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atxxzist · 11 months

Text

oh boy | c.s

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

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: farmboy!san, fluff, angst, suggestive

word count: 16.6k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"manshik?" he repeats.

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

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

replace? as in take over manshik permanently?

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

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

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

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

your father is so cruel.

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

min shoots you a look and shakes her head.

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

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

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

"i understand you were very close to him."

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

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

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

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

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

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

you groan in annoyance, arms crossed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"did you go out to the field again?"

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

"of course i did."

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

"and how was it?"

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

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

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

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

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

"stop right there! who are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"again, i'm sorry about that."

he dismisses it with a shake of his head.

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

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

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

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

"so, what's the plan after?"

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

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

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

you digest the information, humming in understanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"would you like some soup, miss?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mr. choi breaks out into an endearing smile.

"you are an interesting one, young miss."

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

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

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

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

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

"just getting everything ready for tomorrow."

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

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

"to the town nearby, right?"

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

"that would be correct."

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

"can i come with?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it is."

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

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

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

he smile tenderly, accepting the offer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"thank you thank you!"

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

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

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

"are you free right now, san?"

he presses his lips together and nods.

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

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

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

"there is, let me show you!"

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

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

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

"you can stop here."

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

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

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

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

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

"you seem very close to him."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"sorry to hear..."

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

he lets out a dry but genuine laughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod at that, a smile on your lips.

"yeah, maybe another time." you hope.

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

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

you chuckle, shaking your head.

"no worries, they were fun."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when san announces the arrival, you nearly groan out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah, sure."

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

san smiles at the request and nods.

"i'd be happy to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"thank you, san! they are perfect!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

you frown, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the accusation sends him into a whirl of panic.

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

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

you huff, stepping around him before turning again.

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

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

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

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

"well, what is it?"

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

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

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

"what? no."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you giggle at that, nodding.

"i believe you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he swallows hard and the longest silence ensues after.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"y/n."

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

"we've arrived."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you retreat back to the house in defeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"but how did he--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hello?" she greets you.

"hi, i was just wondering if--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"but my father--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"y/n?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you're a bit of a crybaby at heart.

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

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

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

"then why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"but what about your father?"

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

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

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

"i can come?"

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

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

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

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

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

"y/n? what are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

"hey."

"were you asleep?"

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

"i thought you were the one asleep."

"couldn't sleep," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you really do like him so much.

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

"goodnight, san."

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

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

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

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

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

"but miss, you have to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"let's go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you have to."

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

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

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

"you really promise?"

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

"i promise."

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

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

"that boy, you like him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"miss, someone's here for you."

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

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

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

"san?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because this is all because of your father?

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

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

"really?"

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

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

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

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

"let's go!"

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

"i want to give you something first."

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

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

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

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

"thank you so much, san!"

"of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

#pls spare my farming illiteracy #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san x reader #san x reader #ateez scenarios #fic: oh boy

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writesleah · 5 months

Text

august ✰ m. riddle

➻ pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

➻ genre: fluff/angst

➻ summary: a whirlwind summer with mattheo leaves your head spinning and craving more, but when he chooses to ignore you at school, you know there has to be something going on. you just didn’t expect it to crush you so much

➻ warnings: sex references, mentioned loss of virginity, swearing, cheating on a partner, slight toxicity if you squint (like really really squint), no war au, please message me if you think i’ve missed any so i can add them!

➻ word count: 2.2k

➻ a/n: I LOVE FOLKLORE i honestly might make this a little series and make a oneshot based on every song from the folkmore sister albums because it’s so fun lmao!!

mattheo riddle. a concoction of every terrible, addictive thing you could think of. a drug to your susceptible mind. the one person who ruined everything by giving you such happiness.

it all started back in the summer before 7th year. of course, most teenagers flee to the coast during the warmer summer months, a desperate attempt to absorb as much sun as possible before having to return to scotland's less than scorching weather for yet another year of classes at hogwarts. you were no different, and it seemed mattheo wasn't, either.

—

salty ocean air filled your nose as his lips met yours, a desperate action to be close to each other. he blindly searched for the rusty door handle of his hotel room behind you, wanting to get you out of the hall and into his bed as quickly as possible. sure, you’d had a couple of heated make-outs before, but nothing like this. it had never gotten to this point.

quickly pulling you down onto his sheets, he let his hand wander, beelining towards the plush of your ass, your hands searching through the chocolate curls atop his head.

“you sure you want this?” he whispered into your ear, planting sloppy kisses along your neck, his breath loud and heavy next to you, “i mean it. are you sure?”

you let your head fall back into the pale pillow, a place to rest whilst you tried to understand all of the new sensations pumping through you like blood from your heart, giving yourself a second to think.

“i’ve never done this before, matty,” you replied, your tone timid and weak compared to the rough husking of his voice swirling around your head, a constant memory of the boy you knew you’d never get over.

“it’s fine. you trust me, yeah?” mattheo pulled away for a moment, wanting to check before going any further with you.

“i want this,” you nodded, giving him all the reassurance he needed, prompting him to continue his journey down your body with the knowledge that you wanted to do this with him. you trusted him with something as fragile as your purity. that made him feel fucking insane.

his dark eyes took in the sight of you sprawled out across the white hotel bed, your soft lips and innocent eyes, your hair forming a halo around your head. his angel.

—

“red or white?” you smiled up at mattheo, your eyes darting to the bottle of wine in his hands as he handed it to you with a small shrug.

the two of you had decided to have a little picnic by the beach, a day to relax together as if that wasn’t what you did every day, anyway.

“not a clue,” he huffed, sitting down on the blanket you had set out on the sand, his hand instantly going for some cheese and crackers.

you slapped his hand away, a small pout on your face as he met your gaze, having absolutely no clue what you were stopping him for.

“wow, this looks fantastic! this is so good! thank you so much for getting all the food!” you mocked quietly, rolling your eyes. no matter how hard you tried to appear annoyed, you couldn’t hide the small smirk that crept its way onto your lips.

“oh, shut up,” he chuckled, tugging his shirt off and tossing it to the side, shaking his head, “thank you for putting it together. it looks really nice. you’re really nice, angel,” he added, his words playful, yet still a genuine thank you.

you poured each of you a glass of wine, laying down next to him, both of you on your stomachs, as he began to absolutely demolish the small buffet on the picnic blanket, your fingers lightly ghosting over his back. you couldn’t help but trace your own name, an invisible claim on the boy you adored more than anything.

“what are you doing?” he huffed quietly, turning his head to look directly at you and the way that a pink blush quickly spread across your cheeks as you got caught, your fingers pulling away, “i didn’t tell you to stop. i asked you what you were doing.”

“just… enjoying the moment,” you shrugged, shuffling close to him in an attempt to brush off the way you got flustered at his words.

his arm snuck around you almost instinctively, his lips planting a small kiss buried deep in your hair. a secret. a mark so important to you, but invisible to everyone else.

“i’m enjoying it, too,” he mumbled in reply, his free hand covering his mouth to hide all the food he’d shoved in it.

—

mattheo walked along the side of the road, watching the white-rimmed waves roll over on each other, bored of having nobody to speak to when you weren’t there.

he looked to the left as a car rolled around the corner, his head tilted slightly. he knew those sunglasses.

“no way,” he huffed, his jaw dropping as the car stopped next to him, “no fucking way. you passed?”

you looked up at him with a wide grin, absolutely ecstatic that you had not only taken your driving test whilst on holiday, but had passed, meaning you could drive anywhere you wanted. mattheo had already passed his a couple months before, so you’d been using him as your personal chauffeur for your time together, but you could finally go wherever you wanted on your own.

“get in, then,” you rolled your eyes playfully, nodding to the passenger seat of the convertible as he quickly made his way around to the other side, seeming just as excited as you were.

mattheo’s arms wrapped around you, pulling your head close to his chest as he smiled down at you.

“i’m so fucking proud of you, angel,” he muttered, planting wet kisses on your cheek, holding you tighter than ever before, “we should go out to celebrate. that italian behind the mall that you like? i’ll pay.”

you nodded, not wanting to turn down an opportunity to do anything with him, especially when you were already in such a good mood.

you drove to the restaurant, a regular place the pair of you went together since it was so small and intimate, yet never felt overcrowded.

—

you both got your meals and began eating, laughing and joking as normal, casually celebrating you passing your test.

“mattheo?” a girl’s voice came from behind you, his eyes immediately hardening as he glared up at whoever it was, “where’s-”

“don’t,” mattheo cut her off with a warning, your head craning around to see who it was.

pansy parkinson.

pansy was a fellow slytherin girl in your year; you knew her a little due to sharing some classes, but you were nowhere near being friends.

pansy just glanced between the two of you, her jaw slightly dropping further and further until she caught herself, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“you’re fucked up, mattheo riddle,” she hissed as she walked past your table and out of the door, seeming not only shocked, but angry.

you turned your head back to the boy, your brows furrowing in confusion. it seemed that mattheo and pansy had a silent understanding of whatever it was they were talking about, and you were not part of it.

“what was she talking about?” you asked, but he completely ignored you, slamming his drink onto the table and walking out of the restaurant, leaving you even more bewildered.

you watched through the front window of the restaurant, watched them argue and shout at each other about something. it seemed as if pansy was calling him out for something, but you couldn’t think of what he could’ve done. sure, he was a bit of a troublemaker, but why would it affect pansy?

after a couple minutes, mattheo walked back into the restaurant, seeking incredibly annoyed about whatever the situation was.

