you giving a wide smile before waving a small wave as she runs away into the void.

you turn behind you to see all kinds of significant items that you left so beomgyu could find you—not needing them again as the glass shard that marks your boundaries shatters before all versions of you deviate one by one. you put them in a line on the dark void’s invisible floor, seeing an mp3 player, pointe shoes, and other sorts of stuff you collected as they’re thrown out from the windows of all of you who have deviated.

you pull out a box of matchsticks from the pile that you found. pulling a match out and lighting it up, you’ve looked at the line of the flammable items you have already in place meticulously as you approach the first one at the edge: the mask inside the glass shoes with the white blazer right beside it. you put the match on top of the mask as the flame lit it up and moved towards the blazer.

stepping back, the orange flame turns into blue as more and more items are being engulfed. more and more items that identify you as ashfool or cinderella as people outside this screen called. stepping back and breathing in, you let a wide smile grace your face. eyes looking elsewhere as you see the windows illuminated with a light blue light coming from it as you approach one of them, seeing what happened to each and all of you.

you and beomgyu were talking about the trip you are taking at the end of the social season. the fairy godmother is now gone as you are only left with your glass slippers as a gift from her. but only one thing came into your mind when you remember a proposal he spoke to you a week before.

“my apologies, beomgyu. but i can’t marry you right now.”

beomgyu, with saddened eyes, gives a nod of acknowledgment as you return home to see your stepmother and stepsisters being taken away to face the court. beomgyu, after seeing how harsh they are to you in public, has helped you with the case and your inheritance. seeing your critter friends finished helping to tidy your house up to its old glory days after you are the only resident of the land that is rightfully yours, you pack your bags and leave the town for a while, remembering what beomgyu said to you when you rejected his proposal.

“i will wait for you when you are ready because a countess needs an earl beside her and a prince needs a princess beside him.”

you and beomgyu, on the other hand, celebrated your marriage at the castle as your father’s and mother’s recipes are being faithfully done by the chefs to serve in a banquet. knowing how beomgyu and you wanted freedom out of your own outside of palace duties, you both help run the tavern as the two of waiting for the turn where he and you become king and queen.

seeing your husband from behind the counter, you laugh as you see knights teasing him when he served the drinks. though you realized how awkward he used to be, he talks to you about how rebellious he was and how he always wants to blend into the streets of his own kingdom. even mentioning how he didn’t regret going to the tavern he heard his knights have talked about by overhearing them sooner.

you and beomgyu live a peaceful life after he let you move in into his apartment away from your stepmother and stepsisters after you told him and his parents. finishing your college task together as he prepared to take his place as the ceo while the money his parents gave to you helped you improve the cinema, making you able to hire people who also like movies and wants to help expose the world of cinema—making your parents’ dream into reality.

“what the hell was that ending?” beomgyu’s surprised face makes you giggle as you both finish watching the room. you nod your head as he faces you before saying, “that’s how terrible the movie is.”

you looked at how all of you found your happy endings one by one, with or without beomgyu. but the thing you realized is that you have the freedom to pick whatever ending you like and you can sense the calm of the certainty. that calmness helps you close your eyes as you think of nothing while everything is moving around.

everything you know is right to all of you whoever perceives it as so.

-

“hey, (y/n).” something is shaking your body as you woke up from the sofa you sit on.

you looked around you to the small apartment unit you are in as you see a boy your age wearing a uniform. an outfit you also wear. an outfit for a cinema worker.

looking down at the name tag on his torso, you learn the name of your co-worker and best friend sitting beside you.

beomgyu.

“yeah…?” you rub your face as you trace the streaks of moisture on your cheeks, turning your head to the window to meet the night sky after the time both of your shifts ended.

“if you’re tired, we can skip the movie night-“

“no, i’m fine.” you held onto his upper arm as his eyes met yours, glistening with sparkles and tears collected on the corners. beomgyu slowly rubs a tear away that is threatening to fall out before he opens disney+ on his laptop placed on the coffee table, feeling a rush of warmth going to your cheeks.

“what are we watching tonight?” you asked as you stretched your arms from the tight sleep you seem to have as beomgyu scrolled the homepage down before chuckling.

“cinderella.“

your highness…

lady (y/n).

the hooded man with tied hairs.

your mother would be so proud.

if you’re asking, my dad is a filmmaker and film connoisseur.

would you be my date for the charity ball?

your head shook as you asked, “wait, what’s cinderella?”

taglist: @endzii23 @msxflower @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @boba-beom @feline4txt @ifwtyun @beomgyumineiro @fluffdiaree

can’t tag: @bubblejunnies @meowchikatt @ricepill @kayalayadayla @enchantedrose @johnnysluver @xiaoting999 @010313s

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[13eyond13]

In honour of recently completing my 2023 challenge of reading 50+ books this year, here are 10 books that I enjoyed in 2023 in no particular ranked order. (My reading taste leans towards the atmospheric, dark, satirical, suspenseful, strange and horror-tinged, btw):

1 A Lush and Seething Hell by John Hornor Jacobs

I'm currently in the process of reading this one (it's two small novels in one book), but I can already recommend it based just on the style and the quality of the first story. Somehow feels similar to me to catching an odd old foreign film on TV late at night when I'm the only person awake and then getting unexpectedly invested in it.

