#i feel like i must have been possessed by the writing fairy or something

[ihni]

A moment in the rain

My last fill for @harringrovesummerbingo, square C3, prompt: "Wedding party ruined by a thunderstorm"

5,3K, general audiences, no warnings.

Summary:

Billy and Steve are at a wedding, when there's a sudden downpour. While the other guests scramble to run inside, the boys both decide to escape the rain under the same gazebo.

(On AO3 here)

Fic under the cut:

With about a hundred guests, the whole backyard decked out in flowers and decorations, a band playing live music and enough food to feed twice the number of attendants, it was a surprisingly grandiose wedding for a couple roughly a year out of high school, even if their families happened to be upper middle-class. But if one scratched the surface a little, one could see that there had been attempts at reducing the costs, and perhaps not everything was as fancy as it looked at first glance. The tablecloths were old sheets, the glasses and plates didn’t match from one table to the next, and the flowers – except for the bride’s bouquet and the groom’s boutonniere – were mostly wildflowers and picked locally. Besides this, Steve recognized the wait staff as mostly teens from the neighborhood, and the guitarist in the band was Tommy’s older cousin from Canada. Steve also happened to know that all the food had been prepared in advance by relatives and friends of the bride and groom over the course of the last week or so – he’d actually been a part of it himself, spending an evening a couple of days ago scrubbing thirty pounds of potatoes for the potato salad.

From what Steve could see, the only thing they hadn’t had a hand in preparing themselves was the wedding cake, which hadn’t been rolled out yet but which he had gotten a glimpse of in the kitchen – it was a square two-tier cake the size of a small table that looked like it was more than big enough to feed everyone in attendance. Steve was currently on his second helping of potato salad – seeing as he had helped make it happen, also it was really good – but he made a mental note to leave space for dessert.

The reception was held outdoors, in a huge backyard where Steve had spent countless afternoons when he was younger. In the middle of the lawn and in the center of attention, the newlyweds held court. Tommy looked more proper than Steve had ever seen him in a grey three-piece suit and a powder blue bowtie, and Carol looked like a dessert herself in a dress that had to have had more fabric than all the tablecloths put together. Both of them were radiating happiness, and despite everything, Steve couldn’t help but be happy for them. The three of them may not have been as close as they once were, but they’d made up after graduation, and as all three of them remained in Hawkins instead of leaving town like so many others, they stayed in contact and eventually started tentatively hanging out again. Steve had even helped Tommy pick out the morning gift for Carol – a small gold circlet, a simple band that would go around her wrist. Steve knew Carol, and suspected that she would cry when she got it.

Just like Carol’s dad and Tommy’s mom had cried in the church, during the ceremony. In all fairness, it had been a beautiful ceremony, and even Steve had gotten a bit emotional and had to blink away tears.

Seeing as they were in Hawkins, and considering the fact that both Tommy and Carol had lived in Hawkins their whole lives – just like Steve – Steve knew or recognized just about everyone at the reception. It was kind of nice, actually – like a reunion only a year after graduating. And he found himself thinking that it was a wonder what a year out in the real world could do. People who Steve hadn’t been able to stand at the end of the school year suddenly seemed more grown-up – talking about college or their work, rather than partying – and he had a surprisingly pleasant and only slightly stilted conversation with Debbie, who he’d avoided for a whole school year after a disastrous second date which ended with him throwing up on her shoes.

The less said about that, the better – a sentiment Debbie seemed to share.

All in all, it was a beautiful wedding and Steve was having a good time. He’d brought Robin as his plus one – knowing full well that it wouldn’t exactly stop the rumors that they were dating – but he hadn’t seen her since Heather Holloway whisked her away an hour ago. He didn’t mind, though, as it gave him a chance to catch up with old friends and acquaintances.

There was one more thing that the newlyweds hadn’t skimped out on, and that was the booze. Considering how they both used to party, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that there was a wide assortment of alcoholic beverages to choose from – and even though Steve had stuck to the (cheap) champagne, he was feeling the effects of it, which in retrospect might be why he found everyone he talked to to be more pleasant company than he remembered. Other partygoers did not stick to champagne, though, and people were already getting louder and a tad more disorderly. Steve suspected that at least one fight would break out before the night was over – which was honestly a staple of a good wedding in Hawkins, Indiana. He doubted that the police would be called, though, as Tommy’s uncle worked for the Hawkins Police Department, and he was already one of the loudest people in the crowd.

Eventually, the cake was brought out to the delight of the assembled, and the crowd cleared an empty space on the grass. The band started playing a slower song, and Tommy reached out a hand for Carol, who took it and let herself be led to the improvised dance floor. She had kicked off her shoes so she was barefoot in the grass as they danced their first waltz together as a married couple. The two of them were beaming and only seemed to have eyes for each other. Once more, Steve had to swallow against a lump in his throat and blink away tears as he watched his old friends be so happy together. He hadn’t even known that Tommy knew how to waltz.

A while into the song, Tommy’s parents, followed by Carol’s parents, started dancing too, which signaled that the dancefloor was now free for all. As couples started swaying on the grass – perhaps swaying a little more than planned, due do the uneven surface and the amount of alcohol already consumed – Steve extricated himself from the crowd and walked off to the side of the big yard. From here, right at the tree line, he could see everything clearly. The house, the people; all familiar in a way that made his heart feel warm, like it had been wrapped up in cotton.

The song ended, and everyone applauded. The band started up a new song – a faster one – to the whoops and claps of the crowd, and the dance had just started anew when the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning. The backyard was bathed in a shockingly white light for a fraction of a second, followed by a loud boom which seemed to shake the earth and rattle the windows of the house. People screamed and ducked before realizing that it was only thunder, at which point nervous laughter spread through the crowd instead.

Then the rain started. Up until this point, Steve had barely noticed the way the sky had darkened – had assumed, in the back of his head, that it was because it was getting later – but now he looked up and saw that the reason why it was darker was that the sky was heavy with thick grey clouds. Another flash of lightning struck somewhere close by, and the rain intensified from one second to the next.

Chaos ensued. People dispersed from the yard like cockroaches; men and women both snagged whatever they could off the tables and ran for the house. Carol’s aunts grabbed whoever they could reach and directed them to carry the cake inside to save it while the band scrambled to protect their gear against the rain. Meanwhile, the air was full of the rumbling of thunder and the sound of people shrieking and laughing as they fled the open space of the backyard. And in the middle of it all, alone on the suddenly abandoned lawn, were Tommy and Carol – laughing and kissing in the downpour, still dancing to music no one else could hear and getting their fancy clothing all wet.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them.

But then it suddenly registered how the rain wet his suit and seeped into the fabric and ruined his carefully arranged hair, and he made a run for it, too. People were still cramming into the house, though, so instead he headed for the old gazebo at the edge of the woods, where he and Tommy had played for hours and hours when they were kids. It was run down nowadays and could use a paint job, but the roof was intact and it would be enough to protect him against the rain.

Just when he ducked in under it, though, someone else came running from the other direction to take refuge under the same roof, and in the flash of another lightning, Steve found himself facing Billy Hargrove, who he up until now had only seen snippets of in the crowd. They both stopped at opposite edges of the gazebo, water dripping from their clothes and hair – although Billy seemed to have gotten off lighter, since he’d come from the cover of the trees.

“Harrington,” Billy said as the thunder rumbled, one side of his mouth tipping up in a leering smile as he shook his head to get the wet tendrils out of his face. “Long time no see.”

It had been a long time, was the thing. Steve hadn’t really seen him since graduation day when Billy had sped out of the parking lot immediately after the ceremony. According to Tommy, he hadn’t gone back to California though, like everyone had expected – no, he’d ended up in Indianapolis, of all places. Steve had been surprised to hear it, since he hadn’t gotten the impression that Billy liked Indiana. But perhaps his dislike had only applied to Hawkins.

“Hargrove,” Steve said cautiously with an acknowledging nod, and watched as Billy’s smile widened. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Nah,” the man said. “I live in Indy now.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak as he shook his sleeves to get rid of the excess water droplets, and they fell into silence. It wasn’t really an awkward kind of silence, despite their history, because the rain beating down on the roof was too loud for casual conversation anyway. Steve twirled the glass he was still holding between his fingers, and downed it. He put the empty glass down on the railing and looked out across the yard, considering if it was worth it to cross the yard in this weather.

Everything looked grey in the rain, and the house was barely visible due to the downpour. Tommy and Carol had disappeared, and all that was left on the lawn were the abandoned tables and scattered and overturned plastic chairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Billy come up next to him, but keeping a respectful distance.

“Nice party,” Billy commented, his voice more audible now when he was closer.

Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but before the rain had hit it had been a nice party, so, “Yes,” he said simply, “it is.”

Billy huffed out a breath. “It suits them. A wedding party as stormy as their relationship.”

It rankled, for some reason, to hear Billy talk about Tommy and Carol like that, even though Steve knew that what he’d said was true. Billy hadn’t known them for more than a couple of years – what did he know? “You think you know them so well?” he couldn’t help saying.

Billy peered at him and then turned to face him. “You think you do?”

Which, as much as he hated to admit it, was fair. Steve had been the one to pull away from Tommy and Carol back in school, while Billy had spent most of senior year at their side. And Steve knew that they were still in contact with Billy, that they’d been visiting him in Indy a couple of times, even. He just didn’t like to be called out on it. But he wasn’t about to argue. The last time he’d argued with Billy, he’d ended up on the floor of the Byers’ house with a concussion. So, “Maybe not,” he said between clenched teeth and a stiff smile. He turned to Billy to say a polite goodbye, planning on making a run for the house after all – that cake had looked good, and he wanted a piece – but the words died on his tongue as it registered that Billy was shirtless under his suit jacket. Not just wearing a shirt that was half-unbuttoned, like he’d expected – no, there was simply no shirt at all.

He stared for a moment too long, because Billy let out a laugh and said, “My eyes are up here, Harrington.”

Face burning, Steve’s eyes snapped up to Billy’s, expecting to see a mean smirk or calculating eyes. Instead, he was met with a smile and eyes glittering with mischief. It made him want to relax and tense up at the same time, not knowing what to expect. “Where’s your shirt?” he blurted out, in a too-obvious attempt at distraction. He had to have been wearing a shirt earlier – Steve doubted that the priest would have let him inside the church if he hadn’t been wearing one.

“Someone spilled wine on it,” Billy replied, still smiling.

“And, what?” Steve said. “Carol just let you walk around with no shirt on at her wedding?”

Billy took a step closer so Steve could hear the purr in his voice as he said in a low voice, “Carol was the one who spilled the wine. Accidentally, of course.” He raised one eyebrow. “She was also the one that pointed out I couldn’t very well walk around with a shirt with a wine stain on it. She basically begged me to take it off. And who am I to argue with the bride on her wedding day?”

Of course. Steve wasn’t even surprised, Carol had always had a wandering eye – and even Steve had to admit that Billy was nice to look at. “And Tommy was okay with that?”

“Tommy had no complaints,” Billy said, voice low and rumbling like the thunder overhead.  “I caught him staring, too. Kinda like you, just now.”

The reminder brought a flush to Steve’s face, and he took a step back. Desperate to change the subject, he grasped for something, anything to ask.

“What were you doing in the woods?” was what he came up with.

Billy leaned back so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on the wooden railing, comfortable as you will while giving Steve his space. “Had to take a piss.”

“In the woods?” Steve asked, struggling to regain his composure after Billy had knocked him off-balance by getting so close and being so … shirtless and sultry. “Classy as always, Hargrove.”

“Have you seen the queue to the bathroom?” Billy cackled. “It was the woods, or piss my pants. And then I’d been without a shirt and pants, and then the horny little newlyweds would probably have ravaged me right there on the lawn.”

Pointedly not thinking about Billy out of his pants, Steve snorted. “You wish.”

Billy made a so-so motion and shrugged. “I mean, none of them would be my first pick, but it’d be rude to ruin their big day by refusing …”

Steve clenched his teeth. He knew he was being baited, knew he shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t ask.

“Who’d be your first pick, then?”

Fuck.

Billy’s eyes were sparkling with delight at Steve playing along with whatever game this was, and he flicked his eyes down Steve’s body, making sure to take his time as he dragged it up again. When he met Steve’s eyes, looking at him under his lashes, he bit his bottom lip and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

Steve had to work to get enough spit in his mouth to swallow. Billy just stayed there, leaning back, watching. Waiting. His suit jacket was open, showing off his chest, still damp from the rain – or was it sweat? His eyes were hooded and his hair fell in messy curls over his shoulders, longer than they’d been when Steve last saw him. Steve wanted to grab a handful and pull, which was an insane urge that would probably get him killed if he gave in to it. Billy oozed danger; like a tiger in tall grass, waiting for its prey to get close enough to go for the kill. But it was a decidedly different kind of danger than he’d exuded back in high school. Back then, the end result would have been a beating. Now?

Steve was startled to realize that he kind of wanted to find out.

But playing along just to see where this would lead would be stupid, and dangerous, and Steve had had enough of being stupid and running into danger to last him for a lifetime. He much preferred to face the threat head on. Which was why he straightened up and stood with both feet steady on the ground as he asked, “Okay, what is this?”

It seemed to throw Billy off, but only for a moment. His smile faltered, but was quick to reappear. “What is what?”

“This,” Steve said, motioning between the two of them. “What are you trying to … What are you saying, exactly? What is this? Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Doubt made him impatient, and he was a second away from stomping his foot like toddler. Swallowing against sudden bile, he huffed, “Cut the crap, Hargrove. We both know you hated me in school, so what the fuck are you –“

“What? I never hated you,” Billy interrupted, looking honestly surprised.

Which just added to Steve’s ire. “What do you mean? Of course you did! You were a right asshole, you were on my case all the time, wouldn’t leave me alone at practice or in the hallways. You beat me up!”

That elicited a reaction. Billy pushed off the railing and mirrored Steve’s posture, feet planted and arms at his side. Not threatening yet, but ready for a brawl. “Okay, first of all, you lied to me about my sister’s whereabouts after she’d gone missing, when I finally found her in that weird house in the woods with you and a bunch of boys. That was super sketchy, and I won’t apologize for what I did, back then. You deserved that.” Steve took a breath – to say what, he didn’t know – but Billy continued before he could speak. “As for the rest of it …” He shrugged and turned his head so he was looking out over the lawn. Another flash lit up the world, and for that bright white second, he looked uncertain. When the rumble of thunder followed, it almost drowned out his voice. “I liked you.”

Sure he’d misheard, Steve blinked and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “I’m sorry, what?”

Billy took a deep breath, and pulled on the mask of confidence like someone else would pull on a jacket; he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Steve with a cocky smile that was too wide to be real. “I used to crush real hard on you, man. Guess I didn’t handle it very well.”

He was pulling Steve’s leg – it had to be a joke.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“But you slept with like, half the girls at school!”

“So?”

Frustrating! Billy was so frustrating. Was he seriously standing here, telling him he used to have a crush on Steve, and that that was why he was such an asshole in school?

“I don’t believe you,” Steve all but spat.

Shrugging, again with just a little too much flair to be real, Billy took a breath and turned away, as if to leave. “Believe what you want, then. I’m out of here. Have a nice life.”

Steve’s hand shot out before he could think it through, grabbing Billy by the arm to stop him from leaving. Billy didn’t speak, just turned his head slowly to look down at Steve’s fingers around his bicep. Then, just as slowly, he looked up at Steve. There was something wary in the way he looked, but there was steel in his eyes and voice when he spoke; “Didn’t know you were so homophobic, Harrington.” Steve reeled at what he saw in Billy’s eyes; words that were supposed to be a joke, which hid a threat, which hid … vulnerability?

He pulled his hand off the other man’s arm as if he’d been burned. “I’m not. Homophobic, I mean.” Billy watched him cautiously, and Steve babbled on. “One of my best friend is a homo. I mean, she –“ Shut up, Steve! “I mean, I don’t have anything against –“

“Fags?”

The word cut through the air between them just as another flash of lighting lit up the sky. They stood in silence while waiting for the accompanying thunder to pass – it took longer this time, so maybe the storm was waning – and when the only sound was the noise of the rain around them, Steve opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t. The silence grew to discomfort, and something in Billy’s posture crumbled. He smiled, sardonically, and looked down at his own two feet. “Great talk, Harrington. See you around.”

Steve didn’t reach out this time, but he called out “Wait!”, and Billy froze. “I don’t have anything against … fags,” Steve said, rushing to get the words out and not caring if the words were right or wrong. “I really don’t. I have friends who are like that, and, and. It would be pretty hypocritical of me, actually, considering my first kiss was Tommy!” His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath – he hadn’t meant to admit to that – but it worked, as in that it drew a surprised laugh out of Billy.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” In for a penny, and all that. Steve braved a smile and gave a one-shouldered shrug that probably failed at making him look indifferent. “We were like, nine or ten, and he was crushing hard on Carol even then, and we got it in our heads that no girl would want to kiss someone who didn’t know what he was doing. So … we practiced. With each other.”

Billy still looked guarded, but there was a small smile playing on his lips even as he said, “Kid’s stuff, Harrington. It doesn’t count.”

“Well,” Steve said and swallowed in preparation for taking the plunge. “We continued practicing until our second year in high school, so …”

That got a reaction. “No shit? You and Hagan?”

“Why are you surprised? You just said that Tommy ogled your bare chest when Carol got you shirtless. You have to have suspected.”

“Tommy being at least half gay doesn’t surprise me, I’m pretty sure he and Carol are plotting to try to get me into bed with them on their wedding night as we speak … But you! King Steve.” He looked honestly flabbergasted, but there was delight tinting the surprise. “You’re shitting me.”

It was a thrill to be able to throw Billy’s words from earlier back in his face. “I’m not, actually.”

“Huh,” Billy said. He didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon. “How about that. The biggest womanizer in the history of Hawkins’ High … playing for the other team?”

“Now, now,” Steve said, holding a hand out. “I wouldn’t say that. I like girls. I just …” He thought about everything he and Robin had been talking about, and finally decided on, “I’m just an equal-opportunity guy, I guess.”

“Really?” Billy said, and looked almost impressed.

Steve felt warm under his gaze. “Yup.”

“So …” Billy said, and that mischievous glint was back in his eye. “Did you ever …” He made some lewd gesture, complete with raised eyebrows, “… with both of them? Tommy and Carol?”

Steve was pretty sure that the way he blushed at that question was answer enough. By the way Billy threw his head back and cackled, it was.

“Shut up! It was one time!”

“Oh this is too good! Wow! You are such a slut.”

“You’re the one to talk!” Steve said, but he couldn’t help smiling because this felt … this felt more like friendly ribbing than anything else.

Billy ignored him. “Oh my god. You should have brought that up in a speech during the dinner.”

Steve actually hadn’t done a speech. Instead he’d bought the happy couple a set of expensive kitchen appliances, and called it a day.

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something that one should speak of out loud in Hawkins.”

That had a sobering effect on Billy. His smile dimmed. “Don’t I know it.”

Their whole conversation had been a roller-coaster and Steve still didn’t feel all too stable in it, but Billy looked almost wistful – so much unlike the Billy he remembered from a year ago – that he couldn’t help but ask. “Is that why you …?” When Billy looked over, he made a face. “You know. Went out with all those girls?”

Billy exhaled and tilted his head to the side. “I mean, yeah. There’s no better place to hide than in a crowd.”

Silence descended on them again, but it wasn’t so awkward this time. And this time, Steve was the one to break it.

“So … are you also an equal-opportunity … player? Or …?”

“Oh,” Billy said, then shook his head. “No.” And for a second, Steve felt a thrill of fear run through him, suddenly convinced that Billy had been lying in order to get blackmail material on him. But then Billy continued, “No, I was never really into … girls.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, mind whirring. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

It was weird. There must have been something about this particular place, and this particular moment. The two of them were standing in a run-down gazebo, rain beating down on everything around them and separating them from the outside world. It was like they were in their own little bubble, outside time and space. It felt as if everything revealed here was … safe. In that way, it didn’t feel real.

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked, softly. Because he suddenly had a lot of things that he would have to think about, but that question was on the forefront of his mind.

“Because …” Billy started, and hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure himself. “Because I don’t live in Hawkins anymore,” he decided. “No one here can hurt me.” His eyes flicked to Steve at that, as if to make sure that Steve didn’t mean any harm. When Steve didn’t move, he relaxed a fraction. “And because … I saw you today, and.” He cut himself off, looking down at his shoes. Scuffing one against the wood underneath his feet. “And I think I might have lied to you, just now.”

Furrowing his brow, Steve tensed up. “What?”

“I said I had a crush on you,” Billy said, and Steve had time to feel crushing disappointment in the split-part of a second before Billy added, “But I think that I still do, actually.”

And before he knew it or could react, Billy was in his space and his hands were in Steve’s hair on either side of his face, and that was Billy’s lips on his and –

– and time stood still. Like if lightning had stuck him where he stood, the world lit up with white light and electricity. Gone was the sound of the falling rain and the rumble of thunder, gone was the house and the woods and the lawn, gone were the whole world outside of this gazebo, outside of this moment. His heartbeat made its way through his body drumming like an army marching to war. Steve didn’t breathe, didn’t blink – just existed in this moment where there was only Billy, and Billy’s lips on his.

And then the world turned white for real and shook with a boom, and they jumped apart. Billy swore and ducked over the railing to check the sky.

“Shit,” he said. “That was a close one.”

Steve’s whole body was tingling, the hairs on his arms standing up. The air smelled crisp, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lightning, or because of the kiss. Maybe both.

“We should …” he said, a bit shakily. “We should get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

Billy glanced at him, with a hint of apprehension that might as well have been a blaring neon sign pointing at his head. He was obviously nervous about Steve’s reaction to the kiss.

“You worrying about me, pretty boy?” he said, but his voice shook a little, as if he was struggling to hold on to the confident façade. And Steve marveled, because had he always been this transparent? He couldn’t believe he’d been fooled by Billy’s cocky attitude back in school.

“Well,” Steve said, and pointedly looked down at Billy’s bare chest. “It wouldn’t do to deprive Tommy and Carol of their eye candy on their wedding day, now would it?”

Relief, in the form of a smile. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Well,” Steve said, and gestured kind of helplessly to Billy. All of him.

The smile grew. “I’m staying at Motel 6 when I’m in town,” Billy said, apropos of nothing.

They both drifted forward, and were suddenly in each other’s space. The thunder rolled over the sky, but without a flash this time. The rain wasn’t coming down as hard anymore. The storm was abating.

“Uh-huh.”

“So I was thinking …” Steve watched, mesmerized, as Billy bit his lip; watched with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “If you want to, you could stop by tonight … after the party …?”

“Yeah?”

“And we could …” He exhaled on a laugh. “Practice kissing some more.”

Steve leaned back, if only to attempt an insulted gasp. “You think I need the practice?”

Billy honest-to-God giggled. Fuck, Steve was screwed.

“I don’t know, Harrington. You don’t exactly seem to be a hit with the ladies these days.”

“Hey!” Accurate, but still. “I get around.”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said with a smirk. “You do know your date is a lesbian, right?”

That actually had Steve take a step back, mouth open. He didn’t think he’d let that particular cat out of the bag, Robin was going to kill him –

“Relax, I saw her smooching with Heather in the pantry after dinner,” Billy said, which – huh. Way to go, Robs. “And also, I clocked her on my first week in Hawkins. No straight girl draws boobs on her shoes.” He gave Steve a significant look. “Like knows like, I guess.”

Steve didn’t have time to answer, before another lightning lit up the sky – further away this time, though, and the rumbling of thunder took some time to reach their ears. When he turned to look at the house, he could clearly see the lit-up windows and the people milling about inside. When concentrating, he could hear music coming from inside, and he realized that he could only do that because the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Their bubble was gone.

“We should probably …” He gestured towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Not knowing what to say, he only managed an awkward, “So …”

Billy rescued him with an all-too-aloof, “So, I’ll see you later?”

Steve could feel himself grinning. “Yeah. Room 10, right?”

Billy matched his grin. “Room 10.”

“It’s a date,” Steve said, heart fluttering, and grabbed his empty champagne glass. “Now let’s get out of this rain. I want some cake!”

[bengiyo]

Love Sea Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Tongrak and Mut started to have sex on the beach, but then Rak rushed them back to the hotel so he could write his thoughts out for his novel. Mut was understandably frustrated and went to take a shower, which of course ended in sex (but Fort showed ass!). Rak became possessive of Mut, and once again tried to use his money to lock Mut down. We had a great moment of Rak checking in about how out they can be, and the two shared insights into their histories. We learned that Rak sees his work as an outlet to express himself, and that Mut has worked his ass off to earn his place in this community as a respected leader. We ended on some trauma flashbacks underwater for Rak involving his father who abandoned them, and a friend who may have been pregnant. Meanwhile, Vie had Mook come over to clean up her house and eat with her in a flirting ritual that seemed to work for both of them.

Aya is really pretty.

This weird issue with the italicized subtitles not displaying on the TV apps is driving me insane. Why do I have to pull up the episode in two places now??

It rains a lot in Thailand, so I like when they incorporate it into the shows.

Chapter 3: Where the Sky Touches the Sea

It's nice to see that Rak is able to talk nicely with a friend. He and Vie feel like they've known each other for a while, and know what each is going through. I'm curious how deep we'll get into this tabloid drama Vie is facing.

Is Kwan Rak's sister? What's going on with their dad that they're scared about him showing up around the granddaughter? I thought he was out of the picture?

Wondering what Mut must be feeling after not seeing Rak for a few days now after that incident.

Mm, Rak reverting to be as rude as possible like it'll scare Mut away.

At least he apologized after relaxing for a little bit. I hope he opens up about what's got him so stressed.

Oh fuck yeah give me the lore. Rak's messed up because his mom poured all her money into a man who didn't love her back, and his and his sister's names are messages to him.

Let's bond over family problems.

Oh, I'm kinda into this "Try it while you're on the island" proposal.

Are they trying to mirror that with this fake girlfriend proposal?

I'm not keen on playing in the sea at night, but they do kiss well.

Why is he in that bed with a towel on?

Mut baiting Rak into being the big spoon is sending me.

Unsurprised that Mut is a conservationist.

I like that Mut acknowledged Rak getting up early to see the community meeting.

Oh they have Ja playing an actor who shoves his costar away immediately. How fun.

This joke about the length of novel titles feels like they're alluding to people missing the point of the novel because title is too cumbersome.

"I'm not bi." She and Lom should meet.

Mut seemed real nervous about Rak seeing how modest his home is.

Wow, Mut's dad sounds cruel.

Okay but Rak was even more turned on by the idea that the neighbors would hear them.

The timeline is a bit vague here.

I feel like we got here a little fast, but I kinda like the way Mut is chasing this feeling with Rak he wasn't expecting to feel.

I really like Mook.

I'm looking forward to seeing how both of these guys' issues with their families play out. I feel like.we.mkssed some things this week that didn't translate into the adaptation smoothly, but I like the idea of Mut reaching for something he didn't think he could have, and a cynic like Rak being taken by that earnestness. Also amused by Mook likely having a crush on Vie while missing that Vie has been flirting this whole time. I wonder what our Mut Exposition Fairy will do next week.

[ghostofgraywalls]

Hello! I'm looking for a few new rp partners. I submitted this to an rp finder, but I figured I'd post it here as well. If you're interested, please like this post or send me a DM. Please be warned that I am looking for darker themes.

About Me and What I'm Looking for in a Partner:

-I'm 30 years old and would only like to rp with someone who is 20 or older.

-I'm very busy, so I can't promise I'll reply everyday. However I'll do my best, as I like to keep the plot moving! To me real life always comes first, and I'm looking for partners who feel the same.