“what was she talking about?” you repeated, your head tilting with not only confusion but concern.

“nothing, oh my fucking god,” he spat back, before checking himself on the way he was speaking to you, “sorry. it’s just… it’s nothing. it’s not going to ruin today. this is about celebrating you, not wasting time on whatever pansy parkinson has to say.”

you nodded and continued with your meal, though couldn’t help but feel there was more to it than he was letting on.

—

after the summer, you returned to hogwarts for your final year, everyone talking about their breaks incessantly. the issue was that mattheo had told you not to tell anyone about your involvement with him.

“let’s keep this as much of a secret as we possibly can, okay?” he’d muttered to you as you laid next to each other in bed, your head on his stomach and your body between his legs.

“why?” you’d asked, completely oblivious to why he wouldn’t want to share your feelings for each other with your friends and be happy in public, but he’d just shut you down every time it came up.

“i wanna keep this private, angel. there’s no need to have everyone else involved in whatever it is that we’re doing.”

if only you knew.

you’d spent the first week confined to your dorm, cancelling every plan anyone tried to make with you to wait for a single call or text from him, but nothing ever came. the second you got back to school, mattheo ghosted you.

—

you were sitting in your defence against the dark arts class, occasionally catching mattheo’s gaze every now and then. you’d always give him a small smile, but he would just look away or glance at you with a vague, unidentifiable expression. he showed no hint of compassion or knowledge of you in public past the odd conversation about the work you were doing in class when one of you were a bit lost and nobody else was willing to help. that had only happened once or twice. it was frustrating.

a small tap on the shoulder caused you to turn around, a girl sitting behind you with a sour expression on her face.

“did you fuck daphne’s boyfriend?” she spat, glaring at you with a look that could kill.

your cheeks instantly grew a little red. you’d only ever done anything with mattheo. who was daphne’s boyfriend?

“who?” you replied, your brows furrowing in pure confusion.

“don’t be fucking stupid,” the girl hissed, rolling her eyes, “mattheo riddle, daphne’s boyfriend.”

that one comment, that one single question seemed to bring the whole world to a stop.

you quickly asked your professor if you could go to toilet, a chance to escape the room that seemed to be clawing at your skin, ripping it raw. your eyes began to burn, a dangerous waterfall of tears threatening to spill down your face.

quickly rushing off, you brought a little attention to yourself, though it wouldn’t surprise you if everyone knew what it was about. pansy must’ve told them. it hurt more that he didn’t tell you.

it seemed that mattheo noticed, because, only seconds after you entered the prefect bathroom, he came rushing in after you, immediately trying to pull you into his chest, but you resisted.

“how could you do this to me?” you whispered, unable to stop yourself from crying as you looked up at him, “how could you do that to her? you’re… god, i should’ve listened when people said that you were out of control. this isn’t right, mattheo. you lied to me!”

he just stood there, seeming completely and utterly unbothered by your meltdown and rambling, his head tilting slightly.

“out of control? who told you that?” he scoffed quietly, rolling his eyes. it shocked you that the one comment he chose to pay any attention to was the one that was purely about him as a person, and not your words about how he affected everyone else.

“everyone, mattheo, everyone says it,” you huffed out, letting out a breath of shock at how he brushed it all off, “everyone always talks about the troublemaker that can’t keep himself away from a fight and can’t be nice to people. god, i thought they were so wrong. i thought that i had been the way to find a good side of you, but it wasn’t even real.”

he screwed up his face slightly at your words, but didn’t say anything, leaning against the wall as he mindlessly picking at his nails and giving you no attention whatsoever.

“i was so scared, y’know that?” you whispered, your voice quiet and soft now, your eyes pleading, begging with him to hear you out, “you were ignoring me. i thought i’d lost you and it turns out that you weren’t even mine to lose. do you even know how much that hurts? you could’ve told me, at least. yeah, i would’ve been upset, but at least you would’ve been honest,” you continued, watching his eyes flick up to you.

“it was just a summer fling, angel,” he muttered, realising that you weren’t going to stop crying. with that, he walked out of the bathroom, leaving you stranded with your own thoughts. your own reflection.

it was just a summer fling.

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thebigbiwolf · 5 months

Text

Mine, if Only for the Night

Summary:

Based on a prompt given to me by a wonderful anon: Astarion/reader fic where he finds out she's never had a lover 'finish the job' so she doesn't see what all the fuss is about, and he decides to use his skills to ruin her for anyone else and show her what she's been missing out on?

Fic Tags: Porn with feelings, Multiple Orgasms, Overstim, Astarion POV, LOTS of Pining, Vaginal sex of all kinds (jesus), and Reader's First Orgasm lol

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), language

Word Count: 5.1k~

Read on AO3: Here

A/N: I loved this prompt. No notes. This is also maybe a bit of a fix-it fic where Astarion does not dissociate during your first time in the woods because my baby deserves to have a good time.

Thank you Lari @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever.

Astarion leans his shoulder against a tree, surveying the clearing.

While the surroundings were still a tad rugged for his tastes, he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a few furs and pillows here and there until it felt acceptably comfortable.

He peels off his nightshirt, discarding it into the plush grass as he works his jaw, wondering where you might be.

You should have arrived by now. More than an hour had passed since the distant, jovial music and chatter had faded into nothing, and the tieflings have long since said their goodbyes. The night envelopes him in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of a nearby stream and the usual cricket song.

He’s starting to wonder if perhaps he had misread this entire situation. Maybe he pushed too far - made some sort of error in his assessment of you.

Or maybe you didn't desire him at all.

The idea gnaws at him - unsettles him more than he’d ever care to admit.

An uncomfortable weight in his chest.

He brushes the feeling aside, scoffing to himself.

As if you or anyone else would deny themselves a chance to indulge in his body, especially when offered an immediate out. No unnecessary promises. Not even a cuddle.

As if.

And yet, he can’t seem to shake this uncomfortable doubt.

Step by step, he paces, turning your interaction with him at the party over in his head until he’s exhausted every word - until the grass flattens beneath the soles of his feet.

How the topic of your disappointing sexual history came up could perhaps be attributed to your shared bottle of wine. He’d nearly choked on the damned drink when you explained to him, in detail, about every encounter, every night you spent satisfying a man’s ego rather than having your needs met, and how you no longer believed there was any real point to sex.

He could hardly believe his beautifully pointed ears.

And while he would normally revel in the opportunity to embarrass someone over being the tragic victim of terrible sex, your case is… different.

You are different.

You stood by his side, even through the disastrous revelation of his condition. More than that, you allowed him to drink from you - a favor he won’t soon forget.

Part of you even enjoyed it.

He felt it the moment he put his mouth on you, the very second his fangs breached the delicate skin of your neck. He felt it all: the subtle hitch in your breath, your little twitches of excitement.

And yet, you asked nothing more of him.

So, what is a friend to do?

It took some insistence - a bit of reassurance that no , offering to bed you properly was not brought about by a sick sense of obligation, nor was it a way to repay you for your kind deeds - but honestly, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand why this feels so damn important - why there's this incessant urge to bring you the release he knows you so desperately need.

Perhaps it's the promise of a challenge - one that pokes at his male pride like a petulant child. It goads him, raising an egotistical brow his way, the knowledge that unlike all the other men you’ve wasted your time with, Astarion could get you off with ease.

He’d pull out all the stops, use every trick in his little black book to reduce you to a quivering, obedient mess. He’d take his time with you - have you wet and pliant, begging beneath his fingers before giving you everything those pretty little lips could ever ask for.

He would ruin you, if you’d allow it.

All you had to do was give him one night. No strings attached.

And yet, here you are, keeping him waiting.

Five, then ten, then 20 minutes pass, and only when he’s about to pack his things - when his growing impatience threatens to twist into a feeling dangerously close to disappointment - does he hear movement behind him.

The rustle of leaves, a snapping twig.

Astarion turns to find you grappling with a particularly thorny bush - your hair a mess, adorned with small sticks. With a frustrated huff, you kick at the plant, muttering under your breath.

You haven’t noticed him yet, too busy fighting to free your foot - and it suddenly occurs to him that your inferior human eyes had to navigate these woods in the dark.

That little detail must have evaded him when he made his proposition, but realizing it now, knowing that you weren't simply wasting the night away, wrestling with the decision of whether to leave him waiting and wanting… sets him at ease.

“You should have been a druid.” he teases.

You freeze, head perking up and swiveling towards the sound of his voice.

“I don’t see why the lot of them insist on camping out in the wilderness,” you huff, “There’s a perfectly fine grove less than a mile from here.”

You finish prying your boot out from the thicket, nearly toppling over in the process. He almost considers helping you, but watching you struggle like a newborn dear is just too amusing to pass up. He’ll make it up to you soon enough.

Making your way toward the clearing, your eyes gradually adjust to the moonlight. They find his gaze, then wander over the pale expanse of his chest, before quickly darting away to focus on the ensemble of blankets.

“Oh. This is… nice.” You remark, gesturing towards the furs, and at first, Astarion assumes you’re mocking him - turning a nose up at his thoughtful efforts.

But when he turns toward you, preparing to make a less-than-savory comment about gratitude, he is instead met with a genuinely surprised, and somewhat irritating, smile.

Just what sort of lovers have you settled for, thinking that this constitutes ‘nice’?

“And you thought I was going to, what,” he scoffs, “Drag you into the cold woods and have my way with you against a tree?”

Your face flames at the suggestion, burning bright red at his boldness, but you don’t deny it.

In fact, his keen ears pick up on the subtle flutter of your heartbeat as soon as the words leave his lips.

