#but if anyone actually knows please tell me!

[ja3yun]

Please Be Real | P.JS

ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart.��

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,” 

Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..

“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.

"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.

You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.

You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.

Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. 

The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.

His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.

You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he 

mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?

Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.

As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.

Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay-”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Trust me, you do not want LongCovid. I have it. A friend of mine has it. Her young niece has it. If you claim you don't know anyone who has it, it's either: 1. they don't feel safe enough to tell you, 2. people may not understand they actually have it because most doctors are NOT trained on recognizing the symptoms so people just think they're "tired" all the time and make jokes about brain fog or their sense of smell being funky.

To avoid it:

Vaccinate.

Wear an N95, KN94, p100 mask or better. This also will not only protect you from Covid and other airborne viruses, but it will also protect you from wildfire smoke, air pollutants, folks using too much Axe spray, and allergens.

Better air filtration.

Join or start up a mask bloc to help share info and supplies with your community.

That's our new normal. Grieve the world that was. Stop trying to go back to it. WE CANNOT. So please exit the denial stage of grief, okay? Being virus vectors is disabling and killing people. We don't have to get covid over and over and over. We have tools we can use. Those are bi-yearly vaccines, N95 or better respirators, air filtration devices. Normalize these. This is how you care for yourself and your loved ones. By doing the right thing and normalizing masking, vaccinating, and better air filtration. Thanks.

I just want to remind people that it’s 2024 and we didn’t “go thru a pandemic” we are “going thru a pandemic” present tense. It is still happening. People are still get sick, still becoming disabled, and still dying. Covid hasn’t gone away and I beg people to not normalize getting sick with it.

[sturnslutz]

mustang baby.

please don't read if you are uncomfortable with the slight topic of disobeying religion.

after school, matt and you texted a bit, just telling him where you live at and the subtle flirting, more so coming from him. matt had texted you about 10 minutes ago that he was 15 min away, so that gives you about 5 more minutes to recollect yourself.

you wore a simple pink dress, that was a little short, but it wasn't like he was taking you to a restaurant, he was probably just going to drive around, smoke a bit, and then go to his house.

to say you were nervous was a understatement. matt had this energy that made you more shy than you actually were. while you were trying to collect your thoughts, your phone rang.

you looked over, it was matt. you picked it up.

"hey pretty. 'm outside."

"okay, im coming."

you heard him hum in response, so you hungup and got into your shoes. you walked out of your house and was met with a 1965 ford mustang. you smiled at the car, admiring it as he got out of the driver's seat, walking to the other side and opening the door for you.

"hey, baby. go ahead." he smirked at you, kissing your head as you smiled and muttered a small, "hi" back to him. you got into the warm car and was overcome quickly by the lingering smell of weed.

he closed the door, being mindful of your knees before, walking back to his side. he slid back in, sighing, and starting the car. the heater turned on, and the soft music of deftones filled the car.

"y'comfy?" he asked as he turned his head to you, while starting to drive the car out of your neighborhood. "yeah, very." you smiled softly at him, before he nodded, paying his attention back to the road.

"y'look really good. i like this dress." he said softly, reaching his hand over, tugging the edge of the dress softly, causing a chill to run through you. "really? thank you. i didn't know if it was too immodest or anything." you admit, your voice getting a bit louder than your whispers before.

you heard matt laugh softly and scoff. "immodest? baby, i'ont care about that. look at me, im the definition of that shit. you religious or sum?" you laugh softly at his response. "kinda. i don't really know. my parents are, but i'm not too interested in it." he nodded, understanding.

"mmm, alright. i get that. so like you a virgin or somethin'?" he asks, more calm than before, but now looking at you for your response. "um, yeah. i haven't done anything before, actually. i haven't even had my first kiss or held hands with anyone. except like my mom, i guess."

his eyebrows raise in a bit of shock at your admission. "really? that's kinda crazy. not to you, but it's like now kinda hard to find someone who hasn't done a single thing. it's not bad though, baby. y'just saving yourself for someone special, huh?"

you nod in response to his question. you would never admit this to him, but you would be more than glad to allow him to do everything to you. even if you didn't know what "everything" was, you would allow him to do it.

he nods back to you, redirecting his attention back to the road, letting his right hand fall on your thigh, starting to rub your thigh softly. "this okay?" "y-yeah."

he smirks as he feels goosebumps rise on your skin, as he leans his hand farther down into your thigh, now rubbing your inner thigh so close to the point you needed him, but he didn't know that yet.

he pulled up to a well known park in downtown boston and parked underneath some trees. he turned off the engine, but making no move to get out. "are we gonna go outside?" you say softly, looking over to him. he shook his head, rubbing your thigh still.

