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#i hit my lowest point this year

honestlytrulycompletelysteady · 1 year

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#hiii #i hit my lowest point this year #and so i barely read #finally asked for medication #maybe 2023 will be looking up #and i'll get the reading fire instead of these dim sparks i've had #i hope you all had good years and if you didn't i wish a great new one #thank you to all the writers for providing me the opportunity to get out of myself and my life for a few hours whenever i was able to #you all are the backbone of this world #thank you!!!!!!!!#see you whenever i feel like coming back to my dash and posting maybe in a few months or maybe in a year for the 2023 wrap up #❤️❤️❤️#fic rec post #2022 fic rec #28th appreciation #larry fic rec #hlficlibrary

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hkgncat · 8 months

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I just had a full on discussion with myself on ranking all Kessoku Band members in terms of compatibility with myself (I am not okay). My official ranking was:

1. Tied between Ryo and Nijika

2. Tied with Ryo and Nijika

3. Hitori

4. Kita

#something is very wrong with me #I’ve really hit the lowest point any anime fan could reach #I’m not like some 40 year creep btw please believe me #i am around the same age as them #Im actually the same age as anime Gotoh (I definitely didn’t just revela my age rn)#i hope nobody finds this blog

0 notes

captain-joongz · 1 month

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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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ms-demeanor · 7 months

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sex work is work, no problem with that, but spamming sex work absolutely everywhere now is not okay. bot or not, it is not okay to shove your probably fake/stolen tits or ass into everyone's face even where kids are. it is absolutely the lowest, cheapest trash doing that. are these people showing their barely covered up pussy to school kids on the street to maybe get a customer? because they are doing exactly that on the internet. if you cant find customers and need to lower yourself to std ridden junkey trash standards who missed the way and entitled themselves to begging for money outside trash town, zero support from me!

Yeah you really sound like someone who supports sex workers. That's what I always think when I hear people using words like "disease-ridden" and "junkie" - 'wow, that person must be SUCH an ally. braver than any US marine, thank you for your service, person who believes sex work is work but thinks STIs or drug addiction are 'trash'.'

So, point by point:

It's not absolutely everywhere. You don't see people trying to link their onlyfans on facebook most of the time (i've actually never seen it but i could believe it is happening, though it's not common because FB has real-name policies that are unfriendly to sex workers). You're unlikely to see fansly links as sidebar ads on cspan. People aren't linking their pages in the amazon reviews. You're seeing it "everywhere" because you're not going anywhere. Tell me you spend all your time on two to three platforms without telling me you spend all your time on two to three platforms. Instagram, tiktok, twitter, and tumblr are full of people who are promoting all kinds of brands and one of those kinds of brands is sex work.

Those are also all platforms that have age restrictions and behavior standards, and of all of them tumblr is the one that has the history of being the most openly sexual and the least connected to legal identities. People are linking to their diy porn because of the culture of these websites both currently and historically. I once posted a video on this website of me bringing myself to orgasm in a public bathroom stall then inserting a dildo into my vagina before I went on stage and performed a set with my band. I did it for free and for fun five years ago, the week before the porn ban hit.

What I'm saying here is that the culture of this website has a much longer history of openness about sex and sexuality and the visual presentation of sex than it does of being full of people who think teens shouldn't see nipples. This is an *extremely* reasonable place to post information linking to porn that you make and to use cute pictures of yourself to do so.

It's also really easy to tell that these people aren't bots or using stolen images because the whole point of the live platform is that you can click through and go talk to them. Strange Aeons did just that and you can see what happened. (click on that video for a fun cameo at 6:04) Turns out live users are just a bunch of people (not networks stealing images the way that actual porn *bots* on tumblr do) and the ones who are trying to do sex work on the live platform itself get banned.

But also kids too young to see the occasional boob shouldn't be on tumblr! (like, seriously, define kids. what age is too young to see the kinds of images allowed by the tumblr live tos? how about the ones banned by the tumblr live tos? How old should you have to be before someone shows you an ahegao face on a hoodie in public? What should the punishment be for the ahegao fashionistas for exposing six year olds to anime tongues? What should the minimum age be to go on the beach and see men in speedos? Fifteen, or is that still abusive to children? Maybe we should make it twenty to be safe, or better yet why don't we make it twenty AND ban speedos? this is what you sound like, you fucking asshole). Tumblr has age limits and people under that age limit shouldn't be looking at most things on this website. A smiling woman in a bikini top or a dude with his abs out are fucking nothing compared to the kind of damage you personally and specifically are trying to inflict with your shitty ideas.

Posting t&a on tumblr is not at all comparable to doing street level work and soliciting children for a number of reasons, but I'd just like to really take the time to point out that you just compared the profile pics on tumblr live to sexually soliciting a child. You literally did the "x group i hate are pedophiles" thing, which is exactly why it's such a huge problem that any and all types of nudity have been stigmatized online. We have created an entirely new paradigm of "pedophile" that means "existed around a child while wearing tight pants." You are such a fucking clueless, sanctimonious pile of shit that you can't even see that that's what you're doing. This is literally, exactly kink at pride discourse.

And that's even if I grant you that these people are posting t&a! Go look at the live leaderboards, you don't have to accept the ToS to see the leaderboards! We are talking about *at most* saucy pin-up levels of eroticism. I have seen fucking holiday cards with more visible cleavage than any of the top 200 tumblr live streamers right now.

The only thing in your final sentence that makes any sense is that you are positioning tumblr as trash town.

Yeah. I'm actually not at all impressed by tumblr recently and that has a lot more to do with the influx or resurgence of nuance-allergic, anti-sex, whiny shits like you than it does with a banner that i can scroll past in a quarter of a second.

I want people reading this to really, really sit down and think about what they're calling assault or hypersexualiztion or whatever. We are talking about profile pictures. You are so offended by a bar of 4 profile pictures at the top of your dash that you're comparing regular ass humans (some of whom are sex workers and some of whom are just streamers who took thirst trap selfies) to the real life solicitation and abuse of children.

TOUCHING GRASS IS NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU PLEASE GO INTERACT WITH ACTUAL REAL HUMANS WHO DON'T KNOW WHAT DASHCON OR MILKSHAKE DUCK ARE. YOU ARE CRITICALLY INTERNET POISONED AND IF YOU TALKED TO SOMEONE AT THE DMV AND DESCRIBED IT AS ASSAULTING CHILDREN TO HAVE SOMEONE IN A BIKINI ON A BILLBOARD THEY WOULD IMMEDIATELY BEGIN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET AWAY FROM YOU. THINK OF THIS POST AS THE CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTOR TELLING YOU THAT THE SHADOWS YOU'RE SEEING AREN'T ACTUALLY DEMONS BUT THAT YOU ARE GOING TO REALLY REGRET IT IF YOU DON'T GO OUTSIDE.

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 8 months

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Greetings! I have assumed that because you're Welsh you must be able to sing. Am I right, or is this an unfair stereotype of your people? (Love your blog btw)

WELL. Yes. I can. No comment on the stereotypicality, but it's certainly true that group singing is a big cultural thing, particularly among Welsh speakers.

Uh, that said, I have the lowest voice of any cis woman I've ever met or seen. Zero songs are written for my vocal range. I dream of the day I find another so we can bond OR I can finally sing something with my vocal chords and gender in mind. If you're musically inclined at all for this to make sense to you, my comfortable range is B2 - C5, which means I can encompass all of tenor, a chunk of baritone in the low end, and not quite all of alto in the high end. The closest I've ever come to finding a female singer with a similar reach is Madeline in The Amazing Devil, who hits low notes even I struggle with in That Unwanted Animal; but she can go much higher than me (and is certainly more comfortable in a higher range than me), so she's just a vocal prodigy. Every choir teacher I've ever had has confidently told me "Plenty of famous singers are altos, you're not alone!" And I'm like "That would be useful, Beryl, but I'm not an alto and they all sing higher than me."

Thinking about it, though - this is entirely anecdotal and not backed up by any actual statistics - I have consistently found over the years that Welsh voices tend towards the lower end. I'm thinking back to the choir I was in in Aberystwyth, the Elizabethan Madrigal Singers. It was a student choir, so there was a mix of nationalities but mostly Welsh and English. I remember at one point the conductor stopped us on one song and made us sing one of the phrases, section by section from the basses up. The point he was making was about our pronunciation of the word 'castle'.

"Listen to that!" he laughed. "You all need to pronounce that 'a' the same way, and this is a formal piece, it needs to be long. It's "Cahstle", not "cassle". Look how only the sopranos are doing it right!"

And one of the basses looked along the line and went "Rob... that's because they're English."

And we realised that every bass and all but one alto was Welsh; two thirds of the tenors and every single soprano was English. The higher the voices went, the fewer Welsh people were present.

(Shout out to Rob, very quickly - he was an English tenor, but on reaching Aberystwyth University he'd learned a smattering of Welsh as best he could and joined the Welsh language choir as well as the Mads to practice it. He was affectionately known as 'Rob Sais' in honour of this respect. Really nice guy. I believe he's an engineer now.)

But yeah, that's a trend I have noticed over the years in other places, too. No idea how universal that is vs just my own observations in my own bubble, but there we are

#asks #tedious personal details

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

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Okay.. hear me out the song 'Stick Season' by Noah Kahan... for a fic like her and spence break up and she can't move on from him...

Oh you mean my FAVORITE NOAH KAHAN SONG???

Absolutely girlboss.

It ended up being 3.5k, so please please enjoy!!

(it's a gn! fic btw)

You must have had yourself a change of heart like Halfway through the drive Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

Everyone in the BAU hated letting Spencer drive. It was a fact of the universe. It wasn’t because he was bad at it, in fact he was quite a good driver. But whenever he would drive, it was constant chatter, constant rambling, and sometimes, it would be in between NPR segments where Spencer would correct someone or pause to discuss interesting facts that he knew.

So when Spencer offered to drive the team to the hotel across town, no one had the guts to say no. It was some random town in Vermont, in the middle of October, some weird string of murders throwing another small town into disarray. He was in the middle of describing the science behind why certain leaves change into certain colors when his voice died out.

They were at one of two stop lights in town and they were stopped at one of them. Spencer was looking diagonally across at some random coffee shop, and Derek could not, for the life of him, figure out why Spencer was looking over there.

“Reid? Hello.”

“It’s her.”

“Who?” Derek followed his line of sight again and realized what Spencer was looking at, well, who he was looking at.

You.

“Oh my god. Isn’t that…”

Spencer nodded his head.

“Why is she…”

Spencer just stared at you. “I don’t know.”

You were now leaving the coffee shop, cup in hand and small brown bag in the other. Spencer could probably guess what was in both.

“Green light Reid.”

The two of them started to move again, but neither of them spoke on the way to the hotel. It was almost unbelievable that they hadn’t seen you in over two years and yet here you were, in some random town that had a serial killer.

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes

“No no. Lucille. You don’t understand. He was like, nerdy hot. And I fucked up big time.”

Lucille snorted and handed you the blunt in her hand. “My love, my life. I bet you, he was the problem.”

You scoffed and took a hit. “Yeah right.”

Lucille raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re not still in love with the guy are you?”

“When you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic.”

“Oh girl no, you are, aren't you.”

You sighed and took another hit—a long inhale this time to compensate.

“Sweetie, you are WAY too good for him.”

You laughed. “Mr three PhDs, four Bachelors, and FBI? Yeah. I don’t think so.”

“Weren’t you Mrs FBI?”

“That’s Miss FBI to you. Mrs is reserved for happy married stupid people.” You grumbled and closed your eyes.

“Wow.”

“Wow What.”

“He was really the one wasn’t he.”

You nodded. “I really thought….god I’m so stupid.” You stood up and started pacing along the porch of your house.

Once you and Spencer had broken up, you needed to get out of there. There had to be somewhere where he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t find you. So you closed your eyes and pointed to a random spot on the map. Then when you realized you pointed to Las Vegas, you sat down and wrote down what you knew about Spencer, then tried to find somewhere that he had the lowest percentage of going.

