#they deserve the world but they get thrown down the stairs

[erinchristmaselvis]

PORTWELL IN HSMTMTS S3E06: COLOUR WAR

[darkbluekies]

OMG SILAS WEDDING? YES PLZ THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

Saying 'I do' is like a death sentence

Yandere!mafia OC x reader

Sumamry: Silas gets you to marry him

Warnings: threats, mentions of murder, guns, forced marriage, dubcon kiss?, violence, mentions of punishment, trauma from said punishments, possessiveness, jealousy, family drama

Word count: 3.5k

Things have been awfully quiet these last days and you've noticed a certain spark in Silas’s eyes. You didn't think much of it before seeing his second in command — whose eyes are normally dead — light up. But no one has talked to you.

You’re sitting in the window, looking out over the front yard and the houses down the street. You’ve seen school children come home from school and their parents join them with grocery bags. They’re living so … normally.

There's a knock on the door, which makes you even more confused. Silas doesn't knock on his own bedroom door. His second in command walks in.

“Y/N, you're going to come with me”, he says.

“Why?” you question.

“You will see. Come.”

You hesitate. Silas has told you countless times to never listen to any of his men, never walk somewhere with them. The only one you should listen to is Silas, the only one you should ever walk somewhere with is Silas. He has tested you before to see if you would leave the house with any of his members … and you’ve been greatly punished for it.

But Silas’s trusts his second in command … you know that he would never betray Silas.

“You don’t need to be afraid”, the second in command says and waves at you to come over.

“I don’t want to be punished …”, you whisper.

He takes a step forward. You press yourself closer to the window. It’s another trap, you’re certain of it. Silas is standing outside the room, waiting for you to take the bait. This is the final level, to see if you would listen to the man he trusts the most, one that you think that you can listen to. You shake your head quickly.

“Y/N, you can trust me”, his second in command says and puts his hand on his chest. “I swear on my mother’s life that I won’t get you into trouble.”

“Has Silas told you to get me?” you question carefully.

“Yes.”

Slowly, you get down from the window and walk over to him. He puts his hand on your back to guide you out of the room, into the corridor and down the stairs. Your heart is beating loudly against your ribs. What if the second in command is lying?

“Where is he?” you ask as you make your way down to the first floor.

“I am taking you to him”, the second in command says calmly.

You stop and turn to him. “Please promise me that this isn’t a test, and that I’m not going to get punished.”

“Y/N, I’m not lying to you. Silas have asked me personally to drive you to him.”

“Why?”

“You will find out once we get there.”

“Okay …”

You follow him out to a car. He holds the backseat door open and lets you jump in.

“Put on a seatbelt or else Silas will kill me”, he tells you.

You pull the seatbelt over your body and clicks it into place while the second in command walks around the car to sit down in the driver’s seat. You watch the houses as you drive by.

“I really thought that this was going to be one of those tests …”, you admitted hesitantly while scratching your nails. “I really don’t want to go down to the basement again.”

“I understand that.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends.”

“Don’t you ever feel bad for … what happens in the basement? To any of the people unfortunate to end down there?”

“Not necessarily. Most of the people that gets thrown down there has done something to deserve it. You see, Y/N, Silas never hurts anyone without a reason. If he could have it his way he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but people are stupid enough to cross and challenge him.”

“What would he do without it? Isn’t that how you’re supposed to survive and climb the ladder in this world?”

“He would do his business and trading without hurting anyone. In a perfect world, people pay on time and doesn’t try to steal territory. No human likes hurting anyone else — unless they’re psychopaths, but that’s rare. Even the most gruesome killers have guilt.”

“But how can he hurt someone he loves? I could never do what he does to someone I love.”

“I won’t meddle in your relationship, because that’s not my business, but things aren’t black and white.”

“I wish things could be colorful for once.”

The second in command sighs and turns on the radio. You listen to the music as the landscape outside the car swishes by. You don’t recognise anything, except for a supermarket chain that you used to shop at. Soon, you start to think that the silence between you two feels sickening. You can’t stop thinking about what awaits you once the car stops.

“I know that you’re not allowed to actually conversate with me, but can we just … talk about anything?” you sigh and shrug while trying to find a suitable conversation topic. “Could be about the weather.”

“The weather?” the second in command scoffs and smiles in amusement. “Fuck no.”

“How far is it left?”

“Around fifteen minutes.”

“You don't talk much normally, don't you?”

“I talk when I have important things to say. Otherwise, why should I? I get paid to act, not to talk.”

“I don’t get paid at all.”

The second in command tugs at his smile. “You still have it better than the majority of us.”

When the car finally stops, you look around to see that you’re by the beach. The second in command opens the door for you and helps you out. You look around and feel your heart sink when you see where Silas is, and what’s surrounding him. Candles and flower petals. You stop right in your tracks as you go stone cold. You’ve feared for this day.

“What are you stopping for?” the second in command asks and gives you a small push. “Come on.”

You notice a gun in his hands. On stiff, frozen legs you stumble towards Silas. The sand feels heavy under your feet. Silas smiles and takes your hand.

“I think you can guess what I’m going to do”, he says cheekily and takes up a small, black box out his pocket.

You shake your head, but Silas doesn’t seem to notice — or care. He gets down on one knee. You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but he tightens it.

“I don’t think words can explain the amount of love I feel for you”, he starts.

It’s not love. It simply can’t be.

“I know that I want to spend my entire life with you”, he says, looking up at you in awe.

“N-No … wait-”

He opens the box. “Will you marry me?”

You can’t breathe. You know that if you answer no, you might get to taste the gun in the second in command’s hands and you’ll definitely end up in the basement. But you can’t answer yes. If you do, you will be bound to Silas for all eternity. You will have to wear a ring claimed by him, take his name, officially be his. You will be known as his husband/wife forever.

“Y/N, I think that you better want to answer ‘yes’”, he whispers warningly, “for your own sake.”

You hesitate, going through every possible scenario. Every scenario where you decline him ends in physical and mental pain — not only to you, but probably to your family as well. If you accept his proposal, you will trap yourself deeper into his spider web and get tortured for the rest of your life, but you won’t piss him off. You can’t win, no matter what you choose.

“Okay …”, you whisper in defeat. “I will.”

Silas’s face lights up. He shoots up from his knee, wraps his muscular arms around you and devours your lips with his. He pulls your hand to him and places a ring on your finger. The ring is made of a shimmering gold and multiple glistening diamonds. You can’t help but stare at it.

“Congratulations, boss”, his second in command smiles. “You’re going to have a marvelous wedding.”

“Let’s go to a restaurant to celebrate this”, Silas smiles and start to walk with you in his arms. He gives his second in command a tap on the shoulder. “You too.”

The man smiles and follows.

You eat at his favorite restaurant, but you can’t seem to swallow any of the food. A lump has formed in the back of your mouth, preventing anything from passing it. Silas conversates with his second in command, only noticing your sulking after finishing his own food.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, touching your cheek. “Are you not hungry?”

You shake your head.

“That’s okay”, Silas says softly and caresses your shoulder. “Do you want to take it in a togo-bag?”

You nod.

That evening when you get back home, you’re allowed to sit at Silas’s place at the end of the long rectangular table in the dining room with your heated food. You can hear Silas’s men move through the house. Silas and his second in command are in his office to plan the wedding.

You notice that someone is about to sit down on the first chair of the long side of the table. A man you have never spoken to before.

“Hi, care if I keep you company?” he asks.

Too shocked to answer, he takes your silence as ‘yes’ and sits down. You glance at the open door towards the hall and swallow thickly.

“You shouldn’t-”, you try to tell him, to warn him about Silas, but he cuts you off.

“I heard that you got engaged today”, the man says slowly and looks down at your ring. “I guess that I have to say ‘congratulations’.”

“Yeah … thanks …”, you mumble dreadfully. “But you really should-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man in the chair getting ripped up by a harsh force. You hadn’t heard Silas and his second in command leave the office.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Silas questions and pushes the man away from you. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He signals for his second in command to get rid of the man. Silas sighs heavily, runs his hand through his black hair and sinks down on the same chair he had ripped his worker from. You avoid his eyes.

“Are you okay, little thing?” he asks and you can hear how he’s trying to stay calm. “Why didn’t you tell him to walk the fuck away?”

“I tried”, you mumble. “Twice.”

“He knows better than to talk to you. Seems like you’re even more irresistible now that you have a ring on your finger.” He sighs and rubs your back. “You’re mine, and soon they all will know.”

Days go by. Silas’s second in command takes you to try dresses/suits, but for the most of the time you’re in your bedroom, waiting. Every day takes you closer to your wedding day, that horrifying moment.

And finally, one day, it’s time. Silas’s second in command has taken you to a venue where you’ve gotten your own room to get ready in, but when the time is due for you to walk out and say your vowels, you refuse to come out of the room. There’s nothing you want less than to get married in front of people that you hate. You can’t imagine anything more humiliating.

“Y/N, come on”, the second in command says as he opens the door. “Everyone is waiting!”

“I don’t want to do it!” you burst out, full on panic.

“Silas have spent a lot of time and thought about this for you. He has even invited your family. Would be a shame if they came here for nothing, don’t you think? Don’t you think that they want to see you again? Don’t you want to see them one last time?”

You give the second in command a glare. He walks over and grabs your arm, helping you up on your feet.

“Come on”, he says. “We don’t have all day.”

He’s going to walk you down the aisle to deliver you over to Silas, as planned and try to pull your arm away from the second in command, but his grip on you tightens. The second you get into the venue and see the rows of chairs filled with Silas’s men, his family and your family, you stop, eyes tearing up when seeing your parents. Realization hits you again. You’re not only getting married, you’re also saying goodbye to your old life — a life that you will never get to live again. The second in command drags you past all the guests, over to Silas. You stare at your family, taking them in. Haven’t they changed since last you’ve seen them? Aren’t they looking older? Do they think that you’re different? Do they still recognize you as their little boy/girl? Silently wishing that they would stand up and object to everything happening, you continue your way down the aisle, towards Silas. Surely they have to understand that you’re not doing this by your own will? You would rather be at home with them.

You feel how the second in command moves you over to Silas. The ceremony seem to go by in a fuzzy daze. Words are being said but you're not sure who says them. You're brought back to reality when you hear Silas say ‘I do’. Your first instinct is to pull yourself away from him, but he doesn't let you.

“Your turn, Y/N”, he whispers with a tilted smile. “Tell everyone how you're giving yourself to me.”

Time seems to have stopped. You look out over the audience, at your poor family. They look nauseous. You wonder what kind of threats they have been told to keep them silent in their seats.

And you notice someone else — someone you never thought Silas would invite. Ares. You know that he hates his little brother with all his might, why would he invite him to his wedding? The day that's supposed to be his best day ever. You guess that the older couple by him are Silas's and Ares's parents. You have never met them before, but it's clear who Silas’s has gotten his face from. He's a spitting image of his father. Ares resembles their mother more.

Silas opens up his blazer to show you a gun, which you don't have to doubt is loaded.

“If you — or anyone — tries to object in this marriage, Y/N”, he starts with a dark voice, dangerously close to your face to make sure that no one will hear, “they'll die. Do you understand that?”

You nod unnoticeably, too mortified to do anything else. You understand him very well, and you believe him.

“You better say ‘I do’”, he whispers, voice even darker. “You belong to me. You are mine. Do not ever forget that.”

“Promise me that they won't get hurt”, you whisper as quietly as you can.

He takes your hand.

“I promise”, he says and kisses your knuckles harshly. “Say it.”

You clear your throat to make sure everyone will hear you, so that you don't have to repeat yourself. Giving yourself to this man once is enough.

“I do”, you say.

Everyone but your family and Ares claps. You're puzzled by the look on Silas's parents faces, as if they're not happy but still want to support their son. The rest of the cheering guests wear bright smiles, happy for their boss. You don't dare look at your family.

A new, bigger and more flashy ring gets placed on your finger and you put Silas’s new ring on his with shaking hands. You try to pull the collar of your clothing to the side, to be able to breathe.

You've kissed Silas’s before, but never like this. Never in front of so many people. You don't have time to think before his lips are on yours and you accept it, knowing that you've already signed your life away, refusing to kiss him won't change a thing.

The afterparty goes on without you. You don’t want to see everyone celebrating you when you never want this in the first place. You are allowed to go back to the room where you had gotten ready and sit in your solitude. You can’t help the tears running down your cheeks in silence. What have you done? Could you have done something differently? No, you couldn't. If you did, your family would get hurt. Instead, you’ve trapped yourself in a venomous spider’s trap.

You hear the door open and hurry to wipe your tears.

“Uh … hi”, a familiar voice says.

You turn to watch Ares close the door behind him. You freeze. If Silas finds him here, your wedding will be even worse … and frankly, after everything Ares have done to you, you don’t want to be alone with him either. You stand up and try to leave the room, but he stops you.

“Wait, let me talk to you”, he says.

“Don’t touch me”, you hiss.

He pulls his hand back and sighs.

“It shouldn’t be you and Silas”, he says in defeat. “You didn’t want to marry him, I saw that. We can run away now and you’ll never have to see him again.”

The proposition alone makes you scoff.

“And why would I want to go anywhere with you?” you spit angrily. “You’re as sick as Silas! I don’t want anything to do with any of you. It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with one … I don’t need the other. Leave.”

Ares twitches his black eyebrows and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright then. Guess I’ll have to force you with me.”

“If you touch me I will scream.”

He gives you a glance as if he’s weighing the outcomes. In a quick motion, he grabs you, trying to pull you over his shoulder. You scream and hit him, causing enough commotion for the door to swing open and for Ares to be ripped off of you. Your vision is blocked by someone dressed in black.

“Get the fuck away before I kill you”, you hear the man in front of you say. “I mean it.”

You expected it to be Silas, but it’s his second in command.

“Touch my boss’ wife/husband again and I’m breaking your neck”, he warns and rolls up his sleeve.

“Why don’t you get the fuck away and let me do what I want to do, hm?” Ares responds harshly.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you? This is a wedding, don’t be stupid like usual, Ares.”

“I’m stupid? Have you seen my brother?!”

“Leave, Ares. I don’t want to cause your parents any more pain.”

“What’s going on?”

Silas’s voice makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“What have you done, Ares?” Silas asks coldly.

“You’re just going to assume that I’ve done something, huh?” Ares growls.

“Why would my man waste time talking with you unless you’ve done something completely idiotic?”

“I heard Y/N scream and found Ares trying to kidnap them”, the second in command says and reaches back a hand to make sure that you’re still there, or to console you.

Silas turns his face towards his brother, his black eyes burning with anger. Before Ares has time to defend himself or throw an insult, Silas has hit him. Hard. You watch how blood seeps from his nose.

“Don’t think that you can ever try to take them from me”, he warns. “They’re mine. See the ring on their finger? Belong to me. I have all the legal rights to say that now. Don’t fucking think a thing.”

Silas puts his arm around your shoulders.

“The only one that gets to touch them is me, so put your greasy little hands away before I cut them off and force you to eat them”, Silas warns him coldly. He turns to his second in command. “Let’s go home, I don’t want to sabotage the after party.”

You’re pulled along out to Silas’s car.

“I should have known that this wedding would have drama”, the second in command sighs. “Why did you even invite Ares from the start?”

“Because I wanted him to see Y/N giving themself to me”, Silas smirks. “To annoy him.”

“You’re supposed to be older than him.”

“Oh shut up, let me have some fun.” He turns to you, growing softer. “Are you okay, little thing? Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head. If anything, you hurt him when clawing at him.

“Good”, Silas smiles and caresses your cheek. “Let’s go home.”

In the car, he takes your hand, inspecting the ring with a cocky smile.

“Now you're officially mine”, he whispered, looking at you with intense, dark eyes. “Forever. And there's nothing you can do to separate us.”

[atxxzist]

oh boy | c.s

summary: your curious heart that's full of adventure and knowledge; of what's out there beyond the space of your room and farmhouse, find it in a boy who not only open your eyes to the world around you, but also to a longing you didn't even know was there

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: farmboy!san, fluff, angst, suggestive

word count: 16.6k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

your father always told you it isn't good to venture out of the farm.

he said the world out there is too big, too dangerous, and too unpredictable; that a fragile and defenseless girl like you shouldn't hold an interest for something ugly that would only do harm in return, though you would say he's wrong.

because although you haven't seen it much for yourself, the few times that you did, along with the stories you've heard, you know that whatever stretches beyond the farmhouse and is sharing the same sky you're looking at, is something beautiful waiting to be explored--

the second you hear the front door slammed shut, you open your own, peeking your head out the empty hallway before grabbing your heels and tippy toeing down the stairs.

you watch your father's figure through the window until he disappears off into the distance, humming a tune under your breath and snapping on your heels, shortly met by the morning sun and the fall weather.

you skip in excitement all the way to manshik's cottage on the other side of the farmhouse, given it's harvest season, he probably needs help with the crops. if not, he might be able to take you to the river nearby to pick out a daisy.

"morning," you call out so sweetly, knuckles tapping his window and waiting for the old man to greet you with weary eyes the way he always does, honestly just blessed he has a heart of gold and haven't pulled the plug and rat you out for ruining his sleep a couple times a year.

a pair of arms pry the window open--arms that are no way in shape or form look like they belong to a seventy something year old man. and then you see his face, and manshik must've turned fifty years younger from the last time you saw him. that, or whoever this stranger is, have done something to manshik.

his expression is not much different from yours, just as equally perplexed and confused. you suppose knocking on someone's window when the sun is barely out does that.

"uhh... where's manshik?" you ask.

he cranks an eyebrow attractively, a couple seconds of silence passing before he answers.

"manshik?" he repeats.

"yes." you nod. "he lives here."

"oh, i'm not sure." you watch as he sits up and rub at his tired eye. "my father and i arrived just yesterday to replace the worker that used to work here."

replace? as in take over manshik permanently?

you wonder what could've possibly warrant the need for a replacement when manshik was perfect at his job and had always been a loyal worker to your father.

you offer an apology to the stranger for disrupting his sleep and begin making your way back to the house completely disheartened, occupying yourself with prepping breakfast until min wakes up and take over.

when you think of where manshik could be or what could've happened to him, death never even crosses your mind. but a nosy question thrown at min, and you find that the old man didn't get fired or quit--he had passed away a week ago, and you can't believe your father never said anything.

knowing the man he is, you don't expect much from him, but manshik's been with the family before you could even walk, you think you deserve to know something as big as his passing.

your father is so cruel.

"i hate him," you spit bitterly, glowering as you take a seat at the dining table.

min shoots you a look and shakes her head.

"miss, you know it's not good to say things like that."

you throw your arms up, as if preaching to someone higher to hear your pleads.

"but all he does is keep me locked up, never bothering to tell me anything. manshik was like family."

"i understand you were very close to him."

you only continue to sulk, knowing that ranting to your father's workers is as far as it'll go when it comes to releasing all the frustrations about your father.

"do you know where they'll be burying him?"

"i'm not sure, but it's most likely in the town nearby."

your eyes light up with something at that, only to be shot down just as quickly.

"can you take me there? so i can make an offering?"

"miss, you know i can't do that. if your father finds out i took you out of the farm, i will lose my job."

you groan in annoyance, arms crossed.

"so what now? i lose one of the only people who ever listened to me, and my father is just going to continue locking me up. i'm going to be bored to death!"

it might sound like a tantrum, but for a young girl who has been deprived of interactions all her life and forced to entertain herself with whatever she could find, it is very much a cause for concern.

"i heard the new workers have a son your age. maybe go and introduce yourself."

that was probably him back there, but they're new and you don't know them.

manshik's patience was also undefeatable and you're not sure if they will be able to tolerate you the way he did. so you don't, instead opting for cleaning around the house (though really, how much dirt can a lone girl like you make considering your father's never home) and making dinner.

there's not a single book on your shelves that hasn't been read and not a single skill taught that you haven't mastered, having lived in isolation so long, you spent most of it sticking your nose in your father's workers hobbies and interests and learning off of them.

but days passing by, awkward and silent dinings with your father one after another, you're officially bored.

you finally make your way out to the other side again one morning, figuring that if they're going to be here for a long time, you might as well get familiar with them.

as you're nearing, you can see a figure going through the apple trees and picking them out into a basket.

you wonder if it's the stranger from days ago, but the person hears your arrival first, turning around to prove you wrong.

"good morning," the older man greets you. he looks a lot younger than manshik, but definitely old enough to be your father.

"hi," you respond with a simple smile. "i heard my father got some new workers and i wanted to come by."

"ah! you must be the young miss!" he smiles in a return, something about him already so welcoming and you're glad for that.

you nod, curling your hands together in front of your dress.

"i'm y/n. what can i call you by, mister?"

"you may call me mr. choi, or anything you see fit, miss."

"mr. choi..." you mumble the name, making a note to yourself you will for sure remember it next time. "do you need any help?"

"oh, i couldn't do that to you, young miss."

you know you look absolutely nothing farm-ready with your dress and heels, but you're always willing to accommodate. manshik's said before that you are a great help.

"it's fine. i'd love to help! manshik, the farmer before you guys, taught me many things."

"oh, i can see he was very good at his job. pretty much everything is ready. they just need to be harvested and gathered."

"manshik was the best!" you praise once again, mr. choi acknowledging with another smile.

"well, miss, if you really insist, maybe you can help me with a couple baskets?"

"of course! but... just one thing." your facial changing from soft to serious. "you cannot tell my father i was here."

mr. choi squints before giving in with a quiet snicker.

"if you say so, miss. it will be very hard to catch up with your father anyways."

"thank you so much! i'll help with what i can, but i'll have to return soon for breakfast."

by the time you have to go back, you're happy to have filled two full baskets for mr. choi, telling him that if your father doesn't return early, you will probably show again somewhere in the afternoon.

you wash the dirts off your feet with the garden hose and shake off any leaves or remains that got on your dress before entering the house, with hyunjoo being the first to greet you as she's disinfecting the living room.

"did you go out to the field again?"

you hold the pair of heels by the hang of your fingers, stopping and answering her.

"of course i did."

she shakes her head, amused by the determination if anything.

"and how was it?"

"good! mr. choi was wonderful. i think we're going to become pretty close."

--

your father finished his meeting early yesterday so you weren't able to go back, unfortunately. but you have made sure to stay for breakfast this morning so you'll have more time at the field.

it's awfully quiet when you get there; not a soul in sight. but you notice that the apple trees are almost done with the exception of one that sits a lone basket at the foot, barely filled.

mr. choi was probably going through it when something came up.

you don't hesitate to take matters into your own hand, picking up the basket and continuing where it was left off, only managing to collect three apples in total when the sound of incoming footsteps behind alerts you.

"stop right there! who are you?"

you spin around tight-lipped and wide-eyed at the voice that doesn't belong to mr. choi, freezing momentarily as you just stare at the familiar boy in front of you, and it looks like he recognizes you as well.

"sorry..." you mutter, "i was just, uhm, i saw there was no one and thought maybe mr. choi went somewhere so i just wanted to help."

san raises an eyebrow, grateful it's not a thief or someone who happened to wander into the farm--just the girl from before who woke him up by banging on his window.

"my father is inside. i'm the one sweeping the field today."

"oh..." you nod slowly, just realizing you've never properly introduced yourself despite making possibly two of the worst first impressions already.

"i'm y/n." you hold out your free hand that isn't clutched to the basket. "my father owns the farm and i live on the other side." pointing with your chin to said direction.

"ah..." it dawns on him, accepting your greeting in return. "well, i'm san. choi san."

his hand is surprisingly soft and silky, not at all harsh like you expected considering the taxing work he does. he also has some very prominent features that sticks out in a good way, and you would be lying if you don't think he's kind of cute.

"makes sense as to why you're able to hop around the farm so easily," he adds and you're unsure if it's a jab, just that your cheeks turn bright red at the reminder of the first meeting.

"again, i'm sorry about that."

he dismisses it with a shake of his head.

"you're good. so, did you ever find out what happened to manshik?"

you nod once, looking down at the ground before you meet his eyes again.

"yeah, but i'd rather not talk about that right now."

he doesn't push any further, waiting until you speak again.

"so, what's the plan after?"

"well, we're going to sweep the crops with one of those machinery. the next couple of days is going to be a lot of physical labor--even more than picking apples."

he switches his gaze to the field of crops a few feet away; you snapping your head to follow.

"if you're planning on visiting the next couple of days, it might be harder to catch me or my father."

you digest the information, humming in understanding.

"no worries. sometimes my father doesn't attend meetings on the weekend so i most likely won't be able to come anyways."

san lets you finish off the last tree by yourself, having ran back inside the house to fetch something but is gone for a lot longer than he should.

only until you're almost done, do you hear your name from the distance and him running up to you again.

"me and my father would like to invite you for breakfast, if you don't mind."

you're no stranger to the cottage--how it looks on the outside or on the inside, manshik always having told you to treat it like it was your own. that whatever was his, was yours.

and despite not being the biggest enthusiast of the interior because it always gave away who lived here; everything mostly dusty or like it came straight from one of those old films you'd watch when there was nothing to do, you grew to appreciate it because it did felt like home.

but when you enter the cottage this time, you almost can't recognize it. a complete revamp, the white and brown is different, but also fitting in a way... and you think you can probably grow to like the more modern approach.

"good morning, miss," mr. choi calls out, and you send a greeting in return, observing as he move around the table to set up what looks like tea.

"would you like some soup, miss?"

you shake your head, quick to mimic san when he goes to take a seat at the table, occupying the one across from him.

"it's okay, i'll take some tea. i ate before i came here."

you're on your best behavior, hands curled together on your lap and watching the father-son duo with intrigued eyes as mr. choi places the bowl of soup in front of san, the younger boy proceeding to thank him with a smile.

dimples. you just noticed san has dimples when he smiles. how cute.

if anything, seeing how effortlessly the two interact and how genuinely happy they look around each other, it's beautiful but also disheartening because you don't remember the last time you even smiled in front of your father.

"your father goes out a lot?" mr. choi asks, finally settling down.

