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marthawrites · 7 months

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

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#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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deepdarkdelights · 2 years

Text

The Reaper | Jungkook x Reader

Pairing: Yandere Mercenary Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Lots of Blood, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jungkook), Mild Smut, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Decapitation, Throats are Slit, Wolf Attacks

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: “With your skirts drawn up over your thighs, the skin raised with goosebumps from the cool spring air, his hand retreated only to return with what looked like a stamp but where the rubber should have been, there were instead tiny needles all coated with bright red ink. Before you could begin to squirm again he quickly pressed it against the side of your thigh pulling a pained cry from your throat.

When he removed the faux stamp beads of blood rose to the surface of your skin, blending with the red ink that has been left behind. But the image imprinted on your skin was clear as day, a symbol your town had come to associate with fear: a skull pierced by a sword and ensnared by a snake. It was the mark of the reaper.

You had been marked for death.”

A/N: Here I am at almost three in the morning again lol. This is super UNEDITED but I will edit it tomorrow so please bear with me when it comes to any grammatical errors. I HUSTLED to get this done before classes start Monday so hopefully the quality did not suffer. This also ended up being 4-6k longer than intended. Very on brand. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments, love you 💜💜💜

It was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but your stomach was twisted in knots.

You were one of the lucky ones, at least that was what your father had told you when he excitedly grabbed hold of your hands with a winning smile.

“A diamond in the rough,” He had whispered in awe, “How lucky I am to have had such a beautiful daughter born out of this village.”

It is true that none of us have a say as to what family we are born into, and that couldn’t be any more true for you. You were born into a poor family in a dilapidated village in the woods, you had been destined to live a destitute life like everyone else who had come before you. But you were happy. You enjoyed your spring days running barefoot through the Brooke, the lingering heat of summer nights beneath the stars, the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot, and the bite of cold winter wind against your cheeks. You adored the simplicity of the only life you had ever known and you never wanted for more.

But oftentimes, parents desired more for their children, more than they ever had. And that was why your father had jumped at the chance to marry you off to a visiting lord.

Had you not entered the forest that day to forage, maybe you would not have ended up in this situation. But you had so there was no point in dwelling on the alternate possibilities of what could have come to pass rather than what actually had.

~~~~~~~

You had always been warned about the danger of the woods growing up, but those warnings had been about wolves, bears, and mountain lions. There had been one dangerous animal you had ignored, one you walked amongst every day: men.

You had been sitting down in the soft grass, your legs folded beneath you at the knee as you carefully plucked berries from the bush, your cupped palms pouring them into the basket beside you when he had approached. At first, you considered that you had been so focused you had not heard him follow you, but you soon came to understand that he had been perfectly silent - his body so trained to move in stealth that even the woods would not give him away.

A firm arm wrapping around your waist and the cool glide of metal against your throat startled a shriek from you as your body flinched back only causing you to corral yourself into his arms, your back pressed against his solid chest as the knife posed at your neck barred you from moving.

You panted in fright, your eyes clenching shut as you felt his lips brush over the shell of your ear while he hushed you and cooed like you were a little injured animal.

“Stay still, little lamb, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, his voice low and rhythmic as he spoke a language you had no way of understanding.

“I don’t understand,” You said after an uncomfortable swallow, your neck tense beneath the blade of the knife.

“There are many things you can’t understand, not yet, the hunt hasn’t begun.” He said with an amused chuckle.

The humor was lost on you, his words nothing more than a jumbled mess of sounds strung together that you were unable to decipher. His actions though, were readable. You jerked in surprise as his knifeless hand slid down your body, tugging your layers of skirts up over your knees and not stopping there.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You cried, your legs kicking frantically as you grabbed his forearm and tried to still it.

You were quick to learn that he was incredibly strong as your grasp did nothing to dissuade him. Another laugh vibrated through his chest and against your back, he was clearly amused by your thrashing which only served to send chills down your spine. He pressed the blade harder against your skin, the metal just barely piercing the soft, vulnerable flesh causing your body to go rigid in fear that he would slit your throat.

“Good girl,” He hummed, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheekbone in what felt like an almost affectionate gesture. “Be still,”

With your skirts drawn up over your thighs, the skin raised with goosebumps from the cool spring air, his hand retreated only to return with what looked like a stamp but where the rubber should have been, there were instead tiny needles all coated with bright red ink. Before you could begin to squirm again he quickly pressed it against the side of your thigh pulling a pained cry from your throat.

You had been marked for death.

A pained cry of devastation filled the forest, a sound that had unwillingly left you that was not unlike the call of a wounded animal. Out of everyone in your village, why had you been chosen to die? Who would have paid the hefty price to target a quiet village girl?

You knew what came next, you were going to be hunted down. That was what they did - they marred the flesh of their victim so that they could find them if by some miracle they had found a way to run away. And that meant the runner would have an entire band of reapers on their tail, chasing them until they grew too tired to continue running and were unwillingly dispatched - their soul severed from the body in one fell swoop of a blade.

You weren’t going to survive this, no one ever did. And why would you be the exception?

The reaper behind you hummed in what he attempted to make a soothing manner as he lowered his knife from your throat, the hand that once held the horrific stamp was now freely caressing your arm in short smooth strokes.

“Did it hurt that badly, little lamb?” He whispered in what you now knew to be the coded language of the reapers.

There was no way you would ever be able to understand what he was saying and he knew that so why did he bother speaking to you in his language at all? Why didn’t he speak the villages’ language? At least then you could understand what he was planning to do to you, and your wild imagination was only frightening you more than what he had done so far.

His fingers brushed your tears away, they were long, nimble, and calloused, the perfect tools to wield an arsenal of weaponry but were instead attempting to soothe you. You were utterly confused.

“Don’t cry, this is a happy day, you’ll see that soon I promise you.” He spoke softly, his hands gently cupping your face and allowing you to face him as his thumbs continued to swipe the tears away.

Your vision was blurry making it difficult to identify him, your body still shaking with frightened hiccups. You could make out the honey hue of his smooth skin and the dark strokes of coal around his eyes as well as the black leather and linen that covered his body. You could tell that he was young and most definitely strong, his linens straining against the cords of muscle that built his shoulders. Even with your limited vision, you were able to tell that he was perfectly sculpted to be a reaper, a hired killer to whoever offered the highest price.

His fingers lightly traced down the length of your jaw before freezing, his entire body stiffening like he had heard something you were not able to hear. And you were exactly right, he had heard the incoming party of hunters.

You heard him unsheathe his sword before you had seen it, the sound of metal slicing through the air as he wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side.

It took a moment before you heard it, but the sound of hooves was unmistakable. And, a few short seconds later, the first horse broke through the trees before being followed by a band of its fellows. Seated astride the first horse was a man that was near your father’s age, his clothing refined and expensive along with the gold and jeweled rings that covered his fingers. And the sigil he bore on his horse was enough to confirm your suspicions - he was the lord of the land.

Your body sagged in relief and, as a result, relaxed against the strong chest of your captor whose grip only tightened further. You were going to be saved.

“Release the girl, or suffer the consequences.” The Lord spoke, his voice still and commanding.

The man behind you was motionless, his breathing steady and calm despite the massive hunting party that was armed to the teeth staring him down.

“I won’t tell you again,” The lord called, and with that, his men raised their bows and notched their arrows - all waiting for the command to fire.

The reaper leaned forward, his warm breath beside your ear as he whispered the only words he has been permitted to say, “When the time comes, I will find you.”

And with that, he threw a small pouch with lightning speed, the fabric unraveling as it met the ground and releasing a massive and unrelenting stream of dark plumes of smoke blinding everyone in its vicinity - giving him the perfect cover to slip away.

Your eyes teared up as the smoke cleared, whatever powder had ignited had greatly irritated your eyes and filled your lungs with smoke causing the hunting party and yourself to violently cough away the burning sensation in your throats and chests.

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you recovered from the unexpected attack. You were shocked that you were alive more than anything else. It had been a twist of fate and a shot of luck that a highborn had traveled this far into the land and because of that, you were alive. But for how much longer, you were unaware. The mark on your thigh still stung, demanding its presence be known. With that mark, you were as good as dead. No, you were a walking corpse - it was only a matter of time before the reapers came for you.

The sudden appearance of a hand before your face startled you back to reality causing you to fall back onto your rear in an embarrassing display of clumsiness.

It was him, Lord Ilseong.

“Are you unharmed?” He asked, concern heavy in his eyes.

You gratefully took his hand and allowed him to help you to your feet before bowing your head to him and bending at the knee in a show of respect, your eyes trained to the ground.

“Thank you,” Your voice wavered, heavy with emotion, “You saved my life, I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

Lord Ilseong hummed in appreciation at the sight of your submission, “How unusual, someone of your status who understands etiquette.”

Your blood warmed in irritation from his remark, despite the heroic actions he was like every other highborn of the land. They saw the people of your village as uncouth, dirty, and uneducated. You were surprised he hadn’t wiped his hand after helping you up.

You flinched in surprise as your chin was held still once more today by his hand. The creases around his eyes deepened as he smiled, turning your head from side to side to appraise you.

“Why you don’t look like the common peasantry at all,” He said with an amused grin and lecherous eyes, “In fact, you are quite the beauty.”

“Thank you, my lord,” You forced the words out from a strained smile. You knew better than to disrespect a high born, lest your head would be swiftly removed and your family slaughtered from your careless wrath.

One of the firmest lessons you had learned had been how to control your anger. Village people were expendable and you were not special.

“Well trained,” He mused before releasing you from his hold, “I think I know just how you can repay me, my dear.”

You were suddenly struck by the thought that you had escaped one dangerous trap only to wander into another.

Lord Ilseong and his men had escorted you back home. The entire process was quite the spectacle, especially for the village people as you returned astride the horse of the lord of the land. He had helped you up and sat you directly in front of him, his one hand holding the reigns and the other settled on your waist. It had put you in an uncomfortable position, you couldn’t pull away from his wandering touch or you would tumble off of the horse. You had nearly collapsed in relief upon returning to your shack, your body slipping down the side of the horse and making for the front door in record time.

Your stomach turned when he followed you inside. He had greeted your father enthusiastically who in turn fell to his knees in a deep bow. You rushed to his side and slid your arms beneath his, helping him rise back up to his feet.

It was then that the horrible deal was made.

“I have saved your daughter’s life and in turn, I expect to be repaid.” He said after he recounted the tale of your rescue to your father.

“Repaid, my lord?” Your father asked, his voice wavering in fright, “I am afraid there isn’t much we lowly peasants could offer you.”

“It is not money I require, nor land, nor tax,”

“Then…what more could you request?”

“Your daughter’s hand, assuming she is untouched of course.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as soon as his words met your ears. Lord Ilseong was not much younger than your father, in fact, you were certain that had your father not been subjected to decades of hard labor he would not look as aged as he did now, his stature would resemble that of his lords’.

The sickness that brewed in your stomach was only made worse by the elation present on your father’s face. You could tell what he was thinking, being the father of the lady of the land would ensure the end of his days of work. He could find comfort and peace until the end of his days.

“But of course,” Your father nodded excitedly, “Forgive my questioning, but what could you want with a peasant girl?”

“The previous lady was unable to birth me a son before her untimely passing. Your daughter is young and not nearly as uncouth as the rest of this village and her upbringing while unfit for that of a lady has no doubt made her strong. She will surely give me many children, and with training, we shall break her into the life of a lady.”

You stood there, floored by the conversation that transpired before you. Your maidenhood and your liveliness were being haggled as if you had no say as if you weren’t even there. He spoke of breaking you like a mare and reducing you to nothing more than a child bearer.

“She has certainly passed marrying age, I am doing you an immense favor by marrying her, really.”

“An immense favor, indeed,” Your father mused, his hand cupping his chin as he pretended to be deep in thought despite already having made his decision, “Consider it done.”

You felt as if you were on the verge of fainting.

“Excellent, I shall send for my new bride in a week's time, until then I shall make preparations for the ceremony,” He said with a triumphant grin that told you that he was all too accustomed to getting what he wanted. “Until then, my dear.”

In a matter of moments, your life had been irrevocably changed. And at that moment, you desperately hoped that the reaper would find you first and dispatch you before Lord Ilseong would ever have the chance of taking you.

You shivered in disgust as the lord left a parting kiss on your hand before shutting the door after him. You frantically wiped your knuckles against your patched skirts before running to your room. You could hear your father calling after you, demanding you to stop but you did not listen.

The yelling only continued when your mother returned home. You could hear your parents fighting the entire night, your father raising his voice over your mothers as he explained what this marriage could do for your family. Your mother understood your plight, she too was against the idea of your being wed to a man twice, almost thrice your age.

But at the end of the day, your father’s decision reigned supreme. There was a hierarchy to all things, to society, to work, and of course to families. You were to be wed, regardless of your and your mother’s protests.

Your fingers traced over the red-inked mark on your thigh, the imprint of the reaper still there with nowhere else to go. You relayed your thoughts as you traced the mark, a mantra barely parting your lips as you begged for the reaper to find you first.

Your index finger traced the lower curve of the circle that surrounded the symbol, and just there you could feel the raised bumps of a word, of a name.

Jungkook.

~~~~~~~

That was what had landed you where you were now, seated in a carriage sent by Lord Ilseong and dressed in pristine, elaborate robes.

It was your wedding day, it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life but you could not help but entertain the thought of throwing yourself from the carriage and allowing your body to be crushed beneath its wheels. While that seemed dramatic, you knew that the only way you could escape that old man was by death. He was a Lord, he took what he wanted and didn’t stop until he obtained it, and that included yourself.

Your stomach churned with nausea, not only from the ceaseless swaying of the transportation but from the ever-present anxiety you had felt all week which had come to a climax on this very day.

Perhaps, if you were lucky, he would take many mistresses and would be satisfied with them after you birthed him a son and he would leave you alone for the rest of your days. And maybe if you were even luckier he would die within ten years' time - stricken by disease or the halt of his heart. But you could only dream, dreaming would get you through this inevitable endless nightmare.

The reaper had not come to save your soul.

That was what you had reasoned, your untimely death would save your soul from being tainted by his lordship. You would much rather die young than be bound to that man for the remainder of his days. You would much rather be impaled by the cool steel of a blade than ever allow him to touch you again.

You allowed your body to go limp against the side of the carriage, the cool spring breeze soothing over your face like a gentle caress. You were in the thick of the woods now, the winding branches of the trees casting twisted shadows over everything below them. They looked like snares just waiting for the right prey to wander into them.

After that thought entered your mind, everything changed. In the blink of an eye, an array of arrows were let loose, flying into the wheels of the carriage and sending it careening off to its side.

You shrieked in surprise and fright as the carriage was easily tipped over, your body following immediately causing you to slam down all of your weight against your right shoulder and the other carriage door which now lay against the ground.