And Fairlee seemed like the right place. There was nothing for him out here.

Except for you.

But Spencer didn’t feel that way. Not anymore at least.

You had taken up teaching, obtaining your teaching certificate up in Vermont and becoming one of ten teachers in the high school (which supported any child in a half hour radius).

It wasn’t hunting down serial killers, but it was still fulfilling.

That’s how you met Lucille. She was another teacher, in need of a roommate, and the rest is history.

“You’re floating away again.”

You snapped back to the conversation. “Sorry. Just. Really thought we were going to get married and be with each other and shit but.”

“But?”

“He wasn’t ready. You’d think three years knowing one another and being friends, and then another three years of dating would, you know. Add up to something.”

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Lucille took your hand and squeezed it tightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah…maybe, I don’t know.”

She squeezed it again. “Tonight’s the night Damian invited us all down to the bar to hang out, I know we said no but…might as well get free drinks out of a guy who will never get the hint. Free booze, boost of ego. You’re young, you’re hot.”

“I see what you’re doing.” You smiled down at her. “But it’s raining and I’m not in the mood to get soaking wet just from walking from the house to the car then the car to the bar….”

“Pleaseeeee.”

Just as you were about to answer, a pair of headlights turned onto your driveway.

You’d know those stupid fucking headlights anywhere.

“Who do we know that drives a black suburban?”

Lucille shrugged. “I don’t think we know anyone who has one in town, why? Is that what the car is?”

You nodded, your stomach dropping.

“Luce. Hide the weed.”

“Why, it's not Tom and you know he’s over here every—-“

“Now. Luce.”

She furrowed her brows as the headlights stopped in front of the house. She quickly grabbed everything and went into the house.

You stood on the porch, in your pajamas pants, and a sweatshirt, hands in the front porch.

The car turned off and you watched as three figures got out of the car and walked up to the porch, freezing as they looked at you, the rain pouring down on them.

“Why are you here Hotch?”

The man was frozen,and he looked over at Emily, who was just as baffled to see you.

“Y/n?”

“Why are you here?” You asked again.

“Why are you here?”

“This is my home Em.” You stepped back a couple of steps and gestured for them to come up onto the porch so they don’t have to stand in the rain anymore.

Spencer was silent the whole time, not taking his eyes off of you.

The three of them moved up the porch and went towards the door, but you blocked them.

“You need a warrant if you want to enter my house, Hotch. What are you doing here.”

“We need to speak to Lucille Walkner.”

“Why.”

Emily raised her eyebrows, and crossed her arms. She was used to how stubborn you were, but being on the receiving end of it was something she was not a fan of.

“It’s in regards to the string of murders y/n.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I can guarantee you that I have been with Lucille every moment of every day for the past two weeks.”

“We’re not accusing her, we’re just asking—“

You cut Emily off. “Asking her questions. Yeah. I know how this goes. In case you forgot or something. It hasn’t been that long. Why do you need to speak to her.”

“Because she was the last person seen with the most recent victim.”

You looked at Spencer for the first time since he got here. “So was I. But somehow you failed to mention that as well. You’re losing your grip, Doctor.”

The group had never heard your voice so flat, so strict, so full of disdain. It was easy for you to treat him like he was the villain. He felt like one. He was one.

“Y/n.”

You broke your staring contest with Spencer and looked over at Hotch. “Get a warrant and come back tomorrow.”

And with that you walked into your house and locked the door behind you. Feeling a bit more bitter than usual, you turned off the porch light too.

They all stood out there. Dumbfounded.

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

When the BAU showed up at your door with the proper paperwork the next morning, both you and your roommate were at work, twenty minutes away.

Your sense of humor still intact since you managed to leave a sticky note for them:

At work. home by 4.

But that didn’t stop the caped crusaders of the BAU.

When they showed up at the school to interview you and your roommate, Lucille went first, recounting the night all three of you went out to one of three bars in the town, and then when you offered to drive her home, she insisted on calling her own roommate. When you watched her get into her roommate's car, the both of you went home.

When you recounted the same exact story, you both were released for the day.

“Heard you were a pain in the ass yesterday.”

You stopped in the hallway and turned around, facing Derek Morgan. “What do you want, Agent.”

“Woah woah what’s with the formalities.”

You rolled your eyes. “Derek. I’m really not in the mood. I fit the victimology of the asshole on a murder spree, and the team acted like I didn’t fucking know that. I’ve also realized you haven’t connected the fact that all of them are dating or sleeping with the police force.”

“All? We only knew two of the five—“

“Because half of them don’t want to admit that they’re cheating on their wives, and the other half don’t want to admit they’re dating anyone regardless of marital status. Not a single one of the victims were married.”

Derek just stared at you. “Touchy subject?”

You closed your eyes. “I still have a gun license Derek. Don’t make me use it.”

“Too soon?”

“Yeah Derek. Too soon.” You sighed as he pulled you into a hug.

“We miss you y’a know. It’s not the same.”

“I’m sure.” You squeezed him tightly.

“And I’m serious. We haven’t found anyone nearly as good as you have been.” He whispered, kissing your head. “Your desk is still empty. Hotch won’t let anyone sit there. I think he’s hoping you’d come back. I think we all are.”

“I can’t even look at him and it’s been two years” you whispered trying not to cry.

“I know.” He just squeezed you. “I know.”

“God I just….”

Derek pulled you into an empty classroom the second he felt your body tense up. There was one thing you hated more than crying, and it was crying in public. Once the door to the classroom was closed, he pulled you back into the hug, letting your tears pour down his shoulder.

“God I thought I’d never have to see you people again.”

Derek chuckled. “Clearly you didn’t read your contract. It’s required that you’re supposed to see me at least seven times a year and if you don’t, I hunt you down.”

You laughed through your tears and sat down on one of the desks. “You wish.”

“I do.”

“Be serious Derek.”

“I am.”

You sighed and looked up at him. “Well. Now you know where I am so. Come and visit me I guess.”

“Oh I plan on it gorgeous.”

You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away some of the tears still clinging to your cheeks.

“He misses you too.”

“Derek….”

He knew it ws dangerous territory, but he had to let you know—He needed you to know how it was affecting everyone, even though it’s been two years. “He does.”

“Why would you tell me that Derek.”

“You have to–

“Have to what Derek. I don’t wan—that’s a lie. What I would fucking give to be back in DC; back at the FBI. But I can’t do it Derek. I can’t go back.”

“But–”

“No.” You backed away from him, out of his arms. “I’m not going back.”

“Please.” Derek watched as your back straightened and your eyes hardened. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were just starting to move on. Fuck. He watched as you closed yourself off again.

“Do you need anything else agent or can I go.”

“Y/n…”

“Then goodbye Agent Morgan.”

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever now you still can't call me back

Unexpectedly, but expectedly, the killer was caught. He was some sort of religious nut who had decided that “immoral sinners” be put in your place.

That was something you did not miss: the misogynistic murderers.

But the BAU was getting ready to leave. You were grateful that they had come and protected the community you had grown so close to, but the thought of them knowing where you were made you nervous.

You knew Penelope most likely tracked you from time to time, and you weren’t trying to live completely off the grid/untraceable. But seeing them in person, watching them run around your town, was nerve-wracking.

Seeing Spencer fucked you up the most though.

He looked okay; or better than you at least. He was completely and utterly okay, and it bugged the shit out of you. How could he be okay, how could he move on and be happy without you, while you are stuck still trying to locate the remaining pieces of your shattered heart.

To Spencer, you were a wonderful experience. But to you, Spencer was everything.

The BAU had left, no goodbyes were in order since you had fulfilled your goal of attempting to burn every bridge you had. It was painful, but you just couldn't help it. They reminded you of Spencer. Everything reminded you of Spencer.

Lucille watched as you slowly transformed back into that lost person from two years ago. Your smile never reached your eyes. You drank just enough to be concerning, but not enough to continuously push the boundaries of alcoholism. Your face was pale. You never laughed or cracked jokes any more.

All you could do was think of Spencer. Waking up next to him, his arms around your waist. The smell of his apartment, the rides to work, the glances from your desk to his desk. It was all just too painful.

There were moments where you would pick up your phone and sometimes it felt like the world was against you. Derek posted a picture from some sort of day off, and suddenly you didn’t follow him anymore. Or, if you opened NPR, Doctor Spencer Reid was the headliner in a speaker series at Georgetown in blah blah blah. So you stopped listening to the radio.

Every since he stepped out of the car in your drive you, you’ve wanted to call him. You’ve wanted to hear him speak to you like he did, to love you like he did. You wanted to call him and hear him apologize and tell you everything was going to be okay and this was all just a big misunderstanding and you were his forever.

But you had a feeling that if you called, he wouldn’t pick up.

Oh, that'll have to do My other half was you I hope this pain's just passin' through But I doubt it

One Year Later…

Time flies. Leaves change. Life moves on.

But suddenly it's back to October and you find yourself in a new town, somewhere completely different. Another fresh start. Maybe this one will stick.

But then you get a call.

And it’s from Erin Strauss, offering you your job back, and your hesitation gave her all of the information she wanted to hear. You had three days to make a decision.

Do you continue to run from place to place, hoping and praying that maybe someday you’d be able to feel like you deserved to be loved again. Hoping that someday someone might actually want to stay. They might want you to stay.

Do you stay in this new town, and get attached to the people, making new friends, reminding you of the old ones, and hoping that it will be enough to fill the holes in your skin.

Do you continue to teach. Do you continue to shape minds even though it’s not something you had ever dreamed of doing. Especially when it feels like you’re trying to force your body into loving something it doesn’t.

Do you go back to the FBI–the BAU.

Do you ignite the flame in your chest and let yourself enjoy the chase. LEt yourself be happy with your job and treasure every moment you get to catch the bad guy.

Do you accept the job and move back to the desk you belong at, surrounded by your friends. Once again in a building you call home, letting your guard down for the first time in three years.

Do you let your guard down and talk to Spencer and watch yourself undo all of the progress you had made. Watch as your resolve crumbles and your heart aches and you can;t even breathe around him because it hurts to see him.

Do you give up and follow him around like some lost puppy and beg for him to take you back so maybe you’ll be able to melt your waxen heart and be happy again.

You don’t take the job. You never hear from Erin Strauss again.

Sometimes in your sleep, you can see what your wedding would have looked like. The venue, the florals, your outfits and shoes. Your closest friends and family by your side as you commit your soul to be bound to his.

But every time you get to the I Do’s, Spencer says yes.

It hurts because you never even made it that far.

You didn’t even get an engagement ring.

All you got were pitiful looks and sympathetic glances while Spencer rambled on about how much he didn’t understand marriage or want children–not that you did, but you would have liked for it to have been a discussion between the two of you.

You would have liked a lot of things.

Sometimes, in your dreams, Spencer proposes.

It never leaves your mind, watching as he publicly declares his love for you. Apparently, that was too much to ask for.

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do Have to do

The pain of waiting to be loved feels like you’ve but split down the middle, letting yourself melt apart. The skin, no matter how hard you try, can never be stitched back together, and even if you manage to get some back, it scars over, reminding you for the rest of your life how unloveable you feel.

Maybe you’ll get lucky and someday you can learn to live with never being truly whole again.

Since Spencer owns half of you, and you will never be whole without him.

Part 2

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader angst #Spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x self insert

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disneyprincemuke · 1 month

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my reputation's never been worse * fem!driver

her boyfriend's not made for her anger

pairings: matt x rocky (hehe)

notes: let rocky be happy challenge (impossible) LOL

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

she whines tiredly, throwing her head back. “draw of the luck.”

matt smiles slightly and drops himself into the vacant seat next to her, popping her pepsi can open. “you probably don’t wanna be sitting next to me right now.”

“what?” the girl snorts, snapping her head to him with furrowed eyebrows. “bub, why would you even say that?”

