#whatever. i need to stop editing this post for the tags and go to sleep

[impostorsshow]

Sometimes you just listen to a TikTok audio and get the need to make a post about a self destructive cycle your in only to never acknowledge the post again yknow

The song is Don't Smoke by Mitski, specifically the TikTok version is the Audiotree Live version

[baby-yongbok]

Fan Fiction

Skz/ Dom!Bang Chan x Sub!afab reader - Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI!

✨Masterlist ✨

Word Count: 5,257

Tags: Dom/Sub dynamics, penatrative sex, degradation, unprotected sex, teasing, overstimulation, breath play (mild), oral sex ( f & m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms (reader), breeding??, creampie, established relationship, after care.

(Sorry if I missed any tags)

Notes: This is my first ever Skz AU, and I'm nervous but excited to share. Please be nice! Also, i posted this from my phone, so I'm sorry if the formatting is odd or anything. I'm kinda new to posting on here.

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect or portray any of the members in real life!

I do not own the picture attached, credit to the owner. (Found on pinterest)

You woke up in a panic as your eyes searched for the glowing numbers on your alarm clock. As your vision became less blurry, you realized that it was still Sunday and you didn't sleep in and nearly miss work. Thank goodness. You've been trying to get rest whenever you could as of late. Your job was draining you beyond belief, and you had very little things that could help you relax, especially since Chan was always busy with work. You laid still for a while, staring up at the ceiling and pondering the possibilities… What could you do? How could you relax?

Without coming to a full thought you decide to pull yourself out of bed. Your naked feet felt cold against the hardwood and Goosebumps covered your naked legs. Chan always kept the air conditioner at 63 degrees and if you ever changed it he'd lose his mind. You pulled your feet lazily across the floor and let out a big yawn and stretch, stumbling a bit as you became lightheaded. Once you were steady you continued on your mindless journey to Chan's studio. The door was closed as always and you could hear a beat blaring from the speakers. Chan didn't like to be interrupted while he was mixing and told you to only knock if it were an emergency. You stood at the door mulling over your thoughts trying to think of the exact reason that you were going to knock on the door but nothing came to mind.

Fuck it.

You lifted your hand to knock but swiftly stopped once you heard the music on the other side stop. You took a step back with furrowed brows as you figured he was probably editing a section of the track. To your surprise the door swung open and your fiance towered over you as he took in the sight before him. You stood there clad in one of his t- shirts and pink lace panties as you stared up at him.

"I had a feeling you were out here. What're you doing? Eavesdropping? " a grin pulled at the corners of his mouth as he took a step forward to lace his strong arm around your waist and pull you into him.

"I wanted to see you but I heard you mixing so I just kinda… stood here. " Your sleepy brain spilled the truth immediately since you didn't feel the need to hide from him.

"You're always welcome into the studio, love." Your arms snaked around his waist as you hugged him sinking into his toned torso. " Well, I know I told you I don't like being interrupted but still, I always want to see my baby."

"I just woke up and I just… I don't know what to do with myself. It's only six o'clock and I'm just bored." With a sigh you loosen your grip around his waist.

"Hm, how about this, I'll finish mixing this song and then we can do something. Maybe order some take out? Play a board game? Whatever you'd like." Your big eyes glance up to him looking down at you with a sweet smile.

"How long until you're done?"

"Uh, give me thirty minutes, okay?" With another long sigh you let go of your fiancé completely.

"Okay." With a mumbled 'thank you' leaving his lips he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before letting you go and watching you as you slowly stalked back into your shared bedroom. You figure that you'll just spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through your phone looking at TikTok or something while you wait for Chan to finish up. That was until you accidentally pressed the Tumblr app on your phone and your old Stay account lit up your screen.

Oh

You had forgotten about your account, ever since the world blessed you with actually meeting, dating and now being engaged to your bias you didn't see any use for it. Of course you were still a fan but you see the boys as your ordinary friends now instead of world famous idols. Even with this logic fresh in your mind your finger began to scroll and you ended up getting lost in what used to be your world.

It's been two hours and Chan is still mixing. Usually this would bother you but you were too immersed in your virtual world to care. You were going back into your likes and reading all of the disgustingly sexy fan fictions that you liked three years ago. Some about Felix and Hyunjin but most of them about your fiancé.

You sat straight up when you came across the one. That one fan fiction that you used to go back to every time you needed that sweet release. Everytime you wanted to pretend that your fingers were Chan's, long before you knew what it actually felt like. Your excited fingers quickly pressed 'Keep Reading' as your eyes scanned the screen and arousal pools at your core. You read for what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes. God did you love this fic. It was your dream till this day to get fucked like that by Chan. Rough and unrelenting. Forceful and Primal. You knew he was capable of doing it but only if you asked and God knows that you were way too shy to do that. In your day dreamy haze you decided to send the fan fiction to yourself so that you could have easy access to it instead of scrolling all the way down your likes every time you wanted to read it. You hit share and then sent it to yourself on messenger. It took a matter of seconds to pass and for you to come out of your daydream to realize that you were thinking of Chan so much that you sent it to him. Your heart dropped into your ass and you swear that your brown skin turned bright red with embarrassment. What do you do? How do you come back from this?

You weren't thinking straight, I mean how could you? You just sent your fiance a smutty fanfiction about him. You weren't thinking, you couldn't, you felt dizzy with the pressure that was building up in your head. You thought that maybe you could stop him from seeing it. You opened messenger and tried to unsend it but it only gave you the option to unsend for yourself. It was then when your worst nightmare came true. Chan's small profile picture on the side dropped down to the message indicating that he had seen it. Your heart stopped or at least you think it did. What were you supposed to tell him? Yes, he knew you were a fan when he got with you but you felt like exposing him to your fangirl world would make him look at you like just that, a fan.

You decided to wait. You weren't even worried about being bored anymore because your imagination had been keeping you very very entertained not to mention on edge. You kept wondering if Chan read the fanfiction or if he just looked at it and laughed before starting to work again. Did he love you any less for sending him fan made work? Or maybe he loves you less for even looking at it. Either way you were pretty sure that you were doomed.

"Alright, I know that, that was way more than thirty minutes and I'm so fucking sorry about that. I just wanted the track to be perfect." You jump at the sound of Chan's voice as he makes his way over to you on the bed and sits down pulling your legs into his lap. "We could still order take out, you must be starving."

He smiles over at you and you know that you must look like a deer caught in headlights with how big your eyes are, yet he says nothing. His smile is unwavering and you can't fathom why. Didn't he see what you sent him? Isn't he disgusted?

"So…? Thai or maybe Italian? We haven't had that in awhile." Chan pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through uber eats mindlessly. "Chicken?"

You decide to take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. If he doesn't say anything about it than fuck it neither will you. Forcing a smile onto your face you try to scoot closer to him and get comfortable. He swiftly welcomes you into his arms and pulls you into his lap so that you can browse together.

"Chicken sounds good but now you got me wanting Italian." You add with a playful forced smile.

"Italian it is, mama." You freeze for a second staring over at your fiancé as he picks an Italian restaurant to order from. He never calls you that, why would he call you that? Are you overreacting? Maybe he just wanted to try something new.

"Do you want your usual?" He asks looking up at you and catching your confused gaze. "Are you alright? "

"Yeah… I'm, uh, fine." No. You were not fine. That was a big fat lie. You were confused but mostly turned on by the new term of endearment. You slowly pressed your thighs together as you heard it echo through your head. The fan fics you read earlier weren't helping either, you were already hot and bothered as it is then he goes and calls you that?

"So, your usual?" You nod your head yes and continue to let your mind race.

"Alright, it'll be here in 25 minutes. Do you wanna watch a movie or something while we wait?" You shrug mindlessly, staring past Chan's face. "Hey, are you alright? You seem off, baby."

Straightening up and looking down at him you smile and try your best to get out of your head, and that nearly works before Chan puts his hand on the back of your neck rubbing his finger along the soft sensitive skin on the side of your neck. "I'm okay" you choke out as the feeling of his big hand on your neck sends chills down your spine.

"Alright, well I'm here if you want to talk, mama." There he goes again. You press your thighs together quickly before getting up off of his lap.

"Let's watch TV, yeah?" Chan smiles over at you as he quickly and nonchalantly scans your entire body taking in your bare legs and lace covered core.

"Sounds good, baby."

The food came and went quickly since the two of you were hungrier than you realized. You watched various random television shows and finished the end of a movie that Chan swears used to be his favorite. The two of you decided to pack it in maybe fifteen minutes ago. You've already showered and changed into a more comfortable cotton pair of red panties and another one of your fiance's shirts. You slid into bed and stared up at the ceiling as you waited on Chan to finish up his shower. You had pretty much forgotten about today's fuck up since he hadn't brought it up to you. It also helped to distract yourself with TV and food but there was still a lingering feeling deep in your chest. Something was off, you just didn't know what. You had noticed that he was extra attentive while the two of you spent time together. He made continuous eye contact that you couldn't seem to keep up with and his hand kept finding its way to the back of your neck. Not to mention that damned name he kept calling you.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. You sat up to ask Chan how his shower was but instantly went dry at the mouth when you took in the sight in front of you. His dark hair was wet, some strands sticking to his forehead. He was shirtless with nothing but Grey sweatpants on and bare feet.

Holy fuck

You couldn't help but to stare, how could you do anything else with a man like that in front of you. The three years that you've spent together should have prepared you to see him like this. Hell, you've seen all of this man and probably know him better than he knows himself but there was something about the way that he looked right now that just threw you off. It almost felt familiar to you, you just couldn't put a finger on it.

"Do you work tomorrow, baby?" He asked as he looked over at you from under the towel he was using to dry his hair.

"Uh, yeah I do." You could barely get that sentence out as your eyes locked with his. There was a particular gleam in his eye that you didn't quite recognize but you knew he was up to something.

"Hm, I better make this quick then. It would be irresponsible of me to keep you up all night." He throws the towel he was using over to the hamper and starts to slowly stalk over to the bed. "Don't you think so, mama?"

Your brain went to mush instantly as you took in his dark tone and even darker eyes. It was at this moment that you were sure he read it. Everything clicked for you now. The name, the touches, even his outfit, it all came from that one fanfiction.

He crawled onto the bed and over to you slowly like a lion hunting its prey. In an instant he was on top of you. Looking down at you with his burning brown eyes. You couldn't help but to look away and over to the side but that was no use. You felt as his hand slowly snaked up your body and his thumb and pointer finger rested on your chin turning your head to face him.

"What is it? Is my little kitty shy?" You pushed your thighs together involuntarily. "It's just me baby, don't worry, I'm going to take such good care of you. "

"Chan I-" He lifted his finger to stop you from talking.

"What's my name baby?" His tone was dark and demanding as he stared down at you. Dropping down to his forearm next to your head he moved in to whisper into your ear. "I want you to call me by my name when I ruin you."

You were breathless and paralyzed. You racked your brain for the right answer even though you knew exactly what it was. You've called him by his name before so why should this be any different? Why was this so different?

"Chris - Christopher." A dark chuckle left his lips as he lifted himself up to look into your eyes again.

"That's my girl." Turning your head to the side with one finger he wasted no time littering kisses and love bites all over the exposed skin milking small moans from your lips as you desperately pressed your thighs together. "So you want me to break you, huh? "

You freeze as you realize that he's reciting lines from the very fanfiction that you accidentally sent him.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, mama?" He lightly bites at your collarbone before licking up your neck and planting a kiss behind your ear.

"I can do that." His right hand snakes down your body, his nails digging in lightly as he makes his way to your clothed heat. "Oh, baby"

He harshly but slowly rubs on your clothed core taking in the wetness seeping through your panties.

"You're fucking soaked." His eyes burn into yours as he rubs you over your underwear. You try your best to maintain eye contact but you can't help but to let your eyelids flutter shut every time he caresses your clit. "Eyes on me, mama"

You force your eyes open and look up at Chris as he rubs tight circles around your clit using your arousal as lube against your panties. "Let me hear you."

It wasn't until then that you realized that you had been holding your breath. With a shaky sigh you let out a moan and then you just can't stop. The moans just kept falling from your lips and the sound only encouraged Chris to do more. Before you know it he's moved your panties to the side and is tracing lines up and down your slick cunt. He barely touches your clit as he tries to build you up as high as he can. The higher he can get you the harder the crash will be.

"You want to see what you do to me, Jagi?" You frantically nod in response earning a smile from Chris. He pulls his hand away from your core painfully slowly and sits up on his knees straddling you. In one swift motion he dips his sweatpants down and lets his thick cock free from its restraint. You've seen it a million times but right now it feels new. "Look at how hard you've got Daddy's dick."

A moan fell from your lips at the sound of his filthy words. He was always good at dirty talk but this was different. He was playing out a written fantasy right now and your pussy just couldn't take it.

"Chris, please." He looked down at you with furrowed brows as you begged.

"Please what, mama?" He asked as he began pumping his length slowly, teasingly.

"Fuck" you moaned at the sound and the sight in front of you. "Fuck me, please." A chuckle fell from his lips as he watched you squirm under him.

"You're so needy, baby." You groaned at him in frustration. Was he really going to tease you? He was already basically acting out a fanfiction right in front of you. Did he have to add the teasing? You rolled your eyes at him instinctively. You found yourself doing that a lot and usually he thought it was cute but today was different. You watched as his free hand dipped down and grabbed your face and he stared down at you silently for what felt like hours but were merely seconds.

"Did you just roll your fucking eyes at me?" He got off of you while keeping a firm grip on your face. "Someone needs to be put in their place.

Without another word he roughly guided you over to his exposed length and tapped the head of his cock on your red lips. "Open your mouth and suck this dick."

You were taken aback to say the least. Chan was the type of guy who was more of a soft dom and didn't demand you to do much, especially not in such a dark domineering tone. You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. It's like a button was pressed and your mouth was open, your tongue out and ready to taste your fiancé. He smiled down at you and slowly slid his cock into your mouth filling you up to the hilt. His head fell back in euphoria and he hissed a curse into the air.

You bobbed your head slowly at first trying to get him used to the sensation of your mouth around him but clearly he had other plans.

"Come on, you can do better than that." Both of his hands found their way into your curly hair and gripped the root making sure to not pull too hard. He began guiding you and moving your head faster and faster each time you came up from the hilt. It wasn't long before you began to gag around him with every stroke, your eyes watering from the choking.

"Fuck, Mamas, that mouth is filthy." You looked up at him with your big watering eyes as he looked down at you with his dark ones. You wanted to make him feel good but right now his rough nature was making you weak for him. Could it be possible that you feel better than he does right now? Having your mouth be used for his pleasure could be the very thing that drives you over the edge.

He continued to guide your head up and down his shaft until he suddenly stopped. Pushing your head down to swallow him completely. He forced you to stay in place temporarily, cutting off your air supply and making you gag and choke around him.

"Be good, slut, take it." Your eyes began to water, tears flowing down your cheeks. He pulled you up off of him, completely freeing his cock from your mouth. You gasped as he watched you intently paying attention to your body language.

"What's your color?" You had almost forgotten about the Stoplight system that Chris put in place as safe words for you. You were too focused on your pleasure and his to remember much else.

"Green" He smiles down at you before taking one hand out of your hair and grabbing the back of your neck.

"Good" He sinks his cock back into your throat as he holds you down once again cutting off your air supply " You're such a good hole"

His moans and growls are what keep you going as you gag around him. He pulls you off once again before pushing you back onto the bed. You gasp at the sudden change as he grabs your ankles and pulls your ass to the edge of the bed. Wrapping your legs around him he leans down to finally kiss your wet lips. The kiss was passionate and rough like it was meant to mark you. This was the kiss of a man who wanted you to know who you belong to. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip asking for access that you gladly granted. His tongue explored your mouth. He tasted of sweet spearmint and the smell of his pheromones filled your nostrils. You hadn't even realized that you began grinding your clothed core on his exposed cock until he bit your lip with a hiss warning you to stop, but you couldn't. You needed him, you were desperate to feel him. If anything his warning only made you grind harder and faster against him. The feeling of his cockhead grinding against your clit was euphoric and you only wanted more as time went on.

"Naughty little toy." Chris growled as he broke the kiss. "If it's my dick that you want then that's what you're gonna get."

Grabbing the back of your thighs Chris swiftly picked you up and turned you both around so that you were against the wall. Your legs tightened around him as you squealed. You've done this position once or twice but it's been so long.

"I'm going to make you fall apart on my cock, mama." He buried himself into the crook of your neck being much rougher this time. He bites at the skin leaving marks that you're sure you'll have to cover up in the morning. He growled into your ear making you moan as you tried your best to grind against him. The both of you were growing impatient but you knew you couldn't move until Chris did.

Finally, he moves your panties to the side and teases your entrance with his cock. "Please, Chris, I need you so badly baby. Ruin me, please." A groan leaves his lips as he looks into your pleading eyes.

"You sound so pathetic, baby. You want to be fucked?" He slips his cock into you faster than he usually does but slow enough to allow you to adjust. "Here you go, kitty."

You cry out instantly moaning his name like your life depended on it. He bounced you on his cock picking up the pace with every stroke. He growled curse words in your ear every time you took him all the way, your walls tightening at the sensation.

"Shit, baby, you're so tight around me." Your head fell back against the wall in pure bliss. "Tell me you like it, let me hear you."

"You feel so fucking good Chris. You fuck me so good." Your praise only made him pick up the pace, turning your moans into gaspy screams.

"Fuck, oh my god, Chris… yes, please, yes. " Words mindlessly fell from your mouth as he pounded into you. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he fucked you senseless just as he promised.

"That's it, take it baby." His cock was hitting just the right spot and he stretched you out perfectly. The fact that this position felt so new to you didn't help to contain the arousal brimming over and spilling from your pussy. You felt a knot in your stomach and your toes started to burn as you got closer and closer to your release. That's when he said the magic words.

"Don't you dare fucking cum." The words came out as a breathy growl. It wasn't a demand this time, it was a threat. You whined as you tried your best to contain your growing orgasm but it just kept creeping up on you.

"Please, let me cum, Please Daddy I'm so close." He groaned at you calling him daddy, something he loved but would never admit to anyone else.

"Don't you dare." He growled again, making you whine. You tried, you really did but you just couldn't contain it. Your pussy clenched around him sucking him in like a vacuum and that's when he knew. " Y/N, don't you fucking cum"

That's all he had to say to throw you over the edge. The way he said your name with that darkness lingering on his tongue sent a shock straight to your clit. You couldn't stop it, you tried so hard but you couldn't stop. Your legs shook around him as your orgasm came crashing down. He didn't stop fucking you he only picked up the pace once he realized that you had cum. His thrusts were shorter and harder, he was punishing you.

"Oh, you've done it now." He fucked into you like he hadn't had sex in years. He'd gone feral for you and all you could do was cry out as your sensitive cunt got abused by his cock. To add fuel to the fire he snaked one of his hands in between the two of you to rub your sensitive clit as he pounded into you throwing you into an overstimulation spiral.

"Chris I- I can't take it." Tears welled up in your eyes as he made you feel so painfully good. It was so much but somehow you found yourself wanting more.

"Find a way to." Was all he said as he continued to abuse your aching cunt. "You should've listened."

His strokes were getting sloppier and his moans were getting louder as he felt you clench around him desperately. The knot in your core building up again.

"I'm going to fill you up so good." He moaned into your ear as his orgasm creeped up his spine. "Fuck, yes, I'm cumming baby. "

Just like that you felt Chan's warm sticky cum coat your walls. The same walls that were now sore and desperate for release again.

"Yes, thank you, daddy. Thank you." He fucked his cum into with a few more pumps before turning and laying you back onto the bed. You both panted, trying your best to catch your breath. You were in a daze, a happy cum drunk daze. You couldn't believe that he actually did what was in that fanfiction but God you were grateful.

"So, you want to be a disobedient whore, huh?" Your eyes shoot open as your fiancé's dark tone catches your attention. "You needed to cum, right?"

You slowly shake your head yes and a knowing smile is painted on Chan's face. "Then here." His hand pops against your pussy spanking it as his cum drips from your wet hole.

"Cum again." Chris drops to his knees teasingly slow and pulls you closer to him by your thighs.

"Chris I- .. Fuck." Before you can finish your sentence his tongue runs a hot stripe up your cunt. He groans as he tastes both you and himself in the mixture of arousal. "Oh my gosh"

He continues to lick and taste you wrapping his lips around your swollen and sensitive clit. His tongue flicks at the nub with slow and firm pressure keeping up his rhythm as he circles your clit. You turn into a hip bucking mess at the amount of pleasure you are feeling right now. It's so much but you want more. Your hands find a home in Chris' wet hair as you start to grind into his mouth. He hums his approval in response as he moves his head back and forth to give you more friction, the perfect formula. You feel your orgasm creep up your legs and it's moving faster and stronger than any one you've ever had before. Your vision goes dark and the grip you have on Chris' hair tightens as you scream for him.

"Fuck, Chris, I'm cumming." Your high washes over you like a storm. Your body shaking against his mouth as he continues to fuck you with his tongue helping you ride out your orgasm. High pitched moans leave your lips and you struggle against his tongue as it continues to taste you. Your vision starts to go white when he finally lets go of his hold over you.

"Such a greedy slut." Chris chuckles as you try your best to catch your breath.

"Are you alright? " He asks as he pulls up his sweatpants and plops down next to you pulling you into his arms. "Take it slow, in and out, baby. "

"I- I'm fine" you finally get out in a breathy reply.

"Good, you were amazing, Jagi" He pulls you into a tight hug and you turn to put your leg over his body as you finally find a comfortable breathing rhythm.

"You were better." Chris smiles down at you with knowing eyes.

"Well, you have your little fan fiction to thank for that. I would've never been that rough with you otherwise. I didn't realize that you like being bossed around so much. " A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you hide your face at the mention of the fanfiction. You had almost forgotten about it.

"I'm so embarrassed. I never meant to send you that."

"Hey, don't be embarrassed." He lifts your chin so that your eyes meet his. "I'm glad you accidentally sent it to me. I want to please you in every way that I can and if you want it a little rougher in the bedroom that's fine. I can do that for you. I'm happy to please you, Y/N"

"Did you enjoy it too?" Chris laughs with a wide smile and nods his head.

"Hell yeah I did. You felt amazing and I really liked topping you like that."

"Good" You say with a blush.

"Okay, well, it's one in the morning so we need to get some sleep but first I know you've gotta be thirsty."

"Yeah, my throat is pretty dry."

"Great, I'll get us some water before round two." With a smile Chris jumps up out of bed and jogs out of the room and down to the kitchen leaving you yelling behind him.

"What do you mean round two?!" You plop your head down on the bed and sigh with a smile. "This fan fiction has created a monster

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room. 

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you. 

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest. 

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died. 

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face. 

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak. 

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders. 

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness. 

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from. 

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform. 

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door. 

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go. 

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway. 

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire. 

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch." 

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable. 

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart. 

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his. 

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you. 

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs. 

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood. 

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours. 

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs. 

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world. 

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret." 

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him. 

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home. 

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there. 

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there. 

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant. 

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim. 

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please." 

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming. 

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before. 

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size. 

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as. 

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react. 

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for. 

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand. 

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get. 

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out. 

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him. 

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch. 

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple. 

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going. 

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting. 

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp. 

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself. 

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you. 

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away. 

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[worldstarz]

persona 3 spoilers (part 2!)

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x fem!reader

tags: angst

a/n: continuation of this post. i will edit this as soon as i wake up in the morning but i told myself i will not go to bed until this leaves my drafts bc it’s been marinating for like five days. also what is the title of this two part thing??

HUGE SPOILER WARNING FOR OCTOBER IN PERSONA 3 !!!

———

it still smells like him.

the room is barren. shinjiro never wanted to leave his mark on the world, trying to erase his own existence. but, as you lie on the sheets that have yet to be changed, the subtle musky scent engulfs you.

