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fairyoftbz · 4 years

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Retrouvailles | l. hyunjae

💐 pairing: florist!hyunjae x fem!reader 💐 genre: cliché fluff 💐 word count: 2.6k 💐 tw: i think i swore once or twice? 💐 synopsis: you are back in your hometown after living in paris for years with your family and a special encounter won’t make you regret your decision. 💐 requested: yes from kyu! i hope you’ll like it!! 💌 💐 a/n: i am so sorry but i absolutely love writing for florist!au, i promise it’s the last one ! (of this series) constructive feedback is always appreciated!!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Looking around you as you got off the bus, you scoffed in utter shock as this neighbourhood hadn’t changed at all, even if you left eight years ago. All the shops and cafes remained the same, just two new ones got added to the ones that you always found welcoming and cute.

You got a weird sensations when you came back from school a few years ago, your parents stopping you in the entrance and asking you to follow them in the living room. Your siblings were already there, and they all looked down, your little sister on the verge of crying. You were fourteen at this time, and you had imagined the worst.

“Mom, Dad, what’s happening?” you worriedly asked, trying to catch your older brother’s gaze, but his head remained low, a visible disappointed look on his face. “It’s a bit complicated, sweetie, but Dad found a job in Europe. We are going to receive more money and live more comfortably, but we have to follow him,” your mother tried her best to explain you the situation without hurting you, but it was to no avail. You couldn’t control the tears submerging your eyes and cried uncontrollably, your mother rushing to take you in her arms.

“When are we coming back, Mom? Are we going to keep the house? I don’t want other people to live here,” your mother soothingly rubbed your back, trying to ease your pain, and she nodded. “I don’t know baby, but your grandparents are going to live here, it’s better than the house they currently have,” you pouted as you kept on crying, your mother resting a reassuring hand on the back of your head as she drew you closer, but immediately abandoned her arms as soon as your little sister started crying, rushing to hug her instead.

The move was hard, packing all your stuff had you feeling extremely sad to leave all your memories behind, unsure about the future years. The next day, you bid farewell to all your friends, hugging them tightly as you spent your last day at school trying to find solace in your friends and classmates’ presence before leaving. You cried in your best friend’s arms right in front of your mother’s car, and waved at her until she disappeared from the rear-view mirror.

Paris was a wonderful city, not quite like in the movies, but it was still charming. French was a tough language and you kind of struggled go get yourself understood because the other students didn’t really speak your native language, but with many months that turned into years of trying, you managed to now have a decent level in the language of love.

Despite your passion and admiration for this city, creating landmarks in the surrounding neighbourhoods as well as making friends were not easy tasks. However, with the help of your siblings and your parents, you had managed to make a bunch of friends, and that did you good when you didn’t have to think too much when you were talking since you were conversing in your native language.

Your time is France was amazing, you created great memories with awesome friendships, but you couldn’t help feeling nostalgic sometimes. You missed your neighbourhood, your grandparents, and your other relatives, only being able to see and talk to them via Skype or FaceTime. Years passed, and finally, at 22 years old, you decided to let your family in France, where your siblings had already constructed things with people, and come back where you grew up, where you felt like your heart truly belonged.

The shock on your face had to be very visible since some bystanders threw you a weird look as you stood stoic in the middle of the pavement. Spontaneously walking inside the kiosk that was as old as you remembered it, you warmly greeted the owner, an elderly woman that hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same hunched shoulders, long, white hair secured in a tight bun by a flower pin, her wrinkled smile was still as warm and as wise as you knew it when you were buying sweets from her.

You exchanged a few words with her, giving you a pack of the sweets you used to buy and the prepaid card you asked for. You still had your French number, so it’d cost you a kidney if you ever decided to call your relatives with it. The old woman looked extremely happy and somewhat pleased to see you, because she admitted that she got worried when you suddenly stopped passing by and buy sweets.

“And you decided to come back, how wonderful,” she said with her shaky, warm voice while handing you what you just bought. You smiled at her and nodded, eyes slightly widening when she grabbed your wrist. “If you need anything, my husband and I will be happy to help. I’m glad to see you back by us,” she said, and you felt your heart flutter. It was truly where you belonged. “Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you answered as she winked, wishing you a great day.

The fresh air welcomed you once you got out, feeling it clear your lungs from the slight more polluted air from Paris. You opened the bag of sweets and munched on a few, feeling the memories rushing back in your mind as you started wandering around the neighbourhood. You quickly texted your cousin that you were near their house, but he was probably too busy playing video games or napping, so you decided to go grab something more consistent to eat and wandered around, walking further into different areas.

The beautiful, light colours of a shop window caught your attention, not remembering its existence when you were younger. You got near the window and observed inside, discovering a jungle of beautiful flowers arranged by species. A manly back was working behind the checkout, assembling a bouquet of what seemed to be roses. You were tempted to go inside the shop to know more about this new place, but you quickly hid from the window when the man turned around. His face looked familiar, a tingling sensation appearing in your stomach as you tried to remember him. You knew him from somewhere, you were sure of it, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

The young man inside the shop slightly frowned as he saw someone suddenly disappearing from the window, the hems of their long brown coat lingering in his gaze. He slightly shrugged with a smile and petted the cat at his feet, who was demanding cuddles and attention. His hands were occupied with the order he had just finished preparing and he wrapped the flowers in some brown paper craft before placing it in the back office, where all the other orders were ready to get delivered by his co-worker Juyeon. He finished his cup of now cold coffee that was forgotten on the main counter, hearing the bell above the door chime.

Much to his great disappointment, it wasn’t the young lady that vanished before his eyes, it was Juyeon’s mother, who was here to pick up flowers for his sick grandmother. Hyunjae hid his dismay behind a warm smile, quickly pacing back and forth to give her the bouquet and bank her total.

A middle-aged woman walking out of the shop looked at you from the side as you still hid, tugging on your lower lip, rummaging your mind in order to find who this man was. You were getting frustrated as you stomped the floor with your foot, getting tired of your brain playing tricks on you as you were sure that you knew this man.

“Fuck it, I’m going in,” you said as you pushed the door open, the intense smell of flowers and pollen attacking your nostrils. It smelt really nice and welcoming, but your allergies said otherwise.

You sneezed once, twice, and one last time before you could properly greet the man in front of you. He looked as curious as you were, he must have seen you since you weren’t the best at hiding.

“Welcome to the Butterfly flower shop, how can I help you?” the voice of the man sending a nice wave of chill down your spine, feeling yourself smile at who seemed to be the owner of the shop. “Hello, I’m just going to look around for a while,” you said while gesturing to all the flowers around you, sniffling to try and hold a sneeze in, but it didn’t help at all. It actually did the exact opposite that you had wished.

Hyunjae empathically smiled as you kept on sneezing, trying his best not to vocal how cute you were when the pollen seized your entire nostrils. You apologised profusely, mentally cursing yourself for being so curious. Maybe, just maybe, you should have stayed outside and admire him from afar, you wouldn’t be embarrassing yourself just like you were doing right now. But it was so tempting, you had to take a look. He was nice enough to hand you a pack of tissues, which you gladly took with a nod.

“I’ll be in the back office for a minute, don’t hesitate to ask me if you need any help,” he said with a warm smile and you nodded, holding a tissue to your face. “I appreciate it, thank you,” you answered as you started looking around the shop. All the flowers were beautiful, it was really tempting to just buy one of each without even caring about the prices. Since this was impossible, your eyes landed on some daisies, whose petals looked really nice and healthy. You felt bad to have made your choice just a few seconds after the man left for the back office, so you decided to wait for a bit.

Yet, another bad idea. Your nose felt ticklish, no matter how hard you rubbed your finger under it, it only became worse.

“Hum excuse me?” you politely said, and the man reappeared almost instantly, close to scaring you. His whole face lit up just with a smile, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight. Staring at him for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape as you detailed his face, his smile and manners hitting you like a truck.

This man was none other than Hyunjae, the young boy you had a crush on during the late years of middle school, right before you left for France. He grew up so much, yet his facial features had barely changed, they only matured. His smile was the thing that made you fall for him, his personality and physical features not helping the hopeless romantic that you were. You barely talked to him when you were younger, only when you were assigned in groups with him since he always hung out with the athletes and dancers, a group that you were dying to join but never did. Hyunjae was an incredible dancer, always performing for the school team and even outside.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” you heard his voice bringing you back to reality, feeling embarrassment invading your body as you’ve probably been staring at him for long, way too long to not be weird. “I’m-I’m sorry. Can I have a bouquet of those daisies over there, please?” you asked, and he nodded. “Sure thing,” walking around the counter, you followed him to the said daisies, the man gathering a good portion of his stock. Your eyes widened a bit but didn’t dare to say anything, only to follow him back to the counter.

“Are you from here? My usual customers are my acquaintances or the people living in the neighbourhood,” his voice trailed as he arranged the flowers, briefly looking at you with a smile before busying his hands in the plants again. “I was actually born and raised here, but I had to follow my father abroad for his job,” you said while delicately touching the petals of a peony right next to your head. Hyunjae’s hands stopped, and he looked up, eyes going wide. “You are from here? Where in the neighbourhood?” “I grew up in the house right at the corner of the street, the beige one with the burgundy wooden shutters and the garden.” “Hold on. Y/N?” his voice sounded so light-hearted as his eyebrows raised in shock. It was his turn to look at you with a surprised look on his face, his mouth stretching in a wide smile.

You offered him a smile and you fell in a comfortable silence. Thousands of questions were trotting in your head, dying to ask the other, but you were both trying to find a topic that didn’t sound too curious and invading. And it was hard because you both became suddenly very shy, your attention focusing on the flowers. It was normal for you, but Hyunjae wasn’t the type of guy to get intimidated this easily.

“So-” you both said at the same time and chuckled together, the florist gesturing you to go first. “No, no, go ahead.” “So you decided to finally come back? I understand if you missed this town, I would too,” he said and you smiled, approving his words. “I was too tired from France, plus I missed my family that stayed here. I just wanted to pay them a visit and maybe stay over until I find another place to stay on my own,” you explained while observing your former crush wrapping the flowers you had chosen.

He secured them in the same crafted paper he did for the previous bouquet, placing it on the counter closer to you. Handing him your credit card, you stayed with your hand hanging in the void, Hyunjae typing something on the cash register. He religiously ignored your card and handed you the bouquet, giving you the brightest smile he could.

“Take this as a gift to welcome you back in town,” he said and your eyes widened, hand slowly moving away. “I can’t accept this,” you said, suddenly feeling nervous. Hyunjae encouraged you to take the flowers by placing them right under your nose with a smirk, tickling your nose. “Please do. Welcome back in town, Y/N,” he said as he noticed some fallen petals stuck on his dark green apron, wiping them away before offering you a smile.

You took the flowers away from your face and sheepishly smiled, thanking him for his generosity.

“Thank you, really,” you said with a shy voice, struggling to look at him in the eyes. He shook his head, indicating you that it was nothing, and he cleared the counter. “Have a lovely day, Hyunjae. It was good to meet you again,” you said as you walked to the door, hand on the knob. “Wait Y/N- would you like to get some coffee sometimes? I’d love to hear about your time in France and… get to know you a bit better and make up for lost time?” His offer wasn’t something you had expected, but who were you to refuse getting closer to your former crush.

This random encounter with him had your heart fluttering like it did when you watched him perform in front of the entire school a few years ago, when you were still a young teenager hopelessly in love. It was hammering in your chest, warmth travelling in your entire body as a radiant smile appeared on your face.

“I’d love to.” You said with a smile as you walked back to the counter, only to take the business card he was handing you. Your eyes landed on the black ink scratching the phone numbers, only to find another one messily written at the top of the small card. You thanked him and walked through the front door, waving at him with a smile as you walked away, clutching the piece of paper tightly in your palm, excited of what this reunion was going to offer you.

╰☆☆ Les retrouvailles nous font rappeler de vieilles histoires, mais elles consentent également à en créer de nouvelles. ☆☆╮

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causeimhappinesss · 3 years

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Like Adam & Eve (Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Sherry Birkin

Warnings: age gap + smut + wrap your biscuit, please

Request:

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

****

He was beautiful. So handsome. Tall. Muscular. In his early 40s. Intelligent. Open-minded. Honest. Brave. Selfless. All this despite his impulsiveness.

She had known him for years. Since 1998, after the events of Raccoon City and Rockfort Island, when she was under government protection. On several occasions, Leon and Claire had come to visit her; him with them. She was only 12 years old at the time. He was already 25. He saw her as a scared little girl. A child to defend from this cruel world, from her past with her parents... In 1998, the attraction she had developed towards him was only innocent, of course. With no ulterior motives.

The years passed and the number of meetings multiplied. The more she became a woman, the more she wanted to attract his attention, joking with him, telling him about her boyfriends to spark off some kind of jealousy deep in him. She voluntarily wore clothes that emphasized her feminine attributes, although she didn’t have JLO's curves...

For four years, their paths didn’t cross again, until June 2013. President Benford's death, Simmons' betrayal... But there he was. They hadn't been teammates because they didn't share the same mission, but the same conflict had brought them together. Once again, she had not been able to enjoy his presence, to savor it, except on the plane back to the United States.

Sitting between him and Jake, she chatted with Chris Redfield, Wesker's archenemy, her former godfather and her late father's best friend. She was talking to him, her eyes sparkly, her lagoon-colored doe eyes riveted on him, while a smile stretched her rosy lips. Her features, still somewhat juvenile, despite her 27 years, gave her a baby face. She was beautiful. Radiant. In spite of all that she had lived; horrors. He also had his fill of BOWs. Together, they were making up for the time and she even caught herself, almost innocently, sliding her hand over his bicep as she reassured him. Redfield was still not out of his mental breakdown. It had been going on for months and getting back on track was proving difficult.

"Would you like to drink a beer, one day?" she asked in a honeyed voice.

"Oh... I don't know, I'm exhausted..."

Yet his answer didn't make her face fade. The young blonde needed more.

"Oh, come on, Chris! Please, it's been ages since we've spoken... When's the next time? When there will be another bioterrorist attack?"she sighed with a pout.

"Well... Okay, but only once. I have a lot of work to do, you know."

A smile triumphed on Sherry's face as she simply nodded and thanked him. The brown hair man took advantage of it to go towards the toilets of the private jet and at the moment he disappeared in this cabin, Jake patted the shoulder of the blonde. A malicious smile stretched the fine lips of the redhead, clearly amused by the situation. He wasn’t blind.

"You devour him with your eyes, Birkin... What are you waitin’ for to ‘sweet-talk’?"

"I... He's not interested..." she stammered, embarrassed. These simple words reminded her of the day when Redfield had pushed her away, indirectly, without her knowledge. Jill and him were talking, in Claire’s garden, because she had organized a party where all her friends, fighting the bioterrorism, had been invited. It was a mistake. She just wanted to get some fresh air... A bad mistake.

It was hot. Way too hot inside. Sweat was clinging to her skin and even her glass of iced water, after the two glasses of alcohol she'd ingested, wasn't helping to bring her body temperature down. The summer of 2009 was proving to be more overwhelming than she had anticipated. The hubbub in the room was giving her a headache. Leon already seemed to be completely drunk and Claire was chaperoning him. Meanwhile, Sheva and Barry were talking to each other. There were also other agents she only barely knew. Discreetly, she fled the house and, immediately, her body tingled with the coolness of the night. It was pleasant.

Once again, she brought her glass to her lips and the cold liquid flowed down her throat. As she listened to the song of the crickets, whispers made their way to her ear canals. Curiosity overcame her and she moved towards the two voices; a woman and a man. She pressed herself against one of the walls, silent, and recognized who the voices belonged to: Jill and Chris.

"Don't you see how she's looking at you? Chris! You're blind!"

"Jill... Seriously, I think you're fretting over nothing. Sherry sees me as a big brother and I see her as a little sister or a cousin."

A sigh escaped the brunette's lips.

"I'm not fretting. There are looks that don't deceive... Look, I'm not jealous, but I'm telling you what I see. Put up barriers before she takes it as... An invitation."

"All right, if it makes you happy."

Heartbroken, hands shaking, stomach clenched, throat knotted, the little blonde went back inside and no one seemed to have noticed her short absence. She sat down on the sofa, next to Claire, putting back on her mask... The mask of a happy person. The man she had been interested in for eleven year saw her as a little girl, a sister.

What were you thinking, Sherry? He's been with Jill for ages, she's gorgeous, she has the look of a real woman... She's full of qualities. She's not a Birkin! her conscience shouted.

The barriers he put in place? He hadn't seen her in years. Four years, to be exact. It was extreme, and even though Jill had told him it was too much, he'd felt it was the right thing to do, if his girlfriend's assumptions turned out to be true. And while Chris had tried to reassure Jill, when they were still together, he was reassuring himself at first. He had observed her chest and her bottom, on several occasions, during a few seconds. He had almost drowned in her cerulean eyes too. It had become so difficult not to look at her.

Now, Chris, needed to be alone. Only two minutes and the bathroom would prove to be the perfect excuse. Now, in front of the stall mirror, he watched his reflection. Droplets of blood adorned a part of his right cheek. His blue eyes looked tired, lost.

You accept once and you make her understand that there will never be anything between you... Right?

There had to be. He couldn’t allow himself to build a relationship with a woman he had known as a child, it would be indecent and would call into question his image, his values. He was afraid of looking like an old pig, of proving Valentine right, even though they had broken up in November 2012. All these thoughts provoked profusions of sweat, that he tried to mop up with his back hand. When he closed his eyes, for a moment, the features of the beautiful Birkin came back to his face like a slap. Her angelic eyes, her superb smile, her cleavage, her butt... A bump formed inside his boxer, and his eyes widened.

It is tiredness, nothing else... he reassured himself.

And, in a vain hope, he imagined his grandmother in atrocious underwear, until his erection disappeared. Once sure of himself, he left the toilets, went towards Sherry and whispered: "we’ll agree on the place and the hour for the beerby message, tomorrow" and he moved away to find Leon, in full discussion with Helena.

Move away... Move away... Move away...

Sherry had done everything to make him come to her house, to drink the beer. She had tried to put on clothes that would highlight her, a simple skirt that didn’t reveal too much and a simple crop top with straps. He had arrived with five minutes of advance and quickly, the beer had been consumed. She hadn’t left him time to speak, to express his desire to break off all ties, to explain her there would never be anything between them, that she started up a movie. A comedy focused on sex, a strategic way to relax the atmosphere that was getting heavier. Indeed, the more she stayed by his side, the more she dreamed of letting her graceful fingers run over the protruding muscles of the man, from his arms, to his torso, passing over his thighs that she dreamed of straddling until the orgasm. She often dreamed of him, of what he made her, his dick inside her. From minute to minute, discrete, she approached him, by light movements, in natural although calculated appearance... Her ass was close to him, to the crotch of the B.S.A.A’s Captain.

He, Chris, had understood the stratagem. However, impossible to emit the least remark. Every time he opened his lips, he was unable to... hurt her. He knew if he said what was in his mind, he would hurt the young woman. Not to help, his cock was so close to Birkin's tender buttocks and her jasmine scent intoxicated him. She nibbled on her lower, wet, luscious, lower lip; a call to kiss. A new erection showed up and he was quite happy that the covers above them prevented the blonde from noticing it.

He tried his best to be focused on the movie, until a sex scene appeared on the screen. Embarrassed by this scene combined with his proximity to the blonde, he cleared his throat and looked away at Sherry's coffee table. Her crystalline laughter attracted his attention and he gazed at her. His cock continued to tense; it was becoming disturbing. The desire was growing and he was struggling. An internal struggle he wasn’t winning.

"Chris! Don't be embarrassed, it's only a movie and then... Well... I think it's funny how they make some positions look simple!" she said while batting her eyelashes. If she didn’t know yet the power that she possessed, it didn’t change the fact he wanted to devour her. To jump on her. Kiss her.

"That's because you haven't found the right partner..." he whispered.

He couldn't help it. It was the truth and... And what? His brain wasn’t running smoothly anymore. If only someone could shake him, slap him, to bring him back to his goals.

"Oh yeah? Explain to me..."

The blonde turned around and in her swiveling, her buttocks rubbed against his hard cock. The way she had rubbed herself wasn’t accidental, far from it, it was guessable. And he guessed she had felt his erection. A smile stretched Sherry’s lips who slid a hand on the thigh of the soldier, so close to his erect member. The blonde's eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned over him. Chris gulped with difficulty. He dreamed to stroke her breast, to sink into her, to show her he was right.

"Show me, then." she added, of a suave voice.

She was the one who initiated the kiss by pressing her lips against his. With this last lost control, he let his hands wander on her beautiful body. His thick and calloused hands sought her chest, under her crop-top, whereas she wasn’t wearing a bra. He quickly removed the garment and tossed it somewhere in the living room. As he kissed Sherry, he titillated her breasts, her erected nipples. Soon, their lips pulled apart and he licked her nipples, drawing sighs of pleasure from his partner.

He no longer cared about what was right or wrong. If she was too young or not. If he had known her as a kid or not. It didn't matter.

Meanwhile, Sherry took off Redfield's shirt, slid her phalanges between each line of his abs, before attacking his belt. Once rid of this one, she opened the button of his jeans, then took his zipper down. She didn’t seek to get rid immediately of his pants. Instead, she stroked his hard cock through his boxers for a few moments, which made Chris sigh. Finally, she freed his cock from this confined place to admire it, her mouth watering. It was very thick, probably 7,4inches (19 centimeters) long, completely hard, veiny, with a pink head. Some pre-cum covered the tip. With a false look of innocence, she ran her fingers over his balls, on his cock, to the head, then placed kisses on it.

"Sherry..." breathed Chris, his eyes half-closed, watching her. She looked up at him and licked his cock. Again and again. After titillating him, she took him her mouth, her perfect lips wrapped around his member, moving back and forth with wet noises. She insisted on the most sensitive places, in particular on the tip, while she massaged his balls. Her heart beat was off the charts, following the example of that of his sexual partner.

She did everything to please him, to receive his compliments and when the first ones came, such as "nice girl", "oooh... perfect...", her heart swelled with joy. When he asked her to stop, she complied, moved her thong to the side and came to rub her wet intimacy against Redfield's penis as he grunted with excitement... With anticipation... She was having fun rubbing his head at her vagina entrance. She was torturing him.

"Chris... Tell me you want me..."

"Sherry..."

"Please. Say it. I want you so much... If I could make you my God, I would..." she squeaked without stopping her movements.

"Goodness, yes! I want you Sherry! I want you like I haven't wanted a woman like that in so long!"

That's all it took for the blonde to impale herself on Redfield's cock, not waiting for him to finger her. It was a waste of time in an unexpected situation she never thought she'd ever succeed to provoke. There she was, straddling his cock, with delicious moans. Sometimes, she threw back her head, sometimes she lowered her eyes on their sexes, watching this huge cock moving inside her, stretching her in the most pleasant way.