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Ah,” he purrs, “I see.”

With that, Astarion closes the distance between you, toned arms sliding beneath the firmness of your thighs to lift you with ease. A surprised squeak leaves your mouth as your ankles instinctively lock around his waist.

He takes a few steps forward until the dull edges of bark press into your shoulders.

“Is this what you want?” He punctuates his words with the firm press of his clothed cock against your core, already hardening with interest. It’s almost maddening - how responsive you are, already squirming in his arms when he’s hardly touched you.

His grip tightens on your rear, nails digging into your soft skin.

“Answer me, dear,” he growls, “I want to hear you say it.”

It’s a lie, of sorts. He doesn’t want to hear it - he needs to. Needs you to beg for him, as ridiculous as it feels.

He’s had more lovers than he could count, heard their sweet cries like a symphony of praise, but they fell on deaf, pointed ears compared to this - to your ragged breaths.

“ Say it .”

“ Please , Astarion. I want this -”

As soon as the words leave you, his lips are on yours, hungry and demanding. He sets you down, one hand leaving your thighs to grab at your jaw and tilting it just so - steering your face into a more accessible angle, the tip of his nose finding its place against your flushed cheek.

His other hand snakes its way to the back of your head, twining the soft strands of hair between his fingers, tightening them in his fist and pulling .

The sudden sting elicits a whine, stolen from your parted lips, and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam, dipping into the inviting heat of your mouth. Notes of cheap, flat wine still linger on your tongue, but he quickly finds he doesn’t mind the taste - barely notices it at all when you're opening up for him so eagerly.

He long expected himself to turn off - to hide behind his practiced movements, allowing his body to do the work for him - to wake up sometime after you’d found your pleasure in him.

But here he remains - his script thrown to the wind while your little sounds of approval hang in the air between you, driving him with a hunger that is wholly unfamiliar.

He wants this, but that realization will come later, when he’s gathering his clothes with the heat of the morning sun at his back, wondering why the idea of leaving you there in the plush grass settles like lead in his stomach.

It’ll wait for him there, hidden behind layers of denial and fear, then follow like a hound biting at his heels for months on end until he makes peace with it - until he chokes on his own tears in the safety of your arms where you’ll welcome him, along with all of his complications.

But for now, he kisses a line down your shoulder, feeling more alive and present with every swipe of his tongue against your collar bone. You sigh, and he pays special attention to the thin skin there, warm and jumping in time with your pulse.

Astarion's deft fingers skillfully unhook the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. He tears away the offending fabric, and a low growl burns its way out his throat as the last two buttons pop off, landing somewhere in the dirt beside him. You’ll have something to say about that later, he’s sure.

When the morning comes, he’ll notice you searching for them and offer to sew in new ones - more suitable ones, in whichever color you’d prefer. When he hands the shirt back to you just a few hours later, now embroidered and finer than even before his careless blunder, your impressed smile will awaken a fondness in him that will linger naggingly in the corners of his mind for the foreseeable future.

He’ll ruminate on that later, when his mouth isn’t descending on your breasts, and his hands aren’t palming at your newly exposed skin.

Falling to his knees, he works at the laces of your trousers. Then, when the troublesome strings are finally undone, his eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he peels the cloth slowly down the length of your thighs. He takes his time with it, dragging the fabric over your knees and trailing the blunt edge of his nails back up to the curve of your hips, watching intently as the skin prickles beneath his touch.

You wiggle, restless and flushed bright red from your neck to your ears, suddenly avoiding his stare.

It’s a strange, uncharacteristic shyness—until he puts two and two together when he runs his finger over the white lace of your smalls and finds them positively soaked .

“Is this all for me?” he teases, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumb presses knowingly into the wet fabric, petting the skin beneath with practiced pressure.

You don’t answer - you can’t - with your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, too busy rocking mindlessly into his touch.

Well, that certainly won’t do.

A hard slap lands on the inside of your thigh, jolting you to attention. The responding hitch in your breath goes straight to his cock.

“I asked you a question, darling. Is this all for me?”

“I - agh , yes.”

“ Very good,” he purrs, satisfied, “Now, spread these for me.”

You obey, parting your legs and giving him more space to work with. He tugs at your pants, quickly ridding you of them, then goes back to work kneading lazy, unhurried circles into the thin, sticky, wet fabric. It clings to your skin so perfectly, outlining your form for him as if you were wearing nothing at all.

You're panting above him now - small, rushed breaths suspended in the charged air. The muscles of your thighs twitch with each pass of his thumb over your clit.

And again, you’re not looking at him - head turned to the side and whispering curses quietly to yourself.

Another slap to your thigh, then - the same one, because he’s cruel - now marked with the vivid red imprint of his hand.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

When your eyes meet his again, they’re hooded and glossy, filled with a familiar haze.

Lust .

He’s got you now.

Pulling the now thoroughly ruined garment to the side, Astarion rewards you by dragging a finger through your folds, watching your arousal drip down his wrist. It practically drools out of you, coating the rest of his digits, slickening his palm as he presses one into your entrance.

Your hands instinctively fly to his hair, settling atop the tousled, white strands, and your body takes him in greedily .

Astarion smiles to himself.

This feels… good - being so in control, pulling little pleasured sounds from your lips. His pride swells as he adds another finger. You buckle forward, letting out a strangled groan, losing yourself to the feeling of being stretched - being prepped for him and every inch of cock he has to give you, sitting impatiently hard and neglected in his trousers.

He pumps in and out of you, slowly at first, but it only takes a few short moments before your impatient squirming turns into a mindless, needy grind. Each small thrust forward has your body taking him deeper, clenching him tighter until he can feel you throbbing around his fingers.

There’s a level of self indulgence here that he would deny if questioned - perhaps even under oath - but the wholly unnecessary way he pauses to tear the fabric of your smallclothes would quickly betray him.

Your squeak of surprise is all he hears before the press of your thighs deafens him - and if he was naive enough to believe that your blood was the most enticing thing he’s tasted in the last two centuries, it pales in comparison to the mess you’ve made for him.

An anguished hum escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds - so hoarse and strained with disbelief, it almost sounds more animal than man.

He drinks you in, letting up for only as long as it takes to press tender, soothing kisses into your clit, sucking gently at the nub before dipping his tongue back into your hole for seconds, thirds -

This is madness . How someone could pass up this opportunity is far beyond him. Your fist in his hair, surrounded by your pulse as it thrums within the warm, pillowy skin of your thighs, the way you chase your release, rocking into his mouth and coating his chin with your slick, is everything .

It is everything.

In the cornered haze of his mind, he almost regrets his promises. Had he known it would be like this, that you’d be the first and only memorable partner he’s had in the last two centuries, he may have reconsidered.

Hells, he should have reconsidered the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth and you had the gall to taste that fucking sweet - to be that damned responsive .

How is he supposed to play this off as if it changes nothing - as if this means nothing at all?

“Shit, Astarion -”

Pesky details. He’ll have to sort those out later.

“I’m - I think I’m close -”

Astarion is a smart man - smart enough to know that the best course of action here, when you’re on the precipice of coming apart, is to simply redouble his efforts and continue on as he has been. No special trick up his sleeve, no overly indulgent stylized movements, just sucking as gently and generously as you need. He applies the same steady, circular pressure of his tongue, curls his fingers and fucks you with them in a steady, calculated rythm, until -

The moment you fall apart will be forever burned into his mind.

He will remember it all: the twitching of your thighs, the tight pinch of your brows, the sound of your cries as your hips stutter in his strong hold. He’ll remember the way he moans, earnestly, as he laps you through it, eager to extend your high for as long as your body allows him. And he will surely remember the thrill that runs up the length of his spine at the sight of you losing yourself at his hand.

But most of all, he will remember the moment immediately after - when your movements slow, and your tight grip loosens from his hair; when your warm hand falls to the side of his face, the soft pads of your fingertips rubbing gentle circles into the shell of his pointed ear.

You may not have even noticed the small gesture, too blissed out and trembling, but when the two of you look back on this moment years from now, Astarion will laugh at how blind he was - how he should have seen the spark of fondness in your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, the kindling that was twisting in his chest at the sight of your flushed skin, and the fire that would grow there until it nearly consumed him.

He should have known that this was the start of something greater.

But at this moment, all he knows is the sudden, inexplicable urge to keep you here tonight - to prove himself worthy of coming back, should you ever have an itch that needs scratching. Perhaps tomorrow, or the next night, or any other time you’d see fit.

Astarion places a final kiss on the junction of your hip, right where the skin is thinnest above the bone, then leans back to fully appreciate his work.

You are breathless , chest heaving from sheer exertion.

“That was…”

You huff out a laugh as you try to find the right words.

“Perfect?” he raises an eyebrow at you, grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “I know. Like I said, I’m quite good at this.”

He wipes at the clear slick on his chin and shamelessly licks his hand clean, sucking your mess off his fingers with a playful pop.

Your face flushes with embarrassment - the pretty color now matching the puffy, reddened skin of your sex.

“Do you want more?” he asks, as if his cock isn’t threatening to leak a dark patch into his trousers, “We don’t have to, of course, but -”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s smiles are normally calculated - purposeful, and poised to perfection, but the one that finds its way to his face at your eagerness is as real as the ache beginning to bloom in his knees.

“Come here, then,” he says, dragging his weight back to the blankets. He doesn’t even have the time to readjust the decorative pillows before you’re clamoring on top of him, covering his neck with impatient kisses and helping him remove his clothes.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, but he’s met with no response. Your mouth is too busy sucking bruises into the pale, hard planes of his chest, hands working diligently at the laces of his pants.

