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maelialuv · 1 year

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A Farmer's Friend. a Bridgerton fanfic <3

part one: A Chance Encounter

Summary: division brings unity. secrecy creates infatuation. a king's venture into the real world reveals desire.

Warnings: slow burn! strangers to friends to lovers! (Charlotte does not exist) smut! cold showers are on me.

Wordcount: 3.4K

The country side , to you, was heaven on earth. The far roaming hills, the deep valleys. The wide expanse of nothing but lush green fields. There was truly nothing more beautiful.

Your father's farm, to you, was the most beautiful of all. Located at the farthest edge of the county, miles and miles away from the city of London, it was a haven of tall grass, fruitful crops and rich orchards. That is where you spent most of your time, perched between the trunk and wide branches of a tall apple tree in the deepest part of your family's gardens. Far away from the bustling farm house, the uproar of live stock and the erratic, but loving, nature of your home.

From the moment the sun rose over the hills and danced across your face in the morning, to the moment it tucked itself into the valley at night, you were out in the fields. Tucked away indoors, you found yourself claustrophobic. Cased in, stir crazy and a tad hysterical. From a young age, your parents had to heard you inside at the end of a day much like the sheep dogs would heard the lambs back into their pens. It was no different, even as you approached adulthood.

You had your back to the trunk of a tree, a book clutched in one hand and an apple - freshly plucked from the branch above you- in the other, when you caught sight of one of the stable boys chasing after your father in the field ahead of you.

A man of great strength and pride, your father took his work in the fields very seriously. Even after the death of his own father, he was back shearing sheep after just two days. This is why it confused you ever so much , brows furrowed in a frown, to see your father drop his shears at once in front of the stable boy and clutch his chest. The pair raced down the field, sprinting in the direction of the house with the dogs trailing behind them in a flurry of brown and grey and white.

You took a pensive bite of the apple, crunching deliberately. 'Whatever is the matter?' you thought. 'What is the meaning of such fuss?' You tried desperately to get back to your book, the words of the author falling on distracted thoughts as your mind pondered such a reaction from your father. You snapped your book shut with a huff, annoyed and now positively rabid with curiosity.

John, an Orcher in his late fifties, was plucking apples from a tree just next to yours. You peered your head over to him. "John," you called, "have you any reason for father's fuss with the stable boy?"

John's face paled, almost frightfully white, at your question. He took his cap off with the type of remorse one shows with deep apology. "I'm terribly sorry, madam. I thought all the children were aware." You quirked a brow at his words, irritated that the farms people still saw you as one of the children despite being the eldest daughter in the house. His voice was gruff and gravely, years of shouting at yardsmen wearing on his vocal chords. "There is to be a royal visit, madam. Today."

Your eyebrows shot up so fast , you wondered for a moment if they were still on your face. "A royal visit? Here?" The Dowager Princess had not been out in the country since the passing of the late King. Your brows furrowed in deep confusion. "Whatever for?"

John shrugged his shoulders earnestly.

"Lord knows but I, madam. Some sort of review of the farmland, but that's between the King and his advisors."

"The King?" you squawked. You hiked your skirt up, throwing your legs over the branch and jumping down. You stalked to the bottom of the ladder John was standing on. "The King is coming here?"

In all your eighteen years, you'd only ever seen one monarch. Even so, it was a painting of His late Majesty. All you knew of the current King was that he made no visits to the towns, nor galas or balls. He had been labelled somewhat a recluse of a man. You wondered how that could be healthy for such an old person. At least, you assumed he was old. The previous king had died aged seventy and two, so this king must have been creeping into his late fifties now.

"Yes, madam." John said. "Your father has been called now, to prepare. He is due to arrive soon."

Your feet sprang into action, galloping down the aisle of the orchard at lightening speed as you raced toward the direction of the house. You never cared for pompous displays, or the royal family as a whole, very much at all. But today was different. The king himself was visiting your home. Your fields, your valleys and your hills. You felt oddly protective. As if this inspection was to be one with an insulting conclusion. You reassured yourself that they would see the beauty in your home. In the sway of the grassy hills in the wind.

Knowing your mother would not let you close enough to see even the Royal carriage make its way through the wooden gates of your home, you rounded the corner of the brown farm house and clambered your way up the large oak tree in the middle of the drive way. From high above in the branches, you would not be seen by your mother - as she so preferred. She yearned for a daughter more like the ones her sisters had. Lady like and proper and ones that smile at every pleasing farmer their mothers set them up with.

Your mother was disappointed in the lack of girlishness in you. She was displeased in your fascination with reading, and your taking to the outdoors. She was put off by the closeness between you and your father, finding it strange that the two of you could be friends as well as father and daughter. She found your desire to spend all day outdoors odd, and you found her desire to marry a farmer whilst hating farms to be odd in return.

You gripped on to the tallest branches, peering through leaves in the hopes of seeing the gleams of gold as the carriage approached. You saw your father and the farmer boys line up in front of the door below, and your mother and younger brothers waited just behind them. In the distance, you heard a low thrumming sound. It got louder, and seemingly closer, as more seconds ticked by. You realised, as you heard the clop clop clop noise, that it was the sound of horses' hooves on the dirt tracks as the carriage came into view.

The carriage halted in front of your door, and your father outstretched his hand to an older gentlemen in a plush blue suit. Though your fathers clothes- an old grey shirt and black trousers- were not as elegant, he looked just as regal as he shook hands with the stranger, who you assumed to be the King. He had greying hair, curled into ringlets by his side. There were several other men beside him, ranging from young to old to very old.

You craned your neck to hear their voices, a chorus of low hums and stiff lipped compliments from the old man you saw to be the king. Several minutes ticked by, boredom creeping in as you swung your legs back and forth over the branch, before the group of men finally split to tour the farm land with your father. You rejoiced, a grumble in your belly making any words they said inconsequential. You began your decent from the tree.

With scraped palms and knees, you made it to the ground with a thud. A successful spying , you thought as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress. Your monologing was interrupted by the stifled chuckle of a man behind you. You whipped round, narrowing your eyes at the man. Dressed in a simple white shirt and the same black field trousers as your father, he looked to be a fielder himself.

"Hello," he said, voice even and light. He stood with his hands behind his back, polite and effortlessly straight. He was young, younger than the rest of the group you assumed he had been standing with. He must have been no more than three years older than you, as his cheeks still had the faintest roundness to them.

"What are you doing?" he asked when you did not say anything.

You knew your eyes were wide, those of someone caught. There was no use in lying , nor excusing. This man had watched you climb down the tree, from where you had spied. You outstretched your hands, as if stating the obvious. "I was climbing down. From the tree."

"From the tree?"

"Yes, from the tree."

"From that tree?" the man asked, voice teasing and smile irritating as he pointed to the tall oak you had previously been perched in.

"Yes, that tree."

"Whatever for?" He placed his hands behind his back once more, slowly pacing around you in a circle.

"I was hungry, you see." You deadpanned.

"Ah," he affirmed, "and you did not bring food when you climbed up the tree." He was enjoying teasing you, as the smirk on his face grew larger at your squirming. "Or simply not enough."

"Well," you trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself to you.

"Forgive me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I am George."

"Well George," you continued. "Usually the trees I climb have some sort of fruit or such for me to eat while I climb, or lounge, or read. This is not my typical tree to climb." You explained.

"And I suppose you have a typical tree?" His face was oddly gleeful, as if this conversation with you - a stranger- was the best part of his day. His smile was wide, showing teeth.

"Yes, I do."

"Which is?" He asked, stepping closer toward you. His smirk was a teasing grin now.

"The apple tree," you stated, that protectiveness creeping back into your tone. "at the farthest end of the orchard."

"Now," he said, voice lilted with mock impress, "I must see this tree, that you so fondly and regularly climb." His voice was a stage whisper.

"Alas, I cannot." You teased back, some what enjoying the banter yourself. "I do not simply show my tree to strangers."

"Ah, but I am not a stranger," he said, closer again now. "I am just George." He stuck his hand out again, waiting for you to shake it. Hesitantly, you did. "I would be honoured to see your tree."

"Do you not have business to attend to?" You asked, gesturing in the direction the other men and the Royal herd had walked in. George shook his head, waving off your remark.

"They are fine themselves. They have no use for my agreements here and questions there." He said. "And even so, if I were to re-join them now," he took another small step closer to you, eyes searching in the distance, "my mind would think of nothing but this apple tree at the farthest end of the orchard."

You smiled at the man as he looked down at you, and felt the strangest urge to lead him by the hand to your sacred reading spot. Something about George made you trust him, utterly and completely, as if you'd known him your whole life. As if you'd run through the fields with him as children, and he knew where the tree was already.

"All right, just George."

A bright, down right contagious smile etched itself on to his face. You couldn't help but smile just as brightly.

The two of you strode side by side through the back field of the farm, chatting idly as you lead him to the orchard. George told you he was a keen farmer himself, but his family bound him to the city. "Why don't you just leave them?" you asked as you opened the large wooden field gate for him.

George paused, leaning on the gate with both arms crossed. "It is not that simple," he said, his face contort in a frown. "I am obliged to stay there. It is a duty, of sorts." He looked around at the tall grass, the wild flowers that bloomed in the field at his feet. "If it were up to me, I would spend all my time in the country."

You felt immensely sorry for him. The thought of being away from the country for more than a day put a nasty pit in your stomach. Gently, you placed your hand on his arm. He looked up at you with glum eyes. You gave him your best reassuring smile as you squeezed his arm lightly. He smiled back at you.

You fell back into stride with one another after that. George asked about your family, and you told him about your father and your three younger sisters. He asked where they were, and you let out a haughty laugh. "They cower at the sight of mud. They are cooped inside with my mother, embroidering or learning the pianoforte or some other nonsense."

"You see no value in these tasks, then?" George asked with a small smirk.

"I see no point, given where we live. What use have I for musical impress or intricate sewing when I spend my time outdoors?" You paused your walking, gesturing to the cows grazing near by. "Any man I encounter in these parts will be as impressed by my pianoforte as those cows."

"Ah, I see." George chuckled to himself. "You are to be a spinster then." You whipped round to face him, annoyance turning your brows into a tight v shape. George laughed again.

"For a stranger you are certainly bold."

"I do not hear a defence."

"No, I am not to be a spinster." You crossed your arms, uncrossing them when George cocked his head to the side slightly. You must have looked ridiculous, like an petulant, spoilt child. You huffed.

"I am not to be a spinster. At least not by intention." You both began walking again, rounding the corner to the long aisle of the orchard. "There," you said, pointing to your tree at the very end.

You turned when George remained silent. His mouth was agape slightly, brown eyes wide and almost honey in the mid day sun. "Beautiful," he sighed out.

It caught you off guard, the strange desire to lead him by the hand to your tree and show him the very best branches. The way he looked at your favourite spot with such awe made you near desperate to share it with him. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching his hand that was inches from yours at your side. You shook your head slightly, as if a jitter would rid of of such peculiar feelings. "Come along, then."

George walked obediently at your side, keeping perfect pace with you. As you walked, he couldn't help but notice the sway of your hair in the light breeze, the way it framed your face so gently. Or the patches of freckles that spotted the bridge of your nose, or the subtle fullness of your bottom lip, how it was slightly larger than the top.

"You said you are not to be a spinster by choice," he began as you reached the foot of the tree. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What I mean is," you said as you reached up to a near branch, pulling yourself up with little struggle, "no man here is in need of a wife, and I am in no need for an elderly husband." You frowned when George laughed again. "You must stop that!" You cried.

"Stop what?" He smiled through his teeth again.

"Laughing at me!"

"I am not laughing at you, forgive me." He said, reaching up to the same branch and - just as you had- hauled him self up with ease. "I simply find it hard to believe no one here is in need of a wife."

"Everyone is already married, or too old, or far too young." You deadpanned. "I do not want to marry a frail old man."

"Let me rephrase," George began. He reached across you, and for a moment you thought he was going to touch your cheek. You sucked in a nervous breath. He plucked an apple that was hanging just above you ear. "I find it hard to believe no one here wants you for a wife."

You found it hard to form words, stuttering over a response. George bit into his apple , smugness radiating off of him in reams.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a moment, your backs leaning against the trunk of the tree while your legs stretched out next to each other. "Do you sit out here all day?" George asked softly, turning his head toward you. His breath fanned over your face slightly. You nodded.

"Most days," you sighed contently. "I am usually the one that goes into the towns if needed. Otherwise, I am left alone to sit here as I please." You looked out as the sheep roamed the field ahead of you.

George rested his head back against the trunk of the tree.

"I am envious of you, truly." He said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You turned your head to face him. Your shoulders were brushing against each other with every breath.

"You are welcome to come here," you said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "You can bring a book, and you may sit here for as long as you like, whenever you please. Whenever your family allows you to be in the country."

This close to him, you noticed the flecks of gold in George's eyes. The small freckle above his eye brow. The rosiness of his cheeks. His words echoed in your head.

'I find it hard to believe no one wants you for a wife."

In the distance, you heard the ruckus of the men returning to the front of the house. George shot up. You shot up with him.

