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writingmochi · 1 year

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

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

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

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

word count: 18748 (18.7k)

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

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

an atmospheric playlist!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

cinderella.

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

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

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

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

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

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

something pecks the skin of your arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“AHH!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“let me bring you there, miss…”

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

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

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

“and how should i trust you, mister?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“thank you, uh, i guess.”

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

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

“ah, yes.”

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

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

“why not?”

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

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

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

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

“i do hope you find the right person.”

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

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

something familiar.

“another two mugs of beer, please.”

“coming.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“stop!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“not exactly.”

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

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

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

“i thought you are not a traveler.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wait.

didn’t you see him before?

the face is so familiar.

and you can only pair one name with this face.

“beomgyu?”

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

“why-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ack.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“local cinema. a family business.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s that doing here?”

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

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

“later probably?”

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

“you wanna watch it now?”

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

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

“sure.” you agree.

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

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

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

a white space you are in.

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

yes, you.

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

buying something in the marketplace.

cleaning tables in the tavern.

watching a movie with a man.

the same man you met in all three instances.

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

like ash.

ash…

“ashfool!”

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

but it felt like someone is watching you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“lady (y/f/n) of house (l/n).”

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

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

beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we may.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it is a long story to tell.”

“and i want to listen to it all.”

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

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

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

“it will not work.”

“it is!”

“it is working. hold still.”

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

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

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

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

“your mothers would be proud.”

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

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

the prince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

your stepmother and stepsisters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“my pleasure.”

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

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

“is this your date?” the man asked.

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

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

girlfriend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

like ash falling down from a burning fire.

ash.

soot.

cinder.

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

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

wait.

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

isn’t this just your life?

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

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

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

happily ever after.

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

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

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

ashfool is a story of a girl…

… then ashfool has to live with her cruel stepmother…

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

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

what color is her dress again?

and why does she resemble you?

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

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

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

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

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

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

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

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

“you don’t deserve beomgyu.”

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

you don’t deserve him.

you don’t deserve your inheritance.

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

please, stop.

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

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

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

to put the pain subsides as you accept your demise.

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

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

you rather you don’t know than suffer.

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

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

you felt… safe?

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

shades of blue.

three different shades of blue on an outfit.

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

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

“did all of you know?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you do remember it, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

all of your reality seeps into each other.

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

you always are and always will be ashfool.

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

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

don’t worry.

you’re okay.

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

something to help you deviate.

deviate.

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

deviate so you can reach your freedom.

deviate so you can make your own choices.

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

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

you took a step closer to that white dot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you look like you want to quit.

you look like you are ready to leave reality.

you look like your job here is done.

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

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

so, how can we deviate ourselves?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

“cinderella.“

your highness…

lady (y/n).

the hooded man with tied hairs.

your mother would be so proud.

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

would you be my date for the charity ball?

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

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

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

#happilyneveraftercollab #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #rsc: ashen #cr: beomgyu #cs: txt #sc: regina #unreality #collaboration with the moon

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phantomram-b00 · 7 months

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I,,,, don’t know how I got to this point, but seeing how he played Scrooge, can y’all imagine Crowley just randomly transform into a scrooge to show off his impression whether for shits and giggles or just to show it off?

Like just imagine they drinking and Aziraphale trying to like idk read Jane Austen or Emily Dickinson and unprovoked Crowley just transforms into Scrooge and just start singing the ducktales song and all Aziraphale can either be impressed or question himself, “how did it get this point?”

#I should be sleeping but nah fuck that y’all getting good omens and ducktales because I said so brainnnnnn #good omens #ducktales #this is where I’m at with my brainrot #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #don’t mind me I’m losing it with good omens #they’re losers and I love them #Spotify

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quillyfied · 9 months

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Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART FOUR (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E4)

- Lesi?

- Shax really does have creepy down pat.

- Aziraphale not sensing her, though. They really do play Calvinball with the rules of that, it seems.

- “You don’t seem his type at all” mirroring “I am so not your type” between Nina and Maggie last episode ;A; “you have no idea,” Maggie said. Aziraphale thinks. I weep.

- Sometime in the last 18, 19 years…would that have put them square in the “raising the Antichrist” years? Hang on. 4 years past the failed apocalypse…makes it 14…they were working on it for 11 years…no, that would put them before that, wouldn’t it? Wtf is that timing, Shax?

- “This Angel Gabriel, who I’ve never heard of” = “who’s Morales?”

- Shax really is the kind of infernally clever that’s perfect for tripping Aziraphale up when he’s already flustered and panicked. Love to see them interact.

- Opening theme detail today: one of the headstones reads Jane Austen. Wonder if the headstones change every episode too?

- “Here lies the former shell of Beelzebub” reads another, and “here lies Adam” with some text I can’t make out. Went back to the beginning of the graveyard bit now and “Peter Paintball”, and of course, “Every day.” If anyone gets good eyes on the Adam headstone, y’all gotta let me know.

- This episode’s theater feature: Nazi Zombie Flesheaters, with a still of the Nazis from s1 still alive. Nice.

- Seems odd to call the episode “The Hitchhiker” when it seems the literal hitchhiking is done by the time the opening credits roll. Time to refresh myself on why this episode might be called that.

- Did they reuse footage? Or reenact it?

- Yknow…none of the demons are wearing obvious animals this season. I think only Beelzebub, Hastur, and Ligur might have done it tbh.

- I love the details of Hell tbh. The fire cooler. The sheer number of Nazis. The way Shax moves so mechanically but so cool and collected.

- Does Shax actually have any higher demon ears? Or is she baiting Furfur? Hard to tell for her.

- Yknow the teeth aren’t helping in figuring out if Shax has an animal aspect.

- The besotted Aziraphale bit here. I cannot BELIEVE this all happens immediately post church bomb.

- Okay but the Nazis not disputing the fact that they belong in hell, just that they’re dead based on trickery. Nice.

- The tongue bit. Yuck.

- OKAY. Crowley has present day hair color for this adventure. That feels significant. Is this minisode a flashback?

- Okay the signage of Hell. Always a favorite. But the “heaven looks down on you” sign. Hmm. Bit odd.

- Ah. Because I couldn’t see the bottom half of it. “Because you’re…” something. Move it, Furfur XD

- Pathetic. “Heaven looks down on you because you’re pathetic.” …hmm. Still an interesting take, tbh.

- Happy to be in the probable minority that likes the zombies bit XD which is interesting bc I normally hate zombie fiction. They do it the way I like, though. They’re conscious and sentient in their zombieness.

- Also the brain repeating on him XD what a gloriously stupid and delightful detail

- And okay yeah the dead rising from the grave thing from Jimbriel’s prophecy and the Nazi zombies here feels like a big ole clue for s3. I’m Mormon so my upbringing around the Second Coming is probably weirder than other Christians but a big part of it for us is the emphasis on the resurrection of the dead, ALL the dead. Putting a properly macabre spin on it feels like a very Good Omens thing to do tbh.

- There’s the dirty donkey again! It DIDNT move, Crowley LITERALLY planned his heist ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE BOOKSHOP. I WORK IN SOHO I HEAR THINGS INDEED.

- David Tennant what is that voice XD

- Lots of emphasis on sleight of hand this…entire show :P it does make one suspicious of The Final Fifteen Minutes. But also I don’t want to rob them of their power? Because damn. DAMN.

- (The lip reading. It. I. I will wait for the end but GUH)

- He’s so pleased with himself for getting it right XD

- They are SO. IN. LOVE. KILL ME.

- Natural dexterity. Like the magic words, I’m waiting for that one to come true.

- The way Pat tries to have some integrity XD

- THE WAY AZIRAPHALE CASUALLY DROPS THAT HE HAS BOTH A FIREARMS LICENSE AND A DERRINGER. AZIRAPHALE ZIRAPHALE FELL, ARE YOU POSITIVE CROWLEY IS THE JAMES BOND ENTHUSIAST?

- More importantly, does he still have that???

- …does that mean Aziraphale’s fired a gun when Crowley hasn’t? What does this mean for the paintball gun bit? Does your derringer lend weight to a moral argument, Aziraphale??

- Hang on have to squeal for the way Aziraphale just grabs Crowley’s hand in both of his. So excited. So cute.

- HA, the wrong ring XD

- Sad to see Pat get eaten. But the framing of it is really cool actually.

- Fell the Marvelous. That poster. How in the heck.

- Aziraphale having stage fright tho.

- Jiggery pokery indeed XD

- EXPERIENCE USING FIREARMS. AZIRAPHALE THESE ARE SOLDIERS.

- Omg the miracle blocker is a punch card. The worldbuilding implications.

- I wonder at how hell would have taken Aziraphale handing Crowley a rifle tbh.

- “Aim for my mouth, shoot past my ear” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

- the way they’re both shaking and nervous. The camera itself shaking. CROWLEY shaking

- The feather boa. I WEEP. He’s so happy.

