#sans disappears into the ether

[itstheghostofmypast]

Nah Bro!

University Student Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: No, he wasn't an idiot, he knew what he wanted and he always had, the only problem was he wasn't sure if she wanted the same. He was her friend, her biggest supporter, and her shelter on rainy days- but he was NOT her bro.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 7.6k

Est. Read Time: 37 min

Warnings: language, suggestive content, Woo's a perv and she ain't any better.

Rating: Mature

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

"Wooyoung?" 

His head whipped in her direction, his signature smile gracing his face as he saw her approach her with her usual expressions filled with scepticism. 

"In the flesh" he smiled down at her, the students around then slowly disappearing into nothing, the world halting at the perfect time when the rays of light seeping through the glass windows, reflecting off her lashes and skin, giving off an ethereal glow, the way the wind was just blowing right, her summer dress swaying like nature itself was flirting with her, asking her for a dance, how the birds began to harmonise, in the joy of her being here and-

"Is calling someone girlie pop considered flirting?"

"Ye- what? Who's flirting with you?" all too quickly the world around him shattered, coming back to its usual hustle and bustle, the frat boys a bit too loud and a bit too annoying, the girls passing by distracting her as one of them called her out, asking her to have lunch with them, and just to top it all off, Choi San just happened to pop by tapping his shoulder, to ruing the mood.

"Get lost, Choi."

"What? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"GO."

"FINE."

The two exchanged a look as the taller male caught the way his friend was eying the girl talking to the other girls, giggling about something- no, someone. Bloody Park Seonghwa.

"You should tell her." he nudged Wooyoung who swatted his hand away and whispered back, "And you should f**k off."

With that he marched away, leaving San standing there in the middle of the hallway. The idiot also forgot that when she turned around to look for him, she couldn't find him, but she saw San making her way to him she smiled, "Did Woo leave?"

"Uh- yeah he had a class."

"Really? Did he take a course I'm not in?"

Never had Choi San in his life felt the urge to murder someone, it would be Wooyoung for leaving him alone with her, knowing fully well he couldn't really lie to her, especially when she was looking around for her Woo like a lost puppy.

Clearing his throat the feline-eyed man nodded towards the exit, "I think he went that way, I'm gonna go there too if you wanna tag along..." he trailed off when he noticed she wasn't listening anymore, in fact, she was too busy staring at someone else, a certain literature major, one who had the face structure of a Greek god but the personality of a pleasant old lady, Park Seonghwa- oh. Seonghwa wasn't a bad person, no, he was great, but his reputation of being a flirt was somewhat of a bother- perhaps because he was a senior and his merry band of friends comprised every handsome man in the lot, music major Kim Hongjoong, IT genius Jeong Yunho and the upcoming model, plus business major Kang Yeosang- truthfully, San doesn't blame her for basking in the attention Seonghwa had started giving her, most girls would throw themselves at them- then often politely get rejected (unless of course, you had the unfortunate luck of confessing to Hongjoong, who'd often have his earphones plugged in, ignoring you and walking all over you heart as he walked away), and if Seonghwa had actually put in the effort of talking to her, then there was something about her that had intrigued the shy extroverted man.

"Hmm?" She looked away, ducking her head to hide the blush that had spread across her face when Seonghwa passed by, giving her an acknowledging smile, damn, Wooyoung really did need to step up his game.

"Wanna go look for Wooyoung?"

"Oh! YEAH! LET'S GO SANNIE! HE HAD TEACH ME HOW TO FLIRT!” She yelled, much like the lunatic who was hopelessly falling for her each day, grabbing San's bag as she dragged him out, or trying to, because she really couldn't move him an inch "Let's go-"

With a soft chuckle, he took her bag from her, watching her glare up at him all confused, "It's the other way, come on, little minx."

.

"Ow-" he hissed, his hand going to the back of his head, as he turned to glare at San- "AYE CHOI, YOU WANNA DIE?" He threatened the taller man who was wearing two backpacks, each slung over one shoulder- wait why is he doing that?

"It was me, idiot." He heard from beside him, as he turned to look at her before pouting, "Teach me how to flirt." His pout morphed into a face of disgust, moving a step back from her, crossing his arms over his chest as he scanned her frame, making sure she would become hyper-aware of his gaze and self-conscious, borderline uncomfortable.

"I'll..." San turned his head to spot a small ice cream stall, man, he loved business week, "Get us some ice cream."

Pulling her jacket closer to her she whined, kicking her feet, "D-dont look at me like that." 

"Why?" He asked moving closer, enough for her to take a step back as she looked up at him, his gaze piercing through her, keeping her rooted at the spot when he took one final step closer to her, making sure to maintain eye contact, a rocky little smirk made its way on his handsome face as he invaded more of her personal space, eyes flicking to her lips, the residue of the shiny gloss teasing him, taunting him, tempting him, though the way her lips quirked into a frown had him scoff, and glance back up at her, feeling her palms flatten against his chest. Still, she didn't push him, of course, giving him unintentional mixed signals was her favourite hobby. He pressed his forehead against hers, whispering, "You wanna learn how to flirt but can't even look me straight in the eye."

"I-I" her hands gripped onto his shirt, twisting it in her sweaty grip as she felt him let out an airy chuckle, when she continued, "I-this isn't..." Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, causing him to smile, following along, enjoying the -

"MOTHER F*CKER- YOU BI- WHAT THE HELL!?" Stumbling back, he yelled like a madman, pressing his palm against his nose before feeling the blood trickle out, "ARE YOU INSANE? THAT'S WHY YOU'RE ALWAYS GOING TO BE SINGLE!" His shrill causing the student passing by to give them strange looks.

"What...the hell guys...I was gone for 10 minutes?" San mumbled, walking over to them with ice lollies in hand, the sight before him annoying, but not new or unexpected- this was a common occurrence, one he had been forced to see since the first semester of starting his not-so-peaceful university life.

"He was harassing me."

"HARASSING- HARASSING YOU? YOU FREAKY GREMLIN YOU SLAMMED YOUR HEAD ON MY NOSE!? FOR WHAT!?" He snatched the cold packaged good from the quiet man, who gave him a look of concern, "Go to the nurse Woo-"

"SHUT UP CHOI." He hissed, pressing the packaged ice good against his nose as he walked over towards a bench, ignoring the whining menace following him behind, calling him out as she sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around his arm, pulling him closer, clinging onto him she placed her head on his shoulder, "Come on Woo, I'm not gonna do anything bad or careless, I'll keep you well informed."

Letting out a huff he leaned his head onto hers, of course, he was still angry, but his body would often react on his own around her, a fact he discovered back in middle school, the first time he had seen her, the first time he had embarrassed himself in front of her.

The 10-year-old boy, the 'king' of the playground, was busy ordering his loyal servants around in the sandbox when this little critter popped up, marching over to him with watery eyes and a runny nose, her fists clenched by her side as she stomped into the sandbox shoving away his 'royal guards' and pointing at him, "Are you the king?"

"Who wants to know!?" Smirking he adjusted his robes- towels, the guest towels he stole from home- atop his head that his paper crown, an ugly orange colour might she add.

Sniffing she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before looking at him, "I want to ride the swings!" She yelled at him, before moving closer to shove him- mind you, she only did so because her parents had always told her never to back down when she was in the right- and two mean boys not letting her on the swings because their king said so was not right.

Steadying himself he glared at her, eying her up and down, he was a feminish or fashionist or something like that, his mother told him to be one too, so equal rights it is, which is why he shoved her harder watching her land on her butt, laughing in the process as his loyal servants began to laugh too- that his until he saw the dejected look on her face, he had assumed she would fight back like most kids, but she got up, wiped her eyes and slowly walked away with her head hung in shame, something about the little girl all sad in her floral summer dress had him feel all funny in his stomach- or chest? The point is he initially ignored it, too focused on his victory, happy the king remained all-powerful.

What he did not expect was the peasant girl to come to his house with her parents- what a snitch. That night Wooyoung had to apologise to her, not because he took the swings because as his mother quoted while pinching his ear, "A FEMINIST DOESN'T HIT A WOMAN. HE BEFRIENDS HER." Ah, so it was feminist. Though her parents had not come to complain, they had actually moved in as neighbours and wanted to meet their neighbours, his family, but who knew the youngest (for now) child of the Jung household had left a bad impression on the Lee Family's one and only Princess. Since that day his mother had forced him to befriend her, to go over to her house and play, to drop her off to her class- thankfully they were not in the same section, but that's because she was smart and well...he was good-looking. 

Perhaps it was fate that had him slowly understanding her awkward and shy nature, how she was somewhat similar to him when it came to what she wanted, she'd whine and complain but the only difference between the two was that she'd always find a way to get it- want a Lego set? Get good grades and you will- she did. Want to eat ice cream? Eat your veggies, she did, she even ate his.

Wooyoung, nah, he wasn't one to take such big risks, to come out of his comfort zone. In fact, after the arrival of the youngest new addition to the Jung family, Wooyoung wasn't happy, what teenager wants a baby brother? Who does that? The night his brother was born, he wasn't at the hospital like his father or his older brother and the Lee family, including her, no, he had climbed up the rusty pipe she had told him a billion times not to use, plucked open the lock of her window and entered her dark room- yes, her parents knew he would do that, his parents knew too, he was the only one allowed to that, for a king is ever ready to go to his queen, especially at the time of distress. He took a step into her bedroom, taking off his shoes and placing them on the small shoe rack set next to the window for him, and hopped onto her bed, stuffing his face into her pillows, her peach shampoo smothering him with affection, before letting out a strangled cry, which opened the flood gates to a tsunami of everything, he had been bottling up since the news of his mother's pregnancy had surfaced. The way his friends teased him, calling it gross, the way everyone was now busy not paying attention to him, the way he was no longer important. Why were they having another child anyway? Was he not enough? Of course, he wasn't as perfect as his older brother but were they only trying again because they were fed up with him? He was leaving for college soon- were they replacing him?

He really didn't know how long it went on for, but a few too many tears later, his eyes had dried out, but his laboured breathing hadn't ceased, that us until he felt calming fingers sift through his hair, the bed dipping beside him as he heard a gentle, "Woo...I knew I'd find you here- staining my sheets with your snot, you giant baby."

Ah, she never was gentle with her words, perhaps that is what karma was, making him fall for her, probably harder than he had pushed her when they were kids, watching him simmer in her snarky comments and such mixed cues of attention- well perhaps that's what he deserved for being a b*tch all the time- I'd didn't matter, for a king always gives into his queen.

Sighing he tried to move, only to freeze when he realised her entire weight was on him, his eyes meeting San who was frowning at him, though the broad-shouldered man holding a raspberry lolly looked comical, especially when he glared at him like that.

“What?”

“She’s asleep Jung.”

“No way? Really?” He scoffed, gently manoeuvring her to lay her head on his thigh, brushing the hair out of her eyes, before reaching for San’s cap on the wooden table, ignoring the man as he placed it on her eyes, shielding her from the horrid, too bright and ugly sun.

“You’re hopeless.” He huffed before standing up, collecting the trash and slinging his bag over his shoulder, “Just…don’t do something you’ll regret, man.”

“What are you? The Magic-Eight ball or something.” He mumbled, before waving him off, “Be gone, now, I’m sure that girl from ‘Philosophy’ is waiting for you at the library to pull out books from the top shelf for her again.” He smirked, watching the way San’s face flushed at the mention of his somewhat secret crush, mumbling some very vulgar words at Wooyoung before stomping away.

.

“Okay, there, all better.”

“Kiss it better.”

She moved back to stare at him, extremely close to smacking him once more but decided not to when he sat there with his eyes closed for her. Rolling her eyes, she leaned closer placing a quick peck on the tip of his nose before quickly hopping off the bed, mumbling about what kind of idiot he was, not catching the way he was smiling like an idiot at her. She was wearing one of his hoodies, he liked that, they were in her dorm room, he liked that, he was surrounded by her, he really liked that- truth be told he had followed her to this university as well, honestly, sometimes he did think of blurting it out to her- but was it worth ruining everything with her, just to satisfy his itty-bitty heart that had begun to beat for nothing but her.

“So, will you help me or not?”

Her question caught her off guard, eying the way she sat down across him, placing a bowl of chips between them, “Woo, will you teach me how to flirt or not?” pushing the bowl towards him as he sighed before shrugging, “Why do you wanna learn anyway-

“Because I like Park Seonghwa!” she whined, “He’s so pretty and sweet and he’s a wonderful senior and-

“If a guy likes you, he likes you for you, not because you learn how to flirt.” He cut her off before picking up a chip and placing (shoving) in her parted mouth, cackling when she choked on it, smacking his hand away as she turned around and swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and turning to glare at him, “Funny how I’ve been doing that since high school and I have never even gone on a date- I am not even remotely likeable.”

“You don’t need to go on a date to deduce if you’re likeable or not.”

“How can you say that!? Do you like me?”

“Yes.”

For a moment his quick sat between them, staring at the two as she looked at him wide-eyed, scanning his face like a curious, scared kitty, only to be met with an intense stare, his eyes staring- no piercing through her soul as if he were trying to say something without saying it, do something without doing it, feel something without feeling it. Ever so slowly he moved closer to her, watching her breath hitch, fingers gripping her sweatpants as he stopped to look at her before giving her a soft smile, trying to read her, yet his signal was not transmitted for once again their frequencies did not match, causing him to move back and look away, scanning her studio apartment, a piece of him was in this room- no, several little pieces of him were present within this canvas, traces of his soul, the scent of his being; from his spare sneakers to his scarf on the kitchen chair, to the coat hanging off the coat hook on the main door, to his ‘special morning Garfield mug on the dishrack.’

“Woo…” she whispered, causing him to slowly turn back to look at her, a small melancholic smile gracing his features, one she noted as she gulped, though her parched throat made swallowing difficult- no, she was reading this wrong, Wooyoung deserved, Wooyoung wanted far more than her, he always had, he always will.

“Let’s do it.” Smiling he stood up before stretching, ignoring how she was staring up at him as he scratched his head before looking around, “It’s getting late, I promised San I’ll cook tonight.”

“Yo-you don’t have to, I can-”

“Classes start tomorrow, after four, there are two conditions.” He cut her off, walking over to the door as he pulled off his coat, staring at it for a moment before hanging it back on her door- why not let his presence be there till it was time to move out- “First, I will accept your payment in meals, after every lesson you will treat me to a home-cooked meal and secondly, you will do whatever I say, do we have a deal?”

Walking over to him she stood in the hallway, staring up at him in awe, the warm light above him hitting just right, accentuating his features in a way that her heart may as well have hopped onto his palm if she were to stare at him for any longer, so all she could do was nod at his deal, all she could do was stand there when he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze before pressing his forehead against hers, mumbling, “See you tomorrow, my little gremlin.”

.

“God, I- I am not wearing this” she huffed throwing the top back at him as he rolled his eyes, holding it up by the strings, “This, is a summer dress, with spaghetti strings, many girls wear it and I think- Seonghwa would like it.”

Sighing in defeat she took it from him, before walking over to the washroom to change, leaving him sitting on the bed as he looked around her room, lying down as he sighed, arms behind his head as he stared up at the cheap 3D glowing stars on the ceiling, one’s they had put stuck up on the ceiling the on the first night she had moved into her dorm, making the zodiac constellation for him and her, then the two had laid there, side by side, staring up at it until they eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“H-how do I look?”

His eyes snapped open at her voice turning his head to inspect her, only to end up feeling like he was punched in the gut, the air knocked right out of him, slowly sat up as he turned to her, eyes roaming every inch of her frame, he had seen her wearing his clothes so much, that he had forgotten that she indeed was much smaller than him- no- she indeed was a girl.

“W-Woo?”

Clearing his throat, he stood up and smiled at her, “You look like you can flirt.” Giving her a thumbs up he grabbed her hand and walked towards the main door, making sure to grab his wallet and phone, ignoring her babbling, “Now, we see what you do on a date- you gotta experience it girlie, a café date is the best of its kind.”

That was exactly how she had found herself stuck to him as the two walked down the pathway to the local café, the setting sun doing her a favour and not burning against her skin, though the wind only had her feeling conscious, especially when the ends of the tied strings would tickle her shoulders or the hem of her dress would tease her, causing her to grip his arm, pulling him closer for some form of support. Wooyoung on the other hand, no he was having the time of his life, never had he felt something so soft and warm press up against him and he thanked that horrid magazine he had found with dating advice for the choice of dress he had picked for her, the pastel pink mid-thigh dress really did do her wonders, really did make him feel like he was in high school again-

“Woo…I feel like everyone is s-staring.” She mumbled, pressing her face into his arm as he sighed, “Babe, it's not like you’ve never worn a dress before, sure this one is a little more on the bolder side but-” his words came to a halt when his eyes met with a glossy pair, one pleading him to save him from the way the boys around them were eying her down, sizing her up.

.

“Thank you, Woo.” She smiled, pulling his denim jacket close to her frame as she sat on the opposite chair, glad that most of her body was covered again, especially from prying eyes, “I knew I could count on you.”

Taking her out was a bad idea, not only was she gaining a lot of attention but she was making it difficult for him to hold himself back, to keep those three words, not the redundant and overused "I like you" but a feeling he had been covering with layers and layers of sarcasm and petty fights, a feeling his heart could never truly accept, could never truly feel, could ever truly float in, even if it were drowning in it, "Love me too".

The cafe trip was cut short when the very nice waitress was kind enough to point out how cute of a couple they were, and instead of letting her correct the waitress, he cut her off with a small thank you, then looked at her. What did that mean? Was he trying to teach her? Was this part of flirting? She did not understand. 

It irked him how she was clueless, how she wanted him to spell it out for her but he wasn't going to, not when the fear of rejections loomed over him, waiting for the right moment to slice the beating pound of flesh in his chest in half. The walk home had been uncomfortable, she was no longer clinging onto him, and the jacket had provided her enough cover, but he'd be lying if he were to say he didn't like it on her. At least there was part of him she was willing to hold onto, even if it was temporary. The walk home was silent, eerie, quiet and perhaps a bit too loud with the sound of anything but them, that is until he finally stopped at the door of her dorm room, staring at her when she unlocked the door and walked inside, leaving it open for him, only for her to turn around in the small, dimly lit corridor of the entrance to look at him, look up at him all confused and doe eyed, in his garment, covering her frame, her eyes swirling with a form of curiosity that had his fingers twitching, his soul begging to be set free from the confines of his useless flesh, "Woo?"

"Next lesson...is...indoors, I'll text the details." With that he had closed the door but did not leave, instead, he waited outside, waiting for her to lock it, his forehead resting against the mahogany, counting till ten, sighing in relief when he heard the gentle click. This was a bad idea. He was so pathetic he told her he would help her, yet he couldn’t even pull through one day properly, some best friend he was.

.

She lay awake the entire night, tossing at turning in bed as every 10 minutes she would check her phone for his text, but there was none. He had not even responded to her goodnight message, prick. That was exactly why she was late to class, and almost thrown out too but the lecturer had not been too busy trying to actually figure out how to use the projector. She had slipped in, trying to find an empty spot, which she did after a couple of minutes, choosing to sit in the only available seat at the corner of the class, she sighed, taking out her book, only to pause when she heard someone groan next to her, turning to the source of noise she let out a small gasp.

“What the hell happened to you?” she whispered, leaning closer to the hunched-over figure in black, as she yanked back the hood of his hoodie, earning another small whine.

“Stop…yelling.” He mumbled, pressing his forehead against the table.

“I’m not, Woo.” With a sigh she ran her fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what on earth he had done this time. It was uncommon for her to find her Wooyoung this battered and bruised, it was uncommon for her to find her Wooyoung this tired, just blatantly showing all his bits that he wasn’t proud of, to her or the world, “Were you drinking last night…I thought you were going to text me the details.”

