#🍂Angst

[stupidr3dpanda]

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ ɪ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙɪᴏ! ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴇᴛ!

So many men in this world and my dumb ass decided to fall for the fictional ones...

Some rules before we get started!

Here I have set some rules and boundaries for my little corner. Failure to follow them will result in a block from me.

I expect an age in your bio! NO AGELESS BLOGS!! If you are a minor I ask for you to please refrain from interacting with this blog! It contains mature content and I don't want you sniffing around content not meant for you or be blamed for your inability to follow a simple order!!

My blog DOES NOT welcome RACISTS, HOMOPHOBIC, TRANSPHOBIC OR ANYONE WHO DECIDED TO WOKE UP AND BE A COMPLETE ASSHOLE!!

I'm not comfortable with discussing or writing topics containing; Necrophilia, please no, get away!

Now that that's out of the way let me introduce myself!!

Hi! Hello! You can call me Ottie!

I'm your favorite bear and fictional man [mostly CoD MW] enthusiast!

Don't believe me? Hah! Well here's some little facts for ya!

Did you know that there are a total of eight species of bears? Yup! There's the brown bears, black, polar, moon, sun, sloth, spectacled, and pandas!

Unfortunately as much as I would love for it to be true red pandas are not related to the bear family Ursidae, they are related to the taxonomic family, Ailuridae!

Talking about pandas did you know that they have an extra bone to help them eat bamboo?? Uh huh it's known as "sesamoid" it's a bit like a thumb, it helps them maneuver bamboo stalks. It's not a true thumb tho, they can't use it to grasp things, but the evolutionary adaptation gives them more stability when eating bamboo!

Did you also know that polar bears are considered marine mammals?? That's because they depend on the ocean to find their food and a place to live! That's why they fall under the Marine Mammal Protection Act!

If that doesn't prove that I am a certified bear enthusiast I don't know what will. >:[

This is my little corner okay? I come here to dump anything that pops on my mind at that moment, so don't expect it to be very organized!

Please be mindful that English is not my first language and I may make grammar mistakes while communicating

My ask box is always open for anything! Please feel free to talk with me!! Wanna chat? I wanna chat too! Wanna info dump? I'm here for it!! Just passing by to say hi? Go ahead! Wanna recommend me something or share something? I'm all ears!!

And now. To help you navigate this unorganized corner you can use my tags! Here!

For reblogs you can use these tags!

For my fluffy reblogs you can use; #🍀Fluffyreblog

For my spicy aka smutty reblogs you can use; #🌶️Spicyreblog

For my angst reblogs you can use; #☄️Angstreblog

For my fanart reblogs you can use; #🖌️Fanartreblog

For any other reblog just use; #🐻Ottiereblogs

For my own writing you can use these tags!

For my own fluffy writing you can use; #☁️ Fluffy

For my own spicy aka smutty writing you can use; #🔥smut

For my own angst writing you can use; #🍂 Angst

And if you just wanna hear me talk nonsense you can use; #🐻Ottiesays

If you want my answer to a question just use; #🐻Ottieanswers

And in general just to find me use #🐻Ottie

I hope we get to be good friends! Enjoy your life as much as you can! And try to stay safe okay? Bye! 👋🐻✨

[simonz-angel]

LOVE YOUR WRITING 😝😝‼️

can we get simon fluff please?? 🙏

purely sfw, like how he’d cheer you up after a bad day. some hugs, kisses, cuddles, jokes, tickles, etc. etc. 💜

hii lil nonnie!! i hope i did this justice… dunno if you noticed but i typically don’t lean towards the sweet stuff. anyways please lemme know if you love this or not (or anyone plz guys) i put some real love into this just for you sweet pie ♡♡♡

❥ simon… the big, broody man? nah, he’s an absolute ball of fluff, of candy-like sweetness that melts into you with every touch, soul binding to yours with every sweet kiss, every sweet moment.

❥ he’d be one to kiss you every step through the door, it was like he couldn’t get enough. could never memorize the softness of your lips, the hesitation in your touch, unsure if he’s hurt. it was dizzying every time, his thin, cracked lips simply pressed against yours had worlds colliding, his world splitting open.

❥ and he’s the type to crack his eyes open right when the suns rising, feet padding their way to kitchen to get a roast heated. and you’d soon be behind him, in one of his big t-shirts, hair tousled, eye brows scrunched and pouting up at him. god, it was a sight every morning, and gah it had him soaring, depths into the heavens to know he had you beside him.

❥ he loved how when he barged through the door bloody and battered he had someone to lean on. you’d be rushing over, pressing your lips to his cheek then to his before you’re guiding him to the bathroom. your gentle heart is what he fell in love with, the way you’d care so deeply and the way your warmth could mute any pain in these worlds.

❥ he hated how he succumbed so deeply to every desire of yours, but when you’d beg for five more minutes in bed, he’d sigh softly and grip you tighter, pulling you further into him. sitting warm beneath the sheets, limbs tangled as your inhales matched rhythm and your exhales combined, dancing around.

❥ or when you’d convince him for late night snuggles up on the couch, pleading with a “the movies almost over, please si?” and he could never reject your glowing eyes, your lips pulled so downward your cheeks begin to dimple. it’d always end with you asleep against the soft beat of his heart, a lullaby truly. and he’d have to pick you up bring you up to your bedroom.

❥ he’s one to admire audibly. whispering sweet things for only your being to hear, voice so soft it barely touches the air. mumbling at how your so perfect, so beautiful, the best thing life has granted for him. he’d go through lives n lives of hardships if it meant he had you waiting for him.

❥ he’s one to crack jokes to see your pretty teeth sparkle when your lips pull into the most shattering smiles he’s ever seen. it was mesmerizing every fuckin’ time, watching you giggle and shoo at him as your cheeks flushed and your lungs hiccuped for a deep breath.

❥ n when you wouldn’t smile, when you’d brush him off with a tired eyes a droop to that memorable smile, his heart would fail. and he’d sit you down, fingers dancing along your scalp to feel your soft breaths against his chest. he’d let you speak your mind, not interrupting, purely listening to how horrible your day went.

❥ and when it came to cheering you up he knew just how. he had methods, late walks, skin to skin, a movie, a warm filling meal. or simply the best jokes and the sweetest sarcasm that had your eyes rolling and cheeks balling in a smile.

❥ it was easy to see simon as some sort of monster, a fearful man born without an ounce of empathy. but when he meant you, that all seemed to crumble down, as he began to trust, when his heart began to pump wildly every time your name touched his ears, you were his forever.

[lamemaster]

A Stifling Vanity

Request: Amras in a ritual gone wrong. Doodle-pops got me into him with the underrated character event

Pairing: Amras x Human Reader

Genre: Time travel au

Summary: Sitting on the arm of your sofa, he takes your hand. “No, I am indeed your husband. We’ve been married for 43 years, my love,” he whispers, gently brushing the hair from your face.

AN: I get you anon, Mina has the tendency to make me obsess over previously unimportant elves (looking at you Rog). Inspired by Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi. I hope you enjoy this~

Next up- Sinister love with Maedhros. Fall trope event list

Half a vial of the silver lakes of Lorien, two feathers of the Syian beasts of Orome, extract of the kroh blooms from Kementari’s gardens, and a personal possession of the desired person—all placed in the elaborate circle of creation sketched from the soot of the ever-burning fires of the Hall of Mandos. That was what the book had mentioned.

Amras had read it a hundred times, copied it into his journal twenty times. His room now contained an absurd amount of Syian feathers, enough to alarm any Maia of Orome.

He had planned every step, with meticulous care. Yet, it had failed.

Time travel, as the text warned, was difficult. Now, standing in front of your confused face, his heart ached, questioning if it ever truly mattered.

“Who are you, sir?” you ask politely, closing your book and offering him a pleasant smile. The room was warm, snug. You looked so comfortable in that chair, settled against the familiar faded red sofa, your eyes heavy with sleep.

As if stepping into an undisturbed past, Amras gently helps you adjust your posture, ensuring your back won’t strain during the night. “I am your husband. Amras.” He repeats, as he had in the last few years of your life.

He watches the familiar conflict in your frown. “My husband...?” you murmur, doubt clear in your voice. “You must be mistaken,” you insist, as always.

Sitting on the arm of your sofa, he takes your hand. “No, I am indeed your husband. We’ve been married for 43 years, my love,” he whispers, gently brushing the hair from your face.

It had been longer in his time—2,376 years in his present. An eternity.

He lifts your hand before your eyes, the wedding band gleaming on your finger. “See? These are our rings, my love.” He watches the emotions flood your gaze—astonishment, joy, sorrow, guilt.

But he doesn’t show you the ring he wears on a chain around his neck. The ring that was once yours. In this past, you still wore it.

You look at him, clutching his hand, your palm so warm. The Edain were always warm, as if the flame imperishable escaped through every pore of their bodies. “I forgot...” you whisper, voice faint. “Forgive me, please. I forgot.” You close your eyes, struck by the awareness of your failing mind.

He knows that look—the creeping dread as you realize what’s slipping away.

“It’s alright. I’m here to remind you, my love.” Amras kisses your forehead. “I’ll always remind you.”

He remembers this day of his life. The day he returned from a week in Himring. The day you forgot you had a son. Your memory, once so sharp, began to wither.

Your terrified scream had driven Vórimo away. Your mind, too far gone to recognize your own child, couldn’t grasp his tears. You were too far removed to comfort him. The weight of your years had left you incapable of being the mother he knew.

Vórimo left. And you were left with Amras. Along with the devastation of your returning fragments of memory. In some sense, Amras had lost you that day, when Vórimo walked out the door.

Never again did he see you contend at the dinner table. Your questions about the man in family portraits became painful. At times, your forgetfulness was kinder than your moments of clarity.

Vórimo didn’t return until you were long gone. By then, all that remained of you were the books you once cherished. He came to a home that no longer existed.

Amras could have hated him. Could have despised the son who left you to die grieving. But how could he, when he had done the same to his own mother? Abandoning her to a fate she didn’t deserve, a doom he had brought upon himself.

He understood Vórimo’s heart too well.

That was why he’d done all of this. The desperate hope of reuniting you with your son, just one last time. To bring the past to Valinor for that final meeting. The Fates had allowed him to see his mother again. Why not his son?

But they hadn’t.

Instead of bringing the past forward, the Fates had pulled him backward. They doused him in the warmth of your presence, in a time when your heart was still whole. How easy it would be to forget his purpose, to remain here with you in this gentle moment.

To slip into bed and hold you once again.

Despite all your early fears, the signs of your aging never hindered the love you shared. Amras had braced himself for sorrow at the sight of your aging, but it never came. His heart clung to love.

It still raced at the sight of your smile, etched with wrinkles, just as it had in the untouched days of youth. Hearts, it seems, will love what they wish to love.

Picking up the book you had closed, his fingers skim the edges of the pages until they land on the bulging section. Opening the page, he slides out a folded sheet of parchment. At last, he had found it—the forgotten relic of your past.

The letter you had claimed to write but never managed to find. You died searching for it. For centuries, Amras had wondered about it.

“May I?” he asks, holding it gently before you.

Surprised at your own letter, you nod, resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes too frail to read your own fine hand. How long had it been since you wrote this?

The firm curve of the letters hinted at a much earlier date, back when your fingers didn’t tremble as they did now.

Unfolding the parchment, he reads aloud:

Darling son of mine,

Forgive your mother. Forgive her fading brain.

This disease that the healers found frightens me. It frightens me more than I can say. I fear what’s to come, and how I may not even be aware of its beginnings.

Unlike the days of your childhood, I may not be able to hold you and whisper gentle words in your hour of need. I apologize for giving you this grief.

When I lose myself, you are not bound to my shadow. Let not my ignorance pain you, nor your father.

From all the memories of this life, I wish to remain your mother and his wife. Let me not become a burden. In my selfishness, I seek to be loved as I was.

This is your mother’s vain wish.

The letter continues, pages of painstakingly preserved memories, like precious treasure hoarded onto brittle yellowing pages.

Amras glances at the heavy tome in his lap, the one you loved so dearly. The book your mind kept returning to. An illustrated volume, crafted by Kano for Vórimo’s begetting day. A book you both had read to him.

He smiles bitterly at its fading covers. Elven craftsmanship tested by the humid air of your land.

You returned to this book till the end. As if searching for a chapter lost.

How had everything conspired to erase this? How had time buried such a simple plea? Was it too harsh of a fate?

For you to lose it. For Vórimo to never receive it. For Amras to find it now, in a past already long gone.

He cannot take it back. Time would not allow him that. The Fates would not let the future be rewritten. He had bargained enough.

It is lost. Buried somewhere deep in the lands of Middle-earth.

Amras holds the letter, his hands trembling slightly. He reads the words again, each one carrying the weight of your love, your fears, and your hope.

The past cannot be altered, and the future—his future without you—remains fixed. He could never bring your son to you again. He could not stop the decay that had taken your mind, nor the eventual passing of time.

But this moment—this night—was still his.

He looks down at you, your breathing soft and steady as you sleep against his shoulder. You look so peaceful, the furrows in your brow smoothed by the comfort of sleep.

For now, you remember him, and that’s enough. The past may have given him one last gift, though fleeting. Tomorrow, you might not know him at all.

He carefully folds the letter and places it back in the book, resting it gently beside you on the table.

When you wake again, there will be no recognition in your eyes. He knows this too well. You will look at him as a stranger, perhaps offer him the same polite smile. His heart will ache, but he is ready. He’s always been ready for this.

Amras presses a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than usual, as if committing every detail to memory—the warmth of your skin, the sound of your breathing, the faint scent of your hair.

"I’ll remind you tomorrow, my love," he whispers, though he knows that soon there will be nothing left to remind.

Rising slowly, Amras leaves the room quietly, the weight of the centuries settling back on his shoulders.

He steps outside into the cool night air, letting the chill ground him once again in the moment between his past and present.

He stops for a moment, looking back through the window, where you still rest, untouched by the pain of memory. For now, you are at peace.

And for him, that is enough.

He walks into the night, the stars above cold and distant, yet somehow offering a strange comfort. The past cannot be changed, but it lives in these moments—the brief, fragile memories that remain. Amras smiles to himself, a soft, bittersweet smile.

As the spell fades his body, wrenching him into the present, he realizes that he has lost you yet again.

[orimuraa]

₊˚⊹⋆🍁⋆⊹ Day 4: Sweater weather - Lee Heeseung

(synopsis) 🍂 heeseung is always there to save you from your coldest moments ₊⊹

lee heeseung x fem!reader 🍂 mention of past breakup (not with heeseung), toxic ex, petnames, a kiss at the end 🍂 angst with a splatter of fluff 🍂 friends to lovers 🍂 wc 804

masterlist

it was autumn now, meaning it has officially been a year since your breakup with your toxic ex. you used to love autumn and the way the leaves turned colors but that all changed because of your ex. he broke your heart last autumn when he told you he was just getting with you cause you were a pretty face. your best friend since elementary school, lee heeseung, was absolutely fuming about the whole situation and actually went to go teach your ex a lesson. let’s just say heeseung came back that evening with bruised knuckles and a couple bruises on his face. you didn’t want to question it.

but as the months went on, you started to realize that you would possibly never love again. your trust had been completely destroyed and the thought of even attempting to date another person scared you so bad.

heeseung was always there next to you, making sure that you wouldn’t get hurt anymore. but what you didn’t know was that heeseung had actually been harboring some feelings for you, but he was too afraid to ever confess now that your heart was shattered. but he so desperately wanted to be the person to pick up the delicate little pieces and gently put your heart back together.

“seungie? are you here?” you called out weakly. you just woke up from another nightmare about your ex finding you and tormenting you again, waking up in a cold sweat and your breathing labored. immediately, tears pricked your eyes and you in an defensive instinct, you curled yourself into a ball and cried.

so naturally, you let your feet carry you to your safe place. or—safe person.

“i’m here angel, what’s wrong? did something happen?” heeseung anxiously answered, getting up from his bed and speeding over to you. the two of you shared an apartment since the two of you were like two peas in a pod.

“i-i, i had another nightmare,” you whispered— scared that if you spoke any louder, nothing would come out. “a-about him.” you added.

heeseung’s eyes softened when he looked at you, knowing how shaken up you can get from these nightmares. he opened his arms comfortingly, letting you slowly crumble into his arms.