- I know the implication is that Crowley, like Jim, is missing his memories, but. Also. The idea that maybe Crowley is just terrible at remembering people who aren’t Aziraphale. Poor Furfur.

- The sleight of hand is very subtle. Which is the point. But also. Idk man people have said it better and apparently written 16k essays about it, I’m just proud of him for pulling it off.

- Okay but. But they’re zombies. Neil they’re zombies. Aziraphale and Crowley just let three Nazi zombies wander off Neil. NEIL. WHAT IS THE PLAN WITH THEM??

- Dagon is in top form this season tbh

- I CANNOT BELIEVE. THAT THE ONE NAZI REALLY CAN READ LIPS. I CANNOT BELIEVE IT. Peak comedy always.

- I got it right the time that mattered ;A;

- I knew you would come through for me. You always do.

- You said trust me.

- And you did.

- MURDER ME.

- ITS CHATEAUNEUF DU PAPE AGAIN ARE YOU KIDDING ME I AM ALREADY TRYING SO HARD NOT TO QUOTE THIS SCENE WORD FOR HECKING WORD

- “If you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself” the levels of deep seated misunderstanding and flawed foundational concepts I’m CRY

- Though it’s AZIRAPHALE who brings up shades of grey. A glimmer of hope.

- Can someone who knows accents tell me what is going on with Shax’s

- Beelzebub’s thanks and “good work” as a discordant note, but also their command for Shax to take an army to attack the bookshop knowing full well she isn’t going to get that kind of support…wut.

- THE BENTLEY FOLLOWING AZIRAPHALE AFTER HE PATS IT. CROWLEY FEELS WHAT IT FEELS.

- Peter Anderson’s screen effects are my favorite thing.

- Hate to see the way Nina is so broken down by Lindsey tbh.

- Yeeeah…Crowley seems to be purposely living in his car tbh. Retreating directly to it. I can’t tell if Aziraphale never thought to offer cohabitation or if Crowley turned him down but my money is on they’ve never discussed it despite both of them thinking about it very loudly.

- A night to remember! Never bodes well.

Okay. That’s it for tonight. An episode that seems out of place but has many good tasty morsels and I think more than a smidge of s3 foreshadowing. Why is the episode called The Hitchhiker? Maybe for Furfur trying to climb the greasy pole of bureaucracy? For the Nazis hanging onto life? Literally just for the one part at the beginning that sets the whole climax into motion? Who knows???

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #gos2spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #ugh okay brain is officially mush #this episode is fun but I think its utility is more meta than narrative tbh

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leviosally · 2 years

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Play for me the Music of your Heart

Ch. 3 is up! For anyone who was interested, I went down a face cast rabbit hole and put this together. Hope y’all like it!

The large ensemble room is huge, with whitewashed walls and a polished, well-worn wooden floor with a fair share of gouges and scrapes scarring its surface. Stacks of chairs and percussion instruments have been pushed back against its outer perimeter and in the middle of the room is a long table and a single music stand.

Professor Device swishes past Crowley, her skirts rustling as she returns to her chair at the table and sits down next to—next to—Crowley glances about him, suddenly convinced there must be film crews for some Jane Austen remake poised to leap from behind the bass drum or the heavy velvet drapes hanging along the front wall and yell CUT! at any moment.

The man seated at the table looks as though he has, indeed, been plucked from the set of Sense and Sensibility. He’s wearing a soft beige three piece suit with a sky blue button-down shirt that’s just visible under his layers. Crowley can see the corner of a (my God, is that tartan?) bowtie peeking from under the man’s chin where he’s bent over a stack of papers, presumably scribbling notes. Under the table, Crowley can make out a pair of polished leather cap-toe Oxfords, crossed neatly under their owner’s chair.

Costume party…or maybe some sort of larping…perhaps the both of them were going to the same event after all of this. Would certainly explain Professor Device’s own vaguely Victorian high-necked, lace-trimmed affair.

Crowley, having halted a mere two paces into the room, is now glancing back around at the door, half-expecting someone from the theater department to come bursting through it at any moment. He whips his head back around as the man seated at the table speaks.

“Good afternoon, Anthony.”

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artemis-requiem · 2 years

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“Jason loves reading Jason’s Austen”

SHIT UP OMG is that the only books y’all know??? Y’all just google classical romance and take the first option I promise y’all nobody reads those book multiple times. How is he gonna be a literature nerd if the only thing he reads is Jane Austen

#jason todd #that’s the most annoying hc there is

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empress-of-snark · 1 year

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4 • 6 • 8 • 12 • 17 for the choose violence asks 🔪

4: what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

I actually don’t block anyone but bots! I try to keep my online experience fairly positive and avoid getting into fights, so I’m not usually bothered by anyone that I can’t just ignore without blocking.

6: which ship fans are the most annoying?

Oh man, y’all are really trying to get me in trouble 😂

Disclaimer: every shipper has the potential to be annoying and even some of the people who ship the same things as me are annoying about it sometimes, this is not a reflection of the ship itself, etc, etc, etc

That said….. johnlockers

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Stranger Things again (sorry, but that’s my most prominent fandom rn) but I don’t understand why everyone latches so hard onto the fact that Mike doesn’t say “I love you” to El very often and uses it as proof that they’re a terrible couple.

Like I said in an earlier ask, I have no dog in this fight and I don’t care which of the younger couples is endgame, but I just assumed he had trouble saying it because… he’s an emotionally stunted fifteen-year-old boy in his first real relationship? So of course he’s going to struggle with saying “I love you” because why wouldn’t he? Especially since he probably doesn’t hear his parents say it to each other very often, as they don’t seem like they have an especially loving marriage?

I dunno, I don’t really care about Mileven but I think people are too hard on it for being cringey. Like, they’re high school freshmen, of course it’s gonna be cringey. Have you ever met a freshman who wasn’t?

17: there should be more of this type of fic/art

Regency AU. Maybe it’s the Jane Austen/Bridgerton fan in me, but I always eat that up. I don’t even care if it’s totally historically inaccurate (again, Bridgerton fan), I wanna read about my OTP yearning for each other while sharing a dance in a crowded ballroom.

Already answered 12 a couple of times and I’ve run out of unpopular characters to defend lmao. I didn’t expect to get this many asks!

Thanks, friend!! ♥️

#asks #personal #stranger things

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midnightsxxvi · 2 years

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In Vino Veritas (Part 2)

Summary ─ Bucky never thought there’d come a day where you’d stop bothering to even ask him to come to Friday pub nights. You’d given up, but one night he shows.

Pairing ─ bestfriend!bucky x avenger!reader

Warnings ─ fluff x angst. mainly fluff. alcohol use. pet names (doll; baby; sweetheart). Some cursing??

A/N ─ Hi ! I just wanted to say thank you so much for the love on the first part?? This is my first little fic on here and I feel very welcomed ♥ Let me know if there are any warnings I missed or if y’all want a part 3? Otherwise, I do have a few fics in the making and I you stick around ♥

Part 1

Word Count: 4.6k

───※ ·❆· ※───

Your table finished a whole two other rounds of trivia. Sam had won the next round, ordering your table some free cheese fries. There was a lot of cheese at the table tonight. The topic for the round was Movie Facts, which Sam was surprisingly amazing at, and unsurprisingly, Steve was horrible at.

Even though Bucky was just as lost as Steve, he helped you anyway, grinning every time he’d give an answer because it was very clear that he had no clue what on earth the question was even talking about.

You’d both gotten comfier, drinking a little more and allowing the trivia questions to be a sort of icebreaker between the two of you. That felt ridiculous, considering you usually weren’t so weird around each other, but whatever.

“What’s the first rule of Fight Club?” He squinted at your phone, “Easy. B. Don’t talk about it.”

The question was a truly easy one. Most people would know the answer even if they’d never seen the movie. You grinned, “Yeah, but how’d you know that? Sam make ya watch it?”

“Never heard of it,” he admitted with a shrug and a drink, “Just seems like a good answer. Don’t talk about your club dedicated to fighting. Why would you tell people about that? I sure wouldn’t.”

You burst out laughing, resting your forehead briefly on his shoulder, feeling him chuckle alongside you too, proud to make you smile.

The last round you participated in was Literature, which Bucky was actually decent at. You knew he liked to read, but you never thought he knew so many facts about Jane Austen or Stephen King.

“You clicked the wrong answer!” He feigned shock and reached over to tap the correct one which was asking Stephen King’s old pseudonym. “What kind of name is Robert Bluebell?”

“Bluebell sounds pretty. If you’re going to pick a fake last name, wouldn’t you want it to sound pretty?”

Bucky was still pretending to look at you like you were crazy, “He’s a horror author, who cares?”

“Well, the name Richard Bachman doesn’t scream horror to me.”

