#( ;; Her titles speak of death ; I know Her only by Her love )
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I’m (Not) Alright with a Slow Burn | Tommy Shelby x Reader headcanons
Request: yes by anonymous
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader (headcanons)
Summary: How Tommy would go about being stuck in a slow burn with someone he's falling for.
Warnings: mention of death of grandmother, slight season 2 spoilers
Word Count: 2537
A/N: I really enjoyed this request! umm…I’m not sure if these are 100% written like headcanons - I wrote them like I was spewing out ideas lol. Kacey Musgraves’s song Slow Burn was also running through my head while I was writing this, hence the title. Also how the hell do you actually spell headcanons?? Is there 1 ‘n’ or 2?? Lol . Enjoy! :)
I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!
Comment/Message me if you want to be tagged!
• (Y/N) was one of the few Shelby Company Ltd. employees that Tommy didn't hire. She was brought on board while he and the boys were off at one of the races. Polly saw the potential in her and immediately welcomed her into the company.
• when Tommy returned from said races, he was pleasantly surprised to meet her.
• and Polly clocked that immediately. She was able to tell by the lack of a fight - Tommy was always able to find something to pick at when she made decisions within the company, no matter how minuscule. But there was nothing to pick at with (Y/N).
• Polly also wasn't surprised to see (Y/N) completing more and more tasks that came directly from Tommy. They'd be tasks that Polly hadn't even known about...but for some reason Tommy trusted (Y/N) with them.
• (Y/N) didn't think anything different about it. She'd been hired into the company and one of her bosses was asking her to do things. That's what was supposed to happen, right?
• although she did find it odd that it was Tommy asking her to do these things when she'd originally been hired to help Polly with sorting out the books and the like.
• things persisted like that for a few months. (Y/N) would happily and eagerly help him with whatever he needed to have done around the company. He'd look out for her, making sure that she was happy in her position and just in general. And in return, (Y/N) would (try) to keep up the same for him. She'd show that in the smallest of ways and attempts, but he would notice. Over those few months and because of those small acts, Tommy's thoughts and feelings towards (Y/N) evolved.
• he can still remember the day when that switch began - because it haunted him every day after.
• she came into his office like it was any other day for her...but it wasn't any other day for Tommy.
• he'd been working under Campbell for a few weeks at that point, and it'd become apparent that he'd be dead at the end of the arrangement. Tommy wasn't afraid to die, but the thought of getting everything in order and making sure his family could go on without him was now plaguing his mind.
• so when (Y/N) asked him what he had for her to do today, Tommy rattled off his list without as much as looking up at her. He was fully expecting her to turn and exit the second he finished speaking.
• she didn't. Silence reigned for a moment or two before "are you ok, Tommy?" came quietly from her. This made Tommy look up, and when he did, all of the noise in his mind ceased. Sure he looked at her before - he'd looked up like this thousands of times, but he never saw her like he did when he looked up this time. It was this otherworldly experience that he'd only been through twice before. Which meant he knew exactly what was happening.
• even though he brushed her question off and told her that he was fine, he hoped that things wouldn't change between them.
• and thankfully they didn't because hell, Tommy Shelby was certain that he was falling in love.
• he began testing the waters carefully at first. (Y/N) was a good woman and he wasn't about to make her leave the company due to his actions. He couldn't stand to lose her.
• so he started by making sure she was being heard; by actually listening to her whenever she'd share ideas or tell him how things played out with what he'd asked her to do.
• then he emphasized making sure that she was safe - having blinders on her block, sticking around on the days where she and Polly would be in the shop tallying the winnings, and also personally offering to take her wherever she needed to go.
• (Y/N) reacted bashfully to these offers. She felt that the other company employees would think that she was getting special treatment or something — well...she kind of was...but she deeply appreciated Tommy doing these things.
• in regards to feelings, Tommy was putting his out there as best as he could (which, well I'll let you be the one to decide on how well that is) He really tried to make a more personal connection with her; to get to know her as her and not just another employee...and in turn he let her know him.
• (Y/N) stayed professional. He was one of her bosses after all. But she couldn't deny that she enjoyed being in his presence. Her friends found that crazy, too...how can she be happy to be spending time with Tommy Shelby? She swore it off as strictly work related until she couldn't anymore.
• the evening started like any other...(Y/N) went home after work with the intention of doing what she did every other evening. But something was waiting for her at home. Something that turned her world upside-down. She found out that her grandmother had passed away. The post had come and one of the letters was from a sibling of hers, sharing the news. She didn't know what to do.
• after exhausting all of her options, she found herself at the Garrison. Tommy had invited her there in the past, but she never accepted it due to wanting to stay professional.
• she asked around for him and the second she found out that he was in the snug, she made her way to it and opened the door. He was in there, but so were his brothers. "This was the last place I could think of," she blurted out. "Everyone out," was all Tommy needed to say before it was just the two of them in the room.
• (Y/N) quickly sat and let everything out. Tommy listened intently, something no one had ever done for her in the past. They sat in the snug for hours, (Y/N) talking and Tommy listening. Her ability to share her grandmother's story helped her immensely.
• from that evening, (Y/N) saw Tommy in a different light. The fact that he sat and listened to her as she lamented to him and not once did he even think of leaving meant the world to her. No one had shown her that sort of worthiness or attention.
• all at once it felt like she was head over heels for him. Like all of those little instances he'd shown her before had all culminated into this one, major display of devotion. It had her realizing that maybe it wasn't solely because she was his employee...maybe it was much more than that.
• and so when he went out of his way and made sure to check on her the next morning - she knew this because Polly commented on the fact that he was supposed to be in London by sun-up - and he couldn't get him off of her mind no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't beat around the bush anymore...she'd fallen for Tommy Shelby, hard.
• but things didn't hit off right from that moment.
• no, it took a rather long time for those feelings to actually come out.
• there was a lot of dancing around the other - the smaller gestures and moments still occurred, but neither one was willing to make that jump over the edge and confront the other about it.
• yes, you read that right...Tommy Shelby was actually keeping his feelings for her close to the chest.
• mostly it was because of the position they were in. He'd offer to take her to dinner and she'd politely decline (even though she really wanted to go) because she was worried the other company employees would suspect something.
• Tommy wasn't exactly into the dancing around it (he hated it at times actually), but he honored her choice.
• but that doesn't mean he wasn't taking every chance he got to spend time around her. To check in on her and see how things were. To walk her home if she stayed later. Anything to show her that he was serious...without actually saying that he was serious.
• he was hooked on her though, there was no doubt about it. All he needed was for her to really show that interest back to him, and then he'd know for sure that he could act on it.
• and then Polly's birthday came.
• the company/family decided to host a party at the Garrison. Of course (Y/N) was invited.
• a man named Louis was one of the men who worked the shop floor daily. He saw (Y/N) almost every day that she was also on the floor, and he made it a point to seek her out as well.
• much like with Tommy, (Y/N) kept things between her and Louis strictly professional.
• but this party is when Louis decided that he was going to make his move...to try and woo her.
• maybe he should have thought this through...
• (Y/N) was sitting at one of the tables, chatting with some of the other women who worked within the company. It was a surprise that she wasn't with Tommy, considering he sought her out almost immediately after she arrived. But Tommy was still present though.
• Louis had this plan to put everything right on the table. He smoothly walked over to her and, equally as smoothly, slipped into the booth that she was sitting in. (Y/N) was polite, but it was obvious that she wasn't feeding any more into it than a simple, friendly conversation.
• but of course Tommy didn't pick up on that. From where he was standing it looked like Louis was a little too close to her for comfort. So he quickly intervened.
• and he was anything but subtle with it. He was quickly able to make Louis feel uneasy and clear him out.
• (Y/N)'s confused, but happy to have the man she'd hardly talked to gone. She sends Tommy an appreciative smile and that's just about enough to bring Tommy to his knees. But that doesn't happen...instead he gives her one of his signature, lop-sided smiles and nods at the ladies sitting with her before going back to where he previously was.
• this interaction didn't go unnoticed though. Polly and Ada were watching from off to the side. These two know Tommy better than anyone, and they've rarely seen him react this quickly and in this sort of way. So it's glaringly apparent to them that something's going on here.
• and this becomes increasingly apparent as time goes on.
• also as time goes on, (Y/N) manages to move up in the company. She's basically right underneath Polly in terms of power, becoming her 'right hand man’ in the treasurer position.
• having this position means that she's more involved in the inner circle and is at all of the meetings.
• the entire family swears by the fact that Tommy is softer with her than he is with anyone else.
• you can literally see the change the second she shares her thoughts on a matter or even enters a room. The switch is practically on a dime.
• but these two keep dancing around each other - they've been doing it for close to a year at this point.
• and those who know of it are baffled. They are obviously in love with each other...why hasn't one budged and made things official?
• the suspicions on this topic all come to a climax on the first year anniversary of (Y/N) joining the company.
• Tommy invites her out to dinner. (Y/N) agrees this time mostly because she knows what day it is...and she knows that the Shelbys like to celebrate such things.
• but she's surprised when she arrives at the upscale restaurant and is escorted to a table for two. Tommy can't help but smile at the face she pulls when she sees that he's sitting there, waiting for her.
• but she gets comfortable very quickly. It's Tommy we're talking about here...she's never been more comfortable with anyone in her life if she was being honest. And the same goes for him too.
• the dinner lasts hours. They talk about everything and anything. Work's off the table, but yet they still manage to not have more than a moment of silence. Both are surprised at how freely the conversation flows.
• eventually Tommy brings up the subject they've been dancing around.
• he lays everything out on the table this time. There's no sense in holding back. He tells her how she makes him feel, how she's made him feel from the moment he first saw her.
• he also mentions the fact that he's felt this way for a while now, and that he can't continue dancing around it any longer. He honored her desire to stay professional for this time, but he wants her too much, loves her too much to keep going like this for even a day longer.
• at first (Y/N)'s shocked. She's not oblivious...she'd been catching the little hints that he'd been leaving all this time, but she was truthfully too hesitant to ever bring the subject up to him.
• but now that he's put it out there, she figures why should she hold back her feelings any longer?
• so she lays it all out for him as well. Tells him how she feels about him, how she's felt about him for some time now.
• Tommy can't contain his happiness as he hears this. He's grinning like a fool.
• so really there's only one last thing for them to do now...make it official.
• Tommy wastes no time in doing that.
• he asks her properly though. That's what she deserves, especially after all this time that's been invested.
• he stops them just down the road from where she lives. He tells her that he really likes her (he won't use the 'l word' just yet - even though the two of them are so clearly in love) and that he can't wait a moment longer to make her his.
• (Y/N) quickly agrees with the sentiment after everything that had been shared during their dinner.
• Tommy can't help but smile at her response, and he just barely nods his head in his Tommy fashion before continuing to walk her home.
• they share their first kiss at the front door, and it's absolutely magical.
• they then proceed to do a terrible job of hiding it while at work. Tommy's waited this long to be with her, he's not going hide his affection for her any longer.
• their definition of 'in secret' is soooo far from the actual definition. They think that they're being sneaky, only stealing kisses in empty hallways and in Tommy's office, but it takes Polly literally only two days to catch onto it.
• no ones upset with it though. Honestly everyone’s happy that they’re finally together.
• well everyone except Louis…Louis is a little bummed about the whole thing. But Tommy and (Y/N) don’t care about that in the slightest.
Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife
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Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)
Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon
Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.
That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.
“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”
Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.
“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”
“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”
Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.
“You are questioning my feelings for you”
“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”
“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”
“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”
Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.
“You and our daughter mean everything to me”
“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”
“I would never put your lives at risk”
“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”
“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”
(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.
He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.
“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”
“What about (y/n)”
“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”
Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.
“You owe me 3 dragon coins”
“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”
“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”
“I-“
“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”
Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.
“What should we name them?”
“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”
“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”
Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.
Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.
(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.
“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”
“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”
“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”
“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”
“I had every reason to do so”
“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”
Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back
“You disgust me, never come back”
Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.
“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”
“What is it?”
“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”
“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”
“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”
“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”
“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”
“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”
“I will be fine, I know it”
Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.
At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.
Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.
“What is the meaning of this brother?”
“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”
“Over what?”
“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”
“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”
“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”
“No”
“Daemon”
“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”
“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”
Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.
“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”
“You are trying to negotiate?”
“Yes”
“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”
“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”
“Done”
“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”
“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”
“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”
Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.
“Very well, we accept your conditions”
“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”
-
(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.
The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.
(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.
Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?
As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.
It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.
A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.
“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”
“You dare question the decision of a king?”
“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”
“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”
“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”
“Pity, you had such great potential”
As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.
“No one disrespects our family”
“Disarm him!”
“No need, my love”
Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.
“Rhaenyra”
Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.
She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).
“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”
“It is late, can it not wait?”
“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”
“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”
Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.
Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.
“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”
“What of it?”
“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”
“I and my wife have honored our vows”
“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”
“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”
He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.
As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.
“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“
“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”
“At court yes”
“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”
“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”
“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”
“My sons are Targaryens”
“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”
“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”
“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”
Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.
Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).
“Alright”
“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”
Requests are open!
#daemon targaryen x you#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon targaryen fanfiction#daemon targaryen headcanon#daemon x you#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x oc#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen imagine#daemon#daemon targaryen fic#daemon x rhaenyra#daemon x oc#hotd daemon#daemon au#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd#hotd fic#hotd x reader#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine#house of the dragon x reader#hotd season 1#Spotify
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You know, it would be interesting for me to read the gloomy Disney characters. By the type that the Reader accidentally enters the Disney world. Or is already in this world. For example, a man! The Evil Queen× reader. Just imagine that the mirror says that the most beautiful is the reader and the man!The evil Queen was interested.. Well, or dark! A man!A Disney princess who believes in love and believes that the reader is his true love and that the reader should belong only to him.
Sorry for the bad English
Don't apologize
You're perf, babes
Yandere!Genderbent!Evil King x GN!Reader x Yandere!Genderbent!Snow White
CW: Death, obsessive behavior
"Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The vain king asked his enchanted mirror as he often did whenever his pride was wounded. King Hadewig was the envy of men and women. Cold and beautiful, his features were cut like an ethereal ice sculpture. Intelligent, talented, and ruthless, most everyone either wanted to bed him or be him. However, his power was not guaranteed for long.
Hadewig was King only by responsibility, and not by actual title. His title was, legally, Prince Consort. He married his, now deceased, wife when he was a young bachelor, and she was the only eligible bachelorette of suitable status as a widow. Being so much older than him, it was an "unfortunate", but not "unsurprising" passing of the crown when the Queen died and left her son in Hadewig's care.
The only reason the child wasn't immediately crowned king was because of Hadewig's charm and influence, convincing the court that the young Prince Snow was too irresponsible to rule the country. But it was difficult to continue that lie going, even with Hadewig purposely keeping Snow ignorant of his future kingly duties by treating him as a servant, for now the boy was twenty years of age, and truly should have not only been coronated years ago, but also wed off to the available princess of the neighboring kingdom, a woman as old as Hadewig.
But his potential loss of power wasn't the reason for his low self esteem that day.
"You are, my king. There is one who approaches, but does not yet share with you what makes you fair."
The king slumped in his seat in an uncouth like manner. "Then why does my hunter not look at me like a man?"
King Hadewig's personal hunter, an immensely talented killer that didn't just slaughter animals for the king. And the only person who simply looked at the king. Nothing Hadewig did could change the professional look on (Reader's) face during their meetings. No matter how charismatic he was with his words, how stylish his clothing was, nor the love potions he attempted to spike (Reader's) drinks with, they were seemingly immune to every one of his attempts. In their most recent meeting, the one that left Hadewig depressed, he had offered his hunter a glass of wine, which they turned down, stating that the last drink they had received from the king did not agree with them.
"I can not tell you that, my lord. I only can report what I see, so unless your hunter speaks their secrets out loud while I spy, I am blind to their feelings for you."
Hadewig groaned, upset and broken hearted.
"Show me my hunter, again."
The face in the mirror melted, dissolving into an image of (Reader) leaving the castle. Their strong frame sent shivers down the icy man's spine. His first and only marriage was one of political importance, with no love or warmth between the husband and wife. But in the presence of his Mx. Hunter, the king was set ablaze. The intense feeling of heat was dowsed when he witnessed the bastard he hated most in the world approach his hunter.
At the steps of the castle, Snow had been timidly watching the triumphant hunter from afar, gathering the courage to approach them. He had never known shame, never feeling any sort of embarrassment about the state of his dress, but in the presence of the person who always smelled faintly of iron, he was reduced to two inches tall.
Stepping lightly like a mouse, the short adult snuck up behind (Reader), still debating whether or not he was actually going to announce his presence.
His decision was made for him, however, being noticed by (Reader) almost immediately.
"Good afternoon, your highness." They said, turning sharply on their heel to face him.
The hunter was the only person to address the prince by his royal status.
"Ah- how did you know it was me?" He asked incredulously. A pink blush warmed his entire head, wrapping around the back of his neck and up to the tips of his ears.
"Because I could hear you." (Reader) offered a kind smile to the shy, younger man. They felt sympathy towards him, with the way his cold step father treated him. With what they had done to him.
Snow was impressed by how cool (Reader) was. And a small part of him wished to impress them as well. He tried to straighten out his worn out rags. "What brings you to the castle today?"
"To gift the king a wolf pelt. And also," (Reader) reached into their pouch, pulling out a pressed flower, "to gift you this."
The prince sucked in his gasp, wide eyed and lips pressed tight.
"I apologize for not finding something better for your highness."
"No!" He panicked, grabbing the flower with both hands. "It's beautiful!"
He hadn't received a gift since the passing of his mother.
"Happy Birthday, your highness." (Reader) bowed, then turned swiftly, leaving the young man hyperventilating and sweating.
Only the king and his mirror heard Snow whisper long after (Reader) left: "I love you."
Three days later, and the king was losing his mind over the interaction. Snow was visibly taller, standing straighter as he worked, singing as he cleaned the castle grounds, and it was bothering him.
Hadewig kicked over his chair in frustration. "Magic mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"
"The one you fear is getting stronger, the confidence has warmed his winter, and people shall notice his spring awakening. The prince now glows more brightly than you, whose anger has etched lines of hatred into his ice like face."
King Hadewig released a scream, losing his control before quickly sharpening back up, running his hands through his messed hair.
He left his study, storming over towards a frightened servant.
"Send for my hunter."
Before (Reader), the king was disheveled, worrying (Reader) something awful.
"I can not stand for this disrespect any longer." His gaze read cold and cruel as it pierced the hunter's. "You understand that you are mine, correct?"
(Reader) thought about the flower and felt a wave of anxiety. "Yes, your highness."
"You understand that you belong to me?"
"Yes, your highness."
He sighed ever so slightly, before retrieving a wooden box from his desk. "I have another assignment for you.
Kill my son."
Nausea threatened to erupt from the seasoned murderer. "My lord?"
"Take him deep into the woods, and bring me back his heart." He held out the box. It was a test, as though (Reader) hadn't proved their loyalty to the mad man enough.
The empty box was heavy in (Reader's) hands.
"As you wish, your highness."
Prince Snow spun in the field of flowers as he searched for the most beautiful flowers for the hunter. It was the best day of his life! His father had given him a colorful outfit that fit him and the hunter had asked him out on a date! Well, they didn't call it a date, but what else could it have been?
He wove a crown for (Reader) while imaging their wedding day, becoming King and Royal Consort and having a real crown placed on their head.
(Reader), however, was weighing their options, not truly paying attention to the prince, and trying to ignore his childlike excitement.
What would the king do, if he was made a fool?
"Oh, hunter!" Snow ran over, holding out the delicate crown. "I made this for you! May I?"
And that was all it took, for (Reader) to spare his life.
They bent down, feeling the weight of the crown on their scalp. It smelled nice. Before Snow could retreat, (Reader) wrapped their arms around his thin waist. They had killed so many people before, but this was only the second time they felt unbearable guilt.
The first was after they took the life of the Queen.
"(Reader)?" Snow stuttered out, feeling weak in their strong arms.
"You must run, your highness." (Reader) whispered into his ear.
"What?"
"The king has ordered me to kill you. So please, run. Far away, into the woods." They released the prince, and it was only then that he noticed the heavy bags under their tired eyes.
"Why? I don't understand-"
"Leave. It won't be long before that witch discovers my lie."
Snow fell to his knees, holding onto the edge of (Reader's) shirt for dear life, falling apart in front of them. "Please, no! Come with me! If he would kill me, what would he do to you for sparing me? Please, run away with me!"
(Reader) bent down to release his fingers from their hem, planting a kiss on his forehead as they did so. "I hope when I meet you again you will have found a name more worthy of such a warm and kind person. For as of this moment, Prince Snow is dead."
Excitement threatened to crack the King's cool demeanor as he observed the bloody heart in his hands. (Reader) was distant, but that didn't matter to Hadewig, for now there was no competition for his hunter's affection. They would soon be his, even if he had to use force to make it so.
"Excellent work, my faithful hunter." He offered a practiced smile, unnerving (Reader) who prayed that the pig heart made a convincing decoy. At least until they could escape and hide out in the mountains, far away from the King's eyes.
(Reader) gave a deep bow. Then they left, calmly getting on their horse, and leaving, not taking a single glance behind them as they sped off, emergency bag already packed on their steed.
Back in Hadewig's room, he caressed the box affectionately, thinking about his lovely hunter. The stress had certainly caused a frown line, just as the mirror said, but he was working at reversing the damage.
"Magic Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" He dreamily asked, slightly nervous that the rage had permanently ruined his perfect face.
"Hiding deep within the woods, tending a wounded heart, the fairest in the land hides. Prince Snow still lives."
The king scoffed. "I have his heart right here, mirror."
"No, within that box lies the heart of a pig."
The box fell from Hadewig's hands. "A pig..?" His face scrunched up painfully. "(Reader) would never betray- they belong to me! ME! Guards! Where is my hunter?!"
"The hunter is flying towards the mountains, away from the woods they released the prince into."
Hadewig collapsed at his desk, screaming in agony while pawing at his chest. "No! It's all his fault! Find me that little bastard- I'll kill him myself!"
The seven dwarven women listened to the young man recall his tale of woe, his eyes full of tears but a smile still on his lips. "So, if you please, could I stay here? Just until my love returns for me."
Happy sighed dramatically, blushing and twirling her beard. "That (Reader) is so brave~"
Grumpy smacked the back of her head. "That double crosser may have saved the prince, but that doesn't mean they won't double double cross him!"
Bashful stomped a foot. "It's true love! They would never!"
"Well, they never confessed their feelings," Doc said while cleaning her glasses, "they could have saved Snow out of the goodness of their heart."
Snow smiled, trying to calm the fragments of his heart. "I have to believe, to hope, that (Reader) loves me as I love them. To risk death for me.. but, they said we would meet again. And I trust them."
It was painful, knowing that his father wanted him dead, but what was worse was hearing that (Reader) had put their life in danger for him. Despite all the pain and punishment Snow had endured, he never held it against his step father, but now..
A dark, bitter seed had been planted.
And throughout the night as the household slept, Prince Snow could feel it grow, threatening to burst forth from his chest. The dwarven women were so kind to him. So inviting, and trusting.
He wondered what else they would do for him.
The dark haired man knew that the apple was poison from the moment it was placed in his hands. What kind of elderly man would be this far out away from any sort of town, especially if they were traveling to sell produce? He didn't know who the old man was, but knew that he must have been in cahoots with the king.
"Oh, I don't have any money." Snow said quite sadly, placing his head in his hand.
"For such a lovely young man? Free of charge."
"Are you sure?"
The old man was certainly no real beggar. Nothing made sense. It was cruel, what Snow thought to do, especially if he was wrong, but in case he was right.. Snow whispered to a bird before smiling brightly at the stranger, taking the apple in both hands.
"Of course, please take it!"
Snow bit into the fruit, but did not swallow, hiding the chunk in his hand. After a few seconds of pretending to chew, he collapsed, holding his breath.
The king almost immediately dropped his disguise, snarling. His once similarly raven hair had a stripe of grey.
In a voice barely louder than a huff, he said "It serves you right, you filthy bastard. I would have let you live, if you had simply left my (Reader) alone."
He exhaled. There was no movement from the floor.
"Are you dead yet? Can you still hear me? I hope you can." The king smiled. "I hope you can hear me from beyond the grave as I finally get my happily ever after."
But as he celebrated the dwarves rushed home from work, and a small bird was rallying forces to find the hunter and lead them to Snow's body.
As he monologued to what Hadewig assumed was his son's corpse, the women returned from the mines, righteously horrified and armed with pickaxes.
Hadewig heard a woman shout "Grumpy, don't!" before a pick connected with his lower back, piercing his organs from behind.
The pain was excruciating, sending fire up his body as blood poured out of him. He imagined (Reader's) face, finally smiling for him as they cradled him in their arms, accepting his love. Hadewig wanted that to be the last thing he saw before he died.
Instead, he witnessed Snow, smiling up at him from the floor.
(Reader) arrived just a moment too late, having been closer than they had expected due to how deep into the woods Snow had traveled. They witnessed the sobbing dwarves sitting at the door, too upset to enter their own home where the young prince they tried to rescue lie dead.
The hunter pushed passed them, not wasting a second to grab the young man. He was still warm, but wasn't breathing.
Snow kept his eyes closed as he felt the worst pain he had ever known.
(Reader's) hands slammed into Prince Snow's chest. A rib cracked under their strength, but Snow refused to show it.
Then their lips pressed against his.
His nose was held shut as (Reader) forced air into his throat, trying to get him to wake up. They continued the repetitions a medicine man had taught them while blowing air into his lungs.
"God damnit, Snow, wake up!"
They leaned in, and felt him breath against their mouth. His large brown eyes fluttered open, and his face reddened.
His lips curled into a weak grin. "You came back for me.."
Guilt washed over (Reader), hugging him tightly to their chest. "I'm sorry I left, Prince Snow."
Warm hands ran through (Reader's) hair. "Please.. Call me Theros."
The regret and pain kept (Reader) still, allowing the recently "revived" prince to pull them in for a kiss.
After all that (Reader) put him through, a kiss was the least they could do.
But for the born again man, it was just the beginning.
#sorry it took so long#yandere#yandere x reader#gn reader#genderbent#yandere king#yandere prince#love triangle#strong reader#cw blo0d#cw death
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Space for two
Pairing: demon!Kim Taehyung x f!reader
Genre: smut, both angsty and fluffy, dark themes, positive ending, historical au (maybe like 18/early 19th century Joseon)
Summary: Trapped in a marriage arranged by our families, married to a cold, uncaring man and taking care of a farm in the middle of nowhere, I had sunken to the lowest lows. Aware of my husband's gambling habits and love for brothels that often kept him from home, I'd gotten used to the feeling of falling asleep in a cold, empty bed. But that changed one day, when an uninvited guest made himself quite at home and brought with him warm touches and scorching dreams. Gentleness coming from the one least expected may just be the push into the right direction.
Word count: 25.4k
Warnings: some dark themes, demon Taetae (he's a sweetie though), he's messing with the reader a little tho, he does have some slight yandere vibes, themes of depression and loneliness, infidelity, a shitty husband, some themes and mentions of domestic violence and verbal abuse (at one point the husband grabs her by the hair, throws stuff around the house), mentions of death and murder
NSFW warnings: slightly dubcon-ish (at first he visits her dreams), reader is inexperienced and embarrassed, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint really hard, wet dreams, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, handjob, unprotected sex (it's joseon :// you be careful out there), some slight breeding kink, half clothed sex
A/N: super late but finally here!! i'm sorry for all the delays, but this just kept getting longer and longer and i had to juggle it between schoolwork, but i hope it is worth the wait! this is actually based on a korean folklore story of prince cheoyong, which i explain in the end notes so i don't spoil anything hehe
I was preparing the food in silence, the only sounds in the room the clanking of my knife on the cutting board and slight bubbling in the pot over the fire. It was winter and so I kept the doors leading to the yard closed, but I still heard the thuds of my husband chopping firewood, the dull thumps of the wood hitting the ground, the swish of his axe in the air.
I was already well used to this, to the silence of this place.
It was a quiet that could only come from unhappiness and spite, the kind that made you feel lonely and desolate, knowing the only other person around rather chose to not speak than engage with you. It was what I had come to know very well in here.
I had found myself married quite abruptly. It was a little over a year ago, when a messenger from the Ryu family of the neighbouring village arrived at our door. My father accepted him, but didn’t speak of what the meeting was about, which raised some suspicions between the women of the family. I was the second child of the family and the eldest of the daughters, and way past the age when women of my standing usually married. It felt like we all knew what it would come to.
My unmarried status was a bit of a controversial story around these parts.
I wouldn’t call our family exactly disgraced, but we weren’t at the full glory the Kangs used to stand at, back in the days of my great great great great-grandfather, who built the family into a considerable fortune, but whose grandson to the family’s great embarrassment failed the gwageo examinations several times and couldn’t secure an official position. The family had tried to bribe their way into the office, but the local official came from a family that had been feuding with ours for a few generations, over something that was no doubt petty and no longer relevant. He basked in the desperation of our family and wished for nothing more than to see them crash and burn, thus if we couldn’t secure a position through the examinations, he wouldn’t allow any bribery in order to destroy our clan.
The embarrassment continued as neither his son, nor his grandson were able to pass the qwageo and our family was stripped of our title. We had been living on the rapidly thinning fortune, trying to keep some sort of decorum, but feeling the full force of shame the other inhabitants from our area showed towards us. To them, we were pathetic. Just some thirty years ago we were strolling through these streets as if we owned them and now, disgraced and quickly running out of options, here we were – on the same level as them.
My father was able to break the family curse by starting a successful shop with trinkets, toys and other useful little devices, which allowed us to stay afloat money-wise, but cast us further into shame, considering our family had once been part of the yangban class and thus weren’t supposed to work. Even if disgraced, rules applied to us, and we were a great embarrassment to those who we used to call friends and allies.