₊˚⊹⋆🍁⋆⊹

the cold, crisp, autumn air shivered your skin as you and heeseung walked down the streets.

“hey angel? i need to tell you something,” heeseung suddenly stopped walking and turned towards you. you looked up at him, confusion written all over your face.

he led you to a hill of grass in the park, coated with the fallen leaves of the trees.

“i-i, i’ve been waiting for so long to tell you this and i didn’t know the correct timing with everything that has happened in the last year and-” you quickly cut him off, noticing how he was rambling again. he only ever rambled when he was super nervous.

“hee. it’s okay, just tell me, you’re worrying me,” you begged, starting to get truly concerned for your best friend.

“alright. i’ll just say it. i like you.” heeseung blurted. your eyes widened as soon as the words came out of his mouth and for a moment, heeseung swore that this was the end for him. you didn’t like him back and now you would start hating him for confessing to you.

but instead, you smiled at him. a genuine smile. it was really nice to see you smile a real and sweet smile.

“seungie, i like you too…i was just so scared of what happened last time and i know that you would never be like him but i was just…so scared..” you confessed, not being able to look him in the eyes.

“hey hey hey! it’s okay, i promise, i can love you the way you deserve,” he smiled, tilting your chin up with his soft touch. “i’ll treat you so much better angel.”

it was his soft whispers against your lips that made you realize how close he actually was to you.

leaning in softly, you meet heeseung’s lips at the middle. his soft lips meeting yours, the kiss full of soft love and a promise. a promise from heeseung to you, letting you know how much he treasured you.

he was the one who picked up your broken pieces of your heart and mend it back together. you fully trusted him with your life.

when the two of you pulled away breathless, heeseung stared at you lovingly, just basking in this wonderful feeling.

you shivered slightly from the breeze and heeseung was quick to wrap his sweater around you.

you thought that you would hate the cold since it reminded you of the feeling of coldness and emptiness that you ex had left you, but this time, heeseung was there to warm you up.

he had made you love autumn again.

eep! i'm sorry cuz idk how good this is...i tried tho...this was originally gonna be hee and oversized sweaters, but it turned into this- but lmk if i should make a work abt oversized sweaters? likes and reblogs are always appreciated <33

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany

[sstan-hoe]

𝒊𝒗. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝑯𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — mob!andy barber × fem!reader × mob!lloyd hansen

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — they wanted you, they enjoyed the hunt just as much as you enjoyed being chased. You didn't make it easy for them but it only prepared you that life with them wouldn't be easy.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — triggering warning for toxic/abusive relationships, talk/action on rape, talks about sexual activities, please be careful

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I fought with himself, I actually wanted to go full smut with this chapter. Instead I will keep it for the finale next week. I concentrated on readers past, but tried to show not too much incase people got uncomfortable. Next chapter, our girl will be a bad bitch and do what she deserves to do! Reblogs and/or comments are appreciated!!!! Is the chapter too short?

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹

The past, a time you either remember in joy, anger, or pain. Everyone thinks differently, acts differently, and processes it differently.

They say you learn from the past, but what if you’re running from it? Would you ever learn from that, or could you escape it forever? Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to try…. At least for a little while.

“But sweetie…, I love you…, do you not love?” his voice calm, collected as he held your hand. “Of course, I do,”  you said eagerly.

“Then do it for me, you know I would never hurt you…, not on purpose at least! If you won’t listen then-,” “no! I will listen, I promise.”

“Do not interrupt me.”

---

To say you were addicted to Lloyd and Andy was an understatement, you were a monster for them. From the moment you woke up to the moment you fell asleep.

Always looking for their touch, seeking their closeness. It was remarkable how quickly you fell for them, maybe it was because you finally let your feelings come to the surface.

For too long you had suppressed your feelings for them, so now it was time to finally live those feelings out.

Waking up between Lloyd and Andy with Alf cuddled up under your blanket became fast, something you could get used to. Both men had you wrapped into your arms, it made you feel safe.

Alf was the first one to wake up, nudging his nose against your chin. Your hand came up to stroke over his fluffy head, “five minutes,” you whispered sleepily, nuzzling your head into him.

Lloyd woke up to the sound of your voice, his arm tightening around you. He was still tired as well, but before he could fall back into his slumber a nose nudged him as well. "Black's," he grumbled, which woke Andy up in response. Eyes blinking lazily to see Alf turning his head towards him and as soon as he saw Andy blinking, he jumped to his side.

Alf nudged Andy’s cheek, "good morning to you too," he said while scratching the dog's ear. Titling his head towards you and Lloyd, he was already asleep again while you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, darling'," Andy whispered and leaned over his partner to give you a kiss. Happily, you kissed him back, the kiss as soft as a pillow.

"Why do I not get a kiss?" Lloyd's voice broke through your moment, his voice teasing yet a bit snappy.

You rolled your eyes at him before leaning down and giving him a kiss, one that was meant to be sweet, but he turned it into a dirty tongue fight. Andy shook his head with a smile.

The need for air broke the kiss, you panted heavily. Lloyd had a proud smirk on his lips as he laid back, then turned to Andy with a cocked brow. The brunette rolled his eyes before leaning down to press his lips to Lloyd’s, who immediately shoved his tongue down Andy’s throat.

If your eyes could widen like they did in animation movies, they would be huge. How could a kiss between two people be this hot? It should be illegal.

You couldn’t even take your sight of them, too lost in their actions. Suddenly a large black, fluffy dog jumped at you and ripping you from your thoughts. You let out a shout in surprise, body falling down and into Lloyd, knocking him and Andy out of their kiss.

Alf licked his tongue diagonally over your face, “yeah, got it, thank you,” you said as you wiped his spit from your skin.

“I’m gonna make breakfast, come on Alf,” you announced. Climbing out of bed Alf followed you closely, Andy and Lloyd looked at each other for a moment before they followed you too.

“Oh, I thought I only had one dog,” you joked as all three of them walked behind you, Alf barked, “see, Alf agrees,” you added, grinning at them.

“We’re not dogs,” Lloyd argued, scoffing lightly to which Andy raised an eyebrow. In response he rolled his eyes, knowing his partner was right and with the way they acted around you it was sure that they were smitten.

It became some kind of routine that you would make breakfast while they took turns on taking Alf out for a walk. That also meant one day Andy would fuck you over the counter, the other Lloyd would eat you out and fuck your face.

Just as you put on Alf’s leash, Andy’s phone rang. The man scrunched his nose up in annoyance as he answered it, he looked at the caller ID before excusing himself.

Lloyd watched him, having an idea about the topic. To ease your confusion, he guided you to the kitchen with an assuring smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you, but that didn’t help one bit.

While Andy talked on the phone, Lloyd and you prepared breakfast. His sneaky touches were driving you insane, the mob boss tried to hide them from Alf. Why? He felt guilty exposing him to such inappropriate actions.

You only shook your head at that, it was ridiculous, but god was it cute. Add to that, Lloyd had taken a liking into talking with Alf about everything, really everything. He also taught him some tricks.

Andy walked in, phone pressed against him chest. His eyes met Lloyds and he motioned for him to follow. To be quite honest, you felt left out. It became obvious what the topic was, however, you didn’t say anything in hopes they would tell you.

Spoiler alert, they didn’t. The two came back, acting as if nothing happened and that bugged you. For the moment you let it go, until Lloyds phone rang, and he walked out of the room.

Rage seethed through your body, “no. No, you stay here and talk,” you demanded. You were the victim and had the right to know.

Lloyd looked at you with shock, taking the phone from his ear, “sunshine…,” “no, I’m being serious. I deserve to know, and don’t care if I’m in the wrong,” you argued as you stepped around the kitchen counter.

He looked at Andy who wasn’t certain himself, “darlin’ you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he tried, but it didn’t help.

“I told you, I don’t care. Tell me, who was it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. You glared at them, waiting impatiently, a small part wondering if you truly wanted to know…. No, you had to find out.

“Our men gave us a name, Charles Brooks. We have nothing on him yet or well had, the phone was about to give me details.”

Lloyd wouldn’t need details. Alone the name sends shivers down your spine.... You got quiet suddenly and it seemed even Alf remembered the name. Slowly you walked to the sink, lowering your head to splash it with cold water, you needed to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

Andy noticed your body language, “you know him,” he stated with a serious expression. “Yeah, no shit Sherlock” you scoffed, shaking your head.

You turned your back to the sink, looking at them. If he was back, then it would mean you would go through hell again. He had people stalking you, knew what you were doing.

“Sunshine?” Lloyd asked carefully, taking a step towards you. “He is my ex-boyfriend, it ended over a year ago. The relationship was toxic, he wanted to control everything and didn’t trust me. A few times he got close to hitting me, but never did and if it weren’t for Wanda and her husband, Vis, I wouldn’t be here today.” You explained, a tear rolling down your cheeks as your remembered the faithful night.

His loud screams of anger echoed through the walls of your flat, the sound of a vase being thrown on the ground making your blood freeze.

“Come out you little slut, you can’t hide from me,” his aggressive voice called out, footsteps coming closer and closer. You clasped your hands over your ears as you hid in the closet, praying he wouldn’t find you.

“Acting like a whore, flirting with every guy that gives you even the littlest of attention,” he chuckled.

You hadn’t done anything, the man asked you where the bathroom was and smiled as a thank you, nothing more. Still, he saw it as a threat to him and went mad.

The door of the closet was ripped open, revealing your boyfriend. His head red, teeth clenched, “come here,” he seethed and reached out to grab your hair. Charles grip was tight, tucking on your roots as he dragged you out.

“Don’t make me hurt you, you know I would never…unless you don’t behave and everything, I do is because of you, remember that,” he growled, acting as if it really was your fault, but it wasn’t.

Not that you knew that however, in this moment you would believe him anything. Do everything, just so that he would stop and not hurt you.

“No, please, please don’t hurt me,” you begged him in tears, but he only barked a laugh, “god, I love it when you beg.” Charles picked you up and threw you on the bed, “now you’re gonna learn how to behave….”

----

“Vis, I haven’t heard anything from her, she promised me to call. You know I don’t trust him,” Wanda picked anxiously at her nails as she paced around the room.

Vision stopped her, gently taking her hands, “then we will call Bucky and Thor, end it tonight,” he proposed and Wandas eyes lit up. A decision was made, she called them up and they made a plan within ten minutes.

Separately they drove to your flat, Bucky broke the door open with a grunt. Vision could hear your pained cries, “stay here,” he told his wife who nodded.

The three slowly walked into the hallway, nearing themselves to your bedroom. “Fucking like it you bitch? Well, too bad for ya,” they could hear Charles say, causing them to cringe internally.

“Stop, please, we can forget it, just stop…please,” you whimpered, laying there helplessly. Slowly Bucky walked up behind him and grabbed him, ripping him away from you and throwing him on the floor.

“Hey fucker,” he greeted Charles with a sweet smile. Bucky landed a punch in his face before Thor kicked him in the balls.

“Time to say goodbye,” Thor told him, hosting him up to land a punch in his guts. Meanwhile Vision tended to you, taking a blanket to wrap around your naked body, “Wanda is outside, it’s over. You’re save,” he assured you, the only thing you could possibly do was cry and hiding against Visions chest.

“God, darlin’, we’re so sorry,” Andy came over to you, hugging you close. His hand stroking over your head as tears streamed down your cheeks.

In that moment Lloyd decided that he would torture the guy to death, make relive his worst moment over and over again. He walked over to, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, “we will make him pay, he will never ever hurt you again.” It was a promise he intended to keep.

“Can we just go back to bed?” You whimpered, instantly they both nodded, and Andy scooped you up into his arms while Lloyd called for Alf.

The three of you laid down, Alf cuddling under the blanket with his head resting on your chest. It helped you even your breathing, still you couldn’t shake the feeling off that something was bound to happen.

Your phone was still in kitchen, which was probably the best as it made a notification sound.  A text message popped up, “missing me already sweetie?” an unknown number belonging to it.

You trusted them, that’s why you told them, and it was a weird feeling as you had never told this to anyone but Wanda, Vision, Bucky, and Thor. Not even your parents knew, after all Charles had cut everyone off. The only ones that didn’t leave and weren’t budging had been those four. Now you also had Lloyd and Andy to help you, and they would burn the world for you.

𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @jobean12-blog @buckymcu12 @shara-ne @lou-la-lou @meyocoko

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updates without anything

[jaidens]

may I have a dark shaken espresso with Sodapop please?

Darling, I'd Wait For You —

pairing [s] : sodapop curtis x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : crying, breakups | this took so long, I couldn't think about anything to write abt i apologize!!

a/n [s] : requests are open! this is a part of my 350 followers celebration!

When your, trashy, ex-boyfriend decides to leave you for a one-hour hookup he was convinced would stay: it hurt you more than you imagined. Originally, your feelings were influenced with anger and hatred for seeing a random girl and your boyfriend thrusting into her. You ran, and ran until your legs were burning worse than the frosty air and tears that gathered in your eyes and down your cheeks.

Coincidentally, Sodapop had been driving home from work when he noticed a girl crying on the park benches. The snow that fell worried him, so he gathered his jacket and got out of his truck. “Hey! What are you doing out in this weather?” You ripped your head up at the voice, which you had recognized to be Soda’s, yelling at you. You felt completely broken and weak as Soda was in front of you.

“Y/N, hey, hey, what are you doing out here?” His voice is softer and slightly above a whisper, hoping to not scare you. He's only seen you like this so many times, and it scares him more than usual seeing the way you shake. His jacket wraps around you, and you can't help but jump into his arms. “C’mon. The truck is just over there.” He picks you up, hand going underneath your thighs as he brings you over to the truck.

You're numb as he places you inside the seat, and you buckle yourself in. The radio is playing Elvis quietly. Sodapop glances at you before beginning to drive on the road once more. The warm feeling of Sodapop radiates off as he hums and sings along to the gentle radio. Admittedly, throughout your relationship with your ex-boyfriend, there had been some stares and longing hugs you shared with Soda.

The truck stops at the Curtis house. The window blinds are shut, but lights are still turned on signifying not everyone had been asleep.

You walk to his bedroom, passing by a asleep Two-Bit and Dallas. You go into his bedroom and pull on his sweatshirt that was hanging on his door. It hangs loose, but it warms up your arms.

Moments later, Sodapop comes back with two cups of hot chocolate. You're in his thick Will Rodgers Highschool Football 1965 sweater, with a blanket pulled up to your legs. “Hey, tell me what happened if you're already.” Sodapop reassures and sets down the cups on Ponyboy’s small table that had books stacked up on each other.

“I caught him, Rich was— with another girl and said he was leaving me for her.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the tears bud up and your lip starts to quiver. Sodapop immediately sits up and pulls you into his arms and you cry into his well-built shoulder. Through the walls you tried to put up, they immediately fell down.

His hand runs slowly, patting a little bit. It shows that he's there for you, letting you know that you'll be alright. You pull away and Sodapop’s hands go to your face and he makes you look up at him. “You didn't deserve him at all. He was such a dick— you didn't deserve any of that to happen.” The words are foreign to your ears, but Sodapop’s care isn't.

“You are so worth it, and absolutely loved. Rich had no idea how much you love.” You laugh before hugging him tightly. You always felt better with Sodapop as if he was a drug, but he radiated sunshine and happiness. “Thank you, god just thank you.”

You lay in his arms, and he scratches the back of your neck. You slowly relax and stretch out your bones as you begin to get undeniably tired. “Stay here tonight. I'll bring you home in the morning.”

[bowlingrally]

do you think florys spent the hours he lived after kian's death trying to prove reality wrong. do you think he ran around that forest for an hour trying to find scraps of leopard print fabric or chunks of golden hair. do you think he eventually stopped running and he tried to reason with himself that he was starting to accept the truth but he was actually just tired & scared he wouldn't be able to hear kian's voice if he wasn't actively listening. do you think he ever stopped deluding himself. do you think he died thinking that kian was going to be okay. do you think th

[rosaacicularis]

Idk if you're still doing this, but if you still are! 🌹

-🍂

i am!! (also limited life finale spoilers!!)

