#In general just that feeling of acceptance towards the worst parts of yourself

[yovrnewromantic]

THE LINE—

pairings: steve harrington x henderson!reader

1 — part 2 coming soon…

words: 3.6k

Summary: You realize the line between love and hate is very thin as you babysit and monster hunt alongside Steve Harrington.

Leaning pathetically against your locker, you banged your head against the metal, tugging on the end of your cheerleading skirt that got caught in the door when you slammed it shut. It’s your fault really, you were so happy to get it open for once. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.

“Need some help with that?”

Your lips swerved into a smile at the familiar voice, leaning away from your locker to look at one of your favorite girls.

“Yes, Nancy. Please!” you pleaded, laughing as the girl stepped forward, easily opening your locker door, not even needing to ask the combination from the amount of times she’s had to open it.

Nancy Wheeler smiled smugly when your locker opened, releasing you and your skirt.

Nancy had been one of your best friends since you moved to Hawkins along with Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway. At twelve years old, you were anxious, but to your surprise, extremely charismatic. You found friends like wildflowers, something you loved, but Nancy was one of the best. She was like a rose, beautiful and smart, something that drew you to her in the first place.

“My savior! How could I ever repay you?” you joked, mocking a princess before laughing at your own joke, tugging your books tighter to your hip.

Nancy grimaced. “Well,” she started, and your brows furrowed, making you feel uneasy, “Firstly, by not being too mad…”

Nancy shoved a note in your face. You squinted reading the words that alert you that King fucking Steve was waiting for your best friend in the bathroom, wanting to make out. Gross.

“Ew,” you stated, playful smile turning into a pout. Your shoulders slumped, concern kicking in rather than disgust. “Harrington? Really, Nance? You could do so, so much better.”

To you, Steve Harrington was the worst person at Hawkins high. A real player who had absolutely no consideration for anyone’s feeling but his own and his stupid little posse. Generally a piece of shit.

“You owe me,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulder to try to rid her mind of what you were implying, what she had already been anxious about.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” you say softly, trying not to hurt the poor girls feelings, but really you were just trying to help.

“And why’s that?” she asks, on the defensive.

You shake your head, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “He’s a bad idea,” you state simply. “He treats girls like shit and you know better to accept that.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he dumped Charlotte after he had sex with her,” you offered, looking at her with a raised brow. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Well, that’s Charlotte. And I’m going to see him,” she announces, a little like she’s singing.

Sighing disappointedly, the bell rings in your ears. Great, you’re late.

You give Nancy a look already walking backwards towards your first period. “Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“You wouldn’t go out with him the first place!” she calls back, looking at you with a playful expression.

“Exactly.” You smile, finally turning around and heading to your class. When you fully turn, your smile disappears.

Something about Steve makes you anxious, fills your body with unease whenever you two make eye contact when your both at your lockers. You hate the way he smiles smugly at you. And you hate that he’s going after another one of your friends, the fear of her getting hurt makes your stomach ache.

This time, if he hurts her, you hurt him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

You were on your evening walk, frowning at the missing poster you see of Will Byers, your little brother’s best friend and Johnathan Byers, one of your best friends, brother. It’s a saddening sight, especially since the young boy’s funeral. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Frustration is throbbing through your body. You feel helpless, unable to find the boy despite having helped put up posters and searched through the woods countlessly.

You were also angry with yourself for allowing your brother out of the house when you heard the news, letting him and his friends set out in search for him themselves because your heart ached looking into your brother’s teary eyes as he begged you not to tell mom that you caught him sneaking out.

It was stupid, that you told him to keep his walking on him, stay with his friends, and to stay safe or you’d fucking kill him. You’re a shitty sister.

You were an idiot. An idiot people pleaser who never knew when to say no to her friends and family. It was stupid that when your empathetic heart feels their pain you resort to the worse stress reliever, and contradictory to your guilty conscience, violence.

“Harrington, you better get your ass down from that ladder right now!”

You saw him from a mile away, the words spray painted on the movie theatre that you would always take your brother and his friends. The only thing you could make out of it was that Steve fucking Harrington was caught defaminating one of your best friend’s names while vandalizing the cinema.

Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of you, the beautiful girl who ignored and criticized his every move. His ex-girlfriends best friend. His heart raced at your angry expression. His cheeks probably got a little red too.

“Henderson, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, sponge pausing its movement to look down at you. Steve had completely forgotten what it looked like had happened, oblivious to everything else around him, his entire focus on you. His fake innocence only made you angrier.

Ignoring his question, you fumed, “Get your ass down or I’m pushing you off this damn ladder!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he muttered curses under his breath, quickly climbing down from the ladder. You pretended that seeing his face bloody and bruised didn’t make your stomach ache.

“Jesus, what your pro—,” You shoved him, and he stumbled back, arms stretched out as his back hits the ladder, “blem!”

“You wrote this? You called Nancy a slut?!”

You pushed him again, and he stumbled again, still looking at you like you’re crazy. He caught your wrists when you went to push him again.

Your hands were held at his chest, pulling you into his chest despite how you try to plant your feet, to stay away from him. Steve still has an bizzare look on his face as he looks down at you, cheeks pink and he’s slightly out of breathe from how he scrambled to grab your wrists.  Steve rapidly shakes his head, blurting, “What? No! No, I didn’t!”

You let out a scoff, nodding sarcastically as if you believed him. “So… you just cleaning it up? Bullshit,” you spit, and Steve looks almost hurt by your insinuation.

“Yes! “ He announced, running a hand through his hair when you tugged your wrists free. “I didn’t write this!”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him accusingly, like he was stupid. “Then who did, Harrington?”

“Tommy.”

“Oh, you’re best friend!” you exclaimed, “That totally makes so much of a difference.”

“No, Henderson, — I.” He groaned. He glanced around, breathing out of his mouth before he pinched his nose. “I should’ve stopped him, I know, but I’m cleaning this up now. I’m trying to fix it.”

“Because you got caught?”

“No! I just—,” he shook his head. “I’m not… friends with those assholes anymore. I just wanna help.”

Really? you thought to yourself. Your nose scrunched as you scanned him up and down for a second with repulsion. He’s not friends with Tommy and Carol anymore? That’s hard to believe.

Your interrogation seemed never ended, and you still had the urge to punch him in the face despite the cuts and bruises that stand prominent on his handsome face. You wet your lips, ignoring your natural concern and continuing. “Help? Help what?”

“I wanna apologize,” he said. “To Nance.”

“Really?” you deadpanned.  Steve arms waved wildly before he poked to fingers into his forehead, closing his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is, King Steve,” you scoffed, before you let your thoughts slip into your words. You switch your footing, voice quieting ever so slightly when you ask, “What happened to your face?”

He paused.

“Byers,” Steve replied embarrassed, not even looking at you as your eyes widen.

“Really?” You sound surprised, and you are. The boy who’s been the nicest to you, one of your best friends ever since you’d gotten to town. Your babysitting buddy. The boy who’s brother was missing.

“Johnathan did that?” You ask. When he nods, you hum. “You deserved it.”

“I know.”

Humming, you look at Steve for a second, checking out his bloodied face and red knuckles. Next to his foot is the sponge he was using, it’s turning red and it looks like it’s decomposing from overuse. It makes you clear your throat when you catch his eyes again.

Quietly, almost whispering, you ask, “Do you love her?” You gulp, specifying, “Nancy?”

He sighed, and he looked at you for a good minute, clearly contemplating. Truth be told, he didn’t know. She was… different from his other girlfriend.

Steve would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like you. He knew he did, since last year and you walked in wearing a pretty little sundress and gave him attitude when he offered to be your prince charming and open your locker. Maybe he liked Nancy a lot, but he didn’t know if you could love someone and stare at their best friend when their back was turned.

He swallowed, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

You don’t like him. You don’t like him. You don’t like him.

Steve’s word make you nod to yourself, ignoring the relief you feel that he’s not in love with her for Nancy’s sake. Clearly, Steve was a shitty teenage boy, and even worse boyfriend, but you believed in change.

“You really want to make things right?” you question, still trying to keep your guard up despite how you feel them crashing down around you. Goddammit, you hate Steve Harrington.

“Yes,” he groaned, meaningfully.

In your head, you were screaming. Blood curdling, a homicide victim type of screaming, and it’s so loud, so so freaking loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. Maybe, that’s why you make a dumb decision.

You shrug, already turning around to start walking. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?”

“To go see Nancy,” you scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. Impatiently, you said, “Come on, I don’t want to be seen with you.”

You trudged forward, once white sneakers thumping against the sidewalk. Behind you, you can hear Steve jog forward, eager to catch up with you.

It doesn’t take long, but the moment he’s beside you, words spill from his lips, quickly. “I— I have my car.”

Pausing in your step, you begrudgingly looked at Steve, quite relieved that you don’t have to walk all the way to Jonathan’s house. “Okay. Where?”

“Over here,” Steve says, almost out of breath as he points to his car. You head towards it without a second thought, harshly pulling on his passenger car door and glaring at him when it doesn’t open.

Steve looks at you strangely, kinda of afraid of you, and he puts his key in before opening the door for you. You don’t look at him, not even when he gets inside the driver seat and starts the car, too busy staring out the window.

“Do you, um, want any music?” Steve stutters, looking at you hesitantly. You roll your eyes.

“You not talking is enough for me,” you smile, sarcastically.

“Oh,” Steve deadpans, biting his lips at he turns away from you, ready to drive.

Great, now you feel bad. You offer, “What do you have?”

“Yeah— yeah, I have Beat It, some AC/DC, Uptown Girl—

“Uptown Girl, please,” you cut him off.  Your casual manners make Steve blush. You don’t even notice that you said it, and it reminds Steve how good you are. You were solid good.

A good girl.

A nice girl.

And one who wants nothing to do with him.

Go figure.

Steve realizes how fucked up his mind is as his knuckles turn white on the stirring wheel. He starts to drive, listening to you hum while starring out the window, sometimes cutting yourself off to tell him directions to Jonathan’s house.

When he asked why there, you said that he had to apologize to Jonathan first. He listens to you for reasons he could not comprehend, because he found himself trusting you despite how much you must hate because he knows you.

In the hallways, he’d watched you tell freshmen directions, laugh on your way to class, help kids who would drop things. You’d barely notice the boys that trailed after you that you thought were only friends, and he’d watch you scold them whenever they were mean to some freak, or nerd, or geek, in the halls.

You were nice. The nicest girl at that damn school, and unbeknownst to you, The Queen Of Hawkins High.

He can’t keep his eyes off you, and he’s never felt guiltier. He let his friend call his girlfriend a slut while he was yearning to kiss her best friend on the way to apologize to her. There was something wrong with him. Steve shook his head, letting his eyes part from you and focus on the road.

The drive was slow, but the moment the car parked in the Byers’ driveway, you were quick to usher Steve out.

“Go,” you wave.

“What?” Steve’s heart races. “Right— right now?”

“When else?” you blink.

“Shouldn’t we rehearse something?”

You sigh, holding back a much needed eye roll. A fake smile props on your lips. “‘Jonathan, I’m sorry for fighting you in the middle of the street. That one’s on me,’” you say. “‘Oh, and I feel bad for smashing your camera to little bits. How about I buy you a new one with my daddy’s money?’” You drop your smile. “That good?”

“The camera wasn’t my fault,” he justified.

 “I know, I was there. Still, that doesn’t make what you did right, so get out of the car and apologize,” you punctuated.

Steve mouth gaped. Then, he begrudgingly unbuckles his seat belt and grumbles under his breath, stepping out the vehicle. He slams the car door shut.

You snorted a laugh, sinking into Steve’s comfy car seats.

From where your sat, you have a clear viewing of the show. You’re not sure whether or not Jonathan will forgive him. Apart of you hopes he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

What did surprise you was watching Steve, under the warm yellow glow from the Byers house lights, pound on the door and then eventually force his way in.

Hastily, you trailed after him, leaves crunching under your quick feet.

“Steve!” you called once in the door way. “This wasn’t what we talked about…”

The words died in your throat as your eyes scattered across the room, the sight of Jonathan, a shit ton of weapons his living room table and Nancy with a gun pointed at Steve’s face had you had you bewildered.

“You two need to leave now!” Jonathan said, but you were more focused on Nancy’s count down, gun still pointed at Steve.

Before you could think, you were shoving yourself in between Steve, Jonathan, and the gun, hand raised in defense. The mass of Christmas lights around you flickered briskly with your final shout, “What is going on?”

Few words between Nancy and Jonathan end with Steve Harrington, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall into a bedroom as a venus-flytrap looking bear rips apart the ceiling.

“What the hell was that,” Steve yelled along with a variety of curses.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan shouted, synchronized.

You and Steve shared a feared look.

Pounds and gurgles erupt from the other side of the door until they suddenly stopped. In the silence, Nancy and Jonathan exit the room, Steve and you right behind them.

“Are you going to tell us what that was?” you rasped desperately.

Nancy’s reply was short. “A demogorgon.”

You recognized that name. “Like—,” you brows pinched together. “From DnD?”

“That’s what the boys said.”

“The boys,” you repeated. “Like Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? They know about this?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for the questions. It’s going to come back, and you two,” she gestures to you and Steve, “need to leave. Right now.”

Breathing heavy, and with the shake of your head, you said, “No.”

“Yes, go,” Nancy said, stepping closer. You were the same height, she couldn’t intimidate you, not even with a gun in her hand. You weren’t going to leave, especially because of the newfound fear of that thing going after your brother.

“Y/N,” Steve tried, eager for the door.

“No, you go,” you said to Steve then turned to Nancy, “I’m staying so either let me help kill it or I’ll stand here and be bait.”

“Fine,” Nancy said.

Jonathan threw you a lighter. “Throw this into the carpet when it’s here.”

Steve felt pathetic watching the three of you. He didn’t want to leave and be a coward, but he didn’t want to die either. One thought over powered the other and he sprinted to his car, but seeing rapid flickering lights, he forced himself back inside.

After swinging a crowbar at the demogorgon and watching it swallow it whole, you were sure you were going to die. You fell back, squeaking in despair as you did so. The demogorgon’s mouth widen, and you may have gotten a little teary eyed at the sight of Jonathan and Nancy on the floor, looking helpless as well.

But to your shock, Steve Harrington jumped in front of you, swinging a bat like he hadn’t quit baseball in seventh grade.

What happened next was blur, but you remember Steve Harrington forcing you to your feet and the sight of a demogorgon enveloped in flames.

—

With shallow breaths, you sat on the wooden porch in front of the Byers’ house, illuminated by a singular warm lantern, recollecting the previous events. Mind racing, you hardly notice the body next to yours.

Well, until, and hand landed on your shoulder. It’s large, much bigger than your own. Your eyes traced the arm up to its owner, seeing a bloody, concerned face staring back at you.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and your heart swelled the slightest bit at his worry. He had just almost killed himself and he was worried about you.

Your eyebrows twitched, the undying desire to hate him still present. “Yeah,” you choked, “I’m fine.”

Steve nodded. He retracted the hand off your shoulder slowly, which you were grateful for. Nancy and Johnathan’s dull chatter filled the void, the four of you too nerved to fully close the front door.

Clearing your throat, you said, not looking at him. “Thank you for — um — saving my life.”

When Steve spoke, you turned to him. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

“No they wouldn’t have,” you said, entire body angling towards him. You kept your hands in your lap, tediously explaining, “They would’ve ran for the hills, like you should’ve, but you didn’t. So thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” he griped, but you shook your head with a scoff, readjusting yourself to look straight forward. You went silent again. Not far from you, you can hear the engine of a car, smell the toxic carbon monoxide polluting the air.

Steve Harrington saved your life. King Steve Harrington saved your life.

Laughing to yourself, you eyed Steve carefully. “I never would’ve taken you for a hero, Harrington.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Steve chuckled. His eyes shone particularly bright in the moonlight.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking to your lap, “maybe about a lot of things too.”

You hadn’t known why you said that. Steve’s lips parted at your words, a dumbfounded look forming on his face.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, your head whipped to the noise. Your eyes widened with recognition to the voice. “Dustin!” you shouted, voice echoing off the trees in question.

A car pulled up, and in the back windows you could see three smiling faces in the window.

Smiling. They’re okay, you told yourself. And free to yell.

“You boys are so lucky.” The words came out forced, a quiver in your voice at the pure relief you feel, rushing to the boys off the porch and watching the three of them exit the car safely. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed,” you snapped. “Why didn’t you told me?”

Only after you spoke did you notice their red rimmed eyes.

Your lips twitched into a frown. Swallowing back your own tears, you pulled Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into a hug. “I’m so glad you all are okay.”

Vaguely, blue and red flashing lights pull up onto the driveway of the Byers’ house. Police step out their car with questioning looks. It’s not long before one offers to take you and your brother home.

Glancing behind you, Steve Harrington’s eyes found yours swiftly, as if they had been trained to you this entire time. Hesitantly, you raised your hand, not very high, but just visibly for him to see. You gave Steve a small wave.

He smiled at you, and you were sure that it hurt.

been meaning to write a steve fic for a while. he’s so boyfriend and i’m a huge hopelessly pining/enemies to lovers girly

not my best, probably will rewrite in the future

#yovrnewromantic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #henderson!reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson x sister!reader #king steve #king steve harrington #cheerleader

[kurogxrix]

Hi can we get Neteyam comforting his female mate who wakes up from a loud noise in the middle of her sleep?

Dad!Neteyam x Mom!reader

You were already sleeping, all peacefully in the safety of your tent. The breeze that passed through the cracks of your tent flaps was hitting just right and the protective arms of your husband around you had helped you to fall asleep even quicker. 

Though, your peace was bound to be disrupted as a loud sound of metal clanking resonated around the whole tent. You suddenly wake up at the disturbance, jumping up from your sleeping position as Neteyam’s arms slightly prevent you from doing so. You tried to look around the tent in an attempt at seeking whatever had potentially intruded your tent. Paranoid as you were, you were fearing the worst for you and your little family as you couldn’t see much due to your lantern being off. 

You shook Neteyam by the shoulders, effectively waking him up and sending him in a panicked state. 

“I heard something, Neteyam!” you cried, holding onto your husband's arm for comfort. Anyone could call you dramatic all they wanted, but after living through the constant fear of war that ran through your husband’s family and your extreme paranoia, you deemed yourself to have the right to act this way. 

Neteyam quickly stood up, lighting up the main lantern with his flint and stone. He was an expert with his fingers so it took him little effort to get the light up and running. Your heart had stopped beating so aggressively against your chest wall at the sight of both your spears that had fallen to the ground, therefore causing the heavy noise. 

Though your concern picked up once more as you noticed who was to blame for their fall. You looked at your youngest son, as he was playing with the dull parts of the blade. You would have made a quick move for it, but your amazing husband had beat you to it. He picked up the young boy, before putting him back to sleep between his other siblings, who generously accepted the third warm body in their cuddle pile. 

 Neteyam looked at you, before smiling warmly at your concerned figure. He blew gently on the lantern’s wick, extinguishing the flame and setting you back into the previous darkness. Your fears resurrected once more, and you felt like a child that would shrink away from the dark. In the midst of your panicking, you had failed to notice the arms that had wrapped themselves gently around your waist, pulling them towards themselves. 

Neteyam sensed your panic, and he ought himself to be the one to ease your worries. He knows of your fears, of your concerns and insecurities. As your mate and father of the three beautiful children that you both conceived, he vowed to always be the one to cease your distraught mind. 

“Stop worrying, everyone is safe and you know that there are warriors patrolling the village at all hours.” he breathed in the crook of your neck, his nose rubbing against your jawline as he snuggled closer to you. You hummed in acknowledgment, though you were still worried for your family. What if Quaritch was still roaming and in search of a round 3 of getting beaten? What if the humans were to come back for revenge on the death that the omatikaya had brought amongst their army? 

You just couldn’t stress this enough. Though, the soft kiss that Neteyam had pressed along your cheek had warmed your heart deeply. You knew that he wanted you to feel at ease, and sometimes you felt bad for worrying him with your own worries.

You felt Neteyam turn around briefly before muttering something silently that you couldn’t necessarily hear. Then, just to your amazing luck, you felt one tiny leg step on the fine strands of your unbraided hair.

You restrained yourself from yelling at the sudden pull, making your scalp burn with pain. Neteyam was quick to grab your little daughter from below her armpits, bringing the tired child to rest between the two of you. When you looked down, you were met with the sight of all of your three children, attempting to squeeze between their dear parents. All of your adorable children that were supposed to be sleeping at that time. Turns out they had other plans, and it was to sneak in between their parents' own cuddling pile. The more the merrier, right? 

You chuckled at the sight of everyone attempting to squeeze together, and your heart soared as Neteyam’s hand had managed to find yours throughout the chaos. Soon, the little ones had calmed down and their agitated movements had stopped, leaving you to gaze into whatever fraction of your husband’s yellow iris that you could see through the dim lighting. 

He brought a hand to your cheek, softly rubbing it with his thumb. You leaned over to give Neteyam a kiss on the cheek, missing the way he flushed an indigo colour in the dark. Soon enough, Neteyam’s thumb movement had ceased as his breathing stabilised, deeming that he had fallen asleep. You too, falling into slumber as your husband’s presence soothed you. 

-

i wrote this before knowing that bladder lantern exist and that the na’vi had extremely good night vision, which makes sense but I’m stupid 😭

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #dad!neteyam #avatar 2 #neteyam oneshot

[astrologicalsstuff]

8th house synastry

And the not so pretty…

I’m going to make this one a series so keep updated

Please don’t take my ideas😖

18+ tw: sexual assault, r*pe, abuse.

8th house synastry is of change and evolving. It’s uncomfortable and taboo and that’s where it gets it’s reputation. These are the people that are going to thrust you into a different habit. The reason you remember them forever is because they were a cruscial moment that teaches you to change. Most likely the intensity that made you decide to evolve. There’s fears of loss while also something ong a growth and curiosity towards it. You know you shouldn’t yet that’s what makes it so enticing.

The 8th house includes. Loss, taboos, psychology, intimacy, intimate sex, debts, obsessions and power struggles.

7th house shows you what your missing, it’s what compliments your character. The 8th house is farther along than that. It’s something that’s so different that it forces you to catch up. Someone with Scorpio placements may love the change may love the way this person helps you grow, Leo and Aquarius placements without Pluto aspects, 8th house or Scorpio placements may hate it those people wouldn’t enjoy the change as much. Everyone has an 8th house and has signs they interact intensely with but different charts are more accepting of that level of intimacy.

Likely the sign will speak to many of your fears and with 8th house they may enjoy it. It’s all about pushing each others buttons and possibly mind games. This can lead to mind games or even deception but can also cause for a lot of tension. Giving this synastry aspect it’s reputation for both enemies and sexual partners. Your likely to both hate and love people whose planets fall in your 8th house because they bring forth everything you hide about yourself to the world. It can be a very uncomfortable feeling with planets like mars and sun but with feminine planets like moon and Venus theirs probably a layer of ease and care that comes with this. Mars in the 8th creates sexual tension no matter what. You may find yourself always touching this person like a magnet always drawn together. At its worst mars could be abusive, intrusive and downright predatory. House person is most likely intrigued initially but uncomfortable inevitably with marss forcefulness. At first mars person shows an openness that makes house person curious because this is a trait the house person was taught to hide. This synastry can create quite the sexual tension, there’s always something lurking in the air. Sometimes this can indicate a third party, something about this pairing is taboo. This person can also become your antagonist, the person always after you. Sun here may just indicate an enemy, sun is hard to say because many people will have this synastry and I notice it requires more depth into the Natal chart. But sun likes to shine and is submerged in the 8th house. May be someone who straight up doesn’t like you. If your the house person you might feel exposed by the sun person. Like they’re watching your moves and criticizing you.

Mercury probably has less of a sexual connotation but that’s not necessarily the case. For strong mercurial people it could indicate deep talks that lead to more. The person you want to spill your guts to and makes your feel heard. Jupiter here makes you feel accepted for your secrets and the parts of you you want to hide. Watch out for your finances with this synastry though could be someone in your pockets😭. Saturn unfortunately cold mean a lack of intimacy, a superficial feeling relationship. Generational planets can be quite hard to pinpoint because many people within your age group probably have similar placements but I’d say the closer the conjunction to the house cusp the more evident it would be. There’s also a likely good that your natal planets meet these same planets in the 8th house adding extra layers to your interactions with intimacy.

Neptune may be someone who many people fantasize about but with Neptune’s elusive energy that may be hidden to the house person. This gives the dream girl energy that many people dream about but can never seem to reach. With neptune in the 8th natal there may always be a level of dissatisfaction in the sex life, there could be a lot of sexual fantasize but the people somehow always remain at a distance 😢. These people desire all consuming sex. Intimacy to the greatest degree forbidden loves and strong desire. They have a inclination to the occult and may incorporate that into their sex lives. The native with this placement may have a lot of sexual fantasize themselves but neptune keeps everything at a distance. Someone with this may struggle keeping a partner that’s sexually fulfilling.

Pluto attracts people who are intimidated. There may be themes of great jealousy but also extreme magnetism. Attracts partners who want to control them and secretly crave someone who has that power over them. But with Pluto in the 8th there’s also this fear of being controlled and having that level of intimacy. At its worse Pluto in the 8th attracts stalkers, abusers and can be victims of all kinds of things, but this transforms the natives. They understand loss so people feel comfortable confiding in you because of your openness to the hidden parts of the world. I’ve noticed these natives usually have controlling friends in their young age. I have this and was always best friends with the bratty bully kid nobody else could stand. There’s a love for taboo so theirs often a fascination and understanding for intense people and situation. There’s a strong desire for growth so these people may seek out 8th house synastry a lot. These people are known to transform people, their understanding of peoples pain helps them heal. This can also indicate a hard time orgasming, especially if opposite Saturn, intimacy is a must.

Uranus in the 8th attract weird partners or have weird things they can only share with select people. Weird kinks and very open to . When this person enters your life you may notice influxes and losses with your finances.

#astrology #astro observations #love astrology #synastry #astro placements #astroblr #astro chart #venus #8th house #8th house synastry #pluto aspects

[tonyspank]

PHOTOGRAPH

Summary: Natasha would do anything to take everything back, including you.

A/N: Something very old from my drafts, there will not be a part two. 🙁

Warnings: Death, angst, and tell me if there’s more!

Days passed, weeks passed, then years passed. You left Natasha. And the worst thing is, you had no say so. Or, maybe you did. But the choice was already made.

Natasha had been dreading this day. The day when she had to come and clean up your old shared apartment. Any memory of you made her break down, she never felt this way about anyone.

When the two of you met her walls had been built up towards the sky. She pushed herself away from the team, away from you. Attachment wouldn't get her anywhere in this type of career, she knew that.

So why was it so hard when you came around? You didn't plan on falling in love with Natasha or making her fall in love with you. But you couldn't lie to yourself, something about her pulled you in.

Before you knew it you were trapped. Locked inside, with only one key. And the only person who owned that key was Natasha, she owned your heart.

It was a scary feeling for Natasha, of course, she thought love was for children. A part of her felt as if she didn't deserve love, she didn't deserve you.

However, all of those worries washed away once she looked into your eyes, as cliche as it sounded. The deep connection she felt, the warm feeling, you didn't have to speak when that look said everything.

Don't worry. You'd be there if she fell.

You were.

Slowly, and surely, Natasha's walls were breaking down. She felt safe around you, safe to be herself— flaws and all. Your love was unconditional. Her guard was fully down and she was accepted by you.

You understood her, every single cell of her body, you understood it. You were inseparable, you got each other. It shocked you both, you would've never thought you'd connect in the circumstances you were in.

When you admitted your feelings for the redhead you didn't think they'd be reciprocated, but even if they weren't, you didn't care. You adored Natasha, no matter what. Nothing would ever change that, your intentions would always stay the same.

Hearing Natasha say she loved you was better than you'd dreamed. At that moment she had never felt so vulnerable, but in your mind, you knew this was the woman you'd die for. You'd love her as no one has before, she was your source of light.

"Natasha," Natasha hummed in response, not feeling like talking. She hadn't for a while, all she wanted was you. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. No one's forcing you."

Steve said, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The two were outside of your shared apartment, bags and boxes ready to load whatever they wanted to keep in memory of you.

Steve had always been a great friend of yours. After he had come out of the ice you showed how the internet worked and all the new stuff that confused him from this generation. "No— I want to," Natasha spoke, her voice almost in a whisper.

She wanted to do nothing more than run back to the compound and bury herself in work to distract the aching pain in her heart. With a sigh, she unlocked the front door, slowly pushing it open.

"Hey.." Steve paused briefly, he didn't know what to say to make Natasha feel better in this situation. Sometimes he wondered if Natasha even wanted anything to do with him.

"I could do the bedroom if it's too much for you."

Natasha shook her head, "No, I don't want you to." Steve nodded, clearing his throat to clear the awkward silence that filled the room. Natasha's responses had gotten blunter and blunter as time moved on. She hadn't been doing it on purpose, she was just so tired of having to hold her tongue.

After looking around the apartment, reminiscing old memories that had been made in the apartment, she made her way toward the master bedroom.

A trash bag in her hand, she grabbed random things throwing them in, she wanted to keep all of your things. She didn't care, anything you'd left behind, she wanted it. Using a bit of too much force unloading the dresser a plastic decoration fell off it, creating a loud noise.

"Nat? You okay?" Steve called out from the kitchen, worry washing over him.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fine Steve." She replied, her eyes trained on a polaroid that had fallen onto the dark wood floor beside the decorative plant.

With shaky hands she picked it up, flipping it over. It was a photo of her, you two were sitting on-top of the Avengers tower, eating a cheap New York pizza from a restaurant not to far from the tower.

The sun was setting, looking absolutely beautiful. But you believed the red-head in front of you beat the sunset by a mile, snapping a photo of her with your vintage camera.

You were always obsessed with film, and if you hadn't joined Shield you'd be a photographer. You'd always tell Natasha how she'd grow to love how you captured moments of your day on your camera.

A soft laugh left her mouth, and before she knew it, she couldn't hold her tears back anymore. She needed you more than ever, you were supposed to be with her for the entirety, at least that's what you promised.

Although here she was, crying because you had broken her promise. As petty as it sounded, she was mad, you promised. She also couldn't help but think about the last fight you shared.

Natasha stormed behind you, following you into your shared bedroom. "Y/N!" She shouted after you, but you ignored her, trying to slam the door behind you to stop her from entering.

"Leave me alone, Natasha." You sighed out, running a hand over your face. "Y/N, please." You turned around to face her, she expected you to look angry, but it hurt more seeing the disappointment in your eyes.

"I just wanna talk." She says, taking a small step forward, and placing a shaky hand on your cheek.

You couldn't help but lean into her touch. You loved her but hated how you loved her after all she's done these past few months. You just wanted to be enough for her.

"Now you wanna talk to me?" You ask, your voice shaky yet firm. You move her hand off your face, not missing the way her face flashes with hurt.

"Y/N, I'm sorry."

You let out a fake laugh, "Wow, you're sorry."

"Y/N—" You interrupt her, ripping the tie off of your dress shirt, "No, Natasha. This is the fifth time you've stood me up this week."

You didn't understand, last week you had just come back from a month-long mission. All you wanted to do was spend time with your girlfriend, but it was almost as if she didn't feel the same. You understood had busy it could be, especially being an Avenger, but earlier in your relationship, Natasha had always made time for you.

You were supposedly the love of her life, even though it didn't feel like it. You started to doubt if you were enough for her, were you boring her?

"Do you love me, do you hate me? I don't understand. What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing, baby. It's me," You shook your head, letting her continue, but you couldn't help but feel the subtle anger grow in you. "I— I've just been so busy—"

"Stop!" You snap, you don't miss how Natasha jumps as the sudden rise in your voice, "Just stop! Enough with the excuses Nat."

You let your hand rest on your hips, your gaze falling towards the dress showing Tony letting you borrow out of his closet. A sudden lump in your throat, "Maybe,"

"Maybe we should just take a break."

"No," Natasha she breathes out, "No—" She repeats to herself, confused about why you would even suggest something like that. You could get over this, this was just a speed bump in the road. Was it not?

"I love you." You shake your head, "This," You point between the two of you, "Isn't love."

She did love you. You are the only one she'd ever love, and that was the truth. She hated herself for taking your love for granted for a split second.

But she hated you more for doing what you did.

It was the morning after you fought with Natasha, everything felt so strange. Of course, this wasn't the first time you had fought but, this time maybe you wouldn't make up.

And unfortunately for you, you had gotten called in for a mission. An enemy base had gotten ahold of  SHIELDS weapons and vehicles, you were confused about why Maria insisted on bringing Captain America and Black Widow on your mission until she confirmed she was going to take down the entire base.

The quinjet was silent, was there nothing to be said? You didn't know why you felt guilty, you weren't in the wrong. Perhaps you knew you were no good alone, and no one could ever replace Natasha.

Nevertheless, your relationship wasn't the same. You didn't feel the same euphoria that you felt when you shared your first touch.

You felt abandoned.

"Y/N, you good?" You're pulled out of your thoughts by Steve, "Hm? Yeah, I'm good."

"We're at the drop-out zone, Maria," Steve said into coms, you sat up stretching, making sure you were ready before you exited the quinjet. You felt a pair of eyes on you, already knowing who it was you didn't dare to meet their gaze.

"Alright," Steve starts as the quinjet starts to open, "Here goes nothing." The three of you line up, exiting the jet.

Your mission was supposed to be easy, you suppose. You and Natasha provide Steve backup as he runs towards the control room to activate a self-destruction protocol.

Except the three of you didn't know they had already known you were coming.

You should've noticed something was off when there was no security outside the base, and when you walked inside it was empty and silent.

"Somethings off," Steve stated, you nodded in agreement, looking around and examining your surroundings.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak but stopped once she heard Maria's voice in coms. "Cap, they know you're there. Backups on the way—"

Your heads all turn to the grenade laying between your legs, without hesitation you kick it, grabbing Natasha and pulling her towards the nearest cover.

"Steve! You okay?" You shout over the loud noise of bullets and rumble, "I'm good! I'm going to move towards the control room."

"There's no way he's gonna make it there by himself.." Natasha whispered beside you, as much as you hated to agree, she was right.

"Go," she told you, loading up her gun. "Nat—"

"Now, Y/N." This time she insisted, you didn't have a choice. You resisted the urge to tell her you love her or kiss her because you weren't sure if it'd be the last time you would be able to.

