More and more often I went alone when some stranger appeared suddenly in the dooryard, asking for healer or midwife. Daniel Rawlings’s casebook began to acquire new entries, and the larder was enriched by the gifts of hams and venison haunches, bags of grain and bushels of apples, with which my patients repaid my attentions. I NEVER ASKED FOR PAYMENT, but something was always offered.
this is not siege related but i heard there was a special placeee where men could go an emancipate the brutality and the tyranny of their rulerrsss but this place is real you neednt fret with tommy, tubbo, wilbur and hecc eret its a very big and not blown up l’manburg my l’manburgggg my l’manburgggg my l’manburgggg my l’manburgggggggg :’D rip wilbur (rlly late)
Genre:PhysCom AU-smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (pornwithplot??)
Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts
slowly hands you a cake that says “I haven’t updated this fic in 14 months and I don’t know when the next part is coming but here’s an update thanks for being patient” in comic sans
——-
The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can’t bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi’s hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.
You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.
“It’ll be alright. Don’t worry about a damn thing, okay?” He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.
You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don’t feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.
“Yoongi…” you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t apologize.”
You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he’s forbidden you to say.
“I’ve already called Namjoon, it’ll all be fine. Don’t worry.” He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.
Where were you when ROYALTY came back to the throne??? Actually teawithkpop and I are good friends, and have been in contact this whole time, so when I learned that physcom was coming back I could hardly fucking breathe, I was so excited. Rightfully so.
The genius, the intellect. God, where do I begin? First off, OC’s characterisation. Here is an OC with personality, with a past, present, future. Motivations and goals. Old traumas. And a heart of gold so ferociously protected that it blinds her to the kindness of the people around her. I’ve said before but I love how bullheaded and stubborn she is, but she’s not without her faults and you can’t help but cry with her. I literally cheered at her revelation at the end of this chapter. So hard-won, so well-deserved. Also, holding Yoongi’s hand ✅ (therefore it’s a good fic—)
But for real, I went back through and re-read the entire fic up to this point just to regain context and my god, the author does such an amazing job of painting a portrait of longing, lust, and heartache, all within this tiny universe. I almost cried at the end of this chapter. It all comes round, pulled into a neat circle and I’m just as optimistic as OC, just as ready to see where the next steps take her and the boys.
In the end, this fic has become about trust and love, against impressive odds, both outside and in. About loving yourself enough to be loved. Learning to have faith in others. And I’m so proud of my hardworking spouse for delivering such a potent message begun with such a seemingly simple premise: “you are bangtan’s slut”.
If you haven’t read this series yet, I strongly recommend you give it a try. The smut is breathless, bold, and heart wrenching at times, and the characters simply cannot be beaten. I’ll always yell about the OC (we’re married, me and her) but literally all 7 of the boys bangtan have their unique voices and struggles and kinks enough to reach out and convince you they’re real enough to feel, suffer, and yearn. Come for the amazing smut, stay for the aching feels.
![[insert character] my beloved](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e1f192db4d65a15a3080a11b96ad577a/f0d0d17df5140208-93/s30x30u_c1/b02faf9a1b494dc32817a0c2fe1dd0e59b80c2a0.jpg){kind=small}