“killing me and then falling to your death is starting to become a habit for you, it seems,” scar joked softly as grian died, became a ghost right next to scar. he didn’t sound angry about, almost resigned, as if he had expected it to happen.

[intcritus]

[SACRIFICE]: the sender cups the receiver's face tenderly to distract them, right before shoving them out of the way (to safety) and facing an attack alone in order to buy the receiver enough time to escape. //Fushimi @ Itachi

It’s been nearly five months – five months with periodic attacks on the Uchiha lands. And it’s like there’s a purpose and method to them. It only tends to happen whenever the first borns are there, when they’re gathered in one place. But even when they aren’t, it’s obvious that even the smaller attacks are to throw them off. It’s bad enough that he cannot be there, and he knows his cousin is feeling the same, that need to destroy what and who is going against their family. Madara had ordered them both to stay where they were, and not to come home because he can feel that shit is about to hit the fan. 

And maybe that worried is founded on personal experience, that battle sense they were all born with but were mostly certainly heightened in the Founder. And for two weeks, it had been quiet, they’re all recuperating, with the elderly and children already away because they couldn’t risk their safety. It was a sound conclusion. And Madara had called only the immediate branch families back, just the adults who were combatants in this case. 

As they get out of the car, Itachi feels it. He’s not sure what it is exactly but everything feels off, his nose picking up on something sweet but sickly. Immediately his nose wrinkles ( if he’d realized sooner, it was something used to block the senses he relied on, leaving vulnerable ) , and he shares a look with Fushimi, but he’s staring off at something.

The short two minute walk through the trees to Uchiha lands was something they’d traversed before and yet as Itachi looked around, something was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There’s a shifting in the trees, and everything is so still but he can hear someone breathing nearby, like they’re trying to blend into the background. He, Fushimi and Kenta are still in the tree line, but Itachi has stopped walking, a furrow to his brow, and everything is silent, unnaturally so and he realizes he cannot hear anything, much less smell two feet in front of him.

Panic arises as everything sways, tilting as though he were drunk. So he cannot hear what’s happening around him. Cannot hear the roars of rage, the sound of flesh being rendered into a puddle, can barely feel the vibration of the earth beneath his feet. 

Then his husband is in front of him, his horns out, red bleeding into his skin and he’s furious, Itachi can ascertain without his senses. But– the hands on his face are tender, thumbs stroking over his cheeks before he’s roughly shoved away. And he sees why as someone with a blade ends up attacking Fushimi, in lieu of Itachi being shoved out of the way. And from the position of the blade, they’d been aiming for his head. But, he can’t leave his husband to fight his battles. And yet, Itachi isn’t stupid, he’s a liability at this moment. He cannot sense anything, much less react the way he’s been taught. 

An arrow lands at his feet and he has no choice but to scramble back, running the way he came with a slurred curse. Whatever he had inhaled after leaving the car had him sluggish, senses gone and he hates it so much. But he hates it even more that he has to leave Fushimi behind. Tears spill down his cheek, and a nudge against his side shows Seiji, in beast form, his horns scratching against Itachi’s side and guiding him back toward the car, whose tires are fucking punctured.

Another nudge before Seiji stops, motioning to his back with a low growl. It’s such a silly thought but there’s no hesitation to climb onto his son’s back, gently brushing through silver and onyx spotted fur before they’re running through trees and road, tears wetting his son’s fur. Why? Why was this happening now when their era of peace had settled in so nice ? Grief takes ahold of his heart, hoping and praying to his deities to keep Kenta and his husband safe. Fuck. Fuck ! Please keep them safe. If he hadn’t insisted on coming this way, they would be home. But was home even safe ?

and so shit hits the fan and he's whisked away to safety. | @nvrcmplt

[iridescent-solstice]

Me and @graciebasie after I cook up the most angstiest heartbreaking plot ever known to mankind 4 my oc Estrella-

so 305

[hyukascampfire]

THE TERRIBLE HALF-TRUTHS OF THE UNDEAD ҜING

⠀(🍂 ) 𝓡EVENANT in folklore, a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living ... ( 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 )

1︎5.5k revenant!yeonjun · ƒ ! r ft. soobin ⸺ ✴︎ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ... smut, violence, angst, death, animal death & vivid descriptions of animal death, major character death, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dry humping (because bring it back), biting, dom yeonjun sub reader, mentions of death in childbirth, reincarnation, teasing, breast worship, yj calls reader ‘my love’, def some typos

🪶 ⦂ how fun is this collab? :,) this fic was so fun to write. i personally believe that tsfawc enjoyers will love this one,, but you'll have to read it to confirm that, right? hehe. and of course, go read everybody else's if you love this one! they're all set in the same world, and everybody worked so hard on these fics. send some love their way!

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

𝒪𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝒰𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝒶 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸, in a land far, far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky and the water sparkled under the glowing sun, where mountains rose high, and long, deep caves ran through them, where the sea met shore in collisions of swirling, foamy punches, where the undead walked among the living, where the winged flew above the finned, there was a land where things beyond reason and rhyme existed perfectly true. Among those strange beings and within the veils of Aethera, there was a girl loved by death. 

He sits on your shoulder, a dark, boding shadow and glared at those around you with promise in his eyes.

That’s how it seems, anyway. That’s how everybody looks at you. They dodge you, whisper about you, evade your gaze as if he might reach his claws for them next if they linger for too long.

Crows with dead eyes arrive at your doorstep like some lover’s cheeky gift, other poor creatures like fat grey mice are left to rot in the wheatfields, and yarrow stocks wilt outside the wall of your room. If Death thinks that you are flattered, he misunderstands you. You are terrified of nothing more than dying. The first time, it was a sly joke. Then it happened again, and you watched their eyes change. And it happened again and again, and your people are a suspicious type. Something can only be a coincidence so many times.

When you began to sneak into a little shack with a village boy, you thought that maybe, somehow, this would all pass. He died too. There’s really no coming back from that, is there? You don’t blame them. You’re not the freak that they all believe you to be—none of them get close enough anymore to know that, though.

The wickerbasket’s handle creaks under your fist. You usually only forage along the shallow line of the forest; you pluck from bramble bushes topped with plump berries that crawl between trees during the summer, and when the crab apple tree’s branches hang heavy with the fruit, you snatch those up too. You’re more useful to your family out here, in the woods that they deem just as cursed as you. Where you won’t be their burden.

Crisp autumn leaves crunch under your boots. You scan between them—more grey and rotted this late in the season than fresh and orangey—for the edible mushrooms and roots that you usually forage at this time of year. The basket’s already pretty heavy with a variety, black morels and sorrel and burdock, as you bend down to pull a truffle from the dirt against a tree.

You drop it down with the rest of your finds. The basket smells like earth, no doubt your hands do too. You dust your palms off on your skirts and go to rise back from your squat.

A deep, billowing horn pierces the forest’s silence. It’s both far away, wiggling between the whispers of rustling leaves, and much too close. It draws out. Long. Bone-chilling. You freeze, scanning between each tree trunk and praying that you won’t find what you fear you might.

You are much deeper into the woods than you usually are. Than you ought to be. And you know what that horn means—you know that it means something far worse than what you’d been afraid of, coming into these woods. Much more primordial than the hide-behinds you were scared you might find this deep, much less avoidable than the faerie rings you stepped around.

Why would The Wild Hunt be here? A shudder runs down your spine, and you curl your fingers into your skirts and lift them as if to prepare to run, but you don’t. Your feet find root in the forest floor and all you can do is stand terribly still in catatonia. Their horn sounds again, and a procession of wicked whoops and howls follow. Wild hoofbeat rumbles under it all—the hunt and their rides. You hope that they’re just passing through, and you won’t so much as see one of those wild riders. There were plenty of folktales that the matrons of your village would bolster to terrify you as children, but you knew even then that their stories of the riders, with their flesh falling away from them and their pale or beady eyes and their gnarled maws and frightening figures as they rode on the backs of equally terrible steeds, were not fabricated. They are not a bogeyman or a wailing banshee; they are death made in the flesh, and they are here. In your forest. 

Your legs won’t work. You curl your clammy fingers tighter around your basket and lean into the tree beside you. How deep had you wandered into the forest? Hopefully not too far; when you gain the courage to run, you hope that they do not send their hounds to snap their foul breath on your heels. Maybe just standing here and blending into the trees is best. The Hunt would love a chase, and you don’t want to become their next.

The next call comes and you throw that all to the wind. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you let your basket clatter to the leaves and you take off. You fly over roots and shrubbery and between the trees, your blood roaring in your ears faster. You’d oblige if you could.

Above the loudness of your frantic mind, the harrowing whinnies and The Hunt’s ruckus dulls until it’s faraway again, and then it’s gone. Well, you don’t stop to check if they’ve really passed through the forest. You just run.

“There you are, love.”

His voice cuts through your frantic escape and stops you dead in your path. You almost go crashing down over the ground with the force that you dig your heels into it. Though the voice is non-threatening, you don’t turn to face the source.

He speaks again. You already know who it is. He, old as the earth you stand on itself, leads that band of wild riders. Is the king of the undead, collects souls for reaping.

And he’s the one who’s plagued you with his attention. Death.

“Why do you keep your back turned to me?” he says. “I frighten you. That hurts.” His voice lilts with amusement and sharpness. “I wish that you would face me.”

You’re not fond of the way that he speaks to you with a familiarity. But then again, you’re not fond of dying, either. Your legs are boneless beneath you. Turning, you slowly indulge him, though it takes a great amount of willpower to not run again like your jittering jaw and trembling hands ask you to.

The King of Death stands tall and utterly preternatural, leaned against a crooked tree in the woods behind you. His smile cracks across his face in a jagged way that suggests he finds you amusing, but none of that meets his eyes. They’re the color of the greyish, rotted leaves beneath you. The dark shadows beneath his eyes are the only thing belying the weight that his infinite life might have on him. That, and the hollowness that rings from him.

And though he sounded entirely playful, you are shaken by the sorrow that you find in him now that you’ve turned. Even more so, you’re not sure why you feel it echoed somewhere in the hollows of your bones. “I’m sorry,” you say. It trembles terribly. You want to say that you’re sorry you caught his attention, but it seems you’ve always had his attention. It’s more that you are petrified down to your marrow that the time’s come that you face this… strange infatuation. Here he stands: the one who leaves hollowed out husks of creatures at your doorstep. Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? “I don’t mean to…”

He pushes off his tree, fixing his cape that cascades over only one of his shoulders. It’s tattered and falling apart like the rest of his clothing, though you think that the bronze stitching and swirling oakleaf patterns in the black say that they might have been immaculate at some point. Or maybe they weren’t, and they had started that way. He is Death, anyway. “You’re sorry?” he says. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’ve hardly done a thing to warrant it.”

Faltering, you wet your chapped lips. You’re not really sure. Holding back another apology for fear that you’ve offended him and he’ll now strike you down for it, you say, “I thought that, maybe the hunt was…” Wow, you sound stupid. You can see in the sly smile his lips form that it amuses him. That’s almost worse than angering him: intriguing him. What you really should be doing is boring him so that he’ll find you a waste of his time. Then, maybe, he’d give up haunting you.

“After you?” he finishes. Shaking his head, he says, “My hunters only answer to me.”

“Oh,” you say plainly. Part of you wants to ask why that should comfort you, especially when you’re the one that he sends little bits of death to, but rationality keeps those words in the back of your throat. You don’t really want to know. “Why are you passing by here?”

Something akin to old longing passes through those witty eyes, and then he eats up the distance between you with languid steps of his long legs until he’s nothing more than one last step in front of you. The closeness consumes the air in your lungs, leaving nothing for you but short and shallow drags. The forest has gone dead silent aside from the sound of it. His voice is even more magnetic now that he’s so close.

You recoil when he brings a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb over your cheek and then cup your jaw, as if afraid that he might snuff you out here and now. His fingers are softer than you thought they might be, and the lines of his face sharpen into what you think is hurt. Hurt that you flinched?

“We go here and there,” he says, “but it’s been a very long time since we came here.” There’s a certain thickness to his words; a certain tension coiled over them from something that you’re not privy to. And yet, there’s a farawayness, too. You bet he’s full of a lifetime of secrets. Lifetimes of secrets. “But I think I’ve found myself a reason to finally return.”

Breathy and still struggling to flatten out your breathing, you ask him, “Why?”

The Undead King’s smile turns wicked once more, and he doesn’t answer you. It’s awfully eerie.

“Do you have… business here?” you try again. It’s a roundabout way of asking, do you have someone to take away?

“I have business wherever the living go,” he says, letting your face go but not giving you any more room. You narrow your eyes. He’s quite good at non-answers. “Nothing is more certain than that I will greet every living thing eventually. I’ll come to take you, too, when the time comes.”

Your mouth dries up. The entirety of your home, all the people you’ve ever known, fear you for all the death you bring. Not one of them fears it more than you do. You’ve seen it enough to fear its frightening finality.

The drop of your face must’ve told him how much that scared you. “Dying is not such an awful thing, love. Living pales in comparison.” Searching your eyes, he adds, “But I’ve not come to take you.”

That’s easy for him to say: that death isn’t something to fear. His words don’t calm your thundering heart, but you offer him a, “Thank you…” It trails off toward the end when you realize that you don’t have his name. If he has one, anyway.

“Yeonjun.” He tilts his head, strands of sparrow hair brushing over his watching eyes. “Most don’t know it, but you’re not most people, are you?”

Your breathing had just begun evening out. It’s a shame, the way that it kicks back up at the way he looks at you. “What do you mean?” you say, but of course you know. Nobody else is given dead things like you. It’s not like you yourself are very strange; you like pretty dresses and sharing gossip with friends just as much as any other girl your age.

Giving you another one of those knowing smiles that he uses just like words, he steps back. “I’m sorry that I scare you how I do.”

You don’t answer him. What could you say to that? That he doesn’t? That would be a lie, and he would know it.

Yeonjun’s eyes flit over your face, over your cheeks made pink by the autumn cold, lingering on your lips for a few unexplainable beats, and then landing on your eyes where he searches and finds something that sends his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “I don’t mean to be your monster. It’s only that…” He steps back again. “You remind me a terrible amount of someone I once knew.”

“Who?” Though your shoulders relax a bit with some distance between the two of you, you do your best to not let your guard down. All the stories that you recall being told, all those cautionary tales passed down through word of mouth around a fire, end with some stupid girl thinking that the monster could be changed or tricked. You’re willing to bet that the man in front of you, no matter how human he looks or how enchanting his words are, could be neither.

That doesn’t explain the ache in your chest when he holds your eyes for too long. But you shove that feeling way, way down. It’s nonsensical.

His voice takes on a parting tilt when he says, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Death takes us all.” Yeonjun dips his head at you. His smile wavers. You’d think that crooked smile on his mouth was indelible had you not seen it twitch down at the corners only for a moment. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed it. “You think I’ll hurt you,” he says, “well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, run. I apologize for your basket.”

Death takes us all. You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, coming from him, but it sends a cold wind up your spine and goosebumps crawling over your skin.

He watches you go. You don’t look back when you do, but his gaze sits on your back until you’re sure you’re out of his sight. When you return to your home, your mother asks where the basket full of ingredients for supper went.

You imagine what her face might look like if you told her the truth. But that was impossible, so instead you tell her some stupid story about a wolf that startled you so bad that you ran home paying no mind to where your basket was. It’s close enough to the truth.

༺ ꘏ ༻

It doesn’t matter what you do; you can’t get his face out of your head. While you cut butter into flour and then roll out dough, simmer fruits over flame and you slice cheese off blocks, you replay that meeting in the forest. The memory spins and turns over no matter how hard you try to put it away from your thoughts.

It’s not every day that somebody meets the likes of him. You can’t blame yourself; he had such captivating eyes. Dark, playful, and endless. There they are again. You sigh and dust your hands off. Maybe you are just as strange as they all think that you are. Morbid curiosity is like that, though. Taking the most normal of us and making you wonder what you absolutely should not wonder about.

And you absolutely should not wonder about him.

The sun has begun to hang high in the sky, but the breeze that crawls through the window you pulled open before you got to work is a crisp one. Autumn’s really come, now. Outside the window, a huddle of children play around in the leaves that you’d raked up. You’ll have to rake those back up, but you hardly have the heart to tell them to take their playing elsewhere. Their giggles and small voices waft in with the breeze, and a traitorous part of you yearns for a family that you know you’ll never have. No man would risk that fate, not after what happened to the last man who paid you any attention. You grit your teeth at the memory.