"I must go," he said hurriedly. He swung his legs over the branch and jumped off. As you moved to do the same, you saw him waiting on the ground with his hands outstretched. He was helping you down. You reached a hand out to him, and he pulled you down. Expecting a thud, you noticed he had steadied you with a hand on your waist. "I wish I could stay longer, I truly do. Alas, they will run like chickens without heads if I am not back soon."

You wished to find some poetic goodbye, but all you could muster was a soft sigh. "Will you be back?" His hand was still gripping yours.

George chuckled breathily.

"Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "I must bring a book and see if this really is the best spot for reading."

The voices in the distance got louder, calling George's name now. He looked over his shoulder, then back to you. "I am back in the country in two weeks time. May I see you then?"

You smiled at his politeness, hoping your hasty nod came across as friendly and not desperate. "Of course."

"Splendid."

He brought your hand to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles. "It has been a pleasure, madam." He said with a gentlemanly bow.

He turned to walk away then, and you felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your feet were glued to the ground, unable to move you from that same spot.

"Oh," George called from a distance. "The inspection went fantastically. Your farm shall have a wonderful review." He grinned, all boyish and joyful, before turning back and sprinting in the direction of the loud voices.

His words only sunk in after he'd rounded the corner gate, and you nearly collapsed onto a log.

Not only had you spent your afternoon with a total stranger, telling him your deepest thoughts and secrets, scandalously close should a gossiping eye see it.

You'd just spent your afternoon with the King of England.

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hellfirenacht · 1 month

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This Machine...

Summary: Your birthday is coming up, and Eddie makes you a present.

Tags: sfw, friends to lovers, slightly possessive Eddie and Reader if you squint, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k words

Master List

There were certain perks to being the school’s resident dealer. For one, Eddie had made very good friends with the old janitor that kept to himself, flying under everyone’s radar, including Higgins’. The nice perk that came with being friends with ol’ Mr. Greg was the fact that he had the keys to every single room in the school, which meant that Eddie’s lock-picking days were lowered considerably.

These were good perks to have, especially since your birthday was coming up. Eddie had convinced the art teached at the beginning of every year to allow himself and his club to use the art room to make their Hellfire shirts. The art department had managed to get funding four years ago for a screen printing kit, convincing the board that having the ability to make shirts would create unity within the school.

Frankly, Eddie thought that was a load of bullshit. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use it to his advantage when he could. So every September, Eddie would gather his little sheepies for an afternoon of arts and crafts, creating the shirts and ruining the ones they were wearing in the mess. Eddie would always try and make a few extra, just in case there were stragglers that needed saving from the conformity of Hawkins High school. Not once did he consider the irony of having his sheep in uniform.

In most cases, the art teacher was willing to work with him and let him in without much fuss. Of course, that was when Eddie was still a student. He had now been a proud high school graduate for seven months and the shock of not being in school had him spiraling for the first month before he found himself working at the Hideout again. Work, rehearsal, work, rehearsal, a thirty minute set at the Hideout if he was lucky, work, rehearsal.

God, he missed Hellfire. That was the only part of school that he missed; a consistent Dungeons and Dragons schedule.

Still, it wasn’t all bad and monotonous. Turns out that if you aren’t stuck at school 8 hours a day, 5 days a week you can go other places when children are at school. And when you go to places where kids aren’t, you tend to meet adults.

Enter you.

You had been working at the record store on morning shift, and had been for a few months now. Although you had more often than not worked weekends, somehow you and Eddie had eluded each other in the two years of you sorting through the various artists and ringing up customers.

It had been a Thursday when Eddie met you, a fact he only remembered because the previous night had been the day that Bev allowed him to go on two nights in a row at the Hideout, which had been unheard of for Corroded Coffin.

“Ain’t no one barely here anyways, Eddie.” she’d said, having long since stopped calling him Junior.

He had been flying high, and an old drunk had even left him a tip on the bar, enough to drop by the record store and pick up an album he’d been eyeing for a while. You had been standing at the boxes, resetting them and reorganizing them for the hundredth time that week. It had been so slow that day that it was all you could do to keep yourself busy.

W.A.S.P had been playing at a near whisper quiet volume, and when Eddie asked you about it you had just smiled, shrugged, and said that the owner only allowed you to play them on Thursdays when it was dead, or Sunday morning when anyone who’d get offended by the lyrics would be at church.

The two of you had been friends ever since.

A half hour of idle chat about music had turned into five months of late night talks on the phone, hanging out in Eddie’s van, swapping music back and forth, visiting each other during your shifts, and a tentative bi-monthly D&D session with you, and Corroded Coffin.

Eddie would never know how badly he messed up your sleep schedule, going on late at night with Corroded Coffin when you had a morning shift, but it was always worth it to give him a sober audience member.

The best nights though, were the times where you’d come over and just... hang out with him. You’d come over to Wayne’s trailer after your shift, or he’d pick you up from your place, and the two of you would just sit and talk.

You never bat an eye at how messy his room was, and he made sure there was no food left out and would at least make an effort to clean out all of the beer cans in his room. Mostly you’d just sit on his bed and watch him play guitar, or spend hours talking about everything and nothing.

As much as you enjoyed hearing him practice the same riff on his electric guitar over and over again, you had admitted to him that you always had a soft spot for the acoustic guitar that collected a little more dust in the corner that he’d pull out on rare occasions.

THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS

You’d voiced your fondness for the instrument several times, enjoying the combination of Woody Gunthrie’s iconic guitar adjusted for your friends’ eccentric taste.

Five months of friendship. Five months of hanging out with no pressure, no needing to look after each other, five months of feeling like a fucking human in this damn town.

And one month of having the most embarrassing and awkward crush on you.

Eddie had dated before, and he’d been interested in girls and some girls had even shown some interest in him until they realized that Eddie wasn’t someone to be fixed or saved. Eddie had even had sex before, but not to the extreme lengths that he’d found had been circulating in high school.

Seriously, who had the time to come up with half the shit that this town thought he’d allegedly done?

You found great joy in hearing about his spin in the rumor mill. Whenever one of you heard a rumor about the Freak, you’d compare notes and laugh about how stupid it was. Of course, Eddie put little effort into actually stopping the rumors, and now that he was no longer in high school it didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. He’d still get dirty looks from people in town but he found that more often than not people would just leave him alone now. Jocks, nerds, freaks, cheerleaders; outside the halls of Hawkins High those words didn’t hold half the weight they used to.

“So they’re saying that now you spiked the punch at homecoming?” you asked, laughing. “I must have missed that dance.”

“Yeah, so did I. I only went to homecoming once in school and that was Sophomore year.” Eddie replied, his fingers tabbing out a melody that he had been working on for a new song. “And there was no way I was able to get my hands on any alcohol that night.”

“Why would you waste perfectly good alcohol on a high school dance, anyway?” you laughed.

Eddie could listen to you laugh for hours.

And it was because of this, that Eddie was now back at Hawkins High, while Ol’ Greg unlocked the art room on this fine weekend. It didn’t take much convincing, Ol’ Greg didn’t give a shit about Eddie’s reputation and never had, and for that Eddie had slipped the janitor an extra joint for his trouble as payment for letting him in.

The room looked about the same as it had the last few weeks of school, aside from some new art projects. Other than that, everything was in about the same place. Eddie wasted a little time wandering around the room, looking at the different projects and taking in the scent of old clay and dried paint. Aside from the old drama room, the art room was the only other place in the school where he felt okay in this hellhole.

It didn’t take much to get your shirt size. You always had a bad habit of leaving your sweaters in his van, so going to grab a blank hoodie in your size was the easy part. The design he was using was easy as well, and after so many years of making Hellfire Club shirts he could probably make this in his sleep.

But he wouldn’t, because he wanted this to be perfect. So for the next few hours he carefully pulled out the equipment, found the right shade of red he wanted to use and painstakingly created the stencil, adding his own personal flair to it. The finished product was probably nicer than any Hellfire Club shirt he’d ever made.

By the end of it, your new hoodie was done and he was sure that you’d love it so much that you’d never forget it in his van.

With the finished product in hand he was able to lock up, thank Ol’ Greg, and make his way home.

Now all Eddie had to do was give it to you for your birthday. The two of you had made plans to hang out that morning together at Benny’s for some birthday waffles or pancakes or french toast or whatever you wanted. He’d treat you, he’d been saving for this.

Then he’d give you the gift, and you’d love it and then he’d suck it up and ask you out. He could do this. Jeff swore to Eddie up and down that you clearly had feelings for him. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he’d noticed your flirting and had flirted back so many times. This dance between the two of you had been going on for weeks now, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. With any luck, the note he had tucked into the pocket would also help him out.

You were already at your usual booth when he arrived that Sunday morning. It was supposed to be a very quiet morning, Benny’s was never busy first thing on Sunday. So when Eddie walked into the diner to meet you, his stomach dropped as he saw the rest of his band already sitting with you.

A chorus of his friends called him over, and Eddie, dejected, slid in the booth on the opposite side of you. You were on the end of one booth, seated next to Jeff and Zack, while Eddie took the spot next to Gareth.

Eddie wanted to be pissed at the guys for ruining his plan, but then he saw the look on your face. You were thrilled to be around everyone and were excitedly talking to Jeff about the new song that he was learning. It was your birthday, your day, and if you were having fun, that was the important part. He did make sure to put your food on his tab though, he wasn’t going to let anyone else have that satisfaction.

As the morning went on, Eddie had completely forgotten about the hoodie currently sitting in the small bag by his leg. He was only reminded of it when Gareth got up to go pee and Eddie was forced out of the booth, as his foot kicked the bag and you noticed it.

Your eyes immediately lit up when you noticed the red gift bag and your smile widened.

“Eddie, is that for me?” you asked, batting your eyelashes. “Did you get me a present?”

He didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone, that hadn’t been part of the plan. But he sucked it up and pulled the hoodie out and tossed it to you. Eddie could worry about asking you out later when the rest of his friends weren’t around. He’d never want to put that pressure on you anyway.

“Yessss!” you grabbed it eagerly in your hands and unfolded the hoodie, noticing the design.

This Machine Slays Dragons was splashed across the front, and on the front pocket was a small colony of bats, just like the ones on Eddie’s arm. He watched as your eyes widened, in surprise and delight, and felt a wave of relief wash over him as you eagerly put it on.

“Holy shit, Eddie, I love it!” you said, and got out of the booth to throw your arms around him. Your lips pressed against his cheek, and for a moment Eddie felt like he was on cloud nine as he hugged you back, giving you a slight squeeze before you pulled away.

“You always said you liked my guitar.” He said, shooting a look to his bandmates who were making kissy faces behind your back. The glare only egged them on.

“It’s got your bats on it.” you said, looking down at the design, smoothing it out. “This is so fuckin’ cool!”

As you ran your hands down the design, you heard a faint crinkle in the pocket. When you reached inside, alarm bells went off in Eddie’s head and he quickly muttered something about needing a cigarette before turning on his heel and walking straight outside to his van.

He’d completely forgotten the note that he had slipped into the pocket. You absolutely were not supposed to open that in front of everyone. Eddie leaned against the back of his van, lightly smacking his head against the door, the barely touched cigarette in his hand.

“Eddie...?” Your voice made him go stiff, his head still against the fan. He took one long drag of the cigarette and exhaled the smoke before standing up straight to look at you. You were holding the note in your hand with a sheepish grin on your face.

“Hey.” He said, not sure how to proceed. He couldn’t read your smile. Was it a sad smile? Were you going to awkwardly tell him that you didn’t feel the same but you could be friends? He could live with that, but it would really sting.

“So....” you looked at the note and read the two words printed there in his handwriting. “‘Date me’, huh? I’ve heard you come up with the wildest descriptions for things when we play D&D, but the most you could jot down was... ‘Date me’?”

It was. Eddie had racked his brain for hours on what to say to you, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted to. Everything felt either too cheesy, or too stiff, or not him, or too casual. He was really banking on the hoodie to be more of a selling point than the note.

“I thought it’d be cuter if it had just been the two of us this morning.” Eddie admitted. “Look, I get it if you’re here to respectfully decline. We can just be friends, I swear I won’t make it weird-”

“I’ll date you.” The words were firm and steadfast. There wasn’t a single waiver in your voice as you said those three words. You took a step closer to him and shoved the note back in the hoodie pocket. “Eddie I... I want to date you. I’ve wanted to date you for about 10 minutes after we met.”

Eddie’s head lowered slightly and his eyes widened as he stared at you. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah.” you said. “A cute guy walks into a record store, knows about good music, invites me to play D&D and then becomes one of my best friends? Yes, Eddie, I want to date you.”

Eddie snuffed out the barely touched cigarette and leaned in towards you. God, he was fucking clueless sometimes.

“You know... that hoodie looks good on you.” He said, trying to sound smooth. “It’ll look better in the back of my van.”

You stared blankly at him for a second and then burst out laughing, your head thrown back. “No, no, nevermind.” you cackled. “I changed my mind. I’m done. We’re done.”

Had Eddie not known you as well as he did, he might have taken that as a real rejection. But he knew that laugh, he’d heard it a hundred times over the past few months.

