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lolita-lollipop · 5 months

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broken glass

UVOGIN X READER

warnings: yandere(stalking implied), reader is not okay, bad upbringing, kidnapping.

Kinda long but it’s okay

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Ever since you were nothing but a child, the world had chosen to bring you misfortune. A dead mother, a father who is would love you if alcohol didn’t exist, a lack of friends, or family, or anybody who cared.

Your life was an endless cycle of misery and misfortune. You were cursed with the worst luck possible.

As a girl you were bullied, living in a small town the knowledge that your mother was killed brutally spread fast, and the kids at school would take anything to fuck somebody up. It only got worse when your dad did nothing to stop it. So you grew up an outsider, somebody completely alienated from the rest of the people your age.

The worst part about it, was that there was nothing you could do to fix it. You were strong enough to fight them back and win, nor were you smart enough to get them caught by the schools or their parents. So you had to live with it.

Your unlucky tendencies carried with you all the way into adulthood. You had somehow managed to get into a good college, miles and miles away from your small hometown, where your past couldn’t follow you. But by that time you had no clue how to socialize like a normal person, so you only made a few friends in your first year. Even so, your life was going better than it ever had, you had more friends than you’d ever accomplished to make in your childhood, your roommate cared for you, being much older and much wiser. And you were happy.

Then, you got a call. From the exact person you had been avoiding since you stepped foot out of that awful town. That awful place.

“Y/n… I’m sick” your father sounded older, his voice was scratchy and weak now. Probably from the endless amount of cigarettes he smoked, you knew that your dad would never call you unless he actually needed you. He hadn’t even tried to contact you since you left, barely caring enough to send you a happy birthday text. You were a last resort to him, that much you knew for certain.

“And.”

“I need you to come back. To come home. My legs, my legs don’t work anymore. Please baby…I miss you.” You could hear the lies dripping from every word he spoke, that’s the sweet tone you had only ever heard from your father when he wanted something. Usually it was something as minuscule as money or whiskey or weed. Like usual, he knew you didn’t know how to say no to him when he dangled that ghost of affection in your face. And like usual, you chased after it like an idiot.

That’s what you were, an idiot. You knew ut, your father knew it. Who would go back to a life of misery, back to a town filled with only sad memories, of pain. Who would be stupid enough to fall for the manipulation of an old man who barely raised you? You would.

So, you packed your stuff up from your dorm, opting for the online classes your college offered. And prepared for the long drive home in an old car you bought for half the already low price.

And here you were. Standing in your local grocery store , in your pajamas, trying to decide if you had enough money for snacks for the drive home. Bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, a heavy weight pulling down on your shoulders as you accepted your fate, doomed to a small town full of bullies and lying snakes.

The melancholy of your situation weighed down on you, showing on your face, the frown lines deepening as you sucked yourself deeper into a depressive black hole. Blankly staring at the small bags of corn chips and popcorn, you let your shoulders sag. Exhaustion reading on your posture. You didn’t know how long you were standing there, nor did you care. Not until a string band tapped your shoulder a few times, sending your head to snap up, and your eyes to snap out of it.

“You alright there doll? Ya look a little bit… dead” a gruff voice spoke, it was scratchy and rough. Not in the way your fathers was (withered with age and years of vices), but natural. Husky. Pulling yourself up from your spacing out, you straightened your back, screaming your neck up to see him. The man was fucking giant, taller than anybody you had ever seen before, with tattoos speckling his neck and arms. You stood there for a few moments, staring in awe at the man whom you hadn’t realized was actually pretty terrifying in person. Maybe you were just tired, or stressed, or scared, but the way he stared made you want sink into your own skin and disappear. It was unsettling, how his stare weighed down on your shoulders and pulled you back away from him.

“Uhh- Yeah man. I’m good.” You spoke in your quiet voice, pulling your shoulder as far away from his hand as you could. You sent him a tight lipped smile, and returns to your decision between what bagged snack you would pick. You tried to ignore him, who stayed put in his spot next to you despite your obvious dismissal to his advance on a conversation.

You spotted him in your peripheral vision, staring at you. That heavy feeling never left you, and the longer the giant man stayed there, the heavier and heavier it weighed down.

“The popcorn is gross here. It comes stale even in a sealed bag. I wouldn’t get it if ya don’t wanna feel sick tommorow” he spoke again, leaning down to be at your eye level. You glanced back at him, remaining indifferent despite your ever-quickening heartbeat. His eyes were still focused on yours, while your pen glanced over his physical appearance.

It wasn’t just his height that made yoh hneasy, he was wide in a muscular way, with a beard that put the men of your hometown to shame. There were slight twinges of Greg throughout his long hair, and while he was well kept and smelled nice, he had messy, almost unhinged undertone. And yoh had managed to gather all of that without even talking to him much. You gave another right smile, before throwing the chips back and placing the popcorn in your basket (doing it almost to spite the man) among the advil and energy drinks. You almost missed the way his eyes scanned over your cart. Almost.

“Thanks” with that, you were off, trudging your way to the front of the store with your basket in tow, you heard a pair of heavy footsteps behind you, and the cashier glanced up for a couple seconds. A recognizable look of fear flashed on her face for no longer than a moment, before the bells of the front doors let out a cheery jingle. And the man was gone.

The repetitive beep of the checkout machine rang through the storefront, as the woman made no move to strike up a conversation with you, her eyebags sinking almost worse than your own. You had almost worked here at some point, when you first arrived to the big city. You were glad you didn’t now, as you didn’t want to be subjected to whatever this pooor woman clearly had been through.

She just kept beeping through your groceries, bagging them up, and setting them off to the side for you to grab. When she was finally finished she placed the pricing machine down and stared at yoj like she was waiting for something, you pulled your card out of your pocket and gave it to her, but she immediately handed it right back. You sighed, partially in confusion and partially of exhaustion. Of all times, now was not the moments for somebody to mess with you, at two AM at a stupid grocery store. You stared right back as she held the card out to you, waiting for you to grab it.

“He paid for your shit. Just take it”

Huh

Strange.

———

That night you went home with a weird feeling in your stomach, you know when something feels like it’s gonna go wrong? Yeah. That. You chose to blame it on your father, knowing that you would not be met with a joyful arrival home.

The feeling stuck with you all along the drive to your little stupid house in the middle of nowhere, the popcorn you had bought did actually end up being gross, but it didn’t change the satisfaction you got from denying that man of you following his advice. Your radio was cutting in and out, your car was on the verge of breaking down, and your ac didn’t work anymore, leaving you sweaty and sticky in your car.

You weren’t wrong in assuming that it wouldn’t be a happy “welcome home”, it would’ve been nice yeah, but it wasn’t a surprise when you pulled up to your house and there was no short outside. The dead grass of your front yard, and withering plants of what once was your guarden spoke for itself how your father had been taking care of the property. Leafy vines had started to overtake the front wall of your home, the place looked abandoned. Sad.

After a few deep breaths of preparation for whatever fight that was about to come, you hopped out of your truck and began the short truck to your front door. The small glass frame above it was smashed with many small cracks across the surface.

It was sad really. The house once looked somewhat presentable, none of the houses in the area looked to be well kept or highly perfected in the visual category, they never looked that way, but at least you could tell it was a home for someone whether it be the old lady next door with kids who don't care about her and more debt she could handle, or the couple across the street you used to hear screaming at each other through the night. Somebody really lived in those homes, your house looked like an empty shell.

The pavement leading up to the front door was cracked and probably permanently stained with dirt or paint or blood or alcohol, the little garden you used to try to keep alive while you were little was shriveled and blackened by the sun, no lights were on in the house, and it was dead silent. You hated this place, you hated that you were back here, you hated that you still cared for this empty pit of shame and misery of a home. Cared for a man that had hurt you so very many times.

Approaching the door, you didn't even care to knock or ring the bell, the electricity in your house had long been cut off so it wouldnt matter, and if your father was expecting you he wouldnt mind if you just walked in. It was your house, anyway. Placing your hand on the doorknob, you let a deep breath calm down your running heart and pushed it open.

…

Unsurprisingly, the house was dead silent, a creak resonating through the open space as the noise bounced wall to wall. You could hear your heartbeat as you walked over the rest of the broken glass from the window, leaving quiet crunches under your feet. Just breathing the air in your home sent awful memories of childhood to race across your brain, it smelled like your dad, like alcohol and cigarettes and unhappiness and anger. It even looked miserable in here, almost just as bad, if not worse, than outside.

Flicking on your phone flashlight, little flecks of broken glass reflected the light, they were scattered across the entire house, maybe from the broken front window, maybe from other windows in the house. Your dad was never one for cleaning, knowing him he must've gotten upset and broken a couple. With no one else to clean it, he probably left it there. That's how he is, how he's always been. Why did you love him? How stupid were you?

“Dad?” you called, but it echoed through the home. You now realize just how empty it truly was, no more furniture was scattered here or there or anywhere, it was just empty and sad. Fitting. Really fucking fitting.

“Dad? You called me?” You called once more, still only getting the creaks of the old house in return. You took another deep breath, the smell was starting to get to you, this was supposed to be easier for you now, you were an independent woman now, and the smell of your childhood home shouldn't have you spiraling like it did. You shouldn't have come here.

“I drove all the way out here for you. If you weren't gonna show you could've just called me. Go to hell, asshole.” still awaiting an answer. You knew he wasn't here, and you certainly knew it was stupid to talk to an empty house, but you wasted gas and good money for this. Wasted money on a man who didn't even care enough to show his face. Wasted money to go back to a life you've been clawing to escape from.

You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the tears start to roll down your cheeks.

It hurt to be here, genuinely, the floors felt like they were trying to soak you up and suffocate you, the walls felt like they were closing in, and the ceilings felt like they were slowly crushing you. What were you supposed to do? You spent so long running away from this place, how could you let yourself be dragged back here, especially for no reason?

Your eyes fell to your feet, sucking in air as best as you could, you tried your hardest to keep your soft cries from turning into sobs. There wasn't anybody to hide your tears from, but it felt wrong, you shouldn't let yourself be this upset. You know.

Your cries halted when you spotted a dark patch of carpet in between the space where your feet were planted, not tears or water or even alcohol, it was bright red. Blood, and not the kind that's gone brown because it's been sitting for so long. This was new, recent blood. The dead silence of the house now had you frozen in spot. Could somebody have broken in? Your eyes followed a now obvious trail of spots leading toward your mom's old bedroom.

They slept in different rooms before she died, whether it was because they hated or other or were scared of each other (or both) he never went in there. Never.

You should leave. Shouldn't you? You should leave, he's not your problem anymore, he abandoned you when you were little, and kicked you to the curb. He deserved whatever was coming to him, he had it coming. You should leave, you should leave, you should leave, you should leave.

…

But you can't.

Even though you were actively willing to run out the front door, you just couldn't find it in you to leave. Pathetic. You knew, but this is how it was, this is how it was always meant to be. He calls and you answer, no matter how fucked up it was.

So, instead of making a haste bolt for the door or any of the broken windows, you slowly crept closer and closer to the bedroom where you said goodbye to your mother, your breath was shallow and unmanageable, almost worse than your uncontrollable heartbeat, whatever was behind the door was surely not pretty.

It took you a few moments to work up the courage to even touch the doorknob, hand quivering along the way there. You waited, the last time you were in this room was over 10 years ago, you couldn't even remember what it looked like, what your mother looked like. You were being stupid weren't you, it was just a room, probably empty by now, furniture either stolen or sold like the rest of the house. inhaling, you twisted, and pushed the door open.

To reveal… absolutely nothing. Just an empty room with the same exact smell as the rest of the house, a puddle of blood sat in the middle of the room, but nobody, no person or animal or thing that could bleed. Just an empty, meaningless room. Just like the rest of the house. You let out a sigh of relief at the uneventfulness of the failed search, that wasn't so bad, you were fine.

Were you? A loud creak echoed through the short hallway behind you, and you made a motion to turn around.

Hands were on you before you could even breathe again. One covering your mouth, and one firmly planted on your shoulder. Huge hands, bigger than your fathers for sure, calloused and strong, scarily strong. Whoever this was smelled familiar, vaguely familiar, not like someone you knew closely. The shock from him grabbing you forced your phone to fall out of your grip. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god

You should have gone home, you should've cursed out your father and left. You shouldn't have been curious or caring or kind… you lived in a bad neighborhood, people died left and right, and the police couldn't give less of a shit what happens here. You were going to die, you were going to die in the same house you grew up in, the same house you cried and hurt and screamed in. What a sad ending, to think you were finally starting to get your life on somewhat of a track, only to die at the hands of a stranger. Fuc-

“Stop thinking so hard, I’m not gonna hurt you” a gruff voice spoke behind you, deep and dark and powerful. You started crying the second he spoke, your heart beating faster than your body should be able to take. Whoever this was, was not somebody you would ever want to mess with, they sounded more authoritative than you could ever even wish to be. You couldn't stop your heart from clenching out of fear, couldn't stop the tears from dripping down your face, couldn't breathe right.

“You don't need to cry… I said I wasn't gonna hurt you” One of his fingers strayed from your mouth to wipe tears away, but it did nothing to stop fear from overtaking your senses or forcing out sobs and cries from your lips. You were positive that your entire body was quivering and shaking, you couldn't feel it, too scared to think about anything other than death, but you knew it was naturally happening. You heard him let out a sigh from behind you (even his breathing was harsh and rough) before his arm hooked under your knees and pulled you flush against him.