Bucky shook his head and leaned over even closer to you, acting as though he was just trying to get a better look at your phone. “Okay, next: What are the names of the Bronte sisters? Oh yes, don’t worry, doll, I’ve got this,” he winked at you.

He did not “got this” but that was okay. You didn’t mind at all when the answer was wrong because he groaned and momentarily squeezed your hand as he played up the role of a sore loser.

Truthfully, he didn’t care too much either. He just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.

Even if just for a moment.

Despite him knowing the occasional fact, no one at your table won. Some lady named Kate at another table did, and you all watched in a melodramatic bitterness as she claimed her free drink.

“Couldn’t even get her friends an appetizer, huh? Had to claim the free drink?” Sam shook his head. “I’d never do that to you guys.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You did last month.”

Bucky was all smiles, his nose scrunched as he giggled, your heart soaring as you watched.

Because Natasha was not playing much, she was the first to get a little tired of the night. She’d started leaning on Steve halfway through the Literature round, and when she declined ordering another round of drinks, you knew the night would come to an end soon.

“Sleepy, Nat?” Steve put an arm around her in a jovial manner.

She checked the time on his phone, “A little. But if you guys want to stay another round–”

“We’ll survive without another,” Steve shrugged, “The area in my brain that stores fun facts is getting jumbled up.”

Sam chuckled, “Or you just suck.”

“Dare I remind you that I won a round, Sam?”

You really did not want to head in yet, despite feeling a little tired yourself. Sure, tomorrow you and Bucky would continue on in the morning, sharing breakfast and maybe going to the training room after, but it was nice to just feel close to him in the booth all evening. The alcohol had given him the freedom to loosen up his body; he’d been physically relaxed, resting alongside you more and more as the night went on.

It didn’t feel like it had been long enough; you wanted just one more second to hold onto the feeling. Why did it feel so forbidden to want the feeling of his body against yours in a way that shouldn’t matter? Yet it did.

The feeling of him mattered. In the most irrevocable way.

Sam nudged Nat, “Want me to order a ride?”

“You sure?” She eyed all of you.

You nodded, “Good with me.”

Bucky quickly drowned the last few sips of his drink and then nodded. “Yup.”

While the food all night had been free, the drinks that had racked up on the tab still needed to be paid for. You were already reaching for your purse, “I’ll pay the tab. Think it’s my turn, hey?”

But then you felt Bucky’s hand on your forearm, “I’ve got it. Least I could do.”

“No, no, we invited you for a good time so–” You started protesting but he shook his head and shot you a little lopsided smirk that was all you needed to stop speaking.

For the first time all night, as though no longer in the trivia trance, Steve and Sam were eyeing both of you weirdly. Nat had been eyeing you weirdly all night, but that was kind of a normal occurrence.

“You do realize we get paid by the same guy, huh?” Sam pointed out, referring to how you all worked under the Stark name, a literal billion dollar company, and were in no financial competition with each other.

Nat gave him a subtle nudge as if to say shut it.

“Exactly,” Bucky pointed out as though agreeing with Sam before he gave your arm one last squeeze and pulled away, “I’ll pay. You guys book the ride. Gimme a sec.”

He stood and fled to the bar to do so, leaving the four of you and a plate of only a few remaining fries.

As you all waited, Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, looking at you pointedly. “I think he’s had fun.”

You did not know why he was just looking at you, but replied, “I think so too. Do we think he’ll come again?”

“That guy is definitely showing up again,” Nat grinned, closing her eyes as her head pulled back against the booth. She looked rather content with the evening. “I haven’t seen him smile this consistently before.”

“Yeah, at most he gives me a couple chuckles and then moves on,” Sam said as he worked away at booking an Uber. Who knew the Avengers took Uber? (Avengers: They’re just keepin it real!)

“Maybe you’re just not funny,” Nat told him, her eyes still resting.

“Says you.”

Steve spoke your name and nodded to you, “You sure got a few laughs out of him, hm?”

“Must be the mead,” you shrugged.

“Must be.” Something in his eyes though said differently.

Before he could continue, Bucky had shown back up at the table, zipping up his coat and looking at you all pointedly. “Ready?”

“Mhm,” Sam left his phone open on the table as he put on his coat, “It’s two minutes away.”

Nat slid out of the booth after Sam, linking arms with him. Steve quickly stole a fry before following, and you quickly after, holding your purse and shoving your hands in the pockets of your fall coat, not looking forward to the cool air outside.

Bucky was not one to lead the way in social situations, so the other three started heading out, but he lingered slowly with you, the last one to get out of your spot. It was a nice surprise, seeing that he continued to stay alongside you out of the booth, both of you walking side by side to go meet the Uber.

You kept your hands in your pockets, fingers picking nervously at your skin, as he kept his hands in his own pockets, clenched in fists as he bit his tongue from saying something stupid like, I had fun tonight.

Neither of you ended up saying anything, only occasionally bumping elbows as you left the pub. The Uber ride home also was pretty quiet, Natasha half asleep on Sam’s shoulder, Steve looking up movie fun facts on his phone so he’d ‘know better for next time’ even though he never did, and Sam was quiet and content.

You watched Bucky as he watched out the window, his eyes not tired as the others, but curious and wide. You wondered where his thoughts were at.

Once home, Sam and Steve hugged you and Bucky goodnight, Natasha mumbled a half asleep, “Night,” before Steve walked her to her room.

The quiet of the residential corridors in the compound was quite the juxtaposition from the pub not that long ago. You felt a slight ringing in your ears, rubbing at them, hoping it would go away soon.

Before even going to your room, you stopped in the kitchen to get a glass of water. You nearly dropped the glass when you turned from the cupboard and realized Bucky was still behind you, waiting in the dim kitchen.

“Sorry,” he slurred, eyeing you and then the cupboard before walking over to grab himself a glass.

As you poured yourself a drink, you reached your hand out for his glass in a silent notion of an offer. He looked almost smitten as he passed it to you and accepted the simple gesture.

You swung your purse straps over your shoulder again and held your glass, ready to leave. “You stayin’ up?”

He slowly licked his lips, realizing he didn’t have a set course of action. “Uh. Dunno.”

This earned a giggle from you, which caused him to light up in response. “Tired?”

“Not really,” he admitted, eyes on you.

A few options probably went through both of your minds as you stared at each other. You felt flushed, a smile growing for no particular reason other than that he was starting to smile too, his teeth perfect as his cheeks dimpled.

“Uhh, would you, maybe–” he swung his hand around in some effort to find words.

“Want to come to my room and watch Fight Club?” You blurted out.

Somehow, his smile increased. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to.”

Before making the move to leave, you paused and looked at your glass, then glanced at the cabinets. “Want more to drink?”

“I’m still pretty…” he waved his hand around again, a blush increasing.

“Drunk. Yes,” you nodded. “Still want something? I don’t have access to the asgardian shit.” Because you wanted something for yourself, you didn’t wait for an answer before peeking in the cabinets. “Looks like we’ve got like five different wines and a bottle of tequila.”

Bucky scrunched his nose. “No tequila.”

You held a bottle of wine. “Red?”

“Sure,” he smiled and grabbed some wine glasses. “Classy.”

“I think so,” you smirked, trying to hold onto the water glasses, your purse, and the wine bottle. “Ready?”

You could’ve sworn he looked you up and down, a satisfied smile slowly appearing. “Lemme carry the bottle.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Even though there weren’t many other people on the floor to worry about, you both went as quietly as possible to your room as though you’d wake someone. It felt fun, tiptoeing down the hall, the two of you stifling back giggles that wanted to erupt even though nothing in particular was funny.

You unlocked your door and rushed him in like it was a mission, but unlike a mission, you actually started giggling when he ran in all silly, closing the door behind you.

It wasn’t like it was his first time in your room, but it wasn’t a common occurrence. Still, he found himself comfortably going to sit on your bed as if that was a normal thing, kickin’ off his shoes.

You didn’t realize you were staring while he took off his coat, throwing it on the back of your desk chair, until he was looking at you again. Quickly, you darted your eyes and put your own coat away.

“Gonna change quickly,” you muttered, “t’somethin’ comfier. Wanna borrow something?”

He patted his jean clad thighs and laughed, “Don’t think your little pj shorts would fit me, doll.”

To your dismay, something of a whimper came from you over his response. Luckily, you found distraction in going to your closet door first, “No, wait, I think I actually have some of Steve’s athletic shorts.”

“Why do you have those?”

“Spilled a drink on myself one night and he happened to have them with him,” you were giggling again, digging around in a folded pile of laundry, “I was drunk, okay, and it seemed like a better idea to wear this guy’s comfy sweaty shorts than my beer smelling jeans for the rest of the night.”

“Please tell me they still aren’t sweaty,” he groaned.

In response, you threw the shorts at him. Of course you’d washed them since then, just never having given them back to Steve, but Bucky still let out a squeak of shock as the shorts hit his face.