-I must have an open line of communication with my partners. If we don't talk regularly, I won't be comfortable bringing up ideas and plot points.

-I really like description and often times go over the discord limit, though my post length can vary. Sometimes I write a novel, other times a small paragraph for my replies. I'd like someone who is similar.

-I'd like this to be a long term thing, however, I understand interest can waver. If it's not working anymore tell me, we can always start over. Or just part as friends. Or ghost, lol. But tbh if for any reason we stop replying for an extended period of time, and you find you'd still like to rp with me, just reach back out! To me this is something fun, and life happens. It's not worth losing a good rp buddy over.

-I can rp over discord, email, ect. I'm pretty open!

What I Want From an RP:

-Romance is a must! In fact I'd like us to start from a place of immediate infatuation between characters, or from a place where they've known each other long enough to form a crush. I've been doing the slow burn thing, and I'm done with that. I'm ready for obsession, possessiveness, love bombing, and moving too fast!

-I want extreme horror and gore. I'm into guro and I recently finished kedamonotachi no jikan. It's really inspired me. I have very few limits, and I want to go dark with this rp!

-I'm comfortable with nsfw, but I don't want this to just be a smut rp. I want some plot too~

-I enjoy fxm, fxf, and mxm. I am really craving the first two, though. I also love doubling and playing multiple characters, and a partner who enjoys the same is always a plus.

What I'd Like to RP:

-Stalker/kidnapper/murderer x Victim. I have two ocs in mind for the Stalker role, but I am also open to playing the victim. I'd love to double for this one.

-Anything Paranormal (ghosts, demon x person they're possessing, witches, ect.)

-Monsters. A mermaid who can regenerate x a mermaid butcher, a kidnapped fairy, a werewolf who is being forced to be a housepet. Something along those lines.

-Obsession, drug abuse, folie au deux, codependency, truama bonding, etc.

-Suggest! If you have a dark idea or oc you've been wanting to try, just let me know. We can also mix and match the ideas above. I'm really open, so long as it's dark and horrific ♡

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Dark!marilyn x shy fem!reader

Reader is a fairy, and as far as she knows she’s the only one left and she has a habit of hiding her wings and powers.the reader also chooses to rarely talk to anyone

Marilyn is immediately interested by the reader as she gets a glimpse of readers wings and knows that reader is a fairy and knows the extent of readers powers

They become friends over flowers or whatever and readers crush for Marilyn grows,Marilyn is also very fond of reader

Marilyn makes reader feel loved for the first time ever and so reader tells her and shows her everything and anything Marilyn asked without question and so Marilyn gets reader to use her powers to help with her plan like reader shrinks and flys through the keyhole of the meeting house and puts a spell so no one can enter so Marilyn can take the book,and she uses her magic to enchant the potion to make Tyler the Hyde because Marilyn loves reader to much to make her kill people and risk her getting caught cuz reader is to innocent

(Marilyn could take readers innocent another way 😉

but it’s up to you)

Idk if this makes any sense

Yesss. I've made some little changes, but I hope you don't mind, the plot is the same. It's an interesting plot, so I'm gonna write two parts with two chapters each one. Tomorrow you will have the second and final one. I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes.

Four "unfairy" tales

Part 1 & Part 2

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem Student! Reader (Fairy)

Warnings: angst, fluff…

Word count: 2,374

Summary: You are the last fairy, or so you are for your mother. You couldn’t imagine that at Nevermore there was a woman who cares about you.

N/A: Requests are open to you all!!! Sorry about the language mistakes. The two final parts are coming soon, so be patient!!

1: An "unfairy" life

“I hope you haven't tell anyone.”

“No, mom... I haven't told anyone,” you said, tired of those kinds of meaningless conversations.

“It is very important that no one knows because...”

“I'm the last known of my species… I know, mom,” you said, rolling your eyes. Fortunately your mother couldn't see you from the other side.

“By the way, (Y/N), I've been talking to the Wrights…”

“With those fools? what for?” You asked contemptuously. You hated that petulant family.

“You know that there were a lot of people like us in their ancestors...”

You didn't like where the conversation was going.

“So?”

 “Their son, Jordan, would be a perfect husband for you.”

“What?!” You yelled indignantly, looking around to see if anyone was listening.

“If we want our species to survive, we must make some sacrifices. With your genes and theirs, you could create a new generation of faeries.”

“Mom, you can't be serious…” You said, starting to get nervous.

“Of course I'm serious. Besides, he has already accepted. And if I have to force you to save our species, be assured that I will.”

“Good luck with that, I'm not going to do it!” You yelled, and after that, you hung up the phone.

It wasn't the first time your mother hinted at something like that. According to her, your species was in danger of disappearing, and only you could save it.

You were a fairy, according to your mother, the last fairy left in the world, a very proud statement in your opinion. You had heard fantastic stories during your childhood, about what fairies were, and what they had become. You could no longer fly during your normal state. Your wings had become just a vestige of what they were before, leaving only a tattoo on your back, which would only come to life if you shrank. The powers you possessed were also different. Over the years, and after the persecutions of intolerant people who were not capable of understanding your condition, your ancestors were forced to repress their powers. You didn't care too much about this business about the disappearance of the fairies. You were more concerned with trying to integrate into Nevermore, although it was complicated for you, you had a very introverted character, and you barely spoke to anyone.

That call from your mother, telling you that you would have to marry and have children with a boy you hated otherwise, was already the icing on the cake.

The next day you were in botany class. At least, surrounded by those plants, you felt relaxed, but all your classmates looked at you strangely, probably because you were the only girl wearing a tank top at the beginning of November.

Without listening to what your teacher was saying, you were thinking about the conversation with your mother. You knew you couldn't run away, you had nowhere to go. She called you selfish for wanting to enjoy your life, instead of preserving the lineage of the fairies, but you couldn't help but think that you were the one who was right. The students left after class ended, but you stayed there, rambling.

“(Y/N), the class has already finished,” the teacher, Miss Thornhill told you. That academy was a dark place, but for some reason, you could see some light on her.

“Yes... Sorry... I'm leaving now...” You sighed, without taking your eyes off the ground. The redhead seemed to notice your state and she shook her head, moving closer to you.

“No, no, calm down. You do not bother me. (Y/N), are you okay?”

You nodded, but your face probably didn't say the same. Having someone care about you was something out of the ordinary, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Oh honey, what's wrong?" She asked you affectionately, placing a hand on your back. It didn't take long for her to notice the marks on it, and she quickly withdrew her hand.

“(Y/N), those marks…” She said in a whisper.

You jerked to your feet and pulled a sweatshirt over you, scared.

“(Y/N), are you a fairy?” She asked unexpectedly. You were about to faint. Not only she caught you, but you would also have to explain it to your mother.

“I…I…” You said stuttering. In any case, it seemed strange to you, she was a normi, you didn't understand how she had come to that conclusion. “How do you know?”

She smiled and moved a little away from you.

“Well, if I wanted to come to teach the outcasts, I would have to learn a little about them. I must confess that I did not expect to meet a fairy, they are believed to have been extinct for a century.”

You nodded and huffed, running a hand over the back of your neck. Your mother was going to kill you… In case you didn't have enough problems already.

“Nobody... Nobody knows... I...” You stammered, trying to beg her not to say anything.

“Relax, (Y/N). I won't tell anyone, I promise. But I would like to know why you have been so distracted today, I even thought I saw you crying,” Marilyn said, with a soft and calm voice.

She didn't seem to want to do anything bad to you, in fact, she wasn't surprised at all to know  your nature. You didn't trust anyone, but that woman had something that  made you see her differently, perhaps because she felt just as out of place as you.

“It's, it's my mother,” you said, sitting up straight in the chair and looking towards the desk.

“Is she also like you?” She asked, taking a chair and sitting next to you.

“No. My grandmother was…” You said. “But my mother is obsessed with the fact that we must preserve our species… And for that, she wants me to marry a stupid boy.”

Marilyn frowned upon hearing your words.

 “To Marry? But you are very young,” she said, with surprise in her voice.

“Not for her. 18 years is enough to get married and have children, thus repopulating the fairies...”

“My God, that's horrible,” she said horrified.

“I'm already accustomed. I can't do anything to avoid it either, but thanks for worrying,” you said, getting up and taking your bag.

You were really grateful. No one had ever bothered to ask you if you were alright, if you were worried about something… Probably because you never did the same for your companions. Finding out that there was someone at least asking you, was a pleasant surprise.

2: A "fairy" bond

After that confession at the conservatory, it seemed as if your relationship with Marilyn had strengthened. You used to stay with her for a while after class, and talk, just talk. She was trying not to be, but she couldn't help but be curious about you. Little by little you began to trust her enough to be able to show her some of your simplest powers: Making flowers grow, attracting small animals, even reviving some of the driest plants. All of that required a lot of effort, but it also served to train your powers, according to your mother, they would disappear if you didn't do it daily.

It was raining that afternoon and you decided to wait for the weather to calm down before going back to the academy. You were sitting down, drinking some water to recover from your "workout."

“The things you can do are incredible, (Y/N),” Marilyn told you, looking at a beautiful flower that you had just revived.

“Well, it's not that great,” you said, dismissing it as important. Sometimes you forgot how impressive it must be to see something like this as a person completely unaware of special powers and abilities.

“Don’t be modest. There are many people here with powers, but there is no one like you.”

You blushed a little after that comment and looked through the windows. The rain was getting worse and seemed not to want to stop.

“Forgive my curiosity, but what is the most extraordinary thing you can do?” She asked you, perhaps in a more emotional way than other times.

You sighed and thought what to say to that. Your grandmother had told you extraordinary things about your ancestors, but none seemed impressive enough. Watching the rain fall, you remembered something she told you, precisely on a rainy night.

“Well… My grandmother taught me something…” You said slowly. “It's not a big deal, but she always told me it was the most dangerous thing we could do...”

“Oh…” The redhead said, more and more interested.

“I don't usually do it, but I can try,” you said, getting up from the chair and approaching her. “I suppose you've heard of fairy dust?”

“Well, more like in movies if I'm honest, does it really exist?” She asked.

-Well, yes,” you confirmed, gently rubbing your hands. “Normally it has healing or regenerative powers, but that was over 50 years ago. Now, it hardly serves to hypnotize people.”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled amused.

“Are you going to hypnotize me, (Y/N)?”

“Not quite. Give me your hand and close your eyes,” you said, extending yours.

Marilyn seemed to hesitate, but she finally did as you asked, getting a little nervous. You took a breath and gently squeezed her hand. You were not a girl who used to have physical contact with others, so that feeling was strange for you, although it was comforting.

You closed your eyes and brought your other hand in front of your mouth, blowing gently. A very fine golden dust came out of the palm of your hand, going fluidly to the redhead's face. She took a deep breath and her nervous expression immediately relaxed. When you opened your eyes, you saw a completely different person. She was smiling, but with tears in her eyes.

“Mom…” She whispered, almost inaudibly. Her emotion was evident and you couldn't help but share a bit of that melancholy joy that seemed to invade her. After five minutes, you gently released her hand, and snapped your fingers, causing Marilyn to open her eyes and look around her, disoriented.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“What, what happened to me?”

“I don't know, tell me what you've seen,” you said, sitting down, feeling exhausted again. You didn't really know if it had worked, but from her tears, it surely had.

“I… I…” She stammered, taking off her glasses to wipe away her tears. “I wasn't me, I mean, it was me, but I was 8 years old. My, my mother was reading me the Snow White story to make me fall asleep. Oh my God, it wasn't a hallucination, I, I was there, (Y/N), it wasn't like I was living it, I was really living it,” she told you completely stunned. You outlined half a smile to see that it had worked.

“Did you like your mother to read to you?” You asked, going for your glass of water and taking a long gulp.

“It was, it was my favorite moment of the day…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “But, (Y/N), what have you done to me?”

You took a deep breath to explain what most people would consider crazy. You knew she wouldn't, she never would. The frequency with which you thought of Marilyn on a daily  had gradually increased, but you did not want to admit it.

“It is a fairies power that, according to my grandmother, was lost 200 years ago. She learned it from her mother, and her mother from her mother, and so on. I don't know its exact name, but she told me that she made people live the happiest moments of their lives, moments that they yearned for from them past,” you explained, remembering the old woman's words.

“It's… It's extraordinary, (Y/N),” she told you with wide eyes. “It's the most s beautiful thing than I have ever seen…”

“But it's also dangerous,” you said, thus removing a bit of emotion.

“I can understand why it is," Marilyn sighed, looking down at the ground. You agreed. “You can't live in the past.”

“Exact. My grandmother used to tell me that in the past, fairies used this power to soothe the misfortune of people who were in need, but it only made things worse. People preferred to live in those memories, and forget about the present. That's why she told me it was the most dangerous power of all. She was always very poetic.”

“(Y/N),” Marilyn told you, getting up from her chair. “Thanks for showing me that.”

After that thanks she approached you and gave you a tender, intense hug. You froze, noticing how good it felt to be in her arms. You shyly moved your arms and wrapped them around her body. When you felt safe, you leaned your head to rest on her shoulder and closed your eyes, enjoying that sensation so little known to you. After a few minutes of comforting silence, Marilyn moved away a little, without releasing her arms from you, and she stared at you. You did the same, starting to breathe faster. One of her hands released you and went to your face, brushing back a lock of hair and tucking it behind your ear. Her eyes went to your lips for a moment, and she moved closer to them, kissing them softly. You were surprised. She, Marilyn, your teacher, she was kissing you and you liked it. It was such a beautiful feeling that you didn't think, and you closed your eyes to feel it even more. Quickly she pulled away from you.

“My God, (Y/N), I, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... Oh, please forgive me,” she told you, visibly upset.

You didn't say anything, you just thought about what just happened. She wasn't like the others, she seemed to appreciate you, maybe to love you. You didn't even have that connection with your mother, that bond so casual, but at the same time so intense. You didn't want an "I'm sorry," you wanted another kiss.

“I'm not sorry, Marilyn…” You whispered, embarrassed.

She looked at you in disbelief and shook her head, but before she could react, you kissed her again, in the same slow, tender way.

To be continued...

[mediaevalmusereads]

Possession. By A.S. Byatt. Vintage International, 1990.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Part of a Series? No.

Summary: Winner of England's Booker Prize and the literary sensation of the year, Possession is an exhilarating novel of wit and romance, at once an intellectual mystery and a triumphant love story. It is the tale of a pair of young scholars researching the lives of two Victorian poets. As they uncover their letters, journals and poems, and track their movements from London to Yorkshire - from spiritualist séances to the fairy-haunted far west of Brittany - what emerges is an extraordinary counterpoint of passions and ideas.

***Full review under the cut.***

Overview: This book has been on my TBR pile for a while, and I was in the mood for something academic, so I picked it up (finally). Overall, I was struck by the "learned-ness" of this book; Byatt is clearly a very intelligent writer who knows how to write beautiful, evocative prose. I very much enjoyed the academic rigor that was put into crafting this story, and I loved the focus on poetry and its influences. While some readers might be put off by this book's density and some might feel in over their head, Possession is nevertheless a masterfully crafted work, and I look forward to discovering more from Byatt in the future.

Writing: Byatt's prose is literary in feel; it moves at a fairly slow yet deliberate pace and is full of descriptions that infuse both the modern day and the Victorian era with a kind of otherworldliness. I really liked how each chapter evoked the senses; I could almost smell Roland's apartment or the dusty books in the library. I could almost taste the rich dinners that Cropper ordered or the salty air by the ocean. It was all marvelously done, and Byatt has a real talent for manipulating language to get the effect that she wants.

I also really appreciated the intertextuality and the way Byatt juxtaposed the mid-19th century with the 1980s. All of the poems, letters, and journals felt like they were written with Victorian aesthetics and sensibilities in mind, and it must have taken a lot of research for Byatt to truly capture the voices of so many 19th century characters (as well as the academic mindset and personal passion many scholars have for their work).

I will say, though, that personally, I found certain parts of the book to drag. Don't get me wrong - I adored this novel, but it took me a long time to read because it was so dense and I wanted to fully engage with it. For this reason, I think some people won't find Possession to be their jam, but if you love academics and literary discovery, a lot of this book will appeal to you.

Plot: The basic plot of this book follows Roland - an early career academic specializing in the poetry of Victorian writer Randolph Henry Ash - as he makes a startling discovery that could upend the field of Ash scholarship. As he pursues his research, he teams up with Maude Bailey - a scholar specializing in the poetry of one of Ash's contemporaries, Christabel LaMotte. Together, they follow literary breadcrumbs that reveal a startling truth about the relationship between Ash and LaMotte, all the while avoiding those who would swipe the discovery away from them.

I really enjoyed the way this book invoked the thrill of academic discovery. Being a former literary academic myself, I could sympathize with the passion the characters had for their fields, and I got excited when the characters did whenever a new clue was unearthed. I don't want to detail to much to avoid spoilers, but I will say that I appreciated how Byatt made this mystery not just about a potential scandal, but about the impact on more academic topics, such as spiritualism, sexuality, feminism, etc. In other words, I liked that this book made me think about more than just historical gossip, and if you're interested in those things, you'll have a good time with this book.

Characters: Roland and Maude, our protagonists from 1980s England, are wonderfully complex in that they have passion for their studies yet also have personal challenges that make them feel more three dimensional. I liked that Byatt didn't romanticize academia and showed Roland struggling with things like funding and an awkward relationship with his adviser, and I liked that Maude was a strong-willed feminist scholar yet was caught up in some of her own insecurities.

Supporting 1980s characters were likewise interesting and varied. Blackadder, Roland's advisor, is grumpy and seemingly distant, but ended up surprising me by the end. Beatrice, an all-but-invisible scholar specializing in the underappreciated diaries of Ash's wife, Ellen, was sweet and it was easy to feel something (pity?) towards her. Even the more boisterous characters had their place; Cropper, an American scholar with the financial means to basically outbid anyone and acquire Ash artifacts, was irritating in his capitalist way, but not wholly unrealistic (as there are many private dealers of manuscripts and the like who act much like him). Leonora, another American academic, was loud and intrusive, yet was dead set on doing the right thing when it came down to it.

Ash and LaMotte, the two Victorian poets, also felt complex in that neither of them acted completely in ways one might expect. LaMotte started out rather shy but later became fairly assertive and powerful in her own right. Ash was surprisingly sympathetic (though could get annoying at times, centering his man pain), and his relationship with his wife, Ellen, felt like it was built on respect and adoration.

All in all, I appreciated the care Byatt took to give everyone a rich inner life, and I found it hard to be completely detached from anyone's motives or desires.

TL;DR: Possession is a captivating novel filled with the thrill of academic discovery and rigor. Reading like a love letter to Victorian poetry, this book is masterfully crafted and will surely enchant readers who enjoy rigorous, scholarly engagement with literature.

[alexmeng]

Supernatural Power Leading Film and Character

Surreal elements are important in dark fairy tales because they allow the story to transcend the boundaries of reality and give it more possibilities to explore the characters. In Beetlejuice, the surreal elements are not only reflected in the afterworld setting but also in the magical spell that says name three times and builds the foundations of characters.

God’s watching the evilness

In the movie Beetlejuice, there is a classic scene where someone has to say the name "Beetlejuice" three times in a row to release dangerous Beetlejucie（please look at this video above). This element is obviously supernatural, but its meaning is still somewhat confusing. The spell appears at the beginning of the story and is repeated over and over again. Its biggest limitation is that Beetlejuice himself cannot say his name, and must do so three times in a row. Some viewers have commented on the movie, suggesting that Beetlejuice may be a principled evil person. However, the truth is that Beetlejuice turns out to be a completely unprincipled villain by the end of the story. This situation of not being able to control one's destiny is obviously not unusual for powerful wizard like Beetlejuice; is there a new concept outside of the Office of the Dead?

The honesty displayed by Beetlejuice may stem from the Japanese belief in speech spirits, where specific words or incantations hold magical power. This concept, rooted in ancient Japanese myths, suggests a supernatural force governing the natural world, capable of dispelling evil or bringing fortune. In fact, Japanese journalists have systematized speech spirits, stating that "in ancient times, incantations and spells for kami (deities in Shinto) were considered to have some sort of divine power, especially when they were spelled in a certain way." This observation underscores the profound belief in the potency of language. Similar to the Chinese proverb stating that spoken promises are unchangeable, language holds an immutable power. This specific supernatural power seals characters like Beetlejuice, compelling honesty, even momentarily.

Is exorcist An Abrupt Mentioning?

Furthermore, supernatural elements can enhance a character's impact. Beetlejuice's remark, "I've seen The Exorcist one hundred and sixty-seven times and it's funnier every time I see it," serves as both a foreshadowing and a nod to the movie's inspirations. In "The Exorcist," a young priest battles demonic possession, a theme echoed in Beetlejuice's storyline. At the end of the story, Lydia's family finally learns that their house is being haunted. They don't feel scared and are even ready to transform the place into a haunted house. They even hire an exorcist to see the ghost. Because of these rash human decisions, the two main characters, Barabra and Adam, suffer. To end this suffering, miserable Lydia called Beetlejuice three times and finally released him. Many viewers get confused about this additional world setting.

Beetlejuice's screenwriter has already mentioned that a large part of his inspiration came from movies like exorcists. After recording three screen writer’s writing pathways, Mason Kupiainen, a movie reporter concludes that, "Before going through countless rewrites, the original idea for Beetlejuice was to make it straight horror with the movie being more graphic and disturbing. The movie would have been more along the lines of something like The Exorcist instead of being the goofy comedy it became. (Mason). "Indeed, two-thirds of the viewers who see the movie will think that it is a black humor comedy film that is mainly funny. This is because Beetlejuice haven’t reveal himself Until this point of the story. The audience needs an opportunity to discover the horrors of beetlejuice. The addition of this exorcist setting allow viewers familiar with horror movies a better understanding of the power of beetleiuice —stronger than the priest in The Exorcist.

The fact that ghosts can also die puts Barabra and Adam in a crisis. After searching for many possibilities of salvation, Mr. and Mrs. Adam are still on the verge of death of their souls. This is when one more person is needed to save the people from their current situation, pushing the supernatural elements of this movie over the top. Beetlejuice's affinity for The Exorcist underscores his power and contributes to his enigmatic allure. These supernatural elements add depth to his character—not only a clown—balancing humor with horror and maintaining his formidable status.

[dawnagustd]

MU$IC FAIRY || MYG

❃ Festivaled Away: Burned Memories hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​  

⤞ Ticket: Playlist ⤞ Main Event: Based on a Playlist ⤞ Games: fucking playlist | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation

⤞ title: mu$ic fairy  ⤞ pairing: rapper!yoongi x podcaster!female oc/reader ⤞ genre: smut   ⤞ summary: When Yoongi’s career started to kick off, he never imagined he’d have a secret admirer this early in the game. Sure, random women throw themselves at him all the time, but this one has a different approach when it comes to getting his attention.  ⤞ word count: 11k ⤞ warnings: strong language | sexual tension | pet names | dirty talk | guided masturbation | ball fondling | dom/sub dynamics | sensory deprivation | breath play | phone sex | oral fixation | mutual masturbation | protected sex | ruined orgasms | orgasm denial | hard dom!yoongi | sub!reader | blindfolding kinda? | rough sex | choking | degradation | face down doggy/ass shots | hair pulling | squirting | ass slapping | nipple sucking | multiple orgasms | blowjob | face/throat fucking | yoongi moaning(yes that’s a warning) | oral (male and female receiving) | face slapping | finger sucking | clit biting | gagging | bdsm themes | orgasm control | cum swallowing | praising | cum swapping | forced orgasms | kissing but not the cute kind | aftercare | yoongi’s harsh(no other way to put it) | crying(the good kind) | sex & music | manhandling | sex with no feelings | marking/biting/scratching | possessive!yoongi(like he’s obsessed with marking her up) | pain kink | you’re either going to love me or hate me for the ending | pov switches | lying ass heauxs | toxic behavior because they are wild lol | alcohol consumption | the oc is slightly curvy and brown like me😜 ⤞ rating: 18+  ⤞ a/n: This got way out of hand lol. I tried to write a drabble but it just didn’t work out. I need to first and foremost give a special thanks to my beta readers Bambi @agustdealer & Ryen @kithtaehyung​ for not only looking over this for me but listening to me cry and rip this story apart over and over lol(there may still be some mistakes because I’m a clown and added stuff they didn’t read). I really appreciate your dedication and faith in me. Also, praise needs to be given to the ever so talented Ryen @/kithtaehyung for this amazing banner. She slayed as always. Lastly, thank you Madame Amai @kkulmoon​ for hosting this event. I hope you all enjoy it. Don’t forget to comment, reblog, and leave feedback to let me know what you think.💖

Playlist: Vulture Island V2 by ROB49 ft Lil Baby | It’s Givin’ by Latto | Whole Lotta Money by BIA ft. Nicki Minaj | Thick by O.T. Genasis ft. 2Chainz | MMM MMM by Kali ft. ATL Jacob | Have Mercy by Chlöe Bailey

Read on AO3

Thank you for completing our questionnaire. Please stay on the line and allow us to find you the perfect match…

With a few basic questions and a two minute wait, he was paired with a woman that sounds rather beautiful. He imagines that she is, at least. Well, he hopes. 

He’s been chatting with her for about an half of a minute, and he’s feeling her. So he doesn’t hang up when the official timer begins.

“So umm…how confidential is this?” He can never be too careful. This could ruin his reputation if someone found out.  “You said you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah, it’s safe, love. Trust me.” 

He hopes you’re right. 

“After you complete the questionnaire, they pair you with a random person who has similar preferences.”

He pushes the worrisome thoughts to the back of his mind and proceeds to pleasure himself before time is up. He’s currently living paycheck to paycheck, so fifteen minutes was all he could afford.

“Should I lead or…?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “I got it, babe. Just vibe with me.”

“Okay.” Your response is through small labored breaths. You must be broke as shit too because you aren’t wasting any time. “C-Can you put on some music or something?...I umm, can’t do it  when it’s this quiet.”

He grabs his laptop and allows whatever track is next to travel through the speakers.

Fuck. He forgot about the beats he was playing for someone earlier. Hopefully, it doesn’t ruin your mood before he can change it. “Sorry,” he mutters a bit embarrassed.

“No, this is fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s sensual,” you pant. His brows knit together in curiosity and he momentarily ceases his movements. “The bass complements your voice well, actually. Did you umm…?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I like it.” The little moan behind those words has him standing at attention. In any second, he could blow his load.

“Yeah? What else do you like?...Tell me what gets your attention.”

There’s a pause. “Or would you rather me shut up?”

“The opposite. I wanna hear you…your voice. You sound hot,” you giggle and it’s one of the most soothing things he’s ever heard. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. You don’t sound bad either…Just hearing you laugh is making me hard.”

He hears a whimper; one of the sexiest, neediest whines to ever grace his ears. “Tell me what you just did. Don’t be shy.”

“I—”

You hesitate, so he steps in.

“Touching your pussy, huh?”

He senses through the phone how worked up he’s getting you. You’ve started panting and moaning out your words shamelessly.

“Mmhm, my clit.”

He chuckles and whispers of curses come through the phone.

“Do me a favor?” you agree and he continues. “Move a little lower and dip your fingers in your pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

He uses his spit for lubrication and tightens his fist around his cock. He imagines it was your walls snuggled around him, pumping his length as you bounce up and down. Something inside of him believes that you’re pretty, with a nice ass too. A really nice ass, that’s what his fantasies project at least.

“Fuck. How many?” you ask him.

Damn. You’re obedient as well. That’s hot, really hot. 

“As many as your pretty cunt can take.”

When he hears a muffled cry, his bottom lips tucks between his teeth while he concentrates on the squelching sounds coming through the phone. You both move in sync with the music and allow it to take away the nervous jitters the both of you had previously. His cock starts twitching in his palm when your sweet little moans move through his ears.