You cried out in pain as your body thrummed in shock from the fall, your head ringing from the collision against the door. You could feel a stickiness in your hair causing you to raise your hand to touch your scalp, and when your fingers retreated they were coated with thick, red, blood.

A gurgled scream had you snapping back to awareness. That had to have been the driver, you could just faintly make out his form, from the small slatted windows toward the front of the carriage, which was steadily slumping forward as all life was rapidly draining from him.

“What?” You gasped as you struggled to sit up, all of your weight resting on your bent forearms as your vision blurred. You had hit your head well.

The carriage shook with a loud thump, your throat tightening in fright as you heard several more steady thumps follow. Someone had landed on top of it, they were coming for you.

You hissed as you were blinded by a sudden burst of light, the other carriage door that was now above you had been wrenched open. As you blinked away the stinging sensation in your eyes you realized that you were no longer alone.

There was a man standing above you, straddling the entrance to the door. He was clothed from head to toe in black cloth and leather, his left arm bare and exposed, and a mask covering his mouth and nose. All that you could make of his face was the glinting metal pierced through his eyebrow, both of which were furrowed in what was concern but came across as intimidating.

“Stay away from me!” You yelled, your head throbbing in response to your shouts.

The man shook his head silently before settling into a squat and gripping the door of the carriage in one hand before leaning inside and grabbing the sleeve of your robes. Now that he was nearer you were able to make out the stitched symbol on his shoulder that you hadn’t been able to see before - a red skull, sword, and snake.

He was a reaper.

You didn’t know whether to struggle or flee due to the fact that your whispered wishes in the night had suddenly come true. The reaper had come for you first, Lord Ilseong would not have you. Due to your plight your body had frozen, your mind overloaded by your sudden realization.

The reaper - Jungkook, took the opportunity to swiftly pull you out of the carriage and gently set you down on the soft grass. You stared at him dumbly as he dropped into a squat in front of you, his hands taking hold of your face and maneuvering it so he could assess your head wound. He tisked to himself in displeasure, his fingers lightly prodding the area around the wound forcing a wince and a groan out of you.

“Poor little lamb,” He hummed, his fingers retreating only to lightly trace down the curve of your jaw.

“Please, if you’re going to kill me do it quickly, and don’t make me suffer. Let me die with dignity.” You said, boldly grabbing his hand and pulling it away from your face.

You had heard tales in your village, tales of what some of the reapers had done to some poor unfortunate girls - stealing their innocence and leaving them behind to deal with the burdens that have been relinquished to them whether they had been marked or not. The marked girls were luckier than most - their pain ended along with their life.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He was not stupid, he knew what you were asking. But what truly puzzled him, was why you would think he would do something like that. If he had wanted to kill you he would have done it that very day he had met you.

“Mea Lunatta,” He replied despite knowing you could not understand him, “My wife.”

With that, he scooped you up into his strong arms and began to walk deeper into the trees. Your body went limp, you knew very well there was no way you could fight a born killer, it would be futile. Instead, you stared ahead, the light disappearing as he walked, his grip firm and strong. Although the woods were quiet you could not shake the chill that curled around your spine, you could feel that you were being watched. And you were not wrong, all it took was a little concentration and your eyes adjusting to the dim light before you saw it.

There were eyes in the trees.

~~~~~~~

Jungkook had finally come of age. At the age of twenty-five, he was finally permitted to partake in the hunt.

The hunt was an annual occurrence, it happened like clockwork every spring. The reapers lived far from the villages, deep in the woods in their homes they had built all in a clustered community. And because of this reclusiveness, they often operated much like the predators of the woods. And that contributed to the start of the hunts. Every spring, like animals in rut, they hunted for partners - for wives.

On the first of spring they dispersed, all the men that were twenty-five or older, and searched for their prospective partner.

Jungkook had found you that first morning, on a cold spring day. He had heard you humming to yourself in the early hours of the morning. The small piles of melting snow glittered with the golden light of the steadily rising sun. You were hanging up white sheets on a clothesline, the fabric fluttering around you from the cool breeze. You looked absolutely breathtaking, like an angel shrouded in white with golden rays.

From that moment on, he knew he had to have you. And as protocol instructed, he followed you around for the next several weeks. He grew attached. You radiated a warmth he had never felt before with your gentle smile and kind words. It was a warmth he wanted to steal for himself, a warmth that he could not bear the thought of sharing with anyone else.

He found it endearing, how shy you were. But you were oh so tempting. He liked to think that you were inviting him into your room when you left your window unlatched, you were just too bashful to say anything. So he took the opportunity to sneak inside whenever you “allowed” him to. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he had rummaged through your things while you slept mere inches away. It had become a habit of his ever since he had trained to become a reaper, to learn all he could about a person.

He learned that you were a bookworm from the hidden stories he found tucked behind your dresser, the pages creased and torn with love from the continuous thumbing through them.

He learned you loved flowers from the blossoms he found pressed between those pages, bright blooms of daffodils, violets, and buttercups greeting him.

He learned you often went hungry from the lack of food in your family's pantry.

So began the second stage of the hunt, the courting. You seemed puzzled but unconcerned from the sudden discoveries of presents left on your window sill. By all means, you were delighted by the short stories, the bundles of wildflowers, and the occasional carefully wrapped veal and loaves of bread. Your excited smiles were enough to make his heart thump in his chest.

And so the courting continued until the week before the ceremony. That was where he was finally permitted to touch you, to mark you.

The marking always occurred one week before the new moon, the date on which the official hunt would take place. The mark of the reaper meant different things depending on where it was placed on a person’s body, something which outsiders were typically unaware of.

A mark on the wrist meant the mark of death.

A mark on the chest signified that you were a reaper.

And a mark on the thigh was reserved only for potential spouses - for a wife in Jungkook’s case.

Jungkook hadn’t anticipated that a lord would be in the area that day, nonetheless, Hell’s Hollow as the reapers referred to it. And he certainly could not have anticipated that said lord would come to your aid. Jungkook would have fled, taking you with him had he been permitted to do so. But there were rules he had to follow.

The first rule was that he was not permitted to speak to outsiders. Although you were marked, you weren’t considered to be one of them and you were not allowed to have any knowledge of what was to come.

The second rule was that after the marking, he was not permitted to see his potential spouse until the night of the hunt.

The third rule was that the official hunt always took place on the new moon. The lack of moonlight gave the potential spouses an advantage - the darkness created a new challenge for the reaper that was seeking them.

And the fourth rule was the most important of them all: if the runner made it outside of the reaper’s territory they would be given their freedom - no strings attached.

That was a rule that made his heart clench uncomfortably. It was a rule engrained in tradition, if you were to best him, prove yourself capable, he would have to let you go. Despite what most of the villagers believed, reapers were bound by their honor and if they were to break those rules they would be dishonoring their brethren, and they would be exiled.

But the thought of that didn’t frighten him nearly as much as the thought of you successfully evading him. He knew he had an advantage, he had been tracking marks his entire life, he was confident that he would be able to capture you before you broke the boundaries of their territory. He couldn’t afford to doubt himself, doubt leads to mistakes and mistakes led to failure.

He would not fail.

You were surprisingly still in his hold as he trekked through the forest. He had expected you to put up more of a fight, to try and flee. But he had forgotten that you were indeed smart, you most likely knew you would not be able to escape him like this, especially now. Pride swelled within him at the thought of how clever you were, but at the same time worry quelled in his mind, your cleverness might take you away from him.

He glanced down at you several times as he continued your journey, he would be lying if he were to say you were not distracting. You smelled fresh and clean with a lingering scent of oils that had been rubbed into your skin which was practically glowing, especially with the added intricacy of the garments you wore. They were familiar to him, the style, the embroidery, it was from someone he knew. Someone he wished he didn’t know. And that greatly confused him, but not as much as the sight of you inside that carriage that they had planned to attack. They had thought the lord himself would be inside, departing the village with collected taxes. But instead, you were there, his chosen.

He could feel the eyes of his comrades in the trees, burning into his back. This was something he had been trying to avoid.

Jungkook was strong and he was promising, it was well known knowledge that once the leader of their troupe stepped down he would be in the running for the position, a position that was highly sought after. And while Jungkook had many friends, brothers, amongst the reapers, he had just as many enemies. So what better way to scorn him than by stealing his chosen?

They all knew now, and he was certain that they would be hunting you alongside him tonight.

That was a part of the hunt, after all, to challenge themselves. Reapers that were of age that did not bring a chosen partner would hunt from the pool if they wished to. And if they died in the process, the reaper that killed them would go unpunished. Jungkook was certain he would have to kill for you tonight, and that thought did not bother him.

Your body suddenly tensed in his arms and in turn he stopped, immediately going on the defensive. He could feel you shrinking back into his chest in utter fear, harsh pants of breath parting your lips in pure fright.

“Wolves.” You gasped, your hand involuntarily squeezing his bicep.

A loud snap severed the silence of the forest and from the bushes emerged a wolf. It had the brightest blue eyes and pitch black fur, standing as tall as a horse.

“Direwolf,” He said, a word that was the same in your language.

You shrieked as he began to walk forward, your body wriggling for the first time since he had grabbed you. He hushed you, patting your back as he neared the wolf. The wolf did not appear to be aggressive, in fact, it seemed quite relaxed, even happy at the sight of Jungkook. Its massive tail swung slowly in excitement as it walked beside Jungkook, consciously slowing its pace so it did not overtake him.

“My wolf,” He explained. He knew very well that you could not understand, but he could not remain silent, he wished to speak to you.

The Direwolves had become their companions, they respected one another's borders and in turn, had formed a close relationship with select reapers. The Direwolves guarded their campgrounds, and in turn, the reapers ensured they would be fed in the barren days of winter. The Direwolves were the reason why no one ever tried to ambush them, they’re massive bodies, fanged teeth, and tough skin made them an impossible adversary.

They were incredibly good at keeping people inside as well.

His wolf made a good guide, leading the way into the campgrounds. The sun was nearly set, the forest growing impenetrably dark on these short spring days. It would not be long before the hunt started and he still needed to prepare you.

The campgrounds were fairly empty, not many reapers or families milling about. They all knew what tonight marked and they were all preparing in their own ways. The wolf followed behind closely, coming to stop and sitting by his cabin, his bright blue eyes steady and alert.

You began to struggle again as he crossed the threshold, the missing presence of the wolf instilling your instincts to fight once more.

“Put me down!” You yelled through gritted teeth, your irritation from being carried around like a rag doll boiling to the surface.

You could see his jaw clench beneath the cover of his mask, you were making him angry.

He slammed the door shut behind him before setting you down, leaning against the only exit to make sure you wouldn’t try to leave before it was time.

“I won’t let you touch me,” You said with a shake of your head, “And I won’t go down without a fight.”

You were impressed by the steadiness in your voice in spite of the deep-rooted fear you felt inside. You were not necessarily lying to him, you would make it as hard as possible for him despite knowing just how easily he could restrain you. You were terribly frightened.

His body shook with laughter, his eyes crinkling in amusement which only served to unsettle you as well as frustrate you. He too knew that your threats were useless, in fact, he found them to be adorable. But, he did not have any plans that were like what you were insinuating. He would not be able to do that until after he caught you, fair and square. Not until you were his wife.

He crossed his strong arms over his chest, leaning back in a relaxed manner against the door before nodding his head in the direction of the table where a white garment was folded on top.

“Change.” He instructed.

You looked between him and the table before shaking your head, “No.”

He cocked his head to the side, his pierced eyebrow raising in questioning at your defiance. He pulled down his mask and let it rest around his neck before he spoke again.

“Change,” He smirked before sliding a knife out of his leg sheath, “Or I will do it for you.”

You didn’t have to speak his language in order to understand what he was insinuating. He would have no problems slashing your clothes into ribbons so you would have no other choice but to wear what he was giving you.

You could feel your eyes burning with unshed tears that were threatening to pool over. Whenever you became overwhelmed with emotion you cried, especially when you were angry and you hated that so much. You sniffled pitifully and rubbed at the skin beneath your eyes, the playful smirk immediately dropping off of Jungkook’s face as he took a step in your direction.

“Look away,” You snapped, stepping backward and grabbing the plain fabric from the table.

Jungkook seemed distressed, his lips pressing together in worry as he watched you. But, after a few moments, he nodded and faced the door to give you your privacy. That was at least one kindness that could be afforded.

You were woefully embarrassed to not only be changing in the same room as a man, but also by the attire he had provided you with. It was a dress that was thin and breathable with loose angel sleeves as well as a skirt that ended mid calf, it was made to offer mobility and comfort. You felt horribly exposed, the dress far too scandalous to be anything but sleep wear. You felt naked, in your village this would be just as bad as being naked.

But it was either this, or nothing at all.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked, and despite your attempts, worry penetrated your words.

He looked over his shoulder before slowly turning to face you, his dark eyes roaming over your body from head to toe in what could only be described as appreciation. He didn’t answer you, and from what you understood that was in his character. Instead he approached you and in turn you took several steps back until you were halted by the table behind you. He advanced and did not stop until there was barely an inch of space left in between you two.

Your harsh swallow was cacophonous in the quiet cabin, your gaze was turned downward in an attempt to avoid his eyes.

He softly lifted your head up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your hands gripped the table behind you in response, your eyes flickering off to the side in anxiety.

“I’m going to love you,” he whispered with a soothing tone as he retrieved a small silver jar from behind you filled with red pigment, “I’m going to protect you, and if anyone tries to take you from me I’ll slaughter them without hesitation.”

He gently smoothed your eyelids shut and proceeded to paint the red pigment over your eyes, over the crests of your cheekbones, and dragged down the hollows beneath your eyes. Even without seeing it, you could recognize the pattern as the same one he wore on his face in coal dust.

“You are mine, and I am yours,” He said while cupping your cheeks tenderly and pressing his forehead against yours.

After Jungkook had finished preparing you, he grabbed you be the hand and lead you out of the house. The Direwolf was still there and it continued to follow the two of you around like, well like an overgrown puppy.

Jungkook’s grip was firm but not painful, it was meant to keep you by his side. It was dark out, the dirt paths just barely lit by a line of torches leading toward the center of the ground where a massive until bonfire was constructed. And surrounding the unlit fire was a massive crowd of reapers as well as women dressed almost identically to yourself.

Your heart clenched in your chest, what was coming next? Were you going to be sacrificed? Roasted and cannibalized? Whatever is was, it wasn’t going to be good for you.

You dug your heels into the ground, surprisingly, startling Jungkook. He turned to face you, the light of the torches glinting off of his piercing and the red hue of his lips. You hated to admit it, but he was painfully beautiful. With a strong jaw, prominent brows, dark eyes, and pouty lips, he was the most attractive man you had ever seen. He looked as if he belonged among nobility, not here, in the middle of the woods with a bunch of wild men.

“Please,” You whispered, stepping closer so he could hear, “I need to know what’s going to happen to me.”

His jaw clenched, his lips pressed firmly together in thought. There was a beat of silence before he warily looked around and flipped your palm over so it was facing the sky. And then, he began to trace patterns, no, letters over the surface of your palm.

You focused, memorizing the letters and stringing them together in your mind until they formed coherent words. Words that sent a violent chill throughout your entire body.

“Run, don’t hide.”