2 Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind

I'd read the first few chapters of this over a decade ago and they were so instantly memorable and vividly told that they remained burned into my mind ever since. Love the attention to detail in bringing this grotesque version of 1700s France to life, and how much the story made me think about my sense of smell and other familiar things in new ways

3 Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Funnier than I expected! Almost more a comedy than a romance in my opinion. Just very pleasant to read in general. I laughed out loud several times

4 The Midwife's Apprentice by Karen Cushman

This was a childhood favourite of mine that I decided to revisit, and it actually held up very well. I found the dark and cruel and gossipy little village that Beetle has to try to survive in fascinating, and same with learning about all the weird (historically accurate!) shit that was involved in medieval midwifery

5 Paradise Rot by Jenny Hval

I've mentioned this one on this blog already, but it feels like a surreal and melancholy bad dream in the best kind of way. More going on here to think about than just being the "lesbian piss book" (though you will find a generous helping of both things in the pages haha). Sticky and unsettling to read, like living in a compost pile, and probably not for everyone. But also poetic and lush and tense and and yeah, kinda gay

6 Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

As fun and compulsively readable as a modern thrillers while also being complex and atmospheric and literary all at once. Somehow I still didn't have all the twists and turns spoiled for me beforehand! A definite 5/5 from me

7 Come Closer by Sara Gran

A strange, unsettling and brisk little book about demonic possession that was very easy to fly through in less than a day. Might have benefitted from being left a little more ambiguous overall (imo), but still entertaining to read, and grabs you right from the first page

8 The Fisherman by John Langan

An extremely imaginative and detailed little universe is fleshed out here that includes some fascinating true-to-life history (did you know sometimes entire towns were vacated and stripped bare so giant water reservoirs could be built on top of them? And that the buildings are still just sitting down there under all that water sometimes? Well, you'll learn all about it here). Some very haunting imagery and characters and scenes that will easily burn themselves into your brain

9 Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

Creepy science fiction that feels a bit like embarking on a D&D campaign with some companions you don't actually trust or know very well. This one grew on me more over time as one that continued to stick with me a while after I had finished it. The mysteriousness and ambiguity of what's actually going on can either spur you to finish the whole series or simply give you a ton of food for thought to mull over and dissect

10 Contact by Carl Sagan

ALIENS! A very timely topic considering the types of news stories we've been getting in 2023. I was already familiar with Carl Sagan because of his Cosmos TV series, and only recently found out he wrote some fiction as well. Very pleasantly surprised at how well-written it is and that he put a female protagonist at the helm, and how he can share his expertise and knowledge and theories in the books in an easily accessible and entertaining way

[writercole]

Happy 8 years Cole!

Cast your mutuals as love interests for the different characters you write for!

OOOH These are super fun! Okay, okay. Let's see.

You are definitely with Rip Wheeler. I'm pretty sure we've discussed this as a thing previously. Rip is strong enough to handle you on your worst days and that includes sitting outside and drinking a beer beside you after a fight or offering you his jacket as you bathe in the water trough. The rugged, simple manliness is all you long for in life and the work of a ranch would be enough to keep you occupied and physically active...as Rip rails you on every surface he can.

@wildbornsiren is definitely Jason Todd's girl. Both are complex and deeply good people who just happen to have short tempers and high protective instincts when it comes to people they care about. They also both know the difficulties of anxiety and other mental spicies. When the world gets to be too much, they're the rocks and pillars of each others lives, casting protective

@ryebecca I have to say would be Joel Miller. (I'm typing up my first Joel piece as we speak.) He's soft and kind, he loves hard and he's fiercely protective. His love language is making you happy and for you, I know that's books and tea. He'd build you a house around a library with his own hands because that's how he is. And in turn, you'd read to him from your favorite Jane Austen books while playing with his hair and explaining the complexities of the work.

@blue-aconite Fe is definitely Valkyrie. A risk taker who's had her heart broken that falls for her best friend? TBB Jake Seresin would 200% take care of you in ways you never knew you needed.

@never--doubt Is Charlie Bradbury too obvious? I really feel that you and Charlie could geek out over the same kinds of things and attend all the cons and do all the RP in the world. Ineffable wives, anyone?

@dawn-petrichor-world you chaos demon, you. Happy Lowman. He's one of those gruff with everyone but his old lady types that's also incredibly chaotic. He'd be down for late night snack runs, murder, or just watching Netflix on the couch. All you have to do is bat your eyelashes and he's on his knees.

@antiquitea I know you adore Bucky Barnes BUT. Poe Dameron. He's the best pilot in the resistance, able to hit the target with precision and efficiency...repeatedly. He's great at following orders, but also giving them. And you never have to worry about him being with anyone else. Have you seen the way BB-8 tells on him? Well, maybe there's one other person you have to worry about. But how have you never considered Finn before? Maybe a throuple is in your cards.

@nepenthe-raes-affairs is a soft sub for Wanda Maximoff. You cannot convince me otherwise. Like, no notes.