“How many did you use, sweetheart?”

You answer him in a high-pitched voice. You’re close too, he can hear it. Your eyes are probably screwed shut, trying to keep it together to prolong the call, but he has to go before his bill skyrockets. He needs to get you off—quickly.

“Two. Three, now. I needed more.”

“Greedy, aren’t we?”

“No…I’m just really horny.”

He has to smile at that. “Yeah? Me too. This is good, but I'd rather be balls deep in you.”

“Fuck, I’d like it.”

Sweat beads on his forehead, but he just wipes it away with the back of his hand and keeps going. The music has changed to something more upbeat and he knows this is his shot for home plate.

“Really? Is that why you’re making a mess? I can hear it, you know...you’re so fucking wet.”

“Shit, I wanna come,” your words are barely recognizable and you just keep begging him for more, “please help me.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Take your fingers out and rub your clit. Spread that sticky shit all over it and get yourself off.”

He throws his head back and curls his toes, bracing himself for the impact of his orgasm. This has to top he sexual encounters and he’s not even touching you. It’s just something about you that’s driving him insane. He doesn’t even know your name, but he doesn’t need to, not when all that matters now is the pleasure of this experience. 

“I’d lick it all up too, eat you out until you cry and forget your own fucking name. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I wanna feel you so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’d let me take you anyway I’d like, wouldn’t you?...I could bend you over? Dick you down with your legs pinned by your head. I fuck you up, princess and you’d never want another.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Dead silence. 

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!”

The phone hangs up just as you both reach your climaxes. Disappointment is thick in the air as his quick strokes gradually begin to slow. He groans and curses angrily at the loss, and grips fistfuls of his hair in frustration. Out of all the people for this to happen to; it had to be him. Just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse, this happens and proves that life is just out to get him.

“Something’s gotta give, man. I can’t keep living like this.”

So, he shrugs off his needs and does what he does best—work. He puts on his headphones and hopes that one of these tracks will be the one that opens the door to all of his dreams.

Two years later…

“This is your boy Jay Millz, and you're listening to Q107.9. We got my man Suga in the motherfuckin’ building. This guy has the hottest track on the radio right now, bro. He’s gonna be chilling with us for a minute while we dip into the Rush Hour Mix with DJ Reign. Suga! How you doin’, man?...”

He nods and greets the guy behind the mic. They extend their arms for a brief handshake before he continues. “What’s good? Glad to be here, man.” 

Yoongi looks around the table and sighs. He’s tired of the same fucking questions. 

What’s next for you? How does it feel to be the hottest rapper out right now? Will you sign with SlaughterHouse Records?

As if he’d leave a crumb behind for the tabloids to fight over. Yoongi’s been careful; really careful. He’s worked hard to maintain a decent reputation; besides a few run-ins with the law. But overall, he’s avoided anything that could damage the image he’s created for his pseudo. 

Many have tried to tear him down, or trip him up. However, he knows how to handle those people, and that’s what he’s about to do when the woman across from him asks the question lingering on the tip of her tongue. He knows it’s coming; he can tell by the way her nails tap on the table. She waits for silence and then she goes for the kill.

“So…Suga, you know I have to ask.”

The other co host sighs with an exhausted eyeroll. “Bee, please don’t start.”

“I have to. The people wanna know,” she argues and Yoongi can feel his head starting to throb. 

It’s bad enough that he hates these things and they cannot stop themselves from trying to dabble in his personal life.

“Anyway, are you currently dating anyone, Suga? A fan? A girlfriend?...etc?”

Yoongi looks to his left and gives her a lazy smirk, just fucking with her mind a bit before he responds.

“Nahh, I’m good. Gotta stay focused, you feel me?”

He takes a sip from his cup and savors the cold liquor before he gulps it down, watching the poor girl slump her shoulders in defeat. However, he was a fool to think this was over.

“And what about Mu$ic Fairy?” the interviewer to his right asks.

“What about her?”

He sets down his cup and turns in the man’s direction.

“She dropped a new playlist last night. I know a lot of us would have gone to see about that by now.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Well, I’m not a lot of us, am I?”

“Damn right,” Jay chimes in from across the table. He notices Bee shaking her head in the corner and he couldn’t agree with her more. This is ridiculous. 

This girl, “Mu$ic Fairy” or whatever she calls herself is nothing but a fucking distraction. No one can resist bringing her up when he’s in the room. There’s no fucking escape.

At first, it was cute. A few Spotify playlists dropped every once in a while with a rather risqué cover just to tease, but now it’s an entire movement. Some fans are even calling themselves fairies, and wearing themed attire to his performances. 

He fucking hates it. The wings, the glitter, the overly sweet tones in which they speak. Of course, he appreciates his fans and they’re fun to look at, but Yoongi’s a picky guy. And if that’s the kind of girl you are, then you aren’t his type.

“I would’ve probably hit her up after she dropped the Fre@kii Ho @nthem! playlist.” 

Jay bumps fists with the other guy host after he says that and they have a “same” moment.

Bee adds her input after it quiets down.

“Well, I’m going to have to agree with—”

“Do not…say her name around me,” Yoongi intervenes.

He can’t; not when he has a show tonight. Just hearing her name pisses him off. 

Another reason he hates doing interviews is because someone always has to mention…

“Oh, are you talking about that podcaster?...Damn, what’s her name…”

Jay struggles to remember while snapping his fingers, so Bee attempts to help him out. However, Yoongi cuts her off before she can speak of the devil.

“Don’t you dare.”

The woman once again backs down and carries on.

“Well anyway, I agree with you know who. She makes valid points about how none of these people were after him before he started making industry music. They don’t really fuck with the real Suga.”

Yoongi only nods his head because the annoying bitch behind that podcast is right. This Mu$ic Fairy chick started showing up when he became popular and so did her followers. But that’s about one of the only things he agrees with. Everything else is out of line. This woman doesn’t know anything about him, but yet always has an input to give when it comes to his music.

One of the interviewers notices his change in demeanor and senses the hatred he has for this chick. He steps in and changes the subject quickly.

“Shit, we’re almost out of time. That’s what happens when you’re chillin’ with one of the greatest to ever do it.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nahh, man. Don’t put that on me yet. Give me some time.”

“Many would have to disagree with you there, bro. Matter of fact, you should ask them. Why don’t you tell the listeners where you’re gonna be tonight?”

“Yuh, tonight you can catch me at the Varsity. Tickets sold out, but yeah…fuck with me.”

The interviewers briefly share a round of applause before Jay concludes.

“Alright. You heard him. Tickets sold out, but who knows ladies…he might just take you home for the after party, right bro?”

Yoongi can only press his lips in a straight line because anyone that knows him, knows that a piece of ass is the last thing on his mind right now, but for the sake of some poor girl’s imagination…

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

And because of this, he’s probably going to have to fight his way out of the club.

The rush Yoongi gets from being on stage always lingers in his veins even after the music stops. The crowd keeps the energy going and going. They scream his name, applaud his techniques, and praise his stage presence like he’s a king. He is, in a way. Suga is the king of this city; there isn’t a guy who doesn’t want to be him or a woman who doesn’t want to fuck him.

Typically, temptation is easy to resist since his career leaves him little time for extracurricular activities. However, sometimes he just can’t allow something to slip away. Not again.

“You killed it tonight, man.” 

Yoongi doesn’t even spare his manager a glance as he brushes past him. His train of vision is focused on that little black dress swaying through the crowd. If he takes his eyes off of you for a second, he knows he’ll lose you in the mass of people.

“Thanks, dude. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

He doesn’t know what was said in response because he’s out of range within seconds. He’s a man on a mission, and he’s not even sure of why. 

You’re beautiful, there’s no denying that—and sexy. But something else about you is just luring him in, and he thinks he knows why. At least, that’s his excuse for following you outside of the club. 

It’s dangerous, of course, since anyone could be waiting to get him alone. But tonight he can’t let you just leave without a word. He’s done that too many times. You show up to show after show, stare him down as if he’s your last meal, then leave without even a wave or goodbye.

Yoongi’s had enough; this ends now.

“Hey!”

You immediately stop in your tracks at the sound of his voice. He wastes no time trying to eliminate the distance between you, but you dash down an adjacent alley before he can get close enough to talk to you. 

He follows you, and calls out to you one more time before you halt and finally respond to him.

“Hey there.” 

Your voice is so dulcet, but edgy…and familiar. Where has he heard it before? 

“Looking for me?” The closer he gets the more clearer the sound becomes and eventually it clicks. He knows exactly why he knows your voice.

But you aren’t the person he thought you were, and you’re the last person he wants to see.

“You’re that podcaster, aren’t you?” Yoongi questions, approaching you carefully. At least his mind still holds the common sense to be cautious. 

When you look over shoulder, it’s like his breath leaves his body. He’s seen his share of gorgeous women, but you are out of this world. There’s no way you could be her. But everything is telling him that you are.

“Depends…who wants to know?” 

Yoongi doesn’t know where to look first. Your face or the body that comes along with it. “You or the bitches who want to be like me?”

The moment he’s close enough to hear the cockiness oozing from your voice, he knows it’s you without a doubt. He can feel the same aura radiating from you now that he does whenever he listens to those podcasts. You’re her; he’s a hundred percent sure of it.

“So you’re bold behind the mic, but now you’re too pussy to look at me?”

You turn around on queue, adorning a wide smirk that he’d give anything to wipe off your gorgeous face. “Better?”

Yoongi nods slowly and takes a few steps towards you. With every step he takes you move backwards, allowing him to corner you and in the dimly lit alley. 

“It’s funny because with all the shit you talk on air, I didn’t take you to be a runner,” he points out.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to assume that, love.”

“But you know me well enough to critique my music?”

You hum. “I do, actually.”

“Really?” When your back nearly touches the brick wall, he leans in a little closer. You show no signs of uneasiness so he plants his palm on brick structure and hovers over your shorter frame. “What makes you believe that?”

“Because I’ve been a fan for a very long time. Ever since your underground days. You’ve never noticed me…but I was there.”

When he gives you a look, you roll your eyes. Of course, he doesn’t believe a word that pretty mouth of yours spits out.

“Your first real gig was on your birthday. You were a senior in high school and you invited your parents to the show. You looked around and when you finally saw them you smiled like a fucking dork.”

Damn. You read him like a book, but that doesn’t make up for the negativity spilled on your behalf.

“So you’ve been following me to shows so you can build up the repertoire for your little podcast? For how long?”

You shake your head in denial. 

“I followed you because you’ve always been my favorite artist. I admire you, and I’ve been around since the beginning. Even when nobody was fucking with your music…your real music. The kind you’re passionate about.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Like you would know anything about that.”

“But, I do. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. All you make is industry music now, and I’m just…bored, I guess.”

You’re cute when you shrug your shoulders, but your eyes are lethal. He feels like he’s being stripped bare under your gaze. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were silently flirting with him, but they’d be a reach.

“So find a hobby,” he suggests.

“I did find hobbies. The podcast, the playlists, the—”

“Wait,” Yoongi’s face contorts with confusion at those words, believing that he’s misheard you, “...you said playlists. What playlists?”

Your smirk returns and Yoongi suddenly feels his cock slowly rising in his underwear. Why do the heavens place the demons in the most beautiful women; he’ll never understand.

“You know which playlists I’m talking about, love…” your hand makes a move to touch his shoulder but he grabs your arm to prevent contact, “they were made for you.”

“Made for me? What does…”

Oh, damn.

“Are you…?”

“Well, it sure isn’t the whore in there dressed like Tinkerbell. You think I’d wear that shit?” Your laugh is so intoxicating; he almost cracks a smile just standing there watching you. “I don’t need all of that to grasp your attention. I never have.”

Yoongi shakes his head. All this time you were right under his nose. Two women he could never stand to mention are placed right in front of him, hiding behind a goddess. It’s pure comedy; his reaction to the news should have him pulling away from you and heading in the opposite direction.

But can admit that he judges a book by its cover; you aren’t what he thought you were. You’re different, interesting…someone he’d actually like to have underneath him in the opportunity ever presents itself. But he’s confused…why him? Why go through all the trouble if the music is all you care about? That whole Mu$ic Fairy concept has completely fucked with his mind. 

How does he go from having no interest to wanting to see what it’s all about? There has to be more to it; otherwise, it makes no sense. You two are strangers. 

He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.

“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your beautiful glossed lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in. 

He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it. 

“Why tonight?” he asks you.

You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.

“Because…I’m horny, and I’m tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.” 

He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—

“And, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.

“What might that be, love?”

Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.

“An orgasm.”

Everything grows quiet after you articulate those words. It only takes him a couple of seconds to remember, and when his mind processes it all, his brain nearly malfunctions as he tries to speak.

“You’re fucking with me,” he insists.

“You should know by now that I’m tired of the games, Yoongi.” His body shutters when you use his real name. Something he’d normally go off about, but he never wants you to stop saying it. He needs to hear you say it again; for an entirely different reason. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

He blinks a few times, not realizing he was just standing there and not saying anything.

“No, no. I’m just–wow…I never expected you to remember me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday you’re matched with your favorite rapper on a sex hotline,” you wink and Yoongi’s mouth falls open.

“You knew it was me the whole time?...and you didn’t say anything?”

You nod. “Yeah, I did. Your voice, your demeanor; I knew from the start, but I played along because you obviously weren’t on the call to talk about mixtapes. I just wanted you to enjoy yourself, I guess.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

Yoongi’s speechless. That was kind, and you kept it a secret all this time. Suddenly, all of this seems kind of sexy. It’s a secret he could have been in on if only he had read between the lines. However, he knows now, and it’s still technically still a secret…if it stays between you and him.

Your lips are once again his main focus; he’s so close to living the fantasies he had of you all those nights he wondered about how you handled yourself after the phone call ended. Did you come? Or was your mood ruined like his? He sure hopes not, because you were incredible and if anyone deserved to finish, it should have been you. 

He was right about you too. You are sexy, and the longer he stands here with you, the harder it is for him to hold back on his urges. But hearing your needy voice breaks him entirely.

“How much longer am I going to have to wait for it, Yoongi?”

All regards for his reputation goes out the window. He looks towards both ends of the alley before he makes his move. Anyone could be watching, but once he feels your hands sliding up his body, he decides that that is no longer his concern.

“Come here.”

Yoongi grabs you by your throat, but doesn’t squeeze or choke you. He just wants you closer, and your eyes tell him you understand where he’s going from.

“I live 20 minutes away from here, think you can wait that long?”

“Do I have a choice?” you reply and that sass is what gets him riled up.

He doesn’t think twice about kissing your pillow soft lips. He’s been staring at them, wishing he could feel them, taste them, and now he is and he already can’t get enough. The level of sweetness on his taste buds is sinful, but it’s one addiction he’d never give up. 

His tongue enters your mouth without any resistance from you, and he eagerly explores its depths, getting familiar with the woman wrapped in his arms as if he has all the time in the world with you. Your moans sends vibrations through his throat when he lifts your leg, nuzzling his crotch against your heat. 

Yoongi would fuck you right now while he has you pinned against this wall but that just wouldn’t satisfy his thirst for you. You’ve been teasing him for too long for him to just rush this. It took two years to lead up to this moment, a quickie would never do it any justice.

“I need you to be on your best behavior until we get to my place,” he tells you through his slightly labored breaths.

“And if I don’t?”

His features harden. 

“Then you won’t get anything, now come on. Let’s dip before one of your friends sees me without security.” 

Or…before he changes his mind. He’s had plenty of bad ideas, but this tops the list.

Breathtaking.

It’s the only thing you can think about as your eyes scan over the sleek hood of the Lamborghini Gallardo. The man’s got some taste, you have to admit. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be taking you to his place. You like the fact that he’s picky, but always chooses correctly.

You drink in the sight before—Yoongi standing there in his stage outfit, complimenting his car. The vehicle’s custom, all white except for the tires and the heavily tinted windows. You could only quiver at the image of him driving it, and when it actually happens, your mind and your mouth start to go in different directions.

He asks you basic questions like your name and where you’re from; you can only hope you’ve given him the correct answers because you cannot break away from the visual of him gripping the wheel with one hand while he’s laid back in his seat. His jewelry glistens and shines even in the darkness of his car, but your eyes still fight through the nearly blinding twinkle so you can watch the man behind it all.

You’ve wanted him since you first saw him. He came to a pep rally at your high school and you fell in love with his music and his sound—his voice especially. Sure he was a cutie, still is. But he had so much hunger, so much passion for music that you felt him on a spiritual level. 

He did so well on his first performance, and you remember telling your friends how much you wanted to listen to his Soundcloud when the event was over. Of course, they laughed and thought he sucked because he didn’t fit their visual standards, but now…they probably wish they’d been a little more invested in him.

“Can you stop doing that and answer my question?” 

There it is again. That voice. It drives you crazy; when he said hello to you on that hotline, you knew without a doubt you were talking to your favorite rapper.

“Wha–Doing what?”

“Eye fucking me and biting your lip like that. Do you want me to pull over?” 

Well.

You open your mouth to speak but he interjects.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t even answer that. Certain things I don’t need in my head while I’m operating a vehicle.”

Your neck and face heat up. If only he knew that you aren’t as confident as you appear. He’s hot, but the fact that he doesn’t know it makes him hotter.

“Sorry,” you turn towards the window so you can smile. You don’t want to feed his ego. No matter how much he denies it, he’s cocky as hell. If he knows you’re gawking over him simply driving, he’ll run with it. “...What did you ask me?”

A slow exhale leaves his lips, like he’s slightly annoyed and you should be offended, but damn—it was kind of sexy.

“I just wanted to know what you do for a living. How can you afford to travel and come to shows all the time? ...I’m just curious.”

“Why? You think I’m selling my—”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“You were thinking it, and the answer is ‘no’. And no, I don’t have an OnlyFans either…probably should, though. I’d make bank,” you shrug.

“Look, I know you aren’t doing any of that. Honestly, you seem kind of selfish with the goods anyway, but…tell me how you keep up. That’s all I’m saying. Podcasts bring in that much money?”

“No they don’t, especially when you do them for free. I’m a writer. I write songs and I sell them to some of your favorite artists.”

Yoongi whistles. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Name a few.”

“This isn’t roll call, babe. If you wanna look up my credentials, you know my name now…Google me.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Fine,” you scoff.

When you look forward, you notice that you’re entering a gated community. Yoongi lets down his window and waves at the on-duty guard before the older man opens the automatic gate. 

After driving past many luxurious homes, Yoongi pulls into a driveway and uses a clicker to open the garage door. 

“We’re here,” he announces.

His home is lovely, and you’re in awe by the set up and interior design once you enter. You’re impressed, most guys don’t spend much thought on this level of organization. 

Yoongi leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach fluttering more and more as you get closer to the top of the stairs. Your knees buckle slightly when he opens the door, but your eyes still look in every direction once you’ve made it inside.

It’s dark, but you can still make out the colors that fill the room. Blacks and grays with white walls. His bed is draped with a dark set; you can’t help but find it inviting. And it’s huge; you imagine he must be a wild sleeper because you couldn’t imagine sleeping in a bed that large alone.

“I love your home, Suga.”

He waves his hand. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that. You didn’t call me that earlier.”

“I didn’t?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head and tells you that you can make yourself comfortable while he disappears into his closet. When he returns with clothes, you tilt your head with curiosity. “I’m gonna go shower, don’t get too nosey while you’re in here by yourself.”

“You’re leaving me? Why can’t I join you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen for a second and a hand runs through his hair while he ponders over his answer. “Because umm…”

You crane your neck trying to coax an answer but he still stammers.

“It’s…you know.”

You smile. He’s kind of adorable, in a way.

“Too intimate?”

“Exactly.”

Your head lolls back while you laugh and Yoongi huffs in annoyance as he makes his way to the bathroom. 

“What am I supposed to do while you’re in there?” you call out and he stops to turn around.

You watch him get ready to produce a smart remark. However, he pauses before he can get it out. He puts his clothes on the bed and walks over to the nightstand, turning on his laptop and grabbing some Bluetooth headphones from the drawer.

“Here,” he says, pairing them to his computer and then handing them to you. You take them before you look up at him, wondering where he’s going with this, but he’s quick to fill you in. “Listen to this, I won’t be long.”

Yoongi puts on some music and gives you a wink that makes your pussy clench. He leaves you sitting on his bed, headphones in hand without another word. 

For the first minute you stare at the object wondering what’s being played, but your curiosity takes over quickly and before you know it, they’re coming over your ears. You don’t regret it the second you hear his voice. 

The music begins to travel through the speakers, you become obsessed with it from the very first track. You love that it’s similar to his original sound, but it isn’t the same track over and over again. They’re all so different yet so him. You can hear and feel the amount of dedication and effort he put into it. Like it wasn’t done out of obligation, but because he wanted to do it for himself. You can’t help but get up and sway your hips to the music. 

You feel so connected to him through his work, and that’s why you go on and on about how you wish he’d make another mixtape because this shit is fire. You wonder how long he’s been hiding it from the world.

You aren’t expecting him to be sitting on the bed when you turn around. Your hand finds your chest and you lower the volume on the headset.

“How long have you been sitting there? You fucking scared me.”

He shrugs. “Long enough to know that I want that dress off of you.”

Your startled expression turns smug. “Oh, really?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“So…you want me to take it off?” You raise an eyebrow.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re going to have to use your words with me if you want something.”

Yoongi’s arms fold at his chest; his white tee strains against his beefiness. You remember how his clothes used to swallow him, but now he’s filling them up quite nicely, if you may. Either way, he looks good. It’s just a natural trait he possesses.

“I mean either you can take it off or you can leave. Doesn’t matter to me,” he shrugs his shoulders.

If you weren’t horny just looking at him sitting there in his boxers, you’d call his bluff. But you’ve already picked up on his stubbornness and you know better than to try him. “Fine.”

You sigh as you drag down the straps of your dress, rolling your eyes when he tells you to slow down. You flip your hair and twirl your body as you wiggle the fabric down your hips, turning around in the opposite direction to give him a peek at your derriere. 

Looking over your shoulder, you notice how his face becomes etched with approval. You give yourself a silent applaud for selecting this piece. You’re sure your thong leaves nothing for his imagination. It also doesn’t help that you’re topless.

You stop torturing him and turn around so he can see the front.

“Damn,” is all he can say.

You take off your heels before walking towards him and his eyes never leave your breasts the entire journey, even once you’re standing between his legs, preparing to straddle his lap.

“I want you.” You tell him as if he doesn’t already know. 

Yoongi’s hands find your waist while you place your knees on the bed. As soon as you’re on his lap, you can feel his bulge threatening to burst out of his underwear. It’d be so simple to pull your panties aside and milk him for everything he has, but not tonight. He’s the one who owes you a good fucking.

“How badly?”

His lips find your skin and make their way to your tits, making you clutch onto his damp curly strands while he sucks and tugs on your sensitive nipples. Your hands tug his hair, and you force him to look at your face.

“Yoongi. You’re either going to fuck me or I’m going to fuck you. What’s it going to be—”

He scoops you up and drops you on the mattress, making you squeak in surprise. The dark gleam in his orbs has your thighs rubbing and your fists clinging onto the comforter. He's finally had enough, and hopefully he doesn’t hold back anymore.

“You asked for this,” he warns you and you almost giggle with glee. He pulls his shirt over his head and is about to toss it somewhere, but then he changes his mind. Yoongi looks at you for a moment, contemplating before he speaks. “You trust me, right?”

“Well, I came home with you even though you hate me, didn’t I?...Why do you ask?”

“So a lot or a little?”

You groan. 

He chuckles and you feel the butterflies once again. Yoongi turns the volume up on his laptop before holding up a thumb to ask if it is too loud. Honestly, you’re glad it tuned him out because though you understand that safety is first, there’s little you wouldn’t try when it comes to this man. You’ve been waiting as patiently as you could to experience this and you’re ready to get started.

You nod and his devilish smirk is the last thing you see before he throws his shirt over your head. Darkness fills your vision but it doesn’t bother you as long as his voice is filling your ears. His cold hands slide up your thighs and spread them, wasting no time in touching your slightly sodden underwear.

Gasps escape your lips when his finger presses gently on your clit, and you can only hope the sound isn’t too awkward since you cannot hear yourself. 

The bed dips so you assume he’s climbing on and you release a breath when you feel his lips hovering over your body. He leaves kisses between your breasts and he doesn’t stop until your lace panties prevent him from accessing any more skin.

Yoongi quickly slides them off, leaving lying on his bed completely naked. Everything from the moment when his tongue dips into your center is one feverish bliss. Your back arches, your toes curl, and your fingers entangle in his hair. The sounds you’re making are probably feral and of an obnoxious volume but Yoongi doesn’t bother to shush you or stop his sinful movements. 

He draws circles over your throbbing clit with his tongue, moving in the same motion as you do as you swivel your hips. This song has you in the mood to grind your pussy on his face, and that’s entirely his fault for coming up with such vulgar lyrics. It’s filthy and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening by the seconds. You scream his name over and over but he just keeps going until you release the pressure built up inside of you.

The shirt is snatched off your face as you’re at your peak and what you see between your thighs only intensifies your orgasm. His face is buried in your heat, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth and nibbling gently while you squirm in his iron grip.

Yoongi kisses your inner thighs once you begin to calm down to help you relax. When you back slowly droop onto the bed is when he carefully removes the headphones, turning them off and then setting them on the nightstand next to his laptop.

“I would go back for seconds, but that would only make me want more,” he tells you. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out some condoms then throws them on the bed.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“Well, you better say a prayer because we aren’t done,” he laughs and excitement bubbles inside of you.

Yoongi switches the music to something else and you can’t help but pout. 

You sigh. “I pray you aren’t all talk.”

He glares at you for your comment and steps closer to the bed. 

“You’re a sweet girl, but…” he flips you on your stomach and pulls you up by the waist, positioning you so that your ass and pussy are directly in his line of sight, “you need to watch how you fucking speak to me.”

A shriek leaves your lips when he slaps your ass. “Yoongi…please.”

“Please? You want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice is high pitched and shaky, almost unrecognizable to your ears. “Don’t stop, please.”

Yoongi finds humor in your desperation. “Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whine but it’s the wrong answer. “Yoongi, please do it again.”

“No.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“I said no.”.

“Such a fucking asshole,” you mumble insults, thinking they’re too low for him to hear.

“What was that?”

You look behind you and notice Yoongi rolling a condom over his dick. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of those veiny hands stroking his cock slowly, preparing himself to dive into your wetness. You’ve always wondered what he looked like doing that, ever since that time on the phone.

“Nothing,” you lie.

He puts his knee on the bed and inches closer to you. You tease him by wiggling your ass a little but he places a hand on your hip to still you. “You know…”

You can feel his cock against your entrance and your body pushes back on him to try and get it inside of you yourself. However, your impatience makes you forget how petty the man behind you really is.

The tip slips past your folds and with the amount of arousal seeping from your opening, he’s able to slide in with ease. But it’s only a taste; the majority of his cock still remains outside of you, and quickly your frustration takes control of you.

“If you wanna meet an asshole…” he makes a loud gasp leave your lips when he, without warning, slams into your pussy in one smooth motion. You whimper; a harsh snatch of your hair makes you wince and grip the sheets. Your head is turned in an uncomfortable position, but the only thing you can focus on is the intensity of the stretch and the way his dick doesn’t leave any room to spare, “I could introduce you to one.”

Yoongi pushes your head forward and pins you to the mattress. Your teeth grit together because of your sensitivity. You could come just like this without him even moving. That’s how worked up you still are. You just need a moment to pull yourself together, but Yoongi doesn’t have the patience for that.

“Arch your fucking back.”