“I’ll be one sec,” you laughed, going to change and leaving him be for a moment.

Once you arrived back, in some lounge pants and a matching tee, you felt your heart race seeing him seated on your bed in such a laid back way, making himself at home as he went through a streaming service on the TV. More wine had been poured and resting on the nightstand.

“We messed up,” he looked your way, eyes quickly darting over your comfier outfit, “Fight Club isn’t even on here.”

“Oh damn,” you sat beside him yet slightly back, your back resting on the headboard.

“Guess I have to leave,” he sighed melodramatically, “Such a shame.”

You nudged his thigh with the side of your foot, “Just pick a different movie, idiot. Wanna watch a Stephen King one?”

“I think you mean Richard Bluebell?”

“Bucky,” you laughed and he turned enough to look at you, a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Have you seen It?”

“Huh?”

“It. The movie. The Stephen King story. Killer clown.”

He leaned back, resting on his elbows, not yet scooting up so that he could sit beside you against the headboard like a normal person. “Oh, that one. Hm. Nope! Don’t get it.” “I don’t know what to do with this answer. Wanna watch it or not?”

Still, he didn’t give a solid response, his right hand waving around as he spoke. It seemed as though Drunk Bucky enjoyed talking with his hands. His vibranium arm holding himself up, the bicep flexed in the position, he said, “What’s so scary about clowns, huh!”

“I think the scary part is that the clown is using his position to lure in kids. It’s about the murder of chidlren, Buck. Seems scary enough to me.”

He blinked up at you, “Wait, have you seen the movie?”

“Nope.”

For some reason, this pleased him. “Oh fuck yes, lets watch it then. FInally, something you know just as much information about as I do.”

“I mean, I know some things!”

Finally, he adjusted himself to sit closer to you, fulfilling the want you’d had since inviting him to your room; the want to feel him simply sitting flush beside you again.

Ignoring the racing feeling in your heart, you used the remote to find the movie which luckily was available this time, but you already knew that, which is why you brought it up in the first place.

You felt as Bucky breathed out a laugh, “Do you like scary movies?”

“Sorta. This has been on my to-watch list for a while, but I just didn’t want to watch it alone.”

He faked a little pout, and it killed you, “Aw, babyy, you can handle fighting against people actually trying to kill you but not this?”

The pet name, unused before this moment, was killing you just as much. “I- listen, in a fighting scenario I have control over my body and I am confident in controlling the situation. How am I supposed to control a demonic clown from trying to kill children! That’s horrifying!”

“It’s okay, baby,” he briefly patted your thigh, “I’ve got you. I’ll give that clown one look and it’ll go running.”

“Oh my god, Barnes, love yourself more than that–”

He laughed, tilting his head back a bit, “I meant because I like to think I’m intimidating, not ugly!”

“Oh fuck,” you blushed, “I mean– please don’t ever think that I think you’re ugly! Oh gosh, I’m sorry I–”

“So then you don’t think I’m intimidating?” he teased.

“Yes! I mean– NO! Or, I don’t know? Fuck, I–”

“I’m just messing with you.”

You continued to ramble, “You don’t intimidate me. But I think you do a good job of intimidating others? Please don’t ever think I’m scared of you. Oh god, and please, again, know that I would never think you to be ugly!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, pulling your hand into his vibranium one to calm you down. “I get it. I’m a decent looking dude who doesn’t scare you, but I can scare away a demonic clown. Sounds good?”

“Decent looking?” You gaped before even thinking about what you were saying. Sipping on more wine was not helping.

His brows shot up and he was back to smirking, “So we’re back to thinking I’m ugly then?”

“No,” you groaned, your palm coming to your forehead, “Stop running me in circles. Give yourself more credit, you’re a beautiful man and–”

He titled his head to the side, “Beautiful, huh?”

“Christ,” you huffed, “I’m starting the movie now.”

He just laughed lightly, giving your hand a squeeze. You faked an upset expression, trying to hide the fact that his hand over yours was a feeling you never wanted to let go of.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, if you get scared, I’m right here, hm?” You didn’t know what was up with the new pet names he was trying out, but you didn’t mind. His tone was slightly teasing, but he didn’t let go of your hand and you knew there was truth there.

He’d be perfectly happy to have you find comfort in him as he had with you so many times. Even now, in the cozy walls of your bedroom, buzzed and warm and next to his favourite girl, he allowed himself to lose tension which didn’t happen to him often.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Bucky was not that freaked out by the film. As horrific as Pennywise could be, Bucky’d seen—experienced— worse. Honestly, you had too, but that didn’t stop you from jumping during the couple of jump scares. During some uncomfortable points, you’d even groaned uncomfortably, playing it up by covering your eyes. The thing was, Bucky knew you were playing up the fear you felt, but he tugged you closer anyway, enjoying the excuse to have you in his arms.

By the time it was over, the wine bottle was empty and your legs were draped over his as he held you in his arms.

The credits rolled and as the movie effects wore off, you realized that it wasn’t the most normal thing between you to be cuddled up with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Hmph,” you groaned, not caring if he realized you were disappointed. “All done?”

You could feel his rumble of laughter, closing your eyes and embracing it. “There’s a second one, yeah?” He asked you, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing along your arm.

“What time is it?”

He leaned a little bit to get a look at his phone. “Shit- nearly two. I wasn’t suggesting we watch it tonight, but there is still more story for another time.”

You hummed and sadly removed yourself from him, stretching your arms up for a moment. You did not see the look in his eyes watching you, but you could feel it.

You lulled your head side to side in an attempt at a stretch, but you just felt loose and tired. “Can we watch the second one some time, though?”

When you looked at him, Bucky's eyes were soft as he watched you, almost curious in a way. It felt strange that he held your gaze for so long. You almost felt shy, like you should look away, but those blue eyes of his were something you needed more of, so you wouldn’t give this up.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Please.”

“Please?”

So subtly. A smile. “Yes. I use manners sometimes.”

You didn’t respond, only watch him, doing your best to not look directly at his lips.

Which— fuck— were so pink and full and begging to be kissed.

The thought of kissing Bucky was not something you indulged in often. You two just weren’t like that. That was off limits. He was off limits. That had to be some sort of Avengers rule right?

Well, sure Nat and Bruce were a thing once, somehow, and there was Wanda and Vision, but you were certain the others would find it odd if you did something similar. Natasha and Bruce were a weird thing in the end. You remember talking to Steve about that, thinking what the fuck. Surely, the others would think the same if you made a move on Bucky.

You made the decision to block feelings for him a very long time ago. Only knowing each other for a short period of time, he still set something off in you. He made you feel fiery, and whole, and you didn’t want to risk a damn thing.

“Um,” Bucky cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and looking away as though he’d read your mind. “I should go to bed.”

“Same,” you inhaled. “Hey, is it cool if I skip our morning run?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to go on a walk in five hours?”

“My bad. That is exactly what I want.”

He chuckled and started scooting off your bed. “Yeah, sweetheart, we can skip it. Sleep in, okay?”

“Woah, you’re also skipping? James Bucky Barnes, skipping a workout?”

Bucky couldn’t stop grinning despite the tiredness that was now evident. “Yeah, yeah.”

You watched him stand, stretching his own arms. “Can we still meet for lunch?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” You pressed your lips together, not knowing how to say goodnight.

He seemed to figure it out though. Surprisingly, he leaned and gave you a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Message me in the mornin’ if your hangover’s bad, okay? But have a good night, doll.”

You hummed, hating the loss of him against you as he headed for the door. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight,” he gave you one last soft smile before leaving.

Just like that, you were alone. Half drunk in your bed, credits playing, and everything felt like some weird dream.

What was all that? What did it mean?

You went to brush your teeth, getting ready to fall asleep, a million questions running through your mind. Would he come to the pub again? Did he even want to watch the next movie? Did your cuddling make him uncomfortable? Maybe he doesn’t actually want to get lunch tomorrow, and is just being polite.

Back in bed, you stared at the ceiling in the dark, brain still buzzing and full of life despite being tired.

You just heard the normal sounds of the compound, the whirring of air con and the other mysterious clicks and all.

Someone walking by the door at night wasn't an abnormal occurrence, but you still sat right up when you heard the echoes of footsteps outside your room.

The footsteps got closer and halted; you weren’t stupid, and you were a trained assassin, so it was clear someone was directly on the other side of the door and it was pretty obvious that it had to be Bucky. Something lurched inside of you and you scattered off your bed to the door, not caring how weird it would look if you went to open it on your own as if waiting. Maybe subconsciously you were waiting,

The knock came quietly, just a couple taps, and you turned the knob without a care.

“Oh,” Bucky breathed out, shocked to see you answer so fast. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you’d still be sleeping or not.”