Having a face for the thing that’s made your life the way it is is strange. Seeing him in the flesh, with handsome eyes and a taunting mouth, looking something near human, you think you’ve come to resent him for it. How dare he ruin your life? He, more than anybody, should know how fleeting life is. What is in it for him to deface what little time you have? You keep going back to that thought: why did he ever even appear to you in that forest? There is not one story in which you remember Yeonjun showing his face to those he hasn’t come to claim. Death makes his visits swift and purposeful.

Moreover, why on earth would he even look your way? You wish there was a plain way to ask him why, or even to plead with him to stop. Whatever it is he’d ask of you, you think you might give him. To get back to living, you would.

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands  in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough.

“As if,” you dismiss and gesture at his dirty hands. He’d no doubt been out working his family’s field, his tunic sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.”

Anybody else might’ve scoffed or taken offense, but he just laughs and invites himself in anyway. It never fazes Soobin. He doesn’t let you push him away.

It’d be better if he did. How long before he ends up dead, too? Alive one moment, and then a husk without a soul next. You don’t think you could handle seeing cold, dead eyes where the annoying, warm shine should be. Of course it would be better if he stayed away, if he had half the mind to. Even most of the children have heard enough from their mothers to stay a healthy distance. He’s not too much better than a child, though.

“Isn’t it?” he says. His cheek is smudged with whatever sort of dirt he’s got on his hands and under his nails. “I’m done with work for the day. Want to go out to the field?”

You two have always ran off and avoided your life in between willowy, flaxen wheat stocks. They were just tall enough at this time of year to hide you away. But, for some reason, your stomach does a quick flip at the thought of being outside. It’s silly; couldn’t he find you here, too? “I’m busy,” you say. You’d already kneaded this roll of dough plenty, but you dig your fingers into it and begin again.

“Busy?” he scoffs, “Since when are you too busy to get away from work?”

Gritting your teeth, you let the sounds of your kneading answer. Now, more than ever, he should keep his distance. You know one thing that you’re sure nobody else does: Death’s come to visit. 

His brows shoot up in your peripherals. “I don’t get answers today?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, giving up working the over-kneaded dough only because your arms ache. “Why don’t you go talk off the ear of some other poor village girl? I’ve heard as much as I can handle today. And then when that one’s tired, you can bother the next, I’m sure.”  You soften the words with a quick smile his way. No matter how many times you say something sour in hopes that it’ll send him away, as soon as you glance up at his face, you reel it in.

His company is all you’ve ever had. The least you can do for him is make sure he doesn’t end up like carrion, even if he chooses to take that risk himself. You don’t know why he does.

Voice playful, he says, “I’m glad to hear that you believe I’ve got ladies falling at my feet, but I’d rather not annoy a pretty girl, so you’re my only option.” He pokes at the sleeve of your simple cotton dress. “Should I drag you out of here? Don’t your arms hurt doing all that?”

“Oh, you are a refined man, aren’t you?” you say, shuffling out of his reach. Damn him, he makes it difficult. “Well, I am a pretty girl, so you should take yourself elsewhere.”

Soobin smiles easy. “I’m bored out of my mind. You’re just going to let me suffer?”

“That’s not my issue.”

“I’d argue that it is,” he says. “Come on. Why are you giving me a cold shoulder?” Leaning, he tries to get a look at your face. “Did I upset you? I wasn’t aware that you cared much about what I thought.” When you spare him a sharp glance, he says, “I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?”

You wish you could fall into the easy banter that comes with being around Soobin, but you can’t. You can’t let him be around you. “Soobin, stop it,” you say, draining your voice. You don’t look at him while you say it.

Going quiet, he seems to notice that today’s different. His gaze is heavy as he stares at you for a few long moments. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “What happened?”

You swallow. “Nothing. I’m just doing something.”

“Oh, alright,” he says, tone inflicting in a way that says he doesn’t believe you one bit. He pushes off the counter. “I’ve put up with you pushing me away for years. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Soobin,” you warn. If you look at him, you fear you’ll be forced to watch the only one who never cared much what a risk it was being around you leaving. So you don’t.

Your friend raises his hands in the air defensively. “Okay, then.” He makes for the doorway with languid, lingering steps. As if he doesn’t want to leave. “Tomorrow..”

That’s both a threat and a promise, knowing him. Sighing and watching the rowan tree out your window sway, you bid him a curt goodbye.

If only that jerk took offense to things. It would make things an awful lot easier for you.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Being out in the wheat fields brings you peace when you’re alone, but you find it to be terribly lonely. The earthy, sweet scent of it wraps around you, and the stalks whisper against each other in a soothing way.

When you look beside you, the patch of wheat imprinted with the shape of your bodies is empty on his side. You are quite weak; it makes you want to go knocking at his door for his company. But that would be the selfish thing to do, so you card your fingers between the golden straw instead.

A chill trickles down your spine. You feel his presence before you even see him; it’s a feeling that you used to get fleetingly, as if something far away was tugging at you. But then he became real, a living thing in front of you that can touch, and that is much different.

“Why is it that I always find you out in the wilderness?” Yeonjun says. His voice comes from behind you.

Has he been watching you? You stand and dust your bottom off, heart kicking to life. “It’s nice out here,” you say. In truth, you haven’t come outside since that day. You’ve dodged Soobin and made a million excuses as to why you won’t go anywhere past the fences of your home. “I like to… watch people go about their days. It’s interesting.” It’s true—you always watch from afar how the village folk interact. How groups of girls your age link arms and whisper to each other, how neighbors come together to fix up a shoddy fence. You watch them be a community that you are not a part of. Watching it tastes bitter sometimes, but mostly you take pleasure in imagining yourself there with them. You’re not sure why you try making small talk with him, but what else? Should you go running again? If you were to listen to your pattering heart, maybe that’s what you’d do. He’s hardly shown you any bad will, though, and he’s the one that’s come to you. Maybe it’s silly to wait until something bad happens to be cautious.

A thousand pounds in stones sit at the center of your chest, though, and his voice makes them feel lighter. Why on earth that is, you’re not sure. It’s a nice relief regardless.

He smiles. It's different from the ones he showed you before. It’s knowing; more sweet than cracking over his face like the smile you would expect from the likes of him. What use might he have in being sweet? “Could I join you?”

Blinking dumbly at him for a second, you nod. “Oh, uh… Yeah.” Settling back down into your spot, you spare him a few curious sideways glances.

The breeze billows over the gold stems, moving them like gentle waves over the ocean and blowing your hair in it too. The flattened bits rustle under his weight. He doesn’t even turn his face toward the village; instantly, his gravitational eyes are on you.

“Do you come here often?”

“I do,” you answer. Mostly when you and Soobin have too much to do and not enough will to do it. “It’s nice. The village doesn’t like me much, so it’s easier out here.” You don’t mention that mostly you don’t come here alone.

Yeonjun’s face becomes far away. It looks strikingly like somebody forced into an old, unpleasant memory. “Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?”

“They fear me. Things go wrong around me, that’s all.” You pluck at the hay absentmindedly. “Things die. They’re smart to stay away.”

The hay whispers much louder for the long moment he remains quiet, digesting what you’ve said. Maybe deciding what to say, considering that it’s his fault.

“Die?” he asks, voice inflected with surprise.

Turning to him, your brow creases. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the one that’s done it to you. “Everything that gets too close ends up dead. Everything,” you say, resting your temple on your knee. “So, I guess, I just keep it all at arm’s length.” You look back at your tiny village, a collection of familiar, un-familiar thatch-roof homes. 

Continuing to blink at you, his eyes narrowed in a strange grimace, Yeonjun says, “Death follows me, too.”

What? A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest. Of course, death follows him. You cover your mouth with a hand to obscure your laugh, but you just giggle at him harder.

A laugh twitches at the corners of his mouth, too. “I mean it,” he says. The lines of his face become distant again, eyes both trained on your face and melancholic as if the sight reminds him of something.

It ignites a question in your mind about something he said in the forest. “You said that I reminded you of somebody,” you say, testing the waters. “Who?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. He looks away, as if he can’t look at you while he says it. “I loved a girl from this village once. When I was human, no less than you.”

You falter, mouth falling open to ask all the questions that flurry through your thoughts. You settle on one. “You were human?”

“I was,” he says ruefully. “And I had everything. I had the love of my life. I think that even the most bitter of creatures on this island had envy for our love. She would braid dandelions into my hair, and then I’d braid them into hers.” He swallows thickly and pauses, as if the wound was still festering and fresh. “And then she died. She died starting our family. She died because of me, in my arms.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just look into his shining eyes as if that’ll help. You’re not very useful with people, much less comforting them.

“I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t. So I went where I shouldn’t have gone, and angered something much bigger than myself. They thought it would be a fitting punishment for me to live an eternity, the King of Death who could not bring back his dead lover.” The harrowed look that he gives you, only briefly, has your chest heavy all over again. “They have a sense of humor, the forces.”

You imagine what it would’ve been like for him to lose his lover in that way. How far he’d gone to try and have her back, but death does not give back. Where had he gone to have been turned into this? An immortal thing, forced to roam the world and scoop up the souls of the living for an eternity? To be bound in ancient bones and made to remember forever how you had lost your lover?

The grandness of what you want to say is too big, but all those words feel pitying and patronizing in a way that you don’t think will actually bring him any comfort. Rather, you doubt anything you say will be able to patch up a wound older than you could imagine. Simply, you offer him a raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Yeonjun lets a crooked smile replace the trembling at his lips. “As long as I live, so too will she,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “Death doesn’t so much happen when we leave behind our bodies, but when we’ve left the minds of the living.” Narrowing his eyes at you, he brushes hair behind your ear with his knuckles. “I know she lives on, somewhere out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her.”

That intrigues you. “Is there some way that you could bring her back?”

The grim light in his eyes tells you his answer. “My curse is to take life,” he says, “not to give it. But the one who made me this, he is cruel in a twisted way. If I were to find her, as a human or an animal or a blade of grass in the forest, only then could I rest.”

It is cruel. “You’ve been searching, then,” you conclude. “When you find her, you’ll both be able to rest.” But how could he find her, if as he says, she could be any living thing? Where would he even begin?

Slowly, he shakes his head, throat bobbing. “Death needs a farrier.”

She would become what he is. You swallow thickly. Was it not him who caused the deaths that follow you? Or, at least, it was not on purpose?

Opening your mouth, you go to tell him that you’ll help him look. You’re sure you’ll be of no help. He’s spent an immortal lifetime searching, and he still hasn’t found his dead lover. Nobody would know better than him where to look.

The ground shakes beneath your palms with impact, and something cuts through the wheat. The noise of its bleating becomes nearer until the both of you scramble up to find out what’s in such distress.

A deer stumbles around wildly. It looks lame, but you don’t see anything wrong with its legs. Your throat tightens at the awful sound, piercing and sad. Frozen, you watch it try to stay upright before it finally collapses down, legs still kicking as though it still wants to run but its body has begun weakening on it. “Oh my god,” you say, stumbling back. The sounds; its sounds are awful, echoing in your bones and constricting your thoughts until they’re a pinched panic.

There’s an arrow lodged into its ribcage, deep and at a terrible angle. You already know that it’s pierced some vital organs, if not its heart. It continues to writhe on the ground, not ready to give up. You’re not sure if you should approach it—you don’t want to scare it, and you can tell by the look in its wet eyes that it already wants to be away from you.

Or, maybe it had come to you. How else had it found the two of you in the middle of this field?

Yeonjun’s already on it. He puts his knees into the dirt and dried wheat to kneel by it, running his hand over the beast's pelt in long strokes. The small buck flinches at first but relaxes once he learns that his touches are gentle, not the gnashing of hungry teeth ready to make him a meal.

Blood runs like lead through your veins. You say, “Can we help it?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll die.”

Whip-lashed, you swallow thickly. He says it so unphased, and you’re sure he is. You can hardly make yourself mirror that serenity that he exudes as he runs his hand over its flank, but you get on the ground beside him anyway.

The buck’s breaths slow to desperate drags for breath. For a few long minutes, the two of you sit in silence and stay with him until he no longer fights, until his breaths are ragged. You feel his side, still warm and alive, but you see the life going from his eyes. You sit here, talking to each other about nothing just so it hears gentle voices as it goes, for a while.

Eventually, he’s gone. Quiet and at peace, no longer hurting. This time, when you look over to Yeonjun who still smooths over the deer’s skin even as he goes, guiding him delicately into whatever greets us when we go, you see death as a gentle thing.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Though you never seek him out, Yeonjun always finds you. In hidden places, away from prying eyes, he appears behind you and makes himself known. Well, you have a feeling that he watches you for a while before saying anything. It’s hard not to feel the strange tingling of his gaze over your form. It’s akin to the sixth sense that’s supposed to keep you safe out in the dark hearts of forests, an innate feeling that tells you some beast with a rotten, pale maw watches you between the trees.

Yeonjun doesn’t feel rotten, though, preternatural and eerie as he is. As you shirk your duties and talk with him for hours, you stare into ancient eyes and watch his crooked mouth move around his words and you feel an odd comfort. As if he’s the only one who’s ever understood you, or maybe that your strangeness pales beside him and for once you’re nothing but who you are. So many nights, the sun fell on your talking until the night insects buzzed from the grasses and your eyes were heavy.

Sometimes, as you dozed off with your back to a hay bale or a hardwood wall of the abandoned home beside yours with its sagging thatched roof, you caught such festering longing in his his eyes that you’d let your lashes fall and pretend to sleep so that you could imagine what it was that he longed for. No doubt his lost lover. When you imagine him, bound in bones and coming back to haunt the living for an eternity as he mourns her infinitely, searching for her in impossible places, your chest aches with a gnawing intensity.

It’s a terrible, cursed existence. Even the nothingness of death becomes a paradise beside it.

“Is it scary?” you ask into the air, sat criss-crossed on the thick duvet of the bed. He sits across from you, looking perfectly lazy. Moonlight pools in like sterling mist through the shutters.

“What?” He watches you, sitting in your plain dress, as though you’re the only thing in the world.

You’ve begun to wonder. Wonder about those looks he gives you.

Shifting, you fix the shoulder of your soft chemise where it’s slipped down when you catch his eyes lingering on it. His throat bobs. “Dying,” you elaborate. “Is it really nothing? After we go, all of it was for nothing?”

A slow smile tugs his full lips, made a bit red in the middle where he likes to worry it. It’s such a human habit to see on something so far from human. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s like going home, right where your soul is supposed to be. Who do you think rides with me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head toward one shoulder and let your hair pool there. “The riders are dead?” You had thought they were undead in some way like Yeonjun, other sorts of revenants come back to life with their own purposes. Then, are their creepy horses dead, too? A chill goes down your arms. Sometimes, sitting here with him when his face is made soft by the orange glow of the fire he puts on, you forget what he is.

“They are.” He nods, leaned back onto his elbows, his eyes alight with a hunger that makes your insides feel funny. “It doesn’t stop once we’ve died. You don’t need to be scared, my love. So many things end, but then so many things begin. The earth no longer holds you down, the weight of being is gone. You don’t know anything like it; you don’t know leaving behind the pleasures of earth to know the ones that only the afterlife can show you.”

His eyes laced with something entirely else, he adds, “And it’s not the end. Not for everything. For some it’s only the beginning, and for others, those who have not yet fulfilled their purpose, they come back to the flesh. They return.”

You can’t tell if he means himself, or something else. The weight in his eyes, dark, endlessly swirling pools, makes you wonder again why it is that he’s lingering here: the place that he had not visited once since the death of his lover, for the fact that it still hurts too much. Why his shadow of death, his fault or not, was tangled in your soul enough to brush its fingers over the things around you.

“It’s scary,” you say, breathy. The thought of eternity.

Soft hairs brush over his eyes as he tilts his head at you. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No?” he echos, pushing himself up so that he leans back onto his palms. “Isn’t that strange? Pretty little thing says she’s not afraid of death, but her heart races when I’m near. Her sweet heart jumps at just the brush of my leg. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, love?”

Your blood roars in your veins, inflaming your cheeks and making your head dizzy. Nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. Hair prickles on your skin. “Yes,” you breathe.