"nah, i jus' wanted to come and smoke a bit. i jus' wanna talk. we gonna head back to my house though and we can chill if you want." he says softly as he pulls a joint and lighter out of his pocket. he pulls his hand away from your thigh to help him light it.

smoke filled the car as he rolled down his window a bit to not suffocate the both of you. you both remained in silence as his hand falls back down to your thigh. "y'good?" he says, smoke flowing out of his mouth. you nod and hum back in response. you eye the blunt in his mouth, which catches his attention. "here. open your mouth. y'know what shotgunning is? not the beer kind." you shake your head no, and he grabs your jaw softly, pulling you closer to him.

"y'okay with me kissing you?" he asks softly, making sure. your eyes widen a bit as the thought rings through your mind, before nodding. he smirks, taking a hit and leaning his mouth to you, your lips touching as smoke fills your mouth. you're caught off guard as he mutters a soft, "inhale f'me." against your mouth before pulling away.

you do so, and blow the smoke out. he smirks as he rubs your jaw softly, pulling you to him again, but his blunt dangling from his left hand. he kisses you softly, and you do the same, following his movements. he notices you becoming more into it, so he lets his tongue run against your lip, which you open your mouth to, letting his tongue into your mouth.

his grip on your jaw becomes a bit tighter, as he kisses you with more passion. you continue to follow his movements, creating a perfect sync between the two of you. he pulled away from you, both of you desperate for air. he smirks at you, once he realizes he was your first kiss.

he leans back in his seat, letting his hand come off your jaw, falling back to your thigh. he pulls the blunt back to his lips, the smoke filling the car once again. you sit back in your seat, your face flushed. you just had your first kiss with matt sturniolo.

some time passes as you calm into the slight high you were experiencing. "so why'd you transfer to shs?" you say without a thought before.

he sighed before speaking. "i got expelled out of full circle. some dumb shit. so me and my brothers switched to shs." you nodded. "your brothers are chris and nick, right?" he nods, looking at you. "y'know them?" "yeah, me and nick have art together and me and chris have a couple classes together. im friends with both of them."

"a'ight. yeah, i figured they would like you. i also heard people refer to you as 'angel.' that what you go by?" you shrug softly. "yeah. no one really calls me my actual name besides teachers and my parents sometimes. you can call me it too." he laughs softly.

"oh, trust me i will. it's a hot name for you." you roll your eyes, smiling at his teasing. his blunt died out, so he started his engine again. "m' good at driving, trust me. we'll be good."

he started driving home, and his house wasn't that far from the park. he pulled into his driveway, shutting off his engine. his hand patted your thigh before getting out of the car, walking over to your side and opening your door.

you got out of the car, stretching. he put his hand on your back, following next to you as the both of you walked up to his door. "my parents aren't home, but my brothers are." you smiled at the thought of your friends being there, and nodded. he opened the door, allowing you to go first.

chris was on the couch and looked up to the door and his eyes lit up. "angel? what are you doing here?" he got up and walked over, giving you a friendly hug. "we're hanging out." matt replied for you. you didn't see, but chris gave him a confused look. "angel, nick is in his room, lemme talk to matt real quick. his room is down the hall over there." chris said to you softly, pointing to the hall. you nodded, walking over and making your way to nick's room, talking to him.

once chris noticed you closed nick's door, he looked back at matt. "what the fuck? you aren't getting with her." matt scoffed as he leaned against the wall next to him. "yeah, right. like i listen to you. it's not like i'm gonna hurt her. at least not that i plan to anytime soon." chris rolls his eyes at this, knowing matt's reputation.

"angel's gonna fall for you. y'know that. you're gonna fuck her and leave. i know how you are, matt. you can't do that to her." matt quickly defended himself. "you don't know shit about me, chris. we might be brothers, but you don't know how my mind works. i might be a piece of shit, but i'm not gonna hurt her."