“it still smells like him,” you repeat your thoughts aloud, as if by addressing it would make it permanent.

maybe this was weird. if he were here, standing before you, he would be staring down at you with a quirked brow. “what the hell are you doing?”

why did he come to your room that night? what purpose did he have, knowing his own fate?

you try not to cry. you’ve cried enough already, and the image of shinjiro in your head would certainly scold you, telling you to just get up and get some food with him.

but he’s not here.

sure, it’s not what he would’ve wanted, but you make yourself comfortable on his bed. it’s the least he could do after confessing his desire for you, knowing he would die the same day.

lying on your back, you allow your mind to wander. why does it feel like you’re the only one stuck in the past? how has everyone been able to bounce back so quickly? hell, akihiko is basically his brother and he’s already moved on. speaking of moving on, amada’s completely—

fuck, what is wrong with you?

for the past few days, you tried to block these festering thoughts. being open minded was what lead you to be so close to shinjiro. akihiko just processes his grief differently, while amada was just a kid blinded by revenge.

but still…

you sit up abruptly. he wouldn’t want this.

you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and plant your feet on the ground. he wouldn’t want this.

you stand up, smoothing over your clothes. he wouldn’t want this.

but what the hell do you even know about him? how do you know what he would want? you couldn’t even become close enough to figure out what plagued his mind during his every waking moment. maybe if you did, you would’ve been able to stop—

no. he wouldn’t want this either.

just like how he would want akihiko, amada, and everyone else to come together and move on. he would not want you beating yourself up over something you weren’t involved in.

you take a deep breath in, then out. in. out. okay. you’ve got this. this is your last day to be in his room before everything is moved out. all that will remain is the memory of him. everyone else already got a turn a few days ago, so this is your last chance to preserve whatever fragments of him are left in here.

the drawer to his desk is slightly ajar. out of respect for his privacy, you begin to shut it, but something oddly familiar peaks out.

is that…?

with wide eyes and shaky hands, you reach in.

it’s a photo of the two of you, back when shinjiro still went to school, before you had any ideas about why he came to class everyday all beat up.

you’re smiling, holding up a peace sign, while shinjiro glared at the camera. it was a picture taken to commemorate the end of junior high school—one that took a lot of convincing for him to agree to.

on the back, sprawled in your handwriting, you wrote;

“shinjiro,

i found this picture of us from the last day of junior high! it’s weird how much time has passed.

have you been eating well? how is your sleep? are you still growing out your hair? i know you’re not feeling well, but as soon as your health improves, we should hang out again.

also, i miss seeing you in class. hurry up and get better! i need someone to talk to!

-[name]

11/04/08”

it takes you a second, but you do remember writing this. judging by the date, it was roughly a month after he took his leave of absence, citing medical issues. you didn’t have much contact with him outside of school, so you relied on akihiko to transport the photo to him.

you crouch down, trying to get ahold of your emotions. you’ve done enough crying. he wouldn’t want you to waste so many tears on him.

but haven’t you been ignoring his wishes already?

you bury your face in your hands in a pathetic attempt to muffle your sobs. physically, nobody was in here. but for you, shinjiro was everywhere. in this room, in the hallways, in the lounge, on the streets, at school—he followed you everywhere. your morale bent under the weight of his memory.

only now do you realize there will come a day where you will have known the grief longer than you have known him.

but this pain is better than never knowing him in the first place.

shinjiro, who secretly cooked meals for koromaru.

shinjiro, who never let you go to bed on an empty stomach.

shinjiro, who tried to push you away, but failed.

shinjiro, who held you close hours before his death.

shinjiro, who didn’t want to leave his mark on the world, but left a mark on you.

the grief will never go away. you will carry it with you wherever you go, and the weight of it will never diminish. but, you can grow around it. you will grow around it.

because that’s what he would’ve wanted.

[tenelkadjowrites]

Arrow in the Dark - Final Part: Dynasty - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART TWO HERE.

🏖️ Summary: With the beach house weekend finally here, certain decisions need to be made in regards to the ever changing relationship you have with your fake boyfriend, Seonghwa.

🏖️ Word count: 21k

🏖️ Genre and warnings:  wealthy seonghwa. fem pronouns for reader. fake dating trope. depictions of emotionally manipulative parents. depictions of drinking. car sex, semi public sex. unprotected sex. creampie, cum eating. dirty talk, praise kink. 

🏖️ Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @iusrene - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multihoe-net - @spiderrenjunfics - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @rdiamond2727 - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @xirenex - @meowmeowminnie - @revehosh - @nevieatiny - @nirvanawrites111 - @madamdionysia - @a-tiny-teez - @idunnowhatonameit - @jejeyeppeo - @ateezourstars - (sorry if i missed anyone.)

🏖️ Author’s note: Due to being heavily impacted by Hurricane Ian this isn’t edited with the usual hyper attention to detail I typically give my fics in order to cut myself a break during this time. I ask for your understanding while reading this in regards to any typos, etc.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               In the glaring light of the morning, your phone vibrates with a notification. You are on very little sleep, mind buzzing from Seonghwa’s words to you the night prior, the nerves of the impending beach house weekend and your own storm of feelings about him. By Monday morning, certain things were going to have to be decided: if you are going to accept the money for pretending to be his girlfriend and if you were going to tell him the ever growing intense feelings you now harbor for him.

               Groggily, you grab your phone, wondering why Hwa would text you this early. It is only a little past eight in the morning and he isn’t coming to get you until noon. But it is an Instagram notification instead. Curiously, you unlock your phone and bring Seonghwa’s latest post up.

               It is of his lavender oat milk latte with just a caption of a purple heart emoji. Surprised, you sit up a little, staring at the photo. The conversation from the first meeting in the coffee shop comes back to you.

               “It’s an oat milk lavender latte,” He pushes it towards you, “Do you want to try it?”

               “Oh, uh, no thank you,” You say sheepishly, “I was just curious. It’s pretty. You should have taken a pic of it.”

               Seonghwa blinks in surprise, looking back down at the ruined art on top. “Why?”

               “Cuz it’s so pretty. That way you’d always remember it and how you felt when you first saw it,” You explain.

               “I never…thought of it like that before.”

               You shrug. “Maybe next time.”

               You don’t know why a photo of his coffee makes your heart race but it does. It just feels like more evidence that there is something else going on between the two of you besides money, sex and tentative friendship. Kicking the covers off your legs, you decide it is time to get ready. Whatever happens this weekend between you and Seonghwa, the thing that matters the most is making sure he can get out of his arranged marriage. You have your doubts that his parents, especially his dad, would actually agree to stop trying to force Hwa into it. Secretly, you wish he would realize how manipulative and horrible they are and that they care more about the company than their own son. But for Seonghwa, you are determined to try your best to be as helpful as possible.

*

               Opening the car door, you slide into the passenger seat, relieved that Hwa didn’t show up in the limo. You toss your bag in the backseat and wiggle down a little, trying to make your skirt go to your knees. This is the only other semi-nice outfit you own although you don’t know why you bother when his parents won’t find it up to their standards.

               Seonghwa’s eyes flash down to your thighs as you move the skirt down before looking up at you. “Got everything?”

               “I guess so,” You say, studying Seonghwa’s face. Even though it has only been a night of not seeing him, it feels like forty years. He looks a little tired, wearing an oversized white button up shirt with the sleeves folded up a bit, exposing his arms which your gaze lingers on. It hits you just how endless the time without him felt and how you cannot get enough of him. That scares you; never in your life have you craved being around someone and never before have you felt so much over one singular person. It isn’t just lust at play or even a “crush” but something running much deeper. “Uh, how long of a drive is it to the beach house?”

               “About an hour if we hit traffic,” He replies and he sneaks another gaze at your legs. You clench your thighs, trying to ignore the fact that you have been around Seonghwa for about one minute and your body is already responding to him in such a manner.

               Seonghwa pulls the car carefully back into the street. The radio is playing music quietly. Neither of you speak. It isn’t awkward exactly but it isn’t comforting either. You wonder if he is preoccupied by the upcoming weekend or if nerves are getting to the both of you about pretending to date all weekend.

               Trying to find something to talk about, you say, “I liked your picture this morning. Of the coffee.”

               He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah? I grabbed it this morning and thought about what you said the first time we met up.”

               “Congrats on your first Instagram coffee photo. You’re just like everyone else now.”

               Seonghwa smiles quickly, ducking his head a little to look out the side window as he makes a turn. “I guess so.”

               “Now we just have to get you caught up on every important pop culture moment of the last fifty years and then you can make boring small talk at all those future dull company meetings you’re gonna be attending one day,” You remark, leaning back in the seat.

               When Seonghwa looks back over the steering wheel, you can see his expression has soured. “Don’t remind me. Yesterday was so boring. And father loves it. He’s completely in his element navigating bossing people around and studying numbers. I had a hard time focusing.”

               So am I, you think, looking at the curve of his wrists as he holds the steering wheel, his slender fingers curling around it. It is difficult not to think about all the times you fucked him this week or that it has been an entire day since you last had sex with him. It is starting to distract you. A desire this bad is new.

               You want to say something thoughtful but your brain offers nothing. The awkward energy in the car remains. You make a noncommittal noise of sympathy instead, your fingers clutching the edge of your skirt for something to hold onto. The car has hit some mild traffic as the edge of the city approaches. Seonghwa taps his fingers against the wheel impatiently.

               “Are you okay?” You ask.

               “Yes,” He says very quickly, “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

               “Yeah, just a little tired.”

               More silence. You are starting to panic now. How in the world are you going to convince his parents about being in love with each other when everything feels off? Why is it this weird? How can you be both panicking and horny at the same time? You learn something new every day, apparently.

               In the middle of your silent panicking, the car stops at yet another red light and Seonghwa brings his hand over and rests it on your thigh. The touch is a shockwave, your eyes falling on the sight of his fingers against your skin, nails still painted black, a small silver bracelet around his waist. He idly rubs your bare thigh a little, fingers grazing against your skin with a soft pressure. Your breathing goes uneven, shifting slightly in your seat, wondering how you can be this wet this quickly.

               The light turns green and the car moves forward through traffic. Still neither of you speak. It feels as if there is a bubble in the car, waiting to pop. His grip on your thigh tightens for a brief second. You fight the urge to…well, you aren’t sure exactly. You just know that by the time you are going to have a chance to fuck him, it will be hours from now. How are you supposed to survive that long?

               As if the thought struck him as well, Hwa suddenly mumbles, “Fuck this,” and makes a sudden turn to the right, into a parking lot with what looks like a couple of bars that aren’t open.

               “What are you doing?” You ask as he drives the car around to the back where a cluster of trees offers some shadows and the building blocks you from sight of the main road.

               Hwa moves his hand off your thigh, rolling his seat back as far as it can go, motioning for you to get in his lap. “I have to fuck you before we get to the house. I can’t wait.”

               He doesn’t have to ask twice. As you hike your skirt up around your waist, he unzips his slacks hastily, pulling out his hard cock, helping shift you into his lap, moving your underwear to the side. It takes about two seconds to sink down on his girth; you hadn’t realized how wet you already were. He inhales sharply as you take him, your hands gripping his shoulders as your pussy stretches to accommodate his stiff cock.

               You move your hips slowly for a few moments, getting used to him. But you know that it is crazy to be fucking Seonghwa in his car like this – in daylight, nestled between a cusp of trees and closed bars. If anyone else decided to drive back here, it wouldn’t take long to get caught.

               That is why you begin to bounce on his cock once you’re used to him, bringing your hips down hard and fast. Seonghwa groans, his lips finding yours, the kiss messy and chaotic. The two of you are fucking as if it has been weeks since seeing one another versus one night. His hands are gripping your ass, bringing you down on his cock so that he fills you up completely, hitting your sweet spot with each movement of your hips.

               When he goes to bite your neck, you give a small tug of his hair, “You can’t, we’re seeing your parents afterwards. It looks bad.”

               “I don’t care,” He groans, his lips pressing against your neck, his breathing labored.

               “I do,” You say firmly.

               Seonghwa pulls away with a look of desperation in his eyes as you bounce in his lap. Instead, he leans in for a kiss, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. Each kiss is messier than the last, more and more urgent, as if the two of you want to consume one another completely. In the distance, you can hear the traffic – horns honking, music blasting out of cars, someone yelling an obscenity at another person. All of that belongs to a world that has no place for you, not right now in any way, not with Seonghwa buried in your cunt and his hands pressing against your lower back, his tongue in your mouth.

               One hand moves to your shirt, tugging it up just enough to expose your bra so he can grope your tits with each movement. The two of you are a mess of clothes, moans and the sound of Seonghwa’s hard cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. Your thighs shake as Hwa brings his other hand to your face, tilting it so that you are looking at him. He is studying you as one finger moves past your lips and in your mouth. You wrap your lips around his finger obediently, sucking on it as Hwa’s breath catches.

               “God, I’m going to fill that sweet cunt of yours up with my cum,” His voice is low and he unexpectedly jerks his hips upwards, making you gasp in surprise.

               He pulls his finger out of your mouth and crushes your lips in a kiss. His hand is cupping your cheek. Each drive of your hips downward is making both of you groan and grunt, the desperation to climax growing each second. Your lips open against his mouth as he kisses you, knowing his spit is mingling with yours, each moan tumbling from your mouth into his. You are close to cumming, your legs tired from the angle they are positioned in, Seonghwa moving his hips now to take over. Each thrust drives his cock deep in your pussy and he grunts as you cling to him, taking him deep.

               “Hwa,” You manage to groan, “I’m gonna cum.”

               “I know,” is all he says in reply, one hand wiggling in between your bodies to brush against your clit, “Finish on my cock like the good girl you are, doll, and I’ll give you my load.”

               Your clit is swollen and sensitive. Between Hwa’s words, his thrusts upwards and his finger grazing your clit, your orgasm starts immediately. Your head rolls back in pleasure, eyes closing tightly as you climax. Hwa gives one final jerk of his hips into your cunt before you can feel him spilling inside, grunting with each spurt he unloads in your tight hole.

               You slump against Hwa, your entire body feeling like it is under a heavy weighted blanket. Your face rests on his shoulder, looking out at the back of the closed bars. His hands are loosely wrapped around your waist as he also tries to collect himself. The whole thing had only taken a few minutes yet it felt so intense that it may as well lasted for hours.

               “You know,” You finally speak, your tongue too big for your mouth, “I wanted to look presentable when I got to the beach.”

               “You do look presentable,” Hwa replies as you push off his chest, trying to get some feeling back in your legs.

               You roll your eyes at him. “I do not.”

               Carefully, you pull down your shirt, adjusting your bra as Seonghwa helps you move back into the passenger seat. Your legs protest when you stretch them out, wiggling your skirt back down. You realize Hwa is staring again.

               “What?” You ask almost defensively, wondering if you look that bad.

               “Nothing,” He says and then adds almost apologetically, “I was just thinking that I like knowing you’re gonna be filled with me the rest of the drive.”

               The admission takes you by surprise and you find that your brain doesn’t offer anything up in reply. There is something intimate about what he said.

               Hwa, as if noticing the look on your face, smiles quickly before turning his attention to adjusting his seat. After making sure everything is in order, he begins to pull out of the parking space.

               “I’m actually surprised you know how to park,” You remark, thinking about how he also successfully placed his car at the grocery store without running someone over and slamming into a car, “I figured you’d still be practicing how to park.”

               “‘What’s the point? Everywhere you go has valet,’” He chirps.

               You gawk at him, mouth agape. “Did you just…quote a movie at me?”

               “I did,” Seonghwa replies, looking very pleased with himself, “I guess I don’t need to learn as much as you thought.”

*

               When Hwa first said “beach house” you were picturing a two story cute looking thing on the beach. Over the course of your time around him, you changed the vision slightly to a large two story adorable house with a front access to a private section of the beach. Then, it altered again to add the guest house to the backyard with a quick pathway to the downtown tourist section.

               You were still somehow wrong.

               When Seonghwa pulls up to the beach house, you want to point out using the term “house” on it is a joke. It is more of a beach mansion – three stories with a balcony wrapping around the entire third floor, a fenced in backyard that looked to be full of beautiful foliage, and so close to the beach that you could step off the driveway and almost tumble directly into the ocean.

               Your nerves hit you square in the chest upon seeing it. Even though the rest of the car trip had gone perfectly (it appeared the only cause of the tension was the desperate desire you two needed to get out quickly) knowing that his parents lurked inside made you feel a bit queasy.

               It must show on your face because Hwa reaches for your hand, resting his on top of it gently. “Like I said, the outcome is on me, not you. Just act the way you’ve been around me all week and it should work.”

               I don’t know how I act around you anymore. How do I act like I have feelings for you when I actually do now have feelings for you? What if my regular way of acting around you isn’t believable? What if your dad can tell I do have true feelings for you and knows you’re the one acting? A thousand panicked questions bounce around in your brain. You just give Seonghwa a weak smile.

               Getting out of the car, someone scurries out of the front door. Hwa greets them by name as they take his bag out of the trunk before opening the back seat to grab your bag.

               “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” You say quickly, “I got it.”

               The woman looks surprised, glancing at Hwa as if for guidance. You gently take the bag from her. “Uhm, thank you though.”

               “Are you sure?” Hwa asks you, “She’s just going to drop our things off at the guest house.”

               “I’m okay, thank you.”

               The woman takes Hwa’s bag inside quickly, shooting you a confused glance. Great, even the people working for his family think I’m odd. But your bag in your arms gave you some security; it offered false comfort that if anything went wrong you could leave quickly. It also made you feel bad having someone take your stuff.

               You trail after Seonghwa towards the front door. With one last longing look at the ocean, you step inside the house.

               Like the penthouse, the foyer is a riot of different shades of blue. Every inch of space is dripping in something expensive – art, vases, statues, random assortment of candles and the like – overwhelming you immediately. You suddenly miss Hwa’s overly minimalistic approach to decorating.

               Another woman greets you both before explaining that brunch is ready. You reach for Seonghwa’s hand, not in a “begin scene” sort of way but because your nerves are so intense that you just want to feel him somehow. He gives your hand a small squeeze and walks through the living area, leading you towards the backyard.

               It is impossible to take in all the details of the house being thrown at you. The wealth on display makes your head spin. We have a lot of fucking money! is what every item seems to shriek at you.

               Brunch is set up on a large patio overlooking the backyard which isn’t a typical backyard but more like a place where you could easily see some seriously amazing parties taking place. There is a pond in the middle of the space with tiny fish darting like gems under the sunlight, a canopy on one side with two lounge chairs, just enough trees planted in certain spots to offer shade without blocking all the beautiful light pouring in. A little further away is what appears to be a hot tub built into some sort of rock enclosure, a waterfall spilling out of the top of it into the hot tub. It even dips into an alcove for privacy, completely shielded from view.

               In the distance, just barely, you can make out the roof of what must be the guest house. The tension in your shoulders eases just a little. At least it is far away from the main house, you think.

               “You’re late,” Mr. Park’s voice snaps you out of studying the yard.

               “We hit traffic,” Seonghwa replies formally, pulling out a chair at the table, motioning for you to take a seat.

               Mrs. Park is looking at you as if a feral animal accidently dropped you off here. Your bag lands with a thump by your feet as you take a seat, Hwa sitting next to you.

               “Did you not account for the traffic?” His dad asks him, eyes narrowing slightly.

               I’m sure Hwa did but you see, sir, we lost time because we had to fuck in his car, you think, taking in the sight of all the food lining the table. Way too much food. More than anyone could eat. What happened when they didn’t finish it all? Did they just share it with the hired help?

               “I did,” Hwa replies in that same stilted voice of his, “Not enough, I guess.”

               “I guess so,” Mr. Park says in a voice that could freeze lava before turning his attention to you, “We were so happy when Seonghwa informed us that you would be joining us this weekend.”

               I’m sure you were, you think but bite your tongue. “It was really kind of you to invite me.”

               “Seonghwa hasn’t brought someone around he is clearly smitten with in a long time,” Mr. Park lingers on the word ‘smitten’, a silent message that he isn’t entirely convinced the two of you are actually into one another, “But we are always happy when he does.”

               You bite down on your tongue again to stop yourself from making a snide remark about bribery. Hwa speaks, slipping back into the conversation easily, “Well, we are both looking forward to relaxing.”

               The first time you met his parents, you barely knew Seonghwa. But after spending all this time around him, you notice the stiff formal tone he takes around his parents versus when he is away from them. It makes you sad…and angry as well. In fact, the anger is overwhelming and you fall silent, not trusting yourself not to say something overly rude. You want to ask Mr. Park what his fucking problem is, you want to ask why Mrs. Park words Seonghwa leaving the family as “being left with nothing” when in reality it just means not taking on a job he clearly has no interest in. You want to ask why they see Hwa as an object instead of their son.

               Hwa glances at you as if sensing something has changed. In turn, he begins to take on the majority of the conversation. You know that you should be more engaged but it is difficult when you keep imagining tossing the mimosa in front of you into Mr. Park’s face.

               At some point in a conversation about the weather, you lock eyes with Mr. Park. Something is shifting behind his gaze, something you cannot fully read. But you stare back at him. For a few seconds, it is as if time slows.

               A week ago, you would have scurried to the bathroom just like last time. But now, you don’t break eye contact. Mr. Park stiffens ever so slightly.

               Not breaking eye contact with him, you speak up, “Hwa?” The nickname hangs in the air, startling his mom into silence, “If the weather is this nice tomorrow, I would love to spend some time on the beach in the morning. It would be a shame for me to come all this way and not soak up some sun.”

               Seonghwa glances at you, most likely wondering where the sudden request is coming from. “Of course.”

               Mrs. Park falls for the bait quickly. “Oh, you like the beach? Did you know about the beach house before we invited you?” The implication is clear – she still believes you’re dating Seonghwa for his money, probably calculating how much she can offer you to go away.

               “I didn’t,” You reply, “But that’s why I was so grateful for Mr. Park’s invitation.”

               Mr. Park’s lips press together – the first sign of irritation at you.

               Smiling inwardly, that is when you break eye contact.

*

               “What was that about?” Seonghwa asks you thirty minutes later as he leads you to the guest house, stopping to turn around and look at you.

               The pathway to the house is made of weathered stones. You guess they probably imported them just to make the atmosphere look older than it actually is.

               Seonghwa is under the swaying branches of the palm trees, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. His posture is as regal as ever but there is something overly formal about it…as if just being around his parents has him unknowingly bringing his walls up. The palm trees dip in the breeze, casting shadow and light across Seonghwa’s face, making his expression difficult to read.

               “What was what about?”

               “I don’t know. It felt like you were about to start fighting with my father.”

               “Maybe. I just felt pissed off sitting there.”

               His eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

               “It’s difficult to play nice with your parents when I know what they’ve put you through. I know it isn’t any of my business, Hwa, and I want to treat them with respect for your sake. But it is still difficult.”

               At some point during the conversation, you moved closer to him, a moon orbiting a planet. Seonghwa’s brows furrow together and you don’t speak, letting him sort through whatever he is feeling before landing on what he wants to say.

               “It bothers you?”

               “Yeah, of course it bothers me,” You stop yourself from diving into a rant about his parents, reminding yourself not to overstep, “Because we’re…friends.”

               “Right, friends,” Hwa repeats quietly, one hand reaching out to curl around your waist, pulling you unexpectedly against him.

               Your body reacts before your mind catches up, pressing against him. Your bag drops to the ground as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. His lips are hot against yours. There is something deeply personal about this kiss. Like the one by the river the night of the walk, it isn’t for show, and doesn’t feel like it is for practice.

               The kiss ends when someone clears their throat, startling you out of the sensation of Seonghwa’s warm body against yours, the scent of his cologne, the weight of his hand on your waist. Tilting your face in the direction of the sound, you see Mr. Park standing there on the pathway. His expression is unreadable. Seonghwa’s body tightens up, his posture changing ever so slightly but his hold on you doesn’t drop.

               “I was seeing if you needed anything in the guest house,” Mr. Park says, “But I see you haven’t gotten there yet.”

               “Got swept up in how beautiful this garden is,” You say, “It’s very romantic.”

               “Clearly.” The word is dry, falling at his feet and shattering like old clay. You have a feeling Mr. Park wasn’t one for romantic garden strolls and put the backyard together in a way to impress visitors and nothing more.

               “Not like you to check up on us like that,” Seonghwa says casually, “You usually send someone.”

               “Not often you bring someone here,” Mr. Park replies smoothly, “I wanted to make sure your girlfriend felt welcome.”

               He’s full of shit, you think. It is evident he was coming around to snoop, probably expecting to find the two of you distant and silent together when he wasn’t around. Guess that backfired on you.