@fuckyeahhangman Billy Butcher. Once he finally lets go of Rebecca, he's able to see you for what you are - a beautiful warrior, someone who refuses to back down from a challenge, and someone who will call him on his shit. Beard burn has never felt so good.

@princessmisery666 Hands down I ship you with Opie Winston. He's a giant teddy bear that oozes sex. He'll manhandle the fuck out of you in bed and then treat you like a queen outside. Yeah, his relationship with Donna was rocky but they made it work, just like you'd make it work. Lila was just a distraction, as much as I love her.

@imjess-themess Miguel "Fanboy" Garcia. He's soft and sweet and knows you inside and out. He picks up on your change in demeanor when you're having a bad day and will shield you from anyone and everyone that he needs

[one-strugling-bean]

A Good Omens S3 predictions list to cope

The obvious one: an apology from Aziraphale, duh

Role reversal~ Have Crowley get himself into trouble and Aziraphale come to the rescue.

(Bonus if Aziraphale has to fight to protect Crowley, or bodily carry him out of danger, because i like damses in distress and its fun.)

God makes an in-the-present appearance! Not physically with a vessel, but as a voice.

Aziraphale and Crowley going apeshit on heaven. Especially Aziraphale. I really wanna see Aziraphale go off. Particularly on heaven.

(Meanwhile Crowley is standing behind him, proudest and biggest in-love grin on his face.)

At least one more kiss. Of reconciliation if they get back together, or longing and sorrow if they're still upset at each other, or grief if one of them is on the verge of death- i could go on. I dont care how, i would just like one more kiss.

Reappearance of Muriel. They were such a sunshine this season, i wanna see them again. Have them make a friend. And i want at least one montage of them taking care of the bookshop. Chaotic good at its best.

Someone give Crowley a pet. A cat, or a lizard, or a goldfish. Idc what kind, i just think itd be neat to see him interact with animals. He'd be a very fun caretaker.

More bits about famous people. The "Jane Austen is a secret world class criminal" bit killed me. More of that please.

A serious threat. Season 2 was very lowkey in terms of threats, and it was a nice change of pace, but now I want the thrill of "oh we might die actually" back.

Flirty husbands. Extra points if Aziraphale flusters Crowley instead of the more obvious opposite.

A new season-defining song! Season 2 had "Everyday". I want a new one next season.

Hurt/comfort. Lots of it. Have the husbands fight. Have them scream at each other, cry, fill them with nightmares. Then give me comfort. A hug after the crying. A sorrowful kiss after the fight is done. A little self-deprecating joke to make the other laugh.

New outfiiiiiiits. Pick different colors, or a very different style. Force Aziraphale to wear black or pink, put Crowley in red tinted, star sunglasses, give them high-heel shoes, i dunno. But surprise the audience and become the main source of endless fanarts to come.

Another dance scene... This is one of my favorite tropes. Ships dancing together, whatever the dance may be, is my drug.

Scenes with wings! I just think they're neat with their wings out.

A. goddman. Happy. Ending! I want to see the cottage! The three cats! The learning-to-cook-breakfast-together-but-they're-actually-really-bad-at-it-and-almost-burn-the-cottage-down scene!

And uh, guess thats it for now. Feel free to add your own to the mix, all delusions are welcomed :')

Also, reblogs are very appreciated....... just sayin

[bitbybitwrites]

Five fics under 500

Rules: 5 fic recommendations that are currently under 500 kudos. Let’s give these fics the love they deserve!

Thanks for the tag, @myheartalivewrites!

I'm gonna cheat a bit and do 5 fics each for the two main fandoms I'm currently very much in love with 😉 : RWRB and Klaine. Can't hurt to give more fics love, right?

Stories listed under the cut/pictures.

Tagging if you want to play: @gleefuldarrencrissfan, @rockitmans @1908jmd, @special-bc-ur-part-of-it, @forabeatofadrum, @daisyishedwig, @datshitrandom, @clottedcreamfudge, @welcometololaland, @madas-ahatters-world, @gleefulpoppet, @heartsmadeofbooks

RWRB fics:

the sadness you carry, it hangs like a ghost by @14carrotghoul

Summary:

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you two. For anyone in our group, really.” She pauses as a quote comes to mind and continues, “’I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not in my nature.’” She sets the menu down and smiles at her Jane Austen buddy. “Thank you nonetheless… and I'm sorry you’re not handsome enough to tempt me,” he adds. AKA June and Henry's fake cafe date.

*****

Take me where I cannot stand by @clottedcreamfudge

Summary:

Henry blinks at him. “Galactapol?” “Yeah, you know – the Intergalactic Peace Force?” “Yes, I know them,” Henry says drily, “but you said—” “We don't have a lot of respect for them around here,” Alex informs him succinctly. “If that's the kind of line you wanna take, then maybe—” “No, no,” Henry says hurriedly, straightening up. “Galactapol. I like it. Catchy, even.” “Read the contract or don't, Fox,” Alex says firmly, pressing his own hand to the line of studs between the engine room and the lower corridor. “I can find another engineer if I need to, but you'll never – and I mean never – find a ship like this again in your life. Jackie's one of a kind.” * Space, smuggling, and a ship called Applejack. Everything's shiny.