He pulls out but swiftly snaps back into you, causing you to let out a squeak. You try to cover your mouth but his large hand comes down on your ass before you can do so. Your moans turn into screams within minutes, increasing in volume each time Yoongi slaps your rear.

“I know you can do better than that. Straighten up before I do it for you,” he grunts through the lewd skin-slapping noises that fill the room.

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back like he demands. The position is only uncomfortable for a few seconds, but eventually it becomes familiar and the sensitivity ebbs away.

Yoongi lets go of your hair and starts rubbing his hands all over your ass, kneading the reddened flesh and giving it words of appreciation.

When you start to fuck him back he holds your waist and pulls you back on his cock. Your body begins to move naturally with the rhythm of the background music and he allows you to set the pace while he whispers obscene remarks.

“Look at you taking it just like a whore.” 

You can feel the arousal between your thighs, dripping and making a mess of the sheets. The squelching sounds are disgusting but don’t phase you in this heated moment. You have more important things to worry about. Like how long you’ll be able to keep this up. You weren’t expecting him to have this much stamina, but you’ve learned to never judge a book by the cover.

He’s strong, the grip he has on you is evidence to that. The way he’s handling you like you’re nothing but a fuck toy he can use at his discretion has you clenching around his dick. His deep chuckle fills the room when he feels your walls tighten.

“On your next podcast, you should tell them how I fucked your brains out to your own playlist,” he comments.

Yoongi’s thrusts have your knees trembling and nearly giving out, but he’s quick to assure that you keep up. “No fucking slacking, whore. Do better or I’ll pull out and use your throat instead.”

You’re sure your ass will be sore in the morning because Yoongi cannot keep his hands off of it. He strikes you every chance he gets and the stinging sensation from his blows push you closer and closer to your peak.

“Fuck. Yoongi…please.”

Tears roll down your cheek when his cock travels deeper, touching the spot that makes you unravel at the seams. It’s all too much and you beg him to allow you to surrender to the pleasure.

“Not yet. Shit, do you have any idea how juicy your ass looks like this?”

“But I can’t,” you sob into the comforter.

A slap to your left cheek leaves you a shaky mess. However, he shows you no mercy and does the same thing to the other side.

“That’s not an option. If you come, I swear—”

“Sorry…” Your muffled cries are the last thing you can recall before your body accidentally gives in.

Your juices leak onto the bed while you hold on for dear life, afraid you’ll float away if you let go of the fabric. But just as your orgasm reaches its peak, it’s ripped away from you  by one of the foulest humans on this planet.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he growls as he drags you off the bed. Yoongi forces you to your knees, ignoring your pleas to regain what was stolen from you. He slaps your cheek a few times, snapping you back into reality and demanding your attention. “Answer me!”

“You…You told me not to come,” you hiccup.

His expression tells you how displeased he is, but it’s too bad that you don’t care. Something comes over you that has you sucking it up and wiping your tears. If he wants to play dirty, you can do it too.

“So why did you?...I never said that you could.”

You look up at him with innocent eyes. However, you have no intentions on being good anymore.

“Because it felt good and I wanted to,” you tell him and he grabs your face.

“You don’t get to decide what you want to do or what feels good. If you had the answers you wouldn’t have been begging for my dick for two years.”

Yoongi pulls off the condom and brings his cock to your mouth. You clench your fist to hold back the excitement when he tells you to open. You’ve craved the taste of him even though you’ve never had him. Your mouth waters as you wait for him to enter, and when he does, he doesn’t stop until reaches the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh if you need air, and do not suck until I tell you to, understand?”

You mumble around him as best as you can. “Mmhm.”

Before you can prepare yourself for a pace you know will be relentless, Yoongi withdraws and slowly re-enters your crevice. Your eyes roll back from the fullness and addicting taste of him. You want more—need more to fulfill your desire.

Ignoring his instructions, you enclose your lips around him and begin to suck him in each time he tries to pull out. “Easy,” he warns but you keep going.

One of your hands comes up to fondle his balls and Yoongi’s deep moans begin to fill your ears. He throws his head back in pleasure while you give him, what you would consider, the best blowjob of his life. The sound he produces is the only music you want to hear. His voice holds so much lust and bass, arousal gushes from your cunt as a result.

“Fuck, I told you not to do that.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations up his shaft. The feeling brings him to his senses and he places both his hands on your head. You have to grab onto his thighs to keep yourself steady since he’s starting to take control. You try to maintain the suction but his wild movements make it impossible.

“You wanted to suck me off so badly. Keep it up,” he grunts, increasing his speed.

You choke on his dick and the sounds make him twitch in your mouth. Yoongi starts to intentionally go deeper, but he’s unsatisfied by the lack of space there is for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you coughing and gasping at the sudden intake of air.

“Well, damn. Do I have to teach you how to suck dick too?”

Yoongi shakes his head as he looks down on you then uses his index and middle finger to open your mouth. He pushes the digits in and finds the back of your mouth with ease, pressing on the back of your tongue to make you open wider. “Stop being shy and open this pretty fucking mouth,” he demands, making you gag on his fingers.

Your eyes water and spit drips down your chin. You must look like a complete mess, but Yoongi cannot take his eyes off of you. 

“Now show me, and I’ll give you some more.”

You’re scolded before you can even wrap your lips around his fingers. 

“Stop being fucking lazy.” He gives your cheek a few more slaps before shoving his fingers deeper into your mouth. 

This time you slurp and allow your saliva to coat his digits. ”Fucking, right. Now open up and milk this dick.”

Yoongi removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock. This time you just open your mouth and let him in. He uses your head like a fleshlight and drills into you at a rapid speed. You try your best to keep eye contact and breath through your nose, but then out of nowhere he buries his cock down your throat.

There’s an intense burning in your airways due to lack of oxygen but it’s nothing you can’t handle. The rush takes you so high you become slightly lightheaded, sending a tingling sensation straight to your center. Nothing but music, the sound of you choking on his dick, and his sound of pleasure can be heard and the way he calls your name sends your ego through the roof.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Stay just like this, sweetheart.”

Within five long thrusts, his warm seed deposits on your tastebuds. You try to swallow everything but he pulls out quickly and empties the rest on your lips and chin. Your tongue tries to gather as much as you can, but some places are impossible to reach. 

“Come here.” Yoongi pulls you from the floor and brings you closer, greeting you with a sloppy kiss once you’re on your feet. He laps up all the cum on your face and gathers it all on his tongue before he feeds it to you. You savor the taste of both of you as the kiss prolongs, and even after he pulls away you can’t help but remember how good he tasted.

If you had to guess which body part Yoongi favors the most, you’d say it was your lips. He can’t tear his eyes away from them. You bite them, he shudders. You lick them, his cock twitches. So you can’t control yourself when it comes to teasing him and pressing them against his soft skin.

“You must want another round if you keep that up,” he mentions as you make your way to his earlobe. You nibble on it gently before you whisper in his ear.

“I just wanna come one more time before you kick me out.”

“Who said I was kicking you out?”

“You aren’t?”

Yoongi ushers you to his bed and helps you lie down before he joins you. He hovers over you once again and his hand snakes between your thighs.

“I definitely am, but not right now. I’m not done with you,” he informs, fingers entering your heat while his thumb caresses your clit.

“Well, hurry up then.”

He frowns. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, whenever someone has the balls to make me shut up—”

“Interesting,” he states after his hand pins your neck to the mattress. “Let’s test that theory.”

Yoongi’s digits begin to move in and out of your wetness, producing more lewd noises and causing your body to shake with sensitivity.

“Yoongi.”

His name flows past your lips like water. It’s the only word you can think of at the moment. Having been worked up all this time with no relief makes you desperate to satisfy the lingering desire that’s settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Feels good, huh?”

It feels damn good. Your hips buck off the bed to match his movements so you can chase your high. “Yes…more.”

“More?”

His hand tightens its grip and restricts your air supply. He knows how close to the edge it takes you by now and he doesn’t hesitate to use it against you.

“Say please and I’ll make you come all over my fingers,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t respond like this.

You try to speak, but everything gets trapped in your throat. You can only claw at his chest, begging him to guide you to your release. He loosens his grip and through your coughs you manage to give him the answer he wants.

“Please. I can’t take it.”

Yoongi gives you a fake pout, squeezing your face between his fingers. “But you can…watch this.”

His fingers curl inside of you and you’re seeing stars. Your nails dig into his arm, body arching off the bed due to the intense wave of pleasure that hits you. You try to run, but he pins you down and forces you to accept the mind-blowing orgasm you were begging for.

“You talked a bunch of shit, now back it up, love,” Yoongi tells you while your walls clench around him. His hand covers your mouth, preventing your screams from waking up the neighbors as if it isn’t already too late for that. “Let’s see if this cunt’s worth the headache.”

The coil snaps and your body stiffens. Yoongi’s deep voice continues to degrade you as your juices squirt all over his bed. Even though you cry out from the sensitivity he fucks you until the last drop. Your body just falls on the bed once he’s done with you, and you move into a fetal position when he carefully slides out his fingers.

The aftershock of your release has you twitching, but the bliss you feel is superior. This is what it feels like to get fucked out, and you knew he would be the person to deliver. Satisfied would be an understatement because you weren’t expecting to be stuck like this after you were done. Usually, you’re able to get up and go before they can return from the bathroom, but tonight you can only lay there in silence while Yoongi cleans you up with a warm cloth.

“I didn’t break you, huh?”

“The opposite, actually,” you laugh weakly.

“Good.” He lays his body beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, enjoying the familiar beat that plays into the dark room. It’s your phone sex song; the beat he played to help you relax. “Remember this?”

“Yeah, how can I forget?”

“You keep saying that like I’m always on your mind.”

“Maybe you are,” you reply.

A soft scoff comes from behind you. “I hope you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

There’s silence, then eventually a long sigh. 

“I want you gone before I wake up, okay?”

You shake your head. Not in disbelief because it’s what you expected, but because he can’t read between the lines. But you aren’t naïve and you know when someone wants you just as bad as you want them. So for now, you’ll be patient.

“Fair enough,” you answer.

Satisfied, he rolls over and drifts off into sleep, leaving you awake to wallow in your thoughts. It seemed best to just get up and leave then, but it takes nearly an hour to regain your strength. And just when you think it’s safe for you to slip away and consider this night one of the good memories, the warmth you felt before returns and pulls you closer—it is then that your eyes become heavy and you submit to the comfort you know you aren’t supposed to have.

When Yoongi wakes up and finds a cold empty bed, he can only throw his head back in frustration. He hopes…no, he prays he didn’t say anything to make you feel like he wasn’t interested. He knows he can be a dick, but he was just pissed and horny last night. You’re not easy to handle, but he likes that about you. You aren’t afraid to put him in his place.

He rolls out of bed and the first thing he notices is that his laptop is still playing music, so he makes turning it off his first task. However, once he enters the password, he finds an opened document with a typed note in the center of the page.

If you ever think of me, just call...If you want?

Yoongi’s speechless, and out of his damn mind. That’s the only excuse he has for picking up his phone and calling the number you left at 9 am in the damn morning. The longer the phone rings, the more regret fills him. He can’t help but think you left that there to tease him for calling you so quickly. He tries to hang up but before he can remove the phone from his ear the ringing stops and your beautiful voice blesses him once again.

“Hello?”

He panics, and doesn’t respond. He searches the room frantically and finds his excuse lying on the floor right in front of him.

“Yeah, you left your earring. Looks expensive,” he murmurs before he clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m wearing both of mine now. Must be for someone else.”

Embarrassment washes over him as he stands there naked in his bedroom. How could he be so stupid? That thing’s probably months old, if not longer. He wonders if you saw it. Maybe that’s why you left.

“I’m kidding, Yoongi. If it’s a gold hoop, it’s mine,” you laugh and he feels a weight left from his shoulders. 

The idea of you finding stuff that belongs to other women in his home doesn’t put a good feeling in his chest. He also doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who lets anyone in his home because he’s not that kind of guy. 

“Haha, you’re so funny,” he says once your giggles cease. 

“And you’re sarcastic.”

Still sharp as hell. He thinks to himself.

“Whatever.” He takes a seat on his bed and rests his back against the headboard while he checks emails on his laptop and uses small talk to melt away the awkwardness. “So…you left in a hurry, huh?”

Smooth.

“You told me you wanted me gone before you woke up, remember?”

Of course, he did. Because he’s an idiot.

“Yeah, I was just fucking with you, though. I would have given you a ride or something, you know.”

“No worries. I made it to my hotel room safely,” you assure and he releases a sigh of relief. 

“Well, that’s good. Glad to hear that.”

“Mmhm, miss me already, huh?...too bad you kicked me out.”

“Honestly, I thought I was gonna wake up to some tits in my face, but that’s fair.”

There’s some shuffling in the background like you’re moving something, but he doesn’t ask any questions about it.

“Can you remember anything from last night?” you ask him after a beat of silence.

His fingers run through his hair as he thinks about all the filthy images replaying in his mind.

“Well yeah, I remember you, of course. You were fucking incredible. But everything after that moment was a blur. Please don’t tell me I did something stupid.”

“No, you’re good. I had fun.”

So did he. He wishes it’d happen again, and again. “And you’re okay too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. My ass is sore and I can barely sit down, but I feel good. Thanks for that.”

Thank heavens you are. He knows how rough he was and most women aren’t into that but you took it and enjoyed it. You were fun to play with, and now his cock twitches at the thought of what your ass must look like now, covered in his marks.

“What about you?”

“I’m fine, love. Bummed about having to work, but I’m good,” he responds.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry I kept you up when you have to work this morning.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I enjoyed your company, and…”

He almost told you that he missed you, but caught himself at the last minute.

“And what?”

“Uhh, nothing,” he gulps. “I was reading something…Forgot what I was going to say.”

“O’kay.”

Yoongi can tell by the sound of your voice that you don’t buy it.

“Yup,” is all he can say in response.

After a minute or two of both of you just holding the phone, you finally say something to keep the conversation going. “Yoongi?”

“Hm…”

“Are you busy right now or…?”

He places his laptop beside him because he can assure that whatever he has to do isn’t as important as this.

“No, what’s up?”

“Well, it’s about last night,” you admit.

Now, he’s kind of nervous. What else happened while he was in his post orgasmic bliss.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Yoongi stays on the line waiting patiently for your answer, and it’s one he doesn’t expect.

“Well, you still owe me, you know?”

Interesting.

“And what do you mean by that?” he questions.

“Well…”

Yoongi already knows where this is going and luckily he knows exactly how to handle this situation. “Not satisfied, are you, baby?”

“No, I am. But…”

He chuckles. “You want some more?”

“If it isn't too much trouble. And if you have time, of course.”

You’re as sly as a fox and you know how to get what you want. It’s hot, but he’s going to have to humble you before he does anything else.

“No trouble at all, baby. Do me a favor, and spread your legs for me.”

“Okay.”

He hears some more movement and then you return, prepared to do anything he tells you in the hopes of pleasuring yourself. You tell him once you’re ready and he provides you with more instructions, in which you follow without question.

“Now, facetime me and place the phone between your thighs so I can see your pretty pussy.”

Within a second, his phone notifies him of an incoming facetime call. He answers it and finds you sitting in your hotel room. You’re wearing a large shirt but he can still see the fresh blooms from where he took your skin between his teeth the night before creeping up your neck. He can’t stop the smirk from spreading across his face.

He curses when he sees your cunt, all glistening and wet with your juices. His mouth waters but he pushes his filthy thoughts in the back of his mind.

“This is what you’re going to do,” he starts, watching in awe as strings of arousal snap while you’re scissoring yourself in his presence, “...you’re going to imagine me fucking your brains out and you’re gonna use that image to get yourself off…without me.”

“Yoongi—”

He tsks. “I’m not your man, and making you come is not my job, baby.”

“But…”

If he gave a fuck, he’d break hearing how desperate and needy your voice sounds, but you need to understand that he isn’t going to come every time you call for him. He’s a busy man and he doesn’t need distractions.

“But nothing…Now, bye. Have fun.”

He hangs up just as you start to curse at him and yell into the phone. But he knows this isn’t over; you’re probably getting a ride over to his place right now, and that’s exactly what he wanted. 

You were able to just walk out of here this morning without even waking him. That doesn’t sit right with him, and there’s only one solution for it really—

He’s just going to have to fuck you harder during round two…

And maybe, just maybe…get to know you a little bit after.

We’ll see.

[malleux]

☆ Day 4 - Prince Diluc ☆

-> diluc x fem!reader | royalty!au

-> fluff, crack (diluc actually loosens up)

-> warnings: dead parents

-> “pick a prince” masterlist

a/n: i’ve got nothing to say. diluc is ooc but i wanted him to talk through his trauma and loosen up for a goddamn second yk

You were known to be a rather reckless individual. You didn’t think much of your actions, nor how they would affect you. Your entire life consisted of lessons on how to put others first, so it made sense that you would hide your pain, putting on a smile that only a princess could possess as you went about your day.

The bandage on your hand caused too much attention. People were worried- what happened to their princess?

���Your form is atrocious.”

You lifted your head away from the practice dummy, wiping the sweat off of your forehead and turning to the doorway. “Well I’m sorry, why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

Diluc huffed and moved behind you, gently adjusting your arms until the sword was pointed correctly.

“Now, do an overhand swing at that dummy.”

You subtly winced at the idea. The leather grip of the sword was practically searing into your hand, still sore from yesterday’s injury. Maybe taking the bandage off wasn’t a good idea.

Nonetheless, you swung. Your blade sliced the wooden arm, leaving a substantial mark and even more pain in your hand.

“Underhand.”

“Stab.”

“Backhand.”

“Stop!”

You dropped the sword, unconsciously clenching your hand as Diluc stepped towards you. With a firm grip, he grabbed at your hand and lifted it to his face, inspecting the reddened and irritated skin.

“What happened?”

“Just a burn when I was with Prince Albedo, no worries-“

“An experiment, I presume? He’s always getting people into problems with his little fixations. You shouldn’t be practicing if you’re injured, it won’t heal.”

You scoffed. “Didn’t know you were my mom.”

If Diluc heard you, he did a good job of ignoring it. Instead, he moved to the side of the training area where you had a cup of water. He handed it to you and sat down on the ground as you drank.

You took your time with your sips, choosing to subtly watch as Diluc tied his hair up into a high ponytail. His fingers threaded through his fluffy hair and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel beneath your own. You sat down next to him.

“You don’t seem like the type to be into marriages.” You began.

“I’m not.”

You quirked an eyebrow, silently waiting for him to continue.

“When my parents were alive, they’d always talked about me finding someone and having some fairy tale wedding. Something straight out of the books they’d read to my-“ He coughed “-brother and I. When your father wrote to our kingdom, asking if there were any eligible bachelors, I decided to come. Maybe my parents can see my fairy tale wedding from up in the sky.”

“Oh, Diluc-“

“I don’t want your pity.”

You furrowed your brows. “I wasn’t going to pity you. If you would have let me finished, I was going to say that I think it’s very nice that you want to honor their wishes. They must have meant a lot to you.”

Diluc shrugged, his gaze fixated somewhere far from where you were in the present. “It’s not something I share, but I figure that I need to be more open if I wish for you to pick me.”

You nodded. “Tell me about your brother.”

“He’s here.”

“What?”

“Prince Kaeya.” Saying his name seemed to send a shudder through the prince, “He’s my adoptive brother. After the death of our father, our relationship has been incredibly... strained. And yet, as much as I want to absolutely despise him, he’s still my brother.”

“So you love him?”

“As much as one could love an awful brother - wait, wait, why are you standing up?”

You giggled and began backing away as Diluc stood up with you. “I’ve got to find Prince Kaeya. I’m gonna tell him you love him and wanna be his friend again~”

“Y/N, that’s childish- GET BACK HERE!”

Cackling, you ran back inside the castle with Diluc hot on your heels. You didn’t even really remember what Kaeya looked like, it was just fun to make the stoic, calm, and collected prince chase you through the halls to stop you from calling his estranged brother’s name.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s all the noise for princess?”

“Kaeya, right?”

“Yes?”

“Diluc said- mmph!”

An arm wrapped around your waist while a hand covered your mouth, preventing you from talking to Kaeya any further. Diluc breathed heavily behind you and you tried not to flush as you felt his chest press against your back. Kaeya looked at Diluc questionably, but the red-head only glared at him and pulled you away.

“You’re ridiculous. That was incredibly childish of you- how old are you again? Seven? That sounds about right.”

You gave him an answer to your age, but your sounds were still muffled by his hand.

“What pleasure did it bring you, making me chase you around the castle? Is this what it would be like if I married you as well? I don’t think- Stop licking my hand!”

He pushed you away and you giggled once more, wiping your mouth as he did the same to his hand.

“It’s going to be exactly like this if we get married, Prince Diluc. You need to lighten up a little!” You stood up on your tip-toes and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek, winking at him and walking away.

Diluc watched you go, his face growing to match his hair color. And he couldn’t help but think that a future like that wouldn’t be half bad.

taglist #1: @xenia-cenia @murder-and-mistflowers @osmiumtrash @rebeljustforkicks137 @heisenwurst @writingmi @dilucs-thighs @wiseeggspickleslime @cotton—candy1709 @emerald-smile @luckymuddypaw @mercurysmaiden @Violeteyesofevergarden @darthsokaaa @aaaaalona @lehra @peepeles @hopeless-path @chaiteabeebee @murderisfantastic @janieatlanta @naritecs @a-cutiecatie @hanniejji @optimestick @trashy-mctrash @9ineine @akatherinque @spqcebun @milkxteaa @spooderkat @4everanimesimp @asheseiler @hnpriscilla @m0na-l0ver @welcometomypersonalhell098 @simplysm1le @lumi-ying @y2ndere @2-player-game @craptainlou @myheadcanonz @Piprapie @calicolaaaa @Traveler-Lumine @starrysurprise @anime-read-write-repeat @mercuryxx257 @kiitsumi @mochidabells @thefoxsleeps @josmottt @justrandomselfships @fanfictwarrior @dai-tsukki-desu @hugthesnail @astro-anomaly @liyue-harbor @genshincharactersmaid @katkrusade @chiliboba

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[sunlightheidi]

Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC

AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".

"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."

- Forest, Fancy Hagood

Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.

It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.

There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.

And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.

He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.

You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.

You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.

There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.

Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.

But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.

You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.

Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.

If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.

The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.

He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.

The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.

Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.

You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.

He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.

So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.

He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.

In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.

He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.

It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.

He bows, deeply. “Princess.”

And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.

In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.

“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”

He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”

“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.

“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”

“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”

An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.

“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.

He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”

A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.

“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”

“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”

Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”

He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”

“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.

“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”

Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.

“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”

Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.

“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”

He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.

“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”

Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.

“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”

He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.

You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.

“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.

From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.

“I love you, with everything that I possess.”

“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”

“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”

You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”

“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”

“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”

The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.

And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Fresh Starts

Leah (Stardew) x Selectively Mute She/Her Reader

A/N: Thought I’d try something different with this one. Sorry if I didn’t detail the instances of sign language very well, or if they are a little off, I did try. Also Kel is an asshol in this when they show up so get ready for that. Robin is cool mom and Abigail is the friend who is always ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Also, time is so weird in Stardew? There are four season in a year but each season is like a month so a year is like four months. Time is scary. I hope you like it! Word Count: 8,943

~

“So, someone has finally taken up that old farmland,” Leah heard Gus say to Harvey as he fixed the good doctor a drink at the bar, “‘Heard Lewis and Robin talking about it outside of Pierre’s yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Harvey was tired from a long day at the clinic, but being ever polite, he humored Gus and rested fully against the bar stool.

“Mhmm, looks like the old man’s kin is finally gonna make something of it. A few years late though I must say, that place is well overgrown. It’s gonna take a lot more than a little elbow grease to spruce up that dump,” Gus chuckled good naturedly and handed Harvey his beer, “I wish them luck, whoever they are.”

“Bah!” Leah jumped in her seat tucked away in the corner. Pam must have been listening in too. “If they’re smart they’ll just sell the heap of trash to Joja. M’sure they’d get a pretty penny for it.” Pam spoke bitterly. Shane, who was also quite drunk at this point in the night, took the opportunity to add his two cents in and yell across the bar.

“Why would they get your daughter for selling out to Joja?”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass!” Pam roared back, slamming her beer on the table with a loud thump.

Leah decided she’d call it a night then. Without Elliott to crack jokes with, the saloon could get real depressing real fast with Shane and Pam racing each other to see who would get alcohol poisoning first. Even Clint was just sad to watch. The poor man sitting hopefully, waiting for Emily to even just turn in his direction. Leah finished the rest of her beer and paid Gus, giving the man a sympathetic smile as he left to cut Shane off.

Leah shivered in the cool spring breeze as she walked along the river bank to her cottage and her thoughts wandered back to what Gus had been gossiping about.

“A new face around Stardew Valley, hm?” Leah mused, kicking a stray pebble in her path, watching it skip across the cobbled stone. “I guess I won’t be the town newbie anymore.” She smiled and turned to look in the direction of Marnie’s home, knowing that the farm was somewhere just beyond. As Leah turned the key to unlock the door of her small cottage, she wondered what changes this new resident might bring.

***

“Have you met our new resident farmer yet?” Leah heard Caroline ask Jodi as she walked across the town square.

“I suppose you could call it that,” Jodi laughed, “It was a very brief meeting to say the least.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one then,” Caroline sighed, putting a hand to her chest in relief, “I thought I had offended the girl somehow, she never said a word. She just walked into the shop and pointed to a few seeds she wanted to buy, then she handed Abigail, Pierre and I daffodils and went on her way. Not so much as a sound.” Caroline explained, still bewildered by the interaction.

“Sounds about right,” Jodi nodded, “She knocked on the front door and handed me a single clam. Which was nice I suppose, but so very odd. She gave Vincent a daffodil too,” Jodi smiled, “He was very pleased. I’m sure she would have given Sam something as well if he could wake up at a more reasonable time.”

“Oh, Leah! Good morning!” Caroline had caught her. Leah put on her most sociable smile and walked forward, greeting the two women.

“Good morning Caroline, Jodi.”

“Have you been visited by the farm fairy yet?” Jodi asked, chuckling along with Caroline.

“I’m afraid not.” Leah admitted. “Although Elliott says I am a bit difficult to track down at the best of times.” She laughed good naturedly.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll get you sooner or later. She seems to be on a mission to greet the whole town. If you can call it a greeting I suppose. I don’t even know her name.” Caroline realized.

“It’s (Y/n).”

The three women jumped and turned to a grinning Robin, walking up to them with her yoga mat swaddled under her arm.

“Her name is (Y/n). She’s quite the character, huh?”

“Robin, you helped Mayor Lewis move her in didn’t you? What can you tell us?” Jodi asked, looking for any crumb of information she could get on the mysterious girl.

“Not much to tell,” Robin shrugged, “Just a sweet kid wanting to get away from the pressures of the big city,” she sent a knowing look at Leah, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Leah laughed politely, twisting a finger around the tail end of her braid as blush settled in her cheeks faintly.

“But why is she so... you know, quiet?” Caroline asked.

“Hm, well, she did give me her blessing to explain should it come up.” Robin took a moment to think of how to proceed, absently tapping her fingers against her mat. “(Y/n) is selectively mute. She has the ability to speak, but she’s just not comfortable enough to do so at this time. This move was a big decision for her, and she’s excited, but it’s just gonna take some time before she feels secure enough to communicate orally.”

“And how did you get all this information out of her?” Caroline wondered.

Robin secured her yoga mat between her thighs and presented both hands, pointing her index fingers outward and drew a couple large circles in the air with the tips of her extended fingers. “Sign language!” Robin grinned, before taking a hold of her mat once more.

“Oh how clever!” Jodi praised. “I wish I understood sign language.”