You took a deep breath before peaking your head out of the shelter for a quick second before turning your head to Natasha, she nodded, a silent way of telling you she'd provide you cover.

You swiftly stood up, running closer to Steve. "Steve! C'mon," His head turned to you, grabbing his shield and protecting himself from incoming bullets. You stood behind him, shooting anyone that got in your way.

"Maria? Maria, you there?" Cap asked in his earpiece, you sigh when there's no response.

"Cap, we have to get to the control room. I don't know how long Natasha can hold them off,"

He sends a nod your way, and you both run in the direction of the control room.

Still running, your heads turn towards a roar, not near you and thankfully not near Natasha.

"Was that Hulk?" You question. Steve sighs, "I hope not.."

A few more turns and you've made it to the control room. "Natasha, we've made it. Are you okay?" You whisper the last part, concerned.

"I'm okay," She replies, you feel yourself relax. A small smile appeared on your face as Steve activated the self-destruction protocol.

You watched as the blond-haired man point a finger to his ear, "Natasha, get out of here. We'll be right behind you."

"Okay, I'll see you guys outside."

Just as you guys were about to leave the control room you heard the same roar from earlier than a loud crash came from behind the two of you.

Cap grabs his shield, protecting his body. You both try to examine what just crashed into the control room but dust from the rubble is clouding the room. Grabbing a gun from your belt you point in front of you, "Is that—" Steve is interrupted by a huge rock being flung your way.

As quickly as you can, you dodge out of the way. It was an enormous green monster, but it wasn't Hulk. You didn't know what it was, what you knew is that it wanted you and Steve dead. 

"Steve! Get out of here!" You shout, your back against the wall. "I'm not leaving you."

"Please, Steve. Get Natasha out of here and go home." You plead, grabbing the gun from your back. "Make sure everyone's safe, and tell Natasha I love her."  

Steve knew if he stayed there to fight there was a chance both of you wouldn't make it alive and knew how stubborn you could be when you had your mind set on something.

The soldier gave you one last glance before taking off, you smiled and put all your attention on the monster.

Once Steve arrived at the entrance he noticed Natasha was gone, and all of the enemies were down. "Steve! Can you hear me?"

"Nat? Where are you?"

"I told you before, I'll meet you outside." She joked, Steve could practically hear the smirk on her face. His frown deepened, she didn't know the circumstances that you were in. How could he tell her that the love of her life was fighting in a life-or-death situation?

He ran out of the building and into the quinjet, hurrying to put the comms on the speaker of the quinjet, "Where's Y/N?"

He stayed silent, waiting to hear any sign of your voice to prove that you were still alive.

Shocking news is that you were, defeated the green monster with a very broken arm, but hey, you still survived. "Guys?" You asked into comms, unsure if it was still working or not.

You sighed when you only got static as a response, checking the ticking time clock, four minutes playing on it. "Shit," You muttered, rushing towards the nearest exit.

According to the blueprints you weren't that far away, although god had other plans for you.

You yelled out in pain feeling a hot pain in the back of your thigh, little did you know that Steve and Natasha were listening.

Natasha's heart dropped when she heard your scream, and Steve couldn't help but feel guilty. Natasha quickly stood up, ready to hop back out of the quinjet to help you but was held back by Steve.

"What are you doing?" She grits out, "There's no way you're going back in there, the bomb will explode any time soon."

"I'm afraid Captain is right, Ms. Romanoff," Jarvis added, the redhead sat back down, her mind trying to think of every possibility to save you, though nothing came to mind.

At that moment the building exploded, and Natasha couldn't accept the fact that you were gone. You weren't, there was no way.

You were going to walk out of the smoke perfectly fine, you had to. You promised you'd be there for her forever, no matter what. That's what you said.

Your funeral was even worse, there was no body to be collected. Nothing to be buried, which was one-hundred times worst in Natasha's opinion.

You didn't have any family, or that's what you told her, and everyone else. You'd always say the Avengers were your family, Natasha liked that because she felt the same way.

They all came to your funeral, even Thor who left Asgard to attend, Tony who called off meetings, and Clint who left the comfort of his home, they cared for you and they hoped you knew that.

Other than Natasha, your death affected Steve in ways he didn't know was possible. Throughout his day he'd think about how you should be here, and he should. He was Captain America yet he let you give your life for him.

They'd both do anything to get you back.

#reader insert #wattpad #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #marvel x you #angst

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 19- Praising

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 2.6k

Rating: 18+

Warning: The following work contains mentions of post-partum blues and frustration towards the needed mode of delivery (c-section).

Masterlist

A/N: I'm so sorry for how long this is, I got carried away by the backstory. This can be read as the part two of Flufftober Day 19.

If you were going to be honest, your expectations about the first months of your newborn were the worst possible. Turned out that it wasn’t that bad. Of course, the nights were still being animated, especially when the baby woke up with colic, but luckily, your handsome cowboy made an excellent husband and father.

In the first weeks, you were strictly forbidden to do anything but breastfeed the baby and walk a bit around the ranch, since it was a medical recommendation to help you recover from the c-section. Anything out of those two things would end up with Jack asking a hundred times if you were feeling okay and really didn’t prefer to let him do it. Sometimes you got close to getting irritated with him, but then you pondered for a moment and realized that he was just concerned about your well-being.

When your daughter was 4-months-old, things were starting to get calmer; her sleep was becoming more consistent, her episodes of colic were pretty rare, and, in a general aspect, Katherine was a pretty calm baby, only crying when her little tummy wasn’t that good was for some stuck gas or because she was hungry or when she remained too long without being snuggled by you or Jack.

But a peaceful baby didn’t mean that you didn’t have any problems to deal with.

Even after 4 months, you were still frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t have a natural delivery, even after all the times you and Jack talked about it and he reassured you endlessly that you shouldn’t martyrize yourself so much about something you had no control about, the subject was still living rent-free on your head. Such as your schism with the scar left from the c-section. There was nothing wrong with it, but to your paranoia, it didn’t matter, you’d always see it as a defect in you.

Jack had plenty of awareness of your mean thoughts about yourself and had spent a considerable time planning that night out in the city. You two had spent the last four months going out just for medical appointments and to do the groceries, a little time out without worries about diapers or a shopping list was a needed pause for both of you. Not surprising Jack at all, Ginger and Tequila didn’t even think twice before accepting to take care of their self-proclaimed niece.

“Are you two sure that you can handle it?” Jack asked while observing Ginger and Tequila absorbed watching Katherine sleeping on the baby stroller.

“You kidding? Have you forgotten I’m the older of three siblings? I’m a specialist on babies, Whiskey.” Tequila said in a convinced tone, still observing Katherine asleep.

“And I’m here to make sure he’ll not steal Katherine’s toys, so we’ll be fine.” Ginger completed calmly, also looking at Katherine.

“Something tells me that we’ll have some trouble to get our baby back.” You said observing the scene.

“Maybe you will.” Ginger turned to look at you “But what are you two still doing here?” she said while approaching you and Jack, guiding both of you to the door.

“Are we being kicked out of our own house?” Jack questioned raising one eyebrow.

“Yes.” Ginger answered naturally while opening the front door and gently putting you and Jack out “And you two better not show up here before the morning.” Before both of you even had the chance to answer, Ginger closed the door. You and Jack just looked at each other and laughed before going to the car.

---------------------

Safe to say that the night was running perfectly: a little walk around the city while talking about the most random things possible, a good dinner in a fancy restaurant, and the last stop was on a comfortable suite in a luxury hotel. Jack never failed to deliver amazing date nights.

“I have to give you the reason this time.” You said while playing with his hair, sitting sideways on his lap “We really needed to get out of home a little bit.”

“I thought you believed more in my observing skills.” Jack chuckled and kissed your shoulder, keeping his arms around your waist.

“I believe them.” You said calmly and looked away. Jack frowned and caressed your back.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked softly, making you look back at him.

“If I ask you something, can you give me an honest answer?” after he nodded, you took a deep breath before questioning “How bad is it?”

“You mean?” Jack asked with a confused look.

“My appearance since I gave birth.” You said calmly, looking away again “I mean, you haven’t made any move since I got cleared by the doctor to have sex again, not even tonight.” Your declaration for sure got Jack off guard, and Jack needed to ponder for a moment before answering.

“Honey, you’re turning this inside out.” He started calmly and kissed your cheek “First things first, don’t you think I don’t want you desperately because I do. The thing is, I know you’ve been dealing with a lot in the last few months. I know you still mulling over the fact that you had to go into a c-section and that the scar annoys you really much, so, the most I desire you, I’d never turn this into another thing to bother you, sugar.” Jack cupped your cheek with his hand, making you look at him “I’m fine with wait as long as it’s necessary. I want you to feel good about yourself and enjoy it, so, if you need four more months for that, I’ll wait. You’re the love of my life, the mother of my little princess, nothing is more important to me than your happiness.”

You couldn’t disguise your slight shock with all the information you received. You didn’t expect him to know so well what was going on in your mind, Jack for sure always had been a good observer, but you were sure that you had managed to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” You admitted with a surprised smile, settling better on his lap, getting mounted on his thighs, and resting your hands on his shoulders.

“C’mon, sugar, if you had taken a single look at your ass after you gave birth, I wouldn’t need to tell you all that.” You couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh, shaking your head.

“I hate you sometimes, Jack.” You said while still smiling, observing the smirk on his lips.

“Hate me as much as you want, but you can’t deny that my techniques are effective.” He answered in the cocky manner you loved so much and rested his hands on your thighs.

“You might have a point, but now back to business.” You said while settling better on his lap “I don’t think I’ll need four more months.”

“I’m seeing that, honey.” Jack raised his eyebrows, still smirking and moving his hands up on your body “Especially having your cleavage so close to my face.” He said while cupping your breasts softly.

“I didn’t hear your complaint about it.” You said with a sideways smile while undoing his tie and starting to unbutton his shirt.

“I’d never be that crazy, mainly now with this whole breastfeeding thing doing wonders here.” He said quietly, leaning forward to kiss the skin of your breasts that was exposed on your cleavage.

“You had no single crumb of decency left.” You said in a chuckle “I like it.”

“I know you do.” He said looking up to you, moving one hand to the back of your neck, and kissing you passionately.

And it was more than enough for you to forget any possible concern left.

You allowed yourself to dive in on the moment, enjoying the feeling of Jack’s hands and body all over you. Without even realizing it, you kept what you were doing before, getting rid of his shirt and moving your hands down to undo his belt. Also, not wasting time, Jack moved one hand to the zipper of your dress, opening it and taking it off your body without a second thought, promptly doing the same with your underwear. You moaned quietly when he placed you lying on your back on the bed, caressing the sides of your body and looking at you with a wide smile.

“You’re so beautiful, honeybee. I love you so much.” He whispered close to your mouth, biting your bottom lip and moving forward to kiss your neck slowly, making you unable to do anything but grab his hair and sigh loudly.

Despite his growing desire, Jack held himself back, moving slowly down your body and touching your body gently, aware that you were still very sensitive, not only on the physical aspect. But that didn’t prevent him from savoring every inch of your skin, kissing and nibbling every place he could reach, making you squirm and moan quietly, pulling his hair without even noticing.

Once he reached your lower stomach, Jack couldn’t prevent himself from kissing the scar of your c-section as he always had been tempted to do, not only to remind you that there was nothing wrong with it or because it had been the solution for you and the baby to get out from the labor safely but because he genuinely found it beautiful. You could feel your heart racing a bit while feeling all his attention tuned to that spot you’ve tried to avoid so much the last months.

When Jack finally moved to where you desperately needed him, you couldn’t contain your reflex of squeezing his head between your thighs while whimpering audibly and pulling his hair. And, Jack being Jack, loved your genuine reaction and of course, he would do his best to make you react even more, turning all his attention to your sensitive throbbing clit, while letting his fingertips circle your wet entrance.

At that point you were all messed up, contorting on the bed, pulling his hair, arching your back, and unable to contain your moans. Being away from him on the sexual field for four months certainly hadn’t helped with your self-control, but Jack wasn’t being exactly cooperative while smoothly sliding his fingers inside you and curling them to hit that precise spot that never failed to make you lose your composure. And it wouldn’t be different that time.

You just focused on enjoying every feeling you could get from the moment, noticing your involuntary movements getting more intense but unable to control them. You tangled your fingers in Jack’s hair, pulling it hard and squeezing his head even more between your thighs as you got taken aback by that intense orgasm. Jack smiled satisfied seeing you melted on the bed with your breath out of rhythm.

Calmly, he moved on the bed to lay at your side, caressing your face softly. You opened your eyes slowly and looked at him with a satisfied smile.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re already pretty enough without making any effort.” He said quietly and kissed you softly, making you moan when you tasted yourself on his lips.

“I have a doubt.” You said quietly against his lips “Why haven’t you got rid of your vacuum-packed jeans yet?” he chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re getting way too audacious, little lady.” Jack said with a smirk but didn’t hesitate to get rid of his remaining clothes.

“You’re too well-behaved tonight for my taste.” You teased as he crawled on the bed, getting on top of you.

“Can you blame me? I have the most beautiful lady with me, of course, I’ll behave well.” He teased back with that charming smirk.

“You need to take it easy with your flirt.” You said while passing your arms around his neck.

“Now you’re asking for too much.” He said as if it was serious and leaned to kiss you.

You whimpered quietly as you felt him moving slowly inside you, and sank one hand on his hair, tightening your other arm around his neck even though your whole body relaxed with that amazing feeling.

“You’re okay, honey?” Jack asked quietly against your lips while caressing your waist. You just nodded and kissed him again, starting to get highly needy of him once more.

Jack for sure was caught off guard by your reaction, but followed your rhythm, kissing you passionately while caressing and groping every part of your body he could reach, feeling his heart racing considerably, not only for the physical effort, but because have you so relaxed into the moment after all the harsh moments you had been through could make Jack cry genuine happy tears if he thought too much about it.

If you had to say, you wouldn’t remember when you had hooked your legs on Jack’s hips, wanting him the closest possible from you. When both of you needed a moment to catch a breath, you for sure got slightly melted when Jack rested his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. Conscious about the emotional and psychological weight all of that had on you, Jack wouldn’t waste the chance to remind you of how much he loved and appreciated you.

“You’re so amazing, honeybee. I love you so much.” His velvety voice whispering that by itself was already enough to affect you, but with his warm brown gaze staring straight into your eyes, it for sure had hit you a hundred times harder, making you unconsciously pull him closer with your legs and arms.

Seeing you craving for him that much, Jack allowed himself to move slightly faster and move one of his hands over your skin more intensely, while the other moved down to between your legs, rubbing your clit at the same pace of his thrusts, turning you into a complete mess of moans, whimpers, and spasms, giving him an incredible opportunity of ruin your rationality even more.

“My pretty lady is enjoying herself so much.” Jack kept his low tone, aware of its effects on you “You look so beautiful like that, sweetheart, even more than you already usually do.” He moved his free hand to your face, gently holding your jaw to keep your face the closest possible of his, wanting all your attention just to push you even closer to your limit “You feel so good, sugar, and I love you so much, I could never ask for a better wife.”

That hit you harder than you could ever imagine.

The incredible feeling of finally having his body joined to yours again for itself was already more than you could bear, but that amount of praising was definitely more than you could deal with. You could only surrender to the incredible number of feelings, scratching the back of his neck and pulling his hair as you moaned loudly and closed your eyes hard, feeling your legs trembling slightly as you enjoyed your orgasm.

Jack was having a tough time trying to contain himself and, when he saw that astonishing vision of you moaning and contorting under his body, he just sank his face on the curve of your neck and groaned hoarsely against your skin as he came inside you.

After being able to recover his breath and rationality, Jack leaned to the side, pulling you close to his chest, kissing your forehead, and caressing your back. You still were boneless and lazy, so the most you could do was nestle against him and look at him with a soft and happy expression, sighing when he caressed your cheek.

“It’s so good to see this adorable look on your face again.” He said calmly, still caressing your cheek.

“I think you’ll need to plan a few more date nights for us.” You said while letting your fingers draw senseless forms on his skin.

“Trust me, sugar. I already have another twenty plans.” Jack winked at you with a smirk and pressed a soft kiss on your lips.

Cowboytober Masterlist

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #agent whiskey #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #kingsman: the golden circle #pedrostories

[drdemonprince]

Thank you for talking about the ills of isolation and withdrawing during a moment where we need collective action, whatever that may look like for each one of us.

I have been thinking a lot about how I want to belong to groups who are doing things I care about and what gets in the way of that goal. A huge difficulty I have as an autistic woman and a woc in a small town in a white majority country is that often even with people whose politics I broadly agree with, there is a lot of interpersonal unease and irritation to get through. This is probably sometimes as much my fault as theirs. But sometimes it's stuff like people openly rolling their eyes at my name (too foreign and hard apparently) or me finding some of the things they say awful (a queer rights group still being racist for example) or just finding people annoying to be around at times.

How do I show up in these spaces and create a community without burning out from annoyance/disappointment/the everyday alienation of it all? Surely moving to a big city cannot be a practical answer when it's not affordable? And surely there must be a way to be honest about my politics and stand up for myself and still be in halfway progressive spaces that are doing good work and are best options right now in terms of proximity and impact? My parents' answer (different generation, country, culture) was always keep your head down and stay out of difficult things like organizing. I am tired of living like that. But I also feel I am too angry and too unfit to deal with the everyday reality of what people are like to be able to part of movements. The alternative though is to having a panic attack while reading the news and sink into despair and helplessness which sucks. Am I missing an obvious way out here? As always, very grateful to you for your wisdom and clarity on living uncowered.

Thank you so much for your wonderful message and question. I am admittedly a little out of my depth in some ways in answering this, I feel, as a white person and a man who people don't tend to subject to the worst of the kind of treatment that you're speaking to. (What I do get is people thinking that expressing the prejudices will be acceptable to me, which I have the responsibility to shut down as often as humanly possible, so that spaces don't have a such a dogshit culture and alienate tons of people like you).

I think you do really have to look over your own bandwidth, and determine for you what is tolerable and what isn't. As a trans person, there are slightly "off" little comments that I'll accept from someone who isn't well versed in the topic, and differences in how elders talk and think about gender that I'll tolerate bemusedly, but if it ventures into any area that makes the space explicitly hostile to trans people who are more vulnerable than me, then it's something I need to fight about or I need to abandon the space.

For a woman of color like yourself, I think that kind of decision making is a lot more fraught, because frankly I never have to worry about anybody really escalating their bullshit with me too badly, and they'll want to forget it pretty quickly after the conflict even if I do challenge them.

(This propensity towards midwest nicey-ness / white person fake nicey-ness can sometimes be leveraged to win a battle or two -- when I have obviously, unquestionably shut down someone's ignorance or read them for filth diplomatically for making a really dumb point, often the other person's impulse is to backtrack and make nice or pretend that what they said never happened, while also never doing it again in my presence, and in plenty of situations, that's plenty good enough. I have seen this kind of maneuvering work for people of color too, especially in groups like churches, volunteer organizations, cultural affinity groups, and the like, where there is a strong bias towards everybody getting along...sometimes that awful cultural norm can be shifted to your advantage if you Make the Person Saying the Fucked Up Thing the Awkward One.)

I think a lot of what you'll have to do is discern between the groups where you can push back against the remarks and policies that are unacceptable to you but basically get along with well-enough intentioned people, and the groups where you will be singled out and treated poorly for speaking up or ever asserting yourself. It also really helps to befriend all the other people of color & neurodivergent people in the space early on into joining a group, so you have people to lean on and you can get their lay of the land.

I wish I had advice that was more targeted and immediately actionable, but I think a lot of this is a very subtle dance based on the community spaces you move within, your political goals, the people within the space, the norms within that space surrounding conflict, how many other poc are there, etc etc. You will probably have to try a couple of groups before you find one that is tolerable enough for you because a) the people arent That Fucked Up, and b) they can kind of handle conflict some of the time at least. Please don't be disheartened if things feel awkward or a few of your first tries have rancid vibes. You can also take steps to build the very community spaces that you want -- by reaching out to other people of color in the area and forming your own groups that can then partner with these kind of annoying white majority organizations. The autonomy is useful and may preserve some social and emotional spoons, but at the cost of having to do a lot of organizing work. So, tradeoffs.

Would love to hear in the comments from people of color who do organizing in non-urban areas and have to deal with a lot of white people nonsense.

[apotatomashedbybts]

Eleutheria

or The Exit Part II

皿 Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk × OC (Park Sowon) (reader) / Jung Hoseok × OC (Lee Ji-a)

皿 Genre: Horror; Angst

皿 Trope: speculative horror, supernatural au, established relationship

皿 Word Count: 27.7k+ [sorry (^人^)]

皿 Trigger Warning: description of demonic entity, loss of loved ones, anxiety, injury, suffocating environment, deception, death

皿 Rating:PG13

皿 Banner: apotatomashedbybts

皿 Beta Reader: @theharrowing [my darlingest, Harrow! No matter how much I thank you it won't be enough! Thank you for being so patient with this piece and helping me bringing it to how it is now! Thank you for leaving so many compliments and reactions throughout the story and for putting up with my queries! They mean the world to me! And I feel like I haven't told you enough how amazing you are! Thank you for being the absolutely amazingest! Love you （づ￣3￣）づ╭❤️～]

皿 Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. Just go with the flow, baby~

皿 Author's Note (I): It's finally here! Omg! It took me so long to complete this part... And idk if I should be proud or embarrassed to say that this isn't the end. There will be multiple chapters coming! Honestly, when I started writing this part I thought the entire story will end in this BUT the more I thought about this story the more it extended, more characters appeared, the story in my head got kinda complicated (?) So I thought I must write whatever's hotchpotch cooking inside my hot head! And it feels like it's just the beginning.

皿 Author's Note (II): It'd mean the world to me if you not only like but also REBLOG and let me know about your thoughts on this! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠). Your feedback gives me the motivation to keep on writing ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ I would love to hear any thoughts! Even if it's an incoherent screech or just a "nice"!

皿 Taglist: @here2bbtstrash ; @sahazzy ; @minisugakoobies ; @sailoryoons ; @kiara-ish

皿 Crosspost: AO3 | Wattpad

皿 Sketches for better understanding: The Sketches

皿 Series Navigation: The Exit ⇰ Eleutheria ⇰ The Balam Manor (Upcoming)

皿 Summary: Jungkook not reaching home when he was supposed to doesn't sit right with you. You set out in search of him, only to find yourself in a mysterious manor with even more mysterious people who somehow don't seem too willing to let you go.

You couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling since you last talked to Jeongguk. 

The network on the main road remains intact throughout the way. So it was weird that there was a network disruption even when the weather was fine. 

Your mom and step-father tried to reason that things like these can happen sometimes and told you to just accept the odds. But it was too much of an odd that you couldn't connect to him once even after trying his number innumerable times and that he hadn’t arrived even by dawn when it hardly takes half an hour to forty-five minutes from where Jeongguk last called you - De Ville's Crest. 

Being a detective, you had seen the worst of what not taking action in time could do to a person. So without wasting any more time you took your car and went out to search for Jeongguk as soon as dawn gave into its first moment of morning. 

After getting out of the De Ville’s Crest, you continued to drive on the main road towards the city.

Throughout the way you looked for any sign of accidents and to your relief there weren’t any. 

Asking each and every store and commercial places on the way didn’t give you any desired answers either. 

It generally takes about two and a half hours from De Ville’s Crest to reach the junction but today it took you almost four hours. 

The grocery store at the junction of the main road and the shortcut, which barely anyone used, to The Moore Estate,  caught your attention. 

You had been traveling on this road as far as your memory took you back, but in those memories there was never a grocery store like this in this lonely intersection. 

If it wasn’t for the board hung up on top of the door saying “Taehyung Groceries”, you would have mistaken it for a greenhouse with its clean glass exterior that sparkled in sunlight and the numerous plants inside that made the products kept inside hard to notice. 

That’s a rather fancy grocery store. You thought to yourself. 

But what intrigued you the most to approach the store were the CCTV cameras placed outside the store — one facing the main road and one to the shortcut. 

Maybe one of them caught something…

You stopped your car in front of the store and went inside in hopes of getting some information. 

The air that greeted you upon entering carried a subtle scent of fresh rain and the forest at dawn that you sometimes visited with your step-dad, mixed with a light soothing scent of sandalwood incense and you found it extremely easy to breathe, as if you could sense the air get in and out of you.

Behind the counter you saw an old lady who looked 60-something. With a soft smile adorning her face she almost looked like she was glowing in her white full sleeve cotton shirt, white straight-leg trousers and white straight hair that flowed effortlessly reaching her hips. 

As soon as you crossed the threshold you heard her say, voice just above a whisper, “You are here!”

“Sorry?” You asked, surprised at her unusual greeting. 

“Nothing, my dear. Tell me what you want.” She smiled and walked out from behind the counter. 

You were quick to accept her explanation as you didn't have any patience to ponder about a greeting that she might have uttered whimsically. 

Hurriedly taking out your phone you showed her a picture of Jeongguk and asked, “Can you please tell me if you have seen him some time yesterday?” 

She took the phone from your hand and looked at it with squinted eyes for a couple seconds and then while passing it to you she said, “Oh my! Yes! I saw this gentleman yesterday. He bought a bottle of water from me a little after midnight. He asked me about the shortcut to The Moore Estate.”

Your eyes looked hopeful for the first time since last night but it was quick to give up that glint as soon as you heard about the shortcut. 

“Are you sure that he actually took the shortcut?” You enquired, trying to hold on to the possibility of him not actually taking it. 

The old lady pondered for a couple seconds before replying, “Well, we can always check the CCTV footage.” 

“Really? Can you please check? That would really help me a lot!” You exclaimed, both hopeful and grateful. 

“Of course. Why not?” The old lady answered and went back to her counter where her computer was. 

After a couple minutes of impatient waiting, you got called and you almost ran the short distance. 

The footage was from the CCTV facing the shortcut and it was showing Jeongguk’s car entering the shortcut at around 12:30 am. The footage wasn’t able to record much since it seemed like as soon as Jeongguk’s car entered that foreboding road it was swallowed by an impenetrable darkness. 

You covered your face that contorted in fear and helplessness. Your legs felt like jelly. As if sensing that the lady offered you a tool to sit down. 

“Why? Why does this keep happening to me?” You whimpered.

The strange string of incidents surrounding you resulting in the disappearance of your loved ones seemed to pull you at the throat, keeping you suffocated. 

First your dad, then your best friend Hoseok, and now Jeongguk. 

You felt like you were stuck in a terrible horror game and you were failing every level. 

The shortcut was famously infamous for being one of the creepiest and most dangerous areas in the state. And only people who didn't know about this route’s fame went in it. 

There had been numerous reports of people going missing over the years after taking this road at night. 

The authorities tried to investigate the place in search of potential criminal activities behind missing persons but found none — adding to its reputation. 

But what terrified you the most was your dad's repeated warning that still echoed in your ears, “Never ever take the shortcut to The Moore Estate at night. Not even in your dreams.” 

Thinking about your dad's ceaseless warnings and what could have happened to your boyfriend, your head felt light. 

“If I hurry I can still stop something bad from happening to him, right?” You thought and got up to leave. 

But the lady held your hand and said with that kind smile intact on her face, “You are my first customer today and it’s time for breakfast, you must be hungry. Have some sandwiches before you leave.”

She was right. No matter how much of an emotional wreckage you were, your body had its demands and the low grumble in your stomach was a definite whistle-blower. 

You sat down obediently and the lady brought two fluffy egg and bacon sandwiches on a plate for you. You told yourself that you must shove these down your throat and get going but these were hands down the best sandwiches you ever had, and God knew how hard you were trying not to relish on the taste or the relaxation that spread throughout your frazzled back instantly after you took the first bite.

As you were paying for the food and taking back the change in the counter, the lady asked, “Are you going to find your boyfriend?”

“Yes! I must hurry.” You nodded. 

The fact that you didn't mention to her about Jeongguk being your boyfriend had totally gone out of your mind. You also brushed off the fact that she used ‘find’ instead of ‘search’ in her question.

She lightly caressed your hair with a single stroke and smiled, “I hope you do. Here take this,” saying so, she handed you what seemed like a cookie the size of your palm, wrapped in a bluish silver wrapper, “for when you need it. This is on the house so don’t worry about paying. Now off you go.” 

Maybe it was because of the overpowering soft glow of hers that prevented you from noticing her eyes thus far which were so deeply pain-stricken that you couldn’t help but hug her and mentally said, “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

You wondered why you even said that when you should be the one to be told that instead. 

The lady gently patted your head and you felt a gentle whisper inside your head, “I know.” 

You couldn’t pinpoint but something about that and her hug cooled your nerves. 

Thanking her for the info and the food, you hurried outside and sped into the forbidding shortcut. 

The sun was bright above your head and you have been driving for almost an hour now at your topmost speed. But you hadn't come across any turning. The road went straight ahead without branching.

After another hour of driving you reached The Moore Estate, without noticing anything unusual.

I must be doing something wrong. 

You let out a frustrated sigh and ran your hand through your hair while turning your car around and starting again towards the road that you came from. 

But you were left disappointed again when even after reaching back at the junction you couldn't find the turning or any sign of Jeongguk's car. 

Stopping your car at the junction, you lowered your head on the steering wheel and tried to clear your mind.

Then as if suddenly having an epiphany a memory from eleven years ago played inside your head. 

Due to an emergency at home, your dad was taking you home from your boarding school late at night. You were fifteen then. 

Time in hand was short so your dad had decided to take the shortcut. You faintly remembered seeing a gas station but what you clearly remembered now was what your dad had said after crossing them at a speed of 130 km/hr. 

While keeping his sharp eyes on the road and never going down under the speed of 100, your dad had told you, “Do you wanna know a fun fact? Did you see that gas station that we crossed a while ago? It only appears after midnight. In the daytime you can never see it.” 

You remembered your dad’s tear laden face with which he had made you promise, “Promise me, you'll never take the shortcut after midnight! And even if you do, you won't stop anywhere in the middle. And no matter what happens, you won't take the road to Devil's Crest!”

Even though you didn't believe him back then, counting it as his way to scare you, you never took the shortcut - until today. 

And before the curious-you could ask him about what he said that night, your dad had disappeared from your life without a trace.

“I am sorry dad. I have to break the promise today. I have to find Jeongguk.” You whispered as you felt your tears trying to push their way out of your throat. 

Shaking off the sadness and the tears from your eyes, a technique that you had learned from Jeongguk and had countlessly teased him about, you looked at the time - it was 2 pm. 

You had 10 hours in hand.

You closed your eyes to think. You have to utilise the time properly and so you decided to go back home and come back with a few things that might come in handy. 

After reaching home, needless to say that you were bombarded with questions. 

You couldn't tell them that you would have explained everything to them if things were that easily explainable. But it wasn't, so you just told them to trust you and that you were going to find him. 

The last bit seemed like a reassurance to yourself. You were not sure if what you were thinking was right or not. But you ardently hoped it was. 

Packing your bag with warm clothes for both you and Jeongguk, a power bank for your phone, a strong fully charged flashlight, several water bottles, a first aid kit, your fully loaded desert eagle gun, and a compass, you started on your journey to find Jeongguk after having dinner. 

When you reached the junction, it was already dark and the moon was in the middle of the sky. 

The almost full moon was enthralling and you couldn't help but sigh and pray to it to look after Jeongguk and help you find him as quickly as possible. 

As night turned into midnight the number of vehicles on the main road decreased exponentially. The coldness started to settle onto the ground more rapidly and the surroundings were gradually getting abandoned by the signs of the city. The only trace of human civilization was the dim light coming from the old lady's grocery store. 

It was time to go but just before you were about to start your engine, your stomach growled loudly. 

You clicked your tongue disapprovingly and with a short sigh opened your bag to look for some snacks, but were quick to curse yourself when you realised that you had forgotten to pack any. 

But just then you remembered the cookie that the old lady had given you. You thanked her mentally and opened it. Was it your eyes playing tricks or did the dim light of the grocery store shine brighter for a second before going dim again?

The cookie was big - enough to defeat your hunger for now. The aroma of it was instantly appetising and after you tasted it, you regretted not getting more from her. You didn’t know whether it was just your luck or a weird coincidence that the cookie tasted of your favourite flavours — butter, orange, cashew — mixed to perfect ratio. But now there wasn't any time. So you quickly started munching on it. 

When you reached the middle of it you found a piece of paper inside and exclaimed, “Ah! So it's a fortune cookie!” 

Putting the rest of the cookie in your mouth in one go, you started reading it in the car light. 

The writing was written in golden block letters on a black paper and it read — 

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN 

“Hmm...?” You were confused. It seemed more like a riddle than a fortune. 

You read it a couple times more and then kept it in your cargo trouser pocket with a shrug because you couldn't understand what it could mean. 

Before starting your engine you looked at the moon and prayed, “Please dad, look after Jeongguk for me while I get there.” 

••• 

The road was unsettlingly dark and your car headlights couldn't pierce further than a foot through it. 

The moonlight that was brightening the surroundings with its light just a while ago seemed to have disappeared. You couldn't even see the moon anymore. 

As if it was a sign that you have entered the forbidden shortcut now.

You drove really slow in order to avoid hitting something. 

And after driving for about twenty minutes you saw it - the gas station. 

Your fuel meter's arrow was almost near empty even though you had filled it full near the junction just before leaving. 

Your brows knitted themselves together but you decided not to stop. More so because you remembered your dad’s warning. You didn’t have any business in there anyways.

While driving past it you saw a lanky old man standing at the edge of the gas station as if waiting for you to enter. And when you crossed past it you saw him in the side mirror of your car - staring right at the mirror. 

You felt like he was staring right back at you as if he knew you were looking at him. 

You felt a chilly feeling run right through your spine and you pressed onto the accelerator to get out of the vicinity of the station as soon as possible. 

Has the road always been this long? 

Your doubtful gaze wandered over to your phone and you saw that it was almost 3 in the morning; that meant you had been driving for nearly three hours now. 

You were supposed to reach The Moore Estate by this time but you couldn't seem to get out of this seemingly never ending dark road. 

Another strange occuring caught your eyes that you had forgotten all this while - your fuel. The arrow which was near the empty mark near the gas station was now hovering in the near full section, right where it should be. 

Was it your eyes playing a trick with you again or was it really a deception caused by the negative entities present there to make one enter the gas station, you wondered. 

Fearing that you might miss the turning again you slowed down even more and stopped yourself from zoning out, but just then your phone alarm went off making you jump. You had forgotten that you had set an alarm at 3:03 am - when Jeongguk had called you. 