               Seonghwa gracefully swoops up your bag off the ground, slinging it over his shoulder, steering you towards the guest house with his hand on your lower back. You glance over your shoulder as Hwa says goodbye. His dad didn’t get this rich without being clever, you think, turning back around, still feeling his eyes on you, and he isn’t gonna let Hwa slip through his fingers easily. But does Hwa know that?

*

               The guest house is larger than your apartment. Your. Apartment. It has an incredibly big bedroom, a full fledged kitchen, a living room with a state of the art entertainment system, and another hot tub built into a cove, similar to the one near the main house.

               “You said if I didn’t want to share a bed with you, you would sleep in the living room,” You say, staring wide-eyed around the entire space, “I was picturing a tiny bedroom with a cramped couch in the corner. Not a literal fucking house dropped on the property.”

               “I said guest house,” Seonghwa replies, looking a little confused as he turns on the coffee machine (which looks like the most state of the art coffee machine ever created. Why did it have so many buttons?).

               “Right but usually guest houses look like…tiny Barbie houses. Not actual houses.”

               “Tiny Barbie houses,” Seonghwa repeats, one eyebrow arched slightly.

               Exhaling slowly, you sit at the counter in the kitchen, staring at him before declaring, “I’m feeling overwhelmed.” The entire day is starting to catch up with you: sex in the car, the tense brunch, the kiss on the pathway, Mr. Park and his shark eyes.

               “Why? Everything is going to be okay. If you want, we can just stay here for the rest of the day.”

               “Won’t your parents care? Didn’t we come here to spend time with them?”

               “They always start the trip off making such claims but by tonight, mom is going to be drunk with her beach friends and dad is going to be working in his office until past midnight. See? I told you. It isn’t going to be as bad as you thought.”

               “Sure,” You mumble, “But if they don’t see us together and madly in love or whatever, how is that going to work in your favor?”

               “And if I am around them 24/7 acting like a lovesick child, they won’t believe that either,” He points out, “Do you want some coffee?”

               “Sure,” You reply before going, “I guess it was good luck your dad caught us kissing like that.”

               Seonghwa makes a face. “Yeah besides the fact I wanted to die from embarrassment.”

               “Do you really think he was coming by to see how we were doing?” You ask.

               “You think he was lying?”

               “Do you?”

               The two of you stare at one another for a few seconds. You don’t want to come off as if you are accusing his dad of doing something sketchy. But it is evident to you that his parents won’t relinquish control very easily and Seonghwa’s relationship with you is a threat to their plans.

               It is Hwa who breaks the silence first, going, “I don’t know. It is weird. But maybe he was just coming by to see how we were settling in.” He doesn’t sound convinced though and as much as you would like to push it, you don’t.

               “I’m sure he was,” You say, hoping it sounds as if you believe him.

               There is a beat of silence. Hwa is looking at you as if there is more he wants to say. But if there is, he doesn’t speak on it. For some reason, you think of a giant clock ticking down to…something. You aren’t exactly sure what – Hwa making a choice about his family? You telling Seonghwa all your feelings, including what you think of his parents?

               The image passes as Seonghwa quietly makes the coffee, the sunlight spilling across the counter, the space between the two of you ever changing and shifting.

*

               In bed that night, you find it difficult to sleep. Your head is going a mile a minute and sleeping in someplace that isn’t yours or Seonghwa’s feels strange. The small clock next to the bed says it is nearing one in the morning.

               You didn’t think everything was going to hang over you like a dark cloud. It is hard to focus when the end of everything looms so close. The allure of all that money, once the force that propelled you into the current situation, doesn’t glimmer as enticingly as it used to. You try to imagine Seonghwa’s face as he holds the money out at you. You doubt it would be so easily given like it had been the first night of meeting his parents. There is too much in between the two of you now.

               But what all that was, exactly, you aren’t sure. Seonghwa had said that he didn’t know if he just liked being around someone again but then told you he missed you. Was he as confused as you were? Did he find himself torn between friendship, companionship or something past the physical aspect with you? And no matter where he landed on that, your own feelings kept growing by the hour. What started as a fluttering crush in those early moments, even though you hadn’t noticed at the time, now morphed into something else completely.

               Not to mention if Seonghwa didn’t convince his parents to drop the arranged marriage, and didn’t decide to leave the family dynasty, he would be married. Married. That would mean the possibility of anything between the two of you would never be realized. It would be severing something before it had the chance to start.

               Shifting again in the bed, your mind heavy, you hear Seonghwa grumble next to you, “Can you stop moving? I can’t sleep.”

               “Hwa, sorry. I thought you were asleep,” You reply guiltily.

               He turns over to face you, laying on his side. You can just barely make out his face – the moonlight resting across one cheekbone like someone kissing a lover, his eyelashes dark smears against his skin. You turn onto your side as well, staring at him.

               “I can’t sleep,” He admits, “Why can’t you?”

               “Just overthinking.”

               “What are you overthinking about?”

               “Why can’t you sleep?” You counter.

               Hwa chews on this for a moment before answering, “I was thinking about what you said before. About me taking photos and posting them on Instagram.”

               This takes you by surprise. The last thing you thought bouncing around in Seonghwa’s brain was something about his Instagram. “Yeah?”

               He shifts a little. “You think I could do something with that?”

               “Hwa,” You say quietly, “No offense but you don’t have to do anything with it. You have enough money to make that your hobby on the side if you want.” You wonder if he is thinking about leaving his family and giving up the future CEO position to be dwelling on such things.

               “Right. Yeah, I know that. I just mean…I mean outside of money. I guess. Maybe people would like my pictures if I did more with them. If I put a portfolio together. Maybe.” His words make you think of tiny eggshells littering the kitchen floor – one wrong move and you could step and crack all of them into thousands of pieces.

               “I think that sounds like a good idea,” You reply carefully, unsure if you should ask if he is debating leaving his family.

               But Hwa drops the subject, instead asking, “What were you thinking about?”

               You sort through all the various things on your mind and decide to pick one to be honest. “I was thinking about you getting married.”

               Seonghwa’s eyes widen a little as he sputters, “M-marriage?”

               “Right. If this doesn’t work out. If your parents still want the arranged marriage to go through. I was thinking about if you decided to agree to it. Have you given that any thought?”

               “No…to be honest, I haven’t thought about much past this weekend. I didn’t want to think about if this doesn’t work and they still press for the marriage. That would mean a hard choice would have to be made. I don’t know what I’d do.”

               “You could marry someone you don’t care for? Just for your parents?” You dislike the pleading note in your voice and you wonder if Hwa notices it.

               But he is too lost in thought. “If the alternative is leaving them…I mean, I’ve told you before. My entire life has been fighting against them. I don’t know anything but preparing to be CEO and taking on the company. If I left that, it would crush them.”

               “But working there would crush you too,” You blurt out impatiently, “You don’t like it. And then you’d be married to someone you don’t love on top of that.”

               “Does that bother you so much? The idea of me marrying her?”

               Oh, what a question. How did you navigate answering this in a way that didn’t come across as though you are smitten with him?

               “Yeah, it does. I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for long. But we’ve spent a lot of time together lately. I feel like I can say I know you well enough. When I think about you stuck in a situation where you are unhappy, I get upset.” There. That isn’t lying.

               It is too dark to read Seonghwa’s eyes and know what he is thinking. His fingers curl against the sheet, and you fight the urge to touch his hand.

               “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to leave my family. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. My parents are harsh but they still love me.” Seonghwa sounds more like he is trying to convince himself than you.

               Even so, the disappointment in your chest is a heavy thing. You cannot help but feel as if Seonghwa is navigating a sinking boat towards a tsunami. You can’t shake the bad sensation that grows the more you spend time around his parents.

               “I know. But it was just on my mind.”

               “You worry about me a lot. I told you - you don’t have to worry about such things. Let me take care of them.”

               You wish for nothing more at that moment than to ask for him to hold you. You know that you could fall asleep if he just held you. But you are afraid that is passing by from casual sex into something else…and so you just nod before faking a yawn.

               “I guess I’ll try to sleep again.”

               “Me too,” Hwa replies, “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the beach. If you want.”

               “I do. I also wanna go in that ridiculous hot tub tomorrow. I mean, you really don’t understand what you have here, Hwa. If I was a more materialistic person, this would be slathered all over my Instagram so I could feel like one of those influencers who move the bed in their hotel room for a better photo.”

               Hwa, who had been in the middle of rolling over onto his stomach to sleep, stops and peers at you curiously. “People really do that?”

               “Yes,” You reply, marveling at how out of touch Hwa routinely is, “They do.”

*

               In all your brooding about the beach weekend, you overlooked one crucial part: Seonghwa shirtless by the ocean.

               But now, as you trudge through the sand towards the house, you look over your shoulder. The sun is dipping below the horizon, casting orange streaks through the sky. Seonghwa is collecting the rest of the things taken out this morning – a beach chair, a blanket, a book you didn’t open. He is still shirtless, his hair a mess of salt and wind. Yes, you had forgotten that being at the beach would mean an entire day of trying not to make it obvious you were staring. Even though you now officially fucked Seonghwa more this week than anyone else in your life, you still didn’t want him to know that you were that into him.

               In the light of the morning, you ate breakfast with Seonghwa and his parents. It was a stilted affair. Seonghwa appeared a little withdrawn; you wondered if it had anything to do with your talk the night before in bed. Mrs. Park prattled on to fill in the silence, talking endlessly about her plans to redecorate the beach house. Mr. Park excused himself early for a business call. There hadn’t felt like a lot of time to throw yourself at Hwa to convince Mr. Park to drop the arranged marriage.

               Afterwards, Seonghwa and you set up for a day at the beach. It was strange having an entire stretch of the beach to yourself but you settled in quickly – until Hwa pulled his shirt off and asked for you to apply sunscreen to his back. Your fingers along the muscles of his back did nothing to quell the dirty thoughts that were springing up like weeds. You tried to stomp them down but another fifty grew.

               And now it is sunset. Being in the daylight for hours made you tired in the sort of languid way a cat is tired from doing literally nothing all day. It didn’t help that you convinced Hwa to make sandwiches for dinner versus “setting up a meal out back on the patio” which sounded much too formal for your liking. You are now basically ready for bed.

               But the hot tub beckoned and you weren’t going to miss it just because you are feeling like a sleepy cat. Pushing the gate open that leads to the backyard, you wait for Hwa to catch up. He shakes his head, trying to get the sand out and makes a face.

               “I’ll have to shower tonight. I can’t stand all this sand on me.”

               “Okay, Anakin,” You quip, “Got everything?”

               “Yeah. I assume you’re going to run right to the hot tub?”

               “Correct,” You reply as Hwa puts the beach towels and chairs against the fence to use again tomorrow.

               You catch a brief smile cross his face before he reaches out for you, one hand tugging on the beach shorts you have been wearing all day. Surprised, your eyes widen slightly as he kisses you. He tastes like the ocean, your hands against his abdomen, muscles taunt and warm under your fingers.

               When he pulls away, he motions to the guest house. “Come on then.”

               As you turn around to watch him go, mind spinning at how many times the two of you stumble into intimate gestures like that, a flicker out of the corner of your eye gets your attention. Tilting your face back slightly, you see a curtain moving in front of Mr. Park’s office.

               Had he been watching? Is that why Seonghwa kissed you? You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, salt on your tongue, as you debate asking him. But if he truly kissed you just to make a show of it, you aren’t sure that you want to hear that right now.

               As if sensing you sticking your head in the sand, your phone buzzes in your bag. You rummage around for a bit before fishing it out, seeing a text from Hongjoong.

               “Did you tell him how you feel yet?”

               “No!”

               “It’s going to come out either way. Why not let it be settled on your terms?”

               You don’t reply. You just don’t know what to say or how to begin to explain that the idea of rejection is so terrifying it leaves your chest aching. If you misread everything or if Hwa decides all of this is because he’s lonely, then what?

               As usual, Hongjoong seems to know what you are thinking because he sends a follow up text.

               “Find out so you can either get love or you get money!”

*

               Stretching out your legs, you lean your head back and close your eyes. The hot tub feels better than you thought it would. The alcove that you currently are sitting in makes it feel as if you are in a secret spot from the rest of the world. You can see a hint of the trees moving in the soft breeze of the night, the moonlight poking through the branches, stars twinkling like faded paint spots against an old canvas.

               Seonghwa is next to you, quiet in thought. You have kept up a steady stream of vapid chatter for the past twenty minutes but have finally run out of random things to talk about to fill the space. You aren’t sure where Seonghwa has gone mentally but with each passing moment since arriving at the beach house, he has steadily turned inward.

               “Hwa,” You finally say with some resignation creeping into your voice, “I can’t keep babbling.”

               “What?” He blinks, turning to face you.

               The only source of light is from the hot tub. The lights illuminate his face and with a jolt you realize he looks a bit tired. You fight the urge to reach out for him, watching a droplet of water roll down his cheek and fall on his shoulder, your brain flashing an image of your fingers gripping them as he fucked you.

               Tugging your brain to the present moment, you reply, “Where is your head right now? Because it isn’t here, in this expensive hot tub.”

               “Sorry,” He replies bashfully, slicking back his hair with his hand, sending water across his head and down his neck, “I was just thinking.”

               “About what?”

               He averts his gaze for a second. “Just thinking about the outcome of this weekend, I guess. What happens after.”

               “With your parents?”

               He hesitates before going, “Yeah, with them.”

               You reach for his hand under the water without thinking, a motion that comes naturally now, and squeeze it. “I’m sure you’re right in that if they think you love me, they won’t force you into anything.”

               You’re lying and the guilt gives you a pang in your chest. But the idea of being brutally honest with Seonghwa now also makes you feel bad. You’ve spent the entire time with Seonghwa hiding your true feelings, not only about his parents, but about him too. But it isn’t good to rock the boat during this weekend. He needs to focus on what is going on and if I dump on him about his parents being shitty or my feelings for him, things will get too complicated, you argue with yourself even though the words sound like hollow excuses.

              To your surprise, Seonghwa brings his other hand up from the water and cups your cheek. The touch takes you by surprise, especially when he grazes his thumb across your lips gently. There is something in his expression that is unreadable yet tender that sends your heart aflutter.

             “Hwa…” You trail off, unsure what to say that won’t be something dangerous, something you’re not supposed to say.

              He reaches out for your waist, moving you from the bench in the hot tub onto his lap. You are taken aback from the movement, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him as he kisses you.

             There is something different about this kiss. It is a delicate, fragile thing, as if Seonghwa has taken whatever he is too afraid to say and put it through the kiss instead. You can feel him in every cell of your body like a jolt to the system, from your scalp to the tips of your toes. Your hands are against his chest and his heart races underneath your fingertips. Do you know? Can you tell? You think as the kiss deepens, your hands skirting up along his chest to his shoulders.

            His hands press into your lower back, fingers splayed against your skin, your body against his. Between the heat of the kiss and from the water, Hwa’s skin is flushed, his chest rising and falling quickly against you. The kiss is shifting once more, from something akin to a teacup on a rattling shelf now to a man stumbling through the desert looking for water. Hwa seems desperate, almost afraid, as if you’re going to suddenly vanish.

           The kiss takes the air out of your lungs, your body breaking out in goosebumps even with the heat. When it finally breaks, Hwa is looking at you, his lips a pretty pink, his black hair a mess of water, sand, and heat, curling against the nape of his neck.

           “Come on,” He says gruffly, “Let’s go to bed.”

*

               In the moonlight of the bedroom, Hwa peels your swimsuit off your body which is shivering from the temperature change. His hands glide over your vulnerable skin, his lips leaving small kisses along your neck. You are lightheaded with each touch, almost delirious with desire.

               As you lay on your back on the bed, Hwa tosses his swim trunks off, not caring that your clothes are making a mess on the wood floors. He crawls over your body like a snake in the grass, stopping along the way to kiss your thighs, your hips and stomach. His tongue rolls across your nipples and by the time he finally makes his way along your neck to your lips, the desperation for him has hit a new high. Your hands are tangled in his hair, your tongue against his as he positions himself at the entrance of your wet hole.

               In all the times you have slept with Hwa this week, he has never been on top of you before. You are breathless at the intimacy of it, how different it feels to be this way with someone you are so taken with versus the others in the past. As he slowly pushes into your entrance, you can watch the expressions on his face change – the hit of pleasure that Hwa experiences as he feels you wrapped around his cock.

               Your legs curl around his waist, pushing against him so that he slides fully inside your pussy. He lets out a soft grunt while doing so, his forehead resting against yours for a few moments before he begins to move his hips slightly.

               As Hwa begins to fuck you at a slow and steady pace, your bodies are entwined, pushed together, skin to skin. His heartbeat is against yours, both racing towards the finish line together. His hair is damp in the palm of your hands, his tongue in your mouth, his arms sliding underneath your upper back to hold onto you and make sure you are fully against him.

               In between each kiss, small noises escape from you as Seonghwa bites down gently on your bottom lip, giving it a sharp tug with his teeth. You like the grunts he makes with each thrust, you like knowing that you can make him feel so good. In this moment, there is nothing else besides the two of you. The worries about what comes after has faded so far into the distance that it might as well be a dying star billion light years away.

               As Hwa increases his pace, he makes sure to enter you fully, his hips touching yours before pulling out completely. You take him easily, your warmth wrapped around his cock and at one particularly hard thrust, his eyes flutter closed, your name tumbling from his mouth, sounding different from all the other times he’s uttered it.

               Even so, Seonghwa is taking his time. Unlike all the other encounters with him, the sense of urgency is gone, replaced with something else – emotions lurking under the surface that are too scary to speak about. Curled against him, your lips dragging across his cheek, your hips rising to meet each pump of his hips, the two of you spill over into each other. Each movement and touch express something neither of you can bring to life with words.

               His eyes open mid thrust, meeting your gaze. As he fucks you, Hwa doesn’t break eye contact, studying your face with each thrust. His cock is buried deep inside you, his breathing heavy, and you know he is going to cum soon.

               You pull him in for another kiss as his thrusts quicken, his pace slightly erratic, his groans muffled against your lips. You move along with him, your hips meeting every jerk of his hips. His forehead presses against yours as he shudders before burying his face in your neck while climaxing, spilling into your pussy, unloading inside you. His groan is muffled by your skin, pumping in you slowly as he finishes.

               His lips find yours again greedily, kissing you as he comes down from his orgasm. Your body is still alight with desire, having not finished yet, and you can tell Hwa knows it by the small smile against your skin as he pulls out of you and begins to kiss downwards.

               By the time he reaches the middle of your thighs, you are aching for him, your hands finding purchase in his hair once more. His hands slide underneath your ass, giving himself leverage to bring his face in between your thighs towards your cunt. Unbothered by the fact he just finished in you, Hwa’s tongue probes your folds, licking up along your slit before finding your swollen nub.

               His tongue flicks across your clit, his face pressed against your cunt as he works you with his mouth. He groans as he eats you out as if he cannot get enough of you, your hands tugging on his hair as you grind your pussy against his face, already close to finishing. Seonghwa doesn’t budge as your hips buck, sucking on your clit with an intensity that makes your gasps turn into high pitched whimpers. Then his tongue is back to rolling across your nub, his hands gripping your ass as your hips jerk. Sometimes his tongue slips from your clit and his nose brushes against it instead, making your moans louder.

               “Hwa,” You groan out, sounding unlike yourself, “I’m gonna cum –” Your breathing is ragged, your entire body tingling as your orgasm approaches.

               Seonghwa doesn’t stop, slurping and sucking on your clit loudly, your pussy a mess of his cum and spit mingling with your wetness. Your climax begins, back arching, pussy grinding against his face as the pleasure overtakes you. He doesn’t stop working your clit until it becomes too sensitive and you flinch. That’s when he releases his hold on your ass, allowing you to sink back onto the bed.

               Breathless, you try to prop yourself up to look at him but can’t; your limbs feel heavy and warm. The next kiss tastes like the two of you mingled together. When the kiss ends, he is looking at you quietly, still breathing hard. There is something shifting behind his expression, between the two of you, something being changed and altered in such a way that for a few seconds, you are terrified at the idea of this weekend ending and never having him again.

               The thought makes you hold Hwa tighter, nestling against him, closing your eyes to listen to his heart rate slowly come back to normal in the darkness of night.

*

               You have only been sitting at the table during breakfast for around twenty minutes but it feels easily like three hours. Over a wide spread of food, Mrs. Park asks pointed questions about your parents, your schooling, whatever else she can pluck out of thin air to make it clear that you are, in every manner, beneath her and therefore unfit to date her son.

               Speaking of her son, Seonghwa seems off ever since he woke up this morning. He isn’t openly sullen but has withdrawn ever further into himself, leaving you scrambling to make sure that the dating act is kept up to the standards needed. It has you feeling as if you are a one woman show – watch her answer rude questions about her life, marvel at how she tosses flirty glances towards Hwa, be amazed at the way she ignores Mr. Park’s ever cold gaze!

               Inside, you are a tornado. The intimacy of last night coupled with the anxiety of the breakfast is making you all over the place. Seonghwa held and kissed you so gently last night, and in that time together you felt almost as if the two of you were one – as completely cheesy as that sounded even to yourself – leaving you overwhelmed by how strong your emotions towards him now are. Something altered itself last night, something just subtle enough to change the dynamic with Hwa, the ground unsteady beneath your feet. It leaves you with one question – now what?

               You remember Mrs. Park is speaking and try to tune back in as she says, “How do your parents feel about you dating Seonghwa?”

               Before you can come up with a lie, Hwa seems to stir to life, replying, “Enough with the questions. She isn’t interviewing to be my girlfriend. She already is my girlfriend. You’ve been grilling her this entire meal and it’s wearisome.”

               Startled, Mrs. Park’s eyes widen slightly and she glances over at her husband who looks unperturbed. Hwa must never speak like that to her, you realize, and she’s going to blame me for it.

               Sure enough, her eyes narrow in your direction as she delicately clears her throat and shifts the topic to the weather.

               To your surprise, Hwa moves his hand underneath the table and holds onto yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. The hand squeezing has become part of the routine between the two of you – where once it came from nerves, now it was to reassure one another. Just another sign of how much things have changed.

*

               “I thought you would be here for dinner tonight,” Mrs. Park says later that day, as evening is settling in.

               “I haven’t gone to town yet,” Seonghwa replies stiffly.

               Mrs. Park casts a glance at you, her expression unsettled. You don’t look away, aware that any sort of scuttling about or staring at your feet would be a sign of submission. Mr. Park is standing near the window, his back to everyone, but you know he is listening to every word.

               “Surely you can go bar hopping after dinner.”

               “I’m not going bar hopping.” Seonghwa’s tone has turned testy, “I want to go to town tonight. We had breakfast together this morning. You normally don’t care what I do on these trips.”

               The unspoken sentence hangs in the air – you only care because I have my “girlfriend” here.

               A tense silence fills the room and you swallow hard.

               It is the last day of the trip. Tomorrow morning, you leave. After that awkward and tense breakfast with his parents in the morning, you are craving alone time with Seonghwa…mostly to finally tell him how you feel. Instead of feeling closer to him today after the incredibly intimate sex from last night, he only seemed more distant and locked up. It is starting to make you truly panic and believe that once the trip comes to an end, so will your time with Seonghwa.

               It is this panic that is leading the charge. You want to tell Seonghwa that your feelings for him aren’t set in friendship, they aren’t even set in liking him a lot but something much deeper. You want him to be your boyfriend. You want to be together. It would take uttering just a few sentences to confess this to him tonight. You are worried that Hwa seems to be distracted but if you don’t say it tonight, when will you? After the sex last night, it is impossible to deny or put off how you feel.

               You can see the power struggle unfold in front of your face. Seonghwa is challenging his parents and they clearly are not used to it. Mrs. Park flicks her gaze over to you, once again blaming it on you, before throwing her hands in the air.

               “Fine, Seonghwa, if you want to waste the night getting drunk, don’t let me stop you. Your father and I will just enjoy a quiet night inside.”

               “Sounds good,” Hwa says breezily, reaching for your hand and pulling you out of the kitchen, “See you all later.”