The curse was further broken when father in his quite advanced age managed to pass the gwageo and got a spot in local office. He pushed my younger brothers into studies, as his pride never took this situation lightly. He was brought up to be an aristocrat, but here he was, working his days away like a commoner. In the end, his obsession was fruitful when two of my three brothers also passed their examinations and entered into civil duty, one striving for the office and one for the military service. The middle son, who struggled with his studies, was put in charge of the shop where he excelled.
As such, we were suddenly catapulted back into our previous standing, after several generations of disgrace, after struggling financially and fighting for survival every month, we were back to walking the streets with our chins held high, wrapped from head to toe in silk.
And that’s where the controversy about my marriage started.
As most young people, I had been promised and engaged to a young boy from a different neighbouring village. Due to the fact that we lost our title, I couldn’t strive for marriage withing the yangban class – after all, social standing was inherited after the mother, so I couldn’t be more than a concubine since I would curse my child with low social status. But that would be a hit to my father’s pride. Therefore he rather engaged me to a son of a lower middle class trader. To them, I was someone of a better status as they had never received a title, and my family would expand their funds.
But then several things happened all almost at once.
We regained our status, thus our marriage in my father’s eyes was no longer appropriate, even though finding someone from the yangban who would want me to marry their son would be nigh impossible. He demanded the breaking of the engagement, which was something the society looked down upon, especially since he had sealed the deal years ago. The two families started feuding, the trader now even more eager to secure me for them, and my father with his regained confidence insisting upon marriage to someone “of our class”. And during this time, the boy fell ill and promptly died.
Since we were engaged, I now was to be considered his widow even though we hadn’t had our wedding, but my father insisted that the engagement was broken off and I had no such obligation. The trader of course claimed the complete opposite and demanded we go through with everything as was arranged. The people in the area, even if they followed the drama between the two families closely and listened to gossip religiously, they themselves couldn’t tell who was telling the truth. Our engagement had been in place for years, but it was also widely known that my father has changed his mind and demanded for the wedding to be off.
In the eyes of some I was free to marry, but some viewed me as a young widow, a ghost bride, and thus I couldn’t find another husband unless I wanted to bring huge shame on the family and reap cosmic consequences. But most simply disliked my father for his underhanded tactics and newfound arrogance.
But this situation had made the question of my marriage impossible to solve. It was already unlikely that a match of my father’s expectations would be willing to take me as a first wife and honour me as such, since the yangbans looked down on us heavily, and now I had become tarnished goods in the eyes of potential suitors. My family still tried desperately to pawn me off to someone, but we had turned into a huge joke between the families in the area and I was doomed. Some even started to view me as a cursed woman, touched by black magic, that would bring death to any man who would want to marry me, and that was a final nail in the coffin of my marriage.
But my father wouldn’t give up so easily. He still had something that many desired enough to risk a curse on their family – money and power.
Thus, when the messenger had come and father refused to divulge any information about the nature of the meeting, the wives and daughters that had amassed in our house over the years all whispered about a potential engagement. I thought it was possible, but it was probably for one of my younger sisters. I was wrong.
The Ryu family used to be a powerful local aristocracy, but over the last few generations they had fallen considerably. Their disgrace wasn’t as openly talked about as ours, even though they were the centre of some mean-spirited jokes, however they had one powerful advantage. They didn’t lose their title, just most of their money. While their children still could live their lives telling everyone they were yangbans, they didn’t have the money to uphold the lifestyle. Only one of their sons had an office and it wasn’t enough to keep the whole extended family afloat. There were rumours of gambling, addiction and unwise spending, which were the most probable factors in their fall.
They knew no one self-respecting would marry their children, who were all pushed into working for their livelihood, and they couldn’t marry under their standing lest the children lose their status. That’s when they came up with the bright idea to get into talks with our family.
My father didn’t waste any time. For him, this was perfect – the right class, family with still some respect left intact, he had enough money, so he didn’t mind striking a business deal with the mostly impoverished family and I was used to working, as I had also grown up before our rise. It was just the perfect deal.
From the moment I had first heard about it, it was barely two months before I found myself fully engaged and a week away from a wedding to a man I’d never met before. He was the second son; he had a house on the foot of the mountain a little further away from the town that was the heart of this area. It would take some travelling, but still remained close enough to keep close ties.
Our wedding ceremony was brief and awkward, a lot of stilted conversation and pretend joy, while my mother and sisters all gathered around me in silent support. I saw their sad and worried eyes, the graveness of their usually more cheerful voices, the barely masked sympathy they looked at me with when I interacted with my stone-faced husband. Marriage was something I had since long made peace with, after all it is what every woman has to face at some point in her life, so I had just squeezed their hands and smiled at them gently, whispered words of assurance and prepared myself for the long journey to my new home.
I had soon found out he was a cold quiet man, rough and unhappy. Most of the time he wouldn’t address me with much more than grumbling complaints, cross when I tried to speak to him, when I asked him questions or requested something to be bought, turning away from me and rather spending time tending to his house and to his animals.
I was suddenly confined to a few rooms within an unwelcoming dark house, knitting or sewing or cooking, trying to lose myself in the mindless tasks of caring for a man and a household instead of dwelling on the growing despair in the pit of my stomach. Since then the situation between us has considerably worsened, but I found that the angrier he grew with me, the less he wanted to see me and the more he avoided me, which had begun to bring me relief. I was lonely and I did feel abandoned, but it was better than surviving in the same room as him.
I had gotten used to the air of gloom hanging over this dwelling.
My hand reached over for another carrot and found none, and I startled myself out of reminiscing. The vegetables were cut and the stew was boiling vigorously, so I busied myself with finishing. The sounds of chopping wood have ceased and I could no longer hear any traces of my husband’s presence.
Curious, I opened the door and peeked outside. The bitter coldness of the air immediately bit into my face and I shuddered, my body shocked by the sudden freezing temperatures when it was so warm from the kitchen fire. Looking over the yard, I didn’t see the hulking form of the man I’d come to live with, but I did see his fresh footprints in the snow leading towards the pig sty. Satisfied I walked back in and closed the door again. Rubbing my hands on my arms and cheeks I hurried back to the pot to warm up.
Soon the sun would go down and night would fall, so he was tending to the pigs for the last time tonight, making sure they had everything, which gave me a little more time to finish up dinner.
Some maybe half hour later the door finally opened roughly and he made his way in wordlessly. There were wet footprints on the floor left behind and a puddle was slowly gathering as melted snow dripped from his coat. I bit my tongue and said nothing, just pulled out the table and started setting it for dinner.
No words were traded and yet the atmosphere chilled considerably, the mood dropping low along with the sun on the horizon. We sat down, we ate in silence. Once he was done, he again got up, put a fresh coat on and was out of the door before I could even wish him a good night.
I used to ask where he was going, but there was no longer any need for that. He spent his evenings and nights in the same place every day, it was a habit that must have started a little before our betrothal. He had found himself some new friends from the town, friends that very happily spent most of their time playing cards, smoking opium, drinking and crawling from brothel to brothel.
Around the time of our wedding, he only joined them a few nights of the week and usually came back in the middle of the night. Back then I saw it as a problem and oftentimes tried to dissuade him from throwing away money this way. His family lost all they had because their young lord lived this exact lifestyle, it was foolish for him to fall down the same trap, but it was a frequent cause of arguments between us and the more I pushed for him to not go out and spend so much money, the more he wanted to. Gradually he went more often, came back later, until I had started waking up to an untouched, unslept in bed.
But I do have to admit that nowadays I saw it more as a relief that he never spent his nights home, even if that meant our already hard-to-come-by money was being thrown out the window like it was nothing. I’d come to prefer spending time alone.
I cleaned up after dinner and started preparing myself for bed. The ritual of changing clothes, brushing out my hair and smoothing out the bedding on the mats was helping me calm down every evening, but tonight I couldn’t find rest for some reason. While I sat on the floor and carefully brushed my hair, the house felt chillier than usual and I kept hearing soft creaks from the outside as if someone was walking around on the porch. It’s just the wind and the frost, it must be.
Unsettled I lost the battle with myself and went to look out into the yard. The moment I got near the door, suddenly a gust of chilling wind bust the door open and I screamed with shock, covering my naked arms to shield them from the frost. Immediately I jumped towards the door to close it back up, not before looking out into the yard and the forest beyond the walls of our house. There was a full moon hanging over us in the night sky and its light allowed me to see everything with startling ease, casting an eerie silver glow over the murmuring trees. I quickly shut the door and sat back down to help my heart calm down, as it was beating so hard I feared it might tear right out of my ribcage.
After I laid down, it took me a long moment to settle down enough for sleep to start licking at my consciousness. I kept startling myself with every crack and every hum of the wind outside and the fright from before still coursed through my veins, making me shiver and trying to persuade me there was something wicked hiding behind the darkness, lurking in every corner and waiting for an unguarded moment.
But somewhere along the way I did nod off and when I woke up in the morning, I was certain the strong arms that at some point found their way around my waist and pulled me into a warm wide chest were nothing more than a dream. An embarrassing dream that just spoke of my sombre solitude.
In the first months of our marriage, much to my chagrin, Minhwan practiced his marital rights almost nightly. Some nights he would return late from his outings with friends and immediately roll over on me and demand I submit. I did of course, it was expected of me and I was well aware of that. I had been taught that.
But over the course of several months, the frequency of such encounters lessened as I wasn’t getting pregnant, until we no longer even spoke to each other and his side of the bed became permanently unoccupied.
Of course, there was a simple, and really the only, reason for my introduction into this family – a child. A son. That was the end-goal of this union and the purpose for my existence in their eyes. After I had failed to fall pregnant despite months of effort, the man I married who already wasn’t very kind to me slowly turned into someone crueller, angrier. I could see the frustration taking over him until he completely lost himself in the rage at my uselessness.
He couldn’t divorce me, even though my inability to bear him an heir would be a legitimate reason. His family was already teetering on the edge of respectability, and this would make them the laughing stock of the town, since they definitely wouldn’t be able to find him another bride. That was because of the other issue. Money. They bought me with what last they had left and if divorced they would not only lose my father’s protection and financial help, but also wouldn’t be able to scrounge up enough money to buy another woman, if they even found one that was willing.
Minhwan knew that, knew that he couldn’t get rid of me, and even though his status would allow him to take a second wife or even a concubine, he couldn’t afford them. What little he had he gambled away and spent on girls in the red district; and not much was left for actually running the household and keeping us alive. No self-respecting family would let their daughter enter a family like that and women who were after money and status wouldn’t find anything here. And if he had an illegitimate son from a kisaeng, he could hardly bring it here and claim him as an heir, his father would never let him disgrace the bloodline like that.
Thus in his eyes I was worse than useless. I was his doom, a wasted effort that only pushed him further down and he no doubt felt that the best thing I could do for him was to die, so he could remarry. That’s why I preferred when he didn’t return home for the nights. Living alongside such pure hatred was draining.
When I was sitting by the mirror in the morning, I had just heard him return home. I opened the door a crack and peeked outside, just catching his eye as he was changing into fresher clothes. He held the contact for a few beats of my wild heart and then looked away.
“Breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not even forming a full sentence, while still looking away from me. I followed his gaze and found it stuck to the door leading into kitchen. I sighed quietly, making sure he couldn’t hear me lest he gets angry with my insolence.
“I will prepare it in a second,” was my short answer. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, the less I said the better. Thus my morning routine had to be cut short. Walking past him, I was suddenly bombarded with the smell of smoke, stale alcohol and cheap perfume and powder. The stench was a bit too strong for my queasy morning stomach and I felt it roll a few times, threatening to spill even though it was empty. I subtly covered my nose and busied myself into the kitchen smelling pleasantly of food and spices. This room has become my refuge. I knew he wouldn’t overstep here, this was my domain and I felt at least a semblance of power in here.
As distracted as I was, I kept finding my tools in places where I didn’t leave them in. I would turn around and suddenly my spoon would be laying two paces further into the room then I remembered leaving it. I told myself I was just tired, I was feeling unnerved by my husband’s hulking presence on the doorstep of the room, watching me prepare porridge as if fearing I’d poison him if he’d look away for a moment, I was still flustered by my dreams and nervous from the scare the night before. Surely it was that.
That day I spent mostly inside, sitting by a dying fire trying to mend broken and torn clothes, worn thin by hard labour and years of wear, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unsettlement that has been plaguing me since yesterday’s evening.
By the time the night fell and Minhwan left again, I found myself quite anxious to be left alone in the cold house, still feeling like a presence was glued to my side, invisible and watching me, but every time I would look over my shoulder, I’d find an empty room. Before settling down to sleep, I walked out and checked the courtyard again, and just like the previous evening, it was illuminated by a silver light so brightly it was almost shocking.
I looked to the sky and was stunned by the giant full moon hanging over my head. The night was calm, much calmer then yesterday, no wind shaking the trees and the only sound was the distant cawing of a bird. The white snow reflected the night sky and blinded me, but not enough to not notice the stark contrast of pitch black footsteps disrupting the otherwise clean coat over the ground. I could see their path clearly, leaving the house and disappearing behind the gate, and they filled me with gentle sadness. With my mind off of the ghost of a feeling that’s been following me the whole day, I made my way back inside to sleep. But I wasn’t prepared for what the night had prepared for me.
As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I felt the mat and bedding shifting as another body laid down next to me. I had fully accepted it, not questioning the arms making their way around my waist and pulling me into a warm hug. It felt as a very clear dream, and I found myself fighting to open my eyes to see, but instead chose to sink into the comfortable atmosphere. There was a hum behind me, but the voice was so deep and pressed so close to me it almost felt like a purr. Non-consciously I answered with my own, drifting with the current. I fooled myself into this, so desperately needing to feel a nice touch that I didn’t even want to think about why somewhere deep down I felt alarmed and unsettled at the situation. I buried that away and let the hands run along my sides, basked in the quiet humming somewhere right behind my ear and the warmth it filled me with.
When I woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming open and heavy steps and sighs. I was confused for a few moments, subconsciously searching for the comfort I had felt in my sleep, only to be hit with a wave of embarrassment and mortification. I had been dreaming again, imagining inappropriately a stranger’s presence in my bed, hoping for a touch and comfort of man’s hands.
I felt the blush spill over my face just as the door to the bedroom flew open and my husband found my gaze. I saw suspicion in his eyes, most probably not used to seeing me in such a flustered state and questioning what could stand behind it. His eyes shifted subtly over the room as if looking for a hidden lover and in my mind I chuckled. He dragged me away into the woods, and living in the middle of nowhere and not allowed to leave the house without him or an attendant I couldn’t afford, how could I have possibly found a lover? No one came here and I went nowhere, the only company I knew was the animals and a warm fire, a needle and a thread and worn books, I couldn’t take the same liberties he has been taking for a better part of our marriage.
When Minhwan made sure I was completely alone, just as he left me, he looked back to me and asked for breakfast. That broke the strange silence and I was thrown right back into the routine of my normal days.
Over the following few nights, the dream kept coming back to me, but every time the unknown man in my fantasy went a little further. More often than not I found myself waking up with a start, blushing red from head to toe at the daring hands that kept straying more and more south, embarrassed with myself but also not wanting them to stop before I had the chance to experience whatever my subconscious wanted to grant me.
At first, his hands would only lightly caress along my side, as if trying to console me and help me sleep peacefully, while he hummed along some kind of a lullaby behind me. Everything always felt pleasantly fuzzy and I’d come to think of him as my dream guardian. My days, in comparison, felt dull and sad, and I’d found some sort of peace in these dreams.
But soon, the direction started to change. The hands strayed lower onto my thighs, grabbing the flesh lightly and teasingly, or going over my stomach until they were right under where my breasts were. I could feel him pressed closer to me too, his front moulded around my back, shoulders caging me in, the sweet humming slowly turning into something more akin to satisfied purring, causing me to flush red and a rush of excitement to flow through my veins. He always laid behind me and his existence felt like half here half not, but the closer he pushed himself, the more solid his presence was, the warmer I felt in the embrace and the more flustered I woke up.
Clearly, I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body and it was screaming for some sort of attention, there was no other explanation for these embarrassing dreams. The shame I felt from such urges surfacing in this manner was overshadowed only by the pressing loneliness, and I kept telling myself that even if I am a married, proper woman, dreams are dreams, and indulging in them a little wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? So, I let myself slip into sweet sleep every night, anticipating where my mind would take me.
During the day the little slip ups would continue. I would misplace things, find them in completely different places then I’d left them before. Sometimes it felt as if I was losing my mind, that the combination of the strange dreams and my sudden scatteredness meant I was finally feeling the effects of the situation I’d find myself in. But I could swear sometimes I would catch a glimpse of shadow or hear a gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I couldn’t find something. It made me feel even more insane.
The moment I realised what was truly happening came a few days later. Even though I was a little unsettled, I’d grown accustomed to the dreams and I treated them as my little escape, no matter whether I should have been concerned or not. I felt comfort from them and they felt like a dirty secret of mine, something I shouldn’t have been doing but it felt so nice I couldn’t stop myself. My husband spent all his nights god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who, I could allow myself this little thing.
Usually, I would sleep through the night without a problem and in the morning I’d be woken up by Minhwan coming back home and barging into the bedroom to ask for a breakfast, but that night for some reason I was shaken out of my sleep somewhere in the dark hours of the early morning. There was some noise outside, something that sounded like a wolf howl, and it was so close I was almost afraid to check the yard in case there was a wild animal there, but I had to go see whether the rabbits and chickens we were keeping were peaceful, just to be sure.
I moved to get out of the bed, but found an arm around my waist pinning me to another body and keeping me in place. My first instinct was to panic, but quickly that was overridden by utter bottomless embarrassment. What if Minhwan has been returning home earlier than I thought and this whole time my mind only substituted some unknown man in the place of my husband as I was falling asleep? Had I been embarrassing myself in front of him the whole time, dreaming about such immoral things and imagining a stranger’s embrace? But he had never touched me like this, and even when we shared a bed at the beginning of our marriage, he never showed the habit of hugging something while sleeping. He always kept himself to his side and never touched me unless completely necessary, even during marital activities. I couldn’t imagine him slipping quietly into bed in the middle of the night and embracing me so tenderly.
Complicated emotions flooded me, not knowing what to make of this, but in a moment of weakness I fooled myself into thinking this could maybe be a beginning of a better marriage. That was shattered the moment I reached back to gently pat at his thigh to wake him up to go check on the animals. There was some shuffling, the arm tightened around my mid and suddenly I could feel him nosing at the crook of my neck, laying a single long wet kiss there. I froze and flushed, completely flustered and even more confused by the situation. Then he chuckled and ice cold flooded my veins. I felt myself freeze in place, terror keeping me so still I barely even breathed. That wasn’t my husband’s voice. It was deep and velvety, rich like the dark chocolate I’d once gotten the chance to try in the city, completely different from Minhwan’s quiet rough commands.
Fear was making it hard to think, but I knew he realised I was awake based on how stiff I’d gotten, I could hear him quietly breathing and waiting for my reaction. There was certain amusement to him, I didn’t know how I felt it, but somehow I just did, something about him gave off excited anticipation and I imagined a sly smirk stretching his lips as he laid there. Then suddenly as if everything caught up to me, I felt my body jumping into motion, tearing his arm away and flying out of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I could see, which were my shoes, and turned around to try my best in defending myself against this stranger that’s apparently been sneaking into my bed deep into the night.
But the moment my eyes fell on the bed, it was empty. No sign of anyone being there. Frightened out of my mind, I searched the room with my eyes, but it was mostly bare and there wasn’t a place that could hide a man. I knew he was bigger than me, I’d felt him behind me and I was sure he couldn’t have been hiding in the sorry state my bedroom was.
For a moment I just stood there and processed before my knees gave up on me and I slid down to the floor, shoes still tightly clutched in my hands, heart beating out of my chest. I wasn’t going insane. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. There was something not human in my bed.
Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed leaning on the wall and watching the room. My eyes frantically jumped to any movement, even the tiniest flickers of shadows would make my hands twitch, fingers tightening around my slippers, ready to jump out and fight for my life. But nothing happened. The only sounds I could hear were coming from the wind tearing into the walls of the house and messing with the trees and branches outside, and at some point the room was so still I almost felt as if I fell through the cracks into a painting and was now stuck inside.
Thus I had hours to sit there and stew in my fear and humiliation. Whatever the being was, it must have had nefarious intentions, why else would he sneak in like that and make my dreams turn to such depravity? And here I was, fooling myself into thinking it was okay to feel such cravings and giving into them, anticipating them and with bated breath hoping maybe the next night the dream lover will finally cave and touch me in a way I’d barely ever felt in my life. Instead I almost gave myself over to a demon, let him have my body and feed off of my energy, damn my soul and prove that I truly was cursed.
I also had a lot of time to think of my next steps. But what could I really do? I could never tell Minhwan and ask for his help, he’d chase me out as an impure woman. Once I’d tell him the nature of the encounters, he’d accuse me of adultery and use it as an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was returned to my father in such a manner, death would be more welcoming than facing his rage and humiliating the family. Telling him would do more harm than good.
I could buy myself talismans and hide them around the house, but there were many, each of them used for a different ailment. I’d have to visit the village shaman and pay her to exorcise me and our home. I’d have to explain to her the troubles I’ve been having so she could paint me appropriate protective talismans. It was obvious that the being must have been a demon of lust and once I admitted that, the delicious gossip would no doubt spread and I would be as good as dead.
No, I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening. I had to chase him out myself, no matter what it took. Come morning, I was completely exhausted but determined to deal with the situation myself.
When Minhwan barged into the house, pale in complexion and with dark bags under his eyes, I was already preparing the breakfast on the small table, looking similarly dead on my feet. The man’s eyes flitted over me, but he didn’t seem to take notice od my state and only grunted, pleased at not having to wait for food or scream for me to leave the bed.
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when he left for the yard, didn’t even have time to process the usual air of coldness and disinterest he brought with him, as I was too preoccupied thinking of the unwelcome guest. The little tricks with misplacing things must have also been him. I felt rage lick at the edge of my mind, suddenly making itself known in such an intensity I surprised myself. I’d fully start to believe I was no longer capable of feeling such strong emotions, but here I was. Thinking of million ways to get back at someone who’s been making a fool of me for his own entertainment for the past weeks.
The next few days were suspiciously uneventful. No more visits, no more “dreams”, even all my tools stayed suspiciously still and didn’t suddenly appear at places they weren’t supposed to be, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily, not to mention I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being watched or messed with.
And slowly he had begun giving me subtle hints he was still as present as ever. The books that were put in order, the robe that was waiting for me on by the partition one evening, water refilled in a cup I knew I’d finished. He suddenly switched to being helpful instead of messing with me, but I knew it was all just entertainment to him.
One of the bigger ones was some days later in the evening. I’d taken to walking around the veranda checking on the yard and the forest outside of the yard walls. As usual, there were footsteps in the snow, my husband left them there every night when he left, but that evening there was something different about them. I frowned, trying to discern what about them caught my attention. I leaned over the railing to inspect them closer with a sense of foreboding looming over my head like a silent monument. The moment I realised what it was I gasped and dread and anticipation filled me. The footsteps, they didn’t lead from the house. They led towards the main entrance.
This must be it, I thought to myself. This must be the night.
When I walked back inside, I lingered around each room a little, watching the surroundings like a hawk and expecting him to jump out at me from every corner and every shadow. But the house was still and silent, not even any sounds from outside creeping in. I slowly walked towards the bedroom and found it empty and in the same state as I’d left it. I made it through my little nightly ritual without a hitch, but anxious and expecting something to happen any moment. It didn’t. Lying down in bed, I continued sharply watching the room, but to no avail. Even though I could basically taste the anticipation in the still air of the room, and knew the demon was most definitely watching me back, he didn’t make any move. I fell asleep suddenly, without realising I was even teetering on the edge and when I woke up, I wasn’t sure whether the fingers I felt gently carding through my hair just as I succumbed to sleep were my imagination or not.
He didn’t return abruptly, instead he slowly built it up, as if testing how far I’d let this go. Sometimes he would hand me things when cooking or I would be looking for something only to find it gingerly sitting on the table a few hours later, as if suddenly becoming helpful would make me more accepting of whatever his end goal was and I would let him return like nothing happened.
The problem began when he started leaving flowers for me. The gentle quivering of my heart when I saw a beautiful little flower in bloom laying by my bedside was alarming to me, and I didn’t want such a confusing feeling to enter my life. But I couldn’t help myself.
Without thinking I picked it up and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweetly, almost too ripe, the scent permeating the air and everything around it, making me slightly dizzy. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I received a flower like this, maybe when my little brother was still a child and brought it for me from playing in the fields. Our father scolded him then, for running around with other boys instead of studying, but after that whenever either of us saw the little white blossom, we would giggle at each other, sharing smiles like tiny secrets.
I was startled by a tear sliding down my cheek at the memory, the sudden reminiscing of my family, of the one person I was truly close to before he joined the military and went to Hanyang. He was to be married soon too, already at that age when the promises turn to actions and I couldn’t wait for the spring to come so I could travel for his wedding. I’d met the girl before, she was a shy quiet daughter of a smaller aristocratic family who just recently got their title for their merits. I quite liked her, even if I didn’t get much time with her before leaving.
He was the one person in our family who had a chance of a happy marriage, I hoped he would. No matter what our father tried to create out of him, he was a sensitive boy, full of mischief and laughs. I so desperately wanted his life to turn out better than mine did. Or that his marriage wouldn’t end up like our eldest brother’s did. He had married first, when we still scrounged for money, I remembered going to his wedding as a young maiden and being swept away in the celebrations, wishing for my own wedding with red blushing cheeks as young girls did. His wife was a practical woman, strong and resolute, but kind. They never had much affections between them, but they had an understanding and their marriage functioned well. I believed my brother respected her as a husband should his wife, but I was wrong.
After our title was restored, our father started pushing my brother to divorce her so he could marry a lady from an aristocratic family, but he couldn’t do that. She had given him children and wasn’t causing him any troubles, so a divorce wouldn’t be allowed. So my brother did the next best thing. He married a woman of a high standing and made her his main wife, pushing the first wife into a secondary position in the family and robbing her children of their inheritance of the title. Since then she became quiet and withdrawn, no longer she was allowed to make any decisions and lived only to serve a man that didn’t even look her way anymore, couldn’t even explain to his firstborn son that he no longer would inherit his estate and left her to pick up the ashes and survive such disgrace.
It was terrifying when it happened. While she never showed much gentleness, she always smiled at the children and sometimes would sneak me sweets like I was one of her own, even when I was the second oldest child of the family. My heart bled for her, and I started to fear my own marriage, knowing I would never get any aristocrat’s respect due to our family history. At that time, I had no idea that what would happen to me would be even worse.
I was startled by a sudden touch on my cheek, a finger wiping away the few stray tears falling down while I sat on the ground and stared at the pretty flower. I gasped and tried to flinch away, but another arm snaked around my waist and I could feel his head leaning on my shoulder. He sat behind me once again, like always, holding me as if he didn’t want me to see him.
“Shhhhhh…,” came his deep honeyed voice, whispering in such a gentle way that I could feel a wave of goosebumps hitting me, “I didn’t know it would make you cry.” Against my better judgment, I could feel my body relaxing into his embrace and a few more tears slipping out. He rocked us from side to side, trying to console me, but it was like my dams broke and soon I was sobbing in his arms, pushing my face into his shoulder and clutching the single blossom in my shaky hands.
I couldn’t say when the last time I was held so tenderly by someone was, but it must have been when I was a child still, begging for my mother’s touch any time something happened. I was warm, wrapped into him, and soft. There was a hand in my hair, carding through the locks and caressing me like a lover would. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears and emotions and I felt ashamed and scared. I couldn’t trust him, and it hurt because no one’s ever treated me so softly, but I knew. Knew it might be just a way to get closer to me. So I decided to allow myself this just for a moment.
I let him hold me, listened to him hum some kind of a song I didn’t recognise, let him lull me into a half-asleep state until I was draped over him, boneless and numb. His hands never strayed like before and he seemed to be genuinely trying to console me. In my mind I scolded myself, believed myself pathetic for falling for such tricks and for being so desperate I would let a demon embrace me just to feel some warmth, but outwardly I didn’t let anything show. I was too drained for that.
When I quieted down and just limply hung off of his frame, he must have decided it was time to sleep. He grabbed me and carried me onto the bedding, making sure my head was pushed into his shoulder so I couldn’t look at his face. I found it strange, but had no energy to ask him anything, just letting him manoeuvre us around until we were lying just like we used to before I caught him, on our side with him behind me. Sleep came and claimed me suddenly and out of nowhere, but I found myself strangely comfortable.
When I awoke in the morning, the house was silent and the bed was empty, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would I have confronted him and demanded answers? Or did I allow myself to be vulnerable around someone that wished for my downfall and now I found myself inappropriately attached? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like thinking about it, and so I got up and went about my day as if nothing had happened. I did find myself wondering what happened to the flower, as it was nowhere to be found, wondering whether it even was real or if I hallucinated it. But after that night, a fresh blossom was waiting by my bedside every evening, leaving me full of complicated confusing emotions. No sight of my demon, though.
“Do you want that?” a gruff voice by my shoulder growled and I barely stopped myself from scowling. The hairpin I had been staring at was suddenly plucked from the table by the eager merchant who understood that question as my husband’s intention to buy it for me. The older man pushed it towards me and started reciting all the reasons why such a lady like me absolutely had to have such a decoration, hoping to pitch it to a loving husband doting on his wife. Unfortunately, his guess was completely wrong.