Chris couldn't believe it. It was as if he was a spectator... As if he was possessed... Yet he was heaving a great time and his thrusts joined Sherry's movements to help her. His hands had found their way on Birkin’s milky hips. Then, he made her roll and lie down on the sofa. He got rid of his pants and his boxer, just like her thong and the skirt. He penetrated her again in a grunt, folded the thighs of the blonde against herself and pounded in her of brutal pushes. Fast. A pleasant revenge for having provoked him... To have made him leave the right way.

She was Eve. He was Adam. The forbidden fruit? Her pink pussy, martyred by his cock.

The blonde moaned and she didn't need to play with her clit to get off. Chris was naturally gifted, as she had imagined in all her dreams since she was a teenager. He was hitting the right angle, the G-spot. It felt so good that she couldn't say anything except let her vocal cords do the talking... Just her luck that her downstairs neighbor had gone on vacation!

"God... Chris... Keep going... Like this...!"

He didn't stop, he let the pleasure continue to climb, until they were close to orgasm. He closed his eyes as her vaginal walls pulsed around him, like a soft vise around his cock, a sign that her orgasm was hitting her hard. She was cheering him. Struck by his own orgasm, Chris grunted and let his seed paint the blonde's walls. His cock throbbed after the four hot spurts of cum. With a sigh, he pulled out and opened his eyes again. His cum was flowing out of her still convulsing pussy in the most erotic way possible. Gradually he caught his breath and let Birkin's legs fall back. The latter was smiling, her face and chest pink.

My God, what have I done...?he thought.

Yet he didn’t escape like a thief.

No, instead, they often slept together. If he tried not to have any attachment, he couldn’t help but stay always longer than he should, whether it was in Sherry's bed, in her shower, or inside her. The more time he spent, the more addicted he became to her, like a drug. It was worse than meth. He couldn't get off it. Little by little, he was falling. No, in fact, he was falling in love with the one he had always denied himself.

Asleep, Sherry was sleeping naked, stuck against him, their legs intertwined, under the moonlight that filtered into the room. She hadn’t closed the shutters. One of her hands were flattened against one of his biceps. He contemplated her curves and her angel face. Tenderly, his fingers slid along the spine of his partner. He didn’t manage to sleep, torn between his duty and his desires.

He had obviously spoken about it to Claire who... Didn't see any harm in it. In fact, really open-minded, his young sister had advised him to start a relationship with Sherry, if he liked the blonde.

"You deserve that! Nobody can judge you when you bleed to save the world every day!" she had whispered while hugging him.

Did he love Sherry? Yes, he recognized the same signs as he had for Jill a decade earlier when he realized he was madly in love. Today, his heart claimed Sherry. Deep down, he knew she was waiting for this, she would accept to start a relationship with him, she was dying for it and if it frightened him a few weeks earlier, now the idea warmed his heart. In a tender gesture, he placed a kiss on Sherry's forehead, whose eyes fluttered as she awoke from her sleep. Slowly, her eyes opened and locked with Redfield's.

"What is it Chris...?"

"I'm sorry I hurt you so much..." he whispered in a husky voice.

The woman's eyebrows furrowed, and she straightened in the middle of the bed, inviting him to continue.

"All these years I knew you wanted me and I acted like I didn't know anything about it, pushed you away as much as possible and... Even though my heart was taken, I regret it. Sherry... I..."

He straightened up in turn and his thick hands framed Sherry's face.

"What I mean is... I love you. I'm a loser when it comes to love confessions, but it's been said."

The blonde burst out laughing then stole a soft kiss from him.

"All that matters now is that we're together. Okay?"

In the end, yes, that was all he cared about. Chris knew he had to think of himself and that meant loving Sherry without any remorse.

***

My AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetrayedWriter/profile

#chris redfield imagine #chris redfield #chris redfield one shot #resident evil fanfic #chris redfield x sherry birkin #chris redfield fanfic #RE8 #RE8 village #RE6 #chris redfield x reader

37 notes · View notes

danifics18 · 4 years

Text

↪ Tutor Sessions (M) ↩

Tags : Mature//Dirty Talk//switch! Reader//switch! Hongjoong//Slight throat grabbing//Slight Hair Pulling//Dorm Fucking//PWP//

Word Count : 3042

General Masterlist Ateez Masterlist

A/N : This is my first requested, so I do hope it’s meeting expectations. I only speak one language, so I hope i’m not playing too much into bi-lingual stereotypes. Things said in English will only be bold, and things in Korean will be bold and in italics. Ngl this has a bit of a porn type of cheesiness to it. I don’t know why, but I got major switch! vibes when I was planning this out, so if anything seems a bit odd, please keep in mind that I am a bratty sub trying to write something that is way out of my league 💕

“Mom, I know, I know. I’m really having a nice time here, and I feel like I enjoy it a lot more than I would’ve if I’d stayed back closer to home,” You say into your phone before briefly pausing to take a sip of your quickly cooling coffee “Mom, I’d really like to keep talking, but I do need to make it to my class. I’ll call you before I eat dinner, yeah?”. After a few more I love you’s, and a promise to go home for Christmas, you finally say your final good-byes before hanging up the phone.

Your family never quite understood your need to move away for college, them preferring if you stayed closer to your small hometown. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around your family, you just took the first chance you could, to explore the world a bit before you felt like you really had to settle down. And while that was easier said than done, you had made the plan to move away for college since your first teenage job at a Korean Market, in the town next to yours. You’d been quite close with the owners, since you and their daughter had grown up together as best friends- you would be staying at each other’s houses multiple times a month since you guys were eight years old. As you’d gotten older, and had stayed around your best friend’s family, you ended up learning quite a bit of the Korean language yourself. It wasn’t until you got into high school that your friend’s grandma moved in from South Korea, and had decided that she would help out at the store by counting inventory in the back ( although that really meant getting invested in a Korean show, until someone walked back to check on her ). She didn’t know any English, and you only knew basic Korean, and feeling rude for not being able to effectively communicate with her, you enlisted the help of your best friend to help you learn. It took a lot of work, but you got a hold of the language eventually. And from that point on you were able to really connect with your best friend’s grandmother ( not to say you didn’t have a few language slip ups, because you definitely did ), but soon enough, one of your favorite past times became watching Korean daytime shows, and listening to your friend’s grandmother talk about her past time in her native country and all the places you should visit if you go. In your third year of high school, she unfortunately past on, but your past conversations sparked a need to travel in you, although you didn’t know how to make it happen. It wasn’t until your best friend brought up that she felt the same way, that you two made final plans to attend college in Seoul.

Years later, and you two were in your second years of college, living in a dorm together ( even though you guys were excited to have a roommate, you were even more glad that you didn’t have to share any space with another person ). It was difficult learning how to live in a new country, but it kept you on your toes in a way that you learned to enjoy.

Tossing your head back to down the rest of your now cold coffee, you walk to your last class of the day. Your counselor had convinced you that even though you were a foreigner who knew English, you should still take the English Language class for some easy credits- and it really wasn’t a hard class. You obviously knew everything, although, you did forget some words occasionally, due to speaking only Korean most of the time.

Sitting down at your seat and pulling out your laptop for notes, you look to the side as your seat neighbor sits down, pulling his earbuds out from his ears. As he glances over at you, you smile and give him a small

‘Hello’

, smiling even wider when he does the same. Kim Hongjoong was a boy you didn’t really know personally, mainly because of how quiet he was, but you heard about him from the way people usually talk about him. At any of the good parties, you would hear both the cheers and complains if he would show up. The cheers due to the fact that people felt like they had a chance to get with the handsome and charming Kim Hongjoong, and the complains due to how he and his friends would be the only ones getting most of the female ( and some male ) attention- supposedly taking it away from any other men at the party. You didn’t really understand it, yes, he’s handsome, and you have no doubt in your mind that he could probably be charming, but he never asked for attention at parties. Most of his time would be spent helping his drunk friends not cause too much chaos, or just generally looking like he’s having a good time with his friends- you’ve never seen him talk to anyone else, unless it was to help a random drunk person from stumbling over as they walk by him.

Shaking out of your thoughts, you focused on your professor and the topic of this week- human anatomy. You knew you really didn’t need to take notes, but you decided to anyway when the professor started showing slides that were titled with the scientific words of body parts- although they mentioned that you wouldn’t lose points on the test if you couldn’t remember the scientific words rather than the non-scientific.

As class ended and you were packing up your bag you heard a soft “Excuse me,” from the seat next to yours. Turning your head to look at the blue haired boy, you raise your eyebrows with a small “Yes?” “I don’t mean to bother you, but you’re the only person in this class that already knows English, and I really didn’t understand these notes at all. If you have the time, do you think you could help me review?” he asks with a small hesitation before continuing his ramble “If you don’t have the time that’s fine too, I could probably find someone who could help, I thought it would just be easier since we sit next to each other,” He finishes with a slight hue of pink on the tips of his ears.

Giving a small smile at his shy state, you tell him of course you’d have time to help him. Other classmates have asked you for help before as well, so it really wasn’t anything new to you. After exchanging numbers, you both decided to meet up the next day at your dorm, since your friend had work and school until later on that night- and his apartment would be way too noisy since he shares it with three other boys.

The next day, you’d woken up at a decent time, and immediately cleaned around the house and got ready for your guest to come over for the day. By noon, you had a knock on your door, and you walked over to let in Hongjoong with his laptop, bag and two cups.

“I hope you like fruit smoothies, because I feel bad that you’re helping me without any payment I would've got you a coffee, but I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured that most people like fruit,” he said while handing you the smoothie and kicking off his shoes. “Thank you! I really like fruit smoothies, I haven’t had one in a while, especially since I usually drink coffee to keep me up,” you retort,” Here, we could study in the living room if you want, but since we don’t have any extra plugs here, we’ll have to move to my room if we need to charge anything.”

The first hour of studying went well, you both had taken pretty good notes, and your previous knowledge helped out quite a bit as well- so you two decided to order some food, and by the time it would make it to your apartment, you’d both be ready for a break from studying. The extra thirty minutes of the food arriving made you both restless, both shuffling and readjusting yourselves on the couch- occasionally brushing arms and thighs together- both getting up to get the food at the door. Chuckling at how eager you both were for not only the food, but for a break as well, you told him to wait at the table while you got the food.

Settling everything out, you guys began eating and talking. You learned that Hongjoong is a music major, and he works at a local radio station, which explains why he comes into class with dark circles under his eyes at times.

“You know, I’m actually really glad that you asked me for help. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you yet, and you always seem really friendly,” You tell him while taking a bite of your food. He looks up from his plate, with evident surprise in his eyes “Really? Well I’m really glad I talked to you then. You’ve always seemed a little bit intimidating because of how unbothered you act, but I like that...,” He trails off, eyes following the your fork leaving your lips, a stain of red sauce next to your lip,” Oh, you have a bit of..,” He gestures to the side of your lip, eventually just licking his thumb and gently wiping the sauce off your face and resting it on your bottom lip for you to lick off.

With wide eyes, you wrap your lips around his thumb, licking it clean, with a heat rushing through your cheeks and core. Hongjoong cuts the groan erupting from his throat off with a cough and pulls his thumb out- letting the groan out when he sees the string of saliva from his digit to your mouth. As you both gravitate towards each other slightly, you rest your hand on his upper thigh and ask “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”, “I mean we do need to study, but I think I figured out a way we can study, and I can repay you for your kindness,” he replies with a devious glint in his eye.

And with that, you put your hand on his jaw and guide him to your face to meet in a searing kiss that leaves your head reeling. Pulling back to leave a few pecks on his bottom lip, you catch his lips into a proper kiss, catching his lip with your teeth. The whine he lets out goes straight down, causing you to clench on air.

After a few moments, he finally pulls back from you, chest heaving, and strokes your head. Humming in thought, you get up and pull his hand to follow after you to your room. You lead him to sit on your bed, while you stand in the middle of your room, with a hip cocked out to the side, as you eye each other with a hunger in your eyes. Running his tongue over his lips, he decides to speak, “Are you going to do something, or are we just going to stare at each other all day?”, “Depends. Are you going to be good for me?”, Seeing him vigorously nod his head, you continue “Good. This is how it’s going to work. I’ll ask you questions about the names of body parts, if you get them right, I’ll undress. Get them wrong, and I stay dressed. If you’re really good, I might even let you touch. Got it?” , “Yes ma’am,” He replies, now sitting forward on the edge of the bed, leaning his hands on his knees.

Moments and a few items of clothing later, you were down to your lacy bralette and underwear, nipple piercings glinting through the see-through fabric, in the dim lighting of your room. Hongjoong was leaning back against the head board of the bed- clad in boxers only, after him whining about it being unfair that you were undressed but not him- with a hand poorly covering his covered hard on; while you sat on the foot of your bed, resting on your knees, legs spread enough that your arousal could be seen starting to run down your thighs.

“Okay baby, here’s the last pieces. Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you touch me once they’re off,” Once the words come out your mouth, Hongjoong jumps up, resting in front of you on his knees as well. Reaching your hands down, you cup your breasts, slightly teasing your nipples through the fabric. “M-mammary glands?” He hesitantly questions, before speaking with more confidence, “Most people call them breasts, or tits,” he finishes, face lighting up at you slowly taking the bralette off.

Quickly pushing your hands away, he reaches around your back to pull your chest closer to his. Thumbing your nipples, he gently pulls on the metal barbell, relishing in the moan that leaves your lips. Clearing his throat, he begins “These are nipples. Fuck, I didn’t expect you to have piercings, you’re so fucking hot,” he finishes before leaning down to wrap his lips around your nipple, other hand gently pulling on the other. Letting out a whine as his teeth graze your nipple, you run your hand through his hair, feeling your resolve slip the more attention he gives you.

Opening his eyes to peer up at you, he detaches from you before pushing you onto your back, and straddles your thigh, his leg against your hot core. Grabbing his face, you bring him into a kiss, sucking on his tongue while your hips move to grind on his leg. Swallowing your moans, he pulls back, hand resting on your neck to keep you from following him, “Sweet girl, you aren’t done helping me, are you?,” Watching as you dumbly shake your head with blown out eyes, he chuckles “I’ve barely touched you and your this fucked out? Poor thing. Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you come on my cock,” You let out a groan, not expecting him to sound this good while saying dirty things to you.

Rutting against his legs, you beg for him to touch you, and you quiet down once he places his hand over your core. “Right here? You want me to touch your little pussy?” He mockingly asks, smiling at the gasp that leaves your lips. He tears the flimsy material off your body, and spreads your thighs, sitting back to get a better view of you. “What do you want me to do, little one?”, “Please just fuck me, I need your cock,” You plead, hips raising up to search for friction.

He looks at you for a brief second, as if he were debating saying something, but chooses not to as he takes his remaining clothing off, his member slapping up against his lower stomach. Saliva fills your mouth as you realize how much you want to taste his leaking shaft, but you push that thought to the side as you whine for him to hurry.

“You don’t want me to prep you baby? You seem so small, and I don’t want to hurt you,” He starts before you cut him off “Please just fuck me, I know I’m wet enough for you. Just really need your cock to split me open,”. With your final plead, he grabs his length, pushing into you with a groan. You moan out from feeling the delicious burn of his cock stretching you open. As he bottoms out, you feel his cock twitch in you, clenching around him, and you reach forward to pull him down to kiss you.

Feeling you relax, he starts to pull out slowly, just to thrust back in with enough power to make you breathless. Leaning back up onto his heels, he increases his pace, one hand snaking down to rub your clit, the other being pulled by you to wrap around your throat. With the change of his angle, his cock hitting your sweet spot, you let out a loud whine, which makes him in turn thrusts faster into you while grasping the sides of your neck enough for you to see stars.

“Fuck baby I’m so close, be a good girl and come for me. Let go for me,” He huffs out, sweat on his brow, somehow making him look even hotter than what he already was. The knot in your stomach felt different that it had any other time you’ve came, and although you were sensitive, you were curious to see how this would make you feel. Grinding your hips up, you didn’t know if you were trying to chase this high or get away from Hongjoong’s stimulation.

“Stop running from me baby, c’mon, take what I have to give you,” the blue haired man says, his hips going at an even faster pace, his thumb following suit. Just as you feel him twitch inside of you before releasing, he slaps your clit- you cry out at the feeling, the knot in your stomach erupting, and your vision going white. Breathing unevenly, you come back to, seeing Hongjoong’s form looking down at your shaking body, giving you a tired, blinding smile. “You with me sweetheart? You did so well,” He says as he helps you sit up to sip the water bottle that was on your nightstand.

After calming down, you finally look down, noticing that not only was Hongjoong’s lower half soaked, but so was your bed sheets. “Holy shit Hongjoong, you made me squirt,” you exclaim out in shock, “It was really hot, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He retorts before laying down next to you, wrapping his arm around you. “Like I’m the only one?” You huff out a laugh, “What happened to you needing help with English? You’re definitely a lot better than what you claimed you were,”, “Hey I needed some type of excuse to get to talk to you, alright?”, he explains as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

#hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez #ateez smut #requested smut #kpop smut #switch hongjoong

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oprerroma · 4 years

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Hi, do you know of any resources for learning Romany? My grandmother's grandmother was the last native speaker in our family (her mother spoke it, she used a few words around me in everyday speech). Needless to say, I hardly speak it, I know about as much as your typical 5th generation American knows (maybe 100-250 words?). My family is from L'viv, in what is now the Ukraine, and I, ideally, would want to speak that dialect, but any Romany language recourses would be great.

Hello! Your family’s dialect I believe is Kalderash, which is good news for you as Kalderash is the most common, and most books and online resources are in that dialect.

These are, for any dialect really, the best resources I could possibly give you, as of course resources are few and far between, unfortunately:

Mega Folder of files and book PDFs of almost every dialect based on region, created by a friend

Romani Page on Omniglot.com

Romaninet.com Language Course

“Historical Dictionary of the G*psies” - PDF

Hope this helps!

-- Admin Cilly

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years

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How did you first start learning Chinese? I'm watching a lot of cdramas and I want to give learning mandarin a go :)

hi! so I’m kind of in a weird?? liminal space. mandarin is my first language, but english is my best language. I didn’t start speaking english until I started school at 4. Prior to that, my family and I only spoke chinese. But then once I started speaking english, our household kinda flipped over to using both languages more often (my parents are both pretty fluent since they moved to the US as international students in the 80s), and then I just kinda like. stopped learning? for many many MANY years.

but! my grandmother taught me the basics of character component breakdown and pinyin when I was young, which honestly has been one of the most helpful things for me personally.

so like, very broadly:

1. pinyin!

mandarin has a limited number of sounds, and you can get them all from pinyin. literally like: b p m f; d t n l; g k h; j q x; z c s; zh ch sh r; a o e i u ü. that’s it. you can make all the sounds in mandarin by combining those basic building blocks.

2. radicals

chinese characters can be broken down into their component parts. learn the most common ones and what they’re often associated with, meaning-wise and phonetic-wise. there are patterns! chinese is a visual language. It’s easier to see in traditional characters a lot of the time, but to give a few examples:

繭 “cocoon” in traditional: you can see it has a “grass” top. beneath is a box-like structure hosting “silk” (left compartment) and “insect” (right compartment). which I think is very cool! An insect, hanging in a silken structure beneath grass. Here it is in simplified: 茧 Still has the insect beneath grass, but it’s a little less illustrative.

包 bao1 : n. bag, package; v. to wrap, surround, include

抱 bao4 : v. to hold something in your arms, embrace

both of these words have further meanings, but like, for this example. You can see how 包 looks like something wrapped up. 抱 is just 包 with a hand (手) radical. they are pronounced similarly and have related meanings.

oftentimes, with characters that have a left-right structure, the left side will indicate broad meaning and the right side will indicate phonetic pattern (not always! but you know. it’s a pattern for sure.)

example:

青 qing1 : green/blue, youth

请 qing3 : to invite, ask request (left radical is for 言, word)

情 qing2 : feeling, emotion, sentiment (left radical is the vertical heart: 心)

清 qing1 : clear, distinct, clear up, clean up (left radical is the 3 drops of water)

these four words are all pronounced similarly, but you can see how the addition of the radical indicates meaning.

3. Pleco

really just like. the best chinese-english dictionary out there. it’s available for both iOS and Android!

4. Copy out your characters

it’s true misery, but it really will help you internalize things. :’) in case you missed my post about my process for it, here. (my handwriting is quite bad sldkfjslk) i think songs are fun to practice with, but might not be the most effective for learning conversational language. that’s unfortunately not something I can really help you with starting, since I picked up basic vocab and sentence structures just by like. you know. immersion. but if you’re watching a lot of cdramas, pay attention to that! pay attention to the sounds, the cadences, patterns of speech! cdramas pretty much all come with chinese subtitles, so you’ve got the advantage of seeing stuff written out pretty much all the time. i definitely learn a lot just from being exposed to seeing/hearing it.

That’s... yeah, pretty much my most basic advice. These are the four things that have helped me the most, bar none, in my slog for competency in my native tongue. don’t know if they’ll help you? but i hope so!

#learning chinese #chinese #long post #cyan help desk #cyan vs heritage #statistically average #Anonymous #asks and replies #mine

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rhetoricalrogue · 4 years

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31 Days of Wayhaven: Day 10

Prompt: Blood Rating: G Words: 1910 Characters: Winona Adams, Farah Hauville, Nicolo Morelli Summary: Farah accidentally connects two dots while dishing out on some gossip. Note: Blood, bloodlines...stretching the prompt a little? Who, me? Tony first showed up in a few headcanon posts of mine as my detective Aubrey Miller’s best friend/ex-dance partner before she came back home from the City. He’s apparently evolved from a throwaway mention minor character to a bridge between Aubrey and Unit Charlie.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

“You should have seen the look on his face!” Farah bent over in laughter before flopping onto Winona’s bed. Unit Bravo was stationed at the Facility closest to Wayhaven while their new warehouse headquarters was being built and it so happened that Charlie was also in between missions. When Farah had found out about how Winona had joined up with the Agency, she had made a beeline to introduce herself, practically bouncing off the walls in excitement and hoping that her Echolian hadn’t gotten too rusty after seven years. Nate was incredibly good at the language, but no matter how fluent he was, it wasn’t like speaking her mother tongue with another native speaker.

Just hearing the same language spoken so fluently made the pangs of homesickness that hit unexpectedly now and again hurt just a little bit less. They still felt like a knife being twisted in her side, but at least they didn’t take her breath away or knock her to her knees as often.

“You shouldn’t tease him so,” Winona chastised, reclining on her side and peeling an orange to share. Winona liked spending time with the youngest member of Unit Bravo. The exuberance and sheer joy that radiated out of her reminded her of her own younger sibling that hadn’t made it through the rift she’d fallen through before it had closed almost immediately after her.