               “Seonghwa,” Mr. Park’s voice cracks through the silence and Hwa stops, looking at his dad who continues, “Remember tomorrow morning you have a meeting at the Rosewood. So don’t be hungover.”

               Seonghwa’s lips press together in a thin line for a moment. “I won’t be.” He gives a small tug on your hand, indicating it is time to go.

               You glance over your shoulder at his parents, shoving the unease down that is blooming in your chest. Seonghwa’s energy is all wrong, like a snake uncoiling and attacking the first thing it sees. You aren’t sure why…and some part of you is nervous to find out.

*

               The ocean glimmers in the setting sun as Seonghwa walks along the beach towards the tourist section of the town. He is quiet although his hold on your hand is firm and steady. In his other hand, he holds his shoes and his feet leave solid footprints in the wet sand. The waves lap at your ankles and the sun is almost fully below the horizon, making the ocean look like a mysterious lover beckoning for you to dive into its depths.

               You aren’t sure how to tell Hwa what you’re feeling. The most you’ve done in regards to this is the time you once sent your crush a “do you like me…yes/no?” note when you were nine years old. But that pales in comparison to the intensity of your feelings for Seonghwa.

               Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you admire the way the ocean breeze ruffles his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips look nice and soft, the curve of his neck –

               “What is it?” Hwa asks suddenly, turning his face to look at you.

               “What?” You balk.

               “You were looking at me.”

               Flailing around for something to say, you go, “I was just wondering if you were okay. You just seem a little off.”

               Hwa shrugs, looking forward again. The lights of the oceanside bars are popping into view, like flickering fireflies.

               “Being around my parents this weekend is driving me crazy, that’s all. Every little thing they do or so is just…annoying.” His words sound unfinished as if there is more lurking underneath them but nothing else is forthcoming.

               “Your dad said something about a meeting at the Rosewood tomorrow morning…” You trail off, the question hanging in the air.

               The Rosewood was a beautiful hotel in the heart of the city with an even more gorgeous restaurant on the top floor. You only knew about it through reputation or when a celebrity was seen there. Someone like you would never step foot in a place like that.

               “Yeah, my parents are dragging me into some business meeting there. Same old shit.” He sounds bitter. “We’ll have to leave earlier than I wanted to so I can drop you off and get there in time. I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late.”

               “Yeah, I understand,” You reply, coming ever closer to the first bar which Seonghwa is steering you towards, “Uh, do you think it worked?”

               “What worked?”

               “Uhm…us pretending to be dating and in love.”

               For some reason, his expression grows hard. “I don’t know. What else could we have done? This was our plan from the start.”

               His words mixed with his tone take you by surprise. There is an undercurrent of misery in every sentence Hwa utters and you don’t know what to do with it. He yanks the door of the bar open and you trail after him. It is a typical looking bar, maybe with more seashell décor since it is next to the ocean. You hesitate in the entrance, frowning for a brief second as your eyes land on the drink menu, reading the titles of the cocktails: Sunset sangria, Malibu breeze, Blue Hawaii…

               “You okay?” Seonghwa asks, looking over his shoulder.

               “Yeah, sorry.” You give a small shake of your head, “Got this weird feeling of like déjà vu.” You shrug, trailing after him as he finds a spot at the bar.

               The place isn’t too crowded although one group clustered in the corner is very loud. The bartender asks for your drinks but you are surprised yet again when Seonghwa orders a shot.

               “Didn’t take you as the type,” You remark.

               “Usually am not. But since everyone thinks I’m going to be drinking anyway…” He trails off as the bartender pours the shot, “You want one?”

               “No thank you. I’ll just have a beer, I guess.” You don’t actually feel like drinking or getting drunk but it is clear Seonghwa is barreling towards that.

               He motions for another shot and the bartender refills. He slams it down, looks at you and says, “Those two were warm ups.”

               Something is definitely wrong, you think as he asks for another one. The chances of confessing your feelings are growing slimmer by the second as the panic grows larger.

               When he hits the third shot down, you ask, “What was that one?”

               “A freebie,” He replies dryly.

*

               By the time a stumbling Seonghwa leaves the bar, it is a couple hours later and he is thoroughly drunk. Wobbling in the sand, you try to steer him back to the house but he gently shrugs you off.

               “Wanna go down to the shore,” He slurs – at least that is what you think he says.

               “Hwa, maybe we should just go back to the guest house.”

               But he gives a firm shake of his head. “If I have to see my parents right now, I’ll fucking lose it.” That is spoken a lot clearer and gives no room for an argument.

               You follow him away from the bar, down the shoreline a little bit to a spot where very few people are around. Hwa plops down in the sand, not caring that he is getting his clothes covered in it, or even noticing when the water washes up around his legs. You chew on your bottom lip before gingerly sitting down next to him, gasping a little.

               “It’s cold,” You say as the water washes over your legs.

               Hwa tilts his face back as if he is letting the sun warm his skin – but the moon is out and the sky is dark. “I ruined tonight, I know.”

               “What?”

               “Drinking. Should’ve just…stayed in with you. But staying around you is just…confusing.” His head rolls forward and he blows his hair out of his face.

               “Confusing?”

               “I’m supposed to pay you tomorrow. For this weekend.”

               You pause for a moment before replying, “I know.”

               “That’s what everything comes down to. Money. My parents paying off everyone. Now I’m doing it too. Maybe I’m no better than them.”

               “Whoa, Hwa, don’t talk like that,” You say, alarmed, “That isn’t true.”

               “How is it not?” He fires back, “You’re always talking about leaving the family and doing whatever I want but I don’t know what I want to do because I’m – I’m not even a person, I’m just…constructed by them for the stupid fucking company.” He is seething now, bunching his fists in the sand. “What would I do away from them?”

               You tentatively reach for his shoulder but your hand hovers just above him, afraid of touching as if it might startle him.

               “‘Money is a terrible master but an excellent servant.’ Do you know who said that?”

               “Uhm. Lisa from Blackpink?”

               Hwa ignores you or maybe he didn’t hear you at all because he goes on, “I have all the money in the world yet it somehow corners and poisons me every fucking second of my life.”

               “Alright, we’re going home,” You announce, standing up and brushing sand off your knees, tugging on his arm, “And we’re going to bed.”

               “That isn’t home,” He mumbles but obeys, getting to his feet unsteadily, looking at you through a haze of booze, “Would you cry for me if left tomorrow? If I went overseas? If we never spoke again?”

               “Hwa,” You say, startled as he brings one arm around your waist and pulls you against him.

               “Tell me I’m not just about money for you. Tell me I matter more than money. That when I fuck you, it means something. That I mean something.” He murmurs desperately, his face close to yours, his body warm, the scent of booze clinging to his clothes, his pupils wide, his gaze lingering on your lips.

               Your chest is tight, heart hammering against your ribs. I don’t want to tell him like this. Not when he’s drunk, emotional and not thinking clearly. I want it to mean something too.

               But you don’t have to say anything because at that moment Seonghwa lurches away from you, turns to the side and promptly begins to throw up on the beach.

               Distantly, you wonder if anything good happens on a beach – maybe in another universe somewhere, someone is confessing their love to a significant other instead of watching the person they care about vomit in the sand.

*

               It is nine in the morning when everything goes to hell.

               Dark clouds form along the beach, signaling a massive storm rolling in to match your mood and the mood of the guest house.

               Seonghwa, who is extremely hungover and working on a tight schedule to get you back to the city in time for his meeting, is already running late. You are quietly packing your things, a knot in your stomach.

               After Hwa threw up on the beach, you got him home, cleaned him up and watched as he promptly passed out, leaving you alone with more emotions than you knew what to do with. It was as if the universe was determined to make sure not to carve out one quiet moment for you to speak to Hwa and confess.

               In the morning light, Seonghwa mumbled an apology for almost puking on you and made no mention to his lamenting of his wealth or his desperate question of if you would cry for him. You don’t bring it up either, unsure if he remembers it or just doesn’t want to discuss it.

               But the energy has been popped like a cork from his hangover and his mood is foul. It lingers in the room like a poison cloud and it all comes to a terrible clash when he tosses money onto the kitchen counter shortly before leaving.

               “What is this?” You ask warily.

               “It’s the money for the weekend.” Seonghwa’s face is blank, his voice empty of any emotion. “This is why we were hanging out, after all. The entire week hinged on the deal we made.”

               The money is unceremoniously in a tote bag that he must have dug up somewhere in the main house when he left this morning for thirty minutes, claiming he needed to get coffee in town because the stuff here wasn’t strong enough. Now, you knew exactly what he had been really doing – somehow making a cash withdrawal that most banks wouldn’t allow but he could do because of his connections and wealth.

               “It’s yours now. We can consider the entire thing finished.”

               You tear your eyes away from the money and look at Seonghwa. His expression is heavily guarded, posture stiff. It’s his old face, you realize with a jolt, the one he had in the first couple of days together. I hadn’t noticed it because I didn’t know him then. But I know him now.

               It doesn’t take a genius to know that Seonghwa is cutting everything off before he gets hurt. You want to be understanding but you are exhausted. The entire weekend has been draining, coupled with your own romantic feelings for him, to dealing with him getting drunk all the way to this moment where he has decided to make the choice for you.

               “If you don’t want it from me, I’m sure my parents will give you some,” He adds, like rubbing salt in the wound.

               It is this small remark that pops the bubble that has been growing in your chest. “You don’t have to be so cruel about it.”

               “I’m not being cruel.”

               “I’m taking it as cruel. That’s how I’m reading it.”

               His lips press together in a thin line before replying, “I have a terrible headache. I can’t deal with the bullshit of you declining my money and me offering it and we do this whole song and dance and you leave with it. So, let’s just skip it and you take it.”

               You had no intention of taking the money. You know that now. But Seonghwa’s crass words, his hostile demeanor and the money thrown on the counter in an ugly tote bag suddenly makes you furious.

               “Do you think it’s okay to be talking to me like this? What, did being hungover flick on your Asshole Switch or something?”

               Seonghwa crosses his arms. “I’m not being an asshole. We agreed on this at the start.”

               “Right, we did before we spent the entire week fucking each other,” You snap and he flinches, “You could talk to me with more respect. You’re acting like I’ve been buzzing for your money the entire week. You could have made an effort to start a conversation with me about money versus throwing it at me. And the remark about your parents – you think I’d take their money?”

               “You’d take someone’s money!” He raises his voice slightly, throwing his hands in the air before storming away into the bedroom.

               “You don’t need to deflect your own inner turmoil and issues onto me!” You counter, following him, “I understand what you went through is shitty and difficult but just to blanket assume I am the same –”

               “And why wouldn’t you be?” He whirls on you, his voice cracking, “What makes you different? This entire thing started on the basis of money so why wouldn’t it end that way? If you don’t want to take mine, you’ll just take my father’s. That’s how it goes. That is how it always goes.”

               “So, what, you just thought to be a jerk to me so things can end on your terms? You pay me and never see me again after today? Is that it?”

               He snatches his bag off the floor, pushing past you to head towards the living room. “This is how it was always going to go.”

               You follow him, nipping at his heels, refusing to back down.

               “Oh, cut the bullshit, Hwa. Why don’t we face what is really at the root of this?” You cannot help it – you are growing angrier by the second, mingled with his rejection and the fear that he will never know how much he means to you. Everything you have held in this entire week is now about to explode out of you. “Your parents do not see you as a person. They do not care about you. If they cared about you like they should, they wouldn’t do the things they do to you. Deep down, you know that! Your mom feeds you bullshit like ‘you’d be left with nothing’ which isn’t even remotely true and your dad forces the company down your throat and you are burning yourself out trying to fit the tiny box of what it means to be a loveable son to them! They withhold their love from you just to get whatever they want and it isn’t fair!”

               Seonghwa looks startled and then promptly furious, getting very close to you as he speaks, “Don’t presume to know my entire family dynamic just because we’ve been hanging out for a week. You are overstepping.”

               “And you overstepped with the tote bag of money so I guess we are back to square one,” You fire back hotly, “Hwa, don’t you see? You’re going to spend your entire life doing things you don’t want to do, running a company you don’t want and marrying someone you don’t love. They will do anything to manipulate you! Deep down, you know I’m right!”

               Seonghwa shakes his head. “I’m not listening to this.”

               You take a step away from him, snatching the tote bag off the counter and upending it. The stacks of cash clatter to the floor as you fling the tote bag back onto the counter. Hwa watches as you do so, going very still.

               “I don’t want your money,” You say disgusted.

               “Fine. Take my dad’s then. He doesn’t like you and will be keen to pay you off,” He slings his bag over his shoulder, going towards the door. “There’s an extra driver this morning. They can drive you back to the city. I can’t be late to this fucking meeting at the Rosewood and it’s better if we don’t drive together.”

               “Right, wouldn’t want you to miss out doing something that makes you miserable!” You call after him as he slams the door to the guest house shut, leaving you alone without a backwards glance.

               The silence is deafening. You slump into the nearest chair, turning the argument over slowly in your head, the money at your feet. In the distance, you hear thunder. Your chest physically hurts and your heart is beating so fast you feel a little sick.

               What the fuck just happened? You think, wondering what to do from here. Surely, Seonghwa will never speak to you again. Not only is he determined to cut you off because he is too afraid of being hurt again but you just went on a tirade about how bad his parents are. But I meant every word and I can’t take it back. To take it back would be lying to him and all anyone ever does is lie to him. But what the hell do you do now?

               You aren’t sure how long you sit there, listening to the storm inch closer by the minute. Eventually, you stir from your brooding to motivate yourself to finish packing and get out of here before the driver leaves and you have to pay for an expensive Uber.

               Leaving the guest house, feeling numb, you keep telling yourself to focus on Seonghwa once you get out of here. If you start thinking about it too much, you would start crying and never stop and the idea of doing that in front of some random person driving you home is mortifying. Crossing through the garden, you are almost at the side gate when a voice saying your name gets your attention.

               Looking over your shoulder, you see Mr. Park on the back patio, the sliding door open behind him. “I was wondering if I could talk to you privately in my office.”

               Sure, whatever, I don’t give a fuck anymore, you think, nodding your assent towards him before trudging over. What is there to fear from him now? It is all finished…Seonghwa had made that clear.

               The house is very quiet with no sign of Mrs. Park or even the hired help. You follow Mr. Park upstairs towards his office. It is stuffed to the brim with expensive objects like everything else he seems to touch. You don’t blame Seonghwa for going minimalist in his own space. Surrounded by all these things is suffocating.

               Each bookshelf is lined with titles that are most likely purchased just for show since you cannot imagine Mr. Park has enough time to read. Along one wall runs a host of old looking filing cabinets that are all locked. His desk is made of heavy oak and makes the entire room feel stuffy and oppressive.

               You sit down in a plush leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, the leather creaking in the silence. Mr. Park sits down as well and for a few moments, he doesn’t speak. You just stare back at him. If he is in the mood to play mind games…well, you aren’t.

               When he realizes that you aren’t going to speak first, he relents and goes, “My son left in quite a huff this morning.”

               You just nod.

               “Everything alright between the two of you?”

               “Can we skip to whatever you brought me up here for?” You ask wearily.

               There is a flash of irritation in his eyes quickly replaced by the same nonchalant expression as before. “Very well then. I looked into you after we met for the first time. I was thinking that while you and my son seemed attracted to one another, something felt off.

I know you don’t have very much money and that you dropped out of school because you could no longer afford it. You weren’t a good enough student to get any scholarships. I know that you’ve jumped around jobs ever since until settling down at that store of yours. Your best friend, a man named Hongjoong, left the city after mental health issues and seemed to be quite an influence on you, bar hopping, partying, trying to help him with his fledgling music career. You mostly keep to yourself now with no clear plan in mind.”

               “Is this supposed to scare me? Sixteen-year-old girls with a crush and a good Google search could find out more about someone these days,” You deadpan.

               Mr. Park smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans forward, clasping his hands together. “I was struck by the difference between you and Seonghwa this time around. Seonghwa especially. He seems quite taken with you. Of course, you understand that he can’t be with you.”

               “You don’t get to make that choice for him.”

               “Seonghwa has always been a bit of a dreamer. It’s been difficult to stamp that out of him. He needs extra guidance towards the ultimate goal of working for the sake of the family dynasty. That comes first. Not what he wants. Not who he wants to marry. I take this very seriously.”

               You don’t reply.

               He clears his throat a little and continues. “You understand that you’re not a good match for him. You have no family standing. You bring nothing to the company. He’s already becoming a bit unruly by being with you.”

               At this, you laugh. “You think that was being unruly? Him…what, sticking up for me during breakfast and doing what he wants to do?”

               “He came home very drunk last night and was clearly hungover this morning. That is out of character for him and I blame it on you. You’re a bad influence.”

               “Is that why you were looming around the guest house and staring at us through the window? Just taking note of ‘oh, my son is happy, I need to ruin it’?”

               This time, he ignores you, opening a drawer and pulling out a checkbook. “I’m going to be very generous with you. I’ll let you give me a price. Whatever the amount in exchange for not speaking to Seonghwa again. No contact from this moment onward.” His pen hovers over the check as he stares at you.

               I am so fucking sick of talking about money and thinking about money and dealing with money, you think, feeling roughly a thousand years old in that moment. I’m sick of hearing about this dynasty and I’m sick of seeing Seonghwa sad and I’m terrified he’s going to lose himself completely to this hell.

               “No.” is all that leaves your mouth.

               “Excuse me?”

               “No. I don’t want your money.”

               “Don’t be rash. Think this through. I said that you could list whatever amount –”

               “I heard you. I’m saying no. You were right, Seonghwa was upset this morning. He might never talk to me again because he’s so warped over what you have put him through that he’s too afraid to open up to someone else once more. And fine, if he doesn’t talk to me again, I’ll be heartbroken but at least I’ll know it’s not because I am yet another person in his life to take money from his dad. You see, I don’t want your money because I am in love with your son,” The words hang in the air for a few seconds as you try to wrap your head around the fact you have just said it aloud before continuing, “I am somehow deeply in love with your son even though I just met him. It’s absurd, actually, the way I fell for him so quickly. But he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s an amazing photographer and he’s thoughtful and introspective and a lot of wonderful things that you don’t see the worth in because he isn’t a son to you, he’s a pawn you just move around because you think life is a chessboard and people are just toys. But Seonghwa isn’t that to me.”

               You stand up, ready to go, when Mr. Park speaks, “It’s touching you care so deeply for my son. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. Your little disagreement this morning worked in our favour. Seonghwa is currently with his mother at the Rosewood being told that you have come to me and asked for money. Afterwards, he will be presented with a contract agreeing to marry the woman we have chosen for him.”

               You stare at him, cold ice rolling down your spine, a loud buzzing in your head.

               He continues mercilessly, “Whatever Seonghwa schemed with you, because I feel fairly confident that when I saw you a week or so earlier that this relationship was not nearly as deep as we were told it was, it ended up helping us. Originally, we were going to have a sit down conversation with him at the Rosewood, laying out the facts bare of what would happen if he didn’t agree to the marriage. But whatever happened this morning, Seonghwa is now distraught and not thinking clearly as he heads into the meeting. One little push is all we need to get him to sign. I know my son.”

               “So you’re lying to him and telling him I asked you for money,” You say with numb lips, “And he’s going to be so upset, he’ll sign and agree to the marriage.”

               “That’s right.”

               You fumble for your phone, immediately trying to call Seonghwa. But a robotic line says the call cannot go through. You try it again desperately. Same result. You switch to texting, sending a desperate message that just says you hadn’t taken any money from his dad in all caps. It says it cannot be delivered.

               “It won’t work,” Mr. Park finally speaks, sounding pleased with himself, “I have some connections at the phone company and Seonghwa’s phone won’t be taking any calls or texts from anyone until the contract is signed. My son was aware that this is what he needed to do even when he fought it. But then you came, like an arrow in the dark, striking his chest and making him believe in things he never gave a passing thought to before.”

               You want to throw the nearest object at his head. You fight the urge to punch him in the face. One part of you is such vicious fury that it might choke you and the other part of you is pure unfiltered panic. Thunder goes off, closer now, promising a storm to end storms.

               “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You seethe, your jaw clenched.

               Mr. Park looks unbothered. “I’ve given up everything for the company. As did my father. Seonghwa will understand that, in time. He could always keep you on the side after the marriage is finished. I am not against that. But this is how it has to be for the dynasty.”

               “I would never take a cent from you,” Your voice is low, as chilly as a glacier.

               “I know,” Mr. Park replies simply, “But Seonghwa does not.”

               With those words, you realize that Mr. Park has been stalling you from trying to reach Seonghwa. This entire conversation has been a waste of time. You spare one second to shoot him the finger before storming out of the office, flying down the stairs so quickly that you almost trip. Catching yourself at the last second, you burst from the beach house. A driver is perched against a car, smoking a cigarette, clearly have been told to wait for you. Seonghwa has done that much, at least. He looks relieved at finally seeing you, crushing it under his shoe with an apologetic look on his face.

               “I need to get to the Rosewood as quickly as possible,” You say, tossing your bag in the car and ushering the driver to the door, “Hurry. Quickly. Please,” You amend before climbing in the back.

               In the back of the car, you keep trying to get in touch with Seonghwa even though you know it is in vain. You try calling his Instagram account but he doesn’t answer. You spam his Instagram messages. Nothing. His phone is either dead, taken away, or he simply isn’t looking at it.

               The panic and rage that swirl in your chest are two beasts fighting. To think of Seonghwa being so absolutely manipulated by his parents – for them to lie in such a way and turn off his phone – to have him sign anything that would give up his freedom…the worst part of it all is that if the two of you hadn’t fought this morning, he might not be so susceptible.

               Is that true? A tiny voice asks. This entire weekend, Seonghwa’s fear of you opting for money had been weighing on him until it exploded this morning. Maybe that part of him would always be a target to hit. The fact his parents know that and used it to their advantage…

               The rain begins on the outskirts of the city. It comes down in thick droplets, splattering against the roof of the car so heavily it almost sounds like hail. The thunder shakes you to your fingertips. The rain sweeps in like a frenzied beast and traffic starts to form. You want to pull your hair out.

               You think of Seonghwa, believing that after the fight, you sought his dad out and asked for money. You think of the stack of money left at the guest house, of Mr. Parks knowing your feelings were strong enough that he had to stall you, and the way his mother must be convincing him in a cloying voice that this is how things need to be.

               You are worried about crying right here in the back of the car. You know if that if you start, you’ll never stop. The car has stopped again. You glance at the time and lean forward.

               “I am not trying to be a bother but what is the hold up?”

               He points to the GPS on his phone screen, showing the road ahead in a deep red. “Some accident. Traffic is backed up badly.”

               You have got to be kidding me, you think, wondering why the universe is determined to make a mockery of you at every turn.

               “How close are we to the Rosewood? Within walking distance?” You study the map on the GPS very carefully.

               “Uh…”

               “Doesn’t matter. Sorry, I gotta go.”

               The driver makes a spluttering noise as you open the car door and exit. The cars are at a standstill, some people honking at you weaving through the traffic while heading towards the sidewalk. The asphalt is hot, the rain almost sizzling as it strikes, and it feels like you have walked into a swamp. Soaked immediately from the torrential downpour, you take off as fast as you can, yelling “sorry!” and “excuse me!” every half second as you try not to collide with anyone slowly meandering down the sidewalk clutching their umbrellas. With each strike of your shoes against the pavement, you think about Seonghwa. Even when your chest might burst and your lungs might pop like grapes, you keep going.

               Eventually, you can see the sign for the Rosewood through the haze of rain. The doorman tries to stop you – you ignore him, flying through the lobby and into an elevator before anyone can do a single thing about it.

               Pressing the button for the restaurant at the top floor, you slump against the wall, gasping for air.

               In the reflection of the elevator doors, you realize that you look like a wet rat that just nearly survived a flood. Not your best look…especially for a high-end establishment like this. But when the doors open, the thoughts of your appearance fade as you take off again.

               In fact, you almost make it to the restaurant before someone, probably security, grabs your upper arm. You ignore them, lurching forward into the dining room.

               “Seonghwa!” You yell, “Seonghwa!”

               You get a glimpse of him – a millisecond that lasts a lifetime. He is at one of the tables, paperwork in front of him, his mother talking avidly and a beautiful woman at the table as well. You recognize her from the rooftop photo. Seonghwa is slumped, a pen in between those slender fingers of his, dark circles under his eyes.