“I’d be happy to show you a few of the basics sometime. If you really need to ask (Y/n) something though she will have no problem writing out answers for you.” Robin informed. “Now, are we working out today or...”

“I completely forgot!” Caroline smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, “Yes, let’s go. Poor Marnie is probably wondering where we are. Are you going to join us Leah?”

“I’ll pass, thanks. I’m heading to the beach to do some painting,” Leah explained, motioning to her bag.

“Alright, see you around!” Caroline, Jodi and Robin bid Leah goodbye and hurried to the general store.

Leah sighed, as much as she liked the people in this town they were so chatty. She could have been at the beach forever ago! Once she arrived, she saw Haley sunbathing. Not unusual, but as she kept walking closer to shore she saw Elliott splayed out over the sand laying on his stomach.

Leah rolled her eyes and walked over, playfully kicking the man’s arm, causing him to squint up at her.

“Is there some kind of new writing exercise I should know about?” She asked, playfully.

“I wish, this is simply writer’s block at its finest.” Elliott groaned. “That, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with this,” he sat up and produced a wild horseradish from his jacket pocket.

“Why do you have a horseradish in your pocket?”

“A girl I’ve never seen before in my life gave it to me. Then she took off before I could refuse. Didn’t even say a word.”

“She’s totally weird, but she did give me a daffodil so I guess she’s not that bad.” Haley called from her own spot in the sand.

“Has everyone met the new girl except me?” Leah wondered aloud.

“She’s been making rounds. I’m sure she’ll find you eventually.” Elliott said, resting his chin over his arms.

“You make her sound so ominous.” Leah laughed, lowering herself to the sand and taking out a sketch pad.

“A silent specter. A harbinger of-“

“Oh can it, drama queen,” Leah smirked, “so she gave you a horseradish, it’s not the end of the world. She was just trying to be nice.”

Elliott pursed his lips, propping his head up with one hand he turned the horseradish in the other offering it to Leah. “Do you want it? You’re all about foraging.”

“I mean, if you’re not going to use it sure. Put it in my bag.” Leah relented easily. Her eyes only leaving her paper to study the horizon for a moment, then continue to sketch.

Leah stayed on the beach with Elliott for a couple of hours, talking  sketching, and painting. Finally she stood and stretched, patting the sand off the back of her jeans. “I should get going. See you around.”

“See you.” Elliott nodded, splitting off from Leah to head over to his shack.

Leah hummed to herself as she walked through town, making her way past Jodi’s house and entered the Cindersnap Forest. As she rounded the corner of her cottage, she paused in her tracks. Observing a young woman staring at her door with dandelions in one hand and her other poised to knock on the weathered wood.

Leah flinched slightly, she had stepped on a twig, snapping it and alerting her visitor of her presence.

Startled eyes met Leah’s own and the farmer straightened from her previous position, stepping back from Leah’s door.

She smiled shyly, giving Leah a short, jaunty wave before gesturing between Leah and the cottage a moment. Then she stood still. An expectant look on her face.

Leah simply stared back, blinking before she registered the silent question. “Oh! Yes, I live here. That’s my house. You’re (Y/n), right? Robin told me about you, I’m Leah.” She smiled kindly, coming forward to offer (Y/n) her hand to shake.

Instead of grasping Leah’s hand, (Y/n) cupped it with her gloved hands, turning Leah’s hand palm up and placing the dandelions inside.

“Ah, thank you.” Leah chuckled, “These will make a great salad.”

(Y/n) nodded vigorously, then moved to make her exit. Leah wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she called out to (Y/n) before she could get too far.

“Wait, I um, it’s not much but I did take an intro to ASL course my freshman year of college so, I’m a bit limited but if you ever want to talk, you know...” Leah wished she could stop talking right now. Why had no one told her that the farmer was cute!? “So, yeah, you know,” Leah fumbled with her free hand, her fingers sat just underneath her chin before she sent them forward, “Thanks again.” She smiled nervously.

(Y/n) stared at her, dumbfounded. Then she released a short, sharp exhalation of air that was reminiscent of stuttered laughter and turned back to stand before Leah. (Y/n) made a timid approach and gingerly took Leah’s wrist, still hovering midair, and guided the hand back to rest on Leah’s chin, just below her lip. Leah stood still as stone as (Y/n) held it there for a second then extended the hand forward. She repeated the motion twice more before backing away and releasing Leah from her gloved grasp. The smell of earth and grass still clung to Leah’s nose even after (Y/n) had stepped back.

“Oh, I did it wrong, didn’t I?” Leah blushed, “Is there a big difference between the two?”

(Y/n) blew out a large breath of air and nodded. One of her gloved hands came up to cover the amused smile fighting against her lips.

“What did I say? Was is embarrassing? Yoba, I need to know,” Leah carefully set the dandelions at her feet and rummaged through her bag. Taking out her sketch pad and a pencil, she flipped to a clean page and presented the materials into the rough fabric of (Y/n)’s gloved hands, “Please, tell me.”

(Y/n) shot Leah a sympathetic smile, then she looked down at the paper and wrote quickly and concisely. She looked over her work, nodded to herself, then she handed the sketch book and pencil back to Leah before jogging of in the direction of her farm.

“Eh- Hey! Wait a minute!” Leah took a few strides after the farmer but quickly gave up, electing to look at the paper in her hand instead. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Nice meeting you Leah, smiley face.” Leah read aloud to herself. She scoffed, but couldn’t stop the smile that had conquered her lips. She couldn’t wait to see (Y/n) again.

***

“Hey, Maru-“

“I think I have a feeling about what this is about, but just in case, please proceed.”

The next morning, Leah had made her way to the clinic to visit Maru and perhaps get the answers she was looking for. She had made the trek to (Y/n)’s farm first, but she wasn’t there. A little note hastily taped to the farmer’s door revealed that she was spending the day fishing in the mountains and wouldn’t be back until late at night.

“Maru, you know sign language like your mom, right?” Leah asked.

“Sure do. Seb and dad do too.” Maru nodded, leaning over the clinic counter. “But I’ve got to tell you that if you’re looking for the meaning of what you accidentally signed to (Y/n) last night, we were sworn to silence earlier this morning before (Y/n) went fishing. Sorry.” Maru smiled.

“Ugh,” Leah sighed, leaning her forehead against the counter. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Well, it’s really funny. Especially considering how chill you normally are and your kind disposition.”

“Yoba, I really need to know!” Leah groaned against the counter.

“Well my family can’t tell you. You’ll just have to wait to hear it from (Y/n),” Maru grinned and pushed away from the counter, “I have to prepare for Evelyn’s check up now so I’ll see you around Leah.”

“Yeah, bye.” Leah grumbled, watching Maru disappear into the back offices. “Well, there goes that plan.” She mumbled under her breath as she left the clinic.

Leah spent the rest of the day sculpting in her cottage. She spent hours getting lost in the chipping of the wood before finally going to bed.

***

It had been days since Leah last saw (Y/n) and if the farming life wasn’t so demanding, Leah would have been worried that she had deeply offended the farmer to the point that she was purposely avoiding her. Leah decided not to waste the time she had been presented with.

She approached Robin about sign language lessons, enough to get some basic phrases and words. She practiced the motions herself, perfecting them to allow for no mistakes. Although she knew (Y/n) could hear her just fine, she found it easier to retain the lessons this way. Not to mention that it was just a useful language to know.

“I’ve hardly seen you around. I was worried you stabbed yourself with your woodworking tools.” Elliott said as Leah came up to sit next to him in the saloon.

“And you didn’t think to come to check on me?” Leah looked at the writer incredulously.

“Nope.”

Leah punched Elliott’s arm and he laughed. Before long, Emily came by with their food and they ate comfortably.

“Would you look at that.” Elliot spoke, pointing in direction of the door as he swallowed another bite.

Leah turned to look, purple irises sparkling at the sight of (Y/n) lugging a large bag up to the bar. She watched Emily talk (Y/n)’s ear off, the poor farmer smiled uncomfortably while trying to divide her attention between her and Gus who had apparently requested a variety of fish.

“Wow, Robin said you were in trouble but you really are,” Elliott chuckled behind his beer, “You really lit up just now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leah scoffed, still watching (Y/n) hand Gus fish after fish. It was almost comical how such an objectively small bag could hold so much.

“You can’t keep your eyes off her. I realize the dating pool in Stardew is small, but the girl just got here.”

“Elliott, stop!” Leah blushed, looking back down at her plate to stab at her salad.

“I’m just saying, you’re already taking sign language lessons for her you might want to dial it back a little bit. You wouldn’t want to come off as the obsessive type.”

“Oh! She’s leaving, should I offer to walk her home? I’m going to offer to walk her home.” Leah dug in her pocket and pulled out some gold, pushing it over to Elliott.

“What did I just say?” Elliott called after Leah, as she eagerly jogged to the exit to catch (Y/n) walking in the direction of the Cindersaps, perfect!

“(Y/n), good evening!” Leah called jogging up to the farmer only to have the farmer gasp and take several steps away from Leah, holding her hands out as a warning to not come any closer. “I’m sorry, I’m didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” Leah gasped, maybe Elliott was right.

(Y/n) shook her head, slowly taking a step back towards Leah, presenting her slightly soggy bag and waving her hand in front of her nose, scrunching her face as she did so.

Leah was sure the movement wasn’t an official ASL sign, but it did help get the point across and she giggled.

“What? Do you think you smell?”

Another nod and a look that seemed to say that she didn’t just think so, she knew so. She had been in the mines all morning and fishing at the beach all afternoon. She couldn’t wait to take a shower.

“It’s alright, I won’t judge you,” Leah smiled, “Are you heading home for the night? I’d be happy to walk with you since it’s so dark.”

(Y/n) took a moment to think about it before nodding shyly and motioning Leah closer. Leah happily obliged walking alongside the farmer into the Cindersap Forest. The walk was mostly silent, but that was to be expected nonetheless, Leah was having a great time. They had even found a couple of leeks along the way which (Y/n) had insisted Leah keep. All too soon, they reached the porch of the old farmhouse.

“You’re crops look great,” Leah complimented, looking for an excuse to stay even just a few minutes more, “really healthy. What all have you been growing? Are those potatoes and turnips?”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder as she unlocked her door. Her eyes focused on where Leah was pointing and nodded affirmingly.

“Yeah, I’m no farmer but I love foraging. I’ve got a few really good books about wild foods and where to find them and when. It’s kind of like a scavenger hunt.” Leah grinned.

“Mhmm.”

It was quiet, a little strained, but the small hum of agreement almost sent Leah into cardiac arrest. She sounded so sweet! Leah’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how widely she was smiling.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. So, I’ll see you around?”

(Y/n) looked like she wanted to say something, but settled for a simple nod, fiddling with the gardening gloves she had taken off. Leah smiled softly, watching how the farmer intently eyed the fabric twisting in her hands.

“Feel free to drop by the cottage whenever it suits you. I’ll leave the door open!” Leah added, waving over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. (Y/n) beamed, looking a bit more lively as she waved back.

Leah turned her back on the house and walked back to her cottage in the Cindersaps with a skip in her step and a painfully large smile on her face. Although it was already late, she prepared a new block of wood for sculpting. Her new muse had granted her a vision for a grand project and had the potential to be one of her greatest works yet.

***

“Kel, I told you to stop calling me. I’m not coming back to the city, we are through.” Leah frowned, her hand gripped the phone receiver so tightly that she could hear the plastic giving slightly under the pressure.

She was so focused on combating Kel’s useless bargains that she hadn’t noticed the timid farmer show herself in, looking at Leah’s tense shoulders and back with concern. (Y/n) flinched as Leah cut off Kel to speak again, her voice low and stern.

“There is nothing you could say, nothing you could offer me, that would make me come back. Move on, and please, for the last time, do not call me again.” Leah slammed the phone down on its perch. Pressing her palms into her eyes she let out a frustrated groan, slowly positioning her hands to rub at her temples to combat the headache she felt coming on.

Then she heard the door creak.

Leah quickly turned around just in time to see (Y/n) looking back at her with wide eyes and lips pursed thin as if she had been caught witnessing an event she had no business seeing. Which was partially true, but Leah had told her a week beforehand that she could drop by anytime.

“(Y/n), what a pleasant surprise!” Leah grimaced, watching (Y/n) flinch and look down sheepishly at her feet. One had managed to retreat back out the door before being caught and it was slowly joined by the intruding foot, so (Y/n) was fully outside again. Leah shook her head and calmly approached the farmer.

“Please don’t leave, I’m the one who told you to come let yourself in whenever. I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.” Leah was worried, watching (Y/n) linger in the doorway. Her shoulders relaxed when (Y/n) cautiously came back inside and closed the door behind her.

(Y/n) stood in the entryway and looked over Leah, her eyes filled heavily with concern. She raised a hand, pointing to Leah before signing the letters ‘o’ and ‘k’.

“I’m okay. I’m just,” Leah fumbled for the right words, “mad, sad? Exhausted.”

(Y/n) made another gesture, shaping her fingers into a ‘hang loose’-esque sign. Her curled fingers meeting her chin. She lowered the hand momentarily to give it a controlled shake before bringing it back up into the starting position.

“What’s wrong?” Leah mumbled, making sure she understood. (Y/n) nodded. “I just got a phone call from someone I didn’t want to talk to is all,” Leah sighed, “They’re an ex of mine. The person who called.” Leah disclosed, rubbing the back of her neck, agitated.

(Y/n) signed again, but Leah didn’t quite catch it that time so she motioned (Y/n) over to her dining nook and sat her down with some paper and a pencil. The farmer seemed a bit unwilling to write it out, feeling like it was more insensitive somehow but with a little prodding from Leah, she gave in.

“Was it a bad break up...” Leah read aloud. She sat back in her chair and carefully chose her words. “Sometimes it feels like we’re still breaking up,” Leah chuckled wryly, “Kel, my ex, didn’t like me perusing art. They didn’t think I could make a living out of it and wanted me to waste away at some office job and well, I didn’t want that. They weren’t respectful or supportive of my dreams, so I left. They call me a lot though, to try to convince me to come back to the city... that I won’t make it as an artist. That I can’t be happy without them. It really is exhausting and the worst part is, I worry that they’re right.” Leah released a shuddering breath, “I haven’t sold a single piece. I don’t really even know how to start. I can sustain myself on what I have in my savings account for only so long.”

(Y/n) covered Leah’s hand with her own, squeezing it. Leah marveled at how soft it was in comparison to her own, especially since it was the hand of a farmer. Perhaps the gloves (Y/n) always wore had more practical uses rather than simply being worn for aesthetic’s sake. Leah chanced a look at (Y/n)’s face and was caught off guard by the determined fire blazing in her eyes. Then Leah’s attention was brought back to the table as (Y/n) furiously scratched the pencil against the paper and forcefully pushed her newly composed message in front of the sculptor, her other hand still rooted over Leah’s.

Leah read over the note and felt her heart ache with appreciative warmth. ‘You were brave enough to know what you wanted and even though it wasn’t easy, you went for it. That in itself is an amazing accomplishment that you should not take lightly. Your dream is not unfounded either, I’ve seen some of your sketches and paintings and I think you are very talented. Once you figure out how to put yourself out there you’ll have people begging you to take their money.’

Leah sniffed and smiled at (Y/n) appreciatively, turning her hand to reciprocate (Y/n)’s strong, yet gentle hold on her. “Thank you, (Y/n). I just wish I knew how to start.”

(Y/n) tapped her chin with the pencil as she thought. When she had an idea, she pulled the paper back to herself and wrote a suggestion.

“An art show? Oh, I don’t know (Y/n). It hardly seems possible.”

(Y/n) shook her head in disagreement and wrote more.

“You really think the town would want to help? Are you sure you want to help? You’ve got enough on your plate already with how busy the farm keeps you. I don’t want to impose.”

(Y/n) looked as if she had something to say, her throat bobbed and her lips twitched, but in the end she settled for the paper again, still too anxious to speak. After Leah had read the reply, she felt (Y/n)’s thumb rub against her knuckles and looked up. (Y/n) nodded, her expression serious. She wanted to help Leah with this.

“Thank you, (Y/n)!” Leah sniffled, holding back tears. She launched herself into (Y/n)’s arms and hugged the surprised farmer close. “Thank you so much!”

(Y/n) slowly returned the hug, smoothing one of her hands over Leah’s back in comforting motions. It was a bit of an awkward position with (Y/n) still sitting at the table and Leah hovering over her, but it felt nice.

“Sorry,” Leah chuckled after a moment, leaning back and wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I kind of caught you off guard with that didn’t I?”

(Y/n) shrugged and smiled good naturedly. A look came over her face as if she just remembered something and she stood up to grab her bag from the cottage entryway. She grinned when she found what she was looking for and made her way back to Leah, holding out a brown paper package to her.

“For me?” Leah asked. (Y/n) nodded and gestured for her to take it. Leah carefully unwrapped it and gasped. “(Y/n), is this goat cheese? I love this, how did you know?”

(Y/n) raised her hand, signing the letters ‘E’ ‘L’ ‘L’ ‘I’ ‘O’ ‘T’ ‘T’.

“Elliott hm?” Leah laughed, “I’m glad you two are getting along after the horseradish debacle.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. She wasn’t looking back on the memory fondly.

“Hey, I’m with you on this one. He was being an ass. How could you have known he hated horseradish.”

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, one of her hands reaching out as if to say, ‘exactly’. She then noticed the time on Leah’s clock and signed that she had to go.

“I see.” Leah smiled sadly, trying not to let her disappointment shine through. “Good bye then, and (Y/n),” Leah signed ‘thank you’, very mindful of the position of her hands this time around, “seriously thank you for everything.”

(Y/n) beamed, giving Leah a thumbs up before heading out the door.

***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Leah kept mumbling to herself while watching her fellow Pelican Townies set up her creations in the town square. There were already some tourists looking around and Leah felt her nerves fraying.

“Hang in there, kid. Everything looks great. Don’t worry so much.” Robin snuck up on Leah, making her jump. “It’s a beautiful summer day, don’t forget to enjoy it.”

“I’m trying, Robin. It’s just so much.” Leah said, nervously playing with her sleeve. Robin noticed Elliott walking up and motioned him to help deal with the artist while she went to help Demetrius move a heavy wooden sculpture.

“Come on now, Leah. Too late to back out now.” Elliott grinned, thumping her back. “(Y/n) seems especially excited by how things are progressing.”

Leah chanced a glance at (Y/n) and Maru putting up paintings between signing each other excitedly. The scene warmed her heart and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”

“Great, now let’s go woo some tourists.” Elliott said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What? Elliott, no!” Leah shook her head.

“Not like that,” Elliott laughed, “I know your heart belongs to someone else. I just meant,” he looks around before whispering in Leah’s ear, “woo them out of their money.”

Leah laughed and pushed Elliott away. “Alright, you focus on the wooing and I’ll focus on explaining my thought processes.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun, but okay, this is your day.”

As Elliot and Leah made their way across the square, an unwelcome guest watched them from afar. Their blood boiled as they saw Leah pause at the makeshift painting gallery to give the farmer’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

***

“I can’t believe we sold so many!” Leah spoke in ecstatic disbelief as she waved at the last car she and (Y/n) had just loaded a heavy wooden sculpture into before it drove away. “This is crazy!”

(Y/n) wore a smile that matched Leah’s, happy to watch the sculptor bouncing in place. When Leah finally stilled, still giddy, she took both of (Y/n)’s hands in hers. Once again free of the gloves, the hands were pleasantly soft against her own and she relished in the feeling.

“(Y/n) I know it’s kind of late, but I have something I want to give to you. I left it at my house so I’m going to go get it. I’ll meet you at the farm, is that alright?”

(Y/n) stared at Leah, her curiosity piqued. She nodded, easily giving Leah the answer she was hoping for.

“Great! I’ll be there soon!” With one last squeeze of the farmer’s hands, she was off. (Y/n) heard the crack of a twig, but when she turned to investigate, nothing stood out so she made her way back to her farm to wait for Leah.

When Leah came up to the porch, (Y/n) had to do a double take at the big wooden statue she was lugging along. With one last huff of air, Leah placed the statue at the base of the steps and grinned up at (Y/n), wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

“Thanks for waiting. It was a little more ah, heavy, than I expected.” Leah laughed sheepishly. “Come take a look.”

(Y/n) stepped off the porch and circled the piece, taking in every detail. Leah felt nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach while she watched the farmer scrutinize the work and cleared her throat.

“I started working on it in the spring. I also incorporated some of that driftwood you gave me a few weeks ago. Anyway, I made it with you in mind. It’s called, ‘How I Feel about (Y/n)’ and I’d be honored if you would accept it as a gift for everything you’ve done for me.” Leah stared at her feet as she spoke, too embarrassed to keep her eyes on (Y/n) while she spoke. Then a pair of boots joined, hands came up to clasp her own, pulling the conjoined grasp into her line of vision and coaxing her to look up into (Y/n)’s eyes.

“It’s wonderful.”

At that moment, Leah thought her heart must have been beating so hard that it was affecting her hearing.

“Hh... huh?” Leah asked, rather dumbly.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and whispered, “It’s wonderful, Leah. Thank you.”

Leah looked absolutely awestruck, purple irises shone with excitement and she laughed, pulling (Y/n) into a tight embrace.

“I’m glad you like it.” Leah sniffled, resting her face in (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Leah?” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around the artist, it was only one word, her name, but Leah heard the concern in the farmer’s tone.

“I’m okay. I’m just happy,” Leah sniffled again, “I’m happy you felt comfortable enough with me to speak to me.”

“Me too.” (Y/n) whispered, holding Leah tighter.

The pair found it difficult when they had to part ways for the night, but they were equally excited over how their relationship was developing, looking forward to spending more time together over the summer.

***

“Come on, just a little further...” Leah coached herself. She was reaching for a piece of fruit hanging from a branch just out of her reach.

She had planned a picnic with (Y/n) for this afternoon. She had already set up under the big old tree near the pond and as she waited for (Y/n) to finish up with her crops and animals for the morning, when she spotted the unusual fruit. Now she was jumping and stretching for the fruit just out of reach.

“Almost— Ah!” Leah struggled to balance herself in the air, swiveling her head to peak over her shoulder, she saw (Y/n) looking up at her with a mischievous grin. Leah rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the side of her lips. She turned back to the task at hand and grabbed the fruit, motioning (Y/n) to put her back down.

“Show off.” Leah scoffed, lightly punching (Y/n)’s shoulder. “You wanna try a bite?”

“Yes, please.” (Y/n)’s cheeks heated when Leah pressed the fruit to her lips. She took a bite of the offering, savoring the taste. “It’s so sweet.” She said, amazed.

“Right?” Leah smiled, “It’s rare to get fruit from this tree. Usually all the animals snap it all up as soon as they’re ripe, but it seems they miss some from time to time. How is everything with the farm this morning?”

“All is well,” (Y/n) nodded as the pair made themselves comfortable on the blanket Leah had set up, “I would have been here sooner but the goats kept standing in front of my cheese and mayo machines, the chicken coup too. Made it a little difficult.” (Y/n) disclosed. “Which reminds me,” she rummaged through her bag, “goat cheese salads.”

“Mmm, this looks heavenly. Thank you for making these.” Leah said, eagerly stirring in some vinaigrette into the generous fresh salad.

“No problem. Selling my harvest is nice, but it feels so much more rewarding enjoying it like this.” (Y/n) informed, mixing her own salad.

“I can imagine,” Leah hummed and leaned her back fully against the trunk of the tree, “Ah, it’s such a lovely day for this.”

“Mhmm.”

They ate the rest of their meal in peaceful silence, listening to the birds sing and the fish leap, the breeze rustling the trees and grass around them. It was tranquil, it was perfect.

“Hey, Leah,” (Y/n) spoke, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” Leah asked, turning her gaze away from the sketch pad she had brought out.

“It’s almost Fall you know, we’ve known each other for nearly two whole seasons. Half a year, it’s crazy, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, doesn’t it?” Leah giggled, “What made you think of that?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you something. Don’t feel like you have to answer one way or the other, but...” (Y/n) paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Hey, it’s okay (Y/n). You can tell me anything. Sign it out if you want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just nervous,” (Y/n) turned to her bag and pulled out a lovely bouquet of flowers, “Leah, would you maybe consider being my girlfriend?“

“Yes!” Leah enveloped (Y/n) in a tackle like hug that sent them both to fully meet the ground, accidentally crushing the flowers between their bodies, “Oops, sorry,” Leah wiggled the flowers out from under her to look at them more closely, “these are lovely, (Y/n). I didn’t know Pierre had these in yet.”

“He didn’t, I planted them.” (Y/n) clarified, smiling up at Leah who still hovered over her, giggling.

“Of course you did, you’re so sweet.”

“I try.”

“Are you kidding me!”

Leah and (Y/n) quickly turned to face the disturbance, scrambling to sit up from their compromising position. Leah felt her stomach twist with discomfort seeing Kel of all people marching up to them, absolutely fuming.

“Seriously, what the hell, Leah?” Kel yelled, their hands clenched into tight fists as they closed in, making yard after yard disappear between them.

“No, more like what the hell, Kel? I broke up with you seasons ago. What are you even doing in Pelican Town?” Leah retorted angrily, as (Y/n) helped her to her feet. Kel watched the motion and ground their teeth.

They were already dangerously close to crossing the threshold of the blanket and that small display was enough to send them stomping over the edge.

“I came for you, obviously! I’ve been slumming it in that dusty old saloon since your art show, waiting to talk to you! Now I find you sucking face with some country bumpkin nobody!” They seethed, stepping even closer into Leah’s personal space until (Y/n) pulled Leah back behind her, making Kel even more incensed. “You stay out of this. I’m talking to Leah!”

(Y/n) held strong, stuck between the harsh obscenities attacking her from the front and the loving affirmations defending her from behind. She held her arm out, willing Kel to stay back as she slowly started to guide Leah back in the direction of town for help. Kel ignored the warning and followed after them.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? You think you’re being some kind of hero right now?” Kel seethed.

(Y/n) stayed silent, she had gone mute again and who would blame her in the face of such a tense situation? She was so very uncomfortable, scared even, but she continued on passed Marnie’s since she knew the woman wasn’t home at this time and she sure wasn’t going to expose Jas to this. Jodi’s house was their next best bet.

“Hey, you obviously want to start something here. You’ve got something to say to me?” Kel continued forward.

“Kel, leave us alone!” Leah commanded, “It’s over, it’s been over, go home!”

“You think you’re too good to talk to me?” Kel yelled, ignoring Leah. “She’s just a whore. She just latched onto the first warm body she could find after her little meltdown. You’re not special.”

(Y/n) froze stiffly in place, Leah felt the muscles on her shoulders tense so she tried to pull on her arm to keep her moving.

“Ignore them, (Y/n). Let’s focus on getting to town, okay?” Leah pleaded. But (Y/n) gently pushed off Leah’s hands and took a step towards Kel with a cold glare. Leah stepped to stand beside (Y/n)’s side, nervous that a more serious confrontation was about to unfold.

“Well?” Kel spat.

(Y/n) crossed her arms, turning her head to look at Leah. The look on her face was all the communication Leah needed to understand. It was definitely a, ‘they better back off or I’m going to knock them off their block’ face. Leah had never known (Y/n) to be particularly violent, but with all the time she spent in the mines, she had no doubt that she could take care of herself.

Leah gasped when Kel suddenly roared, lunging forward. Apparently they had not liked how (Y/n) and Leah had been paying attention to each other rather than themself. Kel had rocketed forward and aimed to punch (Y/n) hard over her cheek, however, at the last moment, Leah pushed her aside and took the blow for her.

(Y/n) inhaled sharply and caught Leah as she stumbled back, noticing how blood immediately began gushing from Leah’s now broken nose.