And then you saw it - Devil's Crest. 

An arrow-shaped wooden signboard with the name etched on it in a deep red colour, that almost gave the impression of dried blood on rotten wood, was pointing towards a road that had magically branched, creating a turning — leading to an obscurity.

You stopped your car and took a deep breath. A few slow breaths later, the fear of encountering something vicious began to settle on your shoulders. 

The repeated voice of your father telling – “never take the road to Devil's Crest, never take the road to Devil's Crest” – began to reverberate inside your head so loudly that you had to sit down, hold your head and pray for it to go away. 

Why now? Why now of all times? You felt miserable as tears started wetting your lashes. 

Jeongguk! You have to find Jeongguk! You slapped your ears in an attempt to make the voice go away and started taking deep slow breaths to calm yourself down. 

That seemed to work and a few minutes later the voices inside your head had died down. 

Parking your car off the road, you took your backpack and with the flashlight in your hand you stood in front of the signboard. 

The road ahead was iniquitously eerie, and not to mention, dark just like the rest of the area. It made you uneasy and your legs revolted to move. 

You took out the phone from your pocket to see the time but just then something fell off - it was the paper from the cookie. 

You picked it up and in the flashlight you read it again instinctively - 

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN

“When roads are misleading... Never take the road to Devil's Crest…” you mumbled a couple times. Something told you that these two sentences juxtaposing like this was not a mere coincidence and that there must be some connection and intention behind them. 

“What could it be? What could it be?” You asked yourself and swung the flashlight haphazardly around the road and then your eyes and your flashlight loosely hovered over the overgrown bushes and the trees by the side of the road to Devil's Crest and you thought, 

What if I don't take the road and still enter the Devil's Crest? 

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, your legs felt light and a small amount of fear transformed into relief. 

You made your way through the overgrown weeds and grasses in between the trees and thought to go on a parallel line along the road but as soon as you struggled your way through the undergrowth and entered the woods you couldn't see the road anymore, as if you had mistakenly entered a whole different area.

You went back to where you entered and there you saw the Devil's Crest turning and the road. There was no way you were mistaken. 

“It must be because of the darkness,” you told yourself and re-entered the doomy forest. 

You stood there for a moment, worried that it’s going to be difficult to reach the destination, no matter how unknown, if you couldn’t see the road. What if you get lost in this darkness without any way out? 

But this awry feeling at the back of your mind telling you that this was the only way was too heavy, and so with the flashlight being the only source of light, you started walking straight ahead. 

You have been walking for a while now and except the occasional hooting of the owls and a constant chirping of the crickets there was nothing to keep you company. 

You didn't know where exactly to look at since this indomitable darkness was swallowing the light of your flashlight which resulted in you seeing only about a foot around your steps, nothing more. 

You called out Jeongguk's name constantly at regular intervals but with your calls dissipating in the woods, what came back to you as a reply was the annoyed chirps of the sleepy birds. 

You avoided swinging your flashlight around the woods in fear of witnessing something scary and you cursed your brain for reminding you all the countless horror movies you have ever watched right at the moment.

Disappointed and tired, you stopped for a water break and looked at the time. You had been walking for 45 minutes now and with you walking slowly because of the protruding branches and thorns grabbing onto your pants, there seemed to be little to no progress. You looked up and the moon and the stars were still absent, the sky was still black. 

Refusing to give up or take a break you dragged yourself forward with slow steps, on an energy saving mode. 

But then you saw it. Clearly. You were not surrounded by darkness anymore. You had reached a clearing from whose center four clear trails were going four ways and everything was grey, like a black-and-white movie. The moonlight illuminating the area after appearing so suddenly took you by surprise, making you come to an abrupt stop. 

You rubbed your eyes and looked back where you just came out from — it was still lightless. 

Everything around you seemed like something from a fever dream. 

I haven’t fallen asleep in the car, have I? You pinched yourself hard and you felt it quite realistically. 

What the fuck is this place? You glanced around while rubbing the area you pinched. 

Up until you were inside the forest area it smelled like any other woodland - a little musty and damp, rotten woods, several sweet fragrance coming from trees and moist earth. But as soon as you stepped into this part there was a drastic change in the odour. It smelt like cold steel and it set a little heavier on your nose. And then you noticed another weird thing in this already weird environment — a crossroad signpost with four wooden arrows pointing at four different directions making an X, where the trails met. 

Generally, a crossroad signpost at an intersection was something that is very very normal. But here, what made it strange was its heads not pointing towards the trails, instead the areas in between. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to the post. You looked at it intently with your flashlight. They were simple wood cutouts with nothing written on them. 

What are they even pointing at? You directed your flashlight at the grassy areas and each one of the trails. The trails were wide enough for three people to walk side by side and their condition indicated that they were used for regular commute. 

Something felt off. As far as you knew, people avoided taking the shortcut altogether. As far as its bad reputation goes, it seemed highly unlikely that there would be people using these isolated areas to travel. Also, the part of the forest that you came out from didn’t have a trail going in its direction. You were standing in one of the grassy areas just like the areas in between the other trails. That could also mean that one of these trails was connected to the road to the Devil’s Crest for it to at least take the travellers somewhere closer in this area. 

Earlier, just before entering the forest you had checked on your needle compass that the road to the Devil’s Crest was headed south. It was a complete wild guess, an arrow in the darkness, but you decided to take the trail that was headed south. 

You took out your compass from your jacket pocket and faced the southward trail. 

This should be fine, right? You took a long deep breath that made your shoulder go up and down. 

You stared at the road ahead but a heavy feeling in your gut made your body immobile. It made your heart scream to your mind, “I don’t wanna go there.” Your body was stiffening itself in its place, refusing to move forward — an instinctive stance to avoid whatever danger that might be lying ahead. 

You didn’t know how many minutes had passed with you just standing there. As if to give you a nudge, a chilly wind started to blow and a gauzy fog began to settle on the ground. 

To avoid the cold you hung the flashlight on your shoulder by its strings and put both your hands in your puffer jacket pocket. 

Inside your jacket pocket you found the wrapper of the cookie that you ate earlier. You took it out and as soon as you did a gust of wind blew it out of your hand. 

The wrapper, oddly shining in this dull grey environment, flew over to the grassy area to the left side of the southward trail. Along with the wind, the still-motionless fog began to mobilise. Instinctively you dashed towards the wrapper, passing the crossroad signpost, to retrieve it. But before that, for a split second you were quite certain that you noticed the fog through your peripheral vision floating on the trails, mobilized by the wind, moving towards where the trails lead to and there was no trace of them on the rest of the areas.

After grabbing the wrapper you turned around to confirm what you just saw but what you witnessed made you falter backward and you tripped on your own foot and fell on the ground. 

I must be going crazy! What in the Alice In Wonderland shit is this? 

You broke into a cold sweat. You felt the remaining energy from your body leave like a sheet that was covering you, gliding away from you. You were nothing but an object now. 

And your surroundings were nothing but empty now.

It was as if in those past fraction of seconds you weren’t looking, someone had erased everything — there was no crosspost signboard, neither were there any trails. It was just a vast field covered in small grasses, all nothing but grey.

Sitting there you forgot that you had to be somewhere. Your numb brain couldn’t say anything to your body and you sat there staring blankly at the now-empty space in front of you. You could hear a faint constant ringing inside your ears and a slow darkness gradually took over your eyes. 

A yellow light on your eyelids, shivers all over your body and the noise of accumulated chirping made you sit up with a startle. Still heavy with sleep, you rubbed your eyes to wake yourself up properly. 

The first rays of the sun were just touching the area and you discovered the reason behind your shivers. You were sleeping on the ground, under the open sky and needless to say the dews had settled upon you alongside everything. 

You looked around your surroundings - it was the same field that you saw before passing out, except it was now full of colour. The steel-like smell was long gone, instead the air was filled with the smell of wet grass. The sun rays fell upon the dark green leafy trees of the forest that surrounded the field covered in grasses, some plump green, many golden yellow and a few parched brown. Flocks of birds flew across the sky in search of food and the wetness under you seeping through your clothes was making its presence more prominent to you.

The normality of it all made you question whether what you witnessed just a few hours ago was even real. Maybe you had dreamt all of it, you wondered. And that made more sense to you. It definitely was a dream, you concluded. You had been traveling all day and night yesterday without any proper rest and the constant anxiety, along with the trip through the forest must have taken a toll on you. 

Lying down for such a long time in such an uncomfortable position on your side with the haversack still on your back had made your body sore. You took off the haversack and stretched your limbs and massaged your shoulders to make some of the soreness go away. Rubbing your face to remove the leftover haziness from your mind, you got up to get a better view of your surroundings. You were on a comparatively higher ground, which merged to a plain with a gentle slope and you noticed in the far south which seemed hardly a kilometre away from where you were — a mansion built in the old English style. 

“Have I wandered into someone’s private property?” You wondered, even though you were pretty sure you hadn’t noticed any warnings or boundaries on your way here.

Many people didn’t like strangers wandering inside their property and the residents of this mansion could very possibly be one of those, but in this situation your best shot was to risk the chance of getting kicked out with profanities and ask about your missing boyfriend, a way out of this forest to some nearby locality and if they were kind enough, then a moment’s proper rest. 

You put on your haversack and picked up the flashlight that was lying on the ground, luckily unscathed, by your side. 

The valley was uneven like waves which could go unnoticed unless walked on, making it strenuous to cross, but the weather in the morning was really soothing, which made you feel like everything was gonna be alright, and occasionally you stopped to take a brief breather by soaking in the sun with your eyes closed. 

Before your clothes could dry up in the breeze on the way, you found yourself standing in front of the main gate of the mansion. 

The mansion, even though built in the old English style, hardly seemed historic. It was well-cared with a similarly pampered garden.

The latch of the iron gate was unclasped and a stone slab to the right of the gate on the low boundary wall read - The Balam Manor. 

You felt like you had heard the name somewhere before but you couldn’t trigger that particular part of your memory.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” you whispered before letting yourself in through the gate. 

Another sixty metres walk and you were in front of the main door. It had one of those ropes attached with a bell system instead of electronic doorbells. 

You took a deep breath and rang the bell thrice and for the next several minutes you stood there with rapid tapping feets and drifting eyes.

A very tall old man opened the door who you could swear to have seen somewhere before. You looked up and stared at his face trying to figure out this odd sense of knowing but you were soon pulled out of your rigorous digging through your brain by his question, “Yes? How may I help you?” 

“I am sorry for disturbing your perfect morning, good sir, but actually I have come looking for someone and I was wondering if you have seen that person somewhere.” You smiled awkwardly and hoped for your flattery to work to a certain extent. 

The old man scanned you once from head to toe then back to your eyes. Then turning his neck to give a quick glance inside he turned back to you and replied, “Please wait a second. I’ll be right back.” 

Hardly a minute had passed before he came back and he said, “Please take your footwear off and come inside. Our ladyship has permitted you to be invited in.” 

Wow… I never thought I would hear this type of sentence in real life. Do I have to talk like that too? You thought but all you could really say was - thank you. 

The old man led you through a short hallway whose walls were decked out with paintings varying in sizes but all equally gorgeous and weirdly had the same theme — water. 

Midway through the hall room there were two majestic curved staircases leading to the first floor, merging into one platform overhead. 

You were guided into a large lavish living room crossing the staircases, which justified the mansion of such grace. The theme colour of the room was dark navy which adorned the couches, the fireplace, the walls, the curtains and was perfectly balanced with hints of gold and light brown. 

You were mesmerized and couldn’t stop admiring the space you had entered with your mouth agape. 

“Please take a seat. Her grace will be here shortly.” Saying that, the old man disappeared into the right wing hallway of the house. 

You nodded and sat there with fidgety fingers but your eyes were still busy praising all the ornate stuff decorated meticulously.

The room, greatly flooded with sunlight seeping in through the large windows, somehow smelt cold, as if the window was just opened prior to your entrance. But soon it was overcome by the smell of a perfume that felt like a lot of flowers mixed together, almost too sweet for your delicate nose, that seemed to have drifted in earlier than its owner could. 

With the mystery not remaining in hiding any longer, the owner appeared from the right hallway and you found yourself immediately standing up in the presence of an overpowering aura. 

The lady, standing almost at a height of 6ft, was wearing a solid black mermaid gown with a side-buttoned velvet blazer that hugged her slim torso so firmly that it seemed to be doing the work of a corset instead. Her black hair was made into a 50s starlet style and her makeup, in contrast to all the darkness in her dress-up, was light peachy. 

You thought it would be rude to cover your nose in front of her but the smell of the flowers was almost dizzying. Then a second smell hit you. It was of burnt wood. It was lingering subtly in the air and there was no way for you to know where it was coming from. 

The lady gestured you to sit down and she herself sat on the single seater sofa opposite to you. 

“I heard from Duri that you came here looking for someone?” 

“Yes. Let me first apologise for inconveniencing you like this. A complete stranger showing up at your doorstep early in the morning must be bothersome.” 

“Oh, not at all. We get visitors once in a blue moon. So seeing new faces around here is actually a treat for us old souls.” 

Her amicable mood made you feel relieved and your shoulders relaxed visibly. 

“Us old souls? Ma’am, you are far too young to be called an old soul.” Your compliment made her blush.

She smiled shyly and said, “Then I guess my makeup is on point today.” 

You opened your mouth to protest with some more compliments but she started talking. 

“So who are you looking for? We actually might be of some help.” 

With hopeful eyes, you briefly told her about your boyfriend going missing on his way to Moore estate and how you had been searching for him. Intentionally you kept all the help and the supernatural things to yourself. 

“We may have good news for you. We rescued a young man yesterday around dawn at the border of our property. Would you like to visit him and see if he is the boyfriend you mentioned?” The lady asked you with a sympathetic tone. 

You jumped at the possibility and stood up, “Yes! Please! Let me see him.” 

“Sure.” The lady stood up. “Follow me.” Saying so, she started walking towards the left hallway from the entrance. You followed her gliding steps. She stopped in front of the last room, and with a quick yet heavy exhale she opened the door. 

You entered behind her and rushed to the king size bed when she made way for you. 

It was Jeongguk. It really was Jeongguk. He was lying on the bed on his back with the lower half of his body covered in a comforter. He had a white cotton henley shirt with lace string on which you recognised wasn’t his. He was breathing slowly and he had a bandage going around his head which ran through the middle of his forehead. 

You sat by his side on the floor and held his hand. You couldn’t begin to express how grateful you were. The heavy stone in your heart was finally melting and you gave in to the urge of crying that you had been holding since yesterday. 

“Thank you. Thank you for being here.” Holding his right hand, you rubbed it gently against your forehead and placed a long kiss on it. 

Seeing no response from him, worry started to settle in your mind again. You turned towards the lady and asked, “Excuse me, ma’am, what happened to him? Why isn’t he responding?” 

“Oh dear.” The lady briskly walked towards you and reached out her hand towards you. You took a few seconds to grasp what she was trying to do and then you slowly placed your hand in hers and let her guide you up towards the small couch that was seated beside the window of the room. 

Sitting so close to her, the burning smell along with the stinging flowery scent hit your nose brutally. You let out a quick cough to ease that squeezing feeling around you.

She held your hand in a sympathetic manner and began to explain, “Yesterday dawn, at around 4 am, Duri found him near our border property in the far south. He was unconscious which seemed to have resulted from him driving straight into a tree ahead. Duri brought him to our home immediately. We have an in-house doctor who treated him but he hasn’t regained consciousness since. The doctor has informed us that he is out of any life-threatening danger. He just needs to regain his consciousness. So don’t worry. He is doing better than you are giving him credit for.” 

She smiled at you but you couldn’t help but feel anxious. You glanced at Jeongguk for a mere second and asked, “Wouldn’t it be better to take him to a hospital now instead of just waiting? I am sorry. I am not trying to undermine your doctor’s judgment but it’s just that a hospital seems to be a more efficient option. So if you don’t mind, please can you tell your attendants to show me where Jeongguk’s car is? I think it'd be better if I get going right now.” 

The room was dimly lit by a candle lamp and the sunlight was playing hide and seek with the room by seeping in through the heavily drawn curtains which were slowly quivering because of the wind trying to get inside from outside. 

In that flickering light you felt like you saw the lady’s face harden for a split second before easing into an almost condescending smile, “Oh dear, you mustn’t have properly heard what I was saying earlier. I can understand. Grief, anxiety, stress do that to people. His car had driven straight ahead into a tree so it’s severely damaged. A mechanic is currently working on it in one of our warehouses.”

“Then can I at least use your phone to call an ambulance? I think that’d be an even better option anyway. He’ll start getting treatment on the way.” 

“We don’t have cellular networks here. Neither do we have a landline connection. You must have noticed that there are no electric wires near our mansion. In case of emergencies, Duri himself has to go and bring back any expert needed. I am afraid we live an exceptionally solitary life. If we had a car we could have arranged for his transportation at the earliest hour but as you can tell we are very old fashioned so we only use horses and carriages which I daresay is not the best option to have him ride on in this condition. I would suggest you to save your worry and hope that his car gets repaired soon. I’ll leave you be until then.” 

The lady, without sparing another glance, walked out of the room, leaving you wondering if you said something that offended her greatly. 

You couldn’t understand why this household would choose to live in such helpless conditions when the world has progressed so much. What if there was a life or death situation? They wouldn’t even be able to get some help. 

You sighed heavily and dragging a chair you sat near Jeongguk. You thought it would be best to just wait for his car to get repaired then get out of here as soon as possible. The people here had already gone out of their way for your boyfriend. It was rude of you to question and tell them what would be better when they were already doing their best with everything at their disposal. 

You held your boyfriend’s hand, which felt colder than it did a moment ago and said, “I should say sorry, right? I’ll be right back.” 

You placed a chaste kiss on his hand and pulled the comforter upto his neck before leaving the room to look for the lady of the house and also for the doctor; Jeongguk’s temperature wasn’t normal. 

The living room was empty. In fact, you didn’t get the hint of anybody being present throughout your way. You felt like you were the only one in the entire mansion. 

There was an eerie feeling that sat in your gut and just to confirm that weird suspicion, you ran back to the room where Jeongguk was. You let out a quick relieved sigh as soon as you saw Jeongguk, just as you had left him. 

You let your body let itself find comfort in the cushiony chair and you decided to look for others a little later. You told yourself that no matter how detached this place was from the rest of the world, the people living here still have work to do. They couldn’t loiter around some unannounced guest all the time. 

•••

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the atmosphere was quite grim for Lady Ruth Livingston and her loyal servant Duri. 

This kitchen was located in an extended part of the mansion, outside the main building and could only be accessed through a secret passage built along the rear side wall of the building. Apparently, according to her husband, Mr. Yi Jaejoong, kitchen inside a home ruins the vibe of the home. The secret passageway, while serving as a regular route for the servants for accessing the different parts of the manor like the kitchens, the laundry rooms and the servant quarters, also served the role of an escapeway and had a backdoor for emergency exit if there was any danger. Although, there was no way of telling the back door from the outside since it was camouflaged with the entire wall — much like the windows that were lined up with the windows of the main living room, creating optical illusions of a singular wall in place of two. 

After leaving you alone inside the mansion, Lady Ruth had immediately made her way towards the kitchen with a grave expression on her face. As soon as she neared the kitchen, Duri, who was preparing meat for jjigae, brought the cushioned mahogany chair that was only used by his owner and kept it near the entrance, outside the kitchen — for the lady had a deep distaste for heat.

“Are you quite done with the preparations?” Lady Ruth asked after taking her seat. 

Duri, who had immediately taken his position near his lady’s feet, sat kneeling down while supporting his hips on his ankles for some comfort. 

He slowly shook his head and answered, “Not really, milady. It seems preparing physical food is quite the task.” 

“Then summon some minions and get it done at the earliest. The lass is getting on my nerves. I can’t figure out how she ended up here!” 

“Surely, milady.” Duri gave a polite nod. 

“Are you keeping something from me?” Seeing his owner leaning towards him, Duri gulped and then stuttered, “I- I saw her last night driving past the station.” 

“Did you do what you were supposed to?” With her face awfully close to Duri’s, she ran a single line with her cold index finger from near Duri’s ear across, over his jaw line. 

“I d- did, milady. But she never stopped for gas!” Noticing the little tremors running through Duri’s hand, Lady Ruth smirked. 

“Must I remind you that your job is to lead people into the Devil’s Crest no matter how! You must feed them or their belongings. If you don’t do your job properly how am I supposed to take care of myself? You are not supposed to slack off, Duri. See what happened, just because you let someone off the hook and they didn’t stop at your stupid little gas station! This must mean you have let a good number of souls just go by without me knowing!” 

Duri’s lips trembled. “I… I- I am extremely sorry, milady. It won’t ever happen again. P- Please I beg for your forgiveness.” 

“Oh, Duri… I wish it was this easy for me to forgive. One must punish disobedient pets to make sure they don’t repeat the same mistake twice. You have been ignorant while knowing what I feel. And more times than you should be forgiven for. I think I must remind you again what it feels like to be me so you could be more diligent next time.” 

Lady Ruth Livingston snaked her left hand behind Duri’s neck and held his jaw firmly with her other hand and placed her lips on his. In her firm hold, Duri couldn’t protest. He closed his eyes as he felt her tongue touch his and her fingers pressed on the binding emblem on his neck. Duri winced as a fast burning sensation spread across his entire body. The mild sensation soon turned into a blazing fire all over his body. Duri’s screams got lost somewhere inside Lady Ruth’s mouth. 

By the time it ended, Duri had no energy to even stay seated. In barely a minute, he was half his usual body and his skin developed new wrinkles.

Looking at Duri’s wheezing body on the floor, Lady Ruth wiped her lips and said, “My husband would have been so heartbroken if he saw me shoving my tongue down some other man’s throat.” She smiled and gently stroked Duri’s hair, “I am so glad that he is dead.” 

Duri weakly glanced at her but couldn’t say anything. 

Seeing him like that, Lady Ruth got up and said, “My poor Duri. I’ll summon the minions in your stead to have the lunch prepared in time. She has a strong aura. Her distress will ease my pain like no other.” 

•••

“When do you think you’ll be able to come and visit my parents?” You asked and smiled bashfully, imagining Jeongguk asking your parents for your hand in marriage. 

“I seriously can’t wait, babe. I just want to run to you right now and take you in my arms and kiss you until you get tired of it!” Jeongguk exclaimed, hardly being able to contain his happiness or excitement.

“You mean until forever ends?” You replied. 

“Mhm. Yes, that’s exactly how long I am planning.” You could feel Jeongguk’s smile through the call. 

“You have to get here first though.”

“I’m getting out right now! How am I going to wait for seven whole hours? Hm? My sweetest wifey?” 

“Woah. Not yet, mister.”

“Soon to be. Soon to be~.” 

“Yes… Very soon. But you don't have to rush. You can just come here on the weekend. Otherwise your boss will give you an earful.” 

“But-” 

“No ‘buts’. I promise I'll be fine. And it's just three days anyways.” 

“Hmph. Okay. Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

That fateful morning everything in your little world in Moore Estate changed when you found out you were pregnant. When you called Jeongguk to let him know, he reciprocated the same happiness as you felt. You felt like a large part of your empty heart was filling up. 

But soon everything took an upsetting turn when you received a call from Hoseok’s sister that same evening about Hoseok going missing. 

A couple of months ago Hoseok had moved into a mansion in the outskirts that a long-distance uncle of his had left for him in his will. Hoseok had been in a hurry to move out and get married so he had leaped at the offer and wanted to move in as soon as possible to remodel the mansion. After that, communication with him gradually became scarce which you just ruled out as him being busy remodeling the house. 

You wanted to visit his mansion right away but when you called Jeongguk to let him know about the situation he strictly opposed it and insisted on accompanying you there. 

Your estate fell on the way to Hoseok’s new place, though it was still a considerable distance away. So you had suggested to Jeongguk to pick you up from your estate and then both of you could go there together. 

Now all of it screamed wrong decision and you blamed yourself for not warning your boyfriend beforehand. 

•••

“Excuse me, milady. Her grace is waiting for you in the living room. Please let me lead you. We have prepared some refreshments.” Your remorseful revisitation to that day was interrupted by Duri who was standing at the door. 

“Sure.” You got up. You looked back at Jeongguk and said, “I’ll be right back.” 

You followed Duri — who appeared a bit worn out and definitely older than he seemed that morning — to the living room. You sat on a two seater sofa opposite the lady of the house; the ornate low table in front of you was filled with a huge variety of cookies and a cup of ginseng tea was kept in front of you. 

“I am really sorry. I feel like it was really rude of me how I talked to you earlier. You are not obliged to but you are still helping us so much. I can’t even begin to thank you. Please tell me how I can make it up to you?” You said, thinking it was only fair to apologise since she only offered what she thought was best. 

“We can start with introductions. I am Ruth Amelia Livingston.” Lady Ruth took her cup of tea from the table and signalled you to take yours before taking a sip. 

You stammered before answering, surprised at her instant acceptance of your apology, “S- sure. I am Park Sowon.” 

“That’s a beautiful name. I have never really liked my name, so my husband always lovingly called me Balam. He used to say that I am ungraspable like the wind.” Putting the hot cup on the plate in her left hand she smiled sadly. 

“Used to? He doesn’t anymore?” You asked without thinking.

“Well, yes. I wish you could meet him. He was a jolly man. When he was alive, this building felt alive too. He took its life with him when he left for the afterworld.” 

“I am sorry… for your loss. It must be really hard losing the love of your life… I can’t even begin to imagine how I am going to continue to live on if something happens to Jeongguk.” Your voice cracked remembering the fact that you almost did. 

“Well, you learn to live with the pain… I loved him alright. But he… loved me more. I daresay I am rather thankful that he didn’t live to see my death.” Her nonchalant words left you momentarily speechless. 

Before the atmosphere could get awkward you said, smiling thinly, “Accepting to be in sorrow rather than letting your loved one live in that situation is an act of tremendous love in itself. I think you love your husband as much as he used to.”

“Oh my, aren’t you a charmer? Thank you, dear. You are the first person whose words comforted me so deeply since my husband’s passing.” She kept her right hand on yours and looked at you with a warm smile, unlike her frigid hands; you noticed her tears staying at the edge of her eyelid margin. 

“I think I should apologise too.” She continued after sitting straight. 

You looked at her questioningly while picking up the third cookie from the plate. 

“As I told you earlier, we live in a completely different world than yours. And I was inconsiderate of your feelings, quite shamefully so. You were right in getting worried. And I only thought of how I have always handled things here. I am sorry for that.” 

“No please, it’s alright. I can see your point of view now. Thank you for being so kind again.” You paused. Something stirred inside you, like a big sadness that had been dormant for a long time at the bottom of your heart seeping out slowly. 

“Actually, I have lost someone precious to me too, a long time ago, in a very similar incident. Perhaps that’s the reason why I have been so sensitive.”

You glanced at her as if you needed a moment before uttering the words, “It was my father.” The last word got mingled with the sadness stuck in your throat. 

“Oh dear, what happened to him?” Lady Ruth kept her empty cup on the table and looked at you with concern. 

You looked at her but your eyes couldn’t see her anymore — you were taken back to the time that you hated remembering the most. 

•••

Winter was just beginning to settle itself in the early October air when one night your dad had suddenly showed up at your boarding school and filled out a form requesting your emergency leave for a week. 

Be it for his whimsical nature or his adventurous mind, on numerous occasions he had taken you to many such impromptu trips. Despite being so used to such endeavours of your most favourite person in the world, your fifteen year old self couldn’t help but take notice of the anxiousness that his face wore that night. You knew almost instantaneously that this wasn’t one of your trips. 

After an hour-long train ride from the city, you got off at the nearest train station from your locality. But as soon as you did so, your dad took you directly to the car parked in the parking lot of the station — which was unusual since your dad always bought you pretzels from a particular store after getting off there. 

Luckily, unlike other times you didn’t feel hungry as an old lady with long white hair who was sitting on the opposite seat to yours offered two cookies each to you and your dad, but your dad being too anxious to eat had given you his share as well. 

“We don’t have much time so I am going to step on it, alright? Hold tight.” Your dad had said before racing straight into the shortcut that no one knew the name of and no one bothered to keep one either — for everyone it was just a shortcut that everyone should avoid. 

Why is dad taking this dark road? You couldn’t help but feel concerned. 

The only things that provided little comfort were that it was your dad you were with, and the speed at which he was driving to take you home soon. 

Soon you had passed the very same gas station that you had no idea that you would be crossing again eleven years later. 

Your dad had told you some things about the gas station that you took as nothing more than a joke to lighten the atmosphere. 

When you reached home at around 2am, the churning feeling inside your gut gave away its reason for being. 

You saw your mom, your aunt-in-law, your grandparents and all the people that worked in your estate gathered in the hallroom with grave expressions. As soon as you entered the room your grandmother had taken you into her embrace and weeped. 

“What’s going on?” You had asked. 

Before anyone could answer you, you felt your dad’s hand on your shoulder and you turned around. He sat you on the sofa and crouching down on his knee he held your hands, “Sweetheart, your uncle is missing along with his friend… And I must go find them and bring them back.” 

“But what about the police?” 

“It’s my responsibility… I must be the one to go. The police won’t be of much help anyways. Don’t worry, I will surely bring them back. You just have to be the absolute sweetheart as you are and stay with your mom, alright?” Saying so, your dad stood up and with a slight nod at everyone, he walked out of the house. 

You couldn’t stand watching him go away like that so you yanked your hand out of your mom’s and ran after him. 

He was just about to get into his car but he stopped when he heard you call him. You ran and hugged him tightly, “Take me with you, please dad. It will be faster if we look together, won’t it? I am sure we will be able to spot them quicker and be back home even before dawn breaks. Dad? Please say something!” 

Your dad broke himself out of your hug and sat on the car seat. He gently wiped the tears off of your face and kissed your forehead and murmured, “My sweet angel… I have already put your uncles in danger because of my foolishness… How can I put you in a similar situation when I know what might lie ahead…” 

His words sent an uneasy fear down your spine but he didn’t let you question him. Instead he immediately held your arms and looked into your eyes with a serious expression, “Promise me, you'll never take the shortcut after midnight! And even if you do you won't stop anywhere in the middle. And no matter what happens you won't take the road to Devil's Crest!” 

You shook your head, “Only if you promise to come back by morning.” 

Your dad smiled sadly and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

You wiped his tears gently and as the other family members started to come out, you quickly whispered, “It’s not your fault, dad.” 

Seeing the others, he hurriedly got into his car. He placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and before driving off he said, “I love you, sweetheart.”

Your “I love you too” subsided in the ground with the descending mist. 

•••

You lowered your face into your palms trying to stop the streaming of warm tears into your warm hands.

You had no idea when Lady Ruth had sat beside you but when you felt her hand gently stroking your hair and back, you looked up at her and wiped your wet cheeks, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to bawl my eyes out like this.” You chuckled, “It’s just that I suddenly miss him so much.” 

Lady Ruth smiled awkwardly, “Do you know why people avoid the shortcut?”

You shook your head.

“There’s a rumour that plagues this area… that a witch haunts the shortcut road and its surroundings. That she takes people's souls to feed herself. Many people have gone missing over the years, fueling the rumour, eventually forcing people to avoid this area altogether.” 

“Have you seen that witch?” You asked as goosebumps lined your skin. 

Lady Ruth scoffed, “No, I haven’t. Though Duri has witnessed some gruesome murders by poachers who come to the forest to hunt for the rare pangolins but encounter humans instead. Sometimes one or two lucky humans make it out of their harsh luck…” She paused. Then looking in your eyes she said, “Eleven years ago one such human sought refuge in our home. He was badly injured and he did his best to hold up for a week. But we couldn’t avoid the misfortune. His… name was Park Yunseok.” 

For a moment you felt like there was a heavy stone placed on your head and you were drowning. You couldn’t breath and your ears rang a constant tone. 

Your face contorted as you dug up the word from inside your throat, “D-Dad?” 

“I am afraid so…” Lady Ruth said. “Would you like to visit his grave?” 

Did you? You didn’t have the courage — neither to find the answer to your question, nor to face your father’s resting place. 

But I should. Otherwise how would your dad feel that you came this near and didn’t visit him?

“I should.” You replied. 

“Yeah.” Lady Ruth smiled faintly and stroked your hair one more time before getting up. 

You walked behind Lady Ruth and Duri as they led you to the south-east part of their property. After walking for a few minutes through their immaculately taken care of and beautifully designed garden, you reached a small perfectly mowed yard. At the end of the yard, there was a small patch of land that was covered in gerbera daisies and in the middle you saw your dad’s grave housed in marble and an epitaph - rising a foot above the ground - that said — 

HERE LIES THE MAN WHO GRACED THE EARTH WITH THE SMILE MOST BEAUTIFUL

PARK YUNSEOK

PUT TO REST - 17 OCTOBER OF YEAR 2131 

You sat beside his grave and smiled looking at the daisies surrounding it, “He must have told you about his favourite flower..” You looked up at Lady Ruth and said, “Thank you. I know he… likes it here.” 

You looked down immediately to hide your fresh batch of tears and requested quickly, “Can I have a moment with him alone, please?” 

“Of course, my dear. We’ll be going back to the house. Take your time.” You didn’t look up as you nodded but you could feel them leaving. 

A few minutes passed with you staring at the ground then you slowly looked to your back to make sure they were far enough. 

You slowly looked back and touched the grave — first with just the tip of your fingers and then with your palm. Despite the sun over your head the stone was cold and you started stroking it gently. 

“Dad… Is it cold in there? I am sorry… I couldn’t arrange for your cremation or hold a proper funeral for you. Still I am glad that you met some decent people to be there for you in your last moments and they made you a nice place to rest. Don’t worry. I’ll be a good girl and thank them properly.” 

You paused to take a deep breath and as it slowly left your lungs in a shaky exhale, your chest hurt as if thousand hammers were going off at once. 

The fatigue of all of the years you were looking for your dad came crashing down on you all at once — the memories of going through the tireless four years of nosebleeding university life, becoming an official detective, tolerating the prejudices, swallowing the scoldings for trying to gather information about your dad’s whereabouts, being told off for using police resources and time for personal use and finally quitting the job to look for him independently — like a tsunami.

“Dad…” Another shaky breath escaped your lungs and you couldn’t control your tears anymore. “I am… I am sorry dad… I should have been there for you. It must have been so hard for you to not see any of us in your last moments. I am sorry dad. I wish it was me instead of you. Dad, I miss you so much…” You didn’t care if your voice was going to disturb the noiseless peace around here, you wailed calling your dad and hugged the grave as much as you could. The tears streaming down your cheeks mixed with your running nose wetted the grave and the coldness of the stone felt a little warm. 