“How much is it?” I asked towards the merchant, who seemed confused by me talking to him while Minhwan stared daggers into my back. His eyes flitted between us, awkward silence taking over for a few seconds before he stuttered out the price, looking at no one in particular. I went to fish out the amount from my purse, but my hand was stopped by another much bigger and rougher one.
“You don’t need it,” Minhwan said resolutely, voice leaving no space for discussion, “Don’t waste money on useless things.” I gritted my teeth, minutely losing control of my expression as rage swept through me at his statement, but as soon as I saw my husband’s eyes narrow in warning, I schooled myself and pulled from the stall.
“Of course,” I answered with false demureness, shooting the merchant an apologetic smile before ducking my head down and following after Minhwan through the market like the picture of the perfect wife. We walked around for some time, from stall to stall, haggling for vegetables and tools, whatever was needed around the house. Minhwan didn’t like it when I spoke to the vendors, he had me trailing behind him with a veil on or my head demurely ducked down like an obedient wife, and I was to speak only when he asked me something. Thus I spent most of the time in the market saying only “yes, we need it” or “no, I think we still have enough”. I hated it, but there was nothing that could be done.
The ride back to the house was also incredibly tense. I could still feel my husband’s rage at my earlier behaviour and knew that the moment we walk back through the gates of our farm, he’ll have some things to say. So I sighed and waited for the endless journey to finally reach its final destination.
To my shock and unease, nothing came when we walked back into the house, supplies in hands and struggling to pull the baskets through the door. Silence was all that greeted me. Minhwan helped me pull things into the kitchen and then with one last burning hateful stare he walked across the house. I watched him rummage through a chest, pulling out his only other jungchimak he usually wore when outing with his friends. It was the better one, in deep indigo colour, that made him look like a young affluent yangban. I snickered behind my hand and pretended to sort through the different bags and baskets we brought back.
When Minhwan was done changing, he charged out of the door without even a second glance. I looked out of the kitchen door facing into the yard and watched him until the gate slammed shut behind him, then I returned to the task at hand with a sigh. He didn’t do this often, but sometimes when I would make him angry, he just left. Without a word. He likely wouldn’t return until late noon tomorrow morning.
I’d long since given up on trying to stop him when the sun was still high up in the sky, he would still leave, just significantly angrier, which would result in him throwing out more money, so it was better to not get in his way when he wanted to drink, smoke and fuck his frustration away god knows where with the other young men.
I busied myself cleaning around the house and caring for the animals, finishing the work he had left. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger and annoyance as I chopped the firewood, wildly swinging the axe around and taking it out on the logs. When the time to go to sleep came, I was drained, both emotionally and physically, too strung out and tensed to even enjoy my nighttime routine like I usually did.
When I turned to the bed, a single hairpin was lying on the bedding. A beautiful, red, lacquered hairpin with a carving of a flower and a single red gem in the centre. The one I’d been looking at while we were in the town and almost bought to spite Minhwan. A mix of emotions overtook me, the most prominent one being sudden anger. My heart stuttered under the weight of it, the frustration of the day and the past weeks bursting through me in one big eruption.
Our uninvited guest was keeping himself surprisingly scarce after that night I had cried, but kept bringing me flowers. I accepted them with complicated feelings, but I had convinced myself into believing that since they’re already here, since they already have been plucked, it would be cruel of me to not accept them. So, night after night I tucked them away so Minhwan could never find them. I didn’t even know where the demon was getting them, since we were in the middle of a tough winter, but after all, I should care for them all the more, right?
But the hairpin was a step too far. I did not need to be reminded of my shameful behaviour and of the fact that my husband felt it appropriate to blow all his money away but couldn’t spare a single silver to let me buy a hairpin, and definitely not in such a way.
“Okay, come out,” I spoke loudly into the empty room, “We need to talk. This can’t keep happening.” I looked around, but everything stayed silent and still. Then, a soft voice rang out.
“Close your eyes.”
I stood up and crossed my arms defensively, spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of the being.
“Why?” I asked gruffly, speaking to an empty bedroom like a lunatic, “Why do you not want me to see you?”
“I can’t let you see me until you truly want to,” the answer came, the voice just as melodic and soft as it was before, as it was always, and I involuntarily shuddered.
“I do want to see you, right now,” I replied, ticked off. He just wanted to have the upper hand and not face me head on, I was sure of that. There was silence again, seemingly even the wind outside the door quieting down to listen to us, the room unnaturally still.
“You want to scold me,” he answered petulantly after a moment, sounding more like a child. I could hear the pout on his lips, the childlike upset of doing something wrong and not understanding why. My resolve softened a little, but I pulled myself together, determined not to let the demon play me like that. I couldn’t keep letting him get away with everything.
“So you know,” I stated, the anger seeping back into my voice, “You cannot keep doing this.”
“Doing what?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his question, one that filled me with exasperation.
I gestured to the hairpin wildly. “This!” I exclaimed loudly, “The leaving of gifts, the creeping around, nothing of it. Leave while I’m still asking nicely.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt like an empty threat. What could I possibly do against him? I’d let him go this far, what could I do to stop him now? But he completely ignored the second part and focused solely on the gifts.
“Do you not like them?” there was slight dejection present in his voice, like he didn’t understand why it was such a problem, “I thought you did. You never threw them out.” I cursed my soft heart. I should have never let him get away with bringing me flowers, I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I should have been resolute and told him to leave right then, not let him coddle me and embrace me when I felt sad.
I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I found myself not wanting to upset him by saying no, falling victim to his sweet demeanour. Again. I groaned with frustration and hit my forehead with my palm.
“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I started a little softer than before, “It’s just embarrassing.”
“Why?” I groaned again. Good lord, this was going to take a while.
“Because…” I stuttered for a moment, the vulnerability of words on my tongue shocking me, “It feels humiliating. My own husband wouldn’t buy it for me and it feels like an insult for a demon to do that.” There was a beat of silence, in which I almost managed to persuade myself that there was never anyone there and I had been talking to myself the whole time, but then he spoke again.
“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” his voice was quiet, contemplative, “I wanted to make you happy.” That shocked me enough to have me stutter over a few breaths, wildly looking around the room with wide eyes. “W-why?” I managed to squeak out, flabbergasted at such admission.
“It felt like you needed it,” came his simple reply, as if talking about the weather. That statement drained the whole fight out of me, leaving me standing there unsure and confused, filled with shame and wonder at the simplicity of it all.
“What?” I whispered, not really looking for an answer, just voicing out my inner turmoil.
“It felt like you needed it,” he replied a little louder, “You were always so sad. I didn’t like it. You shouldn’t be so sad.” It was such a simple statement and yet it pulled down the walls of my heart and made it flutter. I chided myself for being so easy to fool with a few sweet words, but I couldn’t stop the lightness taking over my heart, the relief bleeding into my every pore.
Someone saw my suffering, I thought to myself. Someone noticed my pain.
“What are you?” I whispered the question into the empty house, but no man stepped out into the light, no shadow moved. He was silent for a moment and then said: “Close your eyes.” And this time I did.
The moment my lids fluttered closed, I could hear slight shuffling of clothing behind me and light footsteps. On instinct I went to turn around, but a hand suddenly tightly covered my eyes, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, pushing myself back straight into his chest, which embarrassingly enough was a position I’d gotten used to over the past weeks. Then a silken ribbon touched my cheek and the hand moved quickly to tie it over my eyes.
“So you don’t try to cut this meeting short,” he explained lightly, voice full of amusement.
“But I do want to see you, is it not enough that I no longer wish to scold you?” I asked, confused by the strange rules.
“You need to desire to see me, truly, with your soul,” he said lowly, voice deepening into the honeyed register I was used to hearing from him and I shuddered lightly, feeling the words trickle down my skin and bite into my very being.
“S-so I can only see you when I want t-to-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought, the sinful image burning into my brain making me stutter and blush so fiercely I felt as if I burst into flames. I ducked my head, but his chuckle followed me, melting over me. There was no longer any amusement in his voice, now there was something darker and heavier, threatening to consume me from the inside out.
“Smart girl,” he whispered and I couldn’t help the wave of goosebumps that hit my skin when I felt his breath on my ear and neck. The sudden turn from his earlier more innocent voice and words left me confused and flabbergasted, blushing at his newfound confidence. I felt him lean closer into me, nose almost touching the crook of my neck, only to whisper: “Time to sleep.”
Before I could react, he swooped me into his arms and I yelped in surprise, before hiding my face in my hands in embarrassment. He carried me to the bed and very gently laid me there, his hands smoothing down my nightgown and pulling the blanket over us. My face burned, but I stayed silent and let him happily chirp behind me as he pulled me closer to his chest and made himself comfortable.
It felt like years before I fell asleep. I just laid there, feeling his chest move and his breathing deepen until I was sure he was sleeping, but even then I didn’t reach back to untie the ribbon. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust his words. That’s how I finally got pulled under, with my heart trembling with careful hope.
Come morning, something new happened. When I woke up, his strong arms were still wrapped around me and as soon as I started wiggling in his grip, he woke up with a content groan and a big stretch, like a cat. I blushed again, which seemed to become more of a permanent thing in his presence. I went to call out to him to scold him, when I realised something. I didn’t know his name. I haven’t asked him for his name all this time.
“Good morning,” came his morning raspy voice, then he burrowed his face somewhere deeper into the bedding and my hair. The ribbon slipped during the night and with my movement it unravelled onto the pillow, making me freeze slightly. I reached for it, playing with it between my fingers a little, before I spoke to him too.
Good morning...” I trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to ask him his name, “d-demon?” I flushed in embarrassment. Truly perfect, why not just call him a pervert if I was going to be like that? Behind me, the man chuckled and wriggled a little, presumably to make himself more comfortable. I couldn’t believe I let myself lie with a man like that, but it was better to just not think about it.
“Taehyung would be a bit better, but I’ll take it,” he replied nonchalantly, but then suddenly stiffened. Before I could truly register his alarm, the entrance door slammed open and heavy footsteps made their way into the house. I panicked and flew out of the bed, but when I turned to warn Taehyung, I was met with an empty bed. The other half was even made as if nobody slept there.
Seconds later, the doors to the bedroom slid open and my disgruntled husband peeked in. His hair was a mess, his face taunt and white, bloodshot eyes adorned with dark circles underneath. He looked like death itself, the exhaustion seeping out of him in waves, but he still managed to scowl when he laid eyes on me still in my nightgown. I wondered what time it was, but concentrated on schooling my expression and not showing my flustered state, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. He regarded me with slight suspicion in his eyes, but ultimately decided not to comment on it.
“Make me a breakfast,” was all he said and then he disappeared into the house. I glanced at my little vanity sitting in a corner of the room and noticed the hairpin sitting gingerly right in the middle of it. I swiped it away quickly putting it with the flowers, and started getting ready for the day. But the thoughts of Taehyung and his words and behaviour wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day, plaguing me when I was making breakfast, when I was cleaning up the melted snow Minhwan carried into the house on his shoes and clothes, and embarrassingly enough even when I went to wash up that evening, wondering whether he could see me now too.
The peak of the winter came and went, but the layer of snow stayed thick, blanketed over the world and painting it pure white. I had found myself much fonder of the quietness it brought, how it swallowed all sounds and created a bubble of calm over everything, especially when my husband was gone from the house, which has become more and more frequent. Lately he left earlier and came back later, turning more and more pale with every morning. He didn’t speak to me about what he did, he barely ever spoke at all, but the tension in his shoulders and the troubled angry expression that has made itself home on his face told me that he must have gotten himself into some big trouble. I found myself just as anxious, waiting for him to tell me we would be losing it all because he made a bet or let himself be swindled.
Taehyung, during that time, worked hard on trying to distract me, bringing me little gifts and messing about the house trying to help me. Anytime I would come across clothes that have been rearranged or things that have been cleaned up, but put into the wrong places, I would sigh and jokingly glare around the room, but I couldn’t stop the fluttering of my heart and the fondness that spread through me at hearing his disembodied giggles.
During these evenings he took to covering my mirror, sitting behind me and brushing my hair for me. We would spend this time in comfortable silence, resting against each other and enjoying the simple companionship. It was such an intimate act, like we were lovers taking care of each other, like husband and wife who love each other, I would find myself flustered and blushing, feeling like it was my wedding night all over again. It was such a strong contrast to how tensed and hostile the silence was when my husband was around, that I often shamefully dreamed and pretended that Taehyung was my spouse, that this was a part of our life and our routine. He would caress my hair, my sides, press soft kisses to my shoulders, play with my hands and my fingers, and when we retired for the night, he hugged me tightly, pressing himself into me and making me feel safe and secure.
The longer this went on, the more torn with fervent longing I was, wishing this was my life and not just pity that a passing demon took on me. I was choked up with emotions, the words “stay”, “show yourself to me”, “love me” always on the tip of my tongue, fighting to spill, chest heavy and full like I was about to burst. It hurt. I hurt. I wanted a life I couldn’t have; I wanted a man that would take my soul and leave once he’d gotten what he came for, and I hated myself for it and I hated my life.
Taehyung felt this in me, felt this shift from happiness back into tortured silence, I could feel it in his touch, in how gently his hands and fingers regarded me, how reverent his lips were on the skin of my shoulders and neck, I felt it in his voice whispering praise to me. The desperation to make it all better, the frantic beating of his heart against my back because he feared he did something to upset me. No matter how much I wanted to ease him, the words would just not leave my mouth.
And my body, it betrayed me. It lit up with every touch, heat pumping through my veins with every brush of his lips, I could feel it swirling in my lower belly and oftentimes found myself hoping for his daring hands to explore as they had been doing back then before I caught him. But Taehyung stubbornly never strayed from the safe spots, never returned to his previous antics.
One night when he didn’t show up, I had a lot of time to think about where this was going and how I was dangerously teetering on the edge of improperness. When I sat alone by the bed and worried for him, called out to him and then promptly spiralled into believing he had grown tired of me, the feelings of pain and despair it filled me with shocked me. I missed him. I missed his touch, his presence, his voice. I didn’t want him to leave me. I’d grown attached to him, to a shadow that spoke to me and treated me with gentleness and kindness.
I wanted to see him. I looked at the ribbon lying on my vanity, the one he used every night to cover my eyes so I couldn’t swindle him and peek when he wasn’t paying attention. I wanted it gone.
I wanted. I longed. I needed.
Falling asleep that night was a challenge, I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I suddenly laid alone once again, too used to a warm comforting body behind me. And when tiredness finally overcame me, he visited me in my dreams, his bold hands exploring places that haven’t been tenderly touched before; drawing out sighs out of me, body trembling with unknown pleasure as his fingers dipped between my legs and leisurely moved in little circles over the bundle of nerves. My dream self was moaning and writhing in his arms, begging for him to never stop as the pleasure mounted until it burst out in a bolt of pure ecstasy. I jolted awake, breathing heavily and still shaking from the intense sensations. Startled I realised there was wetness coating my intimate parts and the top of my thighs, the sticky feeling making me blush in embarrassment. My whole body seemed to be tingling from this experience and I couldn’t calm myself down.
“Taehyung?” I called out carefully, checking that he wasn’t around to witness this. When no answer came and the man himself didn’t come out and shown himself, I quickly ran to the vanity to grab the first cloth I found and cleaned myself. My shaky hands couldn’t hold onto anything properly and I couldn’t get my breathing back under control, the experience leaving me full of confusing feelings, longing filled with arousal mixing with shame until I my head was spinning and my chest hurt. After that, I didn’t fall asleep again, instead I sat on the bed and tried to make sense of my own heart.
The only thing that saved me from getting suspicious stares from my husband was that he himself barely looked at me. But it felt different from his usual coldness, he looked haunted and worried, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even realise anyone else was present. It made me anxious. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, it seemed bad and if it came to it, he’d drag me down with him. For the first time in so long I found myself wishing he’d just talk to me, tell me what was happening so I could stop drowning myself in worry. But I knew that if I had come to him and asked him, he would get angry. So I waited for my life to end with bated breath.
Taehyung returned after two days and acted as if he was never gone, as if he didn’t suddenly disappear without a word and left me spinning, thinking he’d never return. When I heard his voice ring out it the empty house for the first time in so long, I couldn’t stop the tears of relief and he spent the whole evening and night holding me and consoling me, whispering into my ear how he’d never leave again.
More than ever I realised the burning desire coursing through my veins whenever he touched me. I wanted him, like wife should want a husband, and it was getting harder to ignore the way my body responded to him. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung was aware of my plight, if he registered how I seemed to stiffen anytime he pushed me closer to himself, how I held my breath when his arms snaked around my waist, how I shuddered when his hands slipped through my hair when he tied the ribbon over my eyes. I didn’t know if he noticed, but if he did, he didn’t say or do anything. Sometimes he would get closer to me, nose at my neck or play with my ear and then he would suddenly stop, as if he remembered himself, and pull away. And I wanted to scream at him. To not go. To do more.
And the more the situation went south in my marriage, the more I realised that my heart has long since been stolen by a being I haven’t even seen, but whose actions spoke louder than thousand words.
And so I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Or, well, to put it into Taehyung’s hands.
Some nights I would dream about him, even when he laid behind me I just wouldn’t have enough. And in those dreams, he would do the things I desired from him. It felt like my dirty little secret, enjoying him in such way in the privacy of my own mind, but knowing he was there. That he could be witnessing me be improper, could be witnessing my needs resurfacing in this manner. He never showed it, but sometimes I wondered if he knew, if he was waiting to make a move. And it excited me even more. The tension kept thickening, and I boiled, I boiled until one day I just… burst.
I had woken up in the middle of the night, woken up by my own dream as usual, hot and breathless, but just short of release, pent up and frustrated and needy. Taehyung behind me stirred, but his breathing stayed deep and stable, arms minutely tightening before he relaxed again. I felt my wetness seeping down my thighs, squeezing them together on instinct to chase the pulsing and throbbing there, choking out a little whimper and squirming in my place.
That seemed to shake Taehyung out of his sleep, I could hear the shuffling of his clothes, his hand flexing on my belly. He raised his head and murmured something, but I couldn’t hear through the rushing of blood in my ears. I was so aroused my head was almost spinning, my mind zeroing only on getting back to the pleasure I had been feeling. I squirmed in his arms again and whined.
“What’s going on? What’s happening?” came his quiet raspy voice by my ear and I could feel goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Without saying anything I reached for one of his hands and pulled it lower, until it laid over my thigh. There was silence behind me and neither of us moved for a moment.
“What?” he whispered again, confusion lacing his voice as he started caressing my thigh, thinking I just needed comfort, “Did you have a nightmare?” I shook my head, frustrated at myself for not being able to get the words out of my mouth, so instead I grabbed his hand again and this time I gently laid it over the very top of my thighs, the tips of his fingers just grazing my intimate area. Taehyung froze for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his reaction.
But then he released a long breath and his hand moved, grabbing onto my nightgown and slowly pulling it up over my legs. “Are you being naughty?” he asked me playfully and I trembled with anticipation, the searing heat seemingly reaching a crescendo with the promise of his touch. The moment I felt him gently caressing up the naked skin of my thigh, I whimpered again and immediately lifted my leg to grant him access to where I wanted him the most.
Behind me, there was a chuckle, so deep and rumbly I felt it in my bones, satisfied and overjoyed with my eagerness. Taehyung nosed up my shoulder, until I could feel him laying searing wet kisses into the crook of my neck. His hand suddenly shot up back to my knee, grabbing it so he could hook it over his legs and keep me spread. I blushed, but another gush of wetness seeped onto the skin of my thighs at the prospect this finally happening.
“Want to have your pretty little cunt played with, hmm?” Taehyung whispered into my hair, the smirk evident in the smugness of his voice. This was his element, and I ducked my head into my arms, embarrassed by the words and the actions, embarrassed by my body screaming for him. He didn’t seem to need an answer, pleased with my shyness and with how my body responded for me, arching into his touch and begging for more. So he indulged, both himself and me.
His fingers descended between my legs suddenly, shocking a moan out of me as they glided through the wet folds until they settled over the little bundle of nerves. He touched me teasingly, circling it lightly, tapping and pressing on it and then sliding his fingers down to play with my entrance, as if testing how much I would be able to take.
I trembled whole, overflowing with relief, pleasure and burning need for more, spilling out of me on sighs and whimpers. I lost the control of my body as it swayed and arched, pushing into his elusive playful fingers. When my whines took on a more desperate tone, Taehyung finally seemed to be satisfied enough to stop teasing. He started playing me masterfully, fingers drawing tight quick circles on my clit, making me choke on my spit, brain not comprehending the sudden onslaught of sensations.
I found myself hurling towards that edge of ecstasy quicker than I’ve experienced before, my whole body singing under his touch, thrumming with the fulfilment of all the desires that had been piling up over the past weeks.
“Let go whenever you need to, don’t be afraid,” Taehyung whispered to me, voice low and aroused, and I arched with a silent scream as the release overtook me, bursting through my body in a single white flash. Taehyung carried me through it, fingers slowing down but never stopping, little quiet groans leaving him at seeing me blissed out. When the pleasure ebbed away gradually, I pushed his hand away with a quiet whine, feeling too much all at once.
He led me down from the high gently, hands running over my body, over my sides, his voice murmuring loving words into my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how well I did for him. I soaked it all up, preened under his care and attention and loved every moment of it, the fear and insecurity about his intentions taking the backseat for a few calming moments. My body thrummed with the after-shocks of my climax, and I pleasantly floated on the feelings of relief and release.
I was still catching up to my brain, when the words “I want to see you” tumbled out of my mouth. Taehyung’s hand stopped for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm gently. He hummed, non-committally, fingers suddenly teasing again as he lightly dragged them on my arm up and down.
“Do you really?” he whispered sensually, almost purring, and I gasped at the sensation. Before I could reply, he was suddenly gone. I heard him moving around in the room, the sound of his steps, his stable breathing and the light clanking of items as he moved them. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he was satisfied, he returned to me. Taehyung leaned down to me and grasped my arm, pulling me up to stand.
“Get on your feet, darling,” he told me sweetly, the sudden nickname making me blush as if we weren’t just wrapped in each other in such sinful ways. I stood, knees still a little shaky, but managed to hold my weight. I was a little achy, but it was a pleasant and boneless feeling, as if everything had been drained away and all that was left were soft sweet clouds.
Taehyung’s hands left me, and I could hear him stepping away, his heels hitting the wooden floor heavily. I held my breath in anticipation, my hands trembling, my body still confused from the screaming pleasure it was put through just moments ago.
Then, he spoke.
“You can pull the ribbon down.” His voice was smooth, kind and happy. My arms moved as if they had a mind of their own, lifting up to my head to grasp at the ends of the ribbon to pull. When it fell away, at first I was left blinded by the light for a moment. I blinked; eyes hurt from getting flashed with white after so long in the dark. I hurriedly wiped away the few stray tears and gently pressed on my eyelids to alleviate the pressure. When I opened them again, he stood in front of me.
He was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I gasped as I took him in, the softness of him.
He had long black hair, half done up into a bun at the back of his head. He was dressed in a black cheollik with red hems and pulled together by a silk red string adorned with dark grey jade, and his underclothes were also in black. He was barefoot, standing on my cold wooden bedroom floor like he didn’t feel the chill at all, when I already started shivering in my thin night robes. My eyes shot back to his face. He was ethereally pretty, all sharp edges but still looking so soft and lovely it stole my breath away. Even though his eyes were shockingly blue, I could see the kindness in them, unlike his mouth that was pulled into a mischievous smirk. Just I as I imagined he so often had.
I could see he started nervously fiddling with his sleeves, face flashing with panic and unsureness. He stepped from foot to foot, looking at the ground bashfully, before looking back up at me with wide round eyes full of pure-hearted earnestness.
“What do you think?” he asked, as if I was looking at fruit at the market. He squirmed in his place again and I couldn’t bare to let him believe that I didn’t think he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. In a few quick strides I crossed the room to him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, as always, and I had begun believing he always would, and pressed me closer into him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled him down by his neck and pressed our lips together.
Taehyung caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around me and taking charge, kissing me like a man starved, passionate and hungry and all-consuming, filling my head and my heart with him and only him. I dreaded my husband’s return, because it would mean my little fantasy dream life would dissolve and Taehyung would have to disappear again, but for now I focused on his mouth claiming mine with such fervour it left me breathless.
Seeing Taehyung made things both easier and more difficult. Nothing much changed between us, only now I saw him messing with my things and “helping out” around the house. I heard his endless giggles and sometimes would catch a glimpse of his figure before he disappeared into a different part of the house, and I always trailed behind him and looked for whatever it was he misplaced or swapped.
I found that even though he was visible to me most of the time, he still didn’t talk much, preferring to sit by me and watch me with fond eyes. He would silently take heavy things from my hands and carry them for me, only sending a playful grin my way, or push me away from the cutting board to prepare the ingredients himself with a simple quiet “let me help”. I liked it. Taehyung filled the space with his presence, with kind eyes and gentle laughs and comfortableness I haven’t felt with anyone else. Sometimes laughs would just bubble out of my throat at his antics or at his expressions and I stopped, surprised at my own ability to laugh. I was happy. I felt content.
I loved him, and I knew that. I wanted my life to be like this from now on until the end of time. More and more often I found myself thinking how married life wouldn’t be that bad if my husband was Taehyung, and I blushed at those thoughts, but couldn’t fully fight them away. I imagined him chopping the firewood in the yard (he already did that for me after he saw me with an axe one), taking care of the animals (it wasn’t unusual for him to feed the hens and the pigs after sundown, since Minhwan was already long gone around then) and then coming home to happily eat supper I worked so hard on (he loved my cooking and never failed to compliment me). I loved watching him walking around the farm as if it was him who owned it, him who married me. Him who loved me.
And during the nights… Taehyung was more than happy to dote on me, naughty hands suddenly insatiable once I showed interest, bringing me to the peak of pleasure every morning, wandering around my curves and gently squeezing and loving on every inch he could reach. I melted in his hands, my brain suddenly interested only in how to get him to please me again. But he never moved it further, no matter how much I gently probed, tried to touch him back or insinuated that I would like to do more, he always grasped my hands and pulled me into a tight hug until we ended up falling asleep.
I was confused. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how it worked between men and women and I trusted him with my body and my pleasure, and I wanted to return it too, learn how to please him too, but he didn’t seem to want that to happen. He would always give me this unsure smile and then hold me all the tighter and I didn’t want to push him.
But while I found my domestic bliss in Taehyung’s presence, it was harshly brought down every time my husband returned home. Even though he’d become strangely withdrawn, he always seemed to fill the house with gloom and uncomfortable tension, choking every spare inch in despair. I was dancing on eggshells around him, trying my hardest not to draw his attention lest he redirects his ire to me.
This explosiveness was also new. He’d been angry at me before, but never like this, never with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, spewing poison until I was trembling with fear and shame, and then walking out. He would scream at me for the food not being warm, about spilling something on the floor, about not cleaning proficiently enough, and I begun to dread his returns, because he would always smell of alcohol, opium and other vices, and immediately find something to vent on, only to become silent and absent the moment after.
I could see on Taehyung he was worried for me. I wasn’t a fool, I knew he was present and heard everything, I could feel it in his sad tender eyes, in his loving caresses and the little gifts he would leave me. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that this was just my life and I had to deal with that, that him being around the house was already making a dreadful reality all the more bearable, but sometimes he just zoned out and I saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to come up with a way to somehow deal with this. But there was nothing that could be done.
While Minhwan spiralled and came home looking worse and worse every day, Taehyung tried his best to raise me up and make me feel better. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.
One afternoon we were enjoying a particular sunny day, the door to the kitchen cracked open to let in the crisp freezing air, but I couldn’t feel the chill, not with Taehyung plastered to my back. He hung off of me, hugging me and whining playfully, his hands ever so often straying to my thighs or breasts, trying to rile me up while I made broth. I would always slap them away, but I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks or the way my body started responding to him and demanding his attention lower.
I was playing with the idea of letting him pleasure me right in the kitchen in the middle of the day, when Taehyung behind me stiffened, arms tightening around me. At first I didn’t register it, but when the sound of snow crunching under someone’s shoes reached my ears, I panicked. Throwing the wooden spoon away I turned and pushed Taehyung away from me.
“Quick, disappear! Minhwan must have returned!” I whispered urgently, almost sobbing with frustration when the dark-haired man just continued standing there as we both listened to the footsteps getting closer. He was looking out the door, his face curious but impassive, as if he didn’t realise the impending doom.
“Taehyung!” I cried out desperately, pushing him away just as the doors slammed opened. I froze and turned to the door, while Taehyung’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. At first I recognised the gesture as protective, but then I realised it was too casual.
I forced myself to see through the panic and registered that in the door stood a complete stranger. He regarded us both with a bored expression, his eyes sliding down my panicked frozen face and then skipping to Taehyung, sneering lightly in a pretend angry manner.
“So this is where you spend your days, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he grumbled a touch whinily and made himself comfortable on one of the seating pillows in the corner. He had elegant gestures and moved about in a graceful manner, he was also dressed in expensive clothes, showing off to everyone his status as a son of a wealthy yangban family. His face was sharp and impassive, but I could see a strange spark of something in his feline eyes.
“Hyung,” Taehyung said cutely and pulled me towards the man in expensive robes, “this is Y/N.” I stared dumbly between the two men, flabbergasted at the situation I had suddenly found myself in. Hyung? Was this another demon?
The man in question nodded towards me, showing polite interest. He looked intimidating, but whenever his eyes jumped to Taehyung, there was softness in them, and his face would suddenly relax and look more human and boyish.
“This is one of my hyungs,” Taehyung said towards me and then leaned closer until he could whisper into my ear: “He’s a tiger spirit.” I gasped lightly and looked at the man. He gave me a goofy toothy grin, his posture loosening as he made himself more comfortable. I slipped into the hostess mode and started offering drinks and food and he indulged happily, even getting Taehyung to take a glass with him. I listened to their gentle teasing for a while, content with watching him be so happy and carefree.