‘I was drinking to get you off my damn mind’, is what he wanted to say, but when he snapped his head in her direction, he was met by a gaze so endearing, a gaze that held a certain affectionate warmth to it, one that made him wonder if he were ready to let this very being that frustrated him and infatuated him with an unimaginable amount of love slip through his fingers. So, after a moment of thinking, he turned back to the board and slowly nodded, “I…Let’s go after class…next lesson…wake me up at the end?”

“Why were you drinking mid-week anyway?” she asked, though he never answered, instead he slowly pushed her upper body away from the table, only to lean down onto her lap, his head resting on her thighs as he closed his eyes, mumbling an, “Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.”

What did that even mean? Honestly, he had become very difficult for her to read, sometimes she assumed it was because he had no interest in her, other times she just thought it was not difficult because of the crush she had developed on him- one that was pointless since he never really noticed the hints she’d drop, she knew for him, she’d always be the goody-two-shoes that lived next door. But then again, she was never his type, she was not like any of his exes, in both physical presence and mentally- well, she didn’t want to be like them in terms of mental state- most were more interested in his physical presence than who he was as a person- then he’d come running back to her, and every time he would she’d tell him the same thing, “That’s what you get for someone dating someone who doesn’t like animals.” Though he’d argue with the ‘Yah! Do I look like a dog to you?’, that wasn’t it though- or maybe she was calling him a dog, who was to say? The fact of the matter was, at the end of the day, she would always be his just best friend, and this is why Seonghwa had happened to slip into the picture, she needed to move on, and maybe someone as sweet, smart and smokin’ hot (she should stop spending so much time with Wooyoung) would be good for her.

.

“Wakey, wakey, you successfully slept through an hour-long lecture.” Carding her finger through his hair she frowned when he clenched his eyes shut, why was he being so difficult? Was he trying to avoid her or something else? Was he tired of her being around him all the time? Did he not text her last night because he wanted her to drop it? The whole Seonghwa thing because maybe he knew she was hopeless, if him knowing her for years led to nothing, how would a stranger, a handsome, well-mannered, angel-like stranger like her and-

“Are you constipated?”

“Huh?” Casting her eyes down at him, she met a curious, droopy gaze, it was only then that she realised that she had been absentmindedly caressing his cheek, drawing intricate patterns on his soft skin, though even at the realisation she did not stop- how could she? Perhaps this was the last time she’d ever touch him, ever be this intimate with him. Sighing she shook her head, mumbling, “No…why?”

“Then why are you frowning like that?” he groaned, sitting up, stretching his arms over his head before letting out a loud, ungraceful yawn and scratching his head, looking around the empty class- if he were to make out with her right now, they would never even be caught- Wooyoung, you’re not even dating her- true, but the way she had been pouting just made him want to- “Where are you going?”  he turned to her when he heard her shuffle, standing up and collecting her stuff, pausing to look at him, “Going back to my dorm… I’m tired.”

With that she walked away, not sure if she was mad at him, or upset at the thought of the hemlock of reality she was to swallow eventually, maybe she just wanted him to somehow disappear- rather if he was out of sight, he’d be out of mind- right? It’s not like she had spent all night staying up waiting for his text. It’s not like she rolled around in bed before devouring an entire pastry (she had been saving for the weekend) in tension and anticipation. It’s not like she had cried herself to sleep knowing that tomorrow she’d have to wake up and pretend her heart did not beat for a man who had carelessly dropped it years ago.

“W-wait!” running after her he jogged up to her until he was walking beside her, glancing down to note how she was not even trying to look up at him with her usual smile- shit. He really messed up, he didn’t know she was so determined for Seonghwa- this thought just added more salt to the nasty green that brewed within him, the ugly, vomit-like green that had him ranting to San all night, chugging down one too many beers, enough for him to wake up with a horrible hangover that even San’s hangover juice couldn’t fix- what did that f*cker know anyway, he didn’t drink and the girl he had been pinning over had been secretly pinning over him- not that he’d help San figure out, he had his own issues, honestly liking your academic rival isn’t the smartest thing anyway.

“Well, see you later.”

With that she walked into the building, only to have him follow her, she turned to look at him as he looked down at her with a sheepish smile, a nervous chuckle breaking the silence when she raised a brow, only to die down when she turned back around and started climbing up the stairs again, only for him to follow hot on her trail. Once again stopping right behind her when she stopped to open the door-incorrect, he had bumped into her, only for her to turn around and glare at him for a good minute, only turning when he gently gripped her shoulders and turned her around to the door, mumbling, “We still have one lesson left- I’ll combine two in one, special deal for my special girl.”

Cringing at the words, that stung her heart harder than imaginable, opening the door for and entering, not really waiting for him to enter or not, as she kicked off her shoes and flopped face first on the bed.

For a moment she could hear only the clattering of pots and pans, and the sound of a microwave and then the usual, gentle, unforgettable humming began to float in the air, dancing around her being, at this point, she didn’t even know what he was singing but that it was smoothening enough to lull her to sleep.

She didn’t know how long she was asleep, but she woke up when he gently shook her, whispering nonsense in her ear- oh wait no he’s talking about food. Soon enough she was sitting on the floor, sitting in front of her was the idiot, platting for her and himself, yapping about how he spent the entire afternoon sleeping and all she did was sleep, but that’s okay because she needed the rest, the list continued; Yangnyeom Chicken, Tteok-bokki and even ordered something sweet just for her-

“Why are you being so nice?”

Her words caused him to stop, as he looked at her, eyes narrowing at her for a split second before he took a deep breath, thinking about his words then speaking, “For ghosting you last night-”

“No, that’s not what I asked, and you know it- first you said no to even helping me, then you suddenly decided to help, you made me dress differently than I do, you didn’t even let me correct the waitress when she called you my boyfriend and- and then you just let her!” she didn't know when she started yelling, but when she stopped to take a deep breath, her eyes caught the whirlpool of emotions, she probably should’ve stopped, but she didn’t, years of it boiling and bubbling within her- she felt exploited, she felt cheated and misguided- hell she was even mad at herself, she was his best friend but was that enough of a reason for her to keep hurting? Perhaps she was hurting, but she wanted him to hurt too, even if that meant she would never see him again, “Then you ghost me like I don’t even exist! What is your problem!? Don’t you see what you’re doing to me? How can you do this!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

The next couple of seconds were probably the worst he had ever spent in silence, his chest burning with every breath he heaved in, staring at her, the grip on his glass tightening, feeling the world around them constrict, squeezing in around them- or so he thought, he had yet to face the worst and when that moment arrived, it felt like he was slapped in the face, enough to have it stinging for days, especially when the words settled around them, the two words that she had, oh so casually, thrown at him like it didn’t matter at all like he didn’t matter at all like they never mattered at all. Instantly his brain had switched off, tuning out anything and everything that he could sense, wanting the earth to swallow him whole, wanting nothing more but to take a cold shower, to possibly feel something again, to possibly let out all he was feeling, to possibly forget her- forget them.

“Nah, bro.”

.

Did she f*ck up? Yes. Was she aware she f*cked up? Again, yes. She had realised what she had done as soon as the words had slipped past her lips- mind you, in her many years of being friends with this moron she had picked up a few bad habits from him, like staying up late at night, reading the end of a book first (just in case it had a sad end so she could throw it away) and perhaps losing the ability to think before she spoke- this one was a new trait she had acquired, one she had discovered just last night, as soon as he had slammed the door in her face, running away, ignoring her as she yelled out his name, waking up almost every other girl in the building. And no, he chose not to answer her calls or her texts- hell she even woke up poor San, who wasn’t at the dorm, weird, where exactly was he sleeping on a Thursday night if not at the dorm, she should ask Wooyo- oh wait, she can't! Because she F*CKED UP AND HE WAS IGNORING HER! Like hell!? She didn’t even mean the ‘Nah, bro.’ as an insult or a rejection, but for some reason after he dropped the ‘L’ bomb on her, that was all her brain could process at that given moment, perhaps because she was so stunned by the fact that he didn’t just like her back, he loved her! And she loved him. So, the nah bro was more like an ‘oh damn’, or an ‘oh god’ or an ‘oh wow’- okay, none of those seem like good responses when someone confesses to you, but see! That’s the point, it was so spontaneous- maybe she should’ve just kissed him- nah, she wouldn’t trespass his physical being like that- maybe she should’ve patted his shoulder? - wait, what if he hated her now? Realised it was a mistake and he was glad she messed up so he’d never have to see her again- oh no.

Slamming her hands on his door she let out a shaky breath, the intensity of her knocks increasing, this was not how she had expected her Sunday morning to go, breaking into the boy's dorms at university, slamming her fists so loud that the whole block may as well be awake. Was she risking expulsion, probably, but was he worth it- oh for sure.

"WOOYOUNG!"

"WHAT!"

The door slammed open, revealing a dishevelled Wooyoung, in nothing but his underwear, eyes widening at the realisation that it was in fact not Yunho who was bothering him in his early hours of brooding, but the source of his heartbreak had come to him. Now, mind you, the man lived with other men and never in his life did he imagine the girl he had been simping for, his own best friend, would come up to him in his domain like this, the same girl he had confessed to the night before, laid his heart bear and open for her to trample over like a wench- "Is that my hoodie?"

She stared at him, no, she shamelessly ogled at the boy-man- she had spent bullying and playing around with in her younger days. In front of her was not her annoying, stupid, dumb, irritating best friend but a who the fk, what the fk, why the fk- her chain of thought broke at his question.

"Wh-what?" breathing out, still trying to catch her breath from the extensive running she had done up the flight of stairs- curse him for living in a building with no elevator- that and the sight before her had her all hot and bothered even more. Note to self, this was- no wonder he was the king of the playground, she’d be his queen any day- well he did want her to be one until she managed to ‘wooyoung’ herself.

"Why-" shaking his head, he rubbed his face before crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame, did she look all adorable, flushed pink, hair a mess and in his hoodie? Yes, was he still mad at her, definitely- so he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of getting a quick reaction this time. He had spent all night crying, all night wondering and thinking of all the possibilities and incidences that could have her give this kind of response, this king of rejection, for her to just…just say something like that. He tried calling San but that useless butt was sleeping at someone’s (of course it was that girl from Philosophy 101- he’d seen them giggling like teens way back in the library- see, even he had someone, public or not- so no, he was not going to give her the satisfaction of him giving into her so easily, “What do you want?"

"I- you- I mean- oh my god- we like- f*cked." the words jumbled up, tumbling out of her mouth before her brain could from the sentence, "I f*cked up, my god, I do like you."

He knew what she meant, but he wouldn't be Wooyoung if he said so, hence the crooked smile that adorned his slightly puffy face, eyes heavy and droopy with sleep, "Unfortunately we haven't, but we could if you'd like”.

She stared at him for a good second, trying to process his response before raising her hand and slapping him across the face, enough for it to echo across the corridor and him to let out a mixture of a whimper and growl, hand on his burning cheek as he glared at her through bleary eyes, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“ME? YOU CAN’T YELL I LOVE YOU AND THEN RUN AWAY-”

“YOU REJECTED ME! YOU CALLED ME BRO?!”

“IT WAS JUST AN EXPRESSION- I WAS SHOCKED OKAY! I DIDN’T THINK YOU LIKED ME BACK I-”

“I DON’T LIKE YOU BACK! I LOVE YOU!”

“And I’d love to report you two, but considering how I know she’s usually triggered by your stupidity, I’ll let you off with a warning.” The two turned around (well she did, he just frowned and scoffed before mumbling something and going inside the apartment), quickly bowing and apologising she stood up straight, face flushed with embarrassment, only to receive a gentle smile.

“Didn’t know you two were so dense, most of us thought you two were already dating…. anyway, please take this inside, we can’t have others know there's a girl here, as the Prefect I’ll keep it a secret since you’re my junior.” He winked before walking away- Park Seonghwa was so cool- OH WAIT WOOYOUNG.

Closing the door behind her she ran to his room only to find him putting on a shirt- dang- before he sat down on the bed and stared at her, raising an eyebrow at her pout, especially when she walked over to him and whined, flopping onto him- falling onto him- only to hiss when their heads collided as he threw her off her (next to him on the bed), whining “Are you stupid?”

“Yeah…” she whimpered, rubbing her forehead as she lay on her side, looking at his side profile, admiring his side profile, could she do this openly, since they were now a couple- or at least were going to become one? “Stupid for you.”

Turning his head to her, grimacing at the choice of her words, well, he needed to get used to the poor pick-up lines, not that he would mind of course- “I love you too.”

Her words brought him back to them, sighing when he felt her press her hand against his pink cheek, feeling her thumb caress the stinging skin, scooting closer to her as he carelessly draped an arm around her waist pulling her even closer- he wanted more, the proximity between them to completely finish, but he couldn’t push her, he could never- he knew she took things slow and he’d let her no matter how long he had to wait- his eyes widened at the sudden pressure he felt on his lips, though it was gone as soon as it came, causing him to whine, looking back at her as she covered her face with her hands, mumbling an, “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Same, sis.”

“Hey!” sitting up she glared down at him only for him to shrug, “Now you know how it felt.” He smirked all smug before moving further up the bed until his back was pressed against the padded headboard, opening his arms wide for her, a gesture the two understood all too well, a small smile gracing his lips when she instantly snuggled up in his arms, melting into his embrace when he kissed the top of her head, only for him to giggle when she returned the gesture by pressing her lips against his pulse point, feeling her warm breath against him as he sighed, “So…no more Seonghwa?”

“Only needed him to move on from you.”

“Damn…”  he sighed, squeezing her closer, not that she minded, she was finally getting the attention she deserved, the love she deserved, the love they deserved. It was a moment of purity, a moment of joy, a moment of sincerity that nothing and no one could ruin- “I was my own c*ckblock.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

A/N: Well that was a long wait- not like I have a project due on Monday but damn- I'm glad I finally finished this- I really hope it is worth the read.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky @slaayysis

[the-midnight-blooms]

VIOLET CRAZY | jyh

pairing: psycho!jeong yunho x wife!reader AU: yandere au, modern au word count: 14.5k warnings: yandere themes, violence, sexual assault, strong language mentions of: alcohol, substance abuse, paranoid schizophrenia, abuse, neglect. (mc and side characters are referred to by their surname, not forename, apologies for any grammar errors)

masterlist

There must have been a divine current in the air that subdued her to fall in love with Jeong Yunho. An ethereal essence that led her to sway into the forsaken lands, a push that had lured her into the forbidden depths of his insanity. For he was a deceitful soul, born with an angel's face wrought with the heart of a devil. It should have not surprised her, when had men ever been purely good beings?

Despite his obviously charismatic demeanour, affirmed by the long bridge of his nose, the smooth curve of his plump cheeks, his pink lips and wide-brown eyes feigning curiosity and innocence. Or his evidently tall stature, and pleasant airs, attractive smile: he was very much a deceitful man. So much so that when Jue first glanced her eyes in his direction; as his wife she found herself reminiscing ignorance and dismissal. If only she had not given into his toxic wiles. If only she had not succumbed to him.

He's a thing of beauty, a being crafted from the essence of light; an angel drawn from the depths of heaven. It was enough to get drunk on his illustrious beauty, falling in love was a sin. What ghastly misdeed had she committed that she had been conserved to such punishment? What crime of her past life was she now paying penance for? It must have been something bleeding with horror that Jeong Yunho had chosen her to be his dutiful subject.

They stand outside the library, the cool wind tousling his soft hair as he pushes the thin-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Her arms wrap around herself to keep herself warm, her jacket is too thin and worn to do the job anymore. Myeong stands with her, his classmate from law school, whilst he's standing with San and Yeosang. Yunho is supposed to be arguing with Yeosang about how Psychology is a science, he's almost tempted to give up with his eyes tightly fixed on her.

"Jue would agree with me." Yeosang pompously declares, huffing as he shoves his stethoscope into his bag. Typical STEM student narcissism, though he stares at his best friend in confusion. He's heard that name before but can't help but think where he's heard it. "The girl you've been staring at like a weirdo for the past five minutes, did you think we didn't notice?" San and Yeosang snicker at him, shaking their heads as they call for Myeong. Myeong sends San a look of disgust as she ambles over with her friend he's only caught a few times in passing. He thinks she's gorgeous but Yunho's too bashful to pluck up the courage to talk to her.

Her heart flutters at the sight of him clad in a formal blue shirt and tailored black trousers that completely juxtaposed San’s casual wear. Though right now, Jue is not sure if she is supposed to hate him as Myeong hates San to the core right now. It's something like he's her academic rival and for the past semester San has been scoring higher than her.

“Fuck you, and fuck your 89%.” Myeong scolded, she's not even sure why she bothers with him anymore. It's Yeosang, the middle-man, who's practically stuck, choosing between the two of his friends.

“Myeong, it’s one percent, goddam it. It’s not the end of the world.” But nobody could understand how succeeding was exhausting. Pouring herself over textbooks and questions on late nights, eating less so there would be more time to study, spending hours in the library and feeling terrible for time not spent revising. In all fairness, it was the end of the world for Myeong. Baring her teeth, the law student is dragged away by San, conversing in a heated argument. Yeosang disappears in less than a minute too, claiming he's late to Clinical Skills, but not before quickly embracing her. In the end it was just herself and Yunho who, tentatively, follows after as she sits under the large oak tree.

"Hi, I-uh." Yunho stuttered over his words as her doe eyes stared up at him. "Can I sit next to you?" He asked hopefully, heart palpitating violently in his chest. After nodding her head, dubiously, he slumped to the ground next to her as if there wasn't enough grass, or enough benches stretching out for miles awaiting for his graceful figure to bless the earth beneath his feet. It was silent between them as they intently stared at their respective friends fighting.

“I feel like I’m watching a K-Drama." She stated, breaking through the abrupt air as they both pulled out their lunches from their bags. Flickering her eyes towards him, she sought a delightful grin form across his beautiful features.

“Sponsored by Subway.” He joked presenting his subway sandwich as if it was a trophy. Giggling, she shook her head huffing as Myeong looked at San disinterestedly. "It's honestly so stupid, both of them. They both think they're better than everyone else." Humming in agreement, Jue subtly directed her gaze to him again tired of the occasional chirping of crickets rattled in her ears.

"Would you agree Psychology is a science?" Her head snaps towards his, mirroring the leaning in of his own head. A smirk falls on her lips, she loves this question.

"No." He's stunned, scowling as he realised it's two against one and San refuses to give his opinion on the topic; he left science a long time ago. "Science is a study of the natural world. Psychology is composed of biology but is not raw science it itself." He ponders her argument for a second. Her look reads one of a victory, happily munching away at her sandwich, as Yunho is rendered completely silent. Though he can't tell if he has just given up with arguing altogether, there was a figment within him that told him to bow to her every word, follow her every lead as if she was the beacon of light guiding his way through the darkest of tunnels.

There was also something so celestial about Jue that stemmed deeper than her quick wit. It roots were deeper than her undeniable beauty, there was a fragment of her which magnetised Yunho’s frenzied soul. Every remnant of him desired her in a way he had never desired for anything before. Faithfully, he believed she was born to be plastered by his side so as he sunk to his knees in Mass he prayed for his omnipotent God for her and her alone. She admired him too, though she didn't fail to notice how the smile on his face would falter when she laughed with San or playfully ballroom danced with Yeosang.

Jealousy, perhaps. Maybe he likes me.

After all, a little delusion didn't hurt anyone.

In the dull autumn evening, the streetlights began to flicker as the days became shorter. The laughter of children could be heard down the street as they escaped from the shackles of hell (school), dashing towards their homes. Studying in the autumn and winter months was particularly exhausting. With the sky losing its colour too quickly, no one wanted nothing more than to crawl home to their beds and slip under the covers. A false irritability roamed through her, as Yunho dragged her to the derelict convenience store off-campus as a big man like him needed as much food as he could get his hands on. There's an assignment due in two days, an exam in about two weeks with so much content and dealing with a demanding six-year-old and fifty-something-year-old is difficult.