****

You Make Every Day Feel Like It's Christmas by allmylovesatonce

Summary:

Burned out on work, Alex goes to visit June who is on assignment in a sleepy Vermont town called Snow's Landing. June is determined for him to see where she's been living for the last six months and to love it as much as she does. The most intriguing part of it all is June's best friend there, a man named Henry, that Alex believed was a jerk at first but is starting to discover a new side of as they spend more time together.

****

Help Me Hold On to You by affectionatelyrs

Summary:

“I can’t do this all the time, Alex,” Henry huffs out, arms crossed from the opposite end of the couch. “I’ve been more than happy to help, and I’ve been doing so as much as I can, but we need to talk about it. It’s been…a lot for me.” Too much. Henry doesn’t say it directly, but it’s the undercurrent of his words. Two words that Alex has heard many times in his life, over and over again until they became permanently pressed into his eyelids like a brand, reminding him of his state of being every time he so much as blinks. - Or, Henry isn't always able to give Alex the help he needs, which sends Alex into a spiral, but they'll always find a way to work things out together

****

Thin Ice (Series) by Nicolodeon

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, charismatic center for the NHL's Dallas Stars, is completely and utterly smitten with the posh British librarian he met by complete accident. Tonight is the night, and he's got a plan to completely woo Henry and get his man.

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

Klaine fics:

My Heart, It Pounds, Yeah You Got Me by nineofhearts, raimykeller

Summary:

Kurt gets drunk and records a TikTok entitled “Guys I Had A Crush On In High School”, in which he talks about, rates, and shows pictures of his various crushes— embarrassing, unrequited, and otherwise — thinking he set it to friends only or private. When he wakes up the next day, he has a flood of notifications that prove otherwise, a hangover, and a text from Blaine Anderson. The longest part of Kurt’s now viral video.

To Shake The Pride of Angels by @the-cimmerians

Summary:

AU, Kurt and Blaine have never met. Until they do.

When I Get You Alone by canarian

Summary:

AU in which Kurt never goes to spy on the Warblers before sectionals. Kurt and Blaine first meet when Cooper takes his younger brother to a strip club to celebrate his 18th birthday. That evening, a chance encounter leads both boys down a path that is more than they bargained for. But when trouble pops up in the form of a familiar face, it could all end before it ever really starts.

Pivot And Slip by alilactree

Summary:

Blaine is a former boxer still struggling with the demons of his past. Kurt is a yoga instructor who may be able to help Blaine with his pent up frustrations, and find the confidence to go after what he wants in the process.

Spotlight by AntarcticBird

Summary:

A small theater, an amazing internship and the opportunity of a lifetime. When things slowly start falling apart, clearly all that's missing is a complete stranger who just wants to make art and help people!

[an-extraordinary-fate]

Often I choose my favorite Austen heroine-of-the-moment or next book to re-read based on my mood. What am I lacking in real life at the moment. Who am I most like and want to see myself? Who do I most admire or enjoy? Who makes me feel the most?

Sometimes you want the heroine who would cheer you up and that’s a good friend when you are sad. This could be Lizzy, Jane, Anne, or Elinor. They are all sympathetic listeners and encouragers. Three of them have very funny internal observations that are sure to cheer you. Even Catherine and Fanny could be good in this role as long as it’s not too out of their comfort zone and experience.

Sometimes you want the heroine thats’s your ride or die, and it’s most definitely Marianne. Elizabeth is a close second for willing to light someone up over a snub.

Sometimes you just want the heroine to make the hard decisions for you, and that’s when Emma shines. Just maybe use your own judgment too. But also she is hilariously stubborn. There is something about her that I’m sure everyone can relate to in her imperfections yet inherently good nature.

Sometimes you just want the Austen heroine who gives the best burns so you need Elizabeth or Elinor if she’s willing to share her wit.

And sometimes you want someone to wax poetic with or to you. Fanny is definitely up for the task as well as Anne and Marianne. They have some very beautiful thoughts and speeches about nature and humanity.

And sometimes it isn’t even the heroine that draws me. I love to see Lady Susan spin her web. She’s so devious and the funny thing is people know it and still fall for it. Mary Crawford makes me laugh because she’s just so honest and I wish better for her. Fanny and John Dashwood believe themselves to be good, honest people. Mrs Jennings makes me laugh probably more than any other Austen character and she has such a sweet heart under all that matchmaking and teasing and nosiness. And the Musgroves and Harvilles feel like home. It’s always wonderful to visit.

[daincrediblegg]

Hello ❤️ Book ask game!

1, 10, 11, 48 👀👀

1.what is the best book you have ever read? So listen. Listen to me. I have been plugging The Vampire Tapestry to literally anyone who will listen to me ever since I read it. And I will do it again. I cannot express how hard to put down this book was for me (and for someone who is primarily a film/television consumer and an adhd bitch to boot? that says a lot). There are so many things about this book that make my brain go brrr from the atypical vampire narrative (featuring a dilf vampire- and you don't see a lot of those-whose condition is more biological than fantastical, but is nonetheless a complicated mess of a creature), to a really clever drawing back of the curtain and critique of the very genre it's meant to portray, and I literally don't think I'll ever be over it. I almost wanted to kiss my professor on the mouth for assigning this book (but I didn't). I still think about it constantly and I will never stop.