“I’ve never been this close to you before, I’ve been waiting for this one for a while. We met when we were kids ya know, you looked so… empty, miserable, tired, fucking empty. You still do, you're just better at hiding it. I've been watching, it since then. You're just too nice for your good.” your cries increased as he spoke, you didn't struggle or scratch or scream, just cried. He was too strong for it to matter if you did.

He chuckled as you kept crying, by now he had begun to walk to the front door.

“Don't make a scene, if anybody notices, they're dead.” The words he spoke were so nonchalant, but still so terrifying that it had you struggling to breathe. He broke the front door open with his foot and pushed his way through the doorway, he hit his head on the top as he went through, that must be why the glass was broken.

You were frozen in his arms as he continued to carry you, the sun now lit up your surroundings, showing exactly who your captor was, now it made sense why you mildly recognized him. He was the man from the grocery store, you should've known by the way he spoke, you should've recognized that voice anywhere. HE caught your gaze as you stared at him, giving you a toothy smile. His canines were scarily sharp, and now that you can get a closer look this man was even more terrifying. His bear, his eyes, his teeth, everything about him screamed danger. You stiffened as you stared at him, why why why why why why why You shouldn't have fucking come here.

“Quit looking so scared of me. God you're stiff as a board, I forgot how jumpy you were. It's been a while since I’ve seen you this scared, not since the incident at the coffee shop-” Who does he think he is? Talking just like he knows you like he's had any kind of conversation with you before that wasn't about popcorn at a stupid stupid grocery store. What were you supposed to do? You fully believed that he was the type of man to kill anybody who tried to stop him, even then nobody would (people in this neighborhood learned to keep their mouths shut), and he was much much stronger than you. You just… you just had to give up. There was no winning, not against him, not here.

The thought alone made you want to curl up and die.

Pathetic.

“Don't worry though, You're scared and I get it. But you'll get used to me. I’ll treat you real good, buy you things you’ve never had before. “ Your breath hitched and you quivered as he continued to blabber on and on about what kind of house he had, he tucked you into the passenger seat of some kind of black fancy car, got into the driver's seat, and proceeded to drive away—no more explanation than that. You couldn't do anything more than stare at him with those wide eyes of yours, he was watching you too intensely for you to try and throw yourself out of the car, and even then you doubted you would get very far before he caught you.

So you awkwardly sat in the leather seats of the fancy-ass car, tears still freely flowing as you sat, waiting for this man to take you to some alleyway and murder you. You picked at your fingernails, eyes darting around the interior of the car, it was clean and neat and looked to be stupidly expensive, everything that man wasn't. Who is that man anyway?

Almost as if reading your mind, the man brought a hand up to wipe the tears from your face, only to end up cupping your cheek and staring at you for a while as he drove.

“The name’s Uvogin, and I’m madly in love with you”

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Hey pookie s I’m back, this has been in my wanna write list for a LONG time. But it’s now so it’s fine. I’m kinda weak in the knees for the entire phantom troupe so tell me what you think.

Sorry for the long delay:) but I’m back now

Have a great day today, bye!

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soaringwide · 1 month

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PAC: Love reading - In what way are you self-sabotaging this relationship and how can you change course?

Today I wanted to do a Pick a Card love reading and focus on the ways you are self-sabotaging a specific romantic relationship, with a second part focusing on how to change course.

The idea is that sometimes we get in our own way and we can't see the pattern. The whole point of this reading is to realize what it is you're doing that is blocking yourself and how to better act in order to improve this relationship.

How does that work?

Take a moment to recollect yourself, breathe, close your eyes if you need to, focus on the moment. Look at the 4 pictures and select the one that draws you in the most. Not the one you think looks cooler but the one that creates that pinching feeling inside of you. The one that makes you feel it has something to say.

It is possible to feel attracted to more than one pile, just as it is possible to only find parts of the reading relevant. Remember that this reading is meant for many people so it won't be perfectly applicable to your situation.

PILE 1

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: IV of Pentacles + Dreams + Erotic Bliss + 9 of Pentacles Rx; Strength + Resentments + Loving Yourself + X of Cups Rx; X of Swords + Renewal Rx + Unrequited Love Rx + V of Wands Rx

Your pile has intense erotic feelings, perhaps even dreams, about this person, but reality doesn't match the height and perfection of your desire, in the sense that it exists mostly in your head. It makes you feel diminished and lacking and you retreat within yourself, shielding yourself behind your walls. You may be holding onto your sensual daydreams and enjoying them in private and you may find some bliss that way, but it is also very frustrating. Regardless there is a big sexual blockage here that's stopping you from expressing your desire towards your person, and it seems a big part of it stems from your own relationship with your body and sensuality.

You feel unsatisfied emotionally as well, but I think this stems from the fact that you are lacking in the self-love department. You rely too much on external validation for your sense of self-love and when you don't get that gratification, you feel rejected which leads to resentments. Again there's the imagery of building a wall around you, this time covered in barbels. You don't allow yourself to be vulnerable, keeping bottled up emotions surrounding rejection hidden within.

This is shown in the next message as well. You have this deep rooted fear of being stuck in an unrequited love, of being rejected and humiliated. I have this image in mind of a boat filling up with water and you keep trying to empty it but there's a hole and it keeps filling up at the same rate. There is no renewal (healing of yourself) possible because you're not fixing the hole and it keeps you in misery, in a state of constant struggle. There is also a component of comparing yourself to others and assuming you're not good enough for your person.

How to change course?

Cards: Knight of Swords + Forgive; 2 of Cups + Fear Rx; The Moon + Relieved Rx; Magic

I think part of you reaaaaally wants this relationship with your person but you're not accepting it. You need to understand that you're doing nothing wrong, that it is not shameful, it is normal and natural, beautiful and human even. You may be feeling guilty about this situation because you FEEL you're doing something wrong, and you really need to forgive yourself. Try to focus on the beauty of it instead.

You also need to get over your fear of intimacy. I see the two figures of the two of cups approaching each other mutually. It's a beautiful and sweet card, it's a card of union and happiness, and you know that's what you want, but you're so scared of it that you won't let it happen.

The overall message is to examine your subconscious for biases and shadows, in particular when it comes to fear of intimacy and sexual shame, so that you can relieve that pressure and come forward in love. Perhaps for some of you it stems from a lack of experience, so you might want to educated yourself from trusted sources to help you get a healthier and more balanced picture in your mind. But overall nothing will beat learning yourself, but you got to make way to learn without judgement and shame.

Desire is a beautiful power of nature. It is magical. It is yours. Stop underestimating or undermining it, or thinking it is not yours to have because it's not true. I'm getting that for some of you it might be stemming from religious trauma and shame regarding sex, so you might want to look into that as well in order to heal.

PILE 2

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: 6 of Cups Rx + Sorrow Rx; Page of Swords Rx + Fear of Abundance + Change; 8 of Swords Rx + Intuition Rx + Page of Cups Rx + Relieved Rx

The way you are self-sabotaging is, first, by not being able to let go of past pain surrounding love and to cling onto the past. Perhaps you are nostalgic for sweet memories that are long gone, something that felt pure and simple and that you feel you may never find again.

I feel that you somewhat lost your sense of adventure. You overthink about your past loss and make the false logical conclusion that you'll never receive anything good in matters of love, or that no change is possible. You are stuck in a negative, overly defensive intellectual stance which became like some type of reflex you have a hard time detaching from to progress on your journey.

It's similar on the emotional side since you seem to be over protective of your old feelings. Like, the past seemed so great you feel like nothing will ever compare. You can't seem to release and accept that something new and beautiful in a different way may arise. Which means you have a hard time opening yourself to new messages of love. The curiosity is buried under a pile of fear.

On that note, you are not listening to your intuition at all because it is so polluted by your negative spiraling thoughts. You feel disarmed but you don't see that you have everything that you need to break free. To be more precise, you know yourself, you know what you've been through, but you get lost in the maze of your own mind. And if we add the blocked feelings you hold onto, I see that the problem you have is not so much about external things but rather, the way you deal with your thoughts and emotions.

How to change course?

Cards: The Emperor Rx + Nurture Rx; King of Cups Rx + Your are Deserving Rx; The Lovers + Creativity Rx; 3 of Wands Rx + Anxiety + Manic; The Lover (oracle)

Interestingly, you got a lot of swords in the struggle part but none in the advice part, which makes me thing that the first things you need to do is get out of your head a bit.

With the Emperor, there is this idea that you need to become a good ruler to yourself. Right now you are some type of old tyran that keeps talking about the old times without caring for the present. You need to nurture your present needs, be kind and empathetic with yourself and take the action needed for your own good. How would you feel if someone treated you the way you are treating yourself?

With the King of Cups, there is an extra-emphasis on the realm of emotions. I think that part of why you emotionally stay stuck in the past is that you lack self-worth making you feel undeserving of love.

The Lovers popped up but I think it talks about yourself, about how you need to merge the gap within your own heart. It may seem like a convoluted and difficult task that requires skills and experience, but really, you just need to come forward as you are and communicate where you are at. Be true, be metaphorically naked in front of the other and let them see you for who you are.

Lastly, you are being warned about where you're putting your mental energy. It's like as I said, part of you is stuck in the past, but the part of you that focuses on the future is looking at it wrong. You're feeding it with distorted information, and this creates a storm of anxiety and erratic thoughts that keeps on escalating with no end in sight.

Last advice you got the Lover again (oracle deck) with the sentence ''it is safe to surrender to the good feelings''. So to wrap up with what i was writing earlier, rather than follow your fears and regrets, the best course of action is to follow your bliss! Feed your mind and heart with sweet things to create the change you're wishing for.

PILE 3

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: Ace of Swords Rx + Unknowing + Shame Rx; Empress Rx + Courage Rx; 8 of Swords Rx + Intrusive Thoughts; Page of Wands Rx + Bottled up + Manic Rx

There are some areas of uncertainty in this relationship that makes you feel confused about the situation. It's taking your power away a bit and makes you feel like you don't know what to think or how to act. But I think some of this has to do with a lack of communication that makes you think that this situation is unexplainable where it could actually be if you stepped out of that stance. I feel like you would feel ashamed to bring some subjects up but it's a faulty reasoning.

You lack the courage to express your needs and boundaries, to speak up about what would make you happy and fulfilled. I think you know clearly what you want and what you need but you're just not defending that and you're letting yourself get treated differently than you would need.

I think it makes you feel powerless, like you have no control of the situation, but you don't see that it's the result of a very deeply ingrained pattern of thinking that you can totally untangle if you put in the work.

Lastly, I think this lack of being able to stand up for your needs is leading to a lot of frustration and bottled up feelings that may result in outbursts of anger or fights that may look a bit erratic from another perspective. You might have a tendency to jump to conclusion when it's not what you need in the moment.

How to change course?

Cards: 10 of Swords + Creativity Rx + Wounded Heart; 4 of Swords Rx + Love; 5 of Cups + Trauma Rx; Page of Cups + Anxiety Rx + Forgive Rx

I think a big message is to air out your worries, talk about them or express them in one way or another so they can get resolved. You might even benefit from therapeutic art making I'm getting. But yeah you've got a lot of pain to process and you need to start working on that if you haven't already, and you might want to reach out for help in order to speed up the process.

Love can and will play a part in your healing journey, but you shouldn't have to hide you you are in order to live this love. Find those who inspire you to blossom in order to grow together and heal each other in an act of reciprocity. You need to learn to be authentic and not hide because you are scared you are going to be judged for something that is not your fault. Pay close attention to how someone makes you feel after you left them. Do you feel at peace or at war? Learn to listen to that feeling and you'll be guided towards what you need.

PILE 4

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: The Chariot Rx + Wish Fulfilled + The Protectress Rx; The Empress + Hope + 2 of Pentacles Rx + Energy; Judgement + Shame + 5 of Cups Rx + 8 of Swords

The first message is that you are extremely eager to see your wish fulfilled in exactly the way you want, not allowing things to run their natural course. In that situation, the desire to be in full control is not the way to go about it. It seems that this situation is winding path full of detours, and you try too hard to rectify the trajectory instead of going along the ride. The reason for this is that you're trying to protect yourself because you're scared of the pain inflicted by disappointed love, or love that has no place to go, but you don't see that this over-protective behavior is the very thing that inflicts you pain.

The second message talks about depletion, about an imbalance within yourself that stops you from standing in the full power of the Empress, who embodies grace, abundance and safety. The oracle card ''Hope'' is quite signification here, as it shows a hand crossing fingers to make a wish, illuminated by rays of light. I think that the very thing you're not allowing in your garden is hope. If we link that to the previous message, it's your lack of hope that make you frantically try to do things in a specific way, because you will like if you don't act NOW you will lose everything, because you lack faith that you will get this love in your own time. I don't think this hope is totally dead though otherwise you would have given up, but you don't let it blossom enough, you're stepping all over it in your awkward dance to juggle too many things at once.