Yunho also wants to know why all the kids at the local infant school think that she’s the mother of their favourite classmate.

"Oh, probably because it's just me, my younger brother and my dad. Mum left a while back, she has two boys now. I think?" She explained to him, as he couldn’t help but let his inquisition get the best of him.

"Why did she leave?" He asked softly, staring down at her under the dim lights of the convenience store. The delicate hum permeated into the solemn air, replaced by a sense of dismissal; Jue shaking her shoulders with disinterest.

"I don't know, she just didn't like us. I still see her around, Mum lives close to the university, actually." He wanted to follow her to ends of the earth as she aimlessly traipsed along the length of the aisle. "I still talk to her, help her around the house, steal her concealer." A sad smile painted across his features, the urge to just enamour her in his arms. God knew she deserved to be held in such a sincere way, that for the first time in her life she wanted to be held in a way that didn't feel like her skin was on fire.

“You’re really pretty.” Yunho blurted out.

Oh.

A faint blush tickled her cheeks as his ears heated red with embarrassment, the sudden proclamation instigating her to suppress a fit of laughter.

“Ok Yunho, what do you want? Help with statistics?” Her fingers danced across the aisle of packaged goods, each too expensive for her to buy. In a desperate attempt to avoid his stern gaze, she searched for the cheapest price tag.

“I’m being serious, you are very pretty.”

“I’m not Myeong pretty.”

“No you’re not.” She had no reason to be offended at that, it was a cold, hard fact that she had just accepted growing up. Myeong had always been the one boys wanted to talk to, be friends with, take out on dates and invite to parties. Jue had just been her quiet shadow that one would occasionally acknowledge. 'Oh, you're here too' as her friend tries to instigate them to include her. “You’re prettier. Smarter, yes she works hard but you work harder and at times I feel like it’s selfish that she overlooks that. You care a lot, maybe even too much, about other people more than yourself. So, you don’t have the right to stand there and say that you’re beneath her when you’re not. You’re on another plane that even she can’t reach.” His words had stunned her to the core, a quietude fell amongst them as his literature sunk into her skin her gaze tore away from the price tags to him. Her eyes brimmed with a sense of validation and adoration. Yunho stood firmly opposite her, his words were like a sworn oath he would take with him to the grave.

“Thank you. Nobody has ever said that to me before.” Her gratitude was sincere, bestowed from the depths of her heart and laid at his feet as if he was an emperor of ambitious lands and she was his follower.

“Well then they must have been blind. Because heaven knows how gorgeous you are.” With a breath lodged in her throat, she held tightly onto the shelves to stop herself from falling straight into his arms. To stop herself from pressing her lips tightly against his, to stop herself from devoting her life to him.

A weak soul she was, for she did it anyway. His touch softened the symphony of yearning trembling through her bones. The yearning that stemmed from years of neglect, all of the pent up love but nowhere to project it. Her knight, her lover, had arrived from distant lands to soothe the persisting ache of her vulnerable soul. When he went down on his knees, it took her less than a second to say 'yes', for she had already granted him every fibre of her being and became his dutiful supplicant upon a single sight of him.

Mr Jeong, a respectable criminal defence lawyer spent a majority of his time either in the office, or in the court of law, came home always around half five in the evening. Whereas his wife, Mrs Jeong (née Jue), worked as an engineer designing and processing equipment for manufacturing chemical products. She'd arrive an hour earlier on his command. The couple were a diligent pair, preceding their reputations as the best workers in their industries. After a long day of living up to their employer's expectations, Mrs Jeong came home to dreary night of living up to her husband's expectations.

Mrs Jeong couldn’t believe it took her to marry Yunho to realise how suffocating he really was. It took her too long to realise, his innocent face was a mask; beneath it lay a vicious, malformed creature who was self-conceited, rude and dissatisfied with those around him. Though it was particularly hard to prove, especially to herself at times. There came a period of love woven in between his callousness in such a subtle way that had her believing she was deserving of his aloof behaviour. Nights where he'd kiss away her tears, hold her hand and make promises to never lash out at her again. Now, three years into their marriage the fine line between his anger and love became so blurred that each pernicious trait went overlooked. There was also the notion of children suspended in the air, that she had tried her hardest to avoid, which her husband was constantly earnest to bring into a conversation.

They both slumped onto the sofa, the whirring of the television emptied into the room as he ran his slender fingers through her. Soft sighs and sweet hums permeated the restraint of their married home, despite its air of suffocation there was a paradoxical sense of amenity in the idea that they were there for each other.

“What do you think about a few children?” Yunho inquired, staring intently as she gradually shifts the position of her body to face him. Holding back a weary sigh, her fingers trace over the bridge of his nose, the smooth curvature of the soft cheeks and his sharp jawline.

“Define ‘few’.” She teased; he pursed his lips, in thought, as if he had never spent an endless number of nights thinking about it.

“Like two, three? Hell, we’re stable enough to have as many as we want. It’s up to you of course, you’ll be carrying them for nine months at a time.” His fingers drew to her stomach, gliding up and down the surface of the silk fabric, like there was a child settled in there waiting to meet its father.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for children yet.”

“What are you so afraid of?” Resting her forehead on his shoulder, his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her deeper into him; his larger frame enveloping her.

“I don’t know—what if I’m not a good mother? I was barely raised by my parents, and I didn’t do a good job of taking care of my brother, either.” Her reason was valid, yet Yunho’s persistence had made her feel that she wasn’t mature enough to understand his wants. It was ruthless, in its own sense, for she understood him in profound ways that even she couldn’t understand herself.

“That wasn’t your choice. This is your choice.” He was wrong. This wasn’t exactly her choice either, if it was up to her, they would wait a little while longer—even if it was just a day to herself to truly think about their future together. Mrs Jeong hummed to fill the empty space, her thoughts flooding with memories of her brother and their childhood. Sure she fed him, clothed him, took him to school, helped him with his homework but at the end of the day, he still did not become the man she hoped he would be. It was if that was a testament to how poor of a mother she would be. “Do you know how much it hurts, seeing everyone live the life I’ve always wanted, while I’m questioning if my wife still has feelings for me?”

“Is this not the life you wanted, with me? There’s more to life than being fucking parents.” Reaching for the cushion beside her, she threw it against his head. “You’re not even mentally stable enough to treat me like a human being, god knows what a child means to you.” Wrangling away from his grip, his wife stalked out of the room, the slam of the bedroom door reverberating off the narrow hallways of their home.

The afternoon light had dimmed, significantly, the sun dropping into the sky to be replaced by the moon. Her eyes had wavered, opening and shutting, occasionally, as an obscure sense of guilt tugged at her. Perhaps she should have not been so crude, there were many more sincere ways to reason with Yunho however- at times- he seemed heedless to her concerns. It was always what Jeong Yunho wanted and never his wife. She couldn't really put her finger on how, or why he changed, it just happened so drastically. The door creaked open, her wide eyes fixing shut as he sauntered in the room. With the bed dipping beside her, he lifted up the covers to shuffle by her side; pink lips moving closer to her ears.

He knew she wasn't asleep.

“Don’t hit me again, even if it’s with pillow.”

“It’s not like it hurt you.” She grumbled, dragging the comforter over her shoulders, a surge of warmth glissaded over her body. A discontented sigh escaped from his lips, snaking his arms around her waist he nestled closely against her, the heat from his body radiating onto her. On instinct, her entire figure shifted to embrace him closely within her arms.

“Oh, are we friends now?” He teased, gently lifting her chin so she could bore her eyes into his.

“You’re my personal radiator. Nothing else." He grinned, as her fingers nimbly ran through his hair.

“I love you so much, darling. I just wish you tried to understand me.” Humming into his chest, her eyes fluttered to a close falling deep into a peaceful slumber within her lover’s arms.

Once again, she’s met by the voicemail machine, huffing to herself as the crisp autumn air comes to grace her again. Standing outside her office building Mrs Jeong waits for her husband to pick her up; phone in hand trying desperately to reach out to Yeosang, their psychiatrist friend. He had become a lot more reserved upon beginning his new job as a doctor after completing five difficult years at medical school. Such was expected, they knew his hours would be long and exhausting though with psychiatry being his chosen speciality, they expected him to slightly return back to his sociable ways. Mrs Jeong hadn’t spoken to Yeosang in about three months and she was worried now.

After seven 'o'clock in the evening, she's settling their ironed clothes in the wardrobe, her husband in the living room on the gaming console. Momentarily, his grunts of agitation and loud groaning annoys her but Mrs Jeong is so used to his borderline childish behaviour that she dismisses the actions over her shoulder and persists with the house chores. The buzzing of her phone, immediately, tears her away from her duties in a hope that her childhood friend has returned to her call.

"Jue?" His voice is so timid and wrought with fear, her heart lurches in her chest. Rattling with anxiety, she settles the phone putting it on speaker.

"Yeo, what's wrong?" It's all so sudden. The way he erupts into a fit of sobs which empties out into the derelict bedroom, a sound she thought she would ever hear in her life. "Yeo, talk to me dear." She urges, her soft tone gently easing him out of his melancholia.

“I love you, Jue. I love you so much, I don't know how to stop." The beating of her heart had ceased, any moment now she'll be taking the Angel of Death's hand, joining her brother in a land far away from this world. "I spent so many years wishing that you wanted me too, but I’m no one in comparison to Yunho. He’s taller, more handsome than I-,” His words all bled together, body rattling as his wailing fails to stop. Yeosang sits in his bedroom, curtains draw and the lights off ready to sink into another world.

“Yeo, you are perfect in your own way. You're funny, clever. I have nothing but adoration for you." Her reassurances are menial, sycophantic, her friend thinks.

“I am a fool. A broken, drunken fool to think you’d want me.” She can't even get a word in before he continues to ramble, he just wants to speak. She just needs to listen. “Of course, there’s this girl at work that really likes me. But she’s exactly like you, I talk to her and all I can hear is the sound of your voice. She looks like you, thinks like you. Perhaps it’s the version of you that would have been mine if you’d never met Yunho.” Her eyes well up with tears, realising why Yeosang had become so withdrawn from everyone. A small piece of her imagination flickers to what her life would have been like if she never met Yunho or even married him. It's still a pretty dream but one she finds hard to fully forge and it breaks him. Her body shifts around finding Yunho paralysed by the doorway, full tears pool in his eyes.

"One last time, I love you Jue. I always have and maybe I always will until my last breath." Large tears slip down Yunho's cheek, his palm slaps to his mouth holding back the grieving dissonance of pitiful sobs. The line cuts, her phone is discarded somewhere as she reaches out for her husband but he ignores her grasp moving towards his bed. At the foot of the bed, his body racks in agony as he bawls his heart out to the moon.

“So this is why you don’t want children. You really don’t love me anymore, you’re going to leave me for Yeosang.” Crawling on the bed to him, her arms wrap around his neck rocking him back and forth.

“No, Yunho. You misheard, he said he loved me, but I didn’t say I loved him. My heart only belongs for you, dummy.” His wails are distressing, prolonging over a vast period of time, her heart waves in anticipation that he’ll never see her the same again. “There’s no me without Jeong Yunho, baby. Come on, stop crying.” His cries falter for a few seconds, collecting himself whilst he nuzzles deeper into her hold.

“You still don’t want my children though, do you?” He peers up at her through his long, wet lashes, cooing at his pouty face. Her lips travel down his face to ease him of his pain, before her arms circulate around his neck.

“Of course I do, I just want there to be you and I for now.” Tugging him under the covers with her, his hands mildly roam over the surface of her skin, lips a tease as he pecks so slightly. Their mouths move in sync, the sanctified synchronisation proves their understanding of each other. He knows her in such a way, he plans a response to her next movement as he pushes his body so he is hovering over her. His lips plaster chaste kisses down her neck, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt; her soft moan consumes him. With a growl, he snakes his hand under her shirt as a ripple of goosebumps litter her skin. His wife is oblivious to his next move, he’s done this before and retracted later. It’s only when he’s moving closer to her cleavage, a breath hitches in her throat at his unfaithfulness.

“Yunho.” She squirmed under his touch, feeling trapped under his body. “I don’t want to.” She breathed out, the cold circulating over her as the hem of her shirt hitched up.

“Please. For me.” He presses his lips to hers once again. As if that was any consolation for his indecency, any justification for him throwing his body over hers leaving her captured under the emblem of his own desire.

The stars scape across the night in the landscape of the dead, a fragile soul awakens in the aftermath of his despotism. Her heart lurches out of her chest, feeling the aches of his vulgarity inflicted upon her.

It must all be a sick joke.

It’s a joke, the way the moonlight streams in through their velvet curtains forging a halo around his slender body.

Reeling away from him, she slipped out from under the covers, picking up remnants of her modesty from the ground beneath her. A demeaning silence fulfilled the sombre atmosphere as she trudged to the bathroom, the light shattering the fabric of her dignity.

Hot water spurted from the shower head, as she weakly slathered the soap over her body before grabbing the loofah from the stand. Violently, she rubbed the sponge over her skin, scrubbing hastily in all the places where his touch had lingered upon hers. Scrubbing in all the places where she had felt like a clay pot indented by fingerprints before it could be hardened; moulded by his barbarity. But no matter how much she cleaned her skin, even until it littered red and flakes began to peel off her arms, even when it lacerated—blood boiling as she itched and plucked her neck; it wouldn’t remove feeling of his tender touches burning her. The water could dissolve the soap off her body, the sponge could be rinsed clean, the room could be scrubbed, windows opened, but the memory could not be eradicated. The memory of her begging him to stop and under his reticent command she was rendered subservient. His toy to play with, his doll to admire. Sinking to her knees, her hand slapped against the cool marble; figure convulsing as pained teardrops slid down her cheeks.

A woman’s body belonged to her own, it was to be forged from the roots of her femininity, whether it was to express her sexuality freely or maintain a figure of modesty. It was a not a man’s to hold or to control. Here, he had torn it ruthlessly from her grip, claiming that it was his, all his, as if when she had been bound to him in matrimony it was her body she was giving to him and not herself. Those vows. Those wretched vows he’d spoken at the altar, they were just bewitched lies glossed over by his insatiable beauty.

‘But you belong to your husband, he is entitled to each and every part of you.’ The old wives would say. Yet, a woman’s words are weak, a single plea, a cry, a laughter can so quickly be obscured by his own.

Just this once, hear me, my love.

I just wanted you to hear me say: No.

Mr and Mrs Choi were accounted as distinguished lawyers in the court of law. Whilst Mr Choi worked as a criminal defence lawyer, alongside his closest friend, Mrs Choi laboured in prosecution much to the surprise of her peers who had concluded that she'd been chasing and competing with San in his own field. Again, Yunho had been the one to prove to be much more reputable and the best dignitary in law. When they weren't advocates for justice, they came home to their beautiful daughter Choi Soo-Ah, who inherited her mother's beauty and her father's intellect.

Mr and Mrs Jeong stand outside the terraced home, constructed from red-bricks. They surpass up the staircase, the bow windows outcast over the front lawn, showing San play gently with his daughter alongside his old plushie, Shiber. Her hands raise to provoke the door knocker, where her husband leans closer to her ear.

“Just think baby, that will be us soon.” Placing a chaste kiss on the top of her head, they patiently awaited for the door to swing open. She had thrown herself into Myeong’s hold, the childhood friends squeaking and giggling like little school girls upon their reunion. Until Choi Soo-Ah comes to join them, jumping up and down herself as if she is too an old childhood friend. The old wives do say that you are carrying your child and your child is carrying hers even before they are conceived. In a comical way, little Soo-Ah has been with them for so long.

“Ach, Yunho, what’s this?” Yunho is carrying a heavy chicken dish in his hands and there’s dessert in the car that he’s careful about passing over to San who silently thanks him for saving their dinner party. Myeong’s cooking skills are pitiful, to say the least.

When they finally sat down to eat, Mrs Jeong draws herself out of conversation, reserving her attention solely to her food. For the first time in her life, she wants to scream. She wants to break down into a fit of sobs, howling until the midnight escapes from the sky, convulsing until her body begins to deteriorate and all that’s left is her husband burying her six feet under. She can’t tolerate the way his touch pierces her skin, her clothes feel too tight on her back, hair sticks to the back of her neck as beads of sweat form. Those wretched memories and lies she told him are creeping back. Walls shimmer, the shape of the spoon has somehow distorted, the food all bleeds together to form some sort of mush.

“My, you’re quiet today, brainbox.” A sheepish smile rests on her lips, at San’s comment, her eyes almost flutter close in the midst of her burdening exhaustion.

“Parenthood seems to have taken a bigger toll on you than your wife, San.” She goads, leaning back in her seat. Yunho’s hands draw closer to her own. Her eyes flicker, but they are dams holding back a flood of emotions that are threatening to fall. San laughs, it’s so natural that she envies him for it. She hates how in love he is with Myeong and would never force her to anything she doesn’t want to.

“Soo-Ah is a daddy’s girl.” His fingers raise to tickle his daughter’s cheek who giggles, revealing a dimple on her left cheek. Yunho has dimples too but they’re only really prominent when stress overtakes him and he loses too much weight.

"Has anyone spoken to Yeo? It's honestly almost like he's dead." Myeong jokes, a breath is lodged in her throat calculating what the next best word to say is. But her mind is spiralling out of control, because it was that tragic day when Yunho depravedly ripped her apart.

"I spoke to him the other day, he's doing ok. I've been meaning to get back to him but I haven't had the time." In truth, she's been calling Yeosang at least four to five times a day, spamming him with messages. Sometimes she even pounds on his front door when she knows he will be at home. Heaven knows, a flicker of a shadow has crawled across the floor, receiving her presence but he ignores her like she did to his feelings. They sit there, knowing its incomplete without all five of them.

Stood by the Choi family household's doorway, Yunho slips on his shoes his wife loitering behind him.

"Are you sure you want to stay here for so long? I'll miss you." His pout no longer makes her heart throb with reverence. The sight of him repulses her, the tsunami is rising high above the waves, there is no longer a fragment of her that would breathe at his will. “I love you.” His declaration reverberated of the walls in the foyer, the beating of her heart paused momentarily. It felt too quiet, as San’s dimpled smile behind them, Soo-Ah’s wide eyes and Yunho’s longing gaze rested heavy on her figure. As if they were all awaiting for her to say the words back to him. Her face heated with the pressure, which one would have mistaken for a love-sick blush.

“I love you too.” Love. A word that didn’t hold any meaning anymore, what even was it? She once thought she knew what love meant, after all, love was Jeong Yunho. Love was waking up beside him every morning to his groggy voice and a fit of kisses. Love was dancing to songs in the kitchen, chasing him through the park but failing because of his long legs. Love was discussing remnants of the future together, not forcing it to happen within a single beat. Love was him. Was. Past tense, something long gone to the wind and would never return.

"I don't know if something has happened to you, but it's almost as if you've completely shut down." They sit on Myeong's bed as both her husband and daughter have skipped down to the park. Her eyes outcast from the window, the bare branches of the trees sway with the billow of the window, the leaves drift across the pavement as a few pedestrians stalk down the street in their work attire. The Choi's neighbourhood is so full of sophistication, its enough to make her domestic village seem inferior. Her head turns to meet her friend's concerned eyes, prevailing as if she is so eager to make her way through the labyrinth of struggle Mrs Jeong has been plunged through. "Did Yunho say, or do, something to you?"