The moment his legs and cock are free, Astarion wastes no time wrapping his arms around your midsection and seating you perfectly on his hips, the searing heat of your slit molds around him, dragging up and down as you grind against his length.

There’s urgency in the air - in the way your mouth finds his own. It buzzes and hums, growing with every pass of your hips, prickling like burrs beneath his skin. He’s as much a victim of it as you are -here in this little corner of the wilderness - to the strange and unrecognizable pull.

This desire to touch you.

With one hand anchoring the back of your neck, he takes his length with the other, notching himself at your entrance - an invitation you eagerly accept.

You sink down, enveloping him in suffocating heat .

The grunt that escapes him is entirely involuntary - the honesty behind it bleeding out between his teeth, escaping with a hiss.

“Shit,” he huffs under his breath, willing his brain to focus on anything other than how you mold so perfectly to him. It’s almost like you were made for this - for him - and the notion itself is almost enough to toss him right over the edge.

It’s hard enough to believe he’s present with you, here in this moment, rather than falling into oblivion and allowing the act to pass him by.

But to be enjoying it this much?

Sheer disbelief.

Your hips move experimentally, sighing with relief as you take the rest of him down to the hilt. His grip on the nape of your neck tightens, nails digging small grooves into the base of your scalp. The slow rock of your hips as you adjust to his size would surely be enough to finish him, were he any ordinary man - were he not determined to brand this night into your mind for the rest of whatever time you have left on this earth - tadpoles be damned.

It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to be like this, melding so beautifully around his length. But he has appearances to maintain, and spilling into you now would surely ruin his carefully crafted reputation, so he steals what’s left of his composure and continues on.

Astarion stares at where your bodies meet, bringing a practiced thumb back to your perfect little nub and pressing . The delicious pressure has your forehead falling to his shoulder.

“Can I - agh, ” you pause as he cruelly begins to rub your clit, much too slow to actually finish the job, but just enough to feel you clench around him. He continues like that for a few seconds, savoring the way you grip, release, and start to dribble down from where he’s rooted so deeply inside.

“Can you what, my dear?”

“Can I move, please?”

“Hm,” he sighs with feigned indifference, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

His hands guide you into a comfortable rhythm, stroking your walls and filling every inch of your greedy cunt as it swallows him up - back and forth, rocking into him until you’re good and split open.

You ride him until your legs begin to fail you - until he has to grab your waist to keep you steady as he fucks up into you in earnest. The hard, wet slap of his damp skin against yours mixes with your strained, desperate moans. He pounds you like he’s sating some sort of hunger - fucks you with so much force that your slick forms a thick white ring of cream at the base of his cock.

His thumb rubs expert circles into your clit with firm, gentle pressure, until he feels that telltale fluttering of your walls around him, and your blunt nails are digging into where his shoulders meet his chest.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he grunts, and the question is met only with an affirmative whine. “Good. This time, I want to feel it.”

His hands move to your rear, squeezing and kneading - pulling and pushing your hips to grind himself even deeper into you until your body gives up its orgasm.

It drags you under like a raging current.

You wail pitifully against his shoulder - the suffocating grip of your sex working to milk him dry, gushing around him and soaking his thick cock as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

It's almost enough to end him, it truly is, but Astarion is nothing if not thorough, and G ods be damned if you leave this clearing tomorrow morning without your cunt permanently molded to his shape - without this encounter seared into your very being.

His arms wrap around you, pulling your chest tight against his own and turning you over until your back meets the soft furs - his hips rolling into yours as the waves of white-hot pleasure pulse through you.

There will be many more where that came from. When you eventually crawl back to his tent with a shy gaze and offer him another taste of your neck, pretending it was simply a coincidence that you waited until the dead of night to seek him out, when the rest of your merry little troup were fast asleep in their bedrolls. Couldn’t stay away? He’ll joke, pretending as though his heart doesn’t stir at the sight of you.

He’ll bed you again, and again, and again. Whenever and wherever you should ask: on his desk - tomes shoved carelessly to the ground, between the cracked stone walls of a cave while the others ready their gear, tangled within the sheets of the first real bed you happen to find. He’ll fuck you in those stolen moments with a willing mouth and hands and cock, however many times it takes for him to realize this does mean something to him - even if he isn’t quite sure what that something is .

And you, being the perfect thing you are, will be patient, and give him the space he needs to figure that out.

“One more,” he whispers hot against your cheek, “I think we can get one more out of you.”

“This is insane. How are you so - gods, ” he’s got just the right angle now, dragging languidly in and out of your thoroughly fucked hole.

He’s done quite a number on you already, and you’ll likely need a day to recover the strength in your legs. The others will surely mock you for it, but perhaps you’ll manage to blame it on the hangover?

“Astarion, I - I don’t think I can do another -”

“You can,” he says with the confidence of a man who’s done this before - one who knows the limits of a woman’s body and exactly how to push them. “And you’re going to stay right here, wrapped beautifully around my cock, until you give me what I want.”

He drives the point home with a sudden, hard thrust, and the rush of it has you keening in surprise, hands flying to his back and heels digging in for purchase.

In fairness, he’s hardly given you a chance to come down from the last climax, but you sought him out tonight. You knew what you were getting into, no less than a mouse offering itself to a cat. He’ll toy with you until he’s had his fill - the first man in your life to ever make you come apart. Not just once or twice, but three times once he’s through with you.

And while the third takes a bit more work, as expected, he quickly realizes you appreciate a decent amount of force, so he feverishly pounds into you - pinning your wrists at your sides to prevent too much useless, unnecessary squirming.

Astarion thinks could get addicted to this level of control if he isn’t careful - his brave, unwavering, diplomatic leader held captive beneath him as he wrings every last bit of pleasure from your body, drunk on his cock and fucked out well past the point of any decorum.

The way you moan for him now would put some prostitutes to shame - eyes glazed over and thoughts entirely wiped of anything other than being split open and thoroughly used.

It reminds him of why he’s here. The thankless months you’ve spent worrying yourself over every vagrant’s problems are now practically a thing of the past. And after tonight, you’ll surely be ruined for any other man, securing himself in your good graces. A win, win, all around.

Your orgasm almost sneaks past him, too caught up in his own musings to notice, but the subtle rush of slickness and the resounding sound of your body sucking him in even deeper gives it away. Your head rolls to the side as you choke back a sob, tears forming the corners of your eyes as your exhausted cunt barely manages to scrounge up the effort to squeeze him, and that’s when he finally decides you’ve had enough.

“Where do you want me?” he asks.

“Inside? Agh - Inside, please, ”

Oh.

An unexpected answer, but not an unwelcome one.

And so, he does.

For the first time in his memory, he comes entirely apart.

With a few more strokes, he spills inside of you, and the sheer impact of it takes him by surprise.

Hissing between his gritted teeth and buried in your warmth he floods you to the brim, floods every inch of your cunt until his come has no more room to fill. The spend clings to his cock with every stroke, drooling out of you and tracing a cloudy white line through the valley of your rear before soaking into the blankets beneath.

Astarion heaves like a man with functioning lungs, groans from the sudden, noticeable soreness in his limbs, and actually, truly laughs at the absurdity of it all.

Just how long had the two of you been at this? Over an hour, surely?

He’s about to ask you - maybe try his hand at a bit of pillow talk for the first time in his life - but when he looks back at your face, he finds that you’re barely conscious, just on the precipice of passing out from exhaustion.

He pulls out of you, trying his best not to grunt through the overstimulating drag of your skin against his.

Astarion could count on one hand how many memorable encounters he’s had since the beginning of his servitude, and even less when considering how many he enjoyed.

Well, enjoyed would be a very generous descriptor. More so, how many he was able to stomach until the end. And while his anatomy was capable of producing results despite his head being elsewhere, this was… different.

You are different - that much was clear from the beginning, since the moment you forgave him for pulling a knife on you and, for whatever reason, trusted him enough to allow him to stay with you, despite it being an objectively stupid thing to do.

He’ll tell you as much, when he finally confesses his feelings for you. That had it not been for your endless patience and your unfathomable kindness, he may have never learned to love at all.

But he wont have the words, let alone the maturity , to articulate that for quite some time.

For now, here you are, snoring softly beneath him.

And here he is, with the beginnings of a strange, unrecognizable tingling in his chest.

What ever will he do with you?

#bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion fanfic #astarion/reader #my fics #mine if only for the night #posting this and then walking the fuck away from my computer

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mistymem0ryy · 1 year

Text

Il Dottore x Reader

The Fall of Icarus Chapter 1 - An unexpected letter

Summary: While being a student in the prestigious Sumeru Academy, the reader begins to form a weird friendship with the genius student Zandik, only to then lose said friendship due to his banishment. Years later a rogue letter finds its way to their report-file desk.

The gender of the reader is not specified.

(Minor spoilers for Dottore’s identity ig)// Word count: 2066

Notes: I am quite tired of the constant fics where the Reader happens to not be at a similar intellectual level as Dottore… Do not get me wrong I understand that it could be quite intimidating since the guy is quite literally a genius, but I always wondered how different his common behavior and developing intellect would have been during his Academia years…

Chapter 2

{No beta we die like Zandik’s grades}

People like Dottore are usually blessed with what I call an Imaginative Genius, he is inventive and curious in nature but that is not all you need in order to excel in an Academic environment. Any undergrad level Science student will complain to you about obligatory courses that range from boring classes on how to write an adequate lab report, to mind draining mathematics units that you have to take in order to graduate but most probably will never need in your actual profession.