"he's always busy, and when he's not, he's usually in the office all day."

"that's understandable. he probably has a lot on his plate."

you know he has a lot of things to look after, but you don't know what that has to do with you. does being too busy justify confining your daughter and keeping her away from possibly discovering something much bigger?

san catches the indifferent look on you, but you're already moving the subject along.

"this rose tea is good," you say after tasting. "my father's cook, min, knows all about tea. i learned how to tell the difference between them from her."

mr. choi breaks out into an endearing smile.

"you are an interesting one, young miss."

you stay to help with the dishes and cleaning, feeling this is the most you can do for bothering the pair, before announcing your departure of the day.

san is even nice enough to walk you halfway, watching until you make it back to the house safely, your chest can't help but to feel strangely tight because you've lived with people twice your age for so long, it's relieving and nice to have a boy you might be able to share one or two common interest with.

the monday your father leaves for his meeting, you head out to the field again, picnic basket in one hand and walking until you spot a harvest truck along with the boy you're looking for.

"hi," your voice ring in san's ear, making him jump a little before losing himself shortly in your giggle.

"what's going on?" you ask, scanning the many boxes and baskets of produce sitting on the truck.

"just getting everything ready for tomorrow."

that's when you recall that usually after manshik was done harvesting, he would leave for a couple of days out of town to sell it at the local market.

you always asked every time if he could take you along, but he said it was too risky since the market is an hour away by driving and you had to be home before your father's return.

"to the town nearby, right?"

san nods, picking up a box of watermelons that was on the ground, packing it onto the truck and pushing to make space.

"that would be correct."

this is your chance to see another part of the world; what it's like outside of the farmhouse and there's no way you're letting it slip. even if denial takes you, it's worth a try, at least.

"can i come with?"

san snaps to you with those brows that you've seen on more than one occasion--honestly a look on him that is very attractive.

"i'd have to ask my father, since i heard that yours is a little tight."

you roll your eyes and scoff, attempting to come up with another way to convince him.

"i brought sugar cookies." you open the basket and pry one out, wiggling it in the air as san gives you a puzzling expression.

"i'm not taking any bribe--" he's cut off by the sweet tasting flavor of the cookie shoved in his mouth, the way his eyes swell erupting another giggle from you.

"this cookie is good." he takes it upon himself to finish the rest.

"it is."

"i'd still have to ask my father, though. he's out clearing the rest of the field, but you should have an answer by tomorrow morning. wake up extra early in case he says yes so you will have the time to get ready."

you bob your head like a hungry dog, just elevated at the possibility of getting the hell out of here for once.

"got it! i'll be back in the morning." you untangle the basket of cookies, handing it to him. "i made this for you and your father as a thank you for the breakfast yesterday."

he smile tenderly, accepting the offer.

"i'm gonna have to head back, so, see you in the morning tomorrow." you wave, already backing up. "thank you, san!"

he chuckles at the sight of you scuttling along the grasses and back into the house. you definitely are an interesting one.

your appearance is expected when he sees you skipping from a mile away until you stop next to him with heels digging the ground, chest leaned in and hands behind your back, speaking in a sweet tone, "so, what did your father say?"

he does a last once-over of everything on the truck before shutting off the back, head turning to you.

"he said you can come, but you'd have to return before the sun sets."

his words feeling as if you've finally been released as a prisoner, your feet all of a sudden jittery and unable to relax at the pure excitement, san even thinks you might burst any second.

"thank you thank you!"

you leap in for a hug without much thought, his body tensing at the sudden intimacy that makes him clear his throat, only staring dumbfoundedly as you pull away with a smile, emitting a floral scent that whisks past his nose.

"you're welcome," he replies, fighting a smaller smile of his own.

already thinking of what to bring to town, your face light up instantly at an idea.

"are you free right now, san?"

he presses his lips together and nods.

"i should be. we got pretty much everything. just waiting on my father."

"perfect. well then, would you like to accompany me to the river nearby?"

"oh? i didn't even know there was one."

"there is, let me show you!"

you snatch his wrist and he has to keep from tripping at how fast you're going, it must be some kind of skill to be able to do it in those heels.

when you insist to take the cruiser bike, he makes you get in the passenger seat instead, pointing out the directions for him as he cycles down the dirt road.

"keep your hold tight if you don't want to fall off," he mumbles from the front, with you following through as you practically suffocate his tiny waist, peeking your head out from his shoulders so you can tell him to turn left.

"you can stop here."

you fly off the bike immediately, not even bothering to wait for san to properly break. he can only snicker to himself watching as you skip to the open field of daisies with your bouncy dress that is a little too short.

"this place is beautiful," he comments, walking over as the plain grass brushes his legs, admiring the scenery of the river that sits in the middle of all the trees with the sun shining brightly behind it.

"isn't it?" you say in a high pitch, standing up and handing him a daisy that was picked out, but he just continues gawking, only giving in when you force it up his nose.

you pat and straighten the back of your skirt, sitting down to stare ahead at the view with san crouching into the same position.

"manshik would always take me here to pick out daisies," you say, prompting him to turn his head to your side profile.

"you seem very close to him."

"i was. he was like a father to me more than my actual father."

"you don't have a good relationship with your father?"

a deep sigh departs, combined with the drop of your chest.

"well how could i? he keeps me locked up in the farm like an animal. that's why i can't wait to get out of here."

"so you've never like... been out of the farm at all? not even to the forest or local places nearby?"

"i've been out before, to my knowledge. but that was when my mother was still alive and my father was nothing like the man he is now. i was also too young to remember anything. other than that, everything i know about the world outside the farm is from stories i've heard by my father's workers."

san's eyes grow into a mix of sympathy but also sadness, the thought of being confined to a single place your entire life and shut off from the world sounds like an absolute nightmare.

"sorry to hear..."

"it's fine. i've learned to work my way around it, which is why i'm always bothering you and your father, though manshik probably got it the worst."

he lets out a dry but genuine laughter.

"so really, thank you for this opportunity. i know i'm a handful."

"not at all. it is my pleasure. if you have anything in mind you'd like to do when you get there, let me know."

he smiles, gaze meeting your own when you finally turn to look at him.

"my father's cook, min, told me that manshik might have been buried in the town nearby. i came here because i wanted to pick out some daisies for his offering. do you think you can take me when we get there?" you wait for his answer, eyelashes blinking in anticipation.

"shouldn't be a problem. the town only has one gravesite."

"thank you so much, san. i really appreciate it!"

-

before leaving, you hurry back inside the house to get the last item on your list, bidding goodbyes to min and hyunjoo with a promise that you'll be back before your father's return in order to spare the two a heart attack.

the two older ladies unable to do anything else but sigh and shake their heads at the troublesome but understandable curiosity of yours.

you sit by the window, san squashed in middle of you and his father who's driving the truck.

within just the first fifteen minutes of the trip, he has to bite back an amused smile at how you ooh and ahh at even the dark and grimy forest that surrounds the area outside the farm, confirming you weren't exaggerating about the confinement.

"squirrel," you suddenly say, head out the window and butt off of your seat, san has to grab at your belt, afraid you really might fall off.

"there's plenty of them in town." he forces you back down. "now before you fly out."

you cross your arms and brush it off with a scoff, the excitement contained for a minute before catching a stream on the other side shielded by the rocks and trees, but the sound is evidence of its existence.

"that must flow back to the river," you comment.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," san agrees, the realization just hitting him.

he's never really paid much attention when commuting through the forest; not to the animals or the surrounding because he's seen many wildlife and passed many rivers and streams, it sometimes fly over his head.

the journey through the tall trees and sound of nature continues until you can see the light from the sun attempting to sneak through, eventually hitting a road that looks like it stretches out forever into nothingness.

mr. choi tells you that the forest didn't use to have a path that was easily accessible for traveling back and forth, so it either had to be done on foot or a much longer route needed to be taken in order to reach the other side. but over the last decade or so, it must had been a real hassle, a path was made.

"we're almost to the outskirt of town," san announces, and a few more silent strolls down the road, you can see a couple houses from the distance and some livestocks decorating the open field.

you're like a fish fresh out of water when the truck finally comes to a stop, amazed by the life and never-ending chitters around you that makes everything feel so alive.

"let's go," mr. choi says with a smile, san nodding his head in the direction of the door for you to open it.

your feet now on cement, nothing like the soils or grasses you're used to back at the farm, so it's different, but a good different.

"okay, enough of being in awe for now. we have to set up the stall first, then i'll take you around the town after," san's voice from behind takes you out of the fascination, along with the slamming of the car door.

"got it." you nod obediently, watching san run to the back to help mr. choi unload some of the boxes and baskets and then carrying it to the empty stall nearby.

you stand in spot, feeling completely useless and if you should help though your hands are full from clutching a book and bouquet of daisies.

seeing as they're coming back, you think about throwing the items into the car to make yourself useful when an unfamiliar voice kicks the thought out of your head.

"well well well, we haven't seen him in barely a couple of weeks, and he's already returned with a lover?"

you snap to the new arrivals, both of them settling to the left of you with the boy that had just spoken shooting a simple smile when he meets your gaze.

"she's not my lover," san replies, stopping in front of you three only to pry away to grab another box. "she's my boss's daughter."

"oh?" the other one says, you notice he's much taller than the first. "then your boss must've put a lot of trust in you if you're bringing her here."

san rolls his eyes and looks utterly annoyed, you've never seen him in that state before, it's almost humorous.

"what is your name, your majesty?" the first boy that spoke turns to you again.

"your majesty?" san repeats, the ridiculousness makes him want to roll his eyes once more. "will you guys stop yapping your mouth and help me and my dad out?"

"geez, so bossy you are," he sighs out but goes to help anyway with the other boy following behind.

after everything on the truck's been taken care of, you try to contain a giggle at the sight of all the men exhaling and trying to catch their breath, hands on their waist and all.

you wanted to help but they insisted they got it--as quoted by one of the new boy: "a proper lady like you shouldn't ever have to work hard."

"well, shit," the taller one says, being the first to get a word out of the bunch. "anyone up for a drink? heard the bar's having a deal today."

"i'm in." the other raises his hand. "this is also a perfect opportunity to introduce one another. we don't even know the pretty lady's name, yet."

"there will be no drinking and no learning about each other. y/n has to be back before the sun sets, and if you guys already can't see, me and father are a little busy."

"y/n... that's a pretty name," says the shorter boy. "okay, since san wants to be a major buzzkill, then maybe another time, your majesty?"

you nod at that, a smile on your lips.

"yeah, maybe another time." you hope.

the two goes off, waving until they can't anymore and disappearing out of sight.

"sorry, those are my idiot friends, also known as hongjoong and seonghwa."

you chuckle, shaking your head.

"no worries, they were fun."

and you were glad to see others who looks close to your age, swearing you'll never take that for granted given the circumstances you grew up with.

"i'll take you to the gravesite after this," san brings up, assuring he hasn't forgotten.

--

"so you're sure he was buried here?"

"again, it's only a might. but i can't think of anywhere else. if we can't find him, we'll just return back to the center."

"he didn't have any friends? families? do you know where he's from?"

"well..." you drag, at the same time attempting to catch up to san as he takes a big step up the hill. "he's never talked about it."

from your knowledge, manshik only left the farm for work, otherwise, he practically lived there. if he had friends or families, you don't know about them.

the man had a heart of gold, but he was a very mysterious person. you wish you would've asked more about him while he was alive because now thinking of it, you don't even know his last name--praying there doesn't happen to be another manshik at the site.

"we'll have to see," san says, coming to a stop at the top. "here it is. the only gravesite in the town."

it's rather small, with only a dark metal half-fence running around the entire site. you enter it first, glancing back at san, "can you help me look for his name?"

"of course."

you're careful to not knock into any other headstones, treading the area slowly to read each of the names.

"i think i found it," san calls from a few feet away, your head shooting up and hopping to where he is.

"cho manshik," you read the writing. "right! i think it was something like that."

if you think about it hard enough, digging into the deepest scrap of your memories, you could've swear manshik was a cho.

bending down on your knees, you place the bouquet of daisies in front of the headstone first before neatly adjusting the book next to it, closing your eyes to wish him a few words before getting up and bowing one last time.

"i hope i don't sound rude or anything, but why a book?" san asks on the trip back.

"that was manshik's favorite book," you answer with a proud smile. "he would always have me read it to him."

"ooh..." he sings, "what was it about?"

"a true love story. manshik loved those, but especially this one because the two main characters were able to overcome hardships because of love."

san hums, quirking his lips to the side. "interesting."

but he nearly crashes into you when you come to an abrupt stop, turning to him with a question dying to get out. the entire time all you've been talking about is yourself, you wish to learn more about him, too.

"tell me san, where are you from? do you have any other family members?"

he chuckles, those dimples making an appearance again, and san really is so handsome... especially up close.

"i'm from a village not too far from here, you can reach it by foot. as for your second question, yes. me and my father came to find work but on the occasion we do get time off, we return to the village to stay with my mother."

"ah..." you take in the new information. "that's where you guys will be staying for the next couple of days?"

he nods. "yes. it's much closer than the farm, and it's convenient."

you're already dreading the days to come knowing there won't be anything to kill time with, and also no farmboy your age to bother, all you can hope for is that it will pass quick enough.

when you don't say anything, he's the one to talk again.

"let's continue heading back. if you want to look around once we get there, feel free to. i'm gonna help my father in hopefully selling a few, then we can start getting ready to take you home. the sooner the better since it's an hour drive."

--

despite the few jewelry and book stores that catches your eye, you decide to help san and mr. choi instead, a choice that you're glad to have made.

getting to talk to people of all kinds and trying to persuade them is an experience like never before, it was hard to get back in the truck and wait for the return of your mundane life because the closer san gets to the forest, you know it's coming.

your arms are out the window with your chin resting on top, staring out at scene and dwelling in the breeze, head already in a daydream about the day you'll get to come back.

when san announces the arrival, you nearly groan out.

"we're here, your majesty." he pries the door open when there's no movements, leaving you with no choice but to step out of the truck like a sulky child.

"what's wrong? not so happy to come back to the farm?"

"i'll be happy to be anywhere else but the farm," you snark, to which he responds immediately with a sweet-sounding laughter.

"it won't be the last time," he tries assuring.

"i hope," you say sharply, a silence hanging in the air until a question takes over. "how long are you guys going to be staying in town again?"

"hmm..." his lips tremble in the process. "maybe three to four days? it really depends on the sales."

"oh," you mumble, "then, can you do me a favor?"

"yeah, sure."

"can you get me a new book? any book! or maybe two. i haven't read anything new in months since hyunjoo hasn't been bringing in any. and lastly, if you can also get me a new vase, that'd be appreciated. i will make sure to pay you back every penny if you do."

san smiles at the request and nods.

"i'd be happy to."

"thank you so much!" you squeal, jumping in to give him a hug again, the touch sparking something inside of san that makes his cheeks glow a bright red.

"yeah, you're welcome," he tries saying nonchalantly when drawing back, fortunate you're as equally clueless when it comes to love despite having read countless novels about it.

"i-i uhm, gotta head back before it gets darker."

"safe driving, san! and see you in three or four days!" you wave, observing until the very last moment you can no longer make out the truck through the forest trees.

you wish you could tell your father that he's wrong. that the stories you've heard from books, and from min and hyunjoo are true; the outside a big place full of mismatched people with all kinds of smiles and personalities--nothing cruel like your father said they are.

the world is also beautiful, so many more lands and acres to explore, your curious heart that yearns for adventure and knowledge also wants no more than to just be a part of that world.

you've lost count of how many times you'd peek out the window or run out with your heels the minute your father leaves, expecting to see the boy with his father in the field because they happened to return early.

every time, you're met with disappointment. no father or son in sight, just the swaying of grasses as the birds chirp and fly high above the other side.

on the fifth day, almost a week since you've seen them, the revving of an engine outside the window picks your head up from the book you're reading, looking out to see that familiar red truck coming from the forest, absolutely overjoyed that you nearly knock into hyunjoo on the way out.

"you guys are back!" you jump in pure ecstasy once the car is parked and san crawls out the door, an amused smile still on his face at the image of you running all the way to the other side still ingrained in his head.

you look so happy, wide smile on and all, it does something to his heart at the fact you were waiting for him (and his father) all this time. it's similar to coming home and knowing his mother is there. the feeling sure does feel nice.

"yeah," he responds, attempting to hold back a laughter this time, seeing you're not even wearing any shoes. just how excited were you?

"how did sales go?" you ask, waving back to mr. choi when he greets you from the other side before walking off into the cottage.

"took an additional day than predicted but we managed to sell out. that was only the first batch, though. we would need to return next week after clearing the field again."

only a second after, he immediately recognizes that mischievous look in your eyes, the way your face lights up with an idea.

"can i come again?" your voice drops into that overly sweet tone that makes him chuckle a little, unable to resist.

"i'm sure my father is fine with it, as long as we follow last time," he confirms, snapping his neck back to the car when the reminder floods in. "i almost forgot."

you observe as he digs into the car seat, coming back with his hands full, gasping under your breath because you literally forgot, mind entirely clouded by nothing but the return.

"i have no idea what these books are about, but i asked the lady at the front for some recommendation on romance and she gave me these."

he hands it to you before continuing, "also wasn't sure what kind of vase you had in mind so i just picked this one out."

you accept the white ceramic vase into your hold graciously, smiling up at him through your teeth.

"thank you, san! they are perfect!"

he watch as you admire the new items with a pretty smile on your lips, the sight all of a sudden making his cheeks heat up again... you always do this.

he does think you're so pretty, probably the prettiest thing he's seen in his life, always with your floral dresses and curled hair stuck in a bow.

but when you're so sweet and kind, the closer you get to him; touch him, it makes him feel a certain way... similar to the way he'd get when hongjoong or seonghwa would pass around photos of naked women they ripped off of cheap publications... it's like that but also something else.

"how much was it altogether?" your question rips him away from the thought and to your innocent blinking lashes.

"oh no, it's fine. take it as a gift."

he's surprise he even managed without stuttering, never thinking that the exchange would make him so tense and nervous in the first place.

you frown, shaking your head.

"i couldn't do that. not after what i made you go through. here, take this."

when you move everything over to one arm, his brows raises in confusion on what exactly you're going to do, only for his body to freeze on the spot at your free hand shoved in your bra for much too long before getting out a couple rolled-up dollars.

"got it!" you declare as if it's an achievement, gaze moving to him, "here."

he swallows the knot in his throat, accepting the offer with a simple thank, afraid that putting up a fight would be much worse.

"i'm gonna go put these items away first... and hopefully put on some shoes, too," you say, looking down at your dirty feet, the comment actually bringing a genuine smile out of san, "i'll be back."

he nods, eyes tracing your figure that grows farther away, staring at the dollars you gave him again... dollars that probably had been sitting in between your boobs all day--and, what the fuck is wrong with him.

sighing one last time, he decides to retreat to the cottage, because maybe his father might have something for him that will hopefully be able to distract the thoughts of you for now.

san is still as nice as ever; helping and guiding you, and always answering any questions you have. the only problem is, he's just been slightly distant.

if you're both walking out to the field, he's at least a feet away. and if he's teaching you how to trim or pick out the produce, he does so with a good amount of distance and care, almost if he's trying to avoid touching you.

it's not like you guys were super close before or even ever did things together in the proximity of each other for this long, but it does hurt a little that you're barely able to hold a conversation with him anymore.

you've yet to pick out daisies for the new vase so you figure you'll ask san to come with, and if there's anything to talk through, you'll do so at the river shielded by everything else.

mr. choi is alone on the field when passing by, informing you san's still in the house and you're thinking the situation can't be more perfect.

"hello?" you echo upon entrance, the door unlocked most of the time since there's little chance of anyone wandering into the farm.

silence.

you make way to san's room, hearing the running of water from the bathroom and concluding he's in there, you make yourself comfortable on the end of his bed, sitting on top his blanket and nosy eyes roaming the decorations.

it's simple and plain, not really anything reminiscing of a young adult male but you also realize he probably didn't have much say. that your father probably just threw out all of manshik's things and hauled someone else in for a quick renovation.

the sound of water stops at the same time you shift uncomfortably at what feels like something protruding under the blanket, hopping out of the seat to yank it with the revelation turning your entire face a deep red.

you're so flustered you don't even hear the bathroom door shutting and san walking into the room to see you just standing there dumbfoundedly, tracing your gaze to the few stacks of photos he had made sure to hide. photos hongjoong and seonghwa gave him.

he rushes over to pull the blanket back in its spot, cheeks now as red as yours, if not, even more.

"y/n, what are you doing in my room?" he tries holding his voice firm to keep from the embarrassment overtaking his system.

"i-i wanted to come by to ask if you can go with me to the river..." your volume is low, unable to read his expression whether he's angry or not. "and your dad told me you were still inside."

he exhales, running one hand through his hair. he don't mean to come off so irritated but he don't know how else to contain the situation. what exactly do you say to a girl who finds you with naked photos of other girls?

"you could've waited for me on the couch or something."

"sorry..." you stare at your feet. "it's okay if you can't go. you seem... busy."

san can almost choke at your choice of word. why would you say it like that? he shakes his head, attempting to keep the composure.

"no, i'll go with you. just let me change first."

--

the trip there is a lot less awkward than you had thought.

it's relaxing even, with how the breeze travels past your skin and swoops your hair as it dances in the wind. your hands clasped onto san's tiny waist for balance, and your head leaning on his back as he cycles along the dirt road.

when the destination is reached, you're quick to hop off racing to the open field, maybe to distract yourself from what just happened though bits of it still lingers in the back of your mind.

san is behind and taking his time, even more desperate to rid of the recent event, staying quiet and keeping to himself while he watches you pick the daisies one by one.

you usually wore dresses--short dresses, and maybe his eyes might've lingered on your exposed legs due to it a few (or a couple) times, but the skirt you're wearing today is extra short, and your top is cut very low, he can practically see your cleavage from where he's standing.

the sudden image of your fingers digging through your bra, pressing your breast against the other, he still remembers how soft it looks, and how--

"san!" your voice snaps him out, meeting eyes that already leveled his own when you were still just ripping out daisies last he recalled.

"oh shit, i'm sorry. what happened?"

"what's wrong with you?" you frown, arms coming up to cover your upper half. "you were staring at my breasts!"

the accusation sends him into a whirl of panic.

"i-i wasn't, i was just--"

"--yes you were, don't lie. i saw it."

you huff, stepping around him before turning again.

"first, you were looking at photos of other naked women and now you're checking me out--"

"--don't say it like that," he cuts, now more offended than embarrassed that he sounds like a complete pervert.

"then how do you want me to say it?"

"i'm just--i'm just going through something, okay?" like that's all the explanation that's needed for his recent behaviors, but you're still standing there unconvinced, eager to get to the root.

"well, what is it?"

the conversation and topic isn't easy, especially to a girl of his age, more so one who's the cause of it; that the reason he's been making use of sexually explicit photos from his friends and stealing glances where he shouldn't is because of the ache in his pants.

any slightest gesture from you drives him absolutely crazy, sweet or not sweet. he thinks you should know that, given how much you probably stick your nose in romance novels.

"haven't you ever like... read erotica or something?" he says, almost irritatingly he has to spell it out.

"what? no."

the tangent on the tip of your tongue about why you don't do any of that, not because your father raised you to be pure and lady-like, stripped away from the idea of seeking a man only for pleasure, but you just prefer simpler romance.

ones where you can lose yourself in a daydream; the retelling of looking in the other's eye and knowing they're the one. cheesy, sappy romance.

san's message hits you halfway into your thoughts, staring back at him and growing flustered.

you may have spent more than half your life confined to the farm, but you're no hermit completely deprived of civilization.

if san's trying to say what you think he is, you're not sure how to feel about it.

--

when you don't show the next day, san believes that he have officially ran you off. creeped you out so bad even the hunt for knowledge and adventure can't bring you out of hiding.

the day after, when he and his father is set to leave to town, car parked in front of your house to adjust some of the boxes, he's surprise when the front door comes flailing, the sound hard to miss even from where he's standing.

you pop from under the hood, hair half-tied the way you always have it and with a different floral dress, the only thing in your hand a lone daisy.

"hi," you speak, it being almost as low as a whisper.

san blinks down at you and throw on a smile, unable to comprehend that it's only been a day and his body is reacting as if you've been gone for a month.

"hi."

"can i still come?" there's a shyness to your voice, maybe a little bit of shame that you chickened out yesterday only to show again at your own convenience.

but it wasn't that you were trying to avoid him after what happened. you were just trying to sort out your feelings and needed to be away for better judgment.

you spent so long cradling the concept of romance, your head always in books and viewing the idea through a rose-coloured glass.

but that's all romance's been to you--a fantasy in writing form that you think would be nice. think it'd be good to have someone by your side who loves you so much, they'd sacrifice everything.

now, you're starting to feel a lot like the female protagonists you'd curse at because how can they be so foolish and hesitant when it comes to love.

you just couldn't predict you would actually get into a situation with a boy who, maybe, probably takes a small interest in you--only possibly.

and to experience it for the first time, you learn that the concept is actually a bit scary. consuming. nerve-racking.

it makes your heart beat faster in your chest, your fingers and legs tense and nervous, and butterflies swoops your stomach sitting next to him as your eyes shy away when he'd accidentally meet yours.

he really is so handsome, kind, and always gentle with not only you but everything he comes in contact with, and you're not only saying that because he's one of the few guys your age (out of three) you know of.

as soon as you three arrive in town, seonghwa and hongjoong along with two new faces you've never seen before, comes shoving through the commotion and make a circle around the truck.

"look who finally showed again," hongjoong quips, one side of his body leaning on the parked car.

"yeah, but he only showed for work. he's not gonna want to go grab a drink with us," seonghwa adds, gaze caught in yours shortly after.

"but at least y/n's here. maybe she won't mind?"

"y/n," says a blonde one from behind seonghwa, "didn't know san got a girlfriend."

the scene brings a chuckle out of mr. choi, sorting through the items before leaving you youngsters to talk among yourselves.