Tears well up at the front of her eyes, the pace of her breathing quickens, everything has blurred so suddenly. A malicious monster has plunged his hands to her lungs, suffocating her airways so much that she cannot breathe and is denied the pleasures of living. His slender fingers lodge in the lumen of her airpipe, mouth locked in place all that escapes her are muffled cries. Chains ensnare around her legs too, tightened she cannot even as so much move her leg a single inch. A voice is attenuated at her ear drums, the tumultuous tides have rushed into the shore, sweeping her body into the vast expanse of the cerulean sea. Her anguished roar saturates the room, much like the water filling into her lungs.

"He-he-" Her voice stammers so pathetically, her arms wrap around herself because a touch of another will just kill her. "He hurt me. I said no but he wouldn't stop, he just kept on going. I said, please but he wouldn't stop." Her head falls onto the pillow and she just gives up allowing Myeong, and Myeong alone, to embrace her. The cry is no longer so silent, no longer expressed in the loneliness of her married home when he is not there to hear her. It is spoke in a house where the notions of absolutism do not exist. It speaks to Myeong's soul, watching her cry is a nightmare for she had never seen any other emotion other than happiness on her face.

"I can't go back. Please don't make me go back to him." She wails, gripping onto her forearms as if any moment now, he would tear through the walls and yield her back into prison.

Slumped on the leather sofa of Myeong's office in her home, as the lawyer ardently works through reads of paperwork and emails. Little Soo-Ah’s body is draped over her own, her small chest rises up and down, soft snores escaping her. On maternal instinct, her arms wrap around, holding her closer. There’s a poignancy in the idea that this is what she could have had, had he not forced it upon her.

"We have TRO-temporary restraining order for up to two weeks until a full trial is scheduled. The judge needs more information. You are aware that Yunho can make an appeal to get his restraining order revoked, right?" Chewing down on her lip, she nods, knowing that things will only get much worse from here.

The Magistrate’s court is where all court cases begin, even sexual assault cases. It’s when the suspect pleads “not guilty” that things get messy, and it’s established as “indictable only” that cases are handed over to the Crown Prosecution Services. Jue is even surprised that it’s taken a few weeks to reach the trial; normally cases like hers take months upon months. Yet what hurts the most is that for the second time she reads out aloud her statement and it’s almost like she’s begging to the judge for mercy. As if they are the ones who can cure of her this ailment.

The court room is cold, is really all she can think about as she avoids her husbands deceived gaze across the room. Jue knows that if she looks into his eyes, even once, she might feel pried to take back all that she has set against him. She doesn’t live with him anymore, she moved as quick as she could to a women’s hostel—the feeling of living alone terrifies her.

“A work convention? So soon?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, he doesn’t quite believe her but there is nothing from the tone of her voice or body language that suggests she is lying.

“Yes, dear. About a week?” He snakes his arms around her waist, inhaling in her scent.

“You’ll take the pregnancy test, won’t you? God knows how much I want that baby.” Ignoring the pounding of her heart, she nods eagerly, cautiously pressing her lips to his soft cheek. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

There’s a number of officials, including a circuit judge and a jury of twelve members of the public all awaiting for the case to start. The defence lawyer is yet to walk in.

The wooden doors swing open, following a gust of air as a pair of shoes click against the floor. The prosecution follow their eyes across their shoulders, Myeong’s heart stops beating for a second.

Her husband stands there in all his glory, their eyes meet in a quick second before he dips his head sitting next to Yunho. She cannot her believe her eyes, yet the same way she would protect her friend with her life, San would fight Yunho’s case for as long the blood ran through his veins.

The war begins.

Mr and Mrs Choi both prepare succinct, detailed opening speeches for the court. In cases like sexual assault, there needs to be a sufficient amount of evidence for the perpetrator to be punished. In marital rape, it’s a lot more difficult and is categorised under domestic assault. It’s her word against the court, and god was it difficult for Myeong to pull something together.

It seems like this wasn’t the case for San and Yunho, for when he presents his opening speech deeming his client isn’t guilty and his argument begins, he has the physical evidence Myeong was scrounging for.

"The defence argues that Mrs Jeong’s appeal extends from her ongoing paranoid schizophrenia. Here, we have a letter of diagnosis issued on the 12th September, three years ago, by Dr Park Taeo, working for the Light Goeul Medical Foundation." San dropped a folder in front of the judge, a copy handed to Myeong who flips through the folder at a rapid pace.

“The defence would like to call Dr Park Taeo to the stand.” A man of average height with jet black hair ascends to the stand. He is clad in a smart suit, but Jue furrows her brows. She had never seen or met this man before. Granted, at one point Yunho had her meet a counsellor for her 'feelings' (an old woman who retired and had just passed away last year), yet there was no 'Dr Park Taeo' she had ever spoken to. Her lips move closer to Myeong, whispering words of defence.

"I have never met this man before. I don't even know who he is." Taeo is sworn in by the bible, pledging to the tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“Could you inform the court of when you had first met Mrs Jeong, and what exactly had led you to believe she had paranoid schizophrenia?” San interrogates, he musters all the courage he can to avoid his wife’s gaze for he feels her stare burning holes in his back.

“Mrs Jeong came into my office on the 22nd of February, three years ago. She told me her husband had requested her see someone as she was particularly suffering from hallucinations, so seeing things that weren’t there. Hearing things. Delusions, withdrawing herself away from her family and friends. I also recognised a particularly disorganised train of thought, she stumbled over her speech.” Her heart stops in her chest.

22nd February. The same date she first saw her counsellor.

“And these are all symptoms of schizophrenia?” San provokes, to which Taeo nods followed quickly by a verbal confirmation. “Could you tell the court of her delusions?” The doctor sucks in a deep sigh, typically there’s ‘patient-confidentiality’ at play which is inherently discredited in the court of law.

“She perceived people were trying to hurt her. Usually it was people she was working with, sometimes it was her husband.” Jue squeezes her eyes shut.

That fucker.

“Can you elaborate?”

“Mrs Jeong stated, and I remember this so boldly: ‘Sometimes I feel that he doesn’t love me for any other reason other than to use me, or that I am of some value to him. Sometimes I feel he may hurt me, or is the wrong person to protect me from danger.’” A hand slaps to her mouth, her fingers squeezing her lips. Her heart palpitates in her chest, hastened breaths escaping her.

It’s exactly what she said, three years ago, to her therapist.

“What makes you say that?” Mrs Go’s soft voice is a dream, a melody dropped from the banner of a celestial plane. Her attitude eases the incessant pulsation of her heart.

“I wonder when he sees my scars if he loves me. Or when he hears of my past, that I am still the same woman he is in love with.”

“Why would any of that stop him from loving you?” Mrs Go never took notes. That woman had an impeccable memory, she wrote things down after the session, claiming her clients required her undivided attention.

“Men don’t like broken things.”

“Was there anything you believe could have been the cause of her condition?” Her ears have mellowed out San’s voice, she cannot bear it and it’s hard to avoid Yunho’s gaze now. She stares at him, though there’s no longer a betrayed look that settles in his eyes. A glimmer of triumph, a paint of melancholy.

“Yes, particularly her childhood is the main factor. Her father was a raging alcoholic who engaged in substance abuse. Her mother left him for that reason. His erratic behaviour eventually transgressed into acts of physical violence which he inflicted on his daughter and son. I believe Mrs Jeong’s brother—,” Her chair scrapes across the floor, she stumbles her line of sight blurring. There’s a mixture of voices and faces, they all wanting something to do with her. She wants nothing to do with them. Before she knows it, a spread of darkness fulfils her vision.

“I must look like a fool for fainting in court. That screams guilty straight away.” She breaks the silence in Myeong’s office, her body draped across the plush sofa. Her friend simply hums tightening her gaze across the spread of sheets littered upon her desk. Darting her eyes across the room, Myeong looks as deceived as Yunho did. After all, it’s her first time hearing any of this and despite her friend’s pleas that the diagnosis was never true—Myeong doesn’t know what to believe. For the first time since law school, there are dark circles under her eyes as she hasn’t gone home to sleep in a long time. Soo-Ah is with her grandparents and she doesn’t have the strength to face San. “I-my father did beat me.” Jue confesses, but the words splutter from her mouth. Disorganised, as Taeo would state. Passively, she gets up from the sofa, taking off her jacket revealing the t-shirt underneath.

Her arms are scarred, several indentations seem like streaks of white paint over her skin. None have faded, and they’re all relics of her past which seem like trophies of wars she has fought. Myeong has seen similar bruises, scars and wounds on victims of domestic violence; she may have never gone through it herself but seeing it in others is what prompted her to be a lawyer. Knowing that her friend was suffering whilst she was training to be an advocate is like a blow to the heart.

“How did we never notice?”

“Lots and lots of my mother’s concealer. Long shirts and jackets even in the summer…” She trails off feeling herself want to collapse. “I just—never expected him to use it against me. I confided in him, and he creates this lie that’s enough to close this case.”

“It’s absolutely boiling out there and you’re wearing a hoodie?” Yunho scolds as he rifles through their wardrobe, hands running through the hung fabric. They’re all long sleeve shirts, turtlenecks, jumpers and nothing with cropped sleeves. “I’ll have to give you one of mine.” He takes out the white shirt, slipping off the hanger before handing it to her. Her hands reach out, slowly, a fear striking through her heart. What if he sees those scars and doesn’t love her anymore? Muttering her thanks, the hoodie is replaced by the t-shirt. Yunho has noticed straight away, within an instance he’s on his knees whilst she bawls under his inquisition.

“We’re going to fight this, I’ve got evidence to prove he’s a fraud and this whole thing is fake. Second, I’ve called Yeosang in. We’re proving to the court you’re sane.” Jue just hopes there’s no bitter feelings amongst them; not after she completely disregarded his feelings in light of her husband’s.

The shatter of glass against the wall sent a jolt through her; the fragments bounced off the surface splitting into all corners of the living room. The black, leather sofa is pushed forward so she can squeeze her body through the tight spot. If she stays here long enough, he’ll eventually give up and leave. But she’s as wrong as she’ll ever be because when Mr Jue is drunk, he is the most persistent man on earth.

“If you come here now, then I won’t hit you.” Lie. He was stood by the doorway, blocking the exit to her bedroom. His body swayed from side to side, heavily intoxicated; having spent two weeks worth of food on a shit ton of alcohol and drugs in one night. “I can wait all day.” His low voice sending a wave of fear over her. Taking in a deep breath, she darted towards the space between his body and the doorway, wrangling away from the harsh grip of his greasy hands before scrambling up the steps. He pounded up the staircase behind her, hands outstretched for her legs, jerking her down, forearms slamming into the piercing edges. A cry escaped her lips as his elbow pummelled down on her head, his iron fists gripping her hair sending a violent punch through her head, the pain rattling at her core.

“That’s what we’ve got to do to clever bastards like you, go straight for the fucking head.” He snarled, throwing her body against the staircase. Where’s your brother?” He questioned, darting up to the stairs. Plastering her hands over her ears to drown out the sounds of his screams, tears soundlessly poured down her cheeks until the shrieks reverberated mercilessly through her head and she darted up to his bedroom.

“That’s enough, stop!” Her bellow carried over the expanse of the bedroom, her younger brother on the floor cradling his face in his arms.

“My own fucking children are ganging up on me now.” He cackles, mercilessly and she’s on the lookout for the Grim Reaper. But she doesn’t see him and she’s disappointed. The sight of him is better than the sight of her father. “Your mother was a dirty whore! She wanted fucking kids and then left me to deal with them. I didn’t even want you!”

“Tell me something I haven’t heard before.” He scowled, deprived of the energy to lash out again at her stumbling out of the door; slamming it behind them. Sinking onto the floor, her arms outstretched to encircle her brother into her—his body crawled in. Rocking him back and forth she ran her fingers through his hair as he sobbed pitifully into her chest.

The Jue siblings have been physically abused for as long as they’ve lived. Every morning the eldest child wakes up her brother, washes him, and applies a layer of concealer over his bruised skin. Then he wears long sleeve shirts, or a short-sleeve with a jumper on top, before being fed breakfast and taken to school. He is eight years old and doesn’t understand why he’s thrown against the floor like a rag doll. Often when he sees the father of his classmates hug them after school, he’s confused. So he asks his sister who’s only rendered silent as they eat dinner in her room behind a locked door.

Jue can’t tell him it’s his way of loving, because she doesn’t want to prepare her brother for a lifelong relationship of abuse. He deserves to know what love feels like, he just knows a bit of love is his sister staying hungry so he can have the last slice of oven pizza. He knows that a bit of love is her sneaking chocolate cake out of events so he can get a treat after dinner. Or her saving up from her measly wages so she can buy him a toy he’ll treasure forever. But he’ll never know what paternal love is.

Nobody knows of their secret. It’s something she’s forced her brother to not open his mouth on. If the teacher asks where the bruise came from, say you fell over. If the teacher asks where daddy is, say he’s at work. What about mummy? The truth. Mummy doesn’t live with us anymore.

(Mummy doesn’t love us.)

Myeong never knew, nor did San or Yeosang. No matter how deeply rooted Yunho’s infatuation was: he never knew either. Not until after they had married and he’d seen the scars on her body.

Having no maternal figure was awful for her, especially on days where she needed to rest and she physically couldn’t move her body from the bed. Her father storms into the room, he’s in his work attire but she knows he’s had one too many drinks from the pub on his way home from work. It’s a wonder how he’s never been sacked yet.

“Get up.” He roars. “What are you laying down for? Lazy bitch.”

“I can’t get up.” She croaked out.

“Get the fuck up.”

“I can’t.” She whined, groaning loudly as she pushed up her body from the bed. A scream erupted from her lips as he gripped her by the hair to drag her out of her room, her lower abdomen pummelling a wave of agony through her. He hauls her down the stairs, launching her body into the kitchen. Her figure slaps against the floor, a breath lodged in her throat as tears well up in her eyes.

“One of the men at the pub has told me you’ve been with a man. Not the doctor or specky-four-eyes.” She holds back the urge to roll her eyes, he’s only ever seen San with glasses on, she doesn’t bother to correct him that Yeosang is a medical student. “The lanky one. He’s supposed to be tall as fuck, I’m told. Who is he? Whose dick are you sucking now?”

“I’m not. He’s a friend, Yeosang’s friend. His name is Yunho.” She sits a little properly on the kitchen floor, but not up. Jue knows better than to shun her father’s superiority complex.

“What does he study?”

“Law and psychology.” He simply hums, she wonders what he’s thinking.

“Well don’t whore around with him, otherwise you’ll end up pregnant and he’ll leave you.” A breath of relief escapes her as he disappears from the first floor and enters his bedroom. She’s surprised. There is at least five objects in the kitchen that he can harm her with, she anticipates his arrival for the next fifteen minutes preparing herself to be battered by him. When he doesn’t reappear, she takes the opportunity to trudge back to her bedroom.

It was funny. Perhaps her father should have warned Yunho to not chase after her. After all, he was the one who ‘whored around’ with her and she was the one leaving him. But that’s all her past feels to her now: irony. Something to laugh and laugh like a crazed man. Perhaps her husband is right, she is insane.

Here she is, sitting opposite Yeosang in the clinic he works at. Unlike Mrs Go, he scribbles down her words as if he’s transcribing them across the page furiously with his fountain pen. When she stops speaking and a distasteful quietude fills the air, Jue knows exactly what he’s thinking and doesn’t have it in her to meet his scrutiny.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this, and never told us.” Those words she expected. “What happened to that bastard afterwards? I remember him at the wedding but what happened to him?”

“He just left of the face of the earth. I don’t know if he’s dead, or in jail or just shit faced in another city. Doesn’t matter, I won’t forgive him for what he did to my brother.” Wiping her nose, the scrunched up tissue is shoved back into her pocket; she peers at him through her lashes as Yeosang stares at his sheet.

"Well, the good news it that you're sane. It is normal to suffer as you have done and still be 'sane'. You've created a somewhat healthy coping mechanism to be relatively unaffected. Any history of mental illness in the family?" She shakes her head. There's just a history of abuse after abuse but somehow they've all managed to be escape the grasp of mental illness. For a minute she wonders if she ever had a child and if they would be the one to break. "Good. I'll pass this along to Myeong and I'm more than happy to testify."

"Thank you, Yeo. Are you ok? You didn't respond to my calls." He takes off his glasses and throws them to the side, his face falling into his palms as a long groan emits from his lips.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry I burdened you with what I said the other day. It was merely a moment of weakness." But it wasn't. It took him all the strength that laid within him for every moment it roamed within, it felt like his organs were being toxified.

"But did you mean what you said?"

"Yes. Without doubt."

In the middle of the biting winter, she shoves her fists into the deep pockets of her trench coat; as her heels click against the steps up to the court. Thank goodness the building is warm, she makes her way down to the room, the security guards are familiar with her now—after all her case seems to never end. Meeting Myeong outside, Jue gives San a curt nod as the couple engage in a private conversation.

A figure clears his throat from behind her, her head turns to find her husband loitering awkwardly by the double doors. His eyes are slightly tired, face sunken. He’s lost weight, so much so she can see the dimple his healthy face hides.

“Have you been eating?” She confesses, the words escape her before she can suppress them.

“Yes, my mother has been taking care of that. You?” She nods, though it is false nonetheless. Eating, sleeping, living is a luxury. All she can do is breathe and sometimes even that comes at a price. "You look like you've lost weight." She shrugs, perhaps she has. She's never neglected herself this much in her life, there's nothing to live but for freedom now. A spectral silence is suspended in the air before the door swings open and they are allowed into the court room. Myeong hooks her arm around her own, they walk in leaving their husbands behind.

There’s a quiet chatter as the prosecution lawyer discusses a few matters with her assistant. It’s tense at the moment, their witness has not arrived yet and session is about to start.

“Counsellor?” The judge prompts, all the eyes fall on her. Jue quickly texts Yeosang underneath the table but the message isn't received on his end.

There is no Yeosang.

Myeong's heart flutters with dejection, her face heating up as she feels the burning stares of tens upon tens. Her fists ball at her sides, her sharp eyes digging Yunho's grave.

"The prosecution would like to call the defendant, Jeong Yunho, to the stand." Ignoring the small murmur, Yunho is sworn in by the bible before he seats himself to be questioned. San narrows his eyes, flickering his gaze to Jue. The prosecution only speaks up after a few beats of silence.

“How long have you known Mrs Jue and how long have you been married for?” He pauses. Mrs Jue. As if she didn’t tear her father’s name away from her own the second she married him.

“I have known her for five years, and we’ve been married for three.”

“At what point did she begin to display manic behaviour?”

“Four months after we married. I suggested she went to see a psychiatrist.”

Lie.

“That’s funny, Yunho. Here, it states. She went to see Mrs Go, a psychotherapist—not a psychiatrist—on the 22nd February.” She picks up her folder, holding the receipts Jue managed to find in her folder. “You do know there’s a significant difference between a psychotherapist and psychiatrist, right?” He snickers, cocking his head to the side. It’s the small flickers of his egotism that roams within him, infiltrating into the cold, court room. It’s there and gone, as if it only belongs for his wife to see.

“I’m a psychologist by background, I think I know better than most people, Mrs Choi.” Myeong’s chilling laughter reverberates through the room, his eyebrows crease. A sentiment of annoyance.

“So then tell me the truth, Yunho. Who did she see on the 22nd February. Was it Mrs Go or Dr Park Taeo?”

“Dr Park Taeo. We didn’t need to see a therapist when it was a diagnosis she was seeking.” The folder is thrown onto the table, her hands rest on her hips, digging into the crevice of her cinched waist. A long, deep sigh.

“Seeing as though you’re a psychologist by background, what are some of the treatments available for schizophrenia?”

“Medication, cognitive behavioural therapy, there are care plans in place as well.” Yunho’s brown eyes move to his wife, her eyes tear away from his as quickly as she can.

