#real talk. women are just so much better than men in every way.
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What I truly, deeply, and desperately desire outside of all the fictional men & silly little fanfictions about them i consume.............. is a woman.
#real talk. women are just so much better than men in every way.#romantically socially interpersonally in general i just really like women so much better#OBVIOUSLY ik there's tons of shitty women too but in general i just can't see myself in a relationship w a cishet man.#they're so......... ew.#the way they view women. talk abt them. use us as commodities and a means to an end. men are just gross and unsafe. women are truly better.#wlw supremacy#sapphic#like it's fun to giggle over hot fictional dudes & stuff but when it comes to reality... baby real men are so disappointing
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I was listening to Pride and Prejudice on my drive back from my mother's today and it's been so long since I've actually read the novel as opposed to engaged with one or other adaptation...
Goodness, it's good, isn't it? And Elizabeth is so much more complex a character than she is often presented in adaptations.
The thing that was standing out to me today - I was listening to from when Mr. Collins proposes to Charlotte and I stopped just when Elizabeth was talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam at Rosings - was the chapter which is just Jane and Elizabeth talking about Bingley. This gets cut from adaptations or so condensed to be meaningless, but it's incredible. It's just a whole chapter of the sisters chewing over why Bingley ghosted Jane (for lack of a better term) and what Caroline's motivations were and the thing that gets me is that they're both right. Jane is right that Bingley can't be blamed for being a friendly young man and that he had no malicious intentions but Elizabeth is also right that young men can be thoughtless in their dealings with women who have less freedom than them and their thoughtlessness can do real hurt. (She's also right about Caroline, of course.) It struck me as such a modern issue. Maybe I've just been thinking about the unwitting hurt that thoughtless young men can cause recently, but everything is so complicated. Bingley is a flake who makes a mistake with regards to Jane but he's also a genuinely lovely young man who makes it right in the end - he's still on his own journey through life which he will continue with Jane. Jane herself lets her desire to see the best in others cause her to see friendship where it isn't, but being deceived in a friend is not so uncommon, is it? And she's not stupid or weak. Heck, she endures her heartbreak being talked about openly by her mother in public for months silently and without rancour. And she does it all without ever resenting Bingley! Jane's the strongest character in the whole novel and an inspiration to the rest of us - FIGHT ME on this!
The other thing I really picked up on was what an important moment in Elizabeth's character development Charlotte's engagement is. It actually kind of breaks my heart - her best friend makes a life choice that she can't support but has to and nothing will ever be the same again between them. It's the first dent into Elizabeth's world view that forces her to see that people are different from her and can make different decisions and this is okay and not just something she can laugh at. It's so relatable in terms of life events - when a close friend marries and then when they have a baby, these things absolutely still do alter friendships. Elizabeth gets over it and even enjoys seeing Charlotte in Hunsford but we are frequently reminded by the narrator that the previous confidences they enjoyed will never be the same again. It's a really big moment for Elizabeth and really the first event in the novel to start to shake her foundations of her comfortable existence. The other two are Bingley's desertion of Jane and Wickham's decision to pursue Mary King over her. By the time she goes to Hunsford, she is prepared in a way for the final massive shock to the foundations of The World According to Lizzy Bennet, not that she knows it. Such is growing up.
And OMG Lady Catherine is SO vulgar and inappropriate! She is a direct parallel to Mrs. Bennet and the rest of the Bennets. Just as Elizabeth feels accute embarrassment at the Netherfield Ball, Mr. Darcy is feeling exactly the same at Rosings. Beautifully done. But their awareness of what is appropriate behaviour is something that unifies Darcy and Elizabeth even if Darcy massively fails to behave like a human around Elizabeth. Pride and Prejudice is such an expose and examination of "how to behave in social situations". There is nobody who doesn't come under scrutiny and pretty much every type of behaviour is gone over with a fine tooth comb.
Sometimes I feel almost ashamed when people ask me what my favourite novel is and I say "Pride and Prejudice" because it's such a damn cliche. I should say something heavier or more obscure or at least I should say it's Persuasion, the "thinking girl"'s favourite Austen. But P&P is so special to me on so many levels and you know what? It is a MASTERFULLY written book.
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how do you fall in love with yourself
unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.
let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!
get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!
what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.
practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.
don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3
if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u
#i have a lot to say ab this bc i went from being in a very low place to now being my own favorite girl in the world so#also i refer to women a couple of times here but really this is applicable to everyone!!#ask
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"Okay but we're all totally recommending Gideon the Ninth to our male friends, right? Because can we TALK about what good male character representation Gideon the Ninth has?? Because it's literally so so good.
First off there's Palamedes, who's witty and smart and sarcastic and he literally solves like half the plot. Literally the plot would not have worked without him. And he's regularly shown to be smarter than even Harrow. And best of all, no one ever questions him or belittles him for being a man. Literally everyone treats him like an equal, even the women who see him as an enemy.
Then there's Isaac, who really feels like a real teenager he's so fleshed out. He's got a lot of personality and angst and big emotions, and the author literally never once sexualizes him. Like you know she gets it. Then Magnus is literally so nurturing and wholesome, he's like a genius inversion of the usual Strong Man trope. Literally God HIMSELF is a man.
It's really refreshing how much you can tell the author is a staunch meninist, just from the way the narrative respects all the men across the board. The only time a woman belittles a man is when Ianthe belittles Naberius, but she does that to everyone so it's not sexist. Plus Naberius is a bad ass. He literally beats Gideon in a duel. In fact the only male characters who feel like "bad" male rep are maybe the eighth house, cuz they're both kinda stereotypical male personalities... but when you consider there are 4 or maybe even 5 other prominent men in the story, it stops being "bad male stereotype" and just becomes "good male diversity :)". I really wish more authors felt brave enough to include 4 or even 5 prominent male characters, who all MATTER to the story.
Like I think that's what gets me? It was like every male character mattered. All the main character women wouldn't have gotten to where they did if not for the men who were playing SUPER important secondary roles to them? And those men weren't just there for love interests either, except kinda Palamedes whose whole motivation was the two women he's in love with, but it's REALLY done well! He literally has full autonomy of his choices the whole time and when he steers the trajectory of his whole life for the women he's in love with, it's genuinely so human and heartfelt.
But yeah it's like they were all HUMANS. It was so refreshing how easy it was to empathize with them? It wasn't like "they were men", it was like "the author knows these characters are humans, and they are men too". Idk how to explain it but it makes me really feel like I can understand men better when I usually think they're such a mystery or just really shallow in books :). I just think men should know books like this exist and that they know authors like Tamsyn Muir are out there and they get it :)."
#chrissy reads gideon the ninth#gideon the ninth#i realized gtn just quietly does the complete gender inversion of every 'no REALLY this story has GREAT women representation.#they existed and were humans and even mattered. :)'#and i cant unsee it#also if any starts discourse im biting you
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I am having a goddamn nightmare of a time writing the university au (mostly because I have a shit ton of work to do…for my university…lol) so have some headcanons about the most toxic couple you’ve ever met. mdni under the cut
They’re like the definition of a situationship. They’re dating in every aspect except by name
At first she does try to sleep with other guys like she did before König but that doesn’t last long, because nobody else is as good as him. She will never admit this outside of the bedroom
Meanwhile he literally calls her his girlfriend behind her back
She’s emotionally unavailable toxic, he’s obsessive and possessive toxic
König enjoys the pursuit and just thinks it’s normal for women to be difficult like this. I would say “poor König” but he has a bad habit of picking her up and carrying her places against her will so he’s not that poor
She likes to tell herself she has no attachment to him, but she loves the ego boost he gives her by acting like a lovestruck puppy and following her everywhere. She’s also secretly into him being controlling
She does have her moments of genuinely caring about him, though. She brought him lunch once and he looked at her like she hung the moon the whole day. Her excuse was that she just happened to get/make an extra portion, but she did, in fact, get him a portion on purpose
She basically lives with him after a certain point. Her roommates barely see her anymore since she only comes and goes from her old place to get things. He constantly threatens to change the locks on her, but they both know it’s an empty threat. He much prefers to punish her in sexy ways
She'll just be minding her own business talking to a classmate or perhaps flirting with someone when König will come up behind her and put his arms around her. If she was just talking to someone she'll pat his face before attempting to shoo him off. If she was flirting with someone, she wrenches him off her and storms off in a huff (whoever she was talking to has definitely fled from König's evil eye by that point)
They don't really fight, they just have spats because König is endlessly amused by her anger and she is unable to stay mad at him for long. The one time they had a real fight was nasty, and they didn't talk for days afterwards
She's usually quite a chill, go with the flow person (because if she allowed herself too much stress or anxiety at once it would destroy her), but König brings out the spitfire in her
In equal measure, König is a bit of the shy and quiet giant type, but she brings out the brat tamer in him. They alternate balancing each other out
It's kind of easy to look at them and go "why are they still doing this to themselves" but when they get along (i.e. he's behaving himself and she's not pretending not to know him) they're as functional as any other couple
This definitely goes without saying: the nastiest most bed-breaking sex. They fuck like they’re trying to murder each other
I know it's a pet peeve of many people when they say the reader is ooooo so small and delicate next to the cod men, and I tend to agree. However, unless you are also nearly seven feet tall and built like an olympic swimmer, I'm just gonna say you're smaller than König
That being said, he LOVES using his size against her. Picking her up, bending her over things, bending her in half (mating press, his beloved)
If he wants her to stay, she'll stay. He'll have one hand on her throat pinning her down, the other keeping her open to slam into her
This brat will look him dead in the eye and ask "is that all you've got?", which obviously makes him lose his mind in the best way
She definitely has more experience than he does, which actually works out in his favor: him getting better at fucking really just means he's getting better at fucking her
They're so goddamn nasty they've definitely fucked in semi-public places because she teased him to the point of madness and he popped a boner so hard it was painful
Oh, the dirty talk. König is such a gentleman outside of the bedroom, but the degradation that comes out of him while he's fucking her is toe-curling. A lot of "nobody else can fuck you like this" and "all you're good for is taking me in your tight little hole"
He growls??? I don't know if y'all have heard his voicelines in German but he snarls at her when he's trying to teach her a lesson and it turns her into putty
This post is dedicated to @kneelingshadowsalome, who is waiting for this fic so patiently and is my shining beacon of motivation at this point lol
#könig#cod mw2#call of duty#konig#könig cod#konig cod#könig mw2#konig x reader#König x reader#konig x you#König x you#cod#mw2#König call of duty#könig fanfiction#university au#fic: now playing
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I'm a trans guy and tbh I feel like I don't fully understand the transandrophobia debate. Based on my understanding of intersectionality & transfeminism, I think that trans men (largely) experience transphobia and misogyny, while trans women (largely) experience transphobia, misogyny, *and* transmisogyny -- I also think it's necessary to discuss issues that specifically affect men without describing them as forms of oppression or discrimination against men. But that's just accounting for intersecting identities (including both marginalized and privileged identities) rather than only accounting for intersecting oppressions, right? I feel like some people using the term "transandrophobia" either seem to be confusing these two concepts or mistaking gender essentialism for discrimination against men (though some just use it to describe a subset of transphobia rather than an intersection, it seems like). In any case, even though misandry isn't a real systemic issue, I can understand why some people feel like there's missing language or frameworks when it comes to discussing the ways men, and trans men specifically, are treated (and the ways they/we treat each other). I'm not sure what better alternatives are available, but I'm sure some are possible. I'm wondering if I'm misunderstanding something or if you have any other thoughts on this. Thanks!
It sounds like you understand this 1000% better than every sincere transandrophobia poster. Not every unique experience is a locus of oppression that needs a systemic oppression label -- but yeah, of course, it merits being talked about.
For example, lots of trans men have a hard time in coping with the shift from being treated with emotional deference and warmth by strangers, to suddenly being treated quite coldly or even in a mistrustful way by strangers. That is a real, painful experience -- and it's one that is wrapped up in damaging gender norms that do also negatively affect cis men. It's not androphobia, but it is a consequence of sexism and the gender binary that sucks, and it merits speaking about.
Where things get dicey and fucked up is when men (either cis or trans) take a painful experience like that and declare that it means they're actually more oppressed than women.
(And, as Lee ButchAnarchist often points out, women's emotions are even more policed than men -- yes men are denied tenderness and warmth from total strangers, but they are showered in affection and caretaking by the women close to them, and they are allowed rage a whole lot more than women, in general. so it's overly simplistic and sexist to say men are more societally emotionally repressed. this dynamic plays out among trans men too -- we are given a lot more latitude to be emotionally explosive. trans women, meanwhile, are told they're being "scary" if they have any negative emotion. This is all also racialized -- Black people of any gender are basically never afforded the chance to voice negative feelings in public no matter how much they police their tone.)
I think a lot of trans masc people have a sudden rude awakening that being treated as a man can be painful and complicated, and that the gender binary harms everyone, and that there is a social price to pay for the privileges of being deferred to, respected, and so on. They also don't want to acknowledge when they are being respected and deferred to -- owning up to having any male privilege feels dirty and wrong to people, which is silly because it's just a reality, it has no moral bearing on the person experiencing the privilege. And of course it's often an incomplete privilege because of sexism and transphobia. But it still happens. Particularly within trans spaces.
I don't think this conversation will move forward productively until more trans men are capable of acknowledging that many of us have privilege and that we are very capable of hurting other people, being sexist, and speaking over trans women. And that's why we gotta make this transandrophobia stuff just completely socially unacceptable in our spaces. It is exactly the same as being a Men's Rights Activist. There are real men's liberation issues! Any worthwhile feminism will also liberate men! There are lots of aspects of the gender binary and patriarchy that are harmful to men, and that's worth talking about. Same with transphobia. But we can't have that conversation when men commandeer it to talk about how actually women have it better and all that vile shit. That talk is used to silence women, trans and cis alike.
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I ask this question from a curiosity standpoint, and don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but why don’t you like Daniel Ricciardo? Am I missing something?
He’s far less offensive than a lot of the other drivers. He has a tendency to awkwardly laugh rather than say “that’s a shitty joke. Not okay”, which is frustrating, but not even in the same universe as something like Lance Stroll physically assaulting his trainer.
Like all F1 drivers, he wants to be WDC and talks a big talk, but he’s still nowhere near as obnoxious as a lot of the other drivers, who all think and say the same.
Maybe my understanding isn’t correct? As far as I know, his only really shit time as a driver was with McLaren in 2022, and words like “scapegoating” and “sabotage” get thrown around a lot. In 2021, he gave McLaren its only win in over a decade, and it wasn’t team orders based, and he hauled Renault back up into the podium as well, for their first time in almost a decade. I don’t think he should have left Red Bull, and I don’t think he’s necessarily an Alonso or Verstappen level talent, but he also made those Red Bulls and Renaults that he drove look a lot better than they were.
It's not just about what a driver's like on the track; it's his attitudes off the track too and Ricciardo has really bad form. As for dragging the Renault into the points, and the Red Bull when it was underperforming - that's his job and the cars weren't that bad. If he'd swapped with one of the back markers at the time, they'd likely have performed just the same. Plus, if he made the Red Bull look better than it was, why wasn't he the one winning championships in it? Why did Vettel get all that action when all Ricciardo got was a handful of race wins?
Anyway, here's (just some of) why I firmly believe that Daniel Ricciardo is every bit as obnoxious as the most obnoxious drivers on the grid. If you don't read right to the end, and I wouldn't blame you, please at least take in the part I've highlighted in red; it pretty much sums up the type of character he is and why I - along with many others - really do feel that he's most definitely obnoxious.
“I don’t watch the news and feel better about my day so I choose not to watch it.” Just one direct quote regarding his complete and shameless ignorance about the extreme humans rights abuses prevelent in some of the countries F1 travels to. What it amounts to is that the “drama and negativity” (his own words) of news reports on out-dated and abusive attitudes to women and LGBTQ people is a buzz kill so he’d rather not know about it, thanks all the same.
His attitude to the sexist objectification of the (now thankfully defunct) Grid Girls: "It's kind of like part of the attraction of the sport, fast cars and fast girls,". In his opinion, because it’s a male dominated sport it’s “a cool thing” so “let’s keep them”. If that's not obnoxious, I don't know what is.
On “Your Mom’s House” (a lowest common denominator podcast aimed at pathetic little boys who think they’re men) he laughed along with deeply sexist, misogynistic ‘jokes’ about women. There are plenty of drivers who would, at the very least, have kept their reactions neutral, making it clear they didn’t think it funny, but not Ricciardo; he was more than content to chuckle away at their vile comments about women.
Tricking Yuki Tsunoda into trusting him to come closer on a boat so he could throw him overboard, because it’s funny to force someone to face a very real phobia of sharks by throwing them into a body of water that’s widely known to contain them. I don’t care what Tsunoda’s reaction was to it (it's common for the victim of bullying to make light of their ordeal) or that Ricciardo threw himself into the water too; it’s still an appalling way to treat someone when they’ve been brave enough to be in such close proximity to one of their greatest fears. It’s the behaviour of a bully and Ricciardo is the worst kind of that particular species – a charming bully. The reason he gets away with so much of his crappy behaviour is because so many people are taken in by a cheeky smile, a twinkle in the eyes, and the friendly disclaimer that it’s just a bit of fun; they’re just trying to lighten the mood and make people laugh. It’s always at someone else’s expense though.
Given he was in a highly competitive Red Bull for all those years, he won precious few races, and left because he wasn’t getting the attention he thought was his right. I know athletes have to have an enormous amount of self-belief but to have looked at a racer like Verstappen and sincerely felt that he was his equal? That’s delusional. But is that really how he felt? Or did he – like so many who can’t face real competition when they know someone else is going to come out on top – jump ship because being a big fish in a small pond is preferable to being outperformed and therefore second best? I don’t know which it is but if he really, genuinely, sincerely thought he was on the same level as, first, Verstappen and then Norris, surely he’s just not very bright?