“So if one wants to see your face around these parts, they have to come here, huh?” said the tiger with a little smirk and winked towards me. I giggled and added: “As long as my husband isn’t home.” I immediately blushed, but the feelings of shame I used to feel over this have ebbed away and now I could only feel a little twinge of it as a phantom pain, before I put it away and focused on the men in my presence.
“Oh, I know your husband very well,” the man said, his face turning into a mysterious sharp hungry grin, “He isn’t home very often.” Taehyung tensed behind me, and I glanced at him, before throwing a confused smile at the visitor.
“What do you mean you know my husband well?” I asked, ignoring the way Taehyung’s hands tightened around me. I refused to turn his way, instead focusing my all attention at the dangerous being sat in front of us.
“He plays cards out of his league,” the man stated, eyes glinting with some feral contentment, “He lost a lot of money to a lot of people. An especially big sum to a certain very dangerous man that likes to prowl around those parlours.” It felt as if I was thrown into a freezing water, the panic seizing me at this information. I had known, to a certain extent, that he must have gotten himself into something, but losing in cards and owing money to someone dangerous, that would absolutely destroy my life alongside his. Distressed, I looked to Taehyung, who immediately pushed his hand into my hair in an attempt to comfort me.
“Hyung, stop that,” he scolded the man gently, “Stop scaring her.” I blinked at Taehyung owlishly.
“You knew?” I whispered the question, my heart aching when the dark-haired man looked away with guilt etched into his handsome face.
“I told him,” the older man piped up again, gently inserting himself back into the conversation he himself started, “I happen to have an insight into the situation. Don’t fear, dear, this is between your husband and the forces he messed with.” The vague statement did nothing to ease my anxiety and my eyes flitted between the two men again, but I chose to not say anything anymore. They shared a resolute look, full of determination, and then moved on from the topic.
Mr. Min, as I finally learnt his name, stayed for a better part of the afternoon, only departing once the night fell with only the moon lighting his way. His sharp eyes seemed to glow in the dark and once again I was reminded that he was a spirit of the mountain. I snickered gently at that. Look at me, the cursed widow dining with a demon and a tiger. If the old ladies in my home village knew that, they would lose their minds.
Taehyung wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched his friend go, looking at my amusement fondly, but the way his hand squeezed me I could tell he was worried about the conversation we had. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and contemplated whether to bring it up again.
He sensed it, his face turning a little guilty and sheepish again, before turning to me, grabbing both of my shoulders and saying: “Y/N, do you trust me?” Did I? Of course I did. I loved him, I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. He never failed me, never gave me a reason not to trust him. So I nodded firmly.
“Then know that it will be taken care of,” he stated, voice gentle and kind, “I wouldn’t let this impact you.” I nodded again, looking at him fondly before caving in and seeking the warmth of his embrace. He held me tightly, then and through the night, whispering words of love. I trusted them.
I should have known that this would smudge lines, that me living my little fantasy with Taehyung and him living in the house fully visible would lead to us being careless and slipping. But still, when it happened, I was sorely unprepared for the whirlwind it started.
We depended too much on the belief that Minhwan wouldn’t return home early. He didn’t, in the past weeks. Every morning, I would watch the sun climb pretty high up on the sky before the door slammed open and he trudged in wordlessly demanding food. Taehyung spent the mornings lazily spread out in the bed, stretching like an over-sized cat, grinning at me lazily and watching me get ready for the day. And usually I would be woken up by his gentle hands or kisses, or by the sun shining through to my face, or the cold would make me turn and snuggle deeper into my lover’s arms.
So when I got woken up by a scream, I was shocked and confused to my core. I jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and looking for the source of the commotion, heart beating out of my chest and throat tight. It was a cry of rage, a man’s ire bursting through the quiet comfortable space of early morning.
There was a flash of movement and then suddenly I was being painfully pulled out of the bed by my upper arm. I cried out, legs fighting to get into working order and stop the pain from the uncomfortable angle. Suddenly I was face to face with a seething Minhwan, his face red and bloated, twisted into a grimace of pure primal rage. He grabbed onto both of my shoulders, nails digging into my skin until I feared he would draw blood, shaking me violently.
He screamed something, but I was too tired and shocked to fully comprehend what has happened. Panic started pumping through my veins, my breathing getting out of my control as I choked on the instinctual fear of being met with a man in such an emotional state. He shook me again and I got dizzy. Behind me the bed was empty, but very obviously slept in.
As if wading through a thick fog, I finally realised he must have seen Taehyung in the bed and my knees buckled. He let me fall, let me knock painfully into the wooden floor as he paced around the door. Thoughts going a mile a minute I scrambled to try and come up with something, with anything instead of just sitting there staring dumbly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, slipping slowly down as my mouth opened and closed. My head hurt, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might just tear right out of my body. I looked at my shaking hands and released a few strained breaths.
“Are you even listening to me?!” Minhwan was suddenly screaming right into my face and I flinched. It was as if a filter lifted off of the world and the sound was suddenly getting to me fully, the thumping of his feet on the floor, his ragged breathing, his enraged mumblings. I stared at him blankly for a moment and in a split second decided to play it the only way I could.
“W-what happened?” I asked quietly, still looking at him with wide confused eyes, movements sluggish. I put a hand to my head, shaking it from side to side. At least I didn’t have to pretend I had a headache.
Minhwan stopped pacing and regarded me with suspicion. Come on, I prayed to myself, I know you must have seen him disappear in front of your eyes. He watched me for a moment, and I made sure to look as disoriented as I could, blinking blearily around and pulling a blanket closer over my rapidly cooling body. The seconds ticked away as he just looked around the room, watched the bed, the doors, as if measuring whether the man could have gotten away around him. He wasn’t saying anything for the longest time, and I felt like I was losing my mind, fearing any moment he’ll decide I was a liar and do god knows what in a fit of rage, but then he looked at me again with eyes filled with more confusion and fear than rage.
“Do you really not know?” he inquired, and his voice was grating to me, rough from speaking and drinking the whole night. I nodded slowly and then asked again: “What happened? Why were you screaming?” His face filled with determination, and he wordlessly walked out of the room. I scrambled to follow after him.
“Where are you going? What’s going on?” I hammered him, looking for a confirmation that I was safe, at least for the moment, but he just silently started fastening his hat back on. Finally, right before walking back out of the door, he turned to me and said: “I’m getting the exorcist.”
The next few hours I spent sitting in the house in panicked silence, wondering what my fate would be beyond this day. What would the shamaness say? How will this go? Do I have to pretend to get exorcised? I tried calling out to Taehyung, but he didn’t respond once. I bit my nails and paced around the house, counting every second ticking by as if waiting for execution.
By the time the door slid open again and stone-faced Minhwan stepped in, my nerves were completely frayed, and I could barely support my own weight on my shaking knees. My head snapped into the direction of the noise, and I saw a man and a woman step inside. The moment their eyes landed on me, they bowed slightly to me, but said nothing and instead followed my husband through the house into the bedroom. I hurriedly trailed after them, shaky hands with nails bitten almost bloody grasping onto my skirt to ground myself at least a little bit.
When I stepped into the room, Minhwan was gesturing to the bed, still unmade as I was too panicked to clean, and explaining what had happened.
“I walked in and saw four feet instead of two,” he said darkly, anger shining through to the surface again, “They were clearly man’s feet. I threw a shoe at him and started screaming, but then he was just gone. He disappeared into thin air. When she woke up, she was disoriented and had no idea what was going on.” I listened to him with a lump in my throat and when they all turned to look at me standing in the door, my knees almost buckled. I hoped that my nervousness would be interpreted as my unawareness, but when the woman’s eyes bore into me with a startling intensity, I couldn’t help but flinch and look down.
She came over to me and an expectant silence fell over the room, all of us collectively holding our breath and waiting for her judgement. She grabbed my chin, not roughly but definitely not gently, and moved my head so that I was looking at her. Her eyes flitted across my face, in search of something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I wondered how I must have looked to her. Did I look guilty? Did I look sick? What did she see?
She examined me for a moment and then let me go and stepped back to the man. She looked at him and nodded.
“It is a demon of sickness,” the man spoke, “He was draining your wife’s life energy, eventually saddling her with plague or similar illness. It is good you caught him before he did irreparable damage to her.” I touched my own face, wondering how bad I looked for her to come to the conclusion I was getting drained in such a way, but felt immense relief. Before I caught myself, I swayed, the feelings of anxiety crashing onto me, leaving my body too weak to stay upright. I crashed into the door and barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor full force. The woman rushed to me and pulled me up, holding onto my arm and helping me stand in a manner she must have believed was comforting.
“Don’t worry, darling, he will not get you,” she whispered in a raspy old voice, “We will take care of this.” I mumbled something out, an insincere thanks, and propped myself up by the door. Instinctively I looked to Minhwan and found him already looking at, eyes coldly assessing me. He was scaring me, I had no idea where I stood with him and what was going through his mind, but I hoped this would buy me some time. I looked back to the floor and started smoothing out my skirts with shaky hands.
“We will get the supplies we’ll need and return tomorrow with the dawn,” the man spoke again, looking mainly to Minhwan, “For tonight, hang garlic and onion around the house. The foul smell will keep the demons away. I will draw you a talisman for your door and main gate, plaster it on the wood and keep it there until we come.” My husband curtly nodded.
The pair started moving towards the door to leave and Minhwan followed them out. I took the time to slide down to the door. I was trying to keep myself calm, but the stressed tears came anyway, rolling down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Once Minhwan returned, I was silently sobbing on the floor, too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in these few hours.
Minhwan regarded me silently and then moved to the main room, sat by the fireplace and didn’t speak again. I sat there, filled with dread, and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to fly off of his handle and do something, but the house was eerily silent. In the end I pulled myself together and moved about my day as if nothing was happening, as if Minhwan wasn’t sitting in the other room counting minutes before sun went down. The uncomfortable atmosphere stretched over us like a suffocating blanket and even though I went with the motions, cooked food and served it, I wasn’t even interested in eating, and neither seemed to be Minhwan.
With dark setting over the dwelling, the moon shining over the snow and creating a silver glow over everything, I found myself anxiously glancing at my husband to see whether he would leave, but he stayed firmly sat. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had to have a talk with Taehyung, confide in him and see what he thinks we should do. I desperately craved his comfort and calming presence, I needed him to hold me and kiss me and whisper about all the things he loved, I needed him to whisk me away into the woods and keep me away from this life I had found myself in.
As I paced around the bedroom nervously, I realised that. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to flee into his reality and leave my own behind. I needed to talk to Taehyung soon.
The door slid open, and I flinched and instinctively moved a few steps further into the room. Minhwan looked at me, his eyes empty and dark, and then moved to the corner of the room, sitting down and staring soullessly at me.
“Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?” came his gruff voice when I stood there frozen for too long, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could hear a certain accusation in it and my heart jumped into my throat. Without saying anything, I mechanically moved to my vanity and started brushing my hair while keeping an eye on my husband’s dark form slouched in the corner. His eyes never left me, slowly with every second ticking by filling with more and more pure hatred.
The room felt as if it was freezing, the air so heavy with tension I could taste it on my tongue. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, my clammy hands squeezing around the brush.
“I feel quite stupid now, you see,” Minhwan started suddenly, his cold voice startling me. I turned around to look at him, trying to keep my expression neutral but knowing I probably looked truly scared and guilty. He stared at me expectantly, but when I failed to say anything, he continued.
“I saw it,” he simply stated, “the hairpin.” It felt as if time stopped, the blood freezing in my veins with one simple word. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I ultimately failed to say anything. He knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to the market to buy it myself, there was nothing I could say to excuse that.
“I saw how certain mornings you seemed to be flustered,” he continued quietly, “how you changed, I saw the flowers you tried to hide.” He chuckled darkly, mirthlessly, but stayed sprawled out in the corner, watching me. I sat frozen in front of my vanity, brush still in hand, thoughts going a mile a minute.
“I ignored it, of course,” Minhwan carried on, seemingly okay with being the only one to talk, “I know how hard it is to get here and there’s no one close enough to sneak here like this. But when I went to town for the shamaness, I started remembering these moments. I saw the hairpin in my mind, as clear as day. And it made sense. Whatever he is, you knew about him.” I gulped, but said nothing, staring at my hands. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movements and I looked up startled. Minhwan was now moving towards me, slow and calculated, and dread filled me.
I looked up at him and couldn’t help a few stray tears escaping me. Minhwan watched me coldly, but it was so different than what I was used to from him and it terrified me. This was a different kind of rage, the kind that made people unpredictable, the kind when you know the person is so angry they’ve become calm.
He slowly threaded his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly until I could feel slight pain. He angled my head, watching the tears slide down my face with a scowl. Then he pushed my head away and released my hair, sending me crashing into the vanity. I caught myself on my hands, but the impact still hurt and I whimpered through the tears.
I heard Minhwan moving about the room, thrashing the chest I kept some of my belongings in, tearing through my fine robes and sending little reminders and keepsakes flying through the room and crashing into the floor and the walls. With every crash I flinched again and again, shrinking into myself and slowly slinking into the corner behind my vanity.
Minhwan finally got to what he was looking for – the dried flowers and other little gifts Taehyung has been bringing me. Whatever he got his hands on, he destroyed, tearing the flowers apart or breaking things by throwing them on the floor. I watched him helplessly, now fully sobbing as I witnessed my life being torn apart.
Minhwan paid me no mind, his eyes catching onto something in the chest. He bent over to pull out the object, and I eyed him carefully before I realised what it was. The hairpin. He glanced over at me and when he saw my eyes trained to it, he smirked with such malice it made shiver. He gripped it with both hands and then with a quick gesture broke it in half. Before I could stop myself, I cried out with my hands outstretched going to grab it, grab him, just do anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. Minhwan threw the broken pin on the floor, and I watched the little gem break away and fall through the tiles.
Minhwan walked over to me again and crouched down so he could look at me closer.
“Did he get you pregnant?” he suddenly asked, and it was such an unexpected question it shocked me into silence as I just stared at him dumbly. Then I just slowly shook my head. Minhwan’s face stayed impassive. He just stared at me until I started squirming in my place, my skin crawling with fear and nervousness.
Then he just got up and walked out.
I stayed put, not daring to move from my place, but I strained my ears to hear whatever he was doing. He walked around the main room for a moment and then his footsteps seemed to get further away until I heard the door slide open, slide shut and then silence. I held my breath, waiting for a moment before I allowed myself to decompress, immediately slumping down onto the ground. With the stress rapidly draining from my body, I found myself a shaking crying mess. I crawled over to the chest and grabbed onto whatever destroyed piece of memory I could, cradling them to my chest and desperately hoping that I could mend it, that it would all go away. That I’d wake up in Taehyung’s arms and he’d console me and tell me it was all a bad dream.
I didn’t sleep that night. And Minhwan didn’t return in the morning. The shamaness and her husband came knocking with the dawn and I sat on the porch and expressionlessly watched the main gate rattle and shake under their fists, listened to their raised concerned voices calling to be let in. I was drained, empty and exhausted. I waited until they got tired of it and left, and then I continued sitting there watching the trees move, the sun travel the sky. I could barely feel the frost biting at my fingers, my arms, my face. I could barely feel anything.
For two days, I waited. I sat around the house and watched the walls, walked around the yard and looked outside, into the forest and the trees. Minhwan didn’t return. Taehyung didn’t return. I was completely alone, in the silent house, just wondering whether I was forsaken by both of them, wondering what would happen if neither of them came back.
On the dawn of the third day, I heard footsteps in the yard. My stomach dropped and my heart felt like a piece of ice. Footsteps meant Minhwan. Footsteps meant the end of my life, meant my husband was back and there was no telling what he would do.
I drew the blanket closer to myself and resignedly made my way outside. I would accept whatever was to come. Except the moment I slid the door open, I saw a sheepish Taehyung nervously stepping from foot to foot in our yard. I could only guess how I looked, but when he saw me, he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, arms immediately pulling me into his chest. I felt my resolve break and desperately clawed at him, pulled him closer, just needing to touch him and make sure he was real and he came back.
He pulled back and I whined, but he took my face into his hands, gazing upon me with tenderness and sadness and despair. His fingers smoothed out the worried lines on my face, touched the puffy cheeks and eyes, gently caressed my face until I could see my vision blurring with unshed tears. Taehyung sighed and bent down to lightly kiss my forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice like soft caress for my soul after days of loneliness and solitude, and sudden onslaught of emotions hit me like a stone wall. I grabbed onto his robe and looked into his kind beautiful eyes.
“Where were you?” it came out choked on a sob and I couldn’t even wait for his answer before the dam broke and I started crying. Taehyung held me through it, he took me in his arms and carried me inside, petted my back and held my face, whispered to me and it almost felt like a huge déjà vu to the first night I let him get closer to me. He apologised again and again, and I should have pressed for more answers, but I was so relieved he returned, I couldn’t bring myself to ask more.
When I calmed down, Taehyung’s attention was finally drawn to the state of the house. I didn’t clean up the bedroom, I barely even slept, and all the broken things were still lying around. It must have been quite a sight – a broken life, and in the middle of it all, a broken me. But instead of saying anything, he just reached over to grab the remnants of the hairpin. I watched him wordlessly, heart struck with grief at the sight of it, but he played with it for a moment, eyes peeking over at me and grinning mischievously. I returned it shakily, heavy emotions still weighing the corners of my mouth down but I tried, head leaning on his shoulder.
He encased the broken parts of it into his hands and shook them little. I thought nothing of it, watching his hands turn from side to side, expecting this to be just a way to distract me, but when his hands stopped, he uncovered his palm with a grand gesture and I gasped. There, lying on his palm, was the hairpin in one piece, looking as if it’s never been broken.
I immediately went to grab it, but he moved his hand away, keeping it out of my reach. Instead, he grabbed my brush and started slowly brushing out my tangled unkept hair. I let him care for me, I sat there on the floor of my thrashed bedroom, leaned on him and listened to him hum as he played with my hair. When Tae was satisfied with it, he tied my hair with his red ribbon and then pushed in the hairpin.
The fondness in his eyes when he looked over his work warmed my heart, and I relaxed into his embrace.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Taehyung whispered again, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I shook my head and tightened my arms around him.
“There was nothing you could have done,” I told him and attempted to smile. I wanted to ease his worries, but I still felt too shaken.
“I should have been here,” Taehyung reiterated, “You needed me, and I failed you.” I squeezed his waist, trying to share comfort to him as he did to me. He looked at me fondly with a little smile, then kissed me gently.
“Where were you?” I asked again, this time much more calmly. Taehyung’s face fell immediately and I expected him not to want to tell me, but with some difficulty he started talking.
“I went to my hyung,” he admitted to me, and I realised there was guilt in his expression, “I asked him to sort something out for me.” I looked at him confused, but his face has turned hard and cold, gazing out of the room. I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he returned.
“We need to leave,” I blurted out suddenly, the calmness leaving my body. I turned on my knees and grabbed onto his clothed shoulders, looking into his eyes with urgency. Taehyung smiled at me and attempted to sit me back down, but I wouldn’t let him. “We really need to leave, before my husband returns,” I continued, the words falling out of me quickly, “I don’t know where he went, he hasn’t returned for a few days, but when he returns I cannot say what he will do.”
Taehyung’s hands pushed onto my shoulders, gentle smile on his face, mouth opening to tell me something, no doubt to calm down, but I jumped in before he got a chance.
“No, you don’t understand Taehyung, he knows,” I whispered urgently, “He knows about us. When he returns… Taehyung, I’m scared of what will happen…” I trailed off, hands flexing and bunching up the fabric of his robes. A few stray tears escaped my eyes, and I was surprised I even had some left in me, after the last few days.
Taehyung gave me a soft smile, hands coming up to hold my face. He gently wiped my tears away and bent down to kiss my forehead, my nose and finally my lips. I watched him, despair mixing with love and fear inside of me, making me feel like I was about to explode. I didn’t know how else explain to him that we weren’t safe here.
“I’m ready to leave,” I whispered again, desperate and broken, “Please Taehyung, I’ll go with you. I’m ready to go. There’s nothing left here.” He said nothing, but caressed my hair, fingers smoothing out the edges of my cold wet face. His eyes were trained on his hands moving on my skin, as if he wasn’t registering what I said at all. I could see in them that he was battling something, lips pursed in a bittersweet smile like they were trying to keep in some awful truths.
My heart gave a few painful pumps before it felt like it stilled completely. My hands fell from him as despair and hurt took over. Suddenly the realisation hit me, the realisation of what this must have been for him. A goodbye. My lips curled around a silent sob, but I couldn’t cry more, there was nothing left inside.
Taehyung noticed my plight and immediately pulled back into him, and I realised why he looked so guilty when we sat down.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words barely left my mouth, so quiet they could be barely heard, but Taehyung reacted to them immediately, arms tightening around me.
“No, darling, of course I’m not,” he replied, but I didn’t want to hear more lies, not now and not ever. My own hands balled into fists in my lap.
“Please, tell me the truth,” I said resolutely, looking straight into his eyes that were coloured by confusion at my statement. “What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked, lost and worried. His hands travelled across my shoulders and back, grabbing onto anywhere they could and then passing on as he tried to comfort me without fully knowing what was happening.
“You didn’t respond before,” I told him, and the realisation seemed to hit him almost instantly. “Oh, darling,” he whispered and kissed me softly again, “of course I want you to leave with me. But…” He seemed to struggle there, looking down to his lap guiltily, fingers digging into my shoulders nervously. I grabbed onto his shoulders too and pressed a little closer, until our faces were just a breath away.
“What is it?” I asked, desperate for a resolution, desperate to leave this all behind and go into the woods with him, follow him wherever he’d take me.
“Your husband…” Taehyung started and I tensed at the mention, but I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next, “he isn’t coming back.” I scrunched my face up in confusion. Taehyung avoided my eyes again, this time looking towards the door with a quiet resolution painted on his face.
“What are you talking about?” I pushed out of my mouth, mind muddled and tongue tied, “Of course he is, and he’ll bring all hell back with him.” Taehyung sighed, hands flexing into my skin.
“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he reiterated, urgency taking over his sweet, honeyed tone, “He isn’t coming back. Ever.” I froze when I finally put together what he had tried to tell me. I wish I could say I was terrified. I wish I could say that I was filled with dread and panic and disgust instead of relief, I wish I could say that I pushed him away, confused and hurt, instead of letting out a shocked laugh, hands immediately searching for his face. I turned him so he’d look at me.
He was painted with shame and guilt, with fear that I would hate him for the implication, so I gently caressed his face and laid a little kiss over his furrowed brows. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. My heart was beating fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of nervousness or joy. I wondered whether that made me a bad person, whether I was cursed after all. But when Taehyung opened his eyes and gave me a toothy grin, it didn’t seem to matter much.
“What did you do?” I asked the question in a hushed whisper, as if discussing my husband’s demise was a thrilling secret just between the two of us. Based on the dark-haired man’s reaction to it he was expecting to hear a horror-struck tone, not the casualness with which I spoke about this matter, but he shook the surprise quick enough.
“Do you remember my hyung? The tiger?” Taehyung begun his explanation, a small smile taking over his face when I nodded in answer, “He was the one your husband owed money to. It was a matter of time before he’d gotten himself reaped, I just called in an early favour.” I frowned slightly at that.
“You mean that my husband was always destined to die?” the question was asked more out of curiosity than concern, but Taehyung still seemed to be a little on edge, fearing my reaction and attempting to gauge my emotional state. Still, he indulged me.
“He was since the moment he decided to play cards against a spirit,” Taehyung explained, “Tigers don’t play for money. We have no need for earthly possessions. But the more the human loses to you, the more under your power they are. With the mounting debt, the spirit only bides his time, terrorising the soul and pushing them into losing more. Then the spirit only waits until they’ve lost the amount of money that could buy their soul, before reaping. Your husband was a lost cause since Yoongi set his eyes on him.” I took in the information slowly, but to me his death was inconsequential now. Taehyung would take me away, I didn’t have to fear being left behind and collected by a family-in-law and living out the rest of my life as a proper widow, a property of my husband’s relatives. With that my only concern was taken care of and I found myself empty of any big reactions regarding his impending sudden demise.
“Do souls have prices, then?” I inquired more, interested in his earlier statement. Taehyung’s eyes sparkled slightly, as if he was delighted I wanted to know more, delighted that I wasn’t mourning, that I didn’t think him a murderer.
“Yes they do,” he answered simply, “a saint would be hard to tempt, the amount would be higher. A tyrant on the other hand, a sinner, they don’t take much.” I hummed quietly, absent-mindedly playing with some of Taehyung’s long hair. It didn’t take much to know which category my husband fell to. Getting my questions answered, I was satisfied to let this subject go. I felt as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart. I found myself cautiously hopeful, looking forward to leaving this house and everything in it behind, letting it rot and fall to the ground and never return. But Taehyung seemed to have something else on his mind still.
“It was me,” he confessed quietly and suddenly, leaving me confused what he meant. He looked at me, gauging my reaction, fingers nervously playing with the edge of my jeogori. “It was me who told hyung to seek him out and tempt him into playing,” the man finally got out and it seemed as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders too.
I said nothing, hands migrating to caress his hair gently, smiling softly, and then getting up. I walked across the room to where my possessions laid strewn across the floor as if they were violently gutted from the insides of the chest. I found a cloth big enough and started piling the most important things inside. Taehyung watched me quietly, unsure of where I stood, still believing I could shun him for this. I smiled at him again when I caught his sad eyes watching my hands move. He returned it, in the same cautiously hopeful way I felt, and I could just think to myself. How perfect. We’re perfect like this.
“I just need to grab a few things and we can go,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. His returning one was as bright as the sun itself and I felt my drained heart tiredly jumping in joy.
When I gathered everything, he took the bundle from me gently into one of his hands, the other holding mine as I quietly led him out of the cold empty house. Outside, the air was crisp and freezing, but the sun was shining and it filled me with happiness. The snow was sparkling, reflecting the rays of sunlight, blinding me slightly, but I had everything I needed, and it was a beautiful day outside. I squeezed Taehyung’s hand and he returned it.
Once stood in the gate, I turned back to the house wordlessly. I could see through the open doors the mess that was left inside, the state of the bedroom, and the two trails of footsteps leaving forever. Taehyung watched me carefully, making sure I was okay. I nodded at him and he grinned gently. We both turned and walked away.
He led me through the forest, up the mountain path. I’d never been here before, and it seemed that it was a long time since someone else than the demon himself took this path. Briefly I wondered if it even was visible to other people or if it was one of those paths you see once out of the corner of your eyes and then never find it again, even if curiosity kills you from the inside.
Taehyung was walking confidently now, once we crossed the threshold into his world he gained strength and resolve and led me through the trees until we reached a little clearing with a dwelling firmly in the middle of it.
It was smaller than our farm, but it looked much nicer, with little windchimes and colourful decorations hanging from the beam over the porch. Their clanking created a nice ambience in the background and their colourful flashes reflected off of the snow. I smiled fondly at that, feeling at ease.
The house only really had two smaller rooms and a kitchen, but they were filled with books and clothes and paintings. Taehyung seemed to be a lover of arts, his walls full of various pieces varying from flowers to landscapes and portraits. I peeked at them curiously, but Taehyung seemed eager to pull me along until we reached the other room, where a bed was unfolded but untouched. There was a vanity on one side, very similar to the one I had, ready with a brush and another beautiful hairpin sitting next to it, waiting for their owner. I smiled at that, heart filled with so much love it felt like bursting.
Taehyung carefully laid the bundle with my things on the ground and then skipped back over to me, plastering himself to my back, arms possessively coiling around me and lips and nose immediately running over the expanse of the skin at my shoulder and neck. I shuddered lightly, noting his palpable excitement at bringing me to his home.
“This will be our bedroom from now on,” he whispered in a rough voice, laying a series of wet open-mouthed kisses down my shoulder, “This house will become a home.” His hand splayed over my stomach and pushed me more into his form, his heated body melting over me instantly, lips travelling wherever a sliver of skin presented itself to them.
I shuddered lightly, squirming in his arms. I managed to turn to face him and immediately was met with fond eyes full of unshed tears. I grabbed his face and gently pressed our lips together. I meant for the kiss to stay innocent, but Taehyung clearly had a different idea, descending onto me with an urgency of a starving man, lips devouring mine in a hot all-consuming kiss.
I moaned lightly into his mouth, hands tightening in his clothes and subconsciously pulling him closer to me. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, sighing with content when it met mine and twisted and pushed around each other. He towered over me, with every second bending down a little more, making me arch into the kiss. The dark-haired man was grabbing onto my hips, as strong as a vice, digging fingers into the layers of fabric with such force I still felt his nails biting into my skin. My own hands slowly travelled up, tangling into his hair and wrapping around his neck. When I pulled on the strand lightly, Taehyung sighed into my mouth and pushed us closer together.
My mind was quickly becoming muddled, only thoughts of the man in my arms swimming around in my brain, body heating up rapidly and begging for his attention in the way that he used to give me. And with the way he held onto me and pressed into me, he was in a similar state.
Without interrupting our kiss, Taehyung started slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled me with him. I gasped slightly and finally broke our kiss to breathe and take in the new position, but Tae didn’t get discouraged and continued his path down my jawline and my neck. I had enough mind to breathlessly move my head out of the way and present my neck for him, which made him hum appreciatively, his low deep voice purring into my skin. All I could really do was hold on to him and let the sensations sail me further.