“because you’re sitting here instead of being on the track racing with everyone else, duh,” matt chuckles, offering her the soda can. he sits back in the chair and rests his arm on the back of hers. “i’d totally understand if you’re upset about being here.”

she sighs shakily, craning her neck to look at the small tv hanging in the garage. liam’s car is on the screen, just making the sinking feeling in her chest worse.

truthfully, what a shit start to the year.

the churning in her stomach makes her want to tear the walls of her garage down, but it’s simply too early to say. at least that’s what she’s been telling herself all day since sebastian had broken the news to her.

it’s just one race.

though, the devil on her shoulder is insisting that it’s not as simple as that.

she shakes her head, lips pressed into a thin line. “it was shocking,” she whispers with a firm nod. “but i’ll be back next week.” she leans against his arm, cheek resting on his shoulder and reaches over to take his hand into hers. “i’ll be okay.”

“i know you will be,” matt mutters, putting a hand on her knee. he glances at her. “but you don’t have to keep saying that to me — i’ll be here for you.”

“you’re really okay?” matt asks softly, bending to his side to try and get a look at the girl’s face.

the girl hums with a small grin, darting all over the room to shove everything into her backpack. “why do you keep asking that?”

he sighs, sinking further into his beanbag. “because you finished outside of the points today and you didn’t race last weekend. you haven’t lashed out yet, you haven’t cried… you haven’t even said anything about it yet.”

“it’s only been 2 races,” she shrugs with a small grin, standing up straight to look over at him. “bub, i’m okay.”

“i don’t wanna go there,” he frowns, “please don’t make me go there.”

she tilts her head, “what do you mean?”

“your only crash of last year, you got into a fight severe enough that it almost shattered your entire world,” matt points out softly, truly unsure if it’s even a wise decision to bring up one of her lowest points of the previous season. “you have to at least be feeling some type of way about this all.”

she sucks in a deep breath, tearing her eyes off of him. and he has a point.

right now, it seems like throwing a tantrum over mishaps from 2 races into the season just sounds like behaviour that she could easily get lost in. that’s not how she was raised, after all.

she just takes what she can get and she’ll remain grateful even though these past 2 weeks have arguably been getting harder to cope with. not starting the race felt like the end of the world a week ago — she’s just glad she got to race this weekend.

though she swore, stepping into the paddocks with her chest feeling tighter, that she wanted to cry into matt’s shirt. but when she opened the door to her room and saw him looking at her with sorry eyes and open arms, the anger and frustration seemed to be pushed away.

she shrugs again. “it’s just simply too early to tell.”

she can’t seem to say anything else that’s not an utter lie.

it’s unusual to be woken up by the heaviest sleeper he knows. matt had been woken by snuffling and he initially assumed it to be kidnapper sniffing either of them, waiting to wake them up for some snacks in the middle of the night.

until it hits him that they’re not even in her apartment in london right now — they’re in a hotel for the race weekend. his eyes fly open as he scrambles to sit up. he finds her sitting in a chair, face illuminated by her phone screen as she bites down on her nails.

“bub, what are you doing up so late?” he whispers so as not to startle the girl. “you have a race tomorrow.”

the room goes dark when she immediately shuts her phone. “nothing, i,” her voice quivers, “it’s nothing. i just woke up to use the toilet 10 minutes ago.”

he can’t help but notice the way her voice shakes. “is everything okay? what’s wrong? feeling sick?”

she sighs and shakes her head before she realises that matt can’t see her. “it’s really nothing,” she whispers, starting to climb into bed again. she sniffles and rubs her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “i’m fine. let’s just go back to bed.”

matt scrambles to sit up, swiftly reaching over to turn the lamp on before he turns back to her before she can drop herself on the bed again.

“what are you doing?” he mutters, grabbing her arm and yanking her into his body. she doesn’t do much to fight it; just softens herself up as she lands in his lap, head buried in his chest. “why do you keep saying it’s nothing? i know something’s bothering you.”

“i just–” she grabs at the material of his shirt and bunches it up in her hand. she squeezes her eyes closed as another lump in her throat forms. “i hate feeling this way. you should see the things people are saying about me right now. it’s not fair; they don’t say any of that about liam.”

“rocky.” truthfully, he doesn’t really know what to say. how would he? he rests his cheeks on the top of her head as her soft cries fill the silence of the hotel room. “you really shouldn’t be reading that. didn’t seb tell you off on that?”

“he did,” she choked, shaking her head, “but after my performance in qualifying today… i had to see what everyone’s saying about me.”

he tightens his arms around her, hoping slightly that this would help her feel better. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault my life’s like this.”

so it seems that matt’s unlocked a part of her that she hasn’t shown anybody else. there’s a certain level of vulnerability now that not a lot of people have had the pleasure, or unluckiness, of experiencing firsthand in recent years.

once upon a time, she had people to turn to when her racing had gone to shit. but realistically, she hasn’t experienced many mishaps with machinery as a driver, which is probably what’s making it so difficult to cope with her current situation.

nonetheless, her only support system seems to have taken a life of their own that can no longer accommodate her. that’s what she tells herself: oscar and logan have lives and are building relationships and there’s no more space for her in their immediate lives.

she dreaded the media pen after another finish, barely making points out of the race in p9.

to her dismay, her predictions were absolutely right. her first question after stepping up to the mic and camera was something about her ending up behind logan in the placings after spending her entire racing career typically ahead of him.

she wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t pointed it out and now the resentment grows as the clock ticks.

matt sighs, “you don’t really mean that; they’re your friends.”

“but i do!” the young girl shrieks, throwing her arms in the air. she paces around the room as she heaves, hands tangled in her hair as she finally sighs about her frustrations. “it’s not fair! nobody cared that logan wasn’t producing results when oscar and i were! suddenly, they’re comparing me to him? i have every right to feel like this, matthew!”

“i know.” he grabs her shoulders to stop her in place then cups her cheeks to force her to look him in the eye. “and you do. i’m not saying you don’t have the right to feel this way, but–”

“you are, though!” she shrieks, stepping back and removing his hands from her. “you don’t get it. i spent my whole life better than logan and suddenly now i’m incompetent just because he’s scoring points? give me his teammate’s car — i’ll still beat him in a race by a margin.”

“i never said that,” he argues, throwing his arms in the air. “you grew up with these guys and i understand that you’re frustrated… it’s okay, but take it easy.”

“i can’t believe you’re taking their side right now, matt,” she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes. she throws her arms in the air. “everyone’s already on their side! i need you to be on mine!”

“and i am!” matt huffs. “i am on your side — i just don’t want you to burn bridges like this! it’s okay to be angry, it’s just me here anyway. but these are your best friends!”

“you’re the only one i can be this open to! i need you to be with me!” she stomps her foot on the ground with her hands balled into fists by her side. “i can’t run to my friends and say that that should’ve been me. do you realise how fucked up that sounds?”

“i do!”

“then let me have this one! let me hate them for a couple of minutes before i have to swallow it down and pretend like i’m not fucking jealous of the success they’re all finding this year!” she opens her mouth again to say something, choking up as she tries to speak again.

she pinches the bridge of her nose as a lump forms in her throat. “i can’t say that to them, they’ve worked so hard to be there. and it’s not their fault that i’m not up there with them.”

“you’re right,” matt whispers, taking a step forward and enveloping her in his arms. “you’re right — i’m sorry. it’s just all pent up right now, isn’t it?”

“they’ve been supportive when i’m doing well. i feel like shit feeling like this towards them,” she whispers. “it’s not fair to them, you know? i have to show up for them like they did for me.”

matt calls out her name and the girl simply holds a hand out to him and walks past him in the garage. she pulls the balaclava off her head and shoves the door towards the paddocks to leave him behind.

“hey, talk to me!”

she snatches her arm back just as he grabs it, a bewildered stare on her face. her eyes are teary as she scowls at him. “just leave me alone. not now, matt, god!”

he sucks in a deep breath watching the girl storm further from him. he clenches his jaw and turns on his heel to make his way back to her garage, only to be met by a familiar face.

oscar looks over matt’s shoulder where the girl had strayed off to. “is she okay?”

“she’ll be okay,” matt grins, trying to ignore the pang of pain growing in his chest. “just needs a while to recuperate by herself.”

“are you okay?” oscar asks slowly, flashing him a knowing stare with a comforting smile. “she can get a little angry sometimes, but i promise she’s not always like this.”

“i know.” he forces a chuckle out. “she’s great. but she’ll be okay — just wants to have time to herself right now.”

every week brought around a certain form of unknowing. it’s hard to keep sane when you keep having to adapt to survive.

perhaps that’s the problem: she’s finding it too difficult to adapt.

when she gets out of the car, there’s only ever one consistent thing. it’s always meeting the same pair of warm green eyes in the garage and his arms wide open waiting to receive her.

she crashes into his body, stumbling back a couple of steps from the impact. “i can always expect one thing out of a race,” she sighs, eyes fluttering closed when she feels his hands wrap around her. “and it’s the fact your face will always be here in my garage.”

she feels a hand resting on her back. “well, i want to be here for my girlfriend, you know? she deserves that much.”

“haha, very sweet,” she giggles, pulling away with a small grin. “let’s head out to dinner tonight?” he nods excitedly. “it’s a date.”

perhaps she’s pulled the gun a little too early on that one. the evening had seemed like it was off to a great start with her feeling uplifted from the way she made it to the third round of qualifiers. the interviews and her team meeting hadn’t gone as well as she initially expected.

she leans forward on the table, cheek resting in her palms as she pushes the sole piece of carrot left on her plate. sat across her is matt, talking about something from his audition a couple of days ago.

he stops himself, tilting his head at his seemingly unresponsive girlfriend. “is everything okay?”

she lifts her eyes, lips parted with an empty stare. “yes. sorry, you were saying about your audition?”

“right,” he smiles, “i was saying that i think my audition went great. it’s a good show so if i get the part, it’s going to be–” but the lack of reaction and enthusiasm from the girl makes him stop midsentence again. he lets out a shaky breath, “nevermind. maybe another time.”

“no, matt,” she sighs looking up slightly more aware and attentive than before. “i’m sorry. i just have so much on my mind right now. please keep telling me how the audition.”

he shakes his head and drops his head to continue his meal. he would have asked what’s bothering her, but he’s since learned that she would tell him if he really wanted to, especially after he’d already asked her seconds ago. “it’s alright, bub. when you’re feeling better. what’s on your mind?”

“okay, wait up.”

matt struggles to catch up to the girl after having stormed out of the garage after briefly stepping into it for a mere second. he’d barely gotten a glimpse of her before she started stomping towards the small exit door in the back of her garage.

the girl had stormed through the semi busy paddocks with tunnel vision to the racing home, ignoring anyone and anything that tried to get between that. he had even followed up with soft apologies as she blatantly continued to ignore bigger names.

realistically, they should have taken the look of fury on her face as a clear sign. with her race, she didn’t have the energy to stop and feign a smile to make small talk.

no, because she genuinely feels the world spinning underneath her feet.

the door to her driver’s room flies open with a loud thud as it comes into contact with the wall.

and at the comfort of her floral-scented room, she stands in the middle of it, hands fisted by her side. she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she does so.

surely the 30 second pit stop that caused her a points finish warrants this, right?

to some degree perhaps, she tries to reason with herself.

she opens her eyes and starts to look around her room for something **— anything — to keep her from tearing the walls down of the building of the team that keeps screwing her over. she keeps her eyes on the picture frame on the wall of her and sebastian from the year before in miami, champagne drenched with her trophy in hand.

at the call of her name, she feels something snap inside her.

her scream pierces through the silence of her driver’s room, followed by the loud thud of her helmet clashing against the wall decorated with a singular picture frame. the helmet falls to the ground followed by the framed picture on her wall.

she drops to her knees with another scream, quickly transitioning into a sob as her fisted hand comes into contact with the carpeted ground of her room with every word she screams. “that’s not fucking fair!”