"she's not san's girlfriend," hongjoong turns to the boy in correction, from the corner of your eye seeing as san already start huffing in annoyance, "she's his boss's daughter he just so happens to always bring along these trips, that's it."

"interesting," hums the other one, closer to hongjoong's height and dark haired, pushing past the other boys until he's standing in front of you. "i'm wooyoung, it's a pleasure meeting you."

you're about to return his greeting when san beats you to it.

"how jobless are you guys to both, be waiting on my arrival, and to even have the time to blurt so many nonsense?" he's snarky, but with a hint of playfulness.

"uhm, excuse me," wooyoung retorts, "ain't nobody faster at clearing the field than us, that's why we're gonna be in town all day."

"what, so you guys can get high off your asses?"

"no other way to do it after long days of work!"

the group of boys continues teasing san in the name of affection, eventually helping him and his father out while blabbering even more nonsense before moving onto sharing stories.

they tell you of how all eight of them--yes, eight, met and came to form the crazy friendship they have to this day. boys from the same village, they said. growing up and finding similarities in each other, they also learned to lean on one another through the hardships of life.

you find the blonde one is named yeosang, and the other three who isn't here currently are yunho, mingi, and jongho being the youngest of the group.

it's a bit chaotic initially, so many bodies standing around one tiny stall, but soon when most of the population gets out of bed and start migrating to the town center, it's proven to be good for business.

five handsome faces catching onlookers attention and pulling them immediately to the spot as the men smile and thank the flustered customers of mostly women by bagging their items.

you smile endearingly thinking to yourself, these boys are definitely some efficient marketing tool.

"but if there's one thing you need to know about him, is that he talks out of his ass more than half the time," san curses wooyoung's name again, testifying the accuracy of his story of san eating shit.

he didn't eat shit. he just almost did, because stupid ass wooyoung and mingi wanted to visit the gravesite at night and ran like little girls when they heard the branch creaking.

you giggle at that, nodding.

"i believe you."

speaking of gravesite, you told san you're gonna visit manshik again and he insisted to come along which you're grateful for because it's only natural the place gives you the creep.

"but yeah, i hope my friends wasn't too much," he says upon reaching the site.

"not at all!" you shake your head, passionate about the answer because that was the most life you've seen and felt in so long, such a contrast to the dull silence at home you're used to.

all the smiles, laughters, and chitters of the boys poking fun at one another and recalling embarrassing stories done so mischievously but also with a certain fondness that it was an absolute sight to see.

the way they tried including you in everything and asking questions when you're quiet for too long, afraid you might feel left out, bringing in the false sense that you've known them for years though you just met.

you're relieved wonderful people like san and his father has equally wonderful people in their lives.

"if you say so," he ends the conversation there, gaze following your walking figure that is soon on the ground to place the lone daisy the same way before, closing your eyes and wishing that wherever manshik is, he's doing well.

san lets you lead the way again, his steps trailing from behind and watching for anything. one minute you're still maintaining your balance and the next, your body's flailing forward at the rock you missed, nearly landing onto your face if san hadn't rush over to keep you from falling.

his arms nicely wrapped around your waist and face only inches away from yours, his breath practically ghosting over your skin.

he's absolutely beautiful, fox eyes staring back and red cheeks coming into bloom at such proximity, he has to clear his throat and pull away when time seems to have stopped.

"sorry," he mutters almost inaudible, lashes fluttering cutely. and you don't know what comes over suddenly, your body reacting before your mind, hands going to retrieve his.

"it's okay," you whisper, closing off the space with san peering down with the most scared but desperate look on his face until you're flushed against his chest, the thumping of his heartbeat loud to your ears.

he swallows hard and the longest silence ensues after.

you're not exactly sure why you pulled him back and why all instincts jumped when he removed his touch. right now, you just know you wanna kiss him, plumped lips and all taunting your deprived body that wants to experience these things for yourself.

so nervous about love; romance but also wanting someone by your side to call yours.

if he likes you, there's no reason to not give it a chance at least, lifting your feet off the ground and dipping in for a kiss on his frozen lips and coming back down to look for a reaction.

he still doesn't say anything, causing an embarrassment to rose immediately, talking in your small voice, "sorry--"

but his lips is on yours again, grips tight on your hips and messy kisses as if he's done this a thousand times before.

your hands find comfort at the rest of his shoulders, attempting to match his pace the best your virgin lips can.

he pulls back first, soft and gentle push at your hips as you both try catching your breath.

"what was that just now?" he says, brows pinched together and like he's seconds away from laughter.

"i don't know..." you reply, a shy smile on, barely able to look at him because your heart is about to fly out of your chest now that the elephant in the room's finally addressed.

both your bodies stand there in the silence of daylight but it doesn't at all feel awkward.

"san," you call out sweetly, to which he acknowledges with a hum. your grip on his shoulders having moved to fiddling his shirt around his chest.

"do you like me?" your tendency to be frank and honest calls for his own as well.

san doesn't have much experiences, not from the girls in the village or nearby towns not taking interests in him or anything like that, a couple of them giving him the stare before.

but because he's spent most of his life in the field and helping his family, sometimes lucky if he's able to stay in one place for more than a few months, the thought of finding the one despite being of age barely crossing his mind.

he's had curiosity and aches, yes, but that's about as far as it goes.

being around you too long, always walking or running in your pretty heels and dresses just looking like that, but especially with how you treat him, he can say he does like you if that also speaks of how much he likes the kiss just now.

"you could say that." he quirks one side of his lips and you can only smile.

because you understand to an extent you both do want this but everything is new, scary, and a bit unfamiliar, which is why you say it's worth a try though whether it will work or not is beyond your grasp.

the return to the center is different, most of the boys unable to pinpoint what is but that something has changed after the trip and is affecting both of your current behaviors.

san is smiling more, and you're starting to become rather shameless with the glances you'd steal his way. whatever it is, they believe it to be something good for the two of you.

when the time comes and you're to go back, accidentally bumping your shoulder into san's when seated in the car that it sets off that familiar sensation.

the situation still new and excited, hiding a smile and keeping your gaze on the road before falling into a slumber on his shoulder.

"y/n."

you awake at the soft call of your name and a light tap on your head.

"we've arrived."

prying your eyes apart the best you can, you face the boy whose voice and touch it belongs to before he gets out to your side and opens the door.

"thanks," you say on the way out, another gentle hold on your arms to keep from stumbling.

coming into view with the house isn't as terrible as expected, but you don't feel particularly excited about it, too. every reminder of being trapped and stripped of freedom, made worse by the fact you know you won't see san again for a while.

"i should go now," he speaks, hesistant and unsure. "i look forward to seeing you again in a few days."

he only makes it a couple steps to the other side when you shout with a protest of "wait" and is already standing in front of him, so nervous but also eager, going to place a peck on his lips.

"i'll see you soon, san," his name falling off more comfortably now.

you see those cute dimples emerging from his cheeks, his reply the closing to the entire scene.

"i'll see you, y/n."

the days goes by very slowly, as a matter of fact.

you still peek your head out the window but with very little expectations, and by the fourth day, you assume that they will be back tomorrow the same as before.

when the morning of the fifth comes, you take your heels and run out the door anticipating for the appearance of a red truck from the forest trees. but nothing. not a single sign of life outside; not even in the afternoon or evening.

you wait for tomorrow, hopeful and yet to jump into conclusion because there's so many reasons why san and his father couldn't make it back in time.

but it's also the same that day, then the day after, and the one after that, too. progressively, your mind that tried being optimistic about it faltering each time you go out and see they haven't returned.

an entire week of nothing, you take it upon yourself and make way to the cottage that morning, knowing the chance of them actually having arrived days ago unannounced is unlikely, but you wish to be wrong.

and for the first time in your life, you hate that you're actually right. the door locked and no sound from anywhere but your desperate knocking.

you retreat back to the house in defeat.

the following afternoon when you're at table for dinner, fork stabbing your untouched food with a huge brick sitting on your chest, you finally ask min, no longer able to hold back the concerns plaguing your mind.

because she's your father's worker, it's her duty to know about everything that goes on around the farm. not you, though. your father doesn't tell you anything if that isn't obvious by now.

"min," you speak, voice relaxing and nothing at all like the turmoil at the pit of your stomach.

she looks up from wiping the counter with a nervous twitch at the call, but with something so attentive like she was expecting this moment.

"it's been a week and mr. choi and his son hasn't returned. do you know what possibly could be taking them this long?"

she just stands there, staring off into space before moving it to her shoes. she knows something you don't.

"min?" you squeak, all that turmoil and worries starting to seep.

you watch with a racing heart as she throws down the towel and turns to look at you, the pity in her eyes similar to that of when she'd tell the new restrictions your father came up with that is in effect immediately.

"mr. choi and his son has been dismissed."

you have to do a second take at that, convinced for a second you're hearing things, but it's all very real. and despite being strict and on the occasional, cranky, min always have your best interest at heart and would never lie.

"w-what why?" is all that manages to make out of your mouth, though questions are generating at the speed of light.

"your father knew they took you to town and fired them on the spot when he found out. i know he ordered for their things to be taken to them, so they most likely won't be coming back."

"but how did he--"

"someone in town recognized you and reported back to your father, that's all i know for now."

the waves of emotions attacking all at once is unexplainable. anger, hopelessness, guilt.

angry at your father for acting like the tyrant that he is, throwing people away like they're disposable at his own convenience. and because you know the second you bring it up, he will claim to be doing it for your own good. bullshit.

but the rage making you red in the face is nothing compared to the guilt, feeling absolutely awful since this is all your fault. your silly little want for adventure and fun is the cause for the permanent loss of san and his father's job, something they do for a living for the roof over their head and food in their stomach.

thinking back to the last few days, that while they were probably trying to piece everything together again, you were just going on your days like nobody's business.

you're about to be sick, not feeling much mightier than your father.

so you sit there on the stairs with each of the emotions taking turns. the current--frustration and anger winning while waiting for him to come home from his daily meetings or whatever he does. you don't really care.

when the front door creaks open, you're fast to stand up in the already thick air ready for a father-daughter fight in the making.

he's surprise to see you, his sweet daughter that is supposed to listen to him and keep quiet at all time.

"why couldn't you just punish me instead? why did it have to be them?" you're straightforward, not allowing any time for confusion, unable to afford it right now.

your father barely squints his eyes but eventually, he gets the message. hanging his jacket onto the rack and heading for the kitchen instead.

you hate it, the way he always fucking act and talk to you like you're stupid and anything that comes out your mouth is unimportant.

"are you going to talk to me?" your voice is stern right behind him, your father drinking a glass of water before putting it down and turning to you. he isn't moved in the slightest.

"there is nothing to talk about. they went behind my back and got what they deserved."

"how can you even say that," disgust and hurt in your voice. "they have been nothing but amazing, including manshik whose passing i have to find out on my own because you won't tell me anything!"

"you don't need to know anything. they work for me, they're not people for you to become friends with so you can ask them to bring you anywhere."

"then what the hell do you want me to do?" you yelp, the volume quite impressive you didn't think you could ever be this loud and mad before. "you keep me inside this farm like a prisoner! but you know what, at least a prisoner has a variety of people to talk to and have the chance of getting out!"

he closes his eyes and exhale, and you already know what he's going to say next. what he always say.

"i'm only doing this to protect you!"

"no!" you're quick to hit back. "you're only doing it for your own selfish reasons. if you really care about me, i wouldn't be on the brink of madness counting down the minute i lose my sanity because i'm so freaking tired of this stupid farm!"

"y/n," he growls, and you don't like fighting with your father but it feels like it's the last option. all the long years of frustration pent-up coming to the surface in the ugliest way.

"your mother was exactly like you, always so eager and excited to see the world and look what happened to her! do you want to share the same fate as your mother?"

"that doesn't mean i'm gonna end up like her!"

from what you know, your mother liked traveling a lot, especially going from one town to another. then she contracted an illness from one of them; an outbreak, they said. she failed to recover and passed away shortly after.

you never really got to know much about her. you were so young then.

"enough! i don't want to hear you talk about that boy or his father, and i order you to stay inside!"

tears starts welling though the last thing you want to be seen as is weak, you're so upset he never listens to you.

"i hate you!" you shout, storming up the stairs and into your room.

--

no matter what, you can't surrender; let your father win and be confined to this prison for the rest of your life, living the same day over and over again until you're too old to even walk anymore.

another thing, is you're afraid you won't see san ever again. the first boy to make something flutter inside your chest, turning your vision with splashes of pink whenever you look at him, and the boy who you shared the first kiss with.

out of anger, and out of spite, you feel you have to do something.

when midnight creeps in, the moon high above in the sky and the entire interior a dark color, you sneak out of the house, the process actually more simple than you had thought.

maybe your father expected you to follow his orders like before, or that you won't have the guts to go out at such hour or at all, but the internal commotion (and drive) proves to be greater than anything, even completely numbing any sense of fear that would usually come with the nightly wind and an empty forest.

the path to town is straightforward and you have the directions ingrained with just the few trips, biking all the way over there with nothing but the hope you'll be able to find someone who knows san's whereabouts.

he's never told you where the village he resides in is located. worst case scenario, you're going to have to find it yourself.

the town is different at night in comparison to the lively atmosphere you're used to, it looks almost ghostly with how some of the flyers slides on the flooring, the wind blowing strong, and there's practically no one here.

but you catch a light from the corner of your eye, maybe one of the only two building to still be alive. you make way to it, the banner at the front hitting you with familiarity.

wonderland. it is the bar san's friends always talked about going in. feeling a lot more hopeful again, you enter and deduce that even if they aren't here, someone around must have heard of san, at the very least.

your eyes roam the old town bar, small but cozy, before your name falls from someone's lips.

"seonghwa?" you squeak, surprise but relieved to see someone you recognize. just when every ounce of hope was about to fly out of your body.

"i heard san and his father lost their jobs," seonghwa says, after you told him you're looking for san and the older boy bring up the coincidence that he's just about to head home.

"yeah... and it's all my fault because i asked to come along knowing my father would've retaliated if he found out."

"you're being too harsh on yourself. i'm sure san and his father doesn't see it like that."

you sigh out harshly, a short silence passing before speaking again.

"do you know how they're doing right now?"

he shakes his head.

"not really. i haven't spoken to him in like two days. was busy with work and all, just finally got the time to catch a drink tonight. but last i heard, they're on the hunt for work again."

"oh..." you mumble, unable to help the guilt making a reappearance at what he just said.

"again, it's not your fault," he adds before stopping and nodding his head off to one of the houses. "this is my cue. san's should be the first on that turn over at the corner, some colorful garden, it will be hard to miss. good luck."

you nod and thank him courtly before he goes off, the man really so kind and wonderful, a different side to him because you're used to him being the butt of the joke or in the back hiding a laughter.

you put the bike off to the side and approach the door with caution, knocking twice as quiet as you can, not wanting to alert anyone at this hour that you're here trespassing or anything.

the door opens to a woman, friendly smile on and a lot shorter than you, who you can only assume to be san's mother if you followed seonghwa's instructions correctly and didn't wind up on some stranger's door instead.

"hello?" she greets you.

"hi, i was just wondering if--"

but your question is answered when mr. choi pops from behind, an equally welcoming smile on when he recognizes you.

"well hello there, young miss," he says, gesturing for you to come in, your eyes curiously wandering the much smaller home once inside.

"this is the daughter of our previous boss," mr. choi introduces, an embarrass flush growing on your cheeks from the usage of previous.

"are you here by his request?" he asks, and you shake your head, about to apologize for everything and maybe leave out the part where you ran away from home, but really just apologize, when the closing of a door snaps your head that direction and sees san just standing there.

"what are you doing here?" he finally speaks once it's just the two of you outside.

you have been waiting to see him again after an entire week, after sharing a kiss and him confirming the possibility of a feeling being mutual, the way your body reacted at the sight of him is electric.

you also thought he would be happy to see you, or at least look the slightest relieved you came. but that doesn't seem to be the case at all, his face everything but a smile ever since he saw you.

"it's all my fault that you and your father lost your job, and i'm so--"

the rambling is cut when he jumps in with a serious, "you shouldn't be here, y/n." all the sparks and hopes of a sappy reconciliation out the window that moment, the scene nothing reminiscing of any romance novels you've read.

"but my father--"

"--it's cool. we'll just look for work again, it shouldn't be too hard. but please tell me you didn't come all the way over here against your father's wishes just for this."

you can only stare at him, the once soft gaze turning cold, because how can he be so dismissive like it's nothing. you know you came by your own will, but it hurts how small he's making the matters sound.

"i came because i feel awful about what happened, and because..." you're afraid you won't see him again.

it may be some form of puppy love, or just the fondness of one another, or that he's the only guy your age you've ever got to know this closely, or that you're the only girl his age he can hold a conversation with for more than a minute, but you are afraid of losing him.

feared that you will forever be stuck in the farm and won't ever see the dimpled boy who'd accompany you to the river, and who allowed you to see a small part of the world for the first time.

"because i wanted to apologize..." you say defeatedly.

had he reacted differently, the confession for sure would've slipped, but it doesn't look like he wants to hear that right now.

"it's okay, don't worry about it."

the assurance doesn't make it any better; if anything, it might've made you feel worse with the thickest silence gauging the air, and that after everything, this is all he can say.

"you should go back," he starts, the silence sitting for long enough.

"no," you reply, because you understand the circumstances... you do. but you also have the tendency to be frank; honest, always wearing your heart on your sleeve. "i'm not going back."

"you have to." he steps closer, not out of intimacy, but because you can tell he's starting to get frustrated.

"he's never going to let me out again if i go, and especially if he finds out i snuck out of the house, i might as well be good as dead."

now, you're starting to sound a lot like a child throwing a tantrum because they got scolded. you absolutely do not need that given the fact all your father ever does is reprimand your behaviors.

"he's your father, y/n. he wouldn't be that cruel to his own daughter."

"you don't know my father, san."

"no, i don't, but it won't be good for you to stay here. i can take you back before it gets too late."

disappointment, betrayal, and once again, anger, brews in your blood, your chest, and your stomach.

"it's fine. i can go back myself."

san watch as you pick up your bike and walk off, not even bothering to spare him a last glance. but even in the pitched darkness, he was still able to make out your brows closing together and your once pretty smile that turned into a frown.

--

dragging your bike all the way back to the town center, you don't even have the heart to get on it, your mind entirely clouded and if you so happen die on this road; get robbed or held at gunpoint, you probably don't even care.

disappointment, betrayal, and anger still in the deep of your chest, because of all people, you wouldn't have guessed it would come from san.

coming all the way here for him; the sweet boy who told you he likes you and thinking he might be able to help because the relationship was getting somewhere.

now, you just feel foolish; stupid, but more so, hurt.

his voice still loud and echoing, telling you to go back to your father even after everything you've shared with him. because although there's no wounds to show for your father's actions all these years because he doesn't get physical, your heart will be forever scarred.

it will remember the days locked inside your room or house and thinking of all the missed opportunities, or all the could be's if he had let you live like any other kids and grow with the curiosities and constant urges for adventure, instead of at this age where you still seek those things.

the center is empty when you get there, all the lightings already out and you don't even have it in you to be scared of the dark or the fact you're alone.

throwing your bike against the bench, you take a seat to catch your breath, all ideas out at this point. that you might as well go back home and kneel to your father and hope he's lenient enough he'll still let you roam the farm.

minutes of staring into nothingness and listening to the ghostly wind, you finally hear something that makes the goosebumps on your arms rise a little.

steps and breathing that only gets closer and louder, and you're still just frozen in your spot like any character making a stupid decision, ready to accept your fate.

"y/n?"

but the voice's still like music to your ear, turning around so fast to see san just a couple feet away and trying to catch his breath as well.

your body doesn't lie and it reacts to him strongly, gaze softening and the beating of your heart a calm but happy one, because he came after you in the end.

"thank goodness, i was afraid you might've already went too far," he says in between the tired pauses, taking the seat next to you.

you look at him through your blinking lashes, a laughter on the verge of coming out at his state because he's huffing and puffing like no tomorrow. but it's also evidence of how hard and fast he ran.

when you took the official leave, really turning your back on him, he did think it was for the better. because what kind of father, especially yours, would be okay with his daughter choosing someone like him?

he's just a measly farmboy, always out in the sun and field and always traveling to find work. he's meant to find a girl from the same village; fall in love with her and settle down with her. not you.

not someone whose family has made a name for themselves, and especially not someone whose father is yours. it just doesn't work like that.

he was ready to accept it, but then he realizes... he may never see you ever again. and something about that really bothered him.

he's okay with not being able to love you; love a concept still new to him, but it does upset him at the thought of you guys becoming strangers; the other person only a memory of the past. he don't want that.

he will miss you, the first girl he kissed who has an obsession with heels, floral dresses, daisies, and books. and he had a gut feeling that if he lets you go now, he's going to regret it for a long time.

"you came after all..." you mumble, not too long ago so hopeless and lost, but it already feels so much better with him just being here.

"yeah." he nods, moving closer and looking down at you. "are you still upset with me?"

he might've said some things he didn't mean, with the only goal to get you to return because he can't think of any other reasons why you'd want to stay here instead.

"of course," you spit quietly, your lips already trembling with tears threatening to spill just thinking back to how much his words hurt you in that moment.

you're a bit of a crybaby at heart.

"i'm sorry, i was just..." he tries finding the right word but is unable to, opting to wipe the first tear to appear from your eye.

"i feel super bad about what happened, i know i keep saying that, but i do. and because i-i thought you liked me enough--"

"--i do like you," he cuts, beginning to get desperate.

"then why?"

"because..." he fumbles the wording again, his choices usually flowery so he can walk around the truth, but you've been nothing but honest, san could learn a thing or two.

"because even if we were to start something, what good would it do? and how long until we realize it was doomed from the start?"

he may not know a lot about love or romance, but he knows about reality. the hardships and hassle of life, and the possible and impossible.

"i'm just a farmboy, y/n. do you really think you want someone like me?"

you swallow nervously, denial at the tip of your tongue, but you know it holds some truth... that the "difference" is there. but you've never thought of him as lower than you or ever looked down on him and his father for the work they do.

anyone that comes into your life with kindness and respect, you will treasure, always having placed value in a person's heart.

"if i wasn't sure, i wouldn't have came all the way over here."

"but what about your father?"

"what about my father? this is about me and my choices, who cares about him?"

san's about to say something but decides to give you the victory, your tongue always a little sharp and you've always been stubborn.

"alright, well, i'm not about to argue with you again. we should head back." he gets up and holds out a hand, your sulky face turning into a smile that instant.

"i can come?"

he nods, fighting the smile at the sight of you squealing before wrapping your hand around his tightly.

--

you're not sure what the morning has in store for you; the creativity your father is gonna go to in order to get you back, but you just know that right now, your heart feels at rest with the boy you like.

somehow, he was able to convince his parents in letting you two share the same bed, reassuring them a pillow would be put right in the middle for separation, a man and a woman in bed together when they're unmarried still frowned upon... but you would say otherwise.

especially if you guys like each other, you don't see the crime in falling asleep in one another's arms or wanting to just be close; your body desperate for his touch again.

the mattress creeks under the shift of your weight, moving closer to san and snaking an arm around his waist assuming he's asleep, but he instead twitches under your touch and the warmth of his hand caressing your arm makes you jump.

"y/n? what are you doing?"

"i, uh... i just wanted to hug something. it helps me sleep faster," you're quick to come up with something, all the years of sleeping with your stuffed animals, the presence of another human being different in a good way.

he shift and turns over at that, the movements felt on the hold you have around him, knowing he's probably facing you right now but unable to see it with the stupid pillow in the way.

grabbing it only to throw it onto the floor, he's surprise at the boldness, but more so at your eyes in the darkly lit room staring back once he can make out your features better.

"hi," you whisper, a smile on that san can't miss.

"hey."

"were you asleep?"

he shakes his head, his ruffled and messy hair brushing your forehead as he does so.

"i thought you were the one asleep."

"couldn't sleep," you say.

"how come? is it because of your father?"

"kind of, but..." you scoot even closer, both your eyes leveling and lips only inches apart, "i was also thinking about you."

the words jolt san more awake than ever, the reason he was unable to sleep also because of you. the closeness conjuring up that feeling again he's tried to ignore because it made you upset last time.

"what about me were you thinking of?" he edges on, attempting to keep his composure because you're so close and he kind of wants to kiss you again.

"just... how much i like you, i don't know. no matter what my father or anyone else say."

san lets a few seconds of silence pass before he replies, a smile on his lips because he's moved by your words.

"i like you, too. like actually really really like you."

he's still not sure if it's love--or if it's possible to love someone in that short amount of time, but he knows everything is so comfortable and easy with you.

with one hand reaching out to knead the silky skin of your cheek, he takes you in for a kiss. a bit messy but also passionate; desperate. he takes his time, the taste of your lips one he will savor forever.

moving against the other's flesh, you don't know how long you've been kissing him, but as soon as you're pulling apart, you're both catching your breath followed by quiet, happy laughters.

you really do like him so much.

"goodnight, y/n," he mumbles, his voice the perfect one to fall asleep to.

"goodnight, san."

--

despite the rocky start of yesterday, the bits with san last night made you so happy and hopeful, falling into a deep slumber with the thought that you're going to be okay no matter what happens.

but when you wake to the morning sun and a series of muffled voices outside the room, that anxiety and nervousness comes crashing back because although you may have acted tough and cursed your father's name, you're still scared of him to an extent.

walking out, the light from the front door makes you squint before the familiar faces outside it has you already next to san's parents and finding that the two arrivals are none other than your father's men.

"your father has ordered us to bring you home by the end of today," one of them says, at the same time san stalks up behind you.

"well, tell him i'm not coming," you reply, nearly rolling your eyes, already annoyed.

"but miss, you have to."

aware that if you don't give a better reason than simply not wanting to go back, it's gonna be an endless back and forth of 'i don't want to' and 'but you have to', you latch onto the first lie you can think of.