I could feel his hands inching higher, until they were kneading my waist, thumbs slipping under the jeogori and messing with my undergarments. My whole body trembled like a plucked string, desire wreaking havoc on my psyche. I released a shaky sigh and decided to be a little bit braver. I grabbed one of his hands, Taehyung making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t stop his ministrations, and I pushed it towards the bow tying my top together.
Taehyung paused only for a second, eyes searching mine for any kind of hesitation, but I only blushed under his heated gaze, the lust taking over the control of my body and pushing my chest more into his curious hands. He no longer wasted time after that, leaning a bit back and making quick work of the binding and soon he had me sitting in his lap in only my undergarments. My lips found his again, needing to feel his touch more than I needed to breathe oxygen.
With new skin now visible Taehyung seemed to be over the moon, a little content sighs and quiet moans leaving his mouth as his fingers travelled across the expanse of my shoulder blades and my arms. The intensity of the kiss kept increasing, my body confusedly trying to move with the motions and seek even more pleasure. When Taehyung gently bit on my lower lip, my hips jerked forward on their own and I could feel a hardness sliding across my centre. We both gasped, Taehyung’s hands jumping to my hips to stop them, but I felt as if a lighting struck me to my core, pleasure zapping through me on a jolt. I gasped, hips mindlessly chasing after the feeling again. Taehyung separated the kiss on a groan, his head falling to my shoulder, hands now encouraging my hips to move instead of stopping them.
For a moment we just enjoyed each other, mindlessly kissing here, grabbing onto each other and chasing the pleasure, moving against each other. I managed to get Taehyung out of his outer robes too and he was clad only in a thin undershirt that teased a little bit of his collarbones, which I immediately covered in kisses. We didn’t speak and the room was filled with the sounds of shifting clothes and airy little gasps and moans, but I needed more. I needed so much more.
Taehyung’s lips travelled down to the edge of my undergarment, kissing the soft swell teasing my breasts, and I gasped and arched and curved into him, but I could feel the smirk settling on his face as he moved away again. I whined, mind gone and begging for more solid touch, for his hand between my legs and his lips biting into my shoulders.
I pushed onto his shoulders and as Taehyung wasn’t expecting it, he went easily, slight alarm painting his face, but I just grabbed him and pulled his face back to mine. The moment our lips crashed together, I keened, licking into his mouth desperately. The dark-haired man chuckled, but he seemed to take pity on me.
With one hand gently laid on my lower back, he slowly toppled us over until I was lying on the ground with his weight settling gently on top of me, legs tangled and lips intertwined. With a wet smack our lips separated and for a moment we both just looked at each other breathing hard, but then the time and reality caught up to my overheated excited brain and I immediately started tearing at his clothes, untying anything I got my hands on and pushing the fabric away until his whole torso was on display.
I choked on a moan, the desire reigniting within me tenfold. He was beautiful, strong and lean, honey-toned skin blemishless and perfect. Distracted with all the possibilities and my body screaming at me to have the man take me now, take me as soon as possible, my hands wildly flitted over his chest, kneading the skin but not settling anywhere for too long. I decided to pay back the favour and my lips latched onto his neck, making him shudder and moan. I played around lightly, just like he had, kissing anywhere I could, moving south to his pecks and then back up all the way to his ear with wet open-mouthed kisses, revealing just how far gone I was and how needy he made me with his earlier ministrations.
Taehyung buried his face into the crook of my neck, skin rippling with every touch, releasing low groans right into my ear, which made me work even harder. I was ecstatic that I was finally able to touch him too, ecstatic by the prospect of returning the pleasure he had been bestowing me with all these mornings that would have otherwise been cold and lonely.
With that thought in mind, my hands shifted to his hips, at first seemingly just sitting there and holding onto him, but slowly moving downwards, pushing the pants down. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at first, but once I got low enough to expose the v of his hips and the thicker part of his happy trail, he let out a loud excited groan, body shaking with anticipation.
His lips pressed into my ear. “Do you want to see me? Touch me?” he whispered, voice rough and aroused. I gasped quietly, legs falling open more so that he could settle his hips more comfortably and I could see the moment I finally pushed them low enough, breath held in excitement.
“Yes, please,” I answered in a similarly debauched hushed voice, “please, Taehyung.” His chest rumbled happily, lips busying themselves with biting and kissing into my neck. I must have been absolutely covered with little red and purple bruises and the thought sent a bolt of arousal through me, my body jerking underneath the bigger man.
“Go ahead then, darling,” he said sensually, regaining back a little control. His hips stiffened, allowing me to pull them down the final stretch, releasing his erection. It hit his lower stomach with a tiny noise, the wet tip leaving a little smear of clear liquid there. I clenched on nothing, a gush of wetness suddenly leaving me at the prospect of having him inside of me. He was watching me closely, a wild look on his face, and the more excited I felt, the hungrier he looked.
Then Taehyung pressed his face to mine again, lips caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered: “Do you want it? Do you want my cock, darling?” I nodded, a whimper escaping me, thighs and pussy throbbing with pure burning need. I was so aroused my head was spinning and every thought inside curled around the pleasure this man was providing me with. He clicked his tongue though, and shook his head a little, giving me a playful grin.
“Then you need to say it,” he stated meanly, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good girls always ask for it.” The way his tongue wrapped around the words good girl made me borderline delirious, back arching and thighs spreading even further, until my hips hurt and I was gasping with the liquid lust coursing through my veins.
“Please!” I whined out again, hands grabbing onto his searing hot skin and attempting to pull him closer, but he didn’t budge.
“No, no, no, darling,” his voice seemed even darker and richer than usual and I was losing my mind on the little rasp, his tongue peeking out to play with the lobe of my ear quickly sending me spinning, “You need to say it.”
“Please, Taehyung,” I choked out, a few tears of frustrated arousal slipping down my cheeks, “I want you.” He smiled, giving me false sense of victory, but still kept his hips away from mine. I whined again, not knowing what else to do.
“I want to hear the words from your mouth, darling,” he stated firmly, “Say ‘Please Taehyung, I want your cock’.” I gasped at his words, the flush on my face deepening despite the lewdness of the situation I already found myself in. My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips and Taehyung’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, fascinated.
“I want your cock,” I whispered, the arousal pushing me into boldness I’ve never displayed before, “Please, Taehyung, I want your cock so bad.” He groaned and I saw the exact moment his pupils expanded with pure lust and his eyes were overtaken by desire to have me. While his lips crashed to mine, his hand grabbed one of mine and pulled it towards his cock and wrapping it around it.
I squeezed on instinct and Taehyung moaned into me, hips bucking gently. I took a moment to feel him out, just gently ran my hands over the ridges and curves. I could feel the way Taehyung trembled, the way his breathing stuttered on tiny, muted groans, his eyes firmly shut. His hands grabbed onto my thighs and dug into them through the underskirt still half covering me from his eyes.
When I began sliding my hand up and down the shaft, Taehyung’s head once again fell to my shoulder, open mouth pressing into my skin and releasing rugged moans. His hips jerked forward in tiny motions, thrusting lightly into my curled hands. I was content with touching him, but my body also screamed for attention, thighs shaking and muscles in my belly contracting in pleasurable little ripples. I was so wet I could feel my essence sliding down my thighs and my bottom, leaving a little puddle on the bedding under us.
I squeezed around him lightly and he jerked into my hands harder, a debauched groan leaving him. I spasmed, pussy pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled up to the brim, an answering moan leaving my own lips. Taehyung looked at me through half-lidded eyes, reason completely overridden by the need to push himself into my tight wet heat at the clear need depicted on my face, he shuddered again, pre-cum leaking out the red tip of his painfully erect cock.
His hands scrambled to grab my skirt and push it up my legs until it pooled around my stomach, wet pussy exposed to his needy hands. He didn’t waste any time and pulled his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit for a moment and punching out desperate moans out of me, whole body spasming at the sudden onslaught of pleasure cursing through me, but then his fingers hurriedly slid down and pushed inside of me. At the feeling of his fingers getting so easily swallowed up by my wet cunt he groaned, thrusting them in a little and scissoring to make sure I was absolutely ready to take a cock, but both of us were beyond gone with desire.
I was enjoying the feeling of finally having something inside of me, but it didn’t last for long. After a few hurried thrusts of his fingers, Taehyung pulled his hand away and I whined, arching my back, pussy chasing after him. He quickly swatted my hands from his length and lowered his hips until we were pressing into each other, his cock snuggly sliding through my wet folds.
Our breaths were knocked out of us on deep satisfied groans. He moved his hips back and forth a few times, coating himself in my juices to ensure easier slide, and then pushed inside with one firm motion, cock driving inside of me without any resistance, filling me absolutely all the way up on the first thrust. I threw my head back, mouth open on a silent scream, the contentment of finally having him inside me lighting my every nerve on fire and satisfying something deep inside of my core. I trembled, desperately holding onto him as my brain turned to mush with barely anything.
Taehyung was having more trouble staying silent, mouth open and instantly pumping out groans and moans, shaky hands keeping my hips still and desperately trying to stop himself from immediately mindlessly driving into the divine pleasure that was the feeling of being enveloped by my wet tight walls.
I whimpered and squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto him. I wasn’t even fully aware of myself, body and mind consumed by the heavenly feeling of being filled by him.
“Please!” I whined out loud, desperately needing him to finally start doing something, like there was an itch deep inside of me that needed scratching, “Please, give me more!”
Taehyung chuckled above me, trying to stay suave and smooth but I could hear how breathless he was, could feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. His hips trembled against mine, jumping with excitement at my words.
He pulled his hips back and slowly slid back in, making us both sigh with content. He kept the pace slow and deep, covering me with his body and claiming my mouth with his while I fell apart on his well-aimed pace. I moaned on every stroke, arching my hips and spreading my thighs to let him hit deeper, pull him in closer.
The slow build up of the pleasure had me losing my mind. I felt like I was getting gradually submerged into boiling water, the heat steadily rising with every thrust filling me with deep primal satisfaction. My hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, appreciating his smooth skin and muscles as they jumped with movement, soaking up Taehyung’s little hick-uped groans when I passed over sensitive areas.
Taehyung changed the angle a little bit and when he pressed all the way inside, his tip pressed into a spot that had me keening loudly underneath him, eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open. My hands instinctively grabbed onto his waist and squeezed, nails digging into his skin, and Taehyung groaned loudly, hips jerking into me roughly, punching out a whiny moan out of me.
That seemed to break us into a frenzy, my hands sliding down his body and grabbing onto his ass, pushing him into me and encouraging his movements. Taehyung happily took the sign and started thrusting faster and harder, filling the room with sounds of our moans and the wet slapping of our hips. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out of my mouth, his every stroke hitting deep inside me and lighting my every nerve on fire, stoking the lust and the bliss in pulsing consuming waves.
I felt myself getting close to the peak I was so familiar with from his hands, the sensations drowning me and washing over me in over-powering waves. Taehyung’s moans were reaching crescendo, getting higher and whinier as his hips unfalteringly pounded into me.
“So close, darling,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “going to paint you with my seed, going to fill you to the brim.” I moaned in response, pussy throbbing and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper. I needed us both to peak, I needed it more than air to feel him unwind and release, get consumed with pleasure I provided him with.
“God, just a little more,” I answered to him breathlessly on a pleasured sigh. My hands squeezed his bottom and pushed him a little rougher. His breath hitched, but he changed his pace accordingly, slowing down but snapping his hips into me harder and rougher, making me wail with pleasure.
I felt myself spiralling into the heat, knowing I wouldn’t last too long like this. Above me Taehyung watched me through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and face consumed with raw lust at my blissed-out state. I caught his eyes just seconds before my whole body spasmed and then stilled, climax exploding over me with force that shocked a raspy scream out of me. I blanked out, trembling and overflowing with bliss and ecstasy, legs spasming and toes curling with the sensation of the fire consuming me inside out. It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, the most intense thing my body has ever gone through, but I loved every second of it. It felt as if all the stress just drained away from my body and was replaced by molten gold.
Taehyung fucked me through the orgasm, and it took him only a few more thrusts before his hips jerked wildly, pleasure mounting until he released deep inside of me with his head thrown back and a long drawn-out moan. I felt his cock throb and pulse inside of me as it spurted his seed, his hips lightly swaying in circles to ride it out, until the boneless weightless feeling set in and he collapsed on top of me.
I was feeling so content, body pleasantly light and thrumming with aftershocks of our shared moment, eyelids heavy with sleep. I felt Taehyung slip out and move away from me, his release running down my legs and making me blush again, but I didn’t have any strength to move or wipe it away, so I just laid there and waited for the man. He returned with a piece of cloth, still just as naked, shooting me a little playful wink when he saw me looking at his body. I turned around, embarrassed, even though we had just enjoyed each other like husband and wife.
I heard his little chuckle, but then the cloth suddenly pressed onto my thighs, making me gasp quietly. Taehyung squeezed my leg in apology and continued cleaning me up. I couldn’t help the little sighs of content leaving me, the warm cloth and his gentle touches filling my heart with love.
When he was done, he threw the piece of cloth away carelessly, before jumping onto the bedding and snuggling up to me. We ended up like we always have, Taehyung holding me from behind, hands pulling me as close to him as I could go, lips and nose pressing into the crook of my neck and into my hair, trilling happily.
I let it gently lull me to sleep, melting into his loving embrace, listening to his content purrs, our bodies moulding perfectly together like it was always meant to happen. I closed my eyes, and welcomed sleep, feeling the most comfortable I’ve been in years.
I couldn’t remember what I was thinking right before I slipped under, but I did with the feeling of just everything being right.
I would be okay. We would be okay.
hope you enjoyed yourself and see you around <3
A/N: the story of prince cheoyong, the son of the dragon king who neglected his wife to which a demon of pestilence took a liking and sneaked into her bed - one day cheoyong returned home and saw four feet sticking out of the bed instead of two, and he chased out the demon with singing and dancing, saving his wife and becoming a guardian god - it was said that no demon or evil spirit could enter a house as long as there was a likeness of cheoyong there, so people bought his portraits or talismans with his face and put them on their door, but i kind of switched the sides hehe
#kpop fic#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop angst#bts fic#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts x reader#taehyung fic#taehyung smut#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#taehyung x reader
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Ding dong, here’s the final chapter! I have an epilogue in mind so that may come later, but for now, Thanks so so much for the response to this series and Enjoy!
Ch1 Ch2 Ch3
[talking] [talking passes]
Gai: You knew right away, didn’t you? Kka: Correct. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t trying to do situps or anything..... You little criminal, who smuggled that in for you? Gai: Naruto
Kks: How did you get him to do that? /I/ cant even get Naruto to do things. The tear tracks and shit eating grin are cute. Kinda wanna kiss you. Gai: Don’t let me be a hindrance to-
Gai: What are you giggling about? Kks: I just remembered
Kks: I get to hold over your head that I held mirai before you. Gai: You what?! Your first baby hold and I missed it? Get off of me Kks: So mean! Near death made you crabby. Gai: I won’t give into this Kks: You will, you always succumb. [gai sighs annoyed]
Gai: [Groans] When are they making you swear in as hokage? Kks: That’s not happening anymore thankfully. Gai: Huuuh?? Tenzou didn’t tell me that!
Gai: He said Lady Tsunade was retiring and you were the only choice. Naruto even tried to- Kks: Where do you think i’ve been all day? I convinced her to hold out until Naruto or whoever took over next. Gai: How did you smooth talk that one? Kks: I agreed to do her paperwork and cover for when she needs R&R. I also advised her to ditch the elders so she can actually run this shit show right. Gai: And they... took that well? The elders? Kks: No, not at all. Let’s just say I said some... things that made them backtrack on their decision.
Gai: YOu cant just say that and not tell me now!! I gotta know! Kks: Well... Homura: Absolutely not! Kks: If I am appointed, I’ll be replacing you regardless. Naruto certainly will. It’s inevitable. Koharu: Those kids don’t know how this village runs!
Kks:Those kids just won your war and this is how you speak of them. Or are “those kids“ only respectable to you when they’re eager to die at your beckon call and shut up. Elders: How dare- Watch your tongue! Kks: I won’t be someone who you can walk all over. Things will change. Just so my intentions are clear
Gai: What next?! Kks: That’s is really. Kinda tuned the rest out and passed out for 3 hours. Gai: Rival, I was so invested Kks: Sorry Gai: So you agreed to essentially split the work of a hokage but not publicly take the title? Kks: Mhm Gai: So cool! Apologies, I had just assumes since you were gonna accept last time Kks:[hums] Things changed. Konoha’s not on the brink of war, Tsunade’s still here. The village can breathe and rebuild now.
Kks: After a glimpse of the hassle and public attention the last time, I’m just... Not interested in any of that. I’ve never dreamed or desired to be the hokage. That was always something others wanted /for/ me. So I said no. I know you were happy for me so- Gai: Kakashi
Gai: I’m so very proud of you for expressing how you truly feel. You and tsunade will do amazing work supporting the next generation. Even If you chose to retire today, I’d still be just as proud of you. Also a selfish part of me if happy to have more time with you. [kks huffs]
Kks: I’m proud of you too, y’ know. All your hard work, you’re fucking incredible. Glad my dad made me talk to the cool kid in the green jumpsuit. 2nd coolest shinobi. Gai: Only took 25 years, but I’ve finally caught your eye! Kks: Yup, let’s move in together.
Gai: WHAT?1 Whu-! Kks: I’m fixing up dad’s old house with Tenzou. you should live there with me Gai: Why? Kks: Why are yo suspicious? I’m serious. Space, accessibility for you... I want you around more. Gai: Ok Kks: Ok? Gai: An exciting change is just what my youthful journey needs!! Kks: So yes?
Gai: I would love to share a home with you, Rival [kks giggling] What now?
Kks: Did I just make you succumb, Gai-kun? Gai: When can we have a match next, I need to consensually slap you in the head [kks laughs] Why did you say it like that? Kks: I’m sorry! Your pout looks so cute.... You are still moving in with me, right? That wasnt a joke.
Gai: I’m gonna let you sweat on that one awhile... [whimpers]
Kks: Love you so much, Gai
[gai snoring]
[gai snoring]
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i swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea
masterlist
Sejanus plinth x gn!reader
summary: While you don’t enjoy being in the arena, you’d spend the rest of your life there if it meant you were there with him.
warnings: okay I wrote a second part lol but can definitely be read as a stand-alone fic, loosely accurate but not like word for word scene for scene or anything, I typed Coriolanus about 7000 times for this and it doesn’t feel like a real word anymore, slightly angsty once again but fluff I promise! title is hozier unreal/nth
an: dear all my Ted lasso mutuals that may be seeing this, the gods have struck me with inspiration but for this man and this man only, Roy Kent will one day renter my heart and when I do you will get 10 million fics, I love you all dearly
Only hours ago you were sat on the steps of the academy, not an inch of space between you and Sejanus, him alive and breathing and right in front of you. And now, Dr Gaul was on the other end of the phone line, telling you that Mrs Plinth and Coriolanus Snow were on their way to pick you up, and that the three of you were to go to the arena and get Sejanus the hell out of there.
If you knew him any less, you’d say you didn’t know what got into him, but this was exactly who Sejanus was. You had no doubt in your mind that he had snuck his way in there for Marcus, for something that only he could understand; it’s why you hung up the phone without another word and practically ran down to the street, waiting for Mrs Plinths car to come for you.
Within a minute of you getting to the curb, a long, sleek, black car pulled up in front of you, and Coriolanus Snow came out of it, holding the door open for you and gesturing for you to get inside. You’d never seen him so gentlemanly. Sure, he was always polite, especially to others at the academy, but it always held a limit. A condition.
“Thank you, Coryo.” Coriolanus was startled by the three little words. You’d never called him Coryo before. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue, or maybe Sejanus’s use of it over the years was starting to wear you down and warm you up to the blond.
As you entered the car, you moved to sit directly next to Sejanus’s ‘Ma’ reaching and taking her hand in your own. “It’s going to be okay Mrs Plinth. We’ll get him out of there.” Her grip on your hand tightened with each second you got closer to the arena, just like Sejanus’s had hour earlier when the two of you were sat side by side in the safety of the academy. He definitely had his mothers smile and tenderness, and ability to ease your worrying soul just by being in her presence.
The rest of the car ride went in tense silence, no one daring to say a word until you had seen that Sejanus was alive and well, and out of the arena. Gaul and the peacekeepers had no problem all but shoving you and Coriolanus into the arena upon your arrival, the two of you gripping onto each other in mutual fear as you walked yourself into what could be your deaths.
Silence filled the arena, and it seemed as though all of the tributes had gone into hiding for the night. For all you knew Sejanus, kneeled in the middle of the room beside Marcus’s body, was the only living thing here.
As the two of you neared him, Coriolanus’s foot hit a stone, making just enough noise to startle Sejanus, who jumped as he turned around, thinking this might finally be his end. Upon seeing you and Coryo, he turned back to Marcus, letting out a breath of relief. “I thought they’d send in my Ma.”
“She’s outside, waiting for you.” You stepped forward before Coriolanus could say a word, not allowing his nerves of being in the arena to let him speak to Sejanus in a harsh tone. Sure, coming into the arena was stupid, of course it was, but that thought didn’t dare cross your mind right now. All that mattered was him. “Sejanus, what are you doing here?”
“I’m making sure Marcus has enough food to get to the afterlife with.” Sejanus explained softly, his head hung low and eyes unmoving from Marcus’s still body. “It’s a tradition, in district two, to make sure they don’t go hungry. I can’t let him go hungry.”
A clang could be heard in the distance, the children from the districts slowly beginning to stir around the amphitheatre after the noise made by you and Coriolanus emerging through the barricades. You knelt by Sejanus’s side, taking his hands briefly in your own.
“That’s beautiful, you’re beautiful, but we need to leave.” Your hands were once again against Sejanus’s face, cradling his cheek and frantically pushing his curls out of his eyes. His brow creased, confused with the whole situation before him; he thought you knew how important this would be to him, that you’d let him stay, stay with him even.
“But you were right.” Oh God. What had you said to make Sejanus think that this was a good idea, an idea at all? If Sejanus was to die in here you’d never forgive yourself. “I have to go where the cameras are. I have to do this.”
“Sejanus, no.” Tears threatened to pool at your waterline, knowing that what you’d said only hours ago could’ve led Sejanus to his death if he hadn’t been spotted sooner. “Not like this. Please.”
He went to fight against it, knowing that if he wanted to make change his best chance was from here, at the heart of the problem, but he never got the chance, you cutting him off before he could even begin to speak. “Gaul has cut the cameras, if you die in here she will just pretend that you died of the flu. There are better ways to make change, and I know you can and you will.” Closing what distance there was left between the two of you, you rested your forehead against his. Would anything be enough to get him to leave with you now? “You will be the change you want to see in this cruel world, Sejanus, but not in here, not like this.”
Despite the loud clanging of metal against the concrete floors of the arena, you kept your head pressed firmly against his, running your thumb across the apple of his cheek in hopes he’d leave the arena with you now, before things had the chance to get worse. As the clanging of metal got louder, and Lamina, the girl from 7, began to rise from her slumber above you, Coriolanus stepped closer to the two of you, moving away from where he had been keeping watch.
“Sejanus please, we need to go.” No sooner than Coriolanus had got the words out, Bobbin, the boy from 8, came charging at the three of you from the darkness, a large, machete-like blade in hand. Coriolanus reached out for your hand as you reached out for Sejanus’s, the three of you breaking into a sprint in hopes to escape the tribute before he could hurt any of you. The whole run he was hot on your feet, swinging his sword carelessly in hopes he’d land a hit on one of you. And as you jumped over the barriers, ready to rush for the gate, you thought you’d gotten away scrape and scratch free, however, Sejanus’s knee caught against the turnstile, sending him crashing to the floor while you and Coriolanus landed on your feet.
“Sejanus!” Without hesitation you turned back for him, coming to his side and reaching to help him up, but before you could lay a hand on him, Bobbin swung for you, slashing your arm from shoulder to elbow over the barricade. “Fuck.”
Coriolanus had grabbed a plank from the rubbled floor, swinging at Bobbin in an attempt to get him to back away from the three of you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Your arm, your arm.” Sejanus gasped, his hand flat over the wound as if he could heal it with his touch. “This is my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You repeated, pulling Sejanus to his feet and slinging his arm over your shoulder while you wrapped your arm around his waist. As you turned to see if Coriolanus was still alive, you were met with the sight of him pummelling the tribute to death, blood coating the concrete floor. You don’t think you’re ever going to forget the sight of Coriolanus snow heaving in breaths as he stared down at the dead child. The child he’d killed. Though right now you didn’t have time to dwell on it, Coral and her gang running directly towards you, weapons in hand and ready to slice. Coriolanus jumped across the barrier in one swift movement, coming to Sejanus’s other side to help practically drag him through the tunnel and out of the gate. “Open the gate! Open the gate!”
“Open the gate!” Coriolanus yelled, the gate opening just enough that the three of you could get out to the other side, and closing immediately after, Coral and her team trapped on the other side of the gate as the three of you fell to the floor.
As Coriolanus stood, staring down Coral as she spat insults and threats at him, you turned to Sejanus, throwing an arm around his neck and crushing him in a tight embrace. “You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re okay.” Taking a second to breathe, you pulled yourself away from his touch, only enough that you could see his face and make sure he actually was okay. Sejanus leaned into the soft touch of your palm to his cheek, pressing a dazed kiss so delicately to the inside of your wrist. A smile curled on your lips. “We’re okay.”
“Your arm.” Sejanus started blubbering apologies, both to you and Coriolanus, not only for having to come into the arena to get him, but for the injuries you’d sustained in doing so. “I’m so sorry.”
Coriolanus just walked away from the scene, nodding at Mr and Mrs Plinth as he went to get his bloodied shoulder attended to and speak with Gaul, but you stayed with Sejanus, paying absolutely no mind to the searing burn that emitted from your shoulder as you helped him up. It could wait. You once again held him up by his waist, allowing him to put his arm around your shoulders despite the pain that seared through them at his touch, and helped him walk over to his Ma, who’s arms he fell into almost immediately.
“I’m sorry, Ma. I had to do it, I had to do it.” Mrs Plinth just ran her hand over his back, soothing his worry with each gentle touch.
“You need to get your arm bandaged up.”
“I’m fine, Coryo.” The blond had appeared beside you, shirt in his hands as he’d just been covered in bandages and gauze. His whole body appeared stiff and you weren’t sure if it was due to the fight he’d just won or the consequence of it.
“You’re not, you’re bleeding.” He stated, poking you at the breach of your wound as if to make a point. “See, that must hurt.”
“I’m fine, Coryo, seriously.” You folded your arms across your chest, stealing the expression on your face and taking in a long deep breath as though it would ease the pain and stop you from showing just how much it hurt. “Sejanus will need his knee looking at, I will get my shoulder looked at after.”
Coriolanus only scoffed, his sympathy for you extremely limited now. If you wanted to bleed to death to make sure Sejanus, who nearly gotten all three of you killed, was okay, then who was he to stop you? “Suit yourself. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Only you and Sejanus made it to the capitals hospital, his father insisting that if he was grown enough to go into the arena by himself, then he was grown enough to go to the hospital by himself. And though his Ma had insisted she come with, Strabo had made it clear she would not. While the damage to his knee hadn’t been terribly bad, it was still likely that Sejanus would feel sore and walk with a limp for a while. You hadn’t thought about the cut along your arm once the whole time, but Sejanus clearly had, distracting himself while the nurse put his knee in some kind of splint by tracing his finger along the jagged edge of your uniform, split open by the curve of Bobbins knife. The second the nurse announced she was done with sorting his knee, he made his move. “Can you look at their shoulder? It’s still bleeding.”
The nurse took one look over you, noticing the torn material of your red blazer and the deeper red of the blood that coated it, then ordered you to take off your clothes except for your undershirt, so she could tend to it. “Oh sweetheart, this looks nasty. Why didn’t you say anything sooner.”
“It’s not that bad.” However, your lie almost immediately fell through as she poured some kind of transparent, white liquid on the wound, you gasping as it made contact with your skin. Sejanus immediately reached for your hand, squeezing it and offering a channel for your pain, his other hand coming to rest against your temple, his fingers brushing back though your hair, much like you had done to him earlier in the day.
“You’re okay.” Sejanus soothed his thumb running across your cheek. “You’re okay.”
You were okay, but not because your shoulder was finally being tended to. Sejanus was safe. Alive and safe. And you didn’t plan on letting him out of your sight for as long as you possibly could. When the nurse had finished cleaning up the wound, she excused herself to go and find some gauze and a big enough roll of bandages, promising to be right back.
“Did you mean what you said?” Sejanus asked, his eyes not quite meeting yours, instead focusing on where his thumb met the skin of your cheek, it running over the slightly grazed skin. You must have scratched it against the floor when you fell. “Before? Outside the academy?” When it was clear to him that you weren’t sure of which thing you’d said that he was talking about, he let out a short laugh, rolling his eyes at you lovingly. “That you’ve… grown fond of me?”
“Sejanus…”
You didn’t get to chance to give your obvious answer - you’d only ever been honest with Sejanus, and you weren’t about to change that now - he started talking again. “Is that the reason you came to get me out of the arena?“
Slowly, as he continued to stream out endless questions in your direction, you leaned over from your seat in front of him, placing your hands either side of where he sat on the cot and placing your lips softly against his. Sejanus froze under your soft touch, entirely unsure of himself; he’d never kissed anyone before, and he’d thought so often about kissing you that it didn’t feel real. At least for a second, anyway, as when you tried to pull away at his unresponsiveness, he pushed his lips against your own, not too rushed and not too firm, one of his hands coming to rest against the small of your back.
“I have grown so much more than just fond of you, Sejanus plinth.” You pulled your lips away, smiling to yourself as he chased after your kiss. Less then an inch separated the two of you from locking lips again, and the only thing seeming to restrain Sejanus from kissing you again and again right then and there was the fact he wanted to hear what you had to say. He always did. “I’d follow you anywhere across Panem, from across the districts to the arena itself. They haven’t invented a word for what it is I feel for you yet.”