Monza 2021 absolutely was a team orders win for Ricciardo. Have you listened to Norris’s radio? He was faster; he wanted to pass; he asked if he could pass; he was told to maintain position. Either the team were concerned that the two might take each other out (although I am absolutely certain that Norris could have made that move with ease so was it more a case of Ricciardo taking Norris out if he tried to overtake?) or Ricciardo’s ego was so fragile by that point (Norris had been wiping the floor with him) that they decided he needed the win to boost his confidence and get a few more much needed points for McLaren. Either way, Norris was robbed of his maiden victory because he’s a team player who obeyed team orders rather than saying “screw this; I can win and I’m damn well gonna win”. I respect him for playing the team game but I hate the fact that Ricciardo got an undeserved win at his considerable expense (that’s not hyperbole; a driver’s first F1 win really is huge).
You're probably sorry you asked now.
#anti-Daniel Ricciardo#Yuki Tsunoda#Max Verstappen#Lando Norris#McLaren Racing#Renault racing#Red Bull Racing#just my opinion#Formula One
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Forged From Death - Sihtric Kjartansson x Widow!Reader
An: Thank you so much @foxyanon for the request and officially turning me into a Sihtric girl. I hope this is everything you wanted. And @zaldritzosrose thank you for creating the header you are amazing!
Masterlist here!
Separate from the normal CW section for a special attention. This is going to be dark as reader thinks cruelty of her husband, Sigefrid, and her father towards those around them. No explicit examples of violence or abuse. I really was just trying to capture emotions without talking of direct acts.
CW: Language, political marriage really, Sigefrid is not a good man, neither was reader's father, warlord husband and father, scared child, character death, P IN V sex, fingering, dirty talk, gets quite dirty lots of smut, breeding kink, vague talks of pregnancy kink, she/her pronouns, use of you, reader not really described or named, FLUFFY, Stepdad!Sihtric, found family trope, soulmates trope kinda, love and lust and first sight
Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x reader
Word Count: 6.2k
You knew what you were. A bargaining chip, a prize. Something akin to a crown, symbolizing power. With your own father being a man who bargained in fear rather than respect, you weren’t surprised when your husband was the same.
Sigefrid Thurglison, rather quickly upon marrying you, decided his family’s wealth and power would be found in England. So, you sailed along with him and his brother to find this for yourselves. You, the dutiful wife, who knows your fate would be worse had you denied your father’s arrangement. You, who disappointed your father from birth by just being a daughter, who he could only use as a piece in his games but never actually respect. You, who married a man just like him.
You remained silent throughout. You played your part well, perhaps too well. Your name was used as a way to remind men of the force your husband could bring upon England. Even if they weren’t directly familiar with your father, they remembered the tales their fathers spoke to them, and they bowed at Sigefrid and Erik’s feet.
Until they met a man by the name of Uhtred. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to die or if he was just too stupid to realize that death was a very real possibility. But he was quick to anger your husband and his brother through way of opposition. And, apparently, Uhtred did not heed warnings well. He was unconcerned with the possibility of your father showing up.
“If he wanted England, he would be here,” said a voice from behind Uhtred upon your first meeting. You looked for the source. When you saw the man, you were certain your heart stopped for a moment.
You had seen beauty before. Land, sky, men, women, all of which held a certain captivating air about them. And yet there had been nothing as beautiful as the man who stood before you. You heard Uhtred refer to him as Sihtric, and your eyes made their way over his form. From his brown hair, to his striking yet mismatched eyes, over the angles of his face, and the swell of his muscles that already could be seen straining against the silver bands he wore, there was no part of him you felt was not hand crafted by Freyja herself to be the perfect embodiment of everything she represented.
And Sihtric noticed you. By the gods, did he notice you. You were pretty, prettier than any woman he had ever seen. He couldn’t tell what started swelling faster when he saw you looking back at him and smile: his cock or his heart.
That was the day he swore he would have you.
When he saw you again, it had been over three years. He hadn’t gone a day without thinking of you if he were honest. He was waiting so he could have his chance with you. Those few moments of seeing you was what carried him through the years. You were the face he saw with every victory and every stroke of his cock.
He only wishes it were under better circumstances.
You still resided in the fortress after Sigefrid laid dead on the ground. You knew the only way any of this would end would be if Sigefrid died. And you knew, as you listened to the herd of feet approach the room you were hidden in, that he had.
Sihtric was the first in the room. He knew that Sigefrid would never leave you far behind. It was unfortunate such a man had the honor of being your first husband. Sihtric, though, was perfectly fine being your last.
A feeling that did not waver when he saw you holding a small child close to your body. There was a fear in both of you, but you had the rage of a mother in your eyes. He could see it, and he wanted you more for it.
“He is dead?” you asked Sihtric as others, Uhtred and another you vaguely recognized, came into the room.
Despite having only seen him once, you knew Sihtric could be trusted. You couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was lust clouding your judgement. Perhaps it was a sign. Or maybe you were being stupid and crazy and you would only end up right back where you have been your whole life.
But, his eyes made you feel like that would never be the case again.
“Aye,” he said to you. “How old?” He nodded towards your child, your daughter, who looked at him in fear. He held up his arm, wordlessly keeping Uhtred and the other man from coming any closer.
“Four. She was born here, before we were sent away,” you told him truthfully.
“Her name?” he asked you. He continuously looked between your faces, barely capable of holding himself in place and not taking you in his arms.
“Astra.”
He said nothing else to you for the moment, instead crouching down to be on the same level as your daughter. She clung to you tightly.
“Hello, Astra. Are you hurt?” he said quietly to her. In silence, she shook her head. “Is your mother?”
“Mama is safe, I am safe,” she whispered.
It caused your heart to ache when you heard her repeat the words you told her when everything got quiet. Had you never left England, you would’ve been able to leave Sigefrid. You knew you would have had somewhere to take Astra to keep her safe from him. But when your husband was banished, he swore he would return with your father, and you knew better than to wait around for that. Your only saving grace now was that your father had died before you got back to Norway.
“Would you like to leave here? You and your ma can come with me, if you would like.”
Astra looked up at you, tears in her eyes as they had been all day. You knew that while Sigefrid had never touched either of you, he had given you both more than enough reason to be fearful. And you wanted so badly to make sure she never had to live with this fear again.
Your daughter looked to him and nodded silently. He extended his arms towards her slowly.
“Come then, little one. I will get you out of here,” he said softly. Astra, who had never trusted anyone but you, walked directly into his arms.
The sight of his arms wrapping themselves around her small body caused your heart to ache. It was something you had never thought to wish for, your daughter being in the arms of someone but you. Now you could only pray that this was her new normal.
“I’ve got you little one,” he whispered and stood up, holding her close. “I want you to close your eyes tight and put your forehead against my cheek until I tell you. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded. You watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, her whole face squinting up. Her forehead rested perfectly against his cheek, her brown hair matching his in a shocking way. It almost felt as she was made of him.
“You are as pretty as your ma, brave just like her too,” he told her. You were surprised when you heard her giggle. He looked to you. “Take my arm, Lady. “
You did as he said, stepping closer to him and holding tightly to his arm. He made sure you were not questioned or stopped as he led you out of the fortress. He already had stepped in as your protector and you barely knew him.
When you were outside the walls and far from the carnage, Sihtric finally stopped. You watched as he sat Astra down to stand on her own. He told her it was safe to open her eyes, and she looked relieved when she opened them and saw you.
“Lord,” Sihtric said as he saw Uhtred approach. He instinctually moved to stand between you both.
“Are more men following him?” Uhtred asked you, looking at you over Sihtric’s shoulder. His hand remained on his axe, though he did not unsheathe it.
“He was the last of them,” you told him. And that was the truth. Any men that hadn’t abandoned him before this battle laid dead.
“Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked.
You knew the truth of what he was asking. You were a widow now. Your husband’s family were meant to take care of you now, and your daughter. But Sigefrid was the last of his family, having killed his own brother during his last rampage. Their father had long since been dead and had no living brothers.
“No, Lord,” you told him. “He had no surviving family. And my own father died two winters ago. I was the only child.”
He looked past you to Astra. You could see in his eyes he did not trust you. And you did not trust him. You could not find it in you to trust anyone but Sihtric. But good men, which you ultimately believed Uhtred to be, did not harm little girls.
“You may come with me and my men, then. Until you find other…arrangements,” he said gruffly.
It was three and a half months when you began to worry about your future. You thought of Astra and worried endlessly for her. Her father’s reputation would stain her future forever, you feared. You had no way to provide for her truly. Should your fears be proven true, you wouldn’t even be able to arrange a proper marriage for her when the time would come.
But, you thought perhaps you were worrying too much for Astra. You stood in Uhtred’s hall, watching as Sihtric, Osferth, Finan, and Uhtred spoke, Astra settled peacefully on Sihtric’s lap. She was loved so deeply by Sihtric, and by extension the men he fought beside, one could be forgiven for thinking he was her father. Interestingly enough, she looked more like Sihtric than she ever did Sigefrid.
Uhtred looked to you and nodded, having noticed your presence for the first time. You two had a somewhat uneasy trust in each other now. Well, trust that if either of you betrayed Sihtric, or the others, the other would respond with a blade. And that seemed to make you friends.
Sihtric noticed you, immediately lighting up when he looked at you. He beckoned you to him, to Astra, the both of them holding your whole heart.
You were insane, you knew it. But from the moment you saw him those years ago, you loved him. He was obvious. You would burn down all of England for him if he were to ask.
He had never done anything but protected you and Astra from the very first moment. The day Sigefrid died, it could’ve been so much worse for her. But Sihtric was the one to make sure that no bad ever touched her since he met her.
It was one of many ways that everyone knew you two would find your way to each other. Sihtric would give everything for and to you. As far as he was concerned, the universe began and ended in you and at your feet he would worship. And there had never been a moment in which you doubted his devotion to you or Astra.
“Go say hello to your ma, little one,” Sihtric said softly to Astra.
“Okay, papa,” she giggled as she crawled off his lap while you knelt down.
It was not the first time she had referred to him as such, but it touched your soul every time you heard it. Sihtric looked to you immediately to make sure you did not think to correct her. He was not deluding himself into thinking his presence in Astra’s life could erase all the bad. But he knew, without a doubt, that she was his. From the moment he first held her in his arms, she was his girl and there was no argument he would listen to.
Your darling girl ran into your waiting arms. She was giggling, as she had done since your arrival in Coccham. She was happier than she had ever been. She felt more peaceful.
“Mama, mama, papa is making me an axe,” she told you excitedly.
“Oh is he?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked up to Sihtric. He blushed brightly, especially when Uhtred and Finan began to tease him for being in trouble.
“M-my love, I only,” he said, beginning to attempt an explanation.
“She will need an axe if she is going to be on my shield wall one day,” Uhtred told you, grinning from ear to ear. He stood from his seat, drumming a bit on the table, before he jogged over to you and Astra. “And if there is one thing my Little Star will be it is an excellent warrior.”
You watched as Uhtred picked her up and put her on his shoulders. She squealed and giggled until she was settled on her perch.
“If you are teaching her, then I consider myself lucky to have such a warrior in my home,” you said, standing, while grinning ear to ear. “Perhaps she will be knowledgeable enough to teach our next child.” You looked directly at Sihtric as you said ‘our’.
“Our next ten,” he said back to you. He was still blushing a bit, but he enjoyed these moments.
“And you shall birth them all? If it is up to me, you get five,” you said to him.
“You would give me five more children?” he asked excitedly. You could practically see him buzzing.
“Should you decide to take me as your wife,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging to him as you walked over to the table he sat at.
Once you were in his reach, his arm wrapped around you, hand resting on your hip. There was no hesitation from either of you as Sihtric pulled you onto his lap and you wrapped your arms around him.
At first, you had withheld from such public affection. You were only a few months a widow, you felt as though there was some need to respect your loss. But, when your husband had been so cruel to everyone around him and Sihtric was such a soft presence, you lasted perhaps a week before you made your affections clear.
“You honor me, my love,” he said softly. “To think you have already blessed me with one, and are willing to bless me with more. One would be a fool to deny the chance to be your husband.”
You kissed his cheek. It was truly simple with him. There was no darkness. Only love and warmth flowed between you both.
“You will make sure she is careful?” you asked him, bringing the conversation back to the idea of Astra getting an axe.
“Of course, my love,” he confirmed to you. “You know nothing means more to me than the safety of my girls.”
It was less than a month later that you were married. Sihtric made sure it was everything you dreamt of it, everything you were not afforded the first time around. He was watching as you danced with Astra. He loved both of you more than anyone had loved two people.
“Congratulations,” Uhtred said as he sat next to Sihtric. “You will make a fine husband.”
“Thank you, Lord,” he said, smiling. His eyes went between you and Uhtred rapidly, wanting to make sure you never disappeared.
“I see our Little Star got a hold of your hair,” Uhtred smirked as he grabbed a drink. Sihtric’s hand moved to his head, where there was a tiny braid in his hair.
“There is no finer braider in all of England,” he said. “Finan has offered to keep her tonight.”
“Did he tell you Osferth and I were asked to come too?” Uhtred chuckled.
“He did, Lord,” Sihtric laughed, taking a drink of his ale. He sat the cup down, looking to his Lord, his friend. “I want her to be mine.”
“She already is,” Uhtred said. “Nobody will deny that.”
“No, I mean....I want Astra to be just as the children of my blood. I want her to inherit, I want to be responsible for her. Entirely. And should she and my wife allow, I want to give her my name,” Sihtric said.
Uhtred could see a determination on his friend’s face that he had not quite seen before. It shone through in a burning heat. He lived for the family he had with you now. No oath superseded his oath to the two of you, and none ever would.
“Should they wish it, it is done. I will make it known Astra is to be no different than any child of your blood,” he promised his friend. “Now, go dance with your wife. Take her to bed. We will keep our Little Star.”
With a clap on the shoulder, Sihtric stood from the table and began to work his way through crowd to you. You were twirling Astra around, making her laugh and laugh. He could not imagine a more perfect life for himself.
Sihtric chuckled when Astra noticed him and ran into his legs. He knew she was his. She was meant to be his daughter. He could not be bothered by something as trivial as blood. He, of all people, knew family was not limited to blood. Family was created by love, and he loved her enough to create a universe.
Then there was you, his dear wife. He thought you looked stunning in your dress, the deep red color feeling like the physical representation of his love for you. You were more than he could have ever dreamed of. All of his life, he wanted to be what his father wasn’t. A good, honorable man who stayed for his family and loved his wife. A man worthy of love and respect.
And he realized that’s exactly how you saw him.
“Hello, my love,” you said to him when you saw him.
“Are you talking to me?” he asked teasingly, picking Astra up when she stopped dancing.
“Yes, my love. Though, perhaps you would much prefer my husband,” you said, smirking.
“Aye. After all, I will never call you anything but my wife again,” he said and rubbed his nose against Astra’s cheek.
“Hehe papa,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “I love you.”
Sihtric could feel his heart skip a beat. She had called him papa for months at this point, that was no surprise. But, Astra had not told him she loved him. And there was something so precious about hearing it.
“I love you, little one,” he said softly, pressing his lips against her forehead.
You smiled at the two of them. You wanted to hold this moment in your mind for the rest of your life. Capture it, freeze it for all of eternity, something you could hold onto and remember love.
“Now little one, Uncle Finan is excited to start your time together. Your ma and I will see you in the morning,” he told her as he sat her down.
“UNCLE FINAN I AM COMING!” Astra shouted as she ran off through the crowd.
Every person parted to let her through, allowing your eyes to follow her path to Finan. She was loved by most any in town. Her personality was loud and bright enough so that everyone knew her. Of course, it helped that she was always right by your side, and you were always close to Sihtric.
And you knew, at least within the confines of the town walls, she was safe to move about. Most everyone would agree that harming a child is egregious. Everyone agreed that harming your child was the fastest way to ensure a brutal death by the hands of Sihtric, and a quick one by Uhtred and Finan. Even Osferth, sweet Osferth, would pray for his God’s forgiveness as he took the life of anyone who would lay a finger on Astra. She was loved, she was safe. For the first time in her life she did not flinch when she was more than an inch from your skirts.
“Being my wife suits you,” Sihtric told you, drawing your eyes from Finan and Astra to him.
He looked at you with pure adoration. He worshipped you. Made certain that he loved you enough to make the bad parts of your life feel like another lifetime.
“Just as being my husband suits you,” you said to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you tightly to him. He breathed you in, feeling overwhelmed by you. Everything about you was intoxicating to him. From your beauty, the way you smelled, the way your body pressed against his own, there was nothing that could dampen his desire of you.
“Then it seems we are in agreement,” he said.
“That it does,” you said softly, leaning forward slightly. Your lips hovered next to his ear. “And I think I would like to feel my husband.”
You felt him shudder with your words, the unmistakable hardness of his erection beginning to dig into you. It had not been difficult to get him excited these last months. Even after both of you had agreed to wait until you were married, you had enjoyed riling him up before he returned to his own home.
“I have dreamt of this night for years,” he muttered to you. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were mine. I dreamt of my cock sinking deep into you for hours on end.”
It was your turn now for a shiver down your spine. There was no part of you that could deny dreaming of the same thing for just as long. In the years trying to exist outside of England, the nights where you went to bed amidst yells and cheers during another fight to the death for Sigefrid’s amusement, you dreamt of his mismatched eyes. Of his sharp beauty. Of a life you now got to share with him.
You weren’t sure who broke away first between the two of you, but it wasn’t long before you were walking down the streets to his, no your, home. The home you would grow old together in, gods be good. And the two of you couldn’t keep from stopping every few feet, pulling the other for a deep, passionate kiss.