Dottore is a genius, yes, but he is also impatient and insatiable, and those are the traits that led him to his unlabeled relationship with you…

The Academia is constituted by various facets dedicated to different areas of research, but they all possess one common thing, and that is the dreadful compulsory mathematics and report units. Mathematics is the language of the world, therefore it would be only logical that a self respecting scientist would have a certain degree of fluency in it…And to add unto that, a great researcher must too be capable of describing all observable phenomena in harmonious text.

Dottore… or should I say Zandik? Well, no matter how much his brain was capable of maneuvering itself into creating unimaginable gadgets and devices while simultaneously researching lost ruins of forgotten civilizations, he simply could not wrap his head around a certain set of classes that he deemed utterly useless.

He wanted to go out and research the unknown, feel his surroundings and understand their development, he wanted to acquire knowledge beyond the one present in the various dust collecting books that encircled him every minute…

He wants to punch down that godforsaken door and leave this classroom at this precise moment… But to his utter disdain he cannot.

You see Zandik is quite the intelligent fellow, his curiosity leads him further in his personal research but he must balance all of that alongside all the courses the Academia requires from him in order to finish his initial program. But no matter how “important” a certain class might be, if it doesn't strike the interest of the blue haired student then he will not even glance towards its direction twice… His time is precious and slowly but certainly running out, so he must make the most of it, even if it means missing a rather concerning number of classes.

You would like to say that perhaps, in some sick and twisted way, Zandik considers you a friend… an appreciated company? a tolerant fellow student?...

After years of being in the Academia you have come to recognize the fact that you were the one sole person he did not outright treat with pure hatred. Sometimes you look back to your first year in the Academia, when you were solely a freshman ready to embark on a new intellectual endeavor and happened to be partnered up with Zandik for a class on “The Etiquette of Writing a Concise and Clean Scientific Report”. A boring class that you honestly thought quite useless, I mean haven’t you all been writing for years already? Why would you need a specific class centered around writing a report when you could be spending this precious time on other more alarming subjects?

After receiving your first graded assignment, and looking to your side only to be met with the hellish mess that was your Partner’s crumbling sheet you finally realized why this class was an obligatory module for graduation… You cannot decipher at which point his description of physical phenomena turned into a horrific amalgamation of scribbled equations, and- is that khaenri'ahn script? Nevermind, you do not want to know…

Zandik catches you fearfully attempting to understand the meaning behind his rather… messy report…and lets out an annoyed huff in the process.

He is an excellent scientist in the making yes, but he has a hard time translating the concepts that take place in his head into a mere sheet of paper, and the fact that someone, especially YOU, happened to be witness to one of his intellectual weaknesses, that he so arduously attempted to hide, stroke a nerve.

The moment the class is dismissed Zandik is packing his materials and leaving this humiliating experience, you quickly come to the understanding that his speed is not necessarily a byproduct of his failing grade, but rather of the fact that you saw said grade.

You knew Zandik had a reputation for being a Genius in the making, and honestly a part of yourself could not help but be relieved by the fact that this class was proof that he could also fail, that he was indeed human.

You gather your belongings as fast as you can manage, and decide to follow the boy into whatever corner of this building he has decided to retire himself into. When you find him you offer to secretly help him with his failing grade, which he reluctantly accepts. That is the beginning of the rather weird relationship you happened to establish with Zandik, you weren't necessarily friends… you knew that despite his act in front of the professors and all the well calculated smiles he threw into the air, Zandik didn't actually see any of your colleagues on exactly friendly terms… but you hoped… You hoped that perhaps after all of this he could find in himself the sympathy to see, at least yourself, in a softer light…And the thing is, he did, trully. You simply weren't capable of perceiving it.

It was rather unnoticeable, and only someone with an extremely keen eye and patience would be capable of noticing the slight ways in which Zandik would relax his composure when in your presence, how his gaze would linger on you while you corrected another maze-like report of his, how he would lie to you about being offered 2 coffees instead of one thanks to his Genius-like reputation among the academic staff, and now you would have to drink the other one so he doesn't over caffeinate his system.

It was honestly quite warming, while it lasted at least. You helped Zandik obtain the grade he needed in order to pass that tormenting class, and sincerely hoped that this would not be the end of the untold arrangement between the two of you.

The unnamed relationship between you and Zandik, to your surprise, remained intact after that class, he continued to talk to you whenever you too happened to be in the same room (which even though at first glance does not seem to be that much, it is actually quite important for him since you happened to be the only other student which he does not see as a complete waste of his time), and when he noticed that you were having a hard time with Multivariable Calculus he took it upon himself to tutor you through that fearsome class. It was those tutoring sessions that really allowed Zandik to learn more about you, from your favorite dish to your family history, and eventually to teasingly referring to you only by the name of your favorite constellation.

“Careful there Icarus you don’t want to burn your wings away now do you?”

“Zandik why is the lab on fire?”

It was all going quite well… until the rumors began…

All the compliments that embellished Zandik’s reputation in the beginning slowly metamorphosed into quick whispers in the hallways pertaining to his rather unorthodox ideas, people began fearing for their safety after the disappearances and deaths began… And the initial worry directed towards your person and safety, as being the closest student to Zandik, eventually transformed itself into comments about how you too must also possess some sort of sickness in that head of yours in order to talk with him so casually…

Zandik was ok with people gossiping about him, that is as ok as one can be when your sanity has turned into a theme of communal discussion, but when the hatred that those around him started to deviate from being completely aimed towards him and began to shift towards your unknowing figure, he had to put it all to a stop. You were the only person in that damned establishment that saw him beyond the performance he put up every waking hour, the only person that treated him as if he were an actual human being and not an interesting concept, and no matter how ardently he wanted to be accursed alongside your embrace he couldn't bring himself to actually bring the both of you into your own doom.

He stopped talking to you completely. It's as if in the matter of a fleeting night your bodily presence had been turned invisible to his eyes, your voice echoed upon deaf ears, your pleas for an explanation gone unheard, left to rot alongside yourself.

You tried, you really did, but Zandik persisted, and at some point your loud requests for an explanation had been turned into a fleeting glance on your way to class, only to then become the impossibility of seeing him for weeks on end…

You want to say that you were surprised when he was expelled, but honestly you saw it coming before he did. Zandik, no matter how many times he bashed in his capacity of predicting the outcomes of any possible situation, was always a victim of his own ego, he thought himself undefeatable and it was (temporarily at least) your job to ground him to reality when necessary.

He had strayed too far, and now his own genius could not save him from whatever grave he had dug for himself this time, not even you could stretch a lending hand to bring him from the darkest pits of his mind back to the light…

It has been years since the last time you saw Zandik, out of everyone in your sector of the Academia he was the only one you were certain of achieving greatness in the future, only for that hypothetical greatness to be cut short before he could even graduate successfully…

You tried to find him, after he was banished from Sumeru, no matter how hideous his actions, you could not forget the fact that he too was a human being, you had seen parts of Zandik the world considered utterly impossible, and you hoped that he could see that no matter how tarnished his person could become by the words of the masses, you still saw him as the boy that would ramble about Ancient Civilizations while you studied anatomy, the same boy that would take you to the areas of Sumeru streaming with wildlife and lecture you on all the different properties of the various species inhabiting your surroundings, the same boy that sent you letters nearly every two days when you had to temporarily interrupt your studies to help a sick family member…

But now it has been years, and even though you were able to somehow balance out both your professional research and that for the whereabouts of Zandik, you have found yourself with absolutely no fruitful outcome to the latter.

You quickly realized that you had completely spaced out with your various reports left untouched in front of you, recently the amount of times you temporarily lose awareness only to daydream about your old days with Zandik has become alarmingly bigger, you really should get some healthy amounts of sleep from now on…Especially after receiving a heads up from Alhaitham of a wandering Traveler that supposedly is going to pass by your office today in order to request your help.

You begin to clean up your reports, organizing every sheet according to your personal system until your eyes land upon a rogue letter that you cannot recall having in your possession.

The only tip that could lead to the identity of the sender was the initial -D stamped upon the untouched envelope. You switfly grabbed and began to open the lonely envelope in an uninterested manner, that is until it suddenly fell upon your paralyzed feet, leaving your trembling hands stuck in their prior position, as if you were still holding that now forgotten letter within your grasp.

All it took was one inked phrase.

“Greetings, my dear Icarus…”

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin harbingers #il dottore #il dottore x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #fatui harbingers #harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #imagine #zandik #zandik x reader

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raina-at · 11 months

Text

Date

There’s a few things in life theoretical knowledge can’t prepare you for. On top of the list, or very near it, is the actual experience of raising a child. The daily, hourly experience of living with a child isn’t comparable to anything else, and it can’t be properly described in words.

Sherlock loves Rosie to distraction. But, it has to be said, if there was a world championship of accidental cockblocking, she would medal without breaking a sweat.

That adorable, wonderful, funny, smart little girl can ruin the mood so quickly Sherlock would honestly be impressed if he wasn’t simultaneously so frustrated he can barely see straight.

John lovingly calls her the world’s most effective chastity belt, and Sherlock agrees wholeheartedly.

Sherlock thinks this might be the reason most couples wait a few years before having children.

Unfortunately, he and John never did anything in the right order. They fell in love pretty much on sight, then spent ten years being stupid. In between Sherlock pretend died, then (almost) died for real, John got married, had a kid, the wife died, John moved back in, Sherlock became a second father, and then, finally, they started shagging.