"tell him i'm not coming back because..." you even fumble, buzzing before continuing on," because i already agreed to get married."

everyone snaps to you like you're crazy and maybe you are a little. san giving the widest eyes when you back up to wrap your arms around one of his, snuggling your head with an exaggerated smile at your father's men.

"so if he really wants me to come back, he's going to have to come himself."

your father's men can only sigh and shake their heads before retreating back, a victory smirk on you, but san doesn't look very amused.

--

"i was just buying some time," you explain like a child in trouble, with san sitting across.

because if you had given into your father and went back the second he asked, your life would be no different from before. and worse, he most likely would forbid you from seeing san.

you're more afraid of that than anything. so you buy time so you can be with him a little longer. his soft hand in yours and shy lips that wants to kiss as badly as you do.

because when there's a knock at the front door again, the clock almost striking midnight, you know it's your father. and whether you want to or not, you're most likely gonna have to go back.

when mr. choi welcomes him in, you can't even bother to spare a glance, whether out of spite or embarrassment, you just know you don't want him here.

the first couple of minutes are spent with mandatory introductions, big and welcoming smiles on both of san's parents and a smaller one on your dad before they offer him a drink, and then the real show starts.

"i apologize for my daughter if she troubled you guys in any way, i understand she's a bit careless and often do things on impulse."

you fume through your nose, the only thing holding you back is san's soft squeeze on your hand, intertwining it with yours the second they started talking because he knew it was gonna be needed.

"oh no, she didn't at all!" mr. choi brushes it off, the man always full of respect and fairness unlike your father, who you can tell is actually taken aback that others don't agree you're as troublesome as he makes you out to be.

"i also don't mean to make my visit so short, but as i'm sure you're aware, it's quite late and i hope to make it back as soon as possible."

"no worries." mr. choi nods understandably, "if you guys have to get going, don't feel obligated to stay."

your father only hums in return before standing up and turning to you.

"let's go."

the panic that comes over is fast, your squeeze on san's hand getting tighter because this can't possibly be it. he can't just walk in here, not even bothering to hear you out at the very least, and then walk out and expect you to just follow through.

"i don't want to," it almost sounds like a hiss, but your voice already beginning to sound clogged and nose runny at the few tears that slipped out because your fear is starting to become a reality.

if you go back, you most likely won't see san again.

your father only exasperate, whether he doesn't want to make a scene in front of others or that he's tired of arguing with you since he knows you don't have any other choice.

you can't stay here forever, and he knows that.

"i'll be waiting outside," is all he says, his eyes catching the tight grip you have on san before walking out.

"i-i don't want to go," you say through the tears, staring at san so desperately as he wipes them away with his thumbs.

"you have to."

as much as he doesn't want to tell you that, the sting in his heart now that he knows is going to be much worse later, hiding and keeping you to himself at home just isn't feasible right now.

"i promise," he whispers, closing the distance and looking into your puffy red eyes peering up at him and gauging his words so carefully, "i promise that i'll come visit you."

your lashes flutter at that, heart a little hopeful again.

"you really promise?"

he nods, a handsome smile on his lips before going in to give your forehead a tender kiss.

"i promise."

the silence is deadly the second you finally get into your father's car, even the driver at the front have to clear his throat to cut the thick tension.

only keeping your gaze ahead with a permanent sulky expression, your father's voice emit from beside you.

"that boy, you like him?"

but you don't answer, an eye roll is what you give instead because it should be obvious by now.

even though you've practically ran away as a cry for help, on the verge of leaving the farm and your father for good, not much seems to have changed--for the better or worse.

relieved that he didn't bestow some horrific punishment on you or forever take the privilege of going outside, but also disheartened at the lack of progress.

all the crying and efforts of protesting only to land you two right back to silent dinners, non-existent conversations, and an awkward thick tension always hanging in the air.

at this rate, you don't look forward to anything but the hope that san will keep his promise. but even that's starting to fade the more days passes and that dream feeling so much further away because there doesn't seem to be any signs of that ever coming true.

almost two weeks after, you wake to a disruptive sound outside your window, having to pull at your pillow to your ears so you can continue sleeping.

the door to your bedroom jolts open and has you snapping up to hyunjoo standing there.

"miss, someone's here for you."

making way down the stairs after carelessly throwing something on because who else could possibly be here for you, unless your father has finally came up with how to torture you for the rest of his life.

but when the first fresh air of the morning weather hits you, the first thing in your line of sight to be that familiar red truck, you think you still might be dreaming, the only indication this is all very real is the beating of your heart and how loud it is to your ears.

watching as a figure dig through the car with only their legs and back visible, those shoulders all too recognizable by now that you can't help but call out.

"san?"

if someone could monitor your heart rate right now, the machine might as well explode.

when he finally draws back at the sound of your voice and turn to look over his shoulder, the smallest whimper but the biggest tears of joy leaves you both at once running to him that instant and locking him into a hug.

his sweet-sounding laughter vibrating from the top of your head, and oh, you're about to pass out from happiness.

"you really came," you say after pulling away just enough to look him in the face because you miss him so much.

he nods with a tight-lipped smile, those dimples emerging and you miss them just as much as him.

"good morning, miss," another voice from the other side of the truck has you turning head, stunned to see mr. choi that you can only blink.

"your father came by and offered us the job back," san speaks, your attention moving to him again and so surprised by what he just said, you don't even know how to respond as if waiting for him to say he was joking or something.

because this is all because of your father?

"oh..." your response makes san giggle, your eyes fleeting to his father in the back momentarily as he heads for the cottage.

"would you like to go to town?" he asks, "your father said it's fine as long as you go with me."

"really?"

everything still hard to process and you're holding onto your breath at this point that reality wouldn't be so cruel as to take it all back.

he nods, the hopeful look on you making him as equally happy.

"okay, i'll be back! i just need to change first!" you back up, running inside the house again with jittery feet that brings a chuckle out of san.

returning again with your signature look, hair half tied in a bow, platform heels, and an off shoulder dress, you run to san immediately latching onto his hand.

"let's go!"

"wait," he stops, flinging you until you're staring back with adorable eyes.

"i want to give you something first."

you watch him reach for his pocket before pulling out something, an inaudible gasp leaving when you see what it is. a daisy hairpin.

"i got it a while ago... actually a few days before your father dismissed us. saw it while in town and i really wanted to get it for you," he explains, "turn around."

your back facing him as he goes to clip it beside your bow, shifting around after he's done with the most lovesick smile decorating your lips.

"you suit it," he barely gets out the comment, your arms already wrapped around him again as you make yourself home on his chest.

"thank you so much, san!"

"of course."

he rests his chin on top your head, smoothing out strands of your hair.

"you know, i read somewhere that daisy symbolizes joy, purity, and a new beginning."

you smile at the comment and tighten the hug, like every second spent with him is going to make you burst, never in your life have you experienced this immense of joy before. you don't want to ever let go.

--

the second you both arrive in town, all of the boys you've come to know and love along with three others, starts pushing and tripping one another, eager to be the first to get a word out.

yunho, mingi, and jongho fights to introduce themselves, a welcoming demeanor on all of them and jongho going off about how he couldn't wait to meet you, the girl who stole san's heart and made him completely miserable for the last two weeks.

a/n: it's a bit rushed esp the relationship, i understand. but the way i watched the little mermaid two days after i started writing this so i couldn't resist the similarities sdksldks. anyways, go stream oh boy by red velvet

[obeythebutler]

anyways before i forget.

coward!MC lesson 16 reactions,,, bro the angst potential there is so real idk even where to start.

i legit imagine,,, you're in such a state of abject terror and shock, like, you literally died, not a game, no joking, it HAPPENED, and no one saved you, belphie didn't stop, there was absolutely nothing you could do

first lucifer rejecting you, and then this. it'd be a massive setback to any kind of bravery you'd been able to muster because seriously, post lesson 16, literally fuck that. you could DIE, this is REAL, and you were stupid for ever forgetting that.

hhh just. satan, lucifer, mammon,, whichever other boys (i love me some dia so maybe him and barb, who probably deserves to feel at least a little responsible), knowing how much you suffer. trying to help.

HNNNNNG YOU WROTE MC'S TERROR SO FUCKING GOOD AND NOW THE ANGST POWER LIVES IN MY BRAIIIIN

strongly worded and more detailed letters to follow, love, elsey,

Coward! MC here

Hellfire tea sits cold in your lap.

The flames in the fireplace burn with vigour, bright and burning as expected of something like Hell. Mammon once threw a broken chair in there, to hide it from the eldest, and it reduced to ashes in front of your eyes within seconds.

The fire devour anything it gets.

Like that black tapir roasted to perfection by Satan. Babylon curry stirred by Asmodeus, with two pink hairclips that he put in place before beginning with the cooking and as he chirped "so that my hair won't be affected by the heat !," and the cheerful chatter in the air. Plans made and some promptly turned away (exploring all Devildom restaurants in a day might just lead to bankruptcy) and smiles which were not seen before.

And Quetzalcoatl brain soup stirred by a tall demon.

For his twin, of course.

Bony fingers that gripped the ladle and lips curling into a smile at the taste. Those same fingers around your throat. Tightening, not letting you breathe even when you begged. Black spots in your vision and a throbbing pain in your chest after having been thrown down the stairs. You must have broken a bone or two in there, but you're not sure.

You're not even sure why you are alive.

Belphegor laughs, and you freeze in your seat, fork with spaghetti twisted around it falling on the table with a plop!

You blame it on clumsy hands. And yet, your heartbeat can be heard by inhumane ears.

You stare at it with detachment, perhaps wondering if the piece of food will jump to life.

"Here," Belphegor says, passing you a plate of sushi. "I thought you would like it, since its from the human world."

You stare but smile, and when his fingers brush against yours you tremble.

"I missed out on a lot, didn't I?" He mentions with gaze half-lidded. "I want to catch up on everything."

You chew on rice and fish but the taste doesn't matter at the moment. The room is gigantic and you already dwarf in comparison. Eyes gaze at you in concern, but you pay no heed.

Did your death even get a mourning?

When Belphegor says your name, you nod and say yes.

Even when you beg yourself to say no and get out, out of the room where he is sitting and eating and you're dining with him and his brothers and you're dining with rejection and death in front of you and oh god you can't say no—

Your fingers dig into your thigh.

"MC, are you alright?" Asmodeus whispers, unable to avoid the way in which your hands tremble when Belphegor is near. You don't hear him, continuing to stare at the half-eaten sushi on your plate. Your heart pounds in your chest, the familiar tendrils of fear clinging to you as the seventhborn draws nearer.

"MC—"

He is barely able to place a hand on your shoulder before you jolt, throwing away your cutlery with a clang. The chair makes a noise that makes everyone else wince, following which you're gone and out of the dining room.

You're gone in a flash, footsteps fading with the door of your room slamming shut.

This is your chance.

Go back in time. Find out what helped Belphegor escape. Come back.

Sounds like a pretty neat plan.

"Thank you, MC." When Lucifer expresses his gratitude for your help, you smile in understanding.

Even after what has happened, you will show everyone that you can be better. That you're not the coward you used to be. After having faced rejection and cried outside the firstborn's door, writing on paper that tore due to how much you erased your work and after Lucifer's demon form towering over you. Teeth bared in a display of aggression, and the sickening thud that was made when Beel collided with the furniture.

And after all that has happened, things are finally looking up for you. You've fallen down many times, but you're learning to brush yourself and get up, persevere, and not shrink when faced with the slightest threat.

This is your chance, you affirm, clenching your fist. You can finally prove that you're worthy of respect, a value that you want to be admired for.

"Remember, you must not tell anyone that you are from the future, as well as me. That might end up warping history. Return after finding out the reason for Belphegor's escape."

The butler instructs, finger under his chin. You nod, flashing the demon a smile to let him know that you are prepared. Barbatos's warning echoes clear in your head as you approach the door, and open it, revealing a purple mist.

When you look back at the demon, his expression reveals nothing. Bidding him bye, you step forward.

You can't wait to return.

As soon as the haze clears, you find yourself in the hallway of the House of Lamentation. You pace around, trying to ascertain as to during which event you are here.

The sound of bickering catches your ears, and you step forward into Mammon's room.

"When you're silencing yourself, ensure to quieten that stomach too!"

"Hey! Don't ask me to do the impossible!"

"Lucifer and MC should have opened up to each other by now."

Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in Asmo's words. So the whole game with the firstborn was planned...

A smile forms on your face at the realisation, but it drops as soon as you remember that they don't know what will happen. Screaming and shouting. Bristled wings and snarls. Threats on your life. Careful to not make noise, you step forward to listen better.

And the sound of the empty can crushing beneath your feet is enough to attract attention.

Mammon's head whips around. "I didn't know you were in here the whole time!" He says in disbelief, and the others look on. You gulp, having the urge to get out of the room without explaining yourself, but you stop.

"Yeah, I followed Satan around.." You mutter, embarrassed, and the fourthborn frowns.

"See! I told you to be careful" Asmo complains, pointing a finger accusingly at his brother. "Now look what you've done."

The idea to make Lucifer and you talk again has not worked out, and the demon pouts.

Levi furrows his brows."You should see him." He says, and you nod, glad to get out and solve the mission. Back in the hallway, you hear faint voices, and on inspecting closely you discover that they're coming from the top of the stairs.

Where Belphegor is held prisoner.

"The old Lucifer wasn't like this! The old Lucifer didn't care what others thought of him!"

You don't hear a retort.

Perhaps this was one of the many reasons why you fell in love with Lucifer. Brave and confident of himself, willing to sacrifice himself for those who loves.

Something you wouldn't have been able to muster the courage for.

But you're growing. You're making progress, as small that might be. You no longer tolerate lower-level demons stepping up and stealing your lunch or bothering you in class. Grades are improving, and so are your relations in the house.

You don't want it all to shatter.

You don't want to pick yourself up again like that night.

Descending footsteps alert you, and so you hide.

And Belphegor's pleading voice for help is something you are unable to resist.

And so you step forward and open the door.

And so Belphegor embraces you.

And then he transforms.

"What—What the hell are you doing?!" You stammer, fear creeping in your veins at the sudden reveal of his demon form. "Belphegor, what exactly are you planning?"

When his hand curl around your neck, you scream.

He pushes you against the wall of the attic, your head colliding with the stone, further adding to your agony. The demon laughs, and you wonder if this is his genuine smile, finally revealed in a moment of cruelty.

"Don't blame me for tricking you, blame yourself for falling for it," He snarls, teeth too sharp and eyes too bright in the dim light. You struggle to breathe, your clawing and kicking of no use.

"Please," You beg, barely able to rasp out words when he squeezes your neck so tightly you fear he might just wrung it and kill you. "I don't want to—I—please d-don't—"

His smile is cruel.

"It's rather unpleasant, in't it? Being choked like this." Belphegor laughs, the sound throaty and cruel, and you feel your heart breaking further at the betrayal. You thought you were friends. You trusted him. You freed him.

All that courage you had gathered, all gone to waste. Your mission—failed. What you feared during your time in the Devildom is happening, and you can't even do anything to stop it.

You are about to die.

Your vision blurs with tears, and you struggle to breathe in his grasp.

Not this time. Not this. Anything but this. Please don't kill me.

His laugh still rings in your ears as your eyes close.

"Not my breakfast!"

Leviathan protests, unable to do anything but watch as Beel downs the rest of his food, miffed at his ignorance. He slams his hand on the table, and Lucifer frowns.

"Beel and Levi—"

The delicate normalcy in the room has been broken, and now it lies shattered like a thousand glass pieces that will be hard to pick up and will pierce skin.

If not of demons, than of a human.

The demon straightens his posture, realising that his presence has stopped the chatter that he had anticipated. Belphegor gazes around the room, and when he turns to look his brothers in the eye they don't meet his gaze.

"Come on," He drawls, pulling back the chair to sit down, the sound making everyone wince. "Continue."

He grabs his portion of bread and soup, but no one resumes their actions.

Indifferent, the demon takes a bite of the bread.

"So...are you going along with Belphie to school?" Asmo questions, hand resting under his chin.

Besides him, Leviathan announces that he will grab something to eat at the cafeteria, and the fading footsteps create a sound no one wants to hear.

Belphegor takes a sip of the soup. "MC doesn't have to go along if they don't want to." His expression reveals nothing; and your shoulders sag with relief.

You don't go with Belphegor to school that day.

But that doesn't spare you from his presence next to yours in the class.

Neither does the fact that you're sitting next to the demon that killed you once.

Has he brushed aside what happened so easily? And have the others done the same? You ask yourself as the professor demonstrates how to manifest magic circles. And rejection still sits bitter within you.

After that class is over, you have to go shopping for Diavolo's birthday. You're not sure if you'll be able to do that with Belphegor around.

Every step you take will have to be done with caution. Because you, foolish human, had forgotten that you were defenseless, with or without the pacts.

They knew what would happen when you would step into the portal.

Neither did you find someone who loved you.

Neither was your love returned.

The pain of rejection dulls in comparison to death, and even then you find yourself in shambles.

You were, after all, sent to your demise instead. You laugh at the fact, a low chuckle that breaks off into a crack at the end, and it doesn't help that Mammon winces noticing your expression of happiness is a bitter one. Nor is it true.

After running into the residents of Purgatory hall, you find that nothing escapes Simeon's gaze.

When he advices you to serve as a bridge for the brothers, you are tempted to cackle.

The angel quietens when he sees the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your eyes dart around the stairs, waiting for someone to strike. Instead Simeon breathes out, murmuring that you are welcome to come to Purgatory Hall whenever you wish. The angel doesn't know what took place, but he knows you're in turmoil.

"If you want someone to talk to, I'm right here." He departs with those words.

He leads Luke back home.

He doesn't know what to say.

And your vision blurs as they walk away.

Nothing can be said of this moment, nothing is left to say. Its silence silences.

Game night is not a peace-building activity.

Rather, it leads to chaos.

"Wrong decision Mammon! You could have had Ruri work as an idol and instead you've sent her to the casino!"

"She'll make more money and then you'll get more! Stop shoutin at me!"

"This was my videogame—"

The door slams open.

And then it begins.

"So you're telling me that Beel is feelin guilty because he didn't know you were being held..prisoner?"

"What else," Belphegor rolls his eyes, and when his gaze meets yours his expression is unreadable. He settles away from you, swiping a pillow from Levi's lap who gazes around the room, and placing it on his own. Although he's not touching you, his presence is enough to inspire fear. Your nerves stay on edge, body stiffening as you attempt to stay still and not shrivel besides him.

You want to go back to your room.

"Should we go and see Beel?" Mammon mutters in your ear, not wanting to let Belphie hear, but the action has you nearly jolting in your place.

Your eyes are downcast. "S-Sure," You whisper, voice low. "We should see him." You play with your thumb, refusing to meet either brother's gaze. The audio from the game stops playing, and the silence that follows starts to envelope the room in a heavy blanket.

The secondborn frowns.

"Ya alright?" He questions, eyes travelling over your form, inspecting for any injuries you might have been trying to hide or any signs of illness, but when he sees the way your hands tremble and breath runs ragged Mammon bends down.

"Let's go to your room MC, how about that?"

You nod, and let him lead the way.

When the door closes again, it is Levi's turn to gape at Belphegor.

"They're scared of you," He blurts out, unable to bear the silence. "MC doesn't want to be near you."

Belphegor stares at the tank in resignation.

Back in your room, Mammon dims the lights with a simple incantation that he heard Lucifer recite countless times. "Thanks," You say, voice muffled under the blanket. The demon smiles, his eyes looking unusually bright in the dark, but you brush it aside as a demon quirk.

"Anything for ya."

He turns to leave, ready to walk out the door and close it, then walk straight towards the end of the hallway where—

"Mammon?"

His name comes out in a whisper, and he stills.

"Could you stay?"

A smile. "Of course."

"Are you alright?"

Lucifer questions, and you tremble.

"I'm fine," You mumble, unable to meet his gaze. You don't have the courage to even look the demon in the eye, and so you stare at your notebook. "Just doing some assignments," You blurt, picking up a pencil in hopes of making yourself look busy. "We've got a test tomorrow in Hexes and Curses."

The demon eyes you, lips turned downwards and brows furrowed.

The man can see you trembling. The way your eyes flicker nervously over lines of text, or the way you keep fidgeting with the pencil.

You're scared.

And who's fault is it?

Who is responsible for your death?

Who is responsible for locking Belphegor?

Who is responsible for the fall from the Celestial Realm?

Who is responsible for destroying any courage you had gathered?

All these questions are screamed at him, and the war comes to mind. When others had believed in him, and he failed them.

He failed you.

Lucifer knows that it is him, and no other being. All that had happened to you are the consequences of his own actions. That after having finally gathered yourself from the pain of rejection, the pain of dying had finally torn down any remnants of your happiness and peace here.

And...would you even trust him?

The firstborn asks himself this question as he ogles your form; desperately trying to find a way for you or him to leave. Because he can't be trusted, not anymore.

And he can't even believe you when you say that you're fine.

"You should rest," He says, voice raspy. "The past few days have been....."

The demon winces, stopping himself before he goes and says something that will tear the manufactured normalcy you've been desperately trying to present.

You nod in return, muttering out a 'good night,' before gathering your notebook and scurrying out from the room. You can feel eyes burning holes in the back of your head; you can feel Lucifer staring at you, but you don't want to look back.

And as your footsteps retreat, Lucifer replaces the vacant spot you had left, on the chair.

He inspects the wood, eyes gazing over the material before he rests his head on it—too exhausted to do anything else. Too tired to try right now.

He's worsened your agony.

Gloves fingers pick up the pencil lying abandoned, and the firstborn stares at it. Your departure sets something in his chest throbbing with pain, and he knows it is love that he cannot speak about.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He loves you. But it is an affection he does not have the courage to speak about, for his actions say something else.

Does he even deserve you?

Lucifer's throat tightens, and he refuses to acknowledge it.

His mind drifts back to the time when his brothers were creating a fuss about that Devilgram photo with you and Satan. How you both looked so happy and it was someone else who'd made you smile. How hard you had cried that night when he had rejected you and how scared you were after. How you avoided him after and how you must have cried and how scared you must have been when Belphegor killed you—

A garbled cry spills from his throat.

The sound Lucifer makes is something he's mortified to hear from himself. The man's vision blurs and all he can feel is the agony in his chest. His face is wet. And upon realising that the library isn't soundproof he casts an enchantment, through a tone that cracks in the end.

No one will be able to hear his cries now.

Your spirits have been crushed, and the MC he once knew is gone, replaced by one that had their spirits defeated.

Lucifer is witness to that. From watching you run away, leaving behind Beel and Luke in the underground tomb to standing in front of Diavolo, going back in time....and being rejected and yet bouncing back...there's no greater testimony than it.

He calls you to his room the night before you're supposed to leave for the human world.

You walk into the room to see Lucifer by the fireplace. The flames frame his features in a way which takes away your breath. It is in this moment that you're reminded that you are in a room with the Avatar of Pride and fallen angel, Lucifer himself.

You suppose there's no better time to be wary than now.

In hindsight, you should have never trusted them from the start. For who knew smiles and laughter would get you killed? So when the demon asks for you, it takes fifteen minutes itself to muster up courage to move.

And even more to stand in front of him.

"Come, sit down," He murmurs, gesturing to an empty couch across him. "Please make yourself comfortable."

The man attempts to make yourself feel relaxed in his presence, but you can't help the racing of your heart when you sit down on the plush couch, darting your gaze around the room, looking everywhere but in his eyes. When you finally do, look in his direction, you find that Lucifer is not scrutinizing you.

Rather, he's focused on the fire.

"I chose you as the exchange student for this programe." Lucifer declares, voice somber.

You fidget in your seat, not knowing what to make of his words. When he looks at you, your guts tell you to flee, yet you remain like a deer frozen in headlights.

"There were times when I regretted my choice."

Your heart sinks. You know Lucifer doesn't have the best opinion of you, you are pretty sure you are nothing more than a coward in his eyes, just a human to take care of for a year. A responsibility.

"But I made the right choice in choosing you." Lucifer smiles, and it is an expression full of warmth, unlike anything you've seen before.

"H-How?" You question, utterly bewildered and confused. "I thought you—that you—"

"That you had no value in my eyes." The man cuts you off, and you flinch. "That I had no respect for you." Your hands tremble, not knowing where this conversation is leading to. The door is right in front of you, maybe if you just excused yourself—

Yet another part wants to stay. Remain and listen to the demon. Lucifer's voice is soft. "I was wrong about you," He admits, smiling softly. "For you are someone to be respected."

?!

"Ever since the day I saw you in the Devildom, I assumed that you would be another hassle, another responsibility to take care of. And observing you during your first week here, didn't exactly put a decent impression of you in my mind."

You gape at the man, waiting for him to continue.

"You ran away from me in the underground tomb, and yet you went up the stairs that I stated were forbidden. I have seen you struggling with coursework, thrust into a new environment which you did not consent to have been put into..." He places a hand under his chin. "In hindsight, I should have been more understanding of your situation. I was the one to bring you here and you even got killed because of my mistake.."

"Don't say that."

He sighs, his shoulders sagging, and you've never seen Lucifer look more defeated.

"I have seen you grow. I assumed you were weak, a coward, and yet you grew and overcame your fears. You have helped me and my family immensely, and all I did was get in your way." He says, and your heart aches. "I've been cruel."

A sob chokes your throat.

"I am proud of you for what you have done and achieved, and I can never make enough reparations for what you had to suffer. But I swear I will prevent anything like this from occurring again." He gets up, suddenly, startling you. "And I offer you my pact as promise and as gratitude."

And as you watch, the Morningstar gets on his knees in front of you.

"Control over me as your demon, and you my Master," He mumbles. "Will you allow me the honour of making a pact with you?"

When Lucifer gazes at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes, you have to blink back tears.

"Y-Yes."

The firstborn bows his head. "You will never have to fear me again." He swears. "And I will give you a reason to believe." And with that, you feel infernal magic flowing through your veins. A burst of energy so intense that it raises your heartbeat and makes you close your eyes momentarily.

When you open them again, you feel powerful.

For you have command over the Morningstar himself.