When you finally arrived at the house, he picked you up and carried you over the threshold. In fact, he did not put you down until he could place you on the bed. You had barely recognized that you were laying on it before he was hovering over you, repeatedly kissing your neck.
“Such a pretty wife,” he muttered with every kiss. You put your head back to expose more of your sensitive skin. “Have been blessed, haven’t I? Blessed by the gods to be given such a pretty wife.”
You placed a hand on the bag of his head and gripped his hair firmly. Despite the pull on his hair, you only brought him closer into you. You could feel him starting to grind himself against your thigh, desperately looking for some relief.
“Fuck, Sihtric,” you moaned out. But when his name left your lips, he nipped at your neck quickly. It took you by surprise, causing a quiet squeak to escape you.
“Be a good, pretty wife and do not use my name tonight,” he whispered in your ear.
“Such a demanding husband I have,” you teased. “So desperate to fuck me he has to rut against me like an animal.”
He groaned into your neck at your words, his right hand beginning to fumble with the fastenings of your dress. You ignored the shaking of your own hands, your need of Sihtric outweighing your nerves. This was meant to be, after all. And you had faith it would be perfect.
“Use your mouth for better things and perhaps I will let you fuck a child into me tonight,” you told him. This time it was not a groan, but a quiet whimper, that left his lips. His fingers struggled with undressing you, the way it was held to your body being more complicated than he had thought.
He pulled back entirely, sitting up on his knees as he began reaching for the knife he carried. He cut the fabric of your dress away from your body. You stared at him, eyes heavy with lust.
“Nothing but a dress, you can replace it,” he told you. You could only nod at him as he helped remove the material away completely. After a moment, the tattered remains of the dress and his knife fell together to the floor, just as quickly forgotten.
He stared at your naked form. He could not help it, truly. Everything about you was perfect for him. He leaned forward and kissed you once more, before his lips started trailing down your body. Along your jawline, down your neck, over your collarbone. He only took pause when he got to your breasts. Sihtric’s left hand began pawing at one while his lips wrapped around your nipple.
You moaned quietly as he sucked while massaging your soft flesh. Your eyes fluttered shut, whimpering every time he decided to graze your nipple with his teeth. You wanted to beg him to give you more, to pleasure your aching cunt.
He groaned to himself before pulling away from your breasts entirely, muttering a promise he would play with them more. You almost started to laugh, only for it to catch in your throat when his fingers found your slick. He smirked down at you.
“You must really enjoy this, wife,” he whispered teasingly. His fingers ran up and down your folds, deliberate in their light touching of your pearl.
“Of course, I have only dreamt of you as my husband a few dozen times now,” you told him. Your thighs trembled a bit as you resisted the urge to buck your hips into his hand.
He hummed quietly as he allowed his finger to sink into you. While you became a whimpering mess, he just slowly thrust his finger in and out. Never had you known such bliss. His finger felt thicker than you had anticipated.
“What is it, pretty wife? Cannot think through your pleasure?” he asked you, looking directly into your eyes.
Your resolve finally broke. With a moan, you allowed your hips to move to meet his hand. All you could think of was chasing your pleasure with him.
“You say I am demanding, but you are so needy,” he cooed. He pushed another finger into you, curling his fingers slightly with every thrust of them. His touch was perfectly focused on the spongy spot inside you.
“Love, my love, please, fuck, please,” you moaned. You couldn’t finish a single thought as you felt a band tightening behind your navel.
You had only experienced such a feeling with yourself. Pleasure had never been at the forefront of your life. Until now, at least, since Sihtric seemed determined to make you reach that point. He increased the speed of his fingers movements.
“Cum for me,” he practically demanded of you. His voice was quiet, meant only for your ears, but forceful in nature. “And then I’ll give you my cock. Such a good girl, you deserve it. Don’t you, my love?”
“Y-yes,” you whispered. You gripped the furs under you tightly, the edges of your vision going fuzzy.
“Deserve my cock, deserve my love. You have both, entirely, you understand?” he asked you, his thumb barely ghosting against your pearl.
“Yes, fuck, my love, my husband,” you whined pathetically. It seemed to please him, at least enough.
His thumb finally rested against the bundle of nerves, rubbing circles in time with every thrust of his fingers. The band finally snapped as you cried out, back arching off the bed. A jumbled mess of his name, husband, love, and expletives left your tongue.
You were able to watch as Sihtric removed his touch from you entirely. He brought his fingers to his lips before he sucked them clean, earning another whimper from you. And then you got to watch him undress, his shirt and pants being flung away in a matter of moments.
You weren’t entirely sure which of the gods had blessed you, but you thanked everyone of them when Sihtric stood naked before you. His toned chest and stomach was near flawless, save for a few scars earned in battle. The Thor’s hammer pendant rested against his taut chest. Your gaze washed over the grooves of his form, able to count each muscle, until they finally landed on his cock.
He was blessed even then. His heavy cock bobbed with need. When his eyes caught yours, he smirked at your hungry gaze. He was long and thick enough to make you question just how exactly you were meant to take him in entirely.
Sihtric couldn’t hide his smirk when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body closer to his. He groaned softly as his cock now rested against you, already collecting your slick.
“I love you,” he said to you, his voice softer than the cocky look etched on his face would have you expect.
You tried to stutter out some response before he started rubbing himself against you. Anytime the head brushed against your pearl, the feeling stole your words and sent shockwaves through your body. There was a pride he felt at already having you responding like this before having even fucked you.
“I love…fuck, fuck me, fuck I love you,” you finally managed to get out.
“Good girl, using your words,” he cooed. He moved his cock to start pressing against your entrance. “Are you going to keep being a good girl, love?”
“Yes,” you said weakly and nodded
He smiled at you. He grabbed your leg gently, hooking it on his arm, as he leaned down to bring his face closer to you. Your knee pressed against your chest while he kissed you. You melted into his kiss, your hands releasing the furs you laid up on to hold his face gently.
Your kiss only ended on account of the way he couldn’t hold back his whines and whimpers when he pushed into you. He couldn’t help the way your name left him when you took half of him without issue.
He pulled himself away to look down at your face. After a moment, he looked between your bodies and groaned when he saw you impaled on his cock.
“Fuck, such a pretty wife I have,” he muttered. “You ready for more, my love?” he asked when he reconnected your gaze.
“Yes,” you told him, nodding eagerly.
He groaned as he moved his hips forward. It was pure bliss for both of you. His cock throbbed with every thrust, your walls clenching tightly around him. Every nerve ending in both of you felt like it was on fire as your connection only grew. Sihtric watched you every second, trying to make sure it was as mind blowing for you as it was for him.
His speed increased desperately. He needed more, you needed more. Your hands roamed his body, your moans filling his ears like a beautiful song. The head of his cock kept moving against the spongy spot inside, making your thighs tremble once again.
You watched him as he thrust into you. His pendant and your breasts moved in time with his thrusts, captivating him. You could see him teetering the line of control and instinct. He wanted this to be sweet for you, to be perfect, everything you deserved. He has heard enough stories of your life to know you deserved more than to once again be used for someone else’s pleasure.
“Such a good husband already,” you told him, gripping his biceps. His gaze softened when you spoke, his hips stuttering a bit. “We have all our lives for you to make me scream your name in pleasure, do we not? “
He nodded wordlessly. His cock never once stilled in you as he watched you. He kept grunting under his breath, every noise ending in what sounded like a whine.
“Then I say tonight, I want you to finish inside of me until there is no doubt that come morning I am carrying your child,” you commanded.
His mouth hung open, his hips slowing a bit as he stared down at you. You could see him searching for any uncertainty on your face. Yet, he could search for his entire life and never find in you any doubt of him.
You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned up and took his pendant of Thor’s hammer in between your teeth before looking directly into his eyes. His thrusts picked up in speed, going harder and deeper than before.
He closed the gap between you, his lips coming next to your ear as he finally released your leg. On one side all you could hear a symphony of skin slapping against skin as he fucked you at an almost bruising intensity. In the other, he began to whimper and whine for you.
“Pretty wife, amazing mother,” he whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. He was throbbing inside you and you could feel just how close he was. The way he twitched and pushed against you, his weight pressing into your chest, the band started to tighten again.
“Already a desperate man for you,” he grunted. You were incapable of getting any sound to leave your mouth. All you could do was focus on his word, his sounds, his movements. He was all you knew to be true in this moment.
“Can’t wait to see you pregnant. Probably prettier, round with child and tits swollen with milk. Fuck,” he said to you as his hips started stuttering more frequently.
Your orgasm overcame you finally, causing you to cry out his name. You were barely aware of his whisperings still in your ear.
“That’s a good girl, fuck, yes, my pretty wife,” he practically growled in your ear. Finally, his thrusts stopped, his cock buried inside you as he released ropes of hot cum into you. Sihtric let out a sound with every throb.
You were trembling when he pulled himself from you, breathing heavily. Carefully, he maneuvered the furs out from under your body before carefully covering you both. You moved closer to him and laid your head on his chest. His arm wrapped around you, holding you as though he was terrified of you walking out the door.
You laid there in silence for several moments, basking in the way you felt. With being given from your father to Sigefrid, you had never known much of love or safety. You had never really known kindness. You had feared for so long that the violence and chaos both of them had brought into their lives and halls would haunt you forever.
Yet, laying here in Sihtric’s arms, you almost couldn’t remember how they made you feel. He made you feel so powerful, so loved, so worshipped beyond belief that you would now go days without thinking of the horrors of your past. Even Astra seemed to feel nothing but safety and love.
You turned your face to look at him. He was looking happily down at you, a cheesy, lazy little grin splashed on his face. You were certain nothing could get better than this.
“I love you,” you said softly. “Especially your eyes.”
He rolled them, yet the smile never faded. “Which is your favorite?” he asked.
“Oh no, that is like trying to choose a favorite mountain, or snowflake. Each so unique, so special, one would be an ignorant fool to pick a favorite,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Luckily, I do not have to. I get to enjoy them until I die.”
“Oh? And if I die before you?” he teased, kissing your forehead.
“You are not allowed. I cannot let you walk into Valhalla without me there to greet you, even if that means I will need to pick up an axe again,” you said simply. It was your truth. “I have spent my entire life waiting for the love you give me. You are not allowed to ever make me live without it again, husband.”
Sihtric tried to hide it, but you could see him wiggle just a bit, his smile spread further, when you addressed him as husband. In the moments past, he was too distracted by lust. But now it was sinking in, for both of you, and you felt just as joyful as him.
“Of course, wife. I would not dare leave you to raise our ten children alone,” he said, smirking as you laughed.
“I believe I said five more,” you told him, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe Freyja will bless us with a small army, as much as I plan to bury my cock in you,” he told you, kissing your forehead. “Speaking of.”
Sihtric smirked before kissing you again, pulling you on top of him. You felt your laugh rumble in your chest as you couldn’t help but kiss him back.
You were finally no longer a bargaining chip.
Taglist: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @gemini-mama @alexagirlie
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Text
a sweet melody
pairing: siren!haechan x human!reader (she/her)
summary: Insanity isn’t what she expected to receive when she joined her father and his crew on an expedition, full of men who think she isn’t capable of anything. But it’s all that she got after seeing nothing but endless water every single day. Maybe that’s why her mind started imagining a strange boy who finally shows her the appreciation she deserves. Maybe that’s why she ignores the way she can’t escape the trance he puts her in whenever he sings a melody for her. Or maybe everything is real, and the boy isn’t who he pretending to be.
words: 12.5k
story colour: green
some warnings:
it’s angst, the word “killing” gets mentioned a few times but nothing happens, heavy manipulation
masterlist of ‘nct dream as super natural creatures’
August 2nd, 1878
Day 25 on sea
I don’t remember the feeling of solid ground under my feet. Grass under my toes, touching stone walls or sleeping in a soft bed that isn’t rocking from the waves crashing against the ship.
I don’t remember the taste of air that isn’t filled with salt. The taste of anything other than fish.
I don’t remember not being nauseous every day, not fighting against boredom, not having to talk to myself in order to stay sane. Having to remind myself that I am me and this expedition isn’t pointless and could possibly make us rich until the day we die.
Father told me to write down my thoughts, he senses that I’m slowly losing my mind. But how can’t I? All I see, day and night, are endless expanses of water. No land in sight. We are miles and miles away from civilization. Alone with the sea and what lays beneath it. That thought can be frightening sometimes.
My brother called me a wimp, told me I should have just stayed at home and let the men handle it. I think he is the one who is a wimp. He’s scared of the power women can hold in a world that is overpowered by men. He doesn’t want me here, thinks I belong only at home like the other women in our city. But I don’t believe that even for one second. I have so much more potential than cooking and taking care of children. I’m an explorer, an adventurer, a researcher. I belong exactly here with my brother, my father and his crew.
I am so much more than all of them point me out to be and I know I can prove exactly that to them. I can prove that women can do all things men have been doing for years, maybe even better. I will prove it, even if it makes me go insane.
August 7th, 1878
Day 30 on sea
I miss my mother. I miss her comforting words, her warm arms and the smell of her perfume. Father misses her too. We talked last night while watching the waves under the moonlit sky. He told me he thinks she is watching over us, protecting us from unknown dangers. He told me that he thinks she is proud of us, especially me, for having the courage to explore the sea. I think he is right. Mother would have loved for us to do the things she always dreamt of doing. Exploring. She always wanted to know what lays beyond the sea, know the secrets behind it and write it all down.
Mother was the creative one in our family. She wrote poems, drew beautiful paintings and crafted useful things out of our waste. There was nothing she couldn’t do, no challenge she couldn’t face. I admired her for that, looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Father says that sometimes he sees a bit of her in me, a bit of her creativity leaking out of my aura, but most of the time I am like him. A big pighead who is way too nosy for their own good. But he also said that this trait will help me on our journey.
“We need people like you.”, he spoke as he looked into the sparkling reflection of the stars on the water. “People who are brave and people who are inquisitive. People who don’t stop when it gets too much and get driven by the passion of wanting to know what lays beneath the unknown. That’s why I want you here.”
“But why did you bring my brother as well? He is nothing like that.” My comment made him let out a quiet laugh, a sound I haven’t heard from him in a while.
“Because he can fight. We need people like that as well.”
Our talk was over after that. He went to sleep, and I stayed up, watching the stars in the dark night sky and thinking about his words. Does he really want me here or is he just being nice to me because I’m his daughter? The others on the ship are not shy to express their dislike for me. I’m not taking it to heart since they care more about my gender than my capabilities. But I care about my father’s opinion. I care what he thinks about me being on this ship with him and if he thinks that I should have stayed at home like everyone else is telling me.
I hope he didn’t lie to me. I hope that his words were sincere, and he actually wants me to be here. Because I think it would shatter me if he didn’t.
I figured I should talk more about my current mental state. Every day I try not to show how much it affects me that even though there are so many people on this ship, I’m still alone. No one wants to talk to me, no one cares about my opinion, and no one wants me here. I spend most of the day watching the ocean, listening to the waves and the birds stopping by. When I see something, an animal or even just seaweed, I write it down and draw a picture of it. It helps me a bit, I think, but I’m not quite sure.
Yesterday a boy, his name is Jisung, let me help him prepare a fish. It was the first time someone had spoken to me without throwing an insult at my head. I haven’t seen him much around the ship since he spends most of the time in the kitchen with his father. But he seemed nice enough, even though as soon as another crew member approached us, Jisung ran away from me, not wanting to be seen with the “intruder”. I wasn’t offended by it, at least I got to eat a nice fish for dinner.
But I’m wandering again. My mental state. I do think I’m getting a bit… well, crazy. But who isn’t? Everyone on this ship is going through the withdrawal of feeling solid ground under their toes and seeing anything other than salt water every single day.
I think we all are slowly losing it.
August 15th, 1878
Day 38 on sea
The air was nice today. It smelled fresher than before, kind of like we entered a new world overnight.
It just felt so clean.
Maybe that’s exactly what I needed, some fresh and clear air, something that removed the mess inside of me as well. Father said that fresh air always helps with an occupied mind. I guess his thesis has been proven right.
I should listen to him more.
He is old and keeps to himself most of the time, but when he actually does talk, it has an impact. Just yesterday two of the men on the boat accidently- in a drunken manor- knocked over two wooden boxes full of fish we haunted, leaving us with not much left. Father was furious, I could tell by the look on his face, but he kept his calm image. He went up to the two men and instead of screaming, he just stared at them for a few minutes. I think his eyes were what intimated them the most.
“You realize what you just did?”, he asked them, and I never heard his voice being so cold. They just nodded their heads, eyes widened like they were deer’s getting hunted by a wolf. “You realize what that means for the two of you?” Hesitation lingered in their demeanor. Clearly, they didn’t know what consequences followed their stupid mistake.
“Since you prevented us from having a week stock of fish, I’m going to do the same to you. That means limited access to food, no alcohol anymore and you are going to clean the boat from front to back. I want to see it spotless. Are we clear?” Again, their heads nodded faster than the wind blowing my hair away. They hurried off after being dismissed, leaving me standing there as father let out a long sigh.
It must be hard, having to be in charge of a bunch of grown men who act like children. And it must be hard seeing your own children having to face some of their own hardships as well. I’m not saying my brother is having a hard time on this ship, I’m saying in general. Someone filled with that much piled up anger, like my brother, must have some troubles they can’t communicate themselves.
It’s not like I have never tried. Talking to him, I mean. I did, plenty of times. But he never listens. And he never talks. I think it is the masculinity they force upon boys these days. It starts in school when they are just little fellows and continues all the way into adult hood. It teaches them not to cry, to hide their emotions and be strong.
I think that is stupid. I think that as human beings we were created to show our emotions. It’s our darn right to let ourselves feel everything freely without having to hide it.