Sejanus seemed to be in a daze, his mind not quite up to speed with the rest of his body. One of his hands moved to cup your neck, and his eyes kept scanning over your face and repeatedly landed on your lips no matter how hard he tried to look elsewhere. Now that he’d kissed you, he worried the only thing that would be able to come out of his mouth would be the fact that he’d kissed you, at least until he had the fortune of kissing you again. Almost breathless and with a slightly shaky hold on you, Sejanus knew what he had to do.
“Will you kiss me again?”
an: mwah!!! Thank you for reading guys and for all the love on my other Sejanus fic/part one!! Potential third part set in the districts when Sejanus becomes a peacekeeper what do we think??
part 3: of the goodness, love, that I still carry for you out now!!
#beybaldes wrote a fic!!#sejanus plinth oneshot#sejanus plinth imagine#sejanus plinth x reader#tbosbas x reader
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say you’ll love me to death, cause i will
character: todoroki touya | dabi x fem!reader
genre: smut
notes: alright, so we’ve discussed how touya-nii would react to encountering the man who took your virginity, but let's talk about how you would respond to running into the woman who took touya’s. set in my touya-nii au! as always please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: RUNRUNRUN by dutch melrose
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (stepcest), public sex, minimal prep, extreme jealousy, toxic relationship
words: 4.7k
synopsis:
“Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”
And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.
No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.
You’re something so much better.
You’re off minding your own business, legs swinging idly on a bar stool as you wait for your designated reservation time, when it happens, when she appears.
“Touya?”
The name cuts through the blurred noise of the restaurant, both yours and Touya’s attention snapping to the source: a woman, late twenties or so, waving a little in indication on the other side of the bar.
She’s snaking through the patchy crowd, busy unfastening her hair from the intricate bun its been woven into—a requisite for all the waitresses at this establishment—eyes bright, smile brighter.
You don’t even know who she is; not technically, anyway, had never thought to press the issue any further than a simple how’d it happen, had never cared enough to try—especially not when he had been sleeping with so many others right in front of you.
It hadn’t seemed to matter much then. Not the way it matters now.
But she exists, because she must, because somebody would’ve had to take it, would’ve had to be the first, one way or another.
Doesn’t mean you have to like it.
She’s pretty, but you wouldn’t expect any less. Touya stands as she reaches the two of you, pulling your body up with him.
But then Touya greets her, a name you’ve heard kicked around every now and then, and it all fully, finally clicks.
Touya’s first.
“Oh my God,” she’s gushing, “I haven’t seen you in—What’s it been now? Over ten years?”
“Just about,” he responds easily, readjusting his grasp reassuringly on your hip as you cling to him, large palm flattening against your abdomen and hugging you closer to his side, tucked protectively beneath his arm.
“What are the chances! You look...” her eyes scan his body once, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, then back up again, and your fingers flex, coiled and rigid in the material of his shirt, stiff joints already aching. “Wow, incredible!”
“Thanks,” Touya says, an awkward lull in the conversation when he doesn’t repay the compliment.
Their discussion meanders for a little bit—how have you been, what are you doing now, remember when...?—most of it muddled by the blood roaring in your ears and jealousy burning in your throat.
But then her fingertip is just barely grazing his forearm as she points in indication at the ink etched into his skin, and your ears tune into their frequency again, white-hot fury slicing through hazy envy.
“I remember when you started this one,” she’s reminiscing. “You finally finished all of the pieces,” she says with another appreciative glance, and you grip him tighter, the skin of your knuckles pulled so taut it’s starting to hurt. “It’s so breathtaking to see them all come together.”
And you hate the way she speaks to him with a certain type of familiarity; an old friend, effortless and full of laughs, someone who knew him long before you did, when you were only in grade school.
God, how rude of her not to introduce herself, she’s telling you as she finally turns toward you, finally takes notice of you, rooted in Touya’s side; a growth he planted there himself, shoved between his ribs and engrained in his soul, roots so tangled you’re both irremovable, inseparable, now.
She holds out her hand in greeting, but you only clutch Touya more firmly, nails scraping against starched cashmere, face half-hidden in his chest, childish and petulant.
The woman’s smile drops from her face, a slow drooping of her mouth as her forehead crinkles, confusion bleeding through her features.
“She’s shy,” Touya says as way of explanation, but that wolfish smile is stretched sharply across his cheeks, teeth gleaming in the dim light.
“I see,” she says, almost hesitantly, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before they flit back to Touya’s face, expression brightening again. “Well, that’s alright! How long have you two been together?”
And, oh, the giggle that bubbles past your lips is downright sinister, fucking caustic, burning your tongue and eroding your teeth.
No, you’re not his girlfriend, or his partner, or his significant other.
You’re something so much better.
“Oh, we’re not a couple. This is my little sister.”
And, oh, how this is always your favourite part.
You know that it’s his favourite part, too.
Because the way that shock and disgust eats through their confusion, fucking devours any other emotion on their face, is better than anything else in the entire world. The way their expression churns into something twisted and repulsed sends sordid little thrills racing through your veins, blood buzzing with adrenaline.
The two of you must be such a fucking sight, expressions handcrafted by the Devil himself, with glowing eyes—gluttonous gazes gobbling up every little expression, two pairs wide and frantic as they glide across her face—and smug little smirks, points of your mouths so sharp they could pierce the flesh of a fingertip if touched.
Her voice sputters a little, snagging in her throat as she struggles to find the proper words, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear the scene in front of her.
“I—Uh, I didn’t know you had another little sister?”
It’s phrased as a question, her voice beginning to tremble, unnerved as her stare swaps between your faces.
“My mom remarried,” Touya says simply. “This one came packaged with the deal.”
He jostles you in his arms a little—showing off his favourite, precious, most coveted prize—and you cuddle into him, burrowing into his chest a little, fingers flexing in his dress shirt as you clutch him tighter, gathering healthy handfuls of cashmere in your scrunched palms, buttons beginning to strain beneath the strength of your grip.
And he states it proudly, as if he’s glad to own you, to be your big brother, to call you his, staring down at you with so much fondness it melts his hard eyes, sapphire turned to something thick and gooey.
“Oh,” the woman responds, but her voice wavers through a wobbly smile on her face, lips unsure if they want to grin or grimace. “That’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Touya responds, though his eyes do not leave yours, voice softening. “I got pretty fuckin’ lucky. Don’t think I could’ve asked for anything better.”
You can feel the sick, sadistic glee radiating off of him in dense waves—something heavy, something intoxicating—and, if this girl knows him well enough, you’re sure she can, too.
It’s so thick it’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe it in readily, greedily, draw it into your lungs and let it marinate in your tissues—infect, consume, decay.
“We should go for drinks sometime!” her unnaturally chipper tone snaps the trance, draws both of your gazes back to her. “You know, to catch up and all that.”
A noise shudders your ribs, something between a growl and a whine, and Touya laughs as if it’s so fucking cute, looking back down at you with so much adoration in his eyes it’s nearly spilling past his lashes.
“Nah, I’m good,” he says, but his stare never breaks yours. “Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Mr. Todoroki?” a smooth voice floats above the indistinct murmur of the venue. “Your table is ready.”
“Ah, that’s us,” Touya says to you.
“It was nice—”
But you’re already turning away, a single entity in the way you move, think, breathe, be.
“I don’t like her,” you’re grumbling as Touya guides you toward the hostess, not caring that she’s still very clearly in earshot, the confession spilling from your mouth almost subconsciously, having pried past your lips, desperate to be heard.
“I can tell, baby,” Touya snorts, though the smile on his face is soft.
“I—I don’t even wanna eat here anymore,” you sulk, feet starting to drag, words filtered through a deep pout. “And I don’t ever want to see her again!”
It comes out as a demand, a little harsher and firmer than you had intended, uncharacteristically surly, and Touya stops.
Blinking down at you, Touya’s face falls, features suddenly serious, all mirth evaporated from his expression in an instant.
His head dips, voice dropped to a low, dire murmur—something secret, something just for you.
“You want me to kill her for you? Huh, princess? Does niichan need to get rid of her?”
And, oh, how your heart soars, swells, swoops then nearly bursts from your ribs, desperate to claw its way from your chest and into the palms of its owner. Tears rush to cloud your eyes, vision thick and bleary, and two large hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his.
“I’ll do it, baby, I swear to God. All you gotta do is say the word.”
He will. You know he will. You love that he will.
“I love you,” you nearly whimper, hands pawing at him urgently, the words a garbled mess in your mouth, weighted with spit and tears. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he laughs a little, but concern is warping his features, eyes sweeping across your face in search of an answer.
His hand squeezes your jaw gently, callouses decorating the pad of his palm scuffing your soft skin as he holds you in place.
“Just tell niichan what he needs to do to make this better.”
Your gaze holds his for a moment, heavy and unblinking.
“Fuck me,” you finally say. “Remind me who I belong to, remind me who you belong to, remind the whole fucking world who we belong to.”
Sapphire turns to navy, lips spreading into something sinful.
He can do that.
The parking lot is sparsely populated, rows of cars jagged and gapped like knocked out teeth. A small cluster of people hover outside the restaurant’s golden doors, encased in a hazy cloud of smoke and murmuring quietly amongst themselves, and a few people are scattered throughout the lot, just arriving or preparing to leave, but for the most part, you are alone.
The Audi is parked near the back, narrowly missing a pool of white light from one of the tall lampposts.
A chuckle is huffed from tattooed lips, shining eyes trained on your profile as you march toward the car, his long legs easily keeping up with your own.
His baby is on a mission tonight.
“You know, it’s really cute,” he’s saying as he presses you up against the driver’s door, “to see to see you so fucking determined.”
“Want everyone to know you belong to me,” you whine a little, forehead scrunching as your pout deepens.
“Is that so?”
“That is so.”
“And how would you like to show everyone that niichan is yours?” he murmurs into your flesh, lips tracing the curve of your neck.
“Want—Want you to fuck me, right here.”
“Right here?” his hips shove against yours in emphasis. “In the car?”
“No,” your hips push back into his, back arching, already so needy for him. “Right here, in the parking lot. I want that bitch to see.”
And for once, you do not get scolded for such foul language.
“Yeah?” Touya’s breathing into your mouth, hands already rucking up your little cocktail dress. “All out in the open where everyone can see how much of a little whore you are for your big brother?”
“Right here, right here,” you’re nodding, words cracking with desperation. “Right now.”
“So greedy, my little sister is.”
“I don’t care,” you gasp. “Show them, Touya-nii, show them all.”
And he’s so fucking hard you swear you can feel his cock throbbing with each rush of blood, each of your little pleads and dirty words sending another bout of it southward, swear you can feel it twitching and gorging with lust.
“You don’t care, huh?” Hardened fingertips sink into the plush flesh of your ass, kneading a little as his hips gyrate in pitiful little circles, more teasing than anything else.
“No, no,” you’re shaking your head. “I want it now!”
A palm collides with your flesh, hard and sharp, the sound echoing out among the space, chased by your resounding yelp. It draws a handful of glances from the throngs of people loitering around the restaurant’s entrance, but doesn’t keep their attention for long.
“Don’t be impatient, now,” Touya warns, but the glint in his eyes begs you to keep misbehaving. “Get my cock wet first.”
Your face falls as your fight fades, a small frown on your lips.
“Wh-What?”
“You want my cock so badly, baby? Get it fucking wet, then.”
He pauses, watching you closely, smirk growing into something sinister when you freeze in hesitation.
“Aw, what’s wrong?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending it scathes your cheeks. “Not so bold and brave now? I thought you wanted everyone to know; I thought you wanted to show everyone who I belong to,” his tongue tuts, head shaking in mock disappointment, “and you can’t even take my cock down your throat?”
“I do,” you nearly growl, eyes flashing with sudden jealousy, uncharacteristically fierce.
His expression softens, that sharp glint in his eye dulled to a smoldering glow, full of fondness.
“Then get niichan’s cock wet,” he says, hips shoving against yours in emphasis again, “so he can fuck you properly.”
And although it is still very much a demand, a direct order, his voice is tender, his edges worn down by years of affection.
Sliding down his body, your fingers furl in the waistband of his suit pants and tug a little, pulling his hips closer to your face. The buckle of his belt clanks heavily as you tug it undone, the button on his trousers pops easily, and then you’re yanking them halfway down his thighs, freeing his cock.
It’s so fucking pretty, dusty pink from base to tip and smoother than the most expensive velvet, and you just can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into the head with a cute little hum, smearing a thick stroke of pearlescent pre-cum across your skin.
But you know that Touya doesn’t like that, no matter how beautiful you look with his pre-cum slathered all over your face, that Touya can’t stand anything he deems even remotely teasing, and you’re quick to wrap a hand around the shaft as the beginnings of a growl rumble against his ribs, feeding him to yourself.
“S’it, there you go,” he praises as you gorge on him, stuffing him down your throat in a single swallow, reflexive tears burning your eyes.
Lashes flutter quickly, desperate to clear your vision, little drops of crystal collecting in the wispy strands.
It’s pathetic, really, how much your heart soars with such bland praise. But it doesn’t matter, you don’t care, willing to soak up any scraps he’ll afford you, an addict endlessly chasing a fix.
You force your mouth open wider, hinges of your jaw stretching, straining, your tongue curling around the underside as you suck him in further, viscous globs of drool already beginning to collect at the corners of your lips.
“Yeah, yeah, swallow me whole, baby,” he breathes, gaping pupils glittering with a thin ring of cobalt. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this.”
A choked little whine, muted by his cockhead grinding itself into your throat, vibrates, evoking a cracked little moan of his own, hips twitching involuntarily, an instinctual reaction, searching for more.
The asphalt is rough against your knees, skinning them with superficial little scrapes as Touya fucks your mouth a few times; first slowly, breath huffed out through spit-slicked lips as he glides in steadily, inch by inch, voracious eyes watching as your wet mouth puckers around his shaft, coating it in thick, gleaming saliva.
He whimpers a little as the tip of your nose scrunches so cutely as he presses it to his pubic bone, holds it for a breath and savours the way your throat flutters with hiccups and gags before pulling nearly all the way from your mouth, repeating the process as he gains momentum; then faster, harder, cockhead rubbing against the back of your tongue, each quick stroke leaving bitter streaks of pre-cum.
And you hate how his palms are pressed against your ears, muffling every sweet sound you manage to elicit from him as he holds your head still, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones, nails biting shallow crescents into the skin as they dig deeper, grasp tightening as your face becomes slippery with tears, cascading over his knuckles.
Even so, his grip isn’t enough to keep the back of your skull from banging off the door of the Audi, each thrust procuring a dull thud of flesh against metal.
And, Christ, what a beautiful symphony it all creates; the rhythmic sound of your head thwacking against his car, the dainty jingle of his belt buckle, hanging heavy and undone and bouncing between your chin and his thigh, those precious gags and gurgles and sniffles and hiccups that he loves so much, choked off and snuffed out as his cock rams them back into your chest, the half-stifled sounds that keep shattering to pieces on his tongue, shards swallowed down with difficulty, scraping against the walls of his throat and leaving his voice ragged and raw.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he’s panting as his fingers thread through your hair, fisting at the roots and dragging you off of him. “S’a shame, because you look so pretty,” a rough thumb skims over your swollen, glossy lip, his gaze following its trajectory. “But I wanna cum in your cunt, not your throat.”
And then he’s pulling you back up from the ground, strong arms wedged beneath your own and hoisting you into the air, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, locked securely at the ankles as they hook together at the base of his spine, thighs squeezing around his hips in anticipation.
He pins you to the metal of the Audi, one palm securely cupping your ass as the other wraps around the base of his cock, hips inching back just enough to find your hole.
The head, now slicked with your spit, glides over your clit twice—a cheeky little tease, just to hear you whine his name again, all stringy and petulant through a swollen pout—then down your slit until it catches on your hole.
It stings as he forces himself into you, always does no matter how wet you are, no matter how much you’ve slobbered all over his shaft, because Touya routinely refuses to prep you at all—not that you would’ve let him, not tonight—because he loves it, too, he loves it just as much as you do.
He loves the sharp little hiss pushed through the gaps of your teeth by your tongue, he loves the gentle fluttering of your cunt as your most delicate skin stretches, splits itself open for him, to suck him in and swallow him down, he loves that sweet sigh that melts from your mouth as he bottoms out, slathered over his own huff of breath, conjoined relief.
“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,” you’re whimpering out, fingers curling against his shoulders.
“M’here, baby, m’here,” he pants out, forehead pushing against your own, eyes slipped shut.
And for a moment everything is still, breath held stagnant in swelling lungs as you both savour this feeling—of fullness, of closeness, of wholeness—appreciation unhindered by noisy exhales or slapping skin.
Then his hips are moving, gyrating in little circles that gain speed with each completed motion, cockhead grinding into your cervix.
He can’t exactly fuck you properly like this, can’t exactly fuck you like he wants to, like he normally would, not all out in the open like this.
But he manages to make do, the pace quick right from the start, shallow fast snaps of his hips that have the buckle of his belt is clanging against his car, leaving superficial little scratches just below the door handle.
It’s all still so fucking hot, though, his forehead pressed tightly to yours as he exhales nicotine-tinged breath across your face, each one pushed from his chest with the rapid little ruts of his hips.
It’s all so fucking naughty, fucking out in the open where anyone who’s paying more than a shred of attention can see, his movements just barely hidden by the flesh of your thighs, cushioning his hips.
The thought that anyone could be watching, touching themselves, filming you has your muscles tightening and your stomachs fluttering, the dirty, illicit nature inspiring another rush of adrenaline to taint your blood.
Your mouth drops open, starved for more of him—never satisfied, are you, greedy lil thing—welcoming his huffs onto your tongue, spicy and sweet as hickory. Your tongue unfurls from your mouth, dumb and lazy and so fucking messy, licking at his lips in quick, uneven strokes, sopping up any remnants of his essence.
The tip slithers between his parted lips, kittenishly lapping at the edges of his teeth, tracing the sharp ridges one by one, and he laughs, warm and airy.
His own tongue shoves against yours, pushing it from his mouth and back into it’s rightful home before he flattens the slick muscle against your face and drags it, slow and steady, from the point of you chin to the tip of your nose, leaving behind a thick, fat trail of cooling saliva painted across your face.
The action has you squealing, scrunching up your nose as you involuntarily suck your bottom lip between your teeth and suck it clean.
His scent is strong, now saturating your skin as it dries, tight and hard, on your face, sealed by the breathless little giggle he exhales across your cheeks.
And, Christ, he’s so fucking gorgeous, strands of alabaster plastered to his forehead and stuck to his temples in scraggly strings, clumped into damp little tufts that curl up at the base of his neck, drops of sweat balancing precariously on the points.
His rough, quick movements have them breaking free, glistening drops of sweat rolling down his puckered skin, tracing the curve of his neck, streaking ink and ivory with glimmering little trails. They pool in the dips of his collarbones and soak into the collar of his shirt, turning cashmere translucent.
The sleek muscles in his forearms flex beneath inked skin, gliding as he readjusts his grip, holds you closer, hugs you tighter, fucks you harder.
His whole body is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, urgently chasing that high that only his little sister can gift him, sharp pistons of his hips keeping you pinned to the car while he uses you as his personal little toy, his favourite little toy, forcing you to just take it.
And yet, despite it all, his eyes are bright, his lips molded into a brilliant smile, a sick sort of love stained with exhilaration—the thrill of getting caught: fucking all out in the open, fucking your family—brimming in his gaze.
He’s such a fucking pro, knows you and your body better than anyone else ever has, ever could, ever will, angling his hips so they fuck you just right, each stroke of his cock an upward curve, dragging against that puffy spot buried deep within your cunt, head swiping against your cervix with each draw back.
Across the lot, that girl is fiddling with the keys to her shitty little car, rooting around for something in her bag, and Touya laughs—a loud, booming sound, heavy with deranged delight that echoes throughout the space, garnering the attention of a smattering of bystanders.
“Look,” he nudges his head to the right, your gaze following his own, slippery cheeks pressed flush together. “She’s watching. She can see you, sweetheart—can see us, can see you’re mine and I’m yours.”
Good. If she hadn’t already figured it out before, it should be abundantly fucking obvious now, who he belongs to.
“She—She looks disgusted,” you snicker.
Even from several meters away, she does, you can tell, face twisted up somewhere between horror and shock, eyes wide and unblinking as they scan your conjoined forms, brow scrunched and chest beginning to heave.
She looks like she’s going to be sick.
You hope she is.
“Oh, she doesn’t even know—fuck—the half of it, does she?” Touya keens, hips faltering for just a moment before regaining their momentum. “Why don’t we give her something to really be repulsed by?”
Yes, yes, yes, you’re nodding your head, little mewls of affirmation spilling from your throat.
“Give your big brother a kiss, then.”
And oh, how eager you are, ever his good girl, ever his best girl, arms tightening around his neck as you pull yourself closer, smashing your lips to his. Dainty fingers thread through the hair at the back of his scalp, soaked with salt, and tug harshly, enough to have a reactionary hiss slipping through his teeth.
Using the opportunity, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth between your teeth, clamp down hard and yank backwards, so hard his lip stretches like shimmering, pink bubblegum, gums beginning to strain until it finally slides free of your hold, teeth scraping against flesh. He spits out a curse, muddled and chased by a laugh, tongue laving over the indents you left, now weeping copper.
“Niichan’s gonna get you back for that one,” he says, sadistic glee shimmering in his eyes almost as pretty as the crimson glazing his mouth.
You’re sure he will, too, later tonight, with that cherished knife you gifted him last year.
The giggle that pours past your lips is fucking raucous, leaves your tongue sticky and tingling, so wicked it rivals your brother.
“I wanna show her, niichan,” you’re panting out, voice fading into a whine. “I want to show her that you’re mine.”
“Do it, baby,” he breathes. “Show the whole world how fucking gorgeous you look cumming for your big brother.”
Three more rapid pumps of his hips and you’re convulsing around him, cunt clenching almost viciously around his cock as your heat gushes down his shaft, sticky and messy and so much, so much it pools in the folds of his heavy balls, so much it streams down his taut thighs and soaks the waistband of his trousers, so much it dribbles down the metal of the Audi, smeared across the door in sloppy strokes.
“Mi-Mine,” you growl, thighs squeezing around him as if you’re attempting to milk more juices from yourself, trying to stain him with you and stake your claim.
“Yeah,” he nearly moans, hips beginning to stutter. “Yours, baby, niichan’s yours. Tell him again.”
“You’re mine!” you sob out, nails gripping the sleek muscle of his shoulders with such strength the joints of your fingers crack and ache, clawing at him as if you’re trying to gorge every part of you on him, eat up every piece of him you can, stuff every bit of you as full of him as physically possible.
“Fu-Fuck,” he keens, the curse shattering in his throat. “That’sa—That’s my good girl.”
He’s close now, you can tell; can hear it in the way his words keep splintering on his tongue, can feel it in the way his thrusts have gone from precise and particular to loose and sloppy, an urgent, uneven rutting of his hips.
“Fill me, fill me, fill me with your cock, niichan,” you’re gasping out, scrabbling at his neck, scraping skin and sweat beneath your nails. “Fill me with your cum, fill me so much, fill me until I can’t take anymore and it starts le-leaking out, all—all over the place.”
And, well, he’s never been one to deny his precious baby sister what she wants.
Because then he’s complying, hips stammering to a halt and pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs, stuffing you full of thick, burning cream.
“More! More, more,” you’re gasping out as you try to fuck yourself on his twitching cock, desperate to pump him for everything he’s got to give, eliciting a breathless, broken little laugh falling from his lips.
“S’all yours,” he manages to slur out, slumping a little against his car, knees beginning to quiver as his cock strives to please you, giving another weak spurt of cum. “S’all yours, princess, always.”
#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi smut#todoroki touya x reader#todoroki touya x you#todoroki touya smut#tw:pseudocest#tw:toxic relationship#tw:minimal prep#tw:public sex
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FLOWERS, ONE TO MY REMEMBRANCE.
scaramouche / gn reader, merry christmas @adiluv :)
“I’m called the Wanderer.”
He speaks these words with a lightened, innocent charm. A sparkling crinkle in his eyes so unadulterated and wholehearted. The Wanderer’s voice is like a new baby’s breath to this old, torn world.
And you—there’s electric in your heart, and a strum of curiosity stemming from your heartstrings to your brain. A smile so unknowing and hypnotic in the way it sends butterflies to his stomach in mere instances. In all the years he’s spent wandering the seven regions and the seven elements, he truly believe he has not felt love until this moment.
With your eyes so new and so kind upon him, oh, he might’ve truly found the purpose of the heavens within you.
“I’m called the Wanderer.”
He speaks these words with a curious type of stunned silence. He’s enchanted in a way, a feeling wherein he can feel his knees begin to crumble at the mere sight of the details of your face. The Wanderer feels weak, as if he’s falling in love at first sight.
“The Wanderer…” you ponder quietly.
He feels his cheeks flare up at your voice. His lips feel glued together once he hears you speak for the first time, completely taken aback from the hypnotic aura you radiate. By laws of nature, he feels like a moth to your flame in which he, as a wandering soul of old, feels he can truly find you in every universe.
“I’m called the Wanderer.”
A bitter taste resides on his tongue.
You turn to look at him, and he feels this uncanny sense of familiarity within the depths of your eyes. The soul in them: he suddenly feels as if he’s stared at it a million times before.
He’s thinking of crumbling away about now.
“The Wanderer…” The taste of his title on your tongue, the sound of your voice—all of it falls unbearably recognizable. He can feel his breath catch short within the cages of his lungs, however it is not one he desired. Somehow, he feels as if this improper breathing should’ve been soul-crushing in a way that was loving, and not the blatant fear that suddenly settles in the taut tightropes of his beating heart. “Have we…” you voice out, the sound of each word stealing more of his airflow away from his lifeline. “Have we met before?”
The rising intonation at the end of your sentence sends a shiver to his spine when he processes your words. He feels clammy, sweaty; but he’s made of wood—he shouldn’t sweat? He shouldn’t be feeling like this? But you were no evil, no… So he should not be filled with this sense of hesitant alarm.
“No…” says he, reluctantly so. “Not that I know of.” He attempts to say this gulping with confidence, however he fails in this aspect—in fact, he sounds as if he is nervous, speaking with shaky breaths. It was clear that even he himself did not believe his own words. No, not that I know of; and yet he felt like he’s known you for every previous life.
“That’s so odd,” you miss, finger quite innocently falling upon your bottom lip in ponderance. “I can swear I’ve seen you somewhere before, but I cannot currently recall…”
He coughed. “You must be mistaken.”
What originally drew him to you like a moth to a flame now killed him. And he felt near-death in this moment; a sensation in which he feels he should run far away from you, no matter how clueless you seem right now. All that mattered was that he recognized you in a way that felt dangerous, like it should not be happening.
He excuses him, and runs off at your confusion.
“I knew I’d find you here. Luckily so soon, too.”
Kunikuzushi, or Scaramouche—not that he could bother to care much right now—whipped his head around in horrific shock. The Dendro Archon stood there right at his tail, looking up at his disgruntled eyes in disappointment.
“Do you know who you are right now?” she continues, approaching so calmly. His startled fingers ball to fists in frustration, glaring at her from the side of his face with his back turned in what seemed like anger. But only Nahida knew, truly: he was more than ashamed now. “Am I speaking to the Wanderer, or who you really are?”
He scoffs. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying your questions are?” he insults, much unlike the Wanderer.
“Oh, so it sounds like you remember everything,” the Archon states. Her tone is almost one of giggling, yet she does not make much haste when approaching him. There is no ridicule or spite in her words, her voice instead much sounding like a caring older sister getting ready to scold him. “That’s good. Makes my job easier.”
“What do you want from me,” he commands from her.
She walks without a hop or skip in her step; there no playfulness in her approach, just a slow resolve. He isn’t sure how much longer he can eye her as she comes forth—his heart is racing right now, and he needs to stop it desperately so. He is but a puppet: he is not familiar nor is he fond of this suspenseful feeling.
“Well,” she started, finally standing still next to him, “we both know why you’re here, standing right in front of Irminsul.” He flinches at her words. “How many times has it been now, Wanderer? Five? Forty? Hundreds?”
“That’s none of your business,” he snarls at her, turning his face away. But still, he stands ashamed, balling his fists constantly as if he hoped his nails would break his inhuman palms until they impossibly bled. “It isn’t my fault, you know.”
She hummed. He wanted to punch her from this sound alone—she should not assume she knows his reasonings as well as he himself does. “But as a man who is a new human”—he feels himself almost hurl from the lecture—“you need to learn how to handle human issues in a human way.”
“But no matter what, I am not human,” he tells her. “This is all I know to do.”
“Erasing yourself over and over again is not the answer, I fear, Wanderer.” And this is where she almost giggles at him, and he feels more embarrassed, converted to anger. But he could not deny this. He could not deny that he was stupidly resetting the world and it’s memory of him.
Stupidity, unfortunately, was his opinionated best shot.
“Just one more.” It was like a beg. “Just one more, because I was seen.”
“I’m called the Wanderer.”
You looked at him surprised, and he hid his face under his hat in embarrassment. You immediately notice how his stance is completely changed from before, demeanor like shifted to a different person.
“Oh!” you notice surely. “You’re back—you left so abruptly earlier…”
He somehow feels more ashamed than before. This was his millionth first-meeting with you by now, and somehow the most humiliating one. There was something about meeting you like this every time—being erased of his own memories by himself, slowly remembering his own memories, and crying out because he’s entangled himself with you once more. And that’s when he breaks down, and resets the world all before the Dendro Archon catches him.