"whatever." chris rolls his eyes and walks away from matt. matt makes his way to nick's room. "c'mon angel, let's go to my room." you nodded, getting up off of nick's bed, and walking out. matt showed you to his room, closing the door.

he fell onto his bed, dragging you with him. you got comfortable next to him, getting under his blanket. he kissed your lips softly, which you reciprocated. his hand rubbed your covered hip softly. he pulled his lips away from you, rubbing your cheek. "m' not gonna do anything else with you, tonight. i wanna keep your innocence a bit longer."

you nodded at this, kissing his lips once again. after a bit, he pulled away again. "y'sleeping over?" you hummed, nodding. "yeah, my parents are out of town. i don't have any extra clothes though." he shook his head, standing up and walking to his dresser. "here. wear some of my clothes." he handed you a clean shirt and some of his boxers. he turned around as you begin changing.

"im done." he turned back around, smirking at the sight of you in his clothes. he grabbed your dress, throwing it into his hamper, making a silent reminder to wash it and give it back.

he leaned back down next to you, and you rested your head against his shoulder. he let his hand fall onto your back, rubbing it softly. he noticed your breathing get slower over time as you fell asleep, and he allowed himself to sleep too.

sure he was a dirtbag, but he didn't want to hurt you.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm @stvrnioloslvt @sturn777 @priscillaog @allylovescody @sturniolo101 @mattybsgroupie comment to be added or removed.

[harrywavycurly]

Can you imagine you’re on your couch enjoying your second glass of wine and on your Bumble account, just checking to see if anyone new has joined recently that strikes your fancy when you come across a very recognizable photo of Harry. Making you instantly go to his profile and feeling a bit unsure about it since it’s not the most detailed thing on the planet and filled with things that someone could easily find on Google. But you decide to swipe on him anyway just to see what happens, and to your shock it says you’ve matched so it’s up to you to send the first message, that’s why you enjoy Bumble because it lets you control if and when you send someone you match with a message.

Thinking that this profile can’t actually belong to the real Harry Styles you quickly type out something silly that even a Harry imposter would probably get a laugh out of, hitting send before taking another sip of wine while you read the message again giggling to yourself.

“If it stays between just us can you please tell me if Olivia is a person, place, emotion or if it really did just rhyme?”

You expect the person to take a while to respond so you feel your eyes go a bit wide when you see a message suddenly appear underneath yours.

“Sorry I can’t talk about songs that aren’t fully finished yet but…I mean picking a word just because it rhymes? Talk about lazy songwriting.”

You lean your head back and laugh at what they sent you and for a moment, just a brief one, you think it might actually be Harry Styles who just messaged you on Bumble. But you quickly shake it off and assume this is just a very good Harry impersonator who knows the lore of Olivia not being finished and the lazy songwriting quote that was said back in an interview with Niall. So thinking nothing of it you message him back.

“Oh well since it’s not fully finished may I make a suggestion?”

You barely have time to take a sip of wine before a new message appears from “Harry” making you smile.

“I’m listening…”

You bite back a giggle as you type out one word, and it’s not the word the person you’re messaging is probably expecting if they really do know their Harry facts.

“Saxophones.”

But unbeknownst to you only a few miles away tucked into the corner of his couch in his dimly lit living room Harry is laughing as he holds his phone in one hand and his whiskey glass in the other as he reads your suggestion. Taking a quick sip of his drink before leaning over and placing it on his coffee table his thumbs are typing back a message and hitting send before he’s even fully leaning back and getting comfortable again.

“You know what? That’s brilliant. I was thinking it needed some horns.”

Harry chews hit bottom lip as he waits for you to reply, a grin taking over his face when he sees your message appear just below his. He can’t help but find himself intensely enjoying the way the conversation, as silly as it may be, flows between the two of you making his nerves about even wanting to join the app fade away with each new message he receives from you.

“Don’t worry I won’t make you credit me or anything. At least this time.”

He doesn’t let even a minute go by before he’s hitting send on his reply and he wonders if you’re possibly doing something similar to him right now, just having an evening in with a drink and smiling at your phone like an idiot.

“Ah so your next suggestion won’t be free then? Is that what you’re saying?”