But my brother is taking it seriously, says that the people in school would make fun of him if he’s showing weakness. Weakness. That is stupid. I think that hiding your emotions and building up this wrong image in which you hide behind a made-up strength, is what makes you weak.
I told him that and he just said: “And that’s why you’re a woman. You wouldn’t survive a minute being a man.”
And you wouldn’t survive a minute being a woman either. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to make him more upset, and I especially didn’t want to start a discussion about men and women with him. It is pointless, because no matter what I say, he will never see us as equals.
I wish I were closer to my brother. I wish he wouldn’t have to think about all this stupid stuff. And I wish I could live in a world where I could freely express myself without having to justify my every move.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
August 19th, 1878
Day 42 on sea
We saw dolphins today. They were swimming right beside our ship, jumping high up into the air and whistling at us. It was a magical moment, watching them happily swim, eager to interact with us. I even got to draw a picture of them. And for a moment I forgot that my mind is constantly spinning in a spiral. I just sat there, enjoying the short moment of peace, before it got destroyed.
Some of the men on the ship, clearly drunk, threw bottles at the dolphins, slurring insulting words at them. The dolphins swam away shortly after, but the bottles stayed where they threw them, in the ocean. I was so mad that I went up to one of the men, yelling some pretty mean words as well.
“Are you out of your mind, you drunk filthy piece of shit? Not only did you hurt poor helpless animals that were clearly eager to interact with us, but you also polluted the ocean with your stupid bottles of alcohol. Are you really that messed up in your head to think this was a good idea? I don’t even get why you are on this god forsaken ship. You are clearly not good for anything other than drinking your days away and only caring about yourselves. And you call yourself a man. You are nothing but a pathetic little boy, wanting everyone’s attention. You disgust me, you pig.”
I can’t remember much afterwards, only the stinging feeling against my cheek, a foot against my rip cage and someone yelling to stop. I woke up not long ago. The ship is quiet, so I assume it’s already in the middle of the night and everyone is sleeping, but I’m too scared to look. My body hurts, every time I move only a slight bit, a crushing pain curses through my bones.
When I close my eyes, everything is spinning, so I don’t close my eyes anymore.
I don’t regret what I said to that man. I don’t regret standing up to myself. I had to endure a worse treatment for a longer time and could handle it. It is not my fault that he couldn’t handle a bit of critique. All I hope is that this pain will go away soon. The pain inside and outside.
I’ve been thinking, maybe a bit too much. What if I change my way of thinking? What if instead of letting the ocean hurt me, I will let it heal me? What if instead of letting the loneliness consume me, I will let it lead me? Maybe all I have to do to get better is to change the way I approach this expedition.
And now that I have written it down, I will have to do it. My mother always said words only count when you write them on a piece of paper. In that way it is like a contract, unbreakable. It is like an oath you swear only to yourself, and those should be the most precious ones. She said you should always keep the promises you give to yourself, because after all, at the very end you will always have yourself to count on. Mother was a wise lady. A wise and confident woman, that I always looked up to. She was never afraid to speak her mind and stand up for her beliefs, I admired that side of her so much. And I know my dad also admired that.
Sometimes I forget that he lost his wife, I forget that he is still grieving. Because it looks so easy for him. It doesn’t look like he is compulsively taken of on a ship to “explore the unknown” just to get away from home and the recuring memories of the woman he loved so dearly. It looks like he created a team of the best- that’s arguable- men out there and took of to explore. He looks like a hero, not a broken man.
He hides everything so well. I wish he would have taught me how to do that.
August 20th, 1878
Day 43 on sea
Dad told me not to move too much. He thinks my rips are badly bruised and I need a few days, maybe even a few weeks to heal. We don’t have a qualified doctor on this ship, so I am just putting ice on my ribs and hope they will magically heal.
My brother even came to my room to ask me about my well-being. That was the last thing I expected to be quite honest with you. My brother and I have never had the best relationship. He was never a reliable soul, always easily influenced by others. He is a follower not a leader and that shows in the way he behaves towards others, especially towards me.
“Are you fine?”, he asked me, voice unusually soft. I could see it in his eyes, the pity that lies in them. It looked like he actually cares.
“Forgetting the circumstances, yes, I am fine.” He let out a long and deep breath, a hand stroking back a piece of hair that fell into his eyes. I should have asked him if I should cut his hair for him.
“Okay.”, he just answered, nodding his head before standing up again. “If you need anything, just call for me.” Without looking at me again, he left the room. All I could do after that was smile. It was the first encounter since we were kids that didn’t end up with me wishing I would never have to talk to him again. He may not know how to express what he is really feeling and is scared of voicing his own thoughts, but this small conversation showed me that he may not be all too bad.
August 25th, 1878
Day 48 on sea
I am going crazy. I sit on my bed every single day. I draw, I write, and I stare at the wall.
I can feel my thoughts circle around my brain, nothing makes sense. No one visited me in the past two days, and it makes the urge to get up even worse. I didn’t really have someone to talk to from the beginning, but at least I got to be around some living beings. I didn’t have to bear my own thoughts for such a long time. Now I’m not only alone, but I’m also lonely as well.
I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt about the ship sinking. It was absurd because the men drunk too much and their bellies got so bloated, it made the ship sink. But that wasn’t the frightening part. As I tried to swim for safety, my arms already hurting, I started hearing voices. Not just two, must have been a hundred of them. All of them whispering to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell me. I kept swimming and swimming, far behind I saw hills. The voices didn’t stop. It felt like they were entering me, taking over every part of my body. My head felt like it was about to explode into a million pieces. They got louder and louder until I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped swimming, letting myself sink. The water engulfed my whole body, entering my mouth and filling my lungs. The voices got quieter and quieter until there was only one left, loud and clear, telling me to “wake up”.
That’s when I opened my eyes, sweat dripping from my forehead and my breath uncontrollably fast. I never had a dream like that. I never woke up so disorientated. I wanted to tell someone about this dream, have someone explain to me what the meaning behind it is. I wanted to know if I’m really losing my mind.
August 27th, 1878
Day 50 on sea
I am losing my mind.
This can’t be real. I am writing this down to make sure I am wide awake and not dreaming.
I woke up from a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it, because lately I’ve been imagining a lot of things. I wanted to go back to sleep, being exhausted from, well, doing absolutely nothing all day long, but then I heard it again.
It wasn’t just a noise. It was a melody, a very beautiful one. It sounded like the gateway to heaven, like it was sung by angels. And it made me feel drowsy.
I knew I needed to rest more, but something about this melody pulled me in. It made me forget the throbbing pain in my body and the events that happened days before. All it made me want to do was reach it, engrave it into my skin. It made me want to never hear anything else.
I was in a trance, no thoughts inside my head anymore.
So, I got up, walked out onto the deck of the ship to find out where this melody comes from. But when I reached the deck, I didn’t expect to see a boy sitting on the railing.
But it wasn’t an ordinary boy. Oh, no. Not like the ones I’ve seen in my town growing up. I can’t describe him in any other way than captivating. His jet-black hair softly swayed in the night wind, covering his eyes every few seconds. His cheeks adopted a soft rosy color from the coldness, contrasting the tan of his skin. And his eyes were almost as dark as the night sky.
I don’t know why I stared at him for such a long time, and I don’t know why he let me.
“You’re here.” Those were his first words. The first time I heard his voice. A voice that made time stop for a moment. I couldn’t hear the waves crashing against each other anymore, or the cracking of the old wood the ship was built with. I couldn’t even hear my heartbeat pumping against my chest. All I could hear was him. “I was waiting for you.”
“Who are you?” That was not what I wanted to ask him at that moment, but the sane part of my brain must have sensed that something wasn’t right. Something about the way my body reacted to this strange man was dubious.
“Haechan.”, he spoke with a soft voice, turning his body so that he fully faced me. A smirk was placed on his lips, only intensifying his tantalizing physique. “And you are?”
“Y/n.” My name came out in a mere whisper, fearing that my voice might have broken if I spoke any louder. I couldn’t stop staring at him, still having been sure that my mind was playing a trick on me or, well, still is.
For days no one has checked in on me, no one has talked to me more than five words. I’ve been on this ship for way too long seeing nothing but the endless nothingness of the sea. My mind has been plagued with recuring thoughts, never once having a quiet moment. Maybe this is the final sign. Maybe this is it. I am insane. So insane that I’m imagining a boy sitting on the rail of the ship just so that I have someone to talk to.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Reaching one hand out, the boy signaled me to come closer to him. Every part of my body longed to take his hand and sit on the rail with him, but doubts started floating my brain.
“What are you doing here? How did you get on this ship?” Haechan, as I learned his name, just chuckled, a low sound that was so different from his honey voice. He looked amused at my asking, almost like he was making fun of me.
“Why did you come out here, Y/n?” I remember frowning at him, clearly feeling upset that he chose to ignore my question and ask one of his own. I felt upset that this boy, which I probably made up in my mind, didn’t show any respect for me at all. He, just like the others, ignores what I have to say, and I didn’t want to get treated that way, not after what happened last time.
So, instead of answering him, I turned around, heading back to my bed. But before I could even take a step, the melody I heard earlier started again. All the thoughts that I had in my mind at that moment flew away and I was, yet again, caught in a trance. It was like I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.
“It’s you.”, I whispered, but he still heard me. I knew that because the melody got louder, clearer. I closed my eyes, letting his voice enter every part of my body. I let it fill me up and shut me down at the same time. I let it rearrange my mind and mend my wounds, but I also let it cut me open and bleed me dry. I gave myself into the sweet penetration of his honey laced voice and wanted nothing more than to make all his wishes and desires come true. I would have given him the world if it was possible. My whole body felt like it was floating on top of a cloud, high up in the sky and there was no way of ever coming down again. I was trapped.
“Come closer.”, he murmured, voice deeper and almost impending.
“No.”, I quivered, suddenly scared of ever opening my eyes again.
“Please, Y/n.”, he pleaded, and I could nearly hear the desperation in his voice. “Just please look at me.” And so, I did. He was not sitting on the rail anymore, he was standing right in front of me. A small smile on his lips and one hand stretched out to me. “Come closer please. I don’t want anything else from you.”
And as I was about to take the step towards him, give in to his demand and the growing need inside of me to grant all his wishes, I heard a voice behind me, calling out my name and breaking the trance I was in.
“Y/n?”
Turning around, I saw my brother standing further away from me, dressed in his nightly gown. “What are you doing out of your bed? You should rest, your body isn’t fully healed yet.”
“I was just talking to…” But when I looked for Haechan again, no one was standing there anymore. It was like I was alone all along. “I don’t know what I was doing.”
Suddenly I felt all the pain rush back into my body, my bones burning with fire, and I let out a loud groan as I fell to my knees.
“Y/n.” My brother rushed towards me, helping me up with his arms around me. “For someone who always seems so smart, you really aren’t the brightest.” I couldn’t even laugh at his words, my mind was too focused on the pain all over my body.
“You must have been sleep walking if you can’t remember what you were doing up there.” My brother said as he laid me back down into my bed and reached into a bucket of water to put a wet rag on my forehead. “Sleep now, okay? I will stop by in the morning again and check on you.” All I could do was nod my head at him, exhaustion consuming my body. He looked at me one last time before he left my room again.
And now I’m sitting here, writing in my foolish dairy and reminiscing about the strange boy I met. I must have imagined him. How could anyone come up onto the ship? I didn’t see another boat, nor did any other member of the crew. And the possibility of someone appearing out of the blue is also not likely.
The only possibility that is left is that I am losing my mind. That I imagined all of it out of pure loneliness and frustration. This expedition should have been educational for me. It should have proven to all the men that I, as a woman, can do what they can do. That I can be an explorer, a brave one even, and that I have the ability to find something new. That is why we started this journey, because we wanted to discover unknown things.
But all I am doing now is proving everyone exactly what they think of me, that I am small and weak. That I am not an explorer and that I should have just stayed at home. That I am not brave and definitely not smart. I proved to them that I am fragile and well, mental.
But no one has to know about it. No one has to know what happens in my head or the things I imagine. No one has to know I am practically insane and desperate. I could just simply fake it. Isn’t that what everyone does? Faking confidence.
Maybe if I fake it long enough and convince everyone that what they are saying and thinking about me is wrong, I might convince myself as well. Maybe I can convince my brain I’m fine while pretending to be.
So, from now on, everything’s okay. I am not insane, and I certainly am not imagining weird things.
I am okay.
Everything is okay.
August 29th, 1987
Day 52 on sea
Everything is not okay.
Yesterday the boy didn’t show up again. I wasn’t exactly looking for him, since my father spent most of the night in my room making sure I wouldn’t ‘sleep-walk’ again, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed not to hear his beautiful melody again.
I asked my dad if there is a word for the feeling of craving for someone, for feeling like the person took a part of you with them when they left and you long to be reunited with them. When all your thoughts are consumed with them, and your body is itching to be in the mere presence of that person. But also fearing the actual return of that person and the power they hold over you and your emotions. He told me it is called “withdrawal”.
“It is mostly referred to drugs such as alcohol.”, he explained to me as he tried to brush out the knots in my hair. “But I think it can be applied to humans as well. You know, sometimes we long for people we can’t have or people that aren’t good for us. We see the signs, but we ignore them. We give in to the sweet yearning and get hurt in the process. But if we don’t give in and the yearning grows stronger, we crave it even more. We think about the person every day, imagine their scent, their eyes, their voice. We imagine them being in a room with us, talking and laughing with us. We do the things that are most painful to us just to have what we long for, even if we know it’s not good for us. And it hurts, physically and emotionally.”
I turned around to look at him, inspect his face and read what he was feeling when he said those things. “It sounds like you have experience with that feeling.” My father just shrugged and at that moment he looked older. He looked like an old man who has been through too much in his life. A man who deserves a break.
“I’ve been around much longer than you, dear. There were mistakes made and hearts torn, but it all worked out at the end.”
“How?”, I ask, curious as to how such a sad feeling still turned into something good.
“Because I got you, and your brother. That’s my happy ending.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm into his arms and never let him go. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just smiled at him, nodded my head and hoped that was enough for him. Because while his words filled my heart to the brim with love, my body still ached, not from the pain but for the boy I only met once in my life.
That’s why I tried to ignore the melody a few hours ago when it started again. Father went back to his bed a few minutes before, wanting to get some well-deserved sleep, leaving me alone in my room. I, as well, wanted to get some rest, but then I heard it. It was loud and clear, and more beautiful than I had remembered it to be. Almost immediately I felt my whole mind switch, forgetting the conversation I had had with my father. All that was in my head was him, Haechan.
I wanted to see him, no, I needed to see him. I felt lost without him, so empty and incomplete. I felt like my world wasn’t spinning correctly, time was going backwards, and the stars were falling out of the sky. Nothing felt right anymore. Not until I was with him.
I reached my door, but before I could open it something woke me up. Not from a dream, but from a trance. A smell, a very familiar one. It took up all my senses and brought me back to reality.
I realized what I was about to do and quickly sat back down on my bed, not daring to even set a foot on the floor anymore. It was frightening, what I felt just then. The longing I felt, just from one simple melody. I don’t know this boy, why would I feel so strongly about him? Why does he have so much power over my emotions?
His melody got louder. For a moment my head felt like it was exploding. He sounded sad, sorrowful. It broke my heart into pieces hearing him so vulnerable, longing for me the same way I was longing for him. But I didn’t give in. A part of me, I don’t know which one, knew it was wrong to see him again. So, I stayed on my bed, legs tightly pressed against my chest and my hands on my ears, trying to cover his despairing voice.
10 minutes ago, it stopped. It just went away, like it was never there in the first place. Curiosity almost got the best of me and wanted to check if he really left, but I was too scared, I still am.
I don’t know what he is doing to be, why he is here and why he is targeting me. But I know that whatever he is doing, it can’t be with good intentions. A person that makes another person feel such outrageous things, can’t be here for anything good.
Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much. Because, after all, I made him up. He isn’t real so whatever he is doing isn’t going to hurt me. I think my mind is reflecting this pain on me to make sense of why it’s slowly decapitating. It’s trying to distract me from the actual damage in my brain.
At least that is the only logical answer to all of this. Because anything other would be, well, crazy and I’m not crazy. I might lose my mind, but I am not crazy.
August 30th, 1878
Day 53 on sea
Maybe I am a bit crazy, and reckless, and irresponsible and plain stupid.
“You left me standing here for a long time yesterday. I missed you, darling.” But I couldn’t help myself but visibly relaxing as I heard his voice again.
It was all I could think about all day long. Him and his melody. I wanted to feel it again. Feel it in my veins, feel it shutting out all the thoughts in my head. I just wanted this bothering craving to go away. I think it got so bad that even Jisung, someone who barely talks to me, noticed it.
“Are you okay? Don’t you like the food?”, he asked as he watched me stare at the food in front of me.
“Oh, sorry. It’s not the food, don’t worry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I gave him a little smile, grabbing a fork and shoving some food in my mouth.
“Is there a reason behind it? I hope it wasn’t me.” Jisung looked a bit guilty as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I spent the whole night cooking because I also couldn’t sleep. I hope I wasn’t too loud and kept you awake.”
“Oh, so that was what I smelled yesterday.” Internally, I couldn’t help but to be grateful for the boy sitting in front of me. After all, was he the reason why I didn’t give in to see Haechan. But I couldn’t tell him that. I was already glad someone decided to speak to me, I didn’t want to ruin it by my insanity. “But no, that was not what kept me up. I mean I smelled it, but I just had too much going on inside my mind to rest.”
The boy just nodded his head, shoving a fork full of food in his mouth. “Care to share some of your thoughts?”, he says with his mouth still full of food. He looked like a child in that moment, with his eyes wide and his mouth dirty with crumps.