He reached out and grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him, you were still smiling wide when you looked up at him. “Seriously, Eddie? I agree to date you and you pull out that line?”

“Don’t get mad at me, Sweetheart.” He said. “You’re the one constantly leaving your clothes in my van. I don’t know why you’re laughing at my perfectly innocent statement.”

“Oh fuck off, Eddie.” You laughed. “You know exactly what you said and how you meant it. And maybe I wouldn’t have had to leave my clothes in your van all the time if you had asked me out earlier.”

“And would you care to share that logic with me?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. Had you really been leaving things in his van on purpose?

“I had to mark my territory.” you said with a smile. “Can’t let anyone in your van think that you’re seeing someone else.”

It was Eddie’s turn to laugh and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Ah yes, the most popular freak in all of Hawkins definitely has a line out the door of people wanting to date him.” he said, his hands finding your hips.

“You’re laughing. I’ve seen you flirting with Ms. Robin’s at The Hideout and you're laughing at me?” you tried to pout, but you were holding back your own giggles.

“Ms. Robins is a 75 year old woman who can drink everyone under the table.” Eddie pointed out.

“See? How am I supposed to compete with that! I had to sacrifice my jackets to make sure no one would be asking you out.” you protested. “What else could I-”

Eddie had originally planned on asking if it was okay for him to kiss you first, but he knew that if he didn’t do something now you’d keep cracking jokes and this conversation wouldn’t go anywhere. You tasted faintly like your birthday breakfast, but Eddie quickly decided that it wasn’t a bad thing. He felt the faint push of your lips back against his, and he mentally kicked himself for not doing this the first time you two hung out.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie said, as he finally pulled back.

“Guess I got my wish, and I didn’t even have to blow out any candles.” you replied, just a little bashful at the admission.

“You aren’t allowed to leave this hoodie in my van.” Eddie said. “You can leave any other jacket or sweater in there but not this one.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” you said, “But why this one specifically?”

Eddie touched the pocket that had the bats that matched his tattoo. “Because how else will other people know that you’re seeing someone?”

“Oh, you little shit!” you laughed. “Really? You think I’m weird for what I did when you basically put your logo on a hoodie that you know I’m going to wear every day?”

“Guess that makes us both freaks now.” He replied, with a satisfied grin.

“There are worse things to be in a small town.” you decided, taking his hand. “So I guess this means you’re my boyfriend now. No take backs.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetheart.” Eddie crossed his heart.

You leaned in and gave him another quick kiss. “Come on. The sooner we go back in there, the sooner you all can sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and the sooner that’s done, then the sooner we can leave. And if you play your cards right, Eddie, you might get lucky and see this hoodie on the floor of your van anyway.”

“So, the line worked?” He smirked.

“Come on, Zack is hiding a box of cupcakes.” you laced your fingers with his. “Dessert first and then second dessert.”

“And then elevensies dessert?” Eddie teased.

“It’s my birthday and I will change my mind, I swear.” you cackled, walking back into the diner with him.

And because he knew your laugh so well, he had a very good feeling about how he’d help celebrate your birthday when the two of you would finally be alone.

Thank you @hellfiredarling for the hoodie! They made it for me for my birthday last year 💜

Divider by @strangergraphics

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #I'm on a roll with posting be proud of me

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cowgirlcherrie · 11 months

Text

totally clueless! ❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: 90s! house-sitter! Abby x college! bratty! bimbo! fem reader

synopsis: The year is 1995, California, Beverly Hills. You were in your sophomore year of college, starting adulthood when your dad decides to leave the mansion in the hands of a house sitter who you thought was a buzzkill and in return, she thought you were a brat. You were totally and indefinitely clueless.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, hyper femme black coded reader, making out, heavy body touching,tad bit of smut, mostly supposed to be comedic and funny, strict-ish parents(if you squint), partying, alcohol mention, slight manhandling, mutual pinning, teasing, closeted reader (also if you squint), wet daydreaming, enemies-ish to lovers,

a/n: if you watched the movie then you would know that it naturally has this comedic bubbly, unserious aura to it, which I tried to emulate here (the ones that get it, get it)considering that it does take place in the 90s as the fic does too, there is heaaavy usage of 90s slang, so if the some of the dialogue seems cring-ish or theres phrases where you’re like who says thattt??? 90s slang. A lot of the scenes mirror ones directly from the movie! just a heads up, but this is a treat to all of you so I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it ! <3

POP!

The bubble of your bubblegum collapsed into your glossed lips as you chewed vastly out of irritation. Here you stood at your 10am debate class, uninterested in today’s flash debates but it was part of your final grade —the thought of an ugly red F on your grade report frightened you, it was nothing that white out or your pink decoration tape could possibly fix. Some would say that you were overdressed for school, wearing a matching pink set and platform heels that sparkled on your ankles making you look flashy as you walked. All you could do was tap your hands at the side of the podium as you moved your hips from side to side, watching as your professor paced around the classroom giving his warm-up speech. Your debate opponent was a girl named Cheryl, her outfit visibly lackluster compared to you which you found to be too grey, matching the bleak wall of the classroom. Now you didn’t know Cheryl well, besides the fact that the girl had been a walking airhead and a terrible debater. This should be an easy A.

“Okay y/n…Cheryl, your topic is— should public schools require uniforms?” Your professor stated, making his way to his desk to be out of the way of the students. You widened your eyes in excitement, sending a smirk and wink to Cheryl who only rolled her eyes back at you.

“Cheryl will take pro position, Y/n you will be con, 5 minutes”

“So,” You begun, taking the gum out of your mouth, throwing it into the trashcan behind you.

“Hypothetically, wearing uniforms is the equivalent of being unimportant, and that’s what the school system doesn’t want us to be—correct? Uniforms signify unity thus why it's called uniforms...duh! But it creates a false sense of security. Because if we all look the same then that means we all think the same which is totally buggin’, I mean- think about it this way. At my 5th birthday party, my daddy got all of my friends the exact same pink outfit, how would they know it was my birthday if we were all wearing the same thing? I was going postal, and he didn’t put my name on the cake! All I’m saying is, if maybe the school system ditched wearing the same outfits, maybe we would know how to separate a wolf from a pack of sheep” You finished your speech, sending a bright smile to the audience who clapped and cheered as you flipped your hair behind your shoulders in response. Your professor, staring at you furrowing his eyebrows at your response.

“Uhh— right, and Cheryl?”

“How am I supposed to answer that professor? The question was: should public schools require uniforms and her response has nothing to do with uniforms” Cheryl combatted, staring at your professor displeased. You simply shrugged which earned a laugh from your best friend Dina in the front row.

“Hello…Would you want someone to wear the same thing to your big day,” You claim in a know-it-all tone making Cheryl roll her eyes shouting, “Whatever!”

As if an angel had been ringing a bell, class was dismissed. If you were being honest, you thought your response should have earned you an A in the class, perhaps a gold star with a “Good Job” underneath. Oh- you could dream. Your heels clinked across the tile as you reached into your bag to pull out a fresh stick of gum. Popping the tough pink goodness into your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors liquified on your tongue.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

“Oh snap! Williams on your six, her outfit is hella fly” You whispered to Dina as the two of you trotted down the hall. The both of you let out a fit of giggles as you sneakily turned your head to catch a glimpse of Ellie Williams who was walking right past you. She was a part of the skater clique, with baggy jeans and a tank top decorating her body as she kept a roughened-up skateboard tucked under her arm. The sight of her was enough to make anyone drool, even you who was the campus’ unattainable girl.

“Oh my!— JNCO jeans and guess what underneath?” You challenged Dina, smacking your gum in your mouth. The two of you made eye contact, rushing to look at Ellie’s waistband.

“Holy cow”

“Calvin Klein!” The two of you shouted in sync, followed by a shriek. Any outsider who had seen the two of you would have thought that you were fangirls, the way you giggled and twirled your hair. Eyeing people up and down the hall as if they were hunks of meat. It was all a girl could desire. It got even better when you got home. Dina dropped you off, considering you didn’t have your license and the two of you went to the mall directly after the debate class had ended. This meant the weekend was slowly approaching, as the bright California sun beamed on you.

Your heels walked up the steps to the mansion, swinging the bag in your hand as you hummed material girl by Madonna. Putting your pink keys into the door, walking in feeling as if the house no longer felt warm. The air must have cut off, making you frown as you close the door behind you.

“Daddy, I’m home!” You shouted, making your way into your dad's office to see what he had been up to. Ever since your dad started working from home more often, it seemed as though he occupied himself more with work than spending time with you. Frequently you wondered if he even actually remembered your name.

“Daddy?” You question, peaked your head into his office only to be met with silence again.

“I’m not your daddy, but let me know when you find him” A voice comforted you from behind. Shocking you at the softness, getting ready to pepper spray the intruder that was in your home.

“Oh, Snap! You almost killed me,” you exaggerated holding your hand over your heart as you looked at the woman in front of you. Your eyes transitioned from startled to lustful gaze as you looked the woman up and down. She was giving you a similar look. You liked what you were seeing, a hot shot. The woman in front of you wearing a blue polo crewneck which you could moan at the sight of. There was nothing like good fashion that turned you on quicker. Her hair was long, a piece tucked behind her ear exposing her ear that was decorated in piercings.

“And who are you?” you questioned defensively, now crossing your arms across your chest.

“Abby,” She instantly put her hand out for you to shake, withdrawing it when she saw that you weren’t taking it instead you gave her a disgusted look, as your nose scrunched up.

“House sitting for your daddy, while he’s away, I go to college across town.” Abby teased as you smacked your teeth in response. Who did she think she is? Coming into your home and disrupting the safe space that you have created for yourself. She was the first person to try it. It did excite you. Typically people gave up talking to you at the slightest attitude you gave, but Abby didn’t wanna give up. Perhaps you met your match. Abby’s eyes glanced over your body looking at the outfit you wore. Slutty she thought, looking back up at your face, specifically your eyes admiring the soft makeup you had on and long lashes that made you glow.

“A little bit much for school don’t you think” Abby picked, tugging at the hem of your skirt making you swat her hand away.

“As if!— people don’t do enough” you snapped. Now you weren’t opposed to having a little bit of fun. With Abby? You were down to do all of it. But part of you felt guilty, your wishful thinking turning sour. What would your father say if he saw his house sitter and daughter eating each other’s faces off?

“You’re a buzzkill” you sassed Abby watching her reaction her body withdrawing away from yours, turning her head slightly in disbelief.

“And you’re a brat” she spat making your mouth go wide.

“I don’t like you” You confessed, finger jabbing into her chest, your body pushing forward, getting closer to her.

“Suck it up!” Abby snapped, pushing you back against the door with a loud thud as her hands resided against the office door, caging you in.

“Eat sh—”

With that Abby roughly grabbed your chin leaning her nose close to your neck. Her breath heated up your neck as her lips made a trail from your ear down to your neck, no pressure applied. "Say you don't want me," She whispered into your neck, and that’s when you smelled her. Ralph Lauren, a classic. Your nails scratching her arms in need, quickly clamping your thighs together feeling a sudden wetness pool beneath you.

"I don't.." you moaned out as Abby moved up to your lips this time, her hand still gripping your chin as she cast a chaste kiss on your glossed lips. She hummed at the taste of bubblegum. It was sticky, but it didn’t bother her. "You sure?" she questioned pulling apart quickly for air.

You pulled her back in, "No" Your hands entangled in her hair as she deepened the kiss, detaching her lips again, making you whimper in disappointment. Instead, her lips went to your neck, this time laying actual kisses across your brown skin as she swirled her tongue against your neck. Her hand was under your skirt as she played with the hem of your underwear before moving back to the outside of your skirt, her hands tugging them upward to bunch up the fabric in a fist. In return, you grabbed a fist full of her hair as broken moans escaped your lips. Your body slightly grinding into hers, lips parted as she redirected her hands back up to your chest, groping, slightly squeezing, making you moan again.

“hey!”

Abby’s fingers snapped in front of your face as you blinked rapidly. There was no lipstick marks on Abby’s lips, your skirt was still intact and untouched, of course none of that was real! your body felt warm, like the heater suddenly started to work within the mansion. You wonder how long you were in that day dream as it felt authentic, wayyyy to real to be something that didn’t happen. did Abby feel it too? Abby gave you a confused look wondering why your bambi eyes suddenly turned into a startled doe stuck in the headlights.

The house phone started ringing. You pushed Abby off, fixing your skirt as you bolted into the kitchen to get the phone. Picking up the phone off of the stand hitting the green button in a hurry, hands shaking.

“Hello, l/n residence, y/n speaking” you answered, leaning against the marble kitchen counter trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to fix your appearance swiftly. Even though no one else was in the house besides yourself and Abby, you grew conscious that someone was watching you through the phone. You ran your hair through your curls, twirling some strands for the sake of definition.

“Y/n, its Dina! I got deets,”

You let out a sigh of relief, you were just glad it wasn’t your father. The man would have asked you everything under the sun. Like what you were wearing? Why you were breathing so hard, and how was…Abby. Right, Abby. As if she had been called, Abby promptly walked into the kitchen adjusting her crewneck, her lips a saturated shade of pink from the peppermint chapstick she owned that slightly numbed her lips with a plumping, tingling sensation. Abby was now shoulder to shoulder with you. The fabric of her crewneck rubbing against your short sleeve shirt as she reached into the microwave to grab the bowl of popcorn, which has likely fallen cold at the exchange the two of you had.