The third message talks about your struggle to overcome your own limiting patterns and beliefs. I think you've been through past losses and defeats regarding love and you feel somewhat cursed regarding that area of your life. Like things are never going to get better and you're doomed to be alone forever. You feel really ashamed about this situation, thinking there must be something wrong with you. The card shows a hand floating in the emptiness, with an open eye crying. It's like, you have so much to give but in so much pain that all that flows are tears. You feel isolated and powerless and you direct that towards yourself. You feel like you're unable to see or act and that creates immense tension within yourself because you want to break free, but you're doing it wrong by resisting this transformation that needs to happen within yourself first and foremost.

How to change course?

Cards: Temperance + Reflection + Optimism Rx + Space, time and self; Ace of Swords + Anger Rx + Slow Down + 4 of Swords Rx + The Servant Queen; Yin and Yang; 10 of Wands + Knight of Cups

I think you would benefit from being more patient and let things flow more. Let things progress gradually. There is this idea that you are guided towards what you need and you need to learn to listen to this guidance more. Spend time thinking about what it means to you and develop that, find that inner balance and harmony, that gentle optimism. Things will grow in due time.

You have a tendency to be restless and this is exhausting you. So I see that one big thing you need to do as well is being mindful of your energy levels and take time to rest, cool and slow down. The clarity you need will happen naturally once the clouds have parted and you're in a better headspace. Right now you're just going round and round making dust, let it settle.

You are worthy of love, of receiving beautiful things, you need to understand and believe that. Especially when we saw that the patterns and beliefs that were holding you back where rooted in those past losses, you really need to heal that, not just for this love connection, but for your own well-being.

Really there's a strong overarching message that you need to trust your guidance more, to switch from an erratically active mindset to a more receptive and flowy one. The goal is to balance both energies, not to be one or the other exclusively.

Once you unburdened yourself, you'll be able to express and let your feelings flow without restrain. I think that's the goal for you and what you're not able to do at the moment. But I was shown what comes before that because you can't run into this with the mindset you currently have. You really need to shift it before you can embody the Knight of Cups.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #love tarot reading #love pick a card #love pick a pile #tarot community #tarotblr #tarot

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evalevaeva · 7 months

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Strangers | Sieun x reader

; in which Sieun values his academics over his partner.

warning: argument, breaking up, ignoring.

eva notes! : yo this kinda hit home a little.. :] enjoy

The day seemed like the usual days. Youngbin was busy messing with Sieun and you were sitting in the seat next to him. You took the chance to glance at your significant other next to you as his ears were filled with music and the tip of his pen busy on the notebook infront of him.

"Sieun, Sieun, Sieun!" You tried to whisper-shout to get his attention as he finally took off his earpieces and turned to you, his body language calm as he waited for you to continue.

"Isn't Miss Yeon returning the test papers from the weighted assessment tests the other day?" you asked him as he nodded, his eyes still as dull as when you first met him in school.

It definitely did not go unnoticed. His cold demeanour signalled that his stress levels were over the roof once again, and he definitely was not in the mood for Youngbin's shennanigans or anything happening today.

"Everyone, please return to your seats. Let's begin with checking our assessment papers," Ms Yeon began as she walked over to the podium at the front of the class with stacks of papers, marked with red ink and big numbers on the front, the total scores.

"Miss Yeon! Who got the highest score?" A voice questioned as another student scoffed loudly, "God, you're asking that as if Sieun hasn't topped the last 20 exams since we entered this school!".

Miss Yeon took a look at the stack of papers infront of her as she smiled.

"Actually, we have a new top scorer this examination, Y/N achieved the highest score for this assessment!" Miss Yeon said with a smile as a round of applause was heard.

You looked around, ears red as you'd never have expected to be the top scorer, much more against your own boyfriend.

That was until a bang was heard.

You turned to see Sieun, hands in fists as his eyes burned holes into your face. You've never seen him this angry before, even when Youngbin had thrown a sandal at him.

"Sieun, are you alright?" Miss Yeon asked as Sieun turned to her with a blank face, and responded plainly, "Yes Miss Yeon."

You ran up to catch up with your boyfriend after school as you realised he had left without you, walking to the cram school that you both entered back in your first year of high school.

"Sieun!" You shouted as you ran to reach him, but realised he had his earpieces in, causing him to not hear you. You tapped his shoulder but was met with no response as he continued walking as if you were never there, as if you never existed. You grabbed your phone from your skirt pocket and pressed on his contact on your phone.

"Sieun, are you mad? Let's talk it out?" You texted and sent the message as you followed behind him to the bus stop to the Cram School.

Even at Cram School, he blatantly ignored you as his eyes only switched between the notebook and the large blackboard at the front of the room, ignoring any signs of you trying to get his attention. You tapped his arm, tried to move his notebook, and tried to hold his hand, and still he did not respond. It was as if he changed overnight as it was. . . terrifying to say the least.

"Sieun!" You called out to him as he walked down the path from the cram school to the bus stop to go home.

You'd had enough of him ignoring you the whole day and act as if he didn't know you. This needed to stop.

"Sieun! Stop it." You stated as he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you.

"What do you want?" He asked for the first time in the many hours you've spent together in school and cram school and all the time in between.

"You blatantly ignored me the whole day, and you have the audacity to ask me what I want? What's wrong with you? You ignored my messages, ignored me, ignored my existence, and treating me like trash. God, even trash would have to be picked up and discarded," you spoke as he stared blankly at you, as if he was, bored.

"You did this," He stated as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Did what exactly?" You questioned as his gaze became sharp.

"You knew. You knew that this was everything I had. My studies, my grades, they're all I have. Yet, you take them away from me like you don't even know me," He spat out as your jaw dropped from the absolute audacity he had to say what he said.

"You think I chose to score higher than you? Well, sorry, mister arrogant, but I studied just as hard as you did, and you knew that. Just because I scored higher than you in one assessment, it gives you the right to treat me like garbage? You're insane," you responded as you tried to remove your gaze from the stranger in front of you.

"Let's break up." Sieun stated as your eyes widened.

"Just like that?" You questioned as he turned, not bothering to answer your question at all.

He wasn't worth it anyway, right? That's what you tried to tell yourself for the next 4 weeks as days passed by like hell. You requested Miss Yeon to change your seat, away from Yeon Sieun. You did not want to associate yourself with such a jerk, and your academics shouldn't suffer because of a piece of trash like him.

A new student joined the class, and soon, Sieun was buddies with Sooho and Beomseok. Maybe a month ago, it would hurt seeing him having company with other people other than you, but now you were strangers, nothing more.

#weak hero #weak hero class 1 #yeon sieun #sieun x reader #ahn sooho #ohbeomseok #beomseok #sieun #sieun fic

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runa-falls · 11 months

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cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!”

You don’t.

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes.

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man.

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic.

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.”

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it.

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you.

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain.

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him.

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way).

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met.

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly.

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave.

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour.

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?”

Even her voice is elegant.

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door.

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public.

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain.

Or at least a super-something.

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.”

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits.

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her.

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.”

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct.

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!”

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool.

And then it’s just you.

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here.

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right?

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit.

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him.

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?”

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full.

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it.

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go.

And now he’s leaving you.

So you take your chance.

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying.

Then silence.

How awkward.

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low.

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in.

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space.

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool.

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps.

Little Red?

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #cat and mouse

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ashdreams2023 · 2 months

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Please rough dom!harry james potter smut with AFAB anatomy but he/they pronouns🙏🙏 maybe even like petting or leash/collor if that’s possible but not needed!!:)

Oh wow ok let’s what I can do! (Also this takes place after the war and Harry is the current DADA professor)

Harry Potter x afab reader (he/they)

TW: NSFW, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Angel

Harry took a deep breath then loosened his necktie, then he removed his coat, it was pretty chilly outside and he hated the cold.

A breath escaped his lips when he heard the soft noise coming from the sitting area in his chambers, he knows what it is and it still makes his chest bubble with ease each time.

After taking his boots off his shoes off and walks inside, glancing at the open kitchen where he could see a dirty bowl and a spoon.

He walks into the sitting area where the small tv was playing a cheesy romcom and you laying comfortably on the sofa.

Harry leans on the doorframe and admires your who existence, from your curled toes to the your focused eyes on the tv.

The way you laid on your stomach with your back completely exposed, your skin very untouched, he’s been busy lately and had no chance to mark your body.

The black collar hugged your neck comfortably with leash laying on your back, teasing him unknowingly.

He lets out a breath finally catching your attention, you lifted your head up and smiled seeing that he’s back, you sat up straight and stretched your arms, the air hit your skin and he focuses his eyes on your harden nipples.

"Welcome home" You said softly.

"Hmm, did my Angel miss me?" He said sitting down beside you on the soft sofa, you crawled into his lap like you always do and sat facing him, he gripped your waist tightly, he sighed and laid your body on him.

"What’s wrong? My Angel forgot how to speak? Is seeing your sweet daddy made your brain stop?"

You didn’t say anything and just moved your hips against him, he groaned slightly and pulled your head back by your leash making you whine, not too harsh to actually hurt you but enough to remind you of your place.

"Come on Angel you’re better behaved than this." You whined louder.

Harry moves one of his hands off your waist and finishes your sensitive nipple making your body jerk in his hold "Tell me what you want, use your words"

You stared at his lips with hunger but he wasn’t given you the upper hand, and does know you like it when he makes you beg for it.

"You…want you…inside" You moaned softly, trying desperately to grind against him to get some friction threw the pieces of fabrics.

"Is that what my Angel wants? Me to fill you up with my cock hmm? Make you cum over it? Make you cry?"

"Yes!"

Harry’s eyes darkened and without giving you a chance to register what’s happening you were pinned on the wall with your panties no longer there and you could feel Harry’s hard cock threw his pants pressing against your wet privates.

"Do you promise to be good?"

"I’m always good" you rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You sure?" He squeezes your ass making you squirm, his fingerprints will be visible on your skin for a few days but you weren’t complaining.

"Please..don’t tease me.."

"Only because you used your manners" You let out a breath feeling him mutter a few words and his pants getting unzipped, he moved you slightly, rubbing his hard cock against your hole "Hmm, so ready"

Your mouth opened wide when he entered himself inside, he fit perfectly and he knew how to work your body like an instrument.

He groaned then thrusted up shaking your body.

Your arms warped around his neck tightly and your lips pressed to his neck, he moved faster, not giving you a chance to catch your breath.

"Fuck, don’t you dare stay quiet I know you can be loud" You whined and gasped when he thrusted so hard it knocked what’s left of air in you.

Your chest raised up and down then you pulled away from him, his movements slowed down a little but your hole was still sensitive and your orgasm was on the peak of finishing you off.

Harry moved you too to the other side of the room, he placed you on his desk and pulled you leash, he kissed your lips hungrily then slammed his cock inside you again.

He pinned you on your back and fucked you till your back arched and your orgasm rid your body until it shook.

You closed your eyes and let him finish off inside of you, your body shivered but the feeling of being full was so satisfying.

He took a minute to catch his breath then he lifted you and carried you to the bathroom.

"We both need a shower, you did great" He kissed your temple then laid you in the warm water, you sighed softly.

He took off your caller and kissed neck.

"My beautiful boy did so well"

"I’m your only boy" you mumbled sinking into the water even more.

Harry chuckles "Obviously."

#harry james potter x reader #harry james potter smut #harry james potter #imagine #harry potter requests #harry potter x gender neutral reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter fanfiction

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voxaholic · 1 month

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Character Info For My Bojack Inspired Human Au

Hollywood Losers Au

Val & Vox

-Hollywood’s messiest on and off couple of just about 20 years

-extremely codependent: Val makes messes, Vox cleans them up, that’s how they work

-Vox has a shit ton of spyware on all Val’s phones and a tracker on his car and it’s only partially out of insane possessiveness. Vox’s creepy bullshit has saved Val’s life on occasion

-“Did you hide my fucking guns, Vox?” “Yes! And the fact that you’re even looking for them right now means I’m really glad I did!”

-Met on a set when Vox was still an actor and have been making each other miserable ever sense

-Gossip rags love them. Every piece of info about them is insane

-There are at least three twitter accounts keeping track of whether they are on or off again

-Neither of them would classify the relationship as abusive but from the outside observer, it definitely is

-Val is under the assumption that Vox is happy with their status quo and Vox is, until he isn’t

-Velvette thinks one of them is going to end up killing the other eventually

-they get into a lot of very physical fights. Vox usually comes out worse for wear

-see when a person with a disorganized attachment style and someone with an anxious attachment style get into a situationship…

Val

-43 but still lives and dresses like he’s in his early 20s

-semi washed-up actor that got his start on some sort of law and order-esque tv show

-has bleached and dyed his poor hair far beyond repair but it is still hanging in there somehow

-has had six PR managers quit on him over the last year and a half alone

-personal life goal is to do every drug once

-trying to fill the hole in his heart with hedonism. he thinks it’s working (it is not)

-self identified queer icon

-lots and lots of shallow acquaintances/fuck buddies, very few people he would consider close

-interested in the concept of a pet but every pet he’s ever had has either died of neglect or been taken in by Vox

-outward narcissism hides a deep yawning insecurity that he’s not even fully aware of

-self sabotages a lot

-likes to be taken care of and babied but only by Vox

-retweets his own callout posts on twitter (Vox deletes the retweets but screenshots exist)

-afraid of committing himself to anything

Vox

-45 and dresses like it

-greying early (he says it’s because of Val and Val thinks he’s joking. he isn’t)

-officially Val’s agent but also unofficially, his pr manager because every actual hired PR manager keeps quitting

-a fake bitch who doesn’t give a shit about 99% of people

-unfortunately once he starts giving a shit about someone he can’t really stop giving a shit

-has run several financial scams

-has done so much white collar crime

-gotten Val off for so much shit, like really, so much fucking shit

-briefly a child actor. it ended badly

-apathetic about most things outside of work but fakes it well enough

-always has like 18 different side projects going

-wants to marry Val to finally get some sense of stability in their relationship

-a control freak who needs to know what Val is up to 24/7

-the one who cooks in the relationship. he’s not good at it and Val complains constantly about how bland his food is but he still eats it

-has a blue pitbull puppy named Vark who he loves like a son

-he’s THAT type of dog dad

#Hazbin hotel au #staticmoth #valvox #voxval #hazbin hotel #this will be a fic eventually #human au

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princesscolumbia · 6 months

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Ranma 1/2 Thoughts, Meta Edition

I have consumed...a lot of Ranma 1/2 content.