He runs a hand through his hair as he waits for you to say something, not sure if maybe he accidentally ruined the fun and easy tone of the conversation but before he can really begin to overthink anything he sees a message appear from you making him let out a quiet chuckle.

“Exactly.”

[ithilien-writes]

Ficlet prompt: buddie runs into one of their exes in public

ty so much for this prompt!! 💜 i literally cycled through all the exes in my head and it was really hard to choose tbh

(to anyone reading: these were meant to be quick scenes to help unblock me so please take them in that spirit. ie. this was written really quickly and without much editing. feel free to send me some more!!)

---

Buck, Blissful and Blasé [Buck/Eddie, G, ~1k words]

Eddie looks away for two seconds at most, he swears. Just long enough to scan the shelf for the specific detergent Buck always buys. He doesn't actually know the brand off the top of his head, but he knows it has a blue cap. So he scans the shelf for blue, finds the one he needs, and when he looks back down... Joy is gone.

His heart immediately races, but he only has to look down the aisle to spot her again, thankfully. She's just a few feet away, really, towards the other end of the aisle, and there's a woman crouched down to talk to her. Eddie all but jogs over to them, heart still a little in his throat.

"Hey, what did we say about running off?" he says when he reaches her, trying for stern but coming out a little panicked still. He reaches down and lifts her up into his arms and the woman she was with stands back up as well.

"Sorry, about that-" he starts to say, before he actually sees the woman's face, then- "Abby?"

She blinks at him from behind her glasses and he can almost see her mind whirring, trying to place him. It doesn't look like she's successful.

"Hi," she offers tentatively. "I don't- sorry, I don't think I-"

"Eddie," he offers, adjusting Joy in his arms and feeling supremely awkward. "Eddie Diaz. I used to be at the 118? We met when, uh-"

Recognition finally clicks in behind her eyes.

"Oh my God, the train collision," she breathes out. "You're the one who saved Sam's life."

Eddie huffs a little, looking away from her suddenly emotional gaze.

"That was all Buck," he says honestly, trying not to let the old frustration creep into his voice at the thought of it. It all happened years ago now.

He catches Abby smile a little at the mention of Buck, then she shakes her head slightly.

"I can't believe you remembered my name after all this time," she says. "You must really have a knack for that."

"Oh," Eddie says, somewhat awkwardly, "That's-"

He trails off, not sure how exactly to say, actually, I remember your name because my husband was still in love with you when we first met and he used to talk about you all the time.

He's saved - in a manner of speaking - from actually having to come up with a coherent response though. Because right at that moment, he sees Abby's eyes widen, and there's suddenly a very familiar voice behind him.

"Strawberry was on sale, so I got the six pack," Buck tells him, before easily taking Joy from his hands with a soft, "hey Sweetheart, come here."

Eddie gives him a beat, and then, sure enough-

"Abby? Oh my God. What are you doing here?"

He immediately moves to hug her - a little clumsily with only one arm free, Joy tucked between them - and Abby hugs him back, though she does appear slightly shell-shocked by his sudden appearance.

"We're in town visiting my brother," she answers his question, as Buck pulls back again.

The three of them just stand there for a moment then, seemingly at a loss for what else to say, until Abby glances between Eddie and Buck, and Buck catches the motion, jumping back in to make introductions.

"Oh uh, you- so I guess you remembered Eddie," he says, seemingly acknowledging the fact that they had already been in conversation when he walked up. "Uh, and- and this is our daughter, Joy."

Then, to Joy- "Joy, honey, this is my friend Abby."

Joy peaks her head back out from where she'd tucked it into Buck's neck as soon as he'd grabbed her from Eddie, and then tentatively smiles at Abby, who grins back at her.

"Hi Joy," she says. There's some sort of wistful emotion in her eyes when she looks from his daughter back to Buck that Eddie immediately - and probably irrationally - dislikes.

"Joy," she repeats again, still looking at Buck this time. "I love that."

"Yeah, well," Buck says, laughing a little and playfully tickling Joy in his arms to get her to laugh too, "we feel a lot of it, when she's around. So it's pretty apt."

"I'll bet," Abby replies warmly.

She watches them for a moment as Buck gets a little caught up playing with Joy and forgets he was having an adult conversation. Eddie's used to it. It happens... well. A lot.