~~~~~~~

The bonfire roared to life behind you as you sprinted through the forest, an eerie red glow casting long shadows all around you. The women that hadn’t figured out what was happening right away were far behind you, you had been granted a head start. But you knew that time was precious, eventually the reapers would descend and if they didn’t manage to catch you, you didn’t want to imagine was the Direwolves would do to you.

You could only imagine that this was how they entertained themselves. Perhaps someone had not hired Jungkook to kill you, but instead like an apex predator he desired to hunt you. This had to be a game for them, whoever slaughtered the most people won.

But then why did he tell you to keep running and not to hide? To lengthen the game? Or, if you hid, would the others find you? Did he want to claim your life instead?

Your legs and arms burned with exertion as you ran, the cool earth soggy and soft beneath your shoes that were most definitely not made for running. They were a size too small and pinched you in all of the worst places sending searing pain throughout the bottoms of your feet. You debated kicking them off but thought better of that, the nights were still freezing and if you managed to make it out of this alive you would prefer to keep all ten of your toes.

Despite your head start you could still hear everything that happened behind you. You could hear the other women screaming and fighting for their lives and that only served as motivation, forcing you to push yourself past your limits and sprint faster than you ever had before.

A scream parted your lips as a large black mass shot out of the trees and just barely brushed against you. You stumbled but did not fall and continued running but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder. Black fur and piercing blue eyes, it was Jungkook’s wolf who was pinning a reaper down to the ground. You watched as he snarled and lunged for the man’s neck and crushed it with one snap of it’s jaws before slowly dragging the corpse back into the trees and ripping his throat open. His blood rolled down his neck and practically sizzled from the cold air.

Your stomach turned and your throat tightened, you were definitely running slower now from your nausea and the muscle fatigue. How had you not noticed the wolf tracking you? Or the reaper? They both had been perfectly silent, one with the forest, and you had not even realized that man had been less than a foot behind you.

You were out of your depth, you were going to die.

Your body had been rife with adrenaline at the beginning of this horrible race, and that still was present especially after what you had just experienced. But your mind was contesting your body and you were horribly frightened and confused.

In your panicked state and the deep darkness of the night, you had failed to see it. A wire had been strung up and the minute you ran through it your ankles were caught, you tripped and fell and the wire wrapped smoothly around you ankles: binding them together.

Someone had set traps before the start of the hunt, they had done something that felt an awful lot like cheating.

“No!” You cried, smacking your palm over your mouth from the volume, “No, no, no, please no,” You whispered.

You flipped yourself onto your back and sat upright, your hands instantly pulling at the wire and attempting to unravel it from your ankles. You hissed in pain, a stray tear falling from your eye as the wire slashed at the delicate skin of your palms - crimson blood beading up and slipping from the wound.

You clenched your jaw tight to muffle your sounds of discomfort and got to work, whimpering at each slice as you pried the wire open and unwound it painstakingly slow. You grunted under your breath as you pulled it free, a clear indent left in the flesh of your ankles that was bloody and fresh. You let out a soft breath of relief before turning over onto your hands and knees, attempting to stand back up so that you could continue your escape.

Before you could move any farther a boot connected with your back, forcing your down to the ground like a helpless bug. A sharp wheeze left your lungs as pain radiated through your back, your fingers curling into the dirt beneath you as you tried to drag yourself out from underneath whoever was pinning you down.

“There you are,” The man said with a pleased tone in the language you spoke.

You cried out as he wove his gloved fingers into your hair and sharply yanked your head up by causing shocks of pain to blossom over your scalp. He turned your head to face him, his other hand tightly grasping your cheeks.

“Oh yeah, you’re Jungkook’s bitch,” He laughed, “You’re pretty too, that’ll make this hurt even more.”

“Please, please let me go! I swear you’ll never see me again, I just want to go home!” You cried, emotion swelling up in your chest to the point where you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

You hated crying, you wanted to be strong but fuck, you were so scared. You knew that you were moments from dying, this had to be it and you weren’t ready.

“And that’s exactly what I can’t have, what better way to piss that asshole off than to steal his woman from him? To make him see you everyday knowing I rightfully won you and he can’t do anything about it? Hell, I could even fuck you against the side of his house if I wanted to and he wouldn’t be able to do a fucking thing about it.”

His woman? His woman?

You suddenly came to realize a horrific thought. They weren’t hunting for sport, they were hunting for wives.

“You’re a little older than I would have liked, but I’ll make do,” He sneered, flipping you over onto your back and straddling your waist.

“Stop, let go of me!” You screamed, wriggling underneath him and hitting whatever part of his body you could reach. You caught him by surprise, your nails catching on his skin and dragging down over his face drawing blood beneath them.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, wiping the blood from his face before grasping your wrists and pinning them down to the ground and above your head.

“I was going to be nice to you, ya know? But now, now I’m going to make you suffer,” He spat, the veins in his neck bulging with rage.

You screamed, panicked sobs filling the air as he gripped your hands with one of his own, the other going for the waist of his pants. You knew what was coming next, you had heard the stories of what they did and all you could do was cry and struggle beneath him, he had you pinned well.

You clenched your eyes shut, your lashes clumping together from the amount of tears you had shed. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what was about to happen.

In a last ditch effort, a small ember of hope, you screamed once more, “Jungkook!”

And it was all over in a flash. A warm, thick, wetness sprayed over your face - a coppery taste misting over your lips as a gurgled, choked cry sounded from above you before the weight of the man fell off of you.

You kept your eyes closed, still too afraid to move, your body was completely frozen against your own desire to flee. You jolted at the feeling of fingers ghosting over your cheek, fingers that were rough and coated with something that felt tacky.

Warily, you opened your eyes. It was Jungkook. His mask was pulled down around his neck again, his expression was one of panic and rage. You swallowed harshly as he wiped away your tears and whatever was coating your face. You allowed yourself to take in the sight of him from head to toe and you were met with the startling realization that he was covered in blood. His forearms, his palms, his chest, and his boots, and not to mention the light smattering over his sharp jawline.

He had killed many people tonight.

Your eyes wandered behind him and on the ground a lifeless corpse was splayed out. It was the man that had captured you, his throat was savagely slashed so deeply you thought you could see bone.

You frantically began to rub at your face, the white sleeves of your dress stained with dirt and blood rubbing roughly against your skin. You were certain your face would be raw by the time you were done.

You hadn’t even realized you were panicking, frantically mumbling sentences that didn’t make sense as you attacked your own face, until he spoke.

“Sh, sh, sh,” He hushed you, pulling your hands from your face, “It’s over, you’re safe now.”

Your body froze, it took you a few moments to realize that you could understand him, this was the first time he had spoken your language.

“Please, I want to go home now,” You whispered, your hands limp beneath his as your shoulders shook.

“I’ll take you home,” He nodded, standing up and helping you to your feet. Your knees were still weak, your ankles protesting as they continued to bleed. You were sure they were going to get infected at this rate.

“You’re hurt?” He asked, his voice much softer than you had anticipated. You merely nodded in response.

He recognized those marks, they were from a specific snare that only reapers used. And, on the night of the hunt, they were banned. His jaw clenched in anger, he was trying his best not to explode, not to scare you. His rage would be wasted, after all he had already killed that bastard and his little band of low-lives. Just as he had suspected, they were all after you that night.

He stepped forward, opening his arms to pick you up. You jerked away, your body still trying to protect you - not sensing that the danger had passed. Or was it right? Jungkook was one of them, he had marked you, brought you here, he was just as dangerous.

“I won’t hurt you,” He said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing, “You need my help.”

As reluctant as you were to admit it, he was right, you wouldn’t be able to walk all the way back with him, you were in far too much pain. You nodded slowly before inching towards him and allowing him to gently cradle you to his chest.

Jungkook paused once he adjusted you in his hold. Your face was still stained just as badly as the rest of him despite your frantic attempts to clean yourself. The makeup that has once been on your face was smudged and dissolved by your tears. But, you had made it. He knew he chose you for a reason, you had ran the farthest, you had outrun so many men and the ones you couldn’t he and his wolf dispatched.

His heart thumped in anxiety as he looked over his shoulder where the bloody snare laid. You had been so close.