“Dad.. dad… can’t you ask God for a second chance? Can’t you beg him to send you back in time? That way you could prevent that awful night from happening and you could see me grow up and get married to Jeongguk and play with your grandkids… That way mom wouldn’t be sad and mom wouldn’t marry Jiho and I wouldn’t have to call him ‘dad’... I hate it when mom forces me to call him dad in front of others… I hate it. He is not my dad. No one can ever take your place, dad. Please come back, dad. And tell me that you are proud of me and I grew up just the way you hoped I would. Dad… Dad? Please say something. Call me and wake me up from this nightmare… Dad…” Your breath hitched and you started having trouble breathing because of your blocked nose. The pain in your chest increased and you felt sick in your stomach. 

You stood up and ran outside the flower patch and vomited everything that you had eaten a while ago. You felt dizzy and a burning irritation shot up from your throat to your nose to your brain. With weak steps, you reached the grave and hugged it to get some rest and a much sought comfort. 

••• 

From the window of her bedroom, which was located at the far south-east of the manor, Ruth Livingston was watching you with her vintage brass binoculars. Her lips twitched at its corner and her eyes gleamed in ecstasy. 

Never peeling her eyes away from you she addressed her loyal servant Duri who was standing upright by the door and exclaimed, “Tch tch. Poor thing. Crying, wailing, writhing in pain… all on a grave that’s not even real.” 

Her laughter resounded throughout her bedroom and she felt an unparalleled joy, “If just watching her like this is this satisfying, then imagine how wonderful I am going to feel when she becomes a part of my collection? She should be ready by now. Go, bring her. I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Right away, your grace.” Duri replied and turned to leave. 

But right then her shout compelled Duri to turn back around instantaneously, “NO! No no no! Don’t! Don’t ruin my happiness, you disgusting vile little rat! Duri! Look at her! She is vomiting all the feeds! She is emptying her guts on my beautiful flower beds! Bring her back at once!” 

•••

You must have fallen asleep after getting tired because of the physical and emotional toll all the crying took on your body. When you woke up you found yourself lying down on the couch in Jeongguk’s room. 

You sat up slowly and softly placed your palms on your swollen eyes. The darkness of the room made you wonder how long you have been out of it. 

Jeongguk was still unconscious. As you watched him from your position it was hard to even tell whether he was breathing or not. 

You got up and sat near Jeongguk. His body temperature was still on the colder perimeter; the only thing that somewhat assured you was his slow breathing. 

You held his hand as tears accumulated in your eyes again. 

I don’t think I can survive losing someone again.

••• 

“Ah! This is so amusing! Ha ha ha!” Swaying in her armchair, Ruth Livingston laughed like she hadn't in a very long time. 

“Duri, you never told me it was this enthralling to catch prey! I am thinking of joining you from now on. On that note, prepare a scrumptious feast for her. I want her to be well fed so that she has the energy to cry a little more! Ah! I didn't expect her to react like that… Now I have to make another miscarriage potion, which is going to take a while. It’s a little setback that I cannot have her with an untainted soul living inside her but that only means I can play with her a little longer. Prepare that thing beforehand so I can give it to her after lunch.”

Duri bowed deeply and silently left the room to carry out the order he was given. 

•••

When you were at the hospital, a few years back, because of appendix surgery, the nurses and the doctors constantly came to check up on you and feed you medicine at designated times. What reminded you of that time was the fact that it had been almost seven hours since you came here and you hadn't seen the doctor — that lady Ruth doted on so much — visit Jeongguk even for once!   

It was worrisome. You didn't want to keep Jeongguk in such a neglectful situation when you didn't have any idea how severe his injuries were. 

His body was getting colder by the minute and his appearance turned paler; it didn't even feel like a living person's body anymore. 

I have to pressure the mechanic myself to repair Jeongguk's car within today, preferably before the sun sets.

You kept Jeongguk's hand down by his side gently and got out of the room. Duri was standing right outside the door which startled you. As soon as he saw you he politely said, “It’s time for lunch, milady. I have come to escort you.” 

“Oh! Thank you, sir.” You replied immediately. 

Tch! I should have denied and asked him to lead me to the mechanic.

“Please call me Duri. I am not to be addressed as ‘sir’ by a guest of this manor.” Duri said in his usual stoic manner. 

You didn’t want to argue on ways this household worked so you just decided to ask him about the whereabouts of the mechanic instead, “Oh… Okay. By the way, Duri, can you tell me where the warehouse is where Jeongguk’s car is getting fixed?” 

There was a moment’s pause before he replied, “I must have her grace’s permission before taking you there, milady. You can ask her for yourself at the table.” 

“That I shall do then.” You replied and nodded your head to yourself. 

You were led into the dining room where Lady Ruth was already seated. The long and finely polished Indian rosewood dining table with a capacity to seat fourteen people, in the middle of the room, painted in a combination of matte orange and Carolina blue, had long fallen from its prime with only Lady Ruth being its sole user. 

It was indeed a surprise to you — you didn’t know what you were expecting but it was certainly not her words being true about the only three residents of this vast mansion.

I would be out of my wits if I had to live alone like this in a single place. 

After you took your seat, Duri started bringing in dishes one by one and it felt like his trips from the food trolley to the dining table were never ending. Before long, the table was filled with delicacies, most of which you were seeing for the first time. 

“Please dig in. Duri here is no less than a Michelin chef.” Lady Ruth said with a proud smile. 

Your eyes travelled over all the dishes that covered the table and you couldn’t imagine how Duri managed to prepare all these single handedly in such a short time especially taking into consideration the fact that it took you at least one hour to prepare only three dishes. 

You took a bite from the savory appetiser placed right in front of you. Your head immediately turned towards Duri who was standing by the food trolley and you exclaimed with big eyes, “Duri, this is seriously so delicious! With this skill you should consider becoming a professional chef! You would totally kill it!” 

A bewildered expression flashed on Lady Ruth’s face which you luckily caught instantly and you corrected yourself immediately, “I mean not literally kill anything. It’s a figure of speech that people use nowadays to say that someone would be outstandingly good at something. Ha ha. Please don’t misunderstand.” 

There wasn’t much of a muscle movement on Duri’s face and you were relieved when you saw the proud smile on her lips returning, “That’s a dangerous figure of speech. Anyway, I told you so. Though I don’t know if he’ll be wanting to leave me alone here.” 

You quickly glanced at Duri, then to Lady Ruth and said, “I am sure he isn’t willing to.” 

Lady Ruth didn’t say anything but the smile did grow a little. 

You waited for a moment to pass before asking, “By the way, your grace, if possible I would like to meet the mechanic to know how the repair is going. Gguk’s… I mean Jeongguk’s condition is worsening and I am sorry if I sound rude but I haven’t seen your doctor visit him even once since I arrived…” 

Lady Ruth swallowed the food in her mouth and looked at Duri, “Duri?” 

“Doctor Jung stopped by twice to check on Miss Park’s boyfriend since morning — once when your graces were having tea and the second time when Miss Park was not conscious. He also checked up on Miss Park while he was there and said that he’d talk to her when she is awake.” All this while Duri answered looking at Lady Ruth and his eyes never wavered your way, not even when he mentioned your name in front of you as if you were not present in the same room. His behaviour was telling you how insignificant you were to a mere servant of this manor and that you should watch how you speak with the master of this very manor. You couldn’t refute, as the guilt of your own words felt heavier on your tongue than the insult on your chest. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t know.” You managed to raise your voice a notch higher than a mumble. 

“Please don’t worry about it. People behave in a lot of ways when they are not informed about certain situations. Especially when they are desperate. So I can understand you. Duri will take you to the warehouse after lunch. Please finish your meal.” After saying this to you with her voice as calm as ever she went back to eating. 

Both of you ate silently, and soon you had finished everything that was served to you, which was, considering your regular eating capacity, quite excessive. 

After the table was cleared, you were led to the living room. Duri brought an envelope on a small tray. Lady Ruth took the envelope and handed it to you and said, “Your father… left this with us.” 

Even before you could open the envelope, tears accumulated in your eyes. You sat down and wiped your wet eyes before taking out the note. 

It was a short letter written on a torn diary page. 

My sweet angel, the light of my life, 

Please forgive this cruel dad of yours for not keeping the promise he made. I am sorry that I had to leave like that and now… I am leaving again… I wish I could see you one last time. 

The letter ended abruptly. You flipped to see if there’s anything more but there wasn’t. You checked the envelope and found a polaroid inside it which was a picture of you and him, that was taken on your fifth birthday picnic, that he always kept in his wallet. 

The heaviness inside your throat was back again and you found it hard to breathe. Not wanting to put the burden of consoling you on your hosts, you said as your voice trembled, “I’ll excuse myself to Jeongguk’s room. Sorry.” 

You darted out of there and couldn’t notice the slight nod that Lady Ruth gave you, nor the light crooked smile that formed on her lips. 

Entering the room, you closed the door behind you and let yourself slide down its length. Your chest hurt. The pain hung on your rib cages like rotten branches and no matter how much you pounded on them to make them go away, they didn’t. Defeated, you hugged your knees close to yourself and cried on them and there was only one thought that reverberated throughout your brain. 

Dad, please come back. 

In search of comfort, you went to sit on the chair kept beside Jeongguk. Holding his cold hands you kept your head on the bed. Your fingers fiddled with his pale ones and your unceasing tears wetted his bedsheet. You wished he would wake up any time now and would hug you until you felt better. 

Your tears slowed down as minutes went by and your line of vision got clearer. But the person who came in after swinging the door open with all his might made you rub your eyes for a good moment to get the clearest view because how the hell is Hoseok here?

You sat up straight but you were too dumbstruck to stand up and react in a way you would when you saw him normally. 

“Wonwon! Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Wonwon speak to me!” You could faintly hear him enquire you while checking your pulse. You were too busy processing the sense of familiarity that you had been seeking all this while to answer him. The sound of his nickname for you — that he had given you when you two were just little kids with runny noses in preschool because pronouncing ‘Sowon’ was too much for him — fell on your ears like holding a warm mug of cocoa in a freezing winter evening.

When the layer of daze wore off you hugged him tightly and exclaimed, “I am… totally fine… now! I am just so so happy to see you, Hoba! So happy! Are you even real? I am not seeing things, am I? How are you even here in the first place?” 

Hoseok sighed in relief and breaking out of your hug he smiled, “What do you mean ‘how’? I live here!” 

After he made you sit back on the chair he sat on the floor and said, “I sent you my address, don’t you remember?” 

Hearing him say that, you finally remembered the text he sent you with his location just before moving in — The Balam Manor, Witch’s Cradle.

No wonder the name seemed so familiar when you read it initially at the entrance. 

But you still had many questions that needed to be answered so you asked him, “I remember now. But your sister called and told me that they couldn’t reach you for many days. You must have sent them your location, haven’t you?” 

“Really?” Hoseok looked puzzled. “I have sent them my location, I remember for sure. Have they gone to the wrong place? And moreover, I couldn’t reach them for a few days now, so I was thinking of visiting them, but we found Jeongguk and I couldn’t just leave him like this.” 

“Wait, Hoba! You said you inherited this mansion and you were going to renovate it… Then what’s Lady Ruth doing here?” 

“Oh… that?” Hoseok smiled awkwardly; you thought he even looked a little sad. “There’s been a mix up. I did inherit it kind of but Aunty Ruth, my uncle’s wife, is still alive, and even though uncle had written it off to me, aunty still has some right on it so it was decided that this floor will be aunty’s for as long as she lives. And the remaining floors above, that is, the first and second, are mine.” 

“Are you okay? What about Ji-a? Is she okay with this?” You asked. 

“Well, you know her. She is a bit taken aback. But the good thing is that she said she will prepare her mind about this situation and join me in a few days and help me with the renovations.” 

“Well Ji-a has always been a sensible one!” You smiled. 

“Just like her boyfriend.” Hoseok smiled smugly. 

“Yeah, of course.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“So you are the in-house doctor that Lady Ruth mentioned!” You squinted your eyes playfully at Hoseok.

“Is that how she talked about me?” He asked. “Well, can’t blame her. She didn’t know that we knew each other. Not gonna lie that I don’t feel a little bad though… She still hasn't fully accepted me. That’s understandable as well. Imagine someone you never heard of comes and says that your dead husband has given your home to them! I would totally go berserk. She still is willing to cooperate.” 

“Yeah…” Your voice trailed off. After Hoseok’s comment about ‘dead husband’ you could barely pay attention to what he was saying as your eyes wandered to Jeongguk and the ache in your chest was back. 

Hoseok followed your eyes and held your hands, “Wonwon… don’t worry. He has made it out of the most critical phase. Just give him some time, he will get better. I am taking care of him.” 

“Hoba…” Your voice trembled as you looked back at your best friend. “I don’t doubt your skill but look at him… How much more time do you think we should spend on just letting him lie down here like this? He is getting paler and colder. If it wasn’t for his slow breaths I would have thought I had lost him… Please Hoba, we have to get him to a hospital!” 

Your words put Hoseok in deep thought. After a brief moment of silence he sighed and said, “You are right. No matter how much effort I put in it won’t be enough. There’s no suitable equipment here as there would be in a hospital. I heard Jeongguk’s car is in the warehouse. Do you want to go check on its status?” 

You stood up immediately and said, “That’s what I have been trying to do since before lunch! Let’s go at once!” 

“Let me lead you there, milady.” Hoseok smiled. 

“I see Duri has rubbed off on you.” You laughed. And Hoseok laughed back and tried to mimic Duri, “Is that so, milady?”

The warehouse was behind the manor in the north. It was a big wooden building, or one could say a humongous room with a slanting wooden roof that could house at least twenty SUV cars with enough space to open doors fully in between them. It seemed like a total waste of space to see a single car with a tattered front being repaired at the side. 

When you two walked up to the car, a person wearing a grey vest and black mechanic pants emerged from under the vehicle. 

Seeing you two, he got up and waved at Hoseok, “Hey, Dr. Jung! Good to see you!” 

His accent was of the city that suddenly felt so out of place here and no matter how much you tried to shake it off, you couldn’t help but think that he looked like the Korean version of Vin Diesel. 

Hoseok extended his hand for a handshake but he refused, showing his hands laced with car grease and oil. Then he asked Hoseok with a smile, “And who this pretty lady here might be?” 

“She is the girlfriend of the owner of the car you are fixing, Park Sowon.” Hoseok answered him.

“Ouch! There goes my chance for a date night. Anyways, it’s a pleasure to meet you Sowon-ssi! This humble man’s name is Lim Seokga. But you can lovingly call me Seok.” He smiled and bowed like a gentleman. 

“It’s nice to meet you too Seokga-ssi.” In reality all you wanted to say was - You are a mile away from humbleness Mr. Lim, like you should be from me.

You bowed back slightly and smiled awkwardly. You looked at Hoseok and pleaded with your eyes to rescue you from these unsolicited flirtations. 

He seized your signal like a spy would from his fellow in espionage and he grinned at Seokga and pretended to whisper as if he was trying to be his wingman, “Seokga-ssi, Sowon-ssi is a bit tense right now. Why don’t you show off your skills and explain the condition of the car to her?” 

Seokga gave Hoseok a smirk of approval and turned around to face the dinged up car. You noticed a symbol that almost looked like a fancy tattoo branded on his neck that started at the top of his neck and ran a couple inches along his spine. The burnt mark seemed sizzling fresh as if he had it done a few minutes ago and somehow you could feel the pain that it must have inflicted to come into existence.

Seokga kept his hand on the bonnet of the car and started explaining, “Anyways, Sowon-ssi, date night or not, I must do my job. You have come to know about the condition of the car, right? In short terms, it’s not really good. I am quite embarrassed to say this but it can only be repaired at the showroom. It’s not a one person job.” 

You felt anger bubble up at the pit of your throat. You felt like you had been standing in a long queue for half a day in front of an empty shop. 

You tried to sound as calm as you could, “So you're telling me you have been working on this car for a full day knowing that you can’t fix it?” 

“Full day? I arrived just this morning! And I never said I can’t fix it. I said I need manpower and the facilities.” Seokga tried to defend his honour behind his cheeky answer. 

You knew better than to argue with a man like him.

“Ridiculous!” You muttered under your breath and gritted teeth before leaving the warehouse with hurried strides. 

When you walked in, Lady Ruth was in the living room instructing Duri about the arrangement of your stay for the night. 

“I am afraid, your grace, I don’t think I can stay for the night. If I take off now I can bring an ambulance back with me at earliest tonight.” You announced. 

Lady Ruth stared at you for a good few seconds as if trying to make sense of the nonsense you just sputtered out. 

“I think that would have been for the best. He needs better care but I am afraid I have some bad news for you. It seems that a tempest is expected this evening. I don’t think it would be wise to set out now.” She said calmly. 

The bewilderment from a moment ago hadn’t yet dissipated from within you and hearing this now, you felt terribly angry, as if you were being held captive. You looked out the window and exclaimed, “The weather seems totally fine to me! There isn’t even a single dark cloud in the sky yet! It didn’t take me long to reach here. I am certain if you don’t stall me further I will be able to make it out of here before the storm catches up!” 

You looked at Lady Ruth, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression. It was as if she wasn’t present there at the moment. You stood there like you had just yelled at your mother and couldn’t decide whether you should apologise or not.

You felt a light jab at your side and you looked at Hoseok who was signalling you to apologise, which made you realise that you had strangely forgotten about his existence for the past few minutes. 

It’s like someone put several ice cubes on your hot head and the fizzing sensation urged you to apologise for your unnecessary rudeness to the lady who was everything but helping you. 

You turned to look at Lady Ruth whose expression gave the impression that she was back to this room. 

“I- I am sorry, your grace… I didn’t mean to say it like that. It’s just that the mechanic really got on my nerves and I involuntarily took out my frustration on you. I apologise for being an impudent brat.” 

You waited for her to reply and a few seconds passed when suddenly an intensely bright lightning struck the ground outside followed by a deafening sound which made you jump out of your skin and you felt goosebumps all over. 

Heavy rainfall soon followed, accompanied with mad gusts of wind and roaring thunder. Duri, with quick steps, closed all the windows and disappeared down the right hallway to probably close the rest of the windows. Seeing him, you ran to Jeongguk’s room to close the window. 

Rain was wetting the curtains and there was already a pool forming on the floor. You scurried over to close the window sills. There were a number of things you should consider when walking on a wet floor and the first one was to never hurry, which you did, and the next thing you knew was that you slipped and hit something real hard — the pain at the back of your head was the last thing you felt before blacking out. 

Your consciousness started coming back to you slowly, like a weekend morning after a good night’s sleep. You pulled the blanket closer to you as you let yourself stay like that in the comfort of the bed. In the back of your head, you felt like you were forgetting something. Then it dawned upon you like a weekday morning after a late night’s sleep. You sat up abruptly and stayed like that for a couple minutes to let your brain return to normal from the sudden dizziness. 

You slowly got out of the bed and noticed that you were wearing an off-white lace full-sleeved midi nightgown. The back of your head hurt and you had a bandage wrapped around your head. Instinctively, you touched your head while looking around the beige and sage green themed bedroom — it was well-lit with candles and it didn’t have any windows so you couldn’t tell what hour of the day it was. The shock made you run into the bathroom attached to the room. In the mirror you saw yourself and thought no wonder your head felt so light — there was not a single strand of hair on your head. 

What the fuck! How could they?

You left the room to find Hoseok to get an explanation behind your shaved head, and you noticed that you had been in the room next to Jeongguk’s. The hallway was lit with fire torches, and through the window at the end of the hallway you could see that it was already night and the rain was still falling, although its vigour had lessened a lot from before.

You slowly walked into Jeongguk’s room. The floor was dry and in the light of the candles Jeongguk’s pale body looked livelier than he looked that afternoon. His breaths seemed more stable now. 

You sat near him and softly brushed his hair with your fingers and whispered, “Please wake up soon. I can’t do this without you.” 

You walked through the torch-lighted hallway to find Hoseok. You passed the living room and entered the right hallway. The very first room had its door open and it seemed like a study. You saw Lady Ruth in a dark green silk maxi nightgown half-lying on a dark brown wool sofa reading a thick book. 

You thought that it would be better to ask her about Hoseok’s whereabouts than wandering these colossal halls yourself. You knocked on the door to get her attention and she immediately looked at you and sat up, “Sowon, you are up! Please come in!” 

You entered the room and sat on one of the two single-seater sofas. 

The room was brown themed and smelt of old books and wood. Three of its walls, including the one that had the entrance, had ceiling-touching wooden shelves full of books. The fourth wall opposite to the entrance, was filled with framed photographs, a fireplace and an olive coloured small door at the far left that was smaller than any door you had seen so far in the house. It was almost head-to-head with Lady Ruth. 

“Why did you come all the way here by yourself? You should be taking a rest now. Hoseok would be upset if he sees you out of your bed.” She said with concern. 

“I was looking for him actually…” You murmured, unable to talk in your normal volume. 

“He went to his room a while back and said he will be down for dinner. Duri is still not done yet, it seems. Are you hungry? Can you wait a bit more?” 

“Yes.. I don’t mind..” You murmured again. 

You couldn’t figure out the strange nervousness that you felt and you noticed that you were fidgeting your fingers and your legs were shaking and the air sat heavy on your upper body as sweat droplets formed on your forehead. 

“I must say you don’t look all that bad with all your hair gone. When Hoseok suggested shaving your whole head to stitch the wound, saying that you would hate having a bald spot on your head I couldn’t really agree. After all, a lady's beauty is in her hair!” 

You were not really paying attention to what she was saying so you just smiled awkwardly and wiped the sweat on your forehead with a shaky hand. You couldn’t form an answer as you were completely taken over by the weirdness you felt in your body, and you felt strangely attracted towards the wall that had the small door. 

You stood up abruptly and asked, “Can I look at the photos on the wall?” 

“Sure. Go ahead!” 

Getting the permission you swiftly went over to the wall and slowly started going through the pictures. The pictures ranged from old sepia to black and white to evolving coloured ones to aesthetically edited high definition ones — it was as if you were going through the history of photography. The photos were taken in various parts of this very property and most of the pictures were of Lady Ruth, many were of her with a middle aged man that she introduced to you as her late husband, and a few had Duri with her in it. In one such photo your eyes stopped — it was comparatively small, almost the size of your face and it was the only photo with only Duri in it. In it he was looking at a mirror hung up on a wall — he looked much younger, probably in his 30s, and he was looking at his reflection with a smile as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing but he was happy nonetheless. The photo was taken from his back and a similar searing brand was clearly visible on his neck that you saw this afternoon on Seokga’s neck. The photograph was old - perhaps the oldest one here - so you had no way of determining the freshness of the wound. 

With a shaky breath you asked, “Wh- What’s behind this door?”

 Lady Ruth stared at the door for a moment and mumbled, “My lifeline.” Then she looked back at your puzzled face and said, “Let me give you a tour!” 

The door didn’t have a lock nor did it have a handle. Lady Ruth pushed it and it slid open swiftly. Upon crossing the threshold you came upon a scenery which made you feel more speechless than when you visited the Guggenheim museum for the first time. 

The wooden shelf that started from the immediate left wall of the door touched the ceiling and when you looked up, its height went on for at least twice the height of the ground floor ceiling. 

“Come.” Lady Ruth held your hand and you followed her spellbound. 

The shelf ran along the walls and continued in a circle till it couldn’t bend anymore. It was like a mosquito coil but quadrilateral. There were candle lanterns placed at regular intervals so it wasn’t that difficult to see things. The shelf was filled with two different shapes of glass boxes — rectangular and square — and they were innumerable. Each glass box — approximately two feet in length — was separated from the other by a thin wooden ply. 

“Wh-What are these?” You asked. 

“My collection of miniature places. I make these location miniatures from scratch and Duri brings the glass boxes from outside and I store them in here. I only create two places though. One is the Devil’s Crest and another one is the entire property of this manor.” 

“How many exactly are there? They seem countless!” You couldn’t help but express your bewilderment. 

“Not quite. There are exactly twenty-seven thousand six hundred and sixty-six worlds!” 

“Wow… I am stupefied to say the least!” You exclaimed, feeling your shoulders getting burdened by each step towards the interior. 

“I would say that I am proud of myself too. They really help me live.” She smiled and looked at her collection.

When you reached the centre of the room, the shelf ended and there was an ivory table on which an approximately 15 cm tall snowglobe was kept, and it was covered by a tall glass box which reminded you of the rose covered in glass in The Beauty And The Beast. 

It was the most breathtaking snowglobe that you had ever seen in your entire life. You went closer to it to take a good look and it made you gasp. Inside the place seemed way too familiar — it was the shortcut road that started from the junction, leaving the actual junction area out of it and ended right before reaching the Moore Estate. The woods surrounding it were in it as well, and what seemed like very tiny versions of a gas station, the Devil’s Crest turning and the entire property of the Balam Manor. What surprised you the most was that it was drizzling inside it just like it was outside. 

Lady Ruth could probably tell what you were thinking by your shocked expression so she said, “I know it seems like an unusual piece but it’s nothing really surprising. The snow globe has a mechanism that lets me set its weather inside and I like it when it matches.” 

“Can I touch it?” You asked while pointing at it.

Lady Ruth almost jumped at you and grabbed your hand and nervously laughed, “I would rather prefer if you don’t. You see, it was gifted to me by an extremely important someone and it’s very precious to me. It’s what inspired my hobby, ha ha. I don’t let anyone touch it. But you can look at the ones I made! Please.”

Her eyes were pleading you to move away from it. You didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, so you glanced at it one last time and moved away to look at the ones on the shelf. 

The shelf had no space left for a new one so you said, “Seems like you have to make space for your future miniatures.”

“Not really. There are always some that end up as no joy for me and when they are discarded new ones fill that space!” 

“Oh…” You replied, pretending to understand fully what she said and went back to observing. 

The miniature boxes had tiny silver tags at top right corners of each of them and had numbers written on them which seemed like dates followed by letters with no space in between them. 

On the bottom shelf there was a miniature of the Devil Crest inside a rectangular glass box whose dimensions were 2ft×1ft×1ft. For some reason you felt attracted towards it, so you squatted down and looked at it intently. 

“Here.” Lady Ruth took out a lantern from its holder and handed it to you. 

“Thank you.” You replied showing a small smile and went back to observing.

The silver plate on its top left corner read: 21421002306JJ. 

It was a bluish dark kind of atmosphere inside as if it would dawn there soon. There was a straight road that ran lengthwise from one end to the other and its entirety was surrounded by woods on both sides that became denser the further it went from the road. 

On the right end of the road, placed at least two inches above its base, on the glass case was a neon exit sign. 

Right before reaching it the road took a turn and formed a circle of red colour. Something felt off about it so you leaned in closer to take a better look. Then you saw the pitch coloured road that was there from the starting but as it neared the circle it bent left slightly as if making room for the red road and ghostly moved forward towards the exit sign. 

The position of the roads were so close that if the roads were the same colour, one might think that the red road was the straight continuation and the pitch road was just another lane, or that the road just got wider. 

Then you noticed another weird thing — there was a car on the red road that stood facing the exit sign and it looked exactly like Jeongguk’s car. 

“Th- That’s Jeongguk’s car!” You blurted out and looked at Lady Ruth. 

“Hm? Oh yes!” Lady Ruth bent forward to look at the miniature and then looking at you she smiled, “Your boyfriend’s car gave me the idea. I think adding this detail puts more life into it! Don’t you think so?”

You nodded reluctantly. It’s making me sick, if anything. 

If you were in a bustling place then you would have thought you were hearing things, but the room was so quiet it could hardly be passed as a mistake; you clearly heard it - Jeongguk calling you. 

It was very faint but you were sure it was Jeongguk’s voice calling out, “Sowon!” 

Multiple times.

You stood up abruptly and exclaimed, “Did you hear that? Jeongguk’s calling me! He must be up! I must go at once!” 

You kept the lantern on the floor and ran out of the room.  

•••

Jeongguk wasn’t feeling himself. He felt detached from his body. His exhausted body was working under the directions of an adamant mind. A mind that felt itself going crazy and couldn’t register the tired body that was carrying it.  

How long had he been walking on this godforsaken road, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to reach an ending. The unchanging environment surrounding him clutched his throat but wanted him to go on still. 

He couldn’t remember how many times he had already passed his car. 

He didn’t know how many times he had broken down in the middle of the road.

He finally stopped to take a sip of water that he was rationing in case he had to stay longer. He sat on the back seat and drank one sip and lied down. 

His brain was starting to finally acknowledge the worn out aching body. And along with it a sense of hopelessness, that he was avoiding. 

Drops of tears glided down from the side of his eyes — some entered his ears and some detoured into his black hair. 

Just then, something unexpected happened - he heard your voice. 

It was as if you were talking to somebody not too far from him. And when you spoke his name, he heard it loud and clear. 

He sprang up and ran outside and called out your name, with all the strength in his body, “Sowon!” Multiple times. 

Jeongguk heard his name one more time and then everything went silent, again. 

“No no no no no. She can’t be here. She shouldn’t be here.” Jeongguk mumbled to himself, clutching his hair. 

“I must find her at once.” He knew full well that you weren’t on the road. The only option was the woods that he was avoiding until now. 

Without any hesitation, he ran into the woods. The hovering fog followed him. 

•••

As abruptly as you had left you came to an abrupt halt at the door of Jeongguk’s room. His taut body seemed loose as he was sitting on the bed, trying hard to do the same. You ran the short distance and hugged him. 

“Oh god! Thank you so much! You are up! How are you feeling, Gguk? Is there any pain?” You asked. 

He just smiled tiredly. 

“Let me call Hobi.” You tried to get up but Jeongguk held you in his hug. 

He softly sighed into the crook of your neck, “Let’s stay like this for a bit. I thought I won't be able to see you anymore.”

A slow discomfort crept up from your gut and spread its supple branches to the places Jeongguk’s body touched yours. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Your hardened stress was supposed to melt away from his touch instead of tightening like cooling stones. 

Despite the fire blazing at its full capacity in the fireplace, Jeongguk’s body was unusually cold to the touch. You couldn't figure out the reason for your discomfort, so you pulled yourself out from his grip and rubbed your hands up and down his cold arms over the thin fabric. 

“Oh my god! You are freezing! I have brought some warm clothes with me. Let me bring them to you.” You walked over to your haversack that had been abandoned by the couch since morning. You took out a white knit sweater that you had once borrowed from him. 

“What happened to your hair?” He asked in a raspy voice. 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later. A lot has happened since you got lost…” You sighed and started putting the sweater on him. 

“Really? Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?” He said and you noticed his raspy voice getting raspier. 

Knowing your boyfriend, you thought it was weird for a worrywart like him to not ask you about how you were feeling yet, especially now that you were pregnant. Brushing it off as his sickness side effect, you quickly went to his backside to roll down the sweater on him properly that got tucked upwards, and while doing so, your eyes flickered momentarily on his neck. 

Your hands froze in their place. You felt like all your red warm blood had turned into white cold icy water seeing the same sizzling brand mark on his neck. Only one thought made itself loud and clear in your consciousness — you had to get away from the man sitting on the bed in front of you pretending to be your beloved. 

With trembling hands and shaking pupils you touched the silver water jug kept on a bedside stand near his head and tried to sound completely normal but failed to control the stutters completely, “Oh- oh my! G-Gguk, you must be thirsty! Huh? Oh n-no! There’s no water in it! Let me go and bring some water for you!” 

You hoped that whoever it was in the room didn’t notice the cold sweat on your forehead nor that you were trying to run away from it and hurried out of the room with the full jug in your hand. 

Outside, the torch-lit hallway in your eyes appeared to continue forever and so gargantuan that the darkness at the end of it felt like you were looking down in an endless well and you could fall down in it if you looked any further.  

Your legs felt weak and inside your head you felt a buzzing that made you nauseous. You dragged your body into the next room in which you were resting in the evening and locked the door after you. 

Slowly you climbed the bed to find some comfort. You wrapped yourself in the blanket and sat there staring blankly at nothing. 

Steadily enough your thoughts began to gain a coherent form and the buzzing started to die down. But even after that, you couldn’t make sense of what was happening around you. 

Why do Duri, the mechanic and that person have the same brand? Why did I feel so sick in that room? Why do I feel so trapped? If that isn’t Jeongguk then where is he? Why did Lady Ruth have Jeongguk’s car inside her miniature? 21421002306JJ… 2142/10/02… October 2nd - the day Jeongguk went missing… His last call was at 3:03am. Could 306 be the time when these people found him? Wait… JJ? Jeon Jeongguk? 

You felt your nerves shudder as your thoughts spiralled. I have to get out of here and find the real Jeongguk.

You slowly got out of the room and tiptoed along the hallway even though you were barefoot. There was luckily no one around when you slipped into the study. You couldn’t risk getting out of the main door and getting caught — you remembered the way the metal door made a loud creaking noise when Duri opened it this afternoon when you went to visit your father’s grave. 

At this point, you were beginning to doubt whether it was even your father’s grave. There’s something really fishy going on here. 

In the vast array of books, you weren’t sure if the blueprint of this house would even be kept, and even if it was, it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Moreover, you had to look for it before someone walked in or looked for you. You frantically started scanning the bookshelves, you opened the cabinets underneath and looked in them while trying to avoid making the least sound but to no avail. It was indeed a needle inside a huge pile of hay. 

Tired, you decided to stop and think carefully. It helped, for your eyes landed on something anomalous - all the shelves had uniform partitions except one in the right wall whose one partition ran wider than others. You knocked on it lightly and figured out that the inside was hollow. You hurriedly checked and noticed that it had no opening from the front. You started to take out the books slowly from the shelf at your eye level that was at the right side of the partition - there was nothing. 

You kept the books in their place and instead of moving upwards or downwards, you decided to go to the left side of the partition and check. 

Yes! You found it! 

There was a thin rectangular line that said that it could be moved. You slowly pushed it and it slid open. Inside it was dark but not wanting to waste anymore time to bring a light source, you shoved your hand inside — not your best decision because you were instantly greeted with an unpleasant handshake of sticky cobwebs, and you definitely felt a few small things crawl by your hand. 

You shut your eyes and mouth tightly and began to fumble your hand around until it touched something that felt like a thin book. 

Bringing it out you cleaned the thick layer of dirt and crumpled cobwebs, that made itself a part of it, with your nightgown. 