“Just thinking a lot more about my mother lately.”, I told him, only half lying. Mother has been on my mind a lot lately, but that obviously wasn’t the reason why I couldn’t sleep. “I miss her. I mean I always miss her, but being so far away from home just makes me miss her more. You know, I see her everywhere. In the books I read, the words I write. I see her in the ocean, feel her in the air and smell her in every scent. It’s bizarre.”
“No, it’s not.”, Jisung disagreed, putting his fork down and propping his elbow up on the table to lean his face on his hand. “I miss my mother too. I mean, she isn’t dead, but her and my father are no longer together. She left with my sister, my father kept me, and I haven’t seen her in three years. I miss her too sometimes. But I think I miss the things she did for me more than I miss her. When I was a child, I always had trouble falling asleep so she would always tell me a bedtime story. I think that is why some nights I can’t seem to fall asleep.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jisung. Next time you have trouble sleeping just get me. I can also tell you bedtime stories.”
He nodded yet again, showing me another one of his smiles. “Thank you, Y/n. And you know what? I think you are really brave. I wanted to say that to you earlier, but I never had the guts to actually do. I think that we can all be grateful that someone like you joined this expedition. We really need more smart crewmates on this ship.”
But I don’t think I am that smart anymore. I don’t think I even deserve to be called smart anymore. Because every single thing about the decisions I make is anything other than smart. And as I looked into the deep brown eyes of the boy in front of me, that only got confirmed.
“No answer? No ‘I missed you too’?” His voice had an alluring tone, soothing all the wounds inside me and doing things to my body I am too embarrassed to admit. “What a shame, sweet girl. I was pretty sure I could sense your longing for me yesterday. Maybe I was wrong.”
I didn’t know what to answer. And I honestly am glad I didn’t, positive that my voice would have come out in nothing but a pathetic whisper. Haechan was walking closer to me again, reaching his hand out again to hover over the skin of my arm but never touching me.
“Can you feel that?”, he whispers, eyes never leaving mine. “Can you feel the goosebumps slowly forming on your skin, the shiver down your spin?” He waited for me to answer him, but all I could do was nod. “Words, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” I answered him, voice cracking with that one simple word. “Yes, I can feel that.”
“Good. That is exactly what I want you to feel.” He took a few steps back again, so he was leaning against the railing. “Why did you decide to come here tonight? Couldn’t get enough of me?”
I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing myself what the actual reason behind me coming to see him again was. “Why do you keep calling for me?”
“Calling for you? How exactly am I calling for you?” Cocking his head to the side, still wearing a smirk on his lips. But I don’t want to get too detailed about his face, still feeling a bit embarrassed of the things I felt in that moment.
“The melody your singing, it’s for me. You are calling me with your melody.” A chuckle left his lips, melodic like his voice.
“How can you be so sure of that? What if I just like to sing pretty melodies?” His question sounded so innocent and for a moment I was uncertain about my statement, fearing I might have misinterpreted everything. But I knew what I was feeling. I knew that his melody was meant to be for me and no one else. I know it might sound crazy, but the thought of him singing this melody, my melody, for someone else felt unsettling.
“Because if you sung it for someone else, they would stand here instead of me. No one else is responding to your melody, only me, so it must be for me.” For a few seconds there was nothing but silence around us. Haechan wasn’t saying a thing, seeming like he was thinking about his next words. And I didn’t say anything, fearing that if I might, he would disappear again.
“You’re right.”, he finally spoke up. “It is for you.”
“But why? Why do you sing this melody for me?”
“Because I wanted to meet you, Y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I got to have you. I got to be with you. I craved nothing more than to talk to you, to simply be blessed to be in the mere presence of you. I am longing for you, the same way you are longing for me, my love.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying to me. His words filled up my heart, and I started feeling lightheaded.
He was craving for me. He wanted to meet me. Everything that I am feeling towards him, as strange as those emotions are, he is feeling for me as well. His words were the most beautiful, heart wrenching thing I have ever heard in my inter life. I felt lucky to be seen this way, to be wanted this way, never actually having had someone tell me that before.
He really went all this way, just to meet me. Singing this melody, coming up this ship. But isn’t it a bit strange as well? I remembered not seeing another ship anywhere nearby. Where did he come from? How did he see me? Questions started filling my mind again, shaking me awake.
“What did you mean when you said you wanted to meet me from the first time you saw me? When did you see me?” I could see his body tensing up. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a question.
“I can answer your question, but first you have to come with me. Please, Y/n. I will tell you everything, just please come with me. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”
“Haechan.” I looked at his hand, which was reaching for me again, motioning me to take it in mind. “Where do you want to take me? I mean there is no other ship anywhere near.”
“Y/n, just trust me, okay? Come with me and I will make the thoughts in your head disappear. I will make everything heal for you.” His hands hovered over my arms again, almost as if he couldn’t touch me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me so badly. But I could see that something in his eyes had changed. They were darker, more desperate and demanding, and I knew it was my time to leave.
“I can’t.”, I told him, taking a few steps back. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” And with that I left, not once looking back as I walked back into my room.
I don’t know if what I did was right, or if I upset him with my behavior.
All I hope for is that he isn’t mad at me and will forgive me when he comes back. If he comes back.
August 31st, 1878
Day 54 on sea
He did in fact come back.
“Missed me?” There was something more gentle in the way he was talking to me today. Something more reserved.
“What if I did?” That made him smile, not smirk like he normally does. Haechan showed me a bright honest smile. And all I could think about was that he never looked more ethereal than in that moment.
“Then I will be highly pleased, my love. You know why?” I shook my head as a no, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Because I missed you too?”
“You did?”
“Of course, I did. You were all I could think about all day long, pretty girl.” He stayed a bit further away from me too today and I wondered why. I asked myself if he didn’t want to be close to me again or if he felt rejected after what happened yesterday. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your sweet smile, your beautiful eyes and your lovely voice. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
“Why don’t you touch me?”, I said out of the blue, catching not only myself, but him off guard as well. “You never touch me. You only hover your hands above my skin. Why?”
He smiled again, sweet and kind. “Because if I touch you once, I will never be able to stop again.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” He only shook his head, turning around to face the stars instead of me. But I didn’t want him to look away, I wanted him to look at me, because when he does look at me, I can feel again.
“I am sorry about yesterday, you know? I am sorry I was too intrusive, I let myself get caught up in my emotions.” I had to process his words, that being the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth. Never once had a men apologized to me for anything. I am so used to getting treated like nothing and it being normal in a society like the one I grew up with. Never once has anyone cared so much about me to consider my emotions and apologize for a mistake.
“Thank you.”, I just whispered, trying to swallow the tears. “That means a lot to me.” I decided to join him at the rail, watch the stars with him for a little while.
“Do you know that I think you are not real? I think I am imagining you, because for the past weeks I have been slowly losing my mind. Seeing the same things every day, not talking to anyone and having to deal with all those thoughts in my head. I think I started imagining you so I could just stop time for a while.”
“But I am real.”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I am real. You are not insane, and you are definitely not imagining me. I can prove that to you. Just take my hand and you will see.”
“Why does that feel like a trap?”, I asked him, watching his face, trying to read his emotions. But it stayed the same. His smile didn’t butch for a second and his eyes still held the same gentleness.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Y/n. There is no trap. I am just offering you evidence to your lingering questions about your own sanity. I am just trying to be nice to you, but if you don’t appreciate that.”
“No, no I do. I am grateful for your kindness. You just sounded so demanding, and it made me doubtful.”
“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. It was never my intention to make you doubt me. That will never happen again, okay? All I want is the best for you. Nothing more.” I just nodded, eyes facing the wooden floor of the ship. “I am going to tell you the story of why I so desperately wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t yesterday. Maybe that will cheer you up a bit again.”
“I wanted to talk to you because I was mesmerized by you. Because there are not a lot of people out there like you. People so willing to learn and to explore. I never met a woman like you, someone so strong minded and independent. I loved how you never let anyone talk bad to you and I love how despite the negative things the men on this ship say about you, you still stay here. You prove to them every day that you are capable of being on such an expedition and that you are more qualified than they could ever be. And I just knew I had to talk to you, I had to have you in my life.”
And it was like he knew what I needed to hear. Like he knew my deepest darkest thoughts and all the things I was craving to ever be told by someone. It was like he spoke right into my soul and built up this newfound strength. I felt empowered, I felt loved. But yet again, I was also wondering how he could know all those things about me.
“Why do you know all that, Haechan?”
“I told you already, Y/n. I was longing for you.” It didn’t make sense. His answer didn’t make any sense. Was he avoiding my question? Or maybe he understood the question wrong, thinking this was an answer that would satisfy me. But it didn’t.
“That doesn’t answer my question. How can you possibly know about all those? We just met.”
I could hear a sigh leaving his lips, the long and frustrated kind. I am familiar with those, having heard them a thousand times from my father and brother. And I asked myself if I, yet again, upset him with my question. If I should have just kept quiet and appreciated his kind words and moved on from the topic.
“And yet again you don’t appreciate my kindness. All I do is be nice to you, proving to you that I am real and trustworthy, and you still doubt me. Don’t you know how much that hurts me? Do you?” His voice rose visibly, nostrils flaring and eyes growing wider. Haechan wasn’t looking like himself at that moment. He almost looked inhumane.
“I am sorry, Haechan. Please don’t say that. I do trust you. Please, I’m sorry.”, I started begging him, reaching for his hand, which he pulled away. “Please.” Tears filled my eyes and my whole body started hurting again, like it was slowly breaking apart from the inside out.
“You hurt me, Y/n. I don’t think your apology can fix this.”
And this time it was him walking away, disappearing into the darkness, and leaving me standing at the same spot, mourning for him like I had just lost a person to death.
September 1st, 1878
Day 55 on sea
I could see the surprise on his face when he saw me standing there, waiting for him this time, not needing his melody to be called. But the look of surprise quickly faded away and a smirk replaced it instead.
“I see you don’t even need my melody anymore.” It almost sounded cocky the way he said it.
“I wanted to be here first so I could apologize to you.”, I spoke the words with so much sincerity, wanting him to believe me and see that I genuinely mean the apology. “I am really sorry for hurting your feelings yesterday. It was never my intention. All I want to do is make you happy, Haechan, and I am so sorry that I failed to do so.”
He looked at me for a few seconds, brows raised, before he shrugged his shoulders. “What will you do if I don’t accept your apology?”
I didn’t hesitate when I spoke my next words. “I will beg for your forgiveness. I will beg until you accept my apology. I will do anything you want me to.”
“Anything I want you to?”, he asked, and I just nodded my head at him, desperation fulling my actions and probably written all over my face. “I will hold onto that one.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Haechan shrugged again, taking a few steps forward into my direction. Looking at him in that moment, I didn’t think he looked hurt. Normally people have this look on their face when their feelings got hurt, quivering lips, wide and sad eyes, body folding in on itself. But Haechans eyes were almost narrowed, and he was towering over me, almost like he was looking down at me. My father once told me people do that to prove their dominance over the other person, but I don’t think that was what Haechan wanted to do in that moment. Or was it?
Maybe Haechan is just like my brother, a person who has to hide their true feelings behind a stone-cold face to demonstrate strength. Or maybe he just didn’t want me to see him hurt by me to make me feel less guilty. Because I was and still am feeling bad for making him feel that way yesterday. I still regret my words and wish I would have just shut my mouth. I should do that more often, shutting my mouth in some situations. It would have saved me from a lot of things.
“I’m still thinking about it. Maybe I will tell you my answer at the end of the night.” That gave me some hope. Even though he didn’t yet accept my apology, he still wanted to spend time with me and that was more than enough for me.
“I saw you talking to that Jisung guy again today.” Haechan was still towering over me, hands in the pockets of his pants and eyes narrowing in on my face. “What is so intriguing about him that you talk so much to him?”
“Did you watch me?”, I asked him, shock lacing my voice. Jisung and I only talked in the kitchen today. I was hungry since I overslept in the morning and didn’t have breakfast. When I walked into the kitchen to grab myself something, Jisung was standing there, preparing the fish for dinner. We spent some time together, me eating my food and him cooking more. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, we just basked in the presence of each other.
“I asked you a question first.”, Haechan voice got lower again. I could only describe it as sinister. There was an undertone in that one small sentence, something that told me I should not say the wrong thing. So, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, fight through the mess in my head and find an answer that will satisfy him.
“He isn’t interesting to me.”, I tell him, keeping my voice clear and loud. “He is just the only person that talks to me when you aren’t here. There is nothing more to it.”
“It didn’t look like that earlier, sweetheart. I thought the two of you looked very cozy in that kitchen, sneaking glances at each other.” He let out a sound similar to a ‘tsk’ and shook his head in a mocking manner. “Am I not enough for you anymore? Do you go around and search for other men when I’m not around? Are you so desperate and needy for attention?”
“No.”, I whispered, feeling even the small last bit of confidence leaving my body. Haechan has a way of making me feel weaker and weaker, draining every last thought out of my head and making my body his. “No, Haechan.”
I felt my legs give him, sinking to my knees. My body felt so heavy but at the same time so light. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, lowering his head so he was looking right into my eyes. “You can’t talk to other men, Y/n. You are mine only, do you understand?” All I could do was nod my head at him, but that didn’t satisfy him. “You belong to me, right, my sweet girl? I need you to say it.”
“I belong to you.”, I mumbled, not having the strength to fully open my mouth.
“That is right. You belong to me, your body belongs to me and even your mind belongs to me. You are all mine, pretty princess.” He took up all my senses. I could only see him, smell him, hear him, feel him everywhere. Like only he excited in this world and no one else.
Haechan leaned forward, his lips brushing the skin of my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and it sent shivers down my back. “Now come with me, darling. Take my hand and come with me. I will make sure you remember me forever.”
I reached for his hand, fingers brushing against each other, but before I could close them around his, a bright light shined a bit further away from us. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard footsteps, a voice and suddenly I felt empty. Haechan was no longer kneeling in front of me and right as I wanted to look for him, my body gave in, and I fainted onto the cold wooden floor.
I don’t know how I got into my bed, and I don’t know who brought me into my bed. All I know is that the moment I woke up again I craved Haechan even more than I did before and I know that the next time he asks me to come with him, I will do so, without any hesitation.
September 2nd, 1878
Day 56 on sea
Everything changed today. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I felt. A lie.
I can’t stop crying. My tears are flowing like an endless waterfall. I’m a mess, a disaster. How could I let this all happen? I thought I was smarter than this. I thought I was stronger than this. But I was blinded. I was corrupted, manipulated, used.
I feel dirty, like I haven’t washed in weeks. But I just did. I spent a long time trying to scrub away the dirt I felt, trying to scrub away the shame I felt. I put everyone, especially me, in danger with my reckless behavior, with my blindness, with my incompetence. I am a failure.
I spent the whole day ignoring everyone around me, not even looking at anyone that passed me by. I wanted to desperately prove to Haechan that I only want him and no one else, that everyone on this ship doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is him. I was hoping he was watching me again, being proud of me.
But unfortunately, there was one person I couldn’t avoid even if I tried to.
“You wanted to speak to me, father.”, I said as I entered my father’s office room. I have never been in that room, not once over all these weeks. The room was scattered in books, empty bottles and maps of the sea. I always imagined the room to be neater, at least that was what my father always seemed to be. But my mother told me once that your room reflects the mental state you were in. Maybe my father was also struggling with his sanity.
“Yes.”, he answered me, looking up from his book. “I wanted to see how you are feeling, after your little incident yesterday.”
“I’m feeling fine, father. Must have been me sleep walking again. There is nothing to worry about.”
He just hummed, his face showing the uncertainty he felt because of my words. My father mustered me for a few seconds, waiting for even a little muscle to twitch in my face to show him if I was lying. But I kept a straight face, looking him right into the eyes. “I am thrilled to hear that. And we will find a way to fix your nightly problem.”
Father went back to reading in his book, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, the curious part of me wondered what he was so engrossed in. I always loved the books my father reads, knowing that they are filled with new knowledge. “What are you reading?”
He held up the book, showing me the cover. “Knowledge about the mysteries of the ocean.”, I read out loud, furrowing my eyebrows at the title. What an odd book, I have never heard about that. “What mysteries are listed in the book?”
“Oh, just some fisher men tales. Mermaids, kraken, leviathan, sirens. All those tales which warn everyone on ships about the dangers of the sea.”
“Sirens? I have never heard of them. What are they?” My father turned his book around, showing me the page, he was just reading. On it was a drawn picture of what looked to be a half bird, half fish creature. My stomach started to turn, the longer I looked at it, frightened by its appearance.
“This book says that sirens are mythical creatures, half bird, half fish. Through their angelic singing they lure in fishermen to kill them. It is said that their voice lures them in, but their face is what makes the fishermen stay.”
“Their face?”, I asked, not believing that for a second.
“They put you in a trance with their voice and make you see whoever you most desire. They are insidious, malicious creatures, feared by everyone who ever entered the ocean. They are dangerous, Y/n.” He looked me in the eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t. As if he wanted to tell me more with the last sentence.
“Do you really believe they exist? To me that just sounds like fishermen making up excuses as to why they didn’t bring any fish home.”
My father let out a long sigh, head shaking. He turned the book back to him and stared at the picture for a few more seconds, before closing the book again. “You could be right, Y/n. I mean you have always been the realistic one in this family. But as long as there is no proof that they don’t exist, I will have to believe those tales. It’s better to believe and find out they don’t exist, than to not believe and find out they do exist.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about his words after I left his office. They kept spinning around my head, swirling and clashing against other thoughts. And they were connecting. My thoughts were connecting together, and suddenly there was only one thought left. One person in my mind, and not for the reasons he had been in my mind for the past few days.
But I didn’t want to admit that. Not even to myself. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t true. Those useless tales were nothing but fiction, made up stories to save the fishermen from embarrassment and disappointment. Nothing more and nothing less.