Feral delight sparks in his eyes, black as pitch. His smile turns up all feline at the crooked corners. “Crawl to me, then.”

Like how fire licks up oxygen in any room it is in, his words steal the breath right from your lungs. What does he think you are? You blink at him wide-eyed and dumb for a moment.

How can he say that as though it were nothing? Moreover, how does the ravenous flare in his eyes, his head tilted back as he watches you down his nose expectantly, do that to your belly?

Your mind glazes over with something thick and heady, and you damn the nerves in your belly and begin to crawl from your end of the bed to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making sure you feel every inch of the taunt in his eyes as he trains them on you. When you’ve gotten to him through the thickness in the air, you settle into his lap and bracket his waist with your thighs.

Yeonjun takes the soft fat of your hips in his fingers. “Fuck,” he says. It sounds like he’s barely holding the gates on something endlessly consuming. Something that might break loose on the two of you, and leave you changed forever with its hungry, gnashing teeth. His head hits your collarbone. “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop. I want it, Yeonjun. I want this.”

He straightens, pupils blown and eyes as tense as his set jaw. “No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.”

That rings bells somewhere outside the heavy fog that’s infiltrated your mind, but they don’t sound too alarming when he looks as though he wants to drag his teeth over your heart to taste its beating. It doesn’t touch the ground, when you want him to, so badly. So badly that you taste it on your tongue and it tinges your words as you tell him, “I do know what I’m asking for. I want you. Yeonjun. Don’t you want me too?” Voice and confidence wavering, you pull back. Maybe you’ve read this all wrong. A tickling shame crawls over your skull. “Do you not want me?”

“You think I don’t want you?” he says, straightening up and meeting your gaze. His breath is hot on your mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.”

He takes your hand and places it over his chest, where a heart should be. Beneath your palm, you do not feel the thumping of an alive thing. Yeonjun has no heart. You knit your brows and examine the strain of his features. Does he think that you’ll be disgusted? Maybe the girl you were in that forest might’ve been, but being near Yeonjun has changed you in ways you couldn’t start to put your finger on. “I’m asking you to,” you say. “Show me what you want to do to me. What you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Searing silence burns between you as he drinks that in, and then he shoves you onto your back. Supporting himself with an arm beside your head, he curls his fingers into your hip and nudges your thighs wider. He doesn’t lift the hem of your chemise like you expect him to. No—Yeonjun begins to grind himself into your cunt through all the layers of your clothes. Though your dress is bunched up and his pants lay between any real contact, Yeonjun’s hard and that friction tastes fleetingly sweet.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.”

You let little sounds linger in that back of your throat and become hungrier each time he grinds against you. It’s so much, mind swimming and sparks spraying up your spine, and yet each time it is not near enough. Damn that foxish smile on his face; you beg for him anyway. “Yeonjun,” you breathe, curling your fingers around the wrist of that hand with which he pins your hip. “P…lease, will you help me? It feels so good; I want more, please.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and an eager grind comes right over your throbbing clit. 

You know he wants more than that, but mortification already is making your voice unsteady and your cheeks burn. “Yeonjun,” you huff, hips wiggling.

The king of the undead delights fully in your shame and rewards you with more of those pointed, dry grinds. Your legs tremble; he’s giving you so little, and yet your need takes it and magnifies it into something grand.

Though he pretends he’s on some high ground, you hear his shuddering breaths each time his fucks his hips against you. He feels that roiling, liquid need in his belly just as vehemently as you do. The room fills with your breathy pants and grinding bodies. You catch your lip in your teeth and begin to meet him half-way. Your moans are low and sweet, and each one sends his jaw tighter. 

You twist and grind against each other like fumbling teens until you’re coiled up so tight that he has to pull himself away. Your throbbing cunt protests, but you know he doesn’t want you cumming like this.

“You want me to show you what I’ve wanted to do to you?” he says, working at his pants. His eyes are so drunk on you, and his cheeks betray his state. “Open your legs, my love. Let me show you a little death.”

Throat gone dry, you slowly let your thighs fall open. The dull throbbing between your thighs roars to life. He slides your skirt up your leg, stopping when he frees your knee to pepper a few hot kisses into it. Once he’s got it bunched up at your ribcage, he runs his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. “Fuck. Such a pretty pussy. I want to fucking eat you up.”

“Yeonjun,” you whine. His name is all you can muster out, anticipation sharpened to a knife point.

Flashing his teeth, he purrs, “You like that, you filthy thing. I bet you’d like for me to fuck you till your brain’s gone and all that’s left is my name. Isn’t that right? Is that what you want?”

Your thoughts stall and you nod, making your mouth into a filthy pout. God, how you want that. Maybe he’s right about you being filthy. Coming from him, it sounds like a delicious thing to be.

The pretty, leaking tip of his cock brushes your clit as he slides it up and down your slit to collect the mess there. Your thighs jump to close before your mind gets the better of it. He does this a few times—up and down, letting you feel and get used to the size and length of him all the way till his cockhead kisses your clit and you squeak.

“Are you comfortable, love?” he asks, shifting your hips with strong hands. “Do you need anything from me?”

It’s so at odds with his other, nastier words. Your head spins, the moonlight blurring. “I’m okay,” you tell him. “I… just want you. Want you to put it in, want to feel you.”

His cock catches on your hole, and he begins to push forward with promising pressure. But then he pulls back, smiling downturned. You whine; why can’t he save his capriciousness for later? You’d almost had it…

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?”

You flutter around nothing. Every inch of your body buzzes. Alive. You are more alive now, at the promise of Death’s touch, than ever before. The irony might be something to wonder about if you weren’t dribbling down onto the bed sheets with crude need. “Stop it,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You’re glad you can hardly hear yourself past the pounding in your bloodstream.

That delights the King of Death. He wrinkles his nose at you, burning you alive with his eyes as he presses his palm to your belly and guides himself into you with his free hand. You wrap around each inch of him slowly. The air between you bows under the weight of your gazes; he holds your eyes the whole way, inch by inch until he’s seated fully into you with his groin flush to your body. He stretches you to fit, and yet it’s just right. You could ask for no more or no less; you might even think your body was made for him, were you not too busy circling your hips to feel him.

“Good?” he says, squeezing your hip. “Do you need a moment?”

Pursing your lips, you test out the shape of him with another wiggle. “Maybe… Maybe a second.” Truth be told, you need a moment to grapple with the sparks sprinkling over your mind more than you need a moment to adjust to his stretch. You let out a shuddering breath.

He traces circles into your belly, just beneath your navel. The pad of his thumb goes round and round, warm on your flesh. “As long as you need,” he says, but it’s more like a triumphant, playful coo. There’s that lopsided smirk. One day, you’d like to kiss it off him. Taking that hypnotizing finger, Yeonjun trails it up your stomach, over your ribcage. He hooks it beneath your dress and drags it higher, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to the air. You shudder, body so, so hot that your nipples peak and tighten against the cool air.

“Such pretty tits,” he says, brushing his knuckle up the underside of one. “Everything about you. Such a pretty, pretty body. God, I don’t know if I want to worship it or ruin it.” His breaths fan over your skin as he bends down and pops an eager nipple into his mouth, lavishing it before releasing it with a lewd pop and letting his mouth fall all over your breast. Lick here, nip there, until you’re squirming adequately and squeezing him like a virgin. Then he blows cool air over it and watches with eyes like a cat toying with its prey as you shudder harder, your chest jumping. “Fucking look at you,” he sneers.

“Junnie,” you say, lost for breath. You think you’ve walked yourself into the lion’s den.

His breathy laughs fall over your breast. Taking his teeth, he drags them over your skin, right over where your heart thunders a rhythm fully for him, and then he bites. Nothing more than a shallow mark, the shape of his teeth in your soft tit. He lingers there, admiring the sight before he straightens himself up again.

“Fine.” He pulls out of you slowly, but you know what comes after that, so you savor every second of it. “I suppose you’ve wanted after it long enough. Let me hear your sweet voice again, my love.”

Yeonjun fucks you just right. His cock nudges right up on your sweet spot as if he’s done this before. Like he knows where to find it. You gasp and whine—you’re just happy he’s finally giving you something. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl. His shoulders wear the red crescent marks of your nails. “That’s—so good right there.”

Ever egotistical and cocky, he croons, “Yeah?” Rolling himself back, he makes it his mission to hit it ruthlessly.

A sharp, pitchy sound comes tumbling past your lips. You bring your hand up over your mouth, letting your eyelids dust your burning cheeks so that you can brave the flipping in your spine and deep in your belly. It’s nearly insufferable—the way pleasure licks up your spine, how it spreads out into your veins and takes control of you.

“No,” Yeonjun growls. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Let me see that look in your eyes when you cum.”

Your eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but you open them. The sight that greets you is worth the effort. Yeonjun’s lip twitches and then he throws his head back, the column of his neck on display as his Adam's apple jumps around a thick swallow.

If that sight wasn’t enough to send you teetering down into whatever depths of lust and ecstasy that he crawled out from, then the angle he hits as he pushes one of your thighs to your chest is. The world frays, deep tremors starting at one small point in your cunt and then exploding up through your stomach and down the back of your thighs. Your chest arches off the bed and you mewl helplessly, fighting and embracing your orgasm in an intoxicating death.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun growls, strained with something whinier as he watches you shake beneath him. “Fuck. I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum…” His voice chokes as his hips become stuttered more than pointed, the slick sounds of your own release tangling up with his grunts and pants until he shudders and stills, cumming into your puffy, fluttering cunt.

You both catch your breaths as if there’s no air in the room left for a while. His hair’s damp on his forehead, as is yours on your neck, and his eyes droop lazily. More lazy and content than you’ve ever seen him.

Collecting you to his chest, where only your heart thumps away frantically, he presses his mouth to your ear and says, “Do you think death is so scary now?”

With your limbs nothing more than boneless and liquid pleasure floating slowly through your thoughts, you smile.

A little death can be more visceral than living, you think.

༺ ꘏ ༻

The tree stump beneath you makes your tailbone ache. You sit criss-crossed, watching Soobin work away at the soil and tend to that section of the fence that’s begun to rot and sag. Your mouth moves endlessly, filling the space that would otherwise just be made up of his grunts of hard work.

“You know, you ought to help me if you’re just going to sit and watch,” he says, straightening to swipe at his forehead, sweaty despite the cold in the air.

“Totally improper,” you say, smiling at him cheekily. “Are you saying that you can’t handle yourself, strong man?”

He glares at you with the venom only somebody made to put up with hours of chatter could muster. “What’s got you so talkative?” he says.

You know he means why you’re suddenly not glaring him away. You can’t tell him that you’ve spoken with Death himself, so instead you say, “Nothing.” Letting your legs dangle down, you smile at him.

Yeonjun hadn’t done any of it. It’s a comfort, to some degrees, to know that. It’s not your fault that they died. Being around them, being around Soobin, won’t make them turn up dead. The rest of them still don’t know that—and they wouldn’t believe it, anyway—but the black shadow hanging over your shoulders dissipates.

For the first time in so, so long, you do not feel marked by death.

“Sure.” His smile tilts. “A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to give him a hard time. “Not true. You just have a way of getting on my nerves.”

“I take pride in that.”

“Take pride in what? Being insufferable?”

Crinkling his nose, he says, “Knowing how to bother you best.”

“Get back to work, stupid.” Your heart soars. It’s good to have friends. To let yourself have friends is an ever better thing. Is this how it is? To be with others and not feel like their burden, or like they’re crossing their fingers behind their back to ward off whatever bad things you might bring onto them? He’s made it his mission to hover around you no matter what, but this feels different.

Maybe, for so long, part of it has been your own gloom that’s obscured it all. Maybe if you didn’t bare your teeth to anybody who got too close, it could’ve been like this always. You hate to think that your own isolation could be some part your own fault. But how were you not to show your teeth when someone tried to reach their hand out to you?

It doesn’t matter now. You shove that all down and let yourself feel the slight warmth of the sun’s glow on your skin where it peeks through the clouds. It’s a nice day, you shouldn’t ruin it with those thoughts.

The sun’s begun making its descent when Soobin’s done. He takes a long drink of water, hissing with relief and crumpling down to the ground with his back to your stump.

“Are you making any way with that girl you were talking to me about?” you prompt.

Giving you a long look over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t.”

“What?” You laugh a little, raising your brows down at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he says, voice flat as he picks stickers out of his fingers.

Soobin’s had a thousand different crushes. There was that daughter of the shepherd, and then the wealthy merchant’s daughter and her long pretty hair, and then the neighbor… Well, you could go on. None of them ever really came to fruition for the poor guy. He thinks that it’s because he’s a poor farmer’s son, but you always tell him that it’s because he’s got an insistent mouth, and that he should be more grateful that you deal with him. Your lips turn up at the corners a little thinking about it—he’ll find the one eventually, but you like the indignant look on his face when you say it.

“I mean it!” you say, nudging him with your leg. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“You won’t even tell me what’s happening with you. Until one of us quits keeping secrets,” he says, placing accusation heavy over the words, “I’ll keep my dealings to myself. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Feeling the weight of his head as he lets it loll lazily against your thigh, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell him. The itch to tell somebody crawls under your skin. Especially to tell him. “You know the other day? When I was… being awful?”

His body shakes with a vindicated laugh. “If you’re nothing else, at least you’re self-aware.”

You skirt around that with your own, more awkward, laugh. It’s nice that he thinks so, but you don’t feel it. “Stop,” you huff and nudge him again. “I was foraging out where I usually go. But I guess I wandered out farther than I thought I did. You remember when they used to tell us stories, right? Like the bogeyman. That he’d come snatch us up if we didn’t listen.” Your mom especially had loved that one, back when she cared what became of you. Would she care again, if you told her that everything was fine? “Well, I don’t know if you remember the one about The Wild Hunt, but… Anyway, I was picking some stuff, and…”

Sitting up from his exhausted slouch, Soobin looks like he’s suddenly come back to life. “What?” he interrupts. His voice is strangely serious.

“What?” you say, brow creasing. “They travel here and there… but they were here. In the woods. Like, I heard them.”

Tersely, he asks, “What were you doing that deep in the woods?”

“I mean, I just kept on finding nice stuff until I just… was deeper.” You survey him. You hadn’t thought that he’d react like this. “So I ran, and then there was this guy,” you say, watching realization fall over his face. He knew those stories as much as you do—knew where you were going with this. He is as starkly superstitious as the rest of your people, you forgot. Pushing past the grimace on his face, you say, “And I knew that he was the king. The one from the stories. It was so weird; it’s like you can feel it. And I spoke to him, and then…”

Stood up now, he cuts you off once more. “Are you kidding?”

“Why are you being like that?” you say, messing with your skirts to quell the defensive bite in your tone. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything? Are you trying to get killed?” He throws up his hard-working hands. “We have rules for a reason. Don’t go out into the forest, don’t make deals with faeries, don’t follow a banshee scream. And then you go and talk to the king of death? How am I not supposed to be upset about that? You know that…” Soobin blinks a few times as if second-guessing what he’s about to say, but he says it anyway. “You know that he’s the reason that they treat you how they do. You know that he’s the one who ruined your life. Why would you ever mess with that?”

You push yourself up from the ground, eyes burning. That stings like a cut. “He didn’t do it. None of it is his fault,” you say, furrowing your brows. “What are you trying to say, Soobin? Just say what you want to say. Come on.”

“He didn’t do anything?” He scoffs, letting a heavy silence hang suspended in the air for a moment before saying, “Is that what he told you? And you just believed it? Listen to yourself, does that make any sense? He’s played with your life like it’s some fucking toy, and now he’s come to rub it in your face. Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.”

Mouth opening and closing, you don’t know what to say. 

He sees the hurt in your burning eyes and tries to reel it back in. “What I’m trying to say is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you say, grabbing up the lunch you’ve been nibbling on. “I know exactly what you’re saying. I just never thought you’d say it out loud.”

“Say what?” Soobin says, his voice raising behind you as you storm off.

That you think it’s my fault, you want to say. That they all die because I am a plague, and you are a charity worker for being my friend. Instead, you just leave and try to choke down the tightness in your throat.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You curl your arms around yourself, the night biting cold. Yeonjun had dragged you from bed, and who knows what hour of the night it is? If the heaviness beneath your eyes is to judge it by, it’s far too deep in the dead of night to be outside with your boots half-laced and nothing but your sleep chemise on.