You opened it and realised that it was not a book but a parchment paper that was so big that upon folding the way it was, it gave the impression of a book. 

When you fully unfolded the paper, you realised that you had found just the thing you needed. The blueprint which was a detailed drawing of all the floor plans and designs of the manor on its aging parchment paper could hardly be called a blueprint since it was nothing that you were used to seeing, but you decided to refer to it as the ‘blueprint’ anyways. It took up a large area of the floor and there was a browned photograph kept in the middle which in the spur of the moment you kept aside to look at the drawing instead. 

In the all-familiar ground floor plan, you found something that was unfamiliar to you. There was a built-in secret passage along the back wall of the entire ground floor whose left end led to the kitchen in the basement and a backdoor marked as “the exit” was built in the middle of it. It had two entrances marked —  one on the wall facing the room in which Jeongguk’s doppelganger was and another one was in the wall facing the master bedroom at the end of the right hallway. It was convenient, you thought. You just had to wait for everyone to retire for the night and then you could make your great escape.

At the top middle of it there were several things written which you assumed were its construction period, name of the head architect and the owners, respectively — 

1589-1596

Jaejoong Yi

Jaejoong Yi & Ruth Amelia Livingston Yi

What the fuck… 

You read it again and instinctively reached out for the photograph that you had kept aside earlier. The yellowing photograph showed two people standing in front of the main gate of the Balam Manor and they were smiling - one of them you could recognise from when Lady Ruth introduced to you earlier, Mr. Yi Jaejoong, her husband and the other one, you could recognise all too well because it was none other than Lady Ruth herself. Behind the photograph, there was a congratulatory message written that read, “Wishing all the happiness for your new beginnings. Much love, Rich Moore.” 

Answers began to fold themselves into more questions the more you sought them out. You couldn’t comprehend all the information laid before you. You thought you were in some kind of an elaborate prank video. Why was there a photo of Lady Ruth that’s supposedly taken in 1596 when you could interact with her now in 2142, exactly 546 years later? 

The flickering candle lights painted something ominous on the walls around you and you found it hard to breath. You wanted to get out of there as soon as possible but there was something that you must check before you go — a miniature labeled in your dad’s name. 

There was no handle on the olive coloured door as you had seen before so you tried to push it open but it didn’t budge. You looked for anything that could be indicative of an opening but there was none. 

You considered taking the pictures off the wall to look for some kind of key as they showed in movies but just then you heard footsteps outside. You hurried towards the door which you had mindfully closed after entering. 

You listened to the footsteps carefully and instantly recognised them as Hoseok's. 

You knew your best friend all too well to know that if you made any noise from behind in this darkness or simply call out his name he was gonna freak out and most probably would let out a pterodactyl shriek, hence alarming everyone present in the vicinity. He had a terrible distaste of darkness and the creatures that he thought resided in it. Now, it was making you wonder how he was even managing to live in this manor that nests this creepy darkness in it once the sun goes down.

You waited for his footsteps to fade enough to follow him without scaring him. Once you were sure he was far enough you got out of the room slowly and you saw his silhouette entering Jeongguk’s room, probably to check up on him. You increased your speed in order to stop him before he started to fuss over your disappearance. 

Once you were in front of the door your speed reduced to a halt and you hesitated to enter as the two people inside — one with his hair wrapped in towel ready for a hair commercial checking the pulse of the other one with a weak posture and uninviting aura — turned and stared at your paused body with an expression that asked ‘why aren’t you entering?’ 

A staring competition ensued which lasted less than a minute and whose ending was marked by Hoseok’s question, “What are you thinking so hard about standing there?” 

Startled, you entered the room as if you had to after his question and while walking towards Hoseok you asked him nervously, “How is he doing?” 

“Better than I expected. Why didn’t you call me as soon as he woke up?” He asked while sitting down on the chair that you had dragged a lot earlier nearer to the bed to sit. 

You stood right by your friend and answered, “I was going to but his voice was raspy so I went to bring some water.” 

Hoseok looked at your hands and commented, “But I don’t see any water.” 

“Ah…” Your voice trailed off as you brought your two hands forward and looked at them unbelievingly. Fuck! I was too careless.

“I… couldn’t find water in the dining room. Come help me find it.” You grabbed Hoseok’s hand and pulled him trying to get him up. 

And when he finally got up you practically dragged him out of the room with the force of pulling a loaded cart uphill. 

You stopped only when you reached the dining room. You looked behind you, and once you confirmed it’s only you two there you whispered, steering it loud enough to be considered as a serious matter, “Hoba, that’s not Jeongguk!” 

“What?” On his face you could clearly see his disbelief in the fact that you just told him what you did. 

“I am serious.” 

“Aha! I know you are trying to pull a prank on me!” He cheerfully ended his investigation behind your weird claims. 

“I am not. Hoba, please you have to believe me now.” You begged to be taken seriously. 

He stared at you for a few moments as if looking for sincerity in your words and once he found it he asked, “Why do you feel like that? I didn’t sense anything off though.” 

“I… I could just sense it. He makes me uncomfortable. My Jeongguk would never make me feel that way.” You said. 

Hoseok pretended to vomit and said, “Okay. Stop. I get it.” 

You slapped his arm and retorted, “You should see yourself when you talk about Ji-a!” 

He laughed, “Sorry, sorry. My bad. But seriously it must be just your injured head talking! Who else it would be other than Jeongguk in the flesh! You have seen him. I have seen him. He is exactly like we know him.” 

He was right. There was no visible evidence of him not being Jeongguk - except for the brand mark on his neck! 

“Wait! Hoba, there’s…” You got interrupted in the middle by Duri, who entered the room and with his signature bow, he said, “Your graces, dinner is ready to be served.” 

He then proceeded to pull two chairs one by one and waited until both of you sat down. Once he went out to bring the food you told Hoseok, still using the same hushed tone, “I have something important to tell you. Let’s talk after dinner in your room.” 

“Alright, ma’am. I also have something to ask you. By the way, aren’t you going to feed Jeongguk? You used to do that whenever he got sick.” Hoseok’s voice was back to normal volume. 

“Ah, right…” Your voice drooped. He is not Jeongguk though.

When Duri came back with the dishes Hoseok asked him, “Duri, have you prepared the soup that I asked you for Jeongguk?” 

“Yes, milord. Earlier I came here after delivering the soup to him. But…” He paused and after a quick glance at you he looked back at Hoseok, “He said that he’ll wait for milady to finish her dinner.” 

Ever since you hugged him, your mind was constantly telling you that he wasn’t Jeongguk and you should stop caring and stay as far as possible from him, but Duri’s last sentence put an uneasiness inside you like coarse sand between your toes, and your fingers hesitated to grab the chopsticks. 

Unable to clean away the sand, you stood up and said, “Duri, can you please put away my food for now? I will have them after feeding Jeongguk.” 

“Wait wait wait!” Hoseok stood up as well. “Have your dinner first. You have to take medicine. And Jeongguk will have to take meds too after dinner which I haven’t brought from my room. Let’s just finish our dinner quickly then you can feed him with all the love you want to give him, hm?” 

Duri probably noticed your hesitation so he said, “Milady, I have put his soup back in the kitchen and his grace said that he wasn’t feeling like eating yet, so you can enjoy your dinner peacefully.” 

You let out a heavy sigh and sat back down. You didn’t have any appetite but any excuse seemed better than seeing the man in that room right now. 

At this point, relief seemed to be a far-fetched dream as one fear after another caught up to you. Putting the first nibble inside your mouth, you asked Duri, “Duri, won’t Lady Ruth be joining us for dinner tonight?”  

After the discoveries of this evening you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your inner dread from her. 

“Her grace has retired for the evening. She told me to relay the message that she regrets not being able to be your host for dinner tonight as she has some urgent business to attend to. She hopes for your understanding.” Duri answered. 

“Ah! That’s completely fine! Please tell Lady Ruth to not worry about it all. Ha ha!” You didn’t expect to be spared the dread but you were thankful nonetheless. 

You finished all that you were served quite quickly and after taking the meds, you requested Hoseok, “Hoba, please sit with me while I feed him. I really don’t want to be alone right now. And when I am done feeding him, tell him that you have something urgent to discuss with me, okay?” 

You sat on the chair by the man’s bed and Hoseok sat on the couch. Duri brought in the soup and a small table that could be kept on the bed for convenience. 

You had only fed him two spoons when the man asked, “Babe, are you okay? Your hands are shaking!” 

“Oh?” You didn’t notice how much your hands were trembling as you were solely focused on feeding him so that you could leave the room as soon as possible.  

“Ah… It’s nothing. I am probably cold, wearing this thin nightgown and all. The fire isn’t helping that much I guess. Don’t worry. I have brought warm clothes for myself too. Once you finish eating I will wear it.” You smiled nervously and held another spoonful of soup in front of his mouth. 

Slowly — probably too slow for you — he finished the bowl and Duri came and took away both the bowl and the table as if he was just waiting for it outside. 

You wiped your hand with the wet washcloth that Duri had brought and he brought another one which you used to wipe Jeongguk’s mouth. 

After you were done, you put on the sweater that you had brought for yourself. You made the man lie on the bed and pulled the blanket over him, quite reluctantly so. 

Despite there being three people in the room, all of whom happen to be best of friends, an awkward silence roamed inside its walls, and the only sound that could be heard loud enough as if it was happening inside one’s body, was the crackling of fire in the fireplace.

You looked at Hoseok and squinted your eyes which signalled both annoyance and a reminder to do his part. Hoseok, who had apparently zoned out, came back to his senses and abruptly started talking like a wannabe actor giving an audition, “Wonwon, I have something to talk to you about. Come with me. Jeongguk, please don’t fall asleep. I’ll bring your meds right away.” 

You were in no position to criticise your best friend’s acting skills as you replied in the same amateur manner, “Oh, okay, Hoba. Let’s go. I’ll be right back, b-babe.” 

Once you were in Hoseok’s room on the first floor, you could take the breath long needed. You released your body on his soft king-sized bed with a thump. 

You looked around the maroon and gold themed room while lying down and said, “This room is huge! Probably twice the size of the room Jeongguk is in. Maybe even more! Ji-a is going to go absolute nuts over this space!” 

Hoseok smiled while going over to a big glass shelf blocking one of the windows completely. That modernish furniture was certainly a misfit in this room preserving its classic medieval aesthetic. 

Seeing that hopeful and shy smile on his face you couldn’t help but mumble, “But probably you won’t be able to live here after all.” 

“Hm? What was that?” Hoseok asked. And you replied with the typical, “Nothing.” 

“By the way, where are the workers for the renovation? I haven't seen anyone or heard anything since this morning.” You asked. 

“I gave them a few days off. Seeing Jeongguk’s condition, some silence would do him good.” Hoseok explained, to which you just replied with a ‘hmm.’

The illusion that was relief came to an end as almost instantaneously you felt the nauseousness appear like a wave inside you just like this afternoon. Asking for the direction of his bathroom, you ran and vomited all that you had eaten for dinner in his sink. It was a gruesome sight. 

“Wonwon? You okay in there?” You heard Hoseok asking from outside the door of the bathroom. 

“Yea- Yeah I am fine. I’ll be out in a minute.” You replied, and letting a heavy and slow sigh escape from your lungs, you started cleaning the sink.

After returning the sink to its previous state, you washed your face. Your head hung low as you stood there to take a breather and let the water droplets fall without wetting your dress. Your whole head and throat felt like it was on fire, and you wanted to drink a shit ton of water. 

You couldn’t understand why you were throwing up so much. If your pregnancy was the reason then you were fine yesterday even after barely eating anything and travelling the whole day. Then why was this happening today when you had full meals and ample rest? 

Wiping the water from your face with your hand you looked up and saw yourself in the mirror that was fitted right above the sink which you had completely blindsided until now. 

The reflection in the mirror looked more miserable than the reflection that you saw a couple or so hours ago. Your eyes were red and watery and you could see the stress taking form on your face clearly. 

I have to get out of here.

You got out of the bathroom and saw your best friend standing there with worry cemented on his face. You gave him a faint smile and tried to reassure him, “I am fine! It’s just pregnancy sickness. Nothing more. I’ll be fine after a good rest. But first take off that towel! You’ll ruin your already balding hair!” 

“I am not the bald one though.” Hoseok sing-songed the mockery with a smirk on his face and slightly grazed his hands over your bald head. 

“Why you!” You chased after already running away Hoseok who stopped near his bed and nearly started wheezing and falling down because he was laughing so hard. 

When you reached him he started saying, “Time-out, time-out,” with panicky hand gestures and squeaky voice - his face red as a tomato. 

You stopped and sat on the bed - laughing hard yourself that brought tears to your eyes. 

After both of you had calmed down, you instructed Hoseok to sit on the carpet near your feet, “Come, sit here. I’ll wipe your hair dry. Why did you even wash your hair at this dead hour of the night?”

“Ah! I went out to talk to the mechanic. He said that he’d leave for the city once the rain lets up and bring a tow. And on my way back I got poured on so I had to wash my hair.” He explained. 

“And let me guess, you forgot that you can’t use a hair dryer here and you kept the towel on and forgot about it too.” You unwrapped the towel and let his long brunette hair that went well past his shoulder blades fall freely on his back. It still kept droplets trapped between its locks, so you began to make small partings in his hair and wipe them thoroughly. 

You didn’t have to see it to know that your best friend was smiling sheepishly knowing full well that you had stepped on his deeds with right footing. 

You held his hair up to wipe the wetness off his upper neck. 

At the police academy they taught you how to not to trust even the most innocent looking person while investigating a crime. But they didn’t teach how to apply the same doubtful glance on your loved ones. 

Your hand paused and so did your whole body. The same brand mark was on his neck. You felt deceived. Helpless. And suddenly, alone. 

You gulped hard in an attempt to swallow the fear. 

Play it cool. Play it cool.

“Y- you were telling me you had something important to say.” You asked.

“Ah! Yes. I was putting your clothes to dry on the clothes rack and I found a note in your pocket with some kind of a riddle on it. What is it?” He asked.

Shit! You had totally forgotten about the fortune card! 

You felt your vision blur for a moment. And as abruptly it blurred, it became clear too. 

“Oh, that? I bought a fortune cookie on my way here and it was inside that cookie. Honestly, I was pretty disappointed to see a weird note instead of a real fortune.” You huffed in disappointment. 

“Just that? I thought you were on some treasure hunting shenanigan this time without telling me!” He pouted. 

“As if!” You scoffed — the little playful push dissipated halfway before reaching his back. 

“By the way, you said you have something important to tell me. What is it?” He asked after closing his eyes as you started back again to wipe his hair but this time more gently. 

Noticing how you weren’t answering, he quipped, “Come on! Stop zoning out.” 

“Huh? Ah yeah… Well, the thing is, Hoba, I discovered some really disturbing things today and I think you shouldn’t live here anymore. In fact, you should run away with me as I am planning to do so tonight.” Your hands stopped once again and your voice gained a serious tone. 

If you want to play this game, let’s play this game.

“What?” He exclaimed loudly and turned around to face you, which made it apparent how shocked he was. 

“Hoba… You have to listen to me very carefully.” You got down from the bed and sat in front of him on the carpet. 

“Do you remember that I told you that I went to get water for Jeongguk this evening but couldn’t find any?” 

He nodded.

“Actually, I didn’t go to bring water. I was in Lady Ruth’s study.” He gave you a ‘are you mad?’ look. And you instantaneously began to justify your action. 

“I know. I know this sounds like I was trespassing, which technically I was, but hear me out! There I found this manor’s map along with a photograph of Lady Ruth and her husband. And the strange part is that their photo and the day they entered this mansion was dated in the year 1596!” 

“You sure you saw it right?” He asked doubtfully. 

“Are you seriously questioning a detective if she saw it right? The audacity.” You faked taking offense. 

“You forgot to mention ‘private’.” He chirped back. 

“That doesn’t make me any less of a detective. I would say I would be better if anything. So stop turning the conversation into the wrong lane!” 

“Okay. Okay! I am sorry.” He laughed. “But seriously though, it could be Lady Ruth’s ancestor with the same name and face! Things like that happen sometimes.” 

“That’d be a far stretch if we consider a few things - firstly why isn’t there any other of her ancestors’ pictures in the manor? Secondly, why do both of their husbands, as Lady Ruth has introduced to me, look the same and have the same name? And thirdly, she herself told me that her husband used to call her ‘Balam’ and this manor is named after her, which she had made obvious a few times. What other proof do you need? Hoba, I am telling you there’s something really wrong with the people here! And both you and I have to get out of here. Tonight!” You took a long breath after your long explanation to convince him. 

“But Wonwon… all the things that you are saying are just theoretical. We don’t have solid proof! I have been living here for months now! And trust me, I haven’t seen anything out of place!” He looked at you as if you were trying to forcefully prove something that wasn’t even there. 

“Hoba…” Your voice mellowed down and strangely, even though he wasn’t your best friend, you felt disheartened. “This isn’t like you at all… What changed in the last months that you are trying to imply that I am in the wrong? You used to be my number one supporter!” 

“Wonwon…” He held your hand in an attempt to put balm on the bleeding wound in your heart. 

You softly tugged your hand out of his cold ones and sniffled hard to stop your tears from coming out, “Fine! You want proof? I’ll give you proof! You remember what I told you about Jeongguk, right? In her collection room, I saw a miniature that was dated the day Jeongguk went missing and it even has its initials and Jeongguk’s car in it! I may be going crazy, like you think, but I know too damn well that it takes more than a day to create something as detailed as that. Come with me to the collection room. And look for one with the code starting with 21311017 and ending with PY. That’d be my dad.” 

“Wha- Alright, let’s go!” He stood up and extended his hand to help you up but you ignored his waiting hand and stood up yourself. 

“Where did you keep my clothes?” You asked. 

“It’s in the bathroom of the room you were sleeping in. And your phone is in the drawer of the bedside table. You go first. I’ll see you in front of the study in ten minutes.” He replied solemnly and sighed a quick sigh. 

You didn’t say anything back. On your way back, the steps of the stairs were darker than when you ascended it with him. Your steps felt heavy and the stairs and the hallway seemed to go on forever.

Finally entering your room, you went straight to the bathroom. The bathroom was almost the size of a big bedroom in any high class apartment in the city, and you found another smaller room within it where there was a small fireplace and several clothes racks. 

You took your clothes and searched your pockets and let out a relieved sigh after finding the note in one of your pockets. 

You changed into your previous outfit and sat on your bed to read the note again.

WHEN ROADS ARE MISLEADING AND FALSE WORDS ARE SPOKEN

IN THE RULING DARKNESS SOMEONE'S TREASURED THING MUST BE BROKEN

This time you could understand that it wasn’t a riddle rather a clear-cut instruction on what you have to do. 

Who is that old lady? And why is she helping me like this?

No matter what, you decided to follow the path that you saw as your only way to escape and your single shot at rescuing Jeongguk. 

You took out your phone from the drawer — it still had 15% battery but no reception yet — and kept it in the inside pocket of your jacket.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply and went to the man’s room. 

He was lying down in the exact position you had left him. His eyes were closed and he was taking slow and steady breaths. 

Your plan was to quietly take your haversack and get out of there. Before taking your haversack, you hesitated for a moment and contemplated whether you should take the sweater off of him since it was one of Jeongguk’s favourite ones and it made you sad seeing it on somebody else. 

Get it together, Sowon. It’s not the time to be materialistic.

You gave yourself soundless slaps on your cheeks and picked up the haversack.

You looked at the person lying on the bed one last time before turning to leave, but your eyes made contact with each other. His emotionless eyes were looking at you directly and that startled you. 

“O-oh Jeongguk! Did I wake you? I was just leaving! Rest up.” You laughed nervously. 

“Where are you going, babe?” He asked; his voice was groggy - the voice that had made your insides feel like jelly on many mornings. 

But tonight it made you sick. 

“I am just going to give Hoseok a few things that I brought with me. Why don’t you go back to sleep? It may take long.” Come on! Say ‘okay’.

“It’s fine. I’ll be waiting. I want to sleep with you by my side tonight.” He smiled. 

“But Jeongguk… You are sick!” You make me sick! 

“It’s not like we’ll be doing something strenuous! Plus the bed is so big… I’d feel lonely by myself. With you here, why should I sleep alone?” He smirked. And you thought if he was real Jeongguk you would be in his arms already.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” You gave him a stiff smile and got out of the room. 

The man pretending to be Hoseok was waiting for you outside of the study. When he noticed you with your haversack, he asked in bewilderment, “Are you already making a run for it?” 

“Hush! Not yet. But who knows when I have to. You should have been prepared beforehand as well.” You whispered and entered the study. 

The candles inside were halfway through their lives and the room was slightly darker than before. 

“I couldn’t open that door earlier. Can you?” You whispered pointing to the ominous olive coloured small door on the photo-cluttered wall. 

“I’ll give it a try.” He said and went straight to the door. 

With his slight pull the door slid open leaving your jaw to hit the floor. 

“Wow, Jung Hoseok! You are the mvp!” You praised him and gave him a light pat on his shoulder. 

He held your arm and turned you around to face him before you could cross the threshold, “Listen, if I don’t find what you told me then you are going straight to bed. I am not going to go along with your fantasies any longer. Understood?”

His sudden declaration of terms and conditions startled you but you just nodded. 

“Good! Also we must hurry! Duri will be here to change the candles before they run out completely! So you better hurry!” He whispered in an urgent tone and closed the door behind him after both of you got in. 

It was your second time seeing the colossal structure but it didn’t fail to make you feel insignificant and amazed yet again. This time though the added dimness poured black ashes inside your stomach and you felt nervous. 

You brought out the flashlight and walked ahead, “Hoba, I am gonna walk ahead and take a look at the miniature I saw earlier once more. You look for the one I told you.”

But the next second you paused and said, “Wait! On second thought, I am going to look for my dad’s miniature. I’ll make a sound once I find it. You stand guard here. Make a sound if someone comes.” 

“Wait! Wonwon, what are you planning to do if what you said turns out to be true?” He asked. Even in the dim candle light you could see his expression — he was concerned and was feeling lost. 

Nice acting.

You kept your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him perhaps, or maybe yourself, “We’ll figure something out… as we always have.” You tried to smile. 

You didn’t wait to see or hear his reaction and soon you were out of his sight, in the maze of shelves, towards the center. 

Once you reached the heart of the room, you exhaled long and took a few quick breaths as if preparing yourself for the next step. You indeed came to look at the miniature Jeongguk was supposed to be ‘in’. But that was only a part of a bigger plan. You glanced at the snowglobe inside the glass cover. The rain had stopped inside the snowglobe and it was basking in the shining full moon light. 

You quickly put your haversack on the floor and opened its mouth. You held the glass cover carefully and started lifting it. It was heavier and thicker than it looked. You had to be careful not to drop it. Keeping it on the table right beside the snow globe you quickly smuggled the snow globe inside your haversack. You slid the glass cover to the middle, since it was closer to the edge of the round table, in fear of knocking it over and making a noise loud enough to bring the whole mansion, i.e. just four other people, in this space. 

Putting on the haversack you flashed the light inside the never-changing 21421002306JJ miniature. Gguk, I promise I’ll save you.

You looked at the other miniatures of recent dates and found the one that you didn’t mention to him about — 214204161001JH carved on the silver tag of a miniature of Balam Manor. 

Hoba… 

With hurried steps you went to the outer wings of the structure where you hoped you would find a miniature with your dad’s initials. You felt grateful that everything was managed serially so you just had to scan through the years quickly. 

In the second wing from inside you found dates from the 2100s, and on the third rack from the bottom in one of the shelves — you couldn’t determine on which wall it was — you found what you were dreading until now - what if I can’t find it?

The 21311017333PY silver tag shone brightly as you looked up at it. 

You whistled a particular tone that you had always used as a signal for your best friend since childhood, but it came out rather weak since you were trying to keep the sadness at the border of your throat. 

He was by your side in an instant. He looked at the tag you were pointing at and gasped softly, “Oh my god… You were right. What should we do now?”

“Can… Can you lift me up, Hoba? I wanna take a look inside of it…” You softly whispered and looked at him with teary eyes. 

He didn’t say anything but just knelt down so you could climb on his shoulders. 

You quickly swiped off the tears, and keeping the haversack on the floor, you climbed on his shoulders. 

With wobbly steps he stood up. You chuckled at that and chirped a quick apology to him. 

The atmosphere inside the miniature was just as unmoving as Jeongguk’s. The woods were the same, the road was the same and the exit sign too was the same. There was a car in it as well. The only tiny difference in it was that it was your dad’s car that you had seen him drive off in for the last time. 

“Hoba, I am done.” You whispered a little loudly. 

He slowly lowered his wobbly body down and you got off. You got off and couldn’t get up from the floor. You wanted to ugly cry but all you could do was whimper while swallowing the sounds and bearing the pain inside your chest and throat. 

He sat down beside you and hugged you. You clutched on the sleeve of his sweater anchoring yourself and buried your face in his chest.  

The exhaustion that you were keeping at bay, trying not to let them overwhelm you, came crashing down on you again - taking you violently, drowning you mercilessly. But this time, you felt relief. You had found him. Now all that was left was rescuing him from that still, unnatural world controlled by evil. 

“Wonwon!” He whispered. “I think someone’s here. It’s probably Duri. We have to get out of here!” 

“What? But how? There’s only one way out!” You said sniffling as quietly as you could. 

He thought for a moment and said, “You wait here. I’ll distract Duri and once he is out of the way I will come and get you, alright?” 

You nodded. He gave you a reply-nod and went out. You swiftly and stealthily went behind him and hid by the door. As he closed the door behind him after getting out, you heard Duri’s voice, “Your grace, I believe I have already informed you that this space is off limits in her grace’s absence.” 

You heard his cheerful voice, “I am so sorry, Duri! It totally slipped my mind. It’s just so fascinating. I was going to return now anyways. By the way, before you change the candles here, can you change the ones in my room? I have some work to do! Hm? Pretty please?” 

You pictured Duri sighing and rolling his eyes in defeat, which you were sure wouldn’t be visible on his face. 

“Yes, your grace.” You heard Duri say. 

“I’ll be there in a sec!” He replied. 

A few seconds passed and he opened the door. 

You scrambled on your feet and quickly got out. 

“Listen!” He held you by your shoulders. “Stay in your room for now. I’ll come at midnight and we will make an escape through the living room window.” 

“But Hoba!” You said for no particular reason. 

“Don’t worry. I know Duri’s surveillance pattern. We will make it. Together!” He gave your shoulders a light shake as if to transfer his resolution into you. 

Taking your nod as a yes, he went to the first floor where he had sent Duri earlier. 

•••

You entered the room and saw Jeongguk sitting on his bed. 

“You sure took long. I thought you abandoned me.” Jeongguk said with a blank expression. 

You didn’t have any excuse ready. With a sheepish smile you went towards him. 

Strangely, you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all anymore. Rather you felt a very familiar feeling that you were so used to, that you were so craving for. 

Reaching him, you hugged him - his head on your belly. 

“I am sorry that I was gone for so long. We will be home soon.” You said softly and slowly ran your fingers through his soft curls. 

“No.” 

Jeongguk’s words confused you. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“As long as you have this I can’t go anywhere.” His voice sounded cruel. 

He put his hands on your belly, and your belly started growing, and in the blink of an eye it was the size of that of an eight month pregnant woman. 

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Jeongguk’s hands grew claws and he ripped your belly apart and yanked out a bloody lump of alive flesh. 

•••

You woke up with a startle. You didn’t realise when you had fallen asleep on the bed of your room while waiting to get out. 

You rubbed your face - it was covered in cold sweat. You touched your belly and felt relieved. 

You quickly checked for the time on your phone, desperately hoping it wasn’t midnight already and felt relieved that it was still forty-five minutes away.

You took out your desert eagle and the holster and tied it around your waist in case you had to use it.

Putting your haversack on your back, you slowly poked your head out of the room to check if there was anyone. 

Relieved to see the empty hallway, you got out. With soft steps you reached near the next room’s door and peeked inside. Jeongguk's doppelganger was lying down but you couldn’t figure out whether he was asleep or not. 

With similar soft steps you scurried and crossed his door and reached the end of the hallway. 

According to the blueprint, there was supposed to be a door leading to it, and the only possibility you saw was the 6 foot long and 4 foot wide painting of the waterfall that was fixed on the wall at the very end. 

You slowly started pushing it from one side but it didn’t budge. You tried the other side and got the same result. 

You felt panic slowly starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. You looked at the torchlit yet dark hallway and hoped no one came now. 

You looked up and down the painting, illuminating it with your flashlight. You began to feel its sides with your hands as far as it reached and looked for anything out of the ordinary. But there was none on either side. 

You sat down on the floor and began inspecting the underside of the frame, and there you found a groovy pattern made for four fingers. You put your fingers except the thumb in it and gave it a push upwards. It made a clicking sound and the painting slid upwards opening a cavity its size. 

You clenched your fist and pulled your elbow towards yourself as a victory celebration and stepped into the cavity. 

You entered and turned to your right. The long hallway stretching ahead was lit with smaller fire torches than the ones in the main hallway. The unwavering shadows underneath them had the impression of lurking entities waiting to pounce. You looked behind you and saw a dark and narrow passageway that, according to the blueprint, led to the kitchen outside. 

Logically, it was the shorter path to escape to the outside but there was also a bigger possibility of Duri being there. 

Your escapeway was lying right ahead in the middle of the hallway — a door where the staircase in the main building was. 

You saw a thick rope attached to the bottom of the painting from inside and its end was hung on an iron hook on the wall. You pulled the rope and closed the painting behind you, locking yourself inside the restricted passage. 

Carefully you trod ahead — fast enough to get there quickly, slow enough to not make any noise, your barefoot helped. 

The air in the hallway was dense and heavy with the smell of burning wax. The lights flickered subtly as you moved past each of them shifting the air. The more seconds you passed there, the more difficult it became for you to breathe properly. There was no visible outlet to let the air move freely and the years of trapped air latched onto your nose and lungs and was squeezing out more than you could take from it. 

Not being able to tolerate it anymore, you ran the last bit and took a longer breath once you reached the door. 

The garlic-like odour of phosphorus hit your nose sharply. You looked up and it became clear to you how the neon sign above the door was working when there wasn’t supposed to be any electricity in the manor. 

You should have immediately unlatched the door. You should have immediately walked out instead of staring at the shining bright green neon sign nailed above the door that said - The Exit. 

You should have made your escape before the voice so familiar to you could call you and say, “Wonwon, I told you we’ll make it together. So why are you leaving me behind?” 

Your body stiffened as you stared right at the door refusing to acknowledge the source of the sound. You could hear his footsteps approaching.  

You felt unnerved. Your eyes frantically looked for the latch. Once you found it, you dared to look at the direction of the dim hallway that you had crossed a while ago. You saw your best friend’s figure walking towards you. The monster lurking in the shadows turned out to be the wolf in grandma's skin. 

Keeping your shaking finger on the latch, you yelled knowing full well it’s of no use, your voice hoarse in fear, “Stop right there. I know you are not Jung Hoseok.” 

A sinister smile cut through the figure’s cheeks. 

A hot tear drop trickled down your cheeks as you tried to stand your ground. 

“Here I thought I was putting up a perfect act. But you fooled me. Anyways, I am glad I don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s annoying.” The figure said. 

His voice distorted and you witnessed the most horrifying scene unfold in front of your eyes. 

The slit that had occurred on the figure’s cheeks while smiling widened and you saw your best friend’s skin getting ripped apart - first the face, then the skull, then the full body in half through the middle - slowly, like a flimsy cloth. 

You desperately tried to open the hundreds of years old latch. Duri freed himself from Hoseok’s skin that fell on the ground like a wet rag and dissolved into Duri’s body like slime.

The skin on your palm started burning. 

Duri started running towards you and his body began to disfigure in a gruesome manner — his back hunched, his arms grew longer, crossing his knees, his legs bent like an animal and he grew claws on both hands and feet. His hairless body was grey in colour and there was pure cruelty in his glowing lidless eyes and lipless mouth where only long and sharp teeth were visible. 

Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else except for the impending danger and the latch that needed to be opened. 

The moment you fully unlocked the latch, you found yourself flying. Duri had grabbed your haversack and had flinged you to the opposite wall. 

Your side hit the wall and you fell on your back. You realised you’d have broken a few bones if you had been thrown any harder. Due to the impact, your flashlight broke, leaving shattered glass pieces on the floor. 

A series of coughs escaped your lungs and you sat up only to see that Duri was holding your haversack. 

No no no no no no. 

Panic spread across your body like a wildfire. If Duri got his hands on the snow globe then all of this would be for nothing. You quickly took out your gun and aimed at Duri. 

His face didn’t have the opportunity to show much expression but you could imagine that he was smirking mockingly at you while he said, “Your father didn’t teach you stealing is a bad thing?” 

He took out the snow globe. 

You gritted your teeth and aimed at his head and fired. It hit right above his temple, but to your horror, his skin absorbed the bullet as if you had just shot a viscous substance. 

“You need to do more than that to hurt me.” His distorted voice echoed in the hallway. 

You shot another round which hit his eye. 

You didn’t hope for much and were ready to shoot another round, but it seemed to have an effect on Duri. It took him a second to come near you and the next second you were grabbed by your collar too tightly to even breath. 

He smelt like swamps and rotten vegetables, which made breathing in his vicinity even more difficult for you. 

“Humans.” Duri growled. “You are all so fragile and insignificant, yet you stop at nothing to prove your dominance over things that you can’t control.” 

You coughed and struggled to get out of his clasp. 

Duri’s grip on your collar lightened but he didn’t let go. 

“You know what, your father probably thought of the same thing when he willingly entered the Devil’s Crest to rescue your uncle. Such a prideful little bastard. Leaving his family behind with the confidence that he will be able to get out. Aren’t you the same as him? Prideful, overconfident and rude.” Duri inched closer as his hurt dimmed eye began to regain its glow. 

“Do not dare to speak of my father with your stinky mouth.” You barked. 

At your retort, Duri laughed maniacally and let you go. 

“You have got some nerve. Do you think your nerves will save you from the repercussions of hurting my eye?” 

He took your hand and kept three silver tags on your palm that magically appeared in his big clawed hand. Those three tags belonged to Jeongguk, Hoseok and your father. 

You looked up at Duri and he said, “Choose one of them that you want to save. I’ll spare his life. Choose very carefully. Because the unchosen ones aren’t going to have the most merciful deaths.” He started singing ‘eenie meenie miney mo’ and placed his index finger on each silver tag with each word. 