Because I knew Haechan. I knew he wasn’t capable of something like that. He wasn’t a creature designed to prey on innocent people. Or was he?
I couldn’t help but smile as I heard the familiar melody, as I felt it sink deep under my skin and erase everything inside of me. I loved the pain it inflicted on my heart, the way the melody ripped me apart into a million pieces. I loved how for the first few seconds everything stopped being important to me. Breathing, feeling, living. Nothing felt important for a few seconds. Nothing but him.
Haechan leant against the rail of the ship, hands in his trousers and a smirk on his lips. It almost felt like a déjà-vu. I remembered how I felt when I first saw him. Feelings that were once so innocent and unfamiliar are now unconditional and fierce. “My pretty girl.”, he whispered, and I felt the weight on my shoulders lift. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”, I asked, taking a few steps closer to him. I was craving his closeness, his touch. I needed him to touch me, anywhere. I didn’t mind where.
“Ready to come with me.” My head was clouded, brainwashed by his beautiful voice. But wasn’t that exactly what my father told me, what he warned me about. “I can see your doubt in me, sweetheart. What is it that is plaguing your beautiful mind?”
“Do you plan on killing me?” I don’t know why I asked him that question. I don’t know how I got the strength to break out of the haze, even just a little bit.
“Killing you? Why would I kill you?” His eyes darkened and I could see his body language changing. I could see all of him changing. Haechan let out a chuckle before walking into my direction, stopping when he was right behind me. Brushing my hair back, never once touching me, as he leant down to whisper into my ear.
“I really wanted to kill you at first, my sweet girl. I wanted nothing else but to rip you apart.” My body shut down, letting me fall weakly to my knees just like the day before. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than five seconds. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, yet again and placed his hand on my cheek. Finally, I could feel him. I could feel the one thing I craved most, his touch. But it didn’t feel how I imagined it to. Instead of lifting me up and making me basked in comfort, it made me flinch. His touch made me want to never see the light of day ever again. “But how could I kill such a beautiful thing? You are my precious girl, aren’t you? So sweet and special.”
I wanted to run, get away from him. I wanted to do anything but to stay with him, but my body didn’t let me. My body stayed down on the ground, heavy and useless. “Does it hurt, love? Does my touch and my words hurt you?” He didn’t need an answer because he knew. He knew how every bone in my body felt like it was on fire as soon as he muttered those words. He knew all I wanted was to make this growing pain stop. “Just come with me. I will make the pain stop.”
When I looked up at him, I saw only a glimpse of him. His skin was pale blue, scales all over it, and his teeth were sharp and long. This wasn’t the boy I met a few nights ago, the boy who made me feel like I was floating on the clouds and the boy who gave me a reason to live. This was a creature, a monster. A siren.
“Go away.”, I croaked out with the last strength I had left in my body.
“Oh no, you poor thing. Don’t be like that.” Not even his voice sounded like the sweet melody I once heard. It didn’t give me sweet pleasure anymore, it only gave me pain. “You love me, or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten all the feelings I inflicted on you? Have you forgotten how good you felt when you were with me? I can make that come back. You just have to come with me.”
“Go to hell.” I didn’t know that this simple sentence could mean the end of my life because the next thing I felt was a sharpness going through my body. And I knew this would be it. This would be the last few seconds before I was gone.
“Y/n!”, I heard someone shout, loud and piercing. I opened my eyes, only to have my vision be blurry. I tried to move, look who that voice belonged to and if I was imagining it again. “Go away and never come back, or I will have you killed and each and everyone of you creatures on this planet.”
I took a hurtful breath and it felt as if my lungs were filled with broken pieces of glass. My eyes tried to stay open, but I didn’t have the strength. “No, Y/n. Stay awake. Please don’t leave me.”
Whiteness surrounded me, filling me up and taking me in. Silence. I heard nothing more than silence. I tried looking around, kicking and fighting as I was trapped in nothing but endless vastness. Far away from me I could see something, or someone waiting for me. I tried to walk towards it, reaching my arms out to grab it, but I never came close.
“It’s not your time yet, Y/n.” And before I could question those words, my eyes opened.
It took me a few seconds to regain my vision, seeing the familiar walls of my room. As I remembered just what had happened, I felt panic filling my body, my breaths coming out faster than normal and my mind spiraling in wild circles.
“It’s okay, Y/n.”, I heard the voice of my father first before I felt his arms around my body, pulling me tightly into him. “Your safe. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”
I looked up at him with wide eyes and my mouth agape. I felt like a little kid again, crying in the arms of my father after having a bad dream. Just that this wasn’t a dream. This is reality.
“It’s okay. We are on our way back home. That creature will never find you again, we made sure of that, okay?” My father held me with so much delicacy, fearing he might break me. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone, or anything hurt you again.”
And I believed him. There in the arms of my father I believed his words. So, I closed my eyes, let the sleep consume me and hoped that this promise would be one he could keep.
September 10th, 1878
Day 64 on sea
I let the salt air take away all the scars of the past weeks as I watched the soft waves flow under the setting sun. This was the first time in eight days that I had the courage to leave my room. I couldn’t face the place where everything happened. The place where I almost lost myself.
I closed my eyes and imagined the soft grass under my toes, the chirping birds in my ear and the blinding sunlight in my eyes. I imagined biting into a sweet apple, feeling the fresh morning air on my skin and smiling at the veracity of the moment.
“Daydreaming again?”, I heard a voice in front of me, making an actual smile appear on my lips. A smile I haven’t let myself show in a long time.
“What brings you out here? Shouldn’t you be in your bed, sleeping like everyone else is?” Jisung just shrugged his shoulders, his hair softly swaying in the wind.
He showed me a sweet smile, sitting down beside me and taking one of my hands in his. “I am not going to ask you how are doing, since everyone else does that every day.” I nodded at him, grateful for not hearing the repeating question out of his mouth as well. “But I am going to ask you if you still feel the withdrawal, you told me about.”
My eyes filled with tears again and I tried my best to swallow them down. “Yes.”, I mumbled, looking down, too ashamed to let him see me this way. To let him see me so weak and pathetic. “Yes, I still feel it, every day. I long for him, and I know it isn’t right. He isn’t who he showed me to be. I know I was blinded by a trance. I was blinded by need. I know what I am feeling isn’t right and that he wasn’t right. But for a few seconds, for a few seconds every day, it felt real. For a few seconds every day I could just be. I could be me. I could forget the pain and my thoughts, and I could breathe.”
Jisung just nodded his head, not letting go of my hand, but he didn’t say a word. I appreciated that. I appreciated the quietness of him. Because as opposed to the others, he didn’t lecture me on my feelings. He didn’t tell me how it is wrong to feel the way I do and how I should have seen all this coming. He didn’t try to tell me how to move past this, or how to continue living my life. Jisung just stayed silent.
“Why are you awake?”, I asked him after a few moments, breaking the silence he gifted me.
“I couldn’t sleep. And the last time I told you about my sleeping problems, you told me you could tell me a story, like my mother did. A bedtime story to make me fall asleep.” I let the tears that still lingered in my eyes roll down my cold cheeks, as I nodded my head. “Will you tell me one?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I will tell you any story you want.”
And so, I did.
I told everyone my story.
Bonus
“What took you so long?”
Haechan swam into the cave, brushing past everyone that was looking at him with expecting eyes. He ignored them all and just kept swimming.
“Answer my question.”, Jeno spoke louder this time, but Haechan just kept swimming. He didn’t care that everyone was waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfill his promise, to fulfill all the promises he had made for the past weeks.
“We had a fight.”, he told Jeno with a shrug of his shoulders, nonchalant about the other one’s questions. Haechan could see the disappointment and anger in the faces of everyone in the cave, and he couldn’t care less. He knew what he was doing was right. He knew it was necessary to go through all these lengths to get what he wanted, what everyone wanted.
“A fight?”, his friend repeated, skeptic lingering in his voice. “This isn’t a game, Haechan. We put our trust and time in your hands. How long until this plan of yours backfires? How long until they notice that their ship hasn’t been moving in days? How long until they discover us and put an end us?”
“Jeno.”, Haechan’s eyes piercing into the older boy, voice clearly stating a warning. “Have you lost all your trust in me? I know what I am doing.”
“Are you?” Everyone was looking at the two, anticipating the outcome of this long-awaited conversation. “You were the one promising us you were going to get us this girl. You were the one convincing us how much you were craving her and how much we should as well. And we have given you time, but all you do is play around. This isn’t a game, Haechan. This will determine our lives. Without her, we will not survive, and you are very well aware of that.”
“This is where you are wrong, my dear friend.” Haechan turned his body, facing all the sirens watching him. “This is a game, and I am the leader of it. This girl we are talking about is different from everyone we have ever had. This one is special. She isn’t easily fooled by my tricks, by my voice. She has a smart mind, that one.” A wide grin appeared on the siren’s lips, making him almost look crazy, and his eyes narrowed on his friend yet again. “This one will bring us everything we have ever dreamt of. And it will work. The game I am playing, the fight we were having today, it will all work in the end.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” The question lingered in the quiet of the cave, the eyes of everyone looking at Haechan, faith and trust all in his hands.
“Because it is all going according to plan.”, he announced, voice thick with pride and confidence. “It is all going according to my plan.”
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So I like the Barbie movie enough to do an analysis of their feminist statements and try to get to the root of the problem! They did give us a long list of expectations women worldwide are dealing with, now let's see why they're dealing with it.
1. "We have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong. You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you want to be thin, you have to say you want to be healthy."
This issue happens because women in practice, culture, and their real-life circumstances are still effectively living as the second class citizens, and they're viewed as servants for males, and male toys. It does not benefit us to be expected to be extraordinary, and it does not benefit us to be thin. So who benefits from it?
It's a feature of a male fantasy. Male wants to posses a woman who is trained to please him in every possible way, but she also needs to be unique and different from all other women, so he feels like he has something special. Every woman already is unique and individual, but he doesn't notice such things as personality, he needs her to be special in a way that he and his male buddies will notice! So she has to be extraordinary in something that males appreciate, but also if she is better than them at it, then they no longer feel the ease of being superior, so she's doing it wrong.
Women's ideal being thin is also a male fantasy, they've managed to pavlov themselves into finding thin women the only kind of woman that is attractive, thus the requirement on women is to be thin, even when it damages our health. Men love causing trauma to women, but to see women actually visibly struggling with it, putting it into words, saying it hurts us, that makes them uncomfortable! So they shame the language, until we phrase it as something that doesn't relate to them, or that makes it seem like it's for our own good. 'Being thin for health' makes it seem like the required starvation is for our own good, and healthy, in fact.
This could not possibly happen if we were not existing in service of the other half of population. If we were respected and valuable human beings, what is bad for us would not be represented to us as an ideal.
2. "You have to have money, but can't ask for money, because that's crass. You have to be boss, but can't be mean. You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas."
These are double standards that men put up for us. Even though women are paid less, own less, are globally more impoverished and have a harder time gaining money, that is no longer enough for us to completely depend on men for money; they hate this. So as a revenge for us managing to earn a bit of our own money, we now can't ask them for any, we are supposed to 'have our own', and still depend for them, but in fear, reluctant to ask or to demand. Notice how it isn't crass for a man to ask for money, it's almost expected, but for a woman, it's shameful.
Women in lead will be criticized, called out, scrutinized and humiliated like no male leader ever would be; this is to make it harder for women to feel in control and comfortable in leading positions. Male leader is supposed to step all over ideas he doesn't find useful, hell he can even squash it and take credit for it later, but if a woman doesn't acknowledge a stupid idea, she is immediately told off for 'not being a good enough leader'. Even when she's doing exactly what she's supposed to do. It's a hypocritical little game to ensure only men can comfortably lead.
3. "You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people."
This is a feature of "women existing for male convenience" problem. We are supposed to be naturally loving of raising kids, because it's convenient for males to just have their children raised for them without having to do much about it, and if this is not provided to them, then women are evil for not 'loving being a mother' when it's convenient for men that women are super into that and willing to do it for free, forever, without complaining or talking about it, because men don't like to know that it's an actual effort, they feel more comfortable feeling it's a silly little chore that deserves no thought whatsoever.
Women having careers is something men have been making difficult in any way possible, because it means women are not reliant on them for resources within capitalism, but they were not able to completely prevent us having jobs, so now they're just trying to get as much use of it as possible. If women earn money, they will leech off of that money. If women have careers, well then those women should prove that they're just as convenient, nurturing, always available, running at every beck and call, and act as if they still only exist to serve and please men. If women fail to do this, they'll again be accused of being selfish, horrible people, bad mothers, bad community members, and so on and so forth. Men of course, can ignore the entire world and do their job badly, and have a violence problem, and be addicted to p*rn, and it's fine. They're not bad people regardless of how little compassion they have for anyone who isn't them.
4. "You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is insane. But if you point that out, you're accused of complaining. You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood."
This is an example of psychological abuse; victims are most often told they're responsible for their abuser's actions, as if they would in any situation be able to control or influence them, which they can't. But, putting that responsibility on women will make women hyperfocus on their own behaviour, on prevention of abuse, prevention of violence, which means they will go a long way trying to please men, tiptoe around them, give them insane amount of attention and care, in hope or preventing the escalation of their behaviour - and this is exactly what men want, this is what the abuse was for. To gain that devotion and attention, with the threat of violence. If women understood perfectly that men are responsible for their own behaviour, their way forward would be to hold men accountable, to lock them up and never look back. It's only in the world where women are victims of severe psychological abuse that we try to please men into not committing acts of violence. And it never works, because men love violence, and will turn to violence at every corner, even more easily and smugly knowing they can simply blame a woman for not working hard enough to prevent it.
Men expecting women to be pretty but then punishing them for being pretty is also an act of abuse; women's exterior is being judged as if our appearance is both a statement and a crime. Men can look whatever they naturally look like, and it's not a provocation, temptation, lack of solidarity or anything worth criticizing; but any way that a woman looks can be scrutinized and a ground for moral callout. The reality is that women also just look like the way they look like, and there's nothing wrong with it. There is zero moral problems with women looking pretty or not pretty. There isn't even a problem with tempting males because males are responsible for their own actions and not toddlers who have no power to resist impulses. This is a tactics for making women responsible for male behaviour - the way she looks is responsible for what I want to do to her. Complete nonsense, they just found a way to blame her for his own behaviour.
Calling women out for not being 'a part of the sisterhood' based on their appearance is very poorly concealed tactic to turn women against each other, to distract them from seeing that men are the root of the problem. Men don't turn on each other based on appearance, and it doesn't make sense for women to be assumed to do it either; in women-only communities, it doesn't matter what women look like. Whatever women look like is never a threat or an attack on other women, men are trying to play on female insecurity and frame other women as a threat to that insecurity - when the only threat all along was men, creating ideals and standards of beauty that don't correspond to reality or nature.
5. "Always be grateful, but never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that, but also, always be grateful. You have to never get old."
The waves of feminism have forced the public consciousness to acknowledge that the system is rigged, but the pressure to do something about it falls completely on women, even though men created the system, rigged it, are keeping it rigged, are using violence to enforce it, and are benefiting from it. And it's convenient to them if women do nothing else but acknowledge it's rigged and stay grateful they're still allowed to live within, we're supposed to be threatened by the fact that we can easily be killed if we step out of line.
Men are threatened by older women because mature women have experience, they are no longer easily manipulated or cheated out of their gain, they will not bow down and please men like young, inexperienced women can be tricked into doing. So they convince those young women, that being old is shameful and ugly for women. They want women to stay young and susceptible, like children that they can control and not allow any agency or free will. This ensures we stay focused on being scared of time, aging and our own bodies and nature, but not of the predators who are taking our lives as a service for themselves.
6. "Never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear. Never get out of line, it's too hard, it's too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says "thank you". And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault."
These are lists of standards that are only applied to women, men are allowed to do all of these things and to be catered to while they're doing it. This behaviour is presented as bad only when women are doing it; if men do it, it's considered neutral, normal, intrinsic to human nature. Women being selfish inconveniences men, who are looking to exploit female selflessness. Women showing off and being proud would cut into their time showing off, they want that attention for themselves. Women getting out of line is inconvenient, since men have drawn those lines for women (those lines don't exist for men). Women showing fear makes it difficult for male predators to corner them down and have them act complacent; men don't want to see proof of victimizing women, except in private, except when they can get off on it. Never in public, never when women could potentially escape or reach for help, then it's sexist of women to be afraid.
Women getting medals, acknowledgment or gratitude again, cuts into male parade of getting all the acknowledgment, gratitude and medals, for them it doesn't make sense that they should share attention or credit with what they consider to be the 'servant class'. Men have deluded themselves into thinking they deserve more credit than women do, they don't consider us smart or capable, because they can easily oppress us, so how smart can we be? But also, they expect and demand us to be as smart and capable as necessary to resolve all of their issues, to make their life easy and pleasant and undemanding. We are forced to deal with issues they won't even look at, we often solve problems or create solution they wouldn't be able to produce, and this is when they simply take credit and convince themselves that they knew better all along. It's a 'male-delusion rules reality' kind of world for women.
After doing the biggest bulk of work on earth, creating and raising the entire human race, doing daily unpaid labour, putting up with violence, threats and constant degradation from men, after not having our interests represented by the law, education, government, economy or any other institution with any power, after spending a piece of our life being groomed and then having to spend another undoing the grooming, we are still told that everything is our fault, and that we're doing everything wrong.