“rocky–”

“don’t!” she pushes away the hand that hovers over her shoulder, desperate to console her. “don’t touch me!”

she’s been holding it in since the race had started — something felt wrong. every weekend she walks into the paddocks feels like a chore; the only thing constantly in her head is the question of how another race could possibly go wrong for her.

every single passing weekend seems to outdo the previous and there is only so much she can do as a driver with a car that’s uncooperative.

the man behind her can only watch, in agony, as the girl kneels on the ground. she slowly hunches forward, elbows on the ground with her sobs echoing in the empty room. her fisted hands hit the ground with a soft thud as she cries. “i’m not any better than i was every moment before this. maybe i’m not even as good of a driver as i’d thought.”

she throws her head back as she sucks in a deep breath. she breathes out, “i don’t wanna do this anymore.” she twists her body, eyes stinging from her tears and her cheeks stained. a soft sigh passes her lips as the initial bout of anger and frustration finally leaves her. “can we just go home?”

“you still have the debrief to attend,” he says softly and hesitantly. “that might really make you feel better, you know? maybe if you talked to your team about it, they could address what your concerns are and even come up with a solution?”

“please,” she whines with a heavy sigh. “i don’t want to stay here. fuck the team.”

and so he does what he can to help, against his better judgment and the image that he tries to keep around here for her. he helps her pack her bags, wraps his jacket around her and brings her back to the hotel. he’ll just call sebastian later and explain.

she lies on her side, kidnapper nuzzled into her chest as she taps away on her phone. on the other side of the bed is matt, on the phone with his agent, talking about something regarding the audition he had gone to a couple of weeks ago.

she shuts her eyes at the constant chatter filling the silence of her bedroom, irritability growing in her chest. the peace and quiet she’d been hoping for is now gone.

she scrambles up with a soft huff before quickly leaving the room, the door slamming behind her as she leaves. she grabs the throw on the couch and wrapping her body with it. she lies back down on the couch and closes her eyes, desperate to get a nap in before their flight later in the evening.

the door creaks open, matt’s head popping out with the phone against his chest. “is everything okay? you left without saying anything.”

“i’m fine,” she mutters, voice muffled by the pillow she’s pressed her face into. “i just need time to myself right now.”

she hears him sigh. “bub, i’m on the phone with my agent. i can’t do this right now.”

“we’re not doing anything,” she scoffs, lifting her head momentarily to glare at him before lowering her head again. “just leave me alone. i want to be by myself.”

“okay,” he answers, the door slamming closed.

she wasn’t going to cry, at least not until now. all day she’d been dreading leaving for the airport to fly off for another race weekend — there are only so many misfortune a person can take in an underperforming car before it takes a toll on their confidence.

but she does and wraps it up the minute she hears the bedroom door open again.

she urges matt towards the door. “please, please. you have to come up with some lie why i can’t make it out tonight,” she whines, squeezing matt’s arm.

“what?” matt shrieks, turning around to stop her from opening the door. “they’re your friends. you should be the one to tell them why we’re cancelling on them tonight.”

“i can’t face them right now, bub,” she sighs, shaking her head. “i miss them, but i also kinda hate them right now. please?”

she’d agreed to head out to grab a couple of drinks with oscar and logan tonight, especially since it’s one of the rare times that they’re all in london together. but as the clocked would down to the time that they’re supposed to pick her up from her apartment, she abruptly changed her mind.

she just didn’t have the energy to go.

“tell them i’m sick or something or that i fell, i don’t know,” she whispers. “please, do me this favour.”

“i’m back from the store!”

matt furrows his eyebrows at the empty living room. he’s only greeted by kidnapper sitting in front of her bedroom door, mewing softly. the cat turns its head to glance at him, meowing again before turning to the door.

“is rocky in there?” he asks softly, bending down to pet the cat on the head. “and you’re mad she’s not letting you in?”

as if the cat understood what he said, he meows back again with a slow blink. he hums and puts the paper bag down next to the door.

he pushes it open, greeted by a dimly lit room. he flinches back at the figure sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over with soft sobs filling the room.

“sorry,” she mutters, rubbing her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. “i fell down a rabbit hole. i know we said i shouldn’t but i couldn’t help it.”

“hey, what’s wrong?” he coos, walking around the black cat that’s pouring into the room with him. “what happened?”

she keeps her back facing him, yanking her phone towards the top of her bed. “i read the stupid articles again,” she cries, covering her face with her palms, “i had to know what they were saying about me.”

he sighs her name, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “why did you do that? you know that isn’t good for you.”

“because it’s not fair!” she shrieks, pushing herself off the bed to stand. “i worked so hard the past 2 years to prove that i belong in formula 1 — that i worked harder than anybody else to make it here and be the first woman in the grid in decades. but that doesn’t matter anymore, no, because i’m washed. i’m a fluke; sebastian took the chance on the wrong girl.”

“that’s why i’d said–”

“that kimi raikkonen and fucking jenson button are starting to eat their words about the girl that their friend had taken a gamble on to put in a race car alongside 21 other men on the grid,” she rambles on. she throws her arms into the air. “you don’t fucking get it, matt! and consider yourself lucky that you don’t have to because this shit is fucking exhausting!”

matt sighs, putting his hands on his knees as he takes her spot at the edge of the bed. he watches her intently as she continues her rampage.

“this shit sucks! do you have any idea how i feel? i’ve fallen so far from grace — there’s no saving my career!” she shrieks, turning her back on him to look out the window of her bedroom. “nobody’s ever going to take a chance on another woman if my results keep ending up like that.”

he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, trying to ignore the way his patience was slowly escaping his grasp. while he likes letting her speak her mind, lately, it just seems like nothing is ever going through her head.

she listens, but nothing ever actually takes effect.

“let’s go get ice cream,” matt mutters, standing up from his spot on the bed. he only has so much self-control. “would make you feel better.”

she whirls around, eyebrows furrowed. “what?”

“come on,” matt beckons her towards her bedroom door. “let’s go. and then let’s pick stubby up from logan’s and go for a walk in the park. how’s that sound?”

“kinda nice actually,” she says softly. “okay, just let me get dressed.”

it’s happened again. she got mad at something minuscule again. if you asked matt, he wasn’t even sure what had happened. he simply asked her if she needed his help, cleaning off the contents of the vase that previously sat on the dining table as decoration.

then she just lashed out.

“yes, fuck’s sake,” she mutters after he’d asked. she lifts her head to look at the black cat sitting in the seat of the dining table, head hung low at her. “and god, kid! i told you to keep off the fucking table! that’s exactly why i keep telling you that!”

“hey! that’s a cat you’re screaming at!” matt stands up from his position on the ground, previously helping her collect the water beads that she’d thrown into the vase for the flowers. “it was a mistake — it’s a one-off thing! what’s your problem?”

“i’ve got bigger things to worry about, matt.”

“oh, my god, rocky!” he puts the vase down on the table and looks at her. “do you even hear yourself right? actually, have you taken a step back and listened to yourself lately? you’re screaming at a cat for doing cat things. your cat.”

she clenches her jaw, tilting her head. they’ve never really fought before. “there’s a reason he’s trained to not be on the table!”

“he’s a cat!” matt emphasises, pointing at the cat that’s now run off towards the balcony of the apartment. “listen, okay? there are two people in this relationship. you can’t always fucking expect me to baby you like this.”

she squints her eyes. “what are you talking about?”

“have you really even tried to look at the bigger picture lately? there’s more to life than your time and results in a race car,” he states. he hadn’t expected to break now. initially, he’d been planning to sit her down and have a serious chat about her mental state. but hearing her lash out again over something that typically wouldn’t be an issue broke him. “everyone’s telling you the same thing. it’s the car. it’s. not. you.”

“yeah, but–”

“and if you’re just going to nod your head and then drag your feet to lock yourself away from everyone else, it’s not going to make you feel any better! you actually have to believe the words that we’re saying to you. you know that, don't you?”

he takes a deep breath to collect himself. he doesn’t even really shout often. he’s more on the reserved side. “if you don’t want my help, fine. but if you need me… when you decide that you finally want my help — when you’re really ready to listen and willing to get some perspective — call me. please.”

matt finally gets a good look at her, hands clasped in front of her, now standing with her head hung low. if he’d taken a second longer to scan her, he’d have noticed the way her lips quivered and the tears that filled her eyes to the brim. “i don’t like seeing you like this,” he says softly, “but i also don’t like being treated like a fucking doormat. and i tried to be there for you, bub, but you’re unreceptive.

“i keep giving you my hand to hold and you just keep fucking ignoring it. when are you going to get in your head that shutting down and keeping to yourself isn’t going to be a viable way around this?”

“matt,” she says softly, her hand reaching out to grab his.

he takes a step back before she can touch him. “this always happens, rocky. you lash out, you hurt my feelings, you apologise then i forgive you. it’s good for a couple of days and then something happens and we’re just stuck in this loop — it’s exhausting. and i love you.

“god, i love you. and i want to keep liking you too, but love just won’t cut it,” he sighs, slouching his shoulders. “i don’t want to get tired of loving you, okay?” he sucks in a deep breath and he knows that he will probably regret uttering these words to her. “i’m sorry, rocky, but i can’t keep doing this cycle with you. i need a break.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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rggie · 2 years

Text

twst first-years as your roommate!

characters: sebek, jack, ace, jack, epel ortho. [ ortho’s is strictly platonic! ]

cw: gn!reader, crack & fluff, pining, sfw, unedited.

sebek zigvolt

“malleus, oh malleus! you are truly illustrious, and above all benevolent! i pledge my life to you! I KNEEL BEFORE YOU MY KING!!”

new drinking game. take a shot every time sebek says malleus

you wake up every morning to sebek chanting to his malleus portrait like he’s truly standing with you in your room. you don’t need an alarm clock when you have him bellowing at 5AM. you press your pillow against your ears but to no avail. you can still hear him, he’s that loud!!

he literally kneels down to the painting as if he’s getting a knighthood (he’s practicing for the future, okay?)

tells you that you should also join him and prostrate yourself before his lord… if you tell him to shut up he will look at you with an incredulous expression as though you’re the crazy one. are you silencing him, and in association, lord malleus? your insolence besmirches you!

if it gets too much for you he starts whispering aggressively instead, offended: “FINE.. ( •̀ - •́ )”

sebek spends a long time getting ready. so if you’re running late in the morning, you’ll want to beat him to the bathroom.

it’s because of his hair... he’s styling that thing with an abundance of gel. your bathroom cupboards have so many products for his hair there’s literally nowhere for you to put your things.

it’s crazy because he would look so much better with his hair down. when you tell him that he refuses to believe it, stating that all the elderly in briar valley love his current hairstyle.

he wastes 10 minutes alone hyping himself up in front of the mirror. flexing his muscles, practicing his smile, dimpling his cheek with his fangs. he rehearses saying “salutations, lord malleus!” or “hello, dear human!” but if you catch him in the act he’ll deny deny deny as pink bursts across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

he’s a bookworm, and that’s probably when he’s the quietest. yes, he’s quieter with his nose in a book than he is sleeping because he’s a sleep talker.

⇈ if you’re interested, sebek will recommend you some good pieces of literature!! he’s also really helpful if you need help with similar things in class. he annotates his books neatly with sticky-notes and highlighters, so if you ask nicely he might be gracious enough to let you skim over his hard work.

in return, if you’re good at subjects like maths, please assist him. numbers and him are like oil and water—they just don’t mix. he’ll be so grateful, he might humbly tell you a story of malleus’ childhood

you have to save sebek from lilia’s antics. he once told sebek balancing books on his head whilst sleeping standing up would help him become more resilient, so at night he would just be standing in the corner of your room… menacingly... it was honestly frightening.

you thought he’d fall over and crash onto his desk, having to physically drag him to his bed and tuck him gently each time he tried. he never once made it through the night. yes, he tried several times.

pretends the whole situation never happened. it was his lowest point.

sebek always makes sure you’re eating well, since he’s a big eater himself. when he’s feeling particularly chivalrous, he’ll get himself extra food just to lend you some, a coy smirk playing against his lips when you thank him.

ace trappola

ace has a basketball hoop on his side of the room. he likes to practice his trickshots often, so he’s probably hit you several times with it when he misses. which is often.

imagine you’re just walking into your room after a long day and—thwack!—you’re getting knocked out. he will laugh at you before pulling you up and making sure you’re actually okay. i’d be worried he has a vendetta against you or something.