You might’ve just stayed wrapped up in your blankets if you weren’t so lonely as you’ve been. Soobin’s been scarce. The most you see of him is in the fields from morning to afternoons. You hope that he’ll stop by your doorstep and knock so that you can groan about it but swing the door open anyway each time, but he doesn’t. He thinks that you won’t want to see him, and so he allows you your space.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s hard to be the one to come back after a conversation like that, though. You watch him from the windows and hope he understands at some point instead. It’s an awful lot easier.

Other than preparing meals and window watching, you’ve been up to nothing much at all. You hadn’t realized how much you had, but you feel him in his absence. 

“It’s cold…” you say. The fog of breath that punctuates it makes your point. Whatever he’s brought you out here for, you have no doubt it’ll be something strange. The grin on his face tells you as much.

Leading the way, he heads for the Darkwood. “Only you would come rushing out without a cloak for your shoulders.”

“Well, only you would drag me from my nice, warm bed at this time of night. For what?”

“Can’t anything be a surprise with you?” he says, shooting you a cheeky glance over his shoulder. “Surprises are fun.”

“Surprises!” you say, working your legs to catch him. “Not surprises that involve you bringing me out into the woods. You know, it’s awfully suspicious. Somebody who sees this might think that I am the type to… sneak out with men.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Your lips tug down. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs in his airy way, a twig snapping under his foot. You’re well in the woods, now. Probably somewhere near where you’d first met him.

Lifting a brow, you look at him expectantly. Maybe a will-o’-the-wisp will come floating through with its light bouncing off the trees. That would be a nice surprise, you admit.

Yeonjun circles you. His presence behind you tingles in the way it always does, but true chills erupt when his breath puffs against your ear. “Close your eyes. I have something I want to show you.”

Your mind wanders back to what Soobin had gotten so twisted up about. It might be naive and reckless and against everything you ever learned, but you let your eyes fall shut to blackness. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he’d have had that opportunity a mind-numbing amount of times before.

“Are they shut?” he asks, waiting for your nod. His voice comes from in front of you now. “I want you to keep them shut. You can’t open your eyes, or it will all go away. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, mind full of a bounty of questions. You don’t even know where to begin to assume what he’s got going on, so you stand there shifting your antsy feet.

There’s a strange, rustling sound that catches you off guard with your eyes closed. It drags on for a long moment. Curiosity pries at your eyes; you want nothing more than to just crack an eye open to spy the source of the ruckus. 

It’ll be gone if you do, anyway.

You let out a surprised squeak as something rises up beneath you, as if risen from nothing more than the dirt and roots of the forest floor, bringing you up from the earth. You wobble and send your hands out to find a perch.

A horse. It’s a horse, its mane so tangled and windswept, but matted and clumped with leaves that crunch under your palm when you find them. It reeks of mud—everything around you begins to smell of earth and decomposition.

You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll find yourself sat upon the pale white steed of the Undead King, its eyes white and its knobby knees almost as famous as the leader of The Hunt himself. It chuffs beneath you.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun says over your shoulder. You can hear the feral grin in his voice. It’s the leader of The Hunt, a creature of folklore, that sits behind you now. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, securing you against the wall of his chest. “Hold on tight, my love.”

The call of the wild, that horn, bellows again like it had the first time you heard it. Rather than coming from nearby as you thought it would, it dances between trees far off just like it had that time, too. Your heart jumps up into your throat.

Taking off with a howl, the Wild Hunt follows it.

You dig your fingers into Yeonjun’s at your waist. Weight melts away, and you know you’re in the air. Your belly swoops in tandem with the howls and hoots of the riders, heart palpitating to the hoofbeats. How there’s hoofbeats as you ride through the air, you’re not sure. The ghostly fleet manifests around you in vivid imagery, though you squeeze your eyes shut. They are wild enough to imagine just what they might look like: with their clothes and flesh in tatters, with their eyes beady or pale, with their hounds piercing the air with their calls and running alongside them, they are a perfect personification of freedom.

Whip-lash sends you reeling, body going rigid. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes harder, wishing that you’ll touch ground soon and that everything would become real again.

Yeonjun feels you go stiff. Bringing his head back to your shoulder from his own delight, he says, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it into your bones. Do you think I would let it hurt you?”

He is their leader. If it got too much, you know Yeonjun would be there to catch you. Curling your fingers into his, you release that tension and allow their drumbeat to echo through you.

And when it does, your blood begins to sing along. The wind whips your cheeks and your hair, and you begin to laugh with them. The Hunt twists and turns and dances through the air, an apparition in the night, but nothing more than that.

It comes to a slow, eventually, until the noise and even your steed crumbles back down into the dirt it appeared from. Your eyes pop open hoping to catch at least a glimpse of them, but only the dark forest and pale moonlight answer. Your legs threaten to give out on you, veins still thrumming, but, oh, do you feel alive.

You feel more alive than you ever have, more than you ever could have hoped to have known. Mind spinning, you stumble. Yeonjun catches and steadies you before you can go scraping your knees on a rock.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say.

The laugh that Yeonjun breaks into has you sending him a glare, but you break too. Everything about him is ironic; and how ironic indeed that Death himself should show you how to be alive, rather than to just live?

༺ ꘏ ༻

The air is so fresh in your lungs when you step outside that it nearly burns. You clutch your basket of warm fig tarts. Songbirds trill and fly between tree tops that slowly become more bare the deeper you fall into the season, singing their sweet songs that sound like new beginnings.

Raising your hem from the ground churned up into mud from the afternoon’s trickle, you prance into town with a lively pep in your step. You spent all last night making these—Yeonjun had kept you company, watching you how he always does as you pored over making them just right. His cruel snicker when the jam had simmered over flame for too long and became too thick bounces off your bones in a sweet melody. You’ve come to adore his wicked delight, the way his smile cracks over his face and the facetious raise of his brows, more than you fear it.

Sending small smiles to the people that you pass, you stop by a huddle of kids digging sticks into the mud. They look up at you with curious eyes, stopping to gawk.

“Hey, guys,” you say, pulling back the cloth laid over the sweets. “I’ve made some fig tarts. Do you like fig? I bet you’ll like them; they’re sweet.”

The kids stand up, eyes big as they share a look. They don’t let out so much as a peep before they scurry off home.

You blink. Well, you’re used to weird reactions, but that was… different. Picking up your deflated shoulders and hesitant limbs, you make a shoddy attempt at not letting it dampen your good morning. You were expecting wary looks, anyway.

You head down a little further toward the far side of your home village, the side that breaks off after a fenceline into a great, grassy field. There’s a bustle, mothers washing their clothes in pails and hanging them up to dry and a few others whispering at each other lowly as they go about their days.

An old woman so old her back curves and her fingers have gone knobby makes her way to wherever the day’s duty demands her to be. Your neighbor—an eccentric old lady bound in her times. You decide on her: the elderly are forgotten by the young. She might enjoy knowing that her neighbors still know she exists.

“Hello,” you say, showing her your basket with a hopeful, excited heart. “I have some treats that I was wanting to give out. I know they might not be much, but would you like one? I’m not the best baker, but I do it often enough.” A face like that, dragged down by her years on this earth and not long to death, has no doubt spent many years making meals for her family. You imagine your goods would be nothing beside hers, but it’s the gesture, no?

“Oh, girl,” she says, voice crackling as she clutches her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s best if you found yourself missing from this place. Hurry yourself up and spare the drama.”

The incessant cawing of a crow from a clawed tree fades into the background as you furrow your brows and lower your basket to ask, “...Huh?” Your belly goes up in knots; terrible knots done up tight and fast. You haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about. Elders always did speak a bit strange, though. It could be nothing much; she’s a stern old lady.

But her eyes are not angry and glaring in the way that a harrowed old hag might turn her nose up at the youth. They drag down with a cold pity.

“Listen to me, girl.” She points at you with one of those worn, sun-spotted hands. “You had best leave. The boy’s gone, and they are already not fond of you. Who will they point their fingers to?” the woman says. “I hardly know you, but I would hate to see it.”

The rest of her words fade into the roaring in your ears, the feral drumbeat of your heart like a wardrum in the cage of your ribs as it beats against them as if to escape from you. You don’t feel the basket in your hands, don’t feel the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, and don’t feel a single one of your thoughts like tangible things. They flit as if liquidated into a rotten, sick mush.

Nothing. You can think of nothing. Nothing real; nothing holding you to the earth.

“What?” Your voice hardly reaches your ears, but what does is weak and broken and like a plea for her to tell you that it’s not really what you think it is.

And if you could see or hear anything beyond your fraying little rift in reality, you would’ve heard the man coming up to you. You would’ve heard the words coming from his angry, sneering mouth, and would’ve done something when he picked up a pail of water, and you would’ve been shaken by the nasty ice water that runs down your frozen body and plasters your hair and clothes down as he pours it over you. But none of it cuts through your stupor.

He yells some awful, stabbing things at you, and a few others join him. They tell you that you are nothing but a plague, tell you to leave and to not come back here.

But this is your home. Where else would you go?

With your sopping wet dress clutched in your shaking fists as though that might keep you grounded, you choke down the tightening of your throat and sift through their faces, searching for his face. Those brown eyes, brown and always shining with nagging playfulness, do not come up anywhere. Jaw trembling, you search harder. Out on the field where he should be at this time of day, at your doorstep demanding that you go spend the day doing nothing with him, in someone’s yard helping them fix up a broken fence, no matter where you look, neither his broad silhouette nor his cheeky, dimpled face is there. You continue to stand stricken dumb, looking for him even though you know by the churning in your belly that it’s true, and you’re just hurting yourself trying to find him right where he should be.

Fine. Alive. Untouched by your disgusting, destructive presence.

When you can no longer fight the strangling tightness in your lungs and your dress is as heavy as your heart, you take off. The hem of your dress drags in mud and sticker bushes and catches on stray twigs, and you don’t know where you’re going, but you just run. You’ll give them what they want. 

You stumble, probably like some lost, undead thing, until you find yourself at the edge of the forest. Only then do you let the wall of whittle-edged tears roll down your face. And you assume you sound like a choking, dying animal with how you choke and heave on them, but he was the one you might’ve dropped your head and cried to, so what’s the use of making it pretty? No; you let it all fall as it is.

Soobin’s dead. Soobin’s dead, and it’s nobody else’s but your own fault. You clutch your chest to staunch that old ache that’s grown teeth and tears at your heart; you have and will always be the end of everything that comes near. You are just as much the plague that you began to pretend, to believe, you weren’t. It was your stupid hope that maybe you could have something and not watch it become carrion that drove that pick. It was by your hope that he’s gone.

The hair on your arms begins to raise. You pick your head up and find Yeonjun standing in front of you.

There’s a few beats of long, dreadful quiet as he takes in the state of you. He drags his eyes down and they become liquid flame—something different from the impious delight that he is made of. He becomes the King of Death.

“What happened?” he says. The chills on your arms prickle furiously at the words, furling out distant and yet furious like the center of the fire.

You shake your head, wiping your soaked cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” he growls again, taking your face into his hand. “Who did this? Who did this to you, my love? I need you to tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Letting the venom in your mouth out, you shove his chest and say, “Get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

Yeonjun’s face twists up, looking scalded. Not surprised, though. “Don’t do this,” he says. “Let me hold you while it hurts. Don’t push me away. I can’t… I won’t lose you again.”

All the pieces that you had been putting into the corners of your mind snap together at that. As many suspicions as you had, though, it feels sour hearing it confirmed from his mouth. That you are his dead past lover, reincarnated or whatever you are. That it was his presence—because even though he stayed away for centuries, a part of him still lingered with you—that now has torn down everything you ever thought you could love. He, standing there in front of you like a kicked puppy, is the ruination of your life in the flesh. The flipping of your stomach is nauseating.

“I hate you,” you spit. “I hate you so much.” You repeat it a few more times, and you sob it into his chest as he takes you into his arms. “Is this what you wanted? You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? To find me again, so that you can die and fucking leave me here. So that you can make me exactly what you are, while you get your peace. You are a liar and a thief. All you’ve ever done is steal and take. How could you do it? Huh? Tell me…” Your voice trembles and staggers off. “Tell me how you made love to me, how you made me believe that you loved me, and all you ever wanted was to save yourself? You betrayed me.”

Pulling back, Yeonjun says, “No.”

“Yes,” you say, stumbling back away from him with a shaking, accusatory finger pointed at him. “Yes you did.”

Fingers itching to reach out to you, he holds them back by curling them into fists. “No. That’s not fair. I have spent an eternity loving you. I spent the entirety of my immortal, monstrous life searching for you, just so that I might find you in any form. I would have been glad to find you as a leaf in a tree, as long as I found you. But, then, I find you alive. Alive and back, as if… it never happened.” He steps toward you, aching to be near you. His voice wavers. “Please, don’t do this to me, love. Please, just let me have you again. I’ve waited… I’ve waited and I’ve waited, and I finally have you, and now you’re looking at me like I… Like I’d ever hurt you. Finding death—finally getting to die would be worth nothing if you weren’t there with me. It was never about that.”

“I could never love you,” you say, matching his steps forward with steps away from him. “I could never love a monster that does… Does nothing but kill. Take.”  You know your words are cruel, but you need them to be. You need him to hurt, you need him to go so far away from you that never again will you cause another living thing’s death. 

“You did.” Yeonjun’s mouth cracks into a pained smile, sharp at the corners. “You loved me just as much as I love you, once.”

“Just leave me. Leave me, and I wish to never see you again. If you love me, then you’ll give me that.” 

He looks at you, clever eyes intense and glassy, for a long time. And then he says, “Would that make you happy? Would it make it so that you could live a happy life, and find yourself something to live for?”

What’s left for you? A small village that won’t ever embrace you? No, it wouldn’t fix your life. But you open your mouth and tell him, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks reverently. He swallows in your features, running over them for what he knows is the last time he’ll be seeing you—the very last time he’ll see the face of his undying love. When he finally opens his mouth again, his voice is gentle. “I’ll leave you. If my being here hurts you, then I won’t be selfish. I love you, darling.”

Don’t go, you want to tell him. Please don’t leave. Please, hold me. But your mouth is dry, and you let the radiant hurt in your chest stop you. You let him go.

༺ ꘏ ༻

There’s only one place you can think of going to. It’s the only place your vagrant feet take you.

His spot still is held sacred by the flattened, gold wheat stalks. Your best friend, still living here on Earth in at least one way even if he’s not here to listen to your stupid rambling. And he would maybe complain, but he’d always listen.

The last thing you’d done was fight with him. What an awful thing—what an awful way to repay him for being the only one who ever dared to get close.

You sit in your spot, beside his, and rest your chin on your knees. If only the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. You’d deserve it.

What’s left for you? Is there a place in the world that would keep you happily once they see what you do? No. There is not. You wish you knew what to do; you wish you had somebody to ask.

Releasing a long, tight breath, you just sit and wait for something to give you answers. A gentle breeze makes your hair dance, but it does not whisper anything to your ears. Something’s circling over head, but it doesn’t caw in the cadence of his laughter.

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it.

Conceding, you begin to push yourself up from the ground. A rustle in between the foliage stops you before you stand.

A tawny hare leaps out in front of you. It sniffs around you, nose twitching. Then it stands back on its haunches. It stares straight at you, an intelligent light in its eyes that knits your brows. The wild thing stands there with a purpose that is uncharacteristic of a forest animal.

But entirely familiar in the face of your best friend. That shine in its eyes as it stands there, nose still twitching, makes your chest tighten up.

“Hey,” you say, as if it might answer you. Your eyes well up with hot tears again. Of course, it doesn’t. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, but you know that it’s him. That idiot, coming to show you that he’s okay in the afterlife—to visit one last time and to let you know that you shouldn’t worry for him or cry for him. Look at me, full of life once again, he seems to say. The hare blinks its beady eyes. It lingers there for a long time, the ease of peace found in his gaze that Soobin hadn’t had in this life, saying that there is still something waiting out there for us once we go. You reach out a hand. He does not flinch as you scratch behind his ear.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m glad to know you’re alright. I know what I need to do, now.”