“There are no medical records, not even on her past medical history that states she was ever on medication, such an Olanzapine. It doesn’t even state that she is schizophrenic, but for arguments sake: she is. If she was really was batshit crazy, wouldn’t you as a loving husband ensure she is under the correct medication? Wouldn’t she have made these allegations before but in order for her to make such a statement: wouldn’t you have had to have done something to prompt her?” Myeong sucked her a deep breath, her chest heaving in anger. “There’s nothing from her childhood that can even do so much as enable her to conjure such a thought. Yet you, her husband, a man who has continually emotionally blackmailed her throughout your marriage— is the man she deems has hurt her the most. Tell me, Jeong Yunho, what did you do to her? Tell the court what a vile man you are.” His bottom lip quivers, pearl tears welling up in her eyes.

“I would never hurt her. I love her too much. She didn’t go on medication because she refused to.”

“Bullshit! She was never offered medication from that fraud.” There's a slight warning from the judge on her language but Myeong will say all the profanities in the world if it means provoking her enemy.

“I never touched her without her say, even if it was to hold her hand. If she said no, I backed away within a second. You can’t force someone to go on medication, Mrs Choi and she is not ‘batshit crazy’ she is ill. All I ever wanted was for her to get better.”

“There is no illness, Yunho. Look.” Waving a piece of paper in front of his face. Before handing a clean folder to the judge. “Dr Park Taeo isn’t real, your honour. There was no illness to begin with, other than a surmountable amount of childhood trauma—which in several cases doesn’t always resolve to mental illness. I have a report from Dr Kang who carried out her psychological examination, proving this statement. Unfortunately he could not make it here today. Might I add, you, Mr Jeong was her her anchor in the entirety of your marriage. And you, had ruined that by assaulting her, a man who, may I also say, is a man of the law.” Her shaking hands run through her hair, San knows she is on the brink of collapsing. Her face has thinned significantly, Myeong hasn’t eaten; it’s why she’s reached this far in the case.

A pearly tear slips down Yunho’s face, glossing the curvature of his plump cheek. His body wracks with prevalent cries and the court is stunned by his vulnerability. His wife sucks in a painful breath, God he knows where it hurts her the most.

“Why did you do it, Yunho? Hm? To feel powerful?”

“I object, your honour. Question leads to speculation.” San rises from his seat, raising a questioning brow at his wife.

“Objection is upheld.” The judge agrees, yet Myeong has exhausted all that she has to say. She knows that if Yeosang was here with them, her argument could have been made stronger.

The homes on her street have stood still, like a broken clock whose hands don’t move as time steals by. It seems the very essence of the wind has defied the laws of nature—the leaves do not bustle in the winter air. Myeong sits alongside Jue, in her kitchen, Soo-Ah plastered on her hip as she stirs the steaming pot of food under her friend’s careful instruction. San is at his parents’ home, unwilling to stay in his house as he ferociously fights the case against his wife.

Mrs Jeong is at her table, the computer screen blaring at her. Too tired to continue, she gathers all of the diagrams compiling them into a neat stack before packing everything up. Everything feels too normal, it’s as if she isn’t fighting a brutal case against her husband. The TRO has ‘expired’ and she never bothered to get it extended knowing that at the end of the day, it will be a divorce she gets from her husband.

“I try to reach out for him, in my dreams, before I realise that he’s not the same man I fell in love with.” She blurts, the attention of the women in front immediately moves to her. Myeong watches her friend stuff food into her mouth at the kitchen table; her eyes glistening with tears, body wrought with exhaustion spending sleepless nights roaming the hostel and long days at work staring into the dull screen. Days at court, days at Myeong’s home, avoiding the ghost town where their home used to be. “I realise that I want him to hold me again, and pretend he didn’t ruin me the way he did. Sometimes I wish I never said anything, then at least I would have had someone.” Her friend’s eyes litter with empathy, though it feels so sadistic in an other-worldly sense. How can a woman in a secure marriage understand her? Biting down on her quivering lip, she refrains from letting out the sobs that have clogged up her throat. Painful sounds are released, her teeth grind against each other as her body lurches forward.

"J--," Her hand is held up to censor her friends movements, she has done this before on several occasions at the hostel. Nights curled up on the floor, suppressing a fit of miserable emotions. She doesn't need any of this, not now when her lover is long gone.

Kang Yeosang is officially missing; the local community searches for him when they get a chance. Though his best friend has spent the last few weeks trying to track down his location. After he psychoanalysed Jue, he remained in his clinic until 1700 hours in the evening. He arrived at his home at 1738 hours, information given by the courtesy of his neighbour. Nobody knows anything after that.

She can't help but go back to his house, maybe there's something there that can tell them where he's gone. The old neighbour walks outside to throw away the bins, when she catches Jue, Myeong and Soo-Ah roaming in his front yard.

"Excuse me!" Jue calls out. "I don't know if I remember me, but I asked about Yeosang a while back." Gesticulating to the front door as if she might remember, the old lady does. Nodding, she gravitates to the garden wall.

"Yes. I do. The poor boy hasn't been found yet, has he?" They shake their heads. "I think I forgot to mention, there was a man that passed by his home a few times. I think they may have been friends." Myeong meets her friend's eyes, urging the woman to continue talking.

"Ah, he was very tall, wore glasses and a suit almost every time he was here. He was here the same day he went missing." She pulls out her phone, rushing to her camera roll.

Pressing her phone to the older woman's face, "Was this the man, by any chance?" The neighbour nods, profusely. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?" She snaps before grabbing Myeong's hand leaving from his lawn.

It was Yunho.

She is sure of it. There is no one else in the world that would possibly want to hurt Yeosang more than him, for what reason: she can only speculate but pieces of her mind refuses to jump to those forbidden thoughts. Mrs Jeong is once again stood in Myeong's kitchen as the lawyer paces up and down her kitchen aisle.

"Well San says he left his house a while back, he's not at your in-laws." She doesn't even want to reach out to her mother-in-law, they know of the court case and probably hate their daughter with every fibre of their being. "Maybe he's at that summer home you have?" Myeong suggests. That's exactly where he is, but with no substantial proof they can't exactly storm in with the police or a search warrant. Besides Yunho is incredibly intelligent and resourceful, as if the court case isn't a testament to that already.

"Don't do something stupid like walk into his house. He's fucking dangerous at this point." She scolds knowing Myeong's stubbornness holds no bounds. The lawyer holds back a scowl, not long before she redirects the words back at her. "He won't hurt me, if he wanted to this fiasco would have been over a long time ago."

Yunho is mirror image of Mr Jue, his father-in-law. She has become her mother, running away from him except she has not left him with two young children.

"Amma, where are you going?" The younger version of herself stands by the doorway of her parents' bedroom as Mrs Jue profusely shoves the clothes into her bag discarding the hangers onto the floor.

"Baby, pick up the hangers from the floor will you?" Her mother orders, and obedient-her listens earnestly, placing the hangers inside the small ironing basket. She repeats the questions, to which her mother pauses in her actions to look at her daughter. "I'm just going to my mother's. Alone. So don't pack your bags. You'll be ok taking care of your brother, won't you?" She's still so eager to attain her mother's validation so she nods as if handling a young child is the easiest thing one can do.

How could she have not realised that her mother was leaving for good? It's not until her younger brother passes away that, at the funeral, her mother's wild cries boil her blood. There's something like a spurt of anger brewing within her as the jarring dissonance cripples her ears. Yunho is stalking after her as she saunters over to her mother.

Her hand raises, striking a harsh blow against her mother's cheek; there's a pin drop silence in the room. "How fucking dare you. As if you were his mother, you cry? You left us." Her voice cracks, Yunho's hand rests on her shoulder pulling her back towards him. "You left us and you're crying as if you raised him? You may have given birth to him, but I was more of his mother than you have ever been!"

Soo-Ah will be raised with lots of love, she knows that much. Mr and Mrs Choi's love is too strong to be torn apart by Yunho, no less. There's no need to be envious, a poor love is hereditary something that the Jue's are undeserving off. That's ok with her, she is last of them. There will be no more of them.

The front door blasts open, her grip on the handle of the knife tightens as a figure charges down the hallways through to the kitchen. San's clothes fit loose on him, hair dishevelled and with a flushed face he meets her stare.

"Where is she?" He demands, lifting his daughter off the high chair, holding her smaller frame closely against his body. As if she is anything like her husband and will harm her too.

Myeong left her home at 0900 on Tuesday morning, entrusting the care of her child with her friend. Jue has been taking care of Soo-Ah, taking a few days off work but when she doesn't arrive home by 1730; something is deeply wrong. She called everywhere including her office, San and his parents and in-laws.

Like Yeosang, Myeong is nowhere to be found.

"Do you know where she may have gone?" Jue slumps down on the chair, sucking in a deep breath.

"Yunho's. The summer home we have." He gives a look of pure confusion, that his friend cannot help but feel sorry for him. As intelligent as he may be, he is also incredibly oblivious. "Open your eyes now San, Yunho is not who you think he is. He's a goddam psycho."

"But why would she drive two and a half hours away from here, to your holiday home?"

"We believe he's the reason Yeo is missing. His neighbour said she saw Yunho on the same day Yeosang went missing." Pieces of the puzzle have now been put into place, San can envision the big picture now; he just wishes he listened to his wife when she scolded him for taking on the case. His heart palpitates within his chest, cursing himself for endangering his family.

"I'm going to go pay him a visit and you're going to listen to every word I say."

Their summer home is just of the coast, maybe two miles away from the beach. Regardless it stands in all its glory, with a large porch circulating around the home-it's antique salmun doors had been replaced for contemporary ones, panelled windows outcast the front lawn. In itself the driveway is a massive field with a pavement large enough to carry a vehicle up and down it. It's serene, at any time of the year yet its a 'summer' home because Yunho always drags her down there when the sun peaks at its highest. A low grunt and she rolls of the drivers seat, eyes scanning over San's message before she makes her way to his front door.

Yunho has already noticed her, settling down the book on the coffee table before dashing to the door to swing it open.

"Jagiya." He breathes out, it feels silent before she ambles in staring at him before taking of her shoes. Mrs Jeong knew she had to face him but she doesn't really know what to say now that she's here. Yunho seats himself on the sofa, motioning for her to do the same. "Why are you here?" He doesn't bother to ask how she knew he was here, his wife isn't unintelligible.

"I wanted to talk to you. But now that I am here, I don't know what to say." Her profession stuns him a little. Mrs Jeong always knows what to say. It's one of the things he loves about her.

“I always imagined you and I and a little toddler. Just the three of us." His eyes squeeze shut, she feels the urge to wrap her hands around his slender neck and wrangle him until he drops dead. How is her body the only thing he cares about?

“I could never give you that, Yunho. I believe that there is another woman who can give you the family you want.” Yet the plain truth is that he doesn't deserve to remarry and have children. He will just hurt them. He will suffocate them, the same way her father suffocated her.

“No but you could have. You’ll give another man exactly what I wanted.” Oh god. The incongruity. He took away Yeosang and Myeong, she wonders who is next. He will take away the next man that even so much as blinks in her direction.

“There won’t be another man after you, because it took me to fall in love with you to realise that I wasn’t brought on this earth to be a wife or a mother.”

“If you weren’t born to be by my side then God would not have listened to my prayers. He wouldn’t have listened to me when I went down on my knees and begged for you.” Gulping the lump in her throat she blinked back the tears holding in her eyes. "I really do love you, it just hurts me that you made this false allegation against me-," Raising from her seat she rushes towards him, glaring down at him in fury.

"Let's not begin with false allegations when all you did was lie in court. I fucking said no. God is my witness. I loved you more than you ever loved me, and you broke that by treating me as if I was your doll." Tears well up in his own eyes, he simply says nothing slouching further in his seat. With tiredness, Jue leaves the room, analysing the setting before her eyes fall on the basement door. "I'm going to the bathroom." He hums, picking his book back up as she carefully slips down to the cellar.

The lurid scent of damp perfuses the atmosphere, gentle steps descend the staircase where a dim light floods into the room. Her heart is heavy in her chest as she makes her way down, a warning sign that she is not going to see something she likes. The basement is small, with a low ceiling that she knows has her husband crouching down as he enters, its concrete floors and grey walls are unsettling.

Gripping her lips with her fingers, she sinks to the floor holding back an ear-splitting scream as two limp figures sprawl over the floor in a puddle of dried scarlet blood. Tears flood down her cheeks, a low hiss escapes her as she crawls towards the masculine figure. His face is almost unrecognisable, beaten to a pulp with a split lip and swollen eyes. His long hair is rumpled, his own saliva and blood sticking the oily strands to his neck.

"Yeo." She chokes out, his unresponsiveness deconstructs her. Resting his head on her lap, her tears drop onto his face bleeding into his own; he can just about make out her face through his weak vision. Her howls increase by an octave, but his hitched breaths diminish her by the second. "Please. Say something so I know you're here." He says nothing. Yeosang just breathes.

Until he stops. There's a beat of silence. Then another. She waits with some false delusion that he will breathe again, but he does not. A shriek, and the cellar door erupts open Yunho pounding down the steps. Her head whips around, launching of the floor she swings her body at him but he holds down her fists with an iron grip.

"You monster! You bastard! How could you?"

"You said you loved me more than I ever loved you, how could that be true when I killed someone for you?" His voice is so mellow it disgusts her. He speaks as if he did not take another life. "Nobody is allowed to love you but me." Shaking her head, she parries against his strident grip, launching a brutal punch against him. An annoyed look floods his face, he holds his ground stalking towards Myeong's limp figure.

"Let her go. This is between you and I." She orders. Yunho simply scoffs, grabbing a water bottle-draining its contents across her face. Myeong squawks for air, as she jolts away from her unconsciousness, drops of water dribble from her lips as she tries to strengthen herself.

"And this one. This witty, little bitch." He grips her hair, yielding her closer to him ignoring Myeong's cries. "She really tried to fuck me over. It's a shame that she's never been better than me at any point in her life." He bends down to Myeong's level, drawing his lips to her ear.

"You're good. But you're not better than me." His taunts irritate her, and she squirms, ferociously, in his hold yet it pains when all he seems to do is rip her hair from its roots. His wife's howls fall deaf at his ears, a look of pleasure fills his features. A cruel blade departs from his pocket, holding it close to Myeong's neck. "What do you say, baby, get rid of her too? All she's doing is separating us."

“YUNHO. PLEASE.” His knife draws close to Myeong’s throat dancing on the surface of her skin. “I’m pregnant!” His head snaps up, his grip on the knife almost falters. It's a long shot, but she knows how to hurt him.

“What?”

“Yes.” She chokes on her sobs. “I’m having our baby, so please don’t hurt Myeong. Then our baby won’t have an auntie and Soo-Ah won’t have her mother.” He drops the knife, stalking towards her in a few single strides. His pale hands rest on her cheeks, tilting her face so she is looking at him.

“How long have you known?”

“It’s been a week since I’ve known, but I’m 8 weeks along.” He holds back a cry, he’s a fucking monster. A second ago he was ready to take Myeong’s life. Her face is tightly fixed in the palm of his hands as he peppers kisses on her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and finally on her lips. She allows him, just this once, to roam his hands around her body. “Just leave Myeong.” Yunho is so sure that there’s a patter of footsteps behind him, yet his wife’s hands drag him down her neck deeper. His soul is completely intoxicated by her essence, there is some figment that has him so utterly devoted to her.

Her heart pounds, incessantly, against her chest as she storms down the hospital hallways ignoring the burning stare of the clinicians and nurses. It’s not long before she skids into the emergency ward—pummelling towards the end of the room.

Her brother is lying on the bed, so weak and helpless she cannot help but cry out for his ruptured soul. He does not deserve this. He did not deserve every minute of torture he was subjected for every second he was alive. His small lips form her name as he barely sees through the slits of his eyes.

It’s her baby, after all.

His body is cradled in her arms, repressing tears. There is something so inhumane about the way his body is butchered, the depth of the lacerations astound her—as if they were trying to cut down to his bone. His staggered breaths send a wave of fear through her heart.

“Who did this to you?” Her whisper, low enough for him to hear.

Dad.

A silver blade ruptures tissues, indenting the skin. Blood bursts from its banks like a scarlet river flooding through the ghost town, he grunts; breath hitched in his throat.

“Before you, there was my father. Before him, was me.”

“My darling daughter! What brings you here?” He slurs, sliding down the wall. Her hand shakes as she screams at him, her ears are deaf. Jue doesn't really know what she's saying to him other than a plethora of vulgar words that she deeply despises.

"How could you hurt him, you fucking bastard!" Her bellow carried over the humid atmosphere, her father barely snickers. It is a gift from god that he is intoxicated. But a curse from hell that his daughter has been brought to his doorstep, in a fit of frenzy. "You have lived to hurt us long enough."

The knife in her hand is not unfamiliar. The way it has dragged under supple skin is not new. She has done it in a time before, Yunho is unbeknownst to this as he sinks to his knees clutching his abdomen, a roar erupting from his lips. His wheezes infiltrate the atmosphere, but his wife is quick on her feet as her arms outstretch for Myeong—eyes widened in shock. Is she an accomplice to this crime?

"Come on!" She shouts, panicked their footsteps launch up the basement staircase, an attempt to escape onto the upper floor in a haste. The door handle rattled, profusely, in her harsh grip yet the door won’t budge.

Fuck.

Their hastened breaths quicken in a deep panic, before a quick thought rushes to mind. There's a hidden tunnel that leads out. They run past Yunho's frail body, ignoring his threats she summons all of the adrenaline she has before pushing past the massive wooden door covering the exit. An ache grinds at her muscle but as her husband raises from the floor she flocks out of the basement in a frenzy.

The smell of the hallways is enough to make them nauseous, but the magnetic force of apprehension is stronger that all they can do is run whilst he chases after them. The end is in sight, the door at the end is always open; seeing as though Yunho could never find a builder to fix it shut. All of a sudden, something sharp drills through her leg, a distressing yelp escaping from her. Groaning she falls to the floor, a metal rod from the unattended copper pipes has obstructed her path.

“Run, Myeong! RUN!” She screams, cradling her leg; a torturous wave of pain lays within her; enough to render her paralysed. His pounding footsteps quicken behind them, grunting heavily as he limps down the hallways to them. Myeong’s movements falter slightly but she dashes through the door leaving it open as she darts through the open field.

A cool gust air blesses her bruised skin, she has never ran this fast before in her life. A sense of guilt resides as she ponders if her friend will make it, yet the car in the distances rips away that thought. It’s San’s car and she clamours his name as loud as she can.

The coolness floods into the narrow passageway, grappling onto the copper pipes for support she staggers feebly towards the exit, the metal rod inserted in her leg weighs her down. Each step is like walking on a million shards of glass, it’s as if coal sizzles under her skin. Was she born just to be in pain?

“Nae sarang, come back. You’re only going to hurt the baby.” The tears draw in her eyes, tickling the edge of her jawline before they clink onto the earth below. The sound of his voice lingers too close to her ears, beckoning all her might she stumbles faster towards the exit breaking out into a run.

Screams expend from her, she doesn’t care to refrain them as she bolts down the fields where Myeong is in San’s arms. There are shackles tied to her feet, the force of gravity is strong.

“Come back here right now!” Yunho roars into the wind, as if they bow to him they stop to let his voice circulate the atmosphere. She will not return to him, she would rather die. Her heart savagely crushes against her chest—phlegm clogs her throat. Pain gnaws at her. Why does the distance to San’s car seem longer than it should be? She shrieks his name while Yunho calls after her.

I’m so tired.

Her knees drop down to the earth beneath her feet, chest hurling with exhaustion. The vast fields are met by an excruciating howl; enough to shatter her voice box. With fingers gripping around the locks of her hair, tears endlessly cascade from her eyes—she’s begging for the Angel of Death to take her away. So much so as her head hits the earth, she speaks to its entity.