You closed your eyes and took a sharp breath.

“Are you saying that my father is still alive?” You asked.

“Very much.” He replied. “Now tell me which two tags do you want to return?” 

“What if I don’t?” 

“Then one of them loses the chance to leave.” 

The silver tags in your palms suddenly felt like they weighed a ton. They wanted to drag you down and bury you under the earth. 

How were you supposed to make a choice that you had no right to make? How can you knowingly push someone to their demise? But…  

But how can you deny someone their one chance at escaping this hell?

You longed to see your father. 

Would I be able to see him if he gets to leave? You didn’t know. 

What if I couldn’t escape? What’s gonna happen when he gets home and sees mom in the arms of another man? How will he react when he will know that I haven’t returned home in two days? Will he spend the rest of his life searching for me just like I did for him?

Jeongguk… How will Jeongguk live after knowing that I went missing while searching for him? How will he live after losing both his love and child? 

A memory from a couple years ago hit your head. Both of you had gone on a foreign trip to New Zealand. On the second day, you were going to the Bay of Islands by bus. When you reached there, your keychain fell off and went under the seat while you were standing up to get out. You had told Jeongguk to go ahead and get the luggage from the bus bunker while you got the keychain. But the keychain had rolled off quite far. And the bus, not knowing you were still inside, had driven off as soon as both of your luggage was off of it. 

You managed to get off at the next stop just ten minutes away and take the return bus. But even though you had consoled Jeongguk over the phone that you were fine and you were returning, when you reached where he was, he hugged you so tightly as if you would disappear if he let you go. And his silent tears wetted your dress. He had always been such a worrywart. 

Would he be okay?  

You wondered how Hoseok was doing inside the cage called the Balam Manor. He was probably on the verge of losing his spirit. He had always been good under pressure but never good when he was lonely. 

How would Hoseok’s parents feel about losing their son? How would Jiwoo cope with losing her brother? How would Ji-a live with shattered dreams in an empty home? Can I face them after pushing Hobi to certain death? What about Jeongguk’s parents? Can I face them if I do not choose Jeongguk now? 

What would dad have done? He probably would have chosen the one with the better chance at a good life. And at this moment, it seems to be… 

You picked up Hoseok’s with your other hand and silently gave back Jeongguk’s and your father’s tags back to Duri. 

“That was fun. Though I was expecting a stream of tears, these few drops are good too. You are a smart one, aren’t you? Now you won’t have to go back and answer your boyfriend's family and your mom why you didn't choose their son and husband. Now sit here like a good girl until I come back.” Duri said and turned back with the snowglobe. The sigil on his neck was bright like burning coal.

“Are you really going to let Hoseok leave?” You shouted behind him. 

“Of course, since we need an empty space anyway for you. But I can’t guarantee if it’s Hoseok or his body that’s going to lea—” 

Duri couldn’t finish his sentence as you hit his neck with the fire torch that you had taken out of its place by flinging your haversack at its bottom. 

You emptied the rubbing alcohol bottle from the first aid kit on him that you had taken out from your haversack before flinging it. 

Duri screeched an ear piercing cry in pain as his head caught fire, and he tried to put it out by slapping his hands profusely on his head. 

Taking the opportunity, you grabbed the snowglobe that had fallen on the floor and ran for the door. 

Despite being in pain, Duri ran behind you to catch you, but you had already crossed the threshold of the exit. Judging by the fact that the snowglobe didn’t get a single scratch on it even after falling on the floor with such an impact, it could only mean that it needed even more brutal force to break. There should be a field past the door and if you could just enter the woods beyond it somehow, then you would be able to find enough time to break the snowglobe. 

You shut the door behind you and looked ahead. 

What?

You were back in the hallway that you had just ran out from a moment ago. You had entered through the door that you had just left through. 

You looked around yourself and found only yourself in that empty hallway. Duri wasn’t there. Then you noticed the fire torch that you had flinged a while ago — it was intact in its place. 

Your haversack wasn’t anywhere to be seen either. 

You looked back at the door. It had the same neon exit sign on top of it. 

Is this the missing exit sign from the Balam Manor miniatures?

If I go back through this door then Duri will surely catch me. I have no choice but to run inside the manor.

Without wasting any time, you ran towards the painting through which you had entered. But when you got out of it, you found yourself in complete darkness. You went back to the secret passageway and shot at one of the fire torch holders. It fell loose and the fire torch fell on the floor. You took it and reentered the mansion’s main hallway. You were taken aback upon noticing you were in the right hallway instead of the left one. 

But that wasn’t what surprised you the most. It seemed like you had entered a different mansion altogether. The interior was in ruins and was covered in years of dust, dirt and cobwebs. You slowly walked through the filth. You had nothing on yourself except the snowglobe and the gun. You must find an instrument to break the snowglobe soon. 

You came across rooms that you hadn’t seen before and it all seemed haphazardly placed. The paintings on the walls had lost all their glory to silverfishes and moths. Your feet left deep prints on the innumerable unsweeped layers of dust on the floor and your bare feet wiggled in them. 

After walking for a few minutes, you reached where the living room was supposed to be, but there was just an empty space and a rectangular opening in the floor through which a staircase went further downstairs. 

Is that the basement? 

You noticed a faint light coming from inside it. Conflicted on whether you should go check out the source or not, you stopped short on your track. 

It could very much be Duri or… a survivor. 

You decided that you would just take a peek and run back if you sensed any danger. 

With careful steps you descended the stairs.  You ended up in a well-lit and short hallway through whose middleway there was an arch-like structure that led to another hallroom with no door. 

You saw a figure kneeling on the floor in a defeated position with his head hanging low. 

His outfit, his short hair was all too familiar to you. 

You kept the snowglobe near the arch just in case and approached him cautiously. 

His bare neck had no branding on them. 

You gasped in a struggle to breathe as tears welled up in your eyes and you called out- 

“Hoba?” 

— © 2024 apotatomashedbybts, all rights reserved. Reposting or modifying of any kind is not allowed. Translations are not allowed.

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[astxrwar]

ties that bind [4/8]

SUMMARY: Quentin Beck– your old college biology professor– is still a bastard. Apparently, you’re kind of in to that.

RATING: Explicit

WORD COUNT: 8k+

CONTENT WARNINGS: extremely under-negotiated kink, character-typical behavior, more sex albeit less gratuitous, established-dynamic-typical Everything. Some plot in this one, finally!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | [PART 4] | PART 5

The thing about lab work is–

There’s generally always going to be something that could use doing after-hours.

Dr. Banner presumably interprets your sudden apparent willingness to be the one to sacrifice your evenings once or twice a week or so as an attempt to suck up; or maybe just a deep, avowed interest in microbiology.

Neither are true.

You’re not sure how Beck even knows; who he must be talking to– interrogating, more likely– to figure out when you’ll be there, at night, with everyone else gone. You don’t care. On those days you wind yourself so tight with anticipation that you can hardly think straight, never more grateful for your deep familiarity with the lab procedures, given you’re so fucking distracted. It’s hard not to be– after that second time, Beck goes right back to showing up everywhere, like he’d only been waiting, the week before, biding his time until you inevitably came back within reach of him again, and once you were and once he knew beyond suspicion that you still– that you wanted– that you would let him –

It’s like after that, all bets are off. Before, he’d always been careful, words measured and insinuations meticulous, pre-planned, balancing so expertly on the knife’s-edge boundary of appropriate and acceptable that half the time you felt like you must have been imagining it, the way he tormented you. You don’t really even have to imagine anymore; he crosses the line with impunity, now, with an unrepentant and unapologetic enjoyment. All he ever has to do is look at you the way that he does, for too long, the sum of it too familiar, the way his eyes swallow up every inch of you, or press his palm to your lower back to move past you through a doorway, just for a dizzying fraction of a second, or call you honey in that voice– sly and deliberate and fucking patronizing, that twitching half-smile hidden behind a cup of dining hall coffee at seven in the morning, so early that you’re unable to remember to even try to hide the reflexive, immediate shiver that trembles straight through you, every nerve in your body already humming and alive.

Most times Beck’s waiting for you when you leave, lingering at the other end of the building, engaged in some plausibly-deniable excuse of an activity like grading exams or stocking lab supplies or writing up. Once, though, you run into him before you’re even finished, when you step out to grab something for the lab, and that’s both better and worse– he fucks you in the closed-off third-floor bathroom, the one that’s been disconnected from the water main and essentially abandoned for the last six months, and then you just have to go back to work like nothing happened, your muscles twitching, your body liquid and sated and sore–

He gets off on that, probably. 

So do you, though, is the thing.

It’s worse this time around, too, because of that– because this time you can identify attraction and desire and wanting and name them for what they are, something you couldn’t have done before. It was so much easier when those feelings were distant and incomprehensible, when the worst thing he could ever elicit in you was anger, when you could say that you hated him and still wholeheartedly believe that it wasn’t more complicated.

Needless to say, it’s actually extremely complicated.

You do this for the entire rest of the semester– you actively make time for it, even towards the end with finals on the horizon for you and the undergrads that you TA for, glad for the fact that there’s actually no possible way for him to know that you’re, technically, prioritizing this over review for your structural biochemistry final. 

It’s six-thirty in the evening and you’re in his office when you should be anywhere else, in the library or in the commuter lounge or just fucking home, the exam is tomorrow, and instead of studying or preparing or even really thinking about it at all you’re letting him stick his tongue in your mouth and his hands under your skirt, letting him bend you flat over his desk until your hands can reach all the way across to the other side of it, until your fingers can curl around the edges so tight that your knuckles go pale and bloodless when he fists a hand in your hair and pulls it until it hurts and aligns himself with an ease that is, by now, practiced and familiar, bottoms out inside of you with a groan that reverbates through your whole body like some kind of horrible electric fucking shock–

He fucks you hard, and it wipes from your brain anything about your exam or your fucked priorities or the abysmally fucking long to-do list of your responsibilities that apparently all came second to this, a terrible and grating truth that he would never let you live down– but he doesn’t know, and you don’t tell him, and the stress of the entire fucking week thus far and the tension that had built in you trying to manage all the end-of-semester bullshit stops mattering for all of a horribly gratifying fifteen minutes.

When you let go of the edge of his desk to touch yourself, turning to the crook of your arm to muffle the traitorous and immediate gasp that breaks out of you, he chuckles, the tenor of his voice ragged and rough and split in pieces by the absolutely fucking ruthless rhythm of his thrusts– like he’s trying to break you, shatter your resolve, like that’s what he wants most out of all of this. “You gonna come for me, honey?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back at him, the words dissolving into a choked-off moan, and then you do.

And then you go home and you study for your structural biochemistry exam and you still do pretty decently on it, somehow, and you resolve to take to your grave the fact that your ability to weigh the relative importance of immediate gratification versus the entirely less gratifying things that you should be doing is broken beyond all repair. That he broke it. Or maybe you both did; combined effort. Irrelevant, really. You’re not anything, you and him, you’re not friends, or acquaintances, and you don’t, strictly speaking, even actually like each other, which means that you never have to tell him any of that.

And so you don’t. 

You do, though, see him on the last day before break, coat already on and stupid little expensive leather laptop bag slung over one shoulder, and you do walk a little faster to catch up to him before he reaches the door, glancing at him sidelong and saying with far less nonchalance than you’d intended, far more want– “Leaving?”

Beck turns to you and stares and his eyes are dark and amused and the sight of that alone sends some merciless heat searing right through your stomach. “Yeah,” he says, the silence after just as pointed and intentional as the fact that he hasn’t moved.

He wants you to ask for it, and you know that, and maybe the fact that you don’t care can be blamed on the abject fucking lack of adequate sleep you’ve gotten all week or the burning bright pulse of want that thunders dangerously through your nervous system or maybe just on– whatever. Who cares.

“Do you have to be somewhere right now?” you say, so blunt that it almost surprises you, “Or in the next, what, ten to fifteen minutes?” 

The smile that spreads slow across his face is arrogant and vicious and deeply self-satisfied and if it inspires any sort of anger in you at all, you can’t even begin to separate it from the frenetic surge of desire and the dizzying rush of anticipation that ramps up even higher at the sight, and later you can be upset about it or pissed off or whatever, but right now you can’t even really summon the barest fucking remnants of any of that. Can’t do anything but want.

“No,” he says, grinning like a wolf, “No, I don’t.”

Whatever complete absence of ability for rational thought or logic or reasoning you’re experiencing then – it doesn’t magically abate after the door to that same stupid small supply closet is closed, certainly doesn’t when his hands are on you again, his mouth , not even when he breaks from kissing you to to whisper against your jaw you want it that bad you’re gonna have to do something for me, honey, and still not even when he says, lower, rougher, the words dripping with implication and so clearly a power play that you should, rationally, tell him to go fuck himself, but–

“On your knees,” he tells you, and–

And you let him, god, you let him tell you to kneel and you let him wind his fingers through your hair and pull, tip your head back to force you to look up at him, to witness whatever wild and vicious thing is swirling in the dark of his irises; you let him reach for you and press the pad of his thumb past your lips and against your tongue and you let him squeeze the hinge of your jaw to force it open and you let him work the head of his cock into the heat of your mouth and urge you to take it, take more, all of it, just like that, fuck, honey, there you go, his hand steady and firm and warm at the base of your skull–

Something absolutely fucking treacherous inside of you vibrates when he doesn’t even really try to cage back an immediate groan this time, lazy and dark and satisfied.

Yeah. Okay. This–

You don’t actually think about it then, not when he’s fucking your mouth and not when you’re letting him and not when he’s rucking up the hem of the little t-shirt dress you’d worn because you couldn’t be bothered with pants on the fucking last day of class. Definitely not when he’s dragging your panties to the side or when his cock is pressing hot and solid between your legs and slipping and sliding up and nudging your clit and missing the mark more than once with the way you’re fucking dripping for him, god, and not when he grits out fuck all breathless and disbelieving and still somehow fucking smug, not when he has to actually use a hand around the base of his dick to guide it into you and not when he fills you up, again, the second time in two days–

You don’t, in that moment, really think about how your reaction to any of this– all of it, really, to all of it, or maybe just to him in general, whatever’s worse– may, technically, potentially, be approaching territory that is getting dangerously close to an actual fucking problem.

In your defense, it’s really fucking easy to not think about it, with the dull plastic edge of the shelf digging into the small of your back and one of your legs hitched over the crook of his arm and your entire center of balance so dependent on him like this that you don’t even have to actually move at all, your bodies so close together that the warmth of him bleeds right through his clothes. His stupid coat and that satchel-thing- whatever are discarded and forgotten somewhere on the dusty, cobwebbed floor, and him even doing that conflicts with fucking everything you know about him, but that, too, is conveniently not something you think about. He bites at your bottom lip and plies your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it like he can take this and anything else he wants from you and you’d just– let him. You’d like it. He barely even has to touch you this time and you’re already just– gone, and maybe the immediacy of it is what drags him over the edge too, because he doesn’t last much longer after that, either.

“Wait,” you say, breathless, when he moves to pull back, your head dropping onto his shoulder and your thoughts spinning, directionless, bouncing around inside your skull like it’s fucking empty in there, like your brain is the size of a fucking ping-pong ball, god, embarrassing, terrible – “Hold on, give me a second, or I really am going to fall this time.”

Beck just laughs, only vaguely mocking, breathing ragged but steadying, and holds you until your perception of things like gravity and your own center of balance and the otherwise generally simple concept of, like, standing upright, realign themselves in the disarray that must be your motor cortex. And he laughs, too, when you make a whiny and petulant noise at the fucking mess that’s between your legs, fumbles around in the dark of the supply closet until he finds one of those rolls of scratchy recycled paper towels that the bathrooms are all stocked with, and then you laugh when he grumbles under his breath at the dust clinging stubbornly to the heavy wool outer lining of his coat when he picks it up off the floor again. 

You do not think about any of that, either, at least not until you’re home, and then you do think about it– all of it, the weird parts and the concerning parts and the fact that there’s still, even now, that tiny little flicker of warmth somewhere inside of you.

Bad, you think, lying in your room in the dark, very bad.

But by then the semester is over, and it’s winter break for four weeks, and there’s the holidays to think about; Christmas, and all the logistical details that need to be worked out for that, and then New Years, which you’re pretty sure nobody even counts as a real holiday anyways, and then you realize you forgot to work out a second lab rotation and spend the rest of the break frantically sending emails– life happens, basically, and everything with Beck ends up on the back-burner, at least while he’s not within your immediate line of sight.

Maybe, you think, sometime in early January, the upcoming semester looming in the distance, maybe in the span of time between now and when you see him again, you’ll manage to get your head screwed back on straight.

---------------------

Perhaps predictably, that is not what happens at all.

Beck corners you in the east stairwell your second day back. This is despite his office being on the west side and despite the fact that there’s absolutely no fucking reason for him to even be there– he still is, of course, smiling, smirking, pressing his palm flat to the dusty brick wall near your head, his arm between you and the ascending stair. None of this is new, anymore, technically, and you’d spent the last month promising yourself that you’d fucking get over this, but for whatever reason it’s like that little base and instinctive part of your hindbrain– or maybe just your body, your entire nervous system, the way it reacts to him– hasn’t realized any of that, yet. Or just doesn’t care.

“Hey, honey,” he says, grinning wide,  “Miss me?”

“No,” you reply, dry and emphatic and somehow mostly steady, rolling your eyes if only to avoid looking at him and wishing it was more than only half-true.

Later– when you’re done for the day at one-thirty, stupidly and unusually early, and when you’re walking the long way out to the parking lot through the length of the still-mostly-empty biology building for absolutely no justifiable reason at all, you pass the cracked-open door to his office, and–

You just cannot seem to fucking help yourself. 

Beck is at his desk, posture relaxed and attention directed at something important, ostensibly; the door creaks even though you don’t so much as touch it, drifting further ajar behind you by a matter of what must have only been millimeters. The sound draws his attention and it’s like the second his eyes are on you or the second it registers he’s standing and across the room in an impossibly small number of strides, so fast that you don’t really have time to move or breathe or think . And maybe if you had time to do any of those things you would have thought to taunt him for it, how quick he is to just abandon everything else, the single-minded ferocity of his focus and how much it undercuts him when he says “You need it that bad, honey?” all arrogant and mocking like you’re alone in that, like the total sum of his own actions when laid out side by side doesn’t absolutely fucking betray him too—

“Fuck you,” is what you say instead, because it doesn’t register, not with him slamming the door shut with his hand above your head and forcing you right back against it, not with the immediate, precarious, dizzying lurch of adrenaline that vibrates right through you, brighter and warmer and sharper than anything you’ve felt in the month since you last saw him.

And, god, you will think, still later and still not then, not when it’s happening, because you never do– isn’t that just the fucking worst.

---------------------

You don’t actually come back from break early to get railed by your undergraduate biology professor. No, the actual reason is to help out in Dr. Banner’s lab, assisting in setup for his introduction to microbiology class both as part of the terms of your scholarship as well as in exchange for his advice on your nebulous future plans— you needed to at least tentatively have picked out a lab to do your thesis in and an actual official faculty advisor to pursue by the end of the semester, and you still hadn’t seriously started on either, yet.

“I was thinking about immunology, actually,” you tell him, sifting through a dusty, crumpled cardboard box full of micropipettes that you’ve been tasked with sorting by size, “I took intro in undergrad, and I did really well and I thought it was interesting, so I’m taking advanced immunology this semester with Dr. Stark– I was going to ask if he has space in his lab for me to do my third rotation.”

Dr. Banner doesn’t look up from where he’s painstakingly filling rows of those annoying too-small centrifuge tubes with pre-mixed DNA primer; yet another of an endless array of menial, boring tasks that need to be done to get everything set up for the class. 

“I think that’s a great idea.The only thing, though,” he says, reaching the end of the row, snapping closed all of the tiny plastic caps, and then starting on the next one, “Tony’s the Dean, and everybody’s always falling over themselves trying to get into his lab, so I would keep your options open. Just in case. I can talk to him for you, put a good word in, and if you do well in the class I don’t see why he wouldn’t be up for it, because your grades are otherwise great, but– still, y’know?”

You make a noncommittal sound, catching your bottom lip between your teeth and worrying at it; with the micropipettes now sorted, you work your way methodically around the room to set one of each size at every seat. “Yeah, I know– I just don’t know what I would want to do otherwise.”

“Who do you have for your second rotation?”

“Dr. Cho.”

“And, what– you’re not thinking about asking her?”

You shrug, emptying the box at the last bench. “I’m less interested in structural biochemistry,” you reply, and the degree to which you’re actually incredibly not interested in structural biochemistry must be evident in your expression, because Dr. Banner chuckles under his breath.

“Don’t let her hear that, it’ll break her heart,” he says, smiling. 

There’s a brief, not-uncomfortable silence, filled only with the sounds of the plastic casing of the micropipettes set down on the epoxy surface of the lab benches, the quiet, rhythmic click-click of the syringe depressing as he fills and then empties it over and over.

Finally, he makes this noise, a hum, kind of, like he’s considering the merits of whatever he’s about to say. “Tony’s not the only one who does immunology research. If that’s what you really want to pursue, I mean.”

You’re halfway into the adjacent storage room when he says it, off to fill the empty box with pipette tips that you’d have to similarly deposit at each lab station– god, you don’t know how he does this, year after year, it’s so fucking boring– but something about the tone of his voice makes you pause in the doorway. “He’s the only one listed on the department research page,” you reply, nonplussed, “I’ve checked.”

“Yeah, I know.” The prickle of annoyance underlying his voice– one that you recognize– betrays who he must be talking about before he even says it. “Beck’s lab isn’t listed, because he doesn’t want to have to deal with taking on undergrads for research experience. And Tony, he just– lets him, for whatever reason.”

Your mouth goes a little dry and that stupid traitorous thing inside of you trembles, the response so embarrassingly pavlovian that you should honestly be multiple times more ashamed than you are. You ignore it, and focus instead on the fact that somewhere in the back of your mind you were at least marginally aware of what he’s told you– that Beck had a lab, he did research, he wasn’t just teaching faculty. 

“It’s really not worth asking, though,” Dr. Banner continues; if he’s at all cognizant of the way you’d gone suddenly and uncharacteristically silent, he doesn’t make mention of it at all. “He’s– I mean, you know how he is.”

Yeah, you think; yeah, I do. 

“What does he– um, what’s his research area?” you ask, kicking yourself internally at the way that you stumble through the question, awkward and stilted and uncomfortable, trying to focus instead on stacking the little sachets of pipette tips into the cardboard box in neat, orderly rows. You only need forty-two– one of each of three sizes, for fourteen lab benches– but somewhere along the way you realize you’ve lost count and just mindlessly filled the entire thing.

“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” Dr. Banner’s voice, incredulous, drifts from somewhere in the lab room proper.

“I’m seriously considering needing a backup plan,” you reply, bringing the too-full box of pipette sachets back into the lab classroom and beginning to lay those out, too. 

That much, at least, is true.

He makes another sound that could best be described as the wordless equivalent of the phrase your funeral, which is distressingly appropriate. “I think he mostly does biologics. Developing new immune regulators, monoclonal antibodies, stuff like that.”

Right. 

It would work out that way, wouldn’t it– that Beck’s research aligns so neatly with the only ideas about your future that aren’t ill-defined. You’re sure of at least one thing; that being you wanted to go into industry after this, private research and development for some pharmaceutical company, ideally; something that pays well and that’s far outside the bureaucracy and tedium and bullshit that is academia. Dr. Stark’s research is in a similar vein, but focused more on exploratory models of immune systems than the development of novel treatment strategies for, like, humans ; the difference, while small, is meaningful in the grand scheme of considering how well your PhD experience would translate to valuable skills in industry.

“Look at it this way,” Dr. Banner says, having finished filling up the primer tubes, moving past you to the storage room ostensibly to start on whatever the next menial, repetitive task needed to be accomplished, “At least you have time to figure it out. And who knows, you might get into Tony’s lab, and then you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess,” staring down at the box of pipette tips, still half-full even after all the lab benches were stocked, mind racing and thoughts elsewhere and not feeling all that much better about it.

---------------------

Your rotation in Dr. Cho’s lab goes fine. That is the best descriptor because it is itself the most nondescript; nothing special, but nothing bad, either.

You become gradually acquainted beyond a vague theoretical understanding with stuff like x-ray crystallography and nuclear magnetic resonance imaging and cryoelectron microscopy, familiar with the weird and kind of janky processing software that analyzes the data and renders the images of the molecules and the cell receptors and essential enzymes and whatever else, and eventually you become friendly with a new set of labmates. It’s not boring, it’s just that it’s not what you think you want to do for the five (but, really, in life sciences it’s always more like six or seven) years of your PhD, and markedly less adjacent than the work you’d done in Dr. Banner’s lab in your rotation last semester. 

A not-insignificant part of your uneasy ambivalence might be attributable to just how goddamn much you hated organic chemistry. 

Nonetheless, you do the work, and the semester does the same things all semesters always do– it starts off slow, and then sometime after the third week it starts to pick up, until around the fifth or sixth it’s just this never-ending stream of assignments to complete and projects to finish and responsibilities to fulfill; an endless march towards some nebulous, ill-defined end.

Somehow through all of it, for reasons that you could not explain, you still end up seeing Beck.

A lot.

---------------------

Well, no-

The reasons are not that difficult to explain. They are, actually, extremely simple.

The sex is really good. 

End of story.

---------------------

Dr. Banner gets the flu towards the end of February.

This is important only because it means his intro microbiology laboratory class falls a week behind. Normally, they’d have done the first few baby steps of their extractions that week, and you and the other TAs would have handled the rest of the process the following week. With him out, the lab gets pushed back, meaning the kids do their part the first week in March, and somebody would need to do the rest of it over the week of spring break, or the entire course would fall even further behind.

Dr. Banner explains this to you in his office on Friday morning in that still-kind-of-sick voice that sounds like somebody’s forcibly holding his nose shut, growing increasingly dismayed.

“Please,” he says finally, slumping in his chair, looking far too pale and far too wan to be even out of bed, much less back to work yet, “If you could. I know you always get stuck doing it, but everyone else has plans for spring break, and I’m supposed to be giving a presentation at a conference in Toronto, and–”

“It’s fine,” you reply, “Don’t even worry about it. I haven’t done anything for spring break since, like, sophomore year.”

“Thank you,” he says, visibly relieved. “You are a lifesaver. Really.”

Later, as you’re leaving his office after stressing to him that he really should go home and rest if he’s insisting on still going to a conference he’ll have to leave for in less than six hours, you allow yourself to think about the things that usually tended to happen last semester, all the other times you stayed late.

And then you think about it for what amounts to basically the entire day. Which, you know– fine. It’s the Friday before spring break. It’s not like you’re actually doing anything.

You’re still thinking about it when you’re in lab, as you work mindlessly through the familiar task of the extractions, as you siphon pungent ethyl acetone off from the bottles you’d done last week, the smell like drug-store nail polish remover still making your nose burn despite the fume hood; as you wait, otherwise unoccupied, for the rows of neatly-labeled glass bottles to finish steeping in the steaming vat of dry ice. It’s perhaps slightly– perhaps more than slightly– embarrassing, how much time you actually spend thinking about it– him– but by now when you’re by yourself you don’t even bother warring with the thoughts anymore. Whatever you think about when you’re alone stays between you and god– it doesn’t count.

(That, the still-rational piece of you thinks– the piece that hasn’t been reduced to a hormone-addled perpetually-horny teenager, however small it might be – that’s a terrible excuse.)

You’re still thinking about it as you clean and lock up the lab, though, right up until the moment that you’re not.

 In the hallway, you fumble for your car keys in the pockets of your coat, outside ones first, and then the inside pocket, anxiety starting to prickle, and then your jeans, and then your backpack— and come up empty.

Oh, fuck.

You try to peer through the little rectangular frame of glass in the door to the lab to see if you’d left them on the stainless steel tabletops or the back counter, squinting into the dark of the room. In your head you’re already retracing your steps, the pace of your thoughts rapidly bordering on frantic, trying to figure out where you had–

“Hey, honey. Long day?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin, the mounting stress having already done a number on your startle response– Beck is standing there, watching you quizzically, hands in his pockets. For once, you’re too focused on something else for the immediate, instinctive pang of warmth that flares at the sight of him to be anything more than an afterthought, and you’re kind of glad for that, unfortunate circumstances aside– that you’re at all capable of prioritizing this.

“I think I just locked my car keys in the lab,” you tell him in lieu of returning his greeting, a frown worrying at the corners of your mouth. 

“Oh yeah?” His bark of answering laughter grates on your nerves, and, god, isn’t that just like him, you think sourly, already pissing you off. “Amazing job. Really proud of you.”

“Fuck off,” you tell him, acerbic and sharp and so not in the mood, even as that stupid impulsive part of you remains painfully aware of the shrinking distance between you when he moves closer, your pulse stubbornly ticking up, your autonomous nervous system incapable of caring whether you want it to or not.

“Relax,” Beck says, unaffected, “I have a key.”

You’re too irritated to thank him, and he looks at you with amusement, because he knows that, presumably, and because it’s funny to him. That heat you’d felt at the sight of him you think must be mostly frustration, now;  it should maybe be a little concerning how difficult it is to even tell the difference in the first place, but you’re still too anxious to care.

He unlocks the door for you and flicks on the two rows of industrial overhead lights, which buzz to flickering life, bathing the room back in artificial brightness. You know within the first few seconds of glancing around that they’re not there, a realization that triggers a panic that lurches through your stomach like a cold stone.

“God damn it,” you grit out, dragging your hand over your face, the other clenching into a fist at your side, not even wanting to say out loud what you’ve realized– wishing more than anything that he wasn’t here, his particular brand of smug, condescending bullshit the exact opposite of what you needed right now.  “They’ve got to be in Dr. Banner’s office, because they’re not here.”

You wait for another bordering-on-insulting remark, but it doesn’t come, even as the silence stretches on, pointed and expectant.

“Well, I can’t get you in there,” he says, trailing behind you as you leave the lab, flicking the lights back off and pulling the door shut behind him as you rifle through your pockets again, the pockets of your coat, too, anxiety driving the search to be disorganized and frenetic as your desperation ramps higher. “The master keys only work on the rooms with hazardous materials, for emergencies. Labs and storage, mostly.”

He watches you, impassive, as you tear your backpack apart, find nothing, and then dejectedly put everything back together again. “You should call Bruce, you know he’d come back.”

You slump forward, defeated, burying your face in your bag where it’s still hanging on the wall hook. “He’s in fucking Toronto,” you mutter into the fabric, muffled, “For three days.”

At a loss for what else to do, you eventually right yourself and take your backpack up off the hook, slinging it over your shoulder with a long-suffering sigh. When you turn in the direction of the door, Beck follows after you; you’re not really thinking about what he’s probably thinking about, not right now, too concerned with how you’re going to get home, but– and this triggers a wince and a flicker of shame, a feeling that has become a lot harder to elicit in you as of late– you could probably be convinced to stop thinking about that for some indeterminate length of time, if he were to try. 

“I can give you a ride to your apartment,” he offers.

Somehow, the realization hadn’t struck you until then, but– “Oh my god, my house keys. I can’t even get in.”

“Wow,” he says dryly, “You’ve really fucked up, huh?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a pause, as you near the doors; your mood somehow sinks even lower at the state of the sky outside, already an absolute pitch black. It’s only six, but it’s still somewhere between spring and winter; the time hasn’t changed yet and a late cold front had swept in earlier in the week, so not only is it dark, it’s freezing. And you still had no fucking idea what you were going to do. 

The lights are still on in the biology building, and because of the contrast you can see both yourself and Beck clearly reflected in the glass of the door; he’s looking at you, expression unreadable.

“You have a friend you can call? Roommate?”

“No roommates. I don’t even have a spare key.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, and then turn to look at him– really look at him, not just his reflection, pointedly ignoring the way you have to squash down the rise of something warm up through your abdomen just to do it. “Look– I appreciate it, but I’ll be all right. It’s my fault I got into this stupid mess anyways, I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to stay any later.”

He looks at you a moment longer, eyes steady, and then his mouth twitches up at one corner, more of an acknowledgement than a proper smile. “No, I guess not, huh?” 

Part of you is more than a little irritated at that, at the implication, because, seriously, did he think you would just, what, decide to put off figuring out how you’re going to get home– where you’re even going to sleep– because he wanted to get laid? 

(A smaller part of you is angrier still at the fact that, yeah, you probably would, if only he were capable of being more empathetic and less of an asshole for all of a meager five fucking minutes –)

“You could come with me.”

Your brain stalls, grinds to a halt and then stutters and rights itself enough for the words to process and the meaning to crystallize– and, yeah, okay, there’s a spark of electricity that strikes up in your belly at the idea, the precarity of it, even just the notion triggering that spiraling, panicky, adrenaline-infused sensation of being wildly out of your depth-- but that same small idiotic impulsive part of you, though, likes that feeling. Wants to chase it, past the point of reason or excuse.

“No,” you blurt out, before you can think about it for any longer, resolutely ignoring the part of you that’s kind of disappointed in your response. You’re not going to his fucking house, that sounds like a horrible, horrible idea.

Beck looks at you a moment more, and then his expression seals off– you wonder absently if you’d upset him. Hurt his feelings, maybe? Did he even have those?-- and he moves towards the door. When he pushes it open there’s a blast of dry and frigid air that still tastes like winter, a mixture of wood smoke and car exhaust, and he looks at you one last time, his eyes tracking back and forth across your face like he’s searching for something. “Suit yourself,” he says finally, and then he’s gone.

You stand there for a while just staring at your solitary, sullen reflection in the glass, before you pull out your cell phone and try to call someone– anyone, really, family, a friend; you even consider the merits of calling the campus police until a cursory google search reveals that all available master keys for buildings lie with the corresponding department head and are then disbursed at their discretion. The department head, of course, being Dr. Banner. Who was in Toronto. For three fucking days.

No one answers their phones; you send a few text messages out to make sure they’re not just avoiding answering calls, and after that, having realized you’ve run out of Useful Things to do, you settle for just trying to not panic. It’s admittedly a task that requires most of what limited attention you still possess at six-thirty at night, and for that reason you don’t notice the car when it appears outside; not until the driver lays on the horn for several uninterrupted seconds.

The sound jolts you, violently, out of whatever dissociative trance you were in; you register beams of light from those obnoxious, blinding-bright LED headlights and the steady rumble of an engine, the car itself parked at such an angle that you can’t make out the model from inside for the glare. You hesitate for a while, squinting at the shape of it in the darkness and trying to make out the details from the nice comfy warmth of inside, until the driver punches the horn again, three times in quick succession.

