#and you guys still find me lmaoo
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nobodybetterlookatme · 1 year ago
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Lmao whenever I see one of you guys in my notes on my main blog I'm literally just like 👀
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poppyseed799 · 6 months ago
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I think one of the weirdest signs that I was trans was that I was fine with being called a woman but NOT a cis woman. I felt awful cuz I was like “do I have a problem with people calling me cis even tho I am???” cuz I am NOT someone who minds being called accurate descriptors such as cis. I felt like I just wanted to be special or something even tho that wasn’t it and felt so bad. Something just felt really wrong about being called a CIS woman. Definitely one of the more thought provoking signs I was trans lol
#was it cuz ‘cis’ implied I had accepted it? idk cuz I WAS fine with being a woman (as far as I knew)#just some weird subconscious thing I guess. I remember admitting it to my sister at the time lol#I don’t think there are rlly many other interesting signs for me tbh. except that I only corrected ppl online when they called me he if it#either went on so long that I felt bad for them OR we were arguing and I needed something new for them to be wrong about lmao#but similar to the actual post there is ONE thing I still find interesting. which is I watched a gacha cringe video (some were ridiculous#but I often defended them) and there were some where it said ‘I wish I was a boy so I could be gay’ and everyone’s like being disgusted by#this presumably little girl acting like she’s the creepiest fujoshi ever but LITERALLY I’ve had similar thoughts. anything that starts with#‘I wish I was a boy’ obviously has trans implications even if you don’t like what comes after it lol. but like honestly. I would imagine#myself in relationships with guys (mostly fictional characters as u do) and I just hated the idea that it was straight#like same situation as the post. I felt awful cuz I would be FINE with being straight (which I knew I wasn’t anyways) so why did I need to#be special or whatever? it’s cuz just like the post that WASNT the problem. it just felt wrong to me that I wasn’t a boy. so I BASICALLY#wanted to be a boy so I could be in a mlm relationship just like those gachas. it’s just a roundabout way of realizing ur trans.#to be clear I very much had to imagine myself as a guy (typically another fictional character DUH) in order to enjoy it at all#I just realized this sounds sexual. most of it wasn’t actually but the rest is my business LMAOO
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zalayni · 1 year ago
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⁶ ₆ HER WAY 𓏲࣪ . 𓂃 🌷
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𖦹 pairing: earth42! miles morales x reader
𖦹 summary: when you're not hanging out with the one and only miles morales then you're busy texting him instead.
𖦹 author's note: first post sorry if it's bad 😭😭
𖦹 next part
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scenarios without images ↓ (I reached my limit on images LMAOO)
he only has snapchat to text his friends, uncle aaron, and you.
if you guys have snapstreak best believe he's gonna send you random snaps throughout the day.
got mad when you accidentally lost your guys 200+ snapstreak. don't worry though you two soon regained the streak and surpassed it.
he also has instagram so he can like your posts.
if you have something written in the notes section he'll always find someway to reply to it even if it's just a song.
you tag him and only him in your Instagram posts and pin his comment.
he has one post and it was about you.
@ milesmorales commented on your post
“my girl 🫶🏿”
he sends you videos on tiktok because he finds clicking on links too much work.
you forced him to do the lipstick trend where you leave kiss marks all over his face.
if he's not sending you a tiktok he'll tag you in the comment section
don't get me started on this man and winning against you in iMessage games 😭
ESPECIALLY THE BASKETBALL ONE. he swears he's better than all the NBA players.
he'll send you voicenotes if he's too lazy to type. sometimes you can't listen to them because you're out in public so you make him type it out (he'll complain but would still do it for you)
FaceTimes you whenever. don't expect a warning from him once you hear your phone ringing you better pick up.
he'll text you as soon as he's off his prowler business
if he ever gets grounded he'll ever just show up at your home or he'll text you on his laptop.
one time he lost his laptop and had to text you through his tv. it took me 5 minutes to type down one sentence
miles 💋
inaminit
yourcontactname
it took you 5 mins to type that
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ıllıllı please do not steal, translate or repost my work on other apps.
art work in header made by koscribbls on instagram.
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mirohlayo · 8 months ago
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Hi, can I request a Reader x F1 grid story where reader breaks her arm/leg and she can't race because of it, but she still attends the races to watch with her team? And then the drivers start to draw on her cast as a feel better soon gesture.
Maybe she also posts it on her social media throughout the day to show fans the progress of the drawings.
Thank you so much xxx
P.S. Love you writing
Hi !! So as you requested I used the F1 grid, but only the drivers who I write for originally (+ Albon). I also wrote reader as a F1 Academy driver to make it more easy to write and more realistic. It's the first time I write something like this, so hope you'll enjoy it girll !! ᥫ᭡
DRAWINGS ON MY BROKEN ARM
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( because maybe you just need some love from your handsome friends. )
warning : none just a broken arm, a cast and fluff
note : I really struggled a lot to find some good cast pictures, these ones are a bit awful lmaoo sorry
word count : 1.3k
It was not planned. This was absolutely not what was planned.
As you get out of the car with difficulty, greeting pleasantly the driver who kindly accompanied you to the Suzuka circuit, you try as best you can not to move your arm too much. If you make unnecessary efforts you will tire yourself out for nothing.
You absolutely did not choose to break your arm. It was due to a mistake, a very big mistake indeed. While you were testing your car during free practice, during a session where the falling rain flooded the track with water, your tires did not grip effectively and you found yourself thrown against the wall, in a fairly serious crash. surprising.
The teams immediately helped you, and while everyone was asking you if you were okay after this crash, that's when you realized a big problem: yes, you were okay, but not your arm. . And after a short stay in the hospital, you now find yourself - or rather your arm - stuck in an amazing cast.
You obviously cannot participate in the next F1 Academy races. But you can, however, do something else that is much more energetic and beneficial for you in the state you are in: attend the F1 race which is currently taking place in Japan.
After all, being locked up for almost a week in your apartment was totally boring and you really need a little fresh air, and above all the passion for this sport to stimulate. Being a very close friend of certain drivers, you did not hesitate for a single second to accept your team's proposal when they offered to accompany you to the Suzuka GP.
Now there you are in the paddock, trying to slip through the others to get to the Mercedes garage. There where you find Georges, who smiles with all his teeth at the sight of you.
“Hello you” He walks over to you and starts to wrap his arms around you in order to give you a hug, but a reflex immediately makes him step back. “Oh sorry, I forgot you have a... little problem” He struggles to finish his sentence, grimacing at the sight of your wrapped arm in a cast.
You giggle before patting his shoulder. "Are you better since your crash? I saw that a few days ago and I was really scared for you." His eyes scan you, he is worried about you. You smile softly at him to reassure him. "Don't worry. I may have a broken arm but that won't stop me from supporting you in this race."
“Oh, Y/n!” Lewis' voice calls out to you, and you turn to face him, Charles next to him. They both smile at you, taking care not to touch your arm so as not to hurt you further. "I'm so sorry about your crash. You must definitely be disappointed." Lewis affectionately caresses your shoulder, a show of affection and support.
"At least you're alive, that's the main thing. It's good to see you here, the other guys miss you you know." Charles explains the situation, telling you how worried and scared the pilots were following your accident. You also received several messages from them on instagram, in which they supported you and showered you with kind words.
“Y/NNN!!” Daniel screams your name from afar, a big smile on his face as he almost throws himself at you. “Hey watch out for his arm.” Lewis alerts Daniel so he doesn't hurt you, but he doesn't seem to hear anything and comes to take you in his arms. “Daniel, I’ll go back to the hospital if you continue.” He finally pulls away, carefully observing your cast.
“Maybe I should call the others, they’ll be happy to see you.” Charles volunteers to bring the other drivers back, while you chat with your friends. They are all very respectful and very attentive, they are sincerely empathetic towards you.
In the distance, you finally see the rest of the boys arriving.
“Here’s my girl.” Lando comes to wrap his arm around your shoulders, a smirk present on his lips. You push him away, grimacing to tease him, and he holds his heart as if you had just broken it into a thousand pieces. "I know I shouldn't have sent you that 'get well soon' with a red heart on Instagram, hypocrite." He pretends to roll his eyes but his smile betrays him.
"Indeed, you shouldn't have. Your teammate was the first to message me and that's why he's my favorite boy today." Oscar tssk while crossing his arms, however amused by the situation. Max, Carlos and Alex are discreetly added to the group that has just formed around you.
“Even with a broken arm, you can do a lot of things you know.” Max told you in a confident manner. “Like Lance last year.” Carlos chuckled at Lando, both nodding at the same time because they thought the same thing. You can't help but feel alive again.
It's true that the last few days were difficult. Alone, injured and locked in your apartment, you no longer had much of a taste for life. You kept asking yourself questions about your future, about the rest of the races of the year. You were also worried. But you knew that coming here, being surrounded by your closest friends again, laughing and talking with them, was all you needed. You can only be grateful to them.
“I have an idea guys!” Alex then exclaims, drawing attention to himself. “Since Y/n is injured, and her cast is… white and bland, we should draw to give her courage.” He said while pointing at your cast. The other drivers nod, agreeing with the Williams driver's idea.
“I will have the honor of drawing first!” Then begins George, who is already ready to fight to have his drawing on your cast. "She wants a drawing of her favorite driver which is me. Too bad for you, George." Lando, and his sassy attitude, is ahead of the Mercedes driver. “I bet I draw better than all of you so let me do it.” Carlos steps forward to assert himself.
They seem to be on the verge of fighting over who will have the honor of drawing best, or who will draw first. You laugh while calming the situation. "Look, you're all going to be able to draw. We just need some markers." You remark, as you wave to your team in the distance to help you.
It doesn't take long before they arrive with a small pencil case filled with different colored markers. You then sit on a chair in a corner of the garage, the nine drivers around you. Oscar is the first to draw on your cast, while the others are still fighting over who will go second.
In the end, after a good session of laughter and slightly failed drawings, the result is there. Your plaster is decorated with designs, each one as extravagant as the last, but that doesn't matter, because their intention comes from the heart. This sincere gesture will certainly give you courage for the rest of your adventure, you are sure of it.
And as they all give you one last smile, one last hug, they leave to prepare for the approaching race. You end up joining your team further in the VIP stands, ready for the start of the race. “What a beautiful cast” Your engineer nods at the magnificent designs on your arm, and you smile. “Beautiful may not be the word, but it’s very precious to me for sure.”
And as you share a laugh, the red lights go out, as the din of cars echoes throughout the circuit. For a moment, everything seems wonderful. It's crazy how a simple little attention like drawings can brighten up your day a little more. And can also brighten up the day of others, like those of your fans for example...
yourusername just posted !
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liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others...
yourusername: maybe no more arm but at least I have my handsome boyys ❤️
view comments
danielricciardo: if anyone wonders who drew the beautiful star, it’s me ✌️😁
⤷ landonorris: you wrote on her arm instead of her cast you dickhead
⤷ danielricciardo: I was feeling different 😜
user: Alex just writing his name makes absolutely sense
user: no cuz they're literally the SWEETEST ahww
⤷ yourusername: only oscar cuz he's the one who drew the best
⤷ danielricciardo: but you said it was me earlier
⤷ yourusername: i lied plus you literally drew on my SKIN instead of my cast 😠
landonorris: my girl not giving any credits to my amazing beautiful drawing 💔
⤷ yourusername: yeah cuz you have no talent, keep it up it's awful mate 🔥🔥
⤷ landonorris: hypocrite I hate you
charles_leclerc: take care of yourself y/n ❤️
georgerussell63: I slayed, my drawing is lit
⤷ yourusername: no 🙄🥱
user: i need friends as precious as them, love their friendship !!
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rosyblooom · 9 months ago
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all u need is a platform x | ln4 smau
PAIRING: lando norris x fem love island contestant!reader SUMMARY: y/n makes a one-off comment about lando norris being her type in a confessional, and the internet rolls with it all the way to lando norris' twitch stream. A/N: just bc i love me some love island 😌
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Love Island UK
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Twittter
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Twitch
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Twitter
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Instagram
yourusername
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liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, yourfriend and 105,830 others
yourusername alright guys, public voting is open! go, go, go!! make sure to vote for the person you want off your screens, so don't vote for y/n!!! tell your friends, family, everyone! we don't wanna see our girl go home anytime soon!! thanks u guys 🥰🥰
#LoveIsland
view all 2,956 comments
username she's one of my favourite islanders🫶 stunning girl
landonorris so if we vote for her she comes OUT you say?👀
yourusername don't you dare🤣 username LMAOO LANDO U BETTER NOT SABOTAGE💀💀
username ugh she's so annoying she needs to stfu🙄 hope she goes home on friday
username he's in the likes👀 ohhh the show's just getting started I see🍿
username I've voted babes! (not y/n of course)
(liked by author)
username I'm sry but I'm gonna have to vote for my girl y/n BUT HEAR ME OUT it's bc there's a better man by the name of lando out here for her I think 😃
username sooo valid (I'm doing the same lmao) landonorris 😊 yourusername uhm- you guys😭😭
Twitter
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Love Island UK
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loveisland
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liked by yourbestfriend, _jackfowler_, landonorris and 176,488 others
loveisland The public has voted, and that means goodbye to this firecracker! 🧨👋 By the looks of it, it seems Y/N might not need to do much searching for fish in the sea though... 👀
view all 3,582 comments
username ok lando pack it up, jack fowler is in the likes😩
username ugh jack is so fine🫦 username LMAO NOT TOO MUCH ON MY BBY LANDO NOW😭
landonorris 🐠
username lmaooo ENOUGH username help he's so real😭
username finally the bitch is gone
username uhm... chile anyways so
username ppl need to stop putting her up there with maura, amber and the lot cause she's absolutely nowhere close bffr. I rlly don't see the hype🙄
username she's literally the first to break 1 million followers lmao the hype is very much alive even if u don't wanna see it😌 username yeah and how many of those are lando fans hm? exactly username oooh u sound bitter babe xx
username lando and y/n better freaking date soon tho cause if I find out this was all in vain I'm literally gonna flip😭
Twitter
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thesun
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liked by username, username, username and 46,037 others
tagged: landonorris, yourusername
thesun Popular ex-Love Island contestant, Y/N L/N, has arrived in the UK to a warm welcome at Heathrow Airport, where she was greeted by family, friends, and a horde of fans.
Speculation about a potential romance between her and the famous F1 driver, Lando Norris, has been rife on the internet for the past few weeks. Many believe this could be the reason for her sudden dumping from the island, as fans allegedly orchestrated her exit in hopes of pairing the two together.
view all 1,028 comments
username lando can do so much better than some trashy reality tv star 😑
username i got a pic with her!! she was such a sweetheart❤️
username im so excitedddd omg
username let's see what happens now then...😁
username 👀👀
username omg why are ppl still talking about her smh
username i voted for her so it better pay off🙏 i'm looking at u lando
username me and you both 🤝
yourusername posted to her story!
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[ caption 1: i'm backkk ] [ caption 2: cake bc there's 1.5 million of u guys here😭 AHHH TYSM 🫶🫶 ]
[ tagged: yourbestfriend, yourfriend + more ]
yourusername
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liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, _jackfowler_ and 220,748 others
yourusername back in essex and straight to catching up with my lovelies xxx
view all 3,001 comments
username lando norris dating announcement when 😃
username lmaooo her bed in the villa ain't even cold yet😭😭 username real! he should've picked her up from the airport smh chivalry is so dead😞
username telling you all about lando i hope
username and the fact that it's all lando's fault that you were voted off 😋 username LOL DON'T PIN THIS ON HIM NOW
landonorris welcome back y/n!
username loool what happened to ur free shoulders 🤣🤣
username JACK FOWLER STAY TF BACK 🤺🤺🤺 we're team lando + y/n here!!!
username IKTR😌
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yourusername posted to her story!
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[ caption: don't need ur shoulders, just ur arms and car 😌 ]
[ tagged: landonorris ]
f1gossipofficial
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liked by username, username, username and 14,026 others
f1gossipofficial Lando Norris has been spotted once again in the company of ex-Love Island contestant Y/N L/N, marking the fourth time in the past month the pair has been seen together in London. This time, fans observed them enjoying dinner together, appearing particularly close as they laughed and had their arms around each other.
view all 382 comments
username real ones know y/n from the first ep of love island😌🫶
username I've been summoned🫡
username love island is bottom of the barrel trash smh anyone who enters that show is a dumbass
username lol okay.... anyway they look cute together🥰
username ahh u guys remember when y/n was in the villa and we'd all wait for lando's tweets during love island🥹 those were the times
username i wanted them together but now it's like when you watch a film in the cinema and then reach its end like what now?🧍‍♀️ username fanpage babe. u make a fan page trust me x
username ew keep her away from lando🤢
Twitter
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yourusername
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liked by ellathomas_, landonorris, whitbrownxs and 587,442 others
tagged: landonorris
yourusername thank u love island 🤭
view all 6,935 comments
username AHHH FINALLY IVE BEEN PRAYING FOR THIS🤩
username what do u wanna bet she only has 2 gcses🙄
username well that's a whole lot better than lando's 0 🤣
username @/yourusername i need ur game card RIGHT NOW cause i want mason mount 😩
yourusername all u need is a platform x username brb gonna apply for love island now🏃‍♀️💨
landonorris I think you missed a few spots baby
yourusername lol xxx username oh he's whipped lmaooo
username WHO VOTED Y/N OUT?? WE FUCKING DID ITTTT
username present🫡 username the way we had a vision and look at us now😌 we love to see it username cheers to us masterminds 🍻
whitbrownxs love you guys ❤️
yourusername ly bby xxx
1:06 ──ㅇ────────── 4:11
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causenessus · 5 months ago
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I'M NOT DONE HOLD ON LITERALLY HOW DID I REACH 30 TAGS THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE
static chapter five: causing problems and lying
masterlist
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Her fingers tap against the steering wheel, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the road in front of her. Atsumu is in the passenger seat, fidget, nervously rambling. He reaches his hand to the radio, ready to change the station. As if it’s a reflex, she slaps his hand away without looking, and he retracts, giving her a wounded look. “Next up is Rapp Snitch Knishes by MF DOOM, featuring Mr. Fantasik,” Kenma says though the shoddy speakers of her car. “The clean version, because we’re being censored with the threat of fees that could shut our station down. But I’m not allowed to talk about that.”
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extras!
atsumu is rlly trying to help he's just way to brash about it brother has no decorum at all
him to yn as she drives him to his piercing appointment: "suna has herpes u know btw."
and her not saying anything bc she's too busy trying to figure out how a person who is actually hooking up with suna would actually respond to that information
iwa is the only person who has a car and one time noya borrowed it and got into an accident so noya helps him pay for his car insurance
the anti-atsumu sign on noya's door as not come down since he put it up
the newest letter:
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taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @atsumou @osakis-gf @karasyuu @cannibalsrider @osakis-gf @leewantstotalk @staygoldsquatchling02 @kitnootkat @yuminako @sleepystrwbrryy @cryptictheseus @mimi3lover @eternityjune @02shuuu @kozu-chan @hermaeusmorax @eclipticnikki @kmwife @sparkei @lllaw @phoenix-eclipses @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @kurooku @evening-latte @httpsivy @sleezzsister @snail-squasher @zzzlevislothzzz @mollyrolls
#THANK U GOD FOR ANOTHER STATIC CHAPTER 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 TODAY IS BLESSED#“but i'm not allowed to talk about that” KENMA I LOVE YOU#please i cannot wait i hope u include him writing letters to himself#AND ATSUMU LOOKING LIKE A WOUNDED DOG 😭😭 HE'S SUCH A TWINK#but man fr this admirer is creepy 🤨🤨 like mann u r acknowledging it urself maybe take a step back#not him adding his favorite dedicated songs to a playlist GIRLLL U R WEIRD#ALARMS ARE GOING OFF 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚨🚨🚨#NOYA FIND#NOYA ATTACK#he is so good tbh#like not that i ever would but i could not fault him for the anti atsumu sign and yet he's still acting so nice#he's so in love with yn i'm crying#like the way he wants her to be happy even if that means she's not with him#I WANT THEM TO BE TOGETHER NOW#let me get w suna it's okay#problems are SOLVED#call me go go gadget or whoever tf that guys is bc i can PROBLEM SOLVE#wasn't he a detective or sumn#IDK#JUST GIVE ME SUNA AND EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY#LOVING OSAMU'S ONION POST THAT WAS SO SILLY LMAOO#everything about this chapter was perfect as always LMAOO I WAS GIGGLING THE ENTIRE TIME#ATSUMU PASSING OUT#“EAT UR CRACKERS”#“i'm gonna marry his mom and he'll be my stepson. what then”#EVERYONE#remember when u made that moodboard but didn't remember making it#like ugh this just encaptures it perfectly#like just young adults living their life idk how to explain it#it's like found family is a way mixed with coming of age and inner child healing like
194 notes · View notes
iamred-iamyellow · 6 months ago
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⋆ ˚。⋆౨ৎ˚ Encontrar tu media naranja
♥ pairing: lando norris x latina!fem!singer!reader
♥ synopsis: during one of your concerts a fan threw their phone up on stage. after you finished recording a video, you tried tossing it back to them and ended up accidentally hitting a world famous f1 driver in the face
♥ smau - none of the pictures are mine - face claim: alexa demie
♥ warnings: swearing, blood, accidental violence lol !!!