I mean, this is kinda what happens when you're a repressed transgirl who discovers the manga a year into a marriage that you got into to "fix" being trans and be "a real boy" in a desperate bid to fill the hole that you wouldn't learn for two decades could only be filled by living as your true self.

I've encountered precisely four (4) types of Ranma 1/2 fans in that time:

Transwomen who see Ranma as their idealized expression of the gender experience ("I'm not like this because I want to be, it's a curse. A curse that gives me a smokin' hot body and HUGE tits! But it's tooootally a curse, for realsies! I'll find a cure any day now, see how hard I'm looking? I'm trying sooooo hard to find a cure...")

Transmen who see Ranma as their perfect representation of their gender experience ("I'm a guy, damnit! This body...it's a curse! I hate it and I want nothing better than to be cured, but all sorts of Life Bullshit keeps getting in the way!")

Lesbians who kin either Ranma (butch NB lesbian) or one of their love interests (Akane - comphet closetted butch lesbian, Shampoo - Strong, smokin' hot bad bitch who goes after what she wants, Ukyo - transmasc coded genderfluid NB)

Completely clueless nimrods who miss the FUCKING POINT and are only into the show for the martial arts and think it would be better if Ranma got cured and they stopped having funny stuff happen.

(In case it's not obvious, IMHO the last group are the worst parts of the fandom and need to Go Away. Most of the toxic stuff that exists in R.5 fanspaces is because of this group of assholes which includes the incels that think everything would be better if Ranma just did stuff that's questionable from an ethics and morality perspective and chased after Shampoo because she's the closest thing to a Barbie-doll these closet fascists can allow themselves to fantasize about playing with, completely ignoring that she's a complex character that's a subversive pastiche to the Japanese racist stereotypes of the 1980s.)

I'm not kidding when I say that in the early days of the public Internet (before Facebook and Twitter ruined it for everyone), Ranma 1/2 was the SINGLE largest fandom by a MASSIVE stretch. I once checked my math on this by going to Fanfiction.net (before the massive purges) and brought up the Big List of All Fandoms and right there at the top with a MASSIVE number of fics was Ranma 1/2 by a HUGE margin. It took three fandoms (Star Trek, Doctor Who, and I believe Naruto if I'm recalling correctly) to have their combined total number of fics exceed the number of R.5 fics on FF.net...and that was JUST FF.net. There was an entire separate index (The Penultimate Ranma 1/2 Fanfic Index) that had the single task of listing, not even curating or reading or reviewing, ONLY Ranma 1/2 fanfics. Not fanart, not commentary, no RP blogs or chat transcripts or whatever, JUST fanfics. And only about half of those linked to FF.net, meaning that if you dig up the archives you'll find at least 60% of all fanfics that people had managed to index in the Ranma 1/2 fandom are missing because they were never properly archived and just...faded from the Internet as the public servers and places like Geocities started disappearing. You can find teasing, tantalizing hints of larger works that all we have left, like scraps of ancient papyri revealing a quote from a missing book of the Bible, are single chapters backed up on niche sites that managed to get spider-crawled by Archive.org, but many great works are just...lost. (There's an ero fic called "Playing with Water" that was SUPER hot and featured elements that we have tags for on porn sites but didn't really have proper words for back in the day...but even back when it was first being written finding the thing was hard...and today? Nearly impossible.)

(If you wonder why I'm such an absolute RABID advocate of AO3, this is why)

For me, Ranma will always be the transfemme coded genderfluid hero that we needed in the late 80s and early 90s. We were on the tail end of the AIDS pandemic, and just like COVID-19 there were a bunch of assholes who used it to ride to power and marginalize queer folk. It was easier to do with AIDS, of course, given the absolutely massive numbers of queer cis men and transwomen who contracted it and died. (Sidebar: the reason "L" comes first in "LGBTQIA+" is because it was the Lesbian nurses who were the caretakers of the Gay men who were dying in numbers large enough to be counted as a tragic statistic instead of a mere tragedy) and while the world was starting to acknowledge (again) that gay men was a thing that existed and they weren't actually trying to corrupt the youth, what we now call "transgender" was still listed in the DSM as a mental disorder that required treatment to "cure." According to the cultural majority in damn near every field you can imagine, the Gender Binary was the only way to exist and if you didn't fit neatly into one or the other then you were Damaged™ and had to be Fixed™ for The Good of All People™ (but specifically so cis-het-white folks, usually men, could feel comfy and not be confronted by things that made them feel icky and might have cooties). It's a truism that's treated as a joke that transwomen get into coding and wind up doing IT work in such massive numbers that between us and the furries we ARE the foundation of the modern Internet. And into the fanspaces packed to the brim with closetted AMAB transwomen who hadn't yet had their egg cracked came this plucky martial artist that gets to swap their gender with a splash of water but somehow still winds up the best of the best, the finest martial artist of their generation. (Goku can suck it, Ranma would turn the Kamea-meha right back on the over-muscled, braindead loser with a food fetish and still make it home in time for Kasumi's dinner)

I'm no sociologist, anthropologist, behaviorist, whatever, but I suspect that the reason Ranma Saotome spawned such a large fanbase so early in the modern Internet's history was specifically because the series created a safe space where people could talk about gender issues with a degree of separation that helped strip away the stigma surrounding feeling like you were in the wrong body.

I get why people like the martial arts aspect. I mean, Ranma kills a demigod. This is NOT something to sneeze at. I also understand the transmen who latch onto Ranma as a kin because I get the feeling like you have no control over what your body's doing and you're going through your days in existential dread of what might be dragging you further and further away from what you always knew was right and correct about yourself. It's a terrifying thing and here's someone who (esp. the anime version) IS a guy trapped in a girl's body.

For me, though, and for a LOT of transwomen out there, Ranma is transfemme. And, yes, canonically Ranma states right near the end of the manga that they're both and they kinda forgot about the 'cure' when they had to pick between that and the really important stuff and that they're okay with being fluid ('cause water, gettit?!) about their gender and it's a damn shame this was the 80s 'cause a continuation might wind up showing Ranma embracing being both...

BUT, and this is a transfemme thing, I know, if you continue the parabolic arc of Ranma's character development, the logical conclusion (for us) is that she eventually decides that she's a woman and just lives in her "cursed" form the majority (or all) of the time.

And yes, this is because that's the transfemme story arc. In the manga in some distant part of the multiverse that peers into our universe and for some reason decides to make me the MC (god, that must be a FUCKING BORING manga by our standards, I weep for those fans), my story arc is the gradual progression of uncracked, closetted transgirl to transitioned out and proud transbien mom. At one point I swapped back and forth between gender presentations because it was safer for me to appear in some spaces as the male that they thought I was. Now I would prefer to die before being forced to go back to pretending to be a man again.

Ranma has the choice, and good for them. Until the Kaisufuu is permanently destroyed, even if the "curse" is locked, they have the option of going one way or the other based solely on their own, personal desire. I can't say I'd be comfortable with that option being available. In that theoretical manga where there's a reboot that gives me a condition like Ranma's, I'd probably wind up destroying the equivalent to the Kaisufuu just because of the threat to my mental wellbeing it presents.

So it's not a stretch to imagine Ranma making the same choice. She's a woman now, she has the life she never realized she wanted because she never had the choice so didn't know she was allowed to imagine it, but now she's happier than ever and why would she ever go back to that struggle of being a guy that only ever brought her pain and challenges and heartache?

#ranma 1/2 #ranma #meta #fandom #trans #transition #transgender #trans woman #transgirl #lgbt

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needed-as-a-grace-note · 2 years

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Azriel x Reader - Hollow, Pt. 2

“Azriel?” Elain questioned, turning slightlight to gaze up at him. His breathing had become labored, alarming her. “Azriel, what’s wrong?”

Azriel could barely glance at Elain, muttering a soft “I’m sorry” before turning and rushing through the open door behind them on the balcony.

He almost began to sprint after her, needing to get to her —

And there was his High Lord, putting a hand to his chest, halting his movements. Feyre walked past the two of them, meeting Azriel’s wild gaze. She held it, slightly frowning, but nodding at him, knowing this situation was wonderful yet destructive for those around her that she loves.

Azriel broke his gaze with his High Lady as she passed him, turning to meet the eyes of his brother. Rhysand stared at him with furrowed brows, concern on his face.

“Azriel, be careful with this. She-”

“She is my mate,” Azriel growled, interrupting him before he could finish.

“Azriel.”

He steeled himself momentarily enough to fully direct his attention on Rhys.

“She is hurt, she… You must be careful. Don’t jump to any conclusions yet.” Rhys directed towards him, noting the way his shadows began to swirl furiously around him. Rhys removed his hand from Azriel’s chest, allowing him to continue his pursuit.

Azriel’s shadows swam around him as he rushed to her, whispering mate, mate, mate to him.

“Y/N!” He called, causing her to slightly pause and turn toward him in the empty hallway they now both shared further inside The House of Wind, away from the party.

Noting who it was, you stopped. You stood there, staring. Waiting.

“Y/N, I…” Azriel trailed off, seeing the unshed tears still lingering in your eyes.

You wished there could be rage filling you, wished there could be hatred, but all you felt was cold as you stared at him.

“Yes, Azriel?” You questioned, struggling to understand his sudden interest in you, especially after what you just witnessed.

He stood still, analyzing you, trying to figure out how you did not know- ‘Did you know?’ He thought to himself, breath beginning to even out.

You stood still, staring, the confusion beginning to settle into your bones. You hadn’t felt it snap, hadn’t felt it fall into place like he did. You had simply given up. His shadows began to calm around him, a few hesitantly drifting towards you, curling through the air to reach you.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do, for one of the first times in his life. The one thing he wanted and longed for his entire existence stood right in front of him, and Azriel didn’t know what to do. He thought it was laughable, honestly. Rushing into something with no plan of action, without a clear head was nothing he would do. Azriel cleared his throat, breaking his eye contact with you.

“I just wanted to say… Goodnight.” Azriel breathed out, unable to move forward, not knowing. Not knowing how you felt, how you would react, if you knew. Gods, and Elain. He was in a mess.

“Um… Goodnight, Azriel.” You replied, studying his breaking composure briefly before turning to continue your walk towards your room. His shadows lingered in the space between you, swirling wildly. Hesitating only once to steel yourself, you strode forward, leaving him behind you.

Until you felt it. Until you felt a tug, burning through your chest. It was filled with confusion and sorrow and loathing and-

You sharply inhaled, body going rigid. His shadows came to swirl around you as you struggled to catch your breath, to attempt to hold the tears in your eyes at bay. You slowly turned, sparkling eyes immediately coming to meet his wide ones across the spanning hall.

You felt his confusion, his sorrow, his loathing, and his love. His love for you.

He balked, watching you turn, his emotions simmering as he studied you. Tears openly began to fall from your eyes as that hollow, cold, hole in your chest filled with his emotions. His shadows danced between you two in the hall, turning and spinning around you both as you tugged back.

His eyes widened, the breath leaving his body. The shadows turning about you both whispered mates, mates, mates as you both took a hesitant step forward, slightly closing the distance between you. And you could hear them- his shadows- as they wrapped around your arms, urging you forward to meet him.

You continued to walk forward, his resolve shooting down the bond. The feel of it momentarily quelled the questions of him and Elain brewing in your head, long enough for you to close the gap between the two of you.

You reached him, his steady hands -sure hands- coming to cup your face and wipe away your tears.

“Azriel…” you whispered, gazing into his eyes.

“I...” Azriel cleared his throat. “I was never sure of you. I refused to hope. I gave up on any idea of you, and settled for the one option I thought was available to me-”

You cut him off by bringing your lips to his. Shadows swirled around you both as he gently tilted your head, deepening the kiss. You had no questions, no uncertainties in your thoughts as the gap, the hollow in you began to fill.

Yes, his actions had hollowed out a part in your heart. But he was here now; certain, resolved, and ready to fill the empty space.