“Amma! I can’t do this anymore.” Because what does a child in pain do when the world turns against them? Nothing more than call out for their mother. There’s nothing more left for her to do. She can run to San with a metal rod prodded through her leg. Chances are: she won’t make it when Yunho can easily outrun her. She can stop here and allow her husband to consume her, force her to give birth to a child she does not want.

Or she can turn the weapon against herself. What can go through the leg can go through the heart, right?

Her head whips around to meet Yunho’s stare. There’s no anger, there never is any when he’s looking at her. He’s slowed down in his path, arms nimbly outstretched for her.

“Come back to me, baby.”

In the valley they run, the grass tickling her feet as she dashes across the landscape. A melodic laughter escapes him, like a chorus sung by angels. She’s always been fast at running but it’s never been a chore; it’s a joy to skip through the meadow at lightning speed. The sun illuminates their figures, nobody but them for miles and miles.

Perhaps this is what death feels like.

Or this is what death should be, for now she knows how her fate should resume.

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Jue' of chinese origin, stems from 'zhou' 'Soo-Ah' meaning butterfly 'Myeong' meaning bright or clear

A/N: please do NOT romanticise this piece of work, it addresses heavy issues. if you have ever been sexually harassed/assaulted by your s/o (or ANYONE), please report it!!! just because they’re your husband/boyfriend e.t.c doesn’t mean that they’re allowed to be let off the hook! I wanted to write this fic because I’ve-first hand- seen the exploitation of female bodies to establish male superiority. take care of yourself and know your worth, I know it’s difficult to speak out against someone who you’re supposed to love but you’re worth much more than that. i hope you enjoyed reading this, it was a little difficult to write but I believe it’s a fic that’s been worth writing.

big thank you to @poartz-writes for hyping me up during this writing process

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho @barbielibra

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

A few days later, the uncomfortable situation with his mother is more or less forgotten. Matteo is busy with his school project when he hears Woofer bark excitedly outside.

It's Dani, coming for a surprise visit!

Matteo is happy to see her. He doesn't remember San Myshuno, but he knows it's far from here, you can't just "drop by". Dani must really love them if she's coming all this way.

Matteo likes how happy his dad seems when Dani visits. He doesn't really understand all the kissing, but his dad smiles more and laughs louder when she's here.

Matteo secretly wishes Dani could just move in with them, the farm is so big, surely there's room for her too? But for now, he's just glad that she's here and making his dad happy.

Dani helps Matteo with his school project while Don makes dinner. She pulls up her sleeve to prove that she's still wearing their friendship bracelet too. She really is his best friend - after his dad and Woofer, of course.

During dinner, Matteo tells Dani about the nightmares he's been having. Dani suggests he confronts the monsters, ask them what they want. Maybe they just want to be friends?

Matteo considers this, and gets an idea. Luckily, whenever Dani visits, it means his dad goes to bed early for some reason, so Matteo should be able to stay awake until then.

When he feels pretty certain that his dad and Dani are sleeping, he sneaks down to the bathroom to give himself a pep talk. He can do this. Nothing changes just because it's dark... right?

Matteo opens the front door quietly, leaving it open behind him - just in case he needs to get back inside quickly. The light that leaks out through the glass doors feels like a sanctuary, but beyond the small golden circle, it's pitch black.

Matteo swallows hard and steps into the void. The night feels like a living thing around him, the leaves rustling like something huge is breathing. His eyes dart to the stables for comfort, but Horsie is sleeping, just a large, dark shape nestled in the hay. No comforting snorts and soft whickers to answer his plea for reassurance.

A shiver creeps up Matteo's spine. The front door behind him is so close still, so tempting, but he clenches his fists and takes another step into the dark. Then another.

A sudden splash startles him, and Matteo freezes, his heart in his throat. Something is moving, pale and ghostly, floating on the black water of the pond. The ducks. Of course. It's just the ducks. But they look different in the night, ethereal, drifting soundlessly in the faint moonlight. Matteo stubbornly sets his jaw.

Another step.

The weight of the night presses harder on him with each moment and his skin prickles as his mind starts running wild. The trees by the chicken coop loom large, their dark silhouettes against the sky, branches almost reaching towards him. The low stone wall that surrounds the garden seems to shimmer slightly, like an illusion that might disappear at any moment, revealing something terrible hiding in the vegetable patch.

And then it happens.

Something brushes against his leg.

Something big.

Matteo's knees almost buckle and his heart races, slamming against his ribs like a trapped bird. A sound, somewhere between a whine and a sob escapes his lips before he can stop it. He forces himself to look down, not sure what to expect. Claws? Teeth? Tentacles?

Instead, a wet and familiar nose nudges his trembling hand.

Matteo sinks to his knees, burying his fingers in Woofer's soft coat as the dog licks the tears off his face. Woofer wiggles excitedly. He's not allowed outside at night, so he took a huge chance following Matteo through the open door and he's very relieved that the boy isn't mad at him.

Matteo scratches Woofer in his favourite spot, the fear dissipating as his heartbeat goes back to normal. Maybe it's just because his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but next to the labrador's inky black fur, everything else seems just a little brighter.

chrono - previous - next

[woncon]

[04:24 am] ♡ pirate!san

merfolk gn!reader | little mermaid au | fluff | made with @wonsheep's help <3

‣ ateez masterlist :: ✉️₍₁₎

you lie panting on the sand. grains of sand stick to the wet skin of your belly, your hair clings uncomfortably to your neck, your shoulders are becoming uncomfortable to bend over, and your golden brown, scaly tail stretches uselessly behind you. you can feel the now calmed-down waves on your forked, thin film.

the smell of salt and rain mix in the air, so strange to you, the mermaid that it makes you dizzy. you had not yet been on the surface when a storm had just subsided.

the man lying before you was the first you had rescued from the frantic, roaring waves. he was unconscious when you grabbed him, and then, darting between the wreckage of the wrecked ship, you carried him to shore. by the time you reached the shore, the storm had quieted, and only the splinters and barrels of the ship betrayed its capricious nature.

the man sighs, your heart beats faster in fearful excitement, and you move back a little to escape if necessary, but the man does not wake up, he just tilts his head to the side.

you find him beautiful. if you didn't see those two strange legs ending in toes, and you weren't on the beach, you might think you were dealing with a sleeping mermaid.

or an even more ethereal creature.

you gently smooth his hair from his face. your soft, membranous fingers involuntarily run over his water-droplet cheeks and sharp jawline. the stranger's thick lips part imperceptibly. as he breathes, the buttons on his crimson vest tighten.

"how beautiful people are..."

you eagerly fix your curious eyes on the charming stranger. you are grateful to moon mother for giving you the task of helping, so that you can interact with the humans, get to know them very little, but most importantly, help them. now, too, seeing the rising chest, a warmth fills your heart, and expressing your devotion and love for the mermaids on the ground, you kiss the young man on the temple.

but your precious time is at an end.

"san, can you hear me?"

there is a shout in the distance, and a light on a nearby hill, which must not yet be the sun, for what you can see of the dissipating storm clouds, the moon is high and the stars are shining, not twinkling as they do at dawn.

"san!" the stranger shouts again. he's closer this time.

san's face twitches slightly, his muscles flinch, his eyes flutter, and with that, you throw yourself towards the water, your hands digging into the wet sand, pushing your body forward.

with a great splash, you disappear into the dark, starry foam, leaving only the trace of your fin and the sweet kiss that tingles on the pirate's forehead.

[gingerylangylang1979]

Does Carmy die in the end? Don't hate me.

Ok @thoughtfulchaos773, here's the post.

I've been thinking for a while that Carmy may die in the finale. I may not be able to write this post as intelligently as it deserves but here it go.

You know how shows tend to end how they begin? The pilot begins with Carmy on a bridge with the bear in a cage. This is a dream and seems like a final showdown with his nemesis/alter ego. They are about to battle and then a car horn and swerving sound breaks the dream state and Carmy wakes up in his reality. We also get a scene of a body in a morgue. We assume it's Mikey but what if it's Carmy. We also hear voices from Micheal as if him and Carmy are in the same realm.

All throughout the show driving is a theme. It always seemed noteworthy to me because it's a show themed around cooking. Why is driving so important?

In "Hands" there is a lot of emphasis on who can drive and who can't. In "Dogs", there is confusion on where Cicero lives. Cicero later discusses a dream about Carmy's dad driving and what seems to imply Carmy is the little boy flying forever in the air. Sounds ominous. Syd names her catering company Sheridan Road. In season two Carmy and Claire make random trips out to the suburbs and needing a ride is central. Why do either of them really need a ride to do these errands? Donna crashes her car into the family home. Syd tells Richie to drive friends and family night.

Now back to it all coming full circle. There has been a lot of speculation of Carmy leaving for a different career or not. If we fully accept that he doesn't leave by choice, he could leave due to death. Why does everyone from the health inspector to Mr. Sirsky (sp?) confuse Carmy as the dead brother?

Carmy seems to be gradually handing the place over and disappearing but it doesn't seem to be conscious. That would make him seem suicidal like Mikey. But it's not that, he has no idea he's setting up his departure. He gives Tina the knife. His new whites have his initials in san serif white font, not the pronounced blue cursive, like he's a ghost. Syd's scenes parallel his as if she is meant to take over. He tells her it's her ship and I'll dial business you are everything else. Syd and Carmy are often shown in ethereal light, like Mikey looking back at Carmy in 1.8. Do they both pass on and Syd is the new hope/destiny?

And then, again there is the reference back to the pilot if this all comes true and full circle. Anybody who watched Six Feet Under gets it. I always found these two stories very similar. In the pilot Nate (Carmy) has an aneurysm. We kind of forget about it because the story shifts to him coming back home as the prodigal son and the whole family dealing with the death of the patriarch and the passing over of the family business. The brother who stayed (Richie) is resentful. He stayed. He didn't really want to be a mortician but it was how he stayed close to the family and tried to bond with the dad. The business is in shambles and they have to "change the chemistry" to make it work. A new talent (Sydney) comes in that makes it all better and offers a different perspective. I won't go into the entire plot but in the end what happens? Nate dies. Aneurysm. Full circle. This is often how shows end. There are often clues.

My theory is that somehow Cicero and his dad tie into some sort of trip to the suburbs. I honestly think Cicero is Carmy's real dad. I feel somehow this will come to light and he makes a trip to see one of them. Why was Carmy confused about where Cicero lives? I don't think that was a throwaway line.

Does Carmy die in a car accident in the suburbs?

I may have left out a few things but I dunno, thoughts?

[emmyfairy]

Kandomere Wants a baby

kandomere has a realization as he watches you

a/n: alright friends Kandomere was the poll winner! this was inspired by real life events haha (sans the elf sadly) I hope you all enjoy, please like/ reblog if you do and my ask box is always open even just to say hi!

trigger warning: this fic discusses pregnancy!

gif not mine

It was late, the sun had long since set, but work is work, and so Agent Kandomere of the Magic Task Force arrived home late.

Again.

You couldn't fault him really, especially since this time he had sent a text message letting you know that a case had sprung up. You, as his lovely significant other, had taken the chance to make a nice dinner instead of being angry. 

As long as he came home in one piece you were happy.

You had prepared quite the spread, hearty pasta, bread, and an abundance of side dishes, knowing your man would be ravenous after such a taxing day.

Once Kandomere had finally gotten home, his face held a deep exhaustion, and annoyance, both of which disappeared as he wrapped his arms around you and saw the full table. The man had thanked you profusely for such a lovely dinner, before, during, and after finishing his two plates.

You brushed off his offer at doing the dishes, instead setting him on his nice chair in the living room with a glass of bourbon.

You could feel his eyes on you as you washed up at the sink, his chair positioned so the two of you could converse, discussing the idiots he had to deal with at work, Montehugh’s latest hobby update (apparently he is making donuts), and all the things you had gotten up to today.

Kandomere sat, sipping at his glass, his gaze heavy on you as he studied your form a bit more intensely than usual. From this angle he had a beautiful side view of you, watching your hips sway as you scrubbed the dishes. You had enjoyed the dinner as much as he did, and because of this the black slip dress you wore, which flattered your figure very well may he add, was clinging a bit tighter to the bloated tummy you were sporting. 

He knew you didn't care, bloating is a normal part of the digestive process, and he sure as hell didn't mind, in fact he loved it. He always enjoyed your soft bits, loving how they made you you and he showed his appreciation of them on the daily (if you know what I mean wink wink).

So as he watched you in the kitchen, his mind slipped into thoughts of other reasons your stomach could be poking out more, the way the dress was falling, made you look ethereal, made him think how perfect you would look pregnant.

In the past, the thought of his partner being pregnant would have made the elf balk, sick at the thought of such responsibility and never liking anyone enough to even consider such an atrocity. 

Now though, with you? The thought… it actually pleased him. Instead of adversity filling his stomach he felt excitement, the soft brushes of butterfly wings cluing the man into the fact that his feelings on the subject have changed drastically.

Suddenly he realized how much he actually wanted this. Wanted the future he had always sworn off, a house, a marriage license, and some kids. Kandomere was always someone who had feared domesticity, feared intimacy, but something has completely changed his view on it.

You.

He simply loved you, so much to the point where he suddenly understood everyone who gave him a look when he stated how much he didn't want a family, he understands now because he finally has the person he wants it with.

His person.

Kandomere was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the water shut off, or you turning to him, toweling off your hands and mouth poised to ask him if he wanted to go get ice cream. When your gaze fell onto him you noticed his far off look, and the fact that his eyes were planted directly where your ass was.

Typical.

“Kandomere?”

…

“Kandy?’

…

“...babe?”

Sighing and giving up, you threw the damp towel at him, hitting him squarely in the face, fabric hanging over blue hair and gray eyes. 

“Hey what the hell.”

His big hands reached up to yank the towel off of his head, glaring at you until he saw your smirk, knowing somehow he had embarrassed himself.

And yet, the man who would normally care so much about this fact, didn't care, because he didn't need to be bothered feeling embarrassed with you. 

You quirked your eyebrow up, closing the distance between the two of you, arms reaching towards him,

“What’s on your mind boy blue?”

Your hands rested on his shoulders, his wrapping around your waist, conveniently putting his face just about in line with the object of his thoughts. 

“Hmmm, just thinking about something.” 

“Clearly.”  You scoff.

Still, he remained oddly silent, gaze set on you, it worried you a bit.

“You sure you're alright?”

It took him a moment to answer, 

“Yeah, just…”

He didn't go on, seeming as though he was afraid to admit what was on his mind, unlike his usual bluntness. 

Your hand left his shoulder, tucking some hair behind his pointed ear, and laying against his cheek, ushering his eyeline towards yours. 

“Tell me baby.”

And frankly he’d give you anything you could ever want, so who was he, a mere elf, to hold the truth from you. 

“I want a baby.”

Now that threw you to the left field.

Your mind raced a mile a minute, not sure where to stop or what to say to the man holding you.

He let you take your time, knowing he just left quite the impact on you.

It was a very sudden confession from the man you knew to normally sneer at the sight of strollers in the street, but you couldn't help but feel a warmth blossom in you. Kandomere wanted a baby? With you?

You knew he loved you, but this, this, would be the biggest commitment the man could ever make. All of this thinking never included a doubt that you wanted this as well. You wanted to have a baby, to have his baby, more than anything. But before that…

You looked back down to the man sitting in front of you, the yearning and vulnerability in his eyes almost enough to make you cry,

“Well, guess you're gonna have to marry me then huh?”

[sclviagant]

( pedro pascal / cis male / he/him ) — ADRIAN CASTILLO has been living in Port Leiry for TWENTY FIVE YEARS. They currently work as a OWNER OF SWEETWATER, and are FIFTY years old. No one is sure if they’re actually a HUNTER or if they’re connected to THE BROTHERHOOD. They tend to be quite UNFORGIVING and HARSH, but can also be TACTICAL and DUTIFUL.

TW: infidelity, murder, etc.

Name: Adrian Ezequiel Castillo.

Occupation: Owner of Sweetwater.

Age: 50.

Sexuality: Homosexual.

Species: Human/Hunter.

Clan/Pack/Coven?:  The Brotherhood.

Hometown: San Luis Obispo, California.

Relationship Status: Widowed.

Personality Traits: Unforgiving, harsh, tactical, dutiful.

TLDR: Adrian is haunted by his past. A hunter who never wanted this, but dammit, he's good at it. Has a moral code, hates supernatural creatures. So much so that when he finds out the lohl is a witch, Adrian kills him. Though his daughter might be a witch too, she gets a free pass for some reason. He's complicated.

001. It was just you, your father and your mother for the first ten years of your life. You lived simply, in a small town. Your father owed a local dive bar, which allowed him to indulge himself in his two favorite things, drinking and sleeping with other women. Your mother, was a homemaker, who spend her days doing laundry, humming to the radio, and looking out the window, waiting for your father to come home.

002. Your father wasn't smart either. One night, he brings a girl home, figuring your mother would be long asleep. She was at one point, falling asleep next to you, but when you woke up in the middle of night. She's not there. That's somewhat normal, but this late at night? You hear shrieking... again not unheard of. You hear your father's fear in his burly voice and now you know something's wrong. You run out of bed, head straight for the backyard because that's where they always are. First you see her, not your mother, but another woman. She's ethereal, stunningly beautiful right out of a fairytale, but she's covered in blood. You see your father, he looks bewildered, terrified, and in shock. Then you look over and you see your mother with her throat ripped out, bleeding out right before your eyes. The creature, whatever she was, disappear, and you hope it just a twisted nightmare. It isn't.

003. Things changed after your mother's death, how could they not? Your father dove into obsession. What was the woman, if you could call her that? How could she do what she did so easily? With no effort at all? No second thought? His obsessions lead him to strange answers. Vampires. Vampires lead to witches. Witches lead to werewolves. Your father is going mad. You try to drown him out by listening to a Zeppelin CD, trying to teach yourself how to play guitar. The same guitar your mother bought you.

004. Years of research leads your father to Port Leiry. You, begrudgingly, join him because you're fifteen and he won't leave you alone in California. One way or another, you two end up on the doorsteps of the Shah family. They bring you in, agreeing to teach your father the ways of the hunt and by your father's volunteer, they agree to teach you. This isn't what you want. Don't you want to avenge your mother? Or will you let her die in vain? Your father convinces you, you can make the world safer.

005. Your father is lousy at this. Uncoordinated. Messy. You pick it up quickly. Your agile. Swift. Strong. Guitar strumming and supernatural killing are your two natural talents. Your father is a liability. He's gonna get you and the rest of the Shah family killed if they keep bringing him along. He won't quit. This is what he's meant to do, he's convinced of it. You saw the way your mother die. You know death by the hands of the supernatural will not be kind. What you do to your father, you consider a mercy.

006. When adulthood approaches, this is all you know. Death is all you know. Music is your only sense of normalcy. During the day, you kill your monsters and in the night, you play your songs. One night, there's a man in the crowd who can't stop looking at you and you can't stop looking at him. You don't believe in fate, but he makes you wonder.

007. Six months in, you know you love him. You don't say it, because it seems like everyone you love disappears sooner than later, like the words off your tongue translate to a evil curse. Speaking of curses, your latest hunt involves a couple of bad witches. You're not sure you believe in good ones, but these aren't the type make you wonder. Killing the man is easy, the woman gets away. When you search the home, to make sure no one else is lingering, you find a nursery. Two beautiful blonde babes sit, stare at you, and sob. You know why they cry. You know what it's like for a monster to come into your home . You bring them home. Why? Trying to right your many wrongs? Who the fuck knows. Gael is either in or he's out. The twins aren't going anywhere. He doesn't leave. You finally get the family you've always prayed for.

009. You keep careful eyes on them both, wondering if one day the other shoe is going to drop. If one of them will manifest their parents' curse. What will happen then? You try to instill resilience and one learns better than the other. You try not to pick favorites, but it's so clear that you do. You love them both, but one is built for this life and the other isn't. Both truths scare the shit out of you.