♥ a/n: if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a fanfic about finding love by getting hit in the face with object I'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. + ignore spelling errors in my Spanish please some of it autocorrected lol
♥ masterlist
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You turned your back towards the crowd as people cheered. You raised the phone in your hand up high to get as many people in the video as possible. After you ended the recording, you clicked the phone off and tried tossing it back to the original fan that threw it on stage.
There was an audible gasp from the crowd around the barricades as the phone hit a man's face. You covered your gaping mouth with your hand as you realized what you'd just done.
Your jaw was still dropped as you tried to speak.
"¿Estás bien?" you questioned.
(are you okay?)
You panicked internally as you tried to think of what to do.
"Can we get him some help?" you said, turning your gaze towards a few security guards.
"Todo el mundo por favor retroceda."
(everyone please stand back)
Security walked the man and his party out of the stadium rendering you absolutely speechless.
"Uhm," you said into the mic. "Did you get your phone back?" you asked the initial fan with an embarrassed expression.
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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 743,684 more
landonorris aftermath
view comments
yourusername IM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OK
user6 HOW HARD DID SHE THROW THAT PHONE 😭😭😭
user9 miss girl can THROWWW
user1 y/n l/n baseball career when?
user7 girl needs to be pitching for the red sox, fuck 😭
user5 I feel so bad for laughing so hard
user10 the piss poor bandages on his nose-
user4 why is there so much blood holy shit
user12 didn't know Lando was a fan of her
user14 pretty sure Carlos dragged him to her concert lol
user2 not his friends laughing at him 💀
user18 someone drop the video
user16 is he okay?!?!
user17 meet cute 😍
user1 WHY IS THIS IS SO FUNNY
˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, and 563,932 more
yourusername safe to say he forgave me
view comments
user7 STUNNER
user1 you can throw a phone at my face any time 🤷‍♀️
user6 LANDO NOWINS NO MORE
user9 I will never get over this 😭
user18 it was just an inchident
user16 wait she wasn't wearing that while she was there??
user19 pretty sure that was a pic of her at whatever after parties they went to lol
user14 Florida nights are cold as fuck
user4 do you think Carlos is jealous of all the attention Lando is getting from her
user2 the poly fics write themselves
user10 oh my god YESSS!!!
user50 why does f1 invite celebrities that know nothing about the sport???
user12 not her wearing landos merch
user3 im sure he made her wear it lmaoo
user5 LANDO'S FIRST WIN
user17 P1 LETS FUCKING GO
˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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-A Few Months Later-
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liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 238,849 more
yourusername @ landonorris
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carlossainz55 and this was the same guy who was complaining about going to her concert a few months ago
landonorris if I remember correctly that concert ended pretty badly for me
user12 you got a girlfriend out of it I’d call that a win
user40 @/user12 they're not dating ???
user10 find someone who smiles at you the way they smile at each other
user9 they’re so cute
user3 don’t be shy drop the picture(s) he took of her
user7 I need him I fear
user8 📱👃
user1 hes so cute
user13 just date already
user15 you're so pretty
user17 I will literally never forget her breaking his nose lmaooo
˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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liked by landonorris, kaliuchis, carlossainz55, and 656,943 more
yourusername my new single "encontrar tu media naranja" is out now 🧡
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user8 ok but why does the guy in the music video look like lando...
user7 oh my god
user13 I see the vision
user9 YOURE ONTO SOMETHING
user1 Kali Uchis collab when?
user12 literally begging for a song with her, kali, and peso pluma
user3 orange sodas >>>
user24 📱👃
user11 this song is so good 🧡
user18 who's the guy in the mv???
user19 shes gorgeous
user17 I love her
user25 wait this is the singer that broke lando's nose
user5 🧡🧡🧡
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˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖
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liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55 and 472,396 more
yourusername encontré a mi otra mitad
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landonorris te amo querida 🧡
yourusername 🧡
user5 bro's adorable
user2 encontrar tu media naranja? more like econtrar tu media papaya
user1 that's an interesting angle
user9 Lando still doesn't know how to make a heart with his hands lmao 😭
user7 I FUCKING KNEW IT !!!
user11 YESSS
user14 and now they're married with five kids
user18 mom and dad
carlossainz55 formally known as lando "who's y/n?"Norris
landonorris ive grown since then
user12 fuck Romeo and Juliet I want what they have
user6 so the song WAS about lando
user8 and it all started with a phone 📱
user10 I'm tearing up
903 notes · View notes
anifever · 2 months ago
Note
hcs of ponyboy dating the prettiest and sweetest cheerleader
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Pony w/ a Cheerleader!Reader ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Ponyboy Curtis x Fem!Reader
୨୧ : HC’s of Pony with a sweet ‘n gorgeous, popular cheerleader
A/N : Starting to do some requests again 😔 bare with me guys these are always my words before I disappear for months
˖⁺‧₊˚ 📣 ˚₊‧⁺˖
୨ NOBODY is believing his ass
୨ Like the youngest out of the gang dating a soc like you? Nuh-uh
୨ Steve is especially on his back about it; it only fuels their stupid feud
୨ Most people would assume you’re kinda mean or shallow because you cheer, but you’re really the towns sweetheart
୨ Like there are no exceptions; socs and greasers alike
୨ Your inclusivity and niceness are some of the main things Pony really likes about you
୨ Of course, your looks definitely also help
୨ He writes poems about you.
୨ He gets jealous pretty easily though, so you have to baby him a little if you get hit on in front of him LMAOO
୨ Cue you opening up your locker on Valentines Day, a bunch of cards falling out, and him getting a defeated frown on his face
୨ Anyways, your reputation definitely makes some of the bullying he goes through ease up
୨ You always defend him (nicely, of course) if you spot someone picking on him
୨ It’d take all the guys meeting you for them to realize that you’re actually a pretty good match since they were probably weary at first
୨ That still doesn’t stop all of Steve ‘n Dallas’ teasing about you being too pretty for him though (save him.)
୨ Overall, you honestly could give people toothaches with how sweet you are together
୨ Like Darry’s about to come scold Pony over homework only to find the both of you on the porch, working with your notebooks open whilst you fiddled with some of his hair
୨ He can’t even be mad because it’s so innocent and cute
୨ Sometimes though, your personality can lead to people taking advantage of you because of just how nice you are
୨ He has to reel you in and let you know which people have good intentions and which don’t
୨ Most of the time your practice takes place the same time his track practice does so you guys just admire each other across the field teehee
୨ Whenever he doesn’t have practice or plans of his own, he comes to watch you anyways
୨ Even though basically all the football players have jumped him at least once, he’ll still show up if you’re cheering at a game 😇
୨ Honestly, he gains a bit more confidence after a while of being with you
୨ He’e so smug about it too LMFAO like “yeah, I’m the one dating the prettiest girl on the cheer team 🙄😏”
୨ Absolutely rubs it in Steve’s face (or any of them for that matter) when they argue
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sayyestoheav3nn · 1 month ago
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Nights Like This: Part Three
Roman x black!oc
Warnings: language, angst
Word count: 1.4k
a/n: guys are we riding at dawn or not lmaoo??? if i forgot to tag you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list please feel free to lmk 💕
“Tell me what?”
Serena and Roman froze, which angered Zoe to another level, because it’s one thing to screw her over, but its another to play in her fucking face.
Roman turned towards Serena,“Give us some space…” His voice was stern, more of a demand than a request. Serena briefly looked at Zoe and sighed, she proceeded to grab her keys and walk outside.
“Where the fuck is she going, you both seemed to have a lot to say.” Zoe started walking towards the door to confront Serena, but as she was about to reach the door her movements were halted when Roman grabbed her by the waist gently pulling her back.
“Baby we need to talk, just you and me please…” he pleaded. Seconds later she heard a car engine start. This bitch really had the audacity to leave without saying a word.
“Oh so now you want to fucking talk? Because you damn sure didn’t have shit to say before I found the condoms,” Zoe sneered as she yanked her body away from him.
Roman paused and took a deep breath, slowly rubbing his hand over his beard, “Baby I fucked up, I’m sorry...”
“You’re sorry, is that really all you have to say?” Her voice cracked, she could feel her throat begin to tighten.
Roman felt like the biggest piece of shit. Seeing the exhaustion and pain in her eyes, hurt him. He hated to see her cry, let alone being the reason behind it. There was no excuse for what he did, and he knew it. Which is exactly why he didn’t want to tell her, but actions have consequences. He made his bed, it was time to fucking lie in it.
“Baby I—” As he began to speak Zoe cut him off, “Roman I’m gonna ask you this one time. Did you or did you not, cheat on me with Serena?”
Roman lowered his head, his gaze now shifted towards the floor. He paused in silence for a short moment, she could see his hands were slightly fidgeting. Roman briefly looked up at her, still avoiding making eye contact.
“Yes,” his voice was barely above a whisper.
Zoe’s heart felt like it was ripped out of her chest. She knew the answer, but she wanted him to have the balls to actually fucking say it. Tears that she had been fighting back started to roll down her face, sobs escaping her. “Fuck you, Roman.” She started to walk away, but was stopped when Roman walked in front of her stopping her in her tracks.
“Zo don’t leave, please just talk to me.”
“You’re such a piece of shit, I fucking trusted you. She wiped away some of her tears, which was of no use considering she couldn’t stop crying, “My best friend? Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve only met her a handful of times!” she yelled.
“I want you to tell me why, you wanted to talk, so fucking talk,” she hissed.
Roman’s eyes were glistened with tears, his shoulders were slumped as he inhaled a deep breath, “I—I came to her to help me plan our trip and your birthday dinner. I figured since I don't know shit when it comes to throwing parties, I’d hire someone who not only works in that profession, but someone who would know what you’d like.”
“Yeah it seems she ended up finding exactly what I liked,” she scoffed.
Roman put his head down, his voice getting lower, “I ended coming over at different times over the span of two months to approve some of the planning details. Little by little I noticed she was flirting more than usual, in the beginning I tried to ignore it, but over time I—I began to like the attention.”
Zoe felt sick to her stomach, she listened quietly while angrily wiping away her tears. She wanted to leave to avoid hearing this bullshit, but a part of her wanted to know why. Why would two people who claimed to love her, hurt her in the most disrespectful way possible.
Seeing Zoe silently crying made the pit of Roman’s stomach drop, he was disgusted with himself. How in the hell did he let something so stupid, jeopardize what he had? He loves Zoe, he couldn’t give two fucks about Serena. Yet, he let a moment of weakness ruin everything and hurt the one person he loved more than anyone.
He walked towards her, and gently lifted her face. “Baby, please look at me,” Zoe refused, and that fucking killed him.
“I don’t need all the details, just tell me what happened...” her lower lip was slightly trembling. She pushed him away, making sure to keep a distance between them.
“Before my last visit, I let my ego cloud my judgment. I went to the store, bought the condoms and headed over to her house.” Roman paused, he was internally struggling to say the rest, but he knew he had to, he owed her that. “We kissed, and she ended up giving me head.”
“Let me guess, you returned the favor?” Silence. Just as she expected. “Of course you did because you’re such a generous tribal chief, right?”
He took a deep breath, his chin dipping to his chest. “I went with the intention to fuck her Zo, I did. And I know that there’s no amount of apologies in the world that will change what I did, but I need you to know that I didn’t fuck her.”
“So you’re telling me the condom unwrapped itself?”
“I was going to fuck her baby, I was. But when the time came, I thought of you, and I just— I just couldn’t do that to you.”
Roman walked towards her, gently moving some of her hair out of her face, he wiped some of her tears away with his thumb. He felt a sharp pang of guilt seeing her so broken, the weight of what he did was fully sinking in his chest.
“Baby please look at me.”
She doesn’t know why she actually did, but she felt so numb as if nothing even really mattered anymore. She looked at his big brown eyes, eyes that she once viewed with love and admiration, she now saw with despair.
A few tears slipped down his face. “Zoe please understand that she means absolutely fucking nothing to me. I love you baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that I lied to you, I’m sorry that I hurt you—”
“If it was me that did this to you, how would you feel?”
He sighed heavily, facing down. He couldn’t even say a word. What a fucking hypocrite.
“You knew all the bullshit that I went through with my ex, and you went and did this shit. I opened up to you, and you promised me you would never do what he did to me. I feel so fucking stupid to have actually believed you. The fact that you wouldn’t have told me shit had I not caught you makes me sick to my stomach. You want to know what I think Roman? I think you’re a fucking coward.”
Zoe grabbed her keys and headed towards the door. She didn’t care about leaving her things behind, that slut seemed to like her leftovers anyways.
“Zo, please don’t do this to me,” he pleaded. Every single emotion that she tried to hold in was released, she was crying uncontrollably. She ignored him and was able to get in her car.
“You did this to yourself. You don’t have to worry about me anymore Roman, you and Serena can go fuck yourselves.”
Zoe started driving home, but the farther she got the more her anger built. She pulled over at a store to park and try to compose herself, she was so mad her hands were trembling. The memory of Serena letting her cry on her shoulder while being the actual cause of her tears, and leaving without even trying to apologize made her even more pissed. Fuck this. She put her gps back on Serena’s address, enough is enough. The only thing on her mind right now, was beating this bitch’s ass.
191 notes · View notes
pyrodolls · 3 months ago
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I love that Bayani is so damn clingy, but I would never confess that to him.
If we were unfaithful to him, would he still be with us?
if you were unfaithful (superfan! yandere oc x popstar! reader)
warnings: slight nsfw, mentions of vomit, cheating, death, stalking, depression, slight worshipper yandere, established relationship, lowercase intended, reader is gender neutral
a/n: hey guys peep the new acc layout and username omgggg! anyways thanks for all the birthday messages and also update on the bsf drama: i don't know for SURE if she's dating him, cuz she posted the picture of my ex but his face wasn't showing and the caption was talking abt her bf... so maybe she just HAPPENED to use that picture of my ex and the caption was talking about a whole different dude??? idk maybe im just delusional LMAOO but yeah i'm still friends with her cuz she's a total sweetheart and i'm sure it was just a coincidence. anyways sorry for taking such a long break, heres some bayani hcs!! btw guys... just between you and me... i too, am down bad for bayani and love how clingy he is. bring back kind and clingy men instead of men texting you "wyll" on snapchat
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if you were unfaithful to bayani, he would most likely find out through the internet.
bayani is obsessed with you in every single way. so if he couldn’t be with you physically, he’d stalk you through the paparazzi or fans recording your concerts.
there was one concert that bayani unfortunately couldn’t attend. so he simply watched it through a fan’s livestream online. that’s how he noticed another popstar on stage with you. the crowd went wild and started screaming. the arena shook with the vibrations of your fans. the popstar with you started to sing and dance next to you. bayani was always jealous of anyone that got to be around you when he couldn’t, but this was different. the popstar on the stage with you was rumored to be dating you. fans on the internet had been speculating about your relationship for months, claiming that you two were “soulmates” and “secretly dating.”
it made bayani’s blood boil. but he knew it was bound to happen at some point, since you would often rant to him about how suffocating fame could be. he knew it wasn’t your fault. he wasn’t mad at you at all. he knew you still cared about him.
but the song ended, and the popstar next to you wrapped their arms around your body and connected their lips to yours.
the crowd started screaming once more, and the person recording the performance dropped their phone. bayani couldn’t see what was going on.
plus, the livestream was blurry so he couldn’t tell if you were pleased with the popstar’s advances or not.
either way, bayani dropped his phone and threw up.
the minute you arrived home from the concert, bayani ran up to you and grabbed onto your waist, clutching it desperately.
“was what i saw real? are you with that popstar now? are you saying the rumors i saw online were true? i tried to ignore them because i know how your fans can be, but still…” bayani babbled, crying as he spoke and his words slowly became unintelligible.
whether you were interested in the popstar or not didn’t matter. bayani would be on his knees, pleading for an explanation. he would spiral into a pit of self-deprecation, thinking he wasn’t good enough for you, so you went off with someone more attractive and more talented than him. he wouldn’t blame you at all. he wouldn’t be mad at you at all. he’d be mad at himself for not pleasing you enough.
if you weren’t interested in the popstar and it was simply a publicity stunt, you would have to gently hold bayani in your arms to calm him down and explain. he would be SO relieved. he’d still be upset, though. he would be relieved that you’re still interested in him, but he’d also be jealous someone got to kiss and hold you in front of millions of people. bayani would never tell you that, though. he’d try to suck it up and pretend that he’s cool with it, but you can tell he’s really upset (he’s a terrible liar) and you would have to reassure him that you’ll never do it again.
if you WERE interested in the popstar… uh wtf are you doing here?? jkjk but if you were actually dating the popstar, bayani would be crushed. he would probably beg you to stay with him and forget about the popstar, but he'd ultimately fail to convince you. he’s desperate, but he isn’t stubborn. if you rejected him over and over as he begged, he’d get the hint and leave you alone. he just wants you to be happy. as much as he hated seeing you with someone else, he’d want you to live your life however you want.
if you left him, bayani would fall into a deep depression, thinking he failed you. he would never be happy again. he would hate himself for messing up what could've been his perfect life. he could’ve been with you. he could’ve lived happily ever after as your servant for the rest of his life, but he wasn't good enough for you. even though you were the unfaithful one, he’d still believe you were the one in the right. it would haunt him for the rest of his life until he died.
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kimpossibly · 3 months ago
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symptom of life | rain carradine
pairing: rain carradine x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of blood (that’s not actually there)
summary: in the middle of her journey to yvaga, rain discovers r’s cryopod has opened.
author’s note: I LOVE RAIN CARRADINE I LOVE RAIN CARRADINE I LOVE RAIN CARRADINE THAT’S ALL :) send me rain requests if you want! i’ll be writing about her either way lol also this was supposed to be smut but I changed it last minute LMAOO, lmk if that’s something you guys are interested in seeing!
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The first breath felt like a splash of ice cold water.
She was bathed in light the moment her eyes opened—white light, the kind that seared your eyes like staring directly into the sun. Sun. Rain.
Her hands stretched out and found the cold, hard, top of the cryopod. All it took was a little push and, with a hiss, the door swung open. Warm air flooded in. Like a creature reborn from its mechanical pod, she slinked out of her chrysalis and left, leaving only the vague imprint of a body behind as proof she was ever there.
As for Rain, she was on edge the moment she heard clanking from somewhere in the ship. At the sound, her heart nearly leapt into her throat, her toothbrush frozen in midair. At once, her mind was flooded with horrible realities—another Xenomorph had made it onto the ship somehow and was now lying it wait to sink its teeth into her. A parasite had crawled into the ship and was waiting for the perfect moment to spring on her and do its dirty work. Either way, she was screwed. Even worse, so was Andy. So was Y/N. Rain’s heart clenched at the idea of the two of them, helpless, locked in cryopods, oblivious to the terror around them. Even worse, she could picture the moment they awoke to find Rain a cold corpse.
No. Quit that.
Abandoning her toothbrush, Rain crept into the hallway, her fingers itching for a gun or a stick or some kind of weapon. Anything, really. But no, she was on her own. She should be used to that by now. Slow step by slow step, she followed the direction of the clanking, every movement a cautious twitch. She willed her heart to slow, but nothing would help. Eventually she entered the wide room where Andy and Y/N’s pods sat. Except now, something had changed—one of them had opened. Her body went cold.
She practically threw herself across the room to the still closed cryopod, and found Andy’s peacefully sleeping face in beneath the glass window. She let out a breath.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she whispered in relief, both to herself and to him. She looked to the empty pod, half expecting to see a bloody mess where Y/N was lying. But she saw nothing of the sort. The pod was just…empty. As though she’d gotten up and walked out of her own accord.
At once, Rain’s head was on a violent swivel, searching the room for her. She dashed out of the room and down the opposite hallway, her breath coming hard and fast. She was here. She had to be.
“Y/N!” she shouted, her voice sounding starkly unlike her own. She turned corners and searched rooms quicker than she ever thought herself capable of.
After a few minutes she was worried she was going to run herself in circles. She walked and walked and walked, barely keeping track of where she'd been and where she was heading. She searched like a madman, scanning every corner for her. She’s in here, she kept repeating to herself. I just have to find her.
“Rain?”
She froze. The voice was soft, gentle, like the voice of someone who didn’t believe what they were seeing. It made her arms cold and her face heat up all at once. She turned, and there she was, standing at the end of the corridor, her left arm still wrapped in a thick bandage like it had been when Rain put her in that damn pod. The sight of her caused her chest to seize, her eyes to burn, and her heart to pound in her chest.
Y/N, on the other hand, picked up her bare feet and ran at Rain the moment she saw her.
It was less of a hug and more of a desperate attempt to hold on and never let go, their chests colliding with such force that the air was knocked out of both of them. Rain wrapped her arms around Y/N and squeezed, ignoring the burn in her arms and the tears that cropped up in her eyes. Y/N’s shoulders shook with tears that she didn’t know were coming, but in an instant they were there, tracing warm rivulets down her cheeks.
“Hey…” Rain whispered into her shoulder, her voice choked, “you’re okay, baby. You’re alright.”