‘Spill!” You gushed as you bent down to take off your heels to which you felt your hands being slapped away as Abby was now on her knees to assist you seeing that your hands were doing nothing for the straps on your shoes. Your mouth was agape watching as Abby was on her knees for you, her hands softly grazing your bare legs which made you close your mouth quickly. She was lucky you didn’t kick her in the face.

“Ellie just asked me on a date! She’s takin’ me to the skatepark, and then we are gonna meet you in the valley, at the house party on Friday” Dina confessed, making you gasp. For two reasons 1. Because Dina finally got the date with Ellie 2. Abby had been toying with you. This time you did kick her sending a gentle jab to her chest which resulted in her throwing her hands up, snatching your heels up in one hand before grabbing the popcorn bowl to walk away.

“Sweet” you dragged leaning against the kitchen counter as you tapped your pink nails against the marble. You paused for a minute before a light bulb went off above your head, and a good idea plagued your thoughts.

“You should come over! Check out my stylin’ new closet, I have the perfect outfit that you would totally rock!” You jumped, twirling your hair as you danced in the kitchen.

“Daddy said no company and no parties” Abby shouted, still teasing you about the first impression you made on the girl, making you throw up a hand before walking into another room.

“It’s no biggie, one problem though, I got a house sitter, and she’s kind of a downer?” You whisper lowly into the phone, hoping that Abby wouldn’t hear you from where she sat on the couch.

“Is she hot?”

You groaned rather loud not bothering to answer Dina’s question. Yes, Abby was hot. You were already starting to cool down but the dirty thoughts of Abby absolutely wrecking you clouded your brain tremendously.

“Just come over, D” you finished, hitting the red— end call button, making your way back into the kitchen to put the phone back up on the stand.

“Where you goin’ ?” Abby questioned, her curiosity getting the best of her. She sat on the couch with her legs kicked up as she watched a movie on the television. Her eyes not breaking contact with the screen in front of her.

“To go play dress up while I plan how to save my best friend ” You whined, and there it was again. That fucking attitude sent Abby into a spiral. You loved exaggerating your tone, the way Abby’s eyes would go dark before giving you the most raunchy response made your legs buckle underneath you. Slowly you picked your heels up that Abby had gracefully taken off, her eyes finally looking at you, she blinked fast letting out a sigh, redirecting her eyes back to the tv screen.

“Whatever,” Abby snickered as you shrugged, bolting up the stares. You were totally clueless. The moment you shared with Abby rather fast but you couldn’t get the thought of the girls hands all over you of your head. But you had better things to worry about, right? Like the valley party and playing cupid for Dina.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

“Does this look hot?” You implored, running your hands up and down the form-fitting baby pink dress. Your curly hair, freshly washed, moisturized with curl-defining cream. It was free with the front twisted back in rows of 4, secured by white butterfly clips to match the cropped white cardigan resided in your hands. Today was Friday, and you swore you had nothing to wear. Your room looked like a tornado ran through and shook the room— clothes covering the beige carpet, but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it. You wanted something hot, something that screams I came here for a good time. Due to Dina’s absence, there was no one to tell you if you looked okay or if the outfit was so last year. So narrowing down your options, you ask Abby. Walking over to where she sat on the couch, one arm up resting behind her head, as her legs were crossed on the coffee table. You pushed your body in front of the tv screen, standing dead center to Abby.

“Dude seriously?” Abby growled, moving her head in different directions to see around you.

“—Move”

“Abby, don’t be a loser… just help me,” You whined, begging the girl to look at you just once. Abby didn’t budge, so instead you moved closer standing in front of her on the couch, it was as if she was trying to ignore you. That only made you more frustrated begging the girl some more. “— Please Abs, just look” and that’s when she did, her blue orbs aligning with yours, flickering down to your body.

“Nice dress, who are you all dolled up for?” Abby’s voice was low, turning down the volume of the tv to hear your voice,

“Party, remember? I was on the phone with Dina about it yesterday,” yes, yesterday, how could Abby forget about yesterday. Truth is she couldn’t, spending her night in the guest bedroom thinking about all the possibilities that could have happened if the phone just didn’t ring. Abby nodded simply, wearing a stoic expression on her face.

“Right, Dina” her name rolled off her tongue, dragging out the ‘a’ and emphasizing the ’n’ in your best friends name.

“Yeah she’s my friend, and she has a date, so you’re helping me”

“What about yours?” Abby wondered tilting her head at you, causing you to throw your sweater at her face instead, collapsing next to her on the coach with a loud huff.

“My what?”

“Your date?’

“I don’t have one because I don’t want one— chill out!” You declared sinking into the couch as Abby snatched the sweater you threw at her off her face, throwing it back at you. Shifting her body to look at you next to her.

“Jeez, no need to be tight, get loose” Abby assured, putting her hand on your shoulder. Your body tensing, feeling a sudden burst, like a recharge, as Abby’s hands touched your exposed skin.

“I need to go…” You mumble, suddenly feeling small again, the way you felt when Abby had your back against the office door with her head tucked into your neck.

“Put that,” Abby pointed at your white sweater “on.” She finished, taking a sip of the glass of water that was in front of her on the coffee table. You were confused, under the impression that the outfit didn’t need any more redirection, it was simple and the cardigan would crowd the rest of the dress

“I thought the outfit was fine…” You argued, unbuttoning the buttons on the cardigan,

“Put it on,” Abby hissed “It’s cold out” she corrected herself, breaking eye contact to put the remote back in her hands. Abby turned the volume up on the tv, she was suddenly cold. It seemed like this was the game she played, giving you just enough attention to keep you going and then taking it all back like it was the biggest mistake she ever made. Now at this point in time, as you got to know the girl there was a solid 10 things you liked about her and another 10 that you absolutely despised. You’d consider her a friend, even though her snarky attitude made you think otherwise and the fact that she almost devoured you on the glass floor.

You walked off, headed for the front door — reaching onto the round table, at the entrance. Grabbing your purse which was naturally filled with lip gloss, pink gum, Nokia, and your wallet, swinging the small white bag over your shoulder. Preparing to twist the door knob, you paused releasing that there was no way for you to get there. Dina was with Ellie so that was a no and you couldn’t drive yourself, no license. You let out a sigh as you realized the inevitable was going to happen.

“…Abby!” You exclaimed from the door, as your body leaned against the front door, swinging the purse back and forth in your hands.

“Yes?” the girl shouted back from the other room.

“Can you give me a ride, I can’t drive” you exposed shyly. Now this was embarrassing, you thought. You were a college virgin that couldn’t drive. But your road test was tomorrow so at least you could eliminate one of those things. You were anticipating Abby saying no, which means you would have had to turn around and trot back up the stairs, watching the Breakfast at Tiffany’s vhs on repeat until your eyes closed.

“I-uh- Sure.” Abby hesitated. Not because she had second thoughts, but rather because she wasn’t expecting you to actually ask her let alone keep things friendly. It was typically common for you to ask for help but it didn’t seem like Abby was one of the people that you’d want it from. You let out a sigh of relief, the sunken feeling in your stomach going away as Abby made her out of the living room and to the door, jiggling her keys in her hand as she pushed you to the side to open the front door.

“Let's get you to that party, shall we?” Abby flashed you a smile while motioning for you to exit the house first making you smile back. Her kindness eased your heart considering she spent the 24 hours so far, treating your existence like a job. At times it felt like she was your babysitter, the next thing you know she would say no more shopping! and freeze your credit card in a block of ice. You wanted nothing more than to grab the girl by the face and give the most heated sloppiest kiss on her lips, but choosing to control your urges you gave Abby a swift kiss on the cheek instead. Running out the door and to the parking garage, failing to catch Abby holding her cheek where you left a glossed kiss mark

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

The party was a bust, an absolute disaster. You regretted going slowly after an hour of being there. Dancing on the dance floor with Dina as the two of you twirled around each other to the beat of the music, but this was interrupted when Ellie dragged your best friend away, leaving you alone and now at the alcohol table, looking to see if they had anything other than alcohol on the table. Somewhere along the night, you lost your white cardigan, but you weren’t mad about it considering it was your least favorite.

Reaching across the table to pour cola into the red solo cup, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat from behind you. Jesse, a member of the skater clique was best friends with Ellie. Now you weren’t interested, yet Jesse had been pretty keen on hanging around you but you would rather not. There was rumors going around campus that he liked you, but you completely disregarded it, that was your good friend, and there’s no way he could of mistaken your kindness for flirting. The boy was nice, slightly ditzy but he wasn’t your type, and by type, you just didn’t like men. But you couldn’t outright shout, I’m gay and men are cute….NOT! At risk for being called every slur under the sun. In the past, you have tried countless times to set Jesse up with Dina, but that ship repeatedly crashed before it could sail. Instead, your face scrunched in disgust, as you turned around again pretending that the contents in your cup were more interesting.

“I like your dress,” Jesse spoke up from behind you, leaning his hand against the table, once again that skateboard of his tucked underneath his right arm. You looked at the boys outfit which made you cringe, a white tee with a flannel on top, with khaki shorts that didn’t even match.

“Thanks… I would love to compliment you but the khakis are clashing with the plaid…” You commented dryly, bringing the cup up to your lips, drowning in the fizzy soda. There was a pregnant silence, and suddenly everything was awkward. It’s not like you wanted to have the conversation instead your body rocked to the music as you lip-synced the lyrics.

“I love this song…” Jesse coughed out making you acknowledge his existence again.

“Rad!” You claimed, walking off to go find Dina, who was now next to Ellie at the dining table, you were glad she was having a good time, even though you were not. But you felt as though you were getting in good deeds which had been certainly better than nothing.

As you entered the room, another girl, who you have known to be Nora, did as well, with an old business card intertwined in her fingers. You squinted your eyes at the card when it clicked for you what was happening,

“Hey everyone! let’s play suck n’ blow” The girl exclaimed causing you to throw your head back in annoyance. Suck n’ blow was fun when you didn’t have someone who would fuck up the game and use it as an excuse to lip-lock with the girl that they found the most attractive. At the table stood, Nora, who was next to Ellie, followed by, Dina, Jesse, yourself, and other members of the skate clique completing the circle. As the game started everything was going well, Everyone was moving fast yet successfully transferring the card from one set of lips to another. Finally, it was your turn, Jesse holding onto the card, leaning into your face just enough promptly dropping the card and slamming his lips on yours. You shrieked as the crowd laughed and cheered making you push the boy off of you, rolling your eyes at the boy who was looking at you with a smirk,

“You can’t even play the game correctly, it’s called suck n’ blow for a reason, are you mad!” You shouted, playfully punching Jesse in the arm. Your hand hit the table picking the card back up and handing it to Nora who was going to restart the game.

“Excuse me,” you excused yourself from the table feeling your Nokia buzzing from your purse, rushing to the backyard which didn’t seem to get anymore quieter, picking the phone out of your bag and to your ears

“Hello~” you sang sweetly as you paced around the pool, watching the bodies slam into each other, laughter being heard from the individuals in the water.

“Sweetheart, where are you, I called the house and Abby picked up saying you were out, do you know what time it is” It was your father. You tried to think fast the quickest way to get out of the current situation that you were in.

“I went shopping, in the valley with Dina of course…” You lied bringing up your nails to your arm scratching your bare arms at the cool air that blew past you.

“The valley? Jesus- Y/n get home!” your dad yelled on the other side of the phone, ending the call promptly before you could argue. Despite being grown, you were still a little girl in your dad's eyes. His first and only daughter and after the absence of your mother, he was certain to not let you out of his sight. You rolled your eyes, typing the house number into the number pad, listening to the rings before the signal connected.

“Hello, l/n residence—”

“Abby! Glad you answered, can you pick me up, I’ve got to head out — Dad called, thanks for that by the way” You confessed, making your way out of the backyard gate and around to the front lawn which had been overly decorated for the occasion.

“Be there in 10,” Abby asserted, having no problem with picking you up.

“Did you know you are the best Abigail?” That was the first time you used her full name in a sentence, She wasn’t opposed to you calling her by her name, rightfully so, but the way it rolled off of your tongue brought a smile to her face. If it was anyone else she would have been quick to correct them, telling them not to call her that. You were pushing every nono she had, but she was too enamored to correct you.

“Don’t flatter me—” Abby assured, hanging up the phone without saying goodbye. You smiled to yourself, maybe it was all the good deeds that you have done, but you weren’t sure why you were continuously given kindness, especially from Abby who didn’t owe an ounce of it to you. your smile departed as you saw Dina and Ellie coming out of the front door of the house and meeting you at the front lawn.

"Y/n! Leaving so soon?" Dina shouted, letting go of Ellie's arm, running to you to give you a gentle hug to which you returned holding on just as tight.