               You shake the person holding you off, wrenching your arm almost painfully out of the grip, and bolt through the dining room. People mumble in horror – at you running, at your appearance, at your clothes leaving puddles all over the fancy carpet – but you don’t care. He hasn’t signed, is all you can think with relief, feeling as if you are running in quicksand towards him.

               Seonghwa’s eyes are wide and he is in the motion of standing up when you finally reach him. You grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you desperately. Mrs. Park is yelling at security to remove you as Seonghwa looks upwards and shakes his head firmly at them, telling them to leave you alone.

               “Hwa, I didn’t go to your dad. Will you look at me? I didn’t go to your dad,” You plead, giving him a small shake, his gaze falling on your face, “I didn’t go to your dad. They’re lying to you.”

               “She’s lying,” Mrs. Park spats.

               Seonghwa doesn’t even glance over at her. He is staring only at you for a heavy moment before he speaks, “Come on, not here.”

               His hand moves downward, grasping yours. The first trickle of relief hits your chest. Would he hold my hand if he felt like I betrayed him? Mrs. Park is sputtering – about your appearance, the fact security isn’t hauling you away, that you are causing a scene. But Seonghwa brushes past security, his hand steady against yours, leading you out of the dining room. Everyone is openly gawking. You know how you look, with your clothes like heavy wet rags, your bag slumped against your shoulder. Your heart is still racing, out of breath from all that running and motivated by sheer panic.

               Hwa takes you to a small nook, nestled between the kitchen and the foyer. He waves someone away when they ask if he needs assistance in getting you out of the building, turning his back to the restaurant and offering his body as a shield to get prying eyes off you.

               He takes in the sight of your general appearance before quietly asking, “What’s going on?”

               It spills out of you so quickly that you aren’t sure Seonghwa can even keep up with your words. “I didn’t go to your dad. I didn’t ask him for any money. I didn’t do anything of the sort. I was going to leave and your dad asked to talk to me. He offered me money, said I could list any amount I wanted. And I told him no. I told him…” You choke on your words for a moment, knowing that there is no turning back now. You can’t run all this way, make a scene at the restaurant, tell Seonghwa their version of events is a lie and then proceed to lie yourself.

               “What did you tell him?” He prompts quietly, his eyes scanning your face, his shoulders set with a clear tension he is trying not to let slip into his tone.

               You take a deep breath, unable to look at him, instead opting to speak directly to the middle of his chest, and begin to talk, “I told him that I wouldn’t take the money because I’m in love with you. I told him that I know it sounds silly to be in love with you already but that it just happened that way. I don’t care if you never spoke to me again but I wouldn’t ever want you thinking that I took your money or your dad’s money. Because I love you. I should have told you earlier but I’ve never been in love before and I didn’t know what to do. But I love everything about you like the way you wander around at night and take photos, how kind you are, and thoughtful too. And I even love you when you make out of touch comments about things because you can’t help it, you’re too rich to even know better but I know it isn’t ever malicious and it isn’t intentional and you’re still kind and I love you for it. I love you even though you never know any of my pop culture references and I love you even though the only movie you’ve ever quoted to me is goddamn Clueless. And I love you even if you don’t love me and it’s okay if you don’t want to be with me but I needed you to know that your parents are not good people and they don’t deserve you. And you could hate me for saying those things but it’s the truth,” You hold up your hand, “Wait, don’t answer yet. There’s something else you need to know. About why I ran here and made a scene.”

               You fumble for your phone. Your hands are shaking, you realize, but you illustrate to Seonghwa how you try to call and he gets no calls. You show how you text him and he doesn’t get those either. You tell him to check Instagram and he sees the panicked missed calls and messages from you. You explain quietly what his dad said. Hwa is silent for a long while, staring down at his phone until the screen goes black from being idle.

               His hair has fallen in front of his eyes and you cannot see his face. You don’t speak. You know that you have just thrown a lot at him all at once and can only assume he is overwhelmed.

               But on the other hand, you just confessed your love to this man and he’s gone idle like he is a video game character about to get timed out in a MMO. Antsy and wringing your hands, you finally break the silence.

               “Uhm…Hwa…”

               He shifts a little and then raises his head to look up from his phone. He slips his phone in his pocket and brings his hands to your shoulders, resting them there, ignoring the squelch of wet fabric.

               “I have to do something. Will you give me some time?”

               Thrown, you reply, “Uh, sure…?”

               “Do you have money for a taxi back to your place? It sounds like you left my driver in traffic and I don’t have another one nearby.” He rummages in his other pocket and pulls out some cash, shoving it in the palm of your hand and curling your fingers around it before you can protest. He lingers there for a moment. “Just give me a few days. Will you do that for me?”

               What else am I supposed to do? You think, slightly dazed, nodding silently.

               Seonghwa hesitates for a second and then tugs you against him, crushing you in a hug. He doesn’t seem to care that your clothes are soaking wet and will ruin his expensive outfit. He has never held you this tightly before. It would be funny to picture Seonghwa walking back into the restaurant all wet from hugging you if you weren’t on the verge of crying. Your face is against his chest and he kisses the top of your head before breaking away. As he walks away, he stops to talk to security, who is still glowering nearby. You cannot hear what he is saying but his tone brokers no argument.

               And then Hwa is gone, back inside the restaurant.

               When the security guard comes over to escort you out, it is evident he is disgruntled that he cannot arrest you or lecture you for twenty minutes.

               But even if he did either of those things, it wouldn’t matter. The adrenaline is starting to wear off and that numb feeling is sweeping back in.

               He didn’t say he loved me back, you think over and over, to the beating of your heart, I don’t have a lot of experience in telling someone you love them but the ultimate hope is they say it back, right?

               So, now what?

*

               “This is horrible,” You whine, muffled into your pillow.

               On the screen of your phone, Hongjoong looks up from painting his nails. “Are we going to run through the story again? Can we go back to the part where his dad mentioned me?”

               You scowl, looking up. “You know it’s creepy that he knew why you left the city, right? Yet you think it’s giving you main character energy or something.”

               Hongjoong looks pleased. “Come on, you’re living out something usually seen in movies or dramas and I got a mention. Lemme hear it again.”

               Sighing, you recall when Mr. Park mentioned Hongjoong during his thinly veiled threats about snooping into your life. You do so on autopilot, aware that Hongjoong is only doing this to try to distract you from the fact that you haven’t heard from Seonghwa in four days.

               You keep replaying that morning in your head – the disagreement with Seonghwa, the entire conversation with Mr. Park, running through the rain and showing up at the restaurant to tell Hwa you love him while also destroying his entire fragile hope that his parents weren’t shitty.

               “I have to do something. Will you give me some time?” Seonghwa had said. But did that something have to take so long? What was he doing? Was he okay? You couldn’t bring yourself to text him and embarrass yourself further. It is difficult enough to think about how you confessed your feelings for him and he didn’t feel the same way…because if he had, he would have told you then and there. Right?

               The past four days have been agony. You trudged to work, wandered back home, stayed up too late unable to sleep, spent too long scrolling on your phone. You felt embarrassed to basically be living to wait to see if Seonghwa contacted you.

               You finish the story before slumping back down and staring sullenly at Hongjoong who finally sighs and stops blowing on his nails to dry them quicker.

               “He’s going to contact you.”

               “We don’t know that.”

               “Yes, we do. He said he just needed some time.”

               “How much time? I’m two seconds away from turning into Bella Swan when she just stares out the window for months and months cuz Edward fucked off.” You lament, shoving your face back in the pillow.

               “From everything you’ve told me about this guy, he doesn’t seem like the type to needlessly play with your feelings. If he’s gone quiet, it’s because he’s sorting something out. His parents took shit way too far. He kept hoping they weren’t as bad as you knew they were. That has to be difficult to deal with.” Hongjoong’s tone is gentle but his meaning is clear: this isn’t just about you, Seonghwa is going through something as well.

               Chagrined, you prop yourself up to look at Hongjoong who gazes at you steadily through the camera before idly turning his attention back to his nails.

               “Now, let’s talk about if I should pop by the city just to egg Mr. Park’s car or something,” He continues conversationally.

*

               You have just gotten out of the shower after a very long and extremely boring shift at work when your phone buzzes with a text. Your roommate is gone at her own job which means you can dart from the bathroom completely naked into your room, snatching up your phone.

               You stare at the message pop up, Seonghwa’s name clear and bright on the screen. You blink a few times to make sure you haven’t imagined it out of sheer desperation. It has been five days since you told him you loved him.

               But his name remains. Quickly, you open up the message.

               “I was wondering if you can come by my place in an hour or so. I can send a car. I’m sorry I can’t come there myself but I promise I’ll explain everything when you arrive.”

               You take a deep breath, telling yourself not to reply right away so you don’t look desperate.

               So you wait exactly two minutes before replying with an okay.

*

               It feels strange to be cutting through the lobby towards the elevators to go to Seonghwa’s penthouse without him by your side. After giving your name to the receptionist, she declared you were on the visitor list and gave you some temporary key to access Seonghwa’s penthouse. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You have no idea what you are walking into and that makes your anxiety even worse. After five days of waiting, you are finally going to see Seonghwa – but it isn’t just about seeing him that is so stressful. It is the fact that you are seeing him and now he knows the extent of your feelings.

               The elevator doors glide open and you gingerly step out into the foyer at the same time his parents come into view. Having not expected to see them, you freeze immediately. Mrs. Park’s eyes are swollen and red from crying. Mr. Park looks as impassive as ever.

               “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, you money grubbing harlot,” Mrs. Park growls out in your direction, dabbing her eyes furiously with a tissue.

               You are torn between asking what the hell she means and laughing so you do neither, only staring at her with wide eyes as she pushes past you into the elevator. Mr. Park follows. Another man exits the living room, paying no attention to you at all, holding a briefcase and an iPad, entering the elevator as well.

               You look over your shoulder as the doors close. The last thing you see is Mr. Park giving you a small nod of his head. There is something in the gesture that makes your stomach flip – some sort of acceptance on his part, something that feels akin to admitting he lost.

               Spurned on by that, you turn around and hurriedly walk into Seonghwa’s living room, stopping immediately at the sight of him by the large window overlooking the city.

               The sun is starting to set, Hwa’s back is to you as he looks outward. He is wearing a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with black dress slacks on. There is nothing different about this outfit; you have seen him in something similar many times.

               But after not seeing him for five days, a longing hits you square in the chest. It is only your embarrassment stopping you from running over to him.

               “Hwa,” You say quietly.

               He stirs, looking over his shoulder. When his eyes land on you, he smiles gently. But you are startled by how exhausted he looks, as if he hasn’t sleep since the night the two of you slept together entwined after having sex that changed everything.

               When Hwa doesn’t speak, you shuffle awkwardly and go, “Your mom called me a money grubbing harlot on the way out.”

               He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head a little before replying, “I’m sorry.”

               “Why? You didn’t call me that.”

               The space between the two of you feels like a gaping wound. The only thing you want is for him to reach for you or give you some indication that everything is alright. Hwa lingers by the window for a moment, casting one look at the horizon before moving towards the couch.

               “Even so, my parents have treated you like shit ever since I entered your life. You’ve taken it on without question or complaint.” He sits down, tilting his face upwards to look at you, “Will you sit next to me?”

               You are too nervous to even make a joke and instead opt to just silently sit down. You have been so distracted by seeing Seonghwa again that it is only now you notice all the paperwork spread out across the coffee table. Hwa follows your eyes and clears his throat a little, leaning forward and taking one of the pages off it and handing it to you.

               You stare at it, your brain unable to piece together what the hell you are looking at.

               Seonghwa leans forward a little, his fingers lightly resting against your wrist. The touch is enough to make you feel unhinged. He inhales sharply and goes, “I finished the paperwork today.”

               “Uh…for what?”

               “For giving up any and all claims to the family inheritance and the company.”

               For a few seconds, the words don’t click. You just stare at the legal mumbo jumbo in front of your eyes before tearing your gaze away from the page and to Seonghwa’s face. He traces small circles against your wrist nervously, waiting for you to reply.

               But if he is expecting some sort of deep and meaningful answer, you hope he isn’t disappointed when you deliver a confused, “What? You mean…you just separated from them?”

               “You were right,” He says simply, “About them. About me as well. I kept denying it and hoping until you showed me that they were blocking my phone from any communication just to get me to sign a fucking contract giving up my own life for their sake. There is no way to create a story to comfort myself when confronted with that. They lied to me, they lied about you, and they attempted to isolate me to get what they wanted,” He hesitates, “It would have worked. If you hadn’t gotten to me in time.”

               “But I did get to you in time,” You think with a rush of exhilaration.

               Hwa left the family. It is more than you ever dared to hope, something that seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that it hadn’t even entered your mind that he could have been spending the last few days working on all the legal recourse to get out of the family.

               “You did,” He replies, his head slightly bowed to look at your hands holding the paper, “I’m sorry I believed my mother when she said you went to my father for money. The fight from the morning was still in my mind and I had been running myself in circles since I met you about what was going on between us. I analyzed every thought about you, unsure if my feelings were true or I was just lonely. By the time we got to the weekend, I felt suffocated by my parents and I was overwhelmed by my feelings. And that night…with the hot tub and us sleeping together afterwards…it was so different to everything I’ve had before. It made me panic. I handled the entire thing poorly. And I almost led myself into some arranged marriage just because my parents knew exactly how to manipulate me.”

               You took a deep breath and steel yourself. “And how do you feel about me then? You know how I feel about you.”

               Seonghwa looks up then, an expression you can’t decipher on his face. “After my last relationship ended, I decided I was done letting anyone in. It wasn’t worth the hassle or the disappointment of realizing what they were truly like. My faith was shattered completely and I turned it into armor. When I approached you in the convenience store, I saw you as part of this convoluted plan to get my parents to love me for myself and not what I could give them. The last thing on my mind was that we would be anything other than business associates. It didn’t hit me until the coffee shop that things might start growing complicated.”

               “The coffee shop?”

               “When you started asking questions about me. I understood why you were asking them but it had been a long time since someone asked me something as simple as what my favourite colour is. I realized how lonely I was.”

               “Black isn’t a colour, by the way,” You say quickly, unable to help yourself, “I was being polite then but it’s not a colour.”

               Hwa laughs quietly and he brings his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently. The touch makes your heart race. His thumb grazes your skin as he continues, “There was something about you right away, something authentic that wiggled through the armor and I caught myself thinking of you when we weren’t together. And I didn’t understand why until you were drying my hair after you dyed it.”

               Your heart thuds. You want to tell him that is when you also realized that everything was changing between the two of you and that the minor touches were sending you into early heart failure but your tongue is no longer cooperating with your brain.

               “That’s when I realized that yeah, I was jealous I had to wear the t-shirt of some guy who slept with you, and yeah, I was falling for you. And when we had sex later that night, I just assumed it was because the lines were getting blurry with all the fake dating and you didn’t see me like that. Sometimes, I would wonder and allow myself to believe that you did but my brain quickly began to convince me that it wasn’t about me, it was about my money. It nipped at my heels no matter how fast I ran. It chased me down, bite into my jugular and filled me with doubt. The more I fell for you, the more the doubt and fear grew…” He pauses for a second, clearing his throat a little.

               “The night of the hot tub, being with you like that, I knew I loved you. It was impossible to deny any longer. And I felt like a fool for falling in love. I told myself I never learned my lesson. I would always be a fool. I was miserable and I hated myself for being miserable. Anyone else would be thrilled to fall in love and instead I couldn’t stop telling myself that you were going to leave Monday as soon as I gave you the money. I drank that night just to try to stop thinking for five seconds and then in the morning, I lashed out at you in a last ditch effort to protect myself. When you showed up at the restaurant…” Seonghwa stops talking, cut off for a moment, and you realize he is blinking quickly because his eyes are welling with tears.

               His confession of love is leaving you spinning. Your heart hammers in your chest, overloaded with joy that he feels the same way. You want to comfort him but he keeps speaking before you can.

               “No one has done that for me before. When I saw you running to me, soaked to the bone, your bag bouncing against your hip, my heart stopped. And you used such a gentle tone with me as you explained why your phone couldn’t call me when I had treated you poorly just an hour or so prior. It made me realize that I couldn’t keep denying what I knew, had always known, deep down and that is you were right. My parents have love that is conditional and it would never stop. I could sign that contract and they would want something else from me the next week. To have you and to be happy, I would have to leave them.

               Before I met you, I thought my hobby was going on yachts and laying in the sun. Now, I know it’s photography and wandering the streets at night to take photos. I used to think the only avenue I had was running a company I couldn’t give a fuck about and now I have no idea what I’m gonna do next but I know I want to figure it out with you next to me. If you want that too, I mean.” He brings his other hand upwards, now cupping your face in between the palms. His eyes are filled with tears threatening to topple at any second. Your chest is very tight as if you might cry yourself.

               “Hwa…”

               “I love you so much and I loved you so quickly that it terrifies me. Will you have me even though I’m so scared?”

               “I’ve never felt the way I do about you before.” Your words are small tiny things and Hwa has to get very close to even hear them, “I’m scared too. We can be scared together.”

               The tears spill over, wetting his eyelashes, rolling down his cheeks as Hwa nods quietly. You want to brush them away but he kisses you then, tears on your lips, against your tongue, as you lean into him. You have missed him so much it physically hurts and the idea that has haunted you for days – that you would never kiss him again – makes you need him even more in every way possible.

*

               In Seonghwa’s bed, his fingers travel over your clothes, stripping them off you carefully, stopping to kiss every inch of your skin. You are trembling underneath him, the reality of the fact this sexual interaction will have no flimsy excuse to cover it; there is no more pretending that you don’t love him and no more hiding behind the “fake dating” concept. There is only Seonghwa, his lips grazing yours, your clothes landing in a heap on the floor next to his and his tongue in your mouth as you grind against him, skin to skin. He shudders as his cock presses against your wet folds but does not enter you. Instead, his lips move from yours to along your neck, his hands groping your tits as he does so.

               “Tell me again,” He whispers in a hoarse voice, words muffled by your skin.

               Your hands trail up along his hips, remembering the time in the elevator when you first noticed how slender his waist was. A lifetime ago, surely. It is hard to remember how life felt before Seonghwa bumbled into it with his awkward proposal of fake dating.

               “I love you,” You murmur and Hwa’s breath catches as your legs curl around his waist, urging him silently to fuck you.

               When his lips meet yours again, it is a hungry kiss, filled with promise of nights to come and of starting a relationship with him. You can feel the longing in it, all the stress and time spent worrying, and the tender love for you as well. Hwa’s tongue is against yours and you can taste him, want more of him, all of him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, the kiss turning sloppy as his cock presses against your cunt. He drops one hand downward to position himself at your entrance, the kiss breaking for a moment.

               “Again,” He says, his voice taking on a slightly pleading note.

               “I love you, Hwa,” You tell him once more, your lips brushing against his with each word.

               He enters you, slipping all the way inside in one swift motion, filling you up with his length. Your back arches, pressing against Seonghwa who groans, his head bowed, not moving his hips once he is all the way inside you.

               “Your little tight hole drives me insane,” He says gruffly, “I want to feel you cum around my cock every night. Open your eyes and look at me, doll, I want to see that look in your eyes.”

               Your eyes, which closed when he entered you, open now to look at him. His eyes scan your face, drinking in the sight of you.

               “I love you,” Hwa whispers, in a voice so quiet it sounds as if it is just meant for you and the stars and not to the city encircling the two of you at all.

               You tilt your face up to kiss him as he begins to thrust inside your pussy. It is different to have him now and know there is no chance of losing him. You give into him completely and he does the same. Each jerk of his hips drives moans and pleas out of you, and each time Hwa enters you completely, he groans out that he loves you. You move together in unison, like two puzzle pieces clicking together. Your hands tangle in his hair, his tongue in your mouth, just like the night of the hot tub but without the fear looming in the distance.

               The kiss breaks and Hwa changes positions, bringing himself up and folding your legs a little back so that he can fuck you deeper. The angle hits your sweet spot, your fingers gripping the sheets as Seonghwa picks up his pace. He grips your thighs, his nails still painted black, smears against your skin, driving his cock in you like a piston. You are soaking wet, taking him easily, and Hwa watches the way your pussy greedily clenches down around his cock with each thrust.

               “You think that you got enough practice in?” He asks, breathing ragged, chest rising and falling quickly, his toned arms holding your legs back firmly, “Now you’re ready to be my girlfriend officially and take my dick like this every day.”

               Your head rolls back in pleasure, unable to even answer. The only thing you can focus on is how good it feels and how much you love it when Hwa talks like this as he fucks you.

               “Show me how much you love me by cumming around my cock.” His voice is taunt, humming along your skin and up your spine. “You’ll prove it to me, won’t you? Be a good girl and show me.”

               You know that your orgasm is close. Hwa is fucking you into the mattress, not slowing for a moment, determined to pound you into climax. Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around his girth.

               “That’s a good girl,” He coaxes, “Tell me you love me as you cum.”

               Hwa gives a hard and deep thrust of his hips, driving his cock against your sweet spot one final time. Your orgasm begins and you groan out his name, eyes closing and head rolling back, knuckles turning white as you clutch the sheets.

               “H-Hwa,” You whimper out, “I love you!”

               Hwa releases his hold on your legs, curling around your body as he gives one final harried thrust before cumming along with you. His balls empty out in your cunt as he groans out that he loves you too, burying his face in your neck as the two of you climax together. You rock your hips against his, your pussy clenched around his length, milking his cock for every drop of cum as he unloads in you.

               For a minute or so, neither of you move, trying to catch your breath. Then, Seonghwa raises his face slightly, finding your lips, gently kissing you.

               “I could get used to this,” He hums softly against your skin.

               You could as well.

*

               A storm rushes into the city in the middle of the night. You jolt awake from a loud clap of thunder, eyes opening groggily, wondering what time it is.

               To your surprise, Seonghwa is already awake. He is sitting up, a sheet draped across his lower half, his bare back facing you. He is looking out the window across the city which is engulfed in sweeping rain and wind.

               Propping yourself up, you tentatively reach out for him. Fingers brushing against his back, skin warm against your fingertips. He’s mine now, you think with happiness.

               Hwa stirs at your touch, looking over his shoulder. “Did the storm wake you?” His voice is soft.

               You nod and then realize he might not be able to see you in the dark. “Yes,” You reply, your voice slightly worn out from all the noise earlier.

               Propping yourself up, you wrap your arms around his neck, your chest pressing against his back, your chin resting on his shoulder. Seonghwa softens, relaxing into your body, turning to kiss the top of your head before looking back out at the city.

               “What are you thinking about?” You ask quietly.

               “I was thinking about what everyone who is still awake in the city is doing right now. I was wondering what my parents did after they left here.”

               “Do you worry about them at all?”

               “I don’t know how I feel.”

               “You don’t have to know or have everything figured out in regards to them, Hwa. It’ll take time to sort through everything. Might even take years.”

               Seonghwa seems to chew on this silently before settling on, “I know I made the right choice.”

               “So, you can let that be your north star as you navigate everything.”

               He falls silent. For awhile, the two of you stay like that, watching the way the storm washes out the city. You can feel Hwa’s steady heartbeat underneath your fingers, and you listen to his quiet breathing. Your heart is full, overflowing with the sort of emotion you have only previously read about.

               The silent glow of the city brings a half luminescence to Hwa’s face. You trace the curve of his jaw and the length of his nose to the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the lights. Sensing your stare, he tilts his face to look at you, leaning forward a little to brush his lips against yours.

               The two of you stay like that until the storm quiets an hour later, musing about the future, wrapped up in the city and the rain, comfortable in your love.

 the end.