010. Even with all your faults, you've always been true to who you are. To your beliefs too. This cannot be said of everyone in your family. A snake lingers in your home and you're worried he'll offer Gemma the apple. He already has. When the lies are discovered, you are left with one choice. It's not the one you want to make, but the one you have to. It should have been done by you and only you. Gabriel's hand in it, you regret it to this day.

011. It's been two years since Gael's death and you are the shell of the man you used to be. You've never been one for the bottle, regardless of being a barkeep. You try to pick up your guitar, but your fingers don't strum the same. There's little comfort in the bloodshed. If you killed them all, every vampire, every werewolf, every witch, would it make you feel better? Would you finally be able to rest?

[semperamans]

western nights

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hello all! this is my first time posting something i've written to tumblr in well over ten years. for context, i was a 1D writer back in the golden days. i don't quite know how to do anything on here now, so please offer me grace! i posted this story to ao3 (semperamans) a while ago and wanted to bring it here, too!

bones and all has become my new obsession, so, i hope you enjoy!

blood and gore implied, but it's not graphic! pining for one another but make it as obvious as possible. lee is a soft boy in this one. oc doesn't have a name, so could be read as self-insert but there are a few descriptors. didn't proofread, so be gentle with me.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The summer sunlight, despite her weakening, danced upon the blacktop as the beat-up Chevy rambled eastbound. A sentimental sadness filled the cabin as a sweet-scented breeze carried the whisper of night across Lee’s cheeks. With the sky as his canvas, God himself must’ve hand-picked the clouds that raced over head. They were perfect. Toy Story clouds, Lee had called them. Who knew when he’d see them again?

Electric green numbers flickering on the dash declared that it was 8:15 in the diminutive town of Paxton, Nebraska, meaning that most everyone was tucked away in their single-story homes. The road, including the visible miles that stretched beyond, was nearly barren. There wasn’t much to look at in this part of the country, but the sun had a magical way of casting everything in gold. Every blade of grass shimmered. Every bird flapped auriferous wings. Every run-down John Deere seemed to emit a copper radiance. Lee was entranced. With his head hanging out of the open window, he watched as the sparse scenery barreled into view, then quickly disappeared. Tree bled into tree as the wind tangled his curls into tornado-like spirals. The ripping zephyr blasted against his eardrums, and he allowed himself to relish in the moments in between. He was with and without. He was in the truck’s cabin and soaring miles above with the whooping cranes. He was experiencing this moment in isolation, yet the girl sat inches away on the bench seat. This was Lee’s purgatory, served with the scent of wheat. After a while, the novelty began to wane. He pulled his head from the window.           

                    “Perfect timing,” the girl said. Lee only looked at her. Bathed in twilight’s orange and periwinkle luminosity, she was ethereal. Strands of her thin brown hair had fallen from the knot atop her head. The wispy strands cupped her cheeks in a way he wished he could. She peered over at him with a grin. “Listen.” Her long fingers splayed outward. The truck’s radio had two knobs, one for volume and the other for tuning. She fiddled with both of them momentarily, and then he heard it.

                  “Amarillo by morning,” George Strait crooned through the static. The girl furrowed her brows and shifted the dial to the right the slightest bit. The next line was clearer. “Up from San Antone.” She appeared pleased as she glanced at her passenger. Lee gave her a smile and began to sing along.

                  “Everything that I’ve got is just what I’ve got on.” Like all good Kentucky boys, the lilting wail of forlorn cowboys had been the soundtrack to Lee’s childhood. He had mentioned it to her once as they curled for warmth in the truck bed, their chattering teeth harmonizing with serenading cicadas and crickets. The girl’s battery-operated radio had lain between them, emitting staticky white noise for upwards of twenty minutes, when an unexpected voice came through. George Strait. Lee chuckled. His breath made a Toy Story cloud. He explained to the girl how this had been the song he had his first real slow dance to. Even with half her face tucked behind a blanket, Lee registered her disbelief. He smirked at her, eager to show his prowess, and up he jumped. The girl giggled, Lee turned the volume higher, and in the dim glow of the Chevy’s headlights, he demonstrated the way he had twirled and dipped and romanced his childhood flame.

                  “Amarillo by morning. Amarillo, I’ll be there.” He sang, reaching over to push the girl’s hair behind her ear.

Lee liked singing to her. Lee liked touching her. Lee liked her even though he knew he shouldn’t. Their kind didn’t make friends often. They couldn’t. Lee figured this out the hard way when he was venturing out on his own. He tried to ward her off. He met her friendly advances with cold shoulders and clipped responses, but it was no use. On their first night together, Lee fished pieces of Barry Cook from between his teeth, and he watched her every action. She was lithe and intentional. Lee caught himself grinning as she plucked records from Barry’s stand, belittling his choices and then begrudgingly admitting he had taste. Her eyebrows rose as she peered at Lee from over her shoulder. 

                  “Well, I wouldn’t know. But surely you can attest to that, yes?”

She was witty. By the end of the night, Lee had bitten the inside of his cheeks raw to keep from smiling.

                  “You can sleep with me in the bedroom.” She told him that night after ensuring that while she did bite, she wouldn’t take more than a nibble out of him. Lee didn’t respond. She blinked absently at him. “The couch is covered in jizz, and the recliner has springs that will go up your ass. So, it’s either the floor, or,” She took a running start, then flung herself onto the bed. It wobbled beneath her. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. “The waterbed.”

Lee couldn’t help himself. He propelled himself forward, bellyflopping onto the polyvinyl with a thwack. The girl laughed, then rolled onto her side to look at him. She didn’t say anything, not at first anyway. It wasn’t awkward. Not for Lee. He realized in that moment that he liked looking at her. She had freckles, quite a few of which concentrated primarily over the bridge of her nose. Her eyes reminded him of the lake back home—a shimmering blue green with a depth that made him nearly uncomfortable. Her hair, clean of grime and blood, hung in loose, wet spirals. Runny droplets raced down her arm. Lee dampened his lips.                

                  “You’re staring.” Her voice was melted chocolate. Lee wanted to drink it.

                  “So are you.”

Silence. Then,

                  “Can I draw you?”

Before Lee could answer, the girl had nearly toppled off the bed to grab her bag. She rummaged through it, making a pleased sound when she pulled a moleskin from the deep recesses. Lee still hadn’t given permission, and so she waited, blinking up at him expectantly.

                  “You can draw?”

                  “Sort of.”

Lee gave a curt nod, then watched as she etched his face onto a yellowed page. She was sort of a liar. She could do more than draw. She could create works of art. Watching her sketch quickly became his favorite past time. On long stretches of highway, he would gaze over frequently. She never failed to amaze him, often capturing the smallest of details that he had long forgotten, like the mole on the waitress's cheek or the glint in a toddler’s eye. Somewhere in Missouri, they stumbled upon a mom-and-pop art supply store. Lee, who was usually so good with their money, placed a box of colored pencils on the counter after the girl had vacated the aisles. Six dollars. They’d have to ration their meals, but the smile on her face was worth it.

He was falling in love with her.

He was lying to himself.

He was already in love with her.      

                  “Are you feeling okay?”

Lee could no longer hear George Strait’s voice. The song on the significantly quieter radio was a Patsy Cline classic. He’d gone quiet some time ago. The girl appeared concerned. With an easy grip on the large steering wheel, her eyes continuously darted from the road to his face.

                  “I’m fine.” Lee said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Tired.”

                  “There’s a state park entrance somewhere up the road. Weather is nice. You okay with sleeping in the truck bed?”

Night had fallen quickly. Gone was the golden brilliance of the day. Deep blues and blacks coated the void in isolation.

                  “Sounds good to me.”

Silence. The girl pulled into the left turn lane.

The meandering path, lit only by the Chevy’s headlights, felt as though it had been plucked from a horror story. It was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, but the girl expertly guided the truck onward. They both knew that they were likely the scariest things in this part of the woods. As they ventured forward, Lee watched the lightning bugs littering the vast expanse of darkness overhead. They were mesmerizing, their somber glow churning the darkness. Lee couldn’t wait to settle in and watch them with the girl pressed against his side.

The gears whined as she put the truck in park. They had stumbled upon a meadow that Snow White herself would have felt right at home in. Flowering bushes bordered the expanse of mashed grass. Hordes of hooting owls and night birds nested in nearby trees, keeping them company as they prepared to bed down for the night.

As Lee fluffed their blankets and lined the truck bed, he watched the girl collect purple columbines. She had an affinity for flowers. There were quite a few detained in the pages of her journal, and even more hung on a strand of jute across the back window. There was something so whimsical about her, despite the griminess that came from life on the road. Lee found himself wondering how she had been as a child.

                  “Oh, I don’t really remember.” It was only after she spoke that he realized he had asked the question aloud. “Most of my childhood is a blur.” The pair had known each other for a week, and suddenly Lee realized they didn’t know each other much at all.

                  “Mine too.” He said, tossing their makeshift pillows atop the blankets. “I remember when my mom brought Kayla home, though. Best day of my life.”

The girl smiled. Like the flowers, she had planted herself on the moon-soaked ground. Her fingers were weaving the columbines together. Lee went on.

                  “She’s five years younger than me, but you wouldn’t be able to tell. The girl grows like a goddamn weed.” He let out a contented huff. “She was a tiny little thing back then, though. My mom said she was born too early.”

                  “Really?”

                  “Yeah.” Lee, who was leaning pieces of firewood together, nodded. “Mom thought I’d be upset because she wasn’t a boy, but I didn’t care. I was so fuckin’ excited.” He canted back on the vamps of his worn sneakers, evaluating his work. “I loved her so much. Right from the start.” He fished for the fire started lodged deep within his pockets. “My mom was in a car accident so the doctor prescribed her a bunch of pills. She slept a lot, so I took care of Kayla. She felt like she was mine from the very beginning.”

The girl didn’t speak. She couldn’t tell if the warmth she felt came from the fire now blazing before her or the power of Lee’s love for his baby sister. Regardless, it felt good. She had never been in the presence of such devotion.

                  “Kayla never cried, which was a blessing because our dad was a real piece of shit. He beat my ass more times than I could count for crying.” Lee’s blue eyes were awash in flame. “Kayla rarely did.” He pulled at a few strands of grass. “Girl is a fuckin’ mystery.”

                  “You made her feel safe.” The girl’s hushed voice was near silent beneath the popping wood. Lee turned to see that she had drawn her knees to her chest. The crown of columbines sat abandoned near her boot. Their eyes met. “She had no reason to cry. She had you.”

There was something buried in her sentence. It was a whisper wedged too far beneath the ground for Lee to grasp. The girl gave him a sad smile, propping her chin atop a kneecap.

                  “It was just me and my grandma growing up,” she said, picking her dirty fingernails. “We moved around a lot, because, you know.”

Lee could imagine, but he didn’t know, and he told her that. She was amazed. Had he not felt it since birth? Had he not had to battle the burn? The urge?

No. Lee told her that up until puberty, he was what anyone would have described as a clean-cut country boy, but at 16, he became the devil. The first was a girl from his neighborhood—a blonde who picked at Kayla until she bled. It happened suddenly. Lee had gone over to set things right. To ask her, as he had before, to leave his sister alone. Lee knew something bad was going to happen from the moment she opened the screen door. The breeze wafted her scent over him: perfume and lemon pledge. He wanted to get closer, and closer he came until suddenly he was bathed in crimson. Despite her deplorable actions, the blonde’s blood was sweeter than honeysuckle. Lee’s veins positively thrummed in delight as he took the life that had not belonged to him. The sin was second nature. The next kill was easier. Cleaner. More efficient. Unlike reaching second base or driving, Lee did not need a manual to learn this debaucherously sickening feat. It came naturally.

A flash of ire lit the girl’s electric blue eyes. How did he get away with it? Lee shrugged. It was too easy, really. In their neck of Kentucky, people disappeared often. Age-old adages of fathers leaving to get milk and never returning were true. The impoverished area was stricken with depression and drug addiction; no one cared, and no one accused Lee of any wrongdoing until...

The words became thick in his throat. Too dry. Too real. He was too close to the truth, which he simply could not face.

                  “I was seven.” The girl said. She must have sensed his trepidation but mentioned nothing of it. Lee had skidded to a stop, but the girl was slowly beginning. In a near-embarrassed murmur, she recounted her descent into what she called madness. It was a boy who lived next door. Her eyes fluttered shut. Lee knew she was drawing him. Reanimating his dead limbs. Filling his cavernous chest with stolen breaths. His hair was the color of the sand on a New York beach. His eyes were driftwood. He had been kind to her; he was the only one in class who didn’t stare with wide, judgmental eyes. “He cried.” She said it with open eyes. Nothing more came from her, and Lee knew she would not speak more of it, and he didn’t blame her.

                  “Come ‘ere.” He patted the cool metal of the tailgate, his rings clattering against the ridges. There was a moment of nothingness. Nothing appeared to move. Nothing stirred within her eyes. “S’okay.” His voice was even. Delicate. She turned her chin, contemplating him for a moment before ambling onto fawn-like legs. The crown of columbines dangled from her index finger as she neared.

As she came to a stop before him, he studied her face. Dusky plum circles ringed the delicate skin beneath her eyes. He wanted to run his thumbs over them. He wanted to brush the exhaustion from her features. Instead, he reached for her hand. It was a first. It was tip-toeing to the end of the diving board, and, blessedly, the girl chose to jump. Her hands were smoother and softer than Lee could have imagined. There was no biting this smile away. There was no tamping this feeling down.

                  “Let’s go to California.”

The girl’s eyebrows furrowed. Lee had been headed for Wyoming when they met. He wanted isolation and solitude; he had told her that. What had changed? Lee was honest.

                  “You.”

Lee wanted everything with her, but he wouldn’t say that yet. Maybe one day. In the meantime, he squeezed her hand. She was grinning at him in a way that made monarchs flutter within his gut.

                  “What do I have to do with California?” The girl placed the crown atop Lee’s greasy curls.

                  “You said you’ve never seen the West Coast. I think you’d like it.” It was the golden state, and she was a golden girl. He knew they’d make a lovely couple. The girl dropped her eyes, then pulled her hand away. With the fire’s warmth wrapping around her ankles, she moved closer to the flames. Lee traced her silhouette. He would never be an artist. Where she was creativity and beauty, he was destruction and brimstone. He would never be an artist, so he would brand this image into his mind. She smiled from over her shoulder.

                  “Can we be people in California?”

                  “People?”

                  "Mm," the girl said, turning to face him. “Get a place. Get jobs. We could just-” She hesitated, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his. “Be people.”

                  “Yeah.” Lee nodded. His smile was wide. “Let’s be people.”

[marketableplushieenthusiast]

Before I disappear into the ether again, I will scrawl my thoughts on my wall in crayon about Deltarune Tomorrow (on June 4th) before Ch 3&4 come out:

-I am watching Noelle and Dess like a hawk. I am ready for these silly deer to be the emotional core of the story. If, [BIG SHOT] to my head, I had to bet money on the end of the game, I think Noelle may be the Angel whose heaven we have to banish, because her lost sister is the Roaring Knight.

Maybe there's even "only one ending...?" because in a normal route, you talk Noelle down and close a Dark World she opened ("heaven"), but her CANONICAL narrative/game-defying powers (cough cough ice maze in the Sweepstakes) let her save her sister anyway... But in a "Weird" Route, Noelle is too powerful to stop, and the world is lost, but the sisters are reunited... Technically. In a way that sucks.

-I will be replaying the first two chapters prior to release so I can show my siblings and get the EGGS. Bec my gut is telling me we need those placed around town to protect it. (Something something I heard in Chrono Trigger the macguffin is an egg and it determines whether the protag survives something something)

-I am placing my bet now. I have said it before, I'll say it again: I don't think any new character can outdo Spamton in my brain. Not even a secret boss. Best they could do is tie. He had such an impact on me over the last 3 years, I can't imagine anyone in DR beating him. (For an UT example, Sans isn't my favorite of all time anymore... But he's certainly tied with Chara as my fav of that game, and still brings me great joy when I see him.)

I see all the jokes about people dropping Spamton once the rest of the game comes, but I'm stubborn. That little trash gremlin man is MINE. And he can always live in my brain if he likes.

(Nevermind the fact that Dream BBQ ENA keeps trying to steal his chair-)

[jovialtorchlight]

The Nokia Phone Underneath the Bleachers

In 2004, I slipped out of the pocket of Ian Thomas’ denim JNCO jorts and fell into the darkness deep beneath the gym bleachers at Cumberland Hills Middle School. ( For the record, Ian’s jorts had a bulldog patch on the back pocket. They were sick.) For Ian, the consequences of my neglectful disappearance were fleeting; he had to wash his dad’s car and couldn’t play Halo for a weekend.

Me? I faced a solitary prison. My battery stayed alive for a month, and everytime someone called Ian, “Come Out and Play” by the Offspring rang out in the cavernous purgatory. My neighbors? A crumpled up Gogurt wrapper. Dust. A desiccated Cheeto. A clove cigarette that fell out of Ryan Ashbin’s pocket in 2006; crumpled up detention slips; later, an influx of Silly Bandz. Livestrong Bracelets. For nineteen years, I could smell only buttsweat and Axe; in 2007, a gym sock fell a few inches from me and I prayed for the vicious odor to be fumigated.

The massive quaking and reverberations from pep rallys ; the secret conversations. Usher on loop during school dances.

I have been a silent witness.

A witness to conversations soaked in the melodrama of existing, for a moment, as a thirteen year old. To them, it felt like forever, like it was everything. But I saw them pulled away by time, out of the school, away and into the world. A collection of tiny moments, faded into the ether, that at one time, to some kid, mattered more than anything else.

Vince Garcia scrambling up the bleachers, tears in his eyes, huddled at the top corner, hyperventilating. Mr. Bennet following shortly behind him, his massive body creaking up the bleachers, gently coaxing Vince to come back to class.

“It’s my dad,” Vince croaked. “He’s dying.”

Rosie Blair admitting to her best friend that she cut herself. Tom Gatlin coming out to his best friend. Macie Howard breaking up with Danny Evans and dating Howie Grant and then getting back together with Danny and Danny’s ex-Tracey Young jumping Macie and pulling her hair. A debate that almost devolved into a fistfight over whether Bigfoot existed in San Andreas.

I have seen the years pass by through the cracks in the bleachers. On a cold December afternoon in 2023, light permeated the darkness. A hand grasped me, and pulled me out of the catacombs.

I guess I had it better than most old phones; discarded in a landfill, resting beneath piles of junk in a drawer. And I don’t know where I am going.

Phones today are fragile, glassy, imperceptible to me. I cannot fathom what they can do. I don’t think I’ll be returning to the workforce.

Maybe I’ll write a book? Maybe they’ll run me over with a truck and film it, just to see how indestructible I really am.

But when September rolls around, and the nervous sixth graders fill the gym, waiting for orientation, I won’t be underneath the bleachers.

My tomb has been unsealed.

[fantasy-fields-rescue-unit]

Pudu Rescue

Name: Leo

Species: Pudu(Tale Sans Faun from fantasy fields)

Morph: Crystal(pastel blue rock candy crystals)

Variant: N/A

Age: Adult

Size: 1'3 feet tall(Average mini)

Personality: Traumatized, skittish, quiet, hyper-observant,

Compatibility: Leo is a bitty with an enormous amount of emotional weight carried in a very small frame. They flinch easily and tend to freeze or shut down when overwhelmed.

They’re incredibly intelligent and show signs of once being playful and curious- but after everything they’ve endured, they rarely let that part of themselves out.

When they feel safe, you may catch glimpses: quietly collecting shiny objects, rearranging small things into neat patterns, or humming to themselves. But those moments are rare without patient care.