“I didn’t know w-where you were,” Y/N sobbed. Her voice was muffled in Rain’s shoulder. “I-I thought—“
“I know, I know.”
Y/N pulled away, cradling Rain’s face in her hands. “Are you okay? Where are we going?”
“I’m okay,” Rain said, smoothing Y/N’s wild hair out of her face. “We’re heading for Yvaga.”
Y/N’s eyes widened at that. She sucked in a breath, almost afraid to ask, afraid to jinx it. “Yvaga?” She breathed. “We made it?”
At that, Rain’s face broke out into a small smile.
“Yeah. We did.”
They were heading towards Yvaga. After everything they went through, all the shit that they survived, they were finally getting what they wanted. They weren’t going back to Jackson’s Star, they didn’t have to worry about being forced to work until the day they both died. For once, they were going to see the sun.
Y/N leaned in, pressing her lips to Rain’s. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in that pod—hours, days, months—but it’d been too long since she’d been able to feel like this.
Rain kissed her hard, grappling onto her waist like she’d lose her if she let go. She pulled away from the kiss, leaning her forehead against Y/N’s, her breath coming hard and fast.
“I love you,” she breathed, “so fucking much.”
Y/N felt tears sting her eyes—not the ones of fear and loss that she’d been used to lately. Real fucking tears. Happy ones.
“I love you too.”
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spideysbruh · 1 year ago
Text
Engaged
a/n- wedding one next ? 🤔 also happy new year !!!!
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liked by tchalamet, madisonbeer and 1,826,662 others
y/n nothing matters but you.
view all 87,726 comments
ynandtimmystan they've been together for so long I hope they get married and have babies and then THEY become nepo babies and the cycle just continues fr
paulsdunes ellos son mis padres fr
rachelzegler I LOVE YOU I MISS YOU
y/n liked
y/n I MISS YOU MOREEEE LIKE SO MUCH SO BAD I miss our sleepovers 💔
tchalamet pretty girl. I'm so lucky.
y/n liked
tchalamet just posted a story!
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caption- 😍😍
@y/n just tweeted- it's me and my loves anniversary soon omg. six years!!!!! where did the time go omg
@wonkasyn replied- six years omg...
@ynsgf replied- are yall doing anything special?🫶
@coolyn replied- "my love" we already know it's timmy girl 😭😭
@timandyn replied to @coolyn- LMAOO she's probably just used to referring to him as her bf, love, etc. she does have a personal life yk 🙄
@ynslipgloss replied- if yall ever break up I'll lose all hope in the world
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liked by y/n, dualipa, florencepugh and 3,937,373 others
tchalamet 🍫🍫🍒🍑
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paulsatreides the emojis 💀💀
y/n im-
tchalamet liked
kylesgirlfriend the way its completely unrelated too like he's just horny fr😭😭
y/n my personal chocolatier 😍😍😩😩
tchalamet liked
y/n I love you weirdo
tchalamet liked
~
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liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler, tayrussell and 5,727,828 others
y/n soooo we've been keeping a lil secret for a few weeks... i'm happily with you for eternity my beautiful, beloved man. you've seen me at my worst, at my best and everything in between and youre still here. I've never loved anybody more than I love you. from the day we met, I knew i would love you forever.
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hellatightkyle NO WAYYY OMGGGG
ynsdune OMFG my parents
rachelzegler CONGRATULATIONSSSS I LOVE YOU GUYS
y/n and tchalamet liked
tchalamet my heart is still racing from that day. I love you forever. thank you for making me the happiest person in the entire fucking world.
y/n liked
y/n no baby, thank YOU for loving me and making me the happiest person ever.
ynscurtains I KNEW ITTT OMFGGG for their six year anniversary
zendaya so glad to be your personal photographer that day
tsgf it ain't gonna last 💀
hellatightkyle he's not gonna date you 🗣🗣
sabrinacarpenter CONGRATU FUCKING LATIONS OMGGG
y/n I haven't stopped crying sab help
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liked by y/n, florencepugh, francesa.scorsese and 9,917,772 others
tchalamet I knew you'd say yes. but I was still so fucking nervous. asking you to be my wife was nerve wracking, but also so exciting and exhilarating and just the absolute greatest thing ive ever done. I'll never forget how beautiful you looked that day. I love you, I adore you. seeing that ring on your finger everyday fills me with so much joy, pride and love. what a lucky man I am to be marrying you.
view all 302,177 comments
atreidesdune god when will I find a man like him
l/nology HIS CAPTION OMGGG he loves her so much 😭😭🫶💕💕💕
y/n crying. I'm the lucky one.
tchalamet liked
ynandtimmystan I'm literally a genius
florencepugh CONGRATULATIONS MY LOVESSS
ynslauries I love how he always says he's so lucky to be with her 🥺🥺🥺 how i want my men.
*
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hyukascampfire · 5 months ago
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𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉
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𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.
you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.
wc ➳ 24.5k
pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader
warnings violence, death, descriptions of past trauma, oral (m receiving), PIV sex, poisoning, mean taehyun... tell me if I missed anything
playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series
…🪶 ashlynn's note this one is hhheeefttty and packed with a bunch of angst, so buckle up pls. also... if you see any typos or weird sentences, no u didn't... 24k is a lot of words guys... but also lmk so i can fix it LMAOO. enjoy!!
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You wipe at your forehead, dragging in breaths as you realign your stance. Each swipe and jab you run through wells up inside you, amassing frustration. They all feel infuriatingly sloppy. You had cracked open a window in the room. Though it lets a nasty winter breeze in, the cold works wonders against your clammy skin.  
You had initially been practicing in the sparring room, but the heavy, blood-stained and battle-worn swords displayed on the walls, hung right next to the taxidermy heads of fallen faeries, began making you uneasy so you opted for another room in the estate. Taehyun’s father must’ve been a vicious general.  
The words of both Yeonjun and the barkeeping hob at The Hovel are snug under your skin like burrs. He sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, the barkeep had said. Staring into the lifeless, beady eyes of the felled creatures had made you wonder exactly how wicked that seed had been. As far as you know, Taehyun harbors no love for his father, though. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d want to resemble him, especially in his behaviors. You can’t help but feel that you’re missing some intrinsic piece that would clear it all up for you. 
There’s also the matter of what that man in the forest had said after you had stabbed him. You’re fucking dead, anyway. The words have echoed and ricocheted in your head endlessly, and you’ve tried ardently to dissect them. You’re only left with a queasy pit in your gut each time you do. You’ve decided that it’s best to pretend that they’re just the angry words of a man stabbed. You’d probably try to instill fear in the person who’d stabbed you if it was the last thing you could do, too. 
Despite that, it still is concerning that he had known where to find you and had claimed that someone had told him where to do so. There’s also the fact that there had been people in The Hovel looking for you two. You’re not exactly sure what would happen if you and Taehyun were discovered; your suspicions range from a slap on the wrist to the breaking out of war between The North and The High Court. You’ve never so much as seen The Queen, but you can’t imagine she’d take too kindly to discover that The King has spies actively infiltrating her court. Your chest becomes tight with the reminder that the mission that you and Taehyun are on is endlessly delicate. 
“You’re leaving too many openings between swings.”  
Taehyun’s voice tugs you from your own mind. You drop your arms, making great effort to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Your limbs wobble with exertion. You had wanted to practice alone; having Taehyun observe and pick at your shortcomings would only irk you and make you so consciously aware of them that you could think nowhere beyond them. You had pointedly avoided seeking out his help for a reason. 
 “And,” he adds, “you’re so focused on what you do with your arms that you forget to move your feet.”
You toss your head back, willing down the tightness in your throat and the warm, frustrated tears pooling at your eyes. He’s right; you can feel it yourself, but no matter your efforts, your own limbs work against you. Your frustration manifests itself in the form of your heart thumping in your ears. It’s all you can hear. You snap at him. “I know.”  
Taehyun doesn’t look taken aback by the bite in your tone, but he does release his sword from its scabbard, approaching you and leveling his arms into an offensive, swinging stance. Your arms are dead weight as you do the same, but with a defensive one. You anticipate his first swing, meeting it with a sturdy block. Metal sings as he sends you another one.  
“Frustration throws your technique and strength out the window,” he says, going for a jab with the hilt. You narrowly miss it, throwing yourself back. 
 That would’ve been a black eye.  
You furrow your brows at him, and then step forward, slashing your blade with hostile shock. He knocks it away. You throw your free hand up in an exasperated gesture. “What the hell? That would’ve knocked my eye out,” you say. It’s an overdramatization, but it definitely would’ve left a mark. 
He slides a swift foot right at your feet, sending you crumpling the floor of wood. Your body quakes, soft and jelly against the ungiving ground. You stay down for a few moments, trying to brave the bout of roaring pain that sears your body in its entirety. Your knees weep red as you lift yourself to your arms, looking up from your spot on the ground right to the point of his blade in your face. You look past it, into his eyes. He’s studying you, picking apart where you lack and internalizing it. 
“You let yourself get too frustrated. You need a level mind to make clever moves,” he says, sheathing the weapon and offering you a hand up. You accept it, not before sending him an accusatory glare first, your weary muscles pleading with you as you stand. You shake off the radiant pain in your wrists; you shouldn’t have broken your fall with your arms. Taehyun circles you, and you listen to his footsteps creaking until he’s standing behind you.  
“Get in position.”  
You collect your sword from the ground and bring it up by your face, staggering your feet. You shift and readjust your arms and legs here and there, trying to find a sweet spot where it all feels right. None of it does.  
Taehyun’s arms find your shoulders, squaring them. You hold your breath as one of his arms then adjusts the height at which you’re holding the sword, reaching his arm around you. His skin is as cold to the touch as you remember it being, and the way it slides against the skin of your arm is tauntingly familiar.  
You scramble to shove those memories far, far back. When his hands finally drop off you, you stifle a sigh of relief. 
When Taehyun reappears in front of you, he’s holding the hilt of the sword at his hip in a white-knuckled grip, and his jaw is clenched tight. You hold your new stance, trying to settle into it, afraid you’re frustrating him. 
“Swing,” he says. You hesitate. He doesn’t even have his sword out, but he’s watching you so expectantly, and so you do it, cutting the air. You don’t even get to finish the swing before the world whirls around you, Taehyun’s arms twisting you and encasing you so that your sword-wielding arm is stuck behind you. He smells of frosty pinewood musk as he holds you there. Your mouth drops open, and you try to register how he even approached you, caught your swinging arm, and pinned you in that minimal time frame.  
He takes the sword from out of your compromised hand and tosses it. The heavy thing clatters to the ground a few feet away. “What would you do if I was an attacker?” he asks. “You’ve got no weapons. Show me what you’d do.” His muscle-corded forearms hold you pinned in a similar fashion to how that faerie man had in the forest, except now your arm is twisted behind you in an unnatural way that pinches your shoulder blade. 
You wonder if he’s getting flashes of that moment in the forest, too. 
Wiggling proves useless, so you try hooking your own leg into one of his to knock him down. He’s planted too well to the ground. You huff out in frustration, letting your head drop. He’s got you in his arms so tight that your lungs can’t even fully expand.  
“Okay, I can’t,” you say. “Let me go.”  
A few heartbeats pass before he does.  
Taehyun crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d die, if that was real. We don’t know if we’re going to run into more things like what happened at The Hovel. There are ways to defend yourself from bigger attackers.” 
You wince. The press of that dagger into your chest haunts you along with the sensations of hot blood coating your hands, and the pained grunts of the man. “We might at least know a little more, if you hadn’t stabbed him through the stomach before I could ask him any questions.” You rest your sword up against a wall, along with yourself.  
“He was just trying to scare you,” Taehyun says, leaning back onto the edge of an old war strategy desk. You can tell he doesn’t even believe the words himself, his eyes narrowing as cogs turn in his head. 
You shake your head. “No, I don’t think he was.” It takes every ounce of resilience you’ve got to not crumple down to the floor. You’ve been practicing for hours. “He said that he had found us, not that he just stumbled across us. And he knew who you are.” You remember the distaste with which he had regarded Taehyun. It may allude to his motivations. 
Taehyun listens to you, his eyes narrowed in thought, and you take it as an invitation to continue. “I think he knew, Taehyun. He’s got to be the one who was asking about us at The Hovel. Unless he’s not even the only one who knows.” You kick yourself off the wall, despite the ache, and pace. “But he knew you. And I don’t think he liked you, either.”  
Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a few moments as he thinks, tossing metal pieces from the strategy table he leans on as he does. His brow creases. “The Queen must have her own people laying low in Court. Summer’s solstice is only a few weeks away,” he says.  
“What about the Summer Solstice?” you say. You know that the constant holding of Court in your time here has all been in service of the Solstice, but you can’t imagine why that would entail needing ears in your court. 
“I’m not sure,” Taehyun says, thumbing over that figure of metal, feeling its grooves and features. “But The Queen would not have people out there looking for our kind unless she had something she wants quiet.”  
You lick your dry lips. The Queen knows you’re here. “What do we do about the fact that they know there’s infiltrators?” At the very least, that faerie who saw your faces is dead. How much more death will you see in these coming weeks? Telling yourself that it’s for your own safety is doing a flimsy job of soothing you already; you’re unsure how well it’ll work when you have more blood on your hands.  
Taehyun breathes out through his nose, standing up from the desk and taking another metal figure from it. He pushes the ones left, most of them fallen and in disarray, off to the side, before standing the two in his hands. They’re stood generally where the estate would stand on the map. He erects a few of the discarded figures, lining them up around where Court might be, and then lays one felled off in the woods that The Hovel boasts as its home. The faerie he had killed. 
Something about seeing Taehyun, shady eyes and clad in the clothes of a warlord, interacting with the same strategy table that his father would’ve used to lay out his plans of carnage reminds you of repeated warnings and wary eyes bowing before Taehyun. Had the downfalls of those lifeless heads in the sparring room been planned on that same table, with those same figures? 
“All we can do is keep doing what we’ve been doing. Can you promise me that you’ll be as discreet as possible from this point onward?” Taehyun finally pries his eyes from the table up to yours. “You need to watch your words no matter who you’re around. That includes the prince.” 
Attitude flares in your chest at his last words, but you wrangle it back. You don’t think you have to worry about Yeonjun, but you know it’s better to err on the side of caution. You nod. “And if something happens?” you ask. The question is grim and grey on your tongue. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of what this life really means, you can’t help but ask.  
“You do what it takes to survive, and then we return home with all the information we’ve got, and that’s that.”  
The smell of hot iron melts over you, red and suffocating. You remember the thickness of it, and how it had crusted over a deep brown color and stayed plastered to your skin until you took water to it and scrubbed.  
“Taehyun, I barely made it out of that forest. I’m...” You steady your breathing as it seems to get ahead of you. “I’m not going to win a fight one on one, Taehyun. I’m trying to get better, but that’s just not realistic, and you know it. That was luck.”  
Some emotion passes over his face, his eyebrows pinching and eyes wincing, but it’s gone before you can even name it. “This is how you learn to survive. You don’t learn in sparring rooms,” he says. His sword clicks from the scabbard and its metal trills as he draws it again. "But for now, you need to make sure your odds are as good as they can be.” 
You squeeze your eyes shut, releasing your breath.  
“I’ve been in here for hours, Taehyun. I’m tired.”  
He shakes his head. “You need to know how to fight tired.” 
You’re not sure you’ll even be able to swing properly. You don’t barely have it in you to talk, nonetheless fight in any way worthwhile. But he’s right. You swipe your sword off the wall, the dingy metal no longer warmed by your hands. It bites your skin as you settle into the best stance you can muster. To use every bit of your energy in a wild offensive attack, or to slip into the defensive and try to last as long as you can? You’re not sure.  
Taehyun seems to be making the decision for you, though, rooted in his spot, his eyes steady on you. He doesn't urge you to attack him; he just watches to see what you’ll do. Willing your poor, poor legs into motion, you gain on him. You know your legs and pace are lethargic as you move, but you just need to be closer so that you can begin to make moves. He doesn’t comment on the height of your arms or your pace this time. 
You dart your eyes about his torso as if planning a hit there, before swinging down at his sword-bearing arm. Taehyun’s eyes flicker with something akin to surprise, but he dodges well before you can connect. You try not to groan as he darts away and sets back into that unmoving, certain stance. He’s trying to gauge the attacks you opt for. You throw a few unexceptional swings, and he meets all of them. You dart and swing. You need to catch him unaware or unprepared.  
Every time you bring down your sword, it’s doing nothing for you except for draining your energy. He’s full of energy; he hadn’t been practicing like you. You drag full breaths in through your nose, each one not feeling like enough to feed your starved lungs. If you keep fighting like this, you’ll run your well dry.  
You narrow your eyes. Everyone has openings, you just need to find Taehyun’s, however hidden and subtle they are. You take in the sure stance of him, the glimmering dark metal of his heavy blade, the slight way he has his face drawn so that it betrays none of his thoughts, and even the broad musculature of his chest. None are particularly helpful in finding you a clever attack, so you swing at his left. Taehyun is left-handed, you’ve observed that much in the time you’ve known him. Swinging closer to his sword will leave him with less airtime to deflect your hit. Hopefully. 
Taehyun manages to parry your slashing, but it’s just with the edge of his blade, and he has to stumble back. He’s quick to reset, regarding you with twinkling interest in his licorice black eyes. That doesn’t matter—you have your angle, now. You suck in as much air as you can. Your limbs plead with you, whispering that your bed is waiting for you. You answer them by feinting a blow to the right, before pulling back and raising your arms and bringing the entirety of your blade to his left. Metal screeches. Taehyun narrowly meets your sword with his own, supporting the flat side of it with his palm, looking down at you with a smile twitching at his lips. 
 Is that a dimple? 
A sturdy arm curls around your waist, spinning you up and tangling you into a knot. Taehyun pins you against him in exactly the fashion the faerie man had, arms pressed to your sides without seam.  
“Damn it!” you hiss. You dig your fingers into the expanse of his forearm, tensed across your chest like a metal bar. Your sword lies discarded somewhere on the floor. Taehyun is quite a bit taller than that other faerie; he has you held so crushingly that only your toes connect with the ground. 
“You need to stop wearing your thoughts on your face,” he says. His words puff out onto the breadth of your neck, so warm on your skin tingling with the winter air. “But good job trying to find an advantage.”  
You tap out at his arm. “Okay, okay,” you say, trying to find good purchase on your tiptoes. 
“No,” he says, voice thick and stern. He holds you fast to him with his one arm. “You can get out of this. I’ve seen you do it, so do it.”  
You’re sent back to caging arms and words snarled into your ears for the nth time today. “I can’t,” you say, voice wobbly and untrustworthy. “I had to stab him, Taehyun.” You feel nauseous and claustrophobic.   
“He was going to kill you. You don’t need mercy for those who have none for you; It doesn’t serve you.” He wraps his free arm around your waist, tight and oppressive in the same way his other arm is. “C’mon.”  
You grit your teeth kick and buck wildly, digging your heels into his shins and prying at the bar of his arm. Your veins are empty of any fire. You let your head fall back, huffing, and it makes contact with the hardness of his shoulder.  
He pulls you in so that your hips are flush to him. His head drops down near the crook of your neck. “Come on,” he repeats, more punctuated and demanding this time. The contours of his body are solid and hard against you. Your brain feels a little fuzzy. Is it from your shallow breathing, or the way you can feel the heaviness of his eyes boring into you? You’re unsure.  
You pry and pry at his arms, wriggling yourself in hopes that, at one point, you’ll bend your body in a way that will let you slip out. You even reach behind you and shove at the hard planes of his stomach. All of it is infuriatingly futile.  
“You can do more than that,” Taehyun says. “Hit me. Do something. A real captor would’ve done whatever they please with you by now. Come on!”  
“I don’t want to hit you!” you say. When you begin twisting again, he opts for holding you to him by one hip, rather than his whole arm. His fingers dig into you. 
Taehyun’s voice is low in your ears. “I told you to hit me, so do it.”  
All that can be heard in the room for a few long, long moments are your panting breaths, until you bring your foot up and stomp down on his foot, driving your heel down. The thick leather and laces of his boots may pillow some of the force, but not all of it. He grunts, cursing thick and meaningful. He falls back from you, stumbling back until he’s propped up on that strategy table.  
“I’m sorry,” you say, rushing over to him. You had brought your foot down on his harder than you had wanted.  
Taehyun raises a dismissive hand, the wood of the table creaking under his weight as he leans on it, but his face has dropped and smoothed over. You wonder how one could ever be so good at veiling their emotions so completely. He nods at you, his eyes rounded and soft, despite how his foot might be groaning. “Good job,” he says. 
You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “You’re insane,” you say. 
He smiles at you. “Maybe.” 
There’s that dimple, again. It’s a soft, kind thing, so at odds with the hard lines and angles of his face. Finally, you let your shoulders soften and relax. You may fall asleep standing upright, if you don’t find the plush of a mattress soon. 
You bite down your hisses and sounds. Yeonjun runs his thumb over the deep purple and yellow bruises that litter your legs and arms, and some are too fresh to be touching. His face is pinched and troubled as his eyes linger over your scabbed knees. 