[u3pxx]

✱ frequently asked questions!

hey there, the name’s den/sun! i’m a filipino artist with too many ideas and too little sleep! i mainly post and draw ace attorney and disco elysium with the occasional dungeon meshi drawing. i also like good omens, danganronpa, tmnt 2012, undertale/deltarune, mob psycho 100, splatoon, fairly odd parents: a new wish, haikyuu, and pokemon! :^]c

rest of the faq under read more (because it's very long lol) | dividers from here! | faq will be updated every now and then

what program do you use?

old answer: i use clip studio paint ex! as of 06/24/2023: i use clip studio paint pro v3 for illustrations and clip studio paint v1 ex for animatics

what brush do you use?

old answer: i mainly use the gasa gaya line pen for sketching and the t-pen for both sketching and inking as of 09/22/2023: i use the koya pen for sketching and inking and the gasa gaya line pen for inking occasionally. as of 12/19/2023: i use the a pen that feels like a pencil (鉛筆を感じる液だまりペン) with the pen pressure opacity turned on for sketching (i also use it for inking occasionally). i don’t ink that much right now but i still also use the gasa gaya line pen for it. as of 03/07/2024: i use both the a pen that feels like a pencil (鉛筆を感じる液だまりペン) and calish ink for both sketching and inking. as of 07/08/2024: i use the dry ink brush on clip studio paint.

do you do commissions?

yes, i do! currently closed right now because i’m a student and art school is hard but feel free to take a quick look here if you would be so interested! :^] however, i do occasionally open 2 slots for sketch commissions whenever i’m in need of some money so watch out for that pftt <3

do you sell prints?

yep! i have an inprnt!

where else can we find you?

you can find me both in twitter, Instagram, and art fight! i also have a youtube where i haven’t posted in 4 years pftt

can we use your drawings?

you can use my drawings for profile pictures, banners, even your little tiktok video edits as long as i'm credited (with a link back to my art account, please!) (also if you did do little tiktok edits with my art can you please send them to me i would be so delighted to see them)  just so we’re clear too, i don’t allow reposting of my art on other social media without my permission or credit. thanks!

can you draw [insert thing here]?

i don’t do requests! and usually, when i ask for things to draw, it depends if i’m feeling up to it so sorry if i don’t!

can i draw fanart of your au’s/oc’s?

YES! please, i’d be so dang honored! and please tag me too if you ever post it so i could see it and reblog it here! :^D (and also gush wail cry and scream about it forever and ever)

what does your username “u3pxx” mean?

it’s just my name den upside down, the x’s are because my old selfsona design had x’s for pupils and i wanted to incorporate that.

what does your tag “pampabait” mean?

pampabait (pam‧pa‧ba‧it) is a tagalog word that loosely means “to make [something] kind”, since the prefix “pampa-” is used to denote the causing of a state and “bait” means “kind”! the way i use it is also kind of referencing the phrase "nasisiraan ng bait" (losing one's mind/starting to feel insane). it's just a tag i use for some wholesome stuff i see that would stop me from going I HATE EVERYTHING FORVEVERRRR

have you played all the ace attorney games?

i have not! only because i got into ace attorney via let’s plays, instead. me and some friends are however trying to finish dgs though we haven’t been able to play for a long time pftt. we’re currently still on dgs2-1.

who’s your favorite ace attorney character?

look at me in the eye, boy. wheezes but it is apollo justice, trucy wright, and klavier gavin.

TAG DIRECTORY

✱ GENERAL TAGS

#sunnysidedraws - all of my polished drawings or doodles i consider high-effort #sunnysidedoodles - stuff that i wouldn’t consider polished but hey, they’re cute lmao #sunnysideanswers - all of my answered asks #sunnysiderambles - my general thoughts, rambles, or whatever #sunnysidetutorials - answered asks on how i do certain art stuff of mine #sunnysidelb - liveblogs of whatever i’m watching/reading #sunnysideplays - liveblogs of the games i play (it's just pokemon right now lol) #sunnysidepolls - whatever polls i make up #sunnysidezines - for previews and the finished pieces of all the zines i’ve been in

✱ ART TAG DIRECTORY (in case you just only wanna see the stuff i drew for a specific thing)

#sunnysideattorney - ace attorney art #sunnysideomens - good omens art (includes bad omens) #sunnysidedisco - disco elysium art #sunnysidemeshi - dungeon meshi art #sunnysidepotions - potionomics art #sunnysideprom - monster prom art #sunnysidemons - pokemon art #sunnysidefairies - fairly odd parents: a new wish art #sunnysideball - haikyuu art #den’s gavinners tag - includes all of my gavinners ocs art, rambles, asks i’ve answered about them, and other posts that reminded me of them #den’s aa roleswap au - what it says on the tin, includes my art and also art that others made for the au! :’^D i also have a sideblog specifically for it #den’s bad omens - has all my stuff and art others made for my good omens roleswap au! #disco femlysium - art of fem!harry and fem!kim (and everybody else) #den's disco swap - art of my disco elysium roleswap au #disco meshi au - art of my dungeon meshi au for disco elysium

[alexagirlie]

Close Your Eyes and Think of Caladan

(Masterlist)

A/N Here is the first part to the Close Your Eyes Series. I first write this 2 years ago. It has not been re-edited so i apologize for the grammar. I am very very mean to everyone. Please heed the tags. Part 2 will be posted soon! Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for the header!

Fandom: Dune

Pairing: Paul/Duncan (offscreen/implied), Paul/Trauma, Paul/Harkonnen(s)

TW: DDDNE. NON-CON. Canon Divergent. Banquet Scene AU. Major Character Death. The Baron is a Lecherous Animal. Angst. Hurt no Comfort. No Lube. Blood as Lube. Non Consensual Drug Use. Non Consensual Voyeurism. Non Consensual Touching. Non Consensual Oral. GangBang. Spitroasting. Murder.

Summary: "You are going to do everything that I say, everything." The Baron leaned forward in his seat menacingly, his shadow stretching down the table like a phantom. "If you do this and if I'm pleased with your effort I will allow your Father to live and he can join you and your witch mother in exile."

"Strip" The single word made every cell in Paul's body crawl, the reality of what he was about to do making him feel sick. But if his father had to go through the indignity of being drugged, helpless and naked in front of the enemy then so too could Paul. He could handle whatever needed to be done to save his fathers life.

Word count: 5.5K

Taglist: @valeskafics

Paul regained consciousness slowly as he was being dragged along the hard stone hallway outside his bed chambers. Rough hands wrapped around his ankles and animalistic laughter, deep voices speaking to each other. His hair caught and snagged on every little crack in the floor knotting the wild curls. The side of his face felt rubbed raw from sand and grit.

He couldn't make out the words of the conversation happening between the men dragging him. The effects of the sedative Dr Yueh had given him still pulled his mind down and made everything sound like he was underwater. All Paul knew was that he was in trouble and he had to get away. These men were not friends of House Atreides but enemies which had found their way into his room. Who knew who else they had taken, who else they had hurt.

Paul struggled to utilize all his Bene Gesserit training to drive the drug from his system. To fight and regain control of his body like he had been trained to do but it was no use. The drug was still too strong, designed to give him a full night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. He was uncoordinated, his limbs weak and not responding to the orders he gave them. He could move them just enough for his legs to twitch, for the men dragging him to notice that he was awake. They dropped him to the floor and two others stepped forward, grabbing him under each arm and continuing up the hallway. His feet kicking and scraping off the stone but he was unable to get his legs under him and stand.

They travelled for many minutes, down corridor after dark corridor that stank of blood, sweat and terror. The further they went the more Paul felt the effects of the sedative wear off and he tried to pull upon the powers of The Voice to aid in his escape. But he could not pull his focus enough to find the right pitch. Still he tried, over and over, voice getting louder and louder.

"Unhand me!"

"Let go of me!"

"You will not win, my Father will see your throat slit for this!"

Finally one of the Harkonnen soldiers grew tired of his words and he moved to strike Paul sharply across the face. It was hard enough to make his ears ring and blood dripped from his nose. Paul stopped trying, accepting now was not the right time. He needed to wait for the sedative to wear off further and his head to clear before he could try and use The Voice.

They turned the last corner before the Banquet hall and Paul could see the several Harkonnen soldiers which stood guard. And to his confusion he could see Dr Yueh. The Doctor was unrestrained and appeared to be unharmed though a look of panic grew on his face when he saw Paul being carried towards the door. Dr Yueh stepped forward and intercepted the men that held Paul captive. He began to question them in a hushed voice filled with barely restrained terror.

"What is going on? He is supposed to be with Lady Jessica. To be taken out into the desert and released into exile."

As Dr Yueh questioned the men, Paul came to the sinking realization that the House of Atreides had been betrayed. That the Doctor who had taken care of him for most of his life was a traitor and had sold them out to the Baron. Fury rose up within Paul, swift and burning in his chest, teeth clenched. Giving a sharp tug on his arms he managed to pull one of his arms free from the soldiers holding him. It granted him enough freedom to swing out with an open hand, slapped the Doctor across the face. The sound if flesh to flesh echoing down the hall.

"You traitor! You fucking trai-" His tirad was cut off by a hand that gripped into his hair and yanked his body back sharply. It pulled a yelp from his mouth and forced him down to one knee before it let him go. He glared up at those standing above him. Paul kept his mouth shut and waited to see what would happen next, mind spinning.

There was a long tense minute where no one spoke before one of the men finally answered the Doctor, "The Baron changed his mind, he demands to see the boy first before releasing him to his fate." The man stepped forward into Dr Yueh's space and met his gaze head on. "Now stand aside Doctor before you find yourself in need of fixing."

The two men stared at each other for a breath before Dr Yueh stepped aside without further comment. By now Paul was able to stand on his own, though his knees still felt weak. On wobbly legs he was able to move forward under his own power and no longer needed to be dragged.

They entered the room and Paul gaze locked onto a naked body sprawled limply in the chair closest to the door. Paul can feel his terror growing, his heart pounded, sweat gathered under his arms and in the small of his back. The soldiers led him further into the room and Paul could see that the body was his father, his eyes were open staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling. He could see his chest rise and fall so he was alive but he wasn't moving.

A voice sounded out from the far end of the room and pulled Paul's attention reluctantly away from his Father.

"Ah the young Paul, we meet at last" Seated at the other end of the banquet table was the most grotesque man Paul had ever seen. His bald head gleamed with sweat and his skin was an ashen shade of gray. His body looked misshapen under his black robes and his chin was covered in smears of food. There was a huge spread of food in front of him and he was stuffing his face. Handful after handful. It seemed he had found the time to raid the kitchen during his great siege upon House Atreides. This must be the Baron of house Harkonnen.

They came to a stop a few feet up the length of the table, the soldiers released Paul and stepped back. Left him alone to face the Baron. Paul tried to keep his disgust off his face, not wanting to make the situation worse, his mind whirled as he tried to come up with a solution the ended with his father and himself able to escape.

He considered a second attempt at using The Voice again but a glance around the room showed over a dozen. He would only have one chance to use The Voice and he wasn't sure if he would be successful with so many to control. Paul decided to save that skill for a time with a better chance of success, hopefully it would present itself soon.

"Such a pretty thing aren't you?" Paul can feel the Barons gaze like a caress, slimy and black as oil on his skin. Nausea built in his stomach at the implications behind the Barons comment. "Stand there quietly Child while we finish our business then we can get to know eachother better"

Paul felt bile rising up his throat and struggled to keep it down. He would not throw up, he was the son of the Duke, the son of a Bene Gesserit sister and he would not let his fear control him. He ran through the Litany against Fear in his head while the Baron conversed with the others around him.

'I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration" He could hear the conversation the Baron was having with Dr Yueh, it explained the deal they had made, the motivation behind the Doctor's betrayal. How they had his wife, how they promised to release her and reunite them.

'I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.'

Paul flinched at the slick wet sound of a blade being slid into flesh, a gurgle and a thud as Dr Yueh's body hit the floor. The traitor joined his wife in the release of death. The Baron turned his attention back to Paul, his beady black eyes swept over him from head to toe then slowly back up. A sick grin spread across his sticky, sweaty face.

"You are going to do everything that I say, everything." The Baron leaned forward in his seat menacingly, his shadow stretching down the table like a phantom. "If you do this and if I'm pleased with your effort I will allow your Father to live and he can join you and your witch mother in exile."

Paul stared at the Baron in disbelief, did he think Paul stupid? That he would just take him at his word and blindly agree.

"Why should I believe a word you say?" Paul asked "What's to stop you from killing us no matter what I do?"

The Baron let out a chuckle, humorless and menacing. The air seemed to drop several degrees, the sweat on the small of Paul's back cold enough to send a chill up his spine. Or that was the reason Paul had settled on, he refused to let his fear control him. He may have been deluding himself.

"Absolutely nothing," was the response "but you can count on me gutting your father like a pig if you don't." The threat rang with truth.

"Strip" The single word made every cell in Paul's body crawl, the reality of what he was about to do making him feel sick. But if his father had to go through the indignity of being drugged, helpless and naked in front of the enemy then so too could Paul. He could handle whatever needed to be done to save his fathers life.

His night clothes were loose and comfortable, easy to take off. Paul pulled the fear-sweat soaked shirt over his head, dropping it to the ground at his feet. Next he pulled the waistband of his pants down over his hips and ass and let gravity pull them the rest of the way down to his feet. Stepping out of them he kicked the pile of clothes away. He wore nothing underneath, he had hoped for a visit from his swordmaster during the early hours of the morning.

Paul's face burned red with shame but he made no move to cover himself after he had finished getting undressed. Kept his arms firmly at his side, chin held high, he refused to allow the Baron to humiliate him. He had been naked in front of others before, during outdoor survival training back on Caladan.

"Good boy" Paul could feel the flush moving down his chest. This time part of it was fueled by anger, not just embarrassment. Only one person was allowed to call him boy, "Bend over the table".

Paul's blood ran cold and he froze in place, not even daring to breathe. He must have heard incorrectly, this was not what was about to happen. Next thing he knew he had been grabbed by rough hands and was forced face down over the table. He barely had enough time to turn his head to the side in order to avoid having his nose smashed into the hard stone. His head rang from the blow to his temple and he struggled against the hands which held him down by the shoulders.

The soldiers that held his arms pulled them out to the side so they were extended flat against the table and a third came up behind him. A booted foot roughly kicked his legs out wider while a hand came to rest against the side of his head to hold it in place. Paul had no leverage to try and get his upper body off the table and his legs were spread too wide to keep his balance enough to try and kick out.

The Baron waited until Paul was firmly in place before he rose from his seat. Lift repulsor buzzing as he glided down the length of the table, past Paul and came to a stop next to Leto's chair. He addressed his next words to the Duke directly.

"My men are going to reap the rewards of conquest, using your son's body however they see fit. If he lives by the end and has put on a good show then you will be released together into the desert."

His speech made, the Baron drifted back to the other end of the room and took his seat to watch the show unfold.

Leto had thought that being betrayed by one of his own trusted men, paralyzed, stripped naked and left prown was to be the worst part of his final moments. He was wrong. He had watched in horror as his Son was brought in, as he heard the Baron's words. Leto's freedom to be used as leverage against Paul.

The Baron lowered Leto's chin just enough so he could see his son, pressed firmly to the table just feet away from him. He watched as the first Harkonnen soldier, the one that stood at Paul's back, reached down with the hand not holding Paul's head down and removed bits of his armour and pulled his hard cock from his pants. He watched as that same soldier stepped closer to his son and forced his cock into Paul's unwilling body.

He watched as Paul let out a heart wrenching scream which cut off as he let out a sob. Tears ran down his face to puddle on the table top below. He was screaming, pleading with the man to stop but all he got was vicious laughter in response. His body jerked forward with each thrust, and with each thrust his pleader got quieter and his sobbing and screaming got louder and more desperate.

Leto screamed along with his son, only he could not get his mouth to move, to let the noise out. All he could produce was a high moaning sound, the drug still had a firm hold on his body. In his mind he begged and begged for the scene in front of him to stop, to not make him watch as his son was brutalized in front of his eyes.

Leto watched as the fight drained out of his son, watched as the first soldier's thrust grew more erratic and he spasmed, coming inside of Paul and let out a deep satisfied groan. He watched the soldier pull out, and in his wake a stream of blood and cum flowed down the inside of Paul's thighs. Another soldier took the first man's place and it began again and again and again.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl and half a dozen Harkonnens had taken their turn with Paul's body. His son no longer screamed, just made a high pitched pained sound each time the man behind him thrust in. His hips slammed against the stone table, and bruises had begun to form on his body. Finger shaped on his hips and upper thighs, bite marks on his back and shoulders. His eyes were glossy, red rimmed and unseeing, face pale and covered in spilled tears and snot.

The soldiers had exchanged jokes and crude remarks as they took their turns with Paul. Commented on how tight he was or how good he felt around their cocks. Leto had tried to ignore them until one comment grabbed his attention in the worst way.

"Heeey let's have a go at that pretty mouth of his, bring him 'round!" More laughter met those words and Leto felt a tear slide down his cheek as they manhandled his son onto the floor. Down onto his hands and knees. The soldier who made the comment moved to stand in front of Paul, slide a hand into his curls and pulled his face up.

He watched as the man forced his cock into Paul's mouth, heard his son gag and choke at the intrusion into his airway. Heard the horrible wet sounds they made with each thrust. Watched as a second soldier knelt down behind Paul and thrust inside him and Leto screamed.

"If I feel teeth I will knock them out of your mouth" The man spoke barely above a whisper but Leto heard him all the same.

Duncan awoke to the sounds of men yelling and distant explosions. He jumped out of bed, stopped long enough to pull a shirt over his head and grab his sword belt. He didn't wait to strap it on, he buckled it up as he sprinted out of the room.

Speeding down several corridors his heart sank as he took in the distant forms of Sardaukar soldiers and the fallen bodies of servants. The Emperor had taken a side, and it was not with the House Atreides.

He slips past the first group he had come across but soon his luck runs out. Coming to a fork in the hallway he sees a form up ahead in the dark. He pulls his longsword from his belt and moves to confront the soldier. Footsteps and panting breath from his left let him know there were more Sardaukars approaching. He drew his other blade and moved into action.

It was a matter of five, six strikes and the first three men were dead on the floor. A fourth fires a dart from up the corridor, Duncan barely blocking before throwing one of his blades at the man to halt his momentum. He takes a running leap driving his knee into the soldier's chest, driving him to the ground.

The man under him tries to get a hold on his shoulder but Duncan throws him off, bringing his other arm down to strike the killing blow. He gets up, collects his dropped blade and continues on to the Ducal family's sleeping quarters.

His first stop was to check the Duke room; he hoped to find Leto and Lady Jessica still safe in their bed. The room was empty when he arrived, sheets still warm to the touch.

Next Duncan raced to Paul's room, praying that he would not find the same. That he would find Paul safe, his parents by his side. Guards at the ready.

He jogged around the corner towards Paul's room and his stomach sunk. There were no guards and the door to Paul's room was ajar. He burst into the room and confirmed his fears. The room was empty.

"Paul…" His lover's name escaped his mouth in a whisper and he paused just over the threshold. The bed was unmade and one of the chairs had been knocked onto its side.

There was still a chance the Ducal family had made their escape. He would head to the hanger next, to try and steal a thopter and head into the desert. The protocol the Duke and his warmaster created prior to their arrival on Arrakis dictated that was his next move If Paul had escaped he would activate his beacon so Duncan could find him.

"I heard the Baron is letting us have turns with the little Duke. Apparently his ass is so sweet and he's a real screamer" His companion laughed and clapped the first on the shoulder.

He made it several corridors without seeing another living being. Hearing distant voices Duncan pauses and waits to see who was approaching. He watched another two enemy soldiers from the shadows, this time dressed in the armour of House Harkonnen. He was about to spring out for the kill when one of them spoke.

"Well then we must hurry so we can get a piece of that before the others ruin him".

Duncan's blood froze and his vision turned red before he sprung into action, both their throats slit before they could register that they were being attacked. Blood splattered across his face and chest but Duncan ignored it as he took off running towards the banquet hall, the most logical place for the Baron to be. Duncan operated purely on instinct while a single thought ran on repeat in his head.

'They have Paul, they have Paul, they have P-'

Duncan slows down to a silent crouching walk as he nears the hallway that led to the banquet room, the Baron would have the door guarded and he did not want to alert them to his presence. He peeked around the corner and saw that he was correct. There were two men guarding the door but Duncan could tell they were distracted. He could also take a guess at what it was that distracted them. The door to the banquet room was opened, just a crack, but that was enough for the noises from within to drift out into the hallway.

The sound of skin against skin and muffled whines and broken off sobbing.

He bursts into the room with a roar. In a matter of seconds he sees Leto naked in a chair at one end of the table, the Baron seated with a feast before him at the other end. Then Duncan see's Paul, on his hands and knees on the floor. One soldier bent over his back, hips moving at a punishing pace and another at his front, using his mouth. Tears were streaming down Paul's cheeks mixing with the saliva that glistened on his chin. Blood was running in a thin stream down his inner thigh, the red glaring against the white of his skin.

Duncan feels rage boil in his chest, hor and swift and before he even has a chance to think about what he doing he has rushed towards the door, killing the two guards.

Tears were rolling steadily down Leto's cheeks as the wounded noises coming out of his son continued to increase in intensity. There seemed to be no end to the Harkonnen animals lining up to take their turn with him. One would finish, take their leave and another would step forward. He wasn't sure how much more Paul's body could take before it simply gave out.

Leto briefly considered releasing the poison hidden in his mouth, in the tooth Dr Yueh had replaced. It would release Paul from his abuse but Leto couldn't be sure it would travel far enough to also kill the Baron and he had to kill him. This would all be in vain if he couldn't kill the Baron.

Suddenly Leto hears an inhuman roar, full of rage and hate and then Duncan Idaho bursts into the room. He can hear the thud of the two guards at the door falling dead as his swordmaster moves over the threshold. Sees the silver-gray blur of blades flying through the air, killing another two. They had not yet reactivated their shields after having their turn with Paul.

The last two Harkonnen soldiers had only just begun their attack on Paul's abused body when Duncan arrived on scene. They moved quickly to intercept the intruder, barely doing their pants up first. They met in a clash of swords just at the edge of Leto's peripherals. He could see Duncan strike, swift and brutal, easily overpowering them and ending the melee in a matter of seconds. Their bodies hadn't even hit the floor before the swordmaster was rushing to Paul's side.

He sees movement at the other end of the room and pulls his gaze away from Paul and Duncan in time to see the tail end of the Barons robes as they flutter out the door. The coward had taken the first opportunity to make a run for it. No doubt he would be sending reinforcements soon. Leto needed to ensure Paul's safety, and quickly.

Paul who has slumped to the ground in a pile of pale limbs and lays unmoving, eyes staring off into the distance. If it wasn't for the fact Leto could still see his chest moving with his breath he would assume his son was dead.

Duncan gutted the last enemy present in the room, the Baron having mysteriously disappeared during all the attack. He rushes to Paul's side, placing a discarded cloak over his naked form and pulling the pile of his shirt and pants closer. He reaches out to gently touch Paul's curls but freezes when Paul violently flinches away from his hand. Paul not yet recognizing that it was Duncan and not one of those animals that had raped him.

"I'm so sorry my boy… I need you to get dressed so we can escape" He explained gently, hoping a familiar voice will allow Paul to come back from wherever his mind had gone. He nudged the pile of clothes even closer and dared to breathe a small sigh of relief when Paul reached out with shaking hands to grab his pants. "That's it my boy".

Duncan watched as Paul got dressed then tried reaching out again. "I'm going to carry you now, okay Paul?"

This time there was no reaction from Paul. His mind once again retreating in the wake of his rape. Duncan takes the risk and wraps the cloak back around his shoulders, bundles him up and picks Paul up in his arms and carries him to his Fathers side.

"My Lord, can you move?" Duncan knelt by Leto's side, subtly giving him a once over, checking for injury beyond his nakedness.

The Duke could barely open his mouth to answer.

"..no.. you must leave me.." His voice was barely above a whisper, Duncan having to strain to hear his words, "get Paul… away…"

"It will be done"

Duncan closed his eyes and knew that he would not be able to save his Duke and Paul. Not if Leto could not yet move. He shifted Paul's weight in his arms and nodded to Leto to show that he understood. He would have to leave his Duke, his friend and knew that by doing so his life would be forfeited. The Baron would see to it.

Leto let himself feel relief as Duncan carried Paul away. He knew that the swordmaster would do everything in his power to see his son to safety. He did not know when it had begun but anyone with eyes could see that the two were in love. It was written in every interaction the two had. He trusted no one more than Duncan to look after Paul.