#azriel x reader #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acotar one shot #azriel x you #acotar reader #acowar

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bisexuallilapitts · 11 months

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I'm not feeling well and ranting about Tua S2 is my default so I thought I'd put some thought into what I'd change about the storylines for my own (personal) entertainment

Disclaimer I am not a writer, I just have opinions and this got way longer than I anticipated (especially the Viktor bit) so it's all under read more

Luther - I actually don't mind Luther's storyline too much, or what little he had going on anyway - it does make sense that he'd seek out another figure to fill the hole that his distrust in Reginald created, it makes sense that he is once again being used by that figure for their own gain, and it makes sense that he finally sticks it to Reginald in 2x06 - I just wish there was more of that and less of whatever the fuck they were doing with him and Allison (can they not just be friends please god) - I feel like expanding on his parental figure issues also just fits great with S3 and his confrontation with Reggie - and trying to trust someone who has betrayed him only to be stabbed (quite literally) in the back for trusting again

Diego - I'm just gonna be honest and say Diego should have spent longer in the 60s than a couple of months, maybe switching the dates Diego and Luther arrived, I don't know - a little more insight into how Lila got close to Diego in the asylum, and more time expanding on how therapy and his time in the 60s changed him, and expanding on the racism he endured in S2 not just with the asylum guards - it's something he and Allison talk about in S3 amd it's no doubt something they both grew up dealing with

Allison - again, very little Id change other than keeping it going for longer, it seems like after 2x06 racism stops existing in S2 (other than one mention) and so do all the characters Allison's interacted with at this point beyond Ray, obviously there's only so much you can fit into 10 45 minute episodes and the last three barely have any outside interactions beyond the commission but I still think even just one shot of Odessa, Ray and the others hearing about Allison being linked to JKFs death was warranted

Klaus - oh Klaus, I could go on for days about you - I am a firm Klaus joining an anti war movement truther, hell I even like the ghost cult theory that people had going on, I just feel like nobody really knew what to do with Klaus in S2 - and he was very much disjointed from the rest of the characters in the way that was obvious - yes he was in s1 and S3 (S3 again slightly more obvious with it than S1) but he was also connected to the main plot, S2 he was doing his own thing pretty much 99% of the season and it only served as more disconnect - I'm not saying he needed to be a main character, he wasn't in s1 and he still had things going on, I'm saying that it's at least expected that if everyone else is related to the plot by coincidence and what else, and Klaus is just there, why is Klaus there? What is he providing? S1, he had a hand in the apocalypse as much as everyone else, and it's sadly missing here.

Five - This is related to Diego too, but it fits more with the Five stuff. Drop the Handler stuff, just completely drop it. She didn't need to come back, have AJ take her place. And if you're gonna bring in the Commission then set them up firmly against Five (and by extension the other Hargreeves) for fucking with time - set it up that Five is dangerous and AJ knows it, that he's building an army (2x10) to try take Five down - his own adopted daughter (Lila) included, no deals, no bargains, AJ wants to destroy Five for even daring to try stop the apocalypse, and he's more ruthless than the Handler to get his way - and let Five get the satisfaction of killing him

Ben - I would say drop the possession stuff but that is plot relevant so maybe change it around to be on a more consensual sort of weird thing Klaus and Ben do - it could still be funny, with the siblings talking to Ben and Ben trying to act as Klaus (for whatever reason) and because Klaus is pretty much a strange character to his siblings already they don't question how wildly out of character he's acting ie "Because that is a thing, I, Klaus Hargreeves, do." "Uh? Sure buddy." / "I think I'm really nailing acting like you." Meanwhile the siblings side eyeing Ben acting as Klaus but they just don't know what the fuck is going on - and just for extra funsies (aka pain) have it established to Ben that he knows possessing Klaus (and by extension anyone else) is slowly destroying him but he wants to be a part of the family again, and he wants to experience life again so badly that he keeps going, and going, until he ends up passing on helping Viktor - and let that be part of the message with Klaus

Viktor - ohohoho where do I even begin? I think the only thing I will be leaving untouched is Sissy and Harlan, the rest? Gone. Personally I am not a fan of amnesia storylines, but Viktor needs to almost end the world somehow, right, and come to terms with his childhood trauma and the end of S1 somehow and doing it off screen hardly seems fair

I'm so glad you asked :) so Viktor, following have a gun go off by his ear and getting hit by a car goes deaf in one ear and it's affecting his powers obviously cause they're related to hearing at least somewhat - he's losing control, or can't make them work when he wants and he feels like the progress he made is thrown back as well as feeling conflicted and guilty for using them after what happened, after almost killing Allison - but still angry at his siblings for what they did and a lot of conflicting emotions also fuelling his powers being out of control

He's desperately trying to hide his powers (not the LGBTQ+ Merlin metaphor) from Sissy, Harlan and Carl and maintain the life he's created in the 60s but it's growing increasingly more difficult and only adding to his stress

So when he sees Luther again, he's obviously feeling a lot - happy to see someone he knows, anger, pained, guilty, confused - maybe even feeling like an outcast again, assuming that they all knew where each other was this entire time and left him out again - and leaves before Luther can talk to him, the conflicting emotions and his powers make something happen in Sissy's house (idk maybe something breaks enough to scare Viktor into leaving before he thinks he'll hurt someone else) and bumping into the Swedes and meeting Five again, and this time they properly talk it out - Viktor seeing the hurt he caused Five during his years in the apocalypse, even if the events that led to the apocalypse weren't only his fault, he admits fault for his part in it, and Five, aptly says something like, "You were a cog in a machine, Viktor. If not you, it would've been someone else, the Commission made sure of that." And it's clear they've at least talked it out somewhat to be able to trust each other

The second Luther and Viktor reunion is still hard - Luther apologises like in canon, and Viktor is wary of his sincerity, pointing out the last time he trusted Luther he was locked in the basement - Luther admits that he has no reason to be trusted, but he'll prove it to Viktor if he can - and it's cautious predicament with the two of them from here on out, eventually Viktor and Luther both realising the positions they were manipulated into by Harold and Reginald (and Pogo) and their own actions respectively

The other reunions and slightly less tense - Diego and Viktor's being the most tense of the remaining three - but again, they both apologise - Diego's therapy and Viktor's own realisations with the apocalypse playing a part, and it's slightly cold but still forgiveness, Allison is still trying to deal with her own problems in the 60s along with pushing down any of the negative feelings she has about what happened in S1 so it plays very much the same s1 to S3 wise but maybe Viktor is more wary of Allison's forgiveness, and Klaus is the one with the least stake in that plotline

So, okay, he's made up with the majority of the siblings, his emotions are under control, and his powers are more or less under control, how does he cause the end of the world? I'm still so glad you asked besties BC here's the plot twist he doesn't - in which I'll explain, so how does Ben still help Viktor and end up dying but it's nothing to do with the end of the world, and what about the apocalypse at the beginning of s2 - it's all been set up to look like Viktor will cause the apocalypse again in Five (and the audiences) eyes

So why does Ben help Viktor and end up passing on? Instead of running away with Sissy, Viktor tries to decide to stay in the 60s instead - it's not ideal but if he can't bring Sissy with him, then he'll stay, it's the obvious solution only Carl isn't happy with that - and the gun fight ensues - the gun going off throwing Viktor back to the theatre and into a flashback - one no one can reach him in - except Ben

And they still have their talk, and Viktor manages to find his own peace with what happened

So how does the world end? Well, the Commission being dickheads and AJ manipulating Lila for a reason bb with something like this going down between AJ and Five

"Today, tomorrow, next week, almost sixty years from now, it doesn't matter. It's all the same to me."

"Time matters, you can't erase all that time. It'll cause a paradox that could destroy the universe!" (Hello S3 hint) "Surely the rest of the Commission don't see it that way."

"The world was always doomed to end, and your pathetic attempt to save it only doomed it and your siblings faster. I'd almost congratulate you, Five, you managed to fail so incredibly that you made my own job easier."

They figure out the Commission are targeting the Federal building to make it look like an attack and start a nuclear war with Hazel's tape, and stop it from being blown up in time, but bad news - Harlan still has powers and AJ's army is ready and 2x10 plays out basically the same

And where is Reggie in all this? Keeping an eye on what's happening in the background - having his own people investigate the siblings and keeping note of their powers which will come bite them in S3 - he's not explicitly a part but he's definitely doing something in the background

And then, Sparrows.

#i dont claim for any of this to make sense #i just have thoughts and again im not a writer these are just my own opinions #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #tua s2 #ill tag as neg just in case #tua negativity

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im-obsess-with-pixel-characters · 6 months

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I feel like I have a need to do this. Sooo

Fixing mystreet plot holes ✨

There's definitely a lot of different plot holes in mystreet and pdh so I'm going to try my best to maybe fix these plot holes so things can actually make much more sense if I ever do a mystreet rewrite

A commonly mention plot hole that you may or may not have seen going around is the history plot hole

Where basically a lot of people say that mcd would be common history, since hey mcd and ms takes place in the same world just thousands of years apart, and yes that is true mcd would be common history. A lot of people name their children after historical figure. But for me I have my own fill in for that plot hole

So yes as mentioned mcd would be common history, but not every history book is accurate. Yes there are inaccurate ones but for my conclusion on this fill for the plot hole I'm taking a factor for ancient language

Language is like witchcraft in mcd and ms, in Mcd witchcraft and Magic is far more powerful then in current time of ms. And do to Magic getting modernized and developing into a weaker form as the years goes on that goes the same for language but in a different kind of way

While magic grows weaker as time goes on language grows less complex, every region in Mcd has one communicational language that all regions know but that doesn't stop each region from having its own language, and a lot of history is written in different language a lot of people documented in their own language or the communication language of all region

But as time grows all the regional languages starts to fade and become this one communicable language that everyone can understand, time goes on this language becomes simpler and easier for people to get used to for people to pronounce for people in general to take proses of, while the ancient language takes up a more complex capacity of writing and reading

Due to the modernization of the language not many people know of their original region language causing many fall outs of known language to never be spoken once more, there is only so many people that still exist out there that knows the ancient languages of the regions and the communication language of regions

And due to that singular fact, a lot of history books are mistranslated and miscalculated it's either those two or just completely not understandable due to the language barrier of the ancient language of the olden regions which has caused a lot of misinformation and really odd name differences especially with names which are hard to spell and hard to pronounce,

but even with that it includes a factor that two letters in the olden language can mean one letter in modern language but that also go both ways, one letter in olden language two letter in modern time, which has caused a lot of complicated spellings especially with the region different languages that has history of its own that not many can probably translate

So yea, that's just my personal take on the historical Plot hole there are some spelling mistakes and most likely terrible grammar in this but that's not the main focus, if you have any kind of plot holes you want me to cover wether it's mcd or mystreet go on ahead my ask box is opened to suggestions

#mystreet #aphblr #minecraft diaries #phoenix drop high #witchcraft #olden language #modern language #My take on a plot hole #regional language #this whole post is just a rant btw #there are some head cannons also in here so bear with me

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ffion451 · 11 months

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Chapter Twenty: Then There Was You | The Centre Cannot Hold: KTH (m)

Chapter characters/pairings: Taehyung x f!reader | AU/Genre: non idol au, angst, smut (see warnings below) see series m.post for fic summary etc.

Rating/Chapter warnings: ⚠️🔞 M - Adults only! 🔞⚠️ SMUT (m/f unprotected sex, m>f oral sex), threat, intoxication, reader is a mild dom, some light bondage (nothing too spicy) yandere and dark themes

Word count: 9.1K

<<< Chapter Nineteen

The door shuts just in time: both men pause mid-motion, shocked into stillness, statues in their surprise. Namjoon grips the door handle tightly as it rattles with another dull thump then a shattering sound.

“So that’s both the lamp and the water I left beside his bed,” Namjoon sighs.

“You used glass?” Jihan quizzes, an eyebrow raised.

“Hey,” Namjoon complains as the cacophony of bangs continues from Taehyung’s room, “I didn’t see this coming… Have they broken up or something? The last three weeks he’s been a nightmare, staggering in blind drunk nearly every night…”

Jihan shrugs, “I don’t know,” he admits, “He won’t say anything and she won’t answer my calls. When I text her she claims she has shitty reception on whatever work trip she’s on. She said they’re fine though.”

“Well he can’t carry on like this,” Namjoon states, “Who would know what’s going on?”

Jihan bites his lip thinking carefully before he answers, “Park Jimin… or maybe Woo Jiho.”

The room beyond them falls silent.

“He’ll have passed out now,” Jihan says softly and Namjoon releases his grip on the door.

Namjoon fixes Jihan with a focused gaze, “Try them both - both Jimin and Jiho. This shit needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung has not passed out. Instead, he lies on his bed, naked and listening.

As his friends creep away, he resolves to find other ways to cope: the drinking has to stop. That’s the end of the night’s clarity for Taehyung. He stares at the flat blackness of the ceiling until he finds depth there and then the void swallows him whole, as it always does, as it always has, even when he was only a small child. It’s always been there. He both hates and trusts it. In the chaos of his mind, it’s the only thing that brings relief, and sometimes Taehyung wants nothing more than to silence his thoughts.

Taehyung’s mind has sometimes been a dark place, sometimes a bright one, but always, no matter his mood, it races, always working, working, working, filled with thought and raw feeling. There was obsession; there was lust, a mad passionate consuming desire; there was need; there was a hole that needed filling; there was satisfaction. There were all these things and more and nothing was ever enough for him. But then there was you and his world was reshaped, reformed, rebuilt.