And now, here he was, standing here like a middle schooler forced by his mother to apologize to a girl he liked.
“Sorry…” he seethe through gritted teeth. He really isn’t sure how to continue this conversation with you. In his own head, he has all these memories of your first relationship, and of all these first meetings, and you… You were just meeting him like a stranger.
But when you look at him all the same, a different sense of familiarity in your eyes… He feels it may be different this time.
And, he might just allow himself to love you now.
MERRY CHRISTMAS I LOVE YEWWW
#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#scara x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin x gender neutral reader
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you're somebody else - b.s.
Brennan Sorrengail x Reader
words: 1.7k
🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. reader uses she/her pronouns. angst, angst, angst (but a happy ending!) blood, discussion of injury, scars and stitches. inspired by / titled after the song by flora cash
Your fiancé has been dead for six years. You’d read his name on the death roll, and burned his belongings in an offering to Malek.
Now he’s standing thirty feet away from you with both of his sisters, breathing and moving, reacting to something they’d said.
He’s alive.
Your grip on your bag falters, and it falls to the floor with a soft thud.
Everyone’s eyes turn to you. The younger of the two Sorrengail girls recognizes you instantly, her lips parting in shock as she takes you in for the first time since Brennan’s graduation from Basgiath.
Her gaze shifts to her brother, whose eyes are now locked with yours. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, unable to pull your eyes away from the man in front of you.
You make no move toward him; don’t leap into his arms like he’d imagined for years, don’t hug him as tightly as you can, don’t cry tears of happiness. Your boots are still glued to the polished floor of the hall.
“Sweetheart,” he breathes, “I…”
You flinch at his voice, the sound you’ve only heard in dreams for the last six years.
The tall man standing beside him, who you distantly recognize to be Fen Riorson’s son, motions for the two girls to leave.
“It’s good to see you again,” Violet says softly. You’ve always had a soft spot for her, had written her letters after you’d gotten the news, sharing in her grief.
Mira only gives you a lingering glance as she follows her sister, leaving you alone with Brennan.
“You’re hurt,” he says gently, seeing the tear in the right thigh of your pants and the bloody gash beneath it. “Can I mend you?”
You remain silent, but you nod once in affirmation.
You pretend the hands on your leg belong to anyone else, keeping your eyes forward while he kneels in front of you, working to close the wound.
He finally speaks. “My love, I’m so-”
“Please don’t call me that,” you interrupt, and he feels a pain rival to that of the arrow he’d taken to the chest, the one that should have killed him.
He’s silent, letting you continue. You’ll likely have as much pent up emotion to release as his sisters did when they found out. Thankfully, you choose Violet’s path over Mira’s, eviscerating him with words rather than fists. His nose still doesn’t feel right; mending himself has always been difficult.
“I still mourn you,” you tell him. “I've lit a candle for Malek every night in your honor since I got the news. To have my life crumble around me, to find out we’re at war, that I’ve been on the wrong side the whole time, and then to find that for six years, you’ve been alive, but you never once thought about writing to me to tell me any of it…” you shake your head, pressing your lips together to hold in a sob.
You steady your breathing after a moment. “I’m glad you’re alive, Brennan, I really am. But my Brennan, the man I was supposed to marry, the one who wrote me love letters in ancient languages, is still dead. He has been for years.”
You reach into the chest pocket of your flight jacket, placing something cold in his hand and closing his fingers around it. He doesn’t need to look down to know that it's your engagement ring.
“Thank you for the mending,” you say, picking up your bag.
He waits until your footsteps have retreated back into the hallway, letting loose a shuddering sob.
Marbh sends him a wave of warmth and empathy. If there is any being who knows how much it had hurt Brennan to be away from you so long, it is him.
“Your brother needs you, silver one,” Tairn relays to Violet, a resigned quiet in his tone that has the cadet slipping away from the group to run back to the assembly room.
When she arrives, she finds Brennan sitting on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, sobbing. It’s a sight she never wants to see again; it just feels so wrong.
Brennan had always been the strongest of the siblings, the tree that could weather any storm, a perfect balance of their mother’s intense strength and their father’s calm intelligence. It was always her crying after an injury, Mira or Brennan taking her to the infirmary for Nolon to mend it, soothing her all the while.
It’s her turn now to hold him as he cries, murmuring reassurances.
“She’ll come around,” Violet promises, though there’s a nagging feeling in her chest that says you might not. “Prove to her that you are the same man she fell in love with, that you are still worthy of her, and she’ll come around.”
-------------------------------------------------------
You don’t speak with him for two days, only seeing him stand on the dais at Battle Brief.
It had stung to hear Devera refer to him as Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. He’d changed his name. He really isn’t your Brennan anymore.
He catches you at breakfast — none of your squadmates had come with you from Montserrat, so you’re sitting alone at one of the long tables.
You look up at him silently, letting him speak first.
He lays a thick bundle of papers on the table in front of you. “The first year of letters,” he answers before you can ask, “that I was too much of a coward to send.”
You look down at the stack of aged parchment. There have to be at least twenty letters there — one a week since July, when he’d been sent to Aretia.
By the time you look back up, he’s gone.
-------------------------------------------------------
A week passes, then another.
He’s nearly too busy to worry about you, between the arguments among the assembly, the arrival of the gryphon fliers and the subsequent issues integrating them, and his duties mending the injuries resulting from the animosity there.
Someone steps through the door of the infirmary, panting as they limp an injured rider forward. “She just collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Brennan realizes it’s you they’re holding up, his heart pounding. He wraps an arm around your waist to take you from your friend, and his hand slips against your side, warm and wet with blood.
He guides you onto one of the empty beds, pulling up the sticky fabric of your shirt.
The messily-wrapped bandage around your torso has absorbed all the blood it can, the row of stitches underneath torn open. You must have done this yourself in an effort to avoid him, and it didn’t hold.
At least the wound doesn’t seem infected.
He presses a clean palm into the skin, apologizing when you whimper and flinch away. “S’okay, pretty girl,” he soothes, brushing the hair from your forehead gently.
You don’t seem to hear him, your eyes still closed. Fuck, how much blood have you lost?
It’s easy enough to mend the wound, but it’s going to scar — it’s not fresh enough for him to make it disappear without a trace.
He washes the blood from his hands, pulling up a chair beside the bed and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.
He has no idea if you’ve read the letters he gave you had changed your mind, or if you’d read them at all. You may very well have burned them. You’d be right to, after the way he’d lied to you.
You might never take him back. This may be his last chance to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his.
He takes your hand gently, intertwining your fingers and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, squeezing your palm three times — three times means I love you, you’d told him years ago.
His heart nearly stops as you squeeze back weakly; once, twice, three times.
—————————————————————
You blink the sleep from your eyes, your gaze settling on Brennan sitting beside you, an ancient looking book in his hand, pen between his teeth and a notebook covered with nearly incoherent scribbles in his lap.
Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you’d thought.
The book and notes are quickly abandoned when he realizes you’re awake. “What the hell happened?”
“Godsdamned gryphon bit me because it didn’t like the order I gave it’s flier,” you explain, stretching your aching muscles. How long had you been asleep?
“And rather than seeking professional help, you stitched it up yourself?” He asks in that same stern tone he’d always used with you after you put yourself in danger.
This time you don’t find it endearing.
“Yes, I did, like I have for the last six years every time I’ve been injured,” you snap. “The way people do when they don’t have a mender with them.”
He holds his tongue, realizing how many scars you’d acquired over the years. Since he developed his signet, he’d always mended even the smallest of scrapes for you, but now stripes of scar tissue run across your skin like rivers on a map, ghosts of past wounds, some healed better than others.
He imagines you sitting alone in your barracks room with a needle and thread, a folded shirt clenched between your teeth as you sewed the wounds shut.
“Please come see me next time?” He asks softly, genuine concern in his voice. “It could have gotten infected, or worse. And if your friend hadn’t been there…”
You sigh, guilt tugging at you. “Okay.”
“Thank you. Get some rest,” he encourages, turning to gather his things.
“I read some of the letters,” you say, and he turns back to face you. “I’m still hurt, but I’m not angry. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you. You’re a good man, Bren. You’ve done great things for these people.”
The weight on his chest lightens, but he stays quiet, waiting for another heartbreaking line.
“Can we start over?” You ask in a whisper, looking up at him. “Can we try to be us again?”
He smiles. “I’d love nothing more, sweetheart.”
Your heart flutters at the word, as if you’re hearing it from him for the first time. In a way, you are.
#brennan sorrengail#brennan sorrengail x reader#fourth wing#fourth wing x reader#liz brennanposting at midnight? more likely than you think#mine
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happy pride!!! much love!!! can we PLEASE have more zaggy boy? ✨🌺🌿
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Meg is in the middle of torturing several disobedient souls when Thanatos appears at her side. “I must speak with you.”
He outranks her, so she’d have to listen to him regardless, but the urgency in his normally flat tone is enough for a spike of worry to shoot through her. The only one able to pull an emotion from him besides irritation is Zagreus and he hadn’t even had this level of suppressed panic when he’d found out that Zagreus was attempting to escape to the surface. What could be worse than that?
She dismisses the souls and turns to him. “What’s going on?”
“Not here,” he says, and edge of nervousness around him that’s nearly enough to send her into an all out panic. They are alone, the only one able to overhear them is Hades if he’s paying attention and possibly Nyx, but that has never stopped him speaking freely before, or from assisting Zagreus on his escape attempts, something that is far more likely to catch Hades’s attention than the two of them having a conversation. He grabs her wrist, which she thinks is the first time he touched her since they were children. “Come with me.”
She doesn’t resist, letting him guide her through the levels of the underworld and then past them to the surface, which makes her nervous. She is a being of the underworld and unlike Thanatos, has no reason to venture to the surface. She is allowed, only because she’s never bothered before and so Hades has never had a reason to forbid here.
Meg is expecting Thanatos to settle them at the entrance of the underworld, out of reach of Hades’s eyes and ears but close to home.
Instead she finds herself in the middle of an orchard.
“Why are we – what are these?” She steps closer in fascination, the apples growing thick and fat amongst the branches, but not any sort of familiar hue. Instead they gleam silver in the afternoon sun, not like any apple she’s heard of on either mortal land or in Olympus. Strange yellow flowers crowd around the base of each tree, the grass soft and a vibrant green beneath her feet. “How? I thought – aren’t the mortals stuck in winter?”
“There is a god that stands against her,” Thanatos says.
Meg turns disbelieving eyes onto him. “Are they mad? Not even Zeus has been able to persuade Demeter to relinquish her grief. She even destroyed Dionysus’s vines and has driven the nymphs into slumber. When she find them, she’ll kill them, and no one will be able to stop her, just as they’ve been able to put an end to her winter. Who would be that foolish?”
Thanatos stares at her for one beat, then two, and by the third Meg can feel denial and desperation crawling up her throat.
“That’s impossible,” she snaps. “Be realistic. You said he couldn’t even escape under his own power, but you think that he can do this?”
“We are not the Prince’s Court,” he says. “It’s a real place, a piece of the underworld where Zagreus’s followers congregate after their death. Hypnos has been covering for him for years, ever since Zagreus’s first worshiper died and the Prince’s Court appeared on his scroll.” He visibly hesitates, then adds, “It’s beautiful. Even more so than Elysium.”
“No,” Meg says. “That’s impossible.”
“He has a blessed high priestess, and many more holy men and women, and temples, and this is one of the many orchards grown in his name,” he continues. “The call him Prince. They don’t even know his name. He’s – he’s done all this, and they don’t even invoke his name!”
Names hold power. Prince is a title, not a name, and so Zagreus has done all this nameless. Has cultivated a power of his parents but separate from them, building himself into the type of god that gets a throne on the pantheon without using the name his parents gave him.
No one has ever done that. Even Dionysus leaned into his status as his father’s son.
“You’re sure?” she asks. “It could be some other god, using Zagreus as a cover, to keep from attracting Demeter’s ire.”
Thanatos plucks one of the silver apples from the tree and presses it against her mouth.
She bites into it, the sweet flesh bursting against her tongue and the magic making her teeth rattle familiar and also achingly unfamiliar.
Zagreus’s magic causes strength to flood her body, one bite of an apple feeling like a god of Olympus granting her a boon.
She’s going to kill him.
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PRECIOUS
Pairing: Prince!Seonghwa x f!reader x Prince!Hongjoong
Genre: Royal, Fantasy, Angst, Yandere
Warnings: crying, controlling nature, possessiveness, suggestive themes, using a sleeping potion needle.
W.C: 3.5k
Note: Thanks to the people loving my works and supporting them. I love to read your reviews in my dms so feel free to dm me. Thanks for joining the event.
Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity
Request from: @warpedspirit
Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @yeoobin @tainsan ( I didn’t know which account to tag 🥹)
👑
*under the cut*
The kingdom Halazia was ruled by the king, Zeeth. His first wife who died at a young age has a son named Park Seonghwa and the second wife has a son named Kim Hongjoong. The Title for the sons were after their mother because they didn’t want their fathers title to be given to them as they passionately hated that man.
Two months ago, the king suddenly died of a mysterious fever. Not even the best medic in the kingdom found the cause for the untimely end so this leaves only the younger queen to take over the family proceedings. The situation was very difficult for her to handle and let alone the princes who are not even bothered by their father death.
The elder Prince, Park Seonghwa who has a great physique with light toned skin and always keeping a sword attached to the waist band, the handle is designed with blue and silver crystals which highlights the shining silvery blade more. The prince attires always look the best on him and make it seems like the position pf prince is designated for him. He has the piercing eyes like an eagle as if he can read your soul with a single glance at you which can make you feel exposed even though you are fully covered with materials. His sharpness of eyes is slightly hidden with the black strokes of the bangs falling over his eyes similarly the way the sharpness of the blade is separating through the handle from his hand. Even though having such a strong aura with the sharp facial features his personality is a bit contrasting in usual. He has a sweet voice which can easily lure you into his well-planned trap and his calm and peaceful nature can convince you to speak all your hidden truths to him. Well, that’s the trap where he will attract you with his caring nature and gets to know everything about you which may not be always good.
The younger Prince, Kim Hongjoong whose name can alone scream the dominance over every possible thing. He is born to be a king. He is slightly shorter than the eldest prince but his pointy noise and thick eyebrows and the evil glint in his eyes with the dirty smirk as if he whatever he does or say is the last option for everyone makes everyone else surrounding him feel smaller to him. Don’t ever dare to say him short if you don’t want to die early. He is totally ruthless unlike his brother’s calm personality. But both of them having same interests on something or hating the same thing similarly which make them most powerful. Hongjoong has a folding knife whose heavy metal portion is designed with black crystals totally matching with his dark personality. His only emotions are for his mother and his brother. He does not have to make you believe him because no matter what he will do it with force whenever its possible.
Likely, the commoners are well aware of their hatred towards the king because they don’t like the rules of the kingdom set by the king. They both can be the most powerful duo among all the neighbouring kingdoms if they get pissed off with something. Most commonly known as The Django Brothers because of this consistent and ruthless personality when together. The king’s death announces Seonghwa as the next ruler of Halazia but his love for his brother made him to come up with a final decision for the kingdom’s future attention.
“I will not be ruling this kingdom alone, I want my brother to be the part of this as well.” Seonghwa sitting elegantly on the throne in a dark blue prince attire looking flawless on the antic throne of the king seems like a perfect protector of Halazia. He is looking around the court hall to scan the faces for any disapproval. Hongjoong standing behind him in a black furry fit which more seems like the enemy or the destroyer of the kingdom and also with the visible smirk on his. He is observing everyone present there while playing with his pocket knife making everyone startled with every opening striking sound.
The head of the general gulped when taking in the look of the younger prince and spoke up, “We all agree with your plans Prince Seonghwa even we are measuring the land to divide the north sector and the south sector equally. The commoners are also happy for the decision on finding two future kings which can lead to betterment of the kingdom as you both can give proper attention to the respective parts rather focusing on vast areas alone.”
“Equal sectors? Do you think we will get jealous of each other huh?” The younger prince spoke and the head of the general is trying to avoid being under his heavy gaze.
“It is King Seonghwa and King Hongjoong for you all and I want this news to be announced all over the kingdom within evening.” Everyone nodded their head in return not wanting to displease any of the kings.
“Also tell everyone that my little sons are big enough to get married and am searching for beautiful and talented girls who can take care of my sons and teach them right way to behave maybe then these two can become a real human.” The youngest queen chuckled when coming to the middle of the hall.
Everyone feels relaxed with the joke and her playful presence and they all bowed to the queen and smiled towards her.
The two princes groaned on hearing the statement, “Mother, you know the kingdom is enough for having two rulers so there is no need of a woman. We can take care of everything alone.” Hongjoong interjects.
“But you can’t take care of your feelings for love, the loneliness will break you down my son.” She looks at both of them sympathetically.
“We can and we will show you how.” Seonghwa spoke up but with a respectful gesture towards the queen.
The ministers and generals started to leave the hall one by one when the queen made a quick gesture to the business minister to spread her wanting news for marriage.
“Father?….” A sweet honey like voice chirped in from a corner. All the attention turns towards that direction. The two princes are having the confuse look where the queen is grinning towards the new comer. The head general was last to leave when on hearing the voice halted in his step.
“Oh! Look I forgot to tell you who I brought here, General she was waiting at the gate for you and I heard that you don’t talk to your daughter.” The general glared to the girl standing behind the queen but instantly changed his expression to face the royals.
“Your honour, Queen Aeris I would like to apologize in behalf of her but I would like to take my leave here.” General plainly stated.
“This is your daughter?” The youngest prince scanning the girl as if like an animal getting ready to jump on his prey that instance. The girl hesitated in her place under his gaze.
“Y/N?” Seonghwa softly called the girl. The girl and queen both looked at him with big round eyes.
“Ah, finally my son recognized her. So, you should know now why she is here.” The queen clapped her hands happily and went away when a maid whispered something in her ears.
Seonghwa still looking at her when she is just looking around for what to say to him. Hongjoong suddenly spoke up, “Y/N? you mean our Y/N, our precious? My precious?”
Seonghwa nodded in reply which made his brother to show his dirty smirk again. Hongjoong turned towards the general, “So you kept her hidden from us all these days? Why?”
“Joong and Hwa, he is not to blame here. I kept myself away from this place because I need to take care of myself because father- “
“Don’t call me father, You witch, good for nothing. I don’t want your presence in front of my eyes.”
“That’s so ridiculous. Raising your voice in front of us and also on her?” Hongjoong asked the general with a dangerous expressionless look. The general apologized again and the elder prince signalled him to leave the place without wanting to hear anything further from him.
“You both remembered me still?” You are a bit happy and tensed at the same time with their presence.
“How can we forget the one who made our childhood the most bearable and memorable one. The one who respected and also befriended us before knowing us being royals. You are so different Y/N.” Seonghwa smiled for the first time in the whole day. Hongjoong took a quick glance at his brother and added, “You are the precious gem to us. See we decorated our sword and knife according to the colors you stated suite us.” He holds his knife towards you and Seonghwa also retreat his sword from the waist band to show it to you.
“That’s so nice that you still care for our friendship but we should not treat each other like before now because things are different since then. We have grown up and …….I’m engaged to Haechan.”
The two prince ears perked up on hearing the name of a male coming out of your mouth and also the fact that you are engaged. Seonghwa’s smile disappeared for a second but he quickly regained it while facing you but Hongjoong is totally losing his composure.
“Who? Haechan? Who is this person? When did this all happened?” Seonghwa quickly stated acting all normal but is few inches away to just rip this said person’s head off. He took a few steps to stand closer and in front of you. You are slightly shorter than them so you glanced upward with fear in your eyes because you are suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the fact that the person before you is not happy with your statement. Hongjoong’s heavy footsteps echoed inside the empty big hall which stopped just right behind you. You can feel the gaze behind you is burning hole in the back of your head.
Seonghwa putting the loose hair strands behind your ears with a smile which is totally mocking your fear, “We can’t just accept that you are engaged Y/N.”
“Huh? What do you mean you can’t?” You know the three of you can’t be close friends when you are just a commoner with two royals. People would not like this relation among you three.
“Oh precious! We can't lose you again when we just got you after so many years. We did not just wait for you to come back and say that you are going away from us forever.” You are not sure if Seonghwa is hurt with your engagement as he won’t be seeing his friend again or is he referring to something else which you can’t even think can be possible.
You retreat your steps back from his close proximity but to your dismay your back bumped into a hard yet fury chest. You got startled, thin back of your floral old town villager gown is not helping but feeling the furs stinging in your back. You turned your head to at least glance at the person behind you and found he is smirking at you with a lust filled eyes. Your attention was brought back to the front when Seonghwa holds your chin to make eye contact with you and suddenly you felt two palms resting on both of your shoulders. The sudden contact with two males making a chill shiver run down your body. Your eyes searching in the opposite eyes for the emotions to feel because everything is so confusing for you in the moment.
Seonghwa looked down at you smiling and then looked behind you, you can feel they are communicating with each other through eyes which makes you feel outcast between them. The hold on your chin is moved to brushing your cheeks with his long soft fingers when the thumb slowly touched your lower lips and keeping the movement in a slow trans. Your right hand moved up in reflex to take a hold of his wrist.
“What are you doing?” You softly asked him with a fearful expression.
“My Precious…..” Joong whispered breathily in your left ear and his hands falling from your shoulders and sneaking to hug you from behind. His head then resting on your left shoulder. You exhaled a heavy shaky breath and closed your eyes.
“Look at me!” the command from the eldest prince really dominated over the movement of your body for which you immediately looked up at him expecting him to have any dark look but he was looking at you softly.
“Tell me love, do you want to go back to him?”
“Huh? …..To my father? ” your eyebrows creased with the question. Hwa nodded to which you strongly showed your denial by shaking your head.
The prince behind you now asked, “and to him?”
“Who again?”
“Your fiancé?” your fearful expression returned to confused as to why is he asking you this obvious question and the uneasiness making you to wiggle under the two holds which made them to hold you tighter.
“Oh him! Yes of course I would go there …...that’s my home after my father kicked me out.” The answer didn’t help the situation either for your uneasiness. Seonghwa is no more smiling at you but glaring dangerously.
“No you won’t.” Hongjoong stated blankly.
“Why?”
“He is not good. He is no one in your life. The only men you are allowed to have in your life is me and Hwa.” He hugged you tightly and felt his lips kissed your exposed neck lightly. You left out a soft moan for the contact and looking down but quickly looked up.
“What are you saying?” You are now asking to both of them.
“He has said you already love, that only men that is yours is us. You belong to us.”
“I don’t belong to you. Please leave me, I need to go.”
“You think we will let you go now?” Seonghwa smirked at your miserable state under his brother’s hold. His hand on your cheek moved upward to pat your head before going back a few steps to take in your whole look while you were struggling to get away from the back hug. Hongjoong is snuggling in your neck which made your eyes a bit watery. Again, he came closer to you and smashed his lips on you. You tried to move your head to retreat from the kiss but nothing is helping when he holds your face tightly to glare at you for a second and again returned back to kiss you.
In the same time, Hongjoong is giving you butterfly kisses all over neck and over the bit of your shoulders visible. Your hands are restricted by him preventing their movement. Seonghwa’s kiss is rough as if he is a hungry beast who haven’t got his meal for last few weeks. Both of the male stopped their movement. You are weeping quietly while looking down. The lose of their hold didn’t help your weak legs to let you stand still any longer when you suddenly fall on your knees and hid your face in your palms and continued weeping.
Seonghwa felt a wave of guilt within him but quickly brushed it off. Hongjoong came in front of you and knelt down to move your hands blocking your face. Your teary eyes looked at him with hatred and fear. The man didn’t even bother to acknowledge your anger but he assures your fear with a soft kiss on top of your head. His one hand takes a hold of back of your head to push it softly against his chest to stroke you softly in a comforting way. Your hands takes a hold of his furry coat. Fur should be a place of comfort but this fur is like a needle to you.
“Why…… why a-are you d-doing this?” You questioned between your crying.
“Its okay precious, nothing is wrong. We are doing what we should have done way before.”
Seonghwa also mimicked his brother’s expression beside him to stroke your back. You moved back from Joong’s chest to look at them. Both of them are dearly smiling at you.
“We are your kings, love.”
Joong added to his brother, “and You are our Precious.”
“……no”
“Love, there is no other option for you except accepting this.” Hwa is grinning while speaking.
You shake your head side by side while thinking for what to say, “Please…...”
“Please what love?”
“I want to go.”
Hongjoong glared at you before standing up. “Hwa, take her to our room and let me have a talk with them about her and I will ask for you if I need help.”
“Sure Joong, we need to tell everyone that they have got their kings and the precious queen.”
Seonghwa tightly holds your wrist to make you stand and starts pulling you to the grand door of the hall to exit, you looked towards the younger prince to see him staring at you dangerously with a smirk “What will you talk to them about?”
Then you tried to wiggle your hand out of the tight grip which is hurting you a bit, “Where are you taking me to? Where is Joong going? What is going on?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him, he will be back soon till then we can enjoy ourselves. He needs to finish a meeting with your father and …..Haechan.”
“No, you don’t have to talk to them. I need to go back to him. Leave me.”
“Shut up. We own you and no one can dare to change it.” Hwa laughed in the end of his reply which is followed by Joong’s laugh.
“You don’t own me, I’m not a property please……” You are about to cry again. Hwa glanced at Joong when he stepped closer to you and suddenly hugged you. You are confused but before contemplating the situation you felt a needle like something pierced the skin near your backside of the neck. Your eyes felt heavy and your weight is leaning towards his body which he gladly took a good hold of it. He caressed your head before lifting you up in a bridal style. Footsteps came near you both and the last thing you heard,
“I need to go now to say goodbye to your father and your fiancé but we can continue everything later Precious.”
“Our Precious.”
(Do you readers need part 2? Spicy or soft?)
Here is the part 2! Out now!
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#yandere seonghwa#seonghwa x reader#yandere ateez#yandere hongjoong#hongjoong x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez au#poly ateez x reader#ateez fluff#ateez fic#a star 🌟#ateez seongjoong#ateez poly#cultofdionysusnet#kvanity
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run away with me
Pairing: Nor/Sarentu!Reader
Warnings: Spoilers for Avatar Frontiers of Pandora, fluff, angst, mentions of brainwashing and residential school trauma
Taglist: @mooniequeen
A/N: No one has requested me to write for AFoP so I decided to take matters into my own hands *cracks knuckles* Let's get to work.
This is basically my rendition of the cutscene you see when playing the game, after the title card. I made it lean more toward the angsty, romance play that we were robbed of when the game finally came out XD Enjoy!
Part 2
When So'lek told you that Nor had left Resistance HQ to have some time to think, you knew you needed to seek him out.
Using your new abilities and talents to track him down, it didn't shock you when you found Nor on one of the highest cliffs near the base of their new home. You remember he made a comment earlier about how there were more colors on Pandora than he remembered and how he had no names for them. You suspected he'd be all the way out here, admiring those colors and maybe trying to invent new names for them.
He didn't react when you approached the small fire he made, likely expecting you to come find him. He turned to face you with lowered ears and a forlorn look in his eyes, "What must our ancestors think of us? Do you think they pity us? Sad to see what we've become?"
"We're still Sarentu."
"Teylan barely speaks our tongue, but then... he always preferred human words."
"Alma says we all need time to adjust."
"Alma is not Na'vi." He growled lowly, turning away to kneel down in front of the fire.
You weren't deterred by his attitude, knowing Nor better than you sometimes knew yourself. He felt things stronger than most. He was passionate about what or how he felt and he wasn't afraid to admit it, hence why he didn't shy away when he proudly proclaimed his feelings toward you. It was years ago now, just the night before Alma snuck you and your friends into cryosleep to wait out the war. All that time you could've been with Nor... lost to cryosleep.
Nor felt the same loss as well, and that is why he wasn't wasting any more time. When neither of you are out on missions, you're with each other, safe at HQ, making up for lost time. Your relationship is technically still new and can easily be chalked up to young love, but Nor didn't see it that way. He claimed that was the way only Sky People saw it, but not the Na'vi. He wanted to do this right, and in his mind, the only right way was the Na'vi way.
So he asked So'lek for advice, on standard Na'vi customs and what the older man might know about the Sarentu ways to court someone. Nor was determined and straightforward about what he wanted to make sure you only got the best treatment. The Na'vi treatment, something that you deserved to have when you were younger but it was taken from you.
That's what you loved about him, growing up beside him. He reminded you so much of your sister at times with their shared determination as kids, though you refused to continue making that comparison after she died... afraid that if Nor acted too much like Aha'ri, then he would die just like her. You couldn't bear to lose him, too, not after everything Mercer and TAP have done to you.
Even now, as you two stood on top of that cliff, you were afraid of losing him, either to death or to life, should life and fate decide to tear you two apart. You wished you could vocalize your fear to him, but you were never as brave or as straightforward as Nor. You were grateful he had approached you about his feelings first, or else neither of you would've ever known.
Although you were not one with words, you were one with actions, and even Nor knew that you communicated with deeds.
Walking up to him, you slide your hand over his shoulder, and while he doesn't say a word, trapped with the demons in his head, he places his own hand on top of yours, a gesture of gratitude. He was thankful for your comfort, knowing that your way of communicating stems from being touch-starved and you would rather voice your thoughts through your actions instead of just saying them because, to you, that means so much more.
You keep your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his palm bleeding into your skin while you look up and over the cliffside, admiring the scenery with a sad tone in your voice, "Why did the RDA come back?"
"They wanted more of Pandora," he responds with defeat, "They always do."
"Then we'll need to fight," you express with determination, squeezing his shoulder, "Aha'ri would have wanted us to fight."