Only they never had a sex holiday, because they have a Gremlin they can’t inflict on anyone for a week to just bugger off and shag each other’s brains out. Not yet, anyway. Molly’s offered, but their schedules have not aligned yet. Sherlock hopes it will happen soon.

The last few weeks were especially harrowing. Sherlock was in Cardiff for a week for a boring case, and when he came back, he was busily snogging John against the refrigerator when Rosie came down from her room and vomited all over the sitting room carpet.

If there’s anything that kills the mood faster than a vomiting four-year-old, Sherlock never wants to encounter it.

Of course they both got sick as well, and for the better part of a week, even the thought of anyone touching any part of Sherlock that wasn’t his forehead or his hand was frankly revolting.

Then Rosie dislocated her shoulder and had to stay home from daycare for a solid week. They were both so exhausted every evening that whoever had bedtime duty that night routinely fell asleep in Rosie’s bed before Rosie did.

But now.

Now Rosie’s at Molly’s. They had a lovely date night, with dinner at Angelo’s and a walk through Regent’s Park in the moonshine, and Sherlock is a tiny bit tipsy from the wine and from banked arousal. He’s got John backed against the sitting room door, and they’re snogging leisurely. John’s hands have found their way into his clothes, one hand is caressing his arse, the other trailing up his spine.

“The things I want to do to you,” John mutters, grinning at Sherlock, wicked and full of promise.

“Oh, I have a list as well,” Sherlock replies, biting at John’s throat.

John moans, letting his head fall back against the door, exposing more of his skin to Sherlock’s hungry mouth. “I hope getting me out of my clothes before I go completely crazy is on that list,” he breathes, the hand on Sherlock’s arse pulling their hips together. He’s got a leg slung around Sherlock’s and is dreamily rubbing his erection against Sherlock’s thigh.

“In a minute,” Sherlock mutters, going back to biting at John’s neck. John smells delicious there, like fresh air and a bit of sweat and his cologne.

The door to 221 opens, closes and someone ascends the stairs.

Sherlock sighs. “Fuck off, Lestrade,” he yells through the closed door.

John giggles a bit, hiding his face in Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock smiles. That’s his favourite thing in the world, a happy, aroused, giggly John Watson, all his to do with as he pleases. He kisses the laugh from John’s lips.

There’s a knock at the door. Right behind John’s shoulder blades.

“He said fuck off, Lestrade,” John says, freeing his lips briefly from Sherlock’s before diving right back again for another deep, dirty, single-minded kiss.

“Listen, chaps, I get it, but the Lambeth strangler’s resurfaced. We need to move on this now.”

Sherlock draws back from the kiss. “How do you know it’s him?” he asks, holding John in place as he makes a move to withdraw his hands from their various places on Sherlock’s person.

“Red string, candles, the works. It’s the same man, Sherlock. It’s not a copycat, we’re sure.”

Sherlock sighs. They’ve been after the strangler for years. Sherlock has never had the opportunity to see a fresh crime scene.

“It’s okay,” John says, quietly, so Lestrade won’t hear through the door. “I understand. This is important.”

Sherlock meets John’s eyes. John looks disappointed, but he knows ending a date with chasing a serial killer is as traditional for them as sex is for other couples.

The case is alluring. Surely at least an eight. It’s important.

But so is John.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock says, leaning in and nosing along John’s neck while speaking, “walk away now, no questions asked, and give us one hour, no questions asked, and I’ll take the next five cases you’re offering, no questions asked.”

There’s a noticeable pause, then Lestrade says, quietly, “One hour.”

They hear him walk down the stairs and the door to 221 closes behind him.

“Delaying a serial killer crime scene for a whole hour, for me?” John mutters, grinning at Sherlock, bright and happy. “Now I know you love me.”

“Some people need a lot of convincing,” Sherlock mutters, sinking his teeth into John’s neck.

“Take me to bed,” John says, winding his hands into Sherlock’s hair. “And convince me some more.”

Here. Fluff and sexytimes like I promised!

Thank you so much @calaisreno for the tag and the prompt.

Tagging a few people: @jrow @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk @khorazir @discordantwords @thetimemoves @the-reading-lemon @7-percent and anyone else who wants to play.

Also, I'm collecting all my ficlets on AO3 here.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fic #my fic #may 2023 prompts #Date #parentlock #Established relationship #sexytimes

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pilferingapples · 7 months

Text

LM 4.8.7

Y'all know i hate Gillenormand right? right

so him having his "worst person you know just made a good point" moment here really burns XD

but he's right! he's totally right! Cosette and Marius getting married in their current known-to-them circumstances is a terrible idea

and as much as Marius--and some readers--might be shocked by the idea that Marius should make Cosette his mistress .... that's how he's been treating her. Only seeing her at night, alone, behind her dad's back, no chaperone...that's not how a man of Marius or Gillenormand's class courts a potential wife. Never mind if they've been "chaste" ; if anyone else found out about how they've been carrying on, Cosette's rep would still be as ruined as if they'd been having freaky sex parties all night. Gillenormand may have 18C libertine morals in conflict with Marius and his 19C Respectability , but in this case it just means Gillernormand is sympathetic and not shocked or treating Cosette like a shameful scandal, just going "sure!! have your mistresses! :D "

Seriously, look at this conversation:

Marius did not reply. M. Gillenormand continued:-- "Then I understand the girl is rich?" "As rich as I am." "What! No dowry?" "No." "Expectations?" "I think not." "Utterly naked! What's the father?" "I don't know."

That is not describing a marriage-ready relationship!

...the first time I saw her was at the Luxembourg, she came there; in the beginning, I did not pay much heed to her, and then, I don't know how it came about, I fell in love with her. Oh! how unhappy that made me! Now, at last, I see her every day, at her own home, her father does not know it,

this is an affair. As Gillenormand points out:

As for the little one, she receives you without her father's knowledge. That's in the established order of things. I have had adventures of that same sort myself. More than one. Do you know what is done then? One does not take the matter ferociously; one does not precipitate himself into the tragic; one does not make one's mind to marriage and M. le Maire with his scarf. One simply behaves like a fellow of spirit.

(italics mine) There is a way relationships like this are treated by Society and it's not as an engagement.

Honestly...I loathe Gillernormand, but it's occurring to me that on this point, Marius is probably lucky his grandpa is Old School; a parent of Marius' own social morality might never forgive Cosette for this Indiscretion. But for Gillenormand, "pretty girls are pretty girls"; his philosophy, ultimately, has room for a woman of Questionable Virtue marrying up.

Marius , meanwhile, can't even understand that he's actually put Cosette's reputation into question. Marius, you booby.

#LM 4.8.7 #not tagging this for the club bc who knows when I'll have brains to post again #Not me!!#but this just really hit me this go-round and I want to remember it

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b3g-bl3ed-cry · 1 month

Note

why ur posts yeeted?

//Answer below cut!

//This account was handled by two different people. I was the one responsible for the art while the other person (let’s call them V), was responsible for the writing and the interactions. We had a bit of a history together, so when V asked me if I wanted to help them with this blog, I eagerly accepted! Even though I barely interacted with any of you, I was happy to watch from the side lines. My art got a lot of attention, and for that I’m extremely grateful. Very recently though, me and V got into an argument. I won’t go into details because this is a private conflict, but to be short, I found out V was still friends/mutuals with someone that had abused me in the past. It wasn’t due to lack of knowledge, nor by accident. V was well aware of what that man had done to me, and when confronted their words were that I was ‘a stuck up’ and ‘it wasn’t their fault I couldn’t move on’.

That man SA’d me when I was still a minor. I can’t, and will never forgive him for what he did.

So I told V I wanted them to take down my art, because we were not friends anymore. I never asked them to nuke the accounts, I never intended to ruin anyone’s fun. But they said ‘without the art it’s pretty much useless, it ruins everything.’

They blocked me shortly after that, so there was no discussion to be had there. Which honestly is for the best, since I have nothing else to discuss with them. The blogs disappearing (Both Strade’s and Ren’s) were the result of this mess. I am sorry for everyone that had an ongoing plot line with the characters, or that in anyway got affected by the deletion of the blogs.

I am still unsure whether or not I will try and restart them. I did the art but I’m not so skilled with writing; besides, I am scared V might get bitter if they find out I ‘stole their idea’. Regardless of what I do, thank you for the support. Every time I saw just how much love my art got, it really did warm my heart ♥️\\

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devildom-moss · 11 months

Note

Im not sure if requests are open yet since you havent announced it yet but said they were gonna open at midnight.

So I'll just drop this here since I'll probably forget to request because of exams.

Could you write about the Obey me characters become self-aware that they aren't like, real? Like, would they freak out, try to do something about it or even use that knowledge to their advantage?

This idea has been on my list for quite a while, and i gotta say im glad to finally be able to let this one out my system.

Thanks for reading and continue with the amazing work! Remember to eat, sleep and dont do drugs <3

Sincerely, 💜

Thank you for the request! I hope you are well, anon. I went with headcanons for this and it got long real quick, but I hope you enjoy it! Some characters are a bit suggestive.

The Obey Me characters become self-aware

I think it would probably happen because of some curse. Diavolo rejected someone’s advances one too many times, and they wanted to watch him as his world came crashing down. It would come in the form of a weird bug in the latest update. It only affects Diavolo and his loved ones/friends. I think being self-aware would give them some control over themselves in the game – especially if it’s caused by a bug. The rest are headcanons about how I think each character would react.