"—Yeah, it's time for me to head out, road test tomorrow I have to be up at 9" You grumbled letting go of your best friend, eyeing Ellie who gave you a gentle smile. You thought Ellie was even prettier in person and you were glad that your best friend found someone just as cool and creative as her, even if you weren't a part of the same clique. Your eyes redirected to behind Elie seeing Jesse which made your smile drop instantly, turning back to facing Dina at your hip.

"Where are you headed?" You questioned seeing as it looked like the trio was preparing to leave as well

"Skate-park, I would ask if you wanted to join but it seemed like you were rather occupied" Ellie suggested, wiping her hand across her nose and sniffling slightly. "No biggie!" You claim as you put your phone back in your purse. Jesse opened his mouth to speak, tripping on a piece of gravel as his solo cup lunged forward spilling all over your dress. You let out a gasp at the sudden cold liquid traveling down your dress and your legs, leaving a wide wet spot on your dress.

"My fault! I'm-"

Before you could respond to his cries of apologies, A black car pulls up in front of you, honking the horn as you locked eyes with Abby in the driver's seat.

"Uhm...I gotta go, see ya" you stuttered, voice shakey as you waltzed to the passenger side of Abby's car slamming the door behind you as the trio watched you with a fearful expression. Abby began pulling out of the spot she temporarily parked in, making her way back to your house with ease. You were silent.

"Where's your sweater...shit what happened" Abby questioned finally seeing your appearance that was rather messed up. contrasting to your usual scent of vanilla and cake she smelled cheap vodka and fruit juice. Keeping her eyes on the road, Abby reached into her glove compartment handing you napkins which you took in silence. Abby was startled by your silence. You rubbed the napkins down your dress, rings clashing with the fabric, tears pooling in your eyes as you did so. Your body shook as silent sobs escaped your mouth, lips quivering as you wiped your dress. At that point you had no clear direction, your tears mixing with the wet fabric only adding to the dampness of the napkin. You repeatedly wiped your dress, ignoring Abby like she wasn't there, whispering a ray of "I'm sorry" as your hand-worked fast to fix the issue, but Abby pulled over next to a random house, stopping the car

"Sweetheart let me see," Abby was gentle with you, hitting the light above the two of you, grabbing the napkins from your hand as you cried while she wiped away the loose liquid on you. Sniffing gently Abby was muttering "You're okay" under her breath as she continued to use the last of the napkins.

You sniffled, "Do you think I'm a bad person, Abby" you questioned between tears as Abby looked at you in confusion. Where was that coming from? You bring a hand up to wipe the tears away from your face, anxiously twirling a curly strand in your hair, looking at Abby through your eyelashes.

"Y/n, you're one of the most genuine people I know...and that means a lot to me considering I've only known you for almost 48 hours. I know enough to know you aren't a bad person" Abby affirmed. Fixing your dress with her hands as she reached over giving your hands a squeeze. "Then why do I feel like a bad person?" You begun,

"M-My life is a disaster! —I was so focused on giving my best friend a good love experience, somewhere along the way I lost her, it seems like she doesn't need me anymore, maybe I'm buggin' -don't get me started on my dress…" you ranted, no longer crying as you broke your silence.

Abby's jaw clenched, she didn't know what to tell you, or how to soothe the clueless expression you wore on your face that wasn't without some form of intimacy. True Abby would kiss you until you forgot about the problem you were going through, she was holding back.

"Listen don't beat yourself up, you're a beautiful person unlike most I've met in the hills, and you wanting what's best for your friend is a clear sign of your selflessness" Abby assured you, now putting the car in drive and continuing the route she was taking now that you were in a slightly better mood.

"God I feel like such a buzzkill!" You shouted, hitting your head against the headrest which felt more like throwing your head on a pillow thanks to your curls.

"you're not me," Abby teased as you now were laughing with the girl next to you. You were amazed at the fact the girl was able to transform your sudden sadness and give you the encouragement that everyone neglected to give you. You just wanted a simple reminder that you were doing good and Abby gave you just that

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

It was day three of Abby housesitting the mansion and you will admit, you have grown to like the girl. She brought a different energy that challenged your norm and every rule you ever set for yourself. Sitting on the kitchen counter in your matching lapel collar cropped blazer and skirt set. Your hair was styled differently today, A simple puff as it gave the small hoops in your ears a chance to shine, and brought attention to your eyes.

"How did your test go?" The road test. Which you failed the first time, but it was an absolute miracle that you passed it. You have learned from your mistakes! No longer hitting the curb with an oops, instead hitting all of the marks perfectly. You reached over the counter holding up a white slip with a BIG-inked signature.

"Uh huh-- that's right, I passed" You sassed in enjoyment hopping off the counter to dance around the girl. Abby laughed at your behavior as you flashed the white slip in her face,

“Guess that means you won’t be needing me anymore,” Abby joked, nudging your arm to which you gave her a really? look. “Who says I won’t need you?” you exaggerate looking at Abby with your arms crossed.

Abby shrugged, “Just sayin’ in a few hours, you go back to being you and I go back to being me.” Why did she have to remind you of that? You were too caught up in the moment to realize the fun between you was actually coming to an end. You’ve gotten used to her company, loving that the girl teased and hackled you like no other. But you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Who said we have to act like we don’t know each other” You offered, as your soft moisturized fingers traced up her exposed bicep, muscles flexing under the fitted short-sleeve top she wore.

“I just assumed that’s how it would be,” Abby carried on in a knowing tone.

“My dad likes you, and he doesn’t like anyone, so you can be over as much as you like” You continued, spinning around, prancing to the counter digging your hand in the bowl of freshly washed grapes.

“and do what— exactly, I’m not playing dress up with you” Abby assured making you knit your eyebrows at her response. Bold of her to assume that you’d want to style her, you thought she was perfect as is.

“Who said we are going to be playing dress up, more like- putting down the biggest WWE match as I am scream—”

“That’s enough,” Abby shut down as you teased her. You were such a tease. She could practically feel the hair on the back of her neck as you said that. Abby wasn’t a hook-up person, she didn’t do that. Thinking that’s all you wanted, she wasn’t going to stand for it. Abby said nothing else instead shifting past you to make her way back into the guest room as she was packing her stuff. You frowned watching her walk away from you, hundreds of questions popping up in your head as she got further away from you. Were you coming off too strong?

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Nightfall has fallen over meaning you had 4 hours left with Abby and you didn’t speak to the girl in 6, since the kitchen incident. While you were writing in your diary with your fluffy pink pen in your room that’s when it all suddenly clicked for you. Glancing at the paper where you had written hearts all around her name you wrote in cursive, sealing it with your very own kiss next to it. You liked Abby. Those 10 things,

10 . The way she challenged everything you said

9 . The way she teased you to make you laugh

8 . The way she wore her hair down because you said you loved it more than when she wore it in a braid,

7 . Her patience with you

6 . Her style, which you would do absolutely nothing to change

5 . The scar on her cheek, which apparently, she got after a soccer game her freshman year of college

4 . The way she moved your curls out of your face, saying she wanted to see your eyes more

3 . The way she encouraged you to keep going even when you made a mistake

2 . Her smile when you said anything that remotely made her laugh

1 . The way her lips almost met yours, yearning for a single taste

That’s it! — you like LIKED Abby,

“I like Abby!” you shouted, gasping as you slammed your journal shut at your epiphany. Rushing down the stairs in your matching pink pajama set. As your foot hit the top of the stairs preparing to ascend downwards but you stopped yourself on the imperial staircase, collapsing on the ground, throwing your body in defeat. There was no way you could tell her now, How could she like you? — She even said it yourself, you’ll keep doing you and she’ll be herself. It was all temporary. You rubbed your palms into your silk pajama shorts thinking of everything you could possibly say, all possibilities sounding like the worst one. Ignoring the sound of wheels on the tile stopping in front of the door in front of you.

“Why do you look like a kicked puppy,” Abby spoke up, her hand holding the telescopic handle of her suitcase. You have lost track of time, she was heading out in about 3 hours. You hadn’t realized that all the time you spent in your room was like a princess being locked away in a castle. You eyed her, black trousers and the same white t-shirt tucked into her pants secured with a belt. Her hair this time was in a braid, and now you wondered if you imagined the whole thing. Abby walked up the main stairs, taking a seat next to you.

“Are you here to say goodbye, or were you just gonna leave?” You snapped eyeing the girl in front of you.

Abby scoffed, “did you want me to?”

“Duh…It would of been morally right but maybe I need to chill out” you confessed

“No,no I wanted to” Abby confirmed. The two of you sat in silence for a minute before you broke it, slicing the thick air with your powerful words.

“Abby, that is brutal, the truth is I don’t want you to leave… I really like you Abby” you confessed tucking a piece of your loose curls behind your ear. Abby watching you with pure bliss and sincerity.

“You…like me?” Abby questioned, checking if what you said was right.

“Yes, and it pains me to see you go because I don’t want you to think I don’t want anything more but I do and I want to spend every mo—” Abby shut you up with a kiss. That was it! she finally kissed you! It was romantic, and beautiful, like your lips touching a bed of flowers, you could almost feel your body ascending off the floor. The kiss was long as you leaned into her body that locked perfectly into yours like a puzzle piece. Her lips were smooth, most likely from the peppermint chapstick that she wore that contrasted your glossed pink ones. The two of you pulled apart as her head rested against yours, breathing heavily.

“I want to take you on a real date” Abby confessed, which made you give the girl a shy smile as she stroked your cheek, “you know, to buy you real flowers, show you a bangin’ time” Abby finished as she bought out a tiny slip of paper, shoving it into your hand as she was now getting up adjusting her clothes,

“When you’re ready, give me a call”

You watched as she walked away in amazement, eyeing her backside as she walked with much pride. Abby grabbed onto the handle of her suitcase opening the front door, stopping to give you one final look. Abby lifted her hand to her lips blowing you a kiss, which you mimicked blowing one back. You were never certain about anything until now, tears pricking your eyes in joy as you smiled at the girl leaving.

“Oh, I will!” You sassed running in the opposite direction of the stairs up to your room.

While some may say happily ever after was overrated, you thought otherwise. What you thought was going to be a nightmare turned into the best 4-day weekend, you’ve ever had in the hills.

721 notes · View notes

1tbls · 5 months

Text

some rambling thoughts on shivers (red bolding mine throughout):

so shivers says this to harry after he has a dance-induced seizure in the church, right:

YOU - But who am *I*? Why are you talking to me?

SHIVERS - YOU ARE AN OFFICER OF THE CITIZENS MILITIA. *AGENTES IN REBUS*, WHEN YOU WEAR YOUR COAT, YOU WEAR MY SOUL.

SHIVERS - YOU MOVE THROUGH MY STREETS FREELY IN MOTOR CARRIAGES AND ON FOOT. YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THE HIDDEN PLACES. YOU ALSO CIRCULATE AMONG THOSE WHO ARE HIDDEN.

here's wikipedia on "agentes in rebus":

"The agentes in rebus were the late Roman imperial and Byzantine courier service and general agents of the central government from the 4th to the 7th centuries."

"Being outside the control of the provincial governors, some agentes ... were appointed as inspectors ... for which they gained a reputation as a secret police force. As their routine assignments brought them into contact with matters of great concern to the court, and as they reported back to the court on everything they saw or heard on their varied missions, the agentes can be seen to have had an intelligence function ... This role, as well as their extraordinary power, made them feared: the 4th-century philosopher Libanius accused them of gross misconduct, terrorizing and extorting the provincials, "sheep-dogs who had joined the wolf pack". Nevertheless, the vast majority operated quite openly, and the claims of the agentes operating as a modern-day secret police are certainly exaggerated."

hey shivers. why are you invoking the RCM as your secret police, via a term not just associated with collection of information, but with corruption and manipulation of power.

and, if you fuck up the dance check and call kim a slur, she says:

"SHIVERS - BY THE WAY, APOLOGIZE TO YOUR PARTNER AT ONCE. UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT."

which sticks out to me, because earlier we have this encyclopedia check with noid:

NOID - "A life is true if it's free from fear and internal division among oneself. And others -- mankind has seeds of greatness in it. A germinal will come, a return to trueness. It will be hard core."

YOU - "How would you go about *returning* to this true life?"

NOID - "Beats and bright lights to shatter falsehoods. Nerve impulses for the collective body. We are very much alike in basic structure. A hard enough beat would awaken everyone to a truer calling -- in unity!"

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Rejection of the right-left axis, emphasis on *unity*, appreciation of some primordial mode of being -- what does that remind you of?

YOU - "Sort of like fascism then?"

now, i don't think either noid or shivers are outright fascist :p but i do think the purpose of this encyclopedia line is to highlight how those criteria are flawed and damaging, how they are red flags, whatever the intention.

some comparisons:

1. return to trueness. le retour. the return of... what? in both cases, truly quite vague except for the idea of some dramatic upheaval of the current order, the idea of "returning" to some idealized past state or event.

2. nerve impulses. shivers. "appeal to nature" type fallacy, appeal to a baser instinct... invocation of physical reactions as metaphor for political reactionism, perhaps?