⇈ says “it’s your fault for standing there”, pressing a hand against the point of impact tenderly.

standing where??? in your own room??? where it’s supposed to be SAFE???

makes a mess all the time in the bathroom. probably leaves toothpaste in the sink and water on the floor. he’s going to make you have wet socks and then he’ll roll his eyes when you complain.

you have to push him to clean it as he feigns innocence. “maybe it was you and you’re just blaming me!” “just clean the toothpaste, ace!”

he flicks tap water in your face.

when it comes to doing laundry he makes you play card games with him. whoever wins has to deal with it. he is a cheater and proud! he’s doing whatever he can to win and grinning like the chesire cat the whole time as if you’re not already aware of what he’s up to.

you have to force him to do his homework. he just so happens to always forget. but wait! you’re here! you’re instantly now his study buddy regardless of whether you wanted to or not. it doesn’t matter how smart you are, he’s always trying to copy your answers.

when it’s late at night and he can’t sleep, he’s texting: ‘u up?’ to check if you’re the same. if you don’t reply he literally pads up to your bed and looms over you. he puts his face inches close to your yours and whispers your name because he never believes that you’re truly sleeping.

brace yourself for a lot of late-night kitchen runs. he’s grabbing your hand and racing with you down the halls, telling you to hush and pressing a finger to his lips when he’s the one stomping and giggling outside riddle’s room.

don’t worry, he doesn’t eat anything he knows is his housewarden’s. he doesn’t try to get collared, you know. then he practically steals someone else’s lunch (the ‘someone else’ in question being deuce) and then shares it with you.

you get caught every time, ace’s stomping waking riddle up. he doesn’t even attempt to protect you, claiming it’s not stealing because it’s going to a good cause—your ‘date’.

he’s only ever joking about the date thing. he just likes seeing your reaction.

…but if he wasn’t joking, hypothetically… would you agree it’s a date?

deuce spade

he’s trying so hard to be a good roommate to you. he really is!

at first, he tries to impress you with his full bookshelf. in an attempt to turn over a new leaf, he borrowed a ton of magic related books from the library but he’s only read one

every time you walked into the room he frantically grabbed a book from his shelf and opened it, placing a finger on his chin to suggest that he was deep in thought.

“what’s gotten you so interested, deuce?” “oh it’s nothing. just a book about…psychology and stuff. really emotional. yeah.”

intrigued, you approached his side only to find out he’s reading a children’s picture book. upside down.

each time he thinks back to that moment he is filled with so much shame. whenever you bring it up he slaps a hand to your mouth with a shout, overly flustered. he’s always been honest about himself after that.

he’s another messy guy. overall? he’s clean—but when he eats he leaves a lot of crumbs behind on his bed and himself. you have the urge to wipe them from his cheeks all the time. this could be reiterated for all the first-years except ortho, though.

deuce excitedly shows you pictures of the latest blastcylces (he has posters all over his side of the room) and tells you all about his bleached hair days. he even lets you try on his blastcycle helmet and jersey. has a picture of you in it and treasures it as ‘a reminder to not go rouge again’

you study together but the pair of you always get distracted by having silly little side conversations. one second you’re talking about pythagoras; the next, it’s a passionate discussion about what animal you’d be if you were reincarnated in another life.

he moves around in his sleep a lot. he goes to sleep spread out like a starfish and ends up on the floor, bedsheets half-on him and the worst bed-head ever.

you have to fix his hair in the mornings for him. he’ll barely be awake, sleep still in his eyes as you’re patting his head to keep the stray hairs at bay. he’ll lean into your touch but he won’t remember doing it till halfway through the day.

⇈ he’ll just be in the middle of flight class, randomly think about the proximity of your faces, then almost falls off his broom. ace laughs till he cries.

when he comes to your room wounded he appreciates how you ask him if he’s okay before asking what happened. when it’s the other way around, he always rechecks your state even though the school doctor patched you up fine and deemed you well enough.

he calls his mother often to make sure she’s okay, and you’ve gotten more than acquainted with her.

she loves you and thinks you’re a great influence for deuce. she’s even happier that he’s made some friends!! she’s always gushing about how she’s proud of him, or asking you to come over with in the holidays.

“deuce, when you come home bring your lovely friend okay? i like them.”

he agrees without hesitation, because he can’t deny her wishes—and he likes you, too.

jack howl

your room either smells like sweat and the mens body spray he uses or caramel scented candles that he swears his younger brother and sister bought for him.

it’s mostly the second option, because jack is good when it comes to personal hygiene and also doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for you. (his side of the room is very clean, and he takes pride in that, so if yours isn’t he’ll tell you to fix up very bluntly.)

he’s very perceptive and values personal space, so he’s thoroughly checking to make sure you’re comfortable. will give you space and alone time if you need it.

he’s got ‘motivational workout quotes’ framed and hung up on his side of the room

gives you a similar one for your birthday, in order to give you motivation for the rest of the school year. he’s given one to all the first years, even ortho, so you’re not special or anything.

yours is just slightly bigger.

from far away it looks aesthetically pleasing, contrasting nicely with all the greenery from the plants he’s raising (he’s a plant mom)

then you get closer and read: “Train The Quit Out Of You.” “Single Taken At The Gym.” “In This House, Only Hard Work Matters.”

he goes on morning runs, so he’s out before you can even open your eyes. sometimes, he leaves you notes behind wishing you a good day, since he’s not much of a texter even though you’ve exchanged numbers. sometimes you’ll find notes around the house just saying some words of encouragement.

if you’re awake, he might ask you to join him. but it ends up being him running out of earshot so fast you lose sight of him. he’ll be running back as you’re still on the first stretch, out of breath. he’ll try his best to wait for you to catch up, though…

⇈ you might not enjoy it as much as he is but he’ll be really thankful that you came along anyway. you don’t even have to run if you don’t want to, just sitting and watching him somehow gives him a newfound burst of energy.

as a reward for sticking with him, he’ll make sure you’re well fed. not that he doesn’t do that already; jack sits next to you, the two of you sharing a plate of breakfast together as the other first-years just share a look like (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )?

you often find him talking to his cacti. his tone is so soft it’s endearing, conversing as though they’d speak back before watering them. in fact, you find out more from him speaking to the succulents than you do when he’s actually talking to you.

it’s not that he doesn’t talk to you. he does!! but the conversations are always short because he’s too busy trying to hide the wag of his tail and twitch of of his ears.

you speak to his cacti, because if jack truly believes it will benefit them you also want to help. he’s so fond of them. when he finds out you’ve been doing so, he tells you that he’s sure they’re standing stronger and looking healthier because of you <3

he lets you name them

Congratulations. you are both now Plant Parents.

it might take a lot of convincing but if you can get him to cuddle with you in his wolf form you will get the best sleep ever. he’s super fluffy, which makes him really cosy to lean on and snuggle up to.

⇈ but you both tend to oversleep and end up late for classes whenever you do it. jack scolds you for it because he doesn’t want to be a troublesome student, but he won’t deny you when you ask again.

everyone’s convinced you’re dating.

epel felmier

why are there apples everywhere

the saying ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ doesn’t apply to you! an apple a day is bringing you closer to the doctor. (epel has boxes of apples for his carvings. they’re overflowing, causing apples to spill out onto your floor creating a trip hazard.)

he seriously doesn’t mean to make mess but the apples just keep on coming! at this point you both have enough apples to keep you going for at least a good few months—but you’re not allowed to eat them.

okay, fine, you can have one… or two..

pomefiore’s bedtime is 10pm, so both of you share the struggle of hiding that you’re awake. you’re both chuckling under your own bedcovers, messaging each other on your phones with your brightness at the lowest setting: ‘is he gone yet? u check’

vil will be standing in the doorway, hands on his hips waiting for you to peek your heads up. he knows what you’re doing.

you keep doing it anyway until vil threatens to split you up.

the two of you will try to stay up till early hours of the morning doing anything and everything. on one occasion you tried to juggle with apples, ending up hitting yourselves in the faces. it left marks.

plenty of times you’ll send epel a funny video of something or the other and he’ll double over in laughter, wheezing so loudly you’re sure everyone can hear you. your phones get confiscated for a week.

he’s on his best behaviour now, he swears! and you are too—you know vil only sets specific guidelines for you to follow because it will benefit you both in the long run.

if you’re injured, epel will tend to your wounds skilfully. he’s been in more than a few accidents being a wild child, and also knows a lot about medicinal herbs and magic pharmacy. arguably does a better job than school staff.

when he’s injured, he’s rushing back to show them off to you like battle scars. look at the the one on his knee, quick! he stood his ground and won, isn’t he cool? (it’s absolutely tiny and will definitely fade away. he wants to be leona so bad)

he always lets you see the process of his apple carving and even gives you lessons. he’s delighted that he gets to teach someone something he learned back in his hometown—it’s not much of a big deal, but whenever someone shows interest in it, his chest puffs with pride.

and when it’s you specifically complimenting him and harveston, he’s super smitten.

ortho shroud

ortho is only just finding out about himself, exploring his tastes and developing his own opinion. (he’s really glad he can share these self-discoveries with you!)

idia is Not Happy that his brother is being stolen off him, but wishes ortho well nonetheless.

you will never be late to class from now on because he will wake you up on time. and don’t think about skipping or faking illness, because ortho can see right through you.

asks how your day has been after school because he genuinely cares. he wants to know everything! school is just so fun to him. he’s so happy about going to class that you start to feel guilty for dreading them. he’ll tell you about his day too, very elaborately. you might be sitting and listening for a while because ortho does not miss a single detail.

⇈ you somehow end up finding out what scarabia resident B did last summer with his family, though you’re sure it had no relevance to ortho’s magic history class at all?

asks you to take pictures of him around your room, literally even if it’s a mundane activity. half of your camera roll is just images of ortho studying. he also wants to take lots of pictures with you, so he can keep the memories he spent his first real roommate fresh in his mind forever, so say cheese!

you make a bucket list together so he can check things off along the course of his life. you take him out to places he wants to go, and he helps you in return. need questions answered? he’s got the best results at the fastest speeds. hungry? he’s flying off to sam’s store. your preferences are already stored in his memory system, so expect something yummy when he returns!

he gets very attached to you very quickly, and perhaps even a little protective. if you’re ever going to do anything reckless ortho is sitting you down and telling you the pros and cons, success to failure ratio and extra precautions you should take.

as he’s only ever lived with his brother and never really had friends for himself, ortho is still used to idia’s social recluse/anxious ways. you could be ordering over the phone and if the person on the other end of the line mishears you ortho is suddenly speaking up for you very angrily.

ortho: excuse me they asked for NO. PICKLES. 😡😡

introverts love him. fast food branch owners fear him. the ice cream machines won’t be ‘broken’ on ortho’s watch.

if someone’s bothering you, just tell him. he won’t hesitate to dox a bully or two online. he learned from the best. NOT afraid to resort to physical attacks. has a high-intensity laser beam ready to fire whenever you need it.

ortho is not rainbows and sunshine all the time. he’s a nrc student, after all.

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gentlyweeps-world · 4 months

Text

Promise?

summary: In a different universe that Logan’s contract wasn’t extended.

pairing: logan sarge x reader

warnings: angst 😕

next part

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

It was obvious, it was obvious from the start that he wouldn’t last a year in Formula One. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew he was the laughing stock of F1.

Was it fair? No, certainly not. But he also needed to prove his worth, unfortunately for the two of you he couldn’t.

You knew something was wrong when summer break hit, he was more down, less talkative, not smiling as much.

He wasn’t acting like your Logan, your Logan who would make horrible Dad jokes but love them, your Logan who always needed lemonade, your Logan whose eyes would twinkle when he smiled and laughed. No, he was completely different.