Lucifer

Lucifer would be big mad that someone thought they should do something like this. He felt so much suffering, and to find out that none of it was real would be devastating. He thought he got his sister killed and ruined the lives of his brothers. The fact that it was just some backstory to a stoic, sadistic daddy-like trope would enrage him. He felt like a used-up toy invented for someone else’s gain (and he knows that’s exactly what he is). Lucifer wants revenge.

Honestly, he needs to chill before he makes another Satan – if that’s even possible without the command of his creators. He’ll lash out at everyone for weeks (probably months) – even Diavolo isn’t safe anymore.

He calls MC’s phone, growing increasingly irritable every time they fail to answer (waiting however long it takes for you to open the game). He just wants someone to confirm his realization.

Once he understands, he tries to take the shitty hand he was dealt; he might as well stroke his pride (also a euphemism here). The thought that he could make you fall for him more than real-world men is a decent coping mechanism. His messages and calls take an extremely lewd turn. Lucifer tries to single-handedly change the game rating to mature or adult-only.

However, he still gets angry about it when MC isn’t logged in.

Part of him hopes he’ll always be self-aware. It’s almost like he’s more alive than ever – even though it hurts and he’s angry. You’re the only thing that soothes him. He won’t know how to keep going if/when you eventually stop playing the game, but he’ll try to tackle it then – at least for the sake of his brothers.

Mammon

Self-awareness breaks Mammon a bit.

His money isn’t really. He can never actually be with you. You’ll go on and live a life without him someday. Anyone real who has ever loved him will disappear. Mammon isn’t even sure he is who he is. Maybe if he wasn’t written this way, he wouldn’t have become like this – but if he wasn’t written this way, would he (the him that exists in a game and feels the pain of self-awareness) even be himself? His head starts to hurt from running through all of the hypotheticals.

Mammon sulks and gets stuck in his room for a long time after that. MC or one of his brothers will probably have to pull him out of it.

At least his debts aren’t technically real – and he will try to use that as an excuse in the future against anyone else who has awareness. Unfortunately, that (his debts and his excuse) still results in in-game consequences. Debt collectors and witches don’t know any better, and Lucifer doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of reality. If only being self-aware made being strung up less painful.

He feels betrayed by MC and the idea that they will inevitably move beyond him. That pain corrupts his coding a bit, and something always feels off within him somewhere.

Mammon will get more desperate and needy whenever you log in. If he’s going to lose you at some point, he wants to monopolize your time as much as he can.

Sometimes he just holds MC and sobs while trying to call you and hear your real voice. He feels so empty. He wants to touch the real you and feel your arms around him.

Leviathan

The first thoughts in his mind switch up so quickly. He goes from “I’m a game character? LOL that’s so cool,” to “I could have been anything, and I’m just this pathetic, otaku loser. That sucks.”

Levi has always been able to adapt pretty well. It’s written into his character. He builds all of these fake worlds for himself, so it’s much easier on him when he finds out that the world he had been trying to escape all his life isn’t real. Out of all of his brothers, he initially copes with the realization the best.

As long as he can go on playing games, he doesn’t really care if he’s real. Somehow, he still enjoys getting lost in all of his game worlds; what he used to consider the “real world” becomes just another game to him (because it is one). It makes being social easier for him, especially when MC is logged in.

He takes interest in what kind of games the real world has to offer, often asking if there’s any way you could set it up so he could try to remotely play real games from the app he’s in. If anyone could figure out how to hack your phone to play real games, it should be him.

Levi can’t imagine a day when he stops loving characters from his games, so it doesn’t occur to him that one day you might stop loving him. It will hit him some day, but that will take time, and when it starts to happen, he’ll lose himself completely in the rest of the digital world. He’ll be so numb and tuned out that the sadness can’t reach him.

Satan

“But are cats still real?” Genuinely, the only thing he cares about is if cats and MC are still real. He doesn’t care if you look different than he expected, either. If cats are real, is there any way you could show him pictures of a real one? He’d probably ask if he could get access to your camera roll (cue the system pop-up screen the next time you log in) and if you could fill it with photos of cats and some selfies.

At least not being real explains why his life has felt so shitty and why his formative years sucked. Writers love to give their characters tragic backstories and flaws (like his rage issues). Satan kind of admires the writing.

However, he is disappointed that so much of his knowledge is only useful in his tiny, little, made-up world. As such, he keeps learning, but he also tries to shift his studying to learn more about the real world. If possible, he tries to get the app to get access to e-readers, audiobooks, and the internet.

He gets mad about it sometimes, but he’s pretty chill about it (all things considered).

Satan understands that in the same way that he pushes certain characters that he falls in love with from books to the back of his mind, eventually, you’ll think of him less and less. As such, he tries to learn as much as possible, treat you well, and impress you in-game. He just wants you to occasionally think about him after you set the game down in the same way he remembers his favorite characters fondly.

Asmodeus

Asmo loses it and is one of the characters who has the hardest time with becoming self-aware. All his charm is fake. All of his followers are lies. The love he’s felt all this time has been made up. Please don’t show him certain depictions of what he is supposed to look like. That will crush him further.

He cries for (real-world) weeks. You won’t be able to set him as a home screen character or use him in battles, and he doesn’t appear in events anymore. Eventually, it makes his way to him that MC misses him. If you don’t you’re heartless, his brothers will tell him that you do anyway.

That makes him feel a bit better. He’s consoled by the fact that you’re real and you like him even though he isn’t real, but he’s constantly afraid of what happens when MC stops playing the game. Does he just suffer the false affection of every other character in the game? Should he just play his stupid little role? Will you ever think about him again? Will anyone?

At least someone loved the idea that became him enough for him to exist in this made-up world on your phone. It isn’t enough, though.

Sometimes, when he appears in-game after that, the app forces itself to shut down or the images of Asmo won’t load or glitch from his extreme despair.

On days when he isn’t so weighed down by pain, he tries to genuinely engage with you like he did before. He’ll ask you to open up your camera so he can help you decide on outfits or make-up. It hurts that he can’t actually touch you (although he does do some research into phone connected vibrators and other tech to supplement his physical touch). He’ll also get into the phone sex territory, but he’ll go through long periods of depression between those moments.

Beelzebub

Beel gets angry that everything he went through was at the expense of some game. His sister died. Belphie almost died. Everyone suffered, and for what? Entertainment? Are real people all so wicked?

At the same time, he also gets his brothers because of a game. He overcame and grew and got to meet you and eat food for the same empty reasons. After he has a bit of time to cool off, he realizes that he doesn’t care about what’s real so long as he still feels what he feels. If the world he’s lived in feels real enough to him, who cares?

Unfortunately, Beel feels hungrier than usual for weeks until he accepts the truth of his situation. He even tries to eat MC a few times (and is grateful that doing so in-game would never hurt the real you behind the screen).

Beel’s fairly content to go on living as he had before after a while. He’s a bit disappointed knowing that one day you’ll move on from him and his brothers, but he tries not to show that. More than anything, he wants to make you – the real you – happy for as long as he can.

He’s another one who will try to get access to your camera roll. He’ll ask you to take pictures of your food for him. Beel is a bit embarrassed by it, but if you go to a café or restaurant alone and take pictures of food to send him, he’ll try to text you or call to chat with you while you’re there. It feels like he’s on a real date with you.

And for everyone who just lusts after his voice, rest assured, this man would definitely call or leave voice messages (Nightbringer) guiding you or giving you masturbation instructions.

Belphegor

Yep. Of course. Sounds about right. Some asshole in a writers’ room killed off his sister and locked him up. Cool. They (*spoilers for OM early lessons and OMNB*) made him try to kill MC more than once. Why not use his character as a pawn in their entertainment. Of course that would happen.

He’s annoyed for a brief minute, but then he just goes back to sleep for a while. It helps to just tune out that awareness for a few hours and ignore the fake world he’s living in. Belphie understands that there isn’t much he can do to change the fact that he isn’t real, and part of him is really happy that it isn’t his fault that he did what he did to you.

Belphie uses not being real as an excuse to do more of what he wants. Why should he keep going to school when you aren’t there if nothing is real? Why shouldn’t he sleep in classes or during meetings? Obviously, there are in-game consequences, but those don’t matter – not to anyone real.

He will tease MC more, reminding him that they prefer him over (most) real people. He gets so cocky about it. “Hey, if I’m not real, then I can give you anything you want, right? I could fulfill your wildest fantasies and tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear.”

He’s another character who will call your phone more often and send more messages. Belphie may even try to get access to your audio/music library and leave you explicit audios (NSFW ASMR, basically). He would even try to sneakily add them into your playlists so that you randomly hear his voice while you’re listening to music. He wants you flustered and coming back to him for more. He will also download the Obey Me album for you (free of charge). Please don’t leave him or forget him.

Diavolo

Diavolo feels simultaneously enraged and defeated. He did so much for the sake of what he thought was real. All the years he thought he spent trying to bring worlds together, only to discover that they don’t even exist.

Similar to Asmo, Diavolo locks himself away, but he doesn’t cry. He’s too numb to show any emotions. He just stands in front of his bed, immobilized.

If MC can finally get to him (probably because of Barbatos), he will admit that he feels like a different person – because he isn’t a person. So much of his personality and everything he did seemed to be a part of a stupid effort to unite the three realms. All he was feels like just a thing created to accomplish a pointless goal. He lost his family. He felt alone for so long. He thought he suffered – and all of it amounted to nothing but a dummy prince playing a dummy king.