"Thank you," You whisper, placing your hand atop his own.

Satan has seen the way you carry yourselves now at RAD, an invisible presence amongst the crowd of chattering demons. Withdrawn and downcast. Despite the pacts, you were murdered.

He's seen you fall and rise, unwavering determination as you gathered courage and spoke up for yourself. Improved yourself and went against Diavolo, the literal Prince who few dared to oppose. You went back in time for all of them, and what did that get you?

Death.

But now you can barely muster any courage to even look him in the eye. Lucifer and Belphegor have made their pacts with you too in penance and forgiveness, but that is not enough to help the trauma inflicted upon you.

Satan doesn't know what to say now, seeing your downcast gaze and the way you tremble when Belphegor is near. He's seen you rise and fall, and seeing you destroyed makes Satan realise that he and his brother are all responsible for what happened to you. He loves you too; for seeing you strive to improve and overcome the fear that is justifiably humane, and observing you grow reminds Satan of himself.

But you've fallen down and been killed.

Therapy, he concludes one week before you're supposed to leave. It is perhaps the best option for you.

And all that on Diavolo's dime.

Lucifer and Satan had worked it out all together, and the Prince had readily agreed. He knew what would happen, and yet he allowed it.

One life in exchange for peace and order.

It sounds simple, but when you realise the weight it carries you can't bring yourself to do it. The man is a Prince, and with that title comes responsibilities and power more than anyone could fathom.

But did it give him the right to put you in a completely different realm and place an unwanted burden on your shoulders?

He muses, late at night when the moon is at its brightest. When he can't sleep, and the dark circles in the morning will surely concern Barbatos who won't hold back on a lecture.

But some questions won't stop bothering him.

Do you hate him?

Would you have hated him?

For what he's done to you?

Was he making the right choices?

Was he trying enough?

But he's still learning, still observing, still growing. He never lies.

And Diavolo doesn't ever want such a circumstance to occur. When he felt infernal magic radiating from you, so intense and of a magnitude that only the firstborn could muster, the Prince knew what had happened.

Pacts with the seven avatars.

Command over them.

Could....would you have forged one with him, if possible? Would you want to? He wants to ask, and yet Diavolo knows he can't make one even if you were willing.

Not yet.

But he'll work towards ensuring a world where he can.

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Where am I?

[A/n: I have always loved the idea of getting thrown into a new and unknown world, and I had this idea when I was still a wattpad writer, sooo. Now you guys get to have it since I never finished the story 😅, also this takes place after the Mt.Natagumo mission]

Summary:While you were watching TV with your cat, you suddenly had a burning feeling in your chest.... It only got worse and worse

Type:Scenario: Uzui + His Wives X M!Reader

Version:Demon Slayer

~

You, Y/n L/n, were laying on your bed, practically asleep. You were zoning in and out of consciousness. Sudden, your cat started scratching at your door. Your cat was a gift from your grandma. She wasn't sure if she would be able to keep taking care of the cat since it was a kitten when she gave it to you. She told you that she had something to pass down to her granddaughter, but you're her grandson. Your grandmother felt bad for years, but one day, she saw the kitten her friend gave her and it crossed her mind that you've been looking for someone to hang out with and be able to watch your shows with them, the kitten wasn't a person, but it was still something that could sit with you for hours. So one day on your birthday she gave you the kitten. It was an amazing gift, and you come over to her house every week to show her the cat now. Tomorrow, you planned to go visit her. You were glad to have a grandmother like her. You groaned as you sat up. You were gonna walk to the door when a sudden pain striked you in the chest. You wheezed as you gripped your shirt. It started to become hot, unbearably hot. You took off your shirt as you gasped. Basically, clawing at your chest, you started to tumble. Falling to the ground, you used your free hand to grab your neck. Your shorts bunched up as you moved your knees closer to your chest. Trying to breathe, you let out a loud choked cough. Your parents and siblings were down stairs watching a movie, so they heard none of this, and if they did, they just thought it was your cat jumping around. Your vision started to go dark. You had purple and black spots popping up in your vision, preventing you from seeing properly. Your cat started to meow louder and clawing at the underside of the door, trying desperately to get someone's attention. You reach your hand out towards your cat, your eyes wide with tears forming at the edge of your eyes. Then it went black. You went lip, your arms dropping onto the ground with a quiet thud, your eyes rolled back into your head and your mouth agap. You were hopeless. Suddenly, you felt your self fall, the cold air making your shiver as a soft breath left your mouth. You felt water, a pond? Lake? River? You don't know. You just felt that harsh water slap against your back, hard enough to leave a mark. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't move, you could cry out for help. All you could do is sink to the bottom and hope someone finds you in time. Those chances are low, though. You were gonna die. You wouldn't be able to be your cat to see your grandmother. You'd never find that person you've been looking for all your life. You'd never say goodbye to your mother or your grandmother or anyone you love. Why did this have to happen....'What did I do..? To deserve this?' You let out one finally breath before your head hit the bottom. But the rest of your body didn't yet. Your legs were slowly falling, as well as your arms. Before your legs hit the bottom, you felt a large hand wrap around your ankle, and as soon as you hit the water, you pulled from it. Your arms drop to the side of your head. Your being held upside down, you other side had buckled as your hair sticks to your face.

"HI-"

You didn't hear what the person said, just the beginning. You're now on the ground getting CPR from someone. You can feel every time they push into your chest, you feel your rips break with every push. You also feel when they pinch your nose and tilt your head to breathe into your mouth, it wasn't something you expected to feel. Soon enough your gasping for air and couching out blood and water. 'Where's the blood coming from...?' You can hear now, better than before

"Hina.....butterfly......SUMA!.....you'll be......Shi!......"

Butterfly? Who's Hina? And Suma? At least the bed is comfortable. Your eyes start to flutter open. You're in a white room. As your senses start to come back, you can hear someone. They were yelling. Your vision is coming back. You slowly look over to see a yellow haired boy freaking out. 'He's directly next to me' I take a sharp breath in, trying to get out a few words.

"H..."

The nurse next to you looks over, I look up at her.

"Huh?"

She sounds sweet and a little angry, probably at the yellow haired boy, who is now quiet and also looking at me.

"H...Hina..?"

You grunted before letting out an aggressive coughing fit. The nurse gave you small water so you could speak better.

"There...what about now?"

You coughed one more time before looking at her.

"Hina...Suma..."

The girl looked confused, looking at the three smaller nurses they shrugged.

"Who is Hima and Suma?"

You looked away, looking over next to you as you hear footsteps, groaning you look back over.

"I...I heard their names"

The nurse nodded as the yellow haired boy started screaming again. Soon, the footsteps came to a halt, looking over at the doors you watch them open before three people stepped in, one had a box on her back, and then two boys, one on the others back, he had red hair and was severely injured. You and him made eye contact as he walked in. But it didn't last very long, for the fact you layed back and went back to pain. You're too much in pain to worry about anything right now. The nurse remembered your words. 'Hina and Suma..?' She was curious and waited for Lady Kocho to get back so she could report back. When Lady Kocho returned the nurse asked her about the names.

"Hina and Suma? Mm?"

Lady Kocho thought for a second before she remembered.

"Ah, those are two of Uzuis wives. I will inform him"

The nurse nodded as Lady Kocho started away. When she got to Uzuis home she knocked on the door.

"Yoo-Hoo! Uzui?"

A large man with white hair answered the door, he looked confused before his face lit up.

"May I come in?"

Uzui nodded and moved out of the way. Walking in Lady Kocho walked into the room where his wives and another was. She smiled at his wives and the man with bright hair.

"Sorry to intrude all of a sudden, but the boy had awaken"

The wives let out a small noise of shock and bliss, glad the boy is alright. While the man with bright hair looked confused.

"Boy?"

Lady Kocho nodded and said across from Suma as Uzui sat next to Hinatsuru. Lady Kocho smiled

"The boy Uzui and his wives brought in, he was found in the river after mysteriously falling in. Uzui and his wives saved the boy and brought him to me a few days ago."

Hinatsuru smiled, she was glad the boy was alright.

"Did he say anything?"

Lady Kocho looked at Hinatsuru.

"He said, 'Hina and Suma', he must have heard Uzui say your names before he passed out completely"

Hinatsuru and Suma looked at each other. Lady Kocho then went on to explain everything about the boys' injuries and how he's doing, and invited Uzui and his wives to come visit, as well as the bright haired man. The next day, Lady Kocho went and got Uzui, his wives, and the bright haired man to bring them to you. When they got to the butterfly, Mansion Lady Kocho said her greeting to the nurses before heading to your room. Once they got close enough they heard a loud voice.

"SHUT UP!"

When Lady kocho opened the door, they all seen you sitting on staring angerly at the yellow haired boy, who was shaking.

"All morning I've had to listen to you scream and cry, EVEN YESTERDAY YOU WOKE ME UP. JUST SHUT UP ALREADY"

The yellow haired boy slowly looked over at you.

"HUH?! WHO EVEN ARE YOU! ITS NOT LIKE YOUR THE ONE TAKING THIS HORID MEDICINE!"

You two didn't stop.

"YEAH YOUR RIGHT, BUT IM NOT OVER HERE SCREAMING AND CRYING OVER SOME DAMN MEDICINE NOW AM I?!"

The yellow haired boy started to cry as he yelled louder.

"WHO ARE YOU?! ARE YOU EVEN A DEMON SLAYER?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! AND WHY DIDNT YOU GO TRAINING WITH TANJIRO AND INOSUKE?!"

You huffed as you kicked your legs over the side of the bed, the six just watched.

"IM Y/N L/N, AND NO IM NOT A DEMON SLAYER, I DONT EVEN KNOW WERE I AM! AND WHO THE HELL IS TANJIRO AND INOSUKE!"

The yellow haired boy went quiet.

"Your not a demon slayer? Then why are you here?"

Uzui pushed past Lady Kocho.

"Because, me and my wives saved him."

The yellow hair boy looked up at Uzui. The h/c boy also looked up at him, this time with a tint of amazement in his eyes, before realization hit.

"Wives? You have more than one?!"

The boy looked shocked, staring up at the large man. Then a woman approached the h/c boy.

"Yep! And i'm Hinatsuru"

She gave you a heartwarming smile as she sat next to you.

"We were informed you said out names? Me and Suma."

Your looked at the three other women and froze.

"YOU HAVE FOUR WIVES?! AND A HUSBAND?!"

Uzuis face turned to one of shock, he looked behind him at Lady Kocho and thr bright haired man.

"Huh?! No! I have three wives, that woman is your nurse Shinobu Kocho, and the other is my friend, Rengoku Kyojuro. My wives are these fine women. Hinatsuru, Suma, and Makio. And I am Uzui Tengen"

You let out a small ah. Looking at everyone you turned back to the yellow haired boy.

"Then who's him?"

He looked slightly offended.

"My name is Zenitsu Agatsuma"

You hummed as Suma sat on the bed as well, on the other side of Hinatsuru.

"Boy, why did you call out for us?"

You looked at her, shocked, and she reminded you of your mother in a nice way.

"I-"

You look down and started fiddling with your hands.

"I was lost... your guys' names were the last ones I heard before blacking out, and....I didn't know anyone around me, I was scared, still am honestly..."

Suma and Hinatsuru gave you a gentle smile, Hinatsuru quickly pulled you into a hug. She was warm and....had a nice aura around her, one that reminded you of home. You smiled and hugged her back, letting a few tears fall from your face. Uzui smiled down at you three. Makio was feeling a little left out, so she walked over to you and also gave you a hug. Suma just gently rubbed your back. Shinobu gently smiled, a real smile at Uzuis love towards you. Rengoku gave a small chuckle, feeling a small pain in his chest from remembering his own mother. Once Uzuis wives finally let go of you, they said their goodbyes and left, Shinobu sayed back to update you on your ribs. Once she left, you felt Zenitsus threatening aura next to you. Looking over, you saw him have a dark look on his face. Shrugging, you lay back down, only for Zenitsu to pull you up by the collar of your shirt.

"WHY DO YOU GET TO BE TOUCHED BY BEAUTIFUL GIRLS?! DO YOU KNOW-"

You tried to push him off.

"GET OFF OF ME YOU PYCHO"

The doors open, both of you looking over. The red headed boy you seen early walked in, along with a guy in a boar mask.

"YOU TWO!"

The two looked at you and Zenitsu.

"GET THIS PSYCHO OFF OF ME!"

Back at Uzuis house, Hinatsuru and Suma had been quiet the whole walk back. Once they were all inside the two talked for a second before Uzui interrupted them.

"Hina, Suma, is everything alright? You were quiet the whole way here?"

The two looked up at him as Suma began to cry.

"T-That boy...."

Hinatsuru grabbed Sumas hand and looked up at Uzui.

"Once he's healed, we're taking him in."

Uzuis face lit up.

"To train him?"

Hinatsuru looked at Suma before looking back at Uzui.

"No."

Uzui looked confused before realizing. He didn't know how to respond. The two smiled at him before walking away.

"We're gonna prepare his room!"

Uzui quickly turned around and stared at them as they walked away. He wasn't gonna argue, but....he really didn't know what to do. And the next day Suma and Hinatsuru came to visit you, bring you bento lunch, and a flashy hairclip, and of course. Making Zenitsu jealous of you every. Single. Day. This continued everyday, sometimes Uzui and Makio would come along, and they'd bring you something. You didn't understand why, but they all gave you a sense of home. Even Zenitsu, he became your friend. You didn't talk a lot with Tanjiro and Inosuke. They were busy training, and even when Zenitsu started training with them, yku and him would still yell at each other. He... he became like a brother to you, especially after you got thrown out of your home, away from your family. It felt nice having people familiar to your family around. Once your ribs were fully healed, Hinatsuru was the only one that came. But, she had a pair of clothes for you. Once you got changed, you took your hand and led you somewhere. As you were walking, you pasted Rengoku and Shinobu, as well as a few other people you didn't recognize. Once you guys stopped, she smiled at you, giving you a second. There was a large house, Suma was standing at the doors, seemlying waiting for you two. Hinatsuru started to lead you inside. You looked around, enjoying the beautiful house. Soon enough, you reached a common room, and Uzui and Makio were sitting there. Smiling, you waved at the two. They waved back and flashed you a bright smile. Hinatsuru continued to lead you through the house, this time with Uzui and Makio following. You were getting a bit nervous now. Eventually, you stopped at a room. Hinatsuru smiled warmly at you before opening the door. You walked in and froze. It was a bedroom. You looked back at her, confused as she took your hands.

"I know this place is scary and unknown, and I couldn't help but feel bad for you, your a lovely young boy, one who doesn't deserve to be alone, especially not in a place like this"

Uzui placed a hand on your shoulder. You turned and looked up at him.

"Welcome home...Son"

Your face lit up as you looked between all of them, looking back at Hinatsuru and Suma, and all of them a few times. This was probably one of the few times you've ever been accepted like this. You couldn't help it. Hinatsuru hugged you, giving you a small kiss on your forehead.

"We'll let you settle in, then tomorrow we can go shopping to get you some clothes, and all that stuff."

You nodded into her shoulder.

~

[A/n:....this is way better than the version on wattpad(that was never published), this also took like 3 to 4 hours to finish. I did this in one sitting, guys. I really hope you enjoyed]

[gracexthoughts]

of violent delights chap 18

beginning of the end

Euphemia’s POV 

15 june 1996 

Mattheo, 

Hi, how’s your summer going? I’ve been thinking about you

20 june 1996 

Matt, 

I hope you are well. 

5 july 1996 

Mattheo, 

Would you call me needy if I asked what the coffee cup and cigarette meant? 

16 july 1996

Mattheo, 

I figured you’d have written at least once. If you’re still concerned about what you said that night, you shouldn’t be. I don’t care about any of that shit, Matt. And I can’t just pretend none of it happened and I don't want to pretend. 

25 july 1996

Was one night all you wanted all along? Just another notch on your belt? 

17 august 1996 

I scan the shelves in front of me as I try to decide what to make for dinner tonight. There’s a small corner shop at the end of the block Harry and I live on where I do most of our shopping. I sigh, picking ingredients out for some pasta and move towards the check out queue, pulling my muggle money out as I wait in the long queue. The radio plays softly through the store and my mind drifts to Mattheo Riddle, as it often does when I allow my mind to wander for more than a minute. When I left Hogwarts, three months ago, I had hoped to hear from Mattheo but I’ve gotten nothing. Not a single letter, note, anything all summer and I can’t help the bitterness that’s been creeping into my heart over the summer. 

I tell myself I shouldn’t be surprised; that Mattheo Riddle, the infamous Slytherin Casanova, has never slept with the same girl twice and I was never going to be any different. But we were different, or at least I thought we were. Maybe that was naive of me to assume. Maybe Fred and George were right. 

Mattheo’s POV

10 june 1996 

Mia, 

Have you settled into your new apartment yet? I hope it’s everything you hoped it would be. You deserve to be happy. 

19 june 1998 

Mia, 

Saw in the prophet that Sirius Black was spotted in a muggle town. It wasn’t near you, was it? I hope you are safe… 

2 july 1996 

Mia, 

I dreamt about you last night. 

13 july 1996

Mia, 

How have you invaded every tiny part of my brain? It's maddening, princess, really. I think I’m going mad. 

30 july 1996

Mia, 

I’m sorry I haven’t written. I’m not great with words, especially when it involves emotions. The amount of letters I’ve started and thrown out is ridiculous. I miss you. Is that crazy? I can’t remember the last time I missed anyone. Although you’re not just anyone are you? 

14 august 1996

I set my quill down with a sigh, resisting the urge to rub my eyes with my ink stained hands as I stare down at the finished sketch; Euphemia Potter looks back up at me from the page, a mischievous smile on her lips. My sketchbook is as filled with her as my head is. All my hand has produced this summer is her. Her face partially covered by her hair as it blows in the wind, her smoking a cigarette in the Astronomy Tower, her in class listening studiously to a lecture, the way her face lights up when she smiles, the way she looked after we kissed, the way she looked under me and sleeping the next morning. Her face is all I see when I close my eyes and with every page I fill with her I hope it takes her out of my head but it doesn’t. It's just her all the time and I think it will drive me insane. 

24 august 1996

Draco, Elladora and I follow behind the adults as we make our way up the seemingly endless amount of stairs of the Quidditch World Cup Stadium. Mr. Malfoy managed to get us all personally invited to watch the match from the Minister’s box at the very top of the stadium, which Draco has been bragging about relentlessly. Finally we reach the top box, my legs infinitely thankful, and as I step around Ella the sight makes my heart skip a beat. Sitting in the front row of the box is nearly an entire row of redheads but the only one I care about is Mia. Her long red hair is pulled up into a ponytail and she’s decked out in green for the Irish. She chats amicably with the Weasley sitting next to her who I remember slightly from my first year at Hogwarts but can’t recall his name and my attention is pulled from her as Mr. Malfoy greets the Minister of Magic. 

“I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?” Mr. Malfoy says, pushing Draco forward to greet the Minister. “And this is our ward, Elladora. She’s Narcissa’s niece.” 

“How do you do? How do you do?” Fudge greets them, smiling and bowing. 

“And this is Medusa, my sister, and her son, Mattheo,” Mr. Malfoy adds, gesturing down to my mother and me. 

“Ah, yes of course. How do you do?” I see the realization in Fudge’s eyes of what Mr. Malfoy left out-- our surname-- as he shakes my hand and bows politely to my mother. 

At my name, however, Mia turns around and our eyes lock for a moment and I feel like the world has been upside down for the last three months and it's right side up again. “Hey princess,” I mouth to her but all she does is smile politely and turn back around. My jaw clenches as I watch her laugh at something one of the Weasley Twins says and she continues to face forward, not looking my way. 

“Seems like the princess moved on,” Ella mutters in my ear, clearly pleased. 

“Shut up,” I glare at her out of the corner of my eye, moving to sit in my seat. Mr. Malfoy talks a few moments longer, clear distaste in his expression that the Weasleys managed seats in the Minister’s box and that they brought Granger; he always has been a stuck up git, although the rest of our group isn’t much better. 

I spend much of the match distracted by Mia, everytime she cheered and or reacted to the match, my gut twisted horribly anytime she touches or laughs or looks at anyone who isn’t me. And it isn't until the very end, when she stands up to leave once the match has ended, do her green eyes land on me again. We share a brief glance but too soon her eyes leave mine and I’m left feeling lost again. Does she regret what happened? I stew in my own bitter air as we follow the crowd down the endless stairs and back onto solid ground. 

“Who was that lovely girl?” My mother whispers to me as we begin the walk back to our campsite. 

“Who?” I ask innocently, watching where I’m stepping as we traipse through the dark. 

“The one you couldn’t take your eyes off of. You barely watched the match, darling,” Mum pries further. 

“I watched the match,” I grumble. 

“Hm, so who is she?” 

“Mia… Mia Potter,” I relent finally, avoiding my mother’s gaze. Most people would be surprised that she doesn’t know but, being a Riddle is still very taboo in this world, even more so for my mother than me, so Mum doesn’t venture outside much except her small social circle. 

“Oh, well. With her hair I assumed she was a Weasley but I guess her mother did have red hair as well,” my mother says casually and I turn my head to look at her. 

“You knew the Potters?” I ask. 

“Of course, we overlapped a few years at Hogwarts as well, her parents and I. And the Potters were a pureblood family before James married Lily. My father worked with Fleamont at the Ministry. Mia, you called her? Well Fleamont would have been her grandfather. Do you like her?” my mother says easily, as if I didn’t just admit to being close with one of the two people responsible for her husband’s death. I look at her with raised eyebrows and she laughs slightly at me. “I’m not your father, dear. While I may prefer you to find a nice pureblood girl to settle down with eventually, I won’t force you into anything. You’ve never done anything unless it was what you wanted.” 

“Woah, who said anything about settling down?” I balk, my feet stop walking of their own volition but my mother just laughs, turning to face me. 

“Mothers think about that kind of stuff. Besides, you’ve never told me about any other girl before so I assume this Mia is special,” she says, tilting her head at me. 

“She’s too good for me…She deserves someone better than me,” I say after a long moment, looking down at my shoes. 

“Then be better,” my mother says softly, reaching out to cup my chin and lift my head so I’m looking at her dark gray eyes. My mum and I look nothing alike; she has the white hair and gray eyes of a Malfoy, but I inherited my father’s looks: his dark hair and dark eyes and tainted soul. “If you really care for her, then work to deserve her, if that’s what you want.” 

“You don’t think it's a bad idea? A Riddle and a Potter?” I ask slowly, searching my mum’s eyes.

“I don’t know if it is or not,” she admits, releasing my chin, “but I do know that love is stronger than all other kinds of magic.” She smiles at me softly, patting my cheek before nodding towards where the Malfoys and Ella are still walking ahead of us. “Let’s go and tomorrow, you can tell me all about her.” 

Euphemia’s POV 

“There’s no one like Krum!” Ron exclaims, standing up on a chair so he’s taller while the Twins dance around him clad in their green gear. “He’s like a bird the way he rides the wind! He’s not just an athlete. He’s an artist!” 

“I think you’re in love, Ron!” Ginny calls, laughing next to me on the couch in our bigger-on-the-inside-tent along with Hermione on the other side of Ginny. 

“Victor, I love you! Victor I doooo!” The twins start singing and Harry, Ginny and I join in, “When we’re apart my heart beats only for YOUUUU!” Ginny, Hermione and I fall to bits laughing as the Twins and Ron start wrestling and Harry backs up several feet to avoid being swung at. Although he accidentally falls straight into Charlie’s lap, sending us all into further hysterics. I’m grateful for my friends, or family as they often feel like. Seeing Mattheo rattled me more than I thought it would after three months of not hearing from him. Even with all the anger at his silence, seeing him again made me feel like I’d been lost all summer and finally found my way back home. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” Mr. Weasley yells at the boys, running back into the tent as screaming echoes from outside. 

“Sounds like the Irish are having a party,” Bill chuckles, looking towards the entrance of the tent. 

“It’s not the Irish, we need to leave!” Mr. Weasley says urgently. 

“What? Why?” I ask, standing along with everyone else. Mr. Weasley doesn’t respond, just begins pushing us all out of the tent. As we stumble outside, heat of fires hits us as tents burn not a few rows behind us, people running at top speed all around us, and at the center of all the chaos, is a crowd of wizards with hooded cloaks and skull masks obscuring their features, and above them are four floating people struggling against invisible bonds, the wizards under them holding their wands straight up, controlling the figures above like some sick marionette show. Everything is chaos and fire and screaming. As a green light flashes in front of the crowd, I recognize the faces of the Muggle groundskeeper who we had paid for our tent spot and I assume the rest is his family. The sight makes me sick. 

“Get to the woods, hide and I’ll find you later! And stick together! Bill, Charlie, Percy, you’re with me! Mia, Fred, George, everyone else is your responsibility. Go! RUN!” Mr. Weasley shouts over the screams before the four older Weasley’s run toward the masked crowd. 

“C’mon! We gotta go!” I yell to the others, grabbing Harry’s hand, and Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I all begin sprinting with the rest of the crowd towards the woods. Fred, George and I with our wands in hand, just in case, as we push through the crowd which is getting tighter and tighter. My hand slips away from Harry’s and I call out to him, but his voice is still behind me so I keep moving. 

After what seems like forever, we stumble into the tree line, panting and sweaty. I trip on a tree branch and fall straight into George who manages to catch me and help me stand back upright. I turn and see Fred, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. “Where’s Harry?” I ask the two urgently. They look around, fear growing on their faces as they look around. “Harry!” I yell, panic taking over my body. 

“Mia, I’m sure he’s fine, we’ll find-” Fred starts but I don’t stick around to listen as I take off back towards the campsite at top speeds and I run back through the forest and crowds of people. 

“Harry!” I shout over and over, searching everywhere for my brother, as tents burn and smolder around me, but I don’t see the crowd of masked wizards anymore. As I near where our own campsite had been, I start panicking even further. I stop and look around me, nothing but smoldering and smoking tents as far as I can see. “Harry!!” I shout, loudly as possible, tears threatening to obscure my vision. 