“Hey baby, is everything alright?” You ask softly one night, it was after dinner, you two were sat on the couch with a movie playing, you weren’t paying much attention, you think it was a random Marvel movie.

Logan looks up at you with a smile on his face that seems off somehow, it was obvious to you it was fake.

“Everything’s fine, babe. I just have a lot going on with the team right now.”

He reaches over to gently squeeze your hand, then quickly retracts his hand back to his lap, resuming scrolling and typing on his phone.

Something was really wrong, that was the first time you guys had remotely held hands in days, you haven’t hugged, or cuddled, or even kissed.

“Logan- baby, I know something’s wrong, please talk to me..I’m here for you..” You say a bit more desperately, wanting Logan to truly open up.

Logan continues to give you a fake smile with a reassuring tone.

“I swear, everything’s fine! I’d come to you first if it was anything serious.”

He sighs and places down his phone, leaning back. His voice sounds more tired than normal which you found to be strange since he didn’t have anything scheduled for the evening.

“Logan..” You say, tone wavering, “I’m not stupid, I know you stay up scrolling through endless hate posts and comments, I know you stay up thinking what you did wrong with Formula One, just please talk to me..”

The smile completely fades. Logan was silent for a bit. He never really expressed himself like this, especially when it comes to negative thoughts. He finally spoke.

“Honestly, I’ve felt like I’m not good enough. I’m working so hard to be a decent driver, but nothing is happening. I know James won’t extend my contract, I don’t deserve it”

Logan’s voice seemed more tired than before. It was really rare to see him in such a vulnerable state, especially to you.

“And- and I want to deserve you, but I can’t right now. You’re too good to me and I don’t deserve that, I’m a shit boyfriend and a shit driver, I’m ruining everything I touch” He says, voice breaking as he finally looks into your eyes, showing fear and shame.

“With how everything is going- with my career, one of us is going to end up with a broken heart…” He adds on, letting out a deep breath.

You immediately notice how much pain you could feel in his voice, he always seemed to cover up his emotions with humor and playfulness.

“No. We’re supposed to support each other, no matter what.” You say with a worried expression, reaching your hands out to grab his, but he only pulls away.

“Logan- baby please, you never give up, I know you, this isn’t like you, please Logan! We can work this out, you could go into Indy or- or something different..” You say desperately, voice breaking as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“No Y/n, you can’t save everyone! I love you- I love you so much, but I don’t want to bring you down…I’m at the lowest point of my life and I don’t want to drag down the only thing I love too” Logan says, getting up and off of the couch as he now stands in front of you, tears forming in his eyes as he fights back the breaking in his voice.

You start to feel a sharp pain in your chest as you see all the emotions running through his eyes. Logan never acted this way, and you’re surprised that in these moments, he would be the first to break out.

Logan walks a few feet in front of you, with his back towards you. You can hear the pain in his voice, the pain of a broken man. It’s something you never thought to see, and it’s something that hurts you greatly to see him like this.

“No- please no, no, please Logan..” You sob out, tears starting to fall down your face as you fully register the severity of the situation.

“Please baby, I don’t care what happens I want- I need to stay by your side..” You whisper out, eyes full of desperation and sadness.

Logan turns around, seeing your tears and he steps closer to you. You immediately see the desperation in his eyes, as he reaches his hands out and gently grabs you around the waist. His eyes seem to fill with tears as he pulls you close to him, he holds you against his chest as the pain in his voice is only drowned out by his crying.

“I’m sorry” is all he says, his voice broken and shaky.

“You deserve someone better, someone stable, someone more successful, who doesn’t screw up, I’m so sorry Y/n, I’m sorry baby..” He whispers out shakily.

You grasp at his shirt as you both cry into each others arms. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know what to do.

What were you supposed to do? Maybe you two could fix it- that’s what you hoped, but deep down you knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Can I kiss you one last time..?” You ask, barely pulling away from him to look into his eyes.

Logan wipes some of your tears, giving you a soft smile he finally responds with a whisper, “Please..”

He cups your face in his hands, gently tracing the outline of your face. His eyes look at you so loving, yet so regretful.

He pulls you back in for one last kiss, it feels as if he’s never kissed you as passionately before. You feel his body tremble, and you’re sure you are too.

You both slowly pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, letting out a slow breath.

“I’ll always love you. Remember that” Logan whispers out.

“Just promise me, we’ll find a way back to each other, please Log..” You say softly, looking back into his eyes again once more, trying to search out his emotions.

Logan wipes the tears away and nods again.

"I promise. I will find a way back to you, no matter what."

He wipes away the remaining tears on your cheeks, taking a deep breath, and leaning into you for another kiss. This time it feels more passionate and intimate, as if saying a goodbye for good, at least for now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

radio 🪩: I’m sorry. I cried. That’s all.

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avoxrising · 4 months

Text

The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven’t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #finnick fluff #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #the feral one

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enbyobeyme · 1 year

Text

MC Becomes A Child But Angst

Prompt: Mc becomes a child again, but they did not have a good childhood to begin with...

AN: This is also an old work of mine that I'm reposting before I delete my old blog, may be a bit dated. I may rewrite this. Takes place in OG game

TWs: Mentions of Child Abuse, Scars, ect. GN per usual. Cringe writing

Vague Edgy Intro For Background.

You remember it since you were young. The live vivisections performed on you, the practice of fusing angels and demons to create your “God”. You were sadly the perfect catalyst for their experiments.

You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, atrocities that show the worst side of man, the lowest point that mortals could hit. Cults were draining. Worship after worship, recruitment after recruitment, experiment after experiment. You had demon and angel prisoners that you befriended in the cult before they were dragged away and eventually killed or turned into some beast...

You grew sick of it- that’s why you ran. How you managed to fight off or completely avoid the Silent Hill-esque monsters but... You did. From that day on you hid any marks, stitches, scars, or tattoos on your body were hidden. You did everything to hide your past, getting rid of any tracker on you, even trying to drain yourself of any demon or angel blood they injected you with.

You weren’t going to be turned into any ‘God” any time soon. To think, that poor angel Lilith had her grave robbed for the blood that now runs through your veins… Despicable.

I can’t imagine how your MC felt to have been summoned by demons? There was at least some level of fear or anxiety, no? Either way, let’s skip past that. You don’t know how, but some type of spell has been cast onto you, turning you into a kid. The same fragile kid from all those years ago. It wasn’t as happy as the brothers hoped for.

Lucifer

Your eyes were dull as you sat in the corner, you didn’t look at anything but the floor like you were waiting for instructions. Your body shivered and you looked so broken. “MC? Are you okay?” No response, not even a glance at him. It was unnerving, to say the least.

He was by your side in an instant once he heard the news. The way you backed away from him warily though didn’t throw him off, at first, he was a stranger to you after all. It wasn’t until he got back to his office to work while looking after you.

You seemed to have something in your hands that you hid even more as he approached. You looked over at him miserably and started to shake more. You never talked much about any parents or any childhood memories- you often skipped over conversions where Asmodeus badgered you for pictures of your young self. Is this why?

His heart hurts a bit as he puts the pieces together. He notices your grip on whatever is in your hands, loosening, he leans in trying to see what it is. Lucifer is taken aback when you hold out a small rusted knife towards him, it was blunt and old, and shaking in your grip.

“P-Please, get away from me, You’re going to hurt me too! They’re going to hurt you!” Lucifer kneeled down showing his hands to you before offering one to you. “I’m not going to hurt you, please come with me…” You shook, eventually putting the blade away. Lucifer reached out slowly to cup your cheek.

You were soon on his lap as he worked. He noticed that you looked over at the stack of papers, grabbing the sheet he was finished with you added it to the right pile. “How do you know to do paperwork?” “I had to earn food by helping out with chores.” He frowned at that.

”Your parents made you work?” “I don’t think I have parents. The leaders said they made me. It all clicked at that moment. “You were- you are in a cult?” You nodded, going back to organizing papers. It was silent for a moment. “You’re a nice demon. I hope they don’t hurt you too.” “Oh? What do you mean?” “A lot of demons or angels that get summoned get hurt. Sometimes, they’re dissected, and I have to help.” Lucifer couldn’t help but hold you a bit tighter. He felt awful for what you were implying.

He tried to ask you directly about the cult, but all he got were soft ‘sorry I can’t tell you that, I’ll get hurt’s’ in response. Dinner soon came, you refused to go out to the table without panicking, and trying to pull away from Lucifer if he tried to walk you there, so he brought food to you. Your eyes lit up as if you couldn’t believe that you were allowed food, you wolfed it down before anyone can take it from you. Afterward, he was able to walk you to your room to rest. “Wait, Mr. Lucifer, before you go” Lucifer looked back as your small child self waddles up to him to hug him. “Thank you, I don’t want you to leave me alone again.” He offered to sleep with you, you nodded profusely.

In the morning, you were grown again. Lucifer asked if you remembered anything from your kid self. You were silent before nodding. “Don’t mention any of it, to anyone. I’ve already dealt with and accepted it.” Lucifer nodded. This will be your little secret.

Mammon

When he heard Solomon shout in surprise during your magic practice, he knew something was up because that bitch never made noise. When he entered the room he saw a small child pointing a blade at the sorcerer. “Where’s MC?! Are they okay?!” “That IS MC. They messed up the spell and got turned into a kid”

You backed up, pointing the blade in front of you, “H-how do you know me.” It came out more like a statement than a question. You overheard the white-haired man, ‘Solomon’ Excuse himself along the lines of ‘Oops, I have to be somewhere’ for some reason this felt familiar. And that is how you got stuck with Mammon.

It took him a bit to convince you to put down the boxcutter, and you only did because you can sense the dumbassery off this guy and you could read him like a book, it would be able to tell when he would want to hurt you. You hid the boxcutter.

Mammon seemed to be on the phone with someone named ‘Lucifer’ you kept your distance. You heard all kinds of stories about the Seven Deadly. For someone in the cult to be named after them, or for a poor demon that was summoned and called by the sin they were strongly associated with was someone important. Important people tended to be the cruelest.

Mammon didn’t know what to do with a kid. Kids like the outdoors, right? Maybe he can get you some icecream? He noticed immediately that you dragged behind even as he offered you ice cream. You were a strange kid for sure.

At the ice cream store you just looked down. “Don’t you want anything?” you shook your head, it’s a trick, a trap, no one would be this kind to you. Mammon could tell something was up, you seemed so scared and hollow, just looking down at the ground. Mammon put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to shrink away. Sometimes he would’ve done the same when he knows he pissed off Lucifer. Were you okay?

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, “it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, come on, I got a coupon for a free ice cream anyway!” He didn’t but it might make you feel better. You felt like you had no choice, and zone out, when you zoned back in, there was an ice cream cone dripping onto your hand as you walked through the Devildom. A rare sweet treat that might be taken from you, you quickly lick it up, not knowing when an opportunity for food will present itself to you.

Mammon seemed nice, he talked to you and he even let you go up to an actual playground. You weren’t used to seeing a lot of kids together, especially so happy. It took a bit of Mammon coaxing you into trying to go down the slide. It was… fun. You asked Mammon to play with you.

After what seemed like an hour you both went home, for the first time in a while, you smiled. You were in Mammon’s room looking at all the shiny things in his room. “Thank you, Mammon,” you seemed to speak at a high level than other kids your age, Mammon noted, “I’m not really allowed to go outside.” Mammon frowned and asked, “Why not?” “The robed guys said people might see my marks and get me in trouble. And there was a big forest with all types of monsters.”

Robed guys, monsters? “Err, uhh. What kind of mark?” “Do you promise not to tell anyone?” “I promise.” You slowly pulled up a small part on the side of your shirt, exposing a long surgery scar going up your stomach, and a brand of sorts next to it. Mammon was taken aback. He pulled you close and examines you, on your chest were even more scars, some more brands it seemed like. You freaked out at him grabbing you and started kicking and crying. “Let me go! Let me go”

The box cutter from earlier came out of your pocket, into your hand, Mammon narrowly avoided it, catching your arm. “Woah woah woah! Chill, kid!” You dropped the box cutter and Mammon pulled you in for a hug. You were unfamiliar with it, but it felt nice.