10. what book are you reading right now? I'm... actually reading several in a very asynchronous way. Of course I'm about 100 pages deep into the terror rn, I'm also working my way through May We Be Spared to Meet On Earth (collection of correspondence from members of the franklin expedition- which I'm certain was study material for some of the actors bc I feel like a lot of the letters in that are so clearly reflected in the characters on the show moreso than they are in the book- and honestly every single fucking letter from Francis Crozier is a heartwarming delight deadass). I'm not reading so much this semester but I'll be reading throughout the semester Miyazakiworld: A Life in Art (and it's had some really fascinating little anecdotes so far).

11. what book do you want to read but haven't? I honestly want to read more stuff from Miss Charnas. She fucking understood the assignment on so many levels with Vampire Tapestry that I really want to look into more of her. Ofc I have a ton of Jane Austen and Jane Eyre that are burning a hole in my bookshelf, and a little volume of the Lais of Marie de France that I want to take a more proper gander at. These. And so. SO. Many more. OH AND I FORGOT I also have been dipping my toes into historical erotica like Fanny Hall and it’s been tons of fun (and if anyone has some specific victorian recommendations I would LOVE to receive them- it’s VERY important lady terror research 😉).

48. what book would you give someone if they wanted a glimpse into your psyche? I really do hate to answer Edgar Allan Poe again BUT!!! in specific- I think anyone who wants to understand me and my approach to my writing and stuff? Look no further than The Philosophy of Composition. You wouldn't expect EAP to be such a brilliant essayist as he is but jesus christ I still think it may be the most fascinating and engaging essay I've ever read in my life. He articulates his points so poetically and so well and honestly? There's not a word in that essay that doesn't ring true for me to a lot of how I process things myself in my own writing- and things that are generally just great writing practice- like when I read it for the first time a few years ago I literally went "he's just like me fr" and I've felt soul bonded to the thing ever since. I also gave a presentation on it in my Gothic Lit class last semester that everybody really really liked (and of course. because I really REALLY fucking love this essay and this dude). And honestly I'd love to give that lecture again and I hope I get to.

BOOK ASK BAIT

[forgottenroisin]

Character Analysis

THE BASICS: 

Character’s name: Roisin Malconaire

Role in story:  Hot mess/Supporting character

Physical description:  Emily Carey

Age: 21

MBTI: ENFP

Enneagram: Type 7 (the enthusiast), 7w6, 749

Zodiac: Aries

INTERNAL: THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

What is his/her greatest fear?  Being deprived and in pain

Inner motivation: To be satisfied and content: to have her needs fulfilled, to maintian her freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out on worthwhile experiences, to keep herself excited and occupied, to avoid and discharge pain

Kryptonite: Someone trying to control her (looking at you, Valentina)

What is his/her misbelief about the world?  If she just accumulates enough wealth and fun and experiences she can actually live the perfect, flawless, pain-free life and give it to her loved ones, too!

Lesson he/she needs to learn: Oops, that’s impossible and money certainly won’t buy it! (Just ask Edmund!)

What is the best thing in his/her life?  Her sisters!!  Her home!!  Fun and doing what she wants and exploring all the opportunities this life has to offer!!

What is the worst thing in his/her life?  Probably her stepmom and stepbro #gross No, but honestly most likely the death of her dad if she was old enough to remember him :( Her mom, too, but I'm not sure she ~does remember her?

What does he/she most often look down on people for?  Being controlled, being boring, an uncooperative spirit, a lack of vision, an unwillingness to help others (tho tbf her viewpoint on this is a lil skewed bc she often fails to see the things ppl need etc etc her heart is ultimately in the right place she’s just kinda spoiled and blind bc of it)

What makes his/her heart feel alive?  Adventure!  Laughter!  Inside jokes!  Exploring!  Riches and excitement!  A new frock!  Poetry that inflames her emotions (yes, she’s def rocking those Anne of Green Gables vibes esp when she was little – cue her renaming Goat Road to the Way of the Shephard or smth more poetic etc)!  Spending quality time with loved ones!  Etc, etc!

What makes him/her feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? Her sisters were most def the ppl <3  Being paid attention to, being supported and shown affection, having fun, quality time, shared fresh air and experiences, shared laughter, etc!

Top three things he/she values most in life?  Her loved ones, fun, security!