“Where are you getting these?” he asks. His eyes flicker up to yours, sparkling under the dim firelight that he keeps in his room. Your mouth goes dry. The concern you see brimming there has you wanting to explode in a frenzy of apologies and truths. He deserves to know what you are.  
Sighing, you prop yourself up and onto your elbows. “I do a lot of work at the estate,” you say. It’s a weak excuse for the severity of your bruising, but it’s all you have. His eyebrows lift, and he tilts his head to one side as he looks down at you, something unnamed playing in the lines of his eyes. 
“He lets you get all beaten up like this?” he scoffs. “What kind of work does he even have you doing, anyway? What a piece of shit.” 
 You can tell he wants to extend his offer again. His eyes plead silently with you. You feel guilt the most of any emotion, these days. You shake your head, shrugging him off. “It’s not his fault, Yeonjun. Seriously. I’m just not the best at what I do.”  
“It is his fault, if you come back to me looking like this under his care. I’m sick of it.  Look at your arms,” he says, picking up the battered thing pointedly. “It kills me every moment you’re there with him, and I don’t know what’s happening to you. But then, you show up... like this. It’s hard for me to believe what you say, pretty.” 
You sit up fully. You’re trying to find a way to explain it all away for him. You really are. 
Your silence has him recanting. "I believe you. I do. It’s just...” Yeonjun takes his hand and soothes it over a deep bruise, his eyes trained on it and a bit distant. “I don’t trust him.”  
There it is again. It’s beginning to feel more like cryptic omens the more you hear it. You gnaw at your cheek. “Why?” you blurt. “Why not? I don’t understand.”  
“That family is a line of blood-drinking generals, and I can assure you that he is no different. His father pillaged and devastated as he pleased. Taehyun had no qualms with taking on his father’s legacy. He’s no stranger to killing, pretty. I don’t want you staying in that home.” 
You shake your head, stomach feeling sick. You’ve known about Taehyun’s lineage. But you also know that Taehyun hates his father. Why would he maim himself the way he did if he’s just like his father?  
An image of Taehyun, stone-faced and dark-eyed, standing over the body of that faerie man comes alive in your memories. He had sliced through that man like he was some sort of practice dummy, not a living, breathing thing.  
“Please. I just want you to at least consider why I am asking you to stay with me.”  
You nod, letting him bring you into soft, warm arms. His skin is flush and full of life against yours. It only makes you think of the crystalline and cold that Taehyun’s is. Where Yeonjun is a lush, living thing, Taehyun is more like if frost was stricken with the curse of sentience. 
“Some of my friends are out having a bonfire,” he says, his voice soft. “Do you want to go?” 
You nod. A night under the stars may not be enough to free you of your worries, but it’s enough to let you pretend that they don’t exist.  
The company Yeonjun keeps is admittedly less stuffy and pompous than you had in mind, but still, they are unfamiliar to you. You sit leaned into Yeonjun on some chopped up log, its dry bark digging into your palms and dirtying your skirts. The rumble of Yeonjun’s chest as he laughs and talks with the other faeries circling the towering fire is smooth on your ears. All that lights the gathering is the orange of the flame and the stars above. It’s a moonless night.  
Some of his friends dance free and unabashed to the strumming of a lyre. The faerie plucking at its strings had stricken you a bit frozen when your eyes had first laid on him. You’re familiar with that flop of blonde hair, and that delicately built face. It was the same faerie Taehyun had spoken with in The Hovel. Your eyes linger on him the most—you’re not entirely sure why, but it just feels like an odd coincidence to you. The Hovel, or even its patrons and performers, is not the kind of place you imagined Yeonjun would find his friends. 
He sings to some ridiculous and bawdy faerie ode that you pay no mind. His voice is clear, and it harmonizes wonderfully with the crackle of the bonfire. A jaunty pixie girl cracks up between her dancing at an especially outrageous line.  
“Who is that?” you say, looking up at Yeonjun.  
He looks down at you with starlight in his eyes, alive with the fragrant bliss floating through the air. “Who?” he asks, lips sweet with a smile. You want to kiss them. Is it okay to kiss him here? 
“The guy playing the instrument,” you say, pointing him out. Yeonjun looks in the direction you point. 
“Oh,” he says. “That’s Kai. Why, pretty?” he says, looking back down at you. His black tunic is silken and shimmers under firelight. He brushes strands of your hair from your face so that he can look into your eyes better.  
You shrug. “No reason. Is he a bard?”  
He nods, eyes searching yours. “He is. What are you so curious for?” he asks, the corners of his lips upturned and playful. His skin is fire-warmed, smelling of his familiar sandalwood and clove. You breathe him in. 
“I’m just trying to get to know your friends,” you say. You maintain an air of cheekiness, but you can’t help running over the moment you had first seen the instrument-strumming faerie. 
Yeonjun’s heart seems to tug at that. “I know. Thank you,” he says. His smile is radiant and smooth, and his eyes form crescents.  
“They’re a bit less...” you say. You sit up from him, studying your company to find your words. They’re all more familiar to you—wilder fae, like the kind you might’ve interacted with back home. Not the preening gentry that you’ve mingled with in Court. As a prince, you had imagined Yeonjun might find his home in children of the gentry. 
“Less what? Less frumpy than you thought?” he asks, laughing. His cheeks are flushed with some thick, nectary faerie spirit that the lot have been sipping on, and his breath is sweet with it. “I can’t stand that crowd. Reminds me of home.”  
Your brows pinch with curiosity. “What is your court like?” you say. Someone hoots off in the background, but neither you nor Yeonjun are phased by it. You’ve been surrounded by similar sounds from the moment you arrived here. 
His gaze turns skyward. “Court is court, no matter where it is,” he says, breathing out softly through his nose. “But... at home, things are different. At least, for me they are. I can’t...” He shakes his head as if he’s sorting through old memories that you’re asking him to bare. “I can’t live up to what they expect me to be. There was a time in my life where I tried, but It’s not who I am. You grow tired when it’s your own blood smiling in your face before sticking their blades in your back. All this,”—he takes his silken shirt in his hands— “It becomes tired.”  
His eyes become duller as he speaks. You wince.  
“Maybe it’s a cage of gold, but it is still a cage,” he says into the buzzing night air. Or, rather, he says it to the stars. “So, you get real good at pretending. When everybody is wearing a mask around you, you learn to wear one too.”  
Yeonjun’s head finally drops back down, and he scans around, eyes drinking in the sight of cavorting faeries and the living fire. His eyes then land on you, soft and brimming and full. “It’s nice to have some place to take that mask off.” 
You feel your heart surging in a bittersweet way. You don’t deserve to be that for him. All you do is lie to him, and yet, you can’t help the way your heart aches for him. 
His gaze flickers down at your lips, and he’s leaning in tentative and unsure. You bridge the gap between your lips. He cups your face delicately with a hand, running it back into your hair. His lips have become something familiar; some sort of tonic that washes over you and seeps into your wounds. When you inevitably pull from him, he’s looking right into you. He tastes like that nectar liqueur, as well.  
“I’m gonna go talk. You coming?” he says.  
You shake your head. “I’ll stay right by this fire, thank you very much. It’s cold.”  
He snorts, a corner of his lips turning up. “Yeah, it is. Who let you outside with nothing more than that dress, anyway? It’s freezing out here.” 
“You did.”  
He rubs at the back of his neck, sucking his lips in sheepishly before shuffling away. You roll your eyes and settle into your earthy seat, watching him go. You observe the gathering around you some more while you sit alone, enjoying the sound of true laughs and the music that Kai fills the rest of the air with. Some are sappy, and some are tellings of ancient faerie epics, but there’s one that, for a reason that you’re unsure of, catches your ear and beckons you to listen to it. 
Walls have ears,
 Doors have eyes,
Trees have voices,  
Beasts tell lies,
Beware the rain,
Beware the snow,
Beware the man You think you know. 
You listen as he repeats the ode like a mantra, your bones unsettled. It’s just an ode; you know that. It’s no different from any old, dauntingly ominous faerie folk song. But you think of Taehyun as the bard repeats the words, and you think of how many times you’ve been told to do just that. You try to shrug off that zinging feeling in the back of your neck telling you that you don’t really know Taehyun. In Faerie, there are no coincidences. You don’t know how long you can let words of concern and warning bounce off of you before you start to let them soak right in. 
The metal tang of blood on your tongue tells you that it’s time to get up and distract yourself from your thoughts. You’d gnawed your cheek up. You stretch your limbs and find Yeonjun. He stands talking to a small crowd of faeries, and you join, sliding in next to him. A few of them gawk, and you feel it burning your skin, but you keep your eyes on Yeonjun and do your best to shimmy the feeling off. He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you in closer to him. 
Their conversation is quite honestly hilarious. Their snorts and hollering draw laughs out of you. They loosen your limbs and leave your cheeks pink. You feel as drunk on your laughter as they are on their drinks. Kai soon decides that, since nobody is even listening to his word-spinning anymore, he should join the circle.You don’t notice it, but at some point, the circle cracks off into many different conversations. You stick with Yeonjun, clinging to him for a sense of belonging among the unfamiliar faces. He talks with Kai and a lanky, bark-skinned faerie. The unfamiliar faerie’s eyes are beady and wet, and you feel uneasy under them. You have to strain your ear to clearly hear what they talk about as the other conversations around you mingle and turn into a big blur of jumbled words and sounds. 
“Wouldn’t you?” the tall faerie says, his voice gravelly and heavy with bass. “The Queen knows it. She has until the Solstice to deal away with it.” Yeonjun and Kai share a look that is quick, but it is charged with meaning. You don’t miss how they shift with his words. 
You shove down the urge to snap your head up and frown. The Solstice? What does The Queen know? And what is it? 
The faerie adds, “I heard from a bird that they’ve got something set up at The Hovel for it, anyway. No worries.”  
His word choice sends a chill over you. You can almost feel the blood draining from your face. It’s an echo of what you had heard in the forest after leaving The Hovel. It feels intentional, like some sort of code or meaning that you’re not privy to. Your mind begins patching together thoughts and memories and gathered information in a messy, hodge-podged way, but none of it forms a coherent line of reasoning. You commit the features of this unfamiliar faerie to your memory. You buzz with the consuming need to begin tearing through the woods and find Taehyun, wherever he might be tonight. 
“Are you okay, pretty?” Yeonjun asks, leaning down. His voice is low and delicate. “You’re pale. Are you cold?” 
You failed to contain your jolt of surprise, and a frown etches deep between his brows. “Is something wrong?” he says. 
You can hardly feel your face. “I’m fine,” you say, dismissing him with a shake of your head. “Just tired. Really tired.” You need to be back at the estate. You need to tell Taehyun what you just heard. 
Yeonjun’s face softens, and he pulls back. “Okay. Let’s get you to bed, then,” he says. 
You can’t help but gnaw at your already chewed cheeks and lips as he walks you home through the ice-capped forest. Your feet break through shrubbery and, though some snap back up and claw at your legs, you can barely register their sting through the fogging of your brain. You’re not sure exactly what or when, but something is going to happen at The Hovel.  
You suck in breaths through your nose, holding your pounding chest as you come flying through the front door of the estate. You visit each of the rooms Taehyun frequents—his room, the sparring quarters, the war room—you find him in none of them.  
You groan. Is he still at Court? Yeonjun had only just dropped you off here; seeking out Taehyun at Court would be a risky move. If he decides that he’s not done with the day and you run into him... You don’t even have a time, nor any idea what is actually going to be happening at The Hovel, to offer Taehyun anyway. But there’s this electricity flowing through your veins. It urges you to move; to do something.  
You pace the floor of the estate furiously until you fear you may look down and find the wood weathered and worn down by your boots. Once you’re sure that enough time has passed and Yeonjun would have cleared the flat and the wooded area, you set for Court with your mind racing in the very same way your heart does. 
Your feet carry you with the lightness of determination and will until you find yourself looking onto the warm, dancing lights of Court. You let yourself fear the consequences of what Yeonjun spotting you might bring for only a moment before you stamp it out and slip through the old pillar trees and join the merriments of Court with every morsel of bravery you have in you. 
Your eyes rake over the scene. You filter out the noise of dancing bodies and opt for tunneling in on the faeries standing still and making conversation—that’s where you’ll find Taehyun. There are multiple groups and bundles littering the floor, and yet, you find that tall head of hair and cold face in none of them. You soothe over your dress with anxious hands as you narrow your eyes and look over the hall again. If not conversation, where is he? 
Your eyes brush past a tall, brooding figure posted at the end of a table, his arms crossed and a heavy sword at his hip. Your eyes sweep back for a double take. Taehyun. 
 You restrain the initial urge to pick the hem of your dress off the floor and take off for him. It would only bring curious eyes your way, and you absolutely do not need that. You need to keep a low profile, like how a spy would. You forget yourself more with each moment you spend at Yeonjun’s side. Fearing attention is what you should be doing, not just as a spy, but as a human intermingling with cruel faerie courts, anyway. You make your way through the thick bunches of court-goers and tables. 
Taehyun’s brows furrow when he spots you, full of questioning. You don’t usually seek each other out during court; it’s easier to float below everybody’s attention when separate. 
Your veins buzz, thrilled to spill every word that has been sitting on your tongue with urgency. “Taehyun,” you say, closing the last steps of distance between you. “I have something to tell you, but... I can’t say it here.” He scans your surroundings, and you can see curiosity brimming all over him. He doesn’t ask the questions he has on his mind, though, simply departing from his post at the table and sifting through the crowds. You follow.  
Only once you’ve left the hall that holds court and are into the trees does he ask, “You found something?”  
You nod, but hasten your pace. Not only is the outside air biting into your skin without any tall bonfires to ward it away, but you’ve felt watched for a while now. The woods that you use as a segway between Court and Taehyun’s estate no longer feels like a haven—instead of just ancient holly and pine trees decorating the snowy grounds, you feel eyes on trees and ears in bushes. Taehyun doesn’t push any when you don’t explain, his face only grows increasingly grim. 
When you’re surrounded by the sturdy, familiar walls of the estate you finally stop and lean into the dining table, running your hands over your face. Taehyun’s shoulders have become tensed and rigid. Your silence must be getting under his skin. 
“I was out with Yeonjun, and I heard something. It was like—” 
Taehyun cuts you off, his face souring. “Why weren’t you at Court? Where were you?”  
“A bonfire,” you say, avoiding his other question. “Just with some of his friends. But that’s not the point. The point is that there was somebody there that was talking about The Queen knowing something, and that something is supposed to happen at The Hovel for it. He said something about how she has to deal with it before the solstice.” Your words run over each other and twist with the way you hurry to get their weight off your tongue.  
Taehyun seems to process your jumbles of information for a moment before he says, “What did he look like?”  
“He had bark skin, and was pretty tall,” you say. “I didn’t hear his name, or anything. Do you think you know him?”  
He shakes his head. “I don’t. Did Yeonjun?” he asks, and something in his tone feels accusatory.  
You shake your head. You’re not sure why you do it. “No, but that wasn’t all. There was something he said,”—your stomach flips at the memory— “it just felt off.” 
“What?” 
“He said that he had heard about whatever is happening at The Hovel from a bird,” you say, fiddling with frayed nerves at a heavy jewel hanging in your ear that Yeonjun had gifted you.  
You recognize the look that etches itself into his features as you say it—it mirrors exactly the way your insides twisted when you had heard it. “We have to go see what’s going to happen, Taehyun. I mean, The Queen is involved! Doesn’t it all feel like it’s something bigger? What if that guy who attacked us was in on it?” You toe the wood flooring. “I feel weird about it.” 
His face pulls into a grimace, but he nods. “We can check it out,” he says. “But I’m still wondering why you were out in the middle of the forest with a group of strangers, instead of at court where you should be.”  
You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m doing what you told me to do,” you say, tired of this conversation. “You asked me to make a show out of it, so I am. It was a little hangout with his friends, and Yeonjun was there with me anyway.”   
“There’s no purpose in showing yourself off to his friends,” he says, his voice taking on a biting, sword edge. “Listen to yourself,” he says, throwing his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I don’t care if Yeonjun was there. You were in the woods, surrounded by only him and his friends, alone. You found out for yourself what kind of company he keeps, didn’t you? What makes you so sure that he would choose you over your friends?” he sneers, and then his jaw sets. “I don’t care how much you’re practicing, or how many weapons you wear, you should be smarter than to put yourself into situations like that.” 
You spin on your heel, venom spinning itself up potent and mean in your mouth. You choose to keep it there despite the way it sours and begs for you to spit it all out.  
Taehyun’s fingers dig into your wrist as he catches it, as firm and unforgiving as his temper. “Don’t walk away from me,” he grits out. You throw your head back in an effort to keep yourself together, but all the effort it had taken you to not explode suddenly slips through your fingers like water.  
You rip your arm from out of his hand, scathing him with your eyes. “It’s not up to you. If you want me to do something, then tell me. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m tired of you acting like I don’t have my own brain. I can decide for myself what’s safe and what’s not.” 
He shakes his head, tugging at the collar of his tunic as if it’s stifling around his neck. “I know you can,” he says, his words trained. “I expect more than whatever this is from you. This behavior is unbecoming of a spy.”  
Your shoulders slump heavy with his words. “What? What is?” you say. “We’ve found nothing of value in court. The only thing you ever brought us fell flat on its face, and you brought me closer to death than I ever have. So, tell me how what I did is so awful? I found us something to follow. Can’t you just acknowledge that and move on, without reaching to find something to criticize me for?” 
When you study his face, you expect to find only his torturous mask of ice, but you find his eyes at war with his face. While he seems to be trying to pull that mask over his face, he’s unsuccessful in smoothing over the layered, flickering emotion that his eyes are brimming with. You’re unsure of which emotions you see there. They’re knotty and thorny, and so viscous that you can’t see through or discern them. He doesn’t reply, only pressing his mouth into a thin, cruel line. You wish you could read his eyes and see there what he can’t seem to say with his words. When Taehyun feels his mask slipping away from him, he frantically grasps at straws of rage and mean words to distract from it. 
“Yeah, I’m going to bed,” you say. You know it’s not what this conversation needs; you know that what you need to do is stay here and talk, but that would just be a waste of your time. Taehyun will never offer you the amount of bare emotion that something like that would require, and so you just save yourself the frustration. 
 You chew over more angry words as you storm off for your quarters. Taehyun does not make any attempts to stop you. 
Your eyes flutter open, and you blink them a few times to adjust to the morning rays of light. Birds trill outside your window.  
Your bedding is a warming embrace around you, and it has your eyes drooping and mind fuzzy with sleep just as quickly as you had awoken. You fight it for only a few moments before letting sleep settle itself into your bones once more. 
Your eyes pop back open as the sharp sound of something small and hard colliding with glass rings through your room. You sit up, removing yourself regretfully from the nurturing arms of your bedsheets, and listen. You jump when it happens again. It’s coming from your window. You slide regretfully from the bed and rub at your eyes before padding over to your window. 
You frown at Yeonjun’s silhouette staring up to you from the ground, his hands in his pockets. The grin that he plastered over his mouth when he spots you in the window tells you that he is aware of the fact he had just dragged you out of your slumber. You push open the window, grimacing down at him. 
“Why don’t you just go through the front door?” you gripe, running fingers through your tangle of hair. “Like a normal person would.” 
He tilts his head, swiping his tongue over his lips. “I’m not normal,” he snarks. “You should know that by now, pretty. Do you need me to show you how special I am again?” 
You flush at his innuendo. 
“Tell me why you’re throwing rocks at my window at this hour,” you say, skirting around his words. 
He scoffs. “This hour? What time do you think it is? It’s midday, darling.”  
It’s midday? You’d slept like a rock. 
“Anyway,” he says, “can’t a man just visit a pretty lady? You look lovely fresh from bed, might I add.” He waggles his brows in a gaudy, overdone way.  
You grab at the open window. “Tell me why you’re here, or else I swear I’m closing this window and going back to bed.” 
Yeonjun snorts, leaning his shoulder into the tree at his side. “I have somewhere to take you.” 
You can’t help but remember how Taehyun had scorned you last night for something just like this.  
You shoot a suspicious look down at him. “Where?” 
“Somewhere,” he says. “You’ll love it. I promise.” 
You close the window, saving your room from the bite of the morning air. You have such little time here with Yeonjun. It wouldn’t hurt to use your time together to its fullest extent. A knot forms in your throat as you think of the day you leave this place for home. Would Yeonjun follow you? 
You meet him outside. Your breath furls from your mouth in white plumes, and his nose is tinted pinkish. You quirk an eyebrow, hunched and rallying your own warmth with your arms wrapped around yourself. “What’s inspired you to drag me from my sleep today?” you say. 
Yeonjun shakes his head, eyes creasing into a sweet, sweet smile that wraps your cold bones and rids you of chills. “You’ve seemed worried recently. Is it so wrong for me to take you away for only a day? Would your lord object to even that?” 
You hadn’t realized how much your double life has been weighing down on you. Is it that obvious? He must’ve been worrying. 
“I’m sorry,” you say, kicking at a snow-tufted tree root jutting from the ground. "I haven’t meant to be uptight, or anything.” Your skin prickles as straying snowflakes twirl down and pepper your skin. 