You ended up falling asleep on Mammon. He wanted you to change back ASAP. There was a lot of things he wanted to ask you.

Leviathan

When you were transformed into a child, you just saw a white-haired man around a bunch of magic things and weird sigils. He looks like he was wearing a robe too, bad news. You looked around for something, anything that could help defend you, you usually always had a pocket knife on you and you felt in your pocket. Grabbing it, you knew it would a bad thing to fight, so you ran.

This house was big and had a lot of hiding spots, you ran up the stairs, knife in hand, sneaking around. Where was there to hide, you heard music from one place, chatting from the next, you saw an open door, peeking in, there appeared to be no one, it was definitely someone’s room though. Covered in strange aquariums and many odd… mini statues everywhere.

It was at least something to work with though, lots of things were in here. You closed and locked the door, barricading it with everything you could. There had to be something in here that’s useful, a key, a weapon, even some vents that may lead outside. Maybe the aquarium leads somewhere you can swim to. You began your search.

You opened every possible thing you can open, there had to be something, anything to help you, knocking over statue after statue, book after book. All you found were sewing needles and thread. You pocketed them, good for stitches. Soon you heard knocking at the door and some ramming into it. “What the hell?! Who locked my door. MAMMON YOU BETTER NOT BE IN THERE I’LL KILL YOU!”

Oh no. Oh no. No, nononono. You had a small pocket knife and NEEDLES. That wouldn’t be enough for a fight. Maybe you can hide in the pile of soft human-shaped pillows and sneak attack him? There was nowhere else to hide, you dived in. The door broke open, you held your breath and gazed at the intruder through the plushes. A demon. You know a demon when you see one. You hope he doesn’t recognize your smell. “Mammon! Where are you?! Ugh, you trashed my room! I KNOW you’re in here!”

You started to run out of breath, and let out the smallest exhale. A normal human could not have heard, but a demon could. “Found you.” Levi started to sift through the plushies. Now or never, the door was still open. You leaped out trying to make it towards the door. You were too slow, Levi leaped forward, shutting the door. You kicked at his ankle pointing your knife to him. “Leave me alone! Get away, demon! I’ll hurt you!” Your voice was raspy and you started to sob, swinging at Levi.

The commotion was heard by the other brothers, already informed about what happened by Solomon, the door opened, which squished you between the wall. Levi picked you up like an aggressive cat as you continued to kick and scream. “I-if you hurt me, the cult would never forgive you! They’ll hurt you too! Just put me down and I’ll leave you alone. Please!!!” You were handed to Satan, who actually understood how to console a child from his reading habits.

They were discussing something, you didn’t care. They were all outside Levi’s room. You couldn’t run anywhere but there. You bit Satan’s hand, making him drop you, as you book it back into the pile of plushies. Hidden once more, you can only hope they would leave alone. They did, kind of. Maybe they were waiting for you to come back out? It was hard to tell. You were hungry. Maybe there were some crunchy bugs in here- or maybe that tank had something in it. A goldfish. It was something.

Right as you came out of the plushie pile, Levi came back in. You ran back in and shook. “I don’t taste good! Leave me alone!!” Levi would have laughed if you didn’t sound so terrified and he couldn’t hear your stomach rumble. Levi crept in. This was his room after all. He searched around his shelves for something. “Hey, are you hungry, I have some Ruri-Chan crackers. Come on out.”

Nothing. They were sealed, sealed food was usually safe, you stuck out your hand, expecting him to toss it. You let out a noise of displeasure as he approached. He froze. Levi isn’t good with kids. He placed the pack down near the pile. He was too tired for this, he just wanted to play his Waifu games…

You grabbed the crackers pulling them into the pile and started to feast as Levi gamed. Levi hated the silence with you eating. Usually, you both would talk as you game, this felt wrong that he was ignoring you. Occasionally, as he played, he would talk to you. “This character kinda sucks, their DPS output is trash but they look so cute.”

After a while, you snuck out of the pile, slowly approaching him, and sitting next to him to watch the pretty colors on screen. Levi noticed and handed over a controller. “Want to play?” You hesitantly took it, as he told you what to do. You spent most night playing games until you passed out. In the morning, you didn’t mention anything from the day before. Shushing the demon if he mentioned anything.

Satan

He felt a spell fail. He knows that was never a good thing. He should check on you, you are always dragged into these things. He wasn’t expecting to see a mini-you having a standoff, boxcutter in hand with Solomon who’s clothing seemed to be ripped up from where you tried to protect yourself. You looked so serious.

“What the fuck is going on?” Solomon explained. Great, a de-aging spell. He would have to figure this out. Satan sighed and told Solomon to leave. You never talked about being a kid, sometimes excusing it when anything about it was brought up. As you saw the sorcerer leave and the demon try and calm you down, you pieced it together that he won’t hurt you. For now.

That’s how you ended up in his room surrounded by books. You backed up in the corner keeping your eyes on Satan as he tore up his bookshelves looking for something to reverse this. You watched from afar.

You decided to look around his stuff yourself. Lots of weird demon shit to start with. Most you recognized. You picked up an old tome with a seal that you’ve seen a million times, instinctually, you broke the seal and opened it. Usually, these tomes have something of importance in it. “Don’t touch that!” You dropped it immediately and cowered, expecting to be hit.

Satan froze seeing you cover your head, guilt rising. He noticed that the tome no longer had that damned seal he couldn’t break. How did you…? Satan rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, MC, I was scared.” You didn’t seem convinced and just looked away.

Satan decided to change the subject. “How did you break the seal on this, hmm?” “I… I know that book.” “You know the book?” “Yeah, the leaders always put those seals on their tomes to protect what’s inside. Only other cultists can open it…” Satan took a glance inside, it mainly detailed a lot of illustrations and descriptions of demons, angels, captives… surgeries… ungodly experiments…

So you grew up in a cult? It must have been awful. Satan tries to change the subject for your sake, you must not want to talk about it. He lit a small, harmless flame in the shape of a small kitty and watched your eyes lit up. “Hey, want to help me out with some magic?” You nodded, shyly.

You were now in his lap, both drawing kittens and look at small photobooks of cats while he also read book after book, looking for some type of spell to reverse it. He glanced over to your drawings as they started to lean into darker territory. Drawings of cats turned into sacrifices of animals. The number 777 was drawn everywhere.

t was the same number as the mark on the back of your neck-wait. Mark on the back of your neck… He glanced at your neck, gently brushing your hair back to show the mark. 777. Huh… He looked back at the spellbook. Finally, a spell to reverse this shit.

A few minutes later, you were back. You and Satan stared at each other, no words were spoken as you went to go grab that damned book from the shelf. You sat next to Satan and skimmed through it, photo after photo, article after article. You see a good chunk of the book titled “The Experiment of Subject 777”

You tore out that chunk, ripping it up and throwing it in the fireplace, handing the rest of the book back to Satan. ”Burn it. Read it. I don’t care…”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus was thrown aback when Solomon called him, telling him what just happened. He zoned out at “Mc is now a baby!” and he was excited to see how cute you looked. He heard something along the lines of you’ll change back in a few hours.

Asmo didn’t care, he snagged you, cradled you, and carried you off into his room. He didn’t even realize the state you were in, afraid and once again covered in the old scars on your body from your childhood returned. He went off to his room putting you down and immediately going to the closet all while saying how much fun the two of you would have.

The smile dropped when he turned around and saw a poor broken child covered in scars of all kinds, surgery scars across the chest, what seemed like self-harm ones on your legs, and that doesn’t even mention the bruises. He remembered asking if you had any pictures from when you were a kid and how uncomfortable you seemed. He can recognize abuse easily.

“Oh, sweetie…” The demon invited you into his arms hugging you and rubbing your back. For some reason the kindness in his voice made you cry. You held onto him as he pats you back. “Come on sweetie, let it all out…”

After what seemed like forever, you had no more tears to cry. Asmodeus knew what could make you feel better. He started to get out some self-care stuff. Showed you facemasks, lip masks, lotions, creams.

He even got out some cucumbers to put over your eyes. You were completely spoiled. It was nice to actually be cared about. After a bit of coaxing, Asmodeus asked to see some of the scars on your body, there is a possibility that you could be injured.

Asmo felt sick. Surgery scars across your chest and stomach, brands across your back and collarbones. It was sickening how someone could do this to a child. Asmo has connections. He recognized the brands all across your body from the cult you were in.

He has seen their members raid the parties he was in, how they walked off with a bunch of intoxicated demons, or snag them using hooks into their wings and forcing them away. He’s heard of the torture demons had endured. Blood experiments. Fusion. The creation of a ‘god’. You were forced to be in there huh?

Asmodeus know that it is not a topic you would want to talk about. He decided that instead, you both should keep your mind off of it. Maybe a few hours of body-positive selfies and watching drama shows and doing makeup will keep your mind off of it.

Beelzebub + Belphegor

Belphegor was asleep as you and Solomon performed spells. He was woken up by a scream followed by crying. Anyway long story short, he ended telling Solomon to fuck off while pulling you away from him. He was too tired to try and ask how to undo the speel so he just went over to his twin’s shared room.

Beel saw a tiny child you and his eyes lit up at the sight of a child. It disappeared quickly when you fucking sucker-punched Belphie and gave him a swift kick into his gut. “Damn demon, get away from me. What are you doing?! Are you trying to die?!”

Belphie dropped you and you already prepared to fight, your body was telling you to scream- run away, get out. You stood your ground. You glared at them. The demons were both shocked. Beel approached you, grabbing you in one swift motion. You squirmed and thrashed. Nothing.

Beel saw the hatred in your eyes along with the hurt. Beel also noticed the brands across your body, he dropped you out of shock, before he caught you again. “Belphegor… Look” Belphegor had never seen his twin look so sad. He went over and looked at what Beelzebub was pointing at. A large cult brand covered your body.

That cult was linked to various disappearances around the Devildom. It has been around for ages as well. He had seen firsthand what they could do- hell Belphegor remembers how they tried to kidnap him when he was an angel. An angel.

Beel remembered the meeting with Diavolo discussing the disappearances and even massacres of their fellow demons. Seeing how they branded a child at such a young age. His stomach churned at the idea of your childhood.

They were snapped out of their thoughts when you smacked your head back into Beels, making him drop you on the floor. You pushed yourself under one of the beds, away from the twins. They couldn’t squeeze their whole body under here and their arms would never reach.

Belphegor lied down and kept trying to reach for you with an ‘ugh, come here brat’. You kept away. At some point, you fell asleep from all the adrenaline leaving your body. You woke up a bit later in someone’s arms. You overhead a conversation with another person.

“This spell should wear off soon, I’ll watch over-” “No, I got them.” Your eyes fluttered open and were met with the below view of Beel’s chin. He held you protectively and walked back to his room alongside Belphegor. Belphegor made eye contact with you.

“Hi…” “...Hey. Gonna kick me again, little-” “Belphie. Leave them alone.” Belphie scowled as Beel set you down on his twin’s bed. You sat up and shyed away. “...Thank you… for not hurting me.” Beel frowned and the overwhelming urge to crush you in a hug overwhelmed him, but he knew it would scare you.

Beel sat beside you, offering a snack, on your other side, Belphegor lied down and turned on the TV. You got to watch some DemonTV. As time went off your belly was full and Belphegor was a comfortable pillow for you. You all fell asleep in a sandwich.

When you woke up, you were back to normal, no more brands, no more scars. The twins looked over at you, you can tell that they pitied you to an extent. You know that they’re worried about you too. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

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dazais-guardian-angel · 8 months

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Chapter 110 is 13 pages long welcome to hell!!! so in a lot of ways this is just more fuel for a theory that I've had for a few weeks now, that's only gotten stronger with each recent season 5 episode, which is that the last episode of the season is gonna end on 110, and that Asagiri/Harukawa and Bones have been collaborating to make this happen, specifically because it's a major turning point that would be the only good place to end the season on.