3. unity. on the surface, shivers telling harry to make things right with kim is touching, certainly. but specifically "unity among the ranks" is an interesting framing 🤨 as though the crucial thing is that their forces are not divided for what's to come, regardless of kim's feelings, regardless of harry's potential racism.

likewise, noid's call for unity addresses... nothing at all. simply that everyone would be awoken from their petty, false divisions into unity. neither this nor his criticisms of left vs. right acknowledge that the division is not equal, that one side in most social power conflicts is invested in stripping the rights of the other... because that is simply not on the radar when the priority is unity above all else. in its way, unity is authoritarian where it does not abide difference or dissent in the interest of the of the stasis/power of the institution.

this is all to say. hey. let's talk about the inherent nationalist nature of la revacholiere, my problematic wife ♥️

#de tag #disco elysium #i feel like i could make this more coherent / essay-like but i just cant be bothered #im certain there's other shivers lines like this that had me like <__< girl........#racism ment /

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holybibly · 6 months

Text

Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader

❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut

❣ Word Count: 8.5k

❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love.

❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior, panic attack. Sexual themes: hematolagnia, body worship, masturbation, bite kink, olfactophilia, voyeurism.

❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

❣Chapter 2: Wolf in sheep's clothing❣

Love is a word that deserves closer consideration, halfway between the dry hypocrisy of the dictionary and its deep sacral meaning.

What a strange feeling…

Love, both virtuous and vicious, motivates us to accomplish great feats yet also triggers the commission of heinous crimes. This mysterious and inexplicable feeling interweaves its complex structure within us, becoming the most unstable, contentious, and hazardous of all human emotions.

Love is the fundamental source of all our emotions and experiences in the world, both beautiful and disgusting.

Love has a multitude of motives, including the desire for control, submission, care, seduction, lust, protection, worship, creation and, of course, destruction.

The feeling is manifold; We can call this complex emotion by different names, including passion, hatred, obsession, alienation, objectification, mania, unattainable dreams, happiness, idolatry, spiritual unity, and possibly the most poetic of all—the second half of the soul.

Humans crave love from birth until death. This desire is inherent and everlasting. As we take our first breath, we unconsciously absorb the toxic essence of love, which settles in our lungs like delicate, silky flowers.

This need is woven into the very structure of our DNA, an animal instinct that inadvertently condemns us to eternal suffering.

Love exists as a palpable entity, often obscured by human perceptions of carefree happiness and joy. It can be likened to a lurking deep-sea creature, concealing its true visage, branching and moving under the thin surface of our skin.

She is as cunning as a murderer's grin, and she is well aware of the inevitable tragic end of every story she is about to tell. Though we may be in the belief that we have had a joyful life, in reality all our actions have been under the impulse of love. For the sake of this deceptive feeling, which unites us for a moment in the ecstatic joy and privileges of angelic ugliness.

In the end, our physical bodies will serve to feed the earthworms, to house the larvae and to nourish the roots.

Never again will they gaze into each other's eyes, never again will the turquoise flame passion between them ignite, and never again will their lips meet in a voluptuousness kiss.

Love has the power to drive us insane, to blind us, and even to lead to our demise.

And yet, in life, it is possible to miss everything but love.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

3rd POV

I want to fill my mouth with your name. I want to eat you whole. Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems, and a Song of Despair

“You look pathetic, San. Don't you think so? I wonder what Seonghwa would say to that?” Yeosang lazily runs his pale spidery fingers over Yoru's silky black fur, looking with contempt at the naked brunette stretched on a pile of knocked-down sheets and pillows.

The rings on his hands burn with blood, like the eyes of the Devil.

San looked blissfully relaxed and languid, like a caressing predator. His golden skin seemed to glow from within with an otherworldly glow as the translucent sunlight greedily licked his body with its soft touch.

Still, there was something vaguely animalistic, almost primitively predatory, about him, which in no way connected him with the arrogant aloofness that was inherent in the entire vampire race.

There was hot blood running through his veins, making him even more dangerous.

He was unbridled.

“I don't care what Seonghwa says, if he says a word at all in the next few centuries. Personally, I would prefer that his magnificent body continue to rest in the coffin for a very long time.” A smug smile played on his sensual lips. “And unlike you, my dear brother, I don't hide my true desires.” A slow, almost lazy glance from San's silvery eyes swept over the slender body of Yeosang sitting in the chair, lingering for a moment on the pale pink patch of soft skin on his temple.

He imagines, not without pleasure, how, with particular cruelty, he tears it from the porcelain face of his beloved brother with his long claws, leaving behind a wet, gaping wound.

San hated it. His birthmark is indisputable proof of his connection with his beautiful Rose.

The sign that binds their souls tightly into a single whole.

He should have found her first that night.

“Look at you, Sangie. You act like a coward, hiding in dark corners and wandering in her dreams. Perhaps I could understand you if your wayward antics gave her pleasure. If our Rose woke up with your name on her lips, all wet and needy, so desperate for more.

You have to ignite her passion and her desire to be loved, make her feel special, and fill her with thirst and hunger for our touch and our love. All her thoughts should belong only to us. But how did we end Yeosangie? Tell me, huh? Our Rosa has an animal terror before you. Sarang is afraid of you. Isn't that really pathetic? You know, I can smell that sweet scent of fear on her sheets.” San buried his face in the soft fabric of the silk pillow on which Sarang usually slept and took a deep, slow breath. “So damn delicious… I want to eat her whole.”

All he wanted now was to feel her from the inside, so that her scent would stay forever in his lungs, merge with his blood, be absorbed into his skin, and become an integral part of it.

God, he is prepared to worship this woman and idolize her in every conceivable way.

She was his.

Not in some figurative or metaphorical sense, no. She was his everything. A soul that fills the shell with his dead body, blood black as night, that runs through his veins, his thoughts. Every second of his life. San couldn't tell where he ended, and she began, for you were two halves fused together into a single breathing living being.

The beginning and the end of his life

If he could know death, which was no longer possible for him, he would be happy to suffocate on that heady aroma that was spinning his head like a powerful drug. And to do so until death takes him into his arms.

How beautiful would his death be! Silk sheets, roses, and Sarang are the only true loves.

“She smells so divine, Sangie; how can you resist this temptation?” His back arched gracefully. Under the golden canvas of the skin, the jagged vertebral bones were outlined, and the flexible muscles were stretched like tight velvet ribbons. The relief of his chiseled abs pressing against the bed, his thighs rushing up, creating a perfect s-line.

He moved so smoothly. A large predatory cat, draining gross sexuality and animal dominance. A true erotic vision, fringed by the diffused glow of the lazy midday sun. The smell of her fear brought out the worst in him and made him crave to devour her heart and soul, but he couldn't do it.

“You don't know shit, San. You come here whenever you want and act like a cranky kid, pouting and expressing anger because you couldn't get her first. What a pity, because I was the one who made the connection. I can feel her; I can feel her in my veins; I don't have to act like a bitch in heat fucking her bed.” Yeosang's voice was indifferently cold, so deceptively calm, but San could clearly hear the poisonous malice in every word he said.

It looks like he hit a nerve.

“You tell me you'd never been in my place, Yeosangie?” San grinned, and on his cheeks appeared charming dimples. “You never could lie;you always spilled everything to Seonghwa like a good puppy at the first snap of his fingers. You should ask Wooyoung to teach you some lessons if you want to play games with me. We all know exactly what you do, so didn't be shy about it, honey. Do you think you can hide from Hongjoong your little dream manipulation, constant stalking, and night visits? Or how pathetic and pathetic you look, whining and wriggling like a whore when you come in with her dirty laundry, which you hide under your pillow. Oh my God, what will Seonghwa say when he finds out? You should care. Our good boy has gone to the dark side; he's going to be so disappointed that he lost his mutt. Although you know, maybe you and Wooyoung aren't as different as I originally thought. He's just as pathetic a puppy as you are, my beautiful brother, and look how that turned out for him. Perhaps you'll be the next one to end up in a coffin. I'd change my behavior if I were you. Bad boys get punished.” There was mockery and outright bullying in his voice.

That's right, they were family; their loyalty to each other was an unbreakable blood oath, and if necessary, they would be willing to die for each other. Blood is thicker than water. But the bond they shared with Sarang was different from anything that could be explained. She wasn't a missing part; to think so would be foolish. No, she was a part of themselves, a part of their dead souls, filling their bodies with a semblance of life. Something extremely more dangerous than any possible blood bond. A bond where the lines between reality and fantasy, obsession and morality, understanding and rationality were blurred. And that bond was the reason, why Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa were still resting in their luxurious coffins. Iron, velvet, and crystal—so completely different, so frighteningly the same.

San remembers with pleasure how good it felt to drive stakes into their black hearts. The spell would be broken with a kiss. Perfectly. He hopes their sleep will be eternal. This time, it should be different. He will be the first, yes. San will be first—not Seonghwa, not Hongjoong, not Wooyoung, but him.

That's right. Everything will be the way it should be from the beginning. After all, he was the one who started it all.

Once upon a time, Sarang belonged only to him.

“San…” Yeosang hissed menacingly, digging his bony fingers forcefully into the soft feline fur, causing Yoru to meow painfully and curl up into a ball in his lap. His fangs bared, scratching his plump lower lip, and black veins trickled in an intricate pattern down his thin neck.

The brunette laughed and rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the pillow, covering his eyes dreamily.

The silk felt wonderful against his bare skin.

“You hiss like a kitten; will you show me your sharp little teeth?”

“You'd better watch out for your tongue, or I might rip it out.” The fierce gaze literally stabbed him. It burned and penetrated to the core of his being.

“I dare you.” The bloodied lips opened, allowing the pointed tip of his tongue to traverse the tortured, swollen flesh, licking away the blood that seeped to the surface.

“Let his lips be like rose petals - red as fresh blood.” Said the Queen Witch.

San covered his eyes and completely ignored the angry brunette. He loved to play with fire. It was his nature. If it had been Hongjoon or Mingi in Yeosan's place, he might have thought twice before poking the tiger with a stick, and of course he would never intentionally offend Seonghwa; the outcome of any of those confrontations would not have been in his favor. But this was Yeosang - airy and gentle as melting snow.

The shadows of San's long eyelashes lay in a lacy pattern on his heart-wrenching cheekbones. They were one of the most striking features of his appearance - sharp and angular - and they made his face a masterpiece. A creation skilfully crafted by the hand of a master.

Yeosang's beauty was soft and angelic, the kind of beauty one might see on the faces of the winged, plump cherubs beneath the vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals. He had once admired their beauty so much, especially when he tore their flesh with his claws and tore baby, fluffy wings from their pale, soft bodies.

Such an exquisite, decadent taste.

San's beauty was of a completely different kind: vicious, dark and hypnotic. Chiseled like the eternally frozen perfection of a pagan marble god, every line of his face was sharp and deadly seductive. From the feline cut of his eyes, shimmering with silvery immortality, to the capriciously curved corners of his plump lips, always inflamed and soft, so tortured and tender from incessant biting and kissing…

San's appearance was sinful.

He was the most desirable of all nightmares, the special kind that seduces the girls of the church, then fills his bathtub with their blood and organizes orgies in the bloody pieces of their torn bodies. San was formidable and intimidating, but his aura was alluring and seductive. The terrible prospect of an inevitable end and death had never looked so appealing. Maybe he was having an affair with you, or maybe he was going to kill you. There was lust, danger, and rage. There was a delicate balance between horror and desire, as if he were the embodiment of both the horror and the charm of God. He was the man everyone secretly dreams about when they caress themselves before going to bed, in a cold, lonely bed.

He was the person who made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and who made you experience a shivering sensation of fear that would spread over all of your exposed areas.

San was undoubtedly that person. Despite the potential for his eyes to linger on your skin, his presence was desired. Exquisite wounds, reminiscent of blossoms from damaged tissue, were created by his razor-sharp canines.

Death and sex were not enough for San; he had a craving for disorder and hot sensations.

He always wanted more, whether it was blood or pleasure. He never felt satisfied.

His sole desire was Rose—just her alone.

“Do you smell that Sangie scent?” San inhaled deeply again that intoxicating divine scent, resisting the urge to savor her flavor like a dog, choking and whimpering. “Mmmm, I want her so badly. I want her whole, every fucking cell of her body. She's driving me crazy.”

Sarang emitted a scent that was distinctly sharp and overpowering in its fragrance. Reminiscent of aged wine, it was infused with the bitterness of dark chocolate, the piquancy of red pepper, and the sweetness of roses. It tastes like sin and blessing at the same time. Like a slight saltiness akin to the tears she had shed, he longed to lick them off her rounded, flushed cheeks. The fruity sweetness of illicit fruit. The taste of his own blood. The metal and thick aroma of their sexual encounter. Thick as semen and honey.

San wants to have her. Wants her to love him. He desires his love to be reciprocated as fervently and passionately as he does.

His only wish is her love.

Although it is not enough for him to possess her love, he wants her to have an intense and almost sadistic affection for him—one that goes beyond what seems possible. He yearns for her to destroy him. Because he's confident in Sarang's ability to do so. He needs more. More than she could offer him, more than she could ever agree to. He is but a slave, created to worship her.