Yeonjun takes your chin in a firm hand, turning your face up from the ground to meet his own. He shakes his head at you, his eyes firm. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You don’t have to apologize for being tired, or worried, or whatever it is. Not to me, at least. Let me take care of you; let me make it better.”  
If your heart was fluttering before, it has grown legs and escaped you by now. You blink once, twice, or even three full times before you suck your lips in and give him a wordless nod. He smiles a content smile, running his thumb just under the plumpness of your bottom lip. “Good,” he says, voice thick. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips that leaves the cold skin of your cheeks warring against the blush that rises there. He slides a warming arm around you and leads you around the estate.  
You pause as you round the corner and catch sight of a powerful, pearly-coated creature standing on the front grounds. It paws the ground, muscles rippling under its shining pelt.  
“I am not getting on that thing,” you say, looking between Yeonjun and the frilly horse with your eyes blown wide. Horses are something only the gentry use as means of transportation—the rest of faerie ride by other means or simply by foot. This one is perhaps the second you’ve seen in the entirety of your life. You gawk at its long, powerful legs. 
Yeonjun digs into a pouch that sits on the white flank of the creature, a taunting twist to his face. “You’re afraid of horses?” 
His words rile you. “No,” you say, voice tilting up in affront. You reach out to run your fingers over the smooth surface of its neck and retract your hand when the muscles there flinch. Yeonjun, or perhaps his attendants, must care for it well. Its tail is laced with flowers of faerie, only unwilted for the fact that they have some form of faerie enchantment placed over them, and its mane is a white, dripping silk that does not even look windblown, though you assume Yeonjun had ridden it here. It seems that all things flourish under Yeonjun’s touch. “I’ve just never been on one before.” 
He finishes rummaging through the pouch and produces something from it. A thick, fur-lined coverup made of white deerskin, inlaid with whorls of silvery thread. He offers it to you, and you gladly drown yourself in it. You sigh as it thaws out your skin. "I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, reassuring you before kicking himself up over the top of the horse with practiced ease the speaks to his upbringing. He looks exceedingly princely as he extends his hand down to you, his hair falling into his eyes and his lips lined with charm. When you hesitate, eyeing up the climb onto the horse, he adds, “Trust me.” 
And you do. Perhaps it’s foolish in a world built with elaborately hidden non-truths into its seams, but you do. You’re unsure of whether it emphasizes your foolishness or Yeonjun’s innate charm. You take his hand and slide your foot into the stirrup. You teeter on one leg before you feel the firmness of his hand in yours, and you throw the other one up and over, and then you’re seated on the solid back of the impressive creature. You laugh in disbelief, looking around at the world from this height. When you look down at the floor beneath you, you gasp and circle your arms around Yeonjun’s middle. 
He runs and hand over yours, interlocking your fingers over his abdomen. “Hold on well, okay?” he says over his shoulder. He pats your hands before taking the reins into his own. You dig your fingers into the front of his doublet and press your cheek into his back, squeezing your eyes closed. When he feels your hold tighten, he snaps the reins. The way that the horse whinnies and then takes off, moving faster than you’ve ever moved within only a few blinks, has you reeling. The pull of the speed that you bolt with makes it feel as though you’ll tip back or fly off the rear of the being. You scoot yourself closer to Yeonjun; so close that your front melds into the hardness of his back, the muscles there tensed as he works on guiding the horse.  
Wind whips your hair behind you, and you’re thankful for the way trees begin to litter the scenery. You slow to a trot, winding through ancient, towering trees gray of bark and crawling with lichen. The ambience of the silvery light rays that filter through the branch overhang and the singing of little songbirds has you breathing in until you feel as though you are bursting with air and then releasing it all in a deep, deep sigh. Hoofbeats form a deep, resounding song that you find yourself lost in. 
“You’re quiet back there,” Yeonjun says. You can feel the reverberations of his voice through your cheek.  
You hum, letting your eyes droop closed. “Mhm.” 
A laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “Are you going to fall asleep?” he says, and you can hear his smile in his voice. “We’re not too far from where we’re going, pretty. Why are you so sleepy? You didn’t go to bed too late last night.” 
His question drains every bit of exhaustion from you. You manage the tensing of your limbs carefully. To him, you had gone to bed early last night, but you were too busy sneaking around him and tossing in your bed to get a full night’s sleep last night. “I don’t know,” you say. Your lie is wretched in your mouth and mind. You’re sat on the back of his royal steed and he’s taking you somewhere because he’s worried about you, and you have the gall to lie to him straight through your teeth. For the first time, you envy the faerie composition for their inability to lie. Words claw long, raking welts down your throat as you tamper them down and pretend that they are not there. If you ever tell him your truth, it shouldn’t be now. 
The trotting of the horse turns into leisurely walk. You sit up. Your surroundings look no more special than the last thirty minutes had.  
“We’re here?” you say. 
He slides off the back of the horse, his feet meeting the forest floor the only sound bar the typical buzzing of the forest. He offers you his arm. “We are.” 
Despite his help, your descent is marginally less graceful than his. “Here, where?” you do a full spin before leveling him a curious stare. “This forest is nice, I suppose, but...” 
“I’ve spoiled you rotten,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “This isn’t enough for you? I mean, these trees are just something else.” 
You know the sparkle in his eyes is all taunt. You narrow your eyes at him. “It’s beautiful, yeah... But I could’ve gone tree gazing literally anywhere else.” You inspect the hollows between trees and the forest floor for some sort of faerie trick or veiling.  
He smirks off your complaining, producing a small, silken cloth from the horse’s satchel. He unfolds it to unveil a glistening, plump chunk of Lachrymose. Faerie fruit.  
“What is that for?” you say, giving him an incredulous stare.  
He raises it to you. The dusty blue skin of it is coated in a fuzz. You’re not mistaken at all—that is faerie fruit. “I need you to eat it,” Yeonjun says. 
“But that’s Lachrymose,” you say. “It’s faerie fruit. I can’t eat that. Why do you want me to eat it?” Shame tickles at your skull as you replay Taehyun’s words from last night. Yeonjun has showered you with nothing but his affection, you have no reason to doubt his intentions now.  
“I know,” he says. “I know it is. Do you trust me?” 
Do you? He had led you here to the forest and now is holding the fruit known to drunken your kind. Taehyun’s words double, and they meld with all that you know about the folk. They don’t care about you. What makes this faerie prince any different? Who’s to say that he didn’t bring you out here with ill intent? It’s not like anybody would come searching for you, anyway.  
But, despite it all, you do. You trust Yeonjun with the blazing intensity of a girl who has not known what it is to be treated delicately. You trust Yeonjun even if it is to a fault. You nod.  
He brings the chunk of yellow-pulp fruit to his lips, and his bite is punctuated by the crisp puncturing of the skin. He chews the fruit and swallows it, and then swipes his tongue over the pink of his lips to collect the thick nectar there. He drops the fruit to the ground. 
Any words or questions die in your throat as he crashes his lips into yours. He rolls his tongue around yours and brings his hands up to hold your face in place. You mewl surprise into his mouth, but the cloying flavor of the nectar lingering on his tongue has each inch of your skin buzzing with the twinkle of faerie enchantment. The taste of Yeonjun mingles with the fruit in a way that seizes your senses. He licks at your bottom lip before pulling off of your mouth. The black of his pupil threatens to drink his eye whole, his eyes dilated and heavy with rolling lust.  
You reclaim your stolen breaths as you watch him and his wet lips, but something behind him catches your attention. You peer around him.  
Behind Yeonjun are multiple merchant stalls so full of odd ornaments and draping fabrics that you fear they’ll spill over onto the forest ground, seemingly appearing where nothing had stood before. Behind the stalls stand a myriad of different fairfolk, some haggling with customers and some fussing over their goods. Your feet grow roots into the ground and you gawk at the scene in front of you. 
“How?—” 
Yeonjun pats the flank of the horse, looping a lead around its gear and making a tree the anchor for the other end. “Faerie fruit is intoxicating to humans, yes,” he says, “but at lower doses it gives you true sight.” He looks over the little marketplace. “There’s so much of Faerie that you miss. Hidden places like this... I want to show you all of them. This is your home, too, isn’t it?” 
Your eyes burn and your throat burns as you strain to bottle your tears up. Your home.  
He takes one of your hands and gestures toward the stalls in a pointing gesture. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve put out for sale.”  
You peruse the stalls with only your eyes for a few moments before walking up to one. This one, you find as you approach the stall, has art for sale. Canvases slathered with paint and telling stories of betrayals and greatness are propped up on display easels, so plentiful that the shopkeeper began littering them about the ground as well. Earthenware and pottery glazed in sparkling silvers and bronzes stand tall and beautiful alongside them. You can’t help but notice that the subjects of the art pieces are all human. 
You drift to the next stall, but Yeonjun stays admiring the art pieces. This one boasts an odd collection of all sorts of seemingly stolen things. Piles of worn buttons and door handles and all other sorts of trinkets. You look over all the hanging baubles and dangling metal pieces that chime when a breeze worms through them. Much of it you can’t even recognize what sort of purpose it may serve, or at least what purpose it may have served at some point. 
It’s all human. 
A gnarled voice startles you. “Do you not see something you like, girl?” says the goblin shopkeeper as he peeks up and over the piles of his selection. The cap on his head is pointed and red, and his ears membranous and bat-like. You immediately know upon seeing him that all of this was gathered by the shopkeeper himself, and not bought off of suppliers. Goblins are infamous for their sticky fingers and fondness toward inconsequential human things like these. He zeroes in on a heavy, unfamiliar coin in your hands, his nose snuffling on his pointed snout. “That’ll run you a fair chunk of your hair.” 
“Oh, I’m just looking,” you say, letting the coin drop back into the piles of unsorted knick-knacks. “Is this all human goods?” 
The shopkeeper chortles. “This is a market for human things, girl. You’ll be harder pressed to find something of faerie make here.” 
Your heart skips a couple beats. Yeonjun had brought you here because he thought being among human things might comfort you.  
You move on to the next stall. This one offers delicate works of silver—earrings, necklaces, bangles, and even cold silver weaponry. You pick up a resplendent dagger, embellished with a myriad of swirling carvings running up the handle. You test its weight. It is heavy and the blade of it is in great shape. The ones you have been using from the arsenal at Taehyun’s estate pale in comparison. 
“Anything catching your eye?” Yeonjun says, his voice sneaking up to your left. He must’ve caught up to you while you were busy browsing. 
You nod, holding up the dagger of silver. "This is gorgeous.” 
He gives you an odd look, tilting his head as he looks down at the weapon and then up at you. “What would you need a weapon for?” he says. “Not that it isn’t lovely.” 
You laugh, and you hope it doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “I was just saying that it’s nice,” you say, shrugging. It’s hard to part from the beautiful, silver thing as you place it back down. 
“This is all human stuff, isn’t it?” You turn to look at him. 
He smiles, and his nose crinkles with it. “So, you noticed,” he says. “I thought you might like it.” 
“I do,” you say. “I... I didn’t know there was anything like this here.” You gesture at the market around you, seemingly risen from plain snow and tree. It doesn’t make any bit of sense that there would be a market for human things when faerie craft is unfathomably superior. “I’m not sure why, though. It’s all so...” You mull over a way to put your thoughts into word for a moment. You look over the selection of the stalls, their goods dented and rusting and frayed around the edges. “Lackluster.” 
He shakes his head, looking back at the paintings of the first stall that he had hovered at. “What makes you say that?” he says.
You pick up a necklace on a white gold chain, heavy with a weeping pearl at its apex, from a pile of other odds and ends. “A lot of it is pretty,” you acknowledge, bringing the pearl into your palm and feeling the imperfect shape of it. The color of it is a pale, oil spill mauve shade that you’ve never seen on a pearl, and it is not lovely and round like other pearls, either. “But none of it really matters, like handcraft here does. Like, those paintings don’t strike love in the viewer’s heart...” You look around, and your eyes are pulled like gravity to the blade that you had laid down. “And that dagger doesn’t gift its wielder the blessing of guaranteed victory in any fight they bring to it. They’re just... stuff.” 
Yeonjun takes the necklace from your hands. He reaches around you, clasping the ends of it at the back of your neck. He picks up the drooping pearl from where it dangles about your cleavage, observing it and spinning it in his fingers. “Maybe this necklace isn’t inlaid with magic. Maybe it doesn’t gift its wearer boundless beauty, or act as a ward against evil enchantments. But how I look at it, somebody worked hard days of their lives learning the skillset and working their fingers raw to finally be able to make a piece like this. They had no faerie magic to help them do it, and they did not have the long lifespan of a faerie, either. Their lives were short and valuable, and yet, they spent their scarce time mastering their craft until they made this. Don’t you think that is more lovely than any faerie thing?” 
You take the necklace into your own hand. Suddenly, the weight of it on your chest is more right than anything ever before. The junk around you begins to sparkle with the light of someone’s passions.  
“It looks lovely around your neck, darling,” he says. The husky timbre that is spun into the words makes your skin burn. “It’s yours. Whatever you want from here is yours.” 
You shake your head, still holding the pearl between your fingers and feeling its shape and temperature. “This is all I want.”
He smiles at you before pulling out a heavy bagful of coins, handing it to the shopkeeper who finally looks up from his ministrations behind the counter. “The necklace for the lady,” Yeonjun says. The shopkeeper’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he accepts the jingling pouch of coins that is visibly too much for just the necklace, but he does not protest or point it out. 
Your heart tugs. That shopkeeper knows Yeonjun is prince—there is not a sentient being in these lands that does not know his title. Yeonjun could’ve asked for the necklace and the shopkeeper would’ve given it to him. Maybe a bit begrudgingly, but he would. And yet, Yeonjun handed him the payment for the necklace and more. The amount of money that Yeonjun just handed him is no dent to him, but to the shopkeeper... 
“C’mon,” Yeonjun says, looping his arm around you. “We don’t have long before your true sight fades off. Let’s look at everything before then, yeah?” 
You nod, leaning into his touch. You’re not sure you ever want that fruit to fade; not sure you ever want to leave the forest and face what you’re really here for. But, at least for the time you have here, you’ll pretend that this is it. 
You bound down the stairs, greeting Taehyun with a nod of your head when you spot him leaned against the wall by the door. He returns your nod. It’s the first you’ve seen of him in a few days. 
You frown at him. He looks as if he’s been waiting on you. What other reason would he be hovering around the front door? 
“What’s up?” you say. 
He lets out a sigh, laced with frustration. “Whatever they’re doing at The Hovel, they’ve got it under wraps. It doesn’t matter if I sit there for half the day; nothing but usual customers pass through.”  
You appreciate that he doesn’t mention how your information might be null, despite the fact that you know he’s thinking it. You are. Hopefully, it’s not because you whined so much about being taken seriously that he just accommodates you like a moody toddler. That can’t be the truth, though. If he’s taken multiple of his own days from your finite time here in the north to check it out, he has to believe that it holds some water.  
Shrugging, you say, “We could just leave it, if it doesn’t seem like it’s actually anything.” 
He shakes his head. “No. We’re going to follow this through,” he says. “Get some shoes on. I want to bring you with me, this time.” 
He wants you to come this time. He wants your help. Maybe he’s just saying it to mend the tension that seems to be a permanent aspect of your relationship, but that doesn’t feel like Taehyun’s style. It feels dizzyingly validating for each of the nights you’ve spent running through your sword fighting skills until you wore your muscles down, even when you felt you might collapse.  
You bend down to lace up your boots. Your necklace dangles from your chest, swinging and bumping your chin as you do. When you stand to ask him why he believes you being there might help, you pause as you catch his eyes trained intensely at your chest. You furrow your brows, thrown off by the smolder in his narrowed eyes.  
He steps toward you, reaching up and taking Yeonjun’s necklace from where it rests. His fingers brush right where your breasts begin, if only for a brief, heart-stopping moment. “Where did you get this?” he asks, his tone flat and untelling, but his eyes blaze and do not flicker away from the pearl around your neck for even a moment.  
You can’t muster an answer for a few beats, blundering with his sudden and uncalled for intensity. But, when you finally can, your voice wavers. You have no reason to have guilt roiling in your belly for wearing Yeonjun’s necklace, but you do. “Some market that sells human stuff,” you say. 
His face tightens. “How did you get there?” he says. He must know exactly which market. He won’t look at you. “It’s from Yeonjun,” he says, more a statement than a question. He sounds scorned, as if you wearing some necklace has any reason to encourage this sort of reaction.   
You wince, ready for him to berate you for drowning yourself in Yeonjun’s luxuries, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops the necklace as if it’s cold iron searing into his skin, stepping back from you. “Let’s go,” he says, cold and sharp and short. 
There it goes; a smooth, flawless mask slides over his face and clicks into place without falter. You’ve become so sick of staring into an emotionless face. 
“No,” you say, crossing your arms. 
His eyebrows shoot up. “No?” he echoes. 
“You’re angry about something. What’s your problem?” You narrow your eyes at him.  
“My problem?” he asks, his lip curling. “I have no problem. We need to go.” 
You bark out a barbed laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Sure, let’s do this again. You lead the way.” You gesture at the door in an overblown, dramatic wave of your arm, utterly sardonic. 
He gives you a long look before he does. When the heavy wood door swings open, a cold front of air blasts in, smacking you in the face. You snatch a woolen cloak up from near the door, wrapping yourself up in it and following Taehyun out into whipping wind. 
You drag your feet through snow without any complaint or word exchanged with Taehyun—it’s not the first time you’ve braved a snow storm alongside a sickeningly quiet Taehyun, anyway. 
As you hook your boot into a low-hanging branch, tugging yourself up on unsure arms, you look up to see Taehyun already squatted and settled onto a thick branch a few levels up. He reaches a hand down to you, and you take it, amazed by how much easier it makes the rest of your climb up feel. You remember the buff of his forearms and the feel of them wrapped around you like solid metal through flickering memories, and it adds up. Taehyun does not just wield weapons well; his whole body is honed and molded to be used just as well as any weapon from what you’re sure are from years of spy work and being a general’s son.  
You wobble on this higher branch, wrapping an arm around the trunk of the tree when you look down and see how high you are from the ground. Though it is powdered generously with a white layer of snow, you’re sure that fall would hurt. You focus on breathing. You’re not sure you would, if you don’t. 
Taehyun and you had made the trek to this forest in a familiar, tense silence, only broken when he told you that you’d be climbing into a tree and keeping a bird's eye view of the path to The Hovel. Even now, he won’t address you. It irks you down to your soul; you had done nothing to deserve a cold shoulder from him.  
Taehyun readjusts his footing on the branch and it wobbles under your feet, creaking. Your heart jumps up into your throat, and your arms encircle the tree until it aches. Bark bites your skin, but you couldn’t care less.  
“You need to relax,” Taehyun says. “The more tense you are up here, the more likely it is that you’ll actually fall.” 
You breathe out through your nose shakily, gritting your teeth. “It’s not that easy.” 
“I know it isn’t,” he says, placing a steadying hand on your back. “But you have to.” 
 You attempt to let go of the trunk, but the second you let go, you find that your footing is insufficient, and you teeter. Your arms are back around the tree faster than you can even think. 
“I didn’t say let go of the tree.” 
You bite back a snark, opting to focus your energy on not slipping and cracking your neck. You would not be this uptight if the branches weren’t coated here and there in sheets of snow that has hardened into ice, making good foot placement imperative. 
“How long are we going to be sitting up here?” you ask. You’re thankful for the way the branches and pine needles shelter you from the wind, but you’re unsure of how long you can handle the feeling of your lungs frozen in fear. 
“A while.” he says. 
You shudder out a breath at that. Well, if the tense atmosphere between you two wasn’t already enough on your plate, the threat of falling from this height is a lovely addition. 
The two of you sit perched and hidden in the trees without so much as a passerby for awful stretches of hours. The more you throw yourself into listening and watching, despite the absence of anything to listen or watch, the less taut your muscles grow. At some point, you’re able to let go of the tree, holding to the branch underneath you. You grow intensely bored by the monotonous sight of falling snow and the occasional forest creature. Of course, nobody is visiting The Hovel today. Who would be? 
“Okay, I think it’s safe to call it quits, Taehyun,” you say. Your knees ache furiously from the constant crouch you’re sat in, and you’re reaching your measly human threshold for cold temperatures despite your bundling. “Nobody’s coming. I’m sorry, I guess I interpreted things wrong. Let’s just cut our losses and go back.” 
Taehyun looks at you with a strange look in his eyes. “I’ve been doing this for days. For days, I’ve been sat up in these trees and poking around the place. Do you think I’d waste that time on something that sounds like it could’ve been interpreted wrong?” he snaps. “None of that sounded like coincidence. You found something good, and we’re not going to leave it now.” 
He says the words a bit harsher than you had hoped, but in some odd way that only Taehyun could pull off, it feels like an apology for treating you like dead weight before. 
You huff. “If it’s nothing, you can’t say it’s my fault that we’ve wasted time on this.” 
He doesn’t answer, and the forest slips back into just the quiet howl of wind and rustling branches. You rest your cheek into the tree, submitting to another bout of painfully fruitless watching. 
Taehyun rustles on the branch next to you, sitting up and suddenly very alert. You shoot him a confused glance. There’s nothing and nobody in sight. You mouth the word “What?” at him.  