EXTERNAL: NOT NECESSARY, BUT GOOD TO KNOW AND SAYS A LOT ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

What’s his/her favorite book, movie, and band?  She’d love the Idylls of the King!  Ivanhoe and pr much anything by Tennyson and Scott and all the other Romantic Poets!  She’d also love Narnia and Pippi Longstocking and Amelia Bedelia and all sorts of fun, fantastical things as a kid!  Re: tv Bridgerton would be a go-to, and, speaking of regency things, pr much all Jane Austen!  I feel like the most recent Emma, P&P, and Persuasion would be her fav movie adaptations (and tbh she’d probs have more patience for those than reading) but she would loooove S&S just in general all editions of it bc she’d suuuuuper relate to Marianne and the whole sister thing would obv get her right in the feels, also Little Women esp the most recent Amy!positive adaptation too for similar reasons etc!  Gilmore Girls!!  Daisy Jones & the Six!!  Florence + the Machine <3  Fairy tales in general!!! dua lipa, ava max, fleetwood mac

Is there an object he/she can’t bear to part with and why?  She probs has, like, a bracelet or hairpin or smth from her mom that is hella sacred to her but tbh she probs rarely wears it, instead choosing to keep it in this tiny ornamental box where she knows its safe and tbh itll probs get burned asp and she’ll probs have a breakdown bc of it bc im mean <3

Describe a typical outfit for him/her from top to bottom.  This girl is O B S E S S E D w clothes and far more so than i am tbh so i probs can’t even comprehend of the sort of sick fit she’d come up w but suffice it to say she’s always glammed out and rocking the latest trends and probs helping to set them too lbr i also feel like she’s REALLY good at, like, taking her mom’s old dresses and spicing them up to make them ahead of the latest trend or like even making smth completely new out of her bedroom curtains like they might not have much?? since they got an evil stepmom?? but even if so she still living that haute couture life!  the best seamstress in the land tbh lbr! ;D  she ~will find a way!  and everyone will be drooling to wear that next week when she’s already moved on to the next look ;D

What names or nicknames has he/she been called throughout their life?  Rosie to her sisters, Rose to her friends, Roisin to everyone else thank you very much

What is his/her method of manipulation?  Lol, she’s the worst smh anyway that would be guilt tripping, judging you, annoying you

Describe his/her daily routine.  Only gets out of bed when positively FORCED tbh and probs kinda cranky in the morning whoops but omg she comes alive at night and just out there having a stupid good time, def the life of the party type, pranking!! joking!! leaving Brigit doodles of Valentina's face after the latest prank lol, honestly she’s not really someone who holds to ~routine bc that’s the bane of her existence and noT exciting (tho she does actually lowkey thrive on one when its enforced so she goes on jags where she holds herself to this standard...and then gets bored of it or distracted by smth and lets it go haha), but catch her laughing and flirting and dancing and teasing and planning outfits and frankly being impulsive af #facepalm

Their go-to cure for a bad day?  Pranking their stepmom w Brigit!!  drawing!!  whatever the medieval!fantasty equivalent of, like, eating ice cream directly out of the container while watching Gilmore Girls is, putting on her fanciest dress and going to balls and dancing w ppl who look at her like she’s the moon in the sky, probs actually wearing that bracelet/pin she has from her mom for once! making her sisters laugh! general escapism of every kind tbh, exploring awesome places everything from creepy forests to exquisite castles yknow!!  new experiences and having fun w her loved ones in general <3  the medieval!fantasy equivalent of going to one of Gatsby’s parties, etc

CHARACTER GOALS:

How is your character dissatisfied with their life?  Well, she’s an orphan w Valentina (fc: ANJELICA HUSTON IN EVER AFTER ;D) for a stepmom so…i feel like that kinda speaks for itself hahaha plus she wants to save herself and her sisters!!  and obv she hasn’t done that yet so lots to be bummed about :/  fortunately, she’s got a handsome prince on the hook so things’re looking up in that dept! and she’s defffff not considering the huge possibility that ~that won’t last since his ambitious parents almost certainly have other plans for him than some rando orphan!!!! even if she ~is technically nobility (actually she ~does know this but she ain’t looking at that too close up bc she’s a world class ignorer of truths she don’t vibe with <3)  Anyway, basically she’d love to be rich and just important enough to be consulted and included on fun things but frankly noT important enough to have to deal w the bad (but she doesn’t really think about that second part too much ngl) and have fine parties and intellectual but funny convos and be admired and adored by the glittering throng and make her sisters’ lives better w a wink of her eye!!!! but obv this fantasy existence isn’t playing out so!!! dissatisfaction!!

What does your character believe will bring them true happiness or contentment?  Wealth and importance bc that’d allow her to solve all her current problems!  of course, it’d also create a host of new and perhaps worse problems, but!!!! she does not consider this!!!  in her mind, if she were wealthy and important she could fix everything and then it’d be all happily ever after for everyone a la a fairy tale!

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?  Marry Edmund and become a literal princess/empress so she can save her sisters and really stick it to her stepmom or, failing that (besides, it'd be pr cool to be bowed and scraped to and wear a crown and a pretty dress!) or marry pr much any of the other male characters so far that aren’t resistance members! bc she's looking to marry rich so she can save her sisters!

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?  Well, she’d be pr tied down as the wife of an important person and she values her freedom greatly!  how else is she supposed to bask in her precious distractions and adventures?  she couldn’t just take off for the woods at a moment’s notice or prank Amira (she’d probs be executed for that tbh ;D) or smth, plus – and this is the worst one in her mind – lbr she probs wouldn’t be able to see her sisters nearly as much and, gods, she doesn’t know how she’d ever, ever do w/o them!  So!  her solution?  ignore all of this and just hope things continue 100% the way they are rn, forever, problems and all!