Another two feet, and you would have broken their borders and had been free to go.

~~~~~~~

The bonfire was still burning just as strongly as it had been at the start of the hunt. That led you to believe that it had not lasted as long as you thought it would. The reapers were proficient hunters and killers just like the Direwolves that protected their lands. It was foolish to believe that anything about this would have been challenging for them.

Upon your arrival you were met with the sight of a substantial crowd. All of your fellow runners were there each in a different state of despair and disbelief. But besides them, there were many newcomers that you had not seen before. There were families, large families. Mother’s occupied with their babies, young children giggling as they chased one another, and the glowing eyes of the Direwolves surveying, their massive bodies folded into themselves as they laid on the ground by the tree line.

They were on guard, not from outside threats, but guarding the way out. It would be suicide for anyone who tried to leave. You had seen what those wolves could do, you would not dare try to leave with them here.

“What is this?” You asked Jungkook who had set you down on a soft cushion a fair distance from the fire.

“A celebration,” He explained “For good fortune and prosperous futures.”

Prosperous futures? What future could anyone have after this? That was of course, if he was lying to you. If he didn’t know that you knew what all of this was really about.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you chose me to be your wife?”

Jungkook flinched, his doe eyes widening in surprise before a small smile crept onto his lips, “You figured it out then? I knew you were smart, that was one of the reasons I chose you. I could see the cleverness in those eyes from a mile away.”

You shifted uncomfortably underneath his stare before straightening your spine, attempting to appear far more confident than you felt.

“I’m not yours, I never will be.”

His lips twitched into a frown, “You were mine the second I laid eyes on you. You accepted my gifts, my proposal, and I caught you fairly. This may not be conventional in your village but it is tradition in mine. You bare my mark, you followed me here willingly, and we completed the ceremony. You are mine and I am yours in a way that is far more binding than any church could declare. Do you understand me?”

He was thoroughly angered, you could practically feel the heat simmering off of him, stronger than the fire that was not too far away. You watched as he stood, dragging one of several large barrels filled to the brim with water over to you. He grabbed a spare cloth and dunked it into the water before dropping down to his knees and beginning to clean your hands and feet, removing the dirt and blood from beneath your nails and the wounds on your ankles.

You watched him work for a moment, his brows furrowed in irritation as well as focus. Behind him several reapers watched on in astonishment, several looks of surprise as well as disapproval coloring their features.

“Why are they staring at us?” You whispered, curling into yourself from the attention.

“It is tradition for the spouse to cleanse the reaper after the ceremony, not the other way around,” He mumbled, grabbing a new cloth for your face.

His intense, dark eyes bore into your own as he cleaned the blood from your cheeks, “I am willing to break tradition for you, rules for you, does that not prove that I am yours as much as you are mine?”

Your heart thumped against your will. Adoring words like those should not leave the mouth of a killer so easily.

“I can’t be yours.”

“And why is that?”

“I,” You swallowed harshly, the words burning your tongue before your could even form them, “I am promised to Lord Ilseong.”

Fire blossomed in his eyes, those dark coals igniting in an instant. You had never seen hatred grow so quickly in a man or woman’s eyes before and it genuinely frightened you.

“Lord Ilseong?” He hissed, his strong shoulders squared and tensed.

“Y-yes,” You stuttered, unnerved by the sudden shift in demeanor, “He will come for me, you must know that. I am his betrothed.”

Jungkook said nothing, instead he quickly rose to his feet and grabbed you firmly by the wrist, pulling you in the direction of his cabin where his wolf still laid in waiting. You struggled to keep up with his pace, stumbling over your own feet as you were nearly dragged by him into his home.

“What are you doing?! You said you would take me home!”

“And I did not lie to you, this is home, our home now.”

“Lord Ilseong-”

“Say his name one more time,” He warned as he fixed you with an intense glare, “One more time, and I’ll make sure mine is the only one you’ll be able to remember.”

You froze, your body refusing to move as you were pinned in place by his intimidating glare. You had been tossed from one fire into another. From one lecherous old man to a wild young one. You had yet to decide which was worse.

“Why do you hate him so?” You asked, surprised you were able to voice such a question when he was clearly on edge.

He laughed, a bitter and cruel sound. You could see his shoulders shaking in barely contained rage. He did not hate him, he loathed his entire existence.

“Why do I hate him?” He echoed, his jaw clenched tightly, “Lord Ilseong is my father.”

You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping, he had taken you completely by surprise. Jungkook looked nothing like Lord Ilseong, Jungkook was far too beautiful. But, if you looked hard enough, the faintest traces of him were there, in his jaw and brow, but for the most part you could conclude that Jungkook was blessed with his mother’s features.

“That…that’s not possible! The lady was never able to conceive a child. Lord Ilseong has no children.”

“None that were legitimate. No, I am his bastard. And I had quite a few siblings to show for his unfaithfulness. He sought out any pretty face he could and took them with or without their regard. That is something that all reapers have in common, we are the rejected children of nobility and we have come to reap what they have sown.”

You could see it now. Many of the reapers you had seen at the fire were painfully attractive, the offspring of beautiful people who had been abused and taken advantage of. And in turn they were rejected by those who had given them life. But just like the nobility they had been born from, they too were tainted with corruption, that much was evidenced by your capture and what had almost transpired before Jungkook had slain that man in the forest.

“That is why he wishes to marry me, to finally have a legitimate child to continue his legacy.” You confirmed. You had thought before he was a perverted old man, and that much was true, but he had much bigger plans.

“He what?!” Jungkook was seething.

“That was what he told my father, he wished for me to give him many children.”

As soon as you were finished speaking, you could see him snap. He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the back of the house where his bedroom was. He slammed the door shut and pushed you firmly in the chest causing you to stumble back onto his bed.

“He has taken everything from me, but this I will finally take from him.” He said, tugging your skirt up just as he had done the week before spurring a squeal from your lips.

The red mark was still there on your thigh. No amount of scrubbing from you or your mother has managed to remove it from you skin. You gasped as he dropped to his knees and leaned over you, pressing a fervent kiss to the mark while his hand gripped your other thigh.

“This means that you are mine, I found you first, I chose you first. You have a purpose here, you are important here. Make no mistake I am not giving you a choice, you will not return to him. But if you try to run know this, a life with him will be one of misery and suffering. Here, I am offering you my love, my soul, whatever it is you desire. But in return I desire the same. And if you were to offer those to anyone else I would kill them without hesitation.”

You sat there in shock. Never had a man ever knelt before you in such a position, in submission. No man had ever declared such a violent love for you.

You knew, despite Jungkook’s vehement denial, that you did have choices and there were three.

The first was to return with Lord Ilseong when he inevitably came for you. And what would come of that. A life of misery, Jungkook had said. You would be doomed to marry a man nearly thrice your age, endure a horrific wedding night and several more like it until you missed your cycle, and then give birth. And that would continue over and over again until he died, an endless cycle to ensure he would have a pool of children to choose from in the event that his first born perished or, worse in his eyes, was a girl. And the thought of him, his wrinkled hands, touching your body had your stomach churning. You would rather fight the Direwolves.

The second was to run, to go back home. But that posed several problems. For one, your father would never take you back. You would become his greatest disappointment just as quickly as you had become his pride. He would send for Lord Ilseong and your fate would be sealed. Or, more likely, Jungkook would find you first. And you knew then that your family would no longer be safe.

The third option, the final option, was just as difficult as the first. And that was to stay with Jungkook and his reapers. To be his wife. You would be trapped with the man who had captured you, who had stolen you from your home. You would stand by for years on end, watching the cycle continue as people were either slaughtered for money, or were captured to be wed. But, you would still have some freedom. You wouldn’t be “broken like a mare” as his lordship has said. You would still be where you thrived, in nature. And your “husband” would not be an old decrepit man. As unwilling as you were to admit it, the thought of Jungkook touching you was not entirely repulsive. Had he been another village boy, had he been sweet, innocent, and kind, you would have jumped at the chance to be betrothed to him.

Jungkook was the lesser of evils.

“Let me have you,” He said, his hands stroking slowly up and down the expanse of your thighs which had pressed themselves together tightly out of not only anxiety but something else all together. It was a horrible, addicting blend.

And you couldn’t help but think to yourself, what better way to spite that old man than to lose your innocence to his bastard. You knew that Lord Ilseong would come, without a doubt he would not let you be free. But when he came with his army and slaughtered the reapers you would be free. Jungkook would be dead and the Lord would not take you, you who were no longer a virgin and tainted by his illegitimate son. Jungkook was right, you were clever.

You finally met his gaze, his head still craned up to look at you. There was something enticing about having a powerful man on his knees. You had never had power, you were always the pawn.

And so, when his hands moved higher, fiddling with the hem of your undergarments, you did not stop him. As nervous as you were, frightened as you were, this was a part of your plan and you would see through it. You would do it if it meant you could have your freedom.

And anyone else was better than Ilseong. Especially the attractive man that knelt before you like a devout worshiper at his altar. If you were lucky, he would not make it hurt.

A desperate sigh left his lips as he rolled your skirt up over your hips and hastily removed your undergarments before pulling you to the edge of his bed and forcing your legs over his shoulders as his head disappeared in between your thighs.

You shrieked in surprise as you felt his lips meet the skin of your inner thigh. His hands were holding your hips tightly, preventing you from moving as he left long, lingering kisses there. His lips were surprisingly soft, wet, and warm, creating an unfamiliar ache at the apex of your thighs. Your hips twitched without your permission, writhing in an attempt to get him to do something your body understood better than your mind. His soft laugh vibrated against your thigh, his dark eyes shooting up to look at you in a way that could only be described as mischievous before he ducked his head down and his lips met a place you had not dared to touch.

A cry of shock broke free from your lips, your head falling back and your chest heaving in pleasure.

“W-what? Jungkook wait-” You stuttered in confusion, your words easily silenced by the strokes of his tongue.

The entire inner workings of what happened between a husband and wife on their wedding night was a mystery to you. And that was not your fault. Mothers and fathers often kept that from their daughters, too afraid to tell them too much lest they learn how to rid themselves of their virginity before they marry. Your mother had told you enough the day you were to be sent to Lord Ilseong, but this, this was a far cry from what she had told you.

Despite your pleas he did not slow down, in fact he only became that much more enthusiastic. Your arms turned to jello, collapsing out from underneath you sending your back down to the mattress as your legs shook around his head. You could feel him groaning against you sending vibrations all throughout your core, it was like he was the one receiving immense pleasure and not you.

It felt like he wanted to devour you.

He broke away once to catch his breath, his shoulders heaving as he panted.

“So pretty for me,” He mumbled, his voice much lower than before and riddled with lust.

You jolted with a strangled moan as he pressed a long, lingering kiss to that place once more before his fingers firmly stroked up and down the length of your sex, just barely sinking in to your entrance in a teasing manner that had your hips bucking pitifully against his iron grip. He would to decided to give you what you needed when he wanted to. The chase had been great fun, but the capture was the true reward and he planned to thoroughly enjoy it.

“So sensitive,” He laughed, pushing your hips down, “Have you never been touched before?”

Your eyes were clenched shut, your mouth twisted into a frown as he continued his touches that still left behind a pleasant thrum but also an intense ache as he deliberately avoided every part that would provide you pleasure.

As soon as he realized you weren’t paying attention his withdrew his fingers and you could only whine from the lack of his touch.

“I asked you a question,” He said, very clearly waiting for your response.

“No,” You admitted despite your embarrassment.

His face was set with determination and glee, he was happy to know that he would have you first in every aspect.

You wriggled away from him as he stood up, joining you on the bed and attempting to remove your dress. You had never been exposed to someone else before and while you felt desire burning inside you the thought of him seeing you bare was frightening. But he smiled at your bashful actions and he knew that he would have to rid you of your clothes quickly.

You froze as he removed a very familiar knife from the strap on his leg, your heart beating louder than thunder. Maybe he had been planning to kill you all along, maybe he was finally going to do it.

But instead of killing you like you thought he would, he pulled your dress taut and with one impressive slash slit it open from the bottom to the top. Your chest heaved against the cool metal of the blade that now rested at your breasts - the feeling just as exhilarating as it was frightening.

“Easy, little lamb,” He cooed, setting the knife aside, “What use would I have for a lovely, dead, wife?”

You watched in awe as he stripped down, revealing every inch of honey skin and toned muscle. But, more surprisingly, and arm full of tattoos. He had always kept one arm bare and the other covered. The covered one hiding the collection of inked markings on his arm as well as the reaper’s mark on his chest, the mark that you shared with him on your thigh. He quickly noticed where your attention strayed to.

“Each one signifies something different. Some of them are milestones, ranks, and others represent kills,” He explained, grabbing your hand and resting it on his bicep, encouraging you to touch him.

Your fingers smoothed over the scarred skin, enraptured by the sight. You had never seen so many markings on one person. You could only assume Jungkook had killed many, many people.

He sighed at the feeling of your touch, eagerly wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you onto his lap, pressing your chest against his firmly so that there was no space left in between you two. Your body was rapidly heating up, the feeling of his strong thighs and hardened manhood beneath you only making the fire in your veins burn hotter.

He gently cradled your jaw with one hand, the other spread over your ribcage just beneath the swell of your breast. And, with a surprising tenderness, he pressed his lips against yours in a soft, slow, sweet kiss. But it did not remain soft for long, his hold grew firmer, his kisses more intense and hard like he could not get enough of you, like he needed you more than air itself.

And, with a flood of heat, you realized that he had kissed you in-between your legs before stealing your first kiss from your lips.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” He whispered against your mouth, misreading your trembling body, “I’ll never hurt you, I only want to pleasure you.”

And he followed through on his promise. You had never thought that hands that could bring death could also bring pleasure, but you had been mistaken. In the veil of darkness, under the absence of the moon, the two of you indulged in a night of debauchery.

You had been told that this night would be painful, that you would cry and wish it had never happened. But instead you had found immense satisfaction and a desire for more. While your life had been riddled with misfortune you had been granted one ounce of relief - Jungkook was a gifted lover. So gifted in fact that you found yourself unwilling to part from him, your hold on his body almost as strong as his grasp on you. Your nails had found themselves embedded in his back, raking down the once smooth skin and leaving marks of your own on him. You were certain that your inner thighs would be bruised from just how tightly you encircled his waist. You had allowed a part of yourself to escape that you did not recognize.

“My good little wife, taking me so well,” He had moaned into your ear, his hips desperately rutting against yours. “Absolutely perfect for me.”

And he continued on like that, whispering praises into your ear and bringing you to the edge over and over and over again, his stamina prevailing even as you weakly mewled and attempted to draw away from him, every inch of your body screaming in oversensitivity but even then that pain felt horribly good.

“You can take another, for me, I know you can handle it,” He growled out from behind gritted teeth, at this point he had become more animalistic than man.

“I can’t -”

“You can, and you will.”

That was something you had come to learn about Jungkook. He always followed through on his promises as well as his threats.

When he had finished for the second and final time he held you close to his chest, the scent of sweat and intimacy still fresh in the air as you unwillingly began to doze off, all of your energy completely drained from your body after not only the intense coupling but all of the energy you had expended prior running for your life.

But as you drifted off you were reminded of exactly why you had done this in the first place. You still were meant to leave, you still craved your freedom.

All it took was one sentence from Jungkook to remind you of your plan. As long as you stayed complacent you would never be free.

“I can’t wait to see what you’ll like, round with my children.”

This was what he had meant by “prosperous futures.”

~~~~~~~

The next morning you were abruptly awoken by the scent of smoke thick in the air and the sound of harsh pounding on the front door.

The space beside you was empty and faintly warm, Jungkook had been up for a little while. You could hear his voice now as well as another reaper’s.

“What is it?” Jungkook’s voice.

“We’ve spotted a decent band of soldiers a few miles out, they definitely belong to a nobleman from the crests they carry. They’ve set fire to the forests, they’re trying to burn everything down in sight - they’re either looking for us, someone else, or both.”

“How much time do we have?”

“Not much, the scouts we sent ahead have returned so I imagine that the soldiers can’t be that far behind. We’ve been ordered to to go ahead and assume our positions, the rest will evacuate.”

“Is that necessary?”

“For now, yes. For everyone else’s sake, they’ll only get in the way. Once we clean this mess up everyone will be escorted back. But we need you too, we can’t do it without you.”

“I understand,” Jungkook reluctantly said, “Thank you, Hoseok.”

You sat up in bed, the blanket tightly wrapped around your body as Jungkook came in. He looked distressed not because of the impending fight, that he was familiar with, but because you would be leaving. And while he wished he could trust you after what happened the night before, he knew that he couldn’t. When given the opportunity to flee, he was certain his little lamb would run for safer pastures.

He dressed you quickly, helping you pull on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants, men’s clothing. You had never worn men’s clothing before.

“Easier to run in, if they come for you, you have to be ready to run.” He explained, bending down to help you lace up the boots on your feet.

“Don’t be afraid, Fang will protect you while I’m gone.”

“Fang?” You asked.

“My wolf.”

So, that was its name. How uncreative.

Jungkook paused, his brows pinched in stress as he looked at you. This was happening too quickly. He thought he had some time before Ilseong and his men would come, time that would get you to trust him.

He stepped forward, cradling your face before pressing his lips to yours again. You had found that each kiss with Jungkook was different and new. This one was desperate, this one felt like a promise, a promise to see you again.

“I love you,” He said, his dark eyes wide and glistening, “Come back to me.”

You could only stare back at him, you refused to make a promise you could not keep. You were going to try to leave if you could and you would not lie to him.

Fang was waiting outside, pacing impatiently and whining in the back of his throat. The Direwolf was agitated, you would be too if your home was burning.

“Follow him, he will take you somewhere safe. I will see you again, that is a promise.” Jungkook said before giving you one more final parting kiss and melting into the tree line.

Jungkook always followed through on his promises and his threats.

A few moments later you heard the cries of wounded men from the forest. The soldiers had arrived and they had not anticipated the reapers armed with bows and arrows high in the trees. It was foolish to try and ambush trained killers, that was something you had forgotten. The chances were that Jungkook would not die today, no, that army would. You had to move, now.

Fang moved swiftly beside you and, to your surprise, split off from the evacuating party. He was taking you somewhere else, perhaps a safe place the Jungkook had in case something like this were to happen. A place where he could find you again.

You were caught in a rock and a hard place. You had seen Fang tear into that reaper the night before, you had watched him consume him with no regret. He and Jungkook were bonded, but you were not. You did not want to test him and see if he would deliver upon you the same fate. It was another waiting game.

Your only other plan would be to follow him to the safe point and try and make your break from there. But, even then, you were certain that Direwolves had impeccable senses. And, like the reapers, Fang would have no problem hunting you.

The massive wolves' steps were hard to keep up with, you were practically jogging in an attempt to stay by his side. He was tense, his ears flicking now and then as he listened for a threat, his piercing blue eyes scanning the trees. Direwolves seemed far more human than regular wolves, especially with their intelligence.

Fang froze, sniffing the air rapidly before his hackles raised and a deep growl left him that was so loud it shook the ground beneath you. He backed up, his large body shielding your own as he waited for the threat to emerge.

And it was quite a threat. Lord Ilseong had not only sent one army but two. One surveying and burning one side of the forest, and another scouting the other side. And they too were armed, smaller than the other force, but still armed.

Fang lunged instantly, his jaw snapping down on three men at once and wildly shaking them around like they weighed nothing while blood and their screams filled the air.

And then you were off.

Once more, you had found yourself running for your life in the woods. Although this time you were much more efficient. The clothes Jungkook had given you were, in fact, much easier to run in. And now that the sun was out the forest was perfectly illuminated allowing you to see every fallen tree, root, and stump in your path.

You were going to run until you couldn’t anymore. This time, this time for sure you would make it out, you would be able to be free again.

At least, that was what you had thought, that was what you had hoped for. You had been wrong.

The trees were beginning to thin out, and what you had thought to be the clearing to a village turned out to be the small resting place of the noble army that had been abandoned save for guardsmen and of course, Lord Ilseong himself.

“My bride, there you are!” He called excitedly causing you to stumble backward, ready to begin running in the opposite direction but you were quickly stopped by his guards behind you.

“I have been looking all over for my pretty little bride, when my men found your carriage overturned we had assumed the worst.” He explained, coming to stand right in front of you leaving you with no exit to run to.

“What is this that you’re wearing?” He sneered, “What happened to the robes I sent you?”

He was more worried about the damn clothes than you, not that you cared at all what he felt for you but if he claimed to want you as his Lady you would think he would show an ounce of worry for your state of being.

“They were stolen from me, forgive me.” You said, your hands clenched into fists.