“Ow- AH!” Leah cried, her hands muffled her voice since she had covered her nose and mouth.

It only took a second for (Y/n) to return the favor to Kel’s stunned face. She punched them fast and hard over their cheek, but Kel was quick to fight back and now it was a full out brawl.

“What’s going on, we heard yelling— holy shit!”

Leah turned away from the fight to see Sam, Seb, and Abigail running up on the scene.

“(Y/n)’s throwing hands!” Abigail yelled, sounding way more excited than worried.

“Leah are you okay? What’s going on?” Sebastian asked, noting the concerning amount of blood running down Leah’s arms and the front of her shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, stop them!” Leah winced, taking one hand away from her face to motion to her ex and her new girlfriend still going at each other.

“Damn, Abi! Go get your dad and Harvey too by the looks of it!” Sam yelled, he seemed to be looking for an opening to push the fighters apart.

“Are you kidding? You get my dad, I’m getting in on this!” Abigail cheered and ran up to jump on Kel’s back like she was at a rodeo while (Y/n) landed a good hit on Kel’s stomach. “Nice punch, (Y/n)!”

“Oh Yoba, Sam, start running.” Seb suggested, trying to help Leah with her nose. He was no Maru, but even he knew how to set a broken nose. Especially within the first couple weeks of Sam taking up skateboarding.

“Right!” Sam ran off back into town screaming. A few tense minutes later and Pierre, Caroline, Robin, Elliott, Maru and Harvey came running behind Sam to break up the fight.

“Abigail, stop!” Pierre huffed, pulling off his daughter and passing her off to his wife, “I taught you what I did to defend yourself, not to lash out like a wild animal!” He grunted, pulling Kel into his grasp and trapping their arms behind their back with Elliott coming up to assist.

“Come on dad, I was helping a friend! What’s the big deal?” Abi groaned, while her mom fretted over her, looking for injuries.

“Easy there kid, it’s over.” Robin coaxed (Y/n), pulling her back. The farmer slumped over in the carpenter’s hold, breathing heavily.

“Is (Y/n) okay? Ah!” Leah hissed as Harvey touched up her nose, giving her a nasal spray before wedging a couple wads of tissue up her nostrils.

“Sorry, Leah.” Harvey sympathized, “Maru is going to check up on her now.”

“What about me?” Kel hissed. Pierre had them resting on their knees. They looked really roughed up. A black eye was already forming and scratches and bruises littered their skin, they were also holding their stomach rather tightly.

“You’ll just have to wait a minute.” Elliott frowned, staring down at the stranger with contempt.

“Don’t you have any police officers in this backwater town? I’ll sue every one of you for withholding care to someone who is obviously hurt!” Kel threatened, grinding their teeth.

“Oh, the police are coming alright!”  Caroline spoke indignantly. “You are in no position to be asking for anything right now, bringing violence to our community, you should be ashamed!”

“(Y/n) can you look up for me, please.” Maru asked, carefully tilting (Y/n)’s chin up. (Y/n) sucked in a breath when Maru touched her bruised jaw a tad to hard. “Sorry, Your jaw is bruised pretty badly. Your bottom lip split too. How is your vision?”

(Y/n) shook her head and winced, cradling her head in her hands.

“Okay, possible concussion. We’ll need to observe her at the clinic.” Maru said.

“Alright, come on bruiser,” Robin grunted, heaving (Y/n) to her feet, “Sebbie, help me walk her into town please.”

“Sure mom.” Seb took (Y/n)’s other side.

(Y/n) patted Robin’s arm, motioning her to wait. She slowly turned to Kel and leaned more heavily against Seb as she freed her other arm from Robin to snap her fingers aggressively, looking for Kel’s attention. Once Kel looked up at her, sneering from their spot in the dirt, (Y/n) turned briefly to make sure Leah was watching. When she saw that she was, she smiled as if to say, ‘watch this,’ and turned back to Kel. (Y/n) brought her flat, angled hand below her chin and sent it forward in the direction of Kel’s confused, but no less, pissed face.

“Oh ho! (Y/n) is such a badass!” Abigail laughed.

“Abi, since when do you know sign language?” Sam asked, clearly confused.

“I don’t, but I’ve spent enough time searching curses in different languages to know that was totally a ‘fuck you’. Personally I think a middle finger approach would have been an appropriate classic myself but whatever.” Abigail shrugged.

“Abigail, language!” Caroline scolded.

“Sorry mom.”

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Clinic, now.” Robin tried to hold in a laugh as she repositioned (Y/n)’s arm over her shoulder. Then she and Seb began walking (Y/n) back into town.

Leah made to follow, but as they were leaving, the police from the the next town over had arrived and they needed her statements as a witness. Never mind that she was covered in her own blood and her girlfriend was being dragged away to the clinic with a concussion. Once the officers were satisfied, they took Kel away with promises to be back for (Y/n)’s statement and to see if any charges would be made. For now they were just going to take Kel back to a hospital in Zuzu City since they may have broken a rib or two in the fight. After that, they were going to be free to go.

Leah wasn’t too worried. She didn’t think Kel would come back after the beating (Y/n) and Abigail gave them. She watched the police car drive out of Cindersaps, taking her disgruntled ex away.

“Leah, I’m sure you want to get to the clinic but you should really clean up first.” Caroline had said patting the younger woman’s back. “(Y/n) will be fine.”

“Yeah, Harvey and Maru got her. Take some time to process.” Elliott smiled.

Leah could only nod tiredly. She trudged over to her cottage to shower and change. She still couldn’t believe how quickly things got out of hand. She looked at her bandaged nose in the mirror, hissing when she gingerly touched the bridge of it. She was wary of Seb setting it himself, but Harvey said he had gone a great job. Once she was physically put back together, Leah quickly made her way to the clinic.

“Where is she?” She asked immediately upon arriving. She sounded a little congested thanks to her clogged nose, but she was easily understood. Robin was still in the waiting room and filled her in.

“Harvey and Maru are talking her through concussion care. She’s okay, but I don’t think she’ll be allowed to work for awhile.”

“Oh no,” Leah sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and covered her eyes with her hands, “This is all my fault.”

“Aw, don’t say that sweetheart. You know that’s not true.” Robin frowned, taking a seat beside her, “(Y/n) would hate to hear you think like that.”

“(Y/n) loves her farm! If she can’t maintain the upkeep...” Leah continued, teary eyed, only to be silenced by Robin.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Nothing is going to happen to the farm. Abi, Sam, and even Seb already told (Y/n) in no uncertain terms that they were going to pitch in while she recovers. Everything is going to be taken care of.” Robin assured.

“Still none of this would have happened if-“

“If you hadn’t broken up with your ex? Moved to Pelican Town? Got a crush? Leah, you can’t punish yourself for moving on with your life. You’re allowed to be happy.” Robin chided gently. “It was hard for me and Sebastian’s father to see eye to eye at the best of times. Now I have Demetrius and although he can be a bit annoying sometimes with his tomato bullshit, not a day goes by that I’m not grateful I took that first step because I love him.” Robin smiled.

Leah’s nose hurt like hell as she tried to carefully wipe the tears from her eyes and Robin rubbed her back affectionately. Once Leah had calmed down, Robin stood and stretched.

“She’s been wondering where you are. The doc is keeping her for overnight observation, but your welcome to stay with her. I on the other hand, am apparently too old for this much excitement and need to go home.”

“Thank you Robin, for talking to me.”

“Anytime,” Robin grinned, “now go get her.”

Leah made her way into the back area of the clinic and nearly ran up to Harvey, Maru, and (Y/n). (Y/n) was signing to Maru while she relayed the information to Harvey as he examined (Y/n)’s well being.

(Y/n) was relieved to see Leah and eagerly motioned her to come sit on the edge of the bed she was sitting in which Leah did happily.

“Leah, how’s the nose?” Harvey asked while he finished up (Y/n)’s chart.

“It’s fine. Just, really sore and tingly.”

“So not fine.” Maru chuckled. “I’ll get you some pain meds.”

“Ah, thanks Maru.” Leah smiled sheepishly.

“Well, Ms. (Y/n),” Harvey sighed, turning his attention back to the farmer, “you and I are in for a long night. I’ll be waking you up every hour to check your pupils to see if your condition changes at all.” Harvey stood and stretched, “Ms. Leah, feel welcome to stay as long as you like. It can’t hurt to keep an extra pair of eyes on her.”

“I could stay overtime, Harvey.” Maru said as she came back with two pills and a glass of water for Leah.

“I seem to recall you talking about a time sensitive experiment this morning.” Harvey recalled, making Maru smack the side of her head. “You’re right! I got to go now! Good night everyone!” Maru called behind her as she rushed out to the waiting room then out of the building.

“I’m going to take the first of my many naps lined up for tonight. I’ll see you ladies in about an hour. Try to get some rest.” Harvey said before leaving to walk up the stairs to his apartment.

Finally Leah and (Y/n) were alone again. (Y/n) sunk down into the covers and sighed deeply. She turned to face Leah, concerning the sculptor by how small she looked.

“You’re not too upset with me, are you?” (Y/n) asked, surprising Leah.

“I’m not upset with you. Why would I be upset with you?”

“I just beat the crap out a person. Sure they are your ex, but you cared about them at some point so it must have been hard to watch. I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.” (Y/n) whispered, she was so quiet Leah had to lean closer and even then she was straining to hear.

“(Y/n), I like you. Nothing that happened today changed how much I like you. It certainly didn’t make me like you any less,” Leah rested her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek, “Kel made their choice when they decided to come to Pelican Town and confront us. I wish it hadn’t gone down the way it did, but that’s not our fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too. I was worried.”

“I wish we could start this day all over,” Leah moaned, “First day as official girlfriends and we get into a fist fight.”

(Y/n) laughed lightly, closing her eyes to combat the pain that came from her jostling. “Abigail thought it was a pretty great date activity.”

“She would think that.” Leah rolled her eyes, “she also eats rocks.”

“Well, think about it this way. Until I’m allowed to take up all my farming duties again, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Whatever I want, hmm?” Leah tapped her lips with her index finger, “would it be to forward if me to ask for a kiss?”

“You may, just be careful with my split lip. I won’t be able to explain what happened to Harvey if you make it worse.” (Y/n) said.

“One gentle kiss, coming right up.” Leah wiggled on the bed’s stiff hospital sheets until she laid face to face with (Y/n). Their lips met in a soft brushing that was almost ghost like, but rather than leaving them with a chill, warmth bloomed between them.

“Wow.” (Y/n) grinned.

“If you thought that was good, wait until I can get more involved with it.”

“So confident. I like it.” (Y/n) squinted, “could you turn the light off? It’s really starting to hurt my eyes.”

“Of course.” Leah got up and switched off the half the lights to keep their side of the room in darkness but allow Harvey to still be able to see when he came back.

“Now come cuddle, please.” (Y/n) asked sleepily reaching her arms out.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Leah kicked off her boots and shimmied under the sheets to join (Y/n) and wrapped her arms around her. Leah let the exhaustion of the day roll over her and she had nearly let sleep claim her before her eyes shot open and she propped herself up on her elbow to lean over (Y/n).

“Did I really sign a ‘fuck you’ when we first met?!” She asked, appalled.

(Y/n)’s response was to laugh sleepily into Leah’s chest.

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

Doom At Your Service: Analysis & Theories for EPs 7-8

Welcome back to another edition of analyses and theories time with me! I’m going to try and keep this post as short and as simple as possible. In case I don’t, I apologize in advance! Also, sorry if this post is filled with grammar mistakes and confusing syntax...I'm writing/editing this late at night and my ADHD meds have lost their effectiveness.

Anyways Eps 7-8 was pretty awesome and I’m glad that a bunch of my previous theories had come true! For those who wonder how I come up with some of these theories, I just look at everything whether it be big or small. I also try to look for connections and patterns. At the same time, I try to understand the motivations of characters and what is the big picture the writer is trying to paint. Once you're able to do all of that then you can predict where the story is going. This is how for the most part I was able to predict the events and endings of shows like TOTNT and TKEM. Anyhow, let’s get down to analyzing and theorizing! Turn on those thinking caps!

What the Rock Balancing Structure Represents

Rock balancing is a form of art that involves a person placing a combination of rocks in an arrangement. To achieve balance of the rocks, one must be very patient and compassionate. In its completion, the structure represents that while things may appear impossible, they are actually possible. So what seems impossible, but can actually be possible? Hmmm probably Myul Mang learning what it means to be human and ending up becoming human. Notice that both the rock art is next to the plant and the story of Pinocchio? It's saying saying that the impossible can be possible. It's possible for Myul Mang to be able to learn what it means to be a human so that the impossible can happen...he can "grow" up to becoming a real human.

The whole rock balancing structure could also signify that in order to grow, one must overcome one's deepest fears. I don't know about you all, but stacking rocks is a scary thing especially since at any moment the whole thing could fall over. Anyways, if you remembered, Myul Mang had been searching everywhere for Dong Kyung and feeling like one of his worst fears (Dong Kyung not existing) had came true. It's only when he goes to Dora's hospital room and sees both the Pinocchio book and rock structure that he got Dora's lesson. And that's why afterwards you didn't see Myul Mang going on another search for Dong Kyung somewhere else.

A brief digression. I’ve seen multiple people theorizing that the plant and the butterfly represent Dong Kyung and Myul Mang respectively. To them I say, did you just completely miss the part where Dora says the plant is Myul Mang? Myul Mang is both the butterfly and the plant. For those who still don’t see that, let me break it down.

First, what do butterflies symbolize? They symbolize metamorphosis, death, and rebirth. Myul Mang is not a literal butterfly, but he will eventually be one in a metaphorical sense. If anything, Myul Mang right now is like a caterpillar on the verge of entering the cocoon stage that is followed by a reemergence as a butterfly aka human. You can also look at it this way, Pinocchio is a butterfly too. Why? Well, look at what happens to Pinocchio. He is reborn as a real boy after having gone through metamorphosis (puppet -> real boy).

Now let’s examine the plant symbolism. What do plants represent in DAYS? They represent humans. What is Dora growing? A human Myul Mang..DUH!! Sorry, but I didn’t think it was that hard of a concept to grasp especially since Dora has already explicitly said what she is growing in that one scene. For Myul Mang to grow up to become a "good" human, he needs to learn to think about others, forgive himself, be compassionate (not only towards himself, but others as well), love others, etc. Other things Myul Mang would probably need to learn is how to love his fate or amor fati (loving your fate means loving it all, not just the good parts, but the bad parts too; loving it so much so that you would never want to change anything about it and would gladly relive your life the way it was over and over again for all of eternity).

I don’t think the "plant" will fully "blossom" until Myul Mang sacrifices himself to save Dong Kyung for the sole reason that he loves her (in contrast to sacrificing himself for his own personal gain). Therefore, that's probably the final lesson -- how to be completely selfless.

Dora just wants her son to grow up to be a "good" plant (human) so she doesn't have to end up pulling him out aka end him before he even becomes human! Okay???

Sorry if what I've just said was confusing. What I meant to say is that Myul Mang's personal growth is reflective in the plant's growth. The more he learns of what it means to be a "good" human, the more the plant will grow until it blossoms into a beautiful flower (a real human).

If we want to connect the idea of personal growth to the story of Pinocchio, we see that Pinocchio's growth occurs only after he experiences pain (physical and emotional) and love. From these experiences, he learns what it means to be a "good" boy and is rewarded by the Fairy transforming him into a real boy.

One Wish or Wishes?

In my previous post, I had briefly touched upon how I think Dong Kyung is going to wish for brain cancer to be cured. Though I still think this, I nevertheless want to explore some of the other possibilities of what her wish could be.

Potential Wishes:

1) Myul Mang to Become Human

2) More Wishes

3) Contract to be Voided

4) No One Remembering Her After She Dies

For #1, Dong Kyung wishes Myul Mang to become human, but then she still dies from her untreated brain cancer…so nope. For #2 and #3, are these wishes even allowed? I would like to point out some flaws of the writer. Maybe it’s not so much a flaw, but an annoyance I have with the writer of DAYS. What one can or cannot wish for is not explicitly stated. Due to this, it is somewhat difficult for me to accurately predict what Dong Kyung will wish for. It’s like trying to detect a substance without being given its upper and lower limits or range of detection (sorry for the science related analogy) ! For #4, I guess this one could be probable, but there is just too much evidence pointing to Myul Mang's death. After exploring each of the possibilities, I'm still left thinking that Dong Kyung's one wish will be to cure her cancer.

Anyways, even if Dong Kyung wishes for her brain cancer to be cured, it’s not really a happy ending since Myul Mang still dies. Is there any other way for Dong Kyung to make another wish so that she can save Myul Mang? I think there is and it comes in the form of the “gift” that Dora gave Dong Kyung. In my previous post, I had theorized that the marble may have a larger purpose than just being a symbol of how the fate of the world is Dong Kyung hands. I believe now that the marble’s larger purpose is that it is a type of wish fulfilling stone. Why? Because we know fantasy dramas typically make references to mythology. In this case, the writer of DAYS is probably referencing Hindu mythology.

In Hindu mythology there are 3 main gods:

1) Brahma: The Creator

2) Vishnu: The Preserver

3) Shiva: The Destroyer (Sounds like Myul Mang right? Also, the love story between Shiva and Parvati is somewhat similar to that of Myul Mang and Dong Kyung’s love story.)

Dora is the equivalent to the god Vishnu in Hindu mythology. Vishnu is often depicted wearing a “Cintamani”, a type of wish fulling stone analogous to the Philosopher’s Stone (hint hint…transforms something from one form into another…immortal -> human) in Western mythology. Given this, the marble/Cintamani in Dong Kyung's possession could be the key to Myul Mang’s rebirth.

Some might ask, “Well why can’t Dora just use it to wish for her son to be reborn as a human?”. Well, remember that both Dora and Myul Mang are slaves to the wishes of humans. They themselves cannot fulfil their own wishes or desires. Meaning, even though Dora and Myul Mang can wish for something to happen, they cannot carry it out unless humans wish it too. Also, as I mentioned previously, deities in kdramas never just give humans gift because they’re being nice. Rather, they give gifts to humans so that humans can help them accomplish their overall goals/wishes.

So putting it all together, do you see where I’m going with this? Dora has the same wish as Dong Kyung which is for Myul Mang to live, but Dora is unable to execute her goals/wishes unless Dong Kyung wishes it too. Dora knows that Dong Kyung will probably use her one wish to cure her brain cancer. At the same time, this leaves her son, Myul Mang, to die. Therefore, Dora gives Dong Kyung the wish fulfilling marble with the intention that Dong Kyung will use it to wish for her son, Myul Mang, to be reborn as a human. With Dora/Dong Kyung’s wish, Myul Mang will be free from his cursed life as an immortal and be reborn to be able to live happily with Dong Kyung.

Side note, the rebirth of Myul Mang into a human can either be dependent on Myul Mang's personal growth or it can be dependent on this wish fulfilling stone or both! I'm leaning more towards his personal growth as being the catalyst for his rebirth, but who knows! It very well could be that the marble has a role to play in his rebirth.

Is Dong Kyung Going To Be An Immortal?

No…no…and NO!!

Some might ask why don’t I think this? Well, for a bunch of reasons. I’ll admit I used to think that it would be very romantic for a human to become immortal so that they can be with their immortal lover forever. However, the more I thought about it, I came to the realization the notion of forever is not romantic nor beautiful. At its core, the concept of eternity is quite terrifying and ugly. And if you haven’t realized already, the writer of DAYS has been making multiple arguments against immortality. For anything to have meaning, it must have an end. In this sense, the end is beautiful.

To get my point across, I want you to try and think about some things. What keeps life meaningful? Experiences? People? Well, imagine doing something you love for a year. Now imagine doing it for trillions or zillions of years. Experiences no matter how good they are at first will eventually become tedious if you do it for long enough. For example, eating your favorite dish may be good for a while, but not for zillions of years. At one point or another, you ultimately lose your desire to want to eat it or eat entirely for that matter.

Now surely getting to know people and loving them can keep your life meaningful right? Well, how many times do you think you could handle knowing and loving people who eventually disappear? Eventually, you grow tired of crying and mourning over dead loved ones that you become numb. Now imagine being Dong Kyung. She would have to witness her family, their family, and so forth dying over and over again for all of eternity. Doesn’t that seem tortuous? Sure, one could argue that at least she has Myul Mang with her, but do you really think her love for him could sustain her forever? The relationship between Myul Mang and his mother, Dora, is a prime example of how a loving relationship could turn sour over a great deal of time. The gift of immorality Dora bestowed on Myul Mang became a curse instead of a blessing. So why would Myul Mang want to give Dong Kyung something that was basically a curse for him? As for Dora, she probably wouldn’t want to give Dong Kyung the same gift after seeing what it did to her son.

If you continue to think that Dong Kyung will become an immortal being, did you really smell what the writer of DAYS was cooking or did you just smell what you were cooking?

The Bad Case of the Riddles

From what I have been reading on multiple platforms now, it would seem that a lot of people are rather confused about a lot of things. It’s understandable! Throughout the show, the writer has presented some complex philosophical concepts that may be difficult for some viewers to grasp. To further add to the confusion, the characters at times do speak in what appears to be riddles. This I believe may be one of the major flaws of the writer. She has to consider that her audience are probably people who have never read any philosophical works before. Most viewers aren’t here to decipher cryptic messages or see how they’re connected to some major philosophical concepts such as eternal recurrence, existentialism, nihilism, amor fati, etc. Most are here to shut off their tired brain and enjoy some good fantasy romance! I know I’m totally one of those people!

Needless to say, I did find myself in a debate of whether I should discuss some philosophical concepts referenced in the show as to help you all gain a better sense of understanding. However, I concluded that it would take too much of my time to do so. Additionally, despite my best efforts to use the simplest of words, I found that whatever I had already written may have still been confusing to the everyday reader. Anyways, if there are any particular scenes or dialogue you all want to me go over, please feel free to use the ask button and I’ll do my best to try and answer them!

Whats Going to Happen Next?

Probably more filler type stuff aka more bs. It's common in kdramas for characters to go back and forth on their initial decision of whatever. Dong Kyung is going to break up with Myul Mang because she loves him and doesn't want him to die. And before the breakup, she's going to give him some good memories to remember her by. Following this, she's going to try and love herself so that she's the one that ends up dying and her wish is going to be for everyone to forget her? Okay......Zzzzzzz!! Idk... Dora is probably going to intervene somehow to get Dong Kyung and Myul Mang back together again.

Other Random Thoughts

What I think would be interesting to learn about is the connection between Dong Kyung's parents death and Dora past self's death. It wasn't just all a coincidence that they both died on the same day. Who knows... maybe Dong Kyung was meant to be in the car that day with her parents, but Dora's past self sacrificed herself to change Dong Kyung's fate.

Also, I still don't think Dong Kyung is going to die, I mean you got her brother praying to the deities that she lives!

Okay, I'm done. I wrote this in Microsoft Word and it was 5 pages long. My brain is dead. There's probably something I should've gone over or elaborated more about, but oh well. Thanks for reading this disjointed post!

[cozy-the-overlord]

Just One Last Word

Summary: As children, she swore she'd become the greatest author in all of Asgard. Loki had his doubts.

Word Count: 4,360

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: Look who's back! I got this idea from a made-up fic title sent to me by an anon a while back and I just loved the concept so much I had to write it. What can I say? I’m a glutton for childhood romance and angst

Thanks for reading! :)

Warnings: Implied/referenced domestic violence/child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The first time Loki heard about Sága’s extraordinary book was the day Lady Gudrun decided that the spring weather was just too lovely to ignore and took her literature students to give them their lessons in the gardens rather than the stuffy palace classrooms. He couldn’t quite recall what year they were—childhood seemed so long ago that all of his primary classes had melted into one amorphous blur—but they had to have been young because Sága hadn’t yet chopped off both her braids in the middle of arithmetic, claiming that they were too heavy to think properly whilst wearing them. No, her braids still hung at her shoulders, and as Lady Gudrun read aloud to them on the lawn, Sága was busy weaving dandelion flowers into their intricate patterns.

“This is going in my book!” she whispered to Loki with a grin. “In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.”

Loki frowned. “What book?”

“The one I’m writing,” she said, fiddling with another flower stem. “It’s going to be the best book in all of Asgard.”

He had been going to say that there was no way in all the realms she was capable of writing the best book in all of Asgard, but then Lady Gudrun asked them if there was something they wanted to share with the rest of their classmates, since they seemed to be having such an intriguing conversation by themselves, and Loki had shaken his head, blushing. Sága wasn’t bothered. She kept playing with her dandelions and humming softly to herself, some horrifically out of tune melody Loki was almost positive she was just making up as she went along.

Sága Svanhilddottir was a strange girl. One day she had just plopped her bulging crocheted bookbag onto the desk next to his, and she never really went away. There were plenty of whispers about her—her mother was an Asgardian noble who had run away to Alfheim to marry a man in the Elvish court, only to return nine years later with a child in her arms and no husband to be found. At dinner, Loki would overhear the noblewomen’s hushed speculations on what could possessed her to leave in the first place, and what prompted her return. How had the Elf bewitched her so? A love potion? A spell? Had she gotten with child and fled to preserve her dignity? But then why return? Was he unfaithful? Was she unfaithful?

Sága had her own story. She told Loki very seriously before class one day that her mother had come back to Asgard because her father had been turned into a dragon by a wicked witch and now every time he sneezed he spat out enormous balls of fire into the air, and that her mother was afraid that the next time he caught a cold he’d burn the whole apartment down. She pulled down her dress sleeve to show Loki her burn scar, angry red flesh that stretched from her wrist all the way across her shoulders—a scar, she explained, she had gotten when she had tried to give her dragon father a handkerchief.

Loki didn’t believe her.

“Witches don’t turn people into dragons,” he bristled. “My mother’s a witch, and she would never turn anyone into a dragon.”

“That’s because your mother’s a nice witch,” Sága explained impatiently. “This was a mean old witch, with pointy teeth and spiky hair, who hated everybody.” Ruffling her shorn locks (this was after the ill-fated math lesson), she bared her teeth in demonstration. “She was mad at my father because he forgot to bring her mousetail pudding for her birthday like he promised.”

“He—what?”

But Sága only waved him off dismissively. “You’ll have to read my book,” she said. “I explain it all there.”

Oh, that damn book. It seemed like it was the only thing she ever talked about, this stupid, imaginary book. Because it had to be imaginary. Loki had never even seen the girl hold a pen, let alone write a sentence. No, she was too busy prattling on about her wonderous book, this book that would one day become the pinnacle of Asgardian literature.

“Someday, they’ll be making students read my book instead of this nonsense,” she’d whisper to Loki as their teacher read to them in the front of the classroom. “It’ll be much more interesting.”

Or when he ran into her in the library, and she’d drag him to the shelf where they kept all the classics.

“This is where they’ll keep my book!” she’d grin, having the audacity to pat the dusty wood where the great authors of millennia long past rested.

And then there was that one time during one of the feasts, when he turned around to find her staring at him intently from across the ballroom, a studious expression on her face. He shot what he hoped was an intimidating glare at her, but she only skipped across the room to join him.

“What are you doing?” he asked sourly.

“Looking at you,” she said, grinning as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to remember how you look like, so I can put you in my book.”

Loki scowled. “I don’t want to be in your book.”

“Well, I want you in it,” Sága retorted. “And, since I’m the author, that’s all that matters.” She grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards the dessert table. “Come on, Prince Loki. Let’s get some cake!”

Thor said that he must be harboring a crush on her, to seemingly hate her so and yet be constantly spending time with her. Loki nearly threw a fit when he accused him of such at the dinner table. He didn’t like Sága. She was strange and irritating and talked far too much and he wanted her to go away. He spent time with her because she followed him around, not because he wanted to! She was annoying. And weird. And …

And yet.