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself, zipping up your coat and bracing for the solid wall of cold air that rushes to meet you when you open the door. 

You have your arms wrapped around yourself as you approach the passenger side of the car— newer-model BMW, sedan, black, tinted windows, expensive— trying to ward off the cold and not succeeding. The window rolls down as you get close; without a light on, it’s still too dark for you to make out anything inside, but you know the voice when it calls out to you.  

“Come on; I’m not gonna just leave you here, honey.”

Beck must have reached out to pull the latch for the door, because it swings wide open. The interior light flicks on with it, illuminating his face and the inside of the car, which is spotless and leather-upholstered and warm, the glow rendering the heat visible, rising out of the cabin in wavering lines. Standing as close as you are you can feel it, radiating outwards, and you sway towards it without meaning to, drawn instinctively away from the cold.

“I said I’d be fine,” you protest, with far less conviction than the first time. 

“Yeah? You didn’t prop the door open, and you don’t have your keys,” he says, lips pressed together in a way that tells you he’s trying not to laugh, “So now you can either wait there or you can wait in my car, because I’m not getting out just to let you back in again.”

“Oh my god,” you reply, equal parts indignant and alarmed, glancing back to check— god damn it, you really had just locked yourself out. “I wouldn’t even be out here if you didn’t–”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off, properly smiling now– and of course he’d only been fucking with you, and of course you’d just headlong and blindly let him get you riled up. Again . “Look– were you even able to get ahold of anyone?”

A lengthy beat of silence passes; the wind picks up, the door sways on its hinges, and you try– fail– to hide a violent shiver.

“No,” you admit, reluctant.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, tone long-suffering but that stupid fucking smile still playing at his mouth, “Quit being so stubborn and just get in the car.”

You weigh your options for a moment, again, thinking about all the ways in which this is a spectacularly bad idea– there was probably somebody still inside who’d let you in the main door if you walked around to the front of the building, and once there you could wait and maybe somebody would respond to your texts– but it’s half-hearted. You don’t actually want to do any of that. When he’d first asked, there had been this part of you– stupid, impulsive, impetuous part of you– that wanted to just say yes , without forethought or consideration, interested only in the way that the offer had brought back the same feeling as when he had first cornered you in his office, like something inside of you had melted, turned liquid and pliable and hot . 

That part of you is an unabashed and committed hedonist, apparently, and a sucker for being totally out of your depth— and the second time around, that part wins.

Buzzing with adrenaline, you reach for the grab handle on the ceiling of his car and, wordlessly, you pull yourself into the passenger seat, yank the door closed behind you, and stow your backpack at your feet. 

The light shuts off as soon as the door closes, the process entirely automatic, and for a second you can’t make out much more than the outline of him, pitch black. You can’t breathe, at first, and you tell yourself it’s because of the heat shock, your body adjusting from the cold, but a not-significant part of it might just be you freezing up at the immediate reality of being somewhere that’s his . The office was one thing, but the inside of his car– maybe because it’s so small, too personal — it’s different. It makes you feel like you’re drifting, unmoored, beyond the realm of plausible deniability or excuse; where you could justify being in his office, technically justify being really anywhere in the building, there’s no justification here, and that awareness thrums, electric, just under your skin.

He shifts the car out of park, and something inside of you trembles. 

“I thought we were going to wait for–”

Beck chuckles, and there’s that familiar biting edge to it again. “No you didn’t,” he says blithely, eyes straight ahead as he pulls out of the lot.

The words are matter-of-fact and a little bit mean and the sound of them makes you feel like you’ve dropped ten stories–the floor pulled right out from under your feet, that weightless, shivery feeling pulsing in the pit of your stomach. Of course he knew that. You don’t bother trying to deny it. 

“D’you think we’ll pass a drugstore?” You ask instead, carefully and pointedly ignoring what he’d said– there was an insinuation inherent in that, too, though, an implicit admission that he’d been right, and you can see when you glance at him that it registers, the corner of his mouth twitching up. 

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting gears as he turns out of the university entrance and onto the main road– the fact that he drives a stick is unsurprising. You’d kind of figured he was the type. “Why?”

You stretch out in the passenger seat just to give yourself something to do, warm enough now to uncurl your shoulders and unwrap your arms from around yourself; you stretch your legs and reach up to stretch your arms, too, for good measure, the movement long and languid and so much more relaxed than you feel. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the glance he casts at you, sidelong, and feel an immediate rush of satisfaction.

 “I need to get a toothbrush,” you say eventually, working to keep your voice casual.

He makes a noncommittal noise in response. “You can use my toothbrush.”

You don’t reply, but the face you must have made at that, unintentional and reflexive, it makes him laugh– really laugh, something that seems like it isn’t entirely on purpose, a sound that’s softer and rougher around the edges than the ones you’ve heard him make before, his eyes crinkling up at the corners in a way that so utterly disarms him that for a second it’s like you’re looking at a totally different person. 

Whatever you feel at that sight, as strange as it is, is so fleeting that you don’t get the chance to examine it in any amount of detail.

“The things that you’ve let me put in your mouth and you draw the line at my toothbrush,” he says, grinning, shifting gears again with a familiar efficiency as the car picks up speed. "Really, just-- illogical."

You can feel yourself flush, the sensation running from your face right down to your toes; you’re glad, now, for how dark it is, the only light the rhythmic flashes of passing streetlamps that flicker through the cabin.  “Oh my god, don’t be fucking gross.”

“I’m being scientific,” he replies, humor still suffused into his expression, “It’s basic biology; do you know how many germs a person has on their—”

“Yes, oh my god,” You cut him off before he can finish the sentence, fighting back the admittedly childish desire to cover both your ears. “ I also majored in biology, asshole, I know about microbiomes. I draw the line at societal convention, which pretty much never has anything to do with science, anyway, so--"

“Okay, well, no, that’s definitely bullshit,” his voice has gotten lower, and while he’s still smiling, it’s not the same lighthearted one from before, that smug, self-satisfied edge back in it, “You don’t give a shit about societal convention, honey, you’ve spent the last four months proving how little you care about that.”

You don’t need him to elaborate to know what he’s talking about; the implication is clear– god, four fucking months, you think, how had that even happened?-- though you get the feeling if you don’t respond he’s going to say it out loud, and that would be worse. You know that this is something that you shouldn’t be doing– he was your professor, for fuck’s sake, he’s still technically your superior, you’re still technically a student, even if you’re not his– and you don’t particularly need or even want him to say any of that, especially not the way he is now; like he’s found some hole in your reasoning, a fundamental logical misstep. 

He used to do this when you were in class, too, when you’d argue then; pull these bizarre non-sequiturs that gave you whiplash, poke holes in arguments you hadn’t even made. And god, you hated it then and you still hate it now— how he twists the conversation, twists your words, often at random, pushes and prods and needles you until you’re made to be defensive, forced to justify the most pointless, insignificant bullshit that you’d never even said in the first place.

“Yeah, well,” You fold your arms over your chest, suddenly more irritated than anything that you’re in his car and not someplace where you can just tell him to fuck off and walk away. “I pick and choose which conventions I give a shit about. Like most people do. Happy?”

He’s gotten under your skin, again, so much so that you don’t realize he’s pulled into a space in the otherwise-empty parking lot of a Dollar General until he turns, pointedly, to look at you, mouth still twitching like he wants to smile but realizes that would just piss you off more. You stare right back, stubborn, irritation prickling hot at the nape of your neck— irritated both with him for always being such an unrepentant bastard but also with yourself, too, for the fact that you can’t ever seem to stop reacting to it.

When he leans over the car console and takes your face in both hands and holds you still so can kiss you, just for a moment, you’re dizzy with vertigo and burning up with frustration and playing desperate, disorganized catch-up with whatever the fuck is going on to the point where you never really get the chance to respond– but there’s still that heat that brims up inside of you, the spark of adrenaline, and it sucks, actually, how easy it is for you to forget that you were even angry in the first place. Or maybe it’s just that he’s gotten the wires in your brain crossed so completely that you can’t even tell what the difference is, anymore. When he lets go and pulls away, you have to fight the urge to sway forwards, and that sucks, too, the way that he doesn’t even really have to try to get this from you, the wanting; it’s just always there, right under the surface, and all he ever has to do is remind you of its’ existence and everything else in your head is gone.

 “Am I happy with which conventions you choose to ignore?” Beck clasps his hands behind his head, and reclines back in his seat, eyes closed. He’s still smiling, an arrogant and self-satisfied thing that fills you with frustration and want and shame, all in equal measure. “Take a guess. And then go get a toothbrush, before I decide I’m just going to leave.”

A muscle in your jaw ticks as you unbuckle your seatbelt and crack the car door. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“See, if only you were brave enough to ever say that during your undergrad,” he calls out after you as you’re rounding the front of his car, having rolled down his driver’s side window to do so, leaning forwards so he can hold eye contact through the windshield. It’s kind of funny, actually— how willing he is to abandon that illusion of calm disinterest, dismissal, that he’d constructed only moments earlier, if it meant even just one more chance to get a rise out of you. 

You wonder if that’s new, or if he’s always been that way, and you were just too caught up in being angry to notice.

“I said it a lot, ” you inform him, unable to suppress the beginnings of a small, reflexive grin at the thought–that maybe it’s not just you. Maybe he can’t really help himself, either. “Just not to you.”

You don’t look back, after that, but you don’t need to; you can hear him laughing.

---------------------

A friend responds to your earlier frantic text as you’re waiting at the checkout for the solitary employee to return from where they’d been stocking product somewhere within the haphazardly-organized, labyrinthine maze of the local Dollar General. 

She’s back home in Connecticut for spring break, so it would take her two hours, maybe more, just to get here, and you had already set it up with the janitor to be let back into the lab to check on the extractions over the weekend, anyways– so there are plenty of perfectly rational, perfectly objective reasons for you to respond with a “ dw lol, figured it out already. thank u tho!! ”. 

Logistics, for one. Efficiency, for another. That winding, precarious sensation of anticipation creeping up inside of you– it’s not a factor, you tell yourself reasonably. If it had been any of your friends nearby, you’d have taken them up on the offer, because of course you would have.

(You don’t even know for sure if that’s true. Deep down, you might be a tiny bit relieved that it was her who answered, and not anyone else, not someone who lived within the general vicinity of campus–  you don’t really want to know what you would have done, then, what you would choose, and this way you don’t have to find out.)

You return to his car with the toothbrush, still in its flimsy cardboard and plastic packaging, and a crumpled receipt; you think you might see something in his expression that brightens at the sight of you, but maybe it’s just a trick of the light. The toothbrush goes immediately into one of the pockets of your backpack– you’re not really thinking all that much right now, and you don’t trust yourself not to lose it otherwise– and by the time you sit up again and reach to pull the seatbelt on, he’s already peeling out of the lot. 

Beck drives like an asshole, accelerates too fast and maneuvers around other cars and egregiously violates the speed limit– huge surprise– but it’s not distressing, which is to say, begrudgingly, that he’s good at it. It’s clear that he knows the car, what it can do, shifts through the gears to bring it humming from ten to thirty to sixty miles an hour over the span of a handful of seconds in a motion so smooth that it seems effortless. You know that it’s really not, if only because the one time you’d ever tried to drive stick– a friend’s car, an already-beat-to-shit Pontiac Firebird– you couldn’t even figure out how to time the clutch right. Never so much as made it out of the parking lot.

“You drive like a fucking maniac,” you say instead of admitting any of that, and then you ignore the way that his answering laugh makes something bright and warm and weird bloom in the general vicinity of your chest, and you ignore, too, how his immediate mocking of your proclivity towards using the word fuck and its’ derivatives as if it were the world’s most liberal and universal adjective doesn’t, actually, make you angry or irritated or anything even close. Not even when he says in that too-sweet patronizing tenor something about how it’s unbecoming behavior for a PhD student, inappropriate and far too unprofessional, evidence that, well, y’know, maybe you’re just not cut out for this after all, honey–

You tell him to shut up, kind-of-not-really meaning it, finding it probably a little too easy to ignore all those things, the same way you ignore everything else that’s ever inconvenient or uncomfortable about any of this– knowing, in some distant and far-off part of your brain, that you will probably have to deal with it eventually. 

Eventually, though–

The thing about instant gratification is that it always makes that eventually seem like it’s some meaningless, incomprehensible distance from you, miles and oceans and light-years away, and while you know, logically, intellectually, that that won’t always be the case, that it isn’t, technically, even the case now–

It doesn’t click. 

It doesn’t stick.

Beck turns into a concrete several-story parking garage attached to a mid-rise tower block of apartments– condos, actually, you catch the sign on the way in, large and deliberately eye-catching and illuminated brighter than anything around by a row of obnoxious spotlights– and when he pulls into a spot marked with the stenciled number 34 in white spray-paint and parks and shuts off the engine–

It doesn’t really matter, then, what clicks or sticks or even registers at all. The surge of adrenaline, of want and anticipation and warmth and whatever else–  as soon as he moves to get out of the car, it thunders back in like the rush of high tide, like something inevitable, and the ferocity of it has you wondering as you shrug your backpack over one shoulder and close the passenger door if there might actually be something wrong with your nervous system, if something inside of you was misfiring that would explain, logically, why you still fucking feel like this–

You decide, abruptly, to stop thinking about it.

(You’ve gotten really fucking good at that.)

“Got your toothbrush?” he says, grinning, sly, somehow managing to make an otherwise–innocuous phrase sound like it’s meant to be an insult.

You roll your eyes and he just smiles wider. “Yes, I have it, asshole.”

#quentin beck x reader #ties that bind #mysterio x reader #this is now somehow 26k. lsdjkflsdjf

[dearmantis]

I have no time for confession

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x Durast!Reader

Summary: After waking up you're forced to meet with the General, hoping that he will believe your hastily made up lies.

Warnings: drowning, manipulation (?)

Word Count: 4k

Authors' Note: I am no longer sick! I mean I am but I'm feeling better, so I was able to write a bit :) The title is from the fruits by Paris Paloma. I'm still no native English speaker and this still isn't really proofread but here it finally is, part two for Does he know that I'm falling. Who knows when I'll be able to get part 3 out but I promise, the story isn't over yet, I'm just slow at everything

Part 1 | Series Masterlist

You dream of drowning.

You've dreamed of it before. Of waves crashing over your head as you try desperately to keep your head over water, ice cold liquid sucking the last bits of warmth out of your body. There's chaos around you, inside of you, as you feel the waves trying to pull you under, crush your ribs, rip your muscles apart with their pure, ancient strength.

But the dream that haunts you today is not this one. There's no familiarity, no moment where your brain catches up to your dream, forcing you to realize that the things you're seeing, smelling, hearing are false images, that you're safe.

In this dream there's no ocean. There are no waves throwing you around like a leaf. No, there's just you, a bridge, a calm, deep river, and heavy chains that drag you down no matter how much you try to fight your way up to the surface.

There is no panic either, just silent acceptance of the cruel end you will find, and a single slither of hope, somewhere deeply buried in your chest where not even a Heartrender could find and take it from you.

The chains are heavy and sharp, cutting into your neck and wrists as they pull you down. You know they're made of iron, a metal easy to shape and move around, but you can't get your hands to move, can't get your fingers to wrap around the metal so you can quickly pull them apart.

Heartbeat hammering in your ears you try again, desperate to free yourself, lungs screaming for air while your chest feels like its sinking in on itself. There's still no panic, oddly enough. Just pain. So much pain. It feels like your entire chest cavity is on fire, like a burning piece of coal and a few knife blades found their way into your lungs and are ripping and burning you from the inside. Your vision begins to blur and your chained body becomes weaker and weaker. Because of the pain, because of the coldness of the water, it doesn't matter.

You lift your head in a silent prayer to the saints towards the surface but all you see is clear water, a grey sky and the bridge you got pushed off from, now filled with people watching you drown.

When instinct takes over and your brain forces your mouth open to breathe you feel the ice cold river water enter your lungs and your eyes finally rip open.

Hand clutching your chest you fall out of your bed, kneeling on the cold wooden floor of your room in the Little Palace as your lungs greedily take in air, fingers digging so deeply into the fabric of your sleepwear that you can feel the muscles cramping.

You stay like that for a while, desperately trying to calm your breathing, before fully laying down on the floor in hopes of cooling your hot skin down a bit. Heartbeat too quick for you to count you notice an almost hollow feeling in your chest. Coughing in hopes of easing the weird sensation you ask yourself for just a second if a Heartrender is messing with you before shaking your head. It's quiet in the Little Palace and dark in your room, the only light source being the halfway filled moon and stars hanging high in the night sky. Even the worst of the Corporalki would not stay awake that long just to torture a Durast.

You're still shaking like a leaf when your breathing finally slows down, slowly lifting yourself back up to your knees, then your feet. For a while you sit on the mattress of your bed, eyes glued to the ground before you finally decide that your heartbeat has slowed enough as well, the hollowness in your chest disappearing.

Standing up on weak legs, the adrenaline dispersed during your nightmare finally disappearing fully, you stretch for a few seconds before turning to the window, just to scare yourself half to death again, leaping half a metre into the air, hand clutching your chest once again.

A shadowy figure is standing right in front of your window, breath showing on the class as they stare into your room, face hidden by the shadow cast by the moonlight. Your breath is shaky as you start to contemplate if you should look for a weapon or rather scream for a guard when the figure lifts a hand and knocks at your window with a wooden staff.

For a few seconds your breathing stops, your body fully freezing, before a quiet groan escapes your lips. Shaking your head lightly you walk over to the window to open it.

This isn't a Drüskelle who somehow entered the grounds of the Little Palace. In fact, that might be preferable. No, this is the woman you probably know better than your own mother.

The literal last person in all of Ravka you want to see, especially after you just woke up from a longer than planned nap to sleep off the effects of the forbidden science.

As soon as you open the window she's already hitting you with her staff once, twice, three times while saying - hissing, really - "You stupid, stupid child! Of course it was you! Nobody else in all of Ravka is stupid enough."

She pushes you to the side before throwing her staff through your window onto your bed. Then she climbs into your room, angrily huffing and puffing as she pushes her way through the window until she's finally standing safely on your wooden floor. You have thought about helping her but you didn't want to risk her hitting you again. The old woman has never taken kindly to people getting too close into her own personal space and you don't want to risk getting hit even more.

"I basically raised you and you do this? Betray me like this?"

Your heart sinks as you watch her grab her staff and sit down on your mattress, hands resting on the top of the wooden walking aid. The tone in her voice doesn't just sound mad, she sounds genuinely hurt and you're not sure what you're supposed to do about it, what she expects.

You didn't know that she cared about you like that. Saints know she never actually showed these feelings to you. She has never been kind to you, or anyone else for that matter.

"What are you talking about, Baghra?" You ask carefully, choosing to sit down on your desk chair across from the bed. You feel safer here, despite the fact that your room is so small that you're still in perfect hitting range for the old woman.

"Your stupid experiments, child. Did you really think I didn't know what you're doing?" She lifts an eyebrow, her dark brown eyes starring into yours unblinkingly, daring you to deny it, to lie directly into her face.

You don't, because she's right. She did basically raise you, just like she had done with the other problem grisha children who made slower progress, who fell behind and didn't really fit as seamlessly as Kirigan would like. You can lie to other Grisha, even the General, but you can't lie to the person who taught you lying. Nobody knows your tells the way she does.

"How did you know?" You ask instead, refusing to deny it but also choosing not to reveal what exactly you have done, how far you've come.

Baghra shakes her head, grey hair falling freely around her head. Usually it's always tied up. It's weird to see her like this. She looks tired and vulnerable in a way that you don't like. It only makes this talk worse. She looks like a real person now. A real, exhausted, hurt human being, not like the untouchable, unbothered almost saint she usually presents herself as.

"I knew that you would only bring more problems the second I laid eyes on you for the first time, child. You asked too many questions, always took the bullying from the Heartrenders too personally, tried too desperately to find new ways to use your powers." Her gaze hardens, fingers tightening around her staff. "I knew, if any of the children in the Little Palace would be tempted by Merzost it would be you, and here we are. I was right, like always."

You stare at her for a few seconds, heartbeat deafeningly loud in your ears. As soon as the word Merzost left the lips of your old teacher you felt your stomach drop into the void. Taking a shaky breath you fold your hands, fingers intertwined with each other, before trying to find your voice.

"But how did you know that I summoned it today? That's why you're here, right? I've been planning for today's experiment for months, researched Merzost quietly behind everyone's backs for years. Not once did you talk or even look at me. Not once did you try to warn or protect me."

Slowly you feel anger push it's way up your throat, past the fear that still has a tight hold on your heart. The frustration and the still present loud heartbeat messing with your hearing making it hard to form logical thoughts, to actually think about what you're saying and what the consequences of your words could be before you're already speaking. "You didn't care at all. If I was dumber I would be dead now, ripped apart by the magic I summoned and you would not have cared. Now you sit here and act like you care. Like the years I spend practicing with you meant anything to you even though we both know that's not true."

You're loosing your composure, the last bits of your usually controlled nature slipping through your fingers like sand. There's still some part of you that knows that what you're about to say next is stupid and over the line and you can only pray to the saints that this won't be a point of no return as you stand up and grab one of the many folders from your desk, filled with old project sketches you made when you were still a bright eyed child that believed all the lies from the older Materialki, about how people will listen and help you turn your ideas into reality.

Turning back to the woman you look at her one more time, eyes sharp and cold like the blade of a knife. "I appreciate that you chose to at least try to act like you give a shit now that you know that I have the potential to master Merzost but please do me and everyone else here a favor and stop. We all know that we could be brutally murdered right in front of you and you would not care. You have no heart and no kindness or love in that old body of yours, so stop acting like you do. It makes you look pathetic."

Before she gets a chance to answer you rip open the door to your room and walk out, falling into a light jog and then a sprint as soon as you're around a corner, only returning to a normal walking speed when you're close to the generals quarters. You know he's awake, you've checked about three times during your quick run just to make sure, but you're still nervous.

Everything seems to be darker since you woke up from your nightmare and you can't get the fear out of your chest anymore, no matter how hard you try. It's like a part of your heart disappeared when you summoned the Merzost and the pure, unadulterated panic that has accompanied you since then has taken residency there.

If one of the Corporalki saw you shaking like this they would never let you live it down, making fun of you for months despite the fact that everyone is at least a bit scared of the General, even the Heartrenders and stoic Oprichniki, his clear favorites. Kirigan still bothers to try and charm them, and even the Etheralki get some love from him. Only the Materialki don't get that treatment. You exist to make the things he asks for while staying out of his eyesight as much as possible. And without his charm there's only fear and respect in your heart for the man.

Your hands are shaking horribly when you finally fully stop and kneel down on the cold floor, laying the folder out in front of you. One more turn left and a few steps straight and you will be at the generals quarters. It's time to decide which old project of yours you will present to the Shadow Summoner as your current passion project. Which lie you will feed him.

The folder you grabbed is full with older sketches and plans, some of them from when you were only a child. A fond smile paints itself onto your lips despite your stress as you look though the ideas, a faint feeling of nostalgia and grief making itself noticeable in your chest as you notice all the little doodles and drawings you used to ad to your sketches back then. Little rabbits and birds, squirrels and other animals and flowers covered the empty spaces of every paper.

You used to be so happy. What happened to you?

Finally you find one of your more detailed and complicated ideas from that time, a several pages long concept for a smoke bomb from when you were thirteen or fourteen. A quiet, satisfied hum leaves your lips as you look through the sketches and descriptions, making sure to pull out all the pages before getting back up on your feet and hiding the rest of the folder behind a curtain.

The pages are as professional as they could be, devoid of the little animals you have drawn on every other page and idea in the folder. You wanted to present it to your teachers, you remember, so you made sure to keep every page clean and organized.

Your mind wanders back in time as you get back into movement, stepping around the corner, the Generals quarters now in sight. A Corporalki child made fun of the idea, you remember. His name was Georg. He died two years ago during a conflict at the Fjerdan border.

The memory of that rude boy ripping your plans out of your hands, jumping up and down while he loudly read out your ideas, one of his stupid friends keeping your body under his control while they all made jokes about how stupid the idea was and how it was no wonder that it got rejected fills your mind like thick pudding as you nod at the Oprichniki standing in front of the door. He responds by turning and knocking on the door for you before stepping aside so you can enter the room.

General Kirigans voice sounds oddly tired as he calls you inside. To be fair, as a Durast you only really see him when he comes down to the workshops to demand new weapons. Maybe this heavy, almost raspy tone is actually normal for him and you just didn't know.

Your hands shake as you push the door open and you immediately begin to look through the room, fully aware that you will probably never see these quarters ever again. The Darkling let's you, silently watching as you take it all in before smiling softly when your eyes finally meet his.

"Moi soverenyi" You whisper almost, bowing quickly. "I'm sorry to disturb you this late."

Eyes glued to the dark wooden floor you don't see the expression he's making but you can hear his quiet chuckle. It's probably supposed to assure you that he's not upset but you can feel the sound resonating in your bones. Nothing about the sensation has a calming effect on you and you're suddenly very aware of how dark it is in the office, lit only by a handful of candles spread throughout the room. Their warm light creates long shadows that tower over you along the walls, large beasts that move in tune with the flickering of the candles. The curtains behind the desk the General is sitting at are open, letting the darkness of the night seep into the room. You ask yourself if Baghra is out there, hidden in the void of the night, watching as you carefully balance on your tightrope made of hastily made up lies above an infinity of nothingness, praying to every saint you know that you will somehow be able to trick the man who controls the darkness.

"I asked you to come as soon as you're awake, don't worry. I'm glad that you obeyed my command." The general finally says, voice still oddly quiet but less raspy now. Your eyes find him again, sitting at his dark wood desk covered in so many documents that it almost overwhelms you, and reaches out with a hand. First you're confused what he wants until you clench your hand a bit too tight and hear the paper in your hands protest quietly.

"Oh!" Quickly moving towards the desk you give the plans over, clearing your dry throat quietly before you begin to clumsily explain what the sketches show. "These are plans for a smoke bomb. At first it might look like the smoke bombs that are already in use but this one is different. The mechanism at the bottom is what makes it special."

A smile finds it's way onto your lips as you watch your General look over the plans and you feel like you're back in your thirteen year old body, presenting the plans to your teachers. The darkness around you still scares you but your passion for your work shines like a light in your soul. "If you turn the base, the smoke can change colour. Of course, that only works if the bomb isn't activated yet. The turning of the base adds pigment to the chemicals in the main body of the grenade responsible for the smoke. The plans I just gave you are for a grenade that can change colour to blue, red and purple."

Your grin wavers slightly. This is the part where your teacher shook his head and threw your plans in the trash for you to dig out, loudly exclaiming how stupid the idea is and how clear it is that you have never seen battle. "The coloured smoke could help hide the exact location of Grisha. That way it could be harder for Drüskelle weapons to find their target. If a Drüskelle sees a kefta, they know to aim at the middle and then slightly up to hit a Grishas head. If the kefta blends into the smoke, they don't know where to aim."

Clearing your throat again you speak again, just to fill the heavy, all consuming silence in the room, the General still busy reading your notes and looking over your plans. "Of course, I could also make special smoke grenades with green or brown smoke for the first army, grey for the Oprichniki, or black for... for you, moi soverenyi."

You take the stutter as a sign from the saints to shut your mouth and instead choose to watch him look through the few pages. His dark eyes scan every page, read every note and you can see that he's actually trying to understand the sketches, clearly rereading a few passages to make sure that he takes in every piece of information available to him. You can't lie, the attention he gifts your drawings makes you feel valued, important. The effect will most likely disappear as soon as you leave his quarters again but right now you feel like you could actually matter. Not because of the magic you summoned mere hours ago but because of your mind and your mind alone.

When the General finally looks at you again he nods, quick and simple. "The idea is good. Good enough to make me question why you have to work on it in the early hours before dawn."

Your voice gives out completely when you try to answer, heat rising to your face in shame as the General smiles almost fondly at you and reaches over to give you his glass of water.

"Oh, no. I couldn't- I couldn't possibly-" You try to reject, but he stays persistent and simply looks at you, halfway filled glass of water still held out to you until you finally take it and drink. After placing the glass back down on the table you speak again.

"I presented it to my teachers a few years ago but it got rejected. All of my projects and ideas get rejected. That's why I've decided to hide in the last hours of the night and the beginning of morning to work on my ideas. I found this one a few weeks ago in my room and I've been working on correcting and improving it since."

That sounds plausible, right? As close to the truth as possible with only the most important information, just like Baghra always warns.

Sympathy is clearly visible in the Generals dark eyes, warm and comforting like the hug of a close friend, and you ask yourself how you could've ever been scared of this man. Where did the terror coursing through your veins come from when you met him in the hallways last morning? Why have you ever been scared of this man?

"I'm very sorry to hear that. I assumed the Materialki Order would know better than to dismiss a talent like you but I must've been wrong. Your idea is smart. The smoke grenades currently in use have a hard time hiding the colourful keftas, which is why the second army doesn't have much use for them. This could be helpful."

You beam at him, the smile on your lips so big it almost hurts.

"I will request that you're removed from your current team to give you all the time you need to make a few prototypes. If those convince me I will allow you to create a team that will help you make your grenades." The General says, voice soft and joyful, as if your own happiness infected him. He holds your plans out for you to take before holding out other hand for you to shake.

You do so, carefully placing your hand in his before shaking it, but when you try to let go his own grip tightens. His gaze is intense as it meets your own once more, like he's trying to look into your very soul. Like he's waiting for you to break and offer up every single one of your secrets. It's unnerving, scary even, but before fear can truly find it's hold on your soul once again like it did this morning he lets go, smiling kindly as if the last ten seconds never happened. It's disorienting and you can't form any coherent thoughts until you're out of his office, stumbling back to your room like an idiot, picking up the rest of your folder on the way.

Removed from your current team. Will that give you more time to experiment with merzost? Or will every waking hour now be filled with thoughts about a project you haven't worked on in years? He didn't give you a deadline yet. If it stays that way, you might be able to work on both projects at the same time.

Baghra is long gone when you finally enter your small room, the window closed, suggesting she probably walked out of the Little Palace like a normal person instead of climbing out. The shame you feel at the way you ran out of the room after accusing her of not caring for anyone almost suffocates you, but you don't regret your words. These thoughts have been haunting you for years, this idea that nobody would care if you perished. You know that most Materialki feel this way, know that all the bullying inside of your Order is simply insecurity born from the treatment the Fabrikators receive from the other two Orders, but you can't stop yourself from taking it personally.

This deep, all consuming feeling of worthlessness whispered into your soul by the others is the reason why you started researching the forbidden science. It's what pushed you to do all of this, and Baghra had a hand in creating it. You can't blame yourself for blowing up in her face, you just wish you did it on a different day and in a different way.

Part 3 - For I'm too busy committing sins

Taglist: @shawty-writes-a-little @dreamlandcreations @snowkestrel

#aleksander morozova x reader #darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone #the darkling x reader

[tagthescullion]

Responsibility

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: General Audiences

Summary: Annabeth's been feeling a little bit too guilty lately. As a brother figure, it's Luke's job to make her feel better.

((Based on @reader-inserts-and-others-thing 's post))

AO3 link

“It was my fault.”

Luke saw Annabeth’s distressed expression as she slouched down on a rock by the creek.

“I should’ve known Clarisse was going to bait Chris and that he’d react.”

She looked so miserable.

Luke knelt next to her, and took her hands in his.

“Listen to me,” he said slowly. “You’re only eleven. You’ve almost led us to victory!”

“But we lost!” She snapped, getting up and stomping back a few steps. “We lost because I wasn’t clever enough.”

Luke sighed.

Ever since he’d come back wounded from his quest last year, Annabeth had been behaving with what he could only classify as Catholic guilt. She blamed herself for everything that went even slightly wrong in any and every aspect of her life. 

She blamed herself for not going on the quest with him –as if Luke would’ve let her–, she blamed herself because her little sister couldn’t learn the multiplication tables, she blamed herself because their team hadn’t won the dodgeball match the other day…

It worried him monumentally. She was too young to take responsibility for everything.

When Luke had suggested she come up with a strategy for Capture-the-Flag, he’d done so hoping she’d relax and enjoy. Clearly this was all his fault.

“You made a mistake, Annabeth.” He took a step closer to her. “And then you covered it up nicely, too. If you’d been a bit taller, you’d have got to the creek sooner. Give yourself a few years, puberty will hit you like a train. You’ll wish you were short and slower again.”

He said the last bit dismissively, hoping she’d roll her eyes, annoyed at him so much as mentioning adolescence, the big forbidden topic she adamantly refused to talk about.

She did look away, but she appeared sad rather than embarrassed. 

“My mother’s Athena,” she told him. “I’m supposed to be able to solve problems.”

Gods, not again with the Athena thing. Luke was ready to march up to Olympus and run over the old goddess with her own golden chariot. 

Annabeth had had a dream, a week or so before, –whether a demigod dream, or a plain meaningless one he didn’t know– in which her mother told her she’d make her proud. Proud how? Athena didn’t say. Proud when? Yeah, not that either. 

If the Goddess of Wisdom had truly gifted her daughter with a message, it was as vague as it could be. And not very productive at all. And also had the worst timing ever. 

But Annabeth refused to believe that it had just been her subconscious creating an olympically unrelated dream, so she’d spent the past several days wishing for a triumph that won her some divine recognition.

Either way, Luke wished he could convince her to put less importance on her mother’s opinion of her. 

“No god over there,” he began, pointing towards the general direction of Manhattan with his hand. “Has ever been good at solving problems. They create them, and then they let them run loose. It’s us who clean up their mistakes, and that’s something you’re very, very good at!”

She gave him a hesitant smile. “I did help with the Party Ponies last month.”

“You did,” he grinned. “That idea of the prom dress was amazing!”

Her eyes shone with pride, but they lost their gleam after a moment. 

“But I still can’t win at Capture-the-Flag!” She insisted. “I keep messing up all the time!”

“Chiron likes to say you can be part of the problem, or part of the solution,” Luke said. “I happen to believe you can be both. And what’s more, I think it’s important to be part of both.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Because you learn from your mistakes?” 

“In a way, yes,” he agreed. “But also because it’s important to take responsibility when you mess up. You made a mistake, that’s true. But you also realised it, accepted it, and found a way to patch it up in like half a minute. Not everybody can do that, you know? Most people would fall over blaming this, that, you, me, and everybody else.”