Lord Ilseong did not care, his beady eyes were still trained on the shirt and pants that donned your body.

“These are a man’s clothes!” He yelled, grasping the collar of the shirt and jerking it so strongly that it tore, the fabric falling to expose the column of your neck, your collarbones, and your left shoulder.

“Infidelity!” He screamed, rage burning red under his skin as he saw the marks that Jungkook had left the night before. A good portion of your body was littered with bruises but that spot was by far the worst, deep dark marks were clustered together along with a clear bite mark.

“It-it’s not what you think your grace!” You cried in an attempt to save yourself. Your eyes were burning and your heart was pounding, you knew what was going to come next.

“Do you know what the price of unfaithfulness is?” He hissed, his men forcing you down to your knees before him.

You whimpered as you heard the familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed, the metal glinting in the sun as it was passed to Ilseong.

“The penalty is death.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as warm tears attempted to fall. You refused to cry this time, you were done crying. And now, as you faced your certain death you refused to show this man your tears. This man was punishing you for a crime you did not commit against a relationship you did not have. A relationship you never wanted.

“What a shame, I had such high hopes for you, but you were just another common whore.” He seethed as he raised the sword above his head.

A sharp whistle shot by your ears and then another, the sound of something cutting through the air quickly. And almost immediately after two loud thuds sounded.

You cracked open your eyes to see the two guards laying limp on the forest floor, an arrow embedded in each of their throats. You peered over your shoulder and there, blending into the shadows of the trees sat a reaper high up in its branches. He was the man from this morning, Hoseok.

And if Hoseok was here, that meant -

Two more arrows sliced through the air, one piercing Ilseong’s left hand causing him to drop the sword and scream in pain only for another arrow to pierce his right hand. Both of his arms were spread out, each hand pinned to a tree and unable to move. He was defenseless.

Jungkook emerged from the shadows and behind him, Fang followed closely. Blood was matted into his fur, some was his own but the majority of it was not.

And Jungkook, he was trembling in rage.

“All you do is take. You took my mother from me, her life, my sibling's lives, and then you steal my wife from me not once but twice. Your judgment had been long awaited by not only myself but everyone under your rule.”

For the first time, Ilseong looked frightened like he was staring death in the face. Not unlike how you had been moments before.

“I promise you that I will take everything from you. Your riches, your land, and your life. That, that is the penalty for trying to murder another man’s wife.”

“J-Jungkook, I’m your father, have mercy, please!”

“Did you show my sisters mercy when you slaughtered them in their sleep? Or my brothers when you had your men shoot them down in the fields? Or my mother when you strangled her to death?!” He said, his voice growing louder and louder as his rage rolled off of him in waves.

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want, anything!” Ilseong begged, his eyes wide in fright and panic.

“I want your life,” Jungkook said before picking up the sword from the ground and began hacking away without hesitation, once, twice, and three times until Ilseong’s head came lose from his neck and fell away his body going completely limp - only being held up by the arrows that still kept his decapitated body upright.

You couldn’t stop the raw scream that ripped freely from your throat. You had never seen a sight so horrific before, so violent and unforgiving. That image would forever be burned in your mind, haunting you each time to tried to sleep.

You watched in horror as Fang approached, grabbing what remained of Ilseong in his strong jaws and ripping his corpse free from the tree, dragging it back into the forest where he would no doubt be consumed.

“You shall reap what you sow.” Jungkook and Hoseok spoke in unison like it was a ritual.

Jungkook’s shoulders finally relaxed, the sword dropping from his hand as he turned to look at you. Blood was heavy on his face, covering the left side of it almost entirely. But he still smiled at you, the blood on his face making his teeth seem unbearably white only making your stomach turn ten times worse.

You whimpered in fright as he approached you, settling down in a crouch in front of you before tugging you into his arms. The scent of blood was ever stronger now as his hands smoothed up and down your back.

“Remember what I told you little lamb?” He grinned, “Without hesitation.”

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #mercenary jungkook #fantasy au #bts fantasy au #jungkook fantasy au

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 23 days

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Twelve

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,7k

Warnings | +18, angst, mentions of childhood abuse, references to rape, torture, beatings, outbursts of anger, death of a background character, MC is having a really hard time, murder(?), triggering content, this is not for minor.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | In this chapter Jimin finds out what really happened to MC in the past 💔I recommend reading to a +18 audience, let me know what you think of course! It always makes me very happy to read your comments 🥹💕

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon, @hecateslittlewitchling, @namjoonsbuspass, @darkuni63, @xicanacorpse, @jiminismine4ever, @btssimpjaneth, @antisocial-mochi267

Taglist is open!

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He would have wanted to vomit.

Their men were on Minho's trail, but the bastard had so much property in Korea that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack; what was certain was that he was no longer in town.

It had been five days since her disappearance, Jimin was not even eating anymore, so much were his nerves gnawing at him.

He would not even look Taehyung in the face. It was his job to take care of her and he had left her alone in revenge, no one was home to watch over her, no one.

At the mercy of herself and loneliness.

Just the thought lacerated Jimin in several places, the physical wounds were soon forgotten, the doctor who had been forced by Namjoon to examine Jimin, despite the latter's insistence that it was a waste of time, said the cuts were healing well. But Jimin did not care.

She was his fixed thought.

He was storming Choi hideouts, capturing and torturing members of his gang and allies, but no one knew Y/N, no one had captured her, and everyone did not have close relations with Minho, Jimin felt on the high seas.

Taehyung on his part had not stopped for a moment to carry out to the letter the directives Jimin gave him through Namjoon.

He felt terribly guilty.

With Jimin, and fuck, even with Y/N.

He had not appreciated the girl's gesture, not at all, and in those days he would have liked to use her as target practice, he would not have denied it, but objectively analyzing the situation it was normal that she would sooner or later react that way if pushed beyond her limits.

She still deserved punishment, but not death, and in Minho's hands she would have received both instead, he knew that very well and Jimin did too, an additional reason that drove his friend further and further into madness.

Seeing Jimin destroyed like that had made him realize that she was not just "Jimin's bitch," even if the boy did not admit it, she was "Jimin's woman." One of the family.

Perhaps the man himself still could not understand it, but Taehyung knew that soon Jimin would fully understand his feelings.

The man in question saw the door to his office at the Dark Moon open for Namjoon to appear, carrying a dark folder.

"Any news?" he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes.

"I have what you asked for," he replied, putting that folder on his desk, "I'll leave you alone, okay?"

He didn't want to invade Jimin's privacy, what he was going to read soon would not be easy to digest and he didn't want to witness the boy's weakness, Jimin would not stand for it.

Namjoon left the room in silence and Jimin was left alone with Y/N's past.

He hesitantly took those papers, aware that he was the one who had requested them, sighed before removing the rubber band.

L/N Y/N.

At last he knew her real name, with a strange feeling he continued to read each word carefully.

Her father and mother were foreigners, but they had resided in South Korea since Y/N's birth, who had not finished her studies due to lack of money.

But things got strange after the third page, there were complaints, many.

All made by the mother and all involving the same subject, Y/N.

But they were soon withdrawn.

Statements of bruises, physical and verbal abuse against the girl who at the time was only a ten-year-old girl, the mother accused her husband's brother, she said that he took advantage of the help he offered them to do things with the woman's underage daughter, she did not say explicitly what, she simply pinned Y/N's physical and mental injuries on the man, Mikkel, except that she later withdrew everything.

The authorities soon grew tired of that tirade, paid her no further heed, and ignored the latest complaint, dismissing it as the ramblings of a madwoman.

Jimin's hands trembled as he held the papers, finding a legal and authentic medical report proving sexual assault on Y/N, who was 13 years old. But no one had lifted a finger to help her, even though she was born in Korea she was the daughter of foreigners and bore no Korean surname, who cared about her?

Jimin's dark eyes glittered with fury as he dwelled on the name of the man who had made Y/N's childhood and adolescence a living hell, he now understood many things and felt disgusted with himself.

He too had repeatedly ignored her pleas for help, seeing her as an enemy to be put down and humiliated because she was a woman.

But she was not that kind of despicable, power-hungry woman; she was just a desperate girl.

A gasp went up his esophagus at remembering the despicable words about her virginity, not to mention what a bastard he had been while drunk that last time.

'Now you are no longer a virgin,' he had told her.

He had taken more purity from her without her permission, he felt like a monster.

And he laughed at himself, "You brought me to my knees, baby.... You did it," he said, slumping back against the chair.

"I don't know anything!"

Jimin glowered at the older man; he was as furious as a beast. It had been eight fucking days and still nothing from Y/N.

He was tired of that fucking game.

"I'm going to tell you again, you old ass-kisser, Choi Minho kidnapped my girlfriend and now you're going to tell me where he is right now, you're his fucking butler, you need to know that!" he ranted with his face transfigured with rage, kicking the chair on which the elderly man was tied, tipping it over furiously.

They had found the man in one of the last properties they had searched, it was an English-style mansion, the asshole had lavish fantasies.

"Mr. Choi never warns me about his moves-" a traumatic punch hit him right in the mouth, the old man found himself spitting blood and teeth.

"THEN YOU WILL MAKE ME A LIST OF THE PLACES WHERE YOUR BOSS IS USUALLY HIDING LIKE A SEWAGE RAT!" he ranted, hitting him again, Taehyung and Jungkook looked at him in amazement, never had Jimin lost his temper like that, "And pray that it's in one of them, because if you tease me and anything has happened to her, I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands," he hissed venomously with swollen neck veins.

"Jimin."

Seokjin watched the scene with folded arms and a serious look.

"What?" he did not turn to look at his boss, feeling dejected and tired, nervous and angry. He wanted to kill everyone.

"Calm down, that's not how we're going to find her."

"Yes, I will! I'll cut the throat of anyone who gets in the way, Jin!" he was beside himself, understood a good deal of his feelings, and wanted her back by his side as soon as possible.

He would never leave her alone again.

The insistent ringing of a phone interrupted the flow of his thoughts, he ignored the moans of the man on the ground and concentrated on Seokjin. The boy answered without thinking, and from his expression Jimin guessed that something had happened.

"...So you found the house?" Jimin instantly revived.

Like lightning he reached out and snatched the phone from Seokjin's hands, on the other side was Hoseok.

"Did you find her? Where, tell me where the fuck you are," he began to tar and feather him with questions and expletives until Hoseok could overpower his voice, "... I'll see you there, don't move a fucking muscle, Jung Hoseok," he ordered him, Jin voluntarily took back his phone shaking his head.

"Good job, Hoseok...no, do as he told you," he brought two fingers to his forehead trying to calm his headache, amplified by the prisoner's moans of pain.

He pulled his gun out of his classically cut jacket and fired two quick shots in the direction of the elderly man.

"Namjoon, go with him and prevent him from exposing himself too much, he is still wounded."

"You made me do it, princess," sighed Minho buttoning his pants once more, "If you had listened to me you wouldn't be like this now."

But Y/N was not listening to him, she had no voice left so much she had screamed, her expressionless eyes staring at everything and nothing.

The torture had continued every day, Minhyun beat her and Minho raped her, bringing her to the brink of death every single time when he clutched her neck in a death grip.

She had not eaten for days and was given water only when she did not shriek too much. Like a prize.

She was deeply distraught.

"Now you're boring me, though. Where the fuck is the Bangtan hideout, you know! Jimin would never keep so close to a mere escort, you must count for something to him!"

She counted for nothing to Jimin, otherwise he would have already found and rescued her. Jimin had gotten rid of a burden like her, Minho had done him a favor.

Hot tears slid disgustingly down her bruised face.

That thought hurt her more than any of Minhyun's punches, she had been used to the end, but now she had run out of batteries, she only prayed that with her sister, life had been more merciful and gentle.

"Mr. Choi!" Minhyun slammed the door of that prison alarmingly.

"Who taught you to enter like that!"

"Four of the Bangtans and their men are here," he said in a strained voice, the atmosphere in the room becoming heavy, "One of them is that bastard Park himself, he has already shot and taken out eight of our men at the entrance."

Y/N could see the trembling take over Minho's body, who licked his suddenly dry lips.

Her heart was beating incessantly, Jimin was there, he was there!

"We must leave, now!" exclaimed his bodyguard once again, Minho woke up and turned sharply toward the girl.

A strange expression was present on his face.

"Nothing personal, little girl... " he said before nodding to his henchman, who firmly grabbed his glock, "But the idea that Jimin might get you back doesn't appeal to me one bit," he ran out of the room like a coward, as the deafening sound of a gunshot ripped through the air, a sharp and terrifying sensation expanded from her chest to her nerves, she gaped her lips in a gasp, but blood rushed up her throat and blocked her attempt to catch her breath.

She was dying, really dying.

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centaurianthropology · 2 months

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Oh man, I think the Circle of the Crimson Mirror might just be MY Candela circle. I enjoyed the goofy schlock horror with the Circle of the Vassal and the Veil, and really enjoyed the amping up of horror in The Circle of Needle and Thread (though the horrors of war theming was not specifically for me, it was still well done). I haven’t gotten to watch the Circle of Tide and Bone because life happened, but from what I’ve heard it was very good.

But I was laughing out loud with glee for the first episode of the Circle of the Crimson Mirror. All these characters are delightful. The setting is fascinating (starting out OUTSIDE of Newfaire and expanding the world was really fun), the theming of Irish folklore horror gives a folk horror mixed with cosmic horror vibe that I’m really excited for. And Liam is just the sort of ruthless DM that is perfect for a horror game. Because for me, keeping your players wrapped up in the horror, making them at least a little genuinely afraid (after talking through Lines and Veils of course) in a fun and contained way IS the heart of playing a horror game. It’s the same as watching a horror movie, in that you WANT to be scared, that’s part of the enjoyment, but in a horror game the fun is having it happen to you.

And both folk horror and cosmic horror are some of my favorite subgenres, so this is hitting all my favorite sorts of horror. And because it’s me, see below for my much longer thoughts about this first episode and the characters. Because I’ve never found a topic I enjoy that I can’t write an essay about.

Liam comes for everyone straight out of the gate, doesn’t he? While I found the train cold open in chapter 2 exciting, I found this even more harrowing. With NPCs we barely know constantly imperiled, all the investigators are really sketched so clearly right off the bat with their actions rather than their more open explanations later. I love that all of them lean heavily into being out of their depth, even sometimes making poor choices because of it. The players are aware they are in a horror game. The characters are not.