You felt out of breath, “I was gettin’ there. Heard footsteps.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Bucky’s lips were parted, his eyes almost afraid. “I just need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“A-and maybe it's because I’ve been drinking, but I still mean it, and I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time.”

You still had your hand clutching onto the doorknob, watching him carefully. “Okay.”

He took in a wary breath, then breathed out your name, and began, “You mean everything to me.”

His eyes had that rare hold on you again, the affection coming through more than the fear. You couldn’t even say a word. Only watch.

“I had an amazing time with you tonight,” he continued. “And I’ve been wanting to join you for months, but couldn’t just get the damn courage to.”

“There was nothing to be afraid of,” you interjected quietly.

He shook his head, “I was afraid that if I came along, I- I don’t know, maybe I’d see you be hit on by someone, or maybe I’d make some sort of fool out of myself in front of you, or maybe I’d have an amazing night just like I did and maybe I would just have the hardest time stepping away from you.”

You blinked a couple times. “What?”

“Ever since I met you, all I’ve wanted to do was make you happy. You are like some sort of fuckin’ sun in my life and I just want to soak you up every single day and just feel you and- wait not like that– wait, kind of– oh fuck, wait–”

“Buck,” you reached for his hand, which drunkenly was waving around. “Did you rehearse this?”

“Sort of,” a blush went to his cheeks. “Wanna hear the end or is this already weird?”

“Please finish.”

He licked his bottom lip, all the fear in his eyes gone because at this point what else could he lose? “I love you. I- I’m in love with you, and I think I have been for a really long time.”

Bucky couldn’t really read your expression; you probably just looked lost or confused or even scared. So after a moment of silence, he gulped and muttered, “That’s all. Um. I’m sorry for keeping you up–”

Before he knew it, your lips were on his, cutting off anything else he was going to say. It felt too hard and silly at first, your nose bumping against his, you uncomfortably straining yourself to reach his height. The moment wasn’t ruined though, because he was smiling, and you were too, and before you knew it his hands were around your waist and he was leaning down a little more and kissing you as soft as ever. Bucky fit against you perfectly, and you’d never felt more content as you did with him in the quiet hallway, at two in the morning, with your lips on his.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky fanfic #my work!!!! ahh!!!!#slow burn #bucky slow burn #friends to lovers

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leyencia · 2 years

Text

Sweet revenge - Part 1

Viktor x Fem!Reader (SFW)

Part 2 (NSFW)

Summary: You finally manage to get Viktor to go shopping with you and decide to tease him a little - but he sure likes getting revenge. Warnings: Teasing, Sexual tension, Future nsfw part, Viktor being cute n' fluffy, but later also kinda dom A/N: This is my first time actually uploading a fanfic here, so... I hope the formatting is fine and all. I've had this headcanon for a while and it just wouldn't leave my mind, so I gave in to my primal fanfiction instincts. I’m not sure whether this counts as a Modern!AU kinda thing with the cars and a mall though... Also, I plan to write a second part that’s nsfw, but never having written smut I might take a while since I want to give y’all quality content. I hope you guys like it and feedback/interaction is appreciated :) Word count: 2,3k

You tried your best to give Viktor the most adorable and heart-melting look you could muster. Pushing your lower lip forward just a little bit and furrowing your brows ever so slightly to win him over. “Please, Vik?”, you begged, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes. You’d tried all you could think of without actually touching him, so he’d either cave in soon or you would have to resort to even more unfair methods. A defeated sigh escaped him, and your lips curled to a wide and happy grin. “I simply do not understand why you would need my assistance”, he said, genuinely puzzled. “But how could I deny those begging eyes?” A soft smile spread across his face as his hand came up to your cheek to gently cup it. You leaned into his hand. “I just enjoy spending time with you”, you murmured innocently into his hand, planting a soft kiss into it. His smile turned smug, and his hand left your cheek. “Ah, I’m certain it has nothing to do with my compliments.” Your grin got even wider. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Come on, let’s go.”

You had actually managed to get him to go shopping with you – something that occurred around once a blue moon, as he always found something incredibly important that needed to be taken care of. Not this time though – not with you begging and smiling once he agreed to join you. Hurriedly, you went to get your bag and wallet and upon your return to the hallway, Viktor was ready to go. He looked so good in his dark coat, one hand resting on his cane, emitting an aura of erudition, being well-read and knowledgeable. He’d probably make a darn good professor with his intellect and humble attitude, you thought to yourself with this particular view of Viktor reminding you so much of one. The corner of a faded orange book peeking out of his pocket caught your eye; he’d always have one in there, never tired of learning. You never know when you might feel the need to read, he had said when you’d first noticed. Waiting is quite the waste of time, don’t you think? Ever since you’d pack something to read everywhere you went, just in case. “Vik, did you get a new book?”, you asked, curious. Last time you’d seen one in his pocket had been a few days ago, a black one he possibly already had finished. Maybe he’d also simply decided to not finish it, as he had mentioned disliking it. A faint pink dusted his cheeks and you raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I have borrowed one of yours.” Peeking into his pocket again, your face scrunched up, trying to think which of your books could match the colour. Then it hit you, not quite believing it. “Wait, Viktor, is that my copy of Pride and Prejudice?”, you laughed and gently pulled the book out of his coat. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Indeed it was, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen written on a cover that had little orange and green swans all over it. You had never seen your boyfriend read anything fictional, always only science-related things, at most the books you read for the Academy. But never, ever fiction, let alone romance. He softly but sternly snatched the book from your shocked hands, making you look up to him. “It’s, uh… your favourite book. I wanted to try it.” He slid Pride and Prejudice back into his pocket. You used this moment of distraction to give him a quick kiss on the lips. Your fingers followed your motion towards his face, gently tracing the blush on his cheeks. His eyes met yours. “That’s adorable”, you whispered and gave him another kiss, this time a peck on the nose. His blush intensified beneath your fingertips. “You’re adorable, Vik.” He looked away, shy, uncertain what to say. You loved having him all flustered like this because you knew just how much he, too, liked seeing you flustered beneath his fingertips. “That is debatable”, he uttered, quietly, taking your hand that had been on his face into his free one. “Though I do remember that we had something else planned this afternoon than kissing in the hallway. Which, in itself, I naturally would not disagree with”, he laughed quietly. You squeezed his hand and planted another kiss on his lips. “Let’s go then. I’ll not miss the opportunity to go shopping with you.” You went to the mall by car. Your car, to be specific, as Viktor, while actually having a licence, despised driving himself. He did have his own car, with special accelerator accommodating his disability but he barely ever used it, as his adventurous side seemed to be exclusively reserved for science. Driving made him uncomfortable, the speed unfamiliar and strange in his hands. Luckily for both of you, he had absolutely no shame in having his girlfriend drive him – even more so as you were happy to oblige. He only ever took his own car when you or Jayce weren’t available, never actually complaining about it. The mall wasn’t very full due to it being Monday afternoon. You spotted the first store you’d wanted to visit and, gently tugging on Viktor’s arm, went towards it, entering. Your boyfriend followed you around the store like a lost puppy. A reading lost puppy, looking up whenever you asked him his opinion about a colour, a fit or a piece itself. His answer was always genuine, the problem however was his absolute lack of knowledge concerning anything related to fashion. Not that you were particularly “up-to-date”, wearing whatever you liked, but you still knew what went together, colours that matched, what worked for your body type, what didn’t. Viktor’s wardrobe, only containing dark red, various shades of brown, black and the occasional white button-up shirt, didn’t leave too much room for such error. He made up for his lack of knowledge by complimenting you in the fitting room though. He’d find a seat to rest, and you’d end up modelling for him, as you were doing right now. “I’m really not sure about this one”, you mumbled, more to yourself than to him, yet he responded. “Why not? You look stunning.” A shy smile spread across your face. Maybe he had been right, you did enjoy his compliments. But honestly, who wouldn’t? He really had his way with words. You gave him a little innocent show for his compliment, swaying your hips in the skirt you had just put on, ignoring the few other people in the changing room giving you looks. “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?”, you teased. “So I’m told.” Your book was resting on his lap as his attention was focused on you, a small bookmark between the pages he had been reading last. You disappeared back into the changing room, speaking up a little, so Viktor could still hear you. “There’s not many pieces left. You’ll be freed soon”, you said sarcastically, earning a little laugh from your boyfriend on the other side of the wall. “So,”, you continued, “how’s your new literary discovery going?” The second-last piece of clothing was a dress you really weren’t sure would suit you well, but you still had decided to try. “Well,”, he began, “it is… better than anticipated. The narrator is surprisingly likeable, and the story in itself is well written, I think.” You decided to toy with him a little, trying to sound offended. “Better than anticipated, you say? What did you anticipate?” There was a short silence. “Perhaps I should stop speaking now. For everyone involved.” A laugh escaped your lips, and you left the changing room to show Viktor the dress. You didn’t like the fit at all. It sinched in where you didn’t like it to, leaving room where you didn’t need it to and simply dissatisfying you. “I know, I said that about the skirt, but”, you sighed, “I’m really not sure about this one. It’s… It looks weird on me.” Viktor looked up from your copy of Pride and Prejudice, mustering you and the piece of clothing you had put on intensely before commenting. “It does not do your body justice, yes. That, however, is the problem of that dress, not yours, (Y/N).” His words put a soft smile on your lips and your feet carried you towards him to kiss him. He returned the kiss gently, almost carefully. “You flatter me.” Your words were a whisper against his lips. “You deserve to be flattered”, was his soft response. You made a Pfff-noise and rolled your eyes at his words, when, in reality, you had loved hearing them. With Viktor you sometimes felt like you needed to keep your ego in check with how many compliments he found for you – but you very much did not want it any other way. You disappeared into the changing room again, picking up the last item you had chosen – a dark red dress that put your cleavage on display, a sexy touch for your wardrobe. Viktor hadn’t actually paid attention when you had picked it up, engrossed in your favourite book and you decided to tease him a little. You tugged a little on the dress as you put it on, watching yourself in the mirror so it would sit perfectly. Once satisfied, you quietly left the dressing room as to not alert Viktor prematurely. The sight of your boyfriend, completely lost in Pride and Prejudice had you linger a little longer than intended. The way he was toying absent-mindedly with his cane, how the little strands of his brown hair falling into his eyes failed to bother him in the slightest, he simply seemed… content. Your heart fluttered a little as you watched him turn a page ever so gently. You couldn’t resist the temptation to get to him, three quick but silent steps and gently brush the hair out of his face. The action startled him, and he looked up to you, relaxing immediately. When he realised what you were wearing his eyebrows shot up and a smirk found its way on his lips. He seemed amused. “I have to say”, he began, scanning your body, “it seems I do have a favourite piece today.” You copied his smirk, resting your hand on his good knee. An action innocent enough for any bystander who could see the two of you, but enough for Viktor to give you a warning look. “Do you have something to say?”, you asked, looking at him sheepishly, your hand now inching its way up ever so slightly, never intending to cross a line that would attract too much attention. His eyes darkened at your approach until you seemingly reached a point that was too much. He caught your wrist with his hand, carefully but sternly enough to send a message. “Perhaps you would want to postpone your advances until we have some privacy, (Y/N)?” His words made you bite your lower lip, and you simply couldn’t resist leaning forward, giving him a dangerous view of your cleavage whilst also brushing your free hand over his crotch like an accident. His breath hitched as you did. “You might want to cover up, dear”, was all he said though, letting go of your arm. “Do I?”, you asked, cheeky smile on your lips. You didn’t give him time to answer though, ending this little game of yours by returning to the fitting room. As you walked, you could feel his gaze fixate on your back. Once you were done, you left the changing room finding Viktor not engrossed in the book but still watching you. Noticing the pile of clothes on your arms he seemed to understand you were done and got up, not saying anything. There was a dangerous kind of tension in the air now, not one that stemmed from pissing him off, no, but it tasted of arousal, provocation and sweet revenge. As you hung the unwanted clothes on their respective rack you glanced over to your boyfriend to read his expression. His smug grin as his eyes met yours confirmed your theory: He’d return your teasing, just way worse. “I can’t wait to return home”, he chirped innocently as you made your way to pay for the new additions to your closet. Usually, you would have laughed, said something sarcastic about his long-awaited return home, but him saying it with that smug expression made you feel hot. Getting into the car was no relief either; quite the contrary. The second the two of you were remotely alone, sitting in your car, his hand snaked its way up your thigh the same way yours had. You were thinking of regretting your teasing, but his gentle yet authoritative tone stopped your thoughts from forming any kind of decision. “I do not want to pressure you”, you heard him say as his gaze fixated on your thigh, “but I do feel my patience not lasting as long as it usually would. Perhaps that is your fault.” You sighed a shaky breath. He knew exactly what buttons to push, what it did to you whenever he got a little dominant. You didn’t even know where your boldness from before had gone but with your boyfriends’ calloused hand now softly digging into your thigh, grabbing in a way that felt demanding, the only proof of its existence was a fleeting memory. He was getting impatient, you could tell. Absent-mindedly, your hands came to rest on the steering wheel. You glanced over to Viktor, whose lips curled into the same smug smile from before as he noticed it. “Getting impatient, hm?”, you said quietly as his hand snaked upwards towards your crotch, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. His thumb dug dangerously close to the heat that was starting to form in your core. As he answered you could feel him inching closer to whisper in your ear. You felt his warm breath on your skin, and it drove you wild, painting your cheeks pink. “It appears so.” You had to swallow hard before starting the car’s engine. “Let’s go then.”