He presses a finger over his mouth in a shushing gesture, holding it there as he seems to listen to something that you can’t hear. He pulls his bow off his back, notching an arrow. Your heart thumps in your neck wildly as you watch him do it. What, exactly, does he hear? 
It’s a few long, long minutes before you start hearing anything. Indistinct chatter bounces off of trees and reaches you as a pair of faeries, one of them a long-limbed pixie and the other more humanoid aside from the pointed ears peeking out from his hair. You watch them trudge through the piling snow, unable to pick up their conversation from even this distance. 
Taehyun pulls the bowstring taut, aiming at the pixie one with deadly precision. Your eyes bulge, and you turn your gaze to him with a wide-eyed stare. You want to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but you keep your mouth sealed water-tight. You can’t let them know you’re hidden away up here. 
The utterly remote look on Taehyun’s face, even while having his bow pulled tight and ready to shoot a killing arrow at them, makes you nauseous. He doesn’t look to you, he only narrows his eyes in on the pair, studying them. They look inconspicuous to your eyes—he won’t let that arrow fly, you tell yourself. You tell it to yourself again as he readjusts his squat to better angle at them as they travel further down the path. That consolation does not work, though, when he releases the arrow out onto the pixie. It whistles before piercing the faerie right in the neck. 
You cover your mouth so as to not cry out in shock, but the wail of the other faerie does the job for you. He drops to the floor, his eyes wide and his hands clasping around the entry point of the arrow as if to staunch the bleeding—as if it would save a man with an arrow through the neck. He looks up and around, searching for where the stray arrow had flown from, but Taehyun has you two hidden too perfectly among the branches.  
You look up to Taehyun. He’s loosing another arrow, locking it into place and lining it up with the living faerie, his hands steady in a killing calm. The poor faerie is only just able to realize how vulnerable they are to an arrow before one spears through his chest. Taehyun had aimed for his heart, and he had not missed. His eyes go wide, his skin draining of its color, before he crumples over himself and joins his companion on the ground. 
You watch the sight of their blood slowly embellishing the white snow unable to look away but so sick at the sight that you might bend over and hurl up your guts.  
‘Why the fuck did you just kill them?” you say, and it’s all you can manage to get past your paralyzed lips.  
When he turns away from his carnage and looks at you, all you can see is that detached face as he had made the conscious decision to let those arrows fly and rob those faeries of their lives without warning or even speaking to them. “They’re errand runners for The Queen,” he says before he slinks down the branches, landing on the forest ground. You follow him, suddenly lithe and unafraid of falling with the liquid adrenaline simmering in your bloodstream. 
“So, you shoot and kill them on sight?” you say. “They didn’t deserve that. The most they do is run messages for her, they have no part in any of this.” Your lips tremble as you avoid looking at their still bodies, already losing heat in the snow. You can’t look; not this close. Down here, at their height, you can almost imagine the fear of looking up and knowing that someone sits somewhere in the shadows and knowing that you will be the next on the ground. 
“That’s exactly it,” he says. “They run messages. We need those messages, and we wouldn’t have gotten them by just asking them and saying please.” The rustling sound tells you that he’s searching their bodies.  
You squeeze your eyes shut, the noxious tang of blood finally hitting your nose. Your knees feel like they’ll buckle under you as you remember a time where you had been the cause of that smell. Only a few long steps away from here, you had dug your dagger into the flesh of another living being. How many more times will you see death, now that you’ve found yourself as a spy? Will you one day be as desensitized to its presence as Taehyun is? 
No, you won’t. You can’t see yourself ever valuing the life of any living thing so little that you view it as some means to an end. 
“They had lives, Taehyun. You have no right taking the liberty of that into your own hands. What are you going to do if you find nothing on them? What are you going to do?” 
There’s some more rustling before Taehyun answers. “They would laugh to see you die.” 
It’s true. You know it’s true. Yet, you still can’t find justice in their deaths.   
“You don’t know that; you didn’t know them,” you say. 
He laughs, but it’s empty of what a laugh should be. It feels cold and mocking. “They all would. Every last one of them.” 
You spin on him, hearing his unspoken words. Yeonjun, too. “And you wouldn’t?” you hiss. As you finally look at him, you notice the folded-up paper he holds in his hands.  
His eyes flash. “I am not one of them.” 
Your eyes run over the roundness of his ears. No matter how round he may have sheared them, they can never soften the sharp faerie angles of his face. Not when you’ve seen him kill as wildly and beastly as they do. He has human running in his blood, and yet, the most terrible things you’ve seen have been at his hands. “Aren’t you?” you say. “I think it’s time you come to terms with the fact that you are, and learn how to live with it.” 
He looks at you with eyes of such intensity that you have to make sure you’re still breathing. “You know nothing about me,” he snarls.  
“Maybe I don’t,” you say, rubbing your hands together to fight the cold. “But... killing them, that wasn’t human.” 
“I’m not human, either,” he says, shaking his head. 
“Then, what are you, Taehyun?” you ask.  
He looks at you for a long time, his face unmoving as if he tries but cannot conjure up an answer. “I don’t know,” he says, his tongue lashing. The raw emotion consuming his features, cracking his mask of ice, softens you.  
“Why not?” you say, stepping toward him despite the turning of your stomach when the two fallen faeries come into view. The snow is already dusting them over and covering them; the earth reclaiming what is hers. “You don’t have to live your life in the shadow of that man. You don’t have to deny yourself your own identity because he was a monster. You are not him.”  
As quickly as he let it fall, Taehyun plasters his face in ice and stone. “You have no clue who I am, or what I’ve done.”  
With that last menacing line, Taehyun unfurls the piece of paper he pulled off the errand runners. You’re not sure if the chill resting at the base of your spine is you surpassing your threshold for freezing temperatures, or if the thought of Taehyun committing the same unimaginable atrocities as his father scares you that bad. With what you had just seen... Maybe Taehyun is the same monster that you’ve been continuously warned he could be.  
His brows pinch as he takes in what’s scrawled on the paper, slowly becoming translucent is some places as snow flurries down and falls on it.  
“What?” you say. You hope that whatever is on that paper is worth their lives. 
“It’s just a nursery rhyme,” he says, flipping the paper over to check if there’s anything more. There isn’t. 
You frown. “Let me see.” You take the paper from his hands. At the top sits a crude scribbling of a bird, and beneath it is a nursery rhyme you are vaguely familiar with.  
One for sorrow,  
Two for mirth, 
Three for a wedding,  
Four for a birth,  
Five for silver, 
Six for gold,  
Seven for a secret never to be told,  
Eight for a kiss, 
Nine for a wish, 
Nine for a bird you must not miss
It’s a rhyme about magpies and the meaning behind the numbers you might see them in. On the paper, the last line is written over many times, the writing jagged and almost violent. At the bottom, there are the words tomorrow day written, small and less likely to draw the eye than the bold lines of the rhyme. Your mind freezes up. 
“Taehyun,” you say, swallowing hard. “Do you remember what kind of bird we found dead before I got attacked?” 
He nods, as if catching on to what you’re saying. “It was a magpie.” 
“And everybody is talking in these... codes about birds, right. There is some kind of organized thing happening here, Taehyun, and it involves The Queen. And, down there,” you say, pointing at the bottom of the paper. “Do you think it means that tomorrow is when it’s happening?” 
He thinks for a long moment, probably running through any other possibilities. He nods. “Sounds like it,” he says, inspecting the paper for another few beats before folding it back up and stashing it away. “Let’s get back before it gets too dark.” 
You look up at the overcast and dimming sky, nodding. You’re not sure what you’re going to run into tomorrow at that hidden little tavern, but you feel that you’ll need a better night’s sleep to face it than you’ve been getting. “Okay,” you say. 
You didn’t sleep well last night. Not at all. You tossed and turned, torn between trying to figure out what all the stuff you’re finding could mean and spinning your conversation with Taehyun over and over in your head until you’re sick of it, and then you spin it some more. You thought of the dead indifference on his face as he killed them, and you thought of what he had told you. You have no idea who I am, or what I’ve done. You had hoped for some showcase of the monster that everybody paints him out to be, and you had gotten it.  
You know that the life of a spy is not a cake walk—you know it comes with violence and the constant threat of death. Killing those errand runners was clearly vital to discovering whatever The Queen has going on, and that note was a great help, yeah. Sure. But you can’t convince yourself that the loss of their lives was justifiable. You just can’t. Not even when the inhabitants of this world would do the same unto you without any such remorse. 
When you tug yourself out of bed and meet Taehyun out by the blackthorn tree, he looks at you strangely. You must look as sleep deprived as you feel. He doesn’t mention it, though, and only runs his eyes over you to check if you’ve armed yourself adequately. Nodding in approval, he sets out. 
Once you’ve cleared the trek to The Hovel and are looking upon the little hidey-hole entrance, you suck in a shuddering breath. This moment had plagued you last night, too. You run your hands down each place where you store away your hidden daggers—just for reassurance. 
“Same as last time,” Taehyun says, breaking the silence of the woods to preface your entering the tavern. “If we look like anything other than lord and human servant, we’re going to get attention that we don’t want. Especially when we don’t know who could be in here. If they were able to find out who we were last time, we need to be a thousand times more careful this time. Unless I tell you otherwise, you need to stick by me, understood?” 
You have to breathe manually, wiping your palms on your plain dress. You don’t have the luxury of wearing pants this time, no matter how much better it is in the case that you have to fight your way out of here. Female servants do not wear pants. “Understood,” you say, nodding your head and stepping into the mound entrance. 
Your entrance into the tavern is almost as wild and slippery as last time, but at least you know what to expect this time around. You scan the room as soon as you catch ground, smoothing down your dress. Instantly, you catch sight of Kai’s blonde mop of hair, leaned up against a dirt wall, strumming a fast-paced song on an instrument. The crowd is no busier than the first time you had been here, either.  
Maybe you had interpreted the paper wrong. Nothing looks amiss or curious. You let a little bit of your bottled-up stress out in a slow puff of air.  
When Taehyun appears next to you, you whisper to him, “What do we do?” 
He scans the room in a similar fashion that you had, before he cocks his head to the side in a follow me gesture. He pushes into the measly crowds. You follow him, weaving around drunken bodies and cackling, snaggle-tooth hobs until he comes to a stop. 
You suck in a breath. Of course, he had to head straight for Kai. Just your luck. Taehyun may think that Kai is a good source for information, but you really wish he would’ve picked quite literally anybody else to try and pull information from. Kai is Yeonjun’s friend, and you have no idea what might happen tonight. 
Kai looks up from his bored playing, and his brows shoot up as he spots you next to Taehyun. He doesn’t stop playing his music, though. You’re sure he could be asleep and his fingers would still be plucking strings. “Odd seeing you here,” he says, smiling at you before nodding his head in greetings to Taehyun. “Especially odd that you’re not with Yeonjun. What brings you here?” 
Taehyun looks between you and Kai. You know he’s wondering how you two might know each other.  
“Just out for some fun,” Taehyun says, cutting in and answering before you can. “She’s my ward, I’m unsure why she would make an appearance here with the prince.” There’s a distinct sour undertone to his words, but you can hardly determine why.  
Kai is undeterred by Taehyun’s brooding, a lilting smile tugging his lips up. He tilts his head to one side, and the action reveals a pair of short goat’s horns that peek from his hair. The brown of them compliments well his forest green doublet. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the prince’s fondness for her, then, if she’s your ward.”  
You had, when you first met him, thought that Kai fears Taehyun. Now, you’re more under the impression that he is not the type to really fear anyone.  
Taehyun’s lips pull into a muted frown, but you can tell that he’s ruffled by the stiffness of his shoulders. “I’ve been made aware of it, yes,” he says. His jaw feathers, and he turns his gaze on you. “Would you bring us some drinks?” he says. 
Kai gasps dramatically, furrowing his brows and placing a hand over his chest to feint offense. “That’s no way to treat a lady, Lord,” he says. “It’s no wonder she runs around with Yeonjun the way she does.” 
You resist the urge to snort when Taehyun grits his teeth. He’s only acting like that because it’s how most faeries treat their human servants, but Kai knows how to taunt in a way that meets its mark. 
“She is far from a lady,” Taehyun says, crossing his arms. “Grabbing a drink is a reasonable task for a servant, is it not?”  
You decide to just scurry off and grab drink to save yourself the effort of not laughing at him. When you find the tap barrels from which you had gotten drinks from last time, it’s the same barkeeper. He greets you, but his demeanor is totally different now. He doesn’t speak to you again as he flips up the taps and fills you some goblets. It unsettles you, but you had only interacted with him that one time. You don’t know him well enough to justify saying that he’s acting weird. 
You observe the patrons around you more closely while you wait for the drinks. If there is anything at all supposed to happen today like you had heard, they did a fine job of concealing it. You narrow your eyes, passing everybody over once more and then twice more. You had only been given a date, not a time. You may have to be here all day. 
“Your drinks,” the barkeeper says, jousting out the goblets. Some of the drinks spill over the top and seep into the dirt below. You accept them and try not to let any more go to waste as you slither through the crowds.  
Slipping back into Kai and Taehyun’s conversation, you hand Taehyun his drink. He doesn’t look at it or drink it; it’s more a prop than for his enjoyment.  
“Oh yeah?” Kai says, challenging something Taehyun must’ve said while you were away. He looks to you. “How would you like to dance to some of my music, Lady?” he asks.  
Dance? You look to Taehyun. You doubt he’d want you dancing right now.
He doesn’t object or shake his head like you think he might. 
“Right now?” you ask, looking around you to the faeries cavorting and spinning. “I’m not sure I should. Dancing is dangerous, you know?” 
Kai laughs, easing one song into another, more wild and twisting one. “You won’t lose yourself here. My music is different from other faerie music.” 
You step back so that you hover near where most of the dancing folk are, looking to Taehyun. You’re not sure if this is what you should be doing right now. What if something happens, and you’re here dancing carelessly while he needs you? Maybe it’ll work wonders to keep your cover if you look like a simple human girl losing herself to dancing. You look around once more, gnawing at your cheek, before asking Taehyun with your eyes again for any objections.
He smiles, leaning into the dirt wall behind him and crossing his arms. “Dance,” he says, his tone softer and more playful than you've heard from his lips before.
Well, if he wants you to dance, then you’ll dance. You pick up the ends of your dress and begin twirling and letting yourself fall into the intoxicating ups and downs of Kai’s music. Kai is right—the edges of your vision don’t blur, and you don’t feel your mind slipping away from you, but your cheeks do begin to flush as you tap your boots to the floor and let your hands swirl about to Kai’s singing voice. You feel the burning of Taehyun’s eyes on you. It sends an electric feeling up from the root of your feet to the center of your spine. You can’t explain why the weight of his eyes is so exhilarating, but perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, for once, you are being free in front of him and he isn’t pretending that it’s the worst thing ever. Or, maybe, it’s because you remember the way he tastes.  
You look out from your spot of spinning and enjoying yourself to Taehyun. He rips his attention off of you when your eyes find him, sipping at his drink and looking over the tavern as if he had not been watching you at all.
Once your skin grows slick with effort and your thighs begin to burn, you crawl off the dancefloor and sidle up next to Taehyun.
Well, if he’s drinking, then you can drink too, right? You seek out yours, taking it into your hands. You swirl it and inspect it as you stand beside Taehyun. The bubbly liquid tornadoes beneath an unmoving, frothy layer on the top.  
You pause. You suppose you couldn’t have expected a place like this to have the highest quality wine. You sip it anyway—you intend to relish the sour taste of the plum wine. It’s a bit powdery upon the first drink; little grits of something wash down with the sweet fruitiness. Your nose crinkles. It’s nasty. 
Taehyun doesn’t speak with Kai any more. It seems that he did not have any of the information he had hoped he could find from him. Still, he stays nestled in the little corner where Kai prefers to perform in; you’re sure it’s because it keeps his back protected against the wall, not to mention it lets him observe the entirety of the tavern. Kai doesn’t seem to mind; he’s far more interested in his music, anyway.  
You try and look over the place as well, but there isn’t much to note. Faeries stumble around drunkenly when they aren’t tittering and dancing. Kai’s music begins to swirl and blur in your ears. You blink away the same blurring around the edges of your vision. That must be an awfully strong cup of wine. 
You affirm that none of it is indicative of some covert, shady thing that you’re anticipating. Your stomach feels heavy. Taehyun had sat out here for multiple days because he relied on you; he had killed those two errand runners because of your information. And here is the fruit of your efforts to contribute to this mission: you’re wasting your time in a shabby, dug out little tavern alongside drunken faeries, joining in on their debauchery with a drink in your own hand. You frown down at your cup of wine. The image of it bends and wobbles. 
“Did I do a bad job?” you ask. Your words slur, as if your lips can’t keep up.  
Taehyun stops his monitoring to look at you. His face is fuzzy in your eyes, but you can see the confusion written all over it. “What?” he says. 
You stumble a bit. Your feet don’t seem to be falling where you will them to. “I’m sorry,” you slur. “It’s my fault.” 
He rushes over to you. You don’t even notice you’re falling until he’s catching your weight, keeping you held upright. “Shit,” he says, snatching your drink from you. He inspects it for a moment, swirling it how you had earlier. Whatever he sees makes his face drop, his eyes hardening—as if preparing for something. For what? You lift your head with much effort. It feels dragged down to the earth. You blink and look around.  
Taehyun throws your drink to the ground, the goblet thudding against the dirt. You watch a few heads pop up from the crowd. They watch as Taehyun tries to carry you out. Your clumsy limbs make his efforts more difficult. You can feel him growing more desperate beside you until he curses under his breath, and then hoists you over his shoulder. The world spins around you until you’re staring down at the ground, and Taehyun is heading for the exit. Your fingers and toes buzz. 
Taehyun crawls up the entrance, all while you’re laying over his shoulder like dead weight. Fresh air burns your skin as he clears it. You watch the ground turn from trodden dirt and twigs to snow path. He secures an arm around your waist to steady you, and then he’s taking crashing through the forest. 
You can feel your mind slipping more, as something liquid and hot replaces your blood. You watch the ground pass you by, trying to count the bushes and study the shrubs in hopes that it’ll help you stay present. You can’t tell if it’s working. 
Taehyun stumbles to the ground. You, being on his shoulder, follow. The white blanket on the forest floor does not do anything to cushion the fall. Sharp foliage greets you, slicing up your skin. You bite down a warbled yelp as you struggle up onto your arms.  
Taehyun is hunched over into the snow, grunting into the ground. A bird-feather arrow pierces his shoulder, making the cloth around it dark and sticky with his blood. He writhes there for a moment that seems to stretch. You crawl toward him; you’re sure that if you stand, you’ll just fall anyway.  
“Taehyun.” You shake him. Your heart is up in your throat, choking you. “Taehyun, get up,” you beg. The ground thunders beneath you. There are people coming. Too many of them to fight off by yourself, if the roar of their approach is anything to go by. Adrenaline pumps through you, pushing out some of that substance and making room for itself. It sobers you up, just enough to grasp the dire situation you’re in. You can’t fight them in this state, and you’re not sure if Taehyun can now, either. “Please!” 
He trembles as pushes himself off the ground. The growled sounds of pure, undiluted pain he makes twists your stomach sick. “Do I pull it out?” you ask, your voice thin. Your words are still a bit slow and they still blend into one another, but at least you’re making sense now. 
He pants, shaking his head. “Break it off,” he grits out through his teeth. You crawl behind him on your knees to inspect the arrow. A short breath of relief slips past your lips. It’s shallow enough that you’re certain it didn’t puncture his lung. You bring your hands up and take the whittled shaft of the arrow into your hands. His shuddered breath as you do makes you pause. 
You can’t. You really, really can’t get your hands to move. You’re stricken down by fear, frozen by it. Your breaths come shallow and inadequate—as if your fear constricts your lungs and takes up the space where air should be. Approaching voices and the rumbling forest floor devastates every last ounce of rationality you’ve got in you. 
“Now,” he snaps. “Do it now. Break the end off, and get back. Don’t worry about me.” 
You blow out air, gripping the stem of the arrow harder. You betray your mind and wrench the thing down, trying to snap it in half. It doesn’t work, only digging the tip end of it around in his shoulder. You cover your mouth with your quivering hand as he roars, digging his fingers into his pant legs. His whole body is wracked with tremors at your clumsy hand. Acid crawls up your throat. You grab the portion that is nearest to his skin, holding it in place as you try and snap it again. It works this time. Taehyun’s chest rumbles with a deep, tortured groan under your hands, but it worked. 
He rises from the ground, his pupils blown wide and his skin clammy. He turns to face your pursuers, sliding his sword out. He takes on a defensive stance. There’s a grim set to his face. You wonder if he’s making peace with the impossibility of you making it out of this alive. He’s wounded, you’re not of the right state of mind, and you’d be outnumbered in even a perfect state. 
A flock of faeries you recognize from The Hovel surround you. A red cap with a gnarly scar scrawled across his face, a man with spindly black hair and jagged tusks that curl up from his mouth, and a lanky horned imp with beady eyes. All of them had been separate and inconspicuous when you had seen them, hidden between the crowds. Despite your imposition, you drag yourself off the ground. They don’t even spare you a passing glance. 