“I do blame Chris a bit,” Annabeth admitted. She sighed. “But I should have known better.”

“There you go, then.” Luke grabbed Annebeth by her shoulders and pushed her towards the cabins. He felt sweaty, he wanted a shower. “You’ve learned and you’ve taken responsibility for it.”

Annabeth shrugged. “I guess it could’ve been worse.”

Luke nodded. “It’s only a game. We play every week, you’ll have a million chances of getting it right.”

“We’ll win next Friday,” Annabeth decided. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he assured her. “That being said, though, it’s okay to throw some blame on other people if they are guilty about things. A mistake is not always one’s fault alone.”

“So you’re saying it’s also Chris’ fault for being baited?” She asked skeptically. 

“Yes,” he said. “Maybe you could’ve seen it coming, but so could the rest of the team, and none of us realised it was a weakness in our defence. And Chris shouldn’t have been so easily baited by Clarisse.”

“As a strategist it’s more my fault though,” Annabeth stated. Luke thought she sounded less upset that she’d been a few minutes back.

“To quote one of the most iconic lines to ever come out of popular culture, with great power comes great responsibility, that’s true,” Luke agreed. “But when it comes to teamwork, everybody should try to help. A leader speaks for their people, they guide them, but they’re not to blame for every single action every person in the group makes.”

“I don’t mind taking some of the blame,” Annabeth said.

“That’s because you’re becoming a good leader,” he told her.

She stopped walking and turned towards him. “Do you think it would make my mother proud? Being a leader?”

Luke repressed a sigh. 

“I can’t speak for your mom,” he offered. He knelt in front of her, and to his chagrin had to look up into her eyes. “But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Thalia would be very, very proud of you.”

Annabeth grinned.

#luke castellan #annabeth chase #clarisse la rue #chris rodriguez #thalia grace #chiron pjo #pjo #pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #mis fics #tagthescullion

[transmascissues]

Hi, friend! I really wanted to ask bc I don’t know if too many transmasc ppl who talk about their experiences, so I kinda want your perspective on this.

So like, I identify as bigender, and I feel really weird when people talk about specifically trans-masc or trans-fem experiences because I feel like I can’t relate to either side since I ID as both.

Like, where do bigender or agender people fit within this discussion of transandrophobia or transmisogyny? Is it just based on our gender assigned at birth or is it more of like, personal experience?

it’s 100% a personal experience thing — you fit wherever you feel that you fit based on how your experiences with transphobia match other people’s

i’ll talk specifically about transandrophobia because that’s what i have experience with, but as far as i know the same general principles apply to transmisogyny

while we can identify members of specific identities/groups as the main intended targets of transandrophobia, that doesn’t mean those people are the only ones who will ever actually be affected by it. in reality, oppression doesn’t care how you identify or what your history is, it really only cares about how you’re perceived by society — specifically, it cares about how your existence is perceived in relation to its standards for how people are “supposed to” exist

so, while we can say transandrophobia is the specific kind of transphobia targeted at trans men and transmascs, it’s entirely possible for someone who isn’t either of those things to experience it, as long as cis society has decided that you break the rules of gender in a similar way to how we break them. whether or not you identify as a trans man or transmasc is largely irrelevant to the oppressive structure; what matters is whether or not your gender has been deemed to break cisnormative gender rules in a “transmasculine way”

of course, someone’s closeness to trans manhood and transmasculinity (or lack thereof) will affect which parts of transandrophobia they do or don’t experience — for example, someone who doesn’t identify as a man may not struggle with accepting their identity as a result of negative attitudes toward manhood, and an amab person likely won’t have to deal with the specific issue of being denied gynecological care as a result of their transness — but that doesn’t mean they aren’t experiencing transandrophobia, it just means the way they experience it looks different

at the end of the day, only you can decide what you experience. if you read posts from trans men and transmascs about the issues we face and you recognize those same issues in your own life, it doesn’t matter that you don’t share our identity — those are still your experiences, and discussions about them are just as much for you as they are for us

now, i know the language we use may not always reflect that, and i wish we had the language to describe these experiences in a way that reflects the full scope of who can experience them

i can’t speak for everyone who talks about these issues, but i can say that when i specifically reference trans men or transmascs in a post, that’s essentially shorthand for “anyone who experiences this as a result of being perceived by society as male and/or masculine in a trans way”

and to be clear, i don’t by any means think it’s inaccurate to say that transandrophobia at its core is oppression based upon the hatred of trans men and transmascs, nor do i think it’s inaccurate to say that we are the primary targets of that oppression — i do think it’s important that conversations about transandrophobia generally center trans men and transmascs because its existence is inseparably tied to us, and trying to discuss transandrophobia without acknowledging that would be incomplete at best and harmful to us at worst

but, all that being said, you are the absolute best authority on where you personally fit into all this. if you see yourself and your experiences reflected in discussions of things labeled as “transmasc issues”, don’t let the label stop you from claiming those experiences as your own and participating in those conversations if you feel inclined to do so

and also don’t feel limited to trying to fit yourself into just one box — i experience both transandrophobia and exorsexism, and i’ve seen plenty of people who experience both transandrophobia and transmisogyny (or all three)

these conversations often end up looking very binary because 1) the society that we live in and are trying to discuss tends to try REALLY hard to fit everyone into a binary, so the oppression we face is often based on which side of the binary cis society sees us on, and 2) the vocabulary we have is built on binaries as a result, which can make it really hard to articulate anything without eventually falling back on binary language

but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a place in these conversations — it just might take a bit more time to figure out exactly where your place in them is

#sorry this is super long — i have a lot to say about this jdjskf #ask answered #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #trans men #transmascs

[namism]

mixed feelings with: sanji

➳ category: in-universe • female reader who uses (but not limited to) she/her pronouns

➳ spoiler warnings: slight mentions from ep 154/ch 239 and ep 253/ch 361

Having a “mixed-feelings” relationship with Sanji is difficult because he’s romantically hard to read. You can’t tell if he likes you in a special way or not because he seems to give everyone else the same amount of love and attention.

Sanji is extra generous when it comes to the women on your ship. He’d go around islands plucking flowers in his spare time or dash in and out of stores for lucky purchases. Once at Water 7, he bought Nami a baby transponder snail. He also made Robin a simple flower arrangement at Skypiea. While you don’t believe being pampered with gifts is the only measurement of someone’s flattery, seeing Sanji’s generosity toward other women does make you a little jealous sometimes.

While sailing one day, Sanji reveals a visual dial that he secretly bought back at Water 7 with his transponder snail. Apparently he had been taking stolen photos of your crew the past few weeks, and no one knew about it including the most observant. Naturally, Usopp snatches the dial from his hold and develops the photos stored in its shell compartment. In all photos you’re smiling brightly, even when the saturation or brightness isn’t the best, and the photographs that succeed the group shots are all focused on you. The group dissipates when they notice this, and Usopp complains.

“These are all (Y/N).”

Sanji punches him. “If you’re going to complain, then just stop looking at them!”

Usopp leaves to call Chopper for medical attention while Sanji compiles the photographs and hands them to you. He tells you that the visual dial is yours, and urges you to keep it as a memoir of the adventures you’ve had together. This brings panic to your body and heat to your cheeks, but you accept his gift nonetheless.

When you land on a new island and have to separate for a few days, Sanji buys another baby transponder snail and gives it to you. But Nami suggests you stay with each other instead, so the transponder doesn’t serve much of a purpose because Sanji is always beside or behind you.

Island exploring then is just Sanji ogling at you until it’s time to fight or eat, which is also a breather on your part. You love the attention Sanji gives you on times like these, but it’s fairly easy to get overwhelmed and cry. When he’s off your sphere, you have the time to calm down and rethink your interactions before he comes back. And frankly, he comes back quite quickly.

“My love, where are—?”

“I’m right here, Sanji.”

Zoro makes fun of him for having separation anxiety but he denies it. He reasons that he’s only watching over the ladies of your crew and proceeds to salivate over Robin.

Situations like this steer your feelings into a whirlpool. Sanji’s feelings are confusing and hard to tell; they’re too vague to decipher and they make you retract instead of coming forward with your emotions. When you’ve had enough, you distance yourself periodically to make sure you don’t do anything foolish, but Sanji approaches you in the worst times and you’re left to suffer in a conversation with him.

When you’re too hurt and try to excuse yourself to get rid of him from your peripheral, he would come to you and ask if everything is okay like a puppy. You’d give him a reassuring smile, a thumbs up, or any form of gesture to comfort him, but he wouldn’t be a believer of your tactics until he sees your eyes gleaming like normal.

“(Y/N)-san, are you okay?” he asks quietly, battling the urge to ask more about what’s wrong.

You giggle. “I’m okay.”

You rant to Usopp (and Luffy, because he gets interested halfway through) about Sanji’s mixed signals and they agree with you. But Luffy mistakes your complaint as a sob story because—to his understanding—Sanji intentionally hurt you, so at one point he gives him hell and starts a fight for you. You have to mediate the fight and clear up the confusion with a few white lies (you clarify everything with Luffy though) but Sanji doesn’t believe it.

It’s only when you get in the proper mood do you have the confidence to confess.

The sun is down, the sea is calm, and Sanji is getting ready to cook dinner when you pull him to the corner of the kitchen and confess impromptu. He takes the confession seriously but he eventually lets a huge smile reside on his face. His eyes shape into hearts and he melts at your small pout. He tells you that he feels the same, but you miserably feel doubtful about it—he’s Sanji after all, and you’re worried that even if he does sincerely like you, there’s a chance that he has his eyes on somebody else nonetheless.

You tell him this subtly and the confession plays out awkwardly after his turn to speak, but he saves the awkward silence by apologizing. Then he offers to court you.

The confession takes a turn, and it’s overwhelming to say the least, but you build the courage to say “Yes,” before it falters away again. Sanji pats your head when he hears your meek reply, then swoops back to his usual place at the kitchen to cook. You leave the kitchen ashamed and don’t show yourself to anyone until dinnertime, but Sanji becomes a little too obvious at spoiling you which surfaces a few complaints about favoritism; he doesn’t care though, because he likes doing it and your happiness is all that matters.

“Oi, Sanji.” Usopp blinks at the wobbling tower of pastries on your side of the table. “Isn’t that too much food?”

“Isn’t that too much complaining?” Sanji barks back. Usopp sinks in his chair as Robin giggles.

“I think he’s trying to win (Y/N) over,” she says.

And she’s right, because he wants to make up for the countless times he’s ever been mysterious about his feelings.

This time around, he’ll make sure you’re well aware of how he feels.

#sanji #op sanji #sanji one piece #one piece sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji imagine #black leg sanji #sanji x reader

[xiaonyc]

" Another one of those moody days "

I wonder if they will ever end, or this is something that is a part of me (pisces moon- cancer rising) that I have to learn to accept and cope with. I guess we all have our achilles heel.

Art and making something with my hands does make me feel better for the moment. When I stop it comes back, the feeling. The sadness, its a wave I cannot hold back. Caused by my own immaturity. (Reminds me, I had a dream yesterday about a HUGE cat with very long legs, and also one that had indents on its calf—might draw later) I have a lot of dreams about floods and swimming...

The feeling that I am a horrible person, that I am inconsiderate and unkind. Fake, superficial, uncaring... the worst you could think of yourself. Its a wave that dominos til I all I want to do is crawl into bed and hide. It's not even self-pity I feel, just a general disdain towards myself and how I am. I need more love, within me. I can generate it! I can do it! I really hope so. I dearly hope I can be more loving ♥︎ and know whats right. And Be MySeLf.

I dont want to bore you with my writings. Just my sincerest thanks for reading and viewing my art 🖤

#artist thoughts #artober #artist #artists on tumblr #art #my art #artwork #painting #watercolor #watercolour #traditional art #inktober

[fumifooms]

Do you have any headcanons about Larys' childhood ? Or Larycent relationship during the ten-year time skip ?

I do! They’re not anything super original or developed, nothing set in stone for me, but I have a few points this is making me think of. I think there is no way Larys is not neurodivergent, and I don’t think it’s PTSD. I think Larys has autism, because it just makes sense and as an autistic person myself I can’t not see it in him lol. I think Larys is a generally lonely person, and I’mma use this to brainstorm about my thoughts of how he grew up. There’s so much to theorize about him even knowing so little, I’mma dissect him like a frog. 

Uhh uh ok this is gonna be structured like a mess, but… Tldr: Cynicism as defense mechanism. Growing up having to rely on yourself because of emotional neglect and gaslighting + ostracization/loneliness. I think his family was decent to him, or good without being perfect, but just being sidelined for his difference was enough for him to grow resentful to the point of willingly killing them (though I do think part of his cold blooded murdering is just fueled by nihilism).

Needless to say, Larys’ disability affected how he grew up, so much. It affected his very worldview, and his dying wish is telling. The latter lets us know that he does not accept his own disability, in a being comfortable in your own skin way. He uses it as an advantage when he can, but he is not at peace with it. Listen, chronic pain is a bitch, if you’re in a position that your limb is making you pissed af and you’d like to become an amputee, I support you bro, but for Larys it is so obviously and explicitely about how his clubfoot was a social burden, rather than a crippling condition in itself. “Please cut it off of so I may at last be free of it in death” just screams inner peace. I think his awkward silent creeping thing is trauma. Making yourself easy to forget and overlook to better spy on people in plain sight, being unseen to remain safe and in control. And then the awkwardness, though as many have pointed out is also a way of making himself look harmless and friendly, is also just that, awkwardness because he’s not sure what the right demeanor is and he doesn’t want to put off people. We’ve seen him be fidgety and awkward with Alicent in the garden, then after the fire of Harrenhal when their relationship got more strained, but also, even in -sigh- the foot scene in ep 9, and in that case there is no reason to pretend to be someone harmless to someone who knows him that much, so he’s just genuinely a fidgety awkward mess. Anyways so yeah, a subconscious behavior developed as a survival tactic, all o’ that. Also the autism just makes one awkward tbh. Which, I still think he’s introverted don’t get me wrong, that his quiet nature is, well, his nature, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of it that is “I have to be like this, because there’s nothing else out there for me” and “being seen by people only brings me pain”.  Anyways, recovering from the slight tangent.

Let’s address the resentment he has for his family yayyyy!! So the thing is I think Larys’ family was generally supportive, or at least at surface level. It’s really common for people to mean well with disabled/different people, but for things to still hurt/be toxic. I imagine Harwin to be the kind of successful brother that’s like “it’s ok, we still love you even if you’re useless 🥰” and since he’s a protective older brother, to kinda infantilize him in a way, to assume he can’t do much of anything except maybe mind games which he’d see as below athletic abilities/exploits imo, so that would definitely make Larys have some resentment towards him even if Harwin doesn’t notice it at all. It’d make Larys feel that he’s always second best, or only slightly better than the worst possible. Mostly though, I really think the family just wanted to ignore the issues and keep silence rather than talk about things and be actually supportive. Lyonel strikes to me that way with how he’d deal with a disabled son. Do not address it. I imagine Larys to have grown very very sheltered. As a noble son who can’t just waltz everywhere anyways, I don’t think he would often be in position to get bullied directly much at all, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t bigotry. That doesn’t mean Larys isn’t treated differently, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suffer from microagressions. What I think with how he grew up is that he kind of got gaslighted about it all. He would notice all these things, because of course he would, and then everyone in his life would be uncomfortable with the topic when he brings it up and be like “no you’re wrong, everything is fine, I’m going to protect your sensitive soul and make it so you don’t even need to know there is a problem”. Why do people laugh when he passes by, whisper when they see his twisted boot? Why does the air always feel off when he’s talking to people? Why do people lower their expectations in everything when it comes to him, why is he never considered, or asked to give input? There’s this common belief that just because an elephant in the room isn’t adressed, then kids aren’t affected by it. The truth is that kids are extremely, highly perceptive, they sense things and instinctively know if something is off. Even if it only causes slight discomfort in the moment, they can grow to realize it affected them a lot later on. Trauma can be really insidious. I think that that’s how Larys grew up, having to rely on himself to puzzle out the truth and intentions behind interactions. To observe people, and make out how what he learns can be useful to him. It’s a survival instinct. It’s a defense mechanism. He’s always had to rely on himself to see how it truly is. I think his hatred for his clubfoot is something that gradually grew and creeped on him as he grew up, just this unspoken sense that it took every opportunity at belonging away from him, and he targeted his resentment towards it while growing emotionally detached from the rest of the world.

And then, the nihilistic convincing himself that he doesn’t care thing, that his family and love doesn’t matter in the grand scale of life: that’s a coping mechanism. I think that Larys thinks he’s special, that he’s apart, enlightened. He has to, because if not, then what’s his special ability that makes him worthwhile? What explains that he’s had to live his whole life feeling like he was different than others, if not a type of superiority, of different wit that people simply could not handle? That’s trauma, and it’s painful and life shattering to get out of mindsets like that. It’s a whole worldview and self-image that you need to break down and say, “you’re wrong, these are your emotions speaking, because all these events hurt you so much more than you allowed yourself to believe”. Anyways so yeah that’s what I think his deal is. I do think it’s supported by how he’s like “ooh oh Alicent and I are just the same. We’re the only people in the world who gets it. She’s special and I’m special, we’re special together” with his kinda obsession with her. He sees her being sidelined and overlooked, quiet and miserable, and he immediately latches on to that and sees her as a kindred spirit. Brrr autism makes you seek out other social rejects. (Also we all acknowledge Helaena is autistic af right? Autism is hereditary, Alicent could very well be 😏 she’s just good at masking, like hundreds of irl women who go decades never being diagnosed. I can def see it in her character, though I’m far from ride or die with that hc)

That with never being invited to speak, written off and forgotten and invisible. There was definitely favoritism with Harwin from Lyonel. Larys had to grow up seeing Harwin be successful and the perfect strong firstborn son, while he was pushed aside and considered a failure before he even attempted anything. It makes someone want to prove them wrong. It makes someone want to show them that they, too, can discard of them once they are successful. Cough cough fire of Harrenhal-

Also I don’t think he has a particular relationship to bugs or firefly (though something like him going to see them as a routine in the riverlands for one reason or another could be cool), I think it’s more about the symbolism of it, since we see he’s a huge fan of metaphors, and that he values nature and doesn’t see humans as better than insects so there’s kind of this connection and acknowledgment, haha it always comes back to autism ayy.

For less wide stuff/more specific headcanons, I thought I didn’t have any, but... I suppose, Larys has read books a lot, just because moving is a pain and he can’t do sports, and learning of stuff through books probably is freeing. A whole world of knowledge and vicarious experiences at his fingertips. But we’ve seen Larys still goes places, he was there at the royal hunt just standing around and hanging out. I think he tends to lean towards the sidelines, like canon has shown us, and I think that he often gets to accompany Harwin and Lyonel as they prepare to go events and ride horses and stuff, and I think in those times instead of going socializing he’d rather stay back and hang out with the horses. Again with the connection to nature thing, it’s just safer, no social mind games, etc. Though that’s not productive, so he still ends up following his fam around and going to gather dirt on people. Truly the spiritual predecessor to hanging out with the cat at a party. I think he was bed-bound a fair bit, closed off in his room with servants bringing him things. The autistic part of him is fine with that lifestyle I think, but the social monkey part of him makes him antsy that he doesn’t have the choice for it to be any otherwise. He still goes to dine at the family table and at parties, but just in general he spends his days in his room, mostly sitting in bed. It’s not that his clubfoot means he completely mobility, but that chronic pain upon walking would mean it isn’t durable in general for him to go places or do activities with  require him to move. 

Oh, which, that’s an interesting point, chronic pain. He’s definitely had to learn to deal with pain on the daily, and to not let that get in the way of his ambitions and goals, evidently since he goes places like in the hunt. I wonder if part of it is his obligations as a Strong noble, to make appearances, and if part of it is to prove to people that he can do it, that he won’t stay bed-bound. Oh, I do wanna make a post about clubfoot btw, like an informational post about what its effects are and how it would likely have affected Larys physically, since we don’t see that all that much in the show nor books.

Oh, maybe that’d be fun- Super sheltered kid/teen Larys that wanted some freedom like his big bro, and once sneaked away from his bodyguard on a walk to go into the forest just to feel free and capable for a bit, and then learned old gods stuff and enlightenment. Forests are definitely a place of peaceful seclusion, so he’d feel comfortable by himself, without the fear of being judged. Just some time to himself that isn’t in his prison inside his house. Maybe that’s when he sees fireflies for the first time, something he’d only ever seen in books/could never have imagined with how little he sees nature. Maybe his liking of nature is not just an intrinsic connection he feels, but something he was denied access to for a long time. Maybe that’s why his greenseer thing takes a while to awaken… Idk idk

Hmm so yeah I think my final timeline for Larys’s life is that he grew up sheltered and rather isolated, almost always staying in his home, but as time went by he grew more aware of judgement and how things were tipped against him, built up resentment, and he grew more sensitive and hurt… Until he found the ways of the old gods, someway somehow, and it all clicked for him. He adopted more nihilistic and detached views, and grew ambitions that rivaled his childhood fancies except now they have a specific goal and technique to them. Though, maybe old gods is something he took an interest of when he read of them, especially if he constantly reads then bookshelves become short quick in a lifespan. I do think he’s always wanted to be ambitious and do great things and be smart and prove everyone wrong, but before truly awakening his greensight I think he was more defeated about it all. With how he longs for Alicent rather unabashedly, there’s certainly material to think that Larys is more brazen than I assume.

Me and the people on the larycent discord have also theorized about what could have made the crack on his cane, that he would have repaired with the sap-glue and his sigil in it. It’s a very interesting part of his cane’s design that I really hope there’ll be an explanation for it, and that seems like the perfect place to look for a backstory flashback. I like to think the crack would have happened near when he got his greenseer enlightenment, maybe it was even done intentionally. Or it could have been broken if he used his cane as self-defense while being assaulted, or worse, being the one assaulting someone, maybe snapping at bullies? There’s no way to know, but a lot to theorize. If you want more talk about the cane, I talked about it here intially:  https://www.tumblr.com/fumifooms/697934778665713664/larys-cane-is-so-odd-it-looks-like-it-had-a

This is as good of a place as any other to link the post in which I very lightly talk of the signs of autism I see in Larys: https://www.tumblr.com/fumifooms/697936263897088000/larys-autism-coding-real-oh-the-angst-what

Tldr I just really like this brand of autistic character. Like L Lawliet, or Metal Sonic, the ones that think they’re the shit but it’s a thin veil to hide their trauma and insecurities, that use bloated self-esteem as a way to defend against social rejection and uplift themselves above others to cope. It’s hubris, same as all the other HotD characters. 

OK THAT’S ENOUGH. SECOND PART OF THE ASK:

As for the 10 years of relationship, well… I do think he’s her only friend/outlet. She isn’t shown to have any other relationship that comes even close to their level of closeness, nor even just alliance wise. Her dad isn’t there, Criston Cole is a loyal servant & ally, but he’s beneath her in that he’s not available for intellectual plotting, and the one time their conversation grows less formal is when he snaps about Rhaenyra and Alicent immediately shuns him: it’s obvious that they’re work acquaintances more than anything else. Viserys just either ignores or gaslights her, and we don’t see her interacting with any other adults other than the guys of the council, who all judge her af and she does not like or trust much from what we see. Meanwhile, we see her and Larys have been having regular, one-on-one amicable dinners in something of a casual tone. She takes off her shoes, gets her hair undone, they speak of somewhat treasonous things, family problems and personal worries/wants like feeling alone and wanting her father back. He jokes, she feels comfortable enough to speak freely and have an outburst. And he does not shun her, and she does not recoil.  But also, I think that their relationship is less deep than some would think, in the way that they don’t know each other as well as they’d want to believe, and only care about the other in the sense of the social fulfillment & belonging the other brings them. Alicent sees Larys as highly trustworthy and morally sound, while Larys sees her as his flower he understands so well intrinsically. They presume too much, get too comfortable with their wishful view of the other, sees in other a close kinship that has not yet been tested. They both also bring something to the other politically, he brings her information and she is the queen he has in his pocket, so it’s an exchange of ressources as well. I think she keeps the convos as that, an outlet, and they still keep their emotional distance through a thin veil of formality in tone and being guarded, which is why Alicent’s outburst is a big moment for them. They don’t know each other that well, but they like each other’s company and uses it for their own uses and needs, both ressource wise and social/emotional. Alicent has the partial ally she craves to feel less alone and vulnerable to plots and attacks, and Larys has a kindred spirit that doesn’t treat him as below her or a piece of furniture.

Actually there’s this new fic i wrote about them where they learn vulnerability and it’s on ao3 and—

I’m very interested in how they went from ep 5, which, last we knew of Larys was looking at her at the wedding, to being close confidants and informant-client but for free. That companionable yet benefit-oriented relationship. I do have a fanfic I wrote that’s a bit that, but I never wrote it with the intention that it was what I thought truly happened off-screen: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42355857

If I had to guess, I think Alicent was the one to first contact him again, formally. Or, Larys appeared conveniently somewhere she went, maybe in the godswood, and they struck a conversation there. Talked out the details of their new acquaintance, probably started the dinners right away, Larys commenting that that would attract attention less. Either way, after the wedding, they both knew that an alliance between the two of them would be advantageous and a smart move. I do think that Alicent gave him her trust quickly, with the way she did a 180 on Rhaenyra and values one’s words very highly, for Larys to have provided truthful information to her would put him highly in her mind, seemingly just to help her without reward. Though, I can’t possibly believe she didn’t see through his “oh was the princess sick? Because I saw this uwu haha, how nice to tell you this and be reassured that there is no worry to have” act, and I find it weird that she wouldn’t think it odd that he knew this information would matter to her, instead of being a thinly veiled threat to the royal family which she’s a part of. Though the latter just shows how he knew she’d see it as a gift of information rather than treasonous accusations. I guess, since she did end up enlisting him as her informant, she appreciated his act in that he didn’t try to pass it off as genuine, didn’t insult her intelligence and expected her to understand his double meaning. She’d appreciate his capacity for such subtlety (canon in ep 7). Ugh, sorry, this got more analysis than headcanon again lol.

So uhh yeah that’s it I guess, I hope my answer was satisfying! Thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble, I adore these kinda topics!

#house of the dragon #larys strong #house strong #harwin strong #lyonel strong #my headcanons #autistic headcanon #autistic larys strong #asd #larycent #alicent hightower #insert Monstre à Paris lyrics #I am apart #with the existentially tragic swell of strings #asks #character analysis #sorry if there are messier bits I can’t be bothered to polish this up rn

[lixxen]

Jake Martin Headcanons/Drabble

Hi I'm uh,,, I'm very gæ for Adrian Chase and Jake Martin so I decided to write NSFW headcanons for Jake. This one is geared towards me and they're highly specific. I feel like I should apologize? But alas,

Sorry not sorry.

This is a male!Reader since I haven't seen a single one and my thing is male reader fics. This was originally an NSFW but then I said ✨no✨.

This draft is many many months old. I'm currently at Disney World posting this.

Also, I HC Jake as bisexual w/ women preference and he just doesn't realize it until later on

--

When you first meet Jake, he's floored by how attractive you are. Normally Jake doesn't go for guys, but hot damn. You're one nice looking dude in his opinion and he couldn't resist this one

You're a mechanic who is the complete opposite of Jake.

Jake was a jock and you were the more "witchy" type (as Chuck described). You generally wore darker and more "rustic" (as Kevin called it) clothes with different gemstone bracelets or necklaces, depending on what you were doing that day. Your hair had grown out simply because you had been too lazy to cut it, so it was constantly clipped back

It amazed him that someone so cool looking would ever be a mechanic, and the others seemed to think it also (maybe not the cool part to them, but you in general working there). But everyone had respect for you like they did for the others. Chuck automatically gravitated to you since you were quiet and knew your shit. He appreciated the fact that you preferred to work in silence

Getting back to the point, Jake absolutely wanted to see you outside of work. At work. He wanted to always be around you

Jessie teased him for stumbling for your attention and making a fool out of himself around you. You'd just laugh at it and help him up if he fell

It went on for a while until one night, you were by yourself after shop closed up

It was quiet inside the shop and it rattled you to the bones every single time you heard a noise. You were trying to fix part of the car that had broke and you had told Chuck you'd stay behind. He told you not to, and yet here you were regretting staying

After a while of being paranoid, you heard the door open and a quiet whistle. You panicked and picked up a wrench, ready to fight

Jake came around the corner and jumped at the sight of you. You two both screamed and you threw the wrench

Thankfully, Jake was able to move out of the way on time. He stared at you for a second before whining about almost being hit

You argued back that it wasn't your fault and the two of your broke out into a full argument

You were defending yourself, as Jake shouldn't be here in the first place

Jake felt like you shouldn't throw things at people

The argument was stupid

"Why are you even here?" The angered tone seemed to snap Jake out of his frustration

Jake responded that Jessie forgot to turn off the simulation and he had to come back and turn it off

You sigh and turn back around. But then you realized that the simulation wasn't on when you got here. You stopped by the gym to check to see if anyone was there

Jessie was trying to set you two up

You huffed at the realization and shake your head

Jake starts rambling about how you two should totally hang out one of these days. He seemed to move past the fact that you almost hit him in the head so he could flirt

You watched Jake quietly, taking in his body language. His normal facade was almost convincing, but you could see he was fiddling with his bracelet slightly

It was a giveaway that he was out of his zone

You just smile at him and he stops rambling at the sight. He blinks at you with the half mortified look he usually wears when something he doesn't understand happens. He then takes a deep breath

"Would you like to go out some time?"

He actually did it.

You're shocked for a moment before nodding your head. What's the worst that can happen? You two don't get along and you have to change jobs?

Actually, yes. That is the worst that can happen.

You accept and tell him that it wouldn't hurt to try

He seems to absolutely light up in joy

The next day, Chuck simply stands next to you quietly as he inspects the part that you fixed. It only took him five minutes to finally say something

"Out of all of the people, you chose the idiot?"

#x reader #fanfic #male reader #jake martin #the crew #jake martin x reader #jake martin x male reader #male reader insert #vigilante #adrian chase

[writinandcrying]

I'd like a Match Up if you wanna! .o. Preferably for Rise but I'm familiar with every TMNT verse starting at '03 and forward if u thought of any others.

I'm just a gay/demisexual (a guy match plz!) demiguy (he/they) who's kinda short(?) I'm 5'5" at most but I haven't checked in a few years ngl. Appearance wise I shift between pastel or alt stuff is all.

I'm an ENTP and 9w1! I have a lot of trouble properly expressing or understanding emotions due to my Autism but I try to battle that by being blunt and asking questions! I'm also constantly stuck battling between people pleasing and my anger issues that make me wanna snap. To kinda combat that my anger is now p much pointed at myself so I don't hurt anyone or their feelings. But I'm trying to better myself with the "Do No Harm but Take No Shit" mindset. I generally make myself do my usual "im the funny friend" routine, but that lead to a lot of ppl assuming I'm stupid, so I'm trying to find a balance between that and showing other sides of myself :') I show my love through Physical Touch and Acts of Service! And I think I respond well to all Love Languages? Except I can be bad at accepting gifts bc of a dumb inner voice going "Oh so u manipulated them I to giving u smth" ...oop. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ahh I really like Animation, Horror, and Comedy shows/movies, especially analyzing them. I kind of want kids in the future? I'd be more willing if I trusted my partner with my Lows (hopefully they trust me with theirs too ofc) or if I could skip the baby part tbh. I really enjoy baking, reading, and video games, but I like physical activities when there's a sort of clear goal? Like playing Volleyball or Soccer, but not just a general run or jog. But I'd love to travel the world in moderation too, I just want to make sure there's always a great place to come back to.

In my platonic and romantic relationships I can be frustrating bc I tend to bottle stuff up so I don't bother anyone. If I felt comfy enough and knew I didn't have to worry about my Big Fear(tm) of Abandonment then I would slowly get better at talking about things. I'm also really forgetful when it comes to my own things, like forgetting to eat, drink, or sleep or if there was anything I needed/wanted to do.. I think the only pet peeves I have is if I feel Not Heard or listened to? Or just Disregarded? I've been told with how I analyze situations but focus on emotions help others when they're in their worst moments? Like helping calm my little brother down from when angry or helping my mom or friends out of their depressive moments.

Thank you for your time! <3

hi there! sure thing <3 ill go towards rottmnt cuz it has literally consumed 70% of my brain lately lmao i match you with...

Mikey!

Honestly i can see both of you helping each other out into maturing and personal growth, Mikey knows he's clever and also still learning along the way, don't even consider yourself a bother into asking him questions cuz he loves to answer them, and if he doesn't know something, he can just asks his brothers!

Dr. Feelings make frequent visits in your hangouts, he constantly reminds you to unwind and has relaxing exercises if he notices you are bottling too much, and if someone ever tries to take advantage of your "people pleasing taste" Doctor Delicate Touch will also show up to yell tell the person to bug off

he understands the feeling of only being seen in "one light"- all mikey's (i mean in any version) suffer from youngest sibling syndrome - struggling with not being taken seriously, so he does gives you extra attention in everything you say, do, your feelings, thoughts, and if you mean business, so does he.

Honestly for Rottmnt Mikey i think he enjoys all love languages as well lmao, his top 3 are def words of affirmation, physical touch and quality time, he loves gifting you stuff as well, but if you ever mention those "oh i manipulated them into giving me these" thoughts he will fight /argue with you, like, every-time. He doesn't really get it, he tries to be as gentle as possible with your feelings, but on this topic things might escalate, he really likes you and wants to show it as well!

he ADORES that you like animation and horror too!! i headcanon that later on Mikey becomes a fan of horror/thriller movies and video games, everyone @ the lair gets scared to watch/play with him so he's more than thrilled to play and hangout with you, Mikey never really thought much about volley or soccer, but after meeting you he gets so addicted to it, even start to watch volleyball matches (specially woman league cuz they are the best mwah mwah chef kiss)

Mikey knows its hard for you to open up, so when you finally feel comfortable to, all eyes and ears on you, you are the main priority at the moment. He begins to notice you sometimes go non-verbal lke his brother Donnie (Canonically diagnosed with autism) so he knows how what to do to make you feel better or more comfortable depending on the situation

overall: your relationship is compassionate, full with hugs, kisses, snuggles (he loves to shower you with affection fr fr) and loads of fun dates! lucky you!

hope you liked it! match ups are closed for now

#finally had some free time to do one hehe #maybe later today will post more!!!!! #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt fandom #tmnt match up #rottmnt match up #giulia writes