"Well, I don't want to keep you guys," Abby says eventually, drawing Buck's attention back, "but it was so great to see you. We should get dinner while I'm in town."

"Yeah," Buck says, just as Eddie adamantly thinks, No thanks. "Yeah, definitely."

Abby pats his arm as she moves past him to leave and Buck watches her go with a look on his face that Eddie can't immediately interpret. It makes him a little nervous.

"We're not really gonna have dinner with them, right?" he asks, and it's at least enough to have Buck turning back towards him.

"What?" he says, like he didn't hear the question. But then before Eddie can repeat himself- "No, that's just- I'm pretty sure that's just something people say."

Eddie still can't place the emotion on Buck's face though, so he asks, a little tentative, "you okay, bud?"

The weird expression disappears as Buck finally looks at him properly, then down at Joy, tickling her again just to hear her giggle.

"Yeah, no, I just- that was so wild," he says. "I haven't thought about Abby in ages."

He tosses Joy up and spins her around so that she's riding his shoulders now, towering above the stacks, and they head off down the aisle again, already back to being preoccupied by which cereal to choose this week. Eddie shakes his head, watching them fondly for a moment before retrieving their neglected cart and heading off in the opposite direction.

He wonders what produce is on sale today.

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)

[ihfmseatsoch]

femcel bitch fem!jimmy, who makes the (lesbian) reader eat her out for nothing in return, and puts her cigs out on her please? 🙏🙏

fem!jimmy....... ouuuhhugh GET THE STRAP 🗣️‼️i renamed him jamie because keeping his name as jimmy sounded a little silly . hope thats not a problem.. :p

genre: smut

word count: 1.9k

warnings/content: enemies to fuckbuddies who are still enemies, sexual harassment, dubcon, oral, degradation, forced kissing, hair pulling, she puts her cigarette out on you, reader doesnt cum -_-

—

You fucking hated your co-pilot.

Every time she eyes you up and down like you're a dead rodent, organs spilt out in every direction, her nose wrinkled at the smell of your rotten corpse, your blood boils to dangerous, scalding levels. So much so, you fear you may spontaneously combust one day.

You've never felt such all-consuming detestation for anyone in your life. Sure, you've had coworkers you disliked, but they didn't compared to her, someone so arrogant, hubristic, filled with unreasonable contempt for others. You weren't sure why she expressed such apparent distaste for YOU in particular. As far as you know, you'd done nothing to earn her mistreatment.

You'd brought her snarky attitude up to your Captain out of concern that perhaps you really were the problem after all. Your worries were met with a shake of the blond's head and a smile, telling you, "Ain't your fault. Jamie's always been... rough 'round the edges. Antisocial, if you ask me. Don't tell her I said that. She'll warm up to you."

Curly had an annoying tendency to defend his bitch of a work partner, no matter what she'd done or said. You almost wondered if they were fucking on the down low, but you didn't exactly want to envision the possibility for too long.

The most infuriating part about Jamie Zare, was that she was stupidly hot. Even you couldn't deny it. You couldn't stop yourself from glaring at her from afar, sometimes with feelings other than unadulterated loathing. It wasn't romantic attraction, fuck no. You'd rather eat blended glass and razor blades than go through actually dating her. Lust, was more like it.

Jamie carried herself so... confidently, like she owned the entire ship, going wherever she pleased, smoking near the air vents and causing the alarm to go off, Swansea's voice bellowing and raging about how 'that woman', as he calls her, needs to 'get her shit together'. You didn't necessarily disagree, but the thought of Jamie losing her enticing edge that drew you in took away her appeal, somewhat.

She was a selfish cunt, but she did look incredibly sexy puffing on a cigarette that rested between her long, slender fingers, her nail polish always chipped, even after she applies a new coat. You assume it's because of the way she habitually bites her nails, spitting the pieces she ripped off with her teeth anywhere she felt like.

Jamie has been occupying every square inch of your brain, lately. For a woman you're supposed to hate, you sure do fantasize about her a lot more than you're proud of. She's not helping your predicament, either, throwing sexual comments your way when she's not being passive aggressive or downright nasty. It's obvious that she likes the way you go speechless, every muscle in your body tensing, when she casually tells you, "Your tits look bigger than usual today" or, "Your uniforms gettin' a little tight around your ass, huh?"