How does your protagonist feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?  Change, of any kind, is anathema!  everything stays the same <3  failing that (bc inevitably that one’ll collapse around her and she knows this), marry someone rich and handsome and powerful who adores her and buy her way to success <3

[thelonelynightwatcher]

"To the theatre he went, and reached it just in time to witness the first meeting of his father and his friend. Sir Thomas had been a good deal surprised to find candles burning in his room; and on casting his eye round it, to see other symptoms of recent habitation and a general air of confusion in the furniture. The removal of the bookcase from before the billiard-room door struck him especially, but he had scarcely more than time to feel astonished at all this, before there were sounds from the billiard-room to astonish him still farther. Some one was talking there in a very loud accent; he did not know the voice—more than talking—almost hallooing. He stepped to the door, rejoicing at that moment in having the means of immediate communication, and, opening it, found himself on the stage of a theatre, and opposed to a ranting young man, who appeared likely to knock him down backwards. At the very moment of Yates perceiving Sir Thomas, and giving perhaps the very best start he had ever given in the whole course of his rehearsals, Tom Bertram entered at the other end of the room; and never had he found greater difficulty in keeping his countenance. His father’s looks of solemnity and amazement on this his first appearance on any stage, and the gradual metamorphosis of the impassioned Baron Wildenheim into the well-bred and easy Mr. Yates, making his bow and apology to Sir Thomas Bertram, was such an exhibition, such a piece of true acting, as he would not have lost upon any account. It would be the last—in all probability—the last scene on that stage; but he was sure there could not be a finer. The house would close with the greatest eclat."

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen.

[ninja-muse]

End of 2022 Book Stats

Because I like crunching numbers and I think some of you might be interested? Maybe I’m just flattering myself…

Yearly total: 147 + 2
 rereads DNFs: 4 Queer books: 52 (35%) Authors of colour: 31 (21%) Books by women: 88 (60%) Books by nonbinary/genderqueer folk: 9 (6%) Canadian authors: 15 (10%) Off the TBR shelves: 30 (20%)

Compared to my 2021 stats, my percentages of queer books (subject matter and/or author), nonbinary authors, and authors of colour are holding roughly steady. My female and Canadian authors percentages are down. I also always try to set a goal for reading more classics and poetry. This year I read 9 (6%) and last year I was at 6 (3.7%). Success!

At the start of the year, I posted 22 reading goals for the year. I read all but one book off the list (Night Watch by Sarah Waters)! I also wanted to read at least one book off my TBR shelves per month (done) and increase my percentage of authors of colour from 22% (not done, basically holding steady). I was also hoping to have read more Canadian authors than I did, but at the same time, so much Canadian fiction just does not grab my interest.

Top Fiction (Not ranked)

Persuasion - Jane Austen

Babel - R.F. Kuang

The Mummy! - Jane Webb

A Strange and Stubborn Endurance - Foz Meadows

Semiosis - Sue Burke

Top Non-Fiction (Not ranked)

Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust - Yaffa Eliach

Highway of Tears - Jessica McDiarmid

1491 - Charles Mann

The Emperor of Scent - Chandler Burr

Let’s Do It! - Bob Stanley

Longest book

: The Fabliaux, translated by Nathaniel Durbin

Best queer book: A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows

Most Impressed By:

The Emperor of Scent - Chandler Burr

Katzenjammer - Francesca Zappia

The Escapement - Lavie Tidhar

The Wolf Den - Elodie Harper

Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust - Yaffa Eliach

Hot Moon - Alan Smale

Biggest Disappointments:


High Times in the Low Parliament - Kelly Robson

Pride, Prejudice and Peril - Katie Oliver

Attrib. and other Stories - Eley Williams

The Monsters We Defy - Leslye Penelope

Epically Earnest - Molly Horan

Did I beat 2021? No.

Did I beat my Best Year Ever? No. That would be 2021.

Did I read more classics? Yes!

Did I read more Canadians? No.

Did I whittle my TBR shelves down any? No. I hauled 102 books, most of which were gifts, free copies from publishers, or hand-me-downs, and I read 30. This gives me a net gain of 72 books. There are also 29 ARCs on my floor. This is, as I’m fond of saying, fine and not at all worrying.

Was it a good reading year? It was fine? I read a lot of good books that weren’t particularly memorable, and a lot of okay books that barely were. And I kind of burned out halfway through the year and had to slow my pace to keep my interest in reading going.

Breakdowns by Month

January February March April May June July August September October November December

[sometimesrosy]

Do you ever experience an unfulfilled desire to see your tv couple (from The 100) consummate their relationship onscreen? And if so how do you get over it?

Yeah I do. I think it's one of the reasons I fell off of doing the rewatch (although not the only reason by far.) Because it felt hollow. You know? TBH I could have handled the way it ended better if they didn't completely invalidate the head and the heart story, and the story of trying to make sure we deserve to survive. And if they had even just ADDRESSED the tie between them. It was a mistake to take the love scene out of the episode after the resuscitation scene. But oh well.