He blinks.

You laugh a hoarse, breathy laugh, familiar in only the way that Soobin could achieve. “You look stupid.”

Indignantly, the hare stomps a bratty foot in a way reminiscent of one of Soobin’s huffs before it settles back down onto its forelegs and scurries off. He goes to live out this new form of life, because it’s true: life does not end in death. He’s shown you that.

Maybe, like this, he’ll find that pretty lady that loves him the way he deserves. That loser.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You spend only one night in your home and you know that what you’ve chosen is right. After spending your day out in the field, you sneak under night’s cover into your husk of a room and let yourself sleep there under the covers one last time. When morning breaks through the window, you gather your weary bones up and leave. 

You run into your mother on the way out. She doesn’t yell at you to leave, but her eyes have gone cold. Colder than you’re used to. You’ve killed again, in every way that counts. So you don’t bother with bidding her or any of them any grand goodbyes. You couldn’t handle the relief you might find falling over them, should you.

Plopping down to the floor, you take a few bites of the cheese and bread lathered in sweet jam that you’d swiped from the kitchen. The grass is long and willows in the wind, bending and dancing prettily. It’s so soft; you enjoy the feeling of it beneath your fingers in your quiet serenity. The scent of it, fresh over the baseness of dirt, you breathe into your lungs.

It would be the loveliest place to spend the rest of eternity.

For the first time, Yeonjun appears in front of you rather than behind you. He materializes from nothing, his elbow on his knee as casual as if he’d been sat there the whole time. The darkness beneath his eyes seems heavier, but then again you know that exact heaviness. It sits right in the very center of you.

You both are quiet for a bit. You let the tall grass whisper, instead.

“Bread?” you say and slant your lips into a smile. Bringing it up, you offer it to him.

His smile wrinkles his nose and curls at the edges. Entirely him. Yeonjun accepts the bread, ripping a bite out before throwing it away into the sea of green. Once he’s chewed, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with his sharp mouth. Your lips move over each other gently, save for an indulgent nip or bite here and there.

He pushes you back into a bed of sweetgrass, never letting your lips go. Not to breathe, not to say something that’ll pale in comparison to the sweetness of your mouths on one another. He kisses you until he’s had enough to fulfill a lifetime without it, and then some more.

“My love,” he whispers into your skin, his breath hot on your collarbone. “Mine,” he says, pressing a kiss into the column of your neck, and then he says it again with a hot kiss to the place where your dress suggests your breasts. He says it a handful more times as he pushes your skirts up your thighs. “My love forever. I waited for you so long, and I would do it again.” Lowering his voice to a honeyed whisper, he adds, “I would find you no matter what.”

Laughing softly, you run your fingers through his raven hair to better see his eyes. You know he would.

Gently giving you one more of his lingering kisses that make your skin tingle, right into your bare shoulder, he presses into you. You loose a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The beating in your chest slows to a content purr as he begins languid thrusts in and out of you, rolling pointedly and unhurried.

Yeonjun makes love to you in a thousand dusted kisses and sweet words, your hands holding each other’s soft edges. Yeonjun traces the lines of you, taking the pads of his thumb down your cheeks and your lips and then his hand over the swell of your breasts and down your belly and over your thighs. Clamping down on him as your belly grows tight in the way it had the first time you had done this, your thighs begin to shake.

 Breathlessly, as you hurdle over the edge, all that you can say is, “I love you, ‘Junnie.” 

Yeonjun smiles at you and then presses his face into your neck. He doesn’t even brace himself against the grass to chase his own peak. Neither of you want this to end; you want to hold on to this moment and let it span forever. Slowly, Yeonjun rolls up into you until his hips finally stutter and he cums into you, his cheeks pink. The weight of him above you as he shakes with your shared ecstasy, and even as you both have come down and are nothing but lazy, is the only thing in this world. He is the only thing in this world.

Once you’ve both evened your breathing out, you roll apart and face each other, still just two forms bending the grass into your shapes. Blinking slowly and digesting his features one at a time—the angle of his eyes, softened but never tamed, the line of his nose, the line of his mouth always so proud and playful, and that pretty dot below his left eye—you let them solidify fully in your mind.

“Yeonjun,” you say, finally meeting his eyes across from you. “I want to go. I’m ready.”

The gentle, knowing look that he gives you soothes over the way your heart begins to race in your chest in rebellion. “I know,” he says.

Of course he had known. Yeonjun had been called here to ferry you into the afterlife. He had known the moment he appeared in front of you that his last soul to reap would be you; an ironic circle of karma that should be cruel, but you two make it something sweet. Chewing on your lip, you will your hands to not shake as you curl toward him. You’re no longer scared of going. You know that if you’ll be with him, it will be okay. It won’t be so scary. A hot tear rolls down your temple and then drops into your hair. “Will you be with me? I won’t be there alone?”

He tucks some hair behind your ear reverently and then leaves his hand there. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”

You lay there for a long time. Chatting and giggling and just looking into each other's eyes, until your heart becomes slow and all you feel is the wind singing in your blood. Yeonjun presses one final kiss to your forehead.

Maybe, in some years, somebody might dig up your bones and find you immortalized like this in your love. Your bones bowing toward each other, as if even death were not enough to stop you from reaching for each other. Or maybe they’ll just find yours, and Yeonjun still curling into them how you know he will for an eternity more.

Either way, the going is still slow and gentle, as death always is.

🪶 ⦂ tears. omfg i cried writing this which could totally be me being a bitch baby but it DAMN. omfg.

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

▸ tׁׅagᥣׁׅ֪ꪱׁׅstׁׅ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , @izzyy-stuff , @miukuui , @lunesdesire , @sunoolver , @cherricola-star , @xylatox , @filmnings , @hearteyes4hobi , @hyunj00 , @kangtaehyunfan029 , @caratcakemoa, @usuallyunlikelyfox , @zi-vian , @brrytears , @stormy1408 , @soobabby , @nshmrarki , @dontwannacry04 if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[aakeysmash]

College Sukuna’s masterlist 🌱

What happens when you find yourself living in the same complex as Sukuna in college? Are you going to be able to have enough patience to deal with both him and his 9 year old brother Yuuji?

more thoughts on #college au

🌿 yuuji likes you more than him

🍄‍🟫 sukuna dealing with yuuji’s math homework

🦎 sukuna asks you to watch yuuji for him

🌰 first meeting with college sukuna and yuuji (smut)

🥒 take yuuji to school, become a gym weight

☕️ random cafè encounter turns into picking you up from a shift

🧩 you and sukuna take yuuji trick or treating

🍂 exam season and sugar baby talk

🍃 you and sukuna see each other at a party

🥮 sukuna lets yuuji wear his jersey (angst)

🎄 christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

🥧 maybes and sunscreen

🥝 a smoothie, but jealousy is the spice in it

🥔 sukuna can’t handle spicy food

🐢 yuuji calls you “mom”

🐫 teach yuuji about vaginas and sukuna will grant you a wish (he gets his nails done)

🪀 the first tattoo sukuna ever got? something yuuji did

🐎 you use sukuna as a bench at the gym

[youngsadlesbian]

helloooo!

i have a request for avenger!wanda and doctor!reader wherein wanda comes home from a mission late at night and comes home to reader sleeping on their bed. she thinks it’s just a normal night, until her phone is flooded with messages in the morning as her phone was automatically connected to their wifi. the messages were reader asking where wanda was, because it was their anniversary.

reader ignores her in the morning since she hasn’t been home in awhile, not even for their anniversary. theeeeeen, wanda makes it up to her when she gets home! basically hurt/comfort and angst angst angst.

thank yew!

- 🍂

BETWEEN LOVE AND DISTANCE | wanda maximoff x doctor!reader

summary: wanda returns home late from a mission, exhausted and unaware she missed your anniversary. the distance between you grows, and she desperately tries to fix what she broke.

a/n: thanks for the request. hope u like it!

word count: 1,1k

warnings: angst but with a happy ending.

The apartment was quiet. Unbearably so.

You sat curled up on the couch, your phone clutched in your hand. The dim glow of the screen was the only source of light in the darkened room, illuminating the unread messages you had sent hours ago.

"Wanda, where are you?" "Did you forget what today is?" "I’ve been waiting all night."

You swallowed hard, blinking against the burning in your eyes as you stared at the time. 1:32 AM.

She wasn’t coming.

You had spent the entire day convincing yourself otherwise.

You had left work early, picked out a dress Wanda always said she loved on you, cooked her favorite meal, and even bought a small cake—because today was supposed to be special.

Your anniversary.

One year together. One year of love, laughter, and promises whispered into the night.

But Wanda hadn’t shown up.

No call. No message. Nothing.

You had tried to be understanding. She was an Avenger, after all. Missions came up. Emergencies happened. But this was different. This wasn’t just any other night.

This was supposed to be your night.

By midnight, the hope had drained from you completely.

You blew out the candle on the untouched cake, packed away the dinner you had made, and slipped into bed alone, your heart aching with something heavier than disappointment.

And then, at 1:45 AM, the front door finally creaked open.

You didn’t move.

Wanda’s footsteps were soft as she entered the bedroom. She let out a tired sigh as she shrugged off her jacket, then paused when she noticed your still form beneath the covers.

She smiled softly, thinking it was just another late night after a mission. She climbed into bed, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before whispering, "I love you."

But you didn’t stir.

And she didn’t yet realize that you were wide awake, staring at the wall, too hurt to acknowledge her presence.

When Wanda woke up the next morning, she reached out instinctively—only to find the bed empty.

She frowned, sitting up as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The apartment smelled like coffee, but there was no usual morning greeting, no kiss to start the day.

Confused, she reached for her phone—only to freeze when she saw the screen.

37 unread messages.

Her heart sank as she scrolled through them.

"Happy anniversary." "I made dinner. It’s your favorite." "Where are you?" "Wanda?" "Did you forget?"

Guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave.

She threw the covers off and hurried out of the bedroom, her eyes immediately landing on you standing by the counter, pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

You didn’t look at her.

"Baby," Wanda started, voice thick with regret, "I—"

"You forgot," you interrupted, your tone flat.

Her chest tightened. "I didn’t mean to—"

"That doesn’t change the fact that you did."

Wanda took a cautious step closer. "Let me explain—"

You let out a small, humorless laugh, finally meeting her gaze. "Explain what, Wanda? That you were too busy to remember? That I waited all night for you to come home to me, only to realize that I wasn’t even a thought in your mind?"

Wanda’s face crumpled. "That’s not true."

You took a slow breath, shaking your head. "I just… I just needed you to be here."

Silence stretched between you.

Then, with a quiet sigh, you placed your coffee down and grabbed your bag.

"I have to go to work," you muttered, walking toward the door.

Wanda reached out, as if to stop you, but you stepped out before she could.

And then she was alone.

Wanda spent the entire day thinking about how much she had let you down.

The memory of your expression haunted her—the pain in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked ever so slightly when you had said, I just needed you to be here.

She had never seen you like that before.

Never once had you shut her out like this. Never once had she been the one responsible for that kind of pain in your eyes.

So, when evening came, Wanda knew she had to do more than just apologize.

She had to show you.

When you arrived home that night, the apartment was different.

Candles flickered along the shelves and dining table. The scent of your favorite meal filled the air. Soft music played in the background, the same playlist Wanda had made for you months ago.

Your breath caught as you took in the sight.

And then, there she was—standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by red roses, her hands clasped together nervously.

You hesitated, gripping the strap of your bag as you met her gaze.

Wanda swallowed hard before speaking.

"I messed up," she said softly.

You said nothing, waiting.

"I should have been here. I should have remembered. And the worst part is, I hurt you." Her voice wavered. "I never want to be the reason you feel like you don’t matter to me. Because you do. You always do."

Your throat tightened, but you held your ground. "Wanda, I know your work is important. I know that sometimes you have to put the world first. But last night… I needed to know that I mattered too."

Her eyes filled with regret. "You do. You’re my home. And I hate that I made you feel otherwise."

She took a careful step closer.

"Please, let me make it up to you."

You let out a slow breath, scanning the effort she had put into the night—the dinner, the roses, the candlelit warmth of the apartment.

After a moment, you nodded.

Relief flooded Wanda’s face.

She led you to the table, pulling out your chair before sitting across from you. As you took the first bite, the taste of your favorite meal melting on your tongue, Wanda reached across the table and took your hand in hers.

"I love you," she whispered.

And this time, you squeezed her hand back.

"I love you too."

After dinner, Wanda pulled you into the living room, where she swayed you gently to the rhythm of the music.

You sighed into her embrace, the last of your anger slipping away as her warmth surrounded you.

"You really felt bad about it, huh?" you murmured against her shoulder.

Wanda groaned. "I felt awful. I still do."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at her. "I’m still upset, you know."

"I know." She cupped your cheek, brushing a thumb across your skin. "But I also know that I’ll spend forever making sure you never feel like that again."

You searched her face, finding only sincerity. Devotion. Love.

And for the first time in twenty-four hours, your chest felt light again.

So, you smiled softly and whispered, "You’re lucky I love you, Maximoff."

A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned in. "Believe me, I know."

And as she kissed you, slow and lingering, you knew that—despite everything—you would always find your way back to each other.

[linoxpudding]

MASTERLIST

a/n: hello puddings, welcome to my blog 💜 I write for skz only and here's my guidelines for fic requests!

upcoming fics list

requests are CLOSED (feel free to send your thoughts about the fics but currently i won't be taking any new requests) pls be nice, we're all here to escape reality

enjoy reading ♡

anons- 🍂, 💋, 🧠, 🥭, 🌸

genre(s): angst 💔, hurt/comfort ❤️‍🩹, fluff 💘, humor 🩵

Dad!SKZ Masterlist: HERE

Fake Texts & Fics

OT8

Fake Texts:

Confessions Hyung Maknae 💘

Dad!SKZ Hyung Maknae 💘

Pranks - ◇ we need to talk. ◇ she's busy rn 🩵

Needy Baby 💘

"I Want A Baby" Hyung Maknae 💘

He Prioritizes His Girl BSf Hyung Maknae 💔❤️‍🩹

Gold Digger (Maknae) part one part two 💔❤️‍🩹

Dating The Boss' Kid 🩵

He Hides His Idol Status Hyung Maknae 💔

Drunken Confession part one part two 💘🩵

Blurbs:

First Kisses 💘

Falling For You 💘

Bang Chan

Fake Texts:

Gold Digger part 1 ● part 2 💔❤️‍🩹

Possessive Much? 💔❤️‍🩹

Mixed Signals 💔❤️‍🩹

Not Enough 💔

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Our Little Miracle (Dad!SKZ) 💘

Love That Remained. (Dad!SKZ) 💔❤️‍🩹💘

Breaking Point 💔❤️‍🩹

Lee Know

Fake Texts:

Tour Longings 💘❤️‍🩹

Gold Digger part 1 ● part 2 💔❤️‍🩹

Birthday Surprise (ft. the whole skz squad) ❤️‍🩹💘

Breakup part 1 ● part 2 (written) 💔❤️‍🩹

Possessive Much? 💔💘

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘🩵

Not A Date (written + text) 💘🩵

Like Father, Like Son (Dad!SKZ) 💘🩵

Written In The Stars part 1 ● part 2 💔❤️‍🩹 bonus 💘

Accidental Kiss (written + text) 💘🩵

Fading Love [4 Part Series] (Dad!SKZ) 💔❤️‍🩹💘

Intern part one <ongoing>

Seo Changbin

Fake Texts:

Gold digger part 1 ● part 2 💔❤️‍🩹

Fics:

Morning Cuddles (Dad!SKZ) 💘

Kitchen Chaos 💘🩵

Hwang Hyunjin

Fake Texts:

Forgotten Dates 💔❤️‍🩹

Gold digger part 1 ● part 2 💔❤️‍🩹

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Midnight Wish 💘

Han Jisung

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Fashionably Jealous (written + text) ❤️‍🩹💘🩵

Second Chances (Dad!SKZ) 💔❤️‍🩹

Panic Attack (written + text) 💔❤️‍🩹

Double Trouble (Dad!SKZ) 💘🩵

Lee Felix

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Breakup (written + text) 💔

Kim Seungmin

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Matchmaking Mission (written + text) 💘🩵

Yang Jeongin

Fake Texts:

Insecurities part 1 • part 2 💔❤️‍🩹

Birthday Boy 💘🩵

Fics:

Morning Cuddles 💘

Spaces Between Us (written + text) 💔❤️‍🩹

[d-z20]

Hey MTV welcome to my crib…

Hello, howdy, hi! So glad you’ve made it :)

Where you’ll find me: here obviously :P @bookshelf-of-z is my side blog that is purely the fics I read and write. I’m also on AO3 as blob_ross. (If you find my work on any other platform, please tell me because it’s stolen)

Asks are open if you want a chinwag or any other interaction with me—adults only if it's a nsfw topic (Claimed anons: 🗿 😼 🌕 🍷 🐙 ☆ 🍑 🏳️ worm 🍂 🐦‍⬛ 🍓 💫)

I do take (and love) requests: requests currently closed It can be a vague idea, a detailed plan, pic inspo, or a song the choice is yours :) Please state if you want smut and unless you specify, reader will be vers&switch. What I won’t write: real people, characters that are a minor, characters portrayed by a minor (even if character is 18+), paedophilia, incest, racism, beastiality, explicit animal cruelty, 'barely legal' age themes.