At least you think she's complimenting you. In a way that could get her reported to HR for harassment, but knowing Pony Express, they wouldn't do anything substantial.

You just have to grit your teeth when she snickers to herself after your face reddens with a combination of scorn, and horniness. Your brain really went and bombarded you with rampant sexual desire for the worst woman out of the two you work with.

Awesome.

One night, (or whatever time it actually was on Earth) you had just begun to finish up with your work. Exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, and you wanted nothing more than the shitty, uncomfortable cot in your quarters. Devastatingly that plan was ruined for you when you heard a familiar voice rasp directly behind you, "Hey. Got a sec? Need somethin' from you real quick."

You resist the urge to clench your fists and scream at the top of your lungs, but you think you feel your eye twitch. Regaining your composure, you spin around to face her. Her arms are crossed, a boney hip leaning against the steel wall, her much taller figure looming over yours. "Um... Okay? What is it?" You try not to sound too annoyed.

Pushing herself off the wall promptly, she grabs your wrist and starts leading you down the hall, her hand unpleasantly cold. You couldn't even respond due to your sheer bafflement, plus your mind wasn't working at its full capacity due to your tiredness. Her legs move in large strides, faster than your own can keep up with.

"...Where are we–"

"Quiet."

Before you can even get mad at her for cutting you off, she's opening the door to her quarters and pulling you inside. It smells like body odor and nicotine. This is exactly why you've always steered clear of this room. Until now, but that's because you were forced. More than puzzled, you try to speak, "So... what did you nee–"

Once again, she cuts you off, this time with her mouth. The force of her shoving you against the wall knocks the air from your lungs, but her lips attacking yours with an almost repulsive sloppiness prevents you from taking a breath. You're not even kissing her back out of sheer bewilderment, but that doesn't deter her. "Jamie–" jesus, you can't get a single word out around this girl.

"Shut up," She huffs when she finally pulls back, a string of spit connecting your lips, "I need this. Just keep your loud mouth zipped for once, 'kay?" Jamie shoves her knee between your legs roughly, the feeling adjacent to being kicked right in the vagina. In other words, ouch.

Her chapped lips adhere to your neck, sucking on the flesh, leaving marks that are sure to turn from red, to shades of purple and blue, which will be a nuisance to hide until they fade. Her boney joint grinding against your cunt actually starts to feel good, rubbing and bumping against your clit. Jamie gropes whatever part of you that she can access; Your tits, hips, and ass being the spots she lingers on the most. You hate how wet she's getting you already, despite her lack of consideration for your physical comfort. Maybe you like how she's treating you as if you don't even have a conscience. That's a new kink you'll have to contemplate later, though.

"On your fuckin' knees. C'mon." Jamie grabs your shoulders to physically push you to a kneeling position, as if waiting for you to comply would take too long. You were gonna do it, but whatever. You can't find it in you to be too pissed at her impatience. She unbuckles her belt in front of you, shoving down her jeans and boxers with an urgency that leaves you winded, the entire situation moving way too fast for you to fully comprehend anything.

But what you do know, is that you're face to face with her pussy right now. Her bush is surprisingly well groomed, dark brown, pin straight pubic hair trimmed down so it's not overwhelmingly thick.

"You gonna keep starin', or do I gotta tell you what to do?" Jamie scoffs like you're the biggest idiot in the world for not knowing how to react in such a sudden situation. You can't think of anything to say, which further proves your stupidity to her. "Guess so." She sighs, like not getting what she wants immediately is the hardest thing she's ever dealt with.

She grabs your hair, urging your head towards her cunt, so close that you can smell her musk, and feel the heat radiating from her body. "You're gonna make me cum with your smartass mouth." She says, like it's factual. Like she knows without a doubt in her mind that you're going to do it whether you want to or not.

Her domineering personality doesn't aggravate you like usual. It's more intimidating than anything else, given the circumstances. So you nod, gulping down any hesitant comments. Verbalizing them wouldn't help you very much. Do you even want to be helped?