San's aim is to belong to her; he would go to any extent, even to the point of destroying the entire world, if that is what it takes to achieve that. The value of her love is immeasurable, and his objective is absolute. She is the center of his life and the very essence of his being. She is the haunting presence in his dreams, a seductive force that both seduces and tortures. The midnight idol of his desire, the serpent that dwells around his heart, tempts him to sin.

San craves her love so much, and that need is so painful, so all-consuming, and so twisted. If need be, he would kill her with his own hands, just to be sure that no one else would ever have her.

Sharing her with his brothers was like hellfire burning him from the inside out, but it was a paltry sacrifice he could make in exchange for her love.

This time, he won't let her go. This time, not even death would dare separate them. Saran will be his. She will be theirs. In life. In death. Forever and ever.

Soon.

It will happen so soon. San can't wait for the day when his Goddess is beneath him, in the cage of his body, sprawled on the black velvet of his bed. With his fangs deep into her sweet flesh, and she will screaming his name in a haze of ecstatic pleasure.

He would make her see stars. San will take her all the way to the doors of Heaven.

“San,” “San,” “San,” “San” over and over, until her voice completely collapses to a painful wheeze, until he absorbs every tiny sound she makes, every moan, every breath, every barely perceptible note, until all she will remember is his name.

Until Sarang whispers right into his lips, “I am yours.”

Soon.

In the meantime, San can patiently wait. He will wait as he always has, obediently and without complaint. He will be such a good boy. San will wait obediently, as he has done for centuries and centuries before. Until the time is right to pursue his desires, he will take all that he has dreamt of, and God will save the souls of those who get in his way.

Right now, he thinks he could die here — in her bed, surrounded by the lingering warmth of her body and her maddening scent. He would like nothing more than to show her all his passion and devotion and all the love he could give her.

He dreams of running his lips over her skin and tasting her until his whole face is wet and glistening with her juices. He will fuck her into oblivion until night turns to day and then drown her in tenderness, worshiping her caress-weary body as an obedient slave should.

Sometimes, he thinks it's not normal—the feelings he has for her. Such love simply cannot exist. How can someone love someone so much? Is it normal to hate the very existence of nature and the heavenly bodies for being able to see her beauty, which should belong to him alone?

However, these were only momentary musings until he regained his composure, dispelling any doubts. How could he even question his love? It felt so perfect and effortless, like breathing. How could such thoughts even enter his mind?

Her love was a life worth living.

It was destined since the dawn of time, when spirits roamed the earth, the sun was young, and the old gods had not yet vanished. She belonged to them, and they belonged to her. They sensed her first breath on their lips. He felt.

Their love bloomed again—a blood rose.

Soon…

These fantasies drove him mad; every cell ignited with the desire to possess, awakening his animal predatory nature. The ugly nature of his genuinely depraved being.

He pictured Sarang biting into his neck and taking possession of him. She aimed at him as if he were nothing more than a thing, a toy for her amusement.

“Say my name, Sarang. Express your fondness for me and acknowledge that I am your only one. I want you to own me and claim me as yours. Say my name until it burns your lips. Again and again. Drink my blood, bite me to death; I'm nothing more than your slave, just a pathetic means of pleasure. Hit me. Hurt me, I beg you. I need it so badly. Please, my love, I am begging you to love me. Love… Love me so much until it kills me. That is what I wish for.”

His hips moved smoothly, grinding his arousal against the rumpled bedclothes. San moaned, breathlessly gasping as he found the perfect angle to satisfy his intense desire for release. He needs to cum; he couldn't leave here without cumming. He buried his face in the pillow, panting and whimpering like a wild animal possessed. His primal instincts demanded he leave his mark on her, to possess her and fuck her into oblivion until her belly bloated from the amount of cum pouring into her and her head felt light and empty.

His claws lengthened, digging into the mattress, leaving sickening jagged stripes as his hips moved uncontrollably, continuing to rub his throbbing wet cock against the silken folds of the crumpled sheets.

The sounds he made were almost heavenly.

Soft, extended moans that turned into pitiful sobs. He sounded like an angel in the throes of passion.

In his fantasies, San imagined drinking from her as long scarlet streams of her sweet blood ran down their naked bodies, staining everything red. How deeply he entered her body, seeing the imprint of his cock on her flat stomach as her neat, pointed nails plowed into his back into gaping lacerations.

His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. San needed to cum; he was on the verge of madness. The need for pleasure was more obvious than anything around him at the moment. The transparent essence of his arousal dripped down onto the sheets, sticking to his golden, wet skin with every movement of his muscled thighs.

His thoughts returned to the dark, vicious images of hot animal sex. A fine shiver ran down his entire body.

He will run his tongue along every contour of the intricate bloody lines, licking up every last drop. First, the longest neck-open and vulnerable to his insatiable mouth, then lower down the hollow between the heavy breasts, rising in time with her labored breathing. His lips would close around the hard pink nipples, scraping them with his teeth, making her squeal and gasp. Lower down her flat belly, where the flowers of his hungry kisses and hard touches bloomed. Until his tongue is between the moist puffy folds of her pussy, he runs the pointed tip along the soft silken flesh, plunging deeper into the tight hole where blood mingles with her natural sweetness. He wants to feel the velvety, wet walls of her vagina clench and quiver around his tongue.

“Sarang!” His voice was hoarse, and his hands gripped the sheets beneath him with such force that his knuckles turned white, almost tearing the skin.

He looked pornographic.

San was so lost in his fantasies that he had completely forgotten about Yeosang, who was still in this room, until he was reminded of it with a sharp, painful tug of his hair. Long, thin fingers gripped the dark, damp strands with force and tilted his head back rigidly, revealing a view of a strong neck with veins swollen from exertion and beads of sweat running down her

“Here we go, such a pathetic, stupid bitch.” Yeosang said it with mockery in his voice. His lips curled into a wicked smirk, and San could feel it on his skin as the brunet whispered in his ear. “Look at you, you're nothing more than a slut; where's your pride, San, eh? The great general of the dark army, the heartless ice prince, the ruthless Ripper, is nothing more than a drooling whore shamefully rubbing his cock against the sheets.” Yeosang's fingernails dug painfully into his scalp, tugging harder on the long silk strands the color of night.

“Yes, yes, keep calling me that.” His request sounded like a plea. All Yeosang's words made him move faster, almost in desperation.

The rhythm of his hips became erratic and uncontrollable. He was close. His teeth clenched as he let out a hoarse moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat.

“Are you imagine fucking her, Sannie, hmm? Or what would it taste like? I bet the taste will be heavenly; she's sweeter than ever in this life. Oh no, I know exactly what you're thinking.” A mocking chuckle escaped his ruby-red lips. “You want her to bite you.” Those wicked lips pressed against the frantically beating pulse point. “Right here.” Yeosang's teeth sank with force into the flushed skin of San's neck—that particular sensitive spot on his neck beneath a scattering of pale freckles.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure, his mouth opened in a silent moan, and his hips shook with the intensity of his orgasm. Thick, hot cum splattered onto the sheets, staining them with the pale, milky liquid.

The brunet unclenched his teeth, releasing the tender skin. The bite mark was wine-red, with swollen incisor impressions and drops of black blood in the hollows. A poisonous flower, tempting to know sin.

“Sannie, look at the mess you'd made. Truly a royal fuck. I always thought it was more Mingi's style.” Finally, thin but surprisingly strong fingers let go of the silken strands, allowing San to rest his face tiredly against the pillow. His whole body relaxes after the overwhelming orgasm. The entire pillow is soaked with drool and sweat, and semen cools beneath his stomach, sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens one eye and looks up at the vampire leaning over him with a lecherous smile.

“Would you like to join me, my beautiful brother? We still have a few hours before she gets home.” The brunet rolls onto his back to make room for Yeosang in the bed. His fingers run along the sculpted curves of his abs, scooping up the viscous, pearly liquid and sliding it into his mouth. “Mmm…” A long tongue swirled around his fingers, licking up every drop with lazy, slow pleasure.

“You're disgusting, San.” Yeosang puckered his lips in disgust, looking around at the brunette sprawled on the bed. He turned sharply on his heels and strode away from the room; to he pick up Yoru on his way, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, in his arms. “Get up; we have to go. Hongjoon is calling us.”

“You're not leaving the cat?”

The brunette turned around over his shoulder, meeting his gaze with San's silver eyes.

“June misses his darling; for our little girl, it's time to come home.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the departing Yeosang. His lips stretched in a satisfied smile full of devilish anticipation.

The time had finally come.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

1st POV

"Feed me to the wolves, let them take my flesh."

“Well, I'm glad to finally meet you in a more relaxed setting, Miss Ahn. Please take a seat.” With an elegant gesture, the man motioned me to a deep leather chair in front of his desk. On the glass tabletop was a silver plaque engraved with the name “Mr. Lee Taeho”.

“Miss An” - how sad and tragic that sounds. I never wanted to try out this role. I didn't like being addressed like that, because it was always Mina, and before her, it was my grandmother, and probably my mother was addressed like that when she was alive.

But here I am, the new Miss Ahn, and unlike my predecessors, I have not sought to carry the weight of this unbearable crown. I don't need the congratulatory ribbons and the wet glitter sequins smeared across my face.

Although there was nothing in the address itself that I could call unpleasant, the tone with which it was always delivered foreshadowed the inevitable tragic ending of its own and tasted of earth and chrysanthemums.

You're bound to end up as one of them; it's not all by chance, Sarang. Don't kid yourself.

I saw the future as a series of predetermined events, especially after Mina's death. She had the arrogance to dispose of my life as she saw fit, putting chains of obligations and secrets around my neck. I buried her in the ground, and my days became nothing more than a list of dull plans, paltry hopes, and bitter regrets, as murky as the water in the city canals through which a coffin floats. Still, I couldn't help but wonder who would be the next Miss An when I died, or would I be the one to hold that title forever?

There are never any former queens. There are only dead ones.

I could feel the blood flowing faster through my veins.

For a few moments, there was silence around us, thick and enveloping like fog. If I'd felt any hint of confidence as I walked through the tall glass doors of Silver & Black LTD, now, alone with this man, I was floundering in my social insecurity like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. I resisted the urge to squirm under the gaze of his night-dark eyes. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Lee Taeho wasn't just one of Silver & Black's most successful lawyers; he was also a devilishly handsome man.

He was built like a god. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight-fitting white shirt that accentuated his muscular biceps, bulging pecs, and flat stomach. The image of strength and power was completed by the perfectly tailored, tight-fitting trousers. The rolled-up sleeves revealed several tattoos on his wiry forearms—something in Latin that I couldn't make out.

His face was also striking, with angular, pointed features that would have looked strange and out of place on anyone else, but the luscious, perfectly sculpted lips made them something unimaginable and outrageously beautiful.

I felt uncomfortable under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze. He was looking at me like I was something special, but not in a sexual or romantic way; rather, it was the look of an explorer who had found an unexpected treasure in a pile of rubbish.

“I honestly didn't expect you to have any free time in the next few months, so thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

To be honest, I knew absolutely nothing about Silver & Black until Soomin told me about them on the way here. Soo turned out to be absolutely right when she told me about them. This place was the epitome of the arrogant domination of money and power—cold, glassy, and sterile, like a morgue where the remains of all “happy stories” are taken.

I could never belong to such a place, but I could easily imagine Mina here, with her developing blood curls and the unemotional grandeur of royalty. People like my sister were part of that 'proper' society so suited to closed Sunday clubs and icy glass offices. Like all of her kind, Mina was a great predator, used to labeling people and giving them her own names and definitions. She knew exactly how to make those around her feel uncomfortable with just one look.

Some people have everything, others nothing. It's as cruel and true as the inequality of love.

I still didn't understand how Mina had so much money to afford the services of this company, but judging by how polite and “sweetly” the receptionist greeted me at the entrance, she was very much appreciated here.

Blood of my blood.

“You have nothing to thank me for, Saran.” He said that, and I looked back at him in surprise. It wasn't so much the fact that he allowed himself a familiarity that surprised me, but the way he said my name—as if it had always belonged to his lips. It was as if he'd said it over and over again until the intonation was perfect.

My heart beats fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something else entirely.

“We will always make time for you. If you'll allow me to be frank, I've left a few free hours each day, just in case you decide to call me. Honestly, I expected it to take a little less time on your part, but who am I to judge you, Sarang?”

“But why?” I tried to gather information and put it together in a way that wasn't absurd. I didn't want to assume anything.

“Why? Do I have to explain? Maybe I just wanted to see you; you're a beautiful girl, and I'm a great admirer of the beautiful. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with the embarrassment that must have been written on my face. I could feel the heat spilling over my cheeks, turning them a painfully inflamed shade of red.

I had never been a girl with a 'cute' blush. I was more like a girl burned by the gold of the sun, pressing her cheek directly against the boiling, bubbling surface of the sun.

Taeho lightly drummed his perfectly filed nails on the glass tabletop, completely ignoring my obvious embarrassment at the situation, and continued:

“But let's say that this is due to the fact that your dear sister was a valued client of ours, whom everyone here at Silver & Black LTD sincerely appreciated. Miss Ahn was our special customer. All the staff will agree with me; your sister is impossible not to love.”