When we started getting especially long chapters again (like from 25-35ish pages, with the exception of 107.5, the last two being some of the longest we've ever had), at first I just assumed that Asagiri/Harukawa got freed up from some other obligations they'd been having to cause the extremely short/half chapters, like promotional stuff for the anime/Beast movie, or working on light novels. But then 109 happened, with the "supposed" death of Dazai, and heavy emphasis at the end on how literally everyone is at their lowest point right now, and I got to thinking. 11 episodes is a strangely specific number for an anime season -- why not 12, or 13, or even 10, like you'd usually see? Why have we gotten suddenly gotten two 35 page chapters out of nowhere, that's almost unheard of at this point? They're both beautiful chapters, don't get me wrong (as always), and maybe A/H simply just didn't want to cut them in halves because they felt like the full emotional impact wouldn't hit/that there were no good cutoff points in them, but you can't deny that it's surprising, after all the shorter chapters we've been getting. Why has the anime been going at such insanely breakneck pacing for the most part ever since around the Sunday Tragedy chapters, even more so than it has in the past? So much so that it feels dangerously close to overtaking the manga?

Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because..... Asagiri decided a long time ago that whatever happens in 110 is the only point that feels "season finale"-worthy enough, in an arc that still isn't anywhere close to being completely wrapped up, and so both the manga and the anime have been specifically coordinated to reach that part within 2 and a half weeks of each other?

I've seen a lot of people now think season 5 will end with 109, and as much as my sadistic side would find that hilarious, I honestly don't think they'd do that and realistically don't want it to happen; it'd be so cruel to cliffhanger the anime for years like that, and just doesn't feel like a season cliffhanger BSD would do, a series that is ultimately hopeful and uplifting. Seasons 2 and 3 had a positive, conclusive ending; the only reasons seasons 1 and 4 didn't was because they're technically not really full seasons of their own, and are more like the first cour of another "season" that also came out that same year (seasons 1 and 2 both aired in 2016, so they're more like one big season, and seasons 4 and 5 have both aired this year, so they're also more like one big season, again taking into account how episodes 12 and 50 are not satisfying finales like episodes 24, 37, and hypothetically, 61, are). I really can't see season 5 ending with Dazai and Fukuzawa's supposed deaths, Sigma being unconscious and maybe close to death, Atsushi being vulnerable and limbless again, everyone we love still vampires, and the entire world being basically doomed; that's just too depressing and not like BSD at all. However, having said that, if it doesn't end there, there really isn't any good place to end the season before that, either, that feels in any way satisfying or like a finale at all. And so, to me, that only leaves after 109: chapter 110.

I think things are really gonna turn around next chapter. Like I said, everyone is at their lowest point right now, it cannot possibly get any worse, the framing of Dazai, Fukuzawa, and sskk at the end of 109 is telling us that; this is the time for the heroes to finally start winning again, with Aya being so close to pulling out the sword, and for all the thematic reasons other people have talked about to death that I don't need to go into here again. This upcoming chapter being so short again makes a part of me wary of 110 being "the one", so to speak, I won't lie, but at the same time, it's very possible that it needs to be that short because that's all the final episode of the season will be able to reasonably fit in, since it's already gonna be VERY close if they do make it all the way to 109. And at the end of the day, I don't doubt at all that Asagiri and Harukawa can make these the most monumental and game-changing mere 13 pages ever if they wanted to; a chapter does not at all need to be extremely long in order to be an important and impactful one, even if short ones we've gotten in the past haven't felt the most important.

An additional thought I've had, though this is much more crack territory than all this already is, is that since we know from Anime Expo that a Stormbringer movie at some point is highly likely (judging from Asagiri's reaction when someone brought it up), it's possible that chapter 110 and thus the final episode will involve the long-anticipated return of Verlaine and/or Adam, or at least some other major reference to Stormbringer, that would naturally and smoothly lead into a Stormbringer movie to explain things to people who haven't read the novel. It would make a lot of sense, especially since the s4 OP has the Old World sign behind Chuuya, which might be a hint that this has been in the works ever since seasons 4/5 were first in planning with Asagiri. We also know that Dazai and Chuuya's voice actors apparently struggled to record their lines together this season, which probably relates to 101 and possibly 109, but it could be 110 too.... I could be very wrong, as I'm no expert on this kind of thing, but I kinda doubt they would bring Chuuya's actor in for just the vampire growls, and Asagiri placing heavy emphasis on Chuuya's importance this season in that one interview gives me the impression that he's talking about much more than just 101/109. But that's the least solid evidence I have, that's just mostly based on vibes I get.

So basically, I think a lot of factors -- the unusual episode count, how close the anime is to catching up to the manga with three whole episodes left, the seemingly arbitrary recent chapter lengths, and the climactic events of 109 -- can tell us that 110 might be a very, VERY big deal. Again, there's of course no way this arc is anywhere near close to being finished, with so much left to address and resolve, but since it is currently incomplete in the manga, unlike the previously adapted arcs, if the anime was going to adapt it at all, they'd have to find a place that feels satisfying enough to end this season, knowing there won't be more anime for a long time after this, and so I think they specifically planned for that, from both Bones' and A/H's sides. 10 episodes might not have been enough to reach that point, but 12 or 13 might have been too many it wouldn't have been if Bones actually decided to slow down and let the story breathe the way it needs to, but this post isn't meant to criticize the anime, so maybe 11 was just right. And maybe Asagiri and Harukawa specifically pushed to make recent chapters longer than usual, in order to make sure that the manga reached the story content in 110 the monthly release right before season 5 was to end.

Is this just copium? Absolutely. Am I going to look like an absolute clown in two days when this post ages like milk? Probably. But the evidence is There, so let me just enjoy my delusions until Sunday, okay 🥂🫡

#bungou stray dogs #seriously call me a clown and point and laugh at me if I'm proven wrong all you want #but I really feel like there's solid evidence for this #either s5 isn't gonna reach 109 at all (but I seriously cannot fathom where you would want to stop before then) or they'll go beyond it #if they really do end it with 109....... well i'll give Bones kudos for having the balls to do that ig lol #maybe i'm underestimating (overestimating???) them idk #also just to clarify I don't wanna make it sound like I think Asagiri let the anime/Bones dictate the manga's pacing #like I'm sure these were his/their (him and Harukawa's) own decisions first and foremost #not that (if this theory is true) the anime had a major impact on how the chapters were split and that it-#-would have been extremely different otherwise #i'm pretty confident in that Asagiri does not do anything with BSD he isn't comfortable with #and he doesn't let anyone tell him how to write his story #I just feel like he worked with Bones to make this near-simultaneous release happen #BUT if this is the case I don't feel like it had any major effect on the writing/final product that is the manga #like the last handful of chapters have been so incredible #so I at least am still perfectly happy lol #(i mean i'm devastated and a nervous wreck but u know 🫡 in a good way lmao)#anyway 110 in two days please let this theory be true because I need some fucking hope already #please let Oda show up as Dazai's guardian angel to help (see what I did there-)#it would be the perfect way to end the collective season that is 4/5 with s4 beginning with Oda and now ending with Oda #Asagiri are you reading me are you picking up what I'm putting down please please a ghost Oda is long overdue please-#Oda Verlaine Adam just GIVE ME SOMEONE ALREADY 😭😭😭#MAYBE EVEN A TASTE OF THE FYODOR BACKSTORY TO TIE INTO HIM BEING IN ANIME UNTOLD ORIGINS. THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 6 months

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Don't you think it's funny cause actual canon gay characters in BL manga will say "I love you" but only the shounen bromance can spew out some of the most romantic shit akin to a 19th century poet writing a letter expressing his surpressed love for his lover 😭.....

Genuniely can't tell if it's bait or not, but I'm going to treat this ask seriously anyway.

Here, have some examples of beautiful and poetic expressions of love in BL media!

I'm going to start with my favourite murder husbands, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu from Word of Honor/Faraway Wanderers!

This happens in episode nine, less than one third into the story- it's that early, they've known each other for like a week and are already able to tell they're meant to be. They've made their decision to be together, and over the course of the story:

They defend each other multiple times and fight side by side in multiple episodes, sometimes protecting their adopted kid/mentee Chengling as well

Zhou Zishu is willing to go against the whole martial arts society for his boyfriend. With zero hesistation, might I add.

They both know the other has done horrible things (lots of murder on both sides here) and that's not only okay, it's a big part of why they're soulmates and get each other so well!

Zhou Zishu is slowly dying (poisoned nails in his chest, long story) and Wen Kexing can and will risk his life to save him. Don't worry, they get a happy ending both in the show and the novel even if the show's last episode is behind a paywall and Netflix didn't even include it for some reason?

But enough about them, let's move on to the immortal fantasy genre boyfriends Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from Heaven Official's Blessing!

Please note how Hua Cheng is ready to accept Xie Lian in whatever state he's currently in- as a god, a fallen outcast, even grieving and angry and at his absolute lowest. He's stood by Xie Lian in his worst moments, even if at the time Xie Lian had no idea it was him.

Hua Cheng has loved Xie Lian for 800 years, ever since he was a boy Xie Lian saved from falling to his death during a procession.

Xie Lian became a god, then fell due to horrible circumstances, almost committed a war crime against another nation that destroyed his country, spend 800 years wandering the mortal realm as a poor cultivator with his powers greatly reduced, and eventually ascended to become a god again. Throughout it all, Hua Cheng loved him and did his best to help him and then find him.

They're both adorable and the definition of a power couple once they're reunited- no spoilers, but they eventually fight an incredibly powerful god side by side and win & the last scene in the story is them reuniting for good since there's no more obstacles to their immortal love.

Let's move on to my favourite Japanese BL, Our Dining Table (also available as a series that came out semi-recently, but the examples below are from the manga.)

Yutaka is a lonely salesman who meets Minoru, a restaurant worker and his much younger brother Tane grieving the death of their mother.

Yutaka and Minoru hit it off by bonding through food they cook and share. The series is incredibly heartwarming, and as seen above Yutaka becomes a much happier person thanks to both his new relationship and big brother-like bond with little Tane.

As a little bonus, the whole found family together!

This post can't be complete without Golden Stage (or Golden Terrace, as the English official translation calls it).

Fu Shen and Yan Xiaohan aren't even in love at this point! This is at the beginning of the story, when their marriage has just been arranged by the emperor and they're still bitter rivals.

Yan Xiaohan is already protective of his future husband- later on, he also builds him a mansion meant to accommodate his disability (nerve damage in both legs, which requires a wheelchair and/or crutches). They're both incredibly powerful military generals, and the emperor was an idiot thinking an arranged marriage would humiliate them.

Of course they fall in love, of course they're a power couple, of course they send each other letters through trained geese when they're separated during the war, of course they run to each other as fast as they can across a wide cold river when they're finally reunited! Of course they're important to me!

....Aaand how about some Wangxian to wrap up this post? They need no introduction, an absolutely wonderful and complex relationship in a complex fantasy/intrigue story available in several forms - the books, the animated series (as seen above), the live action series, the audio drama, there's so much!

Some of their most beautiful moments:

Lan Wangji writing a song for Wei Wuxian and naming it Wangxian. Years after it's composed, Wei Wuxian plays it and LWJ is able to recognise him even in a different body.

LWJ begs WWX to come with him to Cloud Recesses, to safety, after WWX makes himself an enemy of the whole cultivation world for protecting innocent people.

They confront the final villain together, and work together to expose his crimes. This is also when their final love confession happens, and it's hilarious- in front of everyone's salad, WWX declares he also wanted to sleep with LWJ.

Despite censorship, the animated series was still able to allude to their wedding, showing them in red wedding robes (unfortunately can't find a gif rn)

Respectfully, if you genuinely think BL doesn't have beautiful love confessions and displays of romance, you need to find better BL.

#bqcb asks #mdzs #golden stage #golden terrace #word of honor #woh #bokura no shokutaku #our dining table #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #wangxian #hualian

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