One day she wasn’t in class. Loki thought he’d be relieved—finally, a lesson where he could listen to the teacher without having to filter out her constant chatter. But … it didn’t feel right. It was too quiet—he hated the empty stretches of silence that hung over the classroom every time Lady Gudrun stopped talking. For some reason, it seemed even more difficult to focus without the familiar presence of his deskmate hunched over the table and picking splinters out of the wood with her fingernail.

The library was more of the same. Loki perused the shelves, gaze lingering on the spot Sága had claimed for her own. She was the only person he really talked to, he realized. Without her, the day felt hollow.

She was gone for the rest of the week. Her mother was gone too, and rumors began to fly that she had decided to take her daughter back to Alfheim to rejoin her mysterious husband. Loki couldn’t help but remember her story about her father the dragon.

Just when he was starting to fear she had left for good, one morning a ratty old crotched bag smacked the desk next to his before class started.

He scowled to mask his sigh of relief. “Where have you been?”

But Sága wouldn’t say. She only grinned at him from under her crown of dandelions. “I was working on my book. Why?” she asked. “Did you miss me, Prince Loki?”

Loki flushed bright red.

It was strange to think about now, with everything that had happened. At the time, Loki thought he would have fallen on his sword before he ever referred to Sága as a friend. And yet, she was not only a friend, but the closest one he had. She continued finding ways to spend time with him even after they graduated Lady Gudrun’s class—she’d track him down and ask him for help with her arithmetic, or to wish him luck on an upcoming test, or to tell him about a book she thought he’d like. Thor and his companions drove Loki up the wall with their merciless teasing, but their words couldn’t quell the odd sort of fluttering in his stomach every time she came running up to him clutching some new story against her chest.

“Is it your book?” he’d ask jokingly, even as he took the novel from her hands.

“No,” she laughed. “I’m still working on that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”

Sága patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry,” she said. “When I’m done, you’ll be the first to read it.”

She was pretty. Loki wasn’t quite certain when that happened. Sága didn’t really change all that much, even as everyone else grew and morphed into something resembling maturity. She continued cutting her own hair, keeping it messy and uneven and even shorter than his. She’d weave dandelion stalks into the shorn clumps and walk around in gauzy yellow dresses with cuffed sleeves that went past her fingers, looking like one of her fairy-story creatures come to life. It was generally accepted that she looked ridiculous, and Loki didn’t disagree. He just felt that she made ridiculous look good.

He noticed it when she came down to the sparring pit to watch him practice with his daggers. There she was, perched on the railing, beaming like the sun as she waved at him. She was pretty. Very pretty.

Loki turned around without waving back. There was a heat rising in his cheeks that he wasn’t quite sure how to address. He missed the target completely on his next throw.

He wasn’t the only person who noticed. The other boys his age were beginning to be quite drawn to Sága Svanhilddottir as well, although Loki suspected it was less due to actual interest and more because of her proclivity for disregarding traditional decorum. She loved to dance. It seemed every ball she was spinning across the floor in the arms of some new beau, giggling so loudly that her voice echoed down the hall. Loki hated the way they’d hold her, gripping her tightly to their bodies as if she belonged to them, but Sága didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. She’d laugh and whoop and make a show of it as they twirled through the song.

It might have made her popular with the young men, but older members of the court weren’t as amused. After all, such displays weren’t exactly becoming of an unmarried woman. But Sága didn’t mind that they whispered things like “promiscuous” and “loose” as she walked by. Unlike her fellow ladies, Sága wasn’t particularly interested in catching a husband. In fact, she once told Loki in no uncertain terms that she had no intentions of ever giving her hand in marriage.

“Marriage is horrible,” she said. Loki could barely hear her over the ruckus—it was Thor’s Nameday Feast, and such a raucous celebration was hardly ideal for intimate conversation. He thought Sága might have been enjoying the festivities a bit too much as well—she was swaying on her feet as she leaned in to speak. “You’re tied down forever to some person, and you don’t even know what they’re going to be like! Sure, they might seem nice, but who knows!” She hiccupped, and Loki found himself reaching out to steady her without realizing he was doing it, accidentally grabbing the shoulder he knew to be scarred under her sleeve.

Sága brushed him off. There was a bitterness in her eyes that made his chest ache. “I don’t want to get married,” she said. “I just want to have fun.”

He walked her back to her rooms that night. He had started doing that recently—partially because with the way she was staggering he didn’t trust her to be able to make it herself, and partially because the voracious looks some of her dance partners had been giving her were making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up.

Sága grinned at him when they made it back to her door. The dandelions in her hair were beginning to wilt. One was nearly falling off her head, held there only by a tangled strand.

“Are you going to kiss me, Prince Loki?” she asked.

Loki started. All at once, the fluttering was back. “What?”

“You’re my prince, aren’t you?” She was swaying quite a bit, but she didn’t look away. Her breath stank of wine. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss the lady goodnight?” She leaned forward as if meaning to demonstrate, but ended up falling right into his chest, giggling all the way. Loki caught her, hoping she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

My prince.

“I—I don’t think it would be very princely of me to kiss you right now,” he whispered.

“Maybe not,” she yawned against his armor. “But I’d like it anyways.”

Loki inhaled. I’d like it too. But she was drunk, practically incoherent—she didn’t mean any of the words coming out of her mouth right now, and he knew it.

And so, he helped her back up and through the doorway. “Not tonight.”

Sága perked up. “Tomorrow?”

She looked so childishly excited that Loki couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Sure. Tomorrow.” Maybe he had had too much wine as well, because the thought of such a silly promise exhilarated him far more than it should have. “You come find me and I’ll kiss you.”

They never spoke about that night again. Sága didn’t seem to remember it—when he ran into her the next day she was nursing a headache and a new idea for her book and wanted to ask him a question about the mechanics of water seidr. Loki didn’t mention it either. The whole thing felt much sillier doused in daylight. What, did he think she was just going to knock on his door and cash in a kiss like a raffle ticket? No, it was better that the whole thing just fade into obscurity. Loki told himself he was relieved that Sága didn’t remember his promise.

It didn’t stop his thoughts from racing every time he saw her.

What would it be like to kiss her, he wondered? Would she let him pull her close? Would she wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair? How would it feel to press his lips to hers, to close his eyes and just drink her in as if she were the only thing that existed?

He wished he could find out.

Loki remembered the last time he saw her. Her father had passed away, and she and her mother were returning to Alfheim for his funeral and to clear up several issues regarding his estate. They weren’t sure how long they’d be gone, but Sága predicted that the legal affairs would take years to resolve.

“Is it bad that I don’t want to go?” she asked in a whisper the night before she was set to leave. Loki looked at her, huddled against the balcony railing besides him. Inside, the feast raged on, but in the moonlight the world seemed almost tranquil.

“I don’t think it’s bad,” he said slowly. “Funerals aren’t exactly joyful occasions. I doubt anyone ever wants to go to them.”

She was silent for a moment, staring across the gardens spread beneath them. “I was happy when they told me he was dead,” she said finally, voice hoarse. “That’s bad, isn’t it? You’re not supposed to be happy because your father’s dead.”

Loki wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t know much about Sága’s father—she almost never spoke of him, and Loki never asked—but he never could quite forget the stories she would tell when they were children, about witches and dragons and violent, fiery breath.

He inhaled. “I don’t think that’s bad either.” A part of him wanted to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he wasn’t sure if that was right. “If he was a good father, you’d feel differently. But he wasn’t, and you don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

Sága only nodded.

The next morning was less somber. When Sága came to say goodbye, she seemed her normal, airy self, bouncing and bubbling over every small detail.

“Hopefully, by the time I’m back, I’ll have my book done!” she beamed. “And I’ll bring it back for you to read!”

“Well, in that case, I’ll be counting the seconds,” he drawled. Sága laughed, and he found himself gazing into her eyes. They were lovely, those eyes—warm, like liquid amber, brown and sparkling with mirth. He had never really stopped to think about it before, but she had to have the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Perhaps he was staring too intently, because Sága had stopped laughing. Loki felt his cheeks flush. He was about to apologize when she threw her arms around his shoulders.

He was so thrown off by the embrace that he couldn’t really comprehend what had happened until after she had let go. It was a quick hug, spur of the moment and over as soon as it began. It meant nothing.

Still there was something in the air as Sága pulled away, something he didn’t think either of them had the capability to describe. She patted his shoulder, nodding as if in agreement with something neither of them had said.

“Goodbye, Prince Loki,” she said thickly.

He nodded too. “Goodbye, Sága.”

It was the last time he saw her.

Loki stared at the book on the table. He had told his mother that he didn’t want any more books—he was beginning to feel less like a person and more like a pity case with each shipment she sent in.

Enough with it! Just let me rot in peace.

And she had agreed. The flood of books had ceased.

Except for this one.

He hadn’t heard them come in to drop it off, which was concerning. Loki had always been a light sleeper, and that had increased a hundredfold by the time he had returned to Asgard. He wondered if they were drugging him.

The book itself was crisp and clean—freshly bound. He always used to like those books as a child, so new that the spine let out a satisfying crack as he opened them for the first time. Now, he was almost afraid to touch it.

The mossy green cover was unassuming. No artwork, no patterns, just the title and author in simple gold lettering.

Dandelion

Sága Svanhilddottir

Loki didn’t know how long he stared at it. The dungeons made it hard to keep track of time in general, but in that moment it felt as if everything around him ceased to exist. He couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

Damn. She actually did it.

Sága … when was the last time he thought of Sága? She seemed to exist in a different lifetime, a character in a story that had long since been shelved. He remembered her, though—a scrawny little girl on the grass, weaving yellow flowers through her braids.

In my book, all the girls wear dandelions in their hair.

He picked it up. It wasn’t particularly heavy, nor particularly thick—certainly nothing like the texts of old she had once proclaimed herself equal to. It appeared quite average, really. Maybe he wouldn’t read it. The whole thing was birthed out of a childish fancy, and he no longer held any appreciation for fairy-stories.

But who was he kidding?

The story was about a girl named Dandelion (Loki groaned aloud upon reading it, although such puerility was to be expected from an author who went about her days with weeds dangling from her hair) who lived with her mother and her beast of  a father off in some nonexistent realm, far away from Asgard. While her father had not the form of a dragon, he certainly had the temperament. He spent the days raging about their household, ranting and raving at every little inconvenience until he’d worked himself up into a violent frenzy.

Her mother didn’t know what to do. She was alone in a strange land, having forfeited her freedom to irrevocably tie herself to this monster of a man. She had nowhere to go, no family to turn to. And so she grit her teeth and took the beatings and the curses and prayed for a miracle.

Of course, little Dandelion was too young to understand this. She didn’t know why her mother cried herself to sleep at night, nor could she comprehend the foulness of the words that her father spat into the air. She had never known anything else. And so, every night she sat upon her father’s knee as he brushed out and braided her long, silky hair and read aloud to her from his rotted old storybook. Dandelion loved those stories, of monstrous dragons and evil witches who feasted on rats and tarantulas, fair maidens locked away in towers and dashing princes fighting their way through bramble-choked woods to awaken them with a kiss.

She’d dream about those stories as she lay in bed, writing her own in her head to drown out the crashes and cries ricocheting off the walls on the floor below her. In her mind’s eye, Dandelion could see herself as the maiden, nose pressed against the window as she waited for her prince to scale her tower and carry her to safety.

He never came.

But she was not long for this way of life. One night, during dinner, her father in a fit of anger overturned the candle on the tablecloth. The fabric went up in flames. They spread fast across the table and caught on Dandelion’s cuff, setting her sleeve ablaze. She survived—her father was quick to come to his senses and douse the flames—but her arm was badly burned. It was at that moment that her mother had had enough. She took her daughter and ran for it.

After a long struggle to secure the funds they needed, they were able to book passage back to her mother’s home realm. There, they found sanctuary.

She found something else there too. There, sitting in the very back row of the classroom with his head hidden behind a book, was a real, living, breathing prince. Dandelion was entranced—she had always thought princes to be some mythical creature that existed only within the pages of storybook. And yet, here was one right in front of her, like the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t seem very princely. He just seemed like a boy, a quiet boy who preferred reading to conversation. Dandelion would have never known him to be anything else if her mother hadn’t pointed him out to her.

But she was curious, and so when given the opportunity to choose her spot, she sat down next to him. He was a strange prince. He’d argue with her about the stories she told, but that only meant he was listening to her. He’d say he didn’t want to see her when she bumped into him outside of class, but he’d still follow her down the hall when she turned to leave. He didn’t strike her as the dragon-slaying tower-scaling type, but that was okay. Dandelion liked him just the way he was.

The story went on. Dandelion grew up to the whooshing of letters slipped under the door—her dragon father, asking her mother to come back, to come home, promising that he was different and everything would be all right. There were times when her mother seemed almost swayed by his sweet words—she’d sigh and say that it would be nice to see their family safe and back together again and stare off into the distance as if remembering something other than the screaming or the fighting or the burning, as if she had forgotten the way Dandelion would wake screaming in the night convinced she could smell her flesh burning. It sent cold shivers down Dandelion’s spine. She began tossing the letters into the fire before her mother had the chance to read them.

She’d turn to her prince for comfort. He didn’t know about the letters, but somehow, he made her feel better all the same. He was light and safe and everything she needed—she always seemed to be laughing when she was with him. And when he laughed—something about that laugh made Dandelion’s chest feel awash with a lovely sort of warmth.

She was in love with him.

But Dandelion didn’t say anything about that. She knew he only saw her as a friend—a silly, trivial friend who he could tease and laugh with without having to concern himself with the solemnity of his station. If he knew how she felt … she could lose him entirely. Dandelion couldn’t face such a prospect.

Instead, she danced with everyone but her prince, drowned herself in wine and spent her nights in the arms of any faceless man who wanted her, all in some vain attempt to sway her feelings in another direction. It only made things worse.

But life went on. Another letter came in from the realm of her birth, written in a different hand than usual. Her father had passed in his sleep, it explained. At long last, the dragon had been defeated. Dandelion was to return home immediately. And so, she bid her prince a friendly farewell.

The fallout of her father’s death was horrifically complicated. She was his legal heir, but she had also spent a majority of her life estranged from him and she found his representatives unwilling to hand over control of his estate to her. It was years before she could come back. And when she did—

Loki couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He knew very well what “Dandelion” found when she returned to Asgard—or more aptly, what she didn’t find.

You’re my prince, aren’t you?

He wished he had kissed her.

[luthienne]

Hi dear, do you have any good words on emotional courage?

hi my love, you can check out this post and this post; here are a few more:

“I know a lot about pain… and I know it is bad for people, eats away the spirit, but how about courage, what is it for if not to use when needed?”

Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters 

“This is in the end the only kind of courage that is required of us: the courage to face the strangest, most unusual, most inexplicable experiences that can meet us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet 

“You don’t realize it, perhaps, but you are turning these delusions and illusions of the past into criminal things. Relinquish everything. Stay in bed until you feel so shock full of energy, hope, courage that you bounce out of abed. You can only aid the world–if you still believe the world needs our individual aid–by retaining your faith in life. Your body may be weak, but I know you still have wings.”

Henry Miller, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller

“I… want to inherit the witch in my women ancestors—the willfulness, the passion, ay, the passion where all good art comes from as women, the perseverance, the survivor skills, the courage, the strength of las mujeres bravas, peleoneras, necias, berrrinchudas. I want to be una brava, una peleonera, necia, nerrinchuda. I want to be bad if bad means I must go against society—el Papá, el Pápa, the boyfriend, lover, husband, girlfriend, comadres—and listen to my own heart, that incredible witch’s broom that will take me where I need to go.”

Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

“In the winter I am writing about, there was much darkness. Darkness of nature, darkness of event, darkness of the spirit. The sprawling darkness of not knowing. We speak of the light of reason. I would speak here of the darkness of the world, and the light of———. But I don’t know what to call it. Maybe hope. Maybe faith, but not a shaped faith—only, say, a gesture, or a continuum of gestures. But probably it is closer to hope, that is more active, and far messier than faith must be. Faith, as I imagine it, is tensile, and cool, and has no need of words. Hope, I know is a fighter and a screamer.”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“There is always some miracle left; and though miracles do not happen, they might happen. Who knows? Perhaps our intelligence, our instinct, our senses, in spite of their daylight clearness, are leading us astray. Perhaps the one thing needful is just that unreasoning courage which follows hope’s will-o’-the-wisp as it burns…”

Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne

“But if the deepest loss, […] / can be, not just survived, but made into the matter / of hope, made into song, not into a hatchet / to cut off the offending parts, made into poems / then blessed be the end of things, the loss of whatever / secures us blindly and mutely to our lives.”

Julia Alvarez, The Other Side/El Otro Lado

“I run / stumbling, expectant. / Impatience is hopelessly / desperate. Hope / takes time.”

Marie Ponsot, Springing: New and Selected Poems

“How lightly we learn to hold hope, / as if it were an animal that could turn around / and bite your hand. And still we carry it / the way a mother would, carefully, / from one day to the next.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”

Representative John Lewis

“Where does such a force come from? What does it mean? A voice very faint, and inside me, offers a possibility: how shall there be redemption and resurrection unless there has been a great sorrow? And isn’t struggle and rising the real work of our lives?”

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours: Prose, Poems, and Prose Poems

“Don’t forget that apparent impossibility of something is the first sign of its naturalness—in a different world, obviously.

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Anatoly Steiger

“Grieve. Have / hope.”

Jorie Graham, Swarm

John Berryman, “The Heart is Strange”

“Skin had hope, that what’s skin does. / Heals over the scarred place, makes a road.”

Naomi Shihab Nye, “Two Countries”

“I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass,”

George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“Let’s dance a little before we go home to hell.”

Muriel Rukeyser, A Muriel Rukeyser Reader

Hélène Cixous, Hyperdream (tr. Beverly Bie Brahic)

“That most moments were substantially the same did not detract at all from the possibility that the next moment might be utterly different.”

Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Ada Limón, “Dead Stars”

“Listen, everyone has a chance. Is it spring, is it morning? Are there trees near you, and does your own soul need comforting? Quick, then — open the door and fly on your heavy feet…”

Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

“Get to the bottom of this intensity and have faith in what is most horrible, instead of fighting it off—it reveals itself for those who can trust it, in spite of its overwhelming and dire appearance, as a kind of initiation. By way of loss, by way of such vast and immeasurable experiences of loss, we are quite powerfully introduced to the whole.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Countess Alexandrine Schwerin, June 16, 1922

“…only one thing is urgently needed: to attach oneself with unconditional purpose somewhere to nature, to what is strong, striving and bright, and to move forward without guile, even if that means in the least important, daily matters. Each time we tackle something with joy, each time we open our eyes toward a yet untouched distance we transform not only this and the next moment, but we also rearrange and gradually assimilate the past inside of us.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, September 11, 1919

“Continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you take part in what is the greatest. The more strongly you cultivate this belief inside of you, the more it will give rise to reality and world.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Elisabeth Freiin Schenk zu Schweinsberg, September 23, 1908

“…I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from a letter to Anita Forrer, February 14, 1920

“…he says, it will be all right.

“It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. They are words you might speak to a child ... and somehow I am comforted. He does not mean that it does not hurt. He does not mean that we are not frightened. Only that: we are here. This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive.”

Madeline Miller, Circe

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Not knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories; “The Waters of the World”

“Recovery (which includes return and renewal of health) is a re-gaining—regaining of a clear view. I do not say “seeing things as they are” and involve myself with the philosophers, though I might venture to say “seeing things as we are (or were) meant to see them”—as things apart from ourselves. We need, in any case, to clean our windows; so that the things seen clearly may be freed from the drab blur of triteness or familiarity—from possessiveness. Of all faces those of our familiares are the ones both most difficult to play fantastic tricks with, and most difficult really to see with fresh attention, perceiving their likeness and unlikeness: that they are faces, and yet unique faces.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, from his essay On Fairy-Stories

Camille Norton, Corruption: Poems

“Keep busy with survival. Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.”

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“I have the fervour of myself for a presence / and my own spirit for light; / and my spirit with its loss / knows this; though small against the black, / small against the formless rocks, / hell must break before I am lost;”

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Eurydice”

Denise Levertov, “Epilogue”

“The days go numb, the wind / sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves. // Through the empty branches the sky remains. / It is what you have. / Be earth now, and evensong. / Be the ground lying under that sky. / Be modest now, like a thing / ripened until it is real…”

Rainer Maria Rilke, from Rilke’s Book of Hours (tr. Anita Barrows, Joanna Macy)

“I know your sorrow and I know that for the likes of us there is not ease for the heart to be had from words of reason and that in the very assurance of sorrow’s fading there is more sorrow. So I offer you only my deeply affectionate and compassionate thoughts and wish for you only that the strange thing may never fail you, whatever it is, that gives us the strength to live on and on with our wounds.”

Samuel Beckett’s words of consolation to his friend, Alan Schneider

“What matters is not to allow my whole life to be dominated by what is going on inside me. That has to be kept subordinate one way or another. What I mean is: one must not let oneself be completely disabled by just one thing, however bad; don’t let it impede the great stream of life that flows through you. I have the feeling of something secret deep inside me that no one knows about.”

Etty Hillesum, from a diary entry featured in An Interrupted Life

“You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. / This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link. / To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. / To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

“Try to keep what is beautiful to you and what you can use for today and now — You must not let things you cannot help destroy you —”

Georgia O’Keeffe, from Georgia O’Keeffe: Art and Letters

“What we love, shapely and pure, / is not to be held, / but to be believed in.”

Mary Oliver, from Evidence; “Swans”

“In time of the crises of the spirit, we are aware of all our need, our need for each other and our need for ourselves. We call up, with all the strength of summoning we have, our fullness. And then we turn; for it is a turning that we have prepared; and act. The time of turning may be very long. It may hardly exist.”

Muriel Rukeyser, from A Muriel Rukeyser Reader, “The Life of Poetry”

“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

Howard Zinn, A Power Governments Cannot Suppress

“But don’t lose heart, dear ones—don’t lose heart. Don’t let it make you bitter. Try to understand. Try to understand. The world’s already bitter enough, we got to try to be better than the world.”

James Baldwin, from Another Country

“You do not have to be good. / You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. / You only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. / Meanwhile, the world goes on.”

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”

[mintaka14]

Here’s the final chapter of See the Light. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to @quickspinner for letting me play with your prompt.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Four – The World Has Somehow Shifted

 She was reading too much into that song. All Rose’s talk of romance and fairytales and Disney was getting to her, and sung in Luka’s gorgeous voice of course it was going to sound like…

Dammit, she was a grown woman, and she was not going to cry.              

But her vision blurred as she typed out the curt little response to Luka’s text. She didn’t dare trust herself to write more.

She should know by now that Ladybug didn’t get the happily ever after, and she didn’t get the prince. (But I don’t want a prince, the voice whispered at the back of her mind, just Luka)

The wedding dresses were done and delivered, so Marinette threw herself into making her own outfit as a distraction. If she couldn’t go to the Liberty, she could focus on gold embossed blue silk chiffon with grim determination. The results were at least pretty enough, she decided as she faced the mirror on the morning of the wedding.

The skirts drifted around her knees in a cloud of powder blue and gold filigree. She flattened her hand over the narrow gilt belt at her waist and regarded herself critically, reaching up to tuck an escaping strand of hair back into the chignon at the nape of her neck. Marinette found herself wondering if Luka would like it, and cut that train of thought off sharply. It didn’t matter what he thought, because they were simply friends, assuming they could even be that anymore. She was not doing this to the both of them all over again.

She heard Mylène’s voice at the door, and caught up the clutch purse with her disapproving kwami in it, sliding into the pale gold heels that she’d bought for the occasion. Time to go and be happy for her friends.

Marinette travelled out to the vineyard for the wedding with Ivan and Mylène, and sat with them under the trees as the harpist played and the guests gathered. The soft chatter died down, and as the music paused and swelled in the bright afternoon the brides made their way down the grassy aisle together. Rose was sunshine in blushing pink and cascades of flowers, bright as she beamed up at Juleka. And Juleka, in her darkly elegant moonlit gown, glowed.

Marinette’s eyes turned to Luka, taking his place beside Anarka. He’d managed to lose his suit coat and tie somewhere along the way, and the teal fall of his hair was a vivid splash of colour over the charcoal and cloud grey of his shirt and vest as he bent to say something quietly to his mother, his arm going around her. Luka’s head turned, and for a moment his eyes met hers.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Mylène whispered, and Marinette jerked her gaze free, managing to summon up a smile that must have been convincing enough.

It was a small wedding, but half of the guests were Couffaines, and it turned out that the Lavillants were a lot like Rose, so it wasn’t by any means a subdued or formal occasion. Marinette had never met Rose’s parents, but it was obvious where Rose got her enthusiasm from once she’d been introduced to Rose’s mother. And then there was Jagged.

He’d swooped down on Marinette in an exuberant avalanche the moment that the two brides had been whisked away for their photos, and Marinette had been left laughing and breathless. She was passed from hand to hand, and congratulated at every turn on the stunning wedding gowns.

Once or twice, she caught Luka looking her way, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart stumble, but he kept his distance. She was, she told herself, grateful for that.

Marinette caught up her pale blue and gold skirts as the breeze fluttered them around her and picked her way carefully across the grass as the entire company trekked through the gardens towards the waiting château. Luka still hadn’t come anywhere near her by the time they’d all reached the wide paved courtyard where waiters were moving around with trays of champagne and platters of elegant hors d’oeuvre waited on tables against the backdrop of old-fashioned damask roses and ivy and stone walls. She smiled and waved away the offered champagne glass, and threaded her way through the chattering guests to slip inside the doors of the huge old hall ready for the reception. Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief in the temporary silence.

The hall was a warm cavern of stone and timber, glowing in the candlelight and soft with tables full of white linen and pink roses, and Marinette tilted her head to look up into the strings of pennants and fairy lights that twinkled from the ancient rafters. She knew, without looking, that the soft footfall behind her was Luka.

“Rose’s fairytale,” she said a little wistfully. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He was looking at her. “Feeling a little bit overwhelmed?” he asked sympathetically.

“It’s just been a long day.”

For a moment, it looked like he was going to reach out to her, but he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Everyone will be coming inside soon. I’m thinking it might be a good time to go find a quiet corner to get ready for our performance,” he suggested, and Marinette let out a faint sigh.

“A quiet corner sounds like a wonderful idea.”

As she followed him out of the hall, Luka chuckled and nodded at one of the delicate pink flower arrangements. Nestled in among the roses, Marinette saw a tiny glittery black bat, and she couldn’t help laughing.

“It’s Juleka’s fairytale too,” Luka said.

The space he led her to had obviously become the designated storage area for every musician on the guest list. They picked their way through the jumble of instruments that seemed to fill the antechamber, and Luka gave a wry smile.

“Jagged’s brought in enough to start a fairly sizeable orchestra. I think things are going to get loud later on.”

He found his acoustic guitar propped behind a drumkit, and she perched on a chair while he tuned it. She found herself staring stupidly at those arms of his, and the snake tattoo that coiled down his forearm from under his rolled up shirt sleeves, wishing they were wrapped around her. It really wasn’t fair of him.

“Marinette?”

She shook herself out of her stupor.

She kept waiting for him to say something about the way she’d run off the last time he’d seen her, or to ask if she was alright. Instead, he played a quick rising scale on his guitar, and then settled into an easy little melody that was familiar enough that she could sing along with it. She was grateful for his silence as she gave most of her attention to warming her voice up, but a part of her couldn’t help wondering why he said nothing.

Marinette startled and pulled her attention back when Luka stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

He said, “It sounds like it’s just about our turn. Are you feeling ready?”