So let’s talk about those characters:

MALCOLM TRILLS

Imari Williams was the player at the table I had no prior experience with, and I love what he’s doing here. He puts his whole body into acting out the scene, even at the table. Even before we know he was a Sole Survivor of a massacre during the war (and I found it deeply entertaining that Imari couldn’t help but dump his backstory all over the floor. Liam’s gently encouraging everyone to hold it back for dramatic moments, and Imari is just so excited he’s like “NO! HERE IT IS!” not once but twice in the very first episode), we knew that. Because Imari is clearly dedicated to acting that out through what Malcolm chooses to do. He believes in saving others, especially after losing his entire squad. He has to do it, even (or maybe especially) for those civilians he doesn’t know. His entire point in being in Candela is saving people. So when Liam dunks two unnamed sailors in the ocean, Malcolm goes in. His friends are horrified. They love and value him, and they value him more than two randos. But to him, the randos are the point. Saving people is the point. So no matter how many disappointed dad-lectures he gets from Leo (and this is clearly not the first one he’s gotten), Malcolm is always going to be this way. He’s always going to try to play the hero in a horror setting, which is such a delicious choice for a horror player to make. Everyone at that table knows how perilous it is, but Imari is fully committed, and I love it.

We already know a lot of his background, but there are things we don’t know. We don’t know his relationship with his family, or why Leo is so disdainful of the Trills as a group. There seems to be an implication that the Trills are old money in Newfaire, perhaps, or at least a legendary family for other reasons. And apparently reckless heroism is a family trait. But what does Malcolm do in his day-to-day? He’s the one we don’t have a career or life for back in Newfaire yet, and I am interested to see who he is when he’s not playing the hero for Candela.

LEO AMICUS

I love the description of “I’m going to lie a little and say ‘early forties’” as an explanation for Leo’s age. It tells me a lot about his character right off the bat. We know he’s older (but not how much) and that he doesn’t want to admit he’s older. There’s just a touch of vanity already there, and given that he’s also a man in a dressing gown on a ship in a severe storm, who thinks that his presence is deeply inappropriate? Who asks if there’s a bar on a tramp steamer? We know so much about Leo already, and I love it all. Taliesin plays a dandy so well, his table reactions are so expressive, and it’s so clear that a setting like this is NOT where Leo shines. He shines in social situations, in parties and bars and places where his charms mean something beyond keeping a crewmember calm long enough that she can be knocked unconscious. But he’s so great in being totally overwhelmed and being useless in an action sequence.

And once the storm is over? We find out that Leo is very much the mother hen of the group (probably the oldest member). He knows Malcolm well, and treats Grimoria like a beloved niece. We haven’t gotten a lot of interactions between him and Edgar, but I’m excited to see what their relationship is like, as the two more cautious members of the group.

It was in his interactions with the other members of the circle that I realized how much like family this circle is. They are VERY close, despite ostensibly just being coworkers. There is such a deep care and concern for one another here and I love knowing how dangerous that also is in a horror game. And Leo is the one most open about his attachments here. We know he doesn’t have much blood family, and doesn’t talk to them. We know he looks at these people as his family.

And I love that, for that family, we see a REALLY different side of Leo. While he was overwhelmed and trying not to look at the blood on the boat, the second the Murphy girls (or whatever was masquerading as them) tried to murder Malcolm and the others, Leo was grabbing kitchen knives and trying to kill them. His perspective from his talk with Malcolm also remains consistent: you put your family first. When his family is threatened, meek Leo melts away and we have a man who will do whatever is necessary, kill whoever is necessary, or let anyone die to protect them. He seems to have few moral convictions, but an enormous amount of love, and that excites me for this character.

And I love that we actually know very little about him right now. We know he lives in Red Lamp (because of course he does) and that his apartment doubles as their chapterhouse. So he can be Team Dad at every meeting.

Also congrats to him for getting laid in the very first episode. Hot sailor dude propositions him, and Leo is all about that life. This Professional Man of Leisure is clearly gay catnip.

DR. EDGAR LYCORIS

I was so excited that Alex was finally going to be in a filmed Candela game (he was apparently one of the play-testers during its development, and it’s so clear he knows the rules). Dr. Lycoris is cool, calm, almost robotic in his presentation. He’s definitely a classic Alex character with his calm and his normal-guy-in-a-group-of-weirdos vibe (while secretly being very much a weirdo himself), and filled with casual competence and rudeness. But at the same time there are hints of how much he cares about this circle too. Him quietly calling Grimoria ‘Grim’ when she’s unconscious and he’s tending to her, telling her, “You can’t sleep forever, Grim,” in such a fond tone. The two of them clearly have some quiet history together, and there is a real softness between them that I’m excited to see them dig into as they get deeper into the game. There’s clearly a long-standing connection with Malcolm too, with both of them extremely aware of one another’s skills and weaknesses, working together seamlessly, especially in moments of extreme stress. I want to see more of these soft moments, these personal moments when his icy demeanor cracks, and I imagine we’re going to get plenty of them, given that THIS is how intense the first episode was.

He and Leo are the two characters we know the least about at this point. We know that Edgar is a surgeon working in the main hospital in Newfaire. We know that he is cool under pressure, and that he is both used to fighting (his immediate shift into using his scalpel as a precision weapon to go after arteries and tendons is such a nice touch for the character), but also can really be shocked by sudden violence (I love that he totally freezes after THAT happened to Declan’s mother). He states that he wears nice and fashionable clothing, but the clothing is almost wearing him rather than the other way around, like someone picked them out for him. I want to know who that other person is (is it Leo???). I want to know who he is when he’s not trying to wear what other people expect of him.

I am so excited to get to know Dr. Lycoris.

GRIMORIA

Likely a stage name, and I do wonder if we'll get her birth name, or if that even matters to her at this point. Mechanically, I am thrilled to see a Candela player try to homebrew a multiclass in this system. She’s essentially gone for a Medium/Magician hybrid. We know she works as a procurer of esoteric artifacts. She performs shows with smoke bombs, so likely is a stage magician, and that she has been able to channel spirits since she was a small child.

And we know that she’s 18. In a group in which consists of a man who is at least in his mid-forties, a man who is 32, and a man who is a surgeon (so has at least obtained advanced training, and is probably in his late twenties at minimum, and is likely in his thirties given the hints that he served as a battlefield surgeon during the war), Grimoria is YOUNG. Absurdly so. The guys care about her in a different way than they do one another. They look out for her in subtle ways, though are all very careful not to treat her as a child. The softness between her and Edgar is reflected in the overtly familial way that Leo talks to her, treating her like a very clever niece, but also the person he finds the most calming in the group. It’s fun to see that, even though he treats her as his relative, he doesn’t treat her as a child. She’s the one he goes to when he needs to clear his head. He just wants to listen to her read aloud. He finds talking with her soothing, and it’s clear why. She has a good head on her shoulders, and is rising to the occasion, so while he is caring for her, he also intrinsically understands her need to care for him as well. And Aimee really sells that in-between nature of being 18. It’s such a great portrayal of someone on the verge of being an adult, but not quite there yet. Someone her friends want to care for, but also want to treat like an adult and like any other member of the group. There is a tension in those relationships purely because of her age.

I also like that she’s the most pure investigator of the group. She’s the one who pushes for information, who has a burning desire to KNOW. And that’s a great flaw and danger for a character in a horror setting. The desire for knowledge in cosmic horror is so dangerous. Her willingness to channel spirits right off the bat is dangerous. She is, in her own quieter way, just as reckless as Malcolm and I love to see it. Aimee is throwing herself into this, playing a character who doesn’t know she has limits let, and is eager to push every boundary. I can’t wait to get to know her even more.

CONCLUSIONS

I love that we have two cautious characters and two reckless characters. I love that we have a balance, and we have a group that instantly portrays exactly how close they all are to one another. We’re not sure how these bonds were forged, but they are so well portrayed and so clear. These people love one another. They would do terrible things for one another, and I can’t wait to see what they go through together.

Count me very excited and very eager for next month’s addition to their story (and count me already sad we only get three episodes with them).

#candela obscura #circle of the crimson mirror #I love them all so much already #Malcolm Trills #Leo Amicus #Edgar Lycoris #Grimoria #Imari Williams #Taliesin Jaffe #Alex Ward #Aimee Carrero

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bemusedlybespectacled · 4 months

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Minor tangent but I have seen a specific criticism of OFMD multiple times that's along the lines of "the problem was the first three episodes being too dark and gritty instead of being our fluffy kind gay show."

And I strongly disagree with that criticism.

Like, Season 1 already had its dark and gritty moments. It was never 100% fluffy. Everything Ed does at the end of 1x10 (throwing Lucius overboard, cutting off Izzy's toe, marooning the crew, and kidnapping Jim and Frenchie) is the most obvious example, but there are others: Stede's experiences as a child, Ed's abusive father, Jim's family's murder. All of them are shown to still be affected years later in a way that impacts how they interact with other people, which is why it's emotionally satisfying when they find love despite it.

Addressing the events of the S1 finale in the first couple of episodes of S2 was vital. It solidifies just how devastated Ed is and how that devastation has affected everyone else, both negatively and positively, for a given value of "positive" (the Kraken crew is clearly closer as a result of their shared trauma). The scenes showing how being part of Stede's crew changed them for the better (talking to and hugging Izzy, Jim telling Fang the wooden boy story with the voices, etc.) were absolutely necessary and arguably the strongest parts of the show, and I don't think we would have had that if the stakes weren't so high. "Ed is a bit mopey sometimes, but it's not that bad!" just doesn't have the same oomph.

Had they pulled a Last Jedi and started 2x01 by throwing away all that build up from 1x10 and making a joke about it, it would have been a poorer show. The times when darker things were treated as a joke (Lucius' experience after being thrown overboard), flat-out ignored (Stede's fairly obvious anxiety disorder), or blown past because of time constraints (Ed getting voted off the ship and then reinstated as part of the crew within a day) were when the show was weakest.

The problem, of course, is that once you've acknowledged that impact, you need to keep acknowledging it. It needs to continue having an impact. And you can't do that if you don't have the time to explore it because you need to skip ahead to the part where everything's fine now.

I'm not saying that they needed to fully shift gears and stop being a comedy entirely. I think S1 threaded the needle pretty well in terms of balancing the conflict with humor. Like, Ed has a breakdown in the bathtub over murdering his father and what a horrible person he is and his plan to kill Stede, and none of that is a joke; the joke is when Stede checks to make sure Ed isn't going to kill him. The sad stuff can be taken seriously and we can still have humor to break the tension! We can do it! We have the technology!

But you can't have a serious thing happen for the sake of growth and then hand wave it away later when it's inconvenient. And you definitely can't introduce ways to break that tension (surprise, Stede is alive because he used This One Weird Trick!) and then not use it when it's inconvenient (surprise, Izzy is alive because he– oh, wait, no, he's dying for realsies).

The issue wasn't the show having dark and gritty bits at all. The issue was the lack of time for those dark and gritty bits to do their fucking job: being a catalyst for personal and relationship growth in a way that actually matters to and affects the story.

#ofmd critical #writing #izzy hands #ofmd meta #personal #our flag means death

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godofdystopia · 7 months

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I really like your dark urge posts and especially the ones about orin and I really find fascinating how the sibling are understood almost in the inverse depending on the audience like outside the temple people dislike Orin IMMENSELY because she’s seen as too bloodthirsty and we do see evidence with her killing assistants of Gortash just to talk about how badly she want to gut him and how she doesn’t stray from that conversation and she does believe in Bhaal’s dream of killing everyone, but in the temple about the Bhaalist and pre game Durge she’s condemned heavily for being too artistic and premeditated and valuing quality of a murder over quantity which we see a method to the people she chooses to kill or kidnap to hold hostage or how she needles you with letters at fight versus just fighting or even her dramatic intended original coup against Durge not even making sure they’re dead and frankly from her diary entry calling them mindless and her speech about wanting them to be a mindless puppet it seems like she didn’t want them dead vs to live disgracefully originally and we see how she does use bodies as display even her own mother in there privacy of a room no one is going actively in and out.

Versus Durge is praised by Bhaal, the butler, and everyone in the temple not only for their direct line from Bhaal alone that orin can’t replicate ever even if her line is probably intentionally murky so Sevarok who already tried to throw a coup against Bhaal himself could get as close as possible to making his own kid related to only himself to do what he couldn’t (and sevarok and bhaal both setting Uk the sibling to end up in fight to the death like the fratricide duel practice saverok I believe started? And that sevarok if you confront him after killing Orin will try to kill you to be the chosen and given him having Helena try to be a chosen by killing Orin probably was not only trying to be the murder god again by setting these murders up but also does what he both compliments and insults Orin for by raising quietly through the side and in his case by not even doing the killing himself despite the title he wants). Especially if you break her verbally she accuses Durge of stealing both her and her grandfathers inheritance from Bhaal despite being made by Bhaal given how Helena doesn’t hesitant to try to take her place but makes me wonder what on earth their conversations with like that he didn’t immediately seem like a lair talking around either Helena or Durge or other worshippers.

But I find it so interesting that through the play through and the way durge both boast the quantity of their kills, the wha they’re praised by most bhaalist and insult by orin for it, they’re definitely as much if not more bloodthirsty then orin. Yet outside the temple Durge palms multiple heists that require patience and premeditation and discipline including in the hells and from an arch demon and was respected and feared by people outside the cult for their violence and control. And even taking a tip from Goretash about former bhaalist bones in a museum and taking offense at it being tourist attraction bc Durge does have some idea and defensiveness about the temple as a family and planning both a heist for the bones but also a murder of many as revenge/Justice. And this does concede with Goretash dies of murder as a means of messaging but that relation ship is also so interesting here the gap he sees the two’s behavior as. Especially since their relationship with Goretash that had them apologizing to Bhaal for losing sight of the goal to kill everyone and is condemned by Orin for doing such yet, Goretash not only explicitly says he respect you for your control and discernment he doesn’t think Orín has but canonically massively dislikes mass murder and doesn’t even want to hear what you think about it if you argue with him about Orin after killing her despite you being a bhaalist. Which I definitely think is related to the sides of the two he saw. Which I feel like must have built the resentment more for Orin seeing durge not only get praised for a huge long term plan but sounding more like bane disciple then a bhaalist and she’s the one insulted for things you both associate more with the older sibling.

People do both act differently and are seen different by different people especially groups but I just find it so interesting and I think the game does a good job here showing how roe game durge and orin were neither that different but also why they clashed so badly she’d attempt a coup but also couldn’t carry out the plan durge started and how much other people influenced (especially directly from the butler to sevarok to bhaal) their relationship and antagonism. (Though I also think the difference in perception is related to Durge growing up outside the temple and not meeting the butler until “maturity” versus Orin being born and raised there). Idk I just think it’s very neat and drive the sibling animosity in such an abusive home to an interesting boiling point where you can se how Orín and and pre game Durge saw and understood more of each other then other people who couldn’t understand not being in the family or the temple (especially Goretash saying he’s never been to the temple) but also never really respected or looked in the other in the eye truly.