“A special client?” I interjected. Somehow, that didn't surprise me at all. Of course, it was only natural that Mina was always at the center of the universe. People followed the sound of her voice like rats behind the magical melody of the flute.

“Are you surprised, Sarang? Your sister has helped our firm in many ways, bringing us new clients and introducing us to the 'right' people, making our firm one of the best in Korea. She's contributed a lot to the development of Silver & Black. There was a strange note in his voice, as if between the cracks there was something terrible—a terrible secret that could change my whole life.

For some reason, I don't feel comfortable at all right now.

“I'm pleased… hmm, or rather, I'm pleased to know that my sister has done so much for you. Lately, she and I haven't really been close, and we've barely chatted. So I didn't know where she went or what kind of people she hung out with.” My words come out a little sour, and I press my lips together.

The lovely Mina, as always, is proving to be the best. I wonder if the day will come when she damn pedestal will be nothing but a pile of ruins at my feet. I thought all this time you'd been pining for roses, but instead you've been doing the right thing. What else don't I know about you, Ahn Min?

What don't I want to know about you?

''Yes, yes, she helped us a lot. Now let's get on with signing the documents, do you mind? I don't want to keep you any longer than necessary.” His words were very dry, businesslike, and in no way in keeping with the previous flirtation. Something flashed in his eyes—concern, doubt, maybe even fear—there was a tense tremor in his hands, and his whole aura changed, as if something huge and evil had turned its attention to him.

“Sure, let's get started.”

The entire process took no more than 30 minutes. I signed document after document, with occasional detached comments from Mr. Lee, which were completely at odds with his previous behavior. There was nothing special about the documents, except for one thing: Rose Hill. As best, I could make out from the extensive stack of papers, it was a small house in the style of Victorian England. It was in the ownership of a gated cottage community, the grounds of which were owned by a private company. It was all too complex and confusing to realize the meaning in the space of 30 minutes. I'll deal with it later, most likely in the company of Soomin and a couple of bottles of wine.

“Can I sell the house I inherited, Rose Hill?” I asked without lifting my head from the papers; a few more strokes and I could be out of here. The atmosphere in the office was terribly tense; my skin itched unpleasantly and tingled in places as if it no longer belonged to me.

“To my regret, I cannot help you in this matter. In all matters concerning Rose Hill, you must deal directly with the owners of the land; I will email you their contacts.” The smile he gave me was forced, and I couldn't help but wonder what had made such a difference in his change of mood.

“Okay, thank you.” I signed the last form and handed the pile of paperwork to Mr. Lee. “I'm done; hopefully everything is settled now. Can I get a copy of the documents, preferably today?”

Taeho cursorily flicked through the pages to make sure each one was signed.

“Our administrator, Sunwoo, will give you all the documents. There is one more thing you need to get before you leave. When you leave here, go further down the corridor to the vault, and Bora will show you a locker in the storage room that belongs to your sister. Now, if you'll excuse me, my next customer is waiting, and I don't want to keep him waiting.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Lee.” I clumsily rose from my chair, trying to get out of this stuffy room as quickly as possible. The air felt pressurized, and I felt like I was going to start suffocating a little more. I needed to get out of here right now.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Miss Ahn. Please take care of yourself.” The look he gave me was sad—so unusually sad, like the look of a man living his last day on earth. It was as if the end had come for him before he could realize it.

His words, on the contrary, were a warning. “Take care of yourself.” What kind of lawyer wishes that to a client as a farewell? Was I in danger? Perhaps you were. Although that's true, it's worth crossing out the word “perhaps”, yes, I was in danger. Could he have known about it? Did Taeho know about the roses or the people who sent those awful flowers? Was there something he hadn't told me? A thousand questions were in my head as I walked out of his office.

Mechanically, I reach for the strands of pearls at my neck and twist them around my fingers, nervousness bubbling in my stomach. This isn't some worldwide conspiracy, Sarang. Wake up.

I think I'm becoming paranoid.

The door closes softly behind me. I'm alone in a sterile, shiny corridor.

In the distance, I hear a cheerful laugh—Soomin. She was definitely laughing. Soo is having a great time waiting for me to wrap things up. Even though she was denied my escort to Mr. Lee's office, she wasn't upset at all because the nice receptionist, Sunwoo, I think his name was, was determined not to let her get bored alone.

I could have fallen in love with him. He was charming and cute, with a sweet, heart-shaped smile that would make your teeth rot. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, Armani Prive, in a thinly stitched pinstripe. I'd say he looked like a puppy. With those big, wet, shiny eyes and the way he struck the right pose when you told him to.

Yes, that was the kind of guy I fell in love with—the kind with a good reputation and a well-paid job—the kind who makes love, not fucks. They're the ones who make sure he looks you in the eye and whispers to you about how good you're feeling when he's caressing your body.

Good boys. Obedient boys. Sugar-coated like candy.

If I fell in love with a guy like that, Soomin would break him up like a Christmas candy bar and take a bite right down the middle of him. She liked that type—kind, gentle, and submissive. There had never been a lack of male attention in her life, but for some reason, Soo had always surrounded herself with this type of boy, like colorful toys. She wasn't afraid to break them because she could always move on to the next one. They never crossed her, nodding in obedience and jumping as high as she asked. Men were no more precious to Soo than broken crystal balls, shimmering but useless.

The corridor in front of me was long and empty, with a single door at the end. The sound of heels hitting marble tiles echoed in my head, and the checkerboard pattern on the marble was jarring. For a moment, I thought the corridor was narrowing like a rabbit hole, endless and dark. I was short of air, unable to breathe, and the oxygen in my lungs was as thick and viscous as swamp sludge. I clawed at my neck with my fingernails, trying to pull off the pearl collar, but I felt myself tightening it stronger. My eyes stung from tears and mascara, and ink streaks ran down my cheeks, and somehow they felt colder than they should have.

My fingernails dug into the skin on my collarbones, scratching at it with cruelty and anger.

I needed to get away from myself. To be separate from my body and the way I felt. The nightmare awakened inside me, licking my veins, working its way inside, and gnawing into my soul. My consciousness was beyond my mind.

I hear the sound of tearing threads and thousands of pearls falling at my feet, and I fall with them. I want to go back to before it all began. Before the pain, Before the roses.

Fluorescent lights flash like the tails of nameless comets on the pearly roundness of the beads. I see stars exploding behind my eyes, painting the underside of my eyelids with intricate strokes—the constellation Gemini. Nergal. I want to remember the days when roses were just roses, not home to the ghosts of my soul.

I hear a sound—it's pearls crunching under sharp heels. Under steel heels, like the teeth of the Witch Queen.

“Oh my God, Saran!” Someone shouts. Soomin isn't laughing anymore.

Her hands are so cold against my clammy skin. She presses my face against her chest, and the feverish beating of her heart brings me back to reality. She is my white rabbit.

Voices, voices—there are so many of them. It's a cacophony of sounds and unpleasant cracking noises. The pearls keep breaking, and I keep crying.

Someone brings me a glass of unpleasantly cold water; it runs down my throat like a liquid flame.

I finally took a breath.

“Take me home.” That's all I can say right now. I want to go home, away from the world, away from the sun, and away from the memories.

“She's having a panic attack; she needs air.”

“No! I need to go home.”

“It's OK, sweetheart. I've got you,” Soo purrs, kissing the top of my head like a little baby. She pulls me off the floor with effort, lifting me to my feet.

I look down at the checkered pattern of the marble slabs and at the scattered pearls. In some places, the white slabs are smeared with red, like lipstick smeared by a kiss. This is blood. My blood.

My legs shake like a newborn fawn as Soomin leads me away from this place. Every step was painful, almost more painful than Soo's tight grip on my forearm. “It's okay, Sarang, we're going home.”

It's okay, Sarang.

It's okay.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“Are you sure you're feeling better?”

“Yeah, I'm fine now.” I squeezed out the shadow of a smile. Apparently it was useless; the look in her eyes remained the same: worried, with fear lurking around the edges. Fear for me.

“How long have you been having these attacks?”

“This is the first time. I guess… I don't know. Let's just say it's a consequence of trauma. I don't want to talk about it.”

“I'm so sorry.” Soo crouched on the edge of the bed, taking my hand gently. I was made of glass; she didn't want to break me or do the opposite by hurting herself on me. “It's so horrible that you have to go through all this, baby.”

“Yes, it is.” What else could I say? I could not have said a word, and everything would have been understood. The wounds under the bandage itched terribly. Long red marks stretched along my collarbones and neck. Mascara was still smeared across my face, as was the soft pink lip gloss. I looked like a mess. I was a mess.

My throat was all dry and thirsty, and my eyes were so swollen I couldn't even open them fully.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight, love? We can watch a film or something; maybe one of those stupid comedy shows Mina hated. I'll make dinner and open the wine.”

“No need; I'll be fine. Soomin, go home; you should be resting too, not babysitting me. I'm fine, really. I'm feeling better, and I'll definitely get through the night. I'll probably go straight to sleep as soon as you leave.” Much as I loved Soo, I didn't feel like seeing anyone right now.

“If you say so, Please call me in the morning as soon as you wake up, okay?”

“Of course. Be safe, Soo. Love you.” I thought I covered my eyes for only a second before I heard the click of the front door. The mark of her kiss burned on my cheek.

I don't know how many hours I sat like that—completely still, not taking my eyes off the dark landscape outside the window, which was getting brighter now that a little moonlight was seeping through the thick clouds.

I didn't want to get out of bed, drowning in pillows and blankets like a pipe dream. I felt good in my bed. I couldn't understand what exactly had changed, but I could feel the change. Even in the morning, the bed had been cold and lonely, but now the silk under my fingers was warmer and softer to the touch. Even the smell of the blankets seemed to be different, like purple lilies and musk, a scent that remotely reminded me of something very familiar but long forgotten. Could it have been Soo's perfume? No, more like the scent that Yoru always brought with her.

By the way, where did she go? She was here when I left this morning, but knowing her talent for disappearing and reappearing at will, I didn't hold out much hope of seeing her today. It would be nice to have her around now, though.

I rolled onto my side, resting my cheek against the pillow. I didn't want to sleep, but I didn't want to get out of bed either. My gaze settled on the small box that lay on the chair across from the bed. A casket from a storage locker.

After my panic attack, Soomin took it away, since I was apparently incapable of doing so. Next to it was a neat stack of papers with black paint poisonously embedded in them, listing all the possessions I now owned, including Rose Hill, but the most valuable and important thing was kept in this little silver coffin.

The metal walls of the casket shimmered like liquid silver when moonlight hit them. I was mesmerized by this otherworldly glow. Number 0711 - Miss Ahn Mina. Sometimes a lifetime can be folded like origami and placed on a velvet cushion like a collector's item.

I struggled with myself for a few more minutes before I threw back the blankets and got out of bed. My curiosity outweighed my fear. At that moment, I had to remind myself that “curiosity killed the cat,” and if I had been any smarter, I would have thrown the box to hell and never thought of it again.

The box opened silently, and I felt a chill, as if someone had dipped my heart in ice water. There weren't many things in the box—something old, something new, and something blue—all like a wedding tradition. It wasn't like Mina. She had always despised the idea of marriage; the very thought of anyone daring to claim her freedom made her sick.

It wasn't for her, and it wasn't for me.

Weddings are gorgeous, creamy bouquets of fragrant flowers that breathe in the dawn. At the end of a long journey down a narrow church aisle, a handsome prince awaits with the promise of eternal love. As if. Girls, guard your hearts, for they will eat them for breakfast. Piece by piece, like a birthday cake, until there's nothing left to keep you alive.

Then there'll be another, just as naive. And then another, and so on, endlessly. That's all love is. A streak of devil's rubies and eaten hearts.

There was no heart and no love in that box. Just one little piece of paper with torn edges and a handful of precious trinkets. Just one small puzzle piece that had fallen out of a huge and complex picture. I could recognize Mina's handwriting from a million others, but the words written on that little piece of paper were not hers. In each letter lurked something that had never belonged to Mina; her hand had scrawled those lines, but her lips had never uttered those words.

“My only love. My divine Rose, when I leave this world, I will leave you everything you could ever want. When you read this, I will be gone. Everything has been arranged; everything is ready for you. The whole world will belong to you, my love. I took care of it. On the back of this page, I have left the number of my good friend. Please give him a call; he will help you with all the things you need. He'll be waiting for you. He is the only one you can trust, Sarang. Your beloved Mina P.S. Don't forget, love is eternal.”

I flipped the sheet to the other side. The handwriting was the same but so different; the letters were sharp and crumpled, as if they were written in a hurry.

Hongjoong. I had heard that name before. I knew the taste of it on my tongue.

My fingers hurriedly dialed the number; I didn't look at the time, and, to be honest, I didn't care. I wanted to make sure that he was real and that this wasn't another one of her crazy fantasies that would lead me down a blind alley. I needed to know that Hongjoong wasn't fiction but blood and flesh, intermittent breathing, and an unevenly beating pulse.

At the other end of the phone, the long beeps were interrupted, there was a static pause for a second, and then I heard the sleepy and so welcome sound:

“Hello.”

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