His existence didn’t explode, the sphere of his days did not tilt on its axis because you came into his life. Instead, you crept up on him like frost at the turning of the seasons. In feather-soft flurries you flittered through his days, he barely noticed until those insatiable fires in him were quelled beneath the pure white blanket you spread beneath his feet. Taehyung had charged through life before you, eyes fixed ahead; now he treads softly in the world you have made anew for him.

He still burns intensely, but it is a different hue: the scarlet inferno, the fiery, empty chasm of his heart is no more. Instead, a blue flame flickers and dances, small and serene, yet it’s looks deceive, it is known that the azure heart of the flame is the most intense. Taehyung knows that it is a lie that winter is cold and that blue is the colour of unhappiness: the final season of the year has always been his favourite. You are his winter, his fresh snow, his clear day, his warm, blue flame.

Once there was chaos, emptiness and pain but then there was you and then there was wholeness; peace, joy and love.

Now, without you, there’s nothing, and chaos has come again.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

“You’re not serious?” scoffs Ellie, throwing a disbelieving look at Jihan beside her, “Come off it Jiho - you had a whole campaign against Taehyung and now you say you don’t know anything?”

Jiho sighs, “I really don’t know anything, I was told something about Taehyung, I guessed what it might mean and I was wrong or whatever… that’s it.”

Jihan’s eyes narrow, “Ah, but how did you find out you were wrong?”

Jiho pauses before he mentions your name, punctuated with a heavy sigh, “…Yeah, she told me. She told me she knew everything and whatever I thought was wrong. She said she had a big trip and that she didn’t want me bothering Taehyung while she was gone.”

“So after the fight in the club, you’re just going to leave it?” Ellie says, with more disbelief.

“I’m not an asshole,” Jiho argues, nostrils flaring, “All I wanted was to look out for a friend, she knows the truth now, whatever that might be and that’s fine. As long as she’s safe and happy that’s all I care about. I trust her to do the right thing. I mean, I don’t like Kim Taehyung, but whatever man, she loves him so…”

Ellie moves to speak, but Jihan shoots her a look, “That’s cool,” he says gently, “When she gets back hopefully everything will be cool.”

As they leave, Ellie quizzes him about why he quietened her down, “Whatever is going on, Jiho doesn’t know about it and given his suspicions about Tae, I say we keep it that way,” Jihan explains.

Ellie nods grimly as they head towards your office to seek Park Jimin, who is avoiding everyone’s calls.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Jimin is a creature of habit and so when he leaves work at the end of the day to head to his gym, he finds Jihan waiting for him in the changing rooms.

“You were busy when Ellie and I came to the office,” Jihan explains smoothly, “So I thought I’d try you here.”

“So desperate to see me,” Jimin laughs, his bravado not fully convincing, “I am popular nowadays.”

Jihan hums thoughtfully before he outlines the dilemma: You’ve disappeared on a “work trip” nobody knows anything about and in your now three-week absence, Taehyung is having a complete meltdown and won’t speak to anyone, withdrawing completely within himself.

“So, do you know what’s going on?” Jihan presses.

With a deep breath, Jimin turns from stowing his things in a locker and begins talking.

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“Well?” Ellie asks impatiently when Jihan joins her outside the gym, “Did he talk?”

“He explained about why the trip was so sudden and how it’s not suspicious, apparently,” Jihan recounts, “Then he claimed to know absolutely nothing about anything else.”

“Claimed?” asks Ellie, cocking an eyebrow.

Jihan laughs dryly, “Exactly. I don’t believe a word about this work trip and I think that slippery little fucker knows everything, but he’s not telling.”

Within the gym, Jimin sits on the changing room bench, drinking water and breathing heavily after his workout. He’s pretty certain Jihan didn’t believe a word he said but what can he do? After this, does it even matter? Whatever bonds he was reforging with Taehyung are broken now and his friendship with you lies in tatters.

He sighs as he remembers the last words you spoke to him before you left for your trip, “Just tell anyone who asks that it’s for work and don’t tell anyone about Taehyung. Make sure they keep their mouths shut.” He foolishly asked you if you could forgive him for not telling you about Yideum and you just sighed, turning your back on him and walking away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he evaluates the whole mess. Is that what you’ve done with Taehyung? Have you walked away? If so, why are you still protecting him? Jimin is conflicted; the sensible part of him tells him to steer clear of the whole mess, but it’s another part of him that wins out, the same part that always does: compassion. He rises to his aching feet and heads to the showers, resolving that as soon as he’s washed and dressed that he’ll head to Taehyung to see what can be done.

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With the little Jimin gave you to go on, it’s taken you weeks to get to this place and this moment. You could laugh at the irony of having travelled miles knocking on doors, only to find yourself preparing to meet your quarry only one subway station from your own house. In the middle of the busy park, your leg bounces incessantly as nervous tension pulses through you.

You try to distract yourself with your phone, replying to your friends’ messages with the same trite meaningless phrases insisting that you’re fine, that their concerns are misplaced, that you are just really busy with work and of course the final lie, that you and Taehyung are fine and that he’s just going through something else that’s private and unrelated.

You feel particularly guilty abut spouting that last lie to Ellie, but right now, you feel that there’s no other choice. The truth is too burdensome, and you must shoulder it alone. So preoccupied are you by your phone and thoughts, that you don’t register the person who sits beside you until they say your name in a questioning tone.

You turn to look at the woman beside you, oddly relieved that, pretty as she is, she looks absolutely nothing like you. You nod, “Baek Yideum?”

She smiles, but it’s forced and too tight, “That’s me.”

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me and coming all this way,” you say, “I really do need to talk to you about what happened with Kim Taehyung: I have questions only you can answer and I think some answers you might need too,” you draw breath at the end, your rehearsed speech falling out of you in an anxious tumbling of words.

Yideum’s smile becomes tighter, “It was no effort. No offence, but I don’t want this conversation on my own doorstep,” she regards you, her eyes colder than you’d expected, “I don’t need any answers. I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

You stare at her, open mouthed, “How?”

“You’re going to tell me that he drugged me,” she sighs, with an airy, dismissive flutter of her hand and you note the wedding ring there, “I know.”

You can only stare, mouth agape for long moments before you find your voice, “How do you know?”

She smiles tiredly, “Because he didn’t do it very well.”

Over the course of the next few hours she goes into torturous detail about Taehyung and his childhood. His controlling father, the way he and his mother were medicated to deal with every issue from slight stress to helping them sleep at night: a chemical solution for every problem. She tells you how each time Taehyung would drug her that she’d be sleepy but not actually comatose, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. She is insistent that while she slept he did nothing but lay beside her, a shy hand occasionally resting on her hip, telling her how special she was to him and divulging all his turbulent thoughts and feelings about his complicated home life and difficult relationship with his parents, things he could never tell anyone, before he’d eventually fall asleep. It never bothered her, she thought it was sweet and a little sad. Taehyung was always a lonely boy, a sadness sitting on him that broke her heart. She admits it was only with time and experience that she realised he’d turned to chemical support to lure her into tiredness and by then it was only a distant memory.

“So what is it you want from me?” she asks, “Because I won’t admit this to another person and I certainly won’t report him.”

“Even if he’s done it to someone else?” You probe.

She stares into your eyes, evaluating you, “To you?” she asks, “Harmfully?”

“To me,” you say, lifting your chin defiantly, “Isn’t any drugging harmful?”

She clicks her tongue, appraising you as though you are naive, “Not if there’s no harm intended and not if that person is troubled and was raised that way. He was brought up believing that it was a solution - a fucked up one I warrant, but a solution nonetheless.”

You say nothing, your mind spinning as she continues to search your face, processing the emotions that cross it, “Don’t report him,” she asks, “It would be too cruel. If you love him, you know that’s not the right solution.”

“Who says I love him?” You ask, unsure of the answer yourself.

“If you didn’t you’d have gone to the police and would have let them find me,” she asserts astutely, “Anyway, it’s written all over your face. You’re here because you want a reason not to stop.”

“I can’t trust him,” you say without thinking, “I can’t keep loving him.”

She rolls her eyes at you, “You think you have a choice? Don’t be stupid.”

You only frown in response; you anxiously ran through this conversation from every angle you could think of before you arrived here today and not once did you think it would play out this way.

She takes a breath, standing up nod smoothing out the creases and wrinkles in her skirt, “If you go to the police I will deny everything. Does Taehyung know you’re here? I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

You shake your head, feeling small and diminished.

“He told you what happened, yes?” she asks, and you simply nod, “So, he’s been honest with you, and you sneak off without telling him. Maybe it’s him that can’t trust you.”

You look at her in betrayal, but it’s too late, she’s already walking away. For the first time, you now understand what it feels like for someone to turn their back on you and leave.

“Talk to him,” she calls back, without looking at you, “He doesn’t love easily and so if he loves you you’re very lucky indeed.”

Trembling with feelings you’re not yet able to name, you stand up and stride in the other direction, focusing only on following your feet while your brain and body processes the emotions flooding through you. You can never outrun your own mind though, and finally, when the elevator doors close behind you, your panic closes in on you, smothering you in its loveless embrace.

Hours later, past the white hot anxiety that had burned through you, your emotions settle into one coherent feeling: outrage. You are lucky, she said… Lucky? How can you be lucky to be in love with a man who sedated you into spending time with him? You pace your hotel room disgusted at the insinuation. You know you should just go home, but you can’t face it yet.

Fuck this, you think, the walls starting to close in, I need a drink. Tidying yourself up and trying to make yourself feel pretty, you head to the nearest bar.

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“You’re so fucking hot,” the words confuse you - you’re not hot, he is: his breath warm and sticky against your neck where he leans in. You blink slowly, your eyes heavy and swallow, your tongue feeling too thick in your mouth. You realise, with painful clarity like a slap across the face, how drunk you’ve gotten and wonder when one drink at this nameless dive bar became eight, or was it more?

Who is this letch? This grotesque, sweaty man pawing at you? His hand is on your shoulder, the other gripping the back of your barstool, you can feel his tense knuckles grazing your back, the tendons like wires. With the same immediacy as understanding how drunk you are, you now understand you’re not very safe. This man, this determined man, has something about him that puts you on edge: his grip is too tight, his smile too wide, his actions too deliberate. You castigate yourself for flirting back with him, at the time it had felt like a harmless action to take your mind off Taehyung, Yideum and the whole mess, not the lead up to whatever this man is now expecting.

Deliberately, as he pulls back, you giggle, covering your mouth and deliberately smudging your lipstick. You rarely wear it, you’re grateful you did tonight. Laughing, you examine your stained fingers and touch your chin where the stain ends, “I have to clean myself up,” you say lightly, grabbing your bag.

“Don’t be too long,” he states, his voice low and much more a warning than the seductive tone he may be aiming for and it chills your blood. He squeezes your shoulder, letting his hand fall away, deliberately grazing your breast: you force yourself not to react as he winks at you, “I’ll guard your drink.”

It takes all the effort you have not to run to the toilets. When you get there, you hole yourself up in the farthest cubicle and take out your phone.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Taehyung wakes from his doze instantly, the song emitting from his phone instantly recognisable. He squints in the darkness for the glowing rectangle of light and scrambles to pick up, speaking without thought, “Baby?”

“Taehyung, I’ve done something stupid,” you say shakily, your voice trembling, then you tell him about the drinking and the bar and how afraid you are.

Taehyung wants to tell you to send him your location and he’ll be there, but no, he thinks… Will you even want that? You probably want Minho or Jihoon and can’t get hold of them. Maybe Namjoon is home? So instead he says, “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Your next words kindle the dying embers of hope in his heart, “I’ll send you my location, would you please come get me?”

Taehyung smiles in joy and relief, already on his feet and heading to the door, “Leave the toilets,” he commands, “You’re not safe there, he might come looking. Head to the kitchens, or the back room, somewhere with staff, somewhere safe, and tell them I’m coming.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

It doesn’t take Taehyung long to get there, and when he enters the bar, he spots the sleaze that had been hitting on you immediately. He measures the man up and wonders precisely how drunk you are, you are leagues above this toad. Following the nod from the bartender and your garbled text messages, he knows you’re in the kitchens and so heads immediately there, reading your directions.

He pushes on the swing door with more force than he intended, meaning you and the waitress you’ve been chatting to both look up. His eyes, wide with concern, meet yours hazy, tear-filled ones. Before he can blink, you’re off your feet and barrelling into his arms. He holds you tightly, your face pressed into his chest and kisses the top of your head, “You’re here,” you mumble, muffled by his hoodie pressed into your mouth.

“I’m here,” he confirms, “It’s ok.”

You just cry softly into him in response, “Shall I take you home?” he asks softly.

“Can’t face it,” you answer honestly, fishing your hotel key card out of your back pocket, “Please take me to my hotel.”

Taehyung does. He leads you out of the bar by the back door, thanking the waitress and drives you to the hotel. When he gets you there he hesitates until you ask him to take you to your room and again at the threshold. You knot your hands in his hoodie, “Please, please stay with me.”

“You’re safe here, baby,” Taehyung makes himself say, “I’m not sure I should.”

You look at him, dazed, confused but also vulnerable and you speak the truth as you feel it in this moment, “It’s so fucking stupid of me but I feel safe with you.”

He beams at you, the second clause deafening him to the first, “Then I’ll stay - whatever you want.”