“Mia?” I suddenly hear and I whip around to see Harry emerge from behind a tent. I gasp and we run to each other, colliding roughly. I grab at his face and shoulders and arms frantically checking for burns or blood. 

“Are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you follow us?” 

“I don’t know, I got separated and fell down and got knocked out I think, I don’t-” Harry starts explaining but his eyes suddenly land on something over my shoulder and I turn to see a man kicking over something laying in the embers before looking up at the sky and raising his wand. I push Harry slightly behind a tent and follow suit, looking through a burned hole to watch the man. He mutters something I don’t quite catch and green shoots out of his wand and into the sky. A skull and snake, seemingly made out of green light, appears in the sky and Harry groans beside me, his hand shooting up to touch his lighting bolt scar. I watch the sky, illuminated green by the Dark Mark; something I’ve only ever read about and very much hoped I’d never see in person and fear grips me. Movement pulls my eyes away and I look back through the hole in the burned tent to see the man who cast the Mark coming straight for us. 

“Harry, I need you to run,” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the man. 

“What?” he groans, his voice sounding pained. 

“Go, run into the woods and find the others. I’ll be right behind you,” I whisper frantically and I watch as the man raises his wand in our direction. “Protego!” I shout, casting a shield charm as a curse shoots from the man’s wand. “GO!” I yell to my brother but he doesn’t move, just pulls out his own wand and casts Explelliarmus over the tent, but the man deflects it. I stand and shoot another curse over the tent. The man stumbles back slightly as it hits him, causing his wand arm to turn numb and he watches me carefully before turning and running in the other direction. 

I drop back down to my knees and cradle my brother’s face in my hands. “Are you okay? Does your scar hurt?” But before he can answer, voices echo over the landscape and there’s a blinding series of flashes over Harry’s and my heads. 

“Stop! Stop!” Calls Mr. Weasley, running towards us quickly, Charlie in his wake. “Harry, Mia, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” 

“Which of you conjured it?!” A cold voice inquires and Mr. Crouch pushes his way past Mr. Weasley and points his wand at Harry and I. “Which of you did it? Do not lie!” 

“You think we did this?” I cry indignantly. 

“You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!” Crouch responds. 

“This is the Potters! I don’t think they’re like-” Charlie scoffs but Mr. Weasley raises a hand to cut him off. 

“They’re just kids, Barty!” Mr. Weasley tries reasoning with the man. “Where did the Mark come from, Mia?” 

“A man,” I shrug, explaining how I found Harry and saw the man and everything that happened before they showed up. 

“What did he look like?” One of the other Ministry officials asks. 

“I didn’t see his face, it's too dark,” I say helplessly. “I’m sorry.” 

✦

2 september 1996

I’ve had nightmares about the Dark Mark nearly every night since the World Cup mixing in with the usual visions I’ve grown used to over the years. Last night was a particularly nasty one but what worries me more than anything, is Harry’s scar hurting him. He confessed the morning after the World Cup that he'd woken up from a dream about Voldemort a few nights previous and had woken up with the pain in his forehead. 

Our curse scars have always baffled me. Our matching lighting bolt looking scars are so strange they confound even Dumbledore. At the end of Harry’s first year, and his run in with Voldemort and Professor Quirell, we explained to the Headmaster that Harry’s scar had been paining him for weeks but mine has never hurt at all. Dumbledore didn’t have an explanation and since then, Harry’s scar has only ever hurt when near Voldemort, or his ghost, so the return of the pains is a terrifying idea. Remus, who I wrote to the next morning, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all say not to worry, that Harry and I are safe and protected but the fear still hides in the back of my mind. 

I sigh, shouldering my bag as I push my way out of the library where I spent my afternoon free period, a perk of fewer N.E.W.T. level classes. The sun shines through the windows, lighting up the corridor with warm golden light. Even with all the terrifying things, being back at Hogwarts is lovely. Dumbledore announced at the Welcome Feast last night that two international schools will be joining us around Halloween for something called the TriWizard Tournament which has sent the whole school into an excited frenzy. 

I turn the corner of the hall, making my way back to Gryffindor Tower, but I run right into someone standing right behind the turn. “Oof, I’m sorry!” I exclaim, looking up from a green Slytherin tie at my eye level to the deep warm brown eyes of Mattheo Riddle and my heart skips a beat. I forgot how good he looks in his uniform, bloody hell. Mattheo stands there in all his glory, dark curls perfectly tousled, his tie loose around his neck and his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, veins standing out on the back of his hands that I can still feel on my waist if I think hard enough.   

“Careful, Princess,” he smirks easily, like no time has passed since the last time we spoke. 

“Sorry,” I mutter, dropping his gaze and kneeling to gather the textbook I dropped but Mattheo beats me too and holds it out of my reach, that stupid cocky smile that I like so much on that stupidly perfect face. “Can I have my book, please?” 

“Not until you tell me why you’re avoiding me,” he says, still holding the book out of my reach. 

“I-I’m just busy,” I stutter. 

“Mia, c’mon, it’s the start of the year. How busy can you be? You barely acknowledged me at the World Cup and you brushed me off on the train yesterday and you can barely even look at me right now. What’s going on? Is it what happened after the World Cup? Do you think I had something to do with that?” He asks, hurt shining in his eyes and I blink, realizing that no it did not occur to me for a moment to suspect him. 

“What? No, I- Should I? Did you?” I ask, searching his eyes as he sighs, dropping his arm to his side, the textbook smacking against his leg. 

“No! Not at all! You know I hate that kind of shit-” 

“Well then why did you bring it up?” I ask, getting frustrated, trying to snatch my textbook from his hands but he pulls it back again. 

“Because it's the only reason I can think of that would make you avoid me,” Mattheo says, turning to pin me against the wall causing memories of him pressing me against my dorm room door. “So if it’s not that then what is it?” 

“Maybe the fact that we slept together and you snuck out in the middle of the night and then I didn’t hear from you all summer!” I finally snap and his face falls as my words hit him. 

“Oh, Mia-” 

“If all you wanted was one night you could’ve just said! Not string me along all term and make me feel like an id-” I’m cut off as Mattheo presses a kiss to my lips and effectively melting all the bitterness and anger away, infuriatingly quickly. “You can’t just kiss… me and expect… everything to be okay… again,” I say in between his kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, reaching up to brush a piece of my hair behind my ear. I snuck out because I didn’t want to get caught coming out of your room and I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I didn’t want any rumors to get around before we had a chance to talk and I tried to write, I did, but I’m shit at it really. Words aren’t my thing but I tried and I thought about you all the time. Shit, I filled an entire sketchbook with you but I’m-” 

“What?” I breathe out in bewilderment at his confession. He looks at me sheepishly, which is something I never thought I’d say about Mattheo Riddle. 

“Well I’m shit at words but I can draw, you know that, and pretty much all I drew this summer was you,” he says, his cheeks tinting slightly pink. 

“Can I see it?” I ask, reaching out to place my palm on his chest. Mattheo smiles slightly and nods. 

“Anything for you, princess. Does that mean you forgive me?” 

“If you give me my book back,” I respond with a smirk. 

“Hm, how about this?” He says, mischievously, taking a step back. “I’ll give you your book back, if you let me walk you to wherever you’re going.” 

“You’re an idiot,” I laugh and shake my head as I take a step forward and press a quick kiss to his lips. I pull away and he has the biggest grin on his face. 

“Do we have a deal?” 

“Yes, fine whatever,” I laugh. 

“After you, Princess,” Mattheo gestures his arm out in an exaggerated move and I laugh, feeling significantly better than 15 minutes ago. 

a/n; welcome to Goblet of Fire year!!I changed the Trace rules a little btw so basically after you turn 18/finish OWLs, you are allowed to practice magic at home but the Trace stays on you so the Ministry can ensure responsibility (kind of like the restrictions when you first get your driver’s license in the US) and then once you graduate Hogwarts at 20, the trace is lifted fully. 

also ive always imagined harry and mia’s scars to look like actual bolts of lighting or the kinds of scars people get who have actually been struck by lightning and not like the scar in the movies. Idk ive just always thought that was a cooler concept

taglist; @purplegardenwhispers @somethingswiftandstyles @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @girlbooklover555 @stxrszurzolo o @abaker74

[partlystiles]

I Will Not Kiss You - Daryl Dixon

I Will Not Kiss You - Daryl Dixon

part 2

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

summary: after years of mutual pining and a bit too much to drink, Y/N confesses her feelings to daryl dixon amidst a drunken conversation. he refuses to take advantage of her in such a state but in doing so puts a crack in her heart.

word count: 2,323

warning: alcohol consumption, swearing

i got this idea from when i heard the ‘cancer x as the world caves in’ and thought that the sadness of it and the ‘i will not kiss you’ creates a perfect setting for a broken-hearted imagine of refusal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Maybe you should slow down on the drinks, Y/N.” 

Rick Grimes, ever the voice of reason, approached his long time friend on where she sat on the stairs of one of the many Alexandrian homes in the village. It was one of their first days where and the girl on the stairs had already gotten bored, there was a party thrown for her arrival and she planned to take advantage of every drink she could find.

And she did. It was obvious enough. If Rick had come to check on her then she was sure the news had gotten around of her state, she loved Rick like a brother but he knew she could handle herself. But he had no idea what she was like drunk so when it had gotten back to him that she had tried to initiate a fight with a teenager he had set out to find her.

“And what if I don’t, old man?” She slurred, tipping back another whiskey and Rick groaned as he sat beside her on the steps. He looked at her amusedly and raised his eyebrows.

“You know we’re basically the same age, right?” He laughed and she shrugged, going to drink out of her plastic cup that she had the whiskey in before realising that there was no more in it.

Y/N crushed the plastic in her hand and threw it behind her, it landed on one stair and then bounced back down to the one right behind her. Rick laughed again and looked at her, her dishevelled hair and he revelled at how clean she looked. How clean all of them looked, but for one night her hair wasn’t tied back.

“I deserve this.” She whispered and leaned in close to him. “It’s been years since I’ve had a drink, water isn’t enough.”

“Getting drunk and threatening a teenager is not good drunken behaviour.” Rick said and Y/N waved her hand, dismissing him before leaning back against the wall and hitting her head. 

She pouted and put her hand to the back of her head with a small cry. Rick shook his head again and stood, pushing himself into a standing position before stretching a hand out to her. Out of instinct, Y/N took it but stumbled and swayed as soon as she was up on her feet.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” He caught her before she fell. “Maybe you should sit back down and get a water-”

“No, no, no, no.” She kept herself up, whining and squinting as she pushed on his arm to stop him from pushing her down. His southern laughter made her push him even more, mumbling denials over and over. “I need to- I need to go find Daryl.”

“Are you sure you wanna do that in this state?” He asked with another small laugh and Y/N nodded again, pushing his arms away from her and stumbling into the living room where everyone made way for her. “Grab a water on your way out, better sober up before you confess your love!”

“Go fuck Jesse.” Y/N stole another cup of whiskey from Glenn’s hand as she passed and for a moment he protested but she just raised her eyebrows at him as she walked past and downed it before passing empty cup to one of the Alexandrians.

“Where are you going like this, Y/N?” She ran into Michonne, who gave her a once-over.

“I’m going to fuck Dixon...hopefully, if it leads to that.”

Daryl Dixon was a rough man and he was violent and he was rude and Y/N liked the fuck out of him. She had fought it for so long, but her time with him had forced her to just admit that she had the tiniest bit of a crush on the archer that has saved her life more than enough times. She couldn’t stand the fact that the friendship she had towards him blossomed into something more, but they did. 

And when the prison got overrun and she was forced out with Michonne, Daryl’s ability was all that reassured her that he would be okay. Michonne had actually been the one to make her realise how much she actually valued the man, despite the fact that she mistook them for husband and wife upon their first meetings.

That had been quite awkward, the two of them staring at each other with a loss for words before Daryl had cleared his throat and Y/N stuttered out a no. She was sure that everybody could probably tell she had a thing for Daryl, especially Rick who relentlessly teased her for it. Never providing her with a break.

Daryl probably knew too, but Drunk Y/N was about to make a fool of herself anyway.

The night was cold and it bit at her but she had left her jacket inside the house and couldn’t be bothered going back in to get it. Rick would probably throw it at her first thing the next morning. Or Deanne would return it. Y/N wasn’t a massive fan of this Deanne person but chalked it up to the fact that she had been pressured into some sort of interview.

“Where were you when the apocalypse started?”

“With my family.”

“Did they arrive with you to Alexandria?”

“No, they got massacred in the first week.”

All things like that. Stupid, irrelevant things in the past which did nothing but bring up bad memories for everyone. Y/N had reunited with Daryl straight after her interview and they had a good laugh about it. That’s right, laugh, one of the only reasons that people thought they’d make a good couple. Because Daryl Dixon laughs in Y/N L/N’s presence. 

It was more like an exhaling through his nose thing but Y/N counted that as a laugh. It was crazy to think that after hating them for so long, she was falling for a redneck.

Literally.

“All hands on deck, L/N.” His accent rang in her ears and she looked around confusedly before she lay her eyes on the man on the motorcycle beside her. he was just sat there, the engine wasn’t even on. “You ain’t lookin so good.”

“Just the man I was looking for.” She gestured out to him like she was presenting him in front of an audience and he stood from his vehicle. He was wearing his sleeveless jacket and the muscles almost made her drool. “Why weren’t you partying?”

“Was eatin’ spaghetti.” He smirked as she bopped to invisible music, clearly supremely intoxicated before she stopped and frowned at him. 

“I love spaghetti.” She pouted, stomach almost rumbling at the sound of it. And then as she stared at the man approaching her, muscles out and glistening in the moonlight, she craved some more whiskey. “And whiskey.”

“Is that why you’re swayin’?” He asked, standing right before her and she scowled good-naturedly up at him.

“I’m not.” Y/N claimed before she stumbled to her left, about to fall before a hand stopped her. A big, rough, calloused hand on her waist that steadied her as much as possible and she almost toppled over sideways at his simple touch. “Wow.”

“Be careful.”

“That was really hot.” Y/N said and for a moment he went stiff but she was too intoxicated to really care as she turned and looked up at him. They were very very close and he could smell the large amount of whiskey she had consumed, he could also see her big bright eyes very close up to his face.

And her lips. And he kept his eyes on her eyes in common decency. Then he raised his eyebrows, he should probably get her tucked in bed and asleep so she can sleep off the alcohol but she looked very amusing. Her eyes were narrowing at him as he kept her in place so she wouldn’t fall.

Daryl couldn’t deny that he felt attraction for the woman in front of him, ever since she had put him in a head lock when they first met and then proceeded to threaten him with a knife whilst she wore a tank top right in front of him that showed off way too much than it should have. 

He tried his best not to look. But it soon became more than that and he found himself enthralled by her eyes, the way she spoke, when she laughed and he got angry at himself. Tough was how he defined himself and having his heart beat faster when in the presence of his friend was not tough. 

And she looked so beautiful at night, with her hair washed, clean and fluffy. No dirt on her face, it was clean and radiant and she looked soft. He just wanted to caress her face with his hand but didn’t want to embellish it with dirt, didn’t want to ruin the perfection.

He felt like a 12-year-old boy.

“I’m really attracted to you.” She spoke softly, her breath on his face and once again he smelt the whiskey but he couldn’t really bring himself to care that much. Drunk, he reminded himself, she’s drunk. “And I want more whiskey.”

He did that exhalation thing, his hand squeezing her hip slightly and she leant into him more. It was torture for him, he thought, having to keep his desires in order because she was in this state. If she had confessed to him when she was sober then he would probably already have her lying on his bed, but now that she’s drunk he couldn’t.

The moment was hot, stuffy and they were so close and he could see a glisten of sweat on her forehead and he was sure there was more on him. He was dirty and kind of bloody from his day out with Aaron but Drunk Y/N wouldn’t care, hell, Sober Y/N wouldn’t have cared. She had tackled him in a hug without a moment’s hesitation after not seeing him in a while when he was covered in gallons of blood. 

“Daryl.” She whispered and he snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in, she had been holding onto him for balance but now she was kind of balanced and raised one hand to the back of his neck and kept one on his muscles.

He fought to keep a shiver down as her fingers tickled the back of his neck. He needed some sort of interruption, someone to tear them away from each other because he knew he couldn’t leave this situation by himself.

“Yeah?” He whispered back, quietly, avoiding eye contact. But it was impossible, she was right in front of him. She smelled like his favourite thing, alcohol, and the whole doe-eyed look was extremely attractive.

With the hand that cupped his cheek, Y/N turned Daryl’s head to face her, to look down at her. And she smiled at him and then she started to pull him down and lean up, going in to kiss him. Completely sober, he would’ve let her, but she wasn’t. As much as he would give his life to touch her like that, he couldn’t take advantage of her. What kind of man would he be?

Her lips were getting closer and closer, puckered and wet from when she had swiped her tongue over them moments before. She was pulling him down, ready to plant one on him and he was so ready to receive it, ready to take her face into his hands and make out with her right there in the road. 

Yet he didn’t.

When she was mere milliseconds away from connecting their lips, Daryl turned his head to the side and completely avoided it with his lips, but her mouth landed on his cheek. They were soft and they felt amazing. It wasn’t long until she pulled away from him and realised that he had dodged her.

She settled back on her feet after being on her tiptoes, he saw it from the corner of his eye. Slowly, she grasped his hands and took them off of her waist, taking a step backwards. This was when Daryl turned and looked at her only to see that she was looking at him first...confused.

“I ain’t gonna kiss ya.” He said and if there was a sight he never wished to see, it was Y/N’s face right before she started crying. It screwed up in defeat and at once he wanted to take her into his arms.

He tried to, he stepped forward with innocent intentions. But she backed away from him and in doing so, tripped over her own feet until she fell over and scraped her hand on the floor.

“Y/N-” Daryl stepped forward, bending down the slightest bit to try and help her up but the woman put a hand out and scrambled back as best she could from him before standing up on shaky legs. “Let me help ya.”

Y/N shook her head and backed away again before she turned and walked quickly back up to the house the party was in, wiping at the place under her eyes. Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far as the moment she reached the house, her stomach gave up on her and caused her to double over into the bushes.

The Alexandrians there yelled and gagged as she threw up but then Carl came running out and put a hand on her back as she continued to throw up, he called for help and then Maggie came out. Daryl stood there and felt useless. 

And then he wasn’t standing there, he was mounting his motorcycle and riding it a pathetic couple of yards to his own house where he still felt useless. He even lay in bed and felt useless wondering how the hell he was going to make it up to a hungover Y/N L/N the next morning...if she even remembered it. 

She definitely remembered it...then she threw up again.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can I ask for a sam wilson prompt with I want a family, and can it have smut and fluff please?

.⋆｡Build Our Nest｡⋆.

Sam Wilson x plus size reader

After spending the day caring for Cass and AJ, you and Sam realise that you want kids of your own.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, fluff

WC: 670

Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

3000 Follower Celebration

The Louisiana sun had been incredibly hot that day but it did nothing to dampen the spirits of your boyfriend’s nephews. They ran and played for a solid 12 hours before collapsing into their beds, too tired to even change into their pyjamas.

You smiled down at them as you tucked them in, ensuring that both were dead to the world. You gave each of them a kiss on their heads before cautiously walking out of their room, leaving the door open just an inch.

“They sleep like the dead, you don’t have to be so cautious.” A deep voice startled you. You squeaked in shock, only just managing to slam your hand over your mouth before you made any more noise. Sam stood at the end of the hall, laughing at you

“You asshole!” You hissed, “I’m trying to get into their good books!” With a light step, you traversed the short hallway, intent on slipping past your boyfriend but  evidently, he wasn’t going to let that slide. Sam grabbed your wide hips with his right hand and tugged you back into his strong chest.

You fought his hold for a moment but as his woodsy cologne washed over you, you slumped against him. “Buttercup, they like you more than they like me. I think you’re good.” He chuckled as he pressed a loving kiss to your hair and gave your side a firm squeeze. “Now, let’s get you home. I’ve been neglected all day and I think I deserve some lovin now.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah yeah, only if you open a bottle of wine.” 

“Whatever you want, buttercup.” He pecked your temple and guided you down the stairs with a chuckle.

With all the windows in your small home thrown open, a pleasant sea breeze fluttered over you and your boyfriend as you sat on your couch. Two empty wine glasses sat on the coffee table, their transparent surfaces stained red and yet neither of you made a move to go clean them.

Your lips were locked together in a kiss that had started off as one of your typical pecks but quickly heated to a full on make out as Sam grabbed the back of your head, keeping your lips against his. Something had gotten into your boyfriend and you weren’t complaining.

“Sam.” You moaned as his kisses travelled from your mouth to your jaw then travelled down to your neck, where he began to bite and nip at the delicate skin. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“Just hoping I can get into you.” He murmured against your pulse while not-so-subtly pushing you back to lay down.

“Sam.” You said more firmly. He sighed.

“I want a family with you. You’re just so good with the boys and I kept thinking about how you would be with our kids.” His voice didn’t waver, he knew what he wanted and he wanted it now.

“Then take your pants off Captain, we’ve got some babies to make.” 

The next thing you knew, you were on your back, stripped down to nothing as Sam hovered over you, his big hands gripping your plush thighs. He pulled them over his hips, spreading your legs open for him. Your tongues tangled together as Sam tilted your lower body upwards, positioning the head of his bare cock at your entrance.

“Fuck!” He groaned into your ear. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your nails digging into his back as your ankles locked over his ass. “Buttercup you gotta relax, you’re too tight.”

“Feels too good. Need you to get me pregnant.” Sam’s hips bucked at your words, forcing his thick cock even deeper into you. You could feel him throbbing almost violently, as if he was about to cum. 

“You’re in for it now. There’s no way you aren’t going to have my baby after tonight.” He growled, pulling his hips back and slam forward again. “Get ready buttercup, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Bring it on.”

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[sl33paholics]

His Favorite Out of Them All

Jonathan x black!fem reader

Warning(s): Adultery, smut, slurs mention, discrimination, racism ( it's the 1800s we're talking bout idk what you expect), degrading, Dio being Dio

Song: Body Party by Ciara

You were pinned against the wall heavy breaths escaping your mouth, feeling the rough hands of the person you served for carefully undoing your outfit, the reek of alcohol wrapped around your nostrils. This was wrong. This could get you fired. But you couldn't resist the temptation. Your eye darts around the room and your stomach feel butterflies, you'd never thought this was the way your virginity would get taken. How did it even get to this point?

You were hired to serve the Joestars not too long ago, your parents were stoked to hear that you were going to be working for them and put you under strict training to make sure you wouldn't fuck up and ruin their family name as if it wasn't already difficult enough for them to make ends meet, this was an opportunity you couldn't fumble on.

Meeting the Joestars was a huge deal. Picking you up from your old-run-down house that was somewhat stable enough, George Joestar was surprisingly polite allowing you to hug your parents one last time before being escorted to the horse and buggy. The trip felt long, hearing your heartbeat, sitting in silence, and tightening up your posture to impress the man in front of you. Upon arriving there he promised you "If you ever need anything let me know.". He introduced you to his 2 sons, Dio and Jonathan before letting you see the rest of your employees.

But working there for the first 4 months was a living hell. Your workmates wouldn't listen to you for help, purposefully making a mess and pinning it on you to clean it up, and oh let's not forget about the slurs they would say without a shame in the world. Not only that, they would comment on your features. Plumpy lips? Gross. Slightly bigger thighs? Lose some weight. An ass not small like theirs? What a cow. It didn't help that Dio, a guy you were also serving, would encourage their behavior to a degree. He'd tease you about the things the women would mention, enjoying the sight of you on the verge of tears. You had to power through it, you didn't have an option. Would you rather go back to living in a rust of a house or resume working with these terrible people? Thought so.

It was the week when the Joestars won the rugby game for their school, to celebrate, their father held a party at the infamous mansion. A busy week indeed, you worked your ass off ignoring the offensive comments your co-workers would say, your main focus was to get it over with and head back to your room. On the day of the party, the living room was packed, giving you much anxiety to the point where your arms were numb. "You! Fetch me a drink and a cheese platter, will you!?" "Yes, sir." Just stay calm and serve the rich white folks, they'd leave you alone! You thought to yourself. Mama always told you to appease the higher-ups if you don't wanna be thrown behind bars over something so small.

You walked around and see the man himself, Jonathan, stumbling on the stairs. "Be careful, sir!" you hurried over and helped him to get to the top, he was quite heavy, but you had the strength to make sure he wouldn't trip and fall over. "Room...my bedroom, please." you slowly took the Joestar over to his bedroom and closed the door behind you two. "Mr. Joestar, are you alright—" his big two hands pinning you against the wall, catching you off guard but your fight or flight instincts kicked in. "You're so beautiful, (Y/N). I would never understand why people tear your kind down..." his thumb caressing your cheek before bringing his face closer to yours. "You deserve someone who can give you what you need, not just money..." "Sir, I—" Before you could finish speaking, he pushed his tongue against your lips and tasted you. His tongue moved inside, licking and sucking on your lower lip, your cheeks, and neck until his fingers reached your shirt.

As if you couldn't breathe for a second, you held onto him feeling your legs getting shaky. The room abruptly became smaller, you couldn't focus on anything other than Jonathan, his warm breath, the way his eyes glistened under the lighting of the lamps, and the soft touch of his fingertips against your hips. As soon as he felt that your body relaxed, he kissed you deeply. He began to undo your uniform, the once knot behind you was now gone as it began to slowly slip off your shoulders. Jonathan's hand traveled down, stopping for a second at your waist before he started to kiss more fervently down your chest. The feeling of lust mixed with a sense of anxiety, apprehension that this would all end up in a disaster.