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x reader #viktor #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #reposting as I'm an idiot

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Seven // Wanda Maximoff

chapter six | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eight

author’s note: hope y’all like this one 👀

The Maximoffs were just as a good at throwing a party as my own parents were.

Celebrating a new book that was published at Pietro's business, they threw a party in their back garden big enough to host half the town if they wanted to. Actually, now that I thought about, half the town was probably there.

We were invited to celebrate along with them because we were 'family' now, as Oleg and Iryna pointed out, so I found myself standing in their garden getting a drink under the night sky and trying to blend in with the snacks table so I wouldn't have to mingle. Parties still weren't my thing, clearly.

People-watching was more my forte. It was amazing the things people did when they thought nobody was looking. One guy coughed into his hand and wiped it on his pants – I reminded myself not to shake his hand – whilst some woman checked if her teeth were clean on the back of a serving tray.

My gaze raked the garden, indifferent to the men who attempted to get women's attention with a boyish grin and terrible pick-up lines, or the women who lifted their dresses a little higher than necessary to steal a man's attention. I spotted my parents talking to some guests whom I'd never see before, then there was Wanda's parents laughing alongside Pietro as he told a joke to some important looking people.

Eventually, my eyes fell to the remaining Maximoff, who was looking especially beautiful tonight. A deep lilac gown adorned her figure and she wore it like it was uniquely made just for her. She probably didn't even realise, but all eyes were definitely on her; a simple stride around the garden had people turning heads to see who the lilac beauty was. Y/B/N was the most envied man of the evening, with every guy here wishing they could have Wanda on their arm.

I'd wanted to tell her just how truly stunning she looked tonight, but I hadn't been able to pull her away from my brother's side for even a second. Everywhere he went, she went, too. I'd caught her eyes maybe three times tonight since she was so involved with whatever she spoke about with the people who worked for Pietro. I didn't take it personally of course, but it didn't make me feel any better.

Y/B/N had his hands all over her, probably suspecting just how many people were checking her out tonight, and I hated the way it made me feel. Envy and jealousy came over me and it wasn't pleasant. His hand was permanently fixed on her waist, at times moving suspiciously lower and making me roll my eyes. Occasionally, he'd lean over and whisper something in her ear making her flush – involuntarily or not, I didn't know. Wanda was a good actress, appearing as the perfect fiancé to him and couple to everybody else. Or, at least, I hoped it was acting.

"Pretty ladies shouldn't be standing by their lonesome," said someone with a Sokovian accent, but sadly not the one I wanted to hear.

"Pietro," I said with an amused smile, turning to face the man of the evening. "Congratulations on the new published book!"

He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Y/N. How are you finding the party?"

I glanced around, disguising my discomfort with a nod. "It's great."

He chuckled, as if suspecting that was a lie, before changing the subject. "So, the book. Have you read it?"

Glad that this was something I could actually talk about, my shoulders relaxed and I nodded. "Yes! I bought it yesterday as soon as it was published. I've only read the first six chapters, but what I've read is beautifully written."

Pietro snickered, raising his brows. "Only? That's further than anyone here has read."

I smiled bashfully, eyes veering elsewhere with embarrassment. "I guess I just have a lot of free time."

He hummed with amusement. "And you must really like reading... Wanda mentioned you write, too. It's nice to know it runs in the family."

Certain my cheeks were flushed, I nodded. "Yeah, our dad, he taught Y/B/N and I how to write when we were kids. That's where my love of literature began."

"And what do you like to write?" he asked, intrigued.

I shrugged, the grip on my glass of champagne loosening as I grew comfortable. "I don't know... short stories, drabbles, novels. I mainly deal with themes of love and romanticism. We're so intent on leading our lives with what other people want that we rarely take time to think about we want... I write about that."

Swallowing, I looked to Pietro, hoping I wasn't boring him. He was a publisher after all, besides my soon-to-be brother-in-law. His opinion was important to me.

"I must admit, Y/N, my interest is piqued," he admitted, watching me with an inquisitive gaze. "Do you have anything I could read?"

"It's probably better than it sounds," I said dismissively, knowing this was just small talk.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt that. You shouldn't say such things. You never know, you could be my next signed author."