Her hands trembled for a moment, the peel of the orange caught between her fingers. Her brother would have loved having these available year-round.

“But he makes it so easy, Winona!” Farah took a segment of the orange she offered, nibbling at it to acclimate herself to the taste. The first burst of sweet yet slightly tart flavor always overwhelmed her senses, but she really did like them. She sighed as she popped the rest of the segment into her mouth. “I just wish Adam would talk to someone about how he feels. I mean, Aubrey is head over heels for him, I just don’t get it.”

“People express their feelings differently,” Winona commented, peeling another segment. “And sometimes fear makes expressing those feelings openly difficult.” Her thoughts went towards Cameron and Penelope. She and Nicky had lengthy conversations on how the two of them should just say how they feel about it instead of living in a constant state of mutual pining. The unresolved sexual tension between them was so thick that Winona often felt it buzz along her skin. It was a struggle to not feed off it - had it been two other people than the ones who trusted her the most, she wouldn’t feel guilty about topping off her energy or using her pheromones to give them that extra push they needed to resolve things - and whenever things flared up between them, she found herself raiding the Facility kitchens for anything sweet to distract her from the yearning hunger that made her fangs extend and mouth water.

It was a good thing that Unit Bravo was around. She and Mason had an...agreement. The no-strings, casual sex he offered was worlds better than the slightly formal, businesslike encounters that the Agency offered. The participants were volunteers, and she made certain that they had a good time, but it always felt more like a visit to a clinic instead of a more natural sensual moment. Cam and Penny had been sparring in the training area earlier and what Winona had walked in on made her think that seeking out Mason’s company for an evening was a good idea.

Farah rolled onto the mattress until she was on her stomach, her feet kicking in the air. “I still don’t think Adam fully understands that this guy who came for a visit was just a really good friend of Aubrey’s.” She’d been in the middle of sharing a recent incident where some man had dropped into Wayhaven unexpectedly on his way to another city and had decided to surprise his very good friend. Apparently Detective Miller had been a ballerina before settling in Wayhaven and this man had been her longtime dance partner. And apparently, Adam hadn’t taken it well seeing the current object of his unspoken affections interact so easily with a man from her past.

The best part of it was that this man had been a supernatural being himself, though from how Farah described him, he had clicked with Aubrey long before he realized there was something special about her mutated blood. Farah had giggled about the fact that Aubrey had tried her hardest to make everything in Wayhaven appear normal so he wouldn’t catch on to the Agency, and then this half-fey guy turned around and threatened the four vampires bodily harm if his best friend got hurt because of them as soon as she was out of the room.

Farah was right. Winona would have loved to have seen that unfold.

“He was a cutie though,” Farah said, digging her phone out of her pant pocket. She swiped around until she found a good shot. “See?”

Winona looked at the picture, smiling as she took in the relaxed, easy smile on the detective’s face - she’d only been briefly introduced to her once during her initial stay and Winona could tell that she had still been taking in the fact that beings such as herself existed and that she had a murderous vampire hunting for her. It had been a lot to take in, and honestly, Winona was surprised that Aubrey had taken it as well as she had.

Then she focused on the man next to her. Yes, he was attractive, but there was something oddly familiar about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Zooming in on his face, she had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. “What did you say this guy’s name was?” she asked, zooming in further. His eyes and the way his mouth quirked as he smiled made her dig out her own phone and pull up a picture.

“Tony.”

“Last name, Farah.” She zoomed in on her phone and held it side by side with Farah’s.

“I don’t know, something Italian?” Farah rested her chin on her hands. “Something with an M?”

“Morelli?”

Farah snapped her fingers. “That’s it! Wow, that was a great guess!” She started when Winona all but jumped out of bed and rushed towards the door.

“Nicky! Get in here now!”

***

“Are you certain this man’s name was Morelli?” Nicky asked, holding Farah’s phone as he paced around Winona’s bedroom.

“Yeah, he’s a famous dancer in the City.”

“It checks out,” Winona said, holding up her phone to show Nicky the quick Google search. “Do you think that the two of you could be related?”

He frowned. “Morelli is a common last name, it could be coincidence.”

Farah squinted. “Are you sure? I mean, the two of you look awfully similar.”

Nicky stared at the screen, his eyes boring holes into the picture. “None of my mother’s family survived the plague of 1656. I was only a child then, but my grandmother would have taken in anyone who had made it.”

“What about your sister?” Winona asked, sitting at the edge of her bed. She resumed peeling off segments of orange, purely to give her hands something to do.

“She only had one child, and they died along with her and her husband in the earthquake of 1693.” He pointed a finger at her. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t have any children.”

“Nicky, you did sleep around a lot,” Winona pointed out. “Like, a lot-a lot.”

“But I was careful! I admit, I may have been a bit of a -”

“Horny dude who couldn’t keep it in his pants?”

Nicky glared at Farah, who just laughed at him. “A romantic with a great love of women,” he pointed his finger at Winona in warning for her to not chime in. “But I was extremely careful to leave without leaving a…” he searched for a word. “Little souvenir behind.”

“Well!” Farah hopped up from the bed and snatched her phone away faster than Nicky could react. “I know one way to solve this!”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

She pulled up her contacts and pressed down on the one named AUBS that was bracketed with little ballet shoe emojis and sparkly pink hearts. “Getting info from a source.”

“No, you don’t -”

“Too late! Hey Aubs! How’s it going?” Farah bounced a little on the balls of her feet while listening to whatever Aubrey was saying. “Quick question: you know your dreamboat best friend? Ha, okay, so thanks for telling me he’s single, that’s actually really useful info, but I was wanting to know a little bit more about him. What’s his mom’s name?” She twirled on the ball of her foot in a lazy, half-pirouette that she’d been working on with Aubrey. “No, no reason at all, just really interested!”

Nicky scoffed. “Like that’s not going to raise suspicion.”

“Gianna? Gianna Morelli? That’s really pretty!” Farah gave Nicky a glance and raised her eyebrows to see if the name rang any bells. He shook his head when it didn’t. “Okay, so maybe a little weirder question, do you happen to know who his grandma is? I remember you talking about her and how she made the best chicken soup that one time the whole cast of a production got sick.” She gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Aubs! Of course I listen to you, I’m offended you’d think otherwise!”

“Well?” Nicky asked, resuming his pacing. Farah waved a hand at him to get him to quiet down.

“Oh. Okay. Can you call me back as soon as you ask then? And ask where from Italy she was from! Oh, cool, thanks! Okay, byeee!” Farah clicked off the phone. “She said she didn’t know, she’d have to ask Tony. She’s always known her as Nona Morelli.”

“Did she know where she was from?”

Farah fidgeted with a curl of her hair and was tempted to drag it out, but thought better of it when she saw that Nicky was incredibly tense. “She wasn’t quite sure where, but she said Tony’s grandma always talks about Sicily and how she goes back to travel there every so often. She’s really big on historical preservation and does a lot of work with the older cemeteries.”

All three of them jumped when Farah’s phone rang, ABBA’s Dancing Queen chiming out. “That was fast!” she said by way of a greeting. “Okay, fine, confession: I may have shown off a picture to some people here at the Facility and Tony may bear a remarkable resemblance to one of the other agents in another unit. No, no, not a supernatural. He’s human, just dead, like really dead. It’s a long story. Anyhow, what sort of news do you have?” Farah sat on the bed and kicked her feet in front of her. “Uh huh. Uh huh. No, it’s probably not likely they’re related, but think how neat it would be!”

“Her name, Gallinetta.”

“Oh! Isabela Morelli? That’s a really pretty name too!” Winona shouted out a warning as a loud thud made Farah turn around. Her eyes widened when she saw that Nicky had fallen to the floor, his hand clutching his chest. “Uh, Aubs? I’m gonna have to call you back. That dead guy I told you about? I think he just fainted.”

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #farah hauville #nicolo morelli #winona adams #Unit Charlie

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armyhome · 4 years

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Make it Right | Kim Seokjin| Eng

⇢ pairing: Seokjin x Reader.

⇢ genre: Cute, sad, funny, healing.

⇢ word count: 5.5K

⇢ warnings: Maybe this will make you dream with eyes open.

⇢ Portuguese version: Make it Right (PT-BR)

When (We met for the first time)

I remember very well how it was the first time we met, I mean when I met him. Grandpa put a bowl of Jjajjangmyun in front of me, the smell was amazing, he smiled at me, we had decided to do a gastronomic backpack in Asia two years ago, to celebrate my high school graduation and we finally started it, last week in Yokohama Japan. Now we were in Seoul, Korea, then we would go to Taipei, Taiwan.

-I want you to learn to identify nuances, even with strong flavored foods! Ready Sol? - He raises the chopsticks and I raise mine - Lets Go!

The thickness and texture of the noodles in Asia was different, probably because of how it was prepared, did the black bean paste have a bittersweet flavor? Perhaps because of the mixed red meat, I had never eaten a bean that was sweet ... My analysis is interrupted by a boy drawing on my face.

He was not drawing literally on my face, but on the mirrored glass in front of me, he was accompanied by two more friends in the prank, he drew a rose, like that of Beauty and the Beast. We could be the inverted version of the fairy tale, because that boy was so beautiful that even if I were even remotely beautiful.... He stops drawing and looks at his work of art. At that moment it seemed that he could see through the mirror and could see my eyes staring with a piece of macaroni out of the mouth with bean paste in her corner, my heart giving a jolt and choking.

Grandpa gives me a glass of water I try, drink it but the cough stops me, the man who took care of the cashier gets up because of the noise I was making and ends up seeing the boys, I finally manage to drink a big sip of water, ceasing my near death, when I look at the street again, only the rose was the owner screamed in front of the restaurants did not understand things, Grandpa gives slaps.

- Eat slowly, Sol! You look like me when I met your grandmother ...- He ends up laughing, my cheeks are burning as if there is fire running under her skin, the idea of falling in love at first sight was ridiculous , I had just been enchanted by the boy's beauty.

- Have you always been so romantic , Grandpa? - He nods smiling - Wow, Grandma is a lucky woman! - I say and eat again.

-Who knows that boy can't be lucky too? - He wasn't going to give up, he needed to distract him with something that really changed his focus.

-Grandpa... this pasta is really different, texture, taste .... How to do it?

-Then during the preparation of the dough ...

When (We know each other)

Ten years later

I walked into Enrico's restaurant, he really had found a nice spot in New York to open it. The rent for that penthouse two blocks from Times Square should be at least a left kidney!

The location was beautiful, one part was open and there was AN ARTIFICIAL LAKE! Who had Enrico killed to achieve this ? Metri asks to guide me to where he was, I just nod, I can't remember how to speak english, that place was a palace , where he had learned so much about oriental interior design?

As soon as he sees me, Enrico gets up from the table and walks up to me with open arms smiling, I hurry up the steps and the hug, which I miss my friend.

-Who did you kill to have this here? - I whisper to him.

-As I am not a murderer, I ended up giving the blow to the chest - He points to the boy at the table, he looked like an MMA fighter because of his big and strong body, but his face was kind as a child's when he sees me smiles and his eyes become a fine line, he beckons us - Come on, you need to meet Jaemin and his friends! They are famous, can you believe? I doubt you know who they are, after all you live locked up in restaurant kitchens around the world and writing on that blog.

-You mean, that blog that can destroy your restaurant's reputation with just a few words? Didn't even debut and already wants to close the doors Erinco Vigolini? - He looks at me with wide eyes.

-Who taught you to be a snake like that? - I pointed to him who puts his hand on his chest, pretending indignation and then smiles - Okay, that may be a little true!

Their table was in an open area , it was summer in NY and there was little wind, at most it had a brief breeze, they were all talking, but when Jaemin got up to greet me, everyone turned to do the same.

My eyes must be broken, I can't believe it, it's not possible, a decade later, I'm facing that boy, now a man, in front of me the difference is that now he can see me. His hair was pink, it matched the delicate features of his face, he smiled kindly at me, I sat facing him, if my heart beat a little faster I would die.

-Enrico talked a lot about you Sol - Jaemin begins - He told me that you are a very important gastronomic critic in the culinary world and that is why he became your friend in college, for you to give high marks to our restaurant! - Enrico gives a playful slap on the shoulder - She knows it's a joke love!

-Enrico knows how fair I am in all my criticisms , regardless of my personal connection with the person and that my criticisms have no intention of hurting or belittling the owner, but that he self-evaluates and makes improvements that he may not have noticed because he is so immersed in the project, I usually send a summary of the criticism first to the owner then put it in full on the site ...

-See Jaemin, I'm a friend of an angel! - They cross their arms and Jaemin lays his head on Enrico's.

-I think we will be a little excluded from the conversation now - Comments one of the boys in Korean.

-Sorry - We asked Jaemin and I at the same time, they looked at me in amazement.

-Since when do you know Korean? - Asks Enrico.

-I learned during high school, I was hoping to meet someone but, I didn't know if he would know English, so I decided to learn her native language to make sure we could talk! - Enrico claps enthusiastically.

-I don't believe that Sol Macedo's heart of ice ever had anyone inside! - I roll my eyes and take a glass, Jaemin pours me some wine.

-Enrico told me that everyone here is famous, what do you do?

I believe that in this world there were no people more excited about what they did and more kind, they performed one by one, including Seokjin, so they told me about their songs and performance with such education and happiness, Enrico made sure to score all the records of the seven boys in front of me but, the simplicity that emanated from them made it difficult for me to assimilate them into popstars, I can't stop looking at him every thirty seconds, breathe Sol, now he is a superstar, your life runs in ways very different.

-Is that you? How is the life of a critic ? - He, Seokjin, asks.

- Hum, sometimes it is difficult to choose the right words, to not deeply offend someone and also, some people are not willing and know themselves and do not take what I have to say seriously, prefer to blame the fail on business on me them have not worked or grown but, food is not just about something that was written on my website, not everyone reads, in fact only those who know the branch are aware of my website and some passionate, but with so much fast food, people no longer cares about food made by real people... But I have my personal rewards, like now, I'm in a beautiful restaurant, eating the best of Korean cuisine, with the biggest boyband today ...

-It's GROUP, not boyband! - Corrects Enrico.

-The biggest male group of Korean pop music - I correct myself being extremely emphatic in every word, making everyone at the table laugh, I tie my hair in a ponytail, when I raise my arms and the sleeve goes up revealing my tattoo , which was not small , why did I make that rose covering half of my forearm?

-Does it mean something? - Seokjin asks with a raised eyebrow, is it not possible that he remembered it?

-Hyung looks like those drawings you did everywhere! - Affirms Namjoon, thanks man, thank you for sinking me into shit for good! -Seriously, he drew this all over Seoul!

-Oh, what a coincidence, it was there that I got the idea of this tattoo, ten years ago my grandfather and I did a gastronomic backpack, I saw a rose like this drawn in the restaurant we went to! - I speak quickly as if I were narrating a football match, and have a glass of wine at once.

-Come on, kids, it's time for Kina Grannis to perform in there, everyone already eaten right? - Enrico called.

He takes us to the opposite side to where we were , we were at the far end of the people who were dining there downstairs, did I say that this place was incredible ? Enrico should be charging a fortune for each dish! Kina was a special attraction, she was elegant as the whole environment but she was, only she and her guitar which brought a touch of simplicity, when she started singing Can't Help Falling In Love, everyone in the room made "own" together .

Jaemin and Enrico danced together, would that ever be? For so long I waited for when I graduated, to have a good job, a boy who drew a rose for me ten years ago who has now become a completely untouchable person ...

-I remember you - Whispered in my ear, he puts both hands in the pockets of the beige blazer he wore, leans over and repeats - I remember you Sol! That day, I saw you and your grandfather, taking a picture in front of the restaurant! Did you see me drawing on the mirrored glass?

I can't feel my legs... help.

When (We fall in love)

Five months later

I go into the kitchen and find Seokjin without a shirt, yes, cooked, imagine if a drop of the hot oil in which he was sautéing the rice falls on that smooth, smooth skin of him, he turns in my direction, I jump to him, I am very in love on that man. He uses his left arm to wrap my waist on tiptoe and he bends me over to give me a peck.

-Don't burn the garlic - I comment, he grimaces and goes back to cooking, I hug him and support my head and his back - How long until the comeback?

-Love, I don't want to think about it, it's only been two days since I arrived, to think that in two weeks I'll be back to train and I won't see you for how long it hurts me - I hear him fill the pot with water and put the lid on, he then turns to me - I deeply love the army, my work and you! It hurts not to be able to reconcile the three!

He holds my face in his hands and kisses my forehead, then rests his face on my shoulder, I kiss him on the cheek and he sighs.

-What movie are we going to watch today? - Change the subject, I didn't want to make him sad.

-Can we just be together today? - He says in the morning , a smile grinning.

-Nothing against, who insists on protecting false virtues here is you! - He looks at me angrily - The speaker is not here anymore!

He started the timer and we lay on the double bed, our 3X4 loft as I called it, because everything was in the same room, it was in Nagoya in Japan, Seokjin wanted to buy an apartment but, I had spent all my savings to open my restaurant, contrary to what many people may think, a food critic doesn’t earn much, we don’t die of hunger because we need to eat to write and usually the owner of the establishment invites us. It wouldn't be worth it either, our stuff was in Korea, we 'd only have three weeks.

-What was the first thing you thought of when you first saw me Sol? - Man, it was difficult to create a line of reasoning with him speaking against my neck.

-Hum, "if my heart beats faster I might die" - He laughs, universe you are proof that I am trying not to attack this man - And you, what did you think when you first saw me?

- "How can I tell her that we are getting married without scaring her?" - I give a slap on his arm, washed-out liar, he laughs - I am completely in love with you and that time had something in you, I can not explain without being corny, I just wanted to be able to stay there with you, looking at you! I think it was our destiny if we ended up going back to each other! - He grabs my arm and puts his thumb on my tattoo - As soon as I leave the obligatory service I'm gonna do my!

-Will make the whole army infarct! You don't have to, this is my thing! I know how to handle bad one in Korea if you do this, it was hard to sell me the location of the restaurant! - I take her hand and give her a kiss.

-We can make a red line on the little finger, I can use a ring or makeup to cover ...

-You have to promise me Seokjin, it will continue to be so romantic even after we get married, I don't want to know if three hundred years have passed and our souls can't stand sharing the tomb anymore ! Kim Seokjin will always say things like that to Sol!

-Only if you promise to look at me like that forever - He holds my earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

-I never learned to look at you any other way!

He brings his face close to mine, I can feel his breath against my face, how is it possible to be so desperately in love with a person, before we could kiss the alarm warning that the rice had cooked rings. UNIVERSE STOP MAKE FUN OF ME!

When (We brake)

A year and a half later

I think if it had been gradually I would not be suffering so much, I know he is busy, the person busiest in the world, but it just stopped responding messages, said nothing on the day the restaurant opened, I sent a lot of messages of support when you had the comeback but, nothing, no emoji! I watched each video, looked at each photo, bought the album, cried over it, how could he lie using such sincerity? Would it be better to go home?

No, never! I will not give up on my dream, just because of a broken heart, nobody dies of it! Whoever doesn't want me, doesn't deserve me! Focus now in a little while, I'm going to do the first television broadcast about cooking and restaurants in my life. I must be brooding over this subject, because I wanted him to be here and tell me he was rooting for me, but that's not it, period .

I look at my reflection in the mirror, nothing can break you to the point where you stop working! You are a chef, now awarded, with a renowned restaurant in Seoul, you lead projects that propose to bring quality food to all corners of the world, especially those that have no access at all. You are a good person and you have done nothing wrong.

-Miss Sol? We are ready to start you! - I smile and follow the boy.

The interview went very well, the reporter makes me feel comfortable to speak, let's go from my training, my blog, the construction of my restaurant in Seoul, my projects with NGO's and if I want to marry an Korean guy it was very fun, almost like talking to one of my friends, I don’t even notice the time of the interview passing, when I find myself finished.

I leave the studio, enter the parking lot and when I'm almost there in the car, Jungkook appears in front of me all frisky and smiling at me offering a cup of coffee, it was freezing outside so I open the car door, to enter and call the heater.

-I missed you, Sol noona! - I smile, he was very cute.

-I also missed you kookie, how are you?

-I'm fine, we're going to the United States to receive an award, can you believe? - I nod, they had already won before, but now it was a prize given by an academy.

-I am very proud and cheering for you all! - He pats himself on the head as if he was amazed at the memory of something.

-I'll be quick, because if not soon the FBI will be looking for me - Not being dramatic at all - Hyung saw that day that the NGO's director declared to you! And in his mind, that was the best thing for you, how can he decide that on his own, I don't know? He said something about never being able to stay around for a long time, you need someone better, all this litany that I don't fall for, if it were true you wouldn't send messages to him, me and the other boys, cheering, saying that you are proud and talking who misses him for him, even after a year! He's being stupid but, it's because he loves you so much! He wants to see you one hundred percent happy! He thinks that a present boyfriend would do that .... Well let's spend two and a half weeks in the USA, it's not fair that I ask you to forgive him after he just disappears but, you two are suffering! Think about it noona, we were watching your interview hidden, you were beautiful - He gives me a kiss on the cheek - Don't tell hyung!

-Lend me your Jungkook cell phone - He hands it to me without thinking too much, I type the number of Seokjin I know by heart, one ring, two ...

-Junkookie where are you? The broadcast starts in twenty minutes! - I hold my heart when I hear his voice.

-Who gave you the right to decide for me? - My voice comes out tearful, I get angry, I feel weak, no one answers on the other end of the line - Kim Seokjin answers me, I've spent more than a year dealing with your silence, not knowing what I did wrong ....

-You did nothing wrong my love ....

-Don't call me love, you put me in a hell Seokjin, I was banging my head against the wall wondering what had happened! Watching your videos, watching you get thinner and thinner, are you eating by any chance? Are your back hurting from training? Did you have ginger tea when you had a sore throat? You can see all of these messages on your phone later! I am so hurt, all our promises, all our confessions, on hold, because you thought you could decide what is best for me! Well here is your answer Seokjin, me in pain, heartbroken! But, even if I miss you, I won't take a step towards you! Is it your duty to clean up this mess you cause yourself do you understand?

-Yes ... I miss you too Sol! - Your voice is choked.

-So do something about it, but do it fast! I'm going on a mission to Myanmar in a week, I'm going to spend four months there, that's more than enough time for you to decide what you want out of your life, but I can't guarantee that I'll be here for you when I get back too! It is your responsibility now to save this relationship or let it die for good ...

-I see, I can't love anyone but you ...

-You'll have to prove it to me now! Since you made a point of complicating what was already difficult !

-I promise, I will!