“I thought we’d just be snuffing out some forgettable flame today,” the red cap says, laughing. “Oh, could you have imagined it’d be the general’s son?” 
The one with the tusks barks a laugh from your left. He’s holding a bow—he’s the one who shot Taehyun down. “To think you gave your loyalties to The King, considering your own father’s loyalties to our queen,” he says, sneering at Taehyun. This is a hunt—they’ve chased you down like a wild animal, and now that the arrow has hit its mark, they intend to laugh and yip at you like prey. “You’re the spy,” he says, and then gestures at you, “and this is the human companion, then?” 
Taehyun doesn’t answer. 
“Fine. We don’t need your conversation to enjoy this, Lord.” He spits out Taehyun’s title in the very same way the man had during your first run-in that had taken place in this forest. They’re connected—it’s all connected in some grand scheme. And, The Queen is involved. Even if you and Taehyun make it out of this forest alive, leaving a single one of these lackeys alive would expose your identities. Not to mention, it would confirm the fact that The King has spies here. Even if you don’t die here, you and Taehyun are done. Where had you gone wrong? You’re not sure where any of this had slipped off. You hope that it’s just been to the effect of some grand plan much, much out of your own control. You hope it isn’t Taehyun’s blood on your hands, next. 
“I’d heard that you returned to Court recently,” the man continues. “I couldn’t have imagined that it would be because you’d return to your own Court as a spy. Is that why you ran off to those lands? To work at the hand of that worthless king? What would your father think?” 
Taehyun tenses up, the grip on his sword white-knuckled. You pray he doesn’t slip right into their taunting. If you’re to die here today, let it not be as their entertainment. The one thing you promised you would no longer be is their entertainment.  
The horned one cuts in, speaking for the first time. He sounds young. “Speak up, you piece of shit. You at least owe us your fear, for all you and your father did to these lands.” 
They’re growing more antsy and aggressive, their jaws snapping like hungry, circling wolves. You’re not sure how much longer they plan on just taunting.  
“And where is your allegiance?” Taehyun says, breaking his tense silence. “What is this?” He gestures at them with his sword. 
The three of them share a laugh, short and sardonic. The black-haired one speaks. “This is what happens when a worthless man sits on the throne for a millennium, expecting fealty for only his name. This is revolt.” 
You frown. As far as you know, the land of Faerie has never known a time where its denizens, specifically the ones that swore fealty to him, would outright denounce The King. A revolt is unheard of—the throne is an ancient, primordial thing. 
“The Queen is committing treason,” Taehyun says, low and menacing. “And so are you. What name do you call your insurgency?” 
The redcap answers. “We call ourselves The Magpies,” he says. There it is—it all makes sense. All the weird, cryptic words and the wobbly scent trail you and Taehyun have been following. That poem you found on those errand runners, that dead magpie you had found before getting attacked. One for sorrow. It was a message. All of this was a set up; they had intended for those errand runners to die, and they had anticipated you would catch wind and wind up here. You’ve walked yourselves into a wolf den, fully believing that you were the ones a step ahead. You walked yourselves to your deaths.  
No. You walked the two of you to your deaths.  
They don’t plan on you surviving. Them laying this all out for you attests to that. You don’t want to die; not now, not when you’ve found something to live for. Not when Yeonjun will have to deal with the loss of you.  
“C’mon. Where’s all your fight now? Where’s the man that tore down villages by his father’s side? Do something.” The redcap says. They all inch a little closer.  
Your heart stutters in your chest. You hope that he lies; that he’s embellishing Taehyun’s past. You look at Taehyun, and that dead, killing face is there. You know it’s true. He’s exactly the monster you’re supposed to be wary of. But you’re here clawing for your life right beside him. He’s here making a stand to protect you; he could run and leave you here in order to save his own life. You’d be stuck here on poisoned legs and be swiftly dealt with before they take off for him. But he doesn’t leave you. He won’t let you die alone. Is that the heart of a beast? 
“I am loyal to no king or queen,” Taehyun spits out. “Not to my father, either.” 
The red cap groans a patronizing groan. “You’re loyal to nothing, not even yourself. It’s why you fled your homeland the moment you could, isn’t it? You thought distance would change what you’d done?” 
You have to do something. They won’t expect you to, and to sit here would be to just lay down and accept it. You refuse to. If Taehyun can stick his neck out for you, you can try. Maybe your limbs are clumsy and drunken, but if you die, it won’t be for not trying. And, if you make it, you can sort all of this stuff out with Taehyun. 
You inspect the three men. They don’t have their eyes on you; you’ve got that to your advantage. Plus, your blade is made of cold iron. A normal stab would hurt, but a stab with iron would poison them. If you can eliminate at least one of them, you’ll even the playing field just enough for a real fighting chance. You narrow your eyes. You’ll have to use the fact that they aren’t paying attention to you the most efficiently you can—you have to get the biggest threat down. The horned imp is reedy and he doesn’t scare you as bad as the other two do. The black-haired one is wide set and imposing, but you know you’ve got to go for the redcap. Their kind are violent and savage by nature; they breathe the tang of blood in the same way you breathe air. Once they satisfy their bottomless thirst for killing, they dip their red cap into the blood of their victim, and wear it as a trophy. This one’s cap is a testament to his danger, so crusted over and made stiff with old, brown blood that it does not move. You’re unsure why he believes he has the right to accuse Taehyun of violence while he wears his own violence upon his head. 
You bring your hand down to your hip and find a dagger under your dress and at your thigh as fast as you can. You know that if you don’t move fast enough, they’ll see you reaching for something and put an arrow or sword through you. You stumble for the redcap, willing your legs to keep you upright as you do. Please. Please, let this work. Let you be good for something. 
You drive your blade into his abdomen, and then reclaim it from his body. The spray of warm, molten blood comes as less of a shock this time, but it makes you no less nauseous. He makes a sound of howling pain, and then he falls to the ground, spitting out blood. His abdomen hisses and steams, as if burning. You’re sure he’ll stay down there. 
Stabbing him had them finally tearing their attention away from Taehyun. The one with black hair grabs you up quick, spinning you into a hold. He grabs you by the throat, cutting off your air supply. You sputter, clawing at his hand.  
“You’re a sneaky little bitch, aren’t you?” he growls, pulling you tighter. You make a strangled noise. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. “I was going to deal with you after him, but look what you’ve done now. Should’ve stayed in your place, huh? Have you forgotten what it is? Let me remind you.”  
You’re shoved down to cold earth, and then his foot comes down onto your neck, twisting and digging into it. “In the dirt. You are nothing. You had no right poking yourself into the business of your superiors, so what made you think you could come here as a spy—”  
You can tell he intends to continue, but he’s cut short by the sword that pierces his chest. He stumbles off you, and you suck in air once his foot is off your neck.  
Your body hurts. It hurts as if your muscles and bones are punishing you for depriving them of their oxygen, as if the poison still loitering around in your veins is making a final, excruciating hurrah. You don’t have time to sink into it, though. You push yourself up on your arms just in time to see Taehyun, wide-eyed and looking part beast, cutting down that imp as well. It’s quick and brutal. Once he’s down and unmoving, Taehyun looks to you. You almost flinch at the sight of him, blood-sprayed and lip-curled. He clears the distance between you in a few, long-legged strides and tugs you up. 
On your feet, you look down at the carnage below you. Blood sits on the snow in puddles and sprinkles it like terrible little blooming flowers. The redcap writhes on the floor, slow and meaningless, as the iron works itself through him. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 
Taehyun tugs at your arm. “We need to go. We need to go now.” 
You find yourself unable to move. 
“Now,” he growls. “I don’t know if there’s more of them. We need to get out of this forest before we die.” 
You try, but your legs are as solid as water as you do. You were clear headed enough for that last-ditch effort, but it was just that: a last-ditch effort. You barely have control of your limbs enough to go running through the forest. 
“Damn it,” he says, sheathing his sword and taking you back over his good shoulder. It’s just as disorienting this time, but you don’t have it in you to complain. And then, he’s cutting through the forest again, the forest floor of ice and snow whirling by and rendering you sick. 
Please, let there be nobody following you. 
At some point, the poison had worn off you enough for you to travel the rest of the way yourself. It’s an awful journey, with both you and Taehyun watching over your shoulders and each sound of rustling forest creatures makes you jump. Taehyun doesn’t make any commotion about the arrowhead still nestled into his shoulder, but you can see in the stiffness of his movements that it’s bothering him.  
The last stretch of white, snow flats until you’re finally back at the estate is long and arduous. You sigh in relief as you stumble through the front door.  
You can’t fully relax yet, though. Taehyun collapses into the table almost immediately, sliding down into a seat. His skin has a sickly pallor to it.  
“You need to take this thing out of my shoulder,” he says, straining to look up to you. His eyes are so, so wary.  
Your stomach does a cruel twist with just the words, but you know it’s true. You nod. “I’ll go get some thread.”  
You clamber up the stairs and throw open drawers in a frantic search for your sewing kit. If working for Nut-hatch had taught you one thing, it was the importance of keeping a sewing kit around. Oh, and how to sew a solid stitch. You’re not so sure how well your stitching skills will cross over into suturing skin closed, but it has to be better than nothing. It has to be. 
You find the little wooden box in a dressing drawer, and then you bolt back down the stairs. He had spent so much time free bleeding that you worry he’s lost too much; you’ve got to get that closed up. 
Taehyun is peeling off his layers as you’re bounding down the last steps. You help him peel the last bit of his doublet off, and then his tunic, until his bare back faces you, a plane of toned muscle and marred skin. Your heart thunders in your chest. 
His back is littered with an outrageous number of scars, some superficial and some so deep that they leave jagged valleys in their paths. None of them are as gruesome or gnarly a sight as the festering wound at his shoulder, shimmering with his blood. The tip of the arrow is lodged well into it. You run a hand up the skin of his back until it’s resting right before the puncture wound begins. The thought of digging your fingers in there and tugging that arrow out from his flesh is a terrible, terrible one.  
You just have to do it. 
You curl your fingers around the ragged, splintered butt of the arrow where you had snapped it off, and you begin trying to wiggle it loose. Taehyun’s head drops, and he suppresses strangled grunts.  
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. You know it doesn’t make it feel any better, but you want him at least to know that doing this to him is making you ill. You tug on it some more, trying to find the path of least resistance. He shakes under your hand. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”  
The arrow dislodges finally, leaving an awful open wound now dripping with fresh blood. You take a deep breath before reaching for your sewing kit, grabbing a curved needle. It doesn’t steady your trembling hands.  
He doesn’t make so much noise as you stitch the wound closed, just dangling his head, facing it head-strong. Each time you dig the needle through his skin on one side and then again on the other to form a stitch, you grow increasingly ill. You rub circles into his other shoulder. You’re not sure if they even register for him. Maybe they’re more for you than they are for him. 
“What do we do now, Taehyun?” you ask. You know it’s not the best time to be interrogating him, but you’re lost. You’re not sure if you’re going to be fleeing here tonight, or if you’re going to be able to carry on under the radar. “Do we leave?” 
Taehyun speaks through gritted teeth. “We don’t know all who was at The Hovel. We have no idea who saw what happened. We can’t be certain that every loose end is tied up.” 
Your stomach drops, swift and heavy. You can’t leave; you can’t leave Yeonjun here. You know he returns to his court for the rest of the season, but things will be different there from here. Can’t you just stay here, in this time and frame where you are cherished, forever? At some point, you had forgotten that this was your fate from the very start.  
You wince as a particular stitch has Taehyun trying to hold back his shaking. “When do we leave?” you ask. Let there at least be enough time for you to see Yeonjun.  
He steadies himself. “I don’t know—” he sucks in a withering breath as you stitch him mid-sentence, “let me think about it.” 
You sigh out a selfish, self-serving puff of air. At least you aren’t packing up and scrambling tonight.  
You continue sewing his wound closed for a few tense, silent moments more. 
“Taehyun,” you say. You have to ask; have to talk about it. You have so many questions. Do you leave with Taehyun to continue being a spy when you now know that Taehyun has skeletons in his closet? Is that the new life you dreamed of when you ran away from your old one? 
Taehyun lifts his head to let you know he’s listening. You’re sure he can hear the tension in your tone. 
“In the forest,” you begin. “They said you did those awful things with your father. And, they’re not the only ones I’ve heard say stuff like that.” 
His head snaps up. “From the prince?” he says, his eyes dark and dense with pain.  
“What does it matter?” you say, stepping back from your stitching. “What does it matter where I heard it from? Explain it to me, Taehyun.” Your tone is rigid and accusatory, but there’s also an undercurrent of pleading that slips from you before you can catch it.  
His jaw feathers, and he swallows hard. 
“So, it’s true, huh?” You finish up your last stitch with imprecise hands, tying it then and cutting it off so that you make some distance between you and him. You had known that, but you had hoped it’d all be by your misunderstanding. “What was that story in the cave about your father, then? Buttering me up so that I wouldn’t be afraid of you? And I believed it all, too. Are you even half human? What are you, Taehyun?” you say, your words a bitter echo of a question you had already asked him. 
Hurt fizzles over his eyes and lines his face. “It seems you’ve already decided what I am for me, haven’t you?” He stumbles up from his seat, towering over you with a curled lip. “Say it,” he challenges. “Say what I am.” 
“You’re just like all of the rest of them,” you say. You back up some more; he’s standing over you with more venom and unadulterated emotion than you’ve ever seen him allow. It terrifies you. How deep had you driven your pick, that you had shattered that ice mask and revealed his true face? “You’re a monster.”  
“Like the rest of them?” he says, his eyes blazing. “What about the prince, then? Is he a monster, too?” 
Your back touches the wall. He’s standing right over you. It’s a mirror image of the time he had you backed against a tree, but this time he doesn’t reach out and touch you. “Yeonjun is different. Different from you, at least. He isn’t a murderer. He loves me.” 
Taehyun reaches up for your chest. You flinch, bracing, but he only grabs Yeonjun’s necklace there. Disbelief and hurt flashes over his eyes as you do. You’re not sure why he’s surprised; you had just dubbed him a monster. Maybe the distinction lies somewhere on the borderline where you would believe that he would hurt you. 
“You can’t trust a word from his mouth. Not one.” He rips the necklace from your neck, snapping the delicate chain. You reach up, feeling the empty space there. And then, you see red. 
A few moments of thick, charged disbelief fill the air before you’re finally able to pull together your scattered, frayed and vicious thoughts. “And I’m supposed to believe yours?” you snap, blood roaring in your ears. “You are a filthy, filthy liar, and a murderer too.” You’re not sure whether or not Taehyun can lie. You’re not sure whether or not he is any part human. You’re not sure of anything about him at all. 
“The prince is a liar, too,” Taehyun says. "You really think that he is going to wed you? To make you his wife? Maybe he loves you today, but he will forget you tomorrow. You’re nothing more than a thing to dress up to him, until he finds the next thing to do the same to.” He holds up your ruined necklace and dangles it in the air. “He thinks he can buy you with this. Is that your worth? Pretty necklaces?” 
When you don’t answer, he continues, his face pulled taut into a sneer. “It is now, isn’t it? You’d be content with a life as his mistress, hidden away because he is ashamed of you, for the entirety of your life, just as long as you’re draped in his silks and bows. He will never marry you. He is a prince.” 
That one drives deep into your chest, the wound as visceral and aching as the one in Taehyun’s shoulder. You will back scalding, angry tears. “He said he loves me,” you say. You try and not let your voice wobble, and to not let it sound pathetic and self-convincing. You try to make it sound true. 
He laughs in your face. “He’s had a lifetime perfecting how to lie in his own way.” 
You shake your head. You know sincere eyes when you see them, don’t you? His words weasel down into your mind, anyway. Perhaps you had let your disgusting, decayed heart cling to the smallest morsel of what you had thought was love just a little too tightly. You hope it would not destroy you to try and pry it off; that you are not so sickeningly dependent on the thought of being wanted that it would ruin you to lose it. 
You have nothing. No longer a home, no longer a companion, and no longer a lover. Though, maybe you never had Yeonjun in the first place.  
“Maybe he’s just playing me,” you say. “Maybe that’s true, but you are a murderer, Taehyun.” 
“I never had a choice,” Taehyun says.  
It’s your turn to laugh in his face. “It wasn’t your choice to kill?” 
He shakes his head. His face is still pale with blood loss. “My father brought me when he’d tear down those villages. He’d make me sit and watch because he knew it tortured me. I never once killed any of those people. He was embarrassed to have an heir that didn’t carry out his will, and so he let them think I did it by his side.” 
You reel, trying to imagine a young Taehyun made to witness the gory deaths of innocents. Your words from earlier rise like bile in your throat. You want to ask why he never did anything, why he wouldn’t save them, but you know looking over the jagged, nasty scars that litter his arms and torso that he had. He had, and he took his father’s wrath each time he did. 
“Why didn’t you try to tell them that you didn’t?” you ask. “Why did you let them believe that about you?” 
“I don’t care how they see me. I don’t care for any of it.” 
The estate is silent again as you grapple with your own mind. You know why he left the north, but none of this explains why he’d found himself as a spy to The King.  
Taehyun retracts. You can tell that bearing this out is not a comfortable thing for him; his face is grave and almost sullen.  
Your stomach feels full of rocks. His mean words fill your mind to the brink, and then your own top it off until your mind is spilling over. You grit your teeth. You want to stomp off and explode in your room, to scream into a pillow and pace the floor until daylight. But you can do none of that without disinfecting his wound. 
So, you take a rag and alcohol from the kitchens, and you dab it at the stitching in dense, dense silence. And once you’re done, you disappear upstairs to toss and turn in your bed with awful thoughts and fitful sleep. 
You slip out of the estate as soon as the sun settles into the sky. You don’t know if Taehyun intends on leaving today, or any day soon, but you can’t go without seeing Yeonjun. You have so much you want to leech from your mind. You can’t leave with your mind full like this. When you make it to Yeonjun’s place, no servants even send you a second glance. They know your face, now.  
Your body buzzes as you reach his tall, white doors, and you walk in without any hesitating. You had been tortured with the inability to see or speak or touch him not just since last night, but also for the past few days.  
Yeonjun’s head swivels to you once you’re in his room, eyebrows pulling together. He’s buttoning up a silken shirt, no doubt getting dressed and ready for the day.  
“Is something wrong?” he says, looking over you with worried eyes. 
You crash right into him, circling your arms around him and holding him in your arms. 
He rubs one hand over your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You stay that way for a bit, before he pulls you off him and inspects your face. His eyes then dart to the empty space at your neck. “Where is your necklace?” he asks, his voice dipping. 
You hate the concern on his face. You can’t tell if it’s an act, or if he really worries for you.  
“Hey,” he says, taking your face in one hand with a grounding hold. “Say something. Please.” 
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it got broken,” you say, grimacing. “Just hold me, please.” You want to feel his arms around you, to have him envelope you so entirely that you can’t help but believe there is anything but love in his hold. 
He does without question, delicately guiding you back into the wall. “It can be fixed, darling. We can fix it,” he says, soft and lovely into your ear. 
It feels as though he reached his hand right into your core and brushes his fingers over your tainted thoughts. You almost begin fearing that he has been keen to your thoughts this whole time, the way his words patch over your open wounds. It’s as if he knows something beyond just the necklace has been broken here. 
He presses your hip into the wall with a hand. He brings his head back to inspect your face before bringing your lips together in a warm, savory kiss. You flatten your palm against his stomach, and then drag it down until you cup his rapidly hardening length through his pants. He makes a sharp sound into your mouth and then pulls his mouth off of you to shoot you a look.  
“What are you doing, you little vixen?” he says. You palm him harder, reveling in the way he sucks his lip into his teeth to repress a groan. Please, just let you have this one night in his arms before you have to go. You need his warmth to thaw you out, and then maybe you can leave this frozen place and return to the place where there is no frost or snow. Maybe it’ll make it harder in the end, but you can’t find it within yourself to care right now. You need to breathe him in like oxygen. 
You slide down the wall and let your knees rest on the cold wood of the floor, looking up to his hair obscuring his eyes as he watches you get on the floor for him. You work on his pants, unbuttoning them with nimble, eager hands and then freeing him. The way his length stands tall in front of your face exhilarates you—you did this to him. 
“You don’t have to do this, baby,” he says, but the haze over his eyes says differently.  
You take his cock into your hands. It’s warm and heavy, and leaking from the tip. You do. You need to see how much he needs you; how he craves your touch. You want to make him so ravenous for your touch that he’ll declare his love for you, and it’ll be real, and then you can stay here like this forever. You want his arms to be home, where you don’t have any other place to call home. “You don’t want my mouth?” you say, drunken with the potent need in his eyes. 
“I didn’t say that,” he says, groaning as you kitten lick his slit and then down the side. “On your knees is such a filthy place for a pretty lady to be,” he says, eating up the image of you.  
You take him into your mouth, making sure to run your tongue along the bottom of him as you let him in. He shudders and lets his head fall back, and then snaps his head back down as if thriving off the sight. You bob your head, taking him down until he tickles the back of your throat. You have to force down the gags that prick tears at the corners of your eyes. He cradles the back of your head. 