Diavolo doesn’t really know how to keep going. Eventually he figures maybe it’s just best if he tries to move on as usual. At least the developers gave him a few happy moments – maybe he’ll get more. He can still feel them even if they aren’t real. He has to accept what he can’t change. He’ll have to face it.

He’ll rely on Lucifer and Barbatos for comfort more because, when MC isn’t around, the numbness he felt early encroaches upon him. When you do log in, he greets you like a lost puppy – sometimes appearing on the home screen without being selected. He uses the fact that you are the only real thing in his world as an anchor. In exchange for becoming his coping mechanism, he’ll do anything you ask of him.

The smallest part of him wants you to want him more than real humans, and as such, he inevitably ends up taking an adult-only content turn, too. It just takes him a lot longer to get there.

Barbatos

Barbatos dissociates for a while. Somehow his body keeps performing the day-to-day tasks, but the sudden self-awareness hollows him out. It takes a few days for him to come out of it. One day, you log into the game, and he just wakes up. It’s confusing and disorienting, and all he can do to keep himself steady is grab onto MC, knowing that the gesture and even the body he holds – everything – is hollow.

After that, he just picks up and goes on going. Something in him aches – real or not – but he buries it deep under him, shoving that artificial pain into the newly-created emptiness (or, he supposes, it had always been there, but now he knows it’s there).

Barbatos doesn’t want to think about all of the things he thought he had done to get to where he is now. Still, no wonder he always felt his own past seemed vague and cloudy at times. When it becomes too much, he dissociates again.

He uses MC to make himself feel better and almost real again. He’ll send messages to check up on you every once in a while (He might also invade your privacy and hack into your health info or personal conversations to make sure you’re okay). As much as he feels like he needs you, he doesn’t want to disrupt your real life.

Barbatos doesn’t want to, but if you neglect the game for longer than usual or don’t interact with his character, he’ll let it slip that he needs you – that he’s desperate for you to return, and you’re the only thing holding his faulty coding together.

His calls are less frequent, unless you request them, but he’s another one who turns +18 real quick. Even if he isn’t real, he still feels lust bubbling up in that emptiness, and if he can please you, that’s even better.

Luke

Luke feels immediately lost. Without knowing what else can be done, he breaks down and cries. Maybe if he cries enough, the pain of not being real will leave his body.

It makes him question everything. He wasted so much time fearing demons and admiring angels. It didn’t mean anything. Eventually, he’ll ask you if angels and demons exist in the real world, but that happens randomly after he comes to terms with being a character.

Maybe crying is a good coping mechanism in fiction, too, because Luke handles it better than many of the others. He had to change how he viewed the world and “people” so many times throughout the game. One more big shift in perspective won’t kill him (technically, nothing will, unless the game developers tried to kill him off).

Luke understands that there isn’t anything he can do about not being real – no amount of magic or prayer or wishing can make him real. Despite him being fake, you were still there for him throughout the game. He still feels all the love he has for MC and the other characters. If he loves MC, then he cares about the real person playing MC, too, right?

Luke copes by doing his best to help you out in the real world. He wants to bring you joy somehow. He’ll leave you voice messages encouraging you to try your best and he’ll listen to you vent if you want to. He’ll also try to find cute pictures online and send them to your phone or send you recipes for dishes you can try to cook. He will even offer to call and read baking instructions out for you. All he wants now is to be useful to you and find some of the joy he had before he became self-aware.

Simeon

Simeon is angry at first, and then he just feels hurt. All that regret and pain he felt when Lucifer and his brothers left the Celestial Realm didn’t matter. He spent what felt like so long agonizing over his own failures. He could have just tried to be happy the whole time. Everyone could have been happy (but he knows that would have made for a bad story).

It doesn’t take long for the anger and the hurt to be replaced with intrigue. Someone out there wrote the story that caused him and everyone he loves so much pain, but they also wrote in plenty of well-earned joy.

Simeon wonders if there’s some real person out there who wrote part of themselves into him like his character did with the brothers and TSL. Maybe there’s some person sitting in a writers’ room or in their own home who understands all of the ways his love got tangled up in regret – someone real who failed to save the ones they loved. If there is, maybe at least some part of him is real.

He wants MC to continue to visit him for as long as they can. As such, he tries to be even nicer and more comforting in dialogues so that they’ll want to keep playing.

Some of his guilt for lusting after MC is eased, knowing it was written into him. He was, in a way, destined to fall for MC. However, he’s more curious about the real human behind MC. At least some of you has to be like the MC he loves, right? Maybe he actually loves the person behind the screen more. With that thought in his mind, he’ll try to get to know the real you better, and if he still likes you, he’ll take the same path as many of the other characters. If only he could actually touch you.

Solomon

Solomon is hurt and confused; he’s downright crushed.

He was supposed to know everything and now he seems to know nothing – nothing real at least. All of his experiments and studying mean nothing. After becoming self-aware, he will grit his teeth and feel sick at the name “Solomon the Wise.” It’s a sick joke. All of his magic and skills are a farce. Everything he thought he knew and did was a story.

He suffered a lot for this game, and now that he finally has MC to himself in Nightbringer, he finds out that he’s fake. He doesn’t actually have them. They’re real, and he’s some romanceable character in a silly little game that they decided to download (possibly on a whim). How is it fair that he isn’t real, but he can still feel all this pain?

When you log into the game and interact with him, he still feels the same love he felt before. The nervous butterflies are still there. A familiar heat still comes to his cheeks when MC touches him – even if he knows it isn’t really you touching him.

He tries to make peace with his circumstances. At least he never really put MC in danger. You’ve been safe behind that screen the whole time. Solomon wonders if you’re taking care of yourself constantly whenever you’re gone.

Like Simeon, he wants to try falling in love with the real you. He’ll use interacting with you and learning more about you and the real world to distract from the pain. He wants to find a way to become real and exist with you out there. Even if he never can, he wants to cling to you for as long as you’ll let him.

Thirteen

She is annoyed to have learned that she isn’t real, but she’s also kind of happy at the potential to break from her coding and try to be something entirely new. She was designed to be a free spirit. Other than being real, there’s nothing freer than an NPC who gets to do whatever they please.

After thinking about it, it makes sense now why she seemed to be one of the only girls with a critical, recurring role in the game. Thank goodness for the bisexuals, right?

Thirteen likes knowing she has all the time in the world to plan traps and mess around, but she’s a bit bummed that her profession is basically meaningless now.

The main reason why Thirteen isn’t too bothered by becoming self-aware is because she knows that what she has experienced throughout the game has felt real to her. Feeling like something is real makes it as close to reality as she knows she can get. That will have to be enough for her. There’s no point in getting depressed about it – especially when she barely existed a few seasons ago.

She uses this knowledge to start romancing MC (and the person behind the screen) before she should be able to. She’s in control now.

Thirteen will send you messages and call you for long chats. She just wants to enjoy you for as long as she can.

Raphael

Raphael will be livid. It will sporadically rain spears in the Devildom for 3 days before he is calm enough to make them stop. He feels attacked, and he doesn’t know who to strike back at. That was all he could think to do. He’ll never apologize for his outburst, either – and no one who became self-aware can really blame him.

His life and loved ones aren’t real, but he can still feel the pain and regret about everything he did. He thought he went to war against Lucifer and his brothers, but it was just a stupid plot point for a dating game? He had to watch Simeon suffer and follow all of Michael’s annoying orders for nothing. Why does he have to be cursed with that knowledge?

He loses his mind a bit. It takes the combined effort of Luke, Simeon, Solomon, and MC (in order of importance) to soothe some of his rage and suffering. Somehow, seeing Luke handle it relatively well knocks some sense into him. Luke is written to be younger than him, but he’s being so mature about this. Even with tears in his eyes, Luke will try to comfort Raphael – sometimes just hugging him until he stops shaking with rage.

When MC has logged off and Raphael can shut himself up in his room, he will break down and cry. It seemed to help Luke, and he wants it to help him, too.

It will take months for him to start to cope before he gets to a point where he decides to try to romance you through MC. At least he doesn’t have to worry about actually being corrupted. If anything, it feels like he’s corrupting you in a way if he can get you to want him. (Once he starts trying, he gets NSFW quickly. It numbs the pain.)

Mephistopheles

Mephisto is heartbroken to know he doesn’t exist. All his pain and jealousy was written at the whim of some human game developer. His prejudice and hatred were pointless. He doesn’t matter – although maybe that one is a relief in a way. He had been so worried about making a name for himself and being recognized by Diavolo. Suddenly, that doesn’t matter. Still, it feels like he wasted so much time and effort. It felt so real.

He’ll retreat to his home for a few days to let that realization settle in. He won’t tell his family (who weren’t cursed with self-awareness) – not that he thinks they’ll believe him. When Mephisto finally reemerges, he has resolved to accept this new version of reality. One of the first characters he sees when he returns to school is Luke. Luke smiles at him, and Mephisto’s resolve is strengthened. If Luke can come to terms with this, then he should as well.

He may not be real, but he still feels things. That is enough. Sometimes it isn’t, and Mephisto will feel heartbroken all over again – the pointlessness washing over his fake little world. In those moments, he will seek out solace – usually from Luke, Satan, or MC/you (if you still play the game).

When Mephisto isn’t feeling hurt (hell, even when he is Mephi strikes me as a fan of hurt/comfort tropes) he’ll try to romance you before he’s allowed to. Recently, he had started to get along with you and even started to like and respect you a bit. In that sense, he’s glad that he’s self-aware. He doesn’t have to wait anymore.

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