When (We Grow)

Two months later

It is one thing to see photos, videos over the internet, it is quite another to see an undernourished child feeling that a human being can break with his touch is tormenting, the civil war in that country had wiped out all drinking water resources and food, all that arrived was fifty percent confiscated by the army to keep soldiers and the other half was not enough for all civilians.

-The supplies will run out in two days if we do nothing Sol - Sandy comments while analyzing his table, massaging his temples .

-I can't find a solution, even if we buy food, the army will take half, we don't have enough budget to buy so much, doctors are also running out of resources ... How far has humanity come! - I throw myself in bed, besides, why is this place so hot? It's only been five seconds since I showered and I want another one.

I open my cell phone, go on twitter, look at pictures of Seokjin and the boys, of course, I needed to distract myself a little from all that unfortunate situation , every step I took made me feel guilty for living so well and healthy , like the people who finance this war they sleep, how the lords of arms managed to kiss their wives and children at the end of the day knowing that they were supporting the death of so many people? Seokjin's name flashes on the screen as if he heard my thoughts from the United States.

-Hiii- I force an animated voice.

-What is happening? Are you alright? I saw in the newspaper that there was a terrorist attack today in a mosque, Sol tells me that you are fine! How long until you get out of there? You've helped enough! - He doesn't even stop to breathe .

-I don't know if I can get out of here, it's two months before the end of the voluntary project but - I take a deep breath, I had already thought about it a few times but thinking is one thing, verbalizing, another completely different - Everything these children need to go through is so unfair, hunger, abuse, mourning after mourning, I don't know if I will be able to return to Korea in two months ... Except that I also don't know if I will be able to stay, our supplies are running out, we have no idea how to change this situation, the army takes half of everything, it's revolting! - I let some tears escape - How can I live well after knowing all this?

-'You have no blame for the misery of these people Sol ... But I understand how you feel, at times received letters from armys or tweets of them, venting things horrible for which they have gone through or are going through, the sense of responsibility overwhelms me, I imagine that watching people go through this must be even worse, but always keep in mind Sol, it’s not your fault! - I take a deep breath, I need to absorb the information, those words are all I have.

-How's the tour going? And the preparation for the comeback?

We talked for so long that I end up sleeping in the middle of the conversation, my body was so tired his voice was undoing every knot inside my head that kept me awake, his physical presence or not, excited me, made me feel good things, like light from a lighthouse in the middle of the rough sea.

-Sol, I would like to say that no matter how hard you hug this pillow, it will not become the Seokjin - Sandy comments sitting on the end of my bed - Wake up sleeping beauty, the charming prince sent you a gift , in record time! Is he a real prince ? Why in less than twelve hours!

-What's going on Sandy? - I sit on the bed still dizzy from waking up.

-Seokjin sent the supplies we were in urgent need, in addition to making the situation publicized by the mainstream media, food arrives from all over the world! - She puts her hand in her pocket and pulls out an envelope - This is just for you!

-Thank you - I take the envelope, inside it has a polaroid photo of us, in our 3X4 apartment, wearing matching gray sweatshirts, my heart loses time, as always when I see it, on the back of the photo it is written:

"Maybe you love me, but I sure love you, I can make it work!"

When (We love each other)

Two months later I did not return to Korea .... It had been a year since that and three months since Seokjin was summoned by the Korean army, which greatly reduced our calls and messages.

I was unable to return to Seoul, the feeling of unfinished work dominated me every time I thought about it, little by little even in the midst of the declared civil war, I was able to maintain a supply of good food. We eradicated the miserable line between children, with the help of doctors and volunteer teachers even in difficult times and having to teach children how to act when there was a shooting in the middle of the class, we had evolved a lot since we arrived.

Today the Korean, American and Brazilian peacekeeping fleets arrived with drinking water, food, books, notebooks and medical tools, the volunteer leaders including me went to pick them up at the helipad, the sun was so strong that we could n't even see the helicopter, but the noise announced their arrival, three of them, giants landed, when the soldiers went down we helped to get things out of there.

I took the first box of rice, analyzed its condition, the expiration dates, everything was correct, secure in the side handles and pulled it towards me.

-You can carry this alone? - Ask the Korean soldier behind me, for the kindness in his voice, I know that he does not intend to be sexist, he only really cares, after all, there were about twenty kilos of rice in that box, I lift it some more to show that I am fine with that weight.

-No need to worry, I'm used to it! - I say turning to show him, the box slips out of my hand as soon as I put my eyes on it.

Seokjin smiles at me and my heart falls apart, he laughs at my expression, some tears were streaming down my cheeks, he was there, he had walked up to me, flown to be more specific , whatever, he was there! He walks over to me and hugs me.

-I love you, are you listening? Only you, close your eyes, even if everything changes, it won't change! You are my love and I am your love - Humming in my ear, reference to Descendants of the Sun, one of my favorite dramas of all life, I try to keep control and not grab that man right there - Come on we need to keep doing our work but, what do you think of a date tonight?

-Sure! - I answer more excitedly than I should, which makes him laugh again, I don't care, he was there, laughing for me that was all my brain can assimilate.

I spent the whole day between doing chores and checking for Seokjin's presence, I spent more time at the army camp that day than in those almost two years of volunteering. Nothing in this world can compare to Seokjin's beauty now, nothing in the universe can compare to Seokjin in uniform! And that red cap on his head, it's so hard not to look at him! I hope he has taken so many photos, I want them all!

At the end of the day he stops by to pick me up at the dorm, he was beautiful in jeans and a social T-shirt, smelling like only he can be, I can't even blink, it seems he can disappear at any moment, he praised my baby blue dress says that it matches his shirt, I almost reply that his mouth also matches mine, but I restrained myself to a simple thank you.

-You know that blinking is healthy, right, Sol? - Says sitting in front of me at the restaurant table, I nod and keep looking, he picks up the menu - I will not disappear, love, you can rest assured, I will finally be able to stay by your side!

-I don't want it to be a dream, if I blink, you can disappear, then I will realize that I'm crazy talking to myself in a beautiful restaurant! - I whisper to him, Seokjin holds my hand, the heat was real, he kisses her back, he was real.

-I'm not going anywhere! Unless you decide that you don't want me anymore, that you don't want me a bit if you do, then I'll leave you alone! Those years were with an eternal night with no light, seeing you inside that helicopter was like watching the dawn, Sol - He intertwined our fingers - Can I hold this hand forever? I can do it right this time! All the roads in my life end in you Sol!

I get up and walk over to the chair beside him, sit down and hug him to the side, he puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me against him, like he was warm, smelling, soft, what the hell are we doing in a restaurant anyway? I scoop my hand up to cover my mouth and approach him, who tilts his head.

-I love you Kim Seokjin, let's do it right this time! - He smiles and kisses my forehead.

Yes it would work that time.

When (We make it right)

Fifteen years later

"Kim Taeri, don't forget to take a snack to eat on the way to school! Every day, you will sleep late and miss school time, I'll take that phone off you, young lady!" - Scream from the kitchen, Yeojun laughs at the table finishing his coffee - You too, good guy, if I see another warning on my cell phone about bad behavior at school, I will sell your video game!

-Omma! - I zip over my mouth, indicating that I don't want to hear anything else, he snorts and leaves the table to put his sneakers on.

-I'll see you two later, straight home, no cheating on Secretary Han okay? - They do so even sulk with the scolding that I was given, I open my arms to a collective hug them, Seokjin appears and embraces the three together making us laugh - Have a good day my loves!

They leave and my husband hugged me by the shoulders, I rest my head on his chest, enjoy those seconds before squeezing me into the restaurant kitchen until late at night, my performance was not so agile and I was not so physically fit, but I prefer to die to stop doing what I love, same thing with Seokjin, he still made films, soap operas met the boys to sing.

-You do not 're being too hard on the twins? - One thing that you need to know in a relationship, to make it work is really literal, both sides need to strive to keep it working, if it would not collapse, like a sand castle, when the twins were born it was the most difficult time that we had, Seokjin and I had been created in very different ways and that generated a lot of conflicts, nobody warns about it.

-If I am not, who will be Seokjin? You? - He hugs me tighter and kisses my shoulder, that was a dirty game - I would appreciate it if do the bad guy once, you know? I always have to be the villain of the story!

-I was born to be a love prince, my face doesn't match that of a villain, no matter how much I've already played some! Beautiful by the way! - I turn to face him and slap his arm - Oh it's a joke, you look like a princess too! My princess! - I still give slaps but without putting force, then he holds me in a hug and kisses me for a long time, then I can only miss work today? Of course you can, you are your own boss, have you forgotten?

I wrap my arms around the shoulders of Seokjin who picks me up, I wrap my legs around him, will we ever be like this one day? Probably, one day our bodies will not have the same disposition or beauty so only the essentials will remain, our love!

THE END

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rkjinwook · 4 years

Photo

• • • STARTING LIVE!

02AUG2020 | 🐥 JINWOOK’S HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🥳 🥳 DURATION | 1:02:22

it’s a cute set, albeit typical for this kind of broadcast. the staff have provided jinwook with a fixed camera framing his mini birthday table, complete with multicolored balloons decorating the back wall. there’s a small tablet to monitor the stream and comment feed, which jinwook fiddles with as he waits. in retrospect, he thinks it would’ve been nicer to hold a more casual conversation with fans for his first solo live, but that might just be the nerves talking.

he fills the silence with music, his guitar in his lap. it’s an everyday sight, but jinwook realizes most fans won’t have heard him play much, so he takes care to warm up cleanly, and warm up his vocals too. he only alternates between a few simple chords, though. it’s the sort of background music he used to hear when he’d occasionally attend church services with eve. as jinwook plays he imagines an audience quietly filing in, taking their seats at his birthday party as they each receive the live notification. finally the staff motions for jinwook that the actual video is starting, and he rests the instrument in his lap, out of view for now.

“hello! i’m convex’s sunshine, jinwook.” the greeting is bright and familiar as he dips his head toward the camera. it’s unlikely that the viewers, who arrived so early from a notification, don’t know his name, but it can’t hurt to start off formally. “today is my birthday! yay!!” also evident from the title and the backdrop. jinwook gives himself a round of applause anyway. then he picks up a party hat from the table and slips the cone over his head. “tada~”

“since we can’t meet in person, i wanted to greet you all with a live today to celebrate.” there’s a pause as jinwook adjusts the thin elastic of the party hat. he takes a breath. “last year, hmm...” he taps a finger to his cheek as he thinks back. “oh, last year i made cupcakes! i was helping our team sphere on the mgas.. so i couldn’t meet consta that time, either.” jinwook hums in thought, suddenly a bit nostalgic about his time as a coach. he shakes his head. “so i’m excited to try this out now.”

“let’s see...” he says, quickly moving on, “is everyone settling in here alright?” he peers over the tablet and rests a finger over the chat to pause its scrolling speed. the amount of viewers is staggering and the number only keeps rising, but jinwook focuses on the individual users sending messages instead. it’s a relief to see the majority in his native language. “hello and hello and hello,” he says, reading off a string of usernames and greeting each one individually, “and thank you for coming, and thank you for coming, and thank you for coming~!”

when jinwook releases his finger from the screen, the chat jumps back to life, shifting too quickly to read. he frowns and tries to pause it again. it takes some concentration to read off the unusual username combinations, but he does his best.

💬 : happy bday 🥳 🥳 🥳 💬 : you look handsome!!! 💬 : happy birthday oppa~ 💬 : thank you for being born 💖🎁🎁 💬 : bare faced jinwook is the best!

“ah, thank you~ hello!! thank you too~ thank you for being by my side! oh! this one...” jinwook is startled into a laugh at the last comment, bringing a hand over his mouth. when he drops his hand he shows his full face to the camera, grinning. “this is definitely not bare faced jinwook, but, still i appreciate you thinking so~”

as he tries to keep reading, he tilts his head and squints. many of the messages are just full of celebrating emoji or animated emotes. it’s less to parse, but more noise to sort through. “ah, so much emoji in chat, you all must’ve learned from me, huh...” he muses.

after another minute he leans back again, his nerves settled. well, jinwook’s never had much trouble even talking to himself, so it shouldn’t surprise him that speaking to a bustling chat window comes naturally, too.

💬 : did you have a good day so far?

“i’m happy today!” jinwook answers confidently. “my grandmother always wakes up early on sunday mornings, so i called her on the way to practice! and later tonight i’m going to video call with my family. actually i told my sister what time i was going live, so she might be listening too?” jinwook squints back down at the tablet and bites his lower lip. “ah, the chat is going way too fast to tell...”

💬 : where are the other members!!

“hmm, training?” jinwook grins. “i’m taking a break to talk for right now~ but we are all working very hard otherwise!” he shares another smile, proud of himself for not mentioning anything further - although if his eyes sparkle, he can’t be held responsible. “they might stop by at the end!”

“that reminds me!” jinwook reaches below the table for his bag, pulling out a fresh journal that jaehyun had gifted him in the morning. he holds it up for the camera, proudly showing off the nice foil accents and the fold-out attachment. “my roommate, haru, got me this really pretty notebook. it’s supposed to work as a real midi keyboard.” jinwook’s runs his fingers over the cover. “he has good timing since i am almost out of pages in my old notebook... i’m excited to use it.”

💬 : oppa’s hair is cool today!

“my hair, ah..” jinwook reaches absently to touch it, pleased. “it grew!” it’s worn longer than it was for pretty u era, freshly dyed and parted down the middle. he’s lucky he’s even allowed to have it showing for the live right now, since it’s a similar shade to his old cut. “i’m kind of happy, since it feels healthy recently...” he chuckles a little, the compliment leading him to another train of thought.

“speaking of cool, consta, did you guys see our call me baby special stage last week?” jinwook looks up to the camera and leans in, curious. “the concept was slightly darker for us, since unit black is so, you know... cool.” jinwook gestures vaguely but laughs at the understatement. it’s not a big enough word to describe some of the biggest superstars in the industry. “we have songs like rock but it’s different from convex‘s usual image, maybe,” he adds thoughtfully, knowing full well that their next comeback is inching in that direction. “do you think we suited it well?”

💬 : convex is cool too!

jinwook nods, pleased by the positive responses in the chat. “so it was okay, then?” he laughs a little because of course, they’re all biased fans and he asked for it on his birthday, but it’s still reaffirming. “mmm, it still felt a bit refreshing and funky like convex, too. so i think there can be a middle ground,” he says, as if simply imagining how things could evolve in the future. “something smooth like that stage?”

something smooth. jinwook’s thinking of crazy in love, specifically, but the title song itself is an even bigger departure from their pretty u sound and aesthetic. “ah..” he shakes his head with a sheepish grin, “i think i’m rambling a lot.” jinwook takes a dramatic deep breath and collects his thoughts.

then he shifts away from the tablet to pull up the guitar in his lap. “i wanted to answer a lot of messages, but i actually prepared a song for you, too.” he strums a bright chord for emphasis. “it’s nothing fancy but i thought consta would maybe enjoy something like this. so i don’t have to sing happy birthday to myself, or anything,” he jokes.

🎵 : heartz / minhee&luda — i’ll be there

“this is one of my favorite songs recently! i thought it would be nice for our fans, too.” it’d been an easy choice when jinwook was preparing for this stream. it’s a recent sphere release, plus he’s been listening to and singing the song since it came out, so he already knew most of the words. still, jinwook pulls up the lyrics on the tablet just in case. since he frames it as a fan song, there’s no need to change the gendered parts, although he doesn’t think he would have bothered, either way.

jinwook only slows the tempo and lowers the key slightly to fit his guitar and his voice. the song has a different energy with an acoustic guitar instead of the bouncy synths, but it’s just as sweet and upbeat. he takes his time, singing all the way through both verses and two choruses.

just before the bridge, jinwook trails off with a little smile. “ah, i just practiced up until here so far...” he keeps strumming idly as he leans over the tablet again. the comments flood with cheers that jinwook only can read some pieces of. it feels good, though, and jinwook feels confident about the vibe.

he watches several prying questions about heartz fly by in response, and carefully doesn’t acknowledge any of them. “of course i’ve been cheering for heartz,” is all he says. “i really liked around you and vivid also! and i’m excited for the next singles released this week, too.”

💬 : please a convex song next!!

“oh,” he says, “a convex song?” jinwook takes a break, first, to roll out his wrists. then he hums in thought, searching for something he could play on the spot. “do you remember this one?”

🎵 : convex — 20

he transitions into a familiar guitar intro. long-time fans might recognize it as the vocal unit song from convex’s debut album, but jinwook is pleased to introduce it to anyone else who’s unfamiliar. personally, he thinks it has held up pretty well over the past two years. “shh—” he mimics the sharp first line, then smiles as he continues strumming and begins to sing.

the song proves difficult to solo, and jinwook wishes he’d thought to prepare more material ahead of time. a medley could’ve been nice, but with all of the comeback preparations going on..... instead jinwook giggles as he trips over the lyrics, attempting the first verse’s backing and lead vocals both together. “hm..” he mumbles, glancing up at the camera. he casually redoes the section to make a decent recovery, and the chorus soars as intended.

“ah...” says jinwook wistfully after he eases to a stop, “i’ll have to come back to that one someday. that one is nice to sing to consta, too. i always liked the lyrics a lot. you’re my twenties~”

he taps his fingers against the body of the guitar and is reminded of the special day. “but today my twenties are officially half-over, aren’t they? wah... scary....”

twenty-five. he stares blankly toward the tablet, thinking he should follow up: then i’ll just spend the second half of my twenties with consta!

these days, though, it feels like an unfair promise to make.

💬 : like a gorilla like a gorilla!

his eye catches on one of the suggestions breezing down the chat window, and it interrupts his brooding with a burst of laughter. “gorilla? de:code’s gorilla?” he repeats. he tries a few chords but they’re not in the right key, and jinwook grins as he puts away his guitar on its stand. “i don’t know, that one would be an interesting acoustic cover.” he sings a little phrase of it anyway, a random adlib from the ending: “girl you make me feel~!”

“but!” he points a finger at the camera, not wanting his opinions to be twisted. “maybe one day i could cover their song beautiful, or i’m fine from predebut!”

💬 : what are you listening to recently?

“hmm... what is new?” jinwook absently adjusts his elastic party hat elastic and pulls out his phone. “i like lee hi’s holo! per_se have a nice summer album.. with o sole mio, and of course...” jinwook hits a pretty falsetto as he opens the music app: “this is how i feel about you, twilight~”

“it’s like twilight, yeah~” he flicks through his playlist and wonders if he should just share screenshots of the whole thing on fancafe. “ah, and eclipse’s comeback!” he adds. “look, isn’t the album cover pretty?” his screen is probably illegible, when he holds it up close to show the camera, but at least his enthusiasm is clear. “i like their night side the best, with that unique rock sound...” jinwook pauses, and reconsiders. “actually, navillera was totally my style, too.” he shakes his head and grins. “eclipse is definitely cool no matter what.”

💬 : it is already 4 in the morning here why 😭

english. jinwook has glazed over every message in foreign languages but he laughs at this one. he trips over a stilted reading of the comment, and quickly switches back to korean to answer. “i’m sorry ahh, next time i have to think of different timezones, right?” he tilts his head. “mm, it seems impossible to find a good time for everyone all around the world? but i’m happy you could visit with me for even a little bit. please make sure to rest well~” as an afterthought, he finishes in english: “and goodnight~”

💬 : can you show a rap verse?

“rapping?” jinwook’s eyes light up at the suggestion, and he laughs out loud. “can i tell a secret?” it’s not the right question to ask, judging by the staff’s reaction. but jinwook leans in sneakily, and continues despite their concerned looks. “we tried to switch parts for adore u once, so i learned seungcheol’s rap! that choi seungcheol,” he says with a grin, “has pretty good expressions on stage these days... his parts are fun! i like practicing his pretty u verse, too.”

he tells the story casually, although that part switch was not just boredom in the practice rooms, but an official planned anniversary release. that weekend in incheon is still a fond memory despite the disappointment of never getting to see the final edit.

he rolls his shoulders. “anyway, i don’t have the nice low voice for it, but there is a little melody to his parts a lot of the time...” jinwook postures up for full effect and puts on his best rapper expression. “how can you dazzle so much? you’re so pretty it’s—”

it’s probably for the best that he is interrupted by a loud knock and a rowdy chorus of happy birthday starting right outside the door.

➡️ : continued in part two...

#& sns #&& vlive #rkvlive #& solo #&& 07.20 #wc / 2500

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randomscenariosandwritings · 5 years

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The Sick, The Sad, and the Shower

~The Sick, The Sad, and the Shower~Optional Bias Imagine

A/N so I know I literally just posted a few hours ago about how I might delete this blog and I’m gonna say right here and now I’m still seriously debating doing that, I just finally worked up the ability to post that because today’s been really crappy and no me waking up tomorrow feeling better will not change my thoughts on the subject I have been seriously debating this for months now I’m just not super in control of my emotions or impulses today so that message finally got posted. Second, as far as this goes it’s the one idea I’ve had recently that I actually really want to pursue mostly because this day has really sucked and I really need to write this and it’s something I think a lot of us can relate to and so I want to at least get it out there just in case someone out there needs it as much as I do. Third, this was written literally all today I started at 7:15 pm Thursday, May 16, 2019 HST and I will post the completion time at the end in short this is gonna suck real bad I’m sorry. Fourth, this also does mean whatever decision I come to regarding my blog it will be up for a while longer so y’all have a chance to try and convince me to do otherwise as one such person has already tried you know who you are you’re an angel and I love you. (Quick hint one really easy way to make sure this blog doesn’t get deleted comment on my stories and tell me you appreciate them or if you don’t want to do that for whatever reason you may or may not have message me/send me an ask I don’t bite I literally get a message scream and freak out for a bit because omg ahh and then I freak out cause I don’t know how to respond I’m just that freaking awkward and anxious you cannot be any more scared to talk to me than I am of talking to you jk that’s a lie we all have different issues and I’m not going to say mine are the worst out there cause that is the biggest falsehood to ever exist) That concludes my really dumb commentary, for now, enjoy this little piece of crap or don’t it’s up to you. Also apologies for this really long mess, it’s cause I’m a mess and don’t know when to shut up. You probably skipped all of this though so I don’t know why I’m apologizing no big deal I would’ve skipped it too, so yeah now I’m really done.

Description: In case you don’t want to read the crappy long story I’m about to put before you here’s a crappy really short summary of what goes down. You’re sick, you’re sad, and you’re in the shower. Then the love of your life your boyfriend/bias/literal angel from on high whom you adore comes home and finds you sick, sad, and in the shower. He shares with you some loving words of wisdom semi-equivalent to shut up, I love you, now let me hug you. In the end, you’re still sick, but now you’re out of the shower and a little less sad because you’ve got a really attractive really amazing boyfriend who supports you and loves you even when you feel absolutely terrible. Congrats now you don’t have to read the story, or if you’re really curious about how this all plays out you can read it anyway. It’ll be just as crappy but a little more heartwarming...I hope...

Genre: It’s a genre all on its own called crappy tales from this random fanfic author, alternatively its fluff with some angst which should be obvious since sad is in the title but none of its good

Warnings: Honestly feel like this category should move up because so far my biggest warning is I’m feeling really pessimistic so all of my commentaries are really salty and bitter and pessimistic I apologize for that it’s just how the day has gone and I can’t find the strength to not behave like a petty and misbehaving child. Otherwise, there shouldn’t be any warnings other than like you’re really down about stuff in the beginning really struggling so if that’s gonna make you feel really down or something don’t read. Otherwise, yeah you should be good but I am not all knowing so if there is something in here that triggers you I apologize right now please let me know so I can warn you in the future if there is one.

Word Count: 2152 words; 11435 Characters

(Not my gif, I will be telling you this until the day this blog and/or I die whichever comes first, credit to whoever owns it don’t know who and if that upsets you fight me)

It had been a long day a really long day full of work and practice and so much other stuff. He was exhausted by the time he got back to the apartment he shared with you the love of his life and his partner. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with you on the couch and fall asleep wrapped together with you while you watched literally anything on the tv screen.

He tossed down his keys and shrugged off his jacket and slid off his shoes putting on the comforting house slippers all the while wondering where in this apartment you could be. Usually, at this time of the evening, you were laying on the couch wrapped in a blanket reading a book or watching a tv show or a movie or doing something in the kitchen. Long story short you were usually in the main entrance of the apartment but then again you’d been sick for the past few days so you were probably holed up in the bedroom. He figured he was right when he heard the soft echo of what was undoubtedly a really loud cough. He sighed worried for you and set down the bag of groceries on the counter and then quickly put them away before going to find and check on you. He walked deeper into the apartment following your coughing and getting sadder with every cough he heard, they all sounded pretty miserable, and he’d be right they well and truly sucked. Then he heard the sound of running water and realized you must be taking a shower. He nodded softly to himself relaxing slightly since he knew you were at the very least taking care of yourself. Nonetheless, he walked up to the door to check on you anyway.

“Hey, baby, just letting you know I’m home. Are you feeling any better today?” He asked after knocking lightly on the door to signal his presence. You heard him, faintly, but you still heard him and a small, very tiny, minuscule little smile grew on your face. Good god how you adored him.

“I’m gonna be completely honest and say no if anything I feel worse,” You responded trying to get your strained voice heard over the water and through the door. For a second you almost laughed at the though over the water and through the door, it reminded you of the children’s song to Grandmother’s house we go, it was such a dumb thing to think of you almost laughed until another cough tore through you.

He frowned after hearing your response and the dreadful cough and at how strained your voice sounded. “Baby, are you crying?” He asked as softly as he could while making sure he could still be heard by you.

“No,” You answered quickly. His silence in response let you know that he didn’t believe you. “Fine, yes, I’m crying, today just really sucked ya know,” You replied no longer hiding the sobs that were racing through you and mixing with the agonizing coughs.

“It’s okay baby, I know,” He replied kindly, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but I’ve had my fair share of bad days so I can empathize, not perfectly mind you but I get the feeling,” He said stumbling over his words a little bit. He was smart and kind you’d give him that, but he wasn’t always the most eloquent speaker especially when he was worried. It was okay though you loved him and everyone struggles with speaking sometimes. There were some days when you just had to wonder if you could really consider yourself fluent in your native language because you just couldn’t seem to get it right all day. That’s off topic though. “Baby, I really want to help you and be there for you, but it’s really hard to talk to you through this door, can I come in? Only if you’re okay with it though,” He asked a moment later. You nodded softly before realizing he did not have x-ray vision and could not see the very small movement of your head which was currently resting up against the shower wall.

“Yes, you can come in,” You answered after your little realization that as wonderful as he is your lover does not have superpowers. You heard the door open and then close again as he came into the bathroom.

He stopped moving and leaned against a wall facing away from the shower so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Do you want to talk about what’s making you cry?” He asked gently.

“I don’t really know, there’s so much, I mean I guess it’s mostly cause I’m sick and in pain...” You began slowly trying to work out your own emotions while you talked to him. “No, it’s more than that,” You realized as you thought back to why you’re really crying because as far as pain goes your throat didn’t hurt that bad and your head didn’t hurt that bad either it just sucked and was annoying and wasn’t great, but it wasn’t tear worthy either. Then it all fell into place and you realized what was making you so tear up and cry, for what was likely the fifth time today. “I’m just tired, so damn tired.”

“Of?” He prompted, knowing you weren’t just talking about not getting enough sleep.

“Of everything, of responsibilities, of being sick, of hurting, of having to go to class, and work, and having to do homework, I just I need to rest like really rest but I can’t and it sucks and it hurts and it’s exhausting and I can’t take it anymore,” You explained the tears starting a new.

“Why can’t you rest?” He questioned trying to figure out what was going on so he could help you.

“Because I have responsibilities, I can’t just drop everything and sail away no matter how much I want to,” You replied before breaking out into another coughing fit.

“Can I give you a hug?” He asked suddenly perplexing you for a moment, “Don’t think too much about it just answer the question, can I give you a hug?” He added a moment later knowing you had just started overthinking all of that even though there wasn’t even much to think about.

“Yes, I would love a hug, right now,” You replied and the next thing you knew he was standing in front of you still fully dressed and holding you in his arms. You hugged him back quickly and started crying into him.

“Babe, stop thinking right now, just stop thinking about what you should or shouldn’t do, what you can or can’t do, who you want to be and who you should be, for now just focus on this moment and who you are right now. Focus on my voice and the feel of my clothes, focus on the sound of the water and the feel of it as it hits you, focus on the feel of your hair and your feet against the tile, just focus on the now. Think about who you are, you are amazing and wonderful and strong and hardworking. You have graduated from high school, last semester you had perfect attendance in all of your classes, you’ve been doing amazing work at your job, hell you got promoted. Focus on that for a bit,” He instructed gently as he whispered into your ear. You did as he said and fell into the moment fell into his grip.

“Love, you’re trying so hard and you want so much to be the perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect employee, perfect lover, hell the perfect person. You think you should be all of these and you want to be all of these and while that’s great and it’s wonderful and admirable, but darling it’s unrealistic. No one can or will be perfect and no one should expect you to be perfect if they do drop them like the biodegradable piece of trash they are and then kick them off into the sunset where you never have to think about them ever again.” He said getting slightly off topic.

“Taking one day off to rest and recuperate so you can get healthy isn’t going to ruin everything. You won’t be disappointing your parents if you skip one day of classes, I know for a fact that your parents adore you and are so immensely proud of you and nothing will change that in fact they will only grow to love you more and be proud of you more because you’re going to do amazing things, but you have to be healthy and strong to do those things. Your grades will not plummet past the point of no return if you take one day and miss a few assignments so you can make sure you put your best work forward. Yes, you should at least attempt to do your homework because doing it poorly is better than not doing it at all even a 3% is better than a zero. Don’t argue you can’t math is always right 3 is greater than zero.” He continued still holding you close.

“Finally, your job and employer and co-workers will understand, your health is more important than getting a paycheck and your health is just straight up more important. You cannot be perfect and one day of rest will not ruin everything.” He concluded giving you a tight squeeze. “You are amazing and I love you and you can take a day to take care of yourself the world will not end.”

“Thank you babe,” You replied softly already feeling at least a little better if only evidenced by the halting of your tears.

“Now come on let’s finish getting you cleaned up and out of this shower, then while you get changed I’ll cook us up some soup and set up the couch so we can lay down, cuddle, and binge watch anything you want. Then we’ll go to bed and tomorrow, we’ll spend the day resting and relaxing, and I will take the best care of you,” He said lifting your chin up with his finger so you’d look into his kind eyes which were staring at you with so much love you nearly started crying again.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” You asked gently.

“I do now, now how clean did you actually get in this shower before you were incapacitated by the agony of responsibility and trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders?” He replied with a smile.

“Oh shut up and get out of here, I can finish showering on my own,” You replied smacking his chest lightly.

“Aww but I wanted to dote on you and treat you like royalty,” He replied with a little pout. You shoved him lightly and he smiled before leaving the shower and letting you finish up in the shower. As you did he threw your favorite pair of pajamas, a pair of fuzzy socks, and a blanket into the dryer to warm them up a bit for your enjoyment.

Once you were out of the shower and had dried off he supplied you with the recently warmed items and then went to take his own shower since he was already wet anyway.

You found the soup already heating on the stove and a mountain of blankets and pillows and treats set up in the living room after you got changed into your delightfully warm pajamas. You smiled gently and stirred the soup a little before going to sit on the couch. If he wanted to take care of you, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop him. Especially since you still felt like death itself had climbed in a semi-truck hit you, backed up over you, exited the vehicle stomped on your face, and then stuffed your ears full of random crap lying around.

He was very glad to see you bundled up and relaxing on the couch when he finished with his shower and getting changed and then he quickly went over to dish up your soup and his own and then joined you on the couch with the two bowls and a couple of spoons.

Hours later you were both peacefully passed out on the couch the tv still playing in the background and your dishes haphazardly discarded on the little table in front of the couch with gentle smiles resting on both of your faces. You were truly grateful to have someone in your life who loved you as much as he did, through all your ups and downs.

The next day he kept his word and stayed home all day with you, took care of you, and relaxed. That day you found that without a doubt, love and laughter truly are the best remedies, well that and of course your friendly neighborhood medicine.

A/N Completed at 8:49 pm Thursday night on May 16, 2019 HST Hope this helps you as much as it helped me today. Lots of love guys and take care of yourselves, your health is so important and your responsibilities can wait as long as you need them to so that you can get better.

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caladhel-iarian · 5 years

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Introduction: Dhel, Vocalist for Dysphoria

full name. Caladhel Ia’rian.

pronunciation. CULL-uh-DELL. YAH-ree-ON.

nicknames.

Dhel

This is both his stage name and a family nickname.

Dek

This is a family nickname only. His grandmothers, his parents, and his siblings typically call him this.

Professor [Ia’rian].

His more ambitious students and his colleagues address him by this title.

Master [Caladhel].

It may seem trite, but Dhel has his reasons for enjoying this title beyond, “I’m a big, bad Dom, now get on your knees.”

Hardass

His students call him this behind his back. Unfortunately for them, while his vision may not be great, he has excellent hearing.

The Ice Prince

Would-be wives and ex-girlfriends call him this, usually with wistful sighs and a glint in their eyes that says they want to be the one to melt that ice.

Smokestack

Thanks, Ji.

Dull.

An obscure pronunciation of Dhel, you probably shouldn’t call him this if you like yourself the shape you currently are.

Daddy.

A lot of people seem to want to call him this, but if you enjoy his company and want to continue to enjoy it, I can’t recommend this. Dhel hates this and likely any woman who tries to address him this way. Use this term in bed and he’ll probably toss you straight out the window without bothering to open it first. Did I mention he lives in the penthouse on the top floor?

Various other silly endearments his brothers come up with on the fly.

Usually some form of alliteration.

height. 8′. He’s a big boy.

age. 305. Roughly equivalent to a human in his mid-to-late 30′s.

zodiac. Scorpio, with many of the negative traits said to come with the sign.

languages. If it’s a language, he probably has some passing familiarity with it, at least enough to ask for directions. He has native-speaker-fluency in Thalassian, Darnassian (ancient and modern), Shalassian, and Common.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. Thick, silky, and blacker than a crow’s wing with azure highlights in the sun. Mostly straight, though the jagged ends often sweep out in all directions. He has two long strands that drape over his shoulders and touch his abs, shaggy bangs, and the rest is a choppy mess.

eye colour. Beneath the lime green glow, his irises are a rich chocolate brown with gold flecks. They resemble a deeper, darker tiger’s eye held up to light.

skin tone. Olive with gold undertones.

body type. Enormous, broad-shouldered, and covered in lean, ropy muscle, Dhel has the athletic build of a man who could outswim a shark on cocaine.

accent. Shalassian. He sounds like a cross between someone who speaks a Slavic tongue and an eastern Asian tongue.

dominant hand. Ambidextrous, but he’s a southpaw naturally.

posture. Tall. Stately. Proud. Self-assured. Dhel walks like a man who knows exactly where he belongs in this world: in charge of it.

scars.

Thick, knotty scars cover his ankles, his heels, and his soles. They appear to be the results of clumsy hands wielding serrated knives.

The rest of his body bears the typical scars earned through childhood adventure:

A long, thin scar runs up the back of his left calf as a result of a tree-climbing accident.

His knuckles bear the marks from a stupid game of “does it hurt?” he played with his brothers and other students. The game involves rubbing a pencil eraser over the knuckles until the victim either cries uncle or bleeds.

A thin scar spans the length of his left palm. Made by Bren’s treasured pocket knife, it’s the reminder of a blood pact he made with his brothers as children.

tattoos.

Left arm:

Family crest on the inside of his forearm. It’s a massive wisteria tree on a hill with the sun rising behind it.

Infinity symbol curling around his wrist. It looks like a musical staff with several notes.

A trio of fox kits chase a red butterfly down the outside of his forearm.

Musical staff around his bicep. The staff contains notation and a few lyrics written in ancient Darnassian.

Lyrics:

Canary, I want to break your wings but if I do, will you ever sing again? Canary, here is all I can give you. You can have everything as long as you promise to stay in my gilded cage...

Oh, sweet Alice, who do you love? How many suitors do I have to get rid of?

Right arm:

Azure cloud serpent Ouroboros on the outside of his forearm.

Slumping marionette with severed strings on the outside of his bicep.

Fleur de lis on the inside of his wrist.

A Punch ‘n Judy stage with the titular characters on the inside of his bicep.

Words from his favourite poem on the inside of his forearm.

The poem reads:

If I freed you now, to whom next would you fly? I’d rather watch you wither under these hands than see you tamed by a snake who can only slither in the dirt, belly-down and ambitions no higher than his eye level. I’d decapitate every liar who approached you with sweet words. I’m not better than a devil who slept so long without you that my bed forgot your shape and my trembling fingers nurture the weeds that grew in the home I made for you where your sunshine still lingers.

Full body:

From his jawline to his toes, he is covered in runic tattoos that are only visible when he uses magic. They glow a vivid violet during his spellcasting and should you catch a glimpse of them, the runes come from a language thought long dead.

most noticeable features.

An expression that says he wakes every morning to find someone has pissed in his shoes.

A lower lip piercing that he usually only wears onstage and for photo shoots.

His height. The man is enormous.

Glasses. If he’s not wearing contacts, he’s wearing his glasses. Otherwise, he can’t see his hand in front of his face.

A glacial glare, harder than diamonds and sharper than the edge of an obsidian blade.

Tattoos. Many, many tattoos.

His cheeks dimple when he smiles and his smile is crooked; the left side of his mouth pulls up higher.

Dhel is a chainsmoker. You’ll rarely see him without a cigarette and a cloud of purple smoke hanging around him.

The air around him is a good 3-5 degrees colder than the rest of his surroundings and if you touch his skin, you’ll find it cool as a cucumber. When he’s angry, the temperature drops even further and he’s been known to sprout ice crystals.

CHILDHOOD

place of birth. Sunset Palace on Skyfire Isle. The palace sits at the end of Morning Glory Lane in the eastern part of the capital city, Berl’din Mor. Skyfire Isle is a massive island about fifty leagues to the northeast of Quel’danas.

hometown. Berl’din Mor, Skyfire Isle.

birth weight / height. 8 lbs. 23 inches.

manner of birth. He was the second of the triplets born to first-time parents, Taenaran and Sumire Ia’rian. His brother, Calaglin, preceded him by two minutes and his other brother, Calabren, followed Caladhel two minutes later. Sumire gave birth to her first three children in the royal family’s wing of the palace with her mother (Mienari Ker’anith) and her mother-in-law (Tekkele Ia’rian) attending her alongside the midwives.

first words. “Mm-mh.” (He couldn’t quite say “no” yet, so this was a suitable substitute for him.) “Ann’da.”

Dhel with his tired baby brothers, Yenchul (red shirt) and Tevryn (blue shirt).

siblings.

Calaglin Ia’rian

Elder twin brother by two minutes.

Lin.

305 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in his mid-to-late 30′s.

Calabren Ia’rian

Younger twin brother by two minutes.

Bren.

305 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in his mid-to-late 30′s.

Ylinderwyn Ia’rian

Eldest sister.

Wynnie.

218 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in her mid 20′s.

Kethian Ia’rian

Sister.

Kethy.

149 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in her early 20′s.

Istaunna Ia’rian

Sister.

Ista.

84 years.

Roughly equivalent to a 14 year old human.

Kouwin Ia’rian

Brother and older twin of Kouyuu by five minutes.

Kou.

68 years.

Roughly equivalent to a 9/10 year old human.

Kouyuu Ia’rian

Brother and younger twin of Kouwin by five minutes.

Yuu.

68 years.

Roughly equivalent to a 9/10 year old human.

Yenchul Ia’rian

Brother and adopted twin of Tevryn.

Yen.

25 years.

Roughly equivalent to a 6 year old human.

Tevryn Ia’rian

Adopted brother and twin of Yenchul.

Tev.

25 years.

Roughly equivalent to a 6 year old human.

Phirayaela Ia’rian

Sister.

Phiya.

3 years.

parents.

Taenaran Ia’rian

Current monarch of Skyfire Isle.

Elder twin brother of Taenorin Ia’rian (deceased).

722 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in his 40′s.

Sumire Ia’rian nee Ker’anith

Current empress of Skyfire Isle.

621 years.

Roughly equivalent to a human in her late 30′s to mid-40′s.

parental involvement. High. His parents love their children and, despite having governesses and tutors to aid in watching their large brood, both Taenaran and Sumire made it a point to spend as much time with their kids as they could. The entire family is close-knit and protective of one another, and they always spend the holidays together. Not to mention, each of the older children has a comm device and the family keeps in regular contact.

ADULT LIFE

occupation.

Vocalist, lyricist, and pianist for Dysphoria.

Crown prince and heir apparent.

Adjunct professor at both the Sunfury Spire (Silvermoon) and the Violet Academy (Dalaran).

He teaches:

World Mythology (fall term).

Ancient Runes (fall term).

Advanced Evocation (spring term).

General education (both terms).

He only teaches general education to students 12 and younger.

On occasion, he also teaches ballroom dancing as an afterschool club elective.

close friends. Dhel is a private, moody man and if you aren’t part of his family, he’s more likely to shove you an arm’s length away than welcome you into his embrace--and he has a wingspan greater than seven feet. But he does have a few people who have managed to get reasonably close to him. They include:

Lin @calaglin-iarian

Bren @calabren-iarian

Eldya @eldya

Ji @puppet-master-jihye

Kearhyn @kearhyn

and Amorette, @amorette-frostsong

Reikandalin Ia’non (who doesn’t have a Tumblr)

Ishikilan Phyr’yl (who also doesn’t have a Tumblr).

He needs more friends.

relationship status. Although he’ll tell you he’s married to his work, Dhel isn’t actually committed and doesn’t even seem to be dating anyone. But honestly, with his acid tongue and icy nature, that probably isn’t surprising. At this point, I’m not sure anyone could put up with him long enough to actually want to start a romantic relationship. When it comes to warming up to people, he moves slower than a glacier. A romance with Dhel takes time and effort, but in return, you’ll get a devoted elf who will move the universe for you.

financial status. Wealthy. Although a teacher’s salary won’t usually afford you a lavish life, Dhel is a prince from two long lines of royalty and noble blood... which means he has plenty of access to the family coffers. He also offers private tutoring for promising students and fronts a popular rock band during the summer and winter semesters.

driver’s license. I don’t think Azeroth really requires a driver’s license, but if it did--or if he were transplanted to modern day Earth--he would certainly make it a point to get his license. And probably be heavily invested in car mechanics.

criminal record.

Dhel has never been suspected of, charged, nor convicted for any crimes; his record is cleaner than a fresh sheet. But he is certainly guilty of several less-than-savoury activities, including (but not limited to):

Illegal drug use.

Blackmail and bribery.

Torture.

Homicide.

Human trafficking and false imprisonment.

Use (and abuse) of fel magic.

Forgery.

Grand larceny and looting.

Assault and battery.

Arson.

Stalking.

He is a careful planner who takes precautions to hide his tracks. Royalty can be dethroned.

Vices.

With more vices than the sky has stars, I’ll provide a few of his more prominent vices and a link to a complete list of his personality problems for those interested in seeing it.

Addiction (painkillers and cigarettes).

Wrathful.

Callous.

Condescending.

Ill-tempered.

Suspicious.

Workaholic.

Antagonistic.

Full list of Dhel’s vices can be found here.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Heteroflexible, sapiosexual, and demisexual. If you want Dhel’s attention, bring a strong personality and a brain. You can have the prettiest face and most perfect body in the world, but if you don’t have anything more than cotton candy or air inside your skull, Dhel will not be interested. romantic orientation. Once again, heteroflexible, sapiosexual, and demisexual. Want to romance him or encourage him to romance you? Banter with him. Few things draw his attention more readily than a person who can keep up with him and go verbal blow for blow. His idea of flirting is bickering to test the waters.

preferred emotional role. Dominant. Wholly dominant. Follow his lead or he will make you follow his lead.

preferred sexual role. Dominant. Dhel typically has zero percent interest in allowing others to orchestrate any part of his life and that definitely includes the bedroom.

libido. High, though he’s picky and doesn’t always indulge his baser wants.

turn on’s. Intelligence. Guts. Strong personalities. Smart mouths. Dark, dry humour. Curiosity and willingness to learn. Talented people with a passion for their craft. Brats that must be broken. Creativity. Stubborn submissiveness. Adventure. Dominating others. Complete control. BDSM. His favourite riding crop. Poetry. Class (elegance). Loyalty. Obsession. Brunettes. Curves. People who can respect his solitude. Power play. Tears.

turn off’s. Willful ignorance. People who waste his time. Wishy-washy people. Conceit. People who display evidence of the Dunning-Kruger effect. Stupidity. Listlessness, laziness. Nosiness. People with pudding spines. Infidelity. Women who try to dirty talk during sex--they inevitably say something that kills his mood. Blondes. Skin and bones. Those who haven’t figured themselves out enough to be consistent personalities. Being touched. Loss of control.

love language. Acts of service. Gifts. Quality time.

relationship tendencies. While he won’t hesitate to make his move for a one-night stand, Dhel is extremely picky when it comes to relationships. When he manages to land himself in a romance, he tends to think of his partner the same way a spoiled kid thinks of his favourite toy during show and tell--he wants to keep it to himself, wants to hide it away so no one else can play with it or break it. For his brothers and his family, he is wholly generous and willing to go out of his way to please them... but with a romantic partner, he looks for someone who will martyr themselves for him the same way he feels he plays the martyr for his loved ones. He seeks out those who like pain, those who have abandonment or connection issues so he can wind them around his finger and force them to be completely reliant on him. It’s another form of having control and Dhel is one bajillion percent a control freak.

And if you don’t have those issues?

You will.

MISCELLANEOUS.

hobbies to pass the time.

Snowboarding and ice skating. He loves winter sports.

Polar bearing with his brothers, much to their mother’s concern.

Tinkering with engineering. He likes building clockwork golems and toys, and his little siblings’ rooms are full of his experiments; the music boxes and robotic dinosaurs sit on the shelves alongside the dolls Bren creates.

Ice sculpting. His mother has a private garden dedicated to all the sculptures he’s made over the years.

Collecting books. The man could rent out his houses as libraries and if he’s traveling, you can bet he’s probably stopping in every bookstore he comes across.

Reading everything he can get his hands on. Doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll read it. You can never have too much knowledge.

Traveling and urban exploration. Dhel enjoys the strange peace he finds in the ruins of past civilizations.

Baiting people with biting banter. It’s how he vets them and uncovers those he deems worthy of his time.

Tea ceremony. Tea is his drink of choice and, as with anything he enjoys, he takes great care to learn everything he can about it. He is certified to teach the tea ceremony and has given demonstrations as an afterschool activity for those students who are interested.

Playing piano. As a child, he and his brothers were encouraged to study everything, including the arts. The triplets were allowed to choose their instruments and Dhel chose piano. He certainly has the fingers for it.

Making paper lanterns and origami. Folding the paper in such careful lines gives him a measure of peace and control; crafting soothes him in much the same way teaching does.

Astronomy. He’s insanely curious about the stars and the worlds that lie beyond his own. One of his goals involves visiting foreign planets, especially when he visits the Consortium and hears their tales of strange places light-years away.

Hide-and-seek. As a kid, he was the hide-and-seek champion and he still enjoys playing with his younger siblings, his nieces, nephews, and small cousins.

mental illnesses.

Clinical depression.

PTSD. Thanks, Dalaran.

Obsessive-compulsive disorder. His OCD manifests in:

Unwanted acts of aggression (the urge to harm people)

The need for exactness or being as close to correct as possible.

Excessive cleanliness. Everything must be clean.

Hoarding objects gifted to him by loved ones (with the idea that if he can hold onto these things, he can hold onto the people).

Checking, double- and quintuple-checking his private possessions to ensure no one has touched or even seen them.

Dacryphilia.

He gets turned on by making his partners cry.

Impostor Syndrome.

Insomnia.

Paranoid Personality Disorder.

physical illnesses. While these aren’t exactly illnesses, they do cause him great physical stress. Dhel’s runic tattoos are actually a terrible curse etched into his skin and any time he channels magic of any variety, his body suffers excruciating agony of the sort that makes a person pray for death. When the weather is bad, his ankles cause him tremendous pain and he becomes even grouchier than usual while he struggles to keep himself from limping in front of other people.

left or right brained. A pretty even mixture of both. He’s coldly logical but capable of great creativity and emotion.

fears.

Losing any members of his family or his few friends.

Never being good enough for anyone or anything.

Intimacy.

Invasive thoughts and existential crises.

Betrayal.

Watching his brothers crumble under the weight of their own issues and being powerless to do anything to help them.

Failing his people as a leader.

Unrequited love. He watched it come far too close to destroying Lin.

self confidence level. Dhel comes across as perfectly at home in his own skin and, for the most part, he is. It’s the stuff behind the attractive curtains he worries people will see, but he keeps those curtains glued together.

vulnerabilities. Thanks to his curse, he isn’t able to sustain extended spellcasting. If you can exhaust him magically, then he’ll be forced to fight you physically. His ankles and feet are a weak spot. His family, though he takes great pains to ensure their safety behind the scenes because he’s a suspicious asshole.

Tagged by: @loveherdekay and @snowfallen-nymph (Thank you both for the tag; I really appreciate it!)

Tagging: @kolabooc @sanasunbringer @amorette-frostsong @eldya @dae-shadowvale @latildarommel @veleanthe @valishoneybee @nymm-wildseeker @sanguinesorceress @susan-gampre @duraxxor @silvertonguedaggermaw and anyone else who wants to do this thing. If you do it, please tag me in it so I’ll be sure to see it.

#character stuff #character knowledge #triplets #Dhel #Caladhel #world of warcraft roleplay #world of warcraft rp #FF14 RP

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missameliep · 6 years

Text

The Pursuit of Happiness - Chapter Fifteen: Walking after you

Book: Desire & Decorum (AU) Word count: 6.918 Pairing: Prince Hamid x MC (Elizabeth Thompson)

Notes: *The main plot continues after we stopped to learn a bit about Hamid’s point of view. Chronologically it follows the events of Chapter 13: Good Fortune, and it takes place after the dinner party at Edgewater. * Just a reminder that English is not my native language and if there are mistakes, typos, etc, let me know. I will appreciate the feedback. * Characters belong to PixelBerry and I am just borrowing them.

If you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag list: @pixieferry @lou-who-writes @dianalend @elinechoices @schizhoephrenic @journeywithcody @choicesbyjade @itsbrindleybinch @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @alj4890

The morning after the dinner party, Elizabeth spied the Duke's carriage leaving Edgewater under the pouring rain. Finally, she could relax and a breath she didn't even know she’s been holding was released.

Earlier, while she was in her room writing another letter to Prince Hamid, she heard Duke Richard’s thunderous voice demanding to see her, and Lady Grandmother’s soothing tone trying to calm him down. Ms. Daly explaining once more with a shaky and hesitant voice that Lady Elizabeth was indisposed. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. This morning she had no disposition to endure a conversation or even bear being in the same room with that man. How could she forget the stir he caused the night before.

Elizabeth rose from her seat and walked towards the door to listen what they were saying.

“That’s preposterous! My fiancée shall speak to me, even if I must tear down this door and march into her room! You, girl, step away from the door!”

“You shall not do such a thing, Your Grace! May I remind you where you are? You are a guest here and should–” the Dowager Countess’ voice louder than Elizabeth was accustomed.

“Excuse me, Your Grace, but your carriage is ready.” Elizabeth recognised Mr. Woods voice, deeper and steadier than usual.

“I shall leave now. But I warn you, my lady, those actions, yours and your granddaughter’s, will have consequences. I know you can hear me, my dear fiancée. Be warned.”

Hearing his threats always made her skin crawl and her blood run cold. Even if she tried to remain strong, a small part of herself was terrified of the possible actions he might take to fulfil his menaces.

Later that morning, after Ms. Daly helped her get dressed and she wrote a few more letters, Elizabeth went downstairs. First, she had breakfast with the remaining guests. Then, Mr. Konevi joined her on her father’s study to discuss legal matters regarding the estate and her inheritance. The man skimming the pages of some books Mr. Marlcaster has handed him the day before, while she read a few documents and letters. Taking the time to ask as many questions as she could, and she seized the occasion to carefully hand the barrister a small stack of letters addressed to the Prince. One for each day they were apart. He placed them in the pocket inside his jacket, with a smile.

Shortly after they were done, she went straight to the drawing room where the ladies would be gathered for tea. Outside the room, through a crack on the door, she heard Ms. Sutton's nasal voice retelling the events from the evening and she recognized Mrs. Hughes and her daughter Elinor’s voices too.

“Did he really say that?” Mrs. Hughes asked and she could imagine her blue eyes open wide.

“Yes, he did! Such a scandal! An affair with a married woman!” Ms. Sutton confirmed.

“Oh, my! Poor Mr. Sinclaire!” Elinor shrieked.

“And poor lady Elizabeth! My word! Dominique, are you calling off the engagement?” Mrs. Hughes with her plummy voice inquired the Dowager Countess.

“That's –"

“I would if I were in the same position! He's not a nice man as my Mr. Marlcaster!” Ms. Sutton interrupted the elderly woman and her voice was ringing through the walls.

“Ms. Sutton, you shouldn't be impertinent. This is a family matter.” she heard her grandmother’s commanding voice.

“And so it begins...” Elizabeth thought. Hearing them gossiping about the commotion from the night before left a bitter aftertaste. Even if the word about the Duke's actions could expose his character and perhaps justify her cancelling the engagement, she felt sorry for Mr. Sinclaire. Knowing Ms. Sutton, the news certainly will spread like wildfire. The woman has tongue enough for two sets of teeth!

Before Elizabeth's hand reached the doorknob, she heard light footsteps and a voice behind her.

“Quite a scene you and Mr. Sinclaire caused last night...” Countess Henrietta taunted.

“Don't you mean the Duke, Countess Henrietta?” Elizabeth asked, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest. Eyes narrowed and fixed at the woman.

“The Duke simply reacted. I’ve been observing what has been going on... What would you expect? It's a stupid thing to parade a paramour around your fiancé! You should be more discreet when carrying on an affair… I assumed the seamstress daughter would know that. Or don't the commoners have jealous tempers?”

“Mr. Sinclaire is not my–”

“You don’t need to go into the lurid details. Just watch your manners, and don’t bring further ruin upon Edgewater.” the woman waved her hand dismissively.

“He’s not my paramour!” Elizabeth blurted out, hands balled into fists, nails digging into the skin of her palms, “And I wish I was still only the seamstress daughter…” she said, trying her best to keep her voice down.

The Countess eyed her with curiosity for a moment.

“But if you were, you wouldn't be a lady nor would have been introduced to any of this…” the Countess motioned her hands around them, “Or them.”

“I wouldn't have been forced into an unwanted engagement either.”

“If you were back on that pig farm of yours, you wouldn't be an heiress or a future Duchess. Of course, it’s so much more than someone of your upbringing deserves.”

“You have ears and eyes everywhere... you must know this is not what I wished.” Elizabeth looked her stepmother squarely in the eyes.

“Would you risk losing Edgewater over an infatuation?” she gawked.

“Absolutely! I desire not a convenience marriage.” she replied, her voice steady and gaze fixed on the Countess’ face.

“The bishop would never validate the will if you were marrying the foreigner!” the woman whispered.

“Father desired the estate remained in his bloodline, but also that I’d marry for love. The decision is up to Bishop Monroe now... And if I can only have one or the other, then Mr. Marlcaster shall inherit Edgewater. Just as you wished.”

“You can't possibly mean that!” she snorted.

“You were the one who assumed, even before my arrival, I was a fortune seeker... I never dreamed of inheriting anything but mama's cottage and utensils. And I never intended to take anything from Mr. Marlcaster or yourself...”

“Why should I believe you?” she hissed through her teeth.

“Why would I lie to you? Aren't you tired of this nonsensical feud? Especially if there’s a severer threat endangering the survival of this estate.”

The Countess contemplated her for a moment, scrunching up her eyes and muttered, “Foolish girl... You're certainly your father's daughter.”

Elizabeth smiled. What was supposed to be an insult fell upon her ears as a sublime compliment.

Fidgeting with the sleeves of her mourning dress, the Countess stepped closer, and whispered, “Then why don't you break–”

The drawing room's door was suddenly thrown wide open, and the women were startled by Ms. Sutton's loud voice.

“I told you, your ladyship, that I’ve heard voices! Countess Henrietta and Lady Elizabeth are here!” her head swivelled, eyes trained on both women, “Aren't you ladies going to join us? I have so many questions for you, lady Elizabeth!”

The Countess put on a smile, as fake as the cheerful tone she used to greet the ladies inside. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, summoning all her strength to endure the upcoming questions and additional gossip, and followed her stepmother.

Afterwards, as requested, Mr. Woods set a table with luncheon for Elizabeth and her guests at the library. Sandwiches, sliced ham, fruits and tea carefully arranged for her, Mr. Chambers and Mr. Konevi. And the footman stayed put in a distant corner, ready to serve them. And Ms. Daly seized the opportunity to stand at his side, the couple chatting and giggling.

She was having the most delightful time with the gentlemen, both updating her on the latest news from London and all that she missed since her arrival in Edgewater.

Mr. Konevi told her about the fireworks at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, and he was obviously exhilarated about them, gesticulating with his hands wildly as he painted a vivid picture of the spectacle with his words. As he said, the exhibition reminded him of many celebrations he attended in Constantinople; except, they’re grander in his homeland, more theatrical. His eyes sparkled reminiscing about it. Mr. Chambers’ were also alight, his blue eyes fixed on the other man’s face, a wide smile on his lips.

Elizabeth observed them. The admiration and the love become so obvious in such brief moments when Mr. Chambers seems to lose himself in the eyes of the Ottoman man. The young lady grinned. She could relate. And thinking about another Ottoman man’s eyes, her mind drifted away for a bit, before she could concentrate on her newest friends’ stories once more.

Mr. Chambers, in his turn, told her all about the dances she missed and which ones of their acquaintances were engaged by now, but also about how he was a little terrified that Mrs. Holloway might expect him to propose to her daughter Felicity.

“But why?” she gawked.

"I don't know exactly. I might have said I love going to Bath. Then, one minute we were drinking tea, and the next we were discussing arrangements for functions in Bath... and how lovely a wedding there might be.”

“Oh, my! A wedding?” Elizabeth pressed one hand to her mouth, eyes wide and fixed on the blond gentleman. “But how did she…? Did you agree with...?” she muttered.

“Oh! No! I did not.” Mr. Chambers exclaimed.

“He probably agreed. He’s too polite to say no, my lady. And it’s possible he shall get married not to upset Mrs. Holloway.” Mr. Konevi said and tried to stifle a laughter.

“No, not at all. I shall talk to her! I did not propose marriage…”

“Didn’t you? Are you certain? Maybe they have already set a date, sir…” Mr. Konevi asked lifting his eyebrows, teasing him.

Mr. Chambers sighed and rubbed his hands, “It’s just the end of the Season. It happens... Sometimes families assume that a bachelor would propose and then they don’t and... And I know they expected the Duke to propose to Ms. Holloway; but since he chose you, I believe they might settle for me!”

“I wouldn’t assume you were this close…” Elizabeth said.

“And we’re not! I took her to the Opera as her mother requested, but she was so displeased the whole time, rambling about the Duke and you that... well... it was certainly unexpected to be even considered. I’m not from a high rank or have the riches as Mr. Sinclaire…” Mr. Chamber floundered over the words.

“Well... You are certainly a far better man than the Duke…” Elizabeth sighed.

Mr. Konevi’s eyes raked around them, and when he saw Mr. Woods absorbed with Ms. Daly’s presence, he placed his hand over Mr. Chambers’ and gave it a gentle squeeze. He leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. The blond man shoulders relaxed as he drew in a deep breath, and he looked at his companion and smiled at him.

“Thank you, my darling.” Mr. Chambers muttered under his breath.

“Everything will be all right, you’ll see.” Mr. Konevi said softly and smiled back at him, releasing his hand.

“I still have a few years until being a bachelor becomes insufferable... And I supposed that if someday I proposed to a lady, it should be a friend. Someone who were also looking for a convenience marriage.”

He leaned closer and motioned to Elizabeth to lean forward too. And his voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone.

“When Yusuf told me about what happened to you and Prince Hamid, I might have entertained the thought of proposing you this kind of mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“Mr. Chambers!” Elizabeth gasped.

“I'm sorry for presuming –”

“It would have been the type of generous offer expected only from a gentleman as yourself. But were you willing to do something like that for me?”

“For us actually. That’s the whole premise of the convenient marriage.” he said and giggled.

“That would be certainly unexpected.”

“A little. But I could foresee the nice life we'd enjoy. No secrets between us. And imagine all the beautiful babies! Mine and his, of course. I can just picture a tiny little boy with his smile and your eyes! Can you imagine it? Just adorable!”

Elizabeth stared at him. Her reveries haven't gone that far… but it's a lovely idea: children on her future with Hamid. “If we could have a future...”

“I was about to come here, but Yusuf advised me not to.”

Her eyes darted to the barrister, and she noticed how his expression shifted to a sombre one.

“The Prince told me the Duke was already proposing and unless we uncovered something really compelling about him that could persuade your grandmother to refuse his proposal, there was nothing else we could do.”

“You two were investigating the Duke?” she gaped.

“When he returned to London, he told me something felt... odd. The Prince hasn't shared many details and we didn’t find anything he considered useful. Yet.” Mr. Konevi said, stressing the sound of the last word and held Elizabeth’s gaze, and his voice was even lower, “Besides, I know him. He wouldn't want that, only allowed to be with the one he loves in the shadows... We are aware that it’s not an easy path.” he glanced at Mr. Chambers, who nodded with a half-smile.

“Even if it was the only way for us to be together?” Elizabeth asked.

Mr. Konevi’s body straightened in his seat and he looked away, thinking about an answer to her question. He reminisced about the day the Prince admitted he had feelings for the young lady of Edgewater after the opening night of Almira at Opera St. James. Soulmates, that’s what he said, while he paced around the room. Then the frown replacing the smile, a dismayed look in his face due to the awareness he might not be a suitable husband for a lady like her by the English society’s standards. And in fact, he’s assumptions were confirmed by her grandmother. How could he comply with Mr. Chambers suggestion, even if he meant well? It would shatter his friend’s heart.

Shaking his head, Mr. Konevi brought his eyes back to hers and said, “That's something only he could answer, Lady Elizabeth. I couldn't possibly speak on his behalf. However, I can assure his feelings for you are true. The truest, if I may say so.”

She bid farewell to the men later that afternoon, when they initiate their journey back to London. The gold-decked carriage didn't bring her prince but hope in its place.

*****

Later, during dinner, Elizabeth realized a whole day passed and Mr. Sinclaire hasn’t showed up.

“Briar, did Mr. Sinclaire come to visit today?” she asked her as soon as they were alone in her room.

“No, he did not. But I heard from Mr. Woods, who heard from Mr. Greene that Mrs. Johnson told Mrs. Taylor that Mr. Sinclaire was more melancholic than his regular self and didn't leave the house at all. Apparently, he lost his appetite too.” Ms. Daly replied.

Mr. Harper accompanied Elizabeth to Ledford Park the afternoon of the next day, after she and Briar finished packing her belongings to the trip to London. They chatted comfortably as they usually do, and she thought how she’d miss him when she’s gone.

While the man took care of the horses, she walked past the drive and straight to the front door. She wasn't surprised that he was in his study at this time of the day, as the footman told her when he came back to escort her to his master. Mr. Sinclaire is nothing but a man of routine and strict habits: riding in the early morning, then he’d take care of matters regarding the maintenance of the estate, meetings with the tenants after breakfast; in the afternoon, past luncheon time, he would be on his study working and sporadically would run errands in town; finally, at night, dinner by himself and reading before sleep.

He wouldn’t indulge himself with many pleasures, she noticed that, and he would follow this schedule day in and day out. Except when the Duke of Karlington was in Edgewater; at this particular occasion, Mr. Sinclaire visited often and spent quite some time with her. Certainly neglecting his own affairs.

The servant led her up the stairs and along the hallways with its walls covered in beautiful damask imprints. His house wasn’t what she expected, but it suited him. Her eyes skimming everything on the way. Apart from their footsteps, only silence; so different from Edgewater Estate these last weeks, she thought. She enjoyed its quietness.

Sitting on his chair by the mahogany desk, already facing the door with hands on his knees, Mr. Sinclaire swiftly stood up and bowed when she walked inside the room. She noticed how he tried to avoid looking directly at her, his eyes fixed on something at the ground near his feet.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sinclaire!”

“And a good afternoon to you too, Lady Elizabeth. Please take a seat.” he said pointing to a mahogany chaise longue in the corner of the room, inlaid with brass rosettes and blue upholstery.

“Thank you, sir.” she smiled.

Eyes wandering around as she walked and took it in how the room was very tasteful. The first one that really seemed like Mr. Sinclaire would be actually spending time in. There were quill, inkwell and paper neatly arranged, few books and a silver platter with a half-eaten apple on the desk; beautifully engraved bookshelves, filled with various books extremely well-organized and an armchair with scuff marks, where he must sit often to read.

“I promise you, Mr. Sinclaire, I'll be away in a moment. I know how busy you are, and I wish not to be an inconvenience.” she said and sat on the chaise.

“You couldn't possibly be an inconvenience...” he said softly and sat by her side and his expression gradually softened. His hands resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on them.

“I must know if you are doing all right before I leave for London.”

“You don't have to worry about me, my lady. There are more urgent matters that require your attention…”

“I know my priorities, sir. And your well-being is one of them. As you’ve proven mine is to you as well.”

“You are too kind. I…” he paused, and his lips were pressed in a thin line before he continued, “I am ashamed of the rudeness of my behaviour and for disrespecting your home and your guests. Please, accept my apologies, my lady.”

“Always the gentleman. Doesn’t he get tired of this role?” she thought.

“You need not to apologise. Duke Richards is to blame for the stir. His behaviour was inexcusable.”

“I should be used by now to being confronted by Duke Richards, lady Elizabeth… but sometimes… I...” he sighed.

“I understand. The man can evoke the worst elements in anyone’s nature.” she said and placed a hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“That's true, but I shouldn't have lost my temper. I didn’t consider the consequences...” he said quietly and placed his free hand over hers.

“I must warn you that Ms. Sutton is already spreading the word about the... commotion.”

“I knew she would as soon as I saw her standing there…” he said and release a breath loudly, shaking his head.

“But she’s being sympathetic… at least. She has developed strong opinions about the Duke's behaviour.”

“It’s been five years, perhaps the gentry shall not find it so intriguing by now…”

“It’s unlikely, sir.”

“I don't suppose the rumours might change much in my life... I’m a loner and I prefer being by myself here than in London anyway.”

“You don't need to be alone if it’s not what you desire. You have friends that are fortunate to have you in their lives. And these gossips won’t change that. I promise I’ll always be there for you, Ernest.”

“Not always, you won't. Not if you set residence in Karlington after marrying the Duke... nor…” he said, eyes trained on hers.

“Nor if you end up wedding Prince Hamid and he takes you away to one of his adventures or to his next assignment away from London, and the next after that...” he thought, but didn't say it out loud, since he shouldn't resent her for loving someone else. But a part of him wanted her to stay and to choose him instead and to fulfil that promise. And he held her hand a little tighter in between his, gently caressing it.

“Oh! I won't move to Karlington, because I won’t marry him, you know that.” she smiled.

“How can you be so certain?” he cocked his head.

“I have friends willing to help me. You have all proven that. I don't even know what I have done to deserve such kindness and loyalty.”

“You deserve all the best, my lady. And being trapped in a marriage with that...” he held his tongue, and looked her in the eyes, “We will work together to get you out of this situation. You'll see it. I shan’t stop until you’re free from him.”

“But what about you and the Duke? He can’t keep doing this to you! What can we do to assist you, sir?”

“I... I could always defy him to a duel. Solve the affair gentlemanly the way my father taught me to and –”

“A duel, sir?”

“Yes.”

She gaped. And he noticed the apprehension in her face.

“I should, but I won't do it. Duke Richards is not a gentleman nor has any honour... What would I achieve by engaging in a life or death dispute with a man so vulgar, whose opinions I don’t value? I have no need to be viewed favourable by him or his peers... I…”

“You are an honourable man, Ernest. You don’t need to prove yourself to him or anyone else. He is the only one who should feel ashamed.”

Hearing her say his given name as she often does when they are in private, will always make his heart flutter. And her high opinion of him is the only other one that's relevant.

“Anyways, if I did challenge him, it’d draw further attention to this sensitive subject...”

“Indeed.”

“And Mr. Konevi and Mr. Chambers pointed out that it might bring unnecessary attention to your efforts to break the engagement too. And their assumptions are correct. People could start gossiping about you and me and... we know we are not... you and I... but...” he stuttered.

“I would never have you risking your life for me, sir.”

“But I’d do it for you, Elizabeth, if it could free you from him. That’s the only justifiable reason to do it. I’d kill him for you.”

“I told you already, I won't marry him... I have loyal friends and we’ll fight the Duke with wits and wiles, instead.” she said, with a grin.

“Your confidence surprises me.”

“How can I not be confident? One of my friends recently told me he’d challenge my fiancé to a duel just to set me free. They’re quite loyal, you see.” she said and flashed a grin.

“Ah! A brave friend, I can only assume.” he said, a shy smile creeping in his lips.

“A stupid friend, if he does such an irresponsible thing.” she chuckled.

He couldn't help but laughing. A loud and carefree laugh that filled the room, the kind he rarely indulges himself. One she never heard before.

They locked eyes. Her hand still between his, and her skin almost as warm and welcoming as her personality. Mr. Sinclaire tried to remind another occasion when he felt this kind of comfort. Unsurprisingly, the other few moments also happened to be when he was in her company. Such a precious moment of intimacy. He flashed a heartfelt smile, a rare one, and the corners of his blue eyes crinkled.

Looking at him, Elizabeth thought this is a man that deserves happiness. And she was glad to, at the very least, make him smile. Even for just a while.

“I know we’ll manage for me to escape the Duke. One way or another…”

“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but Mr. Chambers might have mentioned that Mr. Konevi brought news about Prince Hamid.”

“He did.” she smiled and looked away.

Immediately her hand slipped from his and she folded both hands on her lap.

“Good news, I presume.” he said and tried to swallow the lump on his throat. He already missed her touch.

She nodded.

“Is that one of the reasons why you're so certain you won't marry the Duke. Does he have a plan?”

“He is also investigating the Duke... And knowing he didn’t give up on me brought me hope.”

“Only a fool would give up on you...”

“Oh! That's why you don’t give up on me either? You don’t want to be called a fool, sir?” she teased.

“Of course. The only reason...” he said with a smirk and looked her in the eyes, musing about the words he should not pronounce.

*****

Yet another rainy day. The skies were grey, and a persistent rain poured all day long in London. Much colder than expected in the beginning of July.

Elizabeth likes raining days. The feeling of the first raindrops on her face and hair and the smell of damp earth and grass always bringing happy memories.

When she was much younger, she used to love running through the fields, skipping puddles and getting soaked to the bone; if she must admit she still liked it and did the same even when she got older living in Grovershire. Mama would admonish her, “You’ll get sick, Elizabeth.” and then would always make her sit by the fire while she dried her hair.

But ever since she became a lady, playing in the rain and getting mud on her dress are not suitable behaviours and the alternative is to be trapped inside the house. Just different houses.

For this reason, she misses the sun greatly. She can’t seem to remember the last time the rays of sunshine basked her skin. Was it the day she strolled with Hamid at Edgewater?

When she sat on her desk, she had already gotten dressed for the ball the Duke of Karlington, the man she wishes not to call her fiancé, will be hosting tonight. It was one of the last big events of the season and there were great expectations, even without the host’s announcing his engagement.

Briar had styled her hair into an elegant bun earlier and now was sitting quietly by the windowsill, looking outside. The longing on her face makes Elizabeth suspect she's daydreaming about Mr. Woods.

The Dowager Countess knocked before entering Elizabeth’s room and she instantly frowned when she saw her. Instead of the richly embroidered dress she left for her this morning, she was wearing a modest low neckline black gown with short puffed sleeves and no jewels, except for her mother’s ring on her left hand. It was unsuitable for the occasion, the older woman thought.

“I told you don’t have to wear your mourning attire this evening, my dear. No one would expect you to, that’s why I brought this dress earlier.” her grandmother said and picked up the blue and golden dress from Elizabeth’s bed and held it, “Look. It’s in Edgewater’s colours and I had its waistline altered especially for this evening. You would look astonishing! Remember that all eyes will be upon yourself, Elizabeth.”

“Lady Grandmother, I am still in mourning for my father and I don’t desire all eyes upon myself tonight, on the contrary.” Elizabeth stated without rasing her gaze from the paper, back turned to her grandmother.

“But it's a special day –”

“You were the one who taught me about what propriety dictates in such circumstances, lady grandmother.” she had swivelled on the chair and brought her eyes up to stare at the other woman, “It’s been less than a fortnight since father died, and I am not supposed to take off my mourning attire for the appropriate number of months... Three months until I can wear a half mourning, should it be enough? I must behave with sobriety, wear no ostentatious jewels, avoid social obligations for at least another fortnight… Am I forgetting something?” she enumerated using her fingers.

“My dear, when I told you about these, we didn’t know the Duke would be proposing so soon… And it’s such a lovely dress. You’d look magnificent!” the elderly woman tried to reason.

“I should not attend balls and this announcement should not take place so soon… or ever!” Elizabeth sighed, “Besides, I think black shall suit my mood better, since I will be grieving for myself too...” she said and resumed writing the letter.

“You will be attending a ball and your engagement will be publicly announced, you should dress the part and pretend to be content, even if you’re miserable. Or else it would give gossips a chance if you were seeing unhappy with the news.”

Elizabeth sighed loudly and dipped her quill into the inkwell again and continued to write, her eyes never leaving the paper.

Her grandmother observed her and acknowledge her annoyance. She opened her mouth as if she would try to argue, but she pursed her lips and turned on her heels.

Elizabeth only looked up when she heard the door closing. Briar moved closer to the desk.

“You really won't change your dress?”

“No.” Elizabeth snorted.

“Are you sure? It is a lovely dress.”

“I am sure it is…”

“Who are you writing to, Lizzy?” Briar asked as she leaned over Elizabeth’s shoulder, trying to peek at the letter.

“Prince Hamid.”

“Oh! How romantic!” Briar clapped her hands.

“I’ve received a letter from him earlier today.” Elizabeth said and the corner of her lips instantly turned upwards.

“You did? What did his letter say?” Briar asked, an ear to ear smile.

Elizabeth took the letter from a small and beautifully decorated wooden box from inside her desk drawer and handed it to Briar.

“Oh, my! His handwriting is as beautiful as his words. I wish someone would write me a letter like this!” Briar said and hugged herself. “Your letters filled my heart with bliss… I have no intention of leaving you, unless it is your wish… I am yours and you are mine... Your lips… Oh! That’s saucy!” Briar read pieces of his writings out loud and sighed.

“He is quite a poet, isn’t he?”

“He is indeed! Undoubtedly, he has a way with words… But what makes it even more remarkable is the fact he is so captivated by you, Lizzy! I have confidence those are not empty words…”

Briar looked at her friend and saw her cheeks turn pink.

“Lizzy! It says he’ll be attending the ball! Isn’t that the most wonderful news?”

“Yes, it is.” Elizabeth said, looking at the letter as Briar returned it to her hands. She brushed her fingertips on the broken seal and then placed it back in the box, a smile on her face. “I yearn to see him so very much, Briar! It’s been so long since we we’re together. Nine whole days! I miss him deeply. And there’s so much we need to talk.” Elizabeth said, rubbing her hands together.

“If you’re going to see him this evening, why are you writing him a love letter?” Briar inquired with a singsong voice.

“In case we’re not able to speak, I’ll have this for him.” Elizabeth folded the letter carefully before putting it inside her reticule, “However, this is not a love letter. I pen him about the plans to break the engagement and I need him to know how to contact me when I return to Edgewater.”

“That's clever. I’ll be happy to do anything to help you. We’re in this together, Lizzy. No matter what.”

“I thank you, Briar.”

“Won’t you be mad at me if I ask you a question, Lizzy?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t, Briar. Ask away.”

“If Prince Hamid we’ll be at the ball, don’t you want to wear the most astonishing dress to catch his eyes?” Briar asked, a smile on her face and eyebrows raised at the other woman.

“Prince Hamid probably won't mind seeing me like this...” Elizabeth looked at her own dress, and her hands brushed the silk. “And I definitely won’t give lady grandmother or the Duke the satisfaction. I shall not play the part either of them expects me to. We still couldn’t find a way to disgrace my dear fiancé’s reputation, but I can do things to annoy him...” she chuckled.

“You are so stubborn.” Briar shook her head and giggled, “That’s why I adore you so much, my friend.”

Briar hugged Elizabeth and said, “I still don’t think it’s wise to defy the Duke, no matter what Ms. Parsons might have said to you. Just be careful.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t promise you that, Briar. If he announces the engagement publicly, I may never be well rid of him. If only I could become an undesirable fiancée…” Elizabeth sighed, “Hence, I can only promise you this, my friend: my worst behaviour!”

Briar laughed loudly and glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Time to go, Lizzy. Breathe and try to come up with your second or third worst behaviour.”

Elizabeth chuckled and drew in a deep breath, stood up straight and smoothed the skirt of her dress. Briar handed her the mantelet, black as her dress, and helped her place it over her shoulders.

*****

After a quick and silent carriage ride, Elizabeth and the Dowager Countess arrived at the Duke’s townhouse. Throngs of people flooded through the front doors and the young lady stood by taking in the view for a moment. The rain had stopped, and the pavement was glistening like a mirror, the city lights reflected below.

Her grandmother placed a hand on her shoulder and told her they should go inside.

Elizabeth nodded and took a last glance at the immense white construction before walking up the stairs. She could easily run now, run away and never look back to this place and these people. But not tonight. Tonight, Hamid will be there. And there’s nothing she desires more than to steal a moment alone with him. So much to talk. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day…

Once inside, Elizabeth took it all in: the colourful dresses and the gold of the chandeliers and the laughter and the music. Eyes widened, she had never seen such luxury and ostentation in her life. Edgewater was large and monumental compared to anything she’s seen before in Grovershire. But if one compared it to the Duke’s immense townhouse, it was smaller and soberer too. Right in this moment, it seemed difficult to believe the rumours he had lost his fortune.

Elizabeth shook her head, forcing herself to focus, “I must be as elusive as smoke”. This was the only plan Ms. Parsons could come up with after they found nothing to disgrace the Duke’s reputation before the ball. “If you were missing, how would the Duke announce publicly your engagement as he wants?”, Anabelle told her that with a mischievous grin at the dinner party's evening.

Thus, as fast as she could go, the young woman wandered around the great hall, trying to find the best spot to hide. But it wouldn’t be an easy task this evening, as it seemed the whole London was attending the ball. The hallways were filled with people talking and it was difficult to walk by without being noticed by an acquaintance.

Elizabeth avoided being grabbed by the arm as she walked past Ms. Sutton. She lied and said she was looking for Ms. Parsons. The other woman told her she hasn’t seen her, and Elizabeth gave her a closed-lip smile and rushed forward.

She kept wandering, searching for some place where she would remain unnoticed. Each room she walked inside made her realise the Duke's townhouse was as grand as it was gaudy. It was decorated with ostentatious furniture and enormous candelabras. Most of the walls were covered with stern-faced portraits of the Duke's ancestors, but the further she walked down the hallway and observed the paintings, the more she realised there was an extensive number of portraits of her fiancé.

“Such a narcissistic!” Elizabeth muttered under her breath and wondered how he gathered such a collection.

At the end of the hallway there was a staircase and she went up; pondering that perhaps it would be less crammed upstairs. Being the Earl of Edgewater’s natural daughter made it difficult for Elizabeth to remain incognita in the crowd. She paced quicker and quicker, looking over her shoulder from time to time. And finally, when she was alone, she released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

When she was finally alone, she relaxed. The music was much softer up there and the voices and laughter of the attendance turned into nothing more than a faint, dull indistinct sound.

She found a sitting place in a dark corner, where she still could see the ballroom and couples dancing, but her body was wrapped in shadows and concealed from any prying eyes. And she hoped the Duke would not find her there.

After a few moments, she leaned on the railings to take a better look at the ballroom, her face partially covered with her fan. Downstairs, there were couples dancing animatedly and her eyes searched the one man that she wanted to call her fiancé amongst the individuals assembled below.

She got so distracted observing the crowd, that when she finally noticed the quiet masculine presence that was looming beside her, a creep ran down her spine and her body stiffened. And she didn’t dare look directly at whoever was standing there.

The man cleared his throat and said, “Good evening, Lady Elizabeth. Fortune must smile upon me this evening for granting me the opportunity to enjoy your company.”

Once she recognised his accented voice, she felt her heart fill with joy. Unlike the last time they spoke, there was happiness in his tone. She was certain that he had a smile on his face – one of those radiant, straight teeth showing, sparkling eyes, dimples on the cheeks wide smiles that he usually flashed at her and could make Elizabeth's heart melt.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and there was the smile! He was even more handsome this evening with a black kaftan and a red fancy hat.

“Good evening, Your Highness! You look particularly dashing this evening. I loved the fancy hat.” Elizabeth said softly, a smile on her lips as she pointed her closed fan to the top of his head.

“I thank you, my lady. It’s called fez. It’s a traditional headdress from my homeland.” the Prince said, fingers brushing the accessory as he bowed his head.

“You sound content, Your Highness.”

“I don't feel content.”

“You don’t?” Elizabeth asked, eyebrows raised.

“No.” he shook his head, “I feel alive. I was drowning and you are the air filling my lungs. Saving me. For the last nine days I was anything but a shadow of myself... And now, seeing you, I am finally breathing again. I cannot be this long without your presence, my Elizabeth.”

His words and the intensity of his eyes on her never failing to make her heart beat faster than any of Edgewater’s racing horses. She felt her cheeks blush and couldn’t say anything. She only smiled and quickly held her fan over her face.

He smiled cockish. The sight of her cheeks painted in a lovely shade of pink always pleased him, mostly because he knew he was the cause of her blush.

“Were you hiding, Elizabeth?” he whispered, leaning closer to her.

“Yes. But not from you.” she winked, “I was eager to see you tonight.”

“And so was I, my lady. I desired nothing more since I heard you would be back in London.”

“But how did you find me up here? I was certain no one had followed me.” she inquired.

“I saw you leaving the ballroom, and I walked after you. Once you sneaked into the left hallway, I knew you would come up here. I only waited a little... I didn't want people to see us together and gossip about you and me anymore than they already do. You can imagine it is not that easy for me to blend in…” he said and his hands motioned to his clothing.

“I suppose…” Elizabeth giggled.

“Are you hiding from Duke Richards?”

“Yes, I am.” she nodded, “He plans to publicly announce the engagement this evening... to the whole London to hear it, as he said. But, if he can’t find me, he can’t do it.”

“That is a clever ruse.”

“It was Ms. Parsons suggestion.”

“But I suppose you shall need a better hiding spot.”

“Isn’t this a good one?”

“No.” he shook his head, with a mischievous grin.

“Do you have any suggestions?” she tilted her head and her eyes were fixed on his.

“I know about a few... very secluded places. For instance, I think the Duke’s study would be perfect for hiding.”

“Let's away, Your Highness.” she said and extended her hand to him.

#desire and decorum #desire & decorum #prince hamid x mc #desire and decorum fan fiction #playchoices #choices fanfic #prince hamid #mr. sinclaire #ms. daly #mr. chambers #mr. konevi

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the-end-of-art · 5 years

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Anything we talk about - even hell - points back to the possibility of love

Interview // The Only History I Can Claim: A Conversation with E.J. Koh by Jake Uitti | Contributing Writer

Seattle poet E. J. Koh writes with both a delicate and brutal hand. Whether staring into the eyes of a loved one or a murderer, her work is unblinking. Her poems mine dichotomies in homes and languages, shedding light on her own difficult childhood, during which she was separated from her parents for nine years. Koh, who didn’t speak until almost five years old, now wins awards for her poetry and adoration for her translations. A Korean-American, Koh grew up with immigrant parents and when she talks about her history, she does so with a voice saturated in reflection and interpretations. We wanted to catch up with the author to talk about her recent collection, A Lesser Love (Pleiades Press, 2017), to see what she’s working on now and to glean a few insights into her illustrious creative process.

When did you discover your ability to notice well?

I think the honest answer is that I did when other people noticed that I was noticing. I was very young, and it wasn’t praised. Not, “Oh my, what a keen eye.” It was along the lines of, “That’s really weird, that’s very strange.” I think noticing was discouraged. It was more, “Why can’t you be normal, why are you so distracted?”

I didn’t speak until I was much older than other children. I was almost five when I started talking. My parents were concerned and worried about it. It was strange to them that I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t articulate, and I couldn’t focus on things. Today, there are support groups and systems if your child is having trouble. But when you’re my parents, you’re low-income and your kid is not doing something when you’ve sacrificed so much, it can be terrifying. There’s no way to know what to do and you experience grief about it.

So, I had a mix of it early on. Adults around me saw it as harmful, as a bad thing. And that’s how I came to realize it. But it wasn’t until adulthood that I thought, “Wow, this doesn’t have to be something that’s distraught or a pain point.” I didn’t value noticing. It’s not necessarily unique to notice, I think a lot of people do that. What is unique is realizing that it’s of value.

Did you find an explanation for why you didn’t speak as a young child?

I’m trying to write about it now. It’s hard to describe. But one thing I’m sure of is that I have memories from before I was able to speak. Recently, I’ve had a chance to talk with my parents, to seriously recall on my muteness. In early childhood development, if you can’t speak at around three, it’s a warning. A child psychologist told me it’s quite alarming.

But what I recall is being at home and my parents speaking Korean. They were upset that they couldn’t speak to me. My grandmother was speaking Japanese and she was raising me because my parents were working. But outside, everyone’s speaking English. Then, I lived in an area where Spanish was prevalent. There was Spanish, English, Japanese and Korean and none of the words pointed to the same object, despite everyone’s ease about it. Every signifier was different. This tension and anxiety for words—I recall that anxiety for words.

My mother is not a native speaker, so I would go to school and bring cards home of words and my mother would try to tell me it’s “Ehpl” when the word is “Apple.” She would cry so hard. The inconsistencies, the high-risk of what was around me impacted what I could understand, how I was willing to partake in the exchange of language, communication, and expression.

Throughout many of the poems in A Lesser Love, you weave in ideas and references to death, many of which seem rather gruesome. In your day-to-day, how often do you think about death?

That’s a theme that I’m wrestling with. Death was not estranged from my everyday life. It was a constant, a part of Korean culture. It’s in everyday conversation, this concept of dying, it’s in many Korean metaphors. It might be in the way you describe how good a thing is. Similar to English, like, “To die for.” In Korean, there are metaphors and similes, ways to describe that are palpable this way—death is in the language, it’s part of the psyche. It’s not something that terrifies as much as reminds us of the value of the present.

But yes, parts of me were scared. I also grew up in a Catholic household. That part of death—the torture, the suffering, the blood and gruesomeness, the nakedness—that did terrify me quite a bit. And when I went to school, during my teenage years, they put up these gruesome images and we learned about the heaviness of death. To me, there was also lightness to it left unexplained.

You display such a capacity for sadness in the book, especially in the middle “War” section. And often it’s sadness born from what people in power do to those not. Was it hard to mine this dynamic?

Imperialism, colonialism, militarism. The “War” section was difficult. There were poems that I wasn’t sure of including. I’m thinking of those poems and I’m thinking of “South Korean Ferry Accident.” These poems of great tragedies. It’s always on my mind, how to write about an event that a people experienced without fetishization, without assignment, without turning that event and catastrophe into something more or less than what it is, but I am trying to go there and approach as humanly close as possible without bringing harm.

But I think that harmlessness is in tension with what David Eng says, “The mother has history but no memory and the daughter has no history but has memory.” I think that’s true in that me being here—I feel a disconnect from history. What is my history? I depend on my mother’s memory, because my mother has history: she was born and raised in Korea. And for me, I have to make an effort to go backward and follow the traces of her history because that’s my history. Her history is the only history I can claim. And that’s really interesting, perturbing.

That’s why I repeatedly go back to comfort women, Korean women, Korean women feminism. I go back to “Han,” which, loosely translates as ineffable sadness. And that sadness is epigenetic, it’s intergenerational, it’s passed down. There is a part of their trauma in my body. So, I feel responsible for it, an urge to go back into it, and always find my way, move towards release.

In poems like “Antti Revonsuo” and “South Korean Ferry Accident,” you reference the idea of “Americans.” How has the meaning of that word impacted you over time?

In “South Korean Ferry Accident,” the line is, Americans would have jumped. It means anyone living in the States would have jumped. And I think that echoes a freedom that exists here that still is not accessible in the minds of children abroad. I think what was powerful was that I didn’t say that, that came from my mother’s mouth. If I had said that, it would have been different. It would have been more flippant, much more precarious and not something I would be able to write gracefully. It means more that my mother said, “Americans would have jumped.” In a time when she experiences a tragedy in her country, I think that’s powerful.

In “Antti Revonsuo,” the “Americans dreaming” line—I read these things in a book about dream meanings and what’s interesting are the national boundaries in dream meanings. Even with dreaming, which is universal, is also national. Nationality is human-made. It’s a pronouncement made by a people. To say that an American would dream about waking up nude and that means something different to how a Korean would dream about it. Or, if you’re Chinese and you dream another way—there’s a cultural and national intersection.

There’s a line in the poem “Inferno,” where you say, “If we can prove hell, we can want heaven.” It points to an idea regarding our capacity for hard-earned ignorance. What about this idea interests you?

That poem I wrote when I was doing a lot of research into Dante. And there was a moment when something clicked. We’re sitting there and striving and arguing for something horrific and maybe something that’s wrong and painful, to learn that the source of that action or that argument is the desire for love—the desire for compassion or peace—that really changed the argument for me. Because then we’re not talking about what we’re talking about. And I think that, in a way, points to the title of the whole collection, A Lesser Love. There were forms of love that I received that others might not call love. Growing up, I spent a long time alone and now in my adult life I’ve managed to be among a lot of wonderful people that I admire who agree that any parent would not have allowed that to happen. Any actual parent would not leave their child behind in another country for a long period of time. But to me that was, there was love there. However, a lesser a form of love. However, diminished it may have been to others.

What I needed to do was understand even lesser forms of love as still love. It really is up to me to see that. To accept that and accept it as love. And I think I had to do that over and over again. That was my lesson with this book. And even with that poem, we all want the same thing and no matter what harm or what we’re doing right now. I was learning what it means to look beyond. How do you love people that other people don’t want you to love? How do you do these things and when do I say, “Who cares?” Anything we talk about—even hell—points back to the possibility of love. That’s what unites us, what binds us together.

After you write a draft, how do you edit it before you know it’s done?

Before this book, I would write a poem and I would rewrite it again and again. 10-15-30 times. I would just rewrite it until I thought every single word or line was something you couldn’t argue with. I wanted to arm my poems. I wanted to give them the opportunity to defend themselves. I was militaristic in how I went about writing and editing my poems. They were in a way an ensemble that I mobilized and put out in the world to fend for themselves. I think we do that a lot when we raise children, and there are other similar analogies.

But much of the later poems in that book function differently. ¾ of the way through, I just stopped doing that. As the book goes on, I was learning in real time. I’m making these things and I’m learning the lessons with the poems as I go along with them. As you go into the latter portion, the poems get messier and take more risks and become more vulnerable and some are overly sentimental. I changed. I decided I didn’t want to mobilize. Especially after the “War” section. I saw the pain in being armed, in defensiveness. These things are never productive. They should take risks, they should be completely vulnerable and open. And if they go out that way, that’s okay. And I have to practice trust. Someone will take this poem and they’ll figure it out.

Some of these poems I wrote in one draft. “Clearance” in one sitting. “Beyonce” I wrote in one sitting. “The Wind,” too. Some of these poems I wrote so quickly. “Alki Town of Dreams,” that was one poem I wrote before I even moved here. I was in such a dark place and I wanted to write what I envisioned what my future might be like. A future that I wanted. The way I write now is similar to the latter half of the book. I allow the words to lay, I let them be alone.

What are you working on now and HOW are you working on it?

I’m working on an experimental memoir that includes translations of my mother’s letters that she wrote to me during the time we lived apart. You see a sort of mothering across long distances. It’s called “How to Age with Grace.” It’s based on one of my mother’s letters she wrote to me about a book she read with the same title. She says in the letter she wants me to teach her how to do this. At the time, I’m 15 and she’s writing me from South Korea. She’s in a place where she needs my help. There’s space in the Korean-American experience for satellite families. The adoption narratives and parachute kids and satellite families are consequences of our world economy and what happens with capitalism and how those things change the dynamic of the immigrant narrative structure, especially in families. I’m learning as I go, really.

In all of my Poetry Northwest interviews, I ask the author for a writing tip or trick. Do you have one you can share?

One that was important for me to realize was that on the actual page, during the writing of poems or stories, I’m careful not to categorize. To say, “This is my immigrant family” or “This is strictly a Korean thing.” Because I think the dangers of that is you introduce a box, a border, a dark line around your experience and it can create division where you want to create universality. It comes down to leaving room, having space for others’ stories. How much space am I leaving around my work for others? As a translator, that’s something I’m wary of—whether something is culturally specific, or something is universal. So even if we talk about genres and subjects, on the page, the best thing to do is just describe and show the scene and to leave it up to the language and not call it one thing or another. That’s something I didn’t know for a long time.

Aside from being a poet, you work as a translator. Besides the literal turning a word from one language to another, what goes through your mind as you translate?

When I translate Korean poetry into English, or my mother’s letters from Korean to English, I want to keep the Korean intact. So that when you read the English, it doesn’t feel like you’re reading English necessarily. There’s a fine balance and every translator makes their own choices about this. I can still make it accessible, readable, but the astute reader should be able to hear Korean. To notice, that’s an interesting way to say something, that’s an interesting tone or color of the word, that repetition, rhythm, or percussive, primal element. I’m thinking of the words just as you’d think about music. Even sentence structures, long waves of crescendos, decrescendos. You’re reading it in English, but I want you to hear Korean behind it. I want to maintain that, I want to protect that. For me, it’s to honor both languages. That’s how I respect both of them. I never want to neglect one language or keep it hunched behind the other. Both need to be on the page and I need to be the person that gives them room, gives them space to be there together.

(https://www.poetrynw.org/interview-the-only-history-i-can-claim-a-conversation-with-e-j-koh/)

#ej koh #jake uitti #poem #poet #poetry #interview #korean #korean american #asian american

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hvndcvffed · 5 years

Text

“ let me just –– can you –– uh. ” grizz clears his throat and raises a finger. because this? oh, boy. stomaching this shit without laughing mandates a breather. “ hold that thought for a moment while i collect myself. s’been quite the day and i want to give you my undivided attention. ”

or, alternatively : yo yo yo, party people ! guess who finally made it ? i’m lev / linc ( she/her/hers ) , comin’ atchu from the ever so lovely est timezone with ya boy, the tru ledge, grizz visser! click on that read more to read some headcanons i’ve got goin’ for west ham’s resident handcuff-owning, intellectual beb !

[ g r i z z v i s s e r –– B O Y O N F I R E .

✔ ┊❝ ( nick robinson. 18. he/him &. cismale ) rumor around town is that gareth “grizz” visser was on one of the buses that left for the field trip. they’re the eighteen year old that resides in new ham. over the summer news spread that he purposely botched his chances to win a football scholarship to a local uni because he applied to several ivies behind his parents’ backs, but who knows if that’s true or not? what we do know is that their friends describe them as well-read & piquant, but who knows when they’re known to be elusive & misanthropé from time to time.

( &&. general information )

full name: gareth visser

nickname(s) or alias: grizz

preferred name: grizz –– call him gareth and he will... not be happy.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: leo

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: homosexual ( but closeted )

romantic preference: demiromantic

home environment: a quaint three-bed / two-bath house with his parents. a positive, almost sickeningly sweet home: family portraits all over the place, cheesy “ home is where the heart is ” décor all around from his mother’s many trips to pier 1 imports.

current occupation: student, student athlete.

language(s) spoken: english, french, a tad of latin. wants to learn more hebrew, but that shit is complicated as heck.

native language: english.

current relationship status: single.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: y’know, he’s asked his parents this countless times. why gareth? why. gareth. and each time he’s just gotten the same vague response: they liked it. it sounded respectable. ack.

birth order: only child.

ethnicity: american. west ham born & raised, baby!

nationality: american.

religion: agnostic. goes to church with his mother as a way to keep the peace, but... the idea of a god out there saying homosexuality’s a sin gives him a bad taste in his mouth. he’d rather discount his whole existence and uphold morality than accept that there’s a bigoted big guy in the sky. sees the bible more as a literary exercise to instill human value. did jesus really walk on water? heck no. but it makes a good fable.

political views: very, very liberal. doesn’t subscribe to labels, but as close to democratic socialist as you can get in this country without causing riots. anti-brexit. anti-trump. anti-bullshit, basically. maybe socialism or communism done right wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

financial status: very, very comfortable. his parents earn well and know how to save / spend frugally. the vissers are modest in living so they can pour more into experience. for grizz’s twelfth birthday, his parents took him hiking through the adirondacks. they’ve gone on some awesome trips together, and most of their vacations include some aspect of super cool nature. unbeknownst to grizz, his parents’ planned grad gift for him was a month-long backpacking tour through new zealand.

hometown: west ham, connecticut. cool beans.

level of education: high school senior. but he’s one of the learned folk: ap literature on lock. he took some college courses at the local community college last summer, because his job as a summer camp counselor wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating. leading kids on hikes is fun ‘n all, but... not as engaging as college-level philosophy.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): nick robinson. with longer hair. reference [ here ] .

height: 6′0 ( jack’s shorter, but nick’s my main fc i’m workin’ with so i decide to bump it up. plus, height? football? makes sense. )

weight: 158 lbs

shoe size: 10.5

figure/build: athletic build. muscular. broad shoulders, lean waist.

hair colour: deep, deep brown. almost black. natural.

hair length: about jaw-length. curly. ( REFERENCE. )

eye colour: brown with an overlay of hazel-y jade-green. his campers over the summer compared his eyes to moss a lot. it kinda felt badass. “moss boss” had a ring to it.

glasses?: nope. 20/20 vision. but he’s been known to steal friends’ glasses sometimes, just for funsies.

skin tone: light, but not necessarily pale – spends a lot of time outdoors. no freckles.

tattoos: none, yet. would love to get a quote from walden. or a pine tree, if it wasn’t so cliche.

piercings: none. but getting an ear pierced has always intrigued him.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: some miscellaneous scars on his hands from whittling incidents growing up. a faint line across his arm from stitches, when he broke it in the peewee football league in fifth grade.

dominant hand: left-handed, but very recently learned he’s marginally ambidextrous for important tasks.

if painted, what color are their nails?: never painted. he keeps them short.

usual style of clothing: letterman jacket. jeans. tall socks, boots. pants tucked into socks, because why the hell not? flannels, hoodies, utility jackets layered over plain white tees. pendant necklaces, leather bracelets. occasionally he’ll wear a statement button-downs that looks like your grandmother’s upholstery, but somehow it’ll work really well. varsity t-shirts. hats of all varieties. if he could, he’d showcase some edgier styles. but he’s paranoid. he’s got a stanford hoodie buried in his closet. and a yale one, too.

frequently worn jewelry: leather bracelets. a silver ring strung on a chain, engraved with “ for sylvie, with love ”. he found it on a hike, and... figured he’d be sylvie for a day, or something.

describe their voice, what accent?: he has a light, gentle voice. a soft autumn breeze. laced with some gravel. strong, resolute. kind.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: often speaks slowly, surely. not always keen to fill silences. but words are some of his favorite devices of deflection. if he’s unsure, he’ll cut himself off, leading to some choppy and hard to follow sentences. he very rarely mumbles. not afraid to speak eloquently, but will certainly match his speaking style to those he’s around, to an extent. rarely seems bothered. he masks it well.

describe their scent: amber, sandalwood, musk. vague hints of cinnamon.

describe their posture: grizz holds himself proudly. shoulders broad, chin up, chest open. it makes his vulnerable moments very easy to spot.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: nope. this kid drives by the book. probably because he very much prefers to walk or bike around town, when he can help it.

have they ever been arrested?: never. he’s only been to the police station once, to drop off some promotional donuts for the homecoming football game.

do they have a criminal record?: nah.

have they committed any violent crimes?: no sir.

property crimes?: no.

traffic crimes?: nope! unless you count accidentally cutting cars off with his bike, because that’s happened a handful of times, when he’s been deep in thought.

other crimes?: just breaking hearts.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: july 26, 1997. 3:23am. during a rainstorm.

place of birth: west ham hospital.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: no / yes / marijuana.

addictions: does good lit count?

allergies: sulfur-based antibiotics. bullshit.

ever broken a bone?: his left arm in fifth grade. right foot at the seventh grade dance –– the girl he asked to slow dance tripped and grizz, wanting to show off his cool socks, wound up with a stiletto heel to the talus. ouch. collar bone, freshman year of high school: he climbed a tree to save his neighbor’s cat and slipped.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nope.

any medication regularly taken: allergy meds. sometimes he gets the sniffles.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them: UNO. DOS. TRES. QUATRO.

positive traits: charismatic, cunning, introspective, virtuosic.

negative traits: cataclysmic, self-destructive, reckless, careless.

likes: classic literature, trail mix, synth vibes, 60s/70s/80s rock, the beatles, radiohead, faith by george michael. old vinyls. bob ross. vanilla-cinnamon candles and jasmine tea. wind-rustled leaves. fresh fallen rain.

dislikes: bitter coffee. the disappointment just after sunrise. katy perry. cleaning, laundry. the warmer side of the pillow. waking up without a hand to hold. gareth. secrets, but he harbors a few big ones. pretending. hiding. transitively, himself.

strengths: can be quite resolute but sometimes about the wrong things. his ability to analyze and respond to complex literature is… uncanny. intelligence. deduction. survival facts. he’s a postmodern bear grylls trapped in suburbia.

weaknesses: impatience. do-it-yourself attitude. fear of rejection. fear of acceptance. fear of others. fear of himself.

insecurities: what if people in west ham discover who he really is? how’s he supposed to postpone that?

fears/phobias: irrelevancy. book-burning. ignorance. time.

habits: playing with his fingers. biting his bottom lip and twisting it between his teeth. humming when he thinks no one is listening. going for late-night walks through the emptiest parts of town. staying up ‘til 4am to read and re-read and read again.

quirks: rarely settles his gaze on anything for more than a few seconds, except for other peoples’ eyes. eye contact is probably one of grizz’s biggest conversational strengths. probably why he makes such a good liar, when he needs to. he’ll finish a pint of ice cream and just sit there for over an hour sucking on the spoon, lost in thought. licks his lips when he’s nervous. plays with his hair a lot. you know he’s nervous when he keeps tucking his hair behind his right ear. chuckles to himself, even when things are the pure opposite of funny.

hobbies: jotting notes in book margins. he dabbles in poetry but feels like his shit is too beat-generation to be that cool. wandering through the woods and attempting to generate his own maps, then checking them for accuracy. lighting matches in the cold, mid-evening air just to watch them burn.

guilty pleasure: peanut m&ms. twizzlers. burned marshmallows. apartment tour videos on youtube.

desires: to prove he’s… sometime more than this. something more than a footballer destined to pretend.

wishes: he could come clean about college. wishes he could come clean about himself. wishes he could work up the courage to ask a guy to prom.

secrets: he purposefully botched an interview he had with central connecticut state university’s football recruiter because he doesn’t want to play in college. he wants to go to yale, or stanford, or brown. to study literature. classics. philosophy. his sexuality. but it’s getting harder and harder to keep that locked down.

turn ons: intelligence. genuine, pure intelligence. sharp-witted humor. dimples. dorky laughs. gentle touch. someone who doesn’t bother with worries ‘bout tomorrow.

turn offs: idiocy. khakis. people with too much pride. line cutters. naggers. people who don’t think the proper way to eat bugles is by fashioning crisp-claws first and pretending to be edward scissorhands. people who overlook adrienne rich’s poetry, or claim dante shouldn’t be taught in school.

lucky number: 0.

pet peeves: hearing people scratch their scalps. sniffly public transit users. people who don’t use earbuds. cold fries. nail-clickers. knuckle-crackers. people who slurp from straws like they’ve never had a drink before in their lives.

their motto: “ i’m surrounded by idiots. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: curly fries with cajun seasoning.

drink: half-oreo half-chocolate milkshake. extra whipped cream. two cherries. please.

fast food restaurant: he’s not huge on fast food, but he can fuck with five guys.

flavour: anything chocolate and peanut.

word: fuck !!! or zephyr: a soft, gentle breeze.

colour: a nice, deep forest green.

clothing: his letterman jacket. his deep green flannel’s a close second.

accessory: “ for sylvie, with love” . silver ring. he likes pretending he’s sylvie and that someone cared enough to get his name etched into a precious metal forever.

candle scent: the connecticut homesick candle. it smells like cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla and fireside bliss. and pine trees. yum.

game: monopoly. but only if he wins.

animal: fish. they’re so graceful.

holiday: halloween. boo.

weather: sunset, just after rain. golden rays peering through deep gray clouds. it makes the greens of trees practically scream against the sky. it’s glorious. it’s heartbreaking. grizz loves it.

season: late fall.

book: le petit prince by antoine de saint-exupéry. it was the last book his grandmother ever read to him, on his fifth christmas eve.

artist: edvard munch. or van gogh, simply because he chopped his ear off and mailed it to his lover. now that’s modern romance.

band/group: the divine comedy, radiohead, pink floyd, the beatles, the rolling stones, the kooks. the avett brothers. belle & sebastian.

song: high and dry, radiohead. elephant, tame impala. anything by the beatles.

movie/film: mr. nobody. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. the first time little grizz saw alice in wonderland, he wouldn’t shut up about it for two weeks.

tv show: he grew up watching wallace and gromit. he’s still got a soft spot for it.

sport: football.

possession: his dad’s collection of beatles original release vinyls.

number: 0.

person: henry david thoreau.

( &&. skills )

talents: writing, but he won’t admit it. football. wood-whittling. gardening. navigation.

ability to drive a car?: yes.

can they ride a bike?: yes, and will frequently do so with no hands.

do they play any sports?: football.

anything they’re bad at?: juggling. sleeping. pretending to like gross food.

do they have any combat training? why?: grizz once yahoo answered how to punch somebody to the moon, after one of his best friends got made fun of in grade school for accidentally wearing a costume the day before halloween. he’s still waiting for an answer to that post.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: waging what was left of his fruit gummies during a game of fireside poker on the first visser camping trip.

crush: matty kerrington, pre-k. his hair smelled like strawberries and his smile reminded grizz of the hot honey that clung to his mum’s spoon after stirring tea. but to this day, he’ll say his first crush was amanda vander-voss, because her hair was pretty in braids and she reminded him of the pretty deer from bambi.

email address: [email protected]

job: camp counselor at a hiking / adventure camp based in west ham.

phone: a nifty samsung with a slide-out keyboard. made him feel like a god.

kiss: jessica winthrop, in a game of third grade truth or dare.

love: tess de luca ( @tessdl )

sexual experience: with jessica winthrop in the woods behind the middle school, three years later. jess got poison ivy in all the wrong places. grizz thought it was hysterical.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?: honestly? wearing that boa in dance class. his mom was quick to stop that.

worst childhood memory?: nearly breaking his nose on the neighbor’s front porch, while attempting to ding-dong ditch with his friends. he’s not sure what gave them away more –– his blood staining their pavement, or the fact that he blubbered the whole run home.

what were they like as a child?: grizz tended to poke his nose into all the wrong matters, landing him in oodles of trouble. he’d steal from the snack cabinet, sketch constellations across the walls… even stole his dad’s old walkman so he could listen to music under his covers past his bedtime. tried to sneak into the library after hours to get his hands on another thoreau novel. but it was all harmless. the vissers weren’t very firm disciplinarians: they just loved that their son was engaged and passionate about knowledge.

any crushes growing up?: oh, loads. more than he’d like to admit.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: inexpensive, but lasting.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygenic.

open-minded or close-minded?: open.

introvert or extrovert?: ambivert. thrives in social settings but the mood has to be right.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic with a weak optimistic veil. pragmatism, is how he’d put it.

daredevil or cautious?: cautious daredevil.

logical or emotional?: a blend of both, but emotions often influence his actions more than he’d like to say.

generous or stingy?: generous.

polite or rude?: polite when it’s socially mandated. but if there’s no threat of repercussions? a bit rude, if he has to be.

book smart or street smart?: both.

popular or loner?: popular, by proxy. but grizz vibes with some solid solitude, especially to recharge.

leader or follower?: leader. follower, though, in the high school structure of things. it’s a way to ensure his place and avoid potential fallout. he’ll call his friends out if they’re up to no good, though.

day or night person?: night. definitely night.

cat or dog person?: both! prefers cats just a smidge more.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. maybe his demons wanna cuddle or some shit.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to instagram and (begrudgingly) snapchat.

if so; name on facebook: none.

instagram user: grizzvisser

snapchat user: grizzybear

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: kimochi warui ( when? when? when? ), car seat headrest. god... get him OUT of this town.

makes them sad: blackbird, the beatles. his grandparents used to sing this when he’d sleep over/ they’d be in the kitchen early in the morning trying to convince him to eat his cereal. they’d change the lyrics and snap slightly off-tempo, all smiles and coaxing gestures. ave maria. he’s not sure why. it inspires melancholia.

makes them dance: hazy miss daisy, kid bloom. anything with a sick beat and erratic synth. take on me, a-ha. good times bad times, led zeppelin.

loves the most: fool of myself, the band camino. it’s a song he can throw his head back to, close his eyes, and sway in the breeze.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: yep, used to, but now that’s not necessary!

are they a virgin?: nope siree!

describe their signature: it’s unapologetic on the page. takes up more room than it should with lateral squiggles and grandiose swirls. G and V are decipherable, but everything else is convoluted by its own physics. a muddled mess. beautiful in its self-collapsing structure.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: he’d outlive everyone. survivalist visser, right here.

do they travel?: yes, but he wants to do more, see more. the grand canyon would be cool. or maybe the alps. he’s always had a dream of hiking yosemite.

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: new zealand. australia. hawaii.

celebrity crush: young johnny depp. emma watson.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: tic tacs, but never the mint ones. only the odd flavors.

place(s) your character can always be found: anywhere with trees. rooftops. alleyways. the football field. coffee shops. the local diner. roadside sunflower fields. his parents’ garden.

when does your character like to wake up?: with the sun.

what’s your character’s morning routine?: blink at the ceiling for about 20 minutes. wash his face, brush his teeth. annotate a few lines of whatever book he’s reading. push-ups, pull-ups, crunches. run a mile or two. rush into the shower. grab his lunch from the fridge and bike to school (and barely make it).

what does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: grizz’s mom loves to cook, so they’re always trying some new paleo trend. some of it’s awful. but he’ll try to eat it and if he can’t, he’ll sneak a granola bar later. if the school’s serving smiley face fries, he’ll have those. he really likes green apples and those little clementines.

how does your character spend their free days?: hiking. reading. writing. lying in the sun and just... thinking. lately, he’s been daydreaming a lot about an ivy league education. something more engaging than west ham’s high school snoozefest.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?: some kind of pre-bed stretching routine. wash his face, brush his teeth, curl up in bed with a book. fall asleep with it still open on his chest.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers and a t-shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: the past. mistakes. time ticking away.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: he’s still workin’ on that bit.

on what occasions do they lie?: very rarely, if he can help it.

most marked characteristic: his hair. it’s all russet waves. untamed. some days, his hair truly has a mind of its own. it screams free spirit. it doesn’t let on that, inside, his soul is burning.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: honestly? it’s not so much what he’d want to change about himself as it is about this town.

how would they like to die?: well-read.

do they snore? not unless he’s got a head cold. then there may be a few soft snores here and there.

can they curl their tongue?: yes!

can they whistle?: yes indeed!

do they believe in the supernatural?: not really. but it’s fun to indulge on halloween. did he move your cup, or did the ghouls?! s p o o k y .

has anyone ever broken their heart?: no. haven’t had the opportunity to.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: yes. little marsha lapone’s, at summer camp. she was 8, he’s 18. he told her there was no chance, and she cried into her pb&j. tough.

are they squeamish?: no.

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: just in films.

are they a lightweight?: heck no.

that was a very lengthy thing but... yeah! hit me up for plots! i’m gonna get to crafting and replying to starters v shortly!

#newhamhq:intro #ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ɪ ᴀᴍ ! ɪꜱᴍꜱ.

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