I tried not to laugh. "Nice try, Pietro."

He smiled widely. "What? I'm serious!"

Tilting my head towards him knowingly, I sighed. "We both know that can't happen."

He was grinning now, clearly entertained by my unamused expression. "Says who?"

I motioned around us with my drink. "Says everyone? The world we live in?"

He began to list authors on his fingers as he said, "Jane Austen. Emily Bronte. Mary Shelley. Louisa May Alcott. Dare I name more?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, pushing his hand down and rolling my eyes at his smug expression. "But I can promise you that all of those women fought tooth and nail to get published. Their families probably weren't as accepting as they wanted them to be. There's still people now who talk about how unprofessional and lacklustre their works are. They didn't have it easy. Still don't. And don't even get me started on the reputation side of things for you... d'you know how much backlash you'd get for signing a woman?"

Pietro shrugged, sipping his drink, before saying casually, "I only care about talent, Y/N. And if you have even a quarter of the talent your brother does, then I'm happy to go from there."

I quirked a brow, trying to gauge if he was pulling my leg or not. But the kind eyes looking back at me suggested he may not have been. Either way, the idea of actually being published – something I'd been dreaming of since I was a kid – was enough to raise my suspicions and make me shake my head.

"Thanks for listening, Pietro," I said conclusively, hoping he got the hint.

He nodded, accepting my word, thankfully. "Anytime. Hopefully this isn't the end of this conversation, though."

I cracked a smile, knowing it was but giving him the benefit of the doubt. He pursed his lips, glancing around briefly before attempting to hide an amused smile.

"What are you smiling at?" I teased, nudging him in the arm slightly.

His eyes met mine, sparkling with mischief. "You've probably not noticed, but as we've been speaking, almost everyone in this garden has looked our way."

I cocked my head with confusion, smile still present. He nodded subtly, eyes flickering to the right, so I followed his gaze and inconspicuously looked around. He was right, as murmurs of gossip escaped people's lips, their eyes trying to get a good look at the two of us. Even our parents were looking our way, no doubt discussing our future wedding affair.

"Wow," I breathed out, trying not to laugh as I looked back to him. "You'd think they'd have something better to do."

He leaned in, muttering, "Wanna give them a show?"

My eyes flickered between his, seeing that roguish charm of his come to life. I couldn't resist his mischievous attempt to piss off our parents, so of course I nodded with a stifled laugh.

"Care to dance, Miss Y/L/N?" he asked, a little louder than he needed to, attracting more attention.

I grinned, grateful for the idiot that was Pietro. He was already making my evening ten times better than it was.

Resting my hand in his outstretched one, I nodded. "Thank you, Mr Maximoff."

I barely had chance to put my glass down before he led me to the area before the live band that was strumming a lovely upbeat ballad. We joined the other couples that were also having a dance, unbothered by their nosey stares.

Bowing dramatically, he smiled and I curtsied before resting a hand on his shoulder and the other in his. He rested a hand on my waist respectfully before a grin spread across his lips and he began to dance me around everybody else, way too fast for me to keep up.

"Pietro!" I exclaimed between fits of laughter, trying not to trip over my feet or his.

"You said we could dance," he answered simply, before spinning me around.

My eyes went dizzy as he dipped me, making me laugh joyfully. For the first time all night, I was having fun. When he pulled me up, his eyes motioned to the left of us.

"D'you think our parents have already picked the wedding venue?" he teased.

"Definitely," I said with a nod, before shoving him back slightly. "But you, mister, need to slow down. You're like a speedster with the dancing. We should call you Quicksilver."

He laughed, continued to dance me around but much more slower this time. "I like that. You're clever. I can see why Wanda has taken a liking to you."

I knew he didn't mean it like that, but my heart dropped to my stomach anyway. A hearty chuckle escaped his lips as he noticed my expression. Thankfully, he didn't question it and we continued to make a fool of ourselves for a few more songs before taking a break by the snacks table.

"You're an idiot," I told Pietro as we caught our breath, but a delighted smile was on my lips. "You know you've probably convinced our parents that we're a couple now, right?"

"Hey, you're the one who started to fluff my hair like you loved me!" he retorted with humoured eyes.

"Because you're just so darn cute!" I mocked him, before moving forward and going in to fluff his hair yet again.

He attempted to smack my hand away as he said, "Hands off the hair, Y/L/N! I styled it perfectly!"

Grabbing my wrists, he held me back and I tried not to cry with laughter at the expression on his face.

"Such a child," I decided, pulling my hands away. "Whatever happens from here on out is definitely your fault."

He scoffed, as if ready to refute that fact, but before he could say anything, my brother's voice was heard.

"It's nice to see you actually conversing with people for a change, but maybe not my publisher."

Pietro and I turned and saw Y/B/N and Wanda approaching us. My brother seemed entertained by Pietro and I, looking between us with pre-conceived ideas that we may have already fancied each other, just like everyone else had tonight. Wanda, meanwhile, was watching me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"He's good company, what can I say?" I joked, returning my brother's smile.

"Oh?" He raised a brow, knowing look in his eyes.

I rolled my own, trying not to laugh at his insinuation. There was no point trying to convince him otherwise.

"I was just giving Y/N here the best evening ever since she was moping around in the corner," Pietro explained nonchalantly, making me smack his arm.

"I was not moping!" I defended myself.

He shrugged, ghost of a smile on his lips. "Whatever you say."

I gave him a playful glare before focusing my attention to the couple before us.

"As lovely as it is to see whatever this is," my brother continued to make things awkward as he motioned between us, "I came to get Pietro. Someone from the press is here and has questions about the book."

At the mention of this, Pietro straightened up and neatened his bow tie, flashing my brother his most confident smile. "Lead the way, Y/B/N."

After assuring Wanda he'd be back in a second, Y/B/N let go of her waist and guided Pietro to the members of the press. Glad that he'd finally left her side, I looked to Wanda with a soft smile.

"Hey," I said quietly, glancing around before saying what I'd wanted to say all night. "You look radiant tonight, Wanda."

Unexpectedly, she crossed her arms and pressed her lips together firmly. "How was your dance with Pietro?"

Her green eyes, literally green with envy, watched me with distaste. It didn't take long for me to recognise that familiar jealousy entwined in her expression because it was probably the same way I looked when she was with my brother. For some reason, this made me smile with amusement.

"He's a very good dancer," I said, half truthful and half trying to poke fun.

She wasn't amused. "Yeah, everybody saw. You've been all over him."

I covered my mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. "I mean, he's pretty funny to be around. I can totally see why everybody wants us to get married."

Her jaw clenched as she narrowed her eyes at me.

"C'mon, it's a joke," I said lightheartedly, nudging her in the arm. "You know that."

After internally debating whether or not to believe me, she relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her jaw. "I know."

"So, what's the problem?" I asked, raising a brow and smiling playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing."

My smile faded as I searched her eyes. "C'mon. What is it? You know you can tell me."

"Forget it, Y/N," she muttered, avoiding my eyes.

Realising she was still clearly bothered, I sighed dramatically, hoping to lighten the mood. Making sure my voice was low enough for only her to hear, I said, "I only danced with him to annoy our parents. Same with him. He's clearly not interested in me and neither I with him. That's why we get along so well." Teasing her once more, I added, "If circumstances were different, I'd like to think we'd be good friends. He's quite handsome, though I think the good looks are a Maximoff twin thing. Maybe if–"

"I'm in love with you!"

I paused, blinking, unsure if I'd heard correctly. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked to me with exasperation.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was attracted by her outburst, I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding in my ears as she said what I'd been struggling to accept for the past two months.

"What?" I breathed out, raising my brows with surprise.

She licked her lips, realisation replacing her look of admission. Opening her mouth to say something, she stepped forward, but my brother returned with an oblivious smile on his face and interrupted the moment.

"Wanda, the journalists want a picture of us for their article," he said enthusiastically, returning his arm around her waist and tugging her close, making my skin crawl.

Her gaze lingered on me for as long as she could before looking up to my brother with a halfhearted smile.

"Sure," she agreed reluctantly.

My brother nodded at me before leading Wanda away. She gave me one last look, her eyes trapped with unsaid words, before leaving with him. My mouth went dry as Wanda's words echoed in my mind. She was in love with me. And I knew I was in love with her, too. I had been for a while.

But wouldn't admitting that make this whole thing a lot more complicated?

—

"Will you stop shaking your hand? It's very distracting."

I stopped shaking my hand and gave my mum an apologetic glance before facing the door again. I was extremely eager and nervous to see Wanda again, as I hadn't been able to see her for the rest of the party last night.

Her words were permanently resounding in my mind all night, making it difficult to fall asleep. The reality of our situation had dawned on me and I knew that even though everything would become more difficult between us, I had to tell her that I felt the same way. The last thing I wanted was her panicking that I didn't. Because these last two months loving her in secret were better than anything I'd experienced in my life.