Leo is a survivor first and foremost. They’ve learned how to disappear, how to obey to avoid punishment, how to remain unseen. Undoing those lessons will take time.

Not suitable for homes with lots of noise or other bitties who don't understand trauma. They are extremely withdrawn and need consistency, gentleness, and space.

Needs a trauma-informed household with structured routine

Best paired with calm, grounded bitties

May benefit from a gentle, non-pushy caretaker bitty or guardian

Not suitable for homes with grabby hands, loud outbursts, or sudden touch

They are not aggressive but may hide for hours- or days- if overwhelmed.

Feeding habits: Leo eats very little, and often skips meals when stressed. Offer soft, lightly sweet foods like porridge, mashed fruit, or jelly cubes. Warm broths help when they’re shut down, but they may only sip a few spoonfuls at a time.

They are soothed by gentle smells like honey or vanilla and tend to do better with soft finger foods that don’t require utensils.

They will also hoard food,

Additional info: Their crystal morph creates delicate pastel blue rock candy-like growths along their antlers, shoulders, and back. These crystals shimmer faintly in the light and are incredibly fragile. They chip easily and are painful when cracked—so extra care must be taken when grooming or picking them up.

They do not like being touched without warning and will freeze or dissociate if startled.

Leo often curls up into small hidden spaces, especially near heat sources. They feel safest when they can hide.

Injuries: Malnourished, Several small chips/cracks in their crystal growths, Psychological trauma (severe PTSD), Hypervigilance and chronic anxiety, Mild scarring across their back and ribs

Special requirements: Quiet low-stimulation space with lots of hiding options, Consistent daily routine, Soft lighting and minimal scents, Access to gentle grooming tools (for crystal care), Trauma-informed handler with LOTS of patience,

Warnings: Will shut down completely if yelled at or touched without warning, May hide and refuse interaction for days after a bad episode, Crystals are sensitive and can break if handled roughly

Reasons for rescue: Leo was the only known survivor of a horrific hoarding case where bitties were not only neglected- but consumed. They were found hiding in a wall crawlspace, severely underweight and in a complete shutdown state. Recovery has been slow, but possible with the right care. They have every reason not to trust- but still want to believe there’s safety out there.

Difficulty: Advanced

Color/Pattern: Their fur is a soft fawn brown, speckled with pastel blue crystal formations. The crystals resemble rock candy and shimmer subtly when hit by light. Their eyes are pale silver-blue with a glazed, distant quality. In the right environment, their appearance becomes ethereal- like a fairy-touched forest sprite.

[entamewitchlulu]

you're never going to tear the reiji is a himejoshi headcanon out of my hands. every day i find a new yuri manga and go "reiji would fucking love this." his favorite manga is kase-san and morning glories. he uses his considerable wealth to commission sweet and tender doujin of his favorite yuri couples. yuya makes him watch some sort of action anime with him and reiji spends the next three weeks creating a red-yarn conspiracy theory board about why the main girl and one of the side girl characters are in love. he has a private twitter account where he talks about symphogear. he writes millions of words of fanfiction at his desk when he should be reviewing cost analyses. he is legendary in yuri circles for writing insanely heartfelt fanfic but otherwise being cryptically anonymous. no one knows who he is he doesn't respond to dms and he only says "Thank you very much." to every comment left on his work. forums are tearing themselves apart wondering who this megafan is who seems to pop up in every fandom just to write a life changing fic about two girls the show itself didn't seem to care about and then disappearing into the ether of the next fandom.

[randomvarious]

Today's compilation:

12 by 12: The Singles 1990-1991 1991 Hi-NRG / House / Synthpop

Here's a pretty decent sampler of rare tunes from San Francisco's Megatone Records, a label that was founded by dance music legend Patrick Cowley in 1981, the year before he would tragically succumb to AIDS. When Megatone opened, it was used as an outlet for both Cowley and other dance legend Sylvester's own material, but after Cowley's passing, the label continued on and eventually diversified its roster. And this here is a collection of songs that they put out between '90 and '91.

Now, while the bulk of these tracks are hi-NRG—a post-disco type of music with stabby electronic basslines that mixed extremely well with both cocaine and sweat and was also a fixture of both gay dancefloors and fitness tapes throughout much of the 80s—I think the best track on here is, hands-down, the opener, which is a slowish and intense Balearic trip hop-breakbeat-type remix of David Diebold & Kim Cataluna's cover of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit," done by someone named Steve Bourasa, who did a lot of work for Cali-based DJ labels at the time. Escapist strings, psychedelic vocals, some long and distorted heavy guitar chords, and an occasional infusion of Spanish guitar synth; basically the 80s-early 90s Ibiza vibe to a T. Seriously, what a tune here!

And for some of that great hi-NRG, there's a few bops on this CD, but for me, the best offering is "Let the Rhythm Move You," by Touch-N-Go, a duo who ended up only putting out two singles in 1990, before disappearing. This particular song of theirs, from its acid bassline, to its ethereal string melody, and to its clinking new wave synth stabs, sorta sounds like if New Order was fronted by a woman. Intricate, well-layered, dancy bliss.

Not all of this album seems to have stood the test of time, though. A bunch of these tracks feel a bit disposable, and there seems to be a general fondness across the board for that Art of Noise-patented technique of peppering the tunes with these sharp and choppy samples of things like hard rock and metal guitar. A lot of acts ended up doing that whole gimmick to death in the 80s and early 90s, and while it still works with some songs like INXS' "Need You Tonight," it's not a technique that seems to have really aged all that well, generally.

Still though, if you want a few sweet morsels of those electronically throbbing early 90s dance tunes that sounded like they had no intention of ever leaving the 80s, as well as a killer remix of a Jefferson Airplane cover, look no further than this release 😊.

Highlights:

Diebold & Cataluna - "White Rabbit" David Diebold & Ernest Kohl - "Dance Right Back Into Heaven (Remix)" Jo-Carol & Leo - "Jump Up for Love" Touch-N-Go - "Let the Rhythm Move You"

[chaoticproductivity]

one hundred days - 84

[Originally published on FF.net on Sep 08, 2011. The manga was not finished yet, please take that into consideration while reading.]

Donate every dime you had? 84

Three more days. 

Fortunately, three more days with Sasuke still able to see the world. And as if he wanted to make sure of that, his black eyes were constantly glued to the Hyuuga. He only stared at her when he thought she was distracted, as if she would not notice him. Hinata was almost calling him out for it, wanting to shout that, by heavens, she was also a ninja, even though people thought she was a weak kunoichi without all the prestige that ninjas like Uchiha Sasuke himself, Uzumaki Naruto or Haruno Sakura had. 

Could there be a bigger cliché than that? The three ninjas trained by the three legendary sannin were now the strongest ninjas there were. Pathetic!

But the Hyuuga only started walking these nonsensical thoughts because she didn't want to admit, even to herself, that Sasuke's gaze made her extremely uncomfortable. And worse, it wasn't a bad discomfort. 

In the end, she just wanted to ask him why he was watching her so intently, but she lacked the courage. Just as there was a lack of courage – perhaps on both sides – to talk about what had happened that other night.

When the Uchiha was watching her, she sometimes couldn't help but stare back. At these moments, the onyx orbs faltered and, a few seconds later, Sasuke was looking at any point other than Hinata, maintaining an air that bordered on spoiled and noncommittal. 

Last time Sasuke looked away they were sitting on the porch on a night that predicted a storm. The wind was starting to get stronger and colder, but it didn't bother them. Between them lay half-drunk cups of green tea, with the smoke still swirling and losing itself in the atmosphere.

'Sasuke-san...', Hinata tried to start saying something to break the silence and, if she could, ask him about the looks or the nightmare.

'Hyuuga', he interrupted her. 

After the desperate situation of Sasuke's supposed blindness ended, three nights ago, they returned to using the suffix of respect and their surname, imposing a distance in their relationship that no longer seemed appropriate, or even necessary.

Hinata waited, letting him continue. He closed his eyes and made an annoyed sound with his tongue, as if he wanted to scold himself for some mistake or for being ridiculous. For a moment the kunoichi didn't believe that the seventeen-year-old boy at her side was the Uchiha avenger, the renegade ninja who had murdered Uchiha Itachi – even with all the regret on the younger man's part after having done it –, the Council of Elders of the Village Hidden in the Leaf, and Uchiha Madara. 

Here, Sasuke just seemed like any other teenager in the Village, a Sasuke who never had his entire family massacred and who hadn't gone through all the things in his life that led him to be sentenced to death. 

Here, disconcerted, with a blush so light that Hinata almost didn't notice, he seemed to have been purged from his past.

The girl smiled tenderly, liking the Uchiha Sasuke that still existed within the unreachable persona he had created.

'Stay with me', he continued so suddenly that Hinata, being distracted as she was, almost missed it. 

She looked at him, letting the tender smile disappear from her face. Sasuke looked straight ahead, his forehead a little creased with worry. The kunoichi didn't quite understand the request.

'Somehow, when I look at you...', turning to her, Sasuke extended his arm and his hand reached Hinata's face. He held her cheek, hot to the touch, of the blushing Hyuuga, feeling as if he was holding a small, but bright flame, a light that would not let him fall back into another darkness. 'I look at you and darkness does not exist.'

Ah, so that's what he wanted. It was the first thing that came to Hinata's mind, but the words quickly disappeared, like the ethereal smoke of tea. Her mind went blank, feeling only Sasuke's touch and the satisfaction of being useful for something. She could do something for him, even if it was just staying by his side.

'Thank you, Hinata.'

[yhrkcnrk]

Tainted Hearts

Chapter 27: So Close

The grand hall was a sight to behold. Chandeliers sparkled like stars against the high ceilings, and the polished marble floors reflected the elegant, candle-lit ambiance of the night. Students dressed as queens, princesses, kings, and princes filled the room, a buzz of excitement and chatter filling the air. The atmosphere had an air of magic, as if everyone had stepped into a fairy tale.

Riko stood off to the side, her breath catching in her throat. She had never imagined herself in such a setting. Her soft lavender gown flowed elegantly, accentuating her gentle features. A silver tiara sat atop her neatly arranged hair, and the delicate lace detailing of her dress added a layer of ethereal beauty. But it wasn’t the gown that made her feel out of place—it was the feeling of being watched.

And watched she was.

Yoshiko stood across the room, her usual dark clothing replaced with a princely black suit, tailored to perfection. A simple silver crown sat on her head, adding to her regal appearance. But as her eyes found Riko, Yoshiko froze for a moment, the world around her dimming as if the spotlight had shifted to the girl standing there, looking like the prettiest princess she had ever seen.

Riko caught Yoshiko's gaze, and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of her teacher—no, her prince. Yoshiko’s appearance was breathtaking, so much so that Riko had to steady herself from letting the awe overwhelm her. Her thoughts echoed the same sentiment: Yoshiko was the most dashing prince in the room.

They didn’t move toward each other. Instead, the unspoken tension hung in the air between them, thick and palpable. Riko felt her cheeks flush as she quickly averted her gaze, unsure of what to do with the overwhelming emotions welling up inside her.

Yoshiko, too, tore her eyes away, knowing it would be improper for her to spend too much time with Riko in a room full of students. Keeping her distance seemed the only appropriate course of action, but it didn’t stop her from sneaking glances in Riko's direction whenever she could.

Around them, the event unfolded with all the grandeur Mari had promised. Mari herself was dressed as a resplendent queen, her gown shimmering with jewels. Kanan, by her side in a princely outfit, couldn’t help but laugh at Mari's enthusiasm as she greeted everyone who passed by. Dia looked regal in her own right, though she kept a watchful eye on her sister Ruby, who was adorably dressed in a princess gown alongside Hanamaru.

"You think Mari’s having too much fun?" Kanan teased, nudging Dia with a grin.

"You mean not enough?" Dia replied, rolling her eyes before taking a sip of her punch.

Across the room, Chika and You were laughing, dressed in their princely and princess-like attire, enjoying the night without a care in the world. You twirled Chika around, showing off their playful side as they joined the crowd on the dance floor.

Amidst all the lively chatter, Riko felt oddly out of place despite her friends being nearby. As she stood near a table, hands clutching the hem of her dress, she saw Yoshiko again. Their eyes met once more, and this time, the intensity of the look seemed almost too much to bear. The night felt like it was reaching some inevitable moment, and Riko’s heart began to race.

And then, as if on cue, the music changed. A soft, slow melody filled the air, and the couples around the room began to pair off for the next dance.

Riko glanced nervously around, unsure what to do. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask her to dance, least of all—

"May I have this dance, Sakurauchi-san?"

Yoshiko stood before her, hand extended, her princely tone steady but with a hint of something more—something that sent Riko’s pulse racing.

Riko hesitated for a brief second, stunned by the offer. She noticed the curious stares from her classmates, a few of them murmuring, clearly caught off-guard by the bold move. But it was too late to turn back now. She placed her hand in Yoshiko’s, feeling the warmth of her touch as Yoshiko gently led her to the dance floor.

The two stood there for a moment, facing each other as the music swelled. Yoshiko's hand found its place on Riko's waist, and Riko's hand rested lightly on Yoshiko's shoulder. Their fingers intertwined, and Yoshiko guided Riko effortlessly into the rhythm of the dance.

As they swayed together under the warm glow of the chandeliers, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. The world around them blurred into nothingness. The intimacy between them grew with every step, the soft glances, and the closeness that neither could deny.

The room seemed to fade into darkness as they spun slowly, their eyes locked on one another. Riko’s heart was pounding, her chest tight with the overwhelming sensation of being so close, yet feeling like they were miles apart.

The moment reached its peak as the final notes of the song echoed around them. Yoshiko leaned in ever so slightly, her face mere inches from Riko’s, her eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world had stopped, and they were caught in that fleeting, tender moment between decision and restraint.

But then, just as it seemed like Yoshiko might close the distance, she pulled back, a flicker of conflict crossing her expression. The reality of their roles—a teacher and a student—came rushing back, and Yoshiko stepped away, the intensity of the moment fading but not disappearing.

Riko, too, was left breathless, her heart aching with the sudden end of what could have been. She smiled softly at Yoshiko, though there was a quiet sadness behind her eyes.

The room came back into focus, and the other couples continued to dance around them, oblivious to the emotional storm that had just passed.

But somewhere in the crowd, the bullies whispered, casting sidelong glances toward Riko and Yoshiko. "Tsushima-sensei only asked her out of pity," one of them murmured, "Tsushima-sensei probably just felt sorry for her."

Riko heard the words but chose to ignore them. She glanced back at Yoshiko, and despite the bittersweet feeling between them, she knew one thing for certain: that dance was no act of pity.

[spaceumbredoggos]

Aces and Oh's Prologue (A broken Promise.)

8/18/2015 (No One’s POV)

Jacob broke down in his bed, relieved that his daughter was finally home from the hospital. It was a late summer Southern California night. The house had no AC, yet it wasn’t the dog days of summer yet. His fiancee was fast asleep, the baby monitor on her nightstand. But Jacob’s mind was too wild for any sort of rest.

In the past year, his daughter from a previous marriage had been going down a dark path. At a family barbeque, she had tried to drown his younger brother, who was only five years old. It seemed to happen with little provocation, and his daughter didn’t seem like herself. He tried to shake off the dead look in her yellow eyes. Yellow eyes. She didn’t have yellow eyes, right?

It only grew worse from there. His daughter always had tantrums and meltdowns. She seemed to worsen as time went on from when his ex wife had abandoned her. She was violent, rampaging for hours on end. Sometimes, she would rush down the street as an attempt to escape. She never slept. Ever. And these tantrums sometimes happened in the dead of night.

Jacob rubbed his temples as his own insomnia started to bite at him. He had recently started his daughter on a rigid ABA regime following their autism diagnosis. The therapist was an old friend of his fiancee. She had recommended that his daughter’s door would be locked on the outside at nights with them inside. Everything had been taken from his daughter’s room sans for a few plushies, blankets, and mattress. 

I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? Since his daughter had been admitted to the hospital for a third time, Jacob’s sleep was littered with terrible dreams. He would wake up sweating and panting despite being only in his underwear. It always had the same theme. A golden triangle with one eye would torment him. He kept this a secret from his family, knowing that they were just dreams, right? He’d been having nightmares since he was a boy. And the reason why they were acting up so recently was because of the stress his daughter had put on him.

Jacob finally closed his eyes. Please let things be better now. He prayed to himself, drifting off into the land of dreams. This was not before tossing and turning on his memory foam mattress, writhing in agony from his restlessness. 

Suddenly, Jacob’s eyes opened. He was in an ethereal void of starlight. Jacob recognized this place. His breaths grew uneasy as he walked toward a massive pink axolotl. 

The hairs on Jacob’s neck stood up. Frustration and heartache swelled in his chest. What do they want now? He gritted his teeth, trying not to drop his typical friendly facade. “Axolotl, how you doing bud?”

The Axolotl was cold and unmoving. Their gills frilled with disappointment. Three figures shown in the starlight in front of Jacob. Three babies gazed at him. Two of them looked away from him, as if betrayed and hurt. The other one’s emerald green eyes blazed brightly with unbridled fury and hatred. Jacob had never seen such a vivid and loathsome expression on a child before! He jolted back in terror, recognizing the face as his own daughter.

“I did the best I could.” Jacob pleaded, but it was unsure whether it was entirely to himself or to the ethereal figure in front of him. The two other babies disappeared to dust. 

Memories flooded back to Jacob, making him dizzy. The screams of three babies and his ex wife. A massive shadowy figure with unusually golden eyes, carrying two of the babies off. Jacob recalled how he stood there, frozen in terror, as the third baby was writhing in agony. The two babies and the shadowy figure disappeared, leaving a needle in their place.

Jacob remembered the nurse come in and pick up the needle. The nurse had a frightful expression on her face as she stared at the remaining daughter. “That child is a monster. But this shot will fix them.”

Jacob didn’t know what to do. His wife was unconscious, barely holding the baby in her arms. Jacob squinted as the baby’s form started to shift into that of a fearsome gila monster hatchling. He blinked and rubbed his eyes again, and the gila monster wawa gone. The human child was still there.

Jacob sighed. “Do whatever you can.” The nurse nodded and gave the child the injection. The child screamed, but fell still later on. She went back to sleep. 

Jacob opened his eyes again. Gone was the maternity ward of the Texas hospital. He was back in the starlit cosmic landscape. Immediately, his anger welled up in his chest. “Well what was I supposed to do? Let my child become a nightmare?”

The Axolotl was unmoving. They looked… disappointed. Finally, they spoke. “Remember your promise?”“I held it up pretty well.” Jacob’s arrogance was clear for many to see. “McKenzie’s still alive, right? I couldn’t save them all but I was able to save one.”

The Axolotl gave a heaving sigh. “You were supposed to accept her for who she was. Not try to fix her.”

“It’s not my fault that she’s broken.” Jacob’s nostrils flared. “It was all Erin’s. If she had done her--”

The Axolotl’s form flashed brightly. Their eyes were a bright white. “Three kids, born under three fives. Separated for most their lives. The one that remained will grow to hate. The father who sealed their fate. A liar rises from his prison. The frustrated child will grow to listen. Vengeance will soon be his, the fuming child will bend to his whims. The father who altered the course of time, will be punished for his crime. His children will always suffer, from not having their father or their mother.”

Jacob bolted awake in his own bed. It was the crack of dawn. Sunlight had filtered through his bedroom sliding glass door. His fiancee had left to wake up his baby. “Motherfuck!!” Jacob cursed under his breath, panting and fuming. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He went to his daughter’s room to unlock the door. He gazed away from McKenzie’s gaze, trying not to relive his nightmare. McKenzie sighed and went into the kitchen for breakfast. 

It’s all just a dream. They were all dreams. Jacob chided himself. Erin was never pregnant with triplets. The two other babies were never stolen because they didn’t exist. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. I can help her.