The feeling had only just begun to return to Leto's limbs when the Baron made his reappearance. Flanked by over a dozen of his soldiers. It seemed he was not willing to risk Duncan Idaho's blood lust after what had been done to his charge.

Leto can hear the whirl of his lift repulsors as he floats his way across the room. His robes dragged across the floor with a soft slithering sound. The Baron approached Leto's prone form when the duke saw him hesitate mere feet away. It seems his paranoia was showing and he activated his own shield before finishing his approach.

"For hundreds of years we’ve traded blood for blood. But no more. Your son is broken, he will not survive long in the desert. Your concubine is dead. Tonight the House Atreides falls…and soon your bloodline will end forever".

As the Baron was giving his speech he had been leaning further and further into Leto's space. This gave Leto an idea, an opportunity to finally utilize the poison tooth Dr Yueh had left him with. He opens his mouth just enough for sound to escape, he needs to draw the Baron in even closer.

"Here I am. Here I remain" Leto bites the tooth, opens his mouth and breathes the poison into the air.

"What did you say?" It seemed to work as the Baron closed several more inches.

Duncan carries Paul through the palace, keeping to the shadows and out of sight of any other person. As they approach the hanger area he finds a secluded corner just outside the entrance to set Paul down while he investigates. He creeps down the corridor and peaks his head into the entrance of the hanger. He counts roughly a dozen Harkonnen soldiers loitering around, more than he can typically handle in a single fight. He will have to come in fast and brutal, make a show of force and hope they think him not worth the effort.

Duncan makes his way back to where he left Paul, hoping he has roused on his own but he is still zoned out. He is slumped against the wall, eyes staring into the distance. Duncan risks reaching a slow hand out and running his fingers through Paul's hair, trying to detangle some of the knots. Normally Paul would find the action grounding, one common between them after a nightmare but Duncan gets no reaction.

Duncan says a silent apology to his lover and resorts to a single sharp slap across the cheek. He can see Paul's mind snap back into focus, a look of shock coming across his face. Duncan was glad to see some emotion on Paul's face, even if he did not like the method he had to use to put it there. His boy has had enough pain.

As an apology he cups Paul's face between his palms, one thumbs gently stroking across his cheek.

"Listen to me Paul, are you listening?" Duncan waits for Paul to nod in acknowledgement. "There are only a few stragglers in the hanger, I'm going to take care of them, then we are going to take one of the 'thopters. When I call for you, you need to be ready to move. Can you do that?"

Duncan holds Paul's gaze and waits for him to nod again "I need you to say it out loud my boy".

"I understand… when you call for me, I run" Paul recited back to Duncan, voice barely above a whisper, the sound strained and hoarse. Duncan's blood boiled at the memory of what had caused Paul's voice to sound like that, at the image burned into his brain of the Harkonnen animals taking him from both ends. The sound of skin on skin, the pained sounds that had escaped Paul's mouth even while gagged with cock. He fought with himself, with his rage, and shoved the feeling into a box to deal with later. He needed to focus on the here and now, on the men he needed to kill, on the job he still had to complete. They needed to escape Arrakeen and he needed to get Paul to safety.

"Good, stay close and be ready." Pulling his blades from their sheaths with a quiet hiss, Duncan leaned back around the corner into the hanger, just enough to double check their position before he moved in.

They stay low and against the wall of the hanger, circling around to the group closest to 'thopter. Using the Atreides battlesign Duncan tells Paul to stay put before springing out of the shadows. He kills the four men in quick order, they had stupidly left their shields off maling them an easier fight then expected. The scuffle had drawn the attention of another group a few feet away but Duncan saw them hesitate.

Together they climbed into the 'thopter, Duncan at the controls and took off.

He lets out a war cry, slamming his blades together, the sound of metal on metal ringing out. He stalks towards them, pointing his long sword in a challenge which they luckily do not rise to meet. He turns to motion Paul forward only to see the young man already most of the way to his side.

Paul felt empty, like someone had opened his chest and removed all things vital for life. He felt broken, his body screaming at him, to run, to hide, to wither away and die. He had allowed those men to touch him, to take what did not belong to them. What had only ever belonged to the man beside him.

To infect him and make him unclean. He could feel the mixture of cum and blood dripping from his hole, the seat of his pants wet with it.

His fathers absence salt on the wound. After all that he had endured they had to leave him behind. The Baron would never let him live.

The only thing stopping Paul from throwing himself out of the moving 'thopter was the knowledge that Duncan would not hesitate to follow him into death. He would live, to stay with Duncan, to find his Mother, to avenge his Father and himself. The Harkonnens would pay. Blood called for Blood.

[quotidian-oblivion]

Wasn't tagged but decided to do this.

Repost and tell me how you draft as you write. Do you write in order? Do you start with something particular? How fully formed does your writing come out the first try? How many drafts do you go through? Tell me about your process because I’m curious!

*takes deep breath* o k a y.

First off, I rant. Don't know when, don't know where, once it was on a family trip on a ferry. But I rant. I rant about the plot. Sometimes, it's an excited rant, sometimes, it's an angry rant. My fics are always born out of some type of emotion. I rant pages and pages. If there isn't enough ranting on a doc, the fic doesn't work out (unless it's a oneshot), simple as that. Most times, I rant in one go. I cannot go back to ranting if I get interrupted for an extended period of time. So if I'm ranting about a possible fic, and someone interrupts me, they'll probably dead (/j). But occasionally, for some fics (it's random), i manage to go back and rant out more of a plot for them. The ranting nearly always happens at night.

Secondly, I let the rants stew for a long long time. Like wine in the basement. I don't know how alcohol works, I'm Muslim. But you get the idea. Oh! Another comparison, I let my rant-fics stew for a while like bread dough before you put it in the oven. Yk? To let the yeast to its thing. Yeah, okay, I'm gonna stop now. Sometimes, I go back and read the rants. Just for fun. Cuz those rants are fics made just for me and I enjoy them to the fullest extent.

Third, I come back if I'm in that fic's mood and decide to flesh it out and add chapters. And so I create the first chapter, copy+paste the part of the rant which will fit that chapter, and then I add more details to flesh the rants out a little more and make it into a more substantial and understandable plot. I add some missed details, close some holes, this is the most crucial part of my editing because this is the only time where major editing happens. If I need to make a major edit when I'm later on in the fic-writing process, I abandon it (most of the time). So yeah, this is the most crucial part. Sometimes, the chapter notes (I call it chapter notes), get so lengthy and detailed that they're good enough to be first drafts. So I consider them first drafts most of the time rather than chapter notes.

Fourth step, I do the extra bits. Which is generally the spontaneous stuff and whatever comes in mind. Like tags, ao3 notes, research etc.

The fifth step is actually writing it out. Or well, turning the first draft into a second draft, more comprehensible for other people reading. This is best done when I'm sleep-deprived and at night while I'm in bed with my sisters beside me, dozing off as my phone repeatedly falls and hits my face.

Sixth and last step is just editing. Grammar, little plot holes, adding or deleting a line here and there. Usually, this happens over a course of weeks cuz the bigger the gap I visit the document, the better I edit and think more objectively and clearly about this. But if the gap is too big, I get insecure and think the fic is cringe and delete the whole document. Just kidding, I stopped deleting my writing a while ago, but I abandon the story and shove it to the deepest depths of my head and docs. While writing, because I don't want the flow to break, I leave notes for future me [like this] (bolded and underlined in square brackets) and most of the time, they tell future-me about why the character has done a certain action, or what they will need to do next, and more commonly, telling future-me to find synonyms for words or the meaning of words I know, but am unsure about.

Aaaaaaand, then I post!

Obviously, this is different for one shots. One shots, are spontaneous and are generally written in one-sitting, but not all the time.

Oh! Also, I write chapters in order, but I don't plan it in order (which includes ranting and chapter notes). Sometimes, I get visions of cute moments or just stuff I want in fics and they're almost always actually comprehensibly written out scenes rather than babble only I can fully understand, and they go at the bottom of the document under 'Extracts'. The extracts can happen at any time as long as it is before the last step. If it comes when the sixth step is in place, I don't write it down or transfer it to another fic.

Anyway, yeah, I like rambling about things. This was really long. Ig I go through a total of... 6 or 7 drafts? Including the ranting as a draft. But this is only for multi-chaps. Oneshots vary.

No pressure tags: @wakkoroni @sardonic-sprite @tristicorde @cygnusdoesthings @pevensiechase @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @uncertainwallflower

[moodymisty]

❀ Misty's Follower Milestone Event ❀

EDIT: Event is finished!!! Thank you so much to everyone who's sent requests or kind words, it's been a blast!

Wow guys, thank you!! It means so much to see people enjoying my writing (and my silly chatting), and I hope to continue making you all happy <3 Deciding to come back to tumblr was the best choice I made last year.

I don’t really talk to much about myself on here, but I'll give a tiny bit of backstory. I’ve had this exact same blog since around 2011, it's seen so many fandoms, but I purged it in 2018. After that I completely quit posting online; Until last year when my depression decided to come back hard because of some irl issues, and I ended up going back to Star Wars and Darksiders as a comfort. Posting again was incredibly nerve-wracking as it had been so long since I’d written anything beyond silly personal drabbles, but I’m incredibly happy to see even one person enjoy what I make. I have zero shortage of self doubt for everything I create, but even if it sounds cheesy, nothing makes me happier than knowing something I created has made someone smile.

But wah wah enough sob story, onto the event! A sentence prompts list! I tried to make a good amount of spicy ones, some sfw ones, and even one or two angsty ones. Feel free to take any sentence(s) or prompts from here and send me a character in my ask box! Or multiple, if it strikes your fancy? Any Star Wars or Darksiders character is welcome, and I'm more than happy to stretch my legs and do a character I don’t do as much, or haven’t before.

I'll accept asks for this for around the two weeks or so give or take, so feel free to send something in if you'd like!

(I won’t be using my tag list on these posts just to avoid spam)

All the prompts are under this readmore, to avoid having a super long post.

↳Sentence prompts

“ I can’t stop thinking about you. ”

“ You really need to shave. ” 

" I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me. "

" Where do you think you're going? "  

“ You should go. ”

“ You have no idea how much I want to kiss you. ”

" Never tease me like that again. "

" Kneel. "

" Sorry, couldn't sleep. "

" I want to do bad things to you. "

" Do whatever you want to me. "

" I want you in my mouth. "

" Quit looking at me like that. I know what that look means. "

“ I just don’t like the way he/she/they look at you, that’s all. ”

“ You don’t own me. ”

" You don't have to be gentle with me. "

" I'd cut out that attitude. "

" I'm not letting you out of my sight. "

" You really want me? "

" I, didn't know you liked that. "

" Ask nicely. "

" I can't stop thinking about you. "

" Want to sleep in my bed tonight? "

" Can you teach me? "

" Keep talking. "

" You look so hot when you do that. "

“ Can you help me? ”

" Um... I'm stuck. "

" Were you crying? "

" I hate you. "

" You're so fucking cute. "

" Why do you never talk to me? "

“ I, I think I’m pregnant. "

" You need to choose. "

“You're shivering... do you want my (clothing here)”

↳Scenario prompts

Needing something off the top shelf and needing to ask for help to get it down

Finding out they have a momento of you somewhere on them they bring everywhere

You or them saying a petname by accident

Soothing you or them after having a nightmare

Caught partly undressed or totally naked

Sharing food

Having to bathe together

Sending or saying something naughty to them during an inopportune moment

Accidental(?) flashing

Stealing a piece of their(your) clothing

Patching them up after a fight

Cuddling up for heat

Making them(you) blush

Giving them a nice (sexy) surprise ;3

Being given/getting flowers

Secret relationship

Reading together

Getting caught/catching them during a 'private' moment

And again, thank you all so much!!!

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-twenty three

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: Hopefully this will keep y'all fed until the last chapter. WHICH I'M GOING TO CRY WHEN I POST THE FINAL CHAPTER TOMORROW. OMG. anywhoo, enjoy the smut.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh @tearfallpixie @cupidsdreams

"Noah?" I called out into the dark room, an uneasy feeling settling low in my belly.

It was late, the show in Paris ending a few hours ago. I hung back to help the crew tear down while Noah and the rest of the guys headed back to the hotel. They were exhausted as we were nearing the end of our month-long tour overseas with only two shows left and the thought of being able to go back home to sleep in our own beds made all of us giddy with excitement.

Home.

The place that Noah and I were slowly making ours before we had to leave. I was still very apprehensive about moving in with Noah because Jolly was living there but they both reassured me it was fine. It was a nice feeling to be wanted by someone and not in a sexual way. In a way that made your heart soar when they walked into a room or when they remembered to pick something up that you like from the store when they went earlier. I made a comment about how much I loved having iced coffee every morning so what did Jolly do? Bought four boxes of coffee and a specific machine that I could make the coffee iced.

The night before we left for the tour, I told Noah that I needed to run out to get something from the store. It was late in the evening, and he did not want me to go out alone to get it, so he offered. Immediately, I denied saying I was fine to go alone.

"Angel, just tell me what you need. I can run to the store and get it for you. You should stay in bed, it's already late."

"No, I can run to grab it. It's bad enough I have to ask my boyfriend for money so I can buy it, the last thing I need is for you to be the one that goes to the store for it." I quickly threw on my jacket and shoes so he couldn't stop me.

Noah chuckled while running a hand through his hair. "What, do you need tampons?"

My body stilled as I stared up at him.

"Oh, shit," he uttered. "You do need tampons."

"Yep," I said popping the 'P'. "So I'll be back in half hour."

Noah knew how stubborn I was but so was he so we ultimately agreed that we would go together. He ended up stocking the cart with atleast a three-month supply of tampons and pads also throwing in whatever sweet I was craving. My heart nearly soared out of my body when I saw him throw a large fuzzy blanket into the cart as well.

He shrugged. "It's heated. I'd figure it would help with the cramps."

That night he also bought me whatever else I would need to feel comfortable in the house since I lost everything in the fire. I only allowed him to buy me the essentials; toiletries, clothes and shoes, but I drew the line when he tried to buy me a new laptop. It was a pricey one where I could edit all the pictures, I took for their social media page when I went back to work.

"That's way too much money, Noah," I said with a stern voice. "I can save up some money to buy myself one. I'm sure Bryan has an old laptop I could use."

Bryan had one, even offered it to me, but Noah turned down his offer. All because when I went to open my suitcase after arriving in Europe for the first show, there was a brand new laptop still in its box with the plastic right on top of my clothes.

I remember being so pissed at Noah. I didn't talk to him for a few hours but eventually he wore me down, with his tongue, and I accepted the present with so much gratitude; with my lips wrapped around his cock.

The first night of tour, I was stoked to get back to work until I realized I didn't have a camera, that was until Bryan let me have an old one of is.

"It's a little older than the one you had, but I figured it would work for now," He pulled me into a side hug.

I wrapped my arms around him, heart aching with the amount of small gestures everyone in the band and crew had done for me. "Thank you."

Folio lifted my spirits whenever the bad thoughts crept back in my mind. A few nights ago, I woke up from a terrible nightmare. Noah was out with Nick and Jolly at a bar right down the road from our hotel in Ireland. It was the first night Noah wouldn't be by my side when I went to sleep since the fire and he was very nervous too. I reassured him I'd be fine because the nightmares stopped for a few weeks so when it clawed its way through my brain; I woke up with a shrill scream.

Flames tickled my skin, burning it right from the bones, as I reached for Noah to save me before falling into the dark depths of my death.

Folio's room was right next to mine and when he heard my screams, he texted me to make sure I was alright. I responded with a one word response.

No.

He stayed with me for the next hour until Noah returned, who was upset that I hadn't called him to let him know what happened.

"I didn't want to bother you," I blew out a shaky breath as he cupped my face.

"Angel, you could never bother me. I love you."

The last few days, though, I've noticed that Noah, Bryan, and Matt had been talking amongst themselves a lot but stopping as soon as I entered the room. At first it didn't bother me but now, it was making my mind race with what the hell they could be talking about. I couldn't dwell on it though because while I pack up my things to return to the hotel room tonight, Noah texted me he would be waiting up for me. Although the dark hotel room said otherwise.

"Noah?" I said again, this time flicking on the lights to the room.

I gasped when a hand wrapped around my throat from behind, cool leather pressing against the heated skin as a deep voice spoke.

"You're late."

Goosebumps pricked at my skin and I dropped my bag to the floor, ice cold fear filling my veins.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize what time it was," I tried to explain through my shaky voice.

He breathed me in then let go of his grip around my throat, pushing me forward slightly. Suddenly the room was blanketed in darkness again and I tried to maneuver my way through the dark until the bedside table lamp clicked on, a warm yellow glow showcasing the man that sat on the edge of the bed right in front of me blanketed in his own darkness. He slowly removed the hood of his jacket, his face covered by the black ski mask. It was as if he redressed himself after earlier.

Holy. Shit.

"Take off your dress," his deep voice demanded.

With a squeak, I shed off my black sundress with ease letting it fall to the ground at my feet. I stood in front of him in nothing but a matching red bra and panties set. Because of the mask, I couldn't tell if the sight of me affected him or not.

"On your knees."

I was on my knees so fast the carpet beneath my skin burned.

"Off."

One word that held so much power it made my body shiver with pleasure. Feeling cheeky, I unhooked my bra and slung it into his lap, the red lace contrasting to the darkness of his pants.

"Oops," I shrugged innocently.

His lips twitched into a scowl and hooked a finger towards me, beckoning over. My mouth ran dry when I realized I was in trouble and rose to my feet.

"No. Crawl to me."

Oh, so this is how it's going to be.

Whatever reserve I have about doing this was far gone along with my dignity. He wants me to crawl to him? With fucking pleasure.

The carpet scratched at my palms and knees until I stopped right in front of him and peered up at him through dark lashes. A gloved hand cupped my chin and forced me to look deeper into his eyes; dark and not a hint of the brightness I adored.

"You want to please me, don't you?"

I eagerly nodded. "Please."

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. "Good girl. Take my cock out."

The sound of his belt clinking to the ground and then a zipper echoed in the eerily quiet hotel room and soon, his thick cock sprung free. Pre-cum built at the head and I licked my lips, wanting a taste, but his grip on my chin tightened.

"Not yet. I need you to put your hands behind your back."

Once my hands were clasped together, he stood to his feet, hard cock right in front of my face and I whined when the pre-cum now spilled onto my lips.

Such a fucking tease.

He bent over my head to tie my hands together with his belt, pulling it tight.

"How is it?" His voice was lighter than he'd been using, full of concern.

Our facade slipped away for a moment as I smiled up at him. "I'm good, trust me."

His thumb grazed over my cheek then slipping back into character, he sat back onto the bed with his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Open."

Mouth wide for him, I moaned around his cock as it slipped between my lips finally getting a taste of him. I bobbed my head up and down the length as much as I could; the head hitting the back of my throat, but I didn't gag; I wanted this to be perfect for him.

He deserved this after the hell of a schedule he's had.

"Such a good girl," his head fell back in ecstasy when my tongue flattened against the underside of his cock.

I moaned in agreement as I continued to suck him despite the pain in my jaw. His hips raised up in my face so he could bury his cock deeper in my throat while his hand pulled tight at the ends of my hair. He was close I could practically taste it but before I could beg him to cum; he pulled me off of him with a loud pop echoing throughout the room.

"On the bed," he grunted while lifting me to my feet.

I scrambled onto the bed as best as I could since my hands were still tied behind my back. Both gloved hands gripped my hips as he helped me face the mirror on the wall to my right and I nearly came at the sight that stared back at me. Drool stuck to my face, mascara running down my cheeks from how hard I was sucking, and lips swollen from the thickness of his cock.

I was a mess, but he didn't mind because he all but ripped my panties off, leaving me bare in front of him while he remained fully clothed in his concert gear, mask and all.

He pushed my upper body down to the bed while my ass was raised in the air, the cool air from the fan causing my skin to rise with pricks. My pussy shivered with desire when I watched him in the mirror stare hungrily at me, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"I'm so fucking hungry, angel," he groaned.

I pushed my ass back towards his face. "Stop fucking teasing me-."

A hard smack to my ass echoed in the room and I mewled in pain at first then pleasure seconds after.

"Such a nasty mouth. Did my cock not teach you anything?"

I feverishly nodded. "Yes, it did."

Through the mirror, I noticed him tilt his masked face to the side while a gloved finger brushed over my wet folds. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, king," I moaned.

He rewarded me by slipping a finger in me, knuckle deep as he fingered me hard and fast.

"Oh god," I buried my face into the blanket beneath me.

His large body loomed over my back and left kisses along my spine. "Remember angel, there's no God here just us."

"Yes, fuck that feels so good," I gasped when he slipped another finger inside of me.

The feeling of his cloth gloves felt different but in such a good way. Through lidded eyes, I looked int the mirror to see his cock was still out of his pants; red and hard. Angry as it begged for release with the cum that dripped down to the bed.

His name fell off my lips as I begged for his cock. While his fingers were long and could reach that spot with ease, I needed the thickness of him to feel full.

"What do you want?" He purred while brushing his lips over my back, fingers slowing to an unmoving pace now.

"Please, I want your cock."

He hummed in response. "Anything for you, angel."

I screamed out as he pressed himself deep inside of me with one fast snap of his hips. One arm wrapped around my stomach from behind, enclosing my tied hands to his stomach, while his other hand kept us upright on the bed, palm flattened right next to my face. He tossed off one glove I didn't know when and when the small design of the back angel wings tattoo on his thumb became clear, my heart warmed and doubled in size.

Fuck, I really love this man.

"Noah," I moaned when I felt my orgasm build to a fever high, it needing to snap before it took me under.

He lifted me from the bed to adjust our position so we both were on our knees in front of the mirror. With his free hand, he spread my legs wider apart, and I leaned my head back against his chest with the new angel making him all of my most sensitive places all at once.

"Look at yourself," he demeaned.

I was exhausted but did what he asked by looking in the mirror, the sight so unholy. A man in a mask and dressed in black spearing me wide open on his cock.

"You're beautiful, angel," he praised with a hard thrust.

"Mine."

Thrust.

"Fuck," his burrowed his lips into my neck to bite down hard on the skin.

My throat was dry, raw, and I could barley make a noise as my orgasm finally ripped through me with such force I fell limp in his arms, my arousal coating his dick and pants.

"I love you," Noah moaned as he finally spilled himself into me, coating my walls.

We sat there for a long moment to let our breathing fall in slow sync with eachother then Noah gently laid me on the bed so he could remove the binds from my wrists. He rubbed the red marks before brining them to his soft lips, peppering it in kisses.

"Are you alright?"

I gave him a blissed out, goofy smile, and nodded. "More than alright. Thank you for this, Noah."

He made a noise low in his throat as he bent down to press a kiss to my lips.

"I should thank you, angel. This might have been my idea, but you were comfortable with it," he said while covering me with the blanket.

I held it to my exhausted body as I watched him remove the mask from his face, chocolate waves of his hair sticking up in many directions. Sweat beaded at his eyebrows and ran down the side of his face.

"I don't understand how you can perform three songs in that getup," I shook my head with a laugh.

Noah chuckled as well as he shed off the jacket and black shirt, now only wearing his black briefs and blank tank.

"The ladies love it," he walked over to the other end of the room.

I hummed. "Yes, they do."

Noah fiddled with something that was poised on the table in the room pointed directly towards the bed and mirror.

"Did you get what you needed?" I wondered with a cheeky smile.

He held the camera up towards me, the bright red light still blinking. "Sure did. Anything you want to say to the camera?"

I flipped it off. "If anyone sees this Noah Sebastian, I'll cut out your vocal chords."

Noah's vibrant laughter bounced off the walls of the room as he shut the camera off, letting it rest on the floor at our feet before he crawled into bed with me. He pulled me into his chest and left a chaste kiss on the back of my shoulder.

"I really should shower," I noted.

Sweat covered every inch of me, and I was a sticky mess between my legs.

Noah yawned while turning off the lights, drowning us in that same darkness from before. "In the morning, angel. Let's get some sleep."

If you all want to read Noah making Angel accept his gift with his tongue, read it here.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s.?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What's whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the whumptober2020 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, just be sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies of whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

[asimpforarmin]

Cuddling & Sleeping Headcanons with the AoT Characters 💛

Character(s): Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Bertholdt, Jean, Connie, & Sasha

Genre: Fluff, light-hearted.