This is abuse, and somebody is doing it. We are not put thru all of this for vague reasons, or for arbitrary reasons, someone is benefiting from all of it. While we're raising children, who lazes around and attaches their last names to our kids? When we're doing daily unpaid labour, who doesn't do their part? Who is staring at us while we're walking down the street, who fails to represent or even acknowledge our interests, and even our human rights? Who does the grooming, and who enables them to do it? Where do they get resources from it, who allows it to go on unchecked? How come young girls and women are regarded as such low value that we allow them to live unprotected around predators who will absolutely attempt to violate them in as many ways they can? Who fails to prevent, or arrest, or punish them?
It's not just a system of patriarchy, it'a a system of men, doing this every single day of their life. We can point the finger at the root of the problem. We have a common enemy, and they're working damn hard to keep us from realizing it.
#barbie movie#radfem analysis#feminist analysis#radical feminism#feminist statements#feminist text#acknowledgment of female oppresion#source of oppression
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wait I haven't noticed this before, but the next world mural is in line with Noid's ideology
"True love is only possible only in the next world - for new people it is too late for us. Wreak havoc on the middle class"
Noid - "In the true life of tomorrow, every woman will be an innocence.
Noid - "A life is true if it's free from fear and internal division among oneself. And others -- mankind has seeds of greatness in it. A germinal will come, a return to trueness. It will be hard core."
Noid - "Have you been listening to what Egg's been saying? Love is *hard core* man, and a mother's love is the hardest core of all..."
Noid - "Well, they *loved* her. They put all their love in her and forgot all about the rest of us."
Which reminds me:
Fuck the World - "I can answer that. Many men keep searching for *the one*. For so-called true love, which is actually just obsession masquerading as kinship. The thrill of the chase, the hollowness that fills your chest cavity after catching it." (...) one must think of a way to fuck the whole world -- and not get caught up in fucking some *one*."
(The church quest is full of Scooter references and Fuck here sounds like he's quoting the first line of How much is the fish?: The chase is better than the catch - it's all connected lol)
True love is only possible in the next world/ true life of tomorrow where all women are innocences!
And I think this is all in line with Chernyshevsky's views about nihilism which has been discussed in this post
The line about fucking the whole world instead of putting all your love into one person also makes me think of a love that is not about thinking that you own your monogamous partner, but a more free kind of love that is present in Chernysevsky's book
Also, I feel like there are different versions of nihilism in Elysium, for example Zigi's father in Sacred and Terrible Air is a nihilist, but he says St Miro's nihilism isn't real nihilism, and it's a disappointment. So I'm not saying Noid is the same as Zigi, who wants the whole world to just disappear. Piss and Fuck seem to be also more into what Noid is talking about. Then there is Esteban and Hulio from Full Core State Nihilist (story on Martin Luiga's Medium set in Elysium) who are edgelords just fucking around (? I'm still not sure what their deal is)
#disco elysium#noid#karl holtzmann#<- thats his legal name btw#web weaving#i think this is what Noid meant by not liking leftists moralists and fascist while not being a centrist either#this nihilism is still close to leftism but there is this whole elysium weirdness transcendent thing on top of it so maybe thats why he is#saying it's different. or well we could look at it as a different ideology from nihilism but it has connections to russian nihilism#my sines are synced with him. it only took me like 3 years#when Noid is like 'fuck gender' or when he says there is no fascism or leaders in hardcore but if people choose to pick a leader and they#want to follow that person than they can. that also remind me of the characters from What is to be done who#say people should be free to do literally whatever they want
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Maybe a fic about y/n being a footballer for fcb? And her and Pedri share the same number and have a lot in common? ( I’m pretty sure his teammates would tease him and ship them to get him mad (even tho Pedri likes it) btw I love your fics!! 💓
Sometimes destiny likes to watch football...
Enjoy 🍌
The Only Number 8
It all started during the international break. Due to the lack of players staying in Barcelona for the two week break, it was decided that the women's and men's first teams train together.
You were one of the last to arrive at the training grounds and you immediately joined the small group for their warm up run. Being on friendly terms with most of the players from the first team, you set a pace were you could chat with Ferran Torres and Pablo Torre.
"Did you steal Pedri's clothes? You look exactly like him, just with better looks." Ferran commented, eyeing your outfit.
You laughed. "You forgot that I'm a better midfielder as well. It's not my fault were both under contract at Adidas-"
Ferran gave you a look. "Adidas, Plátano de Canarias, Springfield, let alone the fact that you both wear the number 8"
"You two should make some cute Barcelona babies for the next generation of great midfielders" Pablo teased.
"Pfft, not all of us want to support nepotism, please and thank you." You scoffed.
The brunette waved your comment about his family off and increased his pace.
"I don't even know Pedri. The only time I talked to him was that mandatory congratulation ceremony they held for Alexia and Gavi the other day."
Ferran pushed you playfully. "We're just teasing you, okay. Relax."
After the warm up, Xavi, who lead the training today, announced that you would partner up for exercises, so that both teams could improve by learning from each other.
He started to read the list and of course he teamed you up with FC Barcelona's starboy. Earning laughter from both Ferran and Pablo, you shook your head.
Pedri was making his way over to you. His hair was tousled from the slight breeze on this rather windy day.
The royal blue of his shirt and matching shorts complimented his tan in a way that made it hard not to look at him. You weren't so sure anymore who of you has got the better looks, because Pedri set the bar quite high.
A small smile crept upon his lips as he was approaching you. He scratched his chin where a shadow of stubble defined his jawline. He must've decided not to shave this morning.
"Hi, you must be Y/N. I'm Pedri."
He was slightly taller than you, so he had to tilt his head down a little bit. From the quick movements of his eyes you took that he scanned your face, maybe waiting for your reaction.
"Es bueno conocerte a la fin" his canary spanish dialect was melodic, soothing almost. He extended his hand.
His touch burned like fire, making your whole body shiver. Trapping your small hand with a firm grip, his thumb slightly brushed over the skin between your thumb and your index finger, causing you to let go of the breath you didn't realize you held until now.
"Yes... I mean thank you.. umm you too I guess ?" You couldn't remember the last time you embarrassed yourself like this. You could only hope he didn't notice the effect he had on you, but he would have to be blind not to.
Luckily Xavi interrupted your rather uncomfortable conversation to instruct the first exercise.
-
It's been a week since you've officially met the real number 8 of Barcelona and a week since you couldn't get him out of your head. The others didn't really help. They'd been teasing you and Pedri whenever they had the chance to, your only satisfaction being the slight blush that also crept upon Pedri's cheeks.
Every training, Xavi paired you up with Pedri. It turned into some sort of silent competition on who was the better number 8.
You two didn't talk about it. You weren't friends, just colleagues and you only had 3 days left of the break, then you would never see him again anyway.
Much to your luck, it was announced that there would be a special charity match. The women's team against the men's team and as if it couldn't be much worse, Pedri and you were chosen for the press conference.
So now you stood here, dressed in lilac nike shorts and the matching shirt (both having a stitched on 8) and waited to be called in. You tightened your high ponytail and tried to look relaxed.
Why were you even so nervous ?
A pull on your hair startled you. "Ow, what the he-"
It was Pedri. He moved to stand in front of you, smirking.
"Can't wait to kick your ass on the field on sunday."
You scoffed. "Oh, like I kicked yours in training all week ?"
Pedri leaned back against the door to some attic next to the entrance of the media room. He crossed his arms, which made his biceps bulk up. Nike really needs to stop offering these armless tops.
"I was holding back. You wouldn't be able to keep your balance if I really tackled you." he eyed you up and down, making you straighten your posture.
"Pff. We'll see who's the better 8 then." you replied, stepping closer. "I won't be the one on my knees begging for a freekick."
His smirk widened, looking at your lips, then into your eyes. Your lips parted, mouth dry from the sudden closeness. You could feel his breath on your face, sending shivers down your spine.
"Oh I'll personally make sure that you'll be on your knees." His eyes flickered behind you, obviously annoyed that he was interrupted by the media representative.
"Pedri. Y/N. We're starting."
Giving a quick nod to him, you wanted to go ahead, but Pedri stopped you. His hand cupped your cheek. The pads of his fingertips were rough against the soft skin of your face. The touch burned and pleasure shot straight in between your thighs.
"Begging you'll be too. Not only for a freekick, te lo prometo"
He followed the media representative into the room. After collecting yourself, you followed as well. Journalists were already seated in rows in front of the large podium.
Stepping up onto the small stage, Pedri smiled and held out the chair for you. Obviously to trick the journalists into thinking he's a gentleman. You smiled back and thanked him.
When the media representative gave his small instruction, you tried to calm and crossed your legs. Big mistake.
The earlier conversation with Pedri had left you more aroused that you expected. Your panties were completely soaked.
Smiling at the crowd you, leaned forward, trying to concentrate on the first question. A middle aged woman with blonde hair introduced herself and asked Pedri about him missing nations league qualifiers.
You rolled your eyes. It had been all over the news for the past weeks. The brunette midfielder hadn't been nominated for the national team. What a scandal !
As Pedri gave his answer, you felt a burning touch on your knee.
Pedri. Or better his hand.
That bastard sneaked his hand up your exposed thigh. He pushed at your leg, making you uncross them. Neither his facial expression or tone changed.
He nodded to the woman and waited for the next question, all while pushing your legs further apart to make room for his hand.
He wasn't going to-
His fingers sneaked into your shorts, pushing your panties to the side, interrupting your thought.
Oh fuck. He was going to.
He shot you a surprised, but smug look when he felt that you were dripping wet. You caught his wrist, holding it in place to keep him from moving any further.
The next question was addressed to you. How you felt about playing against the first team.
"Oh-" you swallowed. It came out as a moan, because Pedri managed to loosen your grip on his wrist and started to explore your slick folds with his long fingers.
He cleared his throat. A message to you.
Concentrate or I'll embarrass you in front of everyone.
So he wasn't joking.
"I think it's a great opportunity to show our abilities-" you paused.
Pedri's finger found your entrance, slowly pushing in. You clenched around him.
"-abilities and that women's football can be just as exciting as men's. We hope we can pick up some new fans."
You forced a smile. Pedri added another finger. He pushed them in and out teasingly slow. Your clit was pulsing for friction.
"Are you okay, Y/N ?" he asked and faked a concerned look on his face, as if he wasn't fingering you under the table.
He really enjoyed this.
"I'm just a little-" your breath hitched.
A third finger. Knuckle deep and curling inside of you.
"-nervous."
"No need to be. We're all here to support you and no one wants to make you uncomfortable."
Every word that came from his mouth pushed your urge to come for his throat.
You pushed your thighs together to create some friction on your bundle of nerves, but it only made Pedri slide his fingers in deeper.
Luckily the journalists didn't want to startle you any further and only asked Pedri some questions. He answered them with quick sentences, like the well-behaved professional he was.
Meanwhile you tried not to moan out loud. He was very skilled with his fingers, twisting and curling them inside of you, spurring you on. If only he wasn't avoiding the spot that needed the most attention.
You bit your lip before you could whimper out his name. The teasing idiot retracted his fingers and hand from your lap. The digits were glistening from your arousal. You expected him to wipe them on his shirt, but he didn't.
Instead, his other hand reached for one of the Gatorade bottles on display and opened it just as skilled as you knew he was with his other hand. You were hypnotized by his movements.
What was he up to now ?
Squeezing the bottle just the right amount, a little bit of liquid spilled, coating the table and the hand that had been inside of you mere seconds ago. He laughed, looking at the crowd. They joined in.
"I'm sorry." It was a genuine laugh, but you knew this show was for specifically for you.
Your lips parted as Pedri took each of the three fingers coated in your wetness and lemon - lime Gatorade, one after another, between his lips and sucked them clean.
You swallowed, not daring to breathe. He stopped at his index finger.
"Did they change the recipe ? It tastes better than before." he turned to look at you.
Extending his hand to you, he raised his eyebrow. "Don't you think ?"
Was he really offering you to suck on his finger right now ? In front of the press ?
Sure. Everyone knew that the lemon - lime flavor was another similarity between you two. It was the best one.
You contemplated the choices in your head. If you declined, you'd turn tables and embarrass him. If you didn't, you and Pedri would be all over the news tomorrow.
Smiling to yourself, you grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to your lips. Locking eyes with him, you guided his index finger into your mouth. Just the tip. You didn't want to give a whole show, being in public after all.
Your tongue darted out to lick your lips, letting go of him. The sour taste mixed with the sweetness of your own arousal spread on your tastebuds.
"You're right. It's better now."
Pedri flushed, making you smile in victory.
The media representative closed the press conference and stood up to lead the two of you out the room. As the midfielder stood up, your smile dropped.
He was so hard in his sweatpants, it looked painful.
His dark blue Nike tech fleece pants were showing a very prominent bulge, but with a confidence like he had, he of course didn't seem to care and stood up.
Pedri waited for you to go ahead and you urgently prayed that there wasn't a dark spot on your lilac shorts.
No one seemed to notice the little action that happened between you and him.
Feeling relieved that you survived it, Pedri suddenly pushed you into the little attic next to the media room with him.
His lips captured yours into a feverish kiss, leaving you breathless. Once again, his hands found the spot between your thighs, this time pushing your shorts and underwear down first, baring you to him.
You moaned his name into the kiss and he broke it. Lips wandering from your cheek to your neck, he pulled you closer. His erection pressed against your thigh and you cupped it, making him hiss.
Pulling away, he helped you undress him, sweatpants and briefs falling to his ankles. His dick was swollen and the tip red. Precum leaked and you caught a drop, spreading it with your thumb, massaging him.
He dropped his forehead to yours. His pupils were blown wide and he looked helpless from pleasure. Neither of you talked. You didn't need words. Maybe you were linked by faith or something after all.
Holding onto your hips, he thrust forward. Slowly, guided him inside of you. His length was stretching you even more than his fingers. He felt heavenly. You dropped your head back inviting his lips to explore your throat.
His thrusts were needy and sloppy, but they massaged just the right spot inside of you over and over again. With your hands tangling in his hair, you tried to meet him.
Your heart was thumping in your ears as he pushed your shirt up, exposing your cleavage. His hands were definitely going to leave bruises on your hips when they wandered down again. His thumb found your clit and you screamed out.
The whole teasing had you sensitive and aching for touch. You felt him whisper some Spanish against your breasts in between kisses, but you couldn't hear him.
You held onto him even tighter when you felt your orgasm building up. Only a few more thrusts and he had you over the edge. He looked up at you and stopped his actions, earning a disappointed whimper from you.
"If you want to come, beg me." The same smug expression from earlier crept upon his flushed, sweaty, beautiful face. You wanted to slap him.
"Pedri-" you tried to move your hips.
His lips were kissing your chin and jawline. "I'll pull out."
He started to withdraw, which made you pull at his shirt.
"No, please. Pedri. Make me come. Please." you whispered into the thick air.
You looked at him. He stopped, waiting.
"Please Pedri. I need you. I need you so badly. I need you to make me come. Please." The pleas came out of your mouth almost automatically and didn't stop when he picked up his thrusts again.
Your whole body was shaking and the blood rushed in your ears. All you could think was Pedri.
Pedri. Pedri. Pedri.
He pressed his face into your chest when he followed. His moans muffled by the soft flesh.
Being out of breath you held each other for a few seconds, enjoying the bliss.
Pedri pulled up your panties and shorts again, kissing your inner thigh softly.
"I'm still going to make you beg for that freekick, princesa"
A/N: I know y'all love when Pedri's acting like an asshole😌
This was really hard to write as a one part, so I hope it doesn't feel rushed.
I'm excited for your feedback 🥰
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The new Mammon and Fizz episode has been released and I wanna put my two cents in.
The palette is oooof........ One of the most "hard to watch" HB episodes. Seriously, hasn't anyone told Vivzie that her colour choices are just utterly failed?
Mammon was simply annoying and cringe, especially considering he's one of the highest "demons". He curses every few seconds, has an Australian accent and is some kind of a rock star(because......because). Oh yeah, he's also a very bad guy, cuz he disrespects women! Also I find it funny that Vivzie said in one of her tweets that she apologizes the fans wouldn't like him, as he's "fat and ugly". In reality, he's just a typical Vivziepop-ish male character, having sharp teeth and eyes without pupils. And his "fatness" is just looking like a Christmas tree with a round body.
Overdetailed backgrounds and sloppy animation, as always. Some moments look reeeeeally stiff. Maybe Vivzie starts drawing easier backgrounds and make characters with less details so the animation was better and faster to produce? Just dreaming.......
The songs are just generic tasteless pop-stuff. Gosh, I just wish they have a better composer cuz it's tiring to hear these cheap pop tunes every time. Maybe get some real rock or something with synthesizer........ I don't know.....
The background characters in this episode look much less like some early Deviantart furry OCs or cosplay freaks, which is a real plus. Take some cuties:
Hee hee goat boy
Hee hee goat girl(kinda accurate to the demonology, love it).
I really like the left amphibia girl, she's so pretty. Also yeah, bg characters really look better than in previous episodes. Almost like they were drawn by someone who actually knows their job well and doesn't make every person look like different art style or different teenager's OC.
Fizz being tired to be a clown for entertainment, having panic attacks, dealing with crazy fans and a shitty boss was honestly a good idea but the final song was just too weak to handle it. If it was done better, it would be really good.
The sigh language kid is cute and it was interesting to see a disabled person being cheered and supported by another disabled person.
Oh wow Viv made another female characters whose entire personality is being bitchy and arrogant(even to each other, though they're sisters they're calling each other whore, bitch etc.). Can't wait for the fanbase to hate these two or lust for them in the worst way possible.
Though there were actually some beautiful and......esthetic frames.