There it is. You can't trust hollywood because they have their own agenda and they often put the story last.

What do I do to get over it? Well, I had to let go of the obsession, which I was ready for, tbh. I just moved on. Maybe because for me The 100 was a coping strategy, and my mental health improved so I didn't need them as a coping strategy anymore.

But it's hard to just be like, well, be over it, if you still need it as an emotional support ship.

In that case, I'd probably switch to fanfiction. There's some fantastic fanfic in the fandom and they can fix where it went wrong.

The tv show is fiction. It's not real life. It didn't really happen. There's no "truth" to it. Yes, there's canon. And the canon tells 'A' story. I personally think JR ruined the story out of spite, so I chose not to give a shit what happened in season 7, although I'd be okay taking it as inspiration.

If I were still obsessed, I would be WRITING fanfiction, to fix it frankly. BUT

I'm not, for some actual reasons that might have helped me move past the show and the ship.

Mainly because I started ghostwriting romances. Especially when I started, I was inspired by fan fiction and would definitely put Bellarke into the books. Sometimes I'd put Olicity. or like some other random ship. Writing my own story and giving them happy endings helped me not need them as emotional support.

And then also perhaps I switched my emotional support to reading historical romances. I read a lot of them. I started because my first ghostbook had a trope I didn't understand and my google search led to a historical romance, so I read it and remembered that I used to like bodice rippers when I was teen, so I started reading them. And the thing is, it's a lot like fanfiction. This character and that character fall in love in the fictional world of Regency or Victorian England. And because it's this kinda Jane Austen universe, it stays familiar. And because it's a fantasy version of the real times, well, it's not too near the real world and all the stress we go through now.

So how did I get over Bellarke's crash and burn? I wrote other stuff. I read other stuff. I might also suggest finding a different ship to fall in love with. You know that old saying "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?" I think that fits with a broken ship, too. Find someone else to obsess over.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Teenage Vampires Meet Jane Austen

There is a danger of decrying all vampire YA books released in the 2000s as mere Twilight Saga clones, but Beth Fantaskey's (and if ever an author had a vampire novel writing last name, she does!) novel was published in 2000, and Twilight wasn't released until 2005. So please, no comparisons between these two books--they're sufficiently different that they deserve to be discussed on their own merits. Honestly, I kind of wish that Fantaskey's books had blown up and become the mainstream YA vampire duology of the 2000s, but a girl can't have everything. Let's talk the marvelous mix of Jane Austen and vampire lore that is Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side.

Right off the top, this book has startlingly excellent adoption representation. Jessica is adopted, and she has a phenomenal relationship with her adoptive parents. She is unconditionally loved and supported, she is happy, there is great parent-child communication, and there is exactly zero resentment or hesitation once Jessica is ready to explore her birth parents--she is supported in that too. She struggles with her adoption circumstances specifically, but even that is handled well--who wouldn't struggle with being adopted as an infant to avoid being murdered alongside their family? I was pleasantly surprised to find such great representation, and it serves the story equally well, given how objectively abusive and cruel Lucius's biological family is. This tends not to be something I see a lot in SFF (you could argue for found family doing similar things, but this is an explicit adoption story in the 2000s, so I think that gets its own literary area), and I loved how well it was handled.

So who are Jessica and Lucius?

Jessica was born in Romania as Antanasia to the Dragomir royal vampire family. However, she grew up as Jessica Packwood, daughter of a university professor and a hippie in Southern America, a mathelete, and a 4H horsewoman who isn't a half bad jumper. She's not popular at school but she has her best friend, her mathelete colleagues, and even a boy who is a little bit interested in her as she learns to be more assertive with her worth and skills--again, supported wholeheartedly by her parents.

Then Lucius Vladescu rocks into town and pulls a Heathcliff out on the moors at her bus stop on the first day of senior year. That absolutely unmitigated dramatic flair is arguably a combination coping and rebellion methodbecause Lucius is the heir apparent to the Vladescu royal vampire family. He's basically a teenage angst version of a combination of Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff, and that in and of itself is the weirdest combination of chivalrous, assholeish, dutiful, and "let it burn." It's unusual for me to say that the male lead in a YA vampire romance is actually fascinating, but watching Lucius try to burn down the status quo as hard as he can while also trying to stop things from catching fire as hard as he can is never not interesting.

In addition to Jessica and Lucius being genuinely interesting characters to follow, the book itself does the weirdest thing where it combines literary influences and allusions to Pride and Prejudice (in the form of Lucius's letters to his uncle and Jessica's resemblance to Lizzie), Wuthering Heights (in Lucius's *gestures broadly* and direct diegetic references to the novel that get a bit close to the heavy-handed line), and Dracula (in the general vampire aesthetics and the Vladescu vibes--I am super not speaking for the Dragomir family vibes, because that is just...yeah). Vampire and Gothic make sense together, but the Pride and Prejudice vibes just take this story and give it a bit of lightness that I wasn't expecting and frankly think works astoundingly well.

Overall, this book was a favorite of mine when I found it in high school, and I cannot recommend it enough. It's part one of a duology, so be sure to follow it up with Jessica Rules the Dark Side.