Your tongue darts out, licking an experimental stripe along her slit, her abdomen tensing when you reach her clit, a whispered curse leaving her lips. Her reaction encourages you to give the puffy nerve more attention, lapping and sucking with fervor. Her slick is tangy, the flavor appetizing on your tongue. You don't mind when she shoves you in deeper, grabbing hold of your head to angle your tongue where she wants it most, practically grinding her pussy on your mouth, your cheeks covered in her arousal.

"Fuuuck," she drawls, head tilted back, "You're not half fuckin' bad at this. Should just start comin' to you whenever I need to get off, huh?"

Her offer doesn't sound unideal. In fact, the thought alone has you moaning into her. She barks a short laugh at your pathetic sound. "Yeah? Knew you'd like that idea. Cunt hungry fuckin' slut." Even her degradation has you rubbing your thighs together, trying to create friction against your neglected core.

Jamie's breathing becomes ragged, her legs wobbling slightly as she continues to try and keep them from giving out, her fingernails digging into your scalp now, the short stubs feeling sharper all of a sudden. "Gonna– mmh– cum all over your pretty face soon," she speaks through her gasps, "and you're gonna lick up every last drop of it, y'hear?"

A harsh slap coming down on your cheek is your signal to nod obediently. You don't have a choice but to comply, anyway.

With a gutteral cry, her juices gush onto your tastebuds, your tongue lapping at her hole all the way through her orgasm. When her body is done convulsing, coming down from her peak, she pulls you away from her pussy, your face just as soaked as she is. You look a bit dazed, drunk off the taste and smell of her.

"You're a lot cuter like this." She backhandedly comments, grabbing a cigarette from a nearby pack of Newports, which she never seems to run out of. Even if she chainsmoked them for 24 hours straight, she'd find more. It's a mystery how she snuck them onto the ship.

Jamie takes a long drag, completely ignoring you now, your knees hurting from kneeling for so long, but you're still unsure if you're allowed to stand up yet. You feel awkward as the room falls silent. How can she block you out of her mind in a split second? Like you're not even an afterthought to her?

Eventually, you cough as her secondhand smoke enters your lungs, and her brown eyes dart back to you, like she's just now noticing that you're still in the room. She crouches down to your level, observing you like some kind of unidentifiable bug in a mason jar. Taking the cigarette out of her mouth, she blows a cloud of smoke directly into your face, just to watch you wince and hold your breath, not so eager to ruin your own lungs. You hear her chuckle.

Before you can snap and ask what her problem is, you feel something searing your shoulder, small but agonizing. You yelp, flinching away from whatever it was. "What the fuck?" You exclaim, noticing remnants of ash on your burnt skin. Your jaw drops in realization, glaring up at her in disbelief. She's smiling like it's funny.

"Somethin' to remember me by." Jamie says, as if you ever could forget her. You literally work together every day. Her illogical reasoning only pisses you off more as your wound throbs, hot and irritated. "The fuck is wrong with you?" You scowl. God, she's more malicious than you initially thought.

Shrugging, she drops the cig onto the floor so she can stamp it out under her boot. She hardly finished it. You suspect using you as an ashtray is the only thing she wanted to utilize it for in the first place.

You fucking hate your co-pilot.

—

[allpiesforourown]

After recently seeing one of those tattoo asks regarding asshole roommate binghe au I've been having severe brainrot and I'm slowly cooking a perhaps a bit ooc fanfic but I need your thoughts.

SY having super off perception of himself and confronting it with what Airplane bro and his meimei tell him and he gets pissed and huffs and puffs and in a fit of a momentary bravado ignited by feeling wronged he goes and gets something edgy nobody would accuse him of having, e.g. nipple piercings (i love gap moe and as a fellow thin faced supposedly serious person i love that they are so lowkey and easy to hide until they aren't). He probably only gets one though before it sinks in what he just did and all of the consequences hit him like a bus. Yadda yadda Binghe has to help him clean the piercing for at least 2 weeks but of course he needs to make sure it heals properly and doesnt get infected so it becomes their routine and they both suffer from getting all close and personal with his nipples (Binghe probably also cries a lot thinking how it must have hurt and how could anyone with a conscience agree to doing this to SY and barely contains his bloodlust because not only this random person hurt him but got to see him shirtless? Touch his nipple? More than once? Witness him gasp and shudder and who knows what else???). Bonus points if Binghe is on the brink of insanity, eventually gets drunk, pulls Hua Cheng and gets that womb tattoo but it's traced from Yuan-ge's actual signature from like, idk, their super platonic valentine card exchange from 10 years ago or their apartment rental contract or something crazy and thus can't get laid anymore because it truly was the last straw for all of his girlfriends and fwbs.