Warnings: None

A/n: Did not mean for Bertholdt’s to be that long but oh well. It’s clear some of these are much longer than others, but I’m trying to get better at writing for a lot of people. A Modern AU is mentioned in Mikasa’s paragraph. Pretend this was posted Tuesday. I had a post I was going to edit so it said it was on Tuesday, but I already did all the tags here and because characters have multiple names I can’t be bothered.

💛 Eren:

Loves getting behind you and spooning you, arms around your waist and legs under your thighs. He’s good at it too, he’s very comfortable to snuggle with. You feel so special and lucky that you’ve got him this close to you.

Either that or him on his stomach with you halfway on his back.

He really can’t sleep and cuddle at the same time, so there’s going to have to be a point where he has to turn away from you.

He’s down to keep holding hands or something simple like that though if you still want to be touching him.

The blanket usually falls off him when he’s sleeping, meaning you usually have to drape it back over him before you fall asleep.

He’s one of those people who hangs his limbs off the side of the bed.

He also snores, not too loud, but it can get annoying sometimes.

Eren loves to rest a hand on your thigh or on your stomach while spooning you, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

He’s up for trying different positions, but only when he’s not tired. When he is tired, he just wants to hold you and go to bed as soon as he can.

💛 Armin:

Loves to lay on your chest or shoulder. He gets to look up at you and can talk to you as he falls asleep. Sure, your arm might go dead sometimes, but it’s worth it to see him lying on you, talking about his day and looking up at you admirably.

He likes to intertwine his legs with yours in this position, laying his head on you and sometimes holding one of your hands.

Oh, and if you use your other hand to rub his back or play with his hair, this boy will be in heaven.

He can fall asleep cuddling easily, he rarely has to roll away from you to sleep.

That being said, if you need to roll away, he’s fine with it, but he will try to see if he can cling onto you somehow. If you sleep on your side, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and bury his face into your back. If you sleep on your stomach/back, he’ll get on your side and link arms with you or hold your hand.

He also like to be little spoon a lot. Especially if he’s had a bad day, all he wants to do is be held by you.

He will be big spoon sometimes but only if you ask him or if he’s clinging onto you after you’ve turned around.

If you still can’t sleep when he’s doing that, he’ll just turn around and snuggle up to one of his pillows. Not in a sad way, but he just likes to clutch onto something.

Speaking of pillows, he sleeps with like three just on his side.

He will also steal your blanket from you. He doesn’t do it on purpose of course, but you’ll wake up cold in the middle of the night and have to discreetly try to get some of your blanket back.

You’ll end up with 1/4 of it back at most, unless you want to wake Armin up, so be prepared with another blanket somewhere you can grab.

💛 Mikasa:

Any position that lets her see your face is the best. She loves to just lay in front of you as you go on about what happened that day.

Just imagine coming home after a long day and collapsing on the bed alongside Mikasa, facing each other on your sides as she brushes a stray hair out of your face.

As you get more tired, she’ll get closer to you and take you in her arms, chin on your head.

Or if you’re on the couch together, she’ll lay down and pull you onto her stomach, tangling her legs with yours. One hand will be on your head playing with your hair and the other will be getting popcorn or reaching for a remote.

She’ll glance down at you, before sitting up a little and gripping your chin with her finger and kissing you, then lay back down.

Whatever position is comfortable for you is the one she’ll cuddle you in. She’ll manage to fall asleep in whatever pose you want her to be in.

She’s good at not taking the blanket away, but if you do she will take her side back. Most of the time, she’ll be able to get it back without waking you up, but if she does, she’ll apologize and plant a kiss on your head, then resume cuddling.

She doesn’t toss or turn or snore much at all, she sleeps like a rock.

She secretly loves it when you play with her hair. Just rake your fingers through it or massage her scalp and she’ll nuzzle into your neck trying to hide a small smile.

Wrapping your legs around her is another thing she likes. You probably won’t be able to fall asleep like this, but just sitting in her lap, legs and arms wrapped around her as she rocks you side to side is bliss.

If she wakes up before you, she’ll try her best to stay still and let you wake up on your own, sometimes falling back asleep.

💛 Bertholdt:

So we all know Bert has some crazy weird sleeping positions, but that doesn’t stop him from cuddling you. Because of this, he will have to turn around at some point, but will still cuddle you until he’s tired enough to go to sleep.

He likes to be little spoon, but because of his height that can be hard, so any position where he can be the one cuddled is great for him.

He’s fine with being big spoon as long as he gets to hold your hand while doing it.

After he inevitably turns around, if you can somehow find a way to cling onto him, he’ll let you, but that’s almost impossible most nights.

He’s one of those people who sleeps with his leg up and crossed over the other, and can also get a stack of pillows under his head to prop it up at a 90˚ angle but still be comfortable.

A position he’d like is to just have you on his chest. He’ll kiss your forehead and play with your hair. After he does, kiss his cheek, it will make him blush like no tomorrow.

He loves it when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, then he wraps his around your waist. It’s a loving position that makes it easy to look into each other’s eyes.

He also likes to sleep in opposite directions but have your backs touching. Even if it’s not super close or face to face, it’s comfortable and still feels really nice.

Don’t be surprised if you get accidentally pushed to the side or off the bed. If you’re on the edge, it’ll be hard to get back, but he’s alright with being woken up if you need more room.

If he pushes you off the bed, he’ll probably know straight away from the loud thwump that comes from the other side. He’ll bolt up and apologize profusely and help you back up. Then, he’ll bring you close and kiss you all over. It’s not a big drop, but he’ll still act like he dropped you off a cliff. You’ll have to assure him you’re alright, but no matter what you do, he will be glued to one side of the bed the rest of the night. You only fall off on rare occasions though, so that’s good.

The only downside to sleeping with Bertholdt is that your presence makes it harder to predict the weather. ok ill stop with the jokes im sorry

💛 Jean:

LOVES face to face stuff. He’ll hug you close and tight, giving you lots of forehead kisses and just cherishing you.

He’ll hold you like there’s no tomorrow, just feeling so lucky to have you. He’ll never tell you any of this, but he’s so happy he got someone like you.

All night, he’ll make sure you have the blanket wrapped around you and that you’re comfortable.

He also likes to spoon you, rubbing your upper arm or back. He really likes to be little spoon too. Unless you begged him for like a week, he would never be little spoon. But once he tried it, oh lord he loved it.

He doesn’t let you spoon him too much because, y’know, ego, but when you do he loves when you wrap your arms around his waist and intertwine your legs with his.

He’d snore a lot, but it wouldn’t be too loud. It’s usually just a low rumble and you don’t hear it that much.

If you’re in a position to, put your hand on his chest, he adores it.

💛 Connie:

Be careful of his legs because he will kick you sometimes. Not purposefully of course, but he is a deadly weapon when he sleeps.

Which is why he normally sleeps in the opposite direction of you.

He adores being little spoon, plus his height makes it easy to do.

He will have no shame in being the little spoon, unless someone finds out he is and gives him crap for it. Then he’ll yell at them, getting all defensive and flustered. After that he’ll assume the little spoon position defiantly.

If you’re facing each other, putting your legs together is a must, just hope he doesn’t kick you in the shins.

If he does, he’ll apologize and laugh at what he did, before flipping over to make sure he doesn’t kick you again.

💛 Sasha:

She will steal the blanket from you 24/7. No doubt about it. Even if you manage to get it back, she will do it again.

She loves getting cuddly with you. She will be big spoon, little spoon, lay on you, whatever makes both of you comfortable.

She does snore on the louder side though, which annoys the crap out of anyone else in the room, whether that be just you or if she’s in the barracks.

She loves it when you sit up and hold each other, rocking left and right, she will melt in your arms.

She’ll love to cuddle and talk about her day with you. She’ll come up with a lot of different topics and it will never get boring.

There will be crumbs in your bed, that is the price of dating Sasha. She’ll try to clean them out sometimes, but there will always be that one that ruins your sleep.

She loves it if she’s laying on her back and she’s holding your shoulders as you lay on her chest. In that position you can hear her heartbeat and she can kiss your head.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VI

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1567.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

________

You spent the rest of your evening like a somnambulist, barely able to concentrate on your projects before you went to bed, barely finishing half of the things you planned for today. Even the change of locks didn't make you as happy as you thought it would. It felt like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Lying in the dark, you stared at the ceiling, thinking of what happened just a couple of hours ago. Why did he do it? Was it just out of habit and didn’t mean anything? Naturally, with his appearance and easy-going attitude, he probably dated many girls and didn’t think much before kissing someone he liked.

Remembering the way he talked to you in the morning, you thought he must have pretended to be shy around you. Thor certainly wasn’t sheepish.

Was it all a sham? Was Loki right about all of them, playing their roles to get close to you? You couldn’t forget the way Thor looked the moment he told you about being smart. It was like something switched inside him, and for a second you saw the real Thor who was far from being your simple, good-natured athlete.

Why did you keep thinking about that stupid kiss even after seeing the man could be dangerous?

Aroused and angry, you tossed and turned until you fell asleep.

____________

Waking up was especially tough, despite the fact you didn't really do much yesterday, meaning you were going to spend your weekend studying. Shoot, and that's when you planned to visit that new chocolate boutique in the city. Maybe you could still make it if you spent more time studying today?

But then again, going to the city alone might be a bad idea. Even if the guys who stole your things were beaten, it didn't mean it had always been the same people following you. The school was full of weirdos, in the end. What if somebody went after you? Steve would definitely say you had to bring one of your guards with you.

Damn. It was better staying in the dorm then.

"Good morning! Are you ready?" Peter's voice broke through the silence, and you flinched, hurriedly applying some lipstick because you didn't have enough time to put your makeup properly.

Well, at least you were fully dressed.

"Just give me a second!" Picking up your bag, you put your shoes on and opened the door, looking at a young guy who's face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!"

He definitely liked what he saw, and you felt your cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. From the very start of the semester Peter acted very sweet around you, and you thought you could be friends with him. He wouldn't do something as ugly as blackmailing, would he? Thor said it too. Clearly, Steve was exaggerating.

"Did you sleep well? I've heard you changed your lock, so now it'll be better."

"Ugh, I hope so. But I still sleep with my dresser blocking the door." Sighing, started walking, afraid to look in the faces of other students, hurrying off to school.

They must have been disgusted, watching you being friendly with one guy after being all lovey-dovey with the other just yesterday. Although you didn't see anyone in particular, you were sure somebody saw Thor kissing you. And now you were walking the corridors with Peter.

"By the way, what's your Insta?"

What? Your Instagram? Whatever for? Although you had no idea why he needed it, you let him add you, by the time leaving the dorm and walking towards the main building.

Suddenly, Peter got pretty close, his arm on your waist as he lifted up his phone and hummed, "Look here and smile!"

Before you realized what he was doing, the boy kissed your temple, and you heard the sound of a photo being taken by his front-facing camera. What the Hell?!

"Peter!" Pissed at him, you quickly break free and stepped back, but he was already looking at his phone, editing the photo and posting it almost immediately.

You heard your phone buzz when he marked you on the photo.

"That's a good one. You look very cute here."

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a proof we're dating, of course?"

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and Peter smiled from ear to ear like an excited teenager, showing you the picture: it wasn't that bad, and you looked as if you were slightly embarrassed by Peter's closeness. Oh, of course. He had to convince his friends he was dating you, but he didn't kiss you on the lips that could make other people too suspicious. Instead, friends of Barnes or, say, Thor, would still think it was all for show, and it was their friend who dated you for real.

Shit, Steve's plan was incredibly complicated, and you didn't like it at all.

"Oh, alright." You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the ground, and Peter laughed.

"We'll make a TikTok dance later. If you wanna make people talk, just use your social media." He winked at you and put the phone in the pocket of his pants, resuming walking, and you moved along, your face still hot.

God, what did these guys got you into? You felt like you were lost in the middle of a play, not even having a script to read what was your role in all this.

Before you parted your ways, going to a different classrooms, Peter talked about videogames, the upcoming Resident Evil - apparently, his favorite franchise - and some Dota tournament, but you didn't know much about it, and Peter offered to show you his favorite games "because you can't spend all your time studying!"

He was as careless and sweet as always, but you couldn't get Steve's words out of your mind. Damn, if only you could know for sure that Peter didn't blackmail anyone. Who could you talk to about it? Obviously, not Peter himself, but every time he spoke you had that nagging feeling you needed to talk to him. You barely kept your mouth shut before he went to a different room.

Ugh, why didn't you transfer anywhere else when you still had a chance? Obviously, now you could only drop out of school, and it definitely wasn't something you were going to do.

Luckily, the next couple of hours you were busy with your classes, trying your best to prepare for the upcoming exams. The academy held high standards, and even though you were a good student, it still took lots of efforts to keep up the good work. How Thor even managed to get enrolled, judging by the fact he hated studying and often skipped classes?

Ah yes, he mentioned something about getting a scholarship from the academy for his success in the sport.

By the lunch time you were drained, listening to Peter chatting with an absent-mindedly epxression on your face. Funny enough, Peter's grades were better than yours, even though he spent much less time studying. What, was he some genius like Loki? You felt a little envy.

"I gotta go take my tracksuit, I have PE next," the boy said, and you nodded, throwing away the leftovers of your lunch.

As you stood close while he grabbed his sportclothes, you heard two guys talking behind the lockers to your right.

"Have you seen her today? She's with Parker!"

You tensed immediately. Of course, they were talking about you.

"Yeah, so what?"

"She was with Thor yesterday!"

Watching you froze on the spot, Peter stilled too, listening carefully. Oh shit, you hoped no one cared about who you went with - why should they, in the end - but, apparently, you were drawing too much attention simply because you were a girl among hundreds of male students.

"So what?" The other guy asked impatiently, growing tired of this conversation.

"Are you stupid? She's going out with them! I bet she's looking for a guy." The first student said with excitement, and you cringed. No, you weren't going out with anyone, you wanted to stop the weirdos from following you and steeling your things. Was it too much to ask?

"Yeah, who cares?"

"We have three fucking girls in the whole school, and you don't care if one of them could be going out with you? Besides, this one's pretty. I'd fuck her!"

You felt like you were going to puke any moment. Why on Earth did you decide to transfer to an all-boys school? It was like the whole school were a men’s room filled with stupid-ass guys, and you were locked inside, forced to listen them talk junk.

"You'd fuck a sheep, weirdo. Go get yourself a girlfriend if you can’t stop thinking with your dick.”

Laughing, the guy left, and his friend followed him, shouting something stupid while you breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, you knew there would be some talk, but you didn’t expect it to be so... gross. Were you really gonna spend the two remaining years here?

Watching you getting frustrated, Peter gently touched you by the arm and said softly, “Don’t worry. They won’t talk rubbish about you.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly thinking of Steve’s words, you blurted out exactly what you were thinking of the whole day, “Are you going to blackmail them with something?”

“I... what?”

Part VII

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi

[winterandwords]

Sort of thinking of maybe putting a whole book on here?

I don't think you all realise just how seriously I'm considering creating a side blog to publish November Breaks (AKA Project Storm, if you've been following me for a while) directly onto Tumblr when it's ready.

This isn't as crazy or weird as it sounds. My current plan (for the love of god, don't ask me to explain this, I've talked about it SO MUCH) is to have it available, free, on my website to read online (with a full indexed contents page, and < last chapter | contents | next chapter > on each page) and also to download as an epub, mobi and pdf. I'm already posting it on the internet in a way people can read it without having to buy it first.

There is a tip jar on my website. It runs on PayPal, so can be used with a PayPal account, debit card or credit card. Anyone who wants to, and is able to, can put some money in there if they enjoy the book.

I could very easily put a link to that tip jar page, or even add PayPal buttons or links (if that's OK by Tumblr rules, which I'm actually not 100% sure about and would need to check) on the chapters on Tumblr, so I could have a tip jar equivalent here and the contents page and navigation would be no more hassle to set up than on winterandwords.com (I've done it for my short story collection that's coming out next month and it wasn't a huge ball-ache).

The only thing stopping me is the thought of random chapters being reblogged out of context. I'm not entirely sure why that would bother me, because it would actually lead people to the full book if they wanted to read. I just have feelings about it.

I'm mildly iffy about the higher chances of plagiarism of something posted on Tumblr, because at least on my website the context is solid. I mean, people will plagiarise whatever they're going to be plagiarise and I stopped losing sleep over that a long time ago. Yes it's happened with other things I've put online when I was working as a photographer, yes it was annoying, no the world didn't end, and the internet is what it is. Piracy, plagiarism and copyright violation exist. They boil my piss, but realistically anything anyone puts online is vulnerable to it. There's more to this, but it's a whole 'nother post, I've slept for one hour out of the last 36 and I don't have the mental capacity to get into it right now.

Anyway. The thing with chapters being reblogged out of order. How much of a problem is that really? Do I care? I sort of feel like there are probably people who would read a book on here, whether serialised or all at once, who might not go to an external site to read it, but maybe that's a flawed assumption. I don't know. Tired brainspew.

Slightly-later-Winter had a thought. If I do ever decide to do anything else with this book in terms of publishing (definitely not trad pub though), I can easily remove it from being read online or downloaded from winterandwords.com. But. It's one thing to know there are some copies floating around that people downloaded, and another entirely knowing there are reblogged random chapters forever kicking about on Tumblr, possibly with comments and reblog additions attached. I can't articulate why that's a thing for me, but I think it is?

Thoughts? Would you read a (short) novel on here? Have you posted one or are you posting one? How's it going for you?

EDITED TO ADD: I'm gonna tag a bunch of my chatty mutuals. I'd love to know what you think, but please don't feel like you HAVE to reply. You totally don't. I just know how quickly things fly past here.

@thegreatobsesso @ashen-crest @adie-dee @reeseweston @talesfromaurea @indecentpause @lunarmoment @diphthongsfordays @artbyeloquent @pertinax--loculos @manathen @selishady @eyes-talks-ocs @drippingmoon @the-finch-address @drabbleitout and anyone else who wants to share your views. My brain has just ceased, so I probably missed a bunch of folks. It's not you. It's definitely me.

[heartbreakgrill]

Found Me a Lover; Calum Hood

a/n: literally nothing special, but I was feeling fluffy. 18th Valentine’s Day alone 😃

description: you and your man celebrate

You scrolled through Instagram, liking and commenting hearts on your friends Valentine’s Day posts. You skipped past random celebrities you followed because it would be slightly weird if you would comment heart on their posts. Occasionally, you’d repost someone’s adorable couple photo on your story for your followers to also gush over.

Duke lay happily on your thighs, head tucked into your elbow as your fingers lazily pulled through his fur. The television played the LA morning news, reciting some stories of homicides, house fires, and the occasional, heart warming love story. You shut off your phone and stared at the tv. You were barely paying attention, still tired from just having woke up.

You heard footsteps traveling down the hallway and peaked around the back of the couch. Calum, hood up and sweatpants lazily hanging off his hips, shuffled into the kitchen. You heard him pouring a glass of coffee before he rounded the wall and came in by the tv stand. You smiled at him, affection ready to ooze from your tongue.

He plopped onto the couch beside you, tossing his arm around your shoulder. A wet, fat kiss landed on your cheek, his breath smelling of coffee and sleep. Duke abandoned you for his dad, who made baby noises at him. You snuggled into his neck, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Calum recited the corny, capitalistic holiday slogan. “How long ya been up?”

You shrugged, “About ten minutes. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“As per usual,” he snickered. You simply tossed a smile in his direction before comfortable silence became you.

After a little bit, you stood up to go get ready. You didn’t do much, just washed your face and brushed your teeth and changed your sleeping pants to your lounging pants. Quarantine intruded on having any actual plans for Valentine’s Day, so you were planning on just doing what you normally did: Lay around.

Calum followed along not far behind you, rejoining you on the couch with a glass of water and a poptart. He held out the pastry to you and you snapped off your preserved half. You gave Duke a small nibble.

Calum swallowed, “Hey, I know we can’t do much. But, what if we just got dressed up?”

“Miss seeing me in a dress, huh?” You teased.

He winked at you, “Just a little.”

“Yeah, we can do that. Did you have plans for dinner?”

“Just figured we could order in,” Calum nodded.

Your two love languages weren’t acts of service, just quality time together. So, most Valentine’s Days were spent together, at home, sometimes with fancy dinners at night. You’d exchange gifts, but never did too much.

“Sounds good. It’s not too chilly, so maybe we could sit outside and turn on the fairy lights and stuff,” you recommended. He nodded.

Another thing about the two of you was that neither of you enjoyed surprises. You always planned. You knew already that he would be proposing, and you knew it wasn’t going to be in public. Hell, you were already technically engaged, he just hadn’t given you a ring. You knew you’d be getting married in the summer. You knew that, for your birthday next week, he’d be taking you up to San Francisco for a picnic by the bridge. Planning made you both feel safe.

Calum nodded. You lay on the couch for the rest of the day. At one point, Calum left you to go workout, then he showered, and moved to his music room. You joined him there, sitting on the mini couch with Duke as his dad worked on a song he would pitch to the band. You showered after a bit and then started getting ready.

Calum came into the bedroom while you were in the middle of putting on foundation. He smiled at you through the mirror of your vanity, making you blush. You went back to blending your makeup as he found an outfit. Calum connected to the speakers in your room and shuffled the playlist the two of you shared on Spotify: “You are everything.”

It was formed not long after you started dating, but titled six months into your relationship. You had started binge-watching The Office together, and in one Jim and Pam’s final scenes, Jim says, “Not enough for me? You are everything.” Naturally, you titled it as such.

Soon enough, you were done with your makeup. Calum had since propped up against the headboard, playing on his phone and sometimes glancing at you. When you passed him, your song came on. You had never really had one, but a few months ago, you had watched a TikTok edit of Calum and a song talking about someone who plays the bass. You showed it to Calum, who fell in love with the premise of the song, and wouldn’t stop playing it. Everytime he did, he’d drop whatever he was do it and pull you close, rocking to the beat.

You stopped in your tracks and turned to your boyfriend. He raised his eyebrows cheekily at you, reaching out a hand. You pulled him off the bed, hands finding their place on his shoulders. He grabbed your waist.

“And then I found me a lover who could play the bass, he’s kinda quiet, but his body ain’t.”

You giggled as Calum spun you around quickly. He pulled you back into his chest, dipping you to the floor. Your hair whipped in his face, and he nearly ate a chunk. He spit it out, his expression hilarious. Laughter rang from the two of you, as your bodies parted slightly. He held your hand and you began jumping to the best of the chorus.

Once the song finished, Calum pulled you into his chest. You kissed him gently, fingers gracing the bottom of his jaw. He spun you away towards the closet, emitting laughter. You found your red dress, the one you had planned on wearing to their album’s release party. He’d seen it before, since you’d put on numerous “I’m bored, I need something to do,” fashion shows.

Still, though, when you walked out of the closet, barefoot and casual, Calum grinned widely. “I am literally so head over heels for you. Like, if you asked me to go to kill Luke, I might consider it.”

“Do it, I wanna date Sierra,” you challenged.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Calum tsked, enveloping you in his arms. “Let’s go eat.”

“Oh did you order already?”

“Yeah, I think it just came in,” Calum’s hand slid down to your fingers, grasping them between his. He led you to the front door, where your food was on the porch.

You helped him pick up everything and set it up on the patio table. The pool glistened under the glow of the string lights, a warm breeze blowing ripples through the liquid. You moved your chair next to your boy, sitting criss-cross, though you were in a dress. Calum looked over at you, a bright smile caressing his cheeks and lips. You swept his hand into yours, and though it slowed your eating, you didn’t care.

It wasn’t anything special, but it was enough.

Tag List: @mantlereid @boxofteenageideas @dinosaursandsocks, @ashhdaniellee95 @stephaniemelvie @zhangyixingxing1 @verlaneswiftie13

[darling-cas]

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes. 

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

--------------------

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one. 

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a  ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before. 

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed. 

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls. 

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.” 

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.” 

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse. 

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness. 

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas. 

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke. 

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers. 

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words - 

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move. 

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?” 

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger. 

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening. 

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next. 

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-” 

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he? 

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs. 

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew. 

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?” 

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake. 

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.  

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon. 

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town. 

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.