Yeonjun laughs. “How did you learn to use your mouth like this?” he says between his panted breaths. “You haven’t let him have this, have you?” 
Your eyes flutter open as he says it, your brows furrowed.  
He grabs the hair at the back of your head and uses it to pull you off of him. You suck in full breaths while you have the chance. “What?” he says, letting his saliva-slick length rest on your cheek. It feels more lewd and dirty than having him in your mouth. “I know you kissed him. He told me himself.” 
Your mouth drops open, but he’s guiding himself back into your mouth before you can say anything. Taehyun had told Yeonjun you’d kissed? You couldn’t defend yourself if you tried; he’s rutting into your mouth, hand fisted at the back of your head as he looks down at you with something blazing in his eyes. You can feel the restraint in his hands and in his face. His stomach grows taut. 
“I should’ve known he’d get his hands on you the second he could, pretty. That dog doesn’t know how to keep hands off of what’s not his. I’m going to have to keep you on a tighter leash, huh? I don’t like other men knowing what you taste like, baby.” His words are measured and taunting, but he’s twitching in your mouth and his thrusts are growing more frantic, and his hand is twisted into your hair as if you’ll run away and leave him needy if he doesn’t hold you there. 
You’ve never heard Yeonjun speak like this. He’s expressed distaste for Taehyun before, but never like this. Never like he’s sinking his teeth into you and staking his claim. Yeonjun doesn’t need to cling to his possessions—not when everything he’s ever wanted has been at his fingertips. So, why does he sound like a frantic dog showing its teeth so that another won’t reach for its toy? 
His thrusts become more feverish and shallow, whimpers escaping the back of his throat. Saliva pools out from your lips and sullies your chin, but you’re too focused letting him use your throat that you can’t be bothered with it. 
“Fuck,” he grunts, his abdomen going rigid. He slips out of your mouth quick, before he can melt into your mouth and cum. His cock is red and angry, frustrated with denied release. “Your mouth is so good, baby, but when I cum, I want it to be in you,” he says, reaching down to wipe the mess off your chin with his thumb.  
You whine, the sound a bit hoarse with use. He uses his words in a way that leaves you so weak. The two of you stumble over to the bed, where he lays out and you climb up over him. He pushes your dress up and over your thighs, the skimming of his fingers electric and shooting up straight into your cunt. You hover just above him, lining the weeping tip of him up with you, but not yet sinking down onto him. 
“I waited for this,” he says, taking your hips into his hands. “For multiple days, I yearned to touch you like this again. And, where were you these past few days, darling? In his bed?” 
You brace your hands on his chest, the shirt there disheveled and unbuttoned now, despite him having only freshly put it on. You sink down just a little bit, watching his face contort despite his fiery words. 
“No,” you insist, sinking lower. He stretches you just as deliciously as the first time. “No, ‘Jun. I promise, baby. This is just for you.” 
His head falls back, and he’s looking at you down his nose, his fingers digging divots into your hips. You take him down to the hilt, and then pick yourself up and drop back down, falling into a delicious rhythm. The roll of your hips and the perfect angle of his cock has him brushing up against a sweet, soft spot inside of you, sending your thighs trembling each time it does.  
“Make me believe that, pretty,” he says. His lips are bitten red as you pick up speed, leaning forward onto your hands to fuck yourself down on him harder and faster. You relish in the way he reacts for you. “Make me believe you never gave him what is mine.” 
You try. Oh, you try. Your thighs begin aching, burning with exertion, and sweat sheens your neck. Once your thighs are unable to fully lift you off of him, you opt for rolling your hips into him frantically, chasing that knot deep in your belly the same way you chase to watch him grow restless under you, his hands alternating between holding your hips and the bedsheets and your chin. 
His hands come to your hips again, taking them with a more solid, reinforcing grip. His cheeks are tinted pink. “Need help, baby? Getting tired?” he purrs, picking you up and bringing you back down on his cock with renewed vigor that has you falling forward and whimpering into his neck. He opts for fucking up into feverishly you now that you’re bent over him. 
“I love you— I love you, Yeonjun,” you pant, clinging to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 
You’re sorry for so much. You’re so sorry that you can’t help but let it slip out into his skin while you’re in his arms. You’re sorry that you’ve lied to him, you’re sorry that you’ve doubted him, and you’re so awfully sorry that you have to leave him.  
“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay,” he manages through his labored breaths. He holds you to his chest like he can meld you into him there. You know he’s not comforting you for what you wish he would be, but it swells emotion up in your chest regardless.  
He’s so, so close. You can feel him twitching inside you, so riled up that he’s going to cum before you.  
You lift off of him, taking in his heavy eyes and rapidly rising and falling chest, before you crawl off of his cock.  
He whines, reaching out for you. “What are you—” he says, cut off by the strangled hum of relief as you wrap your hand around his length, slick and ruined with your essence. A look of recognition passes over his eyes, and something akin to hurt as well. You hadn’t worried about letting him cum in you last time, but last time you had been reckless and forgotten that you’re living on borrowed time. Your mind was not jaded with the knowledge that you don’t have forever like it is now.
You slide your wrist up and down him, devouring the bucking of his hips and the way he chants your name. Your name. Finally, he stills, cursing and cumming white, hot spurts up onto his belly, soiling part of his shirt that had not yet ridden up. The sight of it has you fluttering around nothing.  
He pants, but picks his head up off the bed with effort before frowning. “You didn’t get off. Let me help you, pretty. Let me take care of you.” He pushes up off the bed, taking your face in one hand. 
You shake your head, falling down into the side of his bed that has become yours. “I’m okay,” you say. Though you’re a sticky, awful mess between your thighs, that’s not what you need. You usher him to lay down with you with a hand. “I just want to be here with you.” 
He gives you an odd look, but lays down on his side, facing you, albeit tentatively. The two of you are quiet for a minute, eyes flickering over each other's faces as if you both have something you want to say, but both can’t form the words or speak them. 
You breathe in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You have to tell him; it’s what you came here for. Can’t your last day just be left untainted? You worry you’ll be forever forced to remember these moments by the sick flipping of your stomach, instead of the angles of his face and the rhythm of his heart beating as it floats down from euphoria. 
“I have to leave this place, Yeonjun,” you say, eyes flickering up to his finally. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Something happened, and I have...” You swallow hard. “I have to tell you something.” 
You expect his face to twist up in confusion or worry, but it doesn’t. Instead, it falls. He doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and your heart plays cruel tricks on you.  
“I know,” he says, and all the air is whooshed from your lungs. 
“What?” you say, flying up onto your arms. “What do you mean?” 
“I know why you’re here. I know that the both of you are spies for my father.” 
Your mouth is paralyzed with all the moments you’ve spent petrified of this exact moment so that you can barely speak. “How?” you say. “Since when?” 
He sighs, sitting up as well. “Since today.” 
He doesn’t answer how, but you already know. It all clicks into place in at this very moment. The only way that he might have found out just today was that Kai had told him. You remember the looks on their faces when that bark-skinned faerie had said something about the solstice and some kind of set-up at The Hovel. Not only had that been a set-up, but Yeonjun had known about it. Him and Kai both had. Whether or not they knew it would be you and Taehyun who would show up until you did, you don’t know. Kai knew there would be a poisoned drink for the spies if they fell into that trap that day, and the moment he saw you go down he knew it was you and Taehyun. 
You jump off the bed, backing up and away from him. “You’re one of them?” you say, your voice fragile.  
“What?” he says, looking at you weird. “One of them? You mean part of the rebellion?” 
You scoff. “Yes.” 
“Is there something wrong with that?” 
Is there something wrong with that? They had tried to kill you twice. Would he be complacent with your death, so long as it’s in the name of his loyalty to The Queen? 
“Your people poisoned me, and have made attempts on my life twice,” you say, stepping away from him again. “And I’m leaving because they might make even more.” 
He shakes his head, his eyes wary watching you back away from him. “They won’t,” he says. “Not now that I know it’s you. They will never lay another finger on you again, nobody will. You don’t have to leave here.” 
“Oh, but if it were any other human girl, that’d be fine? You’d live with the knowledge that the people you cozy yourself up with killed her? And, what about Taehyun? Does your courtesy extend to him, prince? You expect me to just accept your protection and let them hunt for his head? I know your distaste for your father and that crown, Yeonjun. But, is this really the way you intend to do this? Inciting war is not going to mend that.” 
He shakes his head, closing in on you and taking your face into his hands. “War is going to happen regardless of my meddling. It has been charging up for years. I don’t want you working as a spy for my father when it happens; I want you here.” His eyes dart between yours. “If Taehyun decides on staying here, if it will allow me to keep you here, then I will extend every bit of my power to protect the both of you. Forget your duties to my father. You have no need to work as a spy when I will support your life endlessly, pretty. Please.” 
Your stomach roils with flame and acid. Yeonjun hadn’t lied to you, but somehow this is worse. You suppose you can’t feel too left in the dark—he had just found out your deceit, and yet... Here he is, pleading with you to stay. You had imagined he’d cast you out and renounce you upon finding out your truth. In some ways, that almost seems better. You don’t know how to work with this, and you had not prepared for this.  
 Would Taehyun even agree to stay here? You honestly don’t know. You don’t know what Taehyun’s intentions are with being a spy, but you can’t imagine him wanting to stay here. Not when you know his past here in the north.  
Do you want to be a spy? If war is genuinely coming, would it just be returning home with a target on your back?  
Taehyun’s spitted words crawl up to the forefront of your mind. You’ll never be sure if Yeonjun will stay true to his promises of protection and love. Would he wed a human, even when estranged from the throne and his father? 
You search Yeonjun’s desperate, pleading eyes. You hope that what you see there is more than just sparkling need to dig his claws into his play toys. 
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…🪶 ashlynn's note yeaaah. i said it was angsty!! i know u taehyun girlies are waiting on a taehyun scene but guys i promise the longer you wait the better it'll be I PROMISEEE. also, lmk in the comments if you think she should leave the north or stay there with Yeonjun.
﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!
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empressdede · 4 months ago
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TikToks - Roman Reigns
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This is in correlation with my twitter SMAU’s. It ties in from the last part. Lmaoo this was as short as I could make it but, this is a oneshot so I hope you enjoy.
Pairing: Roman x Y/N
Word count: 1k
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Joe rolled his eyes at you when he realized that you trying to figure out what his plans were for the night. He knew you hated surprises but thought that given the circumstances, you’d let it slide for tonight.
Trinity had just finished helped you getting ready and no matter how many questions you asked, she just wasn’t budging. “Girl what happened to sisterhood?”
Trinity laughed, rolling her eyes at you. “Girl we still sisters, ain’t nun changing that.“
“Can you at least tell me what he did? What is that man trynna make up for?”
“Girl what?”
“Last two times Roman had a surprise for me, he was trynna make up for something. Like when he ate my leftovers and blamed it on Josh?” You explained before furrowing your eyebrows in thought.
What the hell did he do this time that you didn’t notice?
“What if he just wanna be romantic with you? Don’t do Joe Y/N.”
And Y/N could admit that Joe was a romantic at heart but her gut was telling her he did something and was trying to make up for it.
“Yeah. But I could at least get a fuckin clue right? He knows I hate surpris-“
“How about we just go with the flow and live in the moment this time sis? You trust him don’t you?” She asked and it wasn’t even something to think about. Of course you trust him.
“With everything in me.” You answered unhesitatingly.
“And lately Joe’s been complaining that he miss you, and he’s afraid you think the romance is kinda dead between y’all so maybe this is him just trying to keep the romance alive.” Trin responded finishing your makeup and backing up so you can see.
A smile spread across your lips as you seen how you looked and as you thought about what Trinity just said. Joe missed you, he just wanna take you out, and the thought makes you melt.
Damn do you love this man. You wouldn’t have never met him either if it weren’t for your ex leaving you stranded in Florida. You thought back to that time, where that version of you was so broken.
You didn’t trust anybody, and you were truly convinced that maybe love just wasn’t in your cards. And then you met Joe, the lowkey asshole who stole your heart.
“Thanks Trin. I really appreciate it.”
She shrugged it off, “Don’t worry about it. Now, I already know Joe finna kill me for taking so long, so gon head and run downstairs.”
“He just gon have to cry about it cause ain’t nobody running in these heels.”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••As soon as you seen the scenery, you knew you were in for a romantic evening. Rose petals everywhere, a candlelit dinner. You prepared yourself for a night of reminiscing about the love life you guys shared and eventually making another memory here tonight before you ended up continuing your date at home where you swore you would make his time worth it because your panties were swimming since you got there.
Imagine your surprise when instead of taking you home, he walks you to the back of the venue to show you what he really had planned for the night.
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The tears wouldn’t stop falling, especially when he got on one knee and confessed: “That every since I met you I felt like I found the missing piece I was looking for. My whole life I was trying to find something to fill this void in my heart, I did it with football and even though I loved football, the puzzle piece just wasn’t mine. And when I got into wrestling it was almost like I found it but nothing could ever compare to the feeling I got when I met you. Something told me that very day, she’s the one, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. Y/N, I love you with everything in me and there’s not a single thing that I would change about you…except maybe one thing.”
The pause he took for dramatic effect did nothing to stop your crying. “The only thing I’d change about you is your last name, So Y/N Y/L/N, would you let me change your last name, and marry me?”
You just threw your arms around his neck and tackled him to the ground as you sobbed against him. You nodded your head to answer his question because you didn’t trust yourself enough to talk. Who would’ve thought?
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Apparently everybody knew except you because The Twins and Trinity, came out of nowhere to surprise you, once again with flowers and champagne to celebrate the night.
And when Jonathan asked if you guys were going to reveal it to the world yet, Trin was quick to request you make a TikTok video to shock the whole world.
“Okay, but you gotta really show the ring; you know what I’m saying?” Trin directed once again.
You rolled your eyes for the sixth time, “Bitch, hurry up and record so I can go home to my fiancé.”
“Y’all got the whole night. Ian trynna hear that, C’mon nie!” Trinity playfully snapped and it caused you to laugh. You did enjoy getting on her nerves.
When she started the video, you were quick to get it together, so with a cute confidence, you lip synced, “I know one thing though”, before covering the camera with your hand.
“Okay now go in front of the sign so they know this aint no promise ring. Mr. Roman Reigns got on his KNEES for this one.” Trinity hyped up which made you laugh and walk in front of the “Will you marry me?” sign that he had made.
When Trinity pressed record again, the words: “That nigga never wanna lose me” actually fell from your lips before you did a lil dance with it. Something cute for the video.
And oh, of course you had to post this for the ones stalking your twitter page.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
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I didn’t want to post the tiktok early to see if I could catch yall by surprise. How’d I do? 😭😭
I did my very best yall😭😭 so I hope you guys enjoyed it
Tagging the lovelies: @whatdoeseverybodywant @wrestlingprincess80 @mzv11 @blacst4r @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @paigereeder @christinabae @nbanenefrmdao @tbmotw @vebner37 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @shes2real @cyberdejos2 @tshepisho
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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago
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DAVE WITH A FELLOW NERD FEM!READER
Ask: hiii, i have a dave lizewski request. it would be so nice to see headcanons for dave dating a nerd like him, except shes more quiet and sarcastic. like she and dave r the epitome of loser in the body of a hot person lmao. we need more loser x loser representation in dave fanfics HAHAHAH. hope this makes sense 😭😭😭
~ loser x loser is so real. i hope you like this! it's short and sweet 🫶 ~
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• Dave knows he's a loser and sure, sometimes, it bothers him but mostly? Mostly he doesn't mind. He likes the things he likes! (Plus being Kick-Ass does make him feel better about himself—he feels badass!)
• You also know you're a loser but unlike Dave, there isn't really any time when it bothers you. You have your friends and you're happy! So what if you're a little weird? Being weird is fun!
• Of course, neither you or Dave are in any way ugly—which makes things easier. Still, people don't ask you guys out because they're intimidated by both your niche interests and quirkiness.
• You met Dave in class when he'd sat behind you and asked for a pencil. You handed him one with small cartoon figures of various comic characters, not thinking much of the interaction, but for him it was as if an arrow had stuck his chest.
• Love at first sight!
• Or just a really really really deep infatuation.
• He asked around about you, which of course ended up fruitless because no one is school knows much about you. You're shy. And anyways, the ones who do know just say you're guarded and that he shouldn't mess with you.
• Dave wasn't planning on messing with you! He just wanted to talk and ask you about comics (he's overjoyed to find out a girl seems to like comics like he does! A cute girl!)
• When you finally talk to him, you're directly sassy with him. "What do you want from me, Lizewski?"
• Dave's cheeks turn pink and he's blushing SO hard. "I- thank you for your pencil—" Of course he'd forgotten to give it back but he hands it to you now, his hands shaky, "I- I also like comics. Do you like DC? Marvel?"
• Your eyes lit up. Opportunity to talk about something you love?! YES PLEASE.
• Boom! Immediate friendship! You guys go on little dates to the comic book store (platonic in the beginning). If you're an artist, he likes watching you draw fan-art and if you're a writer he'll read your fanfiction lmaoo he's supportive like that.
• Dave will also cosplay with you if you're into that (only he won't cosplay as Kick-Ass, which you think is a shame considering he'd look soooooo good in the suit 😏😉)
• Your first kiss? Awkward af. If you have glasses, 100% your glasses hit his and he freaks out. You both mess it up but in the end you end up laughing SO hard.
• He's really sweet to you and his friends all joke that you and him are like the IT couple—but for nerds. He'll flip his friends off but kiss your cheek.
• Dave loves that he can ramble with you and you listen to him without complaining. He's SO comfortable around you because you're so similar.
• You both kinda feed into your interests and delusions and have the BEST laughs. He's really your best friend!
• Friends to Lovers duhhh 😜
• Dave would do the cringey/cute holding hand in the back pocket thing from movies and shows…yk the one! You'd pretend to hate it but secretly you'd love it and you want him to continue doing it!
• Dave is a big movie nerd. So movie nights every friday, including drive-in's if possible (you drive lol). He's also a big movie talker so he'll yap and yap but you don't mind.
• And if you do you'll throw popcorn in his face to shut him up.
• Overall, bbg is so boyfriend material for a nerd!reader! He just gets you and he's a silly guy who wants to make his gal happy 💞
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chrissdollie · 11 months ago
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dad!matt or dad!chris u choose :)
let me tell youuu-- matt is a girl dad! i guesss i could see him with boys but i cant stop thinking of tough matt with little princesses who dress him up for tea parties 🥹
when they're babies, he's always taking pictures. especially when u dress them up in cute fits with matching head accessories :(
gets pissed off whenever nick or chris (more chris tho) swear infront of his kids !!! he does not give a shit, they could both be babies, but he'd worry about it being their first word lmaoo.
"shit, they're so cute." chris grins, tickling both girls gently. cut to matt smacking his arm aggressively
pretends to fight them LMAOO one of your girls is really tired but refuses to go to sleep, so you pull out the big guns-- your husband. u guys know how he always has beef with the camera? 😭😭 he swings (much more cautiously) at the chunky baby and when she jabs his shoulder, he winces dramatically in pain. this tires her out and she eventually falls asleep right next to her daddy
they won't stop crying one night, you're on the verge of breaking down with them and matt gets out of bed, walks over to the crib, picks both of them up (their sobbing winds down a bit), and kisses your lips. "i'll be back in a few. get some sleep sweetheart." and walks out of the room
you didnt wake up all night. and like your husband promised, he was right next to you in bed, snoring softly.
he has a hard time saying no for sure. its sunday and the kids have school tomorrow but they wanna go out. "daddy can we go to the park?" he shakes his head, "dinner's soon, baby, maybe next weekend" both of your girls pout and shrug without arguing, but still! he has to give in
pushes them to be social. he'll be at the store and ask one of them to ask someone where the tripods are or something. she does it without a problem because matt's teaching them that they don't have to be so nervous like he used to be
now in their pre-teens, they're starting to explore the world of beauty. "daddy." your oldest taps matt's shoulder who's on facetime with nick on the couch. "can you ask mommy if i can use some of her makeup?" she plays with her fingers impatiently. he raises a brow. "you don't wanna ask her?" to which she shakes her head. "she might say no to me, but she'll say yes to you."
he chuckles lightly, "baby, why would she say no to you?" and she just shrugs. "i dunno." her answer made herself realize that there's no reason not to ask. so with confidence, she nods to herself, and skips away to find you
one night, you're braiding their soft hair while humming a song the three of u like. the girls sing the lyrics aloud, causing you to giggle and start singing with them. it's a really girly song by the way, so when matt stumbles into the room and the girls plead him to sing along to 'call me maybe', he looks at you with a goofy look to which you grin. he mocks you dramatically before joining in hehehe
now you think your girls are very mature teenagers. they've both already had the sex and drugs/alcohol talk. anyhow one night, you and matt are getting it on in the bedroom (the door is locked!). you thought you were being quiet, but was proven wrong when you heard both of them giggling to themselves outside of your room. matt hears too and pauses his movements altogether. you whine quietly before he whispers a small "shh" and turns his head to stare at the door. "go to sleep!" he yells, hearing them run away laughing. and he gets right back to work when they're gone, pretending that never happened LMAO
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