Sorry for the length, I just find it all really interesting but I really like fratricide in fiction where it’s the aeducan family cycles of brothers killing brothers in dragon age or lion king or hamlet. I think larian did a great job escalating their themes of abuse and familial cycles of violence for the Dark Urge Origin and I would love more of your thoughts on any of it 😅

You, you are my favorite ask this year.

Thank you for giving me the chance to infodump about my Durge Family Mechanics and just how much of a sad and pathetic little meow-meow Orin is if you really think about it.

So Durge was the Golden Child, the Prodigy, the Purest Bhaalspawn that ever was, An Antichrist born from a drop of Bhaal's own gore. Durge never stood a chance, from both the Noble Stalk and Lvl 6 Heal its been shown that Bhaal has had his murderous claws in Durge's mind since the very beginning. No Childhood friends allowed, no other family allowed, nothing outside of Bhaal's Grand Design for global murder allowed.

"Was i sweet once?" In snippets and chances stolen when you could, you were sweet and you tried and tried and tried- But you were the Golden Child, The Purest Bhaalspawn, The Antichrist. You never stood a chance. Any connection was severed when you slept, any escape route was closed by death, any outside connection was forcibly removed. Only Bhaal, only the Dark Urge.

And then we have Orin. Orin: the Zuko to your Azula, the Scar to your Mufasa, the child who always came second. Sarevok may not be working on the same level that Bhaal is but he still never gave her a chance.

Raised by murderers, raised by the cult. She is the child of a child of a Bhaalspawn, and the child of a Bhaalspawn on top of that. Let's not get into that and instead get into how Sarevok, in his own ways, ruined any chance Orin had as well.

Orin may never have had the Dark Urges, she never had Sceleritas whispering in her ear and encouraging her worst aspects, she never had the hooks of Bhaal himself clawed deep in her very mind and soul. And yet because of Sarevok she never stood a chance, she was raised to kill Durge. Raised to kill the person that was raised as her sibling. Raised to hate and despise Durge and desire their downfall all because Sarevok wanted what he was denied in the first games. Where Durge was made to be the perfect Bhaalspawn, Orin was raised to be the perfect Bhaalspawn.

And yet it was never enough.

Orin is despised by the cult for not being enough, not being murderous enough, for killing wrong, for not being as pure as Durge. the people who raised her, who she grew up around, looked down on her as second best and passed her over in favor of Durge. Is it any real wonder that she struck out and tried to murder her sibling? to take what she was raised to crave and desire? To try and claw some semblance of respect from the peoplke who despised her?

And it was never enough.

She wasn't Durge, she wasn't the mastermind, she wasnt enough: Not for the cult, not for the Chosen, not even for Bhaal. she was the second best, the runner up, the perpetual failure who wasnt a pure Bhaalspawn. The chosen hate her for not being Durge, the Cult hate her for not being Durge, Sarevok sees her as a tool and Bhaal sees her as a replacement.

Neither Orin or Durge had a childhood, not really. Durge was a cuckoo forced into an unsuspecting nest, a nest that was coated in blood because of Bhaal. Orin was raised by serial killers and murderers, almost choked by her own mother because of Sarevok. Durge had friends: friends they played with, friends they vivisected alongside Sceleritas. but did Orin? Did Orin have anyone besides subordinates and lackeys? Perhaps she didnt, perhaps young Orin looked at Durge having a family (until it was ruined) and friends (until they were stolen away) and seethed.

Neither Durge nor Orin had anything outside the cult: any connection severed, any lifeline cut. And together they were pti against one another. Durge looking down at the upstart, and Orin looking up at the idol. Hate upon hate, fueled by Bhaal and Sarevok. Fathers who saw them as tools, as weapons, as things instead of people.

They never stood a chance

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #the dark urge #orin the red #bhaal #Bhaalspawn #Bhaalspawn family dynamics are sending me into fits #God i love Dark Urge #God i love Orin #I wish to save them from their horrible family

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deathsbestgirl · 10 days

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okay @calimanc i think i can finally do this!!

first, i tend to think of their relationships in phases. like:

season one: building trust and bonding. they genuinely like each other but it's a process! it takes time to create that bond & partnership. they really create such a good foundation naturally. they don't force it.

seasons two & three: BEST FRIENDS. they trust each other, they love each other, they rely on each other. their roles are set, their bond just gets stronger. season two really sets the tone for true friendship & personal value, not just work.

seasons four & five: it's a Struggle. their relationship is shifting but they're not there yet. it makes things hard but their partnership & friendship are solid. that is not the issue. (although, bad blood is also peak best friends)

season six: tension. surrounding their feelings, trust and getting their shit together lol (genuinely the season of them figuring it out)

season seven forward: THEY ARE IN LOVE. they are all in. s7 they're putting s6 lessons into practice, their communication is improving. s8&9 are hell for them but their love is never the question. coming back to each other is also a process (season seven is them putting the lessons into practice)

iwtb: married. everything is good & terrible. they are haunted, always haunted.

revival: coming back to each other, learning they can be together again despite everything. they never let go and they never will.

i think there's been a lot written about their characters and journeys, at least somewhat related to this. i think i'm recalling some of @randomfoggytiger meta posts about their different struggles, characters, trauma, etc. (the ones i think about a lot: scully teaches mulder to hug, milagro, how the ghosts stole christmas, mulder + s5, mulder / scully family in depths, mulder / scully typing, mulder / scully fight flight freeze — highly recommend, i think foggy puts a lot of things into words that are behind my reasoning)

in the beginning, mulder believes scully is sent as a spy. he's kind but he needles her about aliens, her thesis, her science and she gives back as good as she gets. but scully is so genuine and earnest. she cares about the truth and victims and justice. i've always thought she was excited to work in the field and specifically with mulder. whatever she thought of his spooky moniker, she also knew he was a brilliant man & a good agent. she was prepared to learn from him, regardless of what their cases would be. i don't think she believed all the rumors, i think she's intimately familiar with the rumor mill. and scully always had more of an open mind than anyone gives her credit for.

SO she spends the pilot trying to solve their case and get as much information out of him as possible, she wants him to trust her and she's trying to show him that he can. scully's got him chasing after her on their second? day on the case. she shows him real vulnerability, and imo, a tendency to believe despite her skepticism. and that's when he starts to give her a real chance. mulder's smile when she runs into his arms says sooooo much. AND THEN!!! he is vulnerable with her. he tells her about samantha & it's all he cares about. and she takes him at his word.

to me, this is something that sets the tone for most of their relationship. scully follows him because of his passion and belief, because she believed him when he said the truth was out there. she accepted that work was what mattered most to him and despite her crush, she chose to stay and follow him. she makes that decision over & over again. even when he makes her crazy, even when he gets himself into insane situations. and season one is all about building their trust, radicalizing scully. already before the end of season one, they trust only each other. mulder may show that trust slowly, taking bigger chances with her as time goes on. sharing the personal, letting her know about his informants, introducing her to his friends & eventually deep throat...he listens to her advice, her skepticism, her science and he genuinely appreciates it even if it frustrates him a lot. like when he thanks her in e.b.e., he's frustrated but it's real. he was listening. he recognizes her value to the x files and himself by season two. that conversation in sleepless about 'oh yeah, it's great. i don't know how i put up with you for so long' and 'i learned that from you' and 'i still have my work, and i still have you. and i still have myself.' and this is the "safe" territory for them. they know how to work together and they understand what that means. or they think they do, until scully is abducted and the stakes are raised. (kae wrote about mulder recognizing love in loss once. that's always really stuck with me.) mulder's guilt complex runs high. it's a huge part of his reaction in never again, scully's "my life" and 'we're not even going in circles, just an endless line' and "not everything is about you" is piercing in a very specific way to him. in that moment at the end, they choose silence and it persists for a long time. as does the way they talk around their feelings, their relationship. and mulder specifically is very avoidant. he makes several comments throughout their partnership about her leaving, not wanting to ruin her record or hold her back. and it's just so crazy, because scully eventually tells him that she holds him back, he doesn't need her. scully wants to be needed, and mulder wants her to stay but he 'doesn't want to see her hurt.'

the whole point is they put the work first, their partnership. it was a conscious choice. eventually we learn they both had relationships with people they worked with. i really do think it would make both of them hesitate to get involved with a work partner. generally speaking, scully is a "rule follower" but she doesn't have a problem breaking rules when she thinks it's justified, when she believes it's the right thing to do. no matter who's instincts she's listening to. that's a pattern we see very early on.

THEN they get so comfortable in their roles, believer mulder & skeptic scully, that later on as those things start to shift, they're afraid to change. mulder tells scully her science saved him over & over and in season six she clings to that (completely misunderstanding what he ~really meant, like kae talked about). season six is all about them figuring out what a relationship between them would mean.

but by that point, they had started to figure out some of their own issues. like in never again, scully is struggling with her patterns. so she does something she doesn't do often (i don't think one night stands are ooc, but they're not necessarily her norm. it seems like a periodic thing she may do when she gets That feeling.) scully needs to know she matters, she needs to see her impact. in never again, after paper hearts & el mundo gira, i think she's really hurting in that respect. she doesn't see at this point the impact she's had on mulder or as an agent. you can't tell she works in that office -- no desk, no nameplate, barely any personal items. just some books. initially, they're having two conversations and only partially aware of it. at the end, mulder doesn't seem to understand the issue, but at the end of leonard betts, mulder validates scully. verbally!! directly to her!! he starts to get it. they're not very good at talking directly, that's why never again and the cancer arc, and after, are so difficult. they talk about everything with metaphors, or they're okay sharing little pieces of them. their trauma & pain when forced to.

and season five is ... fraught. as so many other times, but scully nearly died and mulder feels guilty. randomfoggytiger talks about mulder in season 5 here. and the thing about these two, they're traumatized over & over again and they just keep going. but they are deeply affected. i've talked about how not okay scully is, and it takes her so much time to freely lean on mulder. she relies on him & their work, but she doesn't necessarily let him in too far. she holds people at a distance, she's so aware of loss & death and the effects of it, like she talks about in emily. and it isn't really that they need to work through their trauma. it's so much more about letting someone help shoulder the burdens, see them vulnerable. they do that and they do it for each other freely & often. but...for scully, she's always the strong one. she isn't really, but she thinks she has to be. she doesn't want to be another crusade for mulder, someone else he needs to protect. but at the same time, that's what partners do. she takes that "job" very seriously and so does mulder. (but so early on, it isn't because it's part of their job. i think that's extremely clear with scully in tooms & e.b.e., mulder's reaction in lazarus, to her abduction. you can see the progression so clearly.) but they can't protect each other from everything. mulder couldn't save her from being abducted, getting cancer, emily, or being burned alive...scully can't protect him from what happened to samantha. and that's a hard truth. it's something they accept for themselves as fbi agents, but is nearly impossible for them to accept for their partner. it's why scully threatens boggs, why mulder wants revenge on the men responsible for her abduction, why they go as far as they do for each other. they are relentless. (for mulder, he's always blaming himself. often, he wants to protect scully from himself even though he isn't the danger. he isn't the one harming her and he knows how far scully would go. like in endgame 'why didn't you tell me?' 'because i knew you wouldn't let me go through with it' and he runs off on his own because he doesn't want her to risk her life for his crusade, for the answer he needs & seeks.)

and season six!! it's so special because scully knows she's important, he gave her a whole speech about it. they nearly kissed. but they don't talk about it, the silence is maintained in favor of their partnership. and season six is a special brand of putting them in situations. at certain points, their partnership & trust are tested and leading up to those points, they tend to show how solid they really are. like in drive, when their communication is cut off but scully can understand that mulder is avoiding the police traps for a reason and he knows she'll catch onto the clues he manages to drop & that she's working hard to figure out the science/medicine, that she's doing the legwork on their cases that she always does. scully's asking him to get out of the car, but not to abandon it and they spend most of the season slowly putting together a blueprint for a relationship between them. knowing there are feelings between them, on both sides, completely reciprocated but it's a struggle. they learn something, and it's erased. or like the lesson in the unnatural, it takes a while for them to really get it. to put it into practice more consistently. there's a new freedom after one son too, with most of the syndicate killed at the hands of their own stupidity. and literally, neither of them can actually let go because the x files is both of their lives, they both have a very significant stake in the work and that will always connect them. (no matter how they're forced away from it at different points, no matter how they hesitate sometimes.) but it's also always deeper than that. because "you made me a whole person" wasn't just true of mulder. scully is never more herself than she is with mulder. i've said it a few times, but the x files was scully's dream job lol not only does she get to use everything in her arsenal, but she cares & she can be weird & a little mean. mulder gave her a very special kind of safety. scully loved teasing him for his beliefs, she always found it endearing and i just. think that's for a reason. he believes what she can't, and she believes what he can't. (you know, my usual)

i just think about the difference between all souls & all things. mulder is terrified of scully's believe in all souls, but in all souls, he interprets her words through her faith. he wasn't afraid. it was from a distance in all things, but she's also talking about a man she considered the love her life & might have married. but scully's sitting on his couch telling him all about it.

in the revival, scully comes back to the x files for mulder. but she's the one loving the case in mulder & scully meet the weremonster. and where mulder's disbelief & cynicism in the patient x/the red and the black scare her, she's not afraid of it weremonster. she kindly tries to guide him back to it, or rather, gives him the opportunity to find it himself. like he helps her light the candles & talks to god through her in nothing lasts forever. they're not really together but they're always together. it's always about working through something, understanding themselves & each other, and accepting/embracing some truth. like in all things, "what if there was only one choice?" in a way, there is only one choice. the one they made over & over. scully in squeeze & tooms & little green men, mulder in one breath & redux & requiem. all their choices lead to the other, and they almost mourn other choices. but scully would do it all again, she wouldn't change a thing. mulder can't do it alone and there's hope. the truth they both know. the only one they know.

#okay i don't think i did this right #but GENUINELY #read randomfoggytiger & carefulfears #calimanc #mulder and scully #mine #the x files

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waitmyturtles · 10 months

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Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: TharnType and Gray Areas Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I’ll cover the very controversial TharnType, Asian stereotypes towards queerness, and the very difficult gray areas on how this show has been interpreted by various populations over the last few years.]

TW: homophobic and derogatory ideas and language against the queer community. Critical commentary on TharnType and MAME. This review is NOT for you if you are a TharnType or MAME Big Fan.

(I want to give very special thanks to @so-much-yet-to-learn and @lurkingshan for reviewing previous versions of this post and offering the most insightful feedback I could ask for. Thank you both so much.)

Alright. Deep breaths.