Sorry for being feral, idk if it even sounds coherent but I love seeing these guys put into situations.

Also regarding the "possible consequences in case he need's MRIs", I'm gonna say implant grade titanium jewelry and hope for the best because in that case I'm literally in the same boat as him. Or glass retainers? I'm sorry Pie I respect you so much and care for your opinion like you're Shizun himself but no matter how unrealistic this whole scenario is please let me have it 😭😭😭

+ i can imagine Binghe easily going overboard and buying him more and more over the top jewelry once he graduates from the bars he was pierced with

I'm laughing so much at this anon. You don't need to apologize we're all freaks here. Shen Yuan should get a matching womb tattoo of Binghe’s signature too actually

Okay but for real when shen yuans nipple piercing hurts and he puts something cold over it binghe has the mental image of taking it in his mouth and massaging it with his tongue and has to run into their washroom and turn the an ice cold shower on immediately without even taking off his clothes. Shen yuan runs in after him and asks what the hell he's doing and binghe goes oh you know. Just chilling.

[etherealrin]

⋆˙⟡ he's a 10!

you call highschool!rin past midnight, accidentally confessing your attraction towards a certain number 10 that plays soccer.

warnings: slight ooc rin, mentions of cat unalivement (don't worry about it...) rin's a dry texter, pretty much just pure fluff // wc: 1.2k

note: i hope this makes sense the idea just came to me randomly heh & reader is a girl

you don't know why you're up at 2 am on a friday night. no, you guess it was technically saturday morning now. you should've been exhausted from school and dozing, so why did you find yourself sitting inbetween the fuzzy blankets on your bed, whispering intently towards your phone as you facetimed your seatmate itoshi rin?

so maybe, you harbored a tiny crush on the jaw-droppingly attractive raven haired boy who sat next to you during class. maybe, you had fallen for his stoic yet somehow sweet demeanor (you swear he was friendlier around you and he had never called you lukewarm yet, but perhaps you were just delusional.) heck, you weren't even close enough friends with him to warrant such a midnight call, yet here you were. you had to keep your voice low, as to not disturb your family, who were all dozing off somewhere in dreamland by now. your windows are open, just a crack, and you're keenly aware that it's pitch blackness outside, save for the streetlight illuminating the front of your house.

"i mean, i was kind of in the middle of playing a horror game before you called," rin's voice echoed through your airpods.

"shoot, i don't mean to bother you!" you reply, voice hushed. "you can hang up right now, sorry!"

"it's fine, i don't think you're a bother." you peer at your phone, catching how rin's face is illuminated by the bright light coming out from his pc's monitor. you hope that on his side, he can't see much of you in the dimness of your room. you'd die if he caught the hot pink blush creeping across your face at his words.

"itoshi, you're actually a really nice person," you find yourself telling him. "i don't get why everyone labels you as standoffish and cold." you're absentmindedly fiddling with an avocado plushie on the edge of your bed, unaware that it was showing on camera.

"maybe it's because i threatened to unalive the cat of the last girl who asked me out?" rin offered, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"rin, what? please don't come after mine!" you exclaim. oops, had you spoken a bit too loud? well, it didn't seem like you had woken anyone up, so you continued. "i swear floof doesn't bite!" floof was the name of your very fluffy and very adorable kitten.

"well it's not like i'd say that to every girl who confesses to me," he notes. you wonder how his attitude could do a 360 so fast, he truly was an enigma to you.

"say, rin, do you like anyone?" you don't know what you're thinking, but the words spill out of your mouth anyway. you blush even harder, mentally screaming. did you really just ask the boy you liked that question? maybe you were asleep and dreaming, because there was no way you would have the guts to ask him so directly. an apology follows immediately from your end. "i didn't mean to ask such a personal question, i don't know what i was thinking!" you hurriedly stammer, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. you doubted that rin loved anything other than soccer, at any rate. actually, scratch that, did he even like soccer? sometimes you thought the boy with the number 