Your uniform was now on the floor. Jonathan couldn't help but stare at you, the way your white bra and panties were hugging you. The way you glowed in the dimmed room, what an extraordinary sight. Your heart beat rapidly, beating so hard you thought you might pass out right then and there. With no words left to say, he picked you up bridal style, the smell of your vanilla scent intoxicating. He carried you into his bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you. One of his hands ran down your thigh, your skin hot under his hand. Another hand trailed along your body, your back arched slightly as he rubbed his thumbs against your breasts. He brought his lips next to your ear whispering, "You're so beautiful…" "Sir…" you breathed out quietly.

So suddenly, he began to rub your clit through the fabric before rubbing your walls too. This sensation, this overpowering feeling, was driving you nuts. "Sir, you...you're engaged..!!" You let out a low moan when you felt him rub faster, and harder, you could barely handle it anymore. Your panties were now off and as well as your bra, laying naked in front of Jonathan. "(Y/N), my woman," Jonathan's voice turned husky, a bit rough and rough sounding as if he had been smoking for hours. Taking off his clothes, he placed them on the side of the bed, you looked at how well-defined his muscles were, and how he was hard as a rock. "Please tell me what you want, (Y/N)." "I want…a man like you," your voice was shaky but firm. "Please, sir, show me how you feel."

Oh, how painful it was at first. Like a shockwave went through your body feeling the tip ripped through your hymen. He reassured you, adjusting to his size and whatnot. After a few minutes, he began to move, little by little all of him was going inside of you. It took several tries for him to finally hit the spot you needed. "Oh god..!" you moaned loudly, quickly covering your mouth. You felt his pace increase, you weren't used to this type of pleasure and his thrusts made you weak in the knees. Jonathan moved your hand away "Let me hear your voice dear, I doubt the guests can hear you scream with the music blasting in the hall." Jonathan was sloppy, he began to get cocky. He pulled out before flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass in the air before shoving it back in, making you scream "JONATHAN!" The 6'5 male kept slamming into you, the sight of your ass jiggling each time he trusted drove him insane, something he couldn't get from Erina.

It was almost like he wanted to punish her.

With each thrust you took Jonathan grew angrier, you were still screaming into the sheets as he entered you again, he pulled out, slamming himself back in harshly, pushing you so far past your limits he broke through, your whole body shook uncontrollably with pleasure. Leaning over, he grabbed your breasts and started to play around with them roughly, making sure that you knew he enjoyed watching you squirm underneath him.

"You're taking me so well," he praised you, kissing you on the neck. Your pussy was being punished by his aggressive, throbbing cock. "Sir, I think I'm going to cum!!" you whined, your head thrown back, your teeth biting the pillow. "Do it then, love, come on," Jonathan ordered. Your pussy squeezing tightly around the tip of his cock. "Yes yes darling," Jonathan continued to thrust violently while his hand continued to slap your ass, causing the vibrations to send tremors throughout your body. Juices falling out and finally climaxing, you couldn't help but scream out in ecstasy.

Stars. You were seeing stars as you stared at the ceiling of the room. You looked around and see Jonathan cleaning your body up with a wet rag. What an amazing experience but you couldn't help but feel regret rising in you. "Why the sour look?" Jonathan asked you, wiping off your stomach with a towel. "I uhm, I'm sorry. It's just that you're engaged and—" "We don't have to talk about it," Jonathan assured you. "What?" "Listen, (Y/N), you're my main focus right now. Erina doesn't have to know. Sure, we're having a bit of issues here and there but trust me, I wanted you ever since you came here." he wrapped his arm around you pulling you close to him as you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your nose in his hair. Jonathan was so sweet, loving even. How was it possible for him to be in such a position of power?

He kissed the side of your face, softly pressing your lips together. "You are the most captivating woman I've ever caught a glimpse of, and I promise to always adore you. That's something that I'll do with my whole life."

[lucradiss]

For the kiss prompt, maybe 10 or 30?

Hihi!!! I think I'll do a mix of the two because they're mix and matchable. like legos Comfort + Desperate, An Outlaw Called Wyrm TW: Period-Typical Gun Violence, Kind of Graphic Depictions of that gun violence

Word Count: 2570

Send me more kissy prompts!

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Bilbo barely paid any mind to the hotel when they entered. Through his exhaustion, he saw only flashes of warm brown and gold from oil lamps, and perhaps the blue of the deepest night through the windows Gandalf spoke with who he assumed was the owner. He didn't know who he would be shacked with that night but he didn't very much care- all that he cared about, truly, was getting that warm bath he had been promised upon riding into town and getting some shut-eye in a bed that wasn't either bug-infested or a sleeping mat on the hard ground.  He stretched as he slowly followed the rest of the company, keeping his gaze down so as not to make eye contact with them. He had felt quite unable to speak to the rest of his party or even to meet their concerned glances for the entirety of the ride. Or, rather, the concerned glances that were also accompanied by the fleeting ire that seemed to be thrown his way every so often by the brooding outlaw riding at their helm. He sighed, feeling the new weight of the acquired revolver in its stolen holster. Not that the man he had taken it from would ever need it again, let alone report the theft. There was something about the presence of it that truly unsettled him; whenever he shifted a bit and felt it on his hip he shivered, remembering the events of dawn. Pulling the trigger had felt like the easiest thing in the world- the bullet had been right between the eyes. If you measured the distance between the brute's eyebrows and found the exact middle, there would be a bleeding hole where Bilbo's bullet had found its mark.

As he made it to the top of the stairs, he tried to banish the thoughts from his mind. The thoughts of that shocked, dead-eyed stare from the man he had killed before ever learning his name. Something about that didn't seem quite right, but he'd said nothing about it when Thorin found him lying there on the ground, propped up on his elbow and wide-eyed, blood spattered on his face like new freckles. He'd said nothing at all, really- Thorin's glares quieted anything he could say on the matter.  Glóin murmured to tell him what room he'd be in and he simply nodded before heading down to the baths. The basin had been filled and Bofur had told him to take the first wash and Bilbo felt like he was being coddled, but for now he didn't care. He simply entered, stripped his sweat and blood-stained clothing, left it out in the hallway for one of the attendants to wash (as he'd been told they would) and sank into the basin with a heavy sigh, allowing the warm water to wash away the tension as well as the grime. 

He felt a little bit more human the longer he stayed in the water. It had grown murky enough that he could not see below the surface; he pointedly ignored how, when he washed his face with the yellow sponge on the side-table, it came away a bit red. But this bath was something natural for him, something habitual. After the day he'd had... well. He rather thought he deserved a bath after all that.  He looked down at the water and the thought came to his head that it was the same color as the eyes of the outlaw he'd killed. Bilbo had caught those eyes- they were almost hazel, but more specifically a sickly, light brown. Perhaps in his more innocent youth they might have sparkled in the sun and been called gold, but he'd grown into something of a monster with his two brothers and the gold had lost its luster. And he would grow no longer.

The redness on the sponge came back to him then. The blood that was not his own, shed by his hand. He had not killed before. He had not wanted to kill before. That had been the one contingency for his coming on this quest- he did not want to become a killer. He did not want to create the same evil that had taken his mother from him. But he had, and then had been encouraged to take a souvenir to remember the experience- a beautiful silver revolver that Gandalf told him would fit his palm. And the worst part about it was that it did- the weight was horrifyingly comfortable, the grip fitted just to his hand. It was yet another weapon of death that he had to carry- first, it was his mother's pistol. That, he had been alright to hold- most of the time he could pretend it was nothing more than a keepsake. But this? This was a gun that had been pointed to his head and the only reason it had not been the metaphorical executioner's ax was simply because Bilbo's finger had squeezed faster.

He felt his lungs heaving and he realized that his breath had been coming too quick, too shallow. He bent over himself in the bath, paying little mind to the water or its filth, and put his hands through his curls to grasp them, to try and focus on that instead of the guilt of stealing another's life; of the fear of nearly losing his own; of the horror of wiping someone else's blood from his face and trying to pretend that nothing was wrong with that.  The panic put spots in his eyes, or maybe that was the lack of air. He tried to get a handle on himself but found that he could not. What was happening? His heart beat faster than it ever had, the blood in his ears too loud for him to hear the knocking at the washroom door. The edges of his vision went black- after all he had done to keep himself alive on that day, was he going to die to a heart attack in the bath? He felt like he was going to die. 

"Bilbo?"

The one word, through the door, gave him pause. His breath hitched but he turned his head, hearing it again. The owner's identity came to him slowly through thoughts that mixed and melded, exhaustion and panic weighing heavily upon him; Thorin. It was Thorin. And Bilbo suddenly had the awful, aching urge to be held in the arms of the outlaw once more- just as they had in their bedrolls under the excuse of sharing warmth, just as they had in the last hotel, and for the first time in the one before that. Because Thorin's arms meant safety, despite the glares and the lack of conversation throughout the day.  When night fell, he had come to realize, was when Thorin became how Bilbo knew him.

"Thorin," his voice was rough. "I'll- I'll be out in a moment."

There was a pause as if Thorin was considering something but simply called an affirmative. Bilbo, very shakily, stood and stepped out of the tub, pulling one of the hotel's robes off a hook and wrapping it around himself. He fumbled with the tie but was able to get it with some trial and error before taking a deep breath and stumbling toward the door. Everything about his body felt weak and useless. He felt like he had been the one shot rather than the dead man who now rotted in that clearing.  He shook the image from his head as he put his hand on the doorknob, flinging water from his hair. No. He would not spiral again. He could not spiral again. All the emotion that was building in his chest would be gone come morning, he was sure- it would not do to show this weakness, especially to Thorin or the rest of the company. No, he had been enough of a drag on this journey- he would not saddle them with his own woes born from his inexperience. 

He took another breath and opened the door. Expecting to see the hallway, you can understand his surprise when his eyes met the chest of Thorin Durinsen, who had, apparently, been waiting outside the washroom door. 

"You waited," he said, though that was fairly evident by Thorin's presence. The outlaw peered down at him, his icy blue eyes no longer full of malice but rather concern and scrutiny. He was no longer wearing his coats and furs, stripped to a clean-looking linen shirt and trousers. His belt and holster remained- Bilbo had slept next to the man enough to know that the gun didn't come off until he was ready to get under the covers. 

"And you look like shit," Thorin very astutely observed. Bilbo swallowed, not having the energy to make a quip in response.

"Yeah, well," Bilbo replied, his voice weak. He cleared his throat, but it did nothing. "What did you need me for?"

Thorin frowned, staring at him as if the answer to his question was obvious. "You've been in here an hour, Bilbo. I- We're worried."

"Worried?" Bilbo croaked, though he tried his very hardest not to croak. "Why would you be worried? I was- I was simply taking a long bath. It's been a while since- since I've had one, you know."

"Aye, this is true," Thorin said, "but you also killed a man for the first time today."

Bilbo blanched, feeling his forced easy expression falling. Thorin's brows twitched in response.

"And what of it?" Bilbo asked, feeling that panic rise once more in his chest. "I- what of it, Thorin?"

The outlaw's frown deepened. "Are... you alright?"

Stirring in his chest, the grief and anger and fear and panic created something of a perfect storm in him. One that was too much to reach his face beyond his eyes, and one that overwhelmed him so much that he needed something to stop it. Some balm that would freeze time and allow him to burn away some of it before it burned him first. 

So, on little more than reflex, he reached out, grabbed Thorin's collar, and pulled him down into a kiss. 

Kissing was nothing they hadn't done before. Sure, Bilbo had been rather shocked by the notion at first -- two men, he had been told, were not suited for such an act, but the way Thorin had pulled him close that first time made him think otherwise -- but in time he had come around to it. But this was something different. This was something urgent, something pleading, something desperate. He pulled Thorin closer and overbalanced himself, stumbling backward, but Thorin's hands were on his shoulders to steady him, then they were on his neck, in his damp curls. 

It wasn't pretty- it was all clacking teeth and uncomfortable angles, but it had the desired effect. For a few blissful seconds as Thorin's hands found their way to Bilbo's hips, his mind went blank of any of the day's horrors. As his hands let go of Thorin's collar and found their way to his chest, Bilbo found he could think of nothing else but Thorin's lips. He couldn't breathe- he didn't want to breathe. But then Thorin's hands were on his shoulders again and he was pulling back; Bilbo whined and chased his lips, needing the calm that kissing Thorin provided. But Thorin pushed him away before Bilbo could nip his lower lip back and stared down at him, slightly panting, with the most concern he had ever seen in his eyes.

"Bilbo, talk to me." 

A hand reached up to caress his face and a thumb swiped under his eye- it was then that Bilbo realized he had started crying, the tears rushing down his face in rivers.

"Oh," was all Bilbo could say before his breath hitched, he sniffed once, and then sobbed, curling in on himself. Thorin made a small noise and pulled him close, his hand on the back of Bilbo's head as the smaller man cried into Thorin's shoulder. 

"I know," Thorin murmured. "I know."

And Bilbo didn't feel like Thorin was lying when he said that. Thorin did know. He knew what it was like to take a life for the first time, how it felt, what went through one's mind.

"I don't want to-"

"Shh," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's hair. "I know." The smaller man choked on another sob. 

After awhile, Bilbo's cries abated and he pulled back, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He sniffed, and Thorin caressed his cheek again, causing Bilbo to drop his hands and look up. 

"What's going through your mind, ghivashel?"

And there was one of those words that Bilbo didn't know the meaning of but loved all the same because of the tenderness with which they were said. He sighed shakily, leaning into Thorin's hand. 

"I can't"- he swallowed thickly -"Can't we wait to speak on it? I don't think I..."

"I understand," Thorin said gently, rubbing his thumb along Bilbo's soft cheekbone. Bilbo sighed again, feeling the exhaustion catch up with him as he let his eyes flutter shut against the warmth of Thorin's palm. "You're dead on your feet. Let's go upstairs."

Bilbo nodded but felt cold as Thorin pulled his hand away. Still, he unsteadily followed his leader up the stairs and to the farthest room at the end of the hall, slightly away from the others. It seemed that it was Bilbo and Thorin together again that night. Not that Bilbo was complaining.

Thorin sat on the bed and pulled Bilbo to him, and with a gaze illuminated only by the high moon outside the window, he put his hands on either side of Bilbo's face and brought him down for a gentle kiss. One of tenderness and comfort. It was not a balm or something to wipe away the thoughts of the day- no, this was something that soothed them, a comfort not in the absence of his despair but in concern for it. It was like a damp, cool towel on a blisteringly hot day; like a mother holding a child through a thunderstorm, teaching them to count the time between a peal of thunder and the lightning that followed, listening as it traveled far away. 

They did not talk any more that night. The next day, they would hang back in the hotel and speak in hushed tones as the rest of the company no doubt dined or went about their day of rest before they had to embark once more. Bilbo would tell Thorin of his plights, Thorin would relate and tell him that it got easier with time, though Bilbo had a hard time believing that. He would ask why Thorin glared at him the day before and Thorin would, rather bashfully, admit that the anger had been borne from worry. "I thought I'd lost you," he'd said, suddenly hoarse. Bilbo kissed the sorrow away as Thorin had done the night before. 

But it was still night, and none of that had yet happened. Bilbo still sat on Thorin's lap, and the gentleness that gripped them in the darkness was necessary. Thorin's hands were kind, his lips upon Bilbo's were slow, and in spite of how the world had seemed to crash down around him, he felt at peace enough to lay within Thorin's arms and sleep. 

[chronic-boogara]

hi ( tumblr ain't letting me enter a line so ) I was hoping I could request a Micheal Myers imagine. like I swear I simp over him like hell - anyways basically how would he react if someone teases y/n about being plus size and she comes back home crying. like what would he do, how would he react, and some fluff at the end is all. hope this isn't too much (I'm plus size and I'm going through a tough time is all)

:( poor baby,i’m so sorry you’re going through a lot i hope it gets better soon <3 love you sm babe. sorry this took a million years i’ve been so sick.

i’m so shit with michael myers i’ve been practicing though so i hope this meets your expectations. this ended up being a mix of headcanons AND an imagine. ill edit the ending later it was a bit rushed but writing possessive slightly soft michael was fun !

•michael myers was once a patient man. emphasis on the word was.

•before he met y/n he put up with just about anything. he stalked and waited for victims no problem. he ignored the insults and profanities thrown at him with ease.

•but with y/n he found himself being a lot less forgiving. all it took was one little comment and he’d fly off the hook. michael found himself over taken by unbridled rage

•he does not even try to control these feelings either. it does not matter who hurt you he will hunt them down and defend your honor

•after a successful kill he will bring a trophy back from the victims body. teeth, bones, occasionally handfuls of hair. in his mind it’s not only the right thing to do but the sensible one as well

•how could you ever refuse such a gift? keep it in your drawer or a special box to show him that you appreciate it.

you didn’t see yourself as someone who needed protecting against the outside world. after all you were not a child anymore , more than capable of holding your own.

but sometimes it was hard to keep a straight face when people come from your biggest insecurities. no matter how hard you try.

“ha, look there she is again” one boy shouted from across the road as you shut the door behind you and made your dissent down the stone stairs.

ignore it ignore it. you repeated this in your mind. they were teenage boys , fuck them. they didn’t deserve an ounce of your attention much less a reaction.

“she thinks she can ignore us now- hey , quit pretending like you don’t give a shit. fucking cow”. the comment sent the boys into a fit of laughter. you thought you’d be used to it by now. it had been going on for maybe a week now but every insult hurt like a bullet.

fighting back tears you turned on your heel you walked right back up the sidewalk and in the house. you couldn’t handle this anymore. you felt so helpless against them it was so pathetic in your mind.

leaning against the door you took a few deep breaths. willing yourself to clam down , to not let your emotions get the best of you.

your eyes flutter open and you’re greeted by michael standing above you , his head cocked.

“oh michael, i didn’t see you before”.

he took a step closer, placing a cold hand on your face.

“it’s nothing michael don’t worry. i’m going to go change okay ? we can watch a movie afterwards”. you tried to get past him but he blocked your way.

he knew something wasn’t quite right. and he would not let you go till you told him.

you sighed. “okay..well those boys across the street-i know it’s stupid but they’ve been getting to me. they tend to come for my weight and it makes me feel…some type of way”. it felt nice to get this feeling off your chest.

michael nodded before pushing past you and out the door. you peered put the curtains and saw he had disappeared. you knew he dealt with his emotions differently so you didn’t bother worrying. instead you made your up the steps and to your room. maybe sleep would cure you of these horrible feelings.

——-

by the time you had awoken it was dark out. you weren’t sure how long you had been out but you felt well rested.

you caught a glimpse of michael out the corner of your eye. “mikey come hereee I wanna snuggle, i haven’t seen you all day”.

he trudged into the room and sat next to you on the bed. in the moonlight you thought you could see blood covering his coveralls , an unusual amount.

“you had a good hunt i assume”.

michael didn’t say a word. instead he held out his hand.

“oh ? what’s this”. you held your palm up to take what ever item he had.

the thing was wet and solid. you turned it over in your hand a few times trying to get a feel for it.

michael just stared wordlessly , giving you time to asses the gift he had given you. but you still were not catching on.

he grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of bed , dragging you towards your bed room window.

you weren’t sure weather to cry or throw up. outside the heads of the four teenagers were put up on stakes two on each side of the lawn. limbs and blood covered the grass.

how the hell did you sleep through all that happening so close to you ?

what really stood out though was the pavement of the driveway. using the endtrails and blood of the boys he had spelled out “u r perfect”.

“oh michael…you’re the sweetest man i have ever met. i can’t believe you did all this just for me” you embraced him , your heart swelling with love.

who would have thought michael myers would be a good boyfriend

[spockandawe]

There's something deeply fascinating to me about Nie Mingjue, despite what a minor role he plays in mdzs in general, and while a lot of it comes back to the relationships he had with Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen, the bulk of the really crunchy depth comes back to the complicated dynamics at work between him and Jin Guangyao. The others are great, don't get me wrong, but I'm not still regularly rotating them in my head and finding a new angle that I hadn't really considered before.

I'm not going to rehash all the backstory about different ideals and moral codes, I don't have any particularly fresh insights there. But I was thinking about all the intense big brother energy in the 3zun trio, and I caught myself - Jin Guangyao isn't actually a big brother. Iirc, he's close to (exactly?) the same age as Jin Zixuan (I think there was debate on the shared birthday not meaning they were born the same year), but regardless, they never met until they were basically adults. And his other half-siblings are at an even greater remove. It's not like Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, where not only were they close with their little brother, but their biological parents were absent, and they were a major force in raising that little brother.

Jin Guangshan flips a casual middle finger to Jin Guangyao by eventually giving him a name with the wrong generational character, which messes with the perception of age a little, makes him seem older than he is. And Jin Guangyao has a very... responsible mindset, he became Nie Mingjue's deputy at an impressively young age, politics and business come naturally to him, even with Jin money and the position of sect leader, it's impressive how well he's able to wrangle the other sects of the world. He has big adult energy from a pretty young age.

And my first thought was that wait, no, he's not an oldest sibling, he's Baby. At the brothel, he was his mom's only child, but he was also surrounded by a sea of aunts and older sisters the entire time he was growing up, right up until he left. He's a fairly small man and he has a sweet face, he was absolutely baby until he set out for the Jin sect and got thrown down the stairs.

My second thought was that hold on, even if things were like that in the brothel, being the family baby still came with a lot of shitty treatment from all these older sisters and aunts. It's notable that there was one person in that place who was nice enough to him and his mother that he decided she deserved to be saved. It's textual that people there looked down on this pretentious lady who thought she was such an intellectual and better than everyone else and had delusions of her son becoming a cultivator. Between this and the treatment from Jin Guangshan upon arrival, by the time Jin Guangyao meets Nie Mingjue, if he associates himself with siblinghood in any way, it's negative.

And I really do think that Nie Mingjue takes the whole Elder Sibling Responsibility thing very seriously! I think his expression of it can be a very rigid and unflexible sort of love, and smothering to anyone who isn't already aligned with his ideals and priorities, but I do also think he's extremely sincere in terms of it being an expression of care and that it's something he thinks is central to his role as a brother.

Does he want to project that onto Lan Xichen? Sure, why not! Lan Wangji isn't a clone of Lan Xichen, but he's very smart and very skilled, he and his brother are a temperamental match, and the things his family prioritizes come naturally to him. They have an easy, intimate relationship, and we do see Lan Xichen making moves to protect Lan Wangji at his own expense in canon. Perfect big brother work, you get an a+ on your nie mingjue brothering report card. But that isn't going to work at all for Jin Guangyao.

Once Jin Guangyao is accepted into the Jin family, his position is still... oof. Well, his dad's wife beats him, for a start. Her son is the one who's going to be the sect leader someday, and having the wrong generational character reinforces how much Jin Guangyao is being hamstrung. But he's still got responsibilities and duties piled on top of his head, his father blames him for all sorts of things that go wrong, he's been basically installed in a senior place to Jin Zixuan in the family, but it's a position that will be leapfrogged by the inheritance, it's all the downsides of the role with as few benefits as Jin Guangshan can get away with, and it's all happened with 1) no emotional attachment to anyone in this shithole and 2) lots of reasons to resent the family that could have effortlessly lifted him out of poverty, and chose to leave him and his mother suffering instead.

And Nie Mingjue, in that heavy-handed assuming way he has (I love him, truly), is like 'yeah, you're a big brother, and I am now going to project all the responsibility that I feel for my little brother onto you. idk why you have a problem with this, Xichen is fine.' I'm outside of the text now, for sure, but this is a perfect echo of Nie Mingjue's frustration with Nie Huaisang's interests, and we already saw Jin Guangyao navigating that divide in the story. Nie Mingjue struggles to understand why Huaisang won't practice with his saber, and why he wants to collect fans instead. Yes, okay, i get it, he likes fans, i'm glad he's having fun, but the saber is a DUTY.

This is just one ingredient in a complicated soup, but it really has me fascinated. I think the most interesting thing is that it seems like an area where Lan Xichen would have trouble understanding exactly where Jin Guangyao is coming from either. He's sweet, and he's much better at listening and empathizing, but he's still a sheltered rich boy. And I think this is all ultimately a tragedy, to be clear. I think that Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue both really value their brothers and everything about those sibling relationships, and that Nie Mingjue especially has Issues with projecting his own values onto other people, but that he thought that being integrated into a family and made a brother would be beneficial, and a positive role for Jin Guangyao to fulfill. It adds some interesting depth for me to add that into his late-stage frustration with Jin Guangyao, and his anger when he perceives Jin Guangyao as being derelict in his duties. 3zun is really such a tragic dynamic, especially because I'm convinced that under the politics and social maneuvering, there really was also a sincere desire to create something good. But by that point in his life, I'm not sure Jin Guangyao was able to approach the idea of a brotherly relationship with anything other than wary, guarded caution.

[heartofspells]

The dialogue came and it exploded, @impishtubist. Have fun!

"What he has a right to do is go to school and be a child, something he's not had," snaps Molly in return, glaring back at Sirius. "As his godfather, the one tasked with being responsible for him, I'd think you of all people would want to protect him most."

"I do want to protect him!" shouts Sirius, standing from his seat again, and Remus can tell he's too far gone now for control. "How do you think he's meant to protect himself when no one else is around to do it if he's kept in the dark? You can't keep coddling him. He deserves more than that. He's proven himself."

"Proven himself!" cries Molly. Beside her, Arthur is beginning to look incredibly wary, matching the others' expressions in near mirror images. "You're right, he has proven himself, but that doesn't mean he should be thrown to the lions."

"Snakes," hisses out Sirius, glowering at her, "and that's not what's happening here!"

"That is exactly what's happening! You're loading his head full with these things and then he'll go off as he does and one day he'll not come back. Is that what you want? I highly doubt it, so why are you encouraging it?"

Sirius plants his hands palms down on the tabletop, leaning forward like an ominous, towering statue. "You are not his mother. You have no say in any of this."

"And you are not his father!" shrieks Molly. "You aren't James, Sirius! You are nowhere close and you never will be! Do you think James would have ever endangered Harry the way you are?"

Sirius flinches at that, a barely noticeable motion that Remus sees for what it is. He watches as Sirius' face shifts and contorts, as he grapples with himself, biting his tongue, jaw clenching, chest heaving. When he speaks again, his voice is low, a flat sound invading the air around them, only enough emotion remaining to hear it vibrating just beneath the surface.