TharnType was a necessary addition to the Old GMMTV watchlist. It was. I had to watch it, for:

- the tremendous IMPACT this show has had on BL culture, along with MAME’s continued influence on the genre; - how this show affected shipper culture, and the rippling effects it’s had since then vis à vis MewGulf; - how this show continued to define “high heat” and “chemistry” in BL, and -- at least for me, possibly the most interesting point to needle on -- - what fans, ESPECIALLY the majority cishet fandom, are willing to compromise and/or equivocate on in regards to our values towards the queer community regarding what we consume in media, and how safe or unsafe it is for our queer family that this content exists in the first place.

I gotta say some stuff first before I get into this review. This is the worst show I’ve ever watched, in my own opinion. I offer this flag for MAME and TharnType fans in advance, as I get quite critical down below.

I am angry at this show, at MAME, at the BL industry for allowing this show to exist, and I unfortunately hold anger against Tee Bundit, who I know has since made shows, like Lovely Writer, that deeply criticized the BL industry (and I am enjoying his work now in Step By Step, even while I don’t hesitate to criticize it). ANYONE INVOLVED in the making of TharnType needs to hold personal and professional accountability for this show even existing. And I also think that fans need to hold THEMSELVES accountable if they defend it WITHOUT thinking about the long-term social implications of the existence of this show.

I want to also say that I need to check myself, OFTEN, as I write this, because I don’t want to be some fucking loudmouth, self-righteous ally-savior. I don’t. [My AMAZING drama friends, @lurkingshan and @bengiyo, have held me down during this watch. (Friends. Thank you. Good LORD.)]

I want this review to be as fair as possible to the nostalgia of the moment that this show aired; to note that this show gave high heat, which fans clearly demanded, and IS a worthy component of some dramas if it works with the rest of what the show has to offer by way of writing; and to note that many fans saw a chemistry in MewGulf that they hadn’t seen previously. I especially note that there may be survivors of sexual assault who related to certain pieces of this show, particularly through Type’s lens and his own anger.

With that very long introduction, I will note that I’m not going to talk too much about the show details itself. I don’t need to unwind on plot. For me -- FOR ME -- the show’s plot was problematic.

2019: earlier that year, before TT aired, you had He’s Coming To Me, which was BURIED by GMMTV, and was a TOUR DE FORCE of intricate storytelling and queer revelation. According to this amazing reblog by @so-much-yet-to-learn (another longtime BL observer who UTTERLY held me down during my TT watch, friend, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR THE HOURS you spent me with talking about TT and other issues), shipper fans angry at Ohm and Singto went so far as to SHOW UP TO THE GMMTV BUILDING IN BANGKOK and PROTEST against the split of the KristSingto ship. This is why, in this TT review, I talk about fans needing to take responsibility and accountability for the media we consume. I believe TT exists in part because fans have allowed it to continue to exist in the universe of BL, and many even celebrate TT’s existence -- all while, in my own opinion -- much more compelling art existed before TT (Make It Right, He’s Coming To Me) and certainly after its airing.

In discussion with @absolutebl (yet another drama expert who held me down during my TT watch, THANK YOU, SENSEI), ABL Sensei brings up that, besides a natural tendency to criticize and blame MAME for our needing to have conversations about safety towards queer family, that TT does deserve to be criticized as a standalone piece of content.

I honestly don’t know, Sensei, if I’m mature enough to make that separation, but I will try. MAME herself doesn’t exist in a vacuum: she has an industry, from producers, to showrunners, to actors, to editors, to networks -- that join her in the making of her work. I’ll do my best to separate everything, but.

I noted in my review of Love By Chance that MAME traffics in common Asian stereotypes against the queer community. At the same time, I know that often, we talk about the yaoi origins of BL in Thailand. I think, over time, the explanation of the yaoi origination has been used as a means of explaining WHY certain tropes exist, such as abuse of a partner, bullying, etc. I want to note that while I acknowledge those origins, I also strongly note (as I did in the comments of my LBC review) that yaoi origins are themselves problematic, as created by a majority cishet female artist base, and thus I question the accurate representation of queer themes both in yaoi and in early and/or questionable Thai BL that lean into common stereotypes held by Asian nations. (That being said, I do DEEPLY ACKNOWLEDGE @so-much-yet-to-learn‘s point to me that many in the queer community still consumed this media, as the West was producing next-to-nothing by way of queer love and/or queer perspectives.)

Much of what I saw in LBC and TT -- gang rape, cheating, revenge, derogatory language, hurtful stereotypes of top/bottom and husband/wife -- are repeat, word-for-word stereotypes that I heard from my Asian family growing up. Examples of what I saw by way of problematic stereotypes in TharnType include:

- Tharn repeatedly and casually calling Type “his bitch,” - The use of the F word, repeatedly, by Type, - Type attacking his out classmates, and indirectly attacking his friend, Tum, - The assumption that because Tharn and Tar are gay, that they are promiscuous (even Techno assumes this while leaving Type alone with Tharn early in the series), - Techno himself not calling out Type for his homophobia throughout the series, - The use of gang rape as a means of revenge by Lhong to Tar,

and many more. I will also note that I was incredibly uncomfortable by Lhong’s redemption at the end, as if the story demanded that Lhong’s own actions that drove him to order grievous sexual violence against another man needed to be forgiven. That was a paradigm that seemed apologetic to his actions and did not sit well with me.

As I noted to @bengiyo: us international fans may be lulled to think that Thailand is majority progressive and accepting of the queer community based off of the BLs that we watch. It IS a much more progressive culture in SE Asia in supporting the queer community, and I would assume that gay culture is able to flourish in city centers, as opposed to rural areas.

But Thailand has NOT legalized same-sex marriage. And I posit that we in the West don’t actually realize that harmful stereotypes against the queer community absolutely still exist and flourish in Thailand, Taiwan, and elsewhere in Asia -- countries that certainly leverage BL as soft power, but nations in which familial or cultural expectations may STILL make ACTUAL coming out and public existence a dangerous or risky proposition. THIS SHIT IS GRAY. BL is fiction -- it is not reality. It is still dangerous -- YES, INCLUDING HERE IN THE STATES -- to be out in very many towns, cities, and communities around the world.

Now. When I went into TT, I understood, AS ASSUMED FACT, that MAME was a sexual assault survivor, who used this style of writing about queerness and queer love to process her own SA experiences. That equivocation gave me the serious jibbles, which I’ll talk about in a second, but I understood it to be the line that most BL observers have made about her work, and/or justification or explanation for her work existing.

I’ve since learned that this is not necessarily fact: that it is not known if MAME is an SA survivor, and that she is notoriously private and has not revealed much, if anything, about her own past.

So, from there, how do I process this? How do I process that it’s FANON -- NOT FACT -- that MAME may or may not write from a survivor’s perspective?

I also note here, thanks to the wonderful @so-much-yet-to-learn, that many fans who are SA survivors have written in the past about how they related to Type’s anger and/or homophobia after his own assault experience. I also understand that SA survivors have, in the past, had difficulty with strong rejections of TharnType, like the one I have composed here, in reaction to the fear that they cannot tell their own stories of internal anger against their perpetrators and the communities from which their attackers come from.

Thus, I want to note a VERY DIFFICULT PROPOSITION TO WORK THROUGH. What we’re facing here is that there may be people, SA survivors in particular, who related to Type’s homophobia. This is Type’s fictional homophobia -- as written by a very real, assumed-to-be female author. At the same time, I myself very much acknowledge that I still see stereotypes against the queer community, in a very Asian voice that I am familiar with, in MAME’s shows.

Let me tell you why this gives me, personally, the jibbles. Let’s assume that MAME is an SA survivor. As someone trained in the social services, I am not sure that I would advise a potential client to create very public content that is potentially harmful towards a minority community, as a means of their own personal processing. MAME is FAMOUS. Her work is POPULAR. Can we justify the dangers that her work poses -- the stereotypes and assumptions she traffics in against our queer family -- for her own psychological processing?

If I am her therapist, I am guiding her to instead journey map, to meditate, to advise her of HUNDREDS of other therapeutic psychological modalities to process her pain -- all modalities that do not set up a minority community to be stereotyped through very publicly consumed content.

I posit here -- MY OPINION, FAM -- that MAME has leveraged her own personal bigotry against the queer community in her shows for clout with Asian and international audiences that would not quibble about the harmfulness of the stereotypes that the show portrayed. And she’s gotten away with it for the utter control she has over her own content. AND SHE KNOWS THERE’S AN AUDIENCE FOR IT, so she keeps making what I call bigoted content.

I thought TT was a DANGEROUS show for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about queer family. And I am distraught at the BL industry for seeing dollar signs against that clout and investing in it.

The equivocating in support of TharnType certainly exists. There are people who view this show with nostalgia, as there still wasn’t the volume of BL content, with heat, in 2019 as we have today. There are people out there who may very well openly relate to Type’s homophobia as a character, and MAME’s homophobia as an author and as a human. Hell, Foei Patara, who we see in everything these days, shared a very anti-LGBTQ+ video on his Instagram just recently.

I DO have to give a nod to nostalgia. I have to try to be fair here. This is the ENTIRE POINT of the OGMMTVC. BL fans in 2019 wanted a thing. High heat, high chemistry. I know that there are fans that are AWARE of these high-level issues of MAME’s work. And yet, there are many that still look back on TharnType with fondness, because it brought something new to the field.

What I’m suffering from here is the equivocation of MAME’s work by way of analysis against a presumed opinion -- NOT fact -- that MAME is an SA survivor. That seems to open some sort of door to allow us to watch her work, despite the dangers of the stereotypes contained within her work.

The ethics of this. I’m not a strong enough person to go near that equivocation. Because I am not a survivor. I’m an Asian. In MAME’s voice, I hear the stereotypes against the queer community that I grew up with. And that’s where I’m writing this review. I’m hurt and appalled by her proliferating what I term to be dangerous viewpoints against my queer sisters and brothers -- assumptions that I heard growing up in my Indian community.

Fuck. Am I ever glad that I DIDN’T watch this show in 2019. I’m protected by a fortress of past and present works that I can rely on that proves that there are other arenas in which BL is being leveraged for good, for progressive art, for the introduction of ideas that support our queer family, AND that might also offer critical commentary on issues that affect other minority or vulnerable corners of society, à la Moonlight Chicken.

I haven’t even gotten to the MewArt scandal and the problematic nature of the MewGulf ship. All of those are also very important issues, but I can’t bring myself to get deep about them, because just talking about the show itself is a lot. But Mew Suppasit’s past alleged behavior is certainly problematic, and is worth considering if folks were to think about watching this show.

In any case: I’m never watching another MAME show again, ever. And as a side note, MewGulf didn’t do it for me. At this point in 2019, I feel like we’d seen ships with much better chemistry and even heat, like PerthSaint (a MAME ship, actually), OhmToey, MaxTul, and even OhmSingto and their utterly brilliant acting. @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle noted in the comments of one of my TT late-night posts that they didn’t see the MewGulf chemistry, and frankly, I didn’t either -- I didn’t see that these guys, as the acted characters of Tharn and Type, bodily and ferally WANTED AND VISCERALLY LOVED each other in fiction, the way that actor pairs like EarthMix, OhmNanon, FirstKhao, and others have since perfected in their work as their respective characters.

This post is about the responsibility that so-called “artists” bear when taking up the mantle of created content about a minority community, as well as the responsibility that we bear, as fans, as the majority cishet female fanbase, to consume this content. MAME and the slices of the BL industry that support her MUST understand that perpetuating stereotypes about a minority community WILL HAVE VISCERAL SOCIAL IMPACTS in REINFORCING THOSE STEREOTYPES, among a majority cishet fanbase and across society, to the danger of the existence of our queer family.

THIS IS WHY WE NEED MORE QUEER CONTENT BY QUEER FILMMAKERS.

That is the way in which this paradigm will be broken over time. And us in the cishet fanbase MUST STAND READY to support art -- in the words of dear friend @wen-kexing-apologist -- by queer family, for queer family, about queer family. We in the cishet majority bear a responsibility to break the paradigm of dangerous stereotypes, perpetrated by who create content through their own bigotry, either consciously or unconsciously -- or both.

[I finished TharnType in record time. I needed to get it out of my system. And now I’m fully invested in OffGun and having a DELIGHTFUL time with Theory of Love: I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS SUBVERSIVE, MINDBENDING SHOW. Ooooooooooooooooooh. Right up my alley! Hopefully I can muster my usual Monday review for ToL -- let’s see. I still feel somewhat broken by TT, but ToL and OffGun have been SUCH a salve.

Here’s the list as it stands currently. We have two changes! First, thanks to a suggestion by @wen-kexing-apologist and @lurkingshan, I’m adding a non-BL (!!!!) to the list in 3 Will Be Free. I have a number of separate Jojo Tichakorn priorities to achieve before Only Friends airs, and this is a big one; as this is a show from 2019, I want to see where GMMTV was willing to go in pushing queer content in non-BLs, and this is the perfect time to watch it. I’ll still include a review in this space!

And, per @absolutebl Sensei’s suggestion, I’ve added YYY (2020) to this, to enjoy Cheewin unhinged in what seems to be a disaster of a show -- but an important one for real queer representation (THANK YOU, SENSEI!). I’m excited for chaos. I’m watching it out of chronology with ITSAY and planning it as a mental break. As always, I’ll take any feedback on the list as it stands!

1) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 2) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 3) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 4) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 5) Together With Me (2017) (review here) 6) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 7) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 8) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 9) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 10) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 11) TharnType (2019) 12) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (I’m watching this out of order just to get familiar with OffGun before Theory of Love -- will likely not review) 13) Theory of Love (2019) (watching) 14) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (not a BL or an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn including queer content in non-BLs) 15) Dew the Movie (2019) (not an official part of the OGMMTVC watchlist, but I want to watch this in chronological order with everything else) 16) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) 17) 2gether (2020) 18) Still 2gether (2020) 19) I Told Sunset About You (2020) 20) YYY (2020, out of chronology) 21) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (not a true BL, but a MaxTul queer/gay romance set within a genre-based show that likely influenced Not Me and KinnPorsche) 22) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 23) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS 24) Lovely Writer (2021) 25) I Promised You the Moon (2021) 26) Not Me (2021-2022) 27) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 28) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch 29) Secret Crush On You (2022) [watching for Cheewin’s trajectory of studying queer joy from Make It Right (high school), to SCOY (college), to Bed Friend (working adults)] 30) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 31) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 32) GAP the Series (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL) 33) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023) 34) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 35) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) (Cheewin’s latest show, depicting a queer joy journey among working adults)]

#turtles catches up with old gmmtv #turtles catches up with thai BLs #turtles catches up with the essential BLs #the old gmmtv challenge #ogmmtvc #tharntype #tharn x type #type x tharn #mew suppasit #gulf kanawut #mewgulf #bigotry in asian media #discrimination in asian media #discrimination in BLs #allyship

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