You change in the bathroom as he strips to his boxers and a tee, obviously there’s only one bed and he smiles wryly at the trope before his heart sinks, of course there’ll be no romantic night for him, he feels stupid even hoping for it. With a heavy tread and heart, he trudges to the small sofa with the thin decorative blanket that lay atop the duvet bed, folding himself up, pretzel-like.

Taehyung doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so he faces the back of the sofa, away from you and the bed. He even pretends to be asleep when you emerge from the bathroom. You’re drunk still, your steps flat-footed as you try to move quietly to the bed; at the last moment, you divert and he can feel you standing over him, his heart begins to race. He can’t control the shudder as you run your index finger, your nail scratching him lightly, down his exposed spine.

“Taehyung,” you whisper softly, “Come to bed.”

He doesn’t move, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re drunk, in the morning you might regret waking up beside me.”

He hears you huff and then movement as you crouch beside him. This time it’s his gasp that he can’t contain as your soft lips trace the same line as your finger did, “Please,” you mumble into his skin before you pull back, he misses you immediately and it’s an ordeal for him not to flip over and pull you into his arms, “I know we’re not in a good place and I have a lot of thinking to do, but can’t we be friends for a moment?” you sound so forlorn that his heart aches with yours.

“I’m always your friend,” he promises, turning over to find your face closer than he expected. Your wide, teary eyes met his own gleaming ones and then your mouth is on his. He reacts instinctively, wrapping his arms about you and half-guides, half-drags you on top of him as your kisses deepen. Your tongue creeps into his mouth, shyly at first, then more demanding. He knows it’s a bad idea, but he has missed you and can’t hold himself back or bring himself to reject you when you two are so vulnerable.

His stiffening cock seems to act as an alarm bell to you, as you finally break away from him, seemingly shocked with yourself, “Taehyung, I- ” you falter.

“It’s not a good idea, I know,” he interrupts, saving you from your embarrassment, “Let’s just sleep, yeah?”

Helping you to your feet and surreptitiously adjusting his underwear, he follows you to bed. He lies on his back, arm outstretched and you immediately snuggle into the crook of his arm, one arm tucked between your bodies, the other on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tee. Gingerly and with more caution than he’s ever used with you, he places his hand on your shoulder and interweaves the fingers of his other with your hand that rests on his chest, relief flooding through him when you hum happily and burrow into him.

He won’t sleep easily in this position, but you will, and that’s all that matters to him. He kisses the top of your head as your breath becomes more shallow and deep; he’s glad you’re relaxing but he won’t. Despite your call and your kisses, Taehyung feels more certain than he did before that this may be the last time he gets to hold you: he won’t waste those precious moments sleeping.

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Only a few hours later, you awaken, thirsty and head pounding. Taehyung releases your fingers as you pull away, immediately asking if you’re ok.

“’m fine,” you mumble tiredly, heaving yourself up and dragging your body out of bed to retrieve water and painkillers, “Hangover is hitting,” you explain as he mumbles sympathy.

Bathroom visited, pills taken and a hefty glug of water later, you return to bed, padding more gracefully than you did hours earlier, “Have you even slept?” you ask as he yawns widely, he just shakes his head.

“Silly boy,” you reprimand fondly, laying on your side, back to him, knowing how he likes to sleep, “Spoon me,” you demand.

You can feel his hesitance but he complies, and you lay still until his breathing evens out and his pouted lips huff little, soft breaths against your neck. More sober now, your mind races on what to do next and you force yourself to acknowledge that whatever else may be true, that Taehyung may be some kind of predator, that he abused your trust, that he’s troubled, that he’s lied… that you are nonetheless happiest in his arms.

Knowing that all the realities will have to be reconciled into one, new truth, you put them to one side, wisely or not, choosing to enjoy the moment in his arms.

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When he wakes up in the morning, you’re already showered and are bedecked in a fluffy hotel robe. You perch at the end of the bed, seemingly waiting for something.

As he rubs his eyes sleepily, you tell him breakfast is on the way and direct him to the shower. When he returns, clean and a little more alive, the food has already arrived and you sit with him on the tiny sofa, made even smaller by your fuzzy robes, eating croissants and fruit in a not-altogether-comfortable silence.

“I’m sorry that you had to come get me last night -” you begin.

“I’m glad you called,” he interrupts earnestly, choking a little as he swallows his food too quickly in his desire to reassure you.

Your instincts clearly get the better of you as you rush to him, concerned, water pushed into his hand before you rub his back gently. After a long drink and several shuddering breaths, he recovers himself. In an action-replay of the night before, you’re crouched beside him, looking at him in concern.

“I’m ok,” he smiles, his eyes watery, “Don’t worry.”

“I always worry about you,” you reply softly and you both take a moment to ponder all that those words could mean, looking into each other’s eyes in a mixture of hope, love and despair.

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly, looking away, feeling stupid the second that the words are out of his mouth; it’s by far too little.

His attention is drawn back to you by your small huff, unable to tell if it’s scoffing, exasperated or something else and yet again his eyes fill. You thumb his tears away, though his contented hum strangles in his raw throat as you move upwards, undoing his robe, and laying him bare as you, still wrapped tightly in yours, straddle his lap.

Shocked, Taehyung freezes, half-whispering, half-moaning your name, “Is this a good idea?”

You smile and he doesn’t recognise it at all; he’s never seen you so seductive, “No, it isn’t,” you purr and his cock twitches, “But I want it anyway.”

“Want what?” He teases, trying to sound innocent, an endeavour made even more difficult as you move closer and your bare thighs glide against his.

“You,” you say simply, ducking down to kiss his neck while his hands fist into your robe, his cock throbbing and twitching between you. Your kisses quickly become more fierce as you nip and suck the sensitive skin beneath his ear; he shudders pleasurably and soon his cock, hard and weeping, skims against you. It takes all his self control not to lift you, throw you on the bed and to sink inside you, but he knows you need this. You need to use him: he’ll let you.

Moments later, you pull back and smile, clambering off him. He watches as you tidy away the breakfast dishes, pushing the cart into the hall before you hang the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door. As the door closes, you call to him without looking, “Lie on the bed please, robe off.”

He moves swiftly, shrugging off the robe and stretching out on the bed, slightly nervous and suddenly shy of his nudity. His trepidation grows when reach for his discarded robe, loosing the fluffy belt from it’s loops and approaching him. His breath trembles as you straddle him, raising and eyebrow with outstretched hands. He can do nothing but comply, offering you his shaking hands as you gently, but tightly, bind them and affix them to the headboard.

“No touching,” you whisper in his ear, biting on his ear lobe as you slide back down his body, taking a seat on his thighs, “Are you ok with this?” you ask, the real you, beneath the sexy bravado, peeking through.

He smiles reassuringly, “You can do whatever you want to me,” he promises, “I love you, I’m yours.”

Your eyes fill and he wonders if the moment is passing and you’re changing your mind. He knows what this is, it’s not really sex, though he’ll give you everything he’s got… No, when he looks at you he knows this is goodbye.

“It’s ok,” he almost whispers. You smile back, bright and real, and he knows he’s reassured you as you regain your confidence.

You lean over him and kiss his cheek, so gently and lightly he might have dreamed it; he smiles because, whatever else is troubling you, whatever else you plan to do, you still feel tenderness towards him and that’s all his broken heart could hope for. Taehyung knows he’s lost you, all he can hope for now is some sweetness in the bitterness of parting from you.

Your featherlight kisses and caresses continue all over his body, your fingers tracing circles on his clavicle, chest, hipbones and stomach. After a while, he realises you’re deliberately teasing him as he gets more turned on; you seem to be deliberately avoiding any area that might excite him more.

“Please,” he pleads desperately; you only smile softly in response. You continue your torture now, but allow your trailing fingers to skim his nipples, his cock, his balls and he wonders if this is somehow worse, to be touched where he needs it most but so lightly and without purpose. It drives him mad, and you shift more of your weight onto his thighs from your knees to keep him in place as he gently bucks his hips up towards you, aching for your touch.

“Stop it,” you warn, your voice low, “This is my party…”

He gulps and nods compliantly. His cock aches and everything you do makes his cock impossibly harder, his balls tightening. He focuses his attention on thinking how hard he’s going to fuck you when you finally cede control to him.

He sucks in a deep breath as you change strategy: now you only concentrate on his sensitive areas, sucking and nibbling at his earlobe as you tease his nipples, your fingers firmer and rougher with him than before. He realises now as he gasps, that before you were silent, but no you moan into him as you lavish attention on him. After what feel an eternity of more torture, you slide down his body and begin to roll his balls, tugging gently as you kiss his soft, flat stomach that trembles beneath the pillowy touch of your lips.

You seem to take pity on him when his moans turn to whines, and finally untie your robe, discarding it. His eyes drink in your naked body, his gaze so fixed on you that it’s a surprise when you finally grasp his cock, rubbing his throbbing head, beaded with pre-cum, along your slit before you lower yourself enough for just the tip to enter you.

“Fuck…” Taehyung moans, fighting with everything he has not to jerk his hips and fill you up. Then you raise off him, and he stutters in agony, “No, no, please, don’t stop…”

Ever generous, ever the kind, beautiful love of his life, you repeat the motion, again and again giving him all the joy of entering you and all the agony of you pulling away. He loves it and hates it but cannot deny that he’s never been harder in his life.

He watches, eyes glued on where you and he join as you slowly sink further on to him, sinking an inch and rising, then sinking a little more… It’s still torturous but the bliss of being inside you overrides it; your tight warm walls barely yield to him and like this he gets to stretch you out again and again, the warmth of you even more delicious from the chill of the room. He can’t imagine fucking anyone who isn’t you… A sob rises in his chest at the thought but is halted when you sink onto him completely, his cock filling you his tight balls pressed against your ass.

“Please don’t move,” he begs when your hands splay across his chest, “I’ll come...”

“Take your time,” you smile, rubbing his hips and he hisses through his teeth and tries not to blow his load - you’re not even fucking clenching, he thinks, and still he’s struggling to hold on, God he loves you and and your perfect cunt.

Several deep breaths later, he controls himself, “I’m good…” he assures, “Take me.”

You grin and begin to ride him at a slow steady pace, nothing special, just gentle movements up and down on his cock, occasionally teasing him by only tae the first few inches, but then riding it to the base where you pause: each time has him biting his lip as he tries not to blow his load.

He grins when, after at least ten minutes of riding him, you start to lose control yourself, fucking him harder, and stopping him from coming by letting him almost slide out of you before you slam back down. “I’m so close,” he admits, as much as he wants to come, he wants you to have your fun.

In response, you sink fully onto him, “Hold it,” you demand, before you stop riding him and grind against him, back and forth and with gentle circular motions in between. It’s the best he’s ever felt.

“Need to come,” he whines, “Please, let me…”

“Come for me,” you allow, not stopping your grind. He explodes within you as you clench around his cock, the thickest ropes of cum he’s ever released spurting inside you. The bliss and relief is earth-shattering, but strangely it doesn’t stop… usually it’s a few seconds of pure euphoria, but as you grind against him, those moments seem to spread out, his orgasm pulled along with the undulation of your hips.

He groans your name, louder and more needily than ever before, his hips stuttering as sweat beads his brow and upper lip as his orgasm itself becomes too much to handle. He can’t even speak, you’ve fucked him stupid.

You’re gentle though, you take in his pained expression, “Had enough?” you ask gently, and he nods meekly as you gently slide off him, careful not to hurt his incredibly sensitive softening cock, rolling off the bed and departing to the bathroom with your robe to clean yourself up while he swallows deep mouthfuls of air.

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Long minutes later, feeling clean again after the load Taehyung pumped into you, you cool your flushed face and smile at yourself, feeling proud of yourself for fucking him senseless. It’s then that you’re pulled from your thoughts by a gentle tap at the bathroom door, instinctively pulling your robe tighter around you, you call, “Yes?”

“Can I come in?” Taehyung asks meekly, and you can’t help but smile, wondering how long it took him to free himself from your bindings.

“Go ahead,” you say, washing your hands as a distraction from your racing heart. He enters the room and stands behind you, moving your hair and the neck of the robe so he can kiss your neck gently, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“That was something else,” he blushes as you colour in response, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you laugh, both of you strangely uncomfortable.

Your eyes meet again, “I want to make you come,” Taehyung states plainly as you gape a little in shock, “May I?”

You make a strange gurgling noise that makes him cock an eyebrow at you, and so you have to mutely nod, he grins then his grip on your waist turning you to face him before lifting you onto the counter and sinking to his knees.

He looks up at you with wide eyes before kissing your ankle, trailing soft kisses all the way up your leg to the top of your thighs, making you shudder and tremble for him. When he reaches the very top, he suddenly bites down harshly, causing you to cry out, and he sucks a massive hickie into the soft flesh, your core throbs, desire running through your body and wetness seeping through your folds. Smirking against your skin, he places a delicate kiss before he pulls you forward, his nose grazing your throbbing clit.

With broad strokes of his flattened tongue, he licks all around your folds, working his way inwards, deliberately teasing you as you did him. He licks all round, until he reaches our perineum and presses his tongue against you firstly, causing you to moan, surprising you when his firm, stretched tongue pushes into your vagina as he tongue fucks you.