"Do not ever speak to me about James," he says. "You know nothing about him, nothing that matters. If anyone left in this bloody, fucked up world we live in knows what he would have wanted most, it's me. You don't get to question that."

Molly opens her mouth to retort, to speak against his words, but Sirius is spinning on his heel and storming up the stairs before her tongue can form them properly. They all sit in silence, Molly fuming at the end of the table where she stands, glaring at the vacant door where Sirius had disappeared.

"He is a menace," she utters, nose twisting. "Maybe if he drank himself into a stupor less – "

"Respectfully, Molly," interjects Remus as he stands, barely keeping the snarl from his tone, "be quiet."

"Remus!"

Remus only shakes his head as he follows his friend from the room. It doesn't take him long to find the other, knowing his patterns well now. Sirius is in the drawing room, glaring at the burned bits of the sprawling tapestry lining the wall. His brooding grey eyes are fixed on his own place upon it, shoulders tense and taut, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap at the slightest pressure. Remus says nothing, stepping up beside him quietly, his movements cautious but fluid, arm brushing arm faintly as he settles. It would comfortable except it's not.

"What did I do to her?" mutters Sirius after several silent minutes of them simply breathing together, gazes raking the tapestry. "From the second she stepped foot in this place, she's had her claws raised, ready to sink them into my chest. Is it Azkaban? Distrust? Just me?"

Remus sighs and relaxes a little, dropping his hands into his pockets, his own shoulders slumping. Their arms brush again, and Sirius seems to follow along, some of his stiffness retreating, back losing half of its rigidness, spine curving a bit.

"You scare her," says Remus, not looking at his friend, though he can feel Sirius' eyes burning into the side of his face. "She loves Harry."

[jtavington]

Fic teaser

This is part of the rough draft of the fic I mentioned earlier. The basic setup is that Suletta calls Guel after the attack at Asticassia to get her friends out of the refugee camp. In return, he asks Suletta to return to Miorine because he’s afraid she’ll hurt herself. It’s an alternate plotline from when we knew very little about QZ or Calibarn and features more romance but also more intrigue, violence, and coping with trauma. The following is Sulemio’s first morning together after reuniting.

Miorine woke with a start. She flung out her hands and felt for the mattress. She was home, in her own bed, millions of miles from Quinharbor. She sat up gingerly and slid into her slippers. It was never any use going back to sleep since Earth and the President of the Benerit Group had a busy day ahead. She might as well scarf down some coffee and an energy bar and get started.

She made it as far as the first floor landing. The kitchen spread out below her. The aroma of cinnamon and fresh bread and miso soup tempted her down. Cooking breakfast as if she did so every morning, was Suletta. Her hair cascaded down her back, and the heat of the stove tinged her cheeks with a pleasant pink. Her biceps tensed and flexed as she flipped pancakes and chopped sliced a piece of pair.

Miorine’s mouth went dry. She had thrown up every wall she could create to separate Suletta from the bloodstained world of Prospera and Miorine, and she was cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Singing a tune about…what the hell was a swamp beastie anyway. Singing a nonsense song while cooking was such a silly, adorable, Suletta thing to do. No. That line of thinking was way more dangerous than it had been at Asticassia. Suletta wasn’t her groom. Miorine’s presidency was built atop a mountain of corpses. Her priority had to be getting Suletta somewhere safe. Somewhere she could be loved without her heart being cut to ribbons by thorns.

Suletta looked up and her smile was so bright and earnest that it was Miorine who was cut. “Hi! Have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Miorine went down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Only because it was between her and the door. “I really don’t have the time.”

“Eat. You’ll feel better.” It was the same earnest, firm tone she used when she really wanted something. The same tone she had used on Guel when he had trashed the Asticassia greenhouse.

Miorine sat down.

Suletta sat down a plate of pancakes with the sliced pear. Miorine’s mouth watered. Focus. This was Suletta’s job, thanks to Guel’s paranoia. Suletta hated her for her cruelty. It was only a matter of time until the axe fell. Suletta would disappear from her life as quickly as she’d reappeared, hopefully to somewhere beyond Grassley or Dawn of Fold’s influence.

“So, I saw where there was a fencing club meeting on Tuesdays. I always wanted to learn. Think I should join?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“And you’ll have to show me all the cool things to do around the station.”

Miorine’s hand twitched. Suletta wasn’t normally this dense. “I work late now.”

“Well, maybe we could go on one of your days off and—”

“Stop it!” She slammed her knife down hard enough that the noise made Suletta wince.

“Stop what?” she asked with that lost puppy look that was somehow worse with her hair framing her face like that.

“Stop being so damn nice to me!” Her voice cracked, but she was past caring. “You should spit in my face. Slap me. Say that I deserve everything that’s going to happen to me. I can take that.” She shoved her chair back and stormed toward the door. “I can take anything but this.”

Suletta didn’t follow. With any luck, she would be on the shuttle to somewhere by the time Miorine dragged herself home. She flung open the door, stepped on the sidewalk and—

--came face to face with Earth House.

They smiled at her. Tight, nervous smiles, but smiles all the same. “Hello again, Miorine. It’s good to see you again. We were so worried when we heard about Quinharbor.”

A brain-eating microbe must’ve been released into Earth House’s water while she was away. “I’m the Butcher of Quinharbor. You should be worrying about what I’ll do to your homes.”

“Don’t give us that crap.” Chuchu put her hands on her hips. “You’re a stuck-up jerk who thinks she knows better than everyone else, but you love Earth. And you twisted yourself into a pretzel so we could make money without selling weapons. The news says you ordered the attack, but everyone knows that the news is run by a bunch of spacian turds.”

Miorine stumbled backwards. They thought she was innocent. It was almost sweet, really. The other members of the group praised their new president for doing what needed to be done and toasted a future of record weapons sales. Miorine hadn’t given the order, but if she hadn’t come to Earth, if she hadn’t started negotiations with that naïve offer of more jobs, if she had put her foot down and demanded armed security be removed, if she had done anything else differently, there would have been no massacre. It was pointless to quibble over the details. “It was me.”

Their expressions didn’t change. “What are you waiting for?” The words ripped from her throat came out somewhere between a shout and a sob. “Turn your backs on me. Resign. You’re supposed to stick together.”

“We are.” Ailya’s voice was soft. “You’ve been one of us since you founded the company to save Suletta.

A lump burned in her throat. To have a place to belong, to be one of the group instead of a princess on a pedestal… She swallowed, forcing the burning pain into her chest. She had to focus on what was important. “What about Suletta? She’s one of your own too.”

“We haven’t forgotten.” Chuchu bounded forward and smashed a right hook into Miorine’s jaw.

Miorine staggered backward. Blossoms of fire radiated from her jaw up to her cheek. It hurt, but that was nothing to the sheer shock of someone daring to punch her in the face. “Ow!”

“That was for breaking Suletta’s heart. Did I mention that you were a jerk?”

Miorine rubbed her jaw. Some mild swelling, but nothing broken. If she put some ice on it, no one at the office would even notice. “I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did. Now that we’re even, mind inviting us inside? Punching someone this early in the morning makes me hungry.”

Miorine blinked once, twice. A single punch came nowhere close to making them even. “I don’t understand.”

“I thought you were smarter than this, Princess.” Her gaze drifted to Nika, who blushed. “We want to hear your side of the story so we know what to forgive you for.”

The lump in her chest grew harder and more insistent. She would not cry in front of them, not when she hadn’t wept after the duel or seeing the carnage she had wrought. “You don’t have to do that.”

Footsteps sounded on the walkway behind her. “We’re your friends and we love you.” Suletta’s’s voice was gentle. “We want to do it.”

That word again. Friends. It was so comfortable when it referred to anyone but Suletta. “I tried to keep Suletta from all this, but I screwed up.” That was way too abrupt, but the truth meant revealing secrets that weren’t hers to tell. “I’ll have the staff bring food to you guys. There are things I need to tell Suletta first. In private.”

She didn’t like the sly looks on their faces one bit. “Sure, sure. Take as much private time as you need.”

They trooped back inside, all smiles and laughter. Miorine counted to ten in her head and motioned for Suletta to follow.

The kitchen was deserted. Miorine dug into the soup while Suletta picked at bits of bacon. Silence stretched between them. Miorine turned memories in her mind, contemplating how best to explain what she’d done. There was no defense to be had. She had broken the bond that had grown between them and there was no getting it back. She could have lived with that if only it had worked instead of Shaddiq’s ego and one broken terrorist destroying the place Suletta should have been safest.

Suletta didn’t speak, just looked at her with that earnest expression that was worse than a thousand curses.

“Do you remember that day we finally talked about what happened at Plant Quetta?” Her voice was flat. She didn’t want Suletta swayed by her emotions You said that your mother knew I would come around, but she had already agreed with me that what happened when too far.”

Pain flashed across Suletta’s face. “You were both right about that.”

Suletta looked so miserable that Miorine wanted nothing more than to wrap her in her arms and tell her that she was better than any of the so-called saints who puffed themselves up with philanthropy. That was no longer her place. “I was so angry that I couldn’t see straight. I ran off to Prospera and demanded she leave you out of her little revenge plan.”

“Revenge plan,” Suletta said with a faraway look in her eyes. “I know about that.”

She did? “Well, she agreed. If I became President of the Group and provided cover for a research project, then she would let you live an ordinary life. I just had to make sure she got the Aerial and that you fought one more duel.”

“So you asked Guel to—wait. That morning, you asked me if I would give up Aerial. I thought you were asking me if I would give her away if Mom told me to, but you were really asking if I would give her up without a duel.” Wonder, joy, and shock melted into each other. It was enough to take Miorine’s breath away. “You wanted to know if you could make that deal and still stay engaged.”

Miorine buried her face in her hands. She was a stupid, romantic idiot for wanting happily ever after. That always came with prices too high to bear. “Does it matter now? You said no. Guel is halfway decent these days and he would do anything for you, so I made a deal with him. My money in exchange for becoming the last Holder. All I had to do was make sure you hated me so much that you wouldn’t try to fight for me. I said what would hurt you the most.”

“It did hurt. Are you sorry?”

“I think only a cold, sadistic person could have done what I did. And I left you stranded in what turned out to be the most dangerous place in the solar system. I killed thousands of people, spit on GUND-Arm’s mission, and I’m the president of the place I’ve spent my entire life getting away from. Does that answer your question?”

“Not really. Finish your breakfast.”

Miorine was so stunned by nonsequitur that she did as Suletta asked.

Suletta watched in silence as she drained the last of the soup. “Feel better?”

She did. It had been forever since she had sat down for a meal instead of scarfing down some cheap take-out at her desk. “I guess.”

That small smile of Suletta’s really should be registered as a weapon. They stacked the plates and silverware on the counter. Suletta turned on the water. Miorine opened her mouth to remind her that she had staff to do the dishes, but closed it just as quickly. Cleaning up after meals was one of the few student work details they had been able to do together without risking that one of them would set something on fire. She rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a towel. They worked together in silence, and it was almost like the old days.

“I’m glad you feel, better,” Suletta said when they were down to their last couple of dishes. “I remember not eating and just laying in bed all day.”

Miorine had been curled into a ball on the flight back from Earth and just wishing that her heart would stop so that she wouldn’t have to deal with pain. “I’m sorry. I never wanted that pain for you.”

“This was after you left. If I tell you, do you promise not to think I’m crazy?”

She had thought Suletta was naïve or silly but never crazy. Miorine nodded.

“My friends tried to arrange a meeting with you, but the people in charge sent me to the hanger. Aerial was there, and I wanted to talk to my sister or than anything. So I climbed into the cockpit and she…” Suletta took a deep, steadying breath. “She told me who she really was. Twenty-one years ago, Cathedra wiped out the colony at Folkvangr.”

“I know. Your mom told me all about it and what she was going to do to my dad because of it.”

“Her daughter made it too, but she was dying and Mom did the only thing she could think of to save her. She uploaded her mind into a mobile suit.”

Miorine gaped at her. That was crazy. Even if the entirety of human consciousness could be reproduced as data, the energy requirements were astronomical. “You mean that your sister is inside the Aerial?”

“I think it’s more like Eri is Aerial. I always knew she was my sister. That part just filled out some of the details.”

She believed her, Miorine realized. It explained why she dropped the definite article, why she insisted a machine was family, and why Miorine’s hope of Suletta giving Aerial up had been doomed from the start.

“That was the easy part. It was Eri telling me what I was and what I was for that I couldn’t take. I was a replichild, eight years younger, but Eri’s genetic twin. I was created because Aerial needed a pilot. After the duel, she could move on her own. She threw me out and told me to stop clinging to her or Mom. Mom confirmed everything, and left me there. They didn’t need me anymore.”

Familiar, vital fury coursed through Miorine’s veins and roused Miorine from her torpor. She would pay for her crimes, but not before she made Prospera pay and turned Aerial—Eri—to scrap. She seized Suletta by the shoulders and turned her so they were face-to-face. “Listen to me. You are so much more than a key or a copy. I don’t care what Prospera meant for you. Being you is what matters.” Her breath hitched. “And you matter immensely.”

“Thank you.” Suletta made no move to escape, and Miorine was suddenly very aware of how warm Suletta was beneath her shirt. “I didn’t mean for you to have to comfort me. I spent all that time hating myself and wondering what I could’ve done differently, but it didn’t do any good. I couldn’t undo what you or Eri and my mom did. All I could do was deal with what was in front of me. It’s the same for you.”

The noise that escaped Miorine was an unholy hybrid of a sob and a laugh. Their situations weren’t remotely the same. For one, Suletta hadn’t actually done anything wrong. “That gentleness is going to get you into trouble.”

“It’s just the truth.” She pried Miorine’s hands from her shoulders. Her fingers ghosted down the sleeves of Miorine’s suit until her hands were hovering over Miorine. They weren’t quite touching, but Miorine luxuriated in the warmth of skin so close to hers.

“Everyone thinks you killed people at Quinharbor. You think so, too. But even if you did, berating yourself won’t make anything better. All you can do is deal with the consequences. Same for the duel. Yes, it hurt, but yelling at you won’t change anything. We’ve got to solve the problems we have right now and try to do better.

Suletta might as well have asked her to scale Olympus Mons. The whole Sphere was one spark away from erupting into a war unlike anything in human history. If Earth didn’t destroy them, the Space Assembly League would. If anyone else had asked her, Miorine would have readied a withering barb that would send them running. It wasn’t anyone else who had asked. It was Suletta. “I’ll try. No promises.”

Her eyes shone, and her grin was a star unto itself, a center of gravity that drew in all else. Beautiful, yes, but so inadequate. That smile had made Miorine believe in true love and sacrificing herself or others and devotion and all the other fairytales she thought she had stopped believing in when her mother died. For that smile, she would face down Prospera, terrorists, fleets of warships, and backstabbing corporations. Let them come. They would not harm a hair on Suletta’s head.

[saljpeg]

DONKS BY FELIX COLGRAVE IS OUT + THOUGHTS

the animation is genuinely so damn cool as well as the visuals everything feels so trippy and out of this world its amazing!!

honestly seeing the first sequence really made me think of materialism and environmental issues just about wasting in general. however, I've come to a realization that itcould be related to the privilege of the upper class and the lower class getting the scraps of whatever they threw away.

in the first sequence, we see how they can easily choose between options in their avatar with no worry about the consequences at all! everything they rejected is simply thrown out into the ocean which then leads to the void.

in the void, there's a HUGE pile of just junk. literally all the junk they threw out. and we can see that there are some entities living in this area, they have no design and are only represented through eyes..i think the lack of a design could represent a lack of identity or just a lack of privilege to be able to have these things the upper class enjoys in general.

the entity scrambles through everything they find. as time goes on, we can see that they start grabbing things from one another, desperate to get as much as they can, forming different avatars with random parts. the music also gets more intense and fast-paced, it really shows there's conflict going on.

theres a part where one of the entities (a pile of boxes) gets stepped on and treated as stairs, i think it just shows how great the competition is to just do anything to feel that same privilege that the people on the higher social ladder experience.

the submarine looks down below, absolutely disgusted at what they see despite the fact this conflict exists BECAUSE of their compliance to the uncaring upper class. when it tries to get away, it's grabbed by the objects moving like one single entity. i think it reminds me of how in 'dinner for few' by nassos vakalis, the common people get sick of the mistreatment. they start rebelling, uniting as a sign of revolt that they indeed DO deserve better.

and what can be seen at the end are the bones of the submarine, but how about the ones that are enabling this kind of society in the first place? the ones that are so privileged that without care they just casually throw things away? in the end, nothing can be done about them, they still keep going, and they continue thriving.

the people that follow them may have gotten the consequences of their actions sure, but what about the people on the top? do they really care about the people that serve them for their desires and needs? or do they only care about satisfying their desires? i think it's the latter.

anyways thats all for my thoughts about the film! its really a great work of art and these are just my thoughts im also very sleepy so please excuse my writing haha

[beautyandthenovels]

Princess of the Night // eddie munson x fem! OC

THIS FIC IS ALSO PUBLISHED ON MY AO3, LINK BELOW!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40050807

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Original Character

Summary: Gabrielle ‘Gabby’ Montgomery is stuck in Hawkins, Indiana after a family tragedy shakes her world upside down. Done with the overbearing pressure to be popular, the senior ex-cheerleader finds solace in Hellfire Club, especially their Dungeon Master.

Navigating falling in love for the first time, overcoming grief and getting thrown into a supernatural world where something or someone seems to be hunting her down, Gabby has a lot to deal with during senior year.

Notes: First fanfic ever. *scared* I am sorry if there are grammar errors (English is not my native language) or if it simply is a piece of shit. I am very sad about the Eddie ‘situation’ in Stranger Things so I decided to write my own version of what that sunshine fluff ball deserves.

Please show love or guide this padawan through the fanfiction universe.

CHAPTER ONE

The sunlight across the window burned her eyes, causing her to close them aggressively. The bus drove fast, making her sweat from the scorching heat but also from anxiety. They were about to cross the Indiana state border, all the way from Tennessee, where she had hopped on. Gabrielle glanced at the clock in her right wrist, confirming seven hours spent inside that smelly bus. She felt movement at her side, from a middle aged woman enthralled by a magazine containing the latest gossip, ultimately pressing Gab’s body harder against the window, much to her dislike.

Gabrielle was traveling down to Hawkins, a small town in Indiana, to live with her Grandfather August for her senior year, although she lived - or had lived - in Tennessee, alongside her parents and older brother. Tears threatened her eyes, not unusual these days, but she successfully contained them, not wanting to cause a scene inside the bus.

It was now mid-August, which meant she should have been enjoying the long days of summer, helping her mother with her veterinary work… or maybe they would have gone camping or she could have been helping her brother settle down in New York. She remembered afternoon sweet tea on the porch, neighbours coming for barbecues, horror movies with her Dad and Aaron.

A memory from the crash jolted her senses, driving her momentarily incapacitated. She performed the breathing exercises her dad taught before for panic attacks. ‘Gabby, inhale slowly and exhale…Don’t let it dominate you, you’re the one in control.’ He reassured her every single time. But sometimes it was difficult to remain in control, especially when the accident reminisced inside her head.

In the beginning of July, her parents, herself and Aaron had decided to go on a trip to New York to search for houses for him to live in, since he was going to college there. They left for the airport on a Saturday afternoon, after her regional cheerleading competition, when a truck hit them sideways full speed, not stopping at a stop sign. Time seemed to stop during the strong impact. She couldn’t remember much else, besides spinning several times, ultimately awoken by Aaron, who unfastened her seatbelt, and pushed her body towards the broken window, while he remained with his legs smashed against the seat and the truck’s weight. Her parents seemingly had died instantly, but her brother’s suffering haunted her, conscious, not able to escape or be released. He finally passed away on the way to the hospital. Gabrielle was just recollecting his crying while she screamed outside the car, when the bus suddenly came to a stop.

“Hawkins, Indiana. All passengers for Hawkins, Indiana may leave now. Thank you. Next stop:…” Here she was, in this hell hole of a town, away from home. She got up, obligated to push the lady aside to get off, extended her arms to grab for the huge duffel bag and made her way down the stairs, glad to breathe fresh air after a long time. The bus stop was located on main street, where she looked around and spotted a diner, a clothing store, general store, the post office, among other small services. Her grandfather was nowhere to be seen. She walked around, noticing people’s stares, conjuring ideas of who she was and what she was doing in Hawkins.

She walked through the suburban neighborhood, all very similar to the last time she had come here to visit, when she spotted her grandpa’s house at the end of a cul-de-sac. A charming white picket fence house with a porch engulfed in flowers, still there after Grandma Jean had passed away 2 years ago. On the swing there was a tall man seated, with a newspaper spread out on his hands. He turned right as Gabrielle’s sandals approached, a sad tired smile forming over his thin wrinkled lips.

‘Honey, you’re home!’ Gab welcomed the warm familiar feeling of her Grandpa as he hugged her. She quickly noticed the sharp pain in his face as the one she identified on her own when she stared at the mirror.

‘I’m here Grandpa.’ she sniffed, unable to control herself much more.

‘I am so sorry for driving you out of Tennessee but I am so old, this has been my house for decades… Don't be angry at me for making you come here please. ’ She cleaned the tears forming in her eyes, entering the house.

‘I’m not angry, I just… It’s weird leaving Tennessee, Dad’s farm.’

‘Are your other grandparents taking care of it?’ She nodded affirmatively. Her mom’s parents were very different from Grandpa August and Grandma Jean, they had a lot of money so they employed people to keep the farm running and decided it was better for Gabrielle to spend a year away, but since they lived in Maine they thought it would be best to live closer with Grandpa August in Hawkins, until Gabrielle finished high school and became independent.

‘How are you holding up? Have you been sleeping?’ No, she thought. She frequently relived the accident when she tried to sleep throughout the night so she normally spent hours ravaging Aaron’s metal cassettes on her walkman, or reading her brother’s D&D’s campaigns and fantasy books until eventually succumbing to an extreme state of tiredness there is no way she would dream.

‘Much better actually.’ Liar. ‘And you, how are you?’ Her grandpa kept his stoic face in place. ‘Better than yesterday.’ Both liars and both knew it.

After some time talking a bit more, an effort Grandpa played out since he wasn’t much of a talker unless Grandma Jean had been around, she was taken to her new room or, in other words, her dad’s old room. She unpacked, organized her clothes, toiletries, the cassettes and notebooks she brought from Aaron’s room. Finally, she took out a picture of the four of them standing in front of their farm, smiling, content, happy. She paid attention to her stupid face, all sunshine and careless, dressed in a baby blue dress her mom had bought her. She had been so stupid, worried about being liked by everyone in school, partaking in every single club, being class president. She regretted everything now, especially cheerleading. Aaron was so right about everything, how cruel her friends were to poor, unpopular people. How they used to act out in school like they were part of some VIP club, so above everyone else. How she got along with everyone, polite and nice just for her perfect image. It had been for nothing, got her nothing. None of her friends cared enough when her family passed away, they came around once or twice for condolences but quickly went on with their summer activities and parties. The ones who kept her company and made sure she wasn’t alone or had food were Aaron’s friends, whom her ‘friends’ absolutely disliked. Some people spoke behind their backs because Aaron and the rest of the gang had a peculiar style. But, in reality, they just hang at Gab’s house, listening to metal, play cards and Dungeon and Dragons.

‘Hey, brunette Barbie, wanna join us in our deadly quest against the zombie army of popularity?’ They knew her since she was a baby so she knew they weren’t being mean, they understood she was different from them. But she enjoyed their D&D campaigns the best and hung out with them, listening to the wonderful stories and characters they created, always with the purpose of letting good prevail over evil. It haunt her that the popular crowd at school asked her if she was turning into a weirdo like her older brother, her best friend Sheila even dared pushing her into one stall in the girls bathroom one day and warn her that she needed to give Aaron and the boys the cold shoulder because people were starting to notice and it would jeopardize all she had ‘accomplished, especially cheerleading’. Gabrielle felt numb and had no idea how to respond to that, what had one thing to do with the other? When she arrived home that day and stepped into Aaron’s room, listening to her secretly favorite song by Iron Maiden ‘Hallowed Be Thy Name’, she brought up what had been happening and the conversation earlier with Sheila.

‘So, you’re going to pretend you don’t know me and the guys? That’s it?’ He kept playing with a pencil, turning it round and round over his two fingers, his green eyes feral and hurt.

‘No! I would never do that but I just don’t understand why…’’ He brushed his mid-shoulder dark brown hair backwards, frustrated.

‘Listen Gabby, I am not going to tell you what to do because you’re a big girl. These people, they suck, they don’t know anything besides being a bunch of snobs who hang at the country club. They see themselves as the norm and anyone who lightly deviates from that line, from their so-called perspective of normality is a danger solely by existing. I know you have good friends like Sheila, who’s worried about you in her own way, but is this all you want? To be pretty and shake your pom poms, have a perfect GPA, be known as Miss Sympathy? You love D&D and hanging out with us, I know you do, you actually even like some music I listen to, right? ’ He chuckled at the last bit when she rolled her eyes.

‘I mean, you can be a nice girl, a cheerleader and still love Judas Priest. Those fuckers are the ones who simply decided you have to be A or B. Don’t let them shape you, that’s my advice.’ Gab got up from his bed and hugged him fiercely, so happy she had him for a big brother. It was the last time she ever did.

An accident that never would have happened if she didn’t go to that stupid cheerleading competition. Sharp pain ate her in her when she thought how it all could have been prevented hadn’t she go, had she never been part of that cheer squad that she didn’t even like. It had all been her fault. They were all dead because of her.

Gabrielle woke from the memory, realizing she had been sitting on the bed for quite some time, noticing it was dusk outside, the last few rays of sun piercing the window, dust particles flowing around the room in a disorganized dance. She glanced one last time at the family photo, vowing in Aaron’s name that this time it would be different, she would remain true to herself and strong, whatever or whomever came in her way. ‘I love you’.