You try to pull away, but Nor is suddenly too fast. He grasps your hand, gently, and you pause in your movement. He stands to his full height to gaze into your eyes, trying to relay what he's thinking without saying a word. But he wasn't like you. He wasn't good at sharing his thoughts through actions. He was better at it by talking, so that is what he did.
"Or we could run," he suggests and is quick to continue when the expression on your face falls, "Leave this place. Find somewhere else to call home."
"We've talked about this, Nor," you sigh tiredly, recalling not long ago when you, him, Ri'nela and Teylan were all sitting around a fire as Nor suggested they could all run away together. You express the same thing you said back then, too, "Alma brought us here for a reason. She believes in us."
He snarls, though there isn't much heat behind it, "Alma just wants to control us."
Not even you believed what he was saying, lowering your voice to a comforting whisper, "Alma is not Mercer. She actually cares about us as People."
"She left us."
"She thought we were gone."
He steps closer until he's nearly pressed against your chest, his hands sliding up to gently grasp both sides of your face, entwined in your hair. His voice wavered, desperate eyes staring back into yours, "If it were me instead of her, I would've clawed through the rubble of TAP, and I would've looked forever. Un... until I knew for sure if I lost you or not."
You wanted to be touched by the statement, your heart fluttering in your chest while Nor could no doubt feel your heartbeat, pumping through his hands as they rested near both sides of your neck. You shake your head slightly, "That is different. What Alma feels for us is not the same as... as what you feel for me. For all of us."
He shivered, almost proud that you managed to admit your confidence in his feelings toward you. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing in the same air as you while he matches the intimate moment with a whisper, "Exactly. I can't trust Alma with my family. I can only trust myself or you to take care of the four of us, to ensure we stick together."
You wet your lips when they felt dry, deciding to play into his dream for a little bit, "Suppose we did run away... where would we go?"
'Wherever we want! All of us,' he wanted to say the same thing he told Teylan down by the campfire, but he says it differently with you, "Anywhere, far away from here."
"Just the four of us?"
"The four of us," he confirms with a nod, thinking that he had you convinced, "We'll start our own clan. We'll renew the Sarentu."
"And what will happen when the war eventually finds us?"
Your question drives Nor to freeze, and so you continue, "Either Mercer, RDA, or TAP, it won't matter. They'll find us. You know they will."
He unfroze finally, huffing with determination, "Then we will fight."
"But if we fight now, and we win, then we can leave and we will never have to worry about the Sky People again," your hands moved until they were wrapped around Nor's waist, a bold move to match his own, his fingers still wrapped up in the hair on the back of your neck,
"We would never have to keep running or look over our shoulders ever again," you continue, "If we can end this sooner than later, I will go with you. I'll go wherever you want. But... But I can't leave now knowing what the Sky People are capable of. I can't leave knowing that there would be another child out there whose clan was wiped out and I wasn't brave enough to stop it from happening. I would never forgive myself."
Your words stun him into silence, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to feel shy and embarrassed, lowering your head to avoid him until his hands pause your movement. He gently uses his thumbs to push your chin to tilt back up, and when your eyes meet, he pauses for a moment, his intense eyes scanning your expression before his lips twitch up into a small, fond smile, "Heh."
"What?" You tilt your head, hesitant but smiling as well.
"Nothing. It's just... Aha'ri would be proud of you."
He says it so confidently that you know you believe him, and his words make your heart swell with pride and grief, missing your sister. Nor leans back and digs in the pocket of his pants, "I have something for you."
"What is it?"
He provides a carved stone, bearing the mark you both have on your face to signify your long-lost clan, "It's something to remind you of me, whenever you leave HQ and I cannot follow you. It's also a promise."
"What promise?"
"That if I ever leave, it will only be when you are ready to come with me," he leans back into your space, pressing your foreheads together once more as he closes his eyes, taking in your scent, "This time, my love, I go wherever you go."
You clutch the stone in your hand, wanting the carved mark to brand into your skin as you close your eyes as well. You already plan to tie Nor's stone into the songcord So'lek had given you, and you hope that in time, the songcord will grow, and there will be many more milestones to signify. Milestones that you hope that Nor and your friends will share with you, as Sarentu and as your family.
MASTERLIST
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#nor x reader#afop nor#nor imagine#fop nor#nor fop#nor afop#nor avatar#nor frontiers of pandora#nor#nor avatar frontiers of pandora#afop#avatar frontiers of pandora#frontiers of pandora protagonist#frontiers of pandora imagine#frontiers of pandora#solek#teylan#james camerons avatar#avatar imagine#james cameron avatar#avatar#avatar 2009#atwow#avatar 2#avatar the way of water#atwow fic#atwow imagine#james cameron#nor x sarentu#sarentu reader
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Pinned Post: Guess I Should Make One
I mean, it's a Trash House. But I probably shouldn't have just like...a bunch of loose fic just rolling around the blog. I'm going to try and keep this updated but. I mean. You and I both know I won't.
Long Fic:
Sex, Death & the Infinite Void - Chapter 1 - Sky_kiss - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]
My ongoing fic, focused on Raphael's attempted conquest of the Hells. Things have not gone as smoothly as anticipated. He comes to the Dark Urge after death and makes a deal. Team Theater Kid does its best to navigate deals with Archdevils, start a cult, Joi's father manifesting in her life. Etc.
I Don't Think About You Anymore (But I Don't Think About You Any Less) - Chapter 1 - Sky_kiss - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]
Ok, it's not long. A two-part fic in a sad times AU, where Raphael offered a Dark Urge a place as his consort. She refuses him. They have a terrible relationship (it gets better?)
Hell In Your Eyes - Sky_kiss - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]
Raphael has a bad dream. He wants to feel in control again. So, he bangs his duchess. That's it. That's the fic. I lied. This is now a smut compilation fic.
Second Nature to Me Now - Chapter 1 - Sky_kiss - Baldur's Gate (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]
This is an unholy amalgamation of Baldur's Gate and My Fair Lady. No. I will not answer any questions.
A Helping Hand - Sky_kiss - Baldur's Gate [Archive of Our Own]
Haarlep/F!Tav/Ascended Fiend Raphael have a good time.
Raphael x Tav Tumblr Asks Fics: (Under the Cut. TOO MANY)
Oh, god. Why didn't I NAME any of these. The titles get unhinged:
Angry Raphael Doing Torture
Raphael Speaking Infernal to Tav is Sexy
Tav is a Moron Who Signed a Contract Without Reading It
Bathing Raphael
Tav Accepts Raphael's Offer to Go to Hell (But in a Hot Way?)
Raphael Dancing with Tav
Tav is in Danger, Raphael Saves Her
Tav Snoops Around the Devil's Den (Raph is Right There, Idiot)
Raphael Attempts A Love Confession (Local Devil Crashes/Burns)
Softer Raphael? I Think This One Involves Cuddles
Word Prompts: Love & Worth
Raphael x Haarlep: Haarlep Teaches Raph a Lesson
Raph X Tav: Sex in Front of Mirror
Raphael Get Mugged (But Not Killed!) in his OWN HOUSE
Local Devil Publicly Shamed, Emergency Contact Still His Ex
Local Devil Exploits Idiot BFF's Propensity for Dying
Devil's Boyfriend Asks Out Devil's Idiot Crush; Is Only Sane Person
Local Devil Too Lazy to Shave Himself, But Also Sexy/Shirtless
Local Devil Partners and Terrible Drow Bitch About Parents
Reader Makes Very Bad Choices with Local Ascended Fiend
Local Devil Gets a Treat (Smut)
Local Devil Reminds You He Is Not for Cuddles (He Is)
Local Devil Sandwich Local Idiot (But Cute)
Coffee Shop AU: Friends Attempt to Help Local Idiot Date Hot Man
Coffee Shop AU 2: Friends Takes Matters Into Own Hands Due to Growing Disgust and Repulsion with Local Idiot and Hot Man
Local Devil Masquerades as Priest; Local Idiot Fooled
Local Devil and Local Idiot Just Kinda Grind on Each Other?
Local Devil and Local Idiot Throwdown in Hell
Local Idiot Tries to Rob Local Devils, Is Shocked by Repercussions
Coffee Shop AU 3: Local Idiot and Hot Man Flirt After Date
Coffee Shop AU 4: Just Some Shower Cuddles
Local Idiots Saves Local Devil's Lives: Is a Threesome Currency?
Coffee Shop AU 5: Snowday
Ascended Fiend Raphael Smut
Local Devil Is Kind of Nice for Once, Offers Bath
Local Devil is Truly Over the Local Idiot's Stupidity
Raphael Solo Sexy-Time
Reader Get Wrecked By Local Devils
Local Devil is Feeling Soft for Local Idiot
Local Idiot is so Dumb She Causes Local Devil Psychic Damage
Local Devil naps on Local Idiot
Reader is Hunted by Haarlep and Ascended Fiend Raphael
Local Devil Horrified by Own Child
Local Devil Not Dead, Gets Some Horrible Revenge via Local Idiot
Huge Devil Creatures Gives Cuddles
Local Devil Really Badly Burned (But not Dead!)
Local Devil Mistaken for Tiefling (Exhausted)
Things go Very Badly for Local Idiot
Local Devil Catches a Cold
Local Devil Introduces Local Idiot To Devil Father. It's bad
Asmodeus x Baalphegor
Local Idiot Kills Devil Crush, Consults Major Devil Hottie for Help
Local Idiot has Pissed Off Local Devil, Relationship in Shambles
Local Devil Transforms Nude
Local Devil has Beautiful Hands
Coffeehouse AU: Office Hours
Local Devils go "Fishing"
Local Idiot Helps Bloody Naked Local Devil to Take a Bath
Dadphael: His Kids are Thieves
Local Idiots Gets Absolutely Destroyed by Local Devils
Local Devils are Genuinely Awful: Bad Ending
Local Demon Seduces Local Idiot
Raphael x F!Tav: Corruption Smutlet
Raphael x F!Tav: War
CoffeShop Au Part Whatever: It's Snowy or Rainy and they Cuddle
Raphael and an Angel Play Chess or Something
Raphael is really too old to be drinking milk but here we are
Doll!Tav Get Their World Rocked By Raph/Haarlep
Local Devil "Comforts" a Sad/Tired Tav
Raphael and Haarlep Wreck Local Idiot
Modern AU Snippet Channeling some House of Usher
Haarlep and Raphael have some Bath Fun
Raphael and Tav have a Kissy in Honor of Kissy Day
Raphael is not dead (but is pissed off)
Raphael is too good for sex but is still going bang you
Early Raphael/Haarlep
Raphael Lingers in Bed and has big cat energy
Post post post canon Raphael GETS THE BIG WIN
Raphael & Jaheira have a catty conversation
Random Crap (Headcanons & Stuff) & Other People's DOPE ART:
Raph x Joi: Dirty Headcanons
Joi Looks Like This
Timeskip Raphael (SHAHS, YOU QUEEN)
Raphael & Joi Shopping (Please Note the Brooch)
Simply Drew a Gorgeous Joi (Thank you!)
Simply Drew Raphael and Raphael
Commission of Duchess Joi!
Simply Drew The Cutest Raph/Joi I've Ever Seen, Go, Gaze Upon It
Simply Drew a Sexy Murder Joi (Fresh from hunting her not husband)
Commission of Archduke Raphael and Duchess Joi
Ok. I think that's all of them. You no longer have to roam the wilds of the blog if you do not wish. I have released you from that dark task. Love ya'll. You're great. /finger guns/ Send me asks if you want. If I don't get to them immediately, I apologize.
But yeah. Keep on keeping on. Keep like...being amazing for Raphael. He doesn't deserve it, and he won't appreciate it, but like...I dunno.
#pinned post#my writing#i'm not gonna tag this one#and I'm sorry to DRAG YOUR EYES with its hideous length#Oc: Joi
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ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ (ᴛᴇᴀsᴇʀ)
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ɴᴇʏᴛɪʀɪ & ᴊᴀᴋᴇ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴼᴹᴬᵀᴵᴷᴬᵞᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 1.9k out of 11.4k and counting
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – mentions of character death, mentions of war, ptsd, unrequited love
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ – I’m still here! I’ve always wondered what it would be like if Neytiri had been less forgiving with Jake after the fall of Hometree, so I thought I’d explore the concept. I perhaps got a bit carried away.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ
A sound rustles in the trees behind you, a soft brushing of leaves that could be nothing more than a breeze through the underbrush, but your bow is drawn towards the sound in an instant. The tension balled like a fist around your heart eases as a familiar face emerges through the foliage, but doesn’t abate completely as Jake steps into the light. His steps are slow and deliberate as if he were approaching a wounded animal but you hiss at her even still, embarrassed that you’d been so distracted in your thoughts that you lost track of your surroundings. Had you been paying attention you would’ve caught his scent before he made a sound. The same scent that’s always clung to Neytiri’s skin because she favors cooking with firewood that is more fragrant than most, making her food a hint sweeter when she eats it. It’s a smell that used to offer comfort but now it’s only the wisp of another memory that was burned to ash the moment Jake arrived to the clan.
What would’ve changed if it hadn’t been you and Neytiri tasked with teaching him? Perhaps you wouldn’t have found yourself tangled in a mating bond shared between three people. A crowd compared to the traditional two.
“What do you want?” You ask, lowering your bow even as your voice still bristles with hostility.
Jake stalls in his approach. “What did I do, baby? What’s wrong?” In the time since he took up the mantle as olo’eyktan, Jake has begun to fully immerse himself in the ways of the People with more vigor than he had even before the fall of Hometree. He speaks in Na’vi when he can manage it but slips back into English when his tongue trips over an unknown word. But one word he’s never let go of is “baby.” A human term of endearment–not just a word for a newborn child–he’d explained once. Like yawne or paskalin it’s meant to show affection between mates. And despite that being what you are to each other you feel unsettled by the innocent word.
He takes a step closer that you reward with your own backwards retreat. His brows pinch, ears drooping as his hands reach out as if he can bridge the gap between you with a simple touch. You’re worlds away from each other even as he stands so close.
An uniltìrantokx, an alien. A human wearing the false face of one of the People. Yet he is also Na’vi, a son of the Omatikaya. He bears the title of olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto. He’s so close and yet so far. Once you would’ve met him in the middle, your hand reaching toward him. But now, knowing what he’s done…. Forgiveness is the farthest thing from your mind. Whatever friendship, whatever affection you’d once had for him has burned away to an aching emptiness. And even before it had begun to slowly unravel, thread by thread, breaking apart until you were left with a tenuous bond at best. Before Jake, before Sylwanin’s death, Neytiri had been yours. You understood her duty to the clan following her sister’s death. It was not her desire to become tsakarem, no nobility in the decision being made for her at the hands of the sawtute. Killing and taking with no remorse. She was betrothed to Tsu’tey and you accepted it as the way of things.
Jake’s introduction to the clan had been tumultuous at best, but as Neytiri’s closest companion you found yourself joining in on their lessons. And watching her fall in love with someone that wasn’t you. At least, with Tsu’tey there had only been friendship. A mutual agreement to not disappoint the clan’s expectations despite their hearts belonging to another. With Jake, she had no such reservations. Neytiri loved him. Loves him. Yet she can’t let you go. Neither of them can. So now it is your time to do as duty suggests, even if your heart aches with the effort to pretend to accept Jake into your heart for all he is, for all he’s done. Banishing the humans from Pandora after so many years of suffering might’ve been enough for others, but when you look at him you see flames.
“Everything you touch is destroyed.” The words slip out unbidden, before you can stop the bitterness from leaking off your lips and Jake stills as if you’ve struck him. The shock only lasts for a moment before he’s rushing towards you, arm winding around your waist as his four-fingered hand cups your cheek. The tears are unexpected as he wipes the wetness from your eyes. When did you start to cry? So long ago, truly. It seems the tears never stop, only taking brief moments of reprieve before stinging at your eyes once more. It feels like you’re being shattered, a river crystal smashed against a rock as glittering shards fly in every direction. Impossible to collect and rebuild. But Jake tries, so desperate does he seem to want to hold you together in his arms even as you come apart at the seams. You fight against him. Hissing and clawing like a hunted animal trying to preserve its life. Some innate piece of your mind knowing that a man like him is dangerous.
Sawtute. Uniltìrantokx. The words are synonymous with death and the unknown. And Jake has proved that no matter how close you become, friends can turn to enemies in the blink of an eye. Lovers can turn to strangers. Happiness can wither into a type of sadness that never dissipates. Still, Jake tries to keep you together in his arms. Whispering and pleading, trying to soothe your sobbing. So long have you spent simply walking forward, one step at a time with only brief moments to think about how far you’ve come. But with those few words you’ve turned back to see all that was left behind and it’s tearing away at you.
The ground is cold beneath your knees, the chill shivering through you as you fall. Jake hasn’t let you go, still keeping his arms around you as if you’ll turn to ash if he looks away for even a moment. Perhaps you will and wouldn’t it be better if you did? What is left for you now after so much has been taken? Everything has been stripped away. Friends, family. The few things that you thought would always be yours. Gone in an instant.
You try to speak through the thickness in your throat, voice rough as stone when the words finally come out. “Get away.” Jake doesn’t seem to hear you but you say it again and again as you struggle to your feet. “Get away! Get away from me!”
All you want is for things to be as they were. But you’re longing for a life you’ve never gotten to live. The humans were here long before you were. You’ve never known a life where they weren’t lingering just out of sight, corrupting your home to fit their alien desires. It burns in your chest, this desire to return to some semblance of normalcy and the knowing that everything in your life has always been precarious, balanced on the edge of a cliff. It seems that now you’ve finally fallen and there’s no knowing what will meet you at the bottom. Jake wants to catch you. You can see the desperation in his eyes as he tries to hold you, hear it in his voice as he begs you to stay with him.
You’re here in mind and body, but your soul feels like it’s been gone for so long. Left behind in the smoldering remains of Hometree, left behind on the battlefield. Now you’ve only been living because you hadn’t truly died. And everyone has been pretending you’re still the same as you were. Jake is pretending you’re still the same woman he met all those months ago. Had it truly been a year since an ignorant dreamwalker had come stumbling into Hometree? He’d been nothing then. A new kind of uniltìrantokx that needed to be studied. A warrior in a new, untrained body. A chore for Neytiri as Mo’at dictated that it would be her that had to teach him the ways of the clan. Of course, she had made it your responsibility to assist her in the endeavor, ever grateful for every moment spent together even if it involved teaching a man the things a child would know.
Truly, you’ve all changed since that moment. Jake has learned. Body and mind, he’s learned to walk as a true Na’vi does. It is clear that in his heart he is one of the People yet there’s still doubt in your mind. How, if he was so committed to the clan, had he let those monsters burn down your home with barely a word of warning? Yes, he led the battle to seek revenge and cull the plague of humans from Pandora, but if he had such determination why had he not done it sooner? Humans are secretive, duplicitous. Things that Na’vi had no concept of before their arrival. Your hearts are true and open. Yet Jake still had things to hide even after he became a son of the Omatikaya. Trusting him now feels like a mistake. Neytiri might’ve moved past it but you can’t find it in yourself to open your heart to such pain once more.
The woman you loved has turned into someone you can’t recognize. Relaxing so easily into the days of peace even in the shadow of all that you’ve both lost. While your heart turned cold hers seems to have blossomed, open with a soft sort of hope. The humans are gone, the People are safe. So why can’t you move on with everyone else?
Jake touches your arm again, fingers tracing from the shape of your wrist up to your shoulder. The touch feels foreign after avoiding him for so long. It isn’t the distressed grasping as he tries to soothe your tears. It’s softer, less confining.
“Let me help, baby. How can I help?”
“Leave me alone.” He’s already shaking his head before you finish the words.
“No. Don’t push me away, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care how long it takes, I just want my girl back.” Back? Had you ever truly been his?
It had been a mistake to not close your heart to Neytiri when she was promised to Tsu’tey. Had you been strong enough then to smother the seed of childhood affection, to rob it of rain and sun until it withered and died, perhaps you wouldn’t be standing here with tears burning in your eyes. It would’ve taken less strength then to do what feels impossible now. A stone has turned to a mountain far beyond your strength to move. Jake seems to notice your hesitance, his eyes flitting over your face for any crack he might be able to use as a way past your protective shell. He seems to find it, reaching over your shoulder to brush his fingers over the length of your tswin. He draws it forward with careful reverence, pressing a kiss over the braided hair before looking at you once more. It’s doubtless that he’s thinking of that night beneath the light of the Tree of Voices.
A mistake if ever you’ve made one.
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MCR5 Theory: Secretary Gerard is a character called The Widow
I'm unsure if everyone is thinking along the same lines, but I have yet to see anyone talk about it, so I've put together this post with evidence and links.
(this will expand on the 9/11 theory. also special shout out to @autistme who made a spreadsheet with all the aus eagles lyrics)
MCR performed Eagles at all six Australia shows this tour. At five of them, Gerard was dressed in a grey suit and skirt, commonly referred to as the secretary or office lady by fans.
(📷 Dough Peters)
Here's a quick reference table for the things I will be talking about here. (Not necessary to read, I will explain it all)
At Brisbane, the drumheads read "everything under control" followed by "here comes the airplane". The planes have yet to hit the towers, but disaster is imminent. Eagles has evolved a lot over the tour but the Aus dates heard a new consistent change in the first verse.
All along the river bends
All along with all my friends
Yes, all around the river bends
All together with my friends
There is minimal change for Brisbane 2. Notice how gerard is dressed as the secretary and says "my friends".
Next comes Melbourne 1. The drumhead reads "TErrOR". The plane has hit and there is a dramatic change to the first verse.
All night long the widow sends
Valentines to bitter friends
Yes, all night long the widow sends
Valentines to all my friends
This character with friends now has a title, and it is The Widow. She has lost her husband in the attack. Her friends survived and she is sending them letters of love during this terrible time.
Melbourne 2, Gerard breaks the outfit chain. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, there is no hint of office wear, he is no longer playing the widow, he is playing himself. The drumhead also seems unrelated to 9/11 "BARK BARK BARK". They sing the same first verse as the previous night with minimal change, except for the last line
Valentines to all her friends
This is the only instance where Gerard does not refer to the friends as "my friends" at all during aus eagles, and it is because they weren't in the skirt suit that night, they were not the widow.
Next comes Sydney. The Widow is back and she's covered in blood! Something awful has happened to her, she's dying. But the drumhead reads "UNKILLAbLe". (This was written by Frank, an extremely powerful thing for him to do considering his accident in Sydney and PTSD. MCR has always used concept albums as a vessel to speak of things the band has been through.) The widow continues to write her letters during eagles despite the blood on her face.
(📷 Jess Gleeson)
Sydney 2. The Widow again. She is in the exact same outfit, down to her boots (sports mode), but this time she is not only covered in blood but her eyes are WHITE. She is dead! The drumhead now reads "Unkillables", this is no longer specifically just one, but multiple people. It could be mcr as a band, mcr as individuals, or mcr fans themselves. In the context of a concept album, unkillables can take on a whole new meaning. It brings to mind the supernatural, ghouls, vampires, werewolves. How is it that the widow is dead, yet she is walking on stage right in front of us? Staring at us with blank eyes on the big screen? Is she a ghost, a zombie? I'm not sure. But she is still the widow. Even in death, she is searching for her husband.
(📷 ashymcr , expiiredglitter)
Which leads me to Summertime. The piece of evidence that drove me to write this long-ass post. As we know, it is a love song about Gerard's marital partner. Before they played, Gerard spoke in a breathy and musically haunting voice "I'll find you. I'll find you. come find me." Definitely something a lost and ghostly widow would say. They also bring out a white handkerchief, they do not have it in any other songs. Throughout the performance, Gerard clutched it to their chest repeatedly and held it lovingly in both hands.
In the third picture, he is looking down sadly at the handkerchief singing the line "If you stay, I would even wait all night." (video)
This is very clearly The Widow. She is mourning her husband, she is dead, lost and searching for him. Perhaps the handkerchief is all she has left of him, or it is simply to dry her tears, but she is clearly in mourning for her marital partner.
And finally, Eagles at Sydney 2. The first verse stays the same except for the third line. "Yes, all night long the widow sends" becomes
Yes, all day long the widow sends
She is writing night and day. She does not rest. Her outfits in Sydney are exactly the same. Every single other secretary's outfit is subtlely different, but now she is dead, she is stuck in the same clothing like a ghost.
The Widow also makes an appearance later in the song.
We found the widow
And hit her with a baseball bat
I have less ideas of what this could be about, but I think if some dead lady was walking about being unkillable, people would get freaked and attack her with a baseball bat. The concept of "unkillables" is something I could write a whole other post about but I'll spare you for now.
To conclude, I think The Widow as a concept album character would fit right in with MCR. They are no strangers to lovers separated by death. Others on here have spoken on how the feminine outfits Gerard has chosen this tour have often been of women scorned or living in the shadows of powerful men. I believe The Widow would fit right in. Even after her husband has died, she is only talked about in reference to him. She is The Widow, something that tells us more about her husband than herself.
#believe it or not i could have written more but this got SO long dear god#anyways here you go pls be nice i get nervous sharing theories bc what if im WRONG!! but this was so fun to make :))#mcr#mcr5#gerard way#op#mcrsydney#mcrmelbourne#mcrbrisbane#mcr 5 theory#marina toybina
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JJK Drabble #1
Tw/Warnings: Angsts/Bittersweet, mention of one minor death, Fem!Reader & Fem! Pronouns
Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader
I was way too inspired by @rosipuree(PLEASE FOLLOW THEM OR READ THEIR WORK) "Haunted" that I wrote a quick blurb with my personal Take/Idea based on their work. I'll make a poll if you guys want me to make this a mini series or not.
Y'ALL PART ONE IS OUT RN: HERE
I always wanted to write about Reader being in a relationship with Toji but it becomes unhealthy because Toji hasn't moved on from Megumi's Biological mom and just angst. So here is my take on how I'd imagine this Toji x Fem!Reader angst with Megumi x Fem!Reader(platonic) bittersweet.
So you're seeing Toji but Toji is still obviously mourning Megumi’s mom.
You are aware Toji really misses her and only truly loves her. His grief turns into rage whenever people mistake you for being Megumi’s real mom, you have a moment with Megumi, or god forbid he finds out Megumi calls you Mama in front of Toji so you correct Megumi every time. Arguments between the two happen because of it, heated ones which leaves you doubtful and alone. You take care of Megumi for the first three-four years of his life but leaves because Toji wasn’t ready to love love you and didn’t want to stay in a one-sided relationship. Megumi was clueless of your permanent absence once you leave but because he thought you would came back. Megumi asks for you continuously, staring at the door every time to see if you would come home. When Toji told Megumi you weren’t coming back at all, Megumi cried so hard that night the only way he got sleep was crying himself to exhaustion.
You treated Megumi like he was your own son and cared for him the best you can. You never made it your intention to replace his wife and Megumi’s bio mom. In fact, the thought of your intentions being seen as such made you anxious and nauseous. The efforts and lengths to have Megumi not refer to you as his mother, even though you were the only motherly figure he will ever have in his life, was both admirable and heartbreaking. You were a mother to Megumi, whether he was your blood son or not, but out of respect for his father/the man you were seeing, you kept it to a minimum. Toji knew it was all his doing. Feeling guilty for not treating you better and deservingly at that. What makes it worse was he didn’t try to save your two’s relationship at all and let you go. Breaking your heart even more because him not taking action means he never loved you enough to make you stay.
Toji still hooks up with Tsumiki’s mom, taking her last name before splitting with her. Tsumiki’s mom was never home so Toji tries to care for Tsumiki on top of Megumi. Megumi never forgot about you and he still misses you dearly. It' to the point he keeps a hidden picture of you and him when you still were around, the only picture he has of you. He hides it from Toji because he knows he’ll take it away from him. Megumi ends up holding such resentment he has a deep grudge against Toji for making you leave and not loving you. It’s pretty bad to the point Tsumiki comforts Megumi at times when he cries about you, wishing you were here to take care of him and Tsumiki. He wishes for you to come back. Tsumiki tries to help Megumi by making him recall his memories of you. To which he speaks so fondly and happily when you take care of him. Megumi is happy that he has Tsumiki as family but his grudge against Toji is so strong that he doesn’t view Toji as his dad, just some guy that’s there with the father title. Becomes estranged to his own father because Toji’s never home often. Even for almost a decade, he never forgot your name or your presence. That’s how much he saw you even if you weren’t there for long and moved on with your life. Highkey Megumi doesn’t blame you for leaving his father. To him, Toji doesn’t have the right to love someone else if he was going to hold onto the memories of his late biological mother for so long that it hurts people in the process. He knew you were unfortunately one of them, one of the good ones that didn’t deserve to be punished for someone else’s lack of emotional maturity and healing.
Megumi and Tsumiki grow up and dorm at their respective schools. Megumi is dorming at Jujutsu High and went on a day trip with his class. As he’s walking through the streets, he spots a familiar figure in the crowd, you. After 10 years, he finally sees you again. He reaches out and sees it’s you. You haven’t aged at all, or at the very least gracefully so. But you were holding your baby daughter in your arms, meaning that you moved on and had another family of your own. You were surprised to see Megumi, telling him how much he’s grown. He wants to hug you, cry into you, call you Mama one more time. But something inside of him tells him not to. Even though he gets the closure he needed from many years of wanting to see you again, he still yearns for you because you’ll always be his mother. The only one he has. Seeing you with your own child makes him happy knowing you are happier with the family you always wanted deserved. And yet he can’t help but imagine it was him you were holding, not your daughter. Holding him in your arms, being his mom, and calling you mama one more time.
#x reader#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#fem reader#toji fushiguro#x female reader#reader insert#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x female reader#jjk angst#jjk#jjk drabbles#jjk megumi#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#mama!reader
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