You cry out his name as you grip the edge of the counter, begging for mercy. He complies, licking a broad stripe up your vagina and circling your neglected clit with his tongue. His cock is hard again and he’s too horny to torture you for long so soon he sucks your clit into his mouth, first flicking hip tongue rapidly and then nibbling. Then he begins to suck harshly as he penetrates you with two fingers. He curls his long digits as he fucks you, aiming for that sweet, spongy spot that makes you scream, pounding into you as you cry out, his lips almost numb from the onslaught he’s subjecting you too.

You chant his name in a mantra as your orgasm consumes you, bucking against his face then withdrawing in sensitivity as you come down from your high. Taehyung simply grins up at your dazed, blissed-out expression, licking his lips lasciviously. though, even in your heady state, you can see his hard cock through the folds of his gown.

You know time is running out and in your desperation you seek to turn moments into minutes and minutes into hours so you can hold on to him that little bit longer.

“Taehyung,” you say softly, “I need you inside me.”

He’s swiftly on his feet, undoing and shrugging off his robe before he unties yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he grips the underside of your thighs, carrying your naked body back to the bed.

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Your arms can barely keep a grip of his shoulders as you seek to anchor yourself, getting lost in Taehyung and the pleasure of him pounding into you.

You’re past been being able to speak: you can only pant and moan and mewl variations of his name as he groans into you, similarly fuck-drunk and incoherent in his lust. He’s everywhere: his mouth sucking at your throat, one hand kneading your breast roughly, the other pressing your thigh into your body as his cock grazes your cervix, his strokes brutal and deep.

You cling to him, and realise you’re not anchoring yourself, you’re only being borne further from shore: you want to be lost in Taehyung, you want to be joined with him like this, always.

Again, he takes you over the edge and your spasming walls choke his cock, causing him to burble a strangled moan as he fucks you all the harder for it, your whole body shaking as he thrusts into you with all the he force he can muster.

You hands roam the delicate curves of his back, feeling the powerful muscles flexing there before your hand knots in his hair, bucking your hips up into him as best you can, clenching your walls around him as you come down from your high.

“Coming,” he finally grunts in warning.

“Fill me,” you beg. He does, thrusting deep, your bodies seemingly glued together, tight balls pressed to your ass as his hot cum spills into you. He moans, deep, low and throaty as you scream for him, coming again, your climax tearing through you.

Finally, spent and exhausted, you relax your tight hold on each other, Taehyung slipping out of you with a wince, and pulling you into his sweaty embrace as he you both pant weakly. He smooths your sweaty hair from your face, kissing your forehead as you both regain your senses.

Minutes later you shower together in tired, sated silence before you trudge to the comfort of the bed, climbing beneath the cum-stained duvet to fall heavily into each other’s arms.

You watch him as he sleeps. He may be done in, but his sleep is not entirely peaceful, his brow knotted and mouth twisting as he dreams uncomfortably.

You kiss his eyelids and stroke his soft locks, whispering soothing words of comfort in the hope it will reach his subconscious mind. Is this what he did with you? You wonder, and for the first time the thought doesn’t sicken you as you begin to try to understand how you really feel about him.

Your mind has sometimes been a troubled place, sometimes a light one, but always, no matter your mood, it races, always working, working, working, filled with thought and raw feeling: there was fear; there was panic; there was a loud critical voice always berating you and making you second guess yourself; there was a yearning for love but a terror of what it might mean; there was loneliness. There were all these things but there was also friendship, laughter, kindness and patience but nothing was ever enough to calm the furious beating of your terrified rabbit heart. But then there was him and your world was reshaped, reformed, rebuilt.

Your existence didn’t explode, the sphere of your days did not tilt on its axis because he came into your life. Instead, with wily tenacity, he crept up on you like the turning of the seasons. The burning heart of Taehyung surely and determinedly melted the icy box in which you contained your heart. It trembled within, like a little bird, but he could see its need through those glass-like walls and so he warmed his way in. Before Taehyung, you experienced life at a distance, keeping everything, even joy, at arm’s length; now your fragile heart, exposed in all its vulnerability, has learnt what it is to be consumed again.

You still know fear, anxiety and panic; those things will never, can never, leave you, but since Taehyung they have changed, their grip has not been so tight nor have you felt quite so alone. Taehyung has taken your heart and wrapped himself around it, building a bower for the two of you filled with hope and life. He is your spring, your fresh start, your new day, your sun-filled clear sky.

Once there was terror and a world clouded by your desperate need to protect yourself but then was Taehyung and then then there was wholeness; peace, joy and love.

Now, facing life without him, what is left?

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

It took an age for you to settle to sleep, but eventually you did, burrowing into his hold and smiling as, even in sleep, he wraps himself, sloth-like, around you. Sleep finds you then and pulls you into its depths, soothing your conflicted mind and repairing your aching body.

When you wake, hours later, the sun is low in the sky. You stagger from the bed in search of water, smiling in the orange glow of light at the sound of gentle birdsong in the last warmth of the day. Filling your glass at the bathroom sink, you wonder where to begin with Taehyung. You don’t know where you’re going next, but you’re certain that the path ahead is together.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you return to the bedroom and realise for the first time that the bed is empty.

He’s gone.

Your heart races suddenly, but you know the bed was still warm - maybe he just nipped out or food or something? Then your name slaps you across your face: a folded note on hotel stationery on the narrow desk. You snatch it up with trembling fingers, stumbling backwards to sit on the edge of the bed as you begin to read:

“Thank you for being with me one final time. You are the love of my life. I love you so fucking much - I love you TOO fucking much to put you through having to break up with me. I know we can’t be together, I know I’ve lost you. I deserve that, but you don’t deserve the pain of having to do it. Thank you for loving me - being loved by you was the only real joy I’ve ever known. Thank you for everything you’ve given me, I wish I had been worthy of it. I love you and always will.”

Your silent tears turn to wailing sobs as you reach “Goodbye, Your Taehyung,” and again the room closes in on you.

You dress quickly and in silence. There is no bar needed now, no sleaze to flirt with, the only thought in your mind for some reason you cannot explain is the pull of that birdsong and the orange light at the close of the day: you have to reach it.

Panic doesn’t come now, only numbness and shock as you move, zombie-like, through the hotel and out into the street, wandering to the park where only yesterday or a thousand years ago, you met Yideum. As your feet meet the soft grass, you kick off your shoes, digging your toes into the soft earth and walk purposefully to the river beyond. It’s there that the birdsong is loudest, in the trees that line the curving waters. Your pace quickens as you hurry there, you don’t know what answers you expect or what relief you might find, you simply follow the urge driven by the emptiness inside you.

Ivy-strewn and crumbling, a low wall edges the deep river below. It may present a glassy surface, reflecting the branches above and the orange glowing sun, but beneath the waters swirl dangerously in frigid depths. Undeterred, you clamber on to the wall, dangling your legs onto the bank below, then you freeze, leaning forward. From the other bank a crane cocks its head at you, evaluating the interloper on its territory, its thin legs picking a careful path through the shallows.

You ease yourself backwards, slowly sitting up not to startle the bird when suddenly, and bizarrely, your shoes fly past you into the river below; the startled crane has only time for a scornful glance before it beats its wings and takes to the air just as your breath is knocked out of you. Arms close tightly around you in a suffocating grip, while you’re pulled back against a strong, firm chest containing a wildly beating heart.

“What the fuck are you doing?” shrieks Taehyung, manhandling you backwards and off the wall before he releases you, leaving the two of you staring at each other in shock.

Catching your breath, you turn the question on him, “What the fuck are you doing?” you accuse, “You walk out on me, then throw my shoes at me, then yank me about? What’s going on?” There’s no anger in you, just utter confusion as you take in his red, puffy eyes and tear-thickened voice.

He shakes his head, “No, no - that’s not what happened. I was sitting over there,” he gestures vaguely to a bench not far from where you kicked your shoes off, “Then you come in and kick your shoes off - moving like a zombie heading for the river ready to chuck yourself in!”

You frown, “Chuck myself in? What?”

“I saw you!” he cries, slightly dementedly, “You were leaning forward, planning it!”

You laugh then, a genuine laugh from deep in your belly, almost folding in half, “No, you silly sod,” you wheeze, “There was a crane, and I didn’t want to startle it… I wasn’t going to drown myself, you fool!”

“Oh…” he says, diminished and made small.

“Why’d you throw my shoes in the river?” You ask, still giggling as you look in the water to see that thankfully they’ve caught in the roots of a tree.

“To distract you,” he says from behind you, his tone sheepish and embarrassed, “So I could grab you in time.”

You face him, still smiling and even though your face is tear streaked and tired, you’ve never been more beautiful to him, “Taehyung,” you say, interrupting his reverie, “I’d like my shoes back.”

Pressing his lips together he nods and accepts his punishment. You retake your seat on the wall as he carefully climbs over and retrieves your shoes with the aid of a large stick that you pass him, your mouth twitching in amusement. When your soaked shoes have been placed beside you with a flood of apologies, he takes a seat beside you and you sit together in silence.

Eventually, blinking from the bright glare of the sinking sun, you speak, “Taehyung?” you ask softly.

“Yes?” he replies with the same tender trepidation, turning to face you.

“Can I ask something else of you?” you almost mumble, your hands nervously knotting together, nails catching in your skin as you avoid his eyes.

He places one large hand over yours to soothe you, but you don’t look up, yet neither do you flinch away and his heart is gladdened, “Anything,” he confirms. What wouldn’t he give you? His heart will always be yours even if you don’t want it.

You mutter something incoherently, tears running down your face; with his other hand he cups your chin and guides your face towards his, “Say that again ba-,” he catches himself, stubbing out the word he no longer has any right to call you.

Your lip trembles, but you manage to look him in the eye, “Please don’t leave me.”

He smiles in relief, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to, don’t worry,” he promises.

You sigh and cringe simultaneously, elaborating, “No, I mean, don’t break up with me.”

He frowns now, confused, “You were breaking up with me?” He utters, wondering what you mean… Do you need to be the one to do it? He breathes deeply, “I understand, I get it. You need closure, you need to be the one to do it. I’m sorry, I was trying to spare you it - but I get it. You do what you have to do.”

You roll your eyes now, almost amused, “That’s not what I’m saying,” you groan, “What I need is you. I’m asking you to be with me so we can work this out together.”

You thought that you had seen the full panoply of Taehyung smiles until this moment. The grin he offers you now is one of eye-disappearing heart-shaped pure joy and relief, “Really?” he asks.

“What we have, Taehyung,” you begin, “…I don’t want lose it because you majorly fucked up in the past. There’s a lot to do, there are things I’ll need you to do, but I want to do find our way through it.”

He softens, “I will do anything for you,” he promises, clutching on to your hands with both of his, “I love you.”

You kiss him gently, soothing his aching heart and racing pulse. In turn, he kisses you back, your own heart calming, the chill in your veins melting away, “I love you too.”

⍟ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⊛ ⍟

Weeks later, Minho, Jihan and Jimin sit on the far wall of Minho’s roof terrace drinking; Aera and Ellie are building up the fire pit; Jessi is setting up the grill whilst Hyejin prevents Namjoon from ‘helping’; downstairs Jihoon and Jiho are putting the finishing touches to their so-called ‘legendary’ barbecue skills, marinating meat, tofu and prepping veggies.

Minho gestures towards the seating area with a tilt of his beer, where you lean into Taehyung, his arm slung around your shoulders, his mouth pressing kisses into your hair as the two of you mumble together in your own little world, “Everything seems to be ok between those two now,” he smiles, “Though it was a bit weird for a time there,” he finishes with a pointed and searching look at Jimin.

Jimin holds his hands up, “I admit I caused some chaos for a while there, but it was necessary and it’s all worked out.”

“Has it?” Minho presses, “Because I heard he’s in therapy now and the three of you went sloping off to see his mother and all sorts of strangeness - I’m just looking out for her.”

Jihan, to whom Taehyung has confessed everything, nods, “Look, Minho, Taehyung fucked up in the past ok? He didn’t do any of the things Jiho thought he’d done, but he did some seriously shitty stuff. The people who need to know, know now and he’s working on himself. He loves her, he’s no threat to her - trust me.”

“Trust us,” Jimin reinforces, “We’re with him, every step of the way and we are keeping an eye on him too.”

Minho doesn’t like not knowing, but he accepts there’s probably a reason for it. His gaze lingers on the two of you, your outlines picked out in gold from the setting sun. He has to admit that whatever has happened between you has tipped the scales of your relationship: Taehyung is no longer the dominating force he once was… to Minho things seem more balanced somehow. There seems to be a solid fulcrum between you finally: a centre that holds you both steady. He smiles as watches Taehyung interlace his fingers with yours, the two of you settling together in harmony. Minho might not know everything, but he knows what love is and what peace is and how elusive both can be… as you and Taehyung try to secretly share a giggly kiss, he knows you two have found it with each other.

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A/N: This chapter ends the story and my time writing on Tumblr for the foreseeable future - I hope one day I have more writing to share. Thanks for reading - I’d appreciate you sharing your thoughts if you’d be so kind.

Finally, a big thanks to anyone who has read and supported my writing. I really appreciate everything you’ve said and done.

Love you all,

Ffion 💛

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts fanfic #bts smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #bangtanwhq #btswritersclub #minors please don’t read

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