The noise was rising in the hall behind them with the sound of laughter and talk, and shoes and chairs clattering on the flagstones. Anarka’s voice rang out over the babble, commanding someone to Sit down, ye auld pirate! Marinette heard Jagged’s holler in response, and felt a sickening spike of nerves. What had possessed her to agree to this? She was going to sing in front of Jagged Stone? Marinette looked back at the hall full of people, and gave a shudder.

“What on earth was I thinking? I can’t sing! I’m going to completely choke in front of everyone and embarrass Rose and Juleka on their wedding day.”

Luka caught her hand, tugging her around gently until she was looking at him.

“I’ve got you,” he insisted, just as sincere and steady as he’d been when they were teenagers, and she took a deep breath, letting it out again. “I won’t let you fall. You’ve got this.”

“Have I?”

His answering smile was full of certainty. “You’ve done worse than this before, you can handle a handful of friends who’ll love you even if you sound like a crow. Which you don’t,” he told her with a warm laugh in his voice. “You’ve spoken on stage in front of fashion critics, you can handle anything.”

“And I wanted to throw up every time.”

“But you didn’t.”

Marinette tilted a dark look at him, and he smothered a smile.

“Okay, so you threw up. I can take a bucket on stage for you if you like.”

“It’s alright for you, Mister Rockstar,” she sniffed.

“There’s a reason I never took Jagged up on his offer to take me on tour with him,” he told her. “Although, in retrospect, a classroom full of bored fifteen year olds is a tougher audience than a stadium crowd, so maybe I should have.”

She could help the laugh that escaped, and she looked down at his hands still holding hers. Dangerous, to even consider taking the support he’d always offered her, but she kept her eyes on him and her hand in his as he caught up his guitar, and she let him lead her towards the hall.

In the end, it wasn’t hard to block out the soft rustle of people at the tables, or Rose’s excited little squeak. She didn’t even notice Jagged’s wolf-whistle, or Penny shushing him. There was Luka and his guitar and his wonderful, reassuring smile as she followed his music and sang.

His smile grew brighter as she chimed in with, “All those days, watching from the windows,” and the guitar chords rippled before her like water. It was easy when it felt like there was just Luka, here with her. Perilously easy.

She sang, “All at once, everything is different,” and she wasn’t singing for Rose and Juleka anymore. Luka’s gorgeous blue eyes were on her, only on her, as he took up the melody. Music was his truest voice, and in that moment she heard his heart as clearly as he’d ever heard hers. Marinette felt something like an electric shock, and faltered her cue.

Luka’s eyes shifted swiftly into concern, and his voice picked it up again until she’d recovered. She couldn’t be having this moment now, not in the middle of Rose and Juleka’s wedding, not on their day. Luka’s warm, husky voice wrapped around her, held her up, and as he sang “At last I see the light” Marinette knew that this was something she was never going to recover from.

The sound of applause brought her back to herself, and she broke away from the look in Luka’s eyes with a faint gasp. Somehow she managed to find the words to wish Juleka and Rose and very happy marriage, then she slid past everyone, heading a little too fast towards the door. Friends, and people she’d never met in her life, spoke to her as she passed and she offered them brief, strained smiles. She barely knew what she was saying to them, and didn’t really hear what they were saying to her.

Finally, she found herself outside in the cool and blessedly quiet night air. She could hear the sounds of the first round of music starting, and Jagged’s boisterous voice over the static wail of an electric guitar being tuned. The laughter and chatter in the ballroom behind her was muffled and felt like a whole world away. Marinette put a hand up to her overheated cheek, and was a little startled to find that she was shaking. Even after all these years, after convincing herself for so long that they were just friends, that it was fairer to him if they were just friends, that he didn’t want to be more than friends after everything she’d put him through, those steady blue eyes of his could still hit her hard.

“Marinette?” Luka said behind her, and she jolted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re going to miss the dancing,” she said, trying hard to keep her voice light. She didn’t think he was fooled. He’d always been far too good at reading her mind and heart, even when she’d been incomprehensible to herself, and that was another thing that had made him so dangerous to be around.

“They won’t even notice I’m not there for a while.” He shifted a little, close enough that she could bridge the space between them if she wanted to. “I’m here if you need me.”

He had always been there for her. That simple truth was what broke her down in the end. She felt a bubble catch in her chest, rising to force its way out with a strangled sound. She almost doubled over, gripping the ivy-covered wall beside her, and heard Luka’s quick inhalation, his hand rising towards her and falling again as she backed away.

“See, this? This is why I broke up with you when we were teenagers,” she almost sobbed at him. “You make me want to hold onto you and tell you everything, and I can’t!”

Luka was holding himself in intense stillness.

“The other relationships I’ve had, it was easy enough to walk away when things got too close, but you… It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?” Luka asked carefully.

“Doing that to you!” She was shaking now. “Having to give this up again. Why does everyone else get to have someone to love them and I don’t?!”

“You do.” He took one small, uncontrolled step towards her. “Whether we’re together or not, whoever you’re with, whatever is going on in your life, I love you. I will always care about you.”

“You need the truth, and it’s the one thing I can’t give you,” she said miserably.

Luka’s voice was so soft it was almost unspoken. “What if I already know?”

It took a moment for his words to catch up with her and sink in. The world faded into a distant buzz in her head, a cold tingle that crept over her.

Oh, that was bad. That was bad. He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. She’d given up so much to keep anyone from knowing, and she could still feel the crushing backlash of what had happened when she’d made the mistake of telling her closest friend. He couldn’t know.

“Marinette?”

In the dizzying spiral of her fragmented reactions, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She stood still, and felt his hands close over hers, gently, so very gently. The contact anchored her to the moment.

“Marinette, I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”

She turned her hands, palm to palm, under his hands and wove her fingers through his.

“I told Alya,” she breathed, and the quality of stillness deepened as he listened. “After you and I broke up, I was so sick of the secrets and lies, and Alya found out some things, so I told her. For three months I had someone who knew, then of course it went wrong, and now Alya has three months of patchy memories from collège that I’m not a part of. I’m still not sure how much deeper the impact to her mind went. The last time I saw her, back around the time I started at the Institut, she still had that puzzled, blank look when she looked my way because I had to take her memory of my secret identity away.”

Marinette drew a deep, shuddering breath.

“I never, ever want to do that to you,” she whispered, and Luka drew her closer, his fingers still tangled in hers. “I couldn’t bear to look into you eyes and see that blankness there.”

He was close enough that she could feel his heartbeat and the soft huff of his laugh against her hair. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Marinette? You will never see that in me. Never. You could take away every memory I have of you, and I’d still have stars in my eyes when I look at you. I’d just fall for you all over again, like I do every time we meet.”

She hiccuped on a sob, and looked up into his warm, steady blue eyes.

“If that’s what you need to do to be safe, then take them,” he told her. “I’ll happily give up those memories of knowing that you’re her if that’s what you need. It doesn’t change a thing about how I feel about you.”

“It’s not just that. Have you thought, if I take away your memory of me being… her… and we still try to make us work, we’re back to all those secrets and broken dates and lies.”

“Then give me what you can. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that some truths aren’t yours to share. Just don’t lie when you can’t tell me, and I promise you I’ll understand.”

That he was willing to compromise even that for her… Oh, Luka.

“Or,” she let out the word on a soft exhale, as if testing the idea, “you know.”

And who else, when all was said and done, would she trust more than Luka with her heart and all of her secrets? Who else would she trust to keep the world safe, and everything she’d been fighting to protect?

Luka’s thumb was gently tracing the line of her palm, and the touch was calming even as her mind cleared and raced. This didn’t feel like a scared fourteen year old, alone and overwhelmed and terrified she was going to lose her best friend as well as the boy she loved. This felt like the moment when she held a lucky charm and the pieces of a plan started to come together in her mind. This felt like what she needed.

Marinette stretched up on her toes and met his lips with a kiss.

She heard the sudden hitch of his breath, and there was a moment’s hesitation that would have let her draw back, freak out, rethink, but she wasn’t holding back anymore. This time, when she kissed him, he met her halfway.

Marinette stumbled backwards into the ivy-covered wall as she tugged Luka with her and his mouth came down on hers, desperate and insistent. And oh god if he’d kissed her like this all those years ago she never would have been able to give him up.

She felt the ivy catch at her hair as he backed her up against the wall. The touch of his hand on her jaw, his fingers buried deep in the unravelling curls at the base of her neck, was bringing everything undone and Marinette tilted her head back as his mouth trailed down to the hollow of her throat.

Marinette’s hands clutched at his shirt as the weight of his thigh pressed against her, and she hitched her leg up against his hip, trying to get closer. The gutteral noise he made did unspeakable things to her and god he was ruining her as she pulled him closer, wanting him closer, wanting him. His mouth was on hers again, swallowing the sounds she was making. She could feel him, hard against her, through the layers of silk chiffon.

In the haze that he was making of her mind she was still dimly aware of the sounds of the wedding and the presence of their friends and family in the hall just beyond their deeper well of shadows against the wall, but as she pushed harder against him, the soft froth of her skirts bunching between them, Marinette didn’t care. Her hands came up to dig into the muscles of his shoulders, holding him and oh god, Luka.

White heat swept over her, blanking out her thoughts, and then they were breaking apart, breathing hard.

“Please tell me I can kiss you again,” Luka rasped. His fingers were tangled with hers, and she could feel the uneven rise and fall of his breath.

“Oh, god, yes!”

The kiss was softer this time, reverent, with the feather light brush of his lips over the corner of her mouth, and she shivered at the touch.

“Luka? Are you out here?” someone called.

Marinette blinked in the sudden wash of golden light and raucous swell of noise, and she looked up to find Rose and Juleka standing in the open doorway. Juleka had a hand over her new wife’s mouth, and Rose’s eyes were impossibly wide. She was almost vibrating, and reached up to pull Juleka’s hand away.

“Best. Wedding present. Ever!” she breathed with barely suppressed intensity, and Luka gave a soft huff of a laugh, leaning his forehead against Marinette’s. He plucked a stray ivy leaf from her hair and let it drift to the ground.

“Rose, I love you like my own sister,” he said, “and I know it’s your wedding day, but please go away.”

After Juleka managed to tug Rose away, there were a few more soft kisses in the darkness before they reluctantly returned to the wedding reception. Marinette parted from Luka for just long enough to grab her purse and disappear into the bathroom to untangle her ruined chignon and pin her hair back into some semblance of order in front of the mirror. Her dress was hopelessly crumpled, though, and her lipstick was beyond repair. Marinette found herself smiling dopily at her reflection.

“Marinette, this is bad!” a tiny voice said portentously from her purse, and it felt like a sudden dunk in cold water. Marinette slowly ran her hands down her wrinkled skirts, delaying the moment, while she thought. Finally she straightened, and turned to face her kwami.

“You’re going to have to erase his memories,” Tikki insisted.

“I don’t think so,” Marinette said, ignoring Tikki’s horrified gasp, as her mind ran through the possibilities with lightning speed. “No.”

“Marinette.” Tikki’s tone was ominous. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re letting a few kisses cloud your judgement. You know –“

“Has it occurred to you,” she interrupted Tikki, “how long we’ve just been fighting everything to a standstill? You say I’m a fantastic Ladybug, but we’re no closer to getting back the butterfly miraculous than we were ten years ago. Ten years. I’ve been so caught up in just surviving from moment to moment, one battle to the next, one villain to the next, that I haven’t been able to think beyond that. I had no idea how much it was draining me until I reconnected with Juleka and Rose again, and with Luka.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you revealed your identity? Alya –“

“Luka is not Alya,” Marinette cut off the doom-laden lecture, and there was a hint of growing steel in her voice. “And I’m not a fourteen year old, new to her responsibilities, anymore. You say you trust me, so trust me. I’m feeling clearer than I have in a long, long time. For the first time in years, I actually feel like I have hope, and I will find a way to make this work.”

Luka was waiting for her when she made it back to the hall, and she barely noticed the kind and knowing grins of their friends and his family as the rest of the night passed in a haze of glitter and fairylights and music with Luka’s arms around her. Tikki was silent in her purse where she’d left it at the table. There would be serious conversations later, and the fate of Paris to talk about, but right now she didn’t care.

The speeches were finally done, the fairytale cake was a scattering of crumbs, and one of the guests had taken over the stage to sing a slow, sweet cover of Nothing Else Matters while couples danced and smaller groups laughed and talked. Luka pulled Marinette close, his hands warm on the curve of her back, and she looked up into those deep blue eyes of his.

The invitation that he whispered against her ear sent heat straight through her. Feeling a little breathless, she tried to pull herself together. They were still in the middle of the dancefloor and surrounded by people, his mother was right there, but those eyes of his were doing things to her.

“You don’t want to take a turn on stage?” she asked a little dazedly, glancing at the musicians on the tiny stage, but he was only looking at her.

His mouth curved up in a tiny smile. “There are other songs I’d rather be playing right now.”

There was only so much she could take, Marinette decided. Her hands slid down from around his neck to the lean, solid muscle of his shoulders and chest, and she enjoyed the way he reacted under her touch. She flicked a glance up at him through her lashes.

“Then take me to bed,” she told him, her voice turning low and throaty. “I want a private performance, rockstar.”

Luka made a strangled noise, and she took his hand.

In the soft darkness of his guest room on the other side of the château, when her dress slid to the floor in a shimmer of blue and gold, she heard his swift inhalation. Then it was his turn to steal her breath away and make her cry out.

Some time later in the early dark hours of the morning, when the sounds of music and loud laughter from the hall were finally starting to die down, and the newly weds had long left the party for their bridal suite, Marinette propped her chin on Luka’s bare chest and enjoyed the view. His hands moved over her back, coming up to stroke the tangled fall of dark hair from her eyes.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in that husky voice that sent shivers through her.

Beyond the heavy damask curtains at the windows, she could see the first faint light of dawn.

“What happens now?” Marinette asked quietly. As the corners of Luka’s mouth lifted in a smile that turned a little wicked, she pouted at him. “Other than that!”

The quilt had ended up in a puddle on the floor somewhere in the night, but the sheets shifted around her as he gathered her closer and brushed a kiss against her hair.

“I think this is where we live happily ever after. Rose will disown us if we don’t.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” she said, rolling her eyes. She settled back against him again. “Although I’m not sure I remember how to do happy.”

“This looks like a pretty good place to start to me.”

Her finger traced a line around his wrist where a particular bracelet had been, once upon a time. Maybe it was time for the snake Miraculous to make a reappearance. Tikki would probably have a lot to say about that, but maybe it was time to rethink a few things. She circled his wrist again, looping back to where she’d started.

Marinette gave a sudden gasp and sat up, the sheets tumbling away from her as Luka protested. She stared down at him with wide eyes and complete disregard for her current nakedness.

“I… think I have a plan,” she told him a little breathlessly, and Luka burst out laughing.

“Of course you do.” His voice with thick with adoration and pride, and he pushed himself upright, reaching to cradle her cheek in his hand as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly until she was dazed with it. He rested his forehead against hers, and she could see that beautiful smile of his. “Some things never change.”

“But I think it’s time that some things do,” Marinette said, and kissed him back fervently with all the love in her heart.

~~~~~

Many weeks later, Sass turned from contemplating the butterfly Miraculous, finally returned to the Miracle Box where it belonged, to give the kwami of creation a smug look.

“I told you yearsss ago you ssshould have brought back my massster. Your wielder iss a brilliant Ladybug, but sshe needsss more than cold duty to truly thrive and ssshine. And the ssnake makess many thingss possssible.”

Tikki huffed and made a sour face.

“Fine, you win. You were right.”

Sass’s fangs bared in a wide grin.

“Musssic to my earsss,” he hissed, and sailed away to find a patch of sunshine to enjoy his victory. If anyone had been around to listen they might have heard the little snake humming, “At lassst they sssaw the light,” as he tucked his tail under and settled into a coil, but the kwamis were too busy celebrating Nooroo’s return to hear anything else, and on the couch, Marinette and Luka were lost in their own little world of tangled hands and lingering kisses. Whatever Luka was saying in a husky undertone to Marinette had brought a rising blush to her cheeks and a bright smile to her face.

They were happy.

In that moment, everyone was happy.

And that, Sass reflected with immense satisfaction, was exactly as it should be.

[medea10]

My Review of Flowers of Evil

How did I get into this anime? Because Flowers of Evil is something no one says, “Oh I want to see that, this looks like a masterpiece”! Oh, I was well familiar with the rotoscope nightmare stories from this and hoped to God my randomizer wouldn’t curse me with watching Flowers of Evil. I was however intrigued to learn that there was a yandere in this anime that’s on Yuno Gasai AND Shion Sonozaki levels. But intrigue can only get me so far when you spend 13 episodes watching…

THIS!

No this is not an exaggeration. Everyone has this kind of cringe face throughout the entire anime series. Be afraid children.

So the story is about this guy named Takao Kasuga. He loves to read and he loves the class smarty-pants Nanako Saeki. He doesn’t just love her, he sees her as his muse and his Venus and all that bullshit. But this is an admiration from afar. Pretty sure Saeki doesn’t even know he exists! One day, Kasuga forgets his book in his classroom. And on the ground, he notices a gym bag that belongs to Saeki. Oh come on, he’s not gonna go down the perverted route and steal a girl’s gym…

So he steals Saeki’s gym uniform. And surprise, one person knew what happened. The class loner, Nakamura! She forces Kasuga to form a contract with her. It wasn’t written or anything, just verbal. However, that doesn’t stop Nakamura from forcing Kasuga to do whatever she wants. But does Nakamura really like Kasuga or is she just into torturing this shit-faced pervert?

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: You know, I’m too thrown off by the animation here that it has temporarily paralyzed me from catching voices or even giving a damn. I’m familiar with only two of the cast mates and the rest is literally my first time hearing it. Okay, I have one comment here. I often forget Mariya Ise could do some damn-ass scary characters like Nakamura. And when she does those murderous screams, forget about it! Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kasuga is played by Shinichirou Ueda

*Saeki is played by Yoko Hikasa (known for Bea on Pokemon Journeys, Rias on High School DxD, Mio on K-ON!, Hina on Domestic Girlfriend, Kirigiri on Danganronpa, Frieda on Attack on Titan, and Diana on Little Witch Academia)

*Nakamura is played by Mariya Ise (known for Bonnie on Pokemon XY, Levy on Fairy Tail, Ray on The Promised Neverland, Stocking on Panty & Stocking, Mika on Durarara, Dorothy on Black Clover, and Yuuko on Yuri on Ice)

SHIPPING: Oh please, anime Gods, do not turn this into another School Days fiasco. I find myself praying for this a lot these days. But in this anime’s case, please do not go down that route!

So, it was clear from episode one that Kasuga had a crush on Saeki. But this got very perverted very fast when he stole her gym clothes and that lead to the contract with Nakamura. Now is Nakamura romantically invested in Kasuga or is she just a crazy bitch. Let’s chalk this up to a 50-50 split here.

It wasn’t until the fourth episode where Kasuga and Saeki actually spoke to each other. And one episode later, they go on a date and end up in a relationship. One has to wonder if Kasuga would have one day acted on his own and ask Saeki out. All of this happened because he was being forced by that psychopath Nakamura. She tortured this kid and forced him to do so many unethical things. Stripping him naked and putting Saeki’s uniform on him for one! Who does that? So would Kasuga have done these sporadic actions if Nakamura wasn’t in the picture? After he stole that uniform, anything is possible. Now here’s the crazy shit here, Saeki loves Kasuga and she doesn’t care that he stole her gym uniform and did fuck-knows-what with it. She’s mad that Kasuga hid it, but still loves him.

Girl, the fuck is wrong with you?! You must be some special kind of crazy!

By the end of this series, you do see a shift in Kasuga and who he wants to chase after. Saeki or Nakamura?! Let’s just say that during a running away scene, Kasuga was going to go home with Saeki until he saw Nakamura and he chases after her. That’s a pretty good sign that Kasuga has switched gears on who he likes. I won’t delve any further than that as the anime only gives us so much and the rest of this love turmoil between these three characters is covered only in the manga. Probably a sign I should read the manga!

LOOOOOONG NO DIALOGUE MOMENTS: Dude, I know you’re trying to set the mood for certain moments, but I think you can dial it back a bit. This complaint isn’t just what happened at the beginning of episode 9; it took forever to get the main gist of this story in the very first episode. I had no idea what the main premise of the story was until the last five minutes of the first episode when Kasuga stole Saeki’s gym uniform.

Now I’m not knocking serious moments where there is no dialogue between characters for a long period of time and we just watch the animation of them walking or doing something. Hell, Neon Genesis Evangelion had famous scenes like that. But the elevator scene didn’t last six fucking minutes. Neither did the scene where Shinji kills Kaowru. In episode 9, we watch Nakamura and Kasuga walking from the school to home and watch the whole walk after destroying the classroom. I guarantee you, you could leave this episode running, fix yourself a bowl of cereal and toast, eat it up, go to the bathroom to have a good yank, then finish it off with watching a Che Guevara documentary…and Nakamura and Kasuga would still be walking home! I’m exaggerating and I don’t care. I feel like being an asshole here.

OH DEAR GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!: Very rarely will I ever look at an opening or ending theme song in literal fear. In fact, the last one to be so morbid was with Attack on Titan’s second season ending. I mean, the imagery alone should tell you that this is full of spoilers and possessed by the devil itself. Now that I think about it, that’s still undefeated. But Flowers of Evil’s ending theme is a close fucking second. Have you heard this thing? It sounds like Bjork singing in Japanese, synthesized, while a cat walks on a keyboard and having a seizure at the same time. Thank God there are no actual visuals for this other than the flower featured on Kasuga’s book. I don’t think we can handle anymore animation from this nightmare fuel.

ENDING: The writing is on the wall!

And the floor, the ceiling…that classroom is just a fucking mess!

Kasuga’s one bad deed led to another and another in a domino effect. And instead of a little devil on his shoulder, he has a classmate that’s a sociopath. Kasuga has guilt about hiding so much from Saeki in this relationship and he wants to tell her everything he did. Nakamura says, “Nah, you’re going to write it all over the classroom and let the whole world know what a piece of shit you are”. Let’s just say Nakamura and Kasuga went overboard and completely destroyed their classroom. Kasuga gets a bit of a lucky break as the other vandalism covered up his name on the chalkboard confession. But two people have caught onto Kasuga’s crime, Saeki and Kasuga’s mother.

Saeki put two and two together when she noticed the ink smearing on the ground resembled the flower art work on Kasuga’s book “Flowers of Evil” and her stolen gym uniform was placed right there. As for Kasuga’s mother, she put two and two together when she heard what happened to his classroom and noticed Kasuga’s behavior and dirty clothes from the night of the crime. Won’t be long before everyone knows what Kasuga did.

What now, shit-face?

Run away with Nakamura to the next town. Yeah, why the fuck not?! Saeki ends up tracking them down and tried to convince them to come back and for Kasuga to be truthful. Saeki wants Kasuga and I almost want to say the same, except hanging around this psycho-bitch for a while has caused him to try to stop Nakamura from leaving. Having Saeki see Kasuga go after Nakamura isn’t really a good look! At this point, it really feels like his love for Saeki was nothing more than lust.

Dude, isn’t there a rule about not messing with crazy…like, don’t stick your dick in crazy?! This dude has got one crazy bitch on psycho-yandere levels and the other that’s about to turn into Kotonoha from School Days in about five seconds. Well, no one left town today as the police were called to look for Saeki because her parents are overprotective types and they take the other kids in.

We get a small time-leap of one month after the night in the police station. Nakamura’s been ignoring Kasuga and Kasuga ends his relationship with Saeki. Dude, stop trying to stick your dick in crazy! Kasuga tries to speak to Nakamura again and it fails. So he visits her at home and meets Nakamura’s father and grandmother. Then, he sneaks into her room and reads her private journal that talks about Kasuga a lot. Dude, you are stepping in uncharted territory! Drop the journal and get the fuck out before Nakamura comes home. So Nakamura comes in her room and finds shit-face reading her journal.

*sighs*

First, I would like to acknowledge that Mariya Ise has one hell of a throat to scream as much as this crazy bitch does. Second, the fuck did I just say, ya dumbass?! Here we get another chase scene between Kasuga and Nakamura. What follows is…I can’t place my thoughts on this. Weird imagery, out of place dialogue, and possible scenes of future stuff to happen! A rape scene involving Saeki, a festival, a hideout, a knife, and fire! Thanks for the cryptic message guys, really appreciate it! Either the anime ran out of money or they’re fucking with the audience. Kasuga says he wants to form a contract with Nakamura and that’s the end!

Hmm, this anime came out in 2013 and it is now 2021. All the buildup and no word on a sequel! We all know that sequel ain’t ever coming. You have a better chance of a continuation to Haruhi Suzumiya than you do with this hunk of shit.

Okay, maybe ‘hunk of shit’ is too mean. This wasn’t a terrible anime. It was weird as fuck, the animation leaves a bad impression, but overall it wasn’t that bad. Now the manga to Flowers of Evil is a favorite to many. Probably because the characters don’t look like a cringey meme and there aren’t so many awkward pauses with no dialogue. Unless there’s a whole volume of Flowers of Evil out there where we just look at pictures of Nakamura and Kasuga walking home where they don’t say a fucking thing! I am not letting that go! Charlie Brown movies didn’t go to that level you guys did!

I was interested with each passing episode to see what Nakamura was going to do next and what she was capable of. I couldn’t make out if she was going to be homicidal or suicidal or just impact psychological warfare on her prey. It was the latter for this series, but I heard of some attempted seppuku going down in the manga. I’d like to think maybe one day a different studio would pick up this series, but I seriously doubt it with the rotten reception this adaptation received. It was said that the director to the anime saw this more as a live-action series than an anime and that’s why we have the rotoscope animation. It wasn’t until 2019 that we got a live-action adaptation to Flowers of Evil. Not sure how people felt about that adaptation, but even I have a feeling that it was much better than the anime. Hell, a Netflix adaptation probably would have turned out a better product. It would be nice for this to get a reboot, different studio, different director, and smash everything that has the word ‘rotoscope’ on it

Yeah, if you can get over watching the animation, give it a watch. Episode one drags, but it picks up the second Nakamura confronts Kasuga.

If you would like to watch Flowers of Evil, Crunchyroll and Hidive have all 13 episodes available for streaming.

Okay, now that I’m finished with that sociopathic nightmare let’s pick another Sentai Filmworks anime.

HELL NO! I am not reviewing, “My Teacher Accidentally Made Me Horny”. That’s what I’m calling it and you should all do the same. NEXT!

Okay…I have no idea what the hell this anime is, but it looks harmless enough.

[jadepetals]

so this is part 1 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time, hope they make you feel the same way.

once upon a dream / 33319 words

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

bloodsport / 40283 words

American Football AU

Louis Lucas /  67999 words

Louis is a pornstar with more issues than he can drink away. Harry is a bisexual singer/songwriter who is desperate to be signed to a major label. Zayn and Liam are Louis's long-suffering best friends (who also happen to be pornstars, and also happen to be dating each other). Niall just wants to play his guitar. 

To the Ends of the Earth / 68488

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Dreaming of you / 68793 words

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

This Wicked Game / 70010 words

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

don’t tell the gods (we left a mess) / 71556 words

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance.

Here In The Afterglow / 88649 words

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams / 112805 words

Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose / 112853 words

American Uni Au.

Fucking Animals /  116687 words

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) / 128451 words

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

red hands / 132787 words

harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird / 134891 words

Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

falling into you / 143157 words

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

Own the Scars / 144707 words

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

You are the blood / 175151 words

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Cold Little Heart / 194589 words 

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

Collison / 226109 words

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth / 290696 words

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

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