Am I the only one who never understood why Fizzarolli is considered a sex icon in this show? Like, yeah, Mammon said that he'll exploit his "clown employee" in every way possible and it's all for money, but I still don't get the whole "having tons of sex dolls based on him" thing. Who in sanity would buy a sex doll of Fizz? He looks like a stick with limbs and painted face, which is somehow considered sexy by Vivzie or her fans? Wouldn't it be more logical for a woman to be a sex icon? Lots of real women, including teen idols, were sexualized and fetishized for media by their producers and shown as beauty icons. But I just couldn't imagine the same with males. Like, I'm sorry, but to me Fizz who's a circus performer, celebrity and a sex icon is in the same category as Angel Dust who's a porn star, stripper and prostitute at the same time.
I'm very glad there wasn't much Blitzo.
It's funny that this girl looks like a better design for Loona than Loona herself, lmao.
It's actually a progress to see that Vivzie didn't fetishize a romantic relationship between two men and actually showed them as a loving couple which doesn't talk about sex and cocks every five seconds. She actually has put some unexpected effort in it.
Oh wait she didn't—
#vivziepop critical#anti vivziepop#spindlehorse critical#helluva boss critical#anti helluva boss#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique#helluva boss salt
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you know what annoys me of the taylor swift album release cycle? the incessant, unnecessary comments the general public and even some people in the fandom make about how taylor "always victimises herself for no reason", or how she "loves to play the victim when she's just a rich popstar without real problems", and more recently that she "shouldn't use words like intrusive thoughts, trauma, and emotional abuse to talk about what's happened to her or her experiences with anxiety because she doesn't know what that's like". it fucking infuriates me.
taylor swift acts and writes like a victim because, quite simply, she's been made one, point black, end of the sentence. she should be allowed to write about her experiences with abuse, any type of abuse from any source, without people deciding for her if it was actually abusive or traumatic, or policing her choice of coping mechanism.
people's unwillingness to accept and acknowledge much of what taylor has gone through during her career as abuse and trauma is baffling to me because i honestly can't think of a term that describes it better.
she has been made fun of and ridiculised by the media since she was a child for doing things children and teenagers do (be naive about love, write about boys, go on dates, dress age appropriate), she's been slut shamed by everyone on the internet for dating a less than average amount, she's gone through public humiliation on a mass scale twice now (the first one when she was just nineteen) by a much older, well respected, established male artist, she has been abused by men both professionally and emotionally, she was made an example of what girls ought not to do or be lest you end up just like her, she's been isolated since childhood because she never felt she fit in with the rest.
she's gone through all of those things while at the same time being gaslighted (and i'm using this word in its original clinical meaning and not the internet meme one) into thinking none of that was as bad as she's making it out to be and she ended up okay so it can't have caused her real trauma because nothing happened, it was all fine and a joke. these are things we recognise as hurtful, abusive, and traumatic in other people but as soon as they're experienced by someone who copes with it through writing music she then sells for a profit then suddenly it's not and she's exaggerating it for attention.
she talks about herself in the same hyper-aware, hyper-vigilant, anxious way victims of abuse and survivors of high stress situations do and that's why her music resonates with so many of us who have been abused in the past as well, because she's putting into words things we experience on the daily and i genuinely don't think it's because she wants to. no one wants to go through those things and then go through a new cycle of humiliation every time you talk about your experiences just to make a few dollars.
it's maddening that the attitude most people take when discussing her trauma is to minimise it or straight up deny it because she was able to transform some of that pain into a #1 single
i don't ask people to sympathise or feel bad about her but to accept that we have agreed that online bullying and dog piling on a mass scale is abusive and traumatic, that women being taken advantage of by the male superiors is traumatic, that women being slut shamed for enjoying their sexuality is abusive and traumatic, that being in relationships where your partner is volatile is traumatic, that being coerced and manipulated into relationships with older men is abusive, that being retaliated against in public after revealing you were sexually assaulted is traumatic; so why should none of that apply to her? why is she not allowed to be vocal about being in all those situations without someone telling her she's not gone through actual trauma? why does everyone gets to decide for her whether or not she's actually been abused and if she can or cannot claim victimhood?
accepting taylor's abuse and her victimhood does nothing to take away from yours or that of others. accepting that she's allowed and entitled to discuss her experiences doesn't silence you. you don't have to like her but to dismiss her is disrespectful because when you do that you're not only dismissing her own experiences with abuse and trauma, but that of people in similar situations who empathise and identify with her.
TL;DR: taylor doesn't write about being a victim nearly as much as the people trying to discredit her work say she does, but if she did she would be entirely justified in it because she has been in a lot of situations where she's been victimised and abused by people who knew what they were doing to her and you don't get to decide if she was sufficiently traumatised by them or not. recognising taylor's experience with abuse does nothing to minimise or invalidate yours, two people can be abused in two different ways and doesn't mean one is less entitled to compassion. it's not a competition.
#turning off my anons in a minute because i know this post is gonna ruffle some feathers and i do not want to make it seem like any of what#i said here is up for discussion or debate. it's not. these are all facts and if you feel the need to debate facts then that's on you#everyone is up for believing and supporting victims until the victim is a successful woman who was able to turn the situation on its head#i am just so tired of people refusing to accept her experiences for what they are just because she's successful and rich#anyway....
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ahhh your headcannons are so amazing would you be down to do more? maybe one focusing on red and joels relationship developing in jackson?
also did you ever explain why joel and ellie call her red. or did i just miss it?
Joel wasn't paying attention when Ellie named her those first few days. He was too busy trying to ignore her completely and then was too stubborn to ask. (You may get the reason why in the next story I post).
Here's some more headcanons:
They both don't know how to navigate life in Jackson. Which means they default to continuing what they were doing before and not talk about it
That first night in the house, after bringing Ellie home and that conversation on the hilltop, everything felt stiff. The teenager was still quiet while Joel did his best to get her to open up. She took up residence in the room she stayed in last time while Joel took the other. Red didn't know where she was suppose to go and decided to just take the first floor bedroom
Skin clean from showering, food in her belly, the room felt cold and alone no matter how much she arranged it to make herself feel comfortable.
She woke to the sound of her door opening and then a curse as whoever it was stepped on the random junk she had put in front of it as a makeshift alarm. Joel glared at her, huffed, then told her to get her ass upstairs. So she did, both of them knocking out quickly next to each other.
Ellie eased up a bit more after time, which meant they both breathed a little easier.
It was a few days after settling in that Joel slid the hand on her stomach to under her shirt as they lay in bed. It was like lighting a bonfire. For the first time since they started whatever relationship they were in, he saw her completely naked and mapped out every scar, freckle, and mark on her body. They didn't sleep at all that night.
Both of them are not good at relationships.
Joel hadn't been in a real one since Sarah's mom and as important as Tess was and as long as they were together, he'd put up a wall emotionally between them. Could never give her what she wanted.
Red hadn't been with anyone really since Harry years before in the early days of the outbreak. He was her high school sweetheart and the only man she had been with for years into her 20's until she shot his face off years later.
They don't confront what they are.
But Joel doesn't like the eyes of the men on her or the way he overhears some wondering if she was wild in the sheets too. Talking about taming her. He almost breaks one of their jaws. Tommy has to come up with an excuse for him.
Red finds that settlement life has brought something up she hadn't had to deal with in a long time. Insecurity. She's not young anymore and her appearance wasn't a necessity when you're surviving. Is aware of the differences between her and the other women. Add in her protectiveness of her people and it made her hyper aware how the women in town looked at Joel.
No one considered her more than his partner in a non-romantic sense. The person Joel was taking care of. It rankled her but she couldn't argue against it, couldn't exactly claim him in front of them all. Because she didn't know if he was hers.
Joel however, didn't think it needed explaining that she was his. His what exactly, he wasn't sure. But somehow it all had morphed beyond needs and sex and survival. Girlfriend and partner seemed contrived in comparison. Red was just...his.
Her abrasiveness made the gentle moments all the better. He liked seeing her relaxed and laid out in the sun, body loose. Loved the way her eyes became bright with life anytime music was brought up. The gentle smile and soothing hands when he would wake up from a nightmare, urging him to breathe.
The first time she smiled and laughed at him, not Ellie, he was stunned and may have blushed. She looked like a completely different person and if he could drink the sound of her laughter and joy, he'd be drunk on it every day.
There were some mornings when she slept in later than him and he took the time to count the small stars tattooed on her collarbone and watching her breathe.
It takes months before she shares the cassette tape in her bag. She hands it over to him like she's handing over her first born child. And then she leaves, saying they can give it back when they're finished. He borrows a cassette radio and him and Ellie listen to the mixtape her sister made for her.
When they hear her sing on that tape, the last song on the tape her sister had secretly recorded one band practice, Joel had to clench his teeth and close his eyes at the sudden feeling of wanting to sob for some reason. Because the young girl's voice was full of sunshine and laughter and god, she had been so good and then the apocalypse robbed her of all of that. He can hear hints of his Red in that tape and it feels like they're mourning a loved one. Ellie discreetly wiped away tears.
Tommy sometimes asks what her real name is. Joel didn't know it and told him so and his brother seemed baffled at the notion that he didn't even know the name of the woman he was with. But she did have a name and it was Red or Starshine or Darling.
They don't know her birthday until one day he finds her in the small wildflower covered hill outside the harvest field. There are no cakes, no parties, nothing but her and the flowers and the whispered confession that her family never celebrated birthdays, but her sister would come into her room every morning and surprise her with something if only to celebrate in some way. He sat behind her, legs on either side, and held her before confessing that his birthday was Outbreak day and the day Sarah died.
Ellie's birthday is the only one they plan on celebrating.
She traced her name into his palm one day, but he never speaks it out loud.
When they argue, Ellie knows to take cover in her room. Joel can get loud, uses his height and stature to get his way, but she's used to being smaller. Knows how to stab with words and snap her teeth and not back down. They're both so stubborn and rarely does either of them win.
The makeup sex usually lasts all night
When Maria gives birth, Joel finds the pain of seeing another baby isn't as bad as he thought. That natural part of him kicks back in when he holds the baby boy, smiling softly at the newest member of the Miller family.
Red stays in the doorway, watching them all. She looked a second away from bolting. She doesn't hold the baby.
Sometimes wild animals kill their young. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally. She's not taking any risks.
He comes home a few times and finds her on the couch, one of the older kennel dogs curled into her on the couch and her arm around it. He's old and has been taken off duty which meant the patrols don't care about him. The cold has been hard on the old dog.
She stays in the kennels for almost a whole week when the dog dies from old age, tucked away with the other pups, and he has to carry her back home.
There are moments of seeing the girl she used to be. When they get drunk in the house, Ellie staying over with Tommy to help them with the baby, he manages to make her laugh and even persuades her to dance with him. She has a hard time being gentle but she becomes liquid in his hands, bashful and pink cheeked and a grin so bright it could rival the stars.
She is two different people but he finds he loves both. The girl before whose name was written into his skin late at night and the woman after with sharp teeth and narrowed eyes who Ellie had named in the forest.
#asks#anon asks#joel miller x feral reader#joel miller x oc#joel miller x reader#tlou#the last of us#tlou fanfic#the last of us fanfic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller imagine#raicodoll writes#series: feral#feral reader#these two live in my head all the time#I could list alllllll the things for them#but also trying not to spoil future stories
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Robbery
Summary: Y/N is robbed and filled with panic. Only one person can make her feel better. It helps that he's giving the best hugs.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Word count: 1.5k words
Masterlist
Y/N walks slowly through the nightly streets. Much slower than she usually would, but staring at the phone screen does that to people. A yawn slips past her lips as she absentmindedly follows the street on her way home, not paying attention to traffic and the few passengers as she furiously types out message after message so her friend would finally quit bugging her for details on her relationship. It’s nothing new; everybody knows her boyfriend, the story of how they met, and how it’s going so far. Just one particular person wants to know every teeny tiny bit of information. It’s annoyingly endearing. Y/N doesn’t mind as much as she acts to. She even is a bit flattered; otherwise, she wouldn’t type back, and her best friend knows that. Since the conservation takes all her attention, she’s startled as a rough hand grabs her shoulder, pulling her sideways into a dark alleyway. She squeaks in surprise, her phone clattering to the ground somewhere as she instinctively struggles against the unknown hand.
A second hand presses hard against her mouth, closing up her airways before she can even let out another real scream. Another pair of hands rips hardly at her shoulder. It hurts a lot; something digs hard into her shoulder, the person’s nails scraping hard on her skin, leaving stinging marks.
She whimpers, trying to focus on who’s in front of her. The alley is dark; the light of a streetlight doesn’t reach far into it and barely manages to illuminate the man in front of her. She notices he’s wearing dark clothes, a hood covering his hair. The only thing she can clearly see is that he’s having a beard. With the panic cursing through her veins, she isn’t able to make out anything else.
Another hard tug on her shoulder makes her cry out in pain.
Another hard tug on her shoulder makes her cry out in pain. The tugs get frantic and harder with each passing second, and Y/N’s mind tries to scramble for a conclusion on what they want from her arm. Do they want to rip it off? Dislocate it?
Then it hits her.
The bag!
They want her bag. She doesn’t really know how, but she loosens her body as much as she can while still struggling against the bulky man in front of her. Her bag slips more easily from her arm, but it still hurts a lot. Tears are blurring her vision; her ears are filled with the rushing of her own blood. One of the men says something, but Y/N’s so consumed in her struggle to break free that she doesn’t hear anything. The hands on her arms loosen just a tiny bit.
In her panic, she sobs and tries to really fight the grip she’s in with kicks and punches. She barely registers as few curses as a fist connects hard with her cheekbone. She cries out loud. Loud enough to make her attacker curse even more.
She hopes it was loud enough so someone passing by would notice what’s happening. Her hand cups her hurting cheek, tears now falling freely. She tries to swallow her sobs as the man in front of her threatens her with more punches.
Now that her first shock slowly ebbs away, her mind clears a bit and falls into overdrive to figure out how to get out of this. Spencer told her time and time again what might happen to women walking alone on the streets, and he gave her enough tips to free herself should she ever be alone. Sadly, none of those manage to pop up right now.
The man still holding her screams something in a language she doesn’t know, but it doesn’t seem like he’s talking to her, though he does have a knife in his hand. The bit of light reflects on it. Another rush of panic and adrenaline pushes through her body. Her instinct for survival kicks in, and with what little power she has, she takes all her bravery and kicks her legs as hard as she can against everything she can reach of this man.
And she has luck.
The man groans, his grip leaving her enough so she can struggle free. She doesn’t think about it; she just turns and runs, tears blurring her sight and sense of where she’s going. But nothing matters more to her now than getting away from these men, from the alley, from the streets.
She runs, stumbling over garbage on the ground, and finally reaches the street again, where the streetlights shine on her. She continues running, sobbing, and trying to get home.
Before she knows what’s happening, she collides with something that quickly holds her. “No! No, let me go! Let me go!” She struggles again, fearing being caught again, and this time, they might actually kill her. She hopes someone will notice her distress and come to her rescue, but she notices that just a few people are around, none of them looking at her.
“Hey, hey! Y/N, it’s me!”
“No, please...” She’s now really sobbing, the words not registering in her mind. All she feels are these hands and her hurting cheek and shoulder. All she hears are screams and running footsteps. “No, no…” She struggles again at hearing people come closer. “Y/N!” The hands tighten, making her whimper but the voice… the voice is soft, pleading. “Look at me, please. It’s me. It’s Spencer.”
“S-Spence?” Her eyes rise slowly, hope filling her mind until she sees the face in front of her. It’s blurry, but the scheme she can see resembles him. Fluffy hair, concerned façade, tall. A new series of sobs leave her lips, but this time of relive and security. If Spencer is here, then she’s safe. She entirely falls into his arms, this time willingly accepting the hands on her body, holding and comforting her. “What happened, sweetheart?” Running footsteps come closer, someone shouts, and Y/N instantly tenses, sobbing in panic again, hands clinging to Spencer’s shirt. Spencer seems to notice because, in a flash, he spins them around, so Y/N leans against the brick wall of the house beside them, and Spencer leans over her, still comforting but also shielding her from prying and searching eyes. “Shh, it’s okay; I got you,” Spencer whispers silently and soothing into her ear. Hands rub softly over her back as the footsteps grow louder and closer. Only to go past them and further away. All her power leaves her then. Her knees buckle under her weight, but Spencer is there, holding her up and slowly guiding her down onto the ground.
“It’s okay; I got you. You’re safe now.”
She doesn’t know how long they sit there like this. She soaks up every touch Spencer provides her and listens to his heartbeat as he guides her head against his chest to comfort her further. She only really registers what’s happening as lights flash in front of her. Someone’s kneeling beside her and Spencer, talking to him, other people walk around. She looks up at Spencer and is met with his soft brown eyes. “Hey, there you are.”
“Spence? What…”
“I called Derek, and he got an ambulance. You panicked pretty badly and wouldn’t react to anything. Also, police are here to sort through what happened.”
“Oh.” Her eyes wander from him to the man kneeling beside her, only now really noticing his paramedic uniform. “Hey, sugar. Can I look at your cheek real quick? It looks quite painful.” She nods, but her grip on Spencer tightens as the paramedic slowly reaches forward.
Assessing her cheek and shoulder takes only a few more minutes, but most time is consumed as Y/N struggles to hold onto Spencer as the paramedic suggests taking her to the hospital just to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. It needs Spencer almost to carry her to the gurney and load her at all times so she’s calm enough to get transported. The rest of the dive and what follows goes by in a blur.
It's only hours later that Y/N’s lying in a hospital bed, the saline line connected to her arm and Spencer right next to her, letting her cuddle up to him. Her eyes are droopy, heavy with exhaustion and fatigue from the leaving adrenaline. Spencer seems content to just hold her, caressing her arm while whispering facts about robberies and injury recovery into her ear to softly lull her to sleep.
She knows there will be nightmares as soon as her head starts procession the events of this night, but for now, Y/N is content just lying there with the love of her life.
#Spencer Reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer x you#reader insert#Criminal Minds#Yuulina writes
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