Masterlist:

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

A Sword Called Regret - series, hurt, comfort, fluff, hurt, angst, hurt (in that order)

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness - pre-canon series, smut chapters

Echoes Of The Past - hurt/comfort

Rio Vidal x Reader

The Agent Next Door (NSFW) - smut, comfort, fluff, agnst Part: 1 | 2 | 3

Heavy Hits, Soft Touches (NSFW) - angst, hurt, comfort, smut Part: 1 | 2

A Favour Owed (NSFW) - smut

Caught in the Crosshairs (NSFW) - hurt, smut, fluff

Rivals (NSFW) - smut Part: 1 | 2

Her Game, Your Rules (NSFW) - smut

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Breaking Point - angst, hurt, comfort

What We Have Left - hurt, comfort

Not Like Before (NSFW) - smut

Saved from the Dark - hurt, comfort

The Witch's Plaything (NSFW) - darkhold Agatha smut

A Risk of Ruin (NSFW) - smut

Extra Credit (NSFW) - smut, fluff kinda Part: 1 | 2

Hers and Hers Alone - angst

One Last Drink (NSFW) - dark, smut (dub/non-con)

Yield and Obey (NSFW) - smut

A Strange Kind of Healing (NSFW) - minor angst, smut, comfortish

More Than You Will Ever Know (NSFW) - angst, hurt, comfort, smut

The Therapist's Touch (NSFW) - dark, smut (dubcon)

Sharing is Caring (NSFW) - smut, happy feelings

For Your Own Good (NSFW) - fluff, smut

I'd Hit That (NSFW) - soft smut, kind of fluffy

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Neighbourly Care (NSFW) - pure unadulterated smut Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

The Familiar's Return (NSFW) - smut with happy feelings

The Games We Play (NSFW) - smut as per usual

Resistance is Futile (NSFW) - dark, smut, angst kind of

From Jealousy, Comes a Flood (NSFW) - smut, fluff if you squint

Made to Suffer, Made to Serve (NSFW) - smut

Venus in Bloom (NSFW) - smut

Where Our Hands Linger (NSFWish) - non-explicit smut, fluff

Where There’s Anger, There’s Still Love (NSFW) - minor angst, smut

Lilia Calderu x Reader

A Lesson in Witchcraft (NSFW) - smut, smidge of fluff

Misc:

Jennifer Barkley x Reader

After Hours (NSFW) - smut shocking I know

Avis Amberg x Reader

A Taste of Obedience (NSFW) - smut

[m0chis-cafe]

Hii! Can I request a headcanon reaction of vice dorm leaders with their S/O being jealous since another girl is hitting on them? S/O doesn't outright confront but is obviously fuming in the sidelines. Glaring bullets the the girl

Thank you in advance!

oh absoulty! ive been waiting for someone to request the vice-housewardens, I love them sm (I'm excluding ortho from this). some stray a little, but i also think that with some of them this wouldnt be a real issue

i know nightraven is all boys, bare with me here chat

vice-housewardens would react to you being jealous..⋆⑅˚₊

word count:

warnings: small amounts of angst (feeling insecure or inadequate as a partner), a whole lotta fluff to compensate, kissing, swearing, teasing, slightly suestive in some parts

characters: trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, and lilia

trey clover♣️

-would be so sweet and understanding

-wouldnt mind at all and reasure you afterwards very calmly

-doesnt even give you a chance to feel shitty about anything

-bakes you a little treat and lets you jst sit on the counter while he baes and tells you all about how much he only has eyes for you

when you agreed to acompany trey and riddle to their hometown over a break, you hadent imagined that youd run into a childhood friend of theirs. a girl that helped around with them a lot, and grew up with them. at first it was fine.. until she started putting her hand on treys shoulder, hitting his arm a lot, fluttering her eyelashes at him.. and than suddenly it wasent ok.

you now sat fumming in the corner of his family owned bakery, muchning on a pastry he had made just for you- but sudenly the sweet taste of the berries tasted bitter as you watched their childhood friend attemt to kekindle an old grade-school crush.

riddle leaned agasnt the wall next to you, a smirk placed on his lips as his arms crossed over his chest. you glared up at him before he could even speak, "imma stop you right there riddle.. im- im fine." he looked like he was about to laugh hysterically at your red face, "you look as red as i usually do. she really got under your skin that much prefect?"

as you continued to glare daggers at their childhood friend, you didnt even noticed trey glance at you. he quickly noticed that you seemed annoyed adn asked her to leave, with much resistance she fianlly left. only then did you relize him appraching you, "you seem upset love.." he smiled softly at you.

you let out a small huff, leaning foward to bury your face in his chest, "you know im not mad at you..". you leaned more into him as you felt his chest rumbling with hims humming, his fingers laced into your hair, soothing you so quickly it was stupid.

you lifted your head to look at him, gazing into his eyes, "you owe me so many pastries for that very stressful experience, clover". he leaned down and pecked your nose, mumbling against your skin, "whatever youd like from me, i will give my dear."

ruggie bucchi🍂

-is so oblivious to anything initaially

-takes the flirting straight to his ego (until jack slaps him on the back of the head and tells him to go comfort his partner)

-trys to apologize profusley with gifts and all sorts

you were sat in the bleachers, watching another spell drive game that ruggie had asked you to watch. you were sat with ace, duece, and grimm as you witnessed savanaclaw destroying the other team. your whole focus was on ruggie as he smiled and blew kisses to you each time he scored.

it was so dorky, but also so cute; minus ace gagging every time it happened.

by the time the game was over the trio went down to the field to meet up with ruggie, you searched for a while before seeing leona, "leona! hey, where's ruggie?" he looked down at you unimpressed, but pointed a finger behind him. when you shuffled to look behind him you saw a girl talking to him, holding his arm, and trying to flirt with him. and suddenly you understood why leona looked upset when you asked..

"ohh.. prefects gonna kill him." you heard ace mumbled behind you before grimm jumped up on your back, "ive been telling you hes no good henchhuman, he never shares his food with me.." you rolled your eyes at the glutton of a direbeast you got stuck with before grabbing him off you and handing him to duece.

you calmly walked over to them and stood beside ruggie, a blank expression on your face, "hey, can i help you?" as you slip a hand into his. you watch her expression grow sour as she rolls her eyes adn turns away from you both.

you hear him chuckle nervously before you even look at him, "baby, listen to me- shes a crazed fan.. i swear". you drop his hand and stand in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest. "no c'mon, dont give me the disappointed look" he whined, wrapping his arms around your waist and slumping into you.

you sighed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, as you did you felt him smile into your neck before picking you up and spinning you around, "your the best partner ever, she doesnt even compare baby, promise". you giggled as he set you down, a small smile now on your face, "fine fine, but i expect you to get grimm food the rest of the month" you watched as his face fell and you knew hed never entertain another girl ever, even for his ego.

jade leech🍄

-he relizes pretty quickly

-plays into it for a while, but gets bored of her quickly cause she aint you

-teases you for feeling envious at all

-kisses you all over to make up for it

you were working a shift at the monstro lounge with the twins. it was an especially loudly and busy night because it was a friday, everyone was excited to have a few days off of school. so it left you working more hours than usual with floyd and jade, running back and forth to drop off drinks whie they handled food.

eventually azul told you to take a break because you looked like death. so you ended up sitting down in the back area of the lounge, sipping on a water. it was so peaceful before floyd barged through the door and almost made you drop your glass, 'floyd-" "shrimpy!".

you smiled at his antics, rolling your eyes at his volume. he crouched in front of you with a big smile, "you should wrap up your break.. jades with a girl out there~". you quirked an eyebrow at him, "seriously? thats all you got today, your usually much better with your bits floyd.."

he huffed and rolled his eyes at you before dragging you up, pushing you to look out the window in the door leading back to the lounge, "ah- floyd! seriously i just wanna take my break.. c'mon-" you got cut off on the view of a girl in a long dress with a long slit sitting at a raised table, seemingly flirting with jade as he stood there and smiled at her.

you could hear floyd giggling behind you, "oh~ shrimpys mad", you turned and glared at him, "go get him, and bring him here please" he smiled brodly and left quickly (such a suck up for drama). you sat to the side as you watched floyd drag his brother into the back room.

he smiled when he saw you, "hello, my pearl." you look at him unimpressed, arms crossed across your chest. floyd got the vibe and slipped out of the room, when he did jade stridded across the room to you, "why the face darling?" as he slipped his arms around your waist.

you quickly pointed a finger at him, "nu uh, your not getting out of this that easily leech". he tilited his head at you, "get out of what?" your blank stare in responce was enough to make him laugh as he retsed his head in the crook of your neck, placing small kisses up to your jaw, "i promise it was nothing.."

you sighed, lacing a hand through the hair at the base of his neck as he came to face you, gazing into your eyes before placing a kiss on your lips, "does this make it better.." he mumbled against your lips. you rolled your eyes, pulling him back by his collar.

when you pulled back you noticed he had a small blush on his cheeks, "now were even". you tried to walk back to the lounge with a smug smile on your lips, only to be pulled back by your wrist and back into his embrace, "your not getting away that easily darling.." he murmured against your jaw. and suddenly it was hard to remember why you were even mad..

jamil viper🐍

-doesnt even entertain the other girl, just kinda stands there with a blank face

-is disgusted by a person flirting with him that isnt you

-your not even there, or really aware, cause he just looks so disgusted by their presence you assume its someone annoying him

-your the reasonable one here

kalim had thrown another party at the scarabia dorms, so while jamil stayed in the kitchen and made a majoroty of the food you offered to stay out with everyone else and basically babysit kalim for him. so it left you sat in the lounge of scarabia with a drink in hand, sat on a pillow next to kalim as he eagerly chatted with dorm members about their classes and coming plans.

every once and a while youd see jamil come out with more food or refilling drinks, and that was your favorite part of the night cause hed come give you a kiss on the top of your head without fail. a small thank you for watching kalim for him.

but as you watched him come out again, you watched a girl grab him by the arm and pull him to her as she talked in his ear. you also watched a face of disgusted take over his features as he yanked his arm away and didnt say a word to her, retreating back to the kitchen.

you tugged on kalim cardigan sleeve, "hey.. kal.. whos that girl?" you pointed to her as you asked, he made a face before responding, "some weird girl, i dont really know her. or why shes here actually.." he tapped a finger to his chin in thought, "nah cant remember!" as he smiled at you before going back to his conversation.

you rolled your eyes and settled back into the pillows behind you, sipping on your drink. after a couple minutes you felt a familiar arm wrap arund your shoulders from the other side that kalim wasent on. glancing over you saw your boyfriend, you leaned into his side smiling, "giving yourself a break for once viper?"

he shuddered and stuck his tongue out, "i wish, no, some girl wont leave me alone" you almost burst out laughing on the spot, "i saw.. she seemed into you. you dont know her?" he immediately shook his head, "ew, fuck no. and she keeps following me and its gross." you laced your hand through his that dangled from your shoulder and smiled, "you cant even be civil and have a conversation to tell her to leave u alone?"

he looked down at you like you told him to curse his whole dorm(well shit..), "what? absolutely not." you quirked an eyebrow at him, "why not?" as you asked you heard kalim speak up beside you, "because shes not you prefect! he wont talk to anyone really that isnt you or if he has to" he gave you a smile and turned back to his conversation.

you looked back to jamil with a smirk, "your such a softie.." he turned away with a slight flush on his cheeks, "whatever.." you smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek, "its fine, i love it". he turned back and sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead, mumbling against your skin, "love you too alhabib.." (its beloved in arabic).

rook hunt🪶

-entertains it until he relizes that theyre actually flirting with him

-kinda just lets them talk it out than explains hes taken and goes to you

-messes with them for flirting with him in the first place

you sat in the cafeteria with vil, epel, jamil, and kalim, you were all talking about rehersals for the upcoming singing and dancing competition. you were too invested in the conversation that you hadent realized that rook was still missing until epel spoke up, "hey kalim, you had a class with him, do you know where rook is?" you watched as he thought for a moment and shook his head, "havent seen him since we left class, sorry"

it was weird.. he was never late, "hey im gonna go look for him, fill me in later epel!" you called behind you as you grabbed your bag and left the cafeteria. wandering the halls you kept your ears open, you knew your boyfriend was loud and it would be the first thing you could notice.

as you turned a corner you finally heard him in the cortyard, as well as a.. girl? peeking around the corner you saw a girl talking to him as he sat there with a blank face.. was she hitting on him? after a couple seconds you watched as he smiled and laughed at her a little, patted her shoulder and started walking in your direction.

you ducked behind the wall and tried to act as natural as possible. when he came around you called him out, "rook, hey..". he jumped a little adn turned towards you, "oh! mon cheri! how are you? come to look for me?" you crossed your arms over your chest at his words, giving him a skeptical look.

he continued to smile at you, grabbing your hands and uncorossing your arms, "why so cross cheri?". you sighed and explained what you had saw, when you were done you heard him laughing at you, wait- what, laughing? "oh my, you misunderstand. she was confused, she didnt relize i had you". you sighed, leaning into his side, "your lucky i belive you.." he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, tucking you close, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "i only have eyes for you mon cheri"

lilia vanrouge🦇

-teases the girl for hitting on him ("you didnt know? im already married?")

-dismisses her so quickly its not even funny

-like jamil, your not even there or aware cause when you are he never leaves you and makes it atrociously clear your together

-hangs on you for the rest of the night saying how scary the other girl was and being a little drama queen

-i imagine him as being so attached to you that other girls hitting on him is just funny becuase hes so damn devoted to you

you sat in the lounge of diasmonia with sebek and silver, you helped them with their recent potions assignment. when they had finally gotten it you grabbed the book you were reading and picked up where you left off. malleus sat on his own chair, reading a recent book you had recommended to him. you normally be with lilia but he was finishing up running some errands and you decided to stay in the dorm and wait for him.

you didnt even hear him coming back to the dorm, the first thing you felt was a breath on your neck and you knew he was back, "hello my love.." you kept your eyes trained on your book as you watched silver and sebeks necks snap up and see him there, both equally confused on how you knew before they did, "lilia! your back already!"

you winced slightly, "not so loud seb, please" he immediately apologized, he held you to as much respect as he did lilia. you sighed as you felt said man plop onto the couch next to you, rolling his head into your lap. wrapping his arms around your hips as he buried his face into your shirt, "it was horrible dear" he wailed quietly, muffled by your clothes.

you gently ran a hand through his hair, continuing to read your book as you indulged him, "what happened now?" he rolled over, his face upwards. you moved your book to look down into his eyes with a skeptical look, "there was a girl, and she hit on me" you faked a gasp, "my poor boy, whatd she do?" being so used to his antics.

he floated up, flinging his arms around for theatrics, "she was trying to ask me to get coffee" you placed a hand over your mouth in fake shock, "and whatd you tell her?". he hung upside down and placed a kiss on your lips, pulling back slightly with bright eyes and a smile showing his fangs, "that i already have a beautiful wife at home". you rolled your eyes smiling, "thats my husband".

"that was so brave lilia!" (sebek in the background crying at his bravery)