Iryna and my mum had made plans to hang out today, including Wanda and I in the plans without actually telling me until this morning. I didn't mind though as I was hoping it could be an opportunity for us both to finally speak.

The front door opened to reveal Iryna with a bright, inviting smile. She exchanged greetings with us both and ushered us inside instantly. There, waiting, was Wanda, looking as gorgeous as ever. A calm suddenly enveloped me as I looked to her, my heart fluttering in my chest more so than usual. She loved me and that thought alone made me feel giddy inside.

"You must come upstairs to the closet with me," Iryna insisted before I could utter a word to the brunette. "I've been very silly and impulse-ordered a bunch of new dresses. Of course, the only way to fix that is to try them on."

My mother laughed alongside her and the two of them looked to Wanda and I questioningly. I smiled their way, glancing at Wanda, before following them upstairs. Maybe later.

I spent the next hour trying on clothes against my own will, modelling them for Wanda and our mothers awkwardly. Ecstatic, our mothers threw their opinions out at me, but I was barely listening because all I could seem to focus on was a quiet Wanda. I couldn't read her mind for the life of me – she was getting better at hiding how she truly felt.

Wanda also tried some dresses on, still not as enthused as she usually was, but neither of our mothers seemed to take notice. I sat on the lounge sofa alongside them, eyes unable to look away from Wanda as she modelled the dresses. I had no words, my mind hazy and tongue tied as she stole my breath away for the millionth time. She was ethereal.

"...what do you think, Y/N?" Iryna asked, forcing me to look away from Wanda and to her. "She should keep this one, shouldn't she?"

I hummed in agreement, looking back to Wanda, who was avoiding my eyes. "She should. I don't think I've ever seen a dress so perfect for someone before."

Our mothers didn't seem to think much of my comment, but Wanda finally looked up, not ignoring me for the first time since I got here. I offered her a small smile, hoping she could see what I'd been wanting to say to her since last night. But she looked away, chewing on her lip and looking down.

"I'm gonna change," she mumbled, before turning to go back behind the curtain.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned back against the seat. I'd just have to find a spare moment.

Iryna and my mum proceeded to try on a bunch of dresses before we called it a day and were ready to eat lunch.

"I want you to have these, Y/N," Iryna told me as we all stood up, motioning to the pile of dresses on the arm of the sofa. "It's my gift to you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, Iryna, you don't need to give–"

"Don't be ridiculous," she cut me off with a wave of her hand. "You're family now. Anything for my daughter-in-law."

I smiled awkwardly, not missing the eye roll from Wanda, before nodding. "Thanks..."

She looked to her daughter. "Wanda, medovyy (honey), can you help her pack them away and meet Y/M/N and I outside on the patio for some lunch?"

Wanda, having no other choice but to say yes, nodded and forced a smile in her mum's direction. "Sure, mum."

Our mothers fell into conversation as they left the room, finally leaving Wanda and I alone. I released a breath, grateful for the privacy, and looked to the Sokovian in question.

"You okay?" I asked slowly, wanting to find a start before erupting straight into my feelings.

She nodded, nibbling on her lip. She looked like she wanted to say something more, so I watched her patiently.

After a pause, when I thought she may just stay quiet forever, she spoke. "If what I said last night was out of line, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, a smile curling on my lips. "It wasn't. I'm in love with you, too."

Surprised, she finally met my gaze, eyes swirling with confusion. "You are?"

"Of course I am," I said quietly, stepping forward and taking her hands in mine. "I didn't mean to make you jealous last night. Pietro and I were genuinely just hanging out as friends."

She shook her head, eyes flickering between mine. "It doesn't matter about that. Forget it."

I still felt guilty, adding, "I know, but it does matter. I don't want to–"

She pressed her lips to mine quickly, cutting me off. Her fingers tangled in my hair as she tugged me closer with her other hand, making me gasp when my body touched hers. I kissed back, closing my eyes and moving my lips against hers in perfect sync.

I probably could have kissed her all afternoon, but the sound of the door opening made us both jump apart, startled. It was just a servant who was coming in to clean up the room. When she saw us, she gave us a small smile before moving around the room carefully. My eyes fell to Wanda's excited ones, and I smiled at her before nodding to the dresses.

"We should sort this out before they wonder what's taking so long," I told her, moving to pack them.

She nodded, grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently before helping me. We packed the dresses in no time before joining our mums out on the patio where they were sat with our lunch. I tried to keep my eyes off Wanda as our mothers spoke to us about God knew what, but it was hard when all I wanted to do was kiss her over and over, telling her just how much I loved her.

"...nice to see you both getting along lately," Iryna was talking, and I only zoned back in when I realised she was looking at me.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Wanda stifled a smile as my mum gave me a disapproving look from across the table.

Iryna didn't seem to mind as she chuckled. "You and Pietro," she continued. "You both seemed very comfortable at the party last night."

I settled on a polite smile. "He's a gentleman. Very nice to be around, I guess."

Iryna smiled knowingly, exchanging glances with my mum before patting Wanda on the forearm, getting her attention. "How does that sound, dear? Your brother and Y/N together?"

I shook my head instantly, realising how she'd taken my words. "That's not what I meant."

Humming in response, Iryna continued to look to her daughter. "You may have to start sharing your new best friend with Pietro."

Remembering Wanda's jealousy last night, I spared her a glance of concern, hoping she wouldn't let this get to her. She was smiling, but her eyes were dimmed with dismay.

"Uh-huh," she played along with her mother's words, before using her fork to pick at her food.

As our mums began to talk about it, I found Wanda's hand under the table and laced my fingers in hers, hoping she'd know I only cared about one person and it was her. Though she didn't look up, her hand tightened around mine and she didn't let go.

The rest of the lunch went by as expected, though the more Iryna and my mother mentioned the wedding, the more Wanda and I grew uncomfortable. It was so much harder to hear about it when I knew my feelings were growing stronger for the brunette every day. By the end of the meal, my mother was happy to go back home and said I could stay to hang out with Wanda, which of course I did.

After bidding her a goodbye, I let Wanda drag me upstairs and to her bedroom, though the door closed when she spun around and pushed me against it, immediately kissing me. Before I could even question what was happening, she pulled away and looked at me through a half-lidded gaze.

"I don't want to share you with my brother, ever," she rasped out lowly, before licking her lips. "I don't want to share you with anyone."

She breathed out, her breath mingling with mine. Her hands rested on my waist before she reattached our lips, moving hers slower and more thoughtfully against mine.

I closed my eyes, grabbing her face and holding her gently, letting her slip her tongue between my lips and play with mine. Then she sucked on my lower lip, teeth nibbling gently at the sensitive skin, and made my insides go warm and fuzzy.

When she let go, she trailed kisses down my jaw and to my neck, having me at her mercy.

"Wanda," I moaned, hand moving to the back of her neck as I tried to regain some control of the situation, but the longer she sucked at the exposed skin, the more my knees wanted to buckle.

Already lowering my dress to my shoulders, her hand untied the back of it and I flushed at the contact of her fingers against me, not used to the feeling but also not opposed.

"Wanda, are you sure?" I asked between bated breaths, attempting to get her attention by tugging at her dress.

She pulled back, hand rising to my jaw and caressing it with her thumb as she looked between my eyes. Hers were dark, clouded with an arousal I hadn't seen before.

"I am," she said with certainty, before asking, "Are you?"

I swallowed hard, the warmth in my core growing hotter as she stared at me with lustful eyes and swollen lips. "Yes."

She gave me a slight smile before pressing her lips to mine again, allowing me to wrap my arms around her neck. I heard her lock the door behind me as I undid the top of her dress, struggling to do so without breaking contact from her. We moved to the bed clumsily, trying not to stumble over our discarded dresses, before I laid her down and straddled her.

Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, I felt her fingers grip my waist, keeping ahold of my body on hers. I shivered as her nails scratched gently against the skin and grew warm when she lifted herself up gently to get more comfortable, her clothed centre rubbing against mine.

Taking a breath, I pulled away and hovered over her, revelling in the beauty that was Wanda Maximoff. Her cheeks were dusted pink as she opened her eyes, green eyes sparkling desperately as they flickered between mine.

"I love you," I told her softly, leaning on my elbow and caressing her forehead.

She smiled, nails trailing up my back and sending shivers down my spine. "Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."

I tried not to laugh as I tilted my head with confusion. She smiled a little wider, hand reaching for the back of my bra.

"I love you, too," she translated in English, hint of amusement in her eyes, before she managed to undo the bra strap.

I rolled my eyes at her attempt of mockery before chasing down her lips once more. Everything about the woman before me was absolute perfection and I was glad I could finally share how I felt about her without having to hide it anymore.

The potential consequences of our actions was not my concern right now... all I cared about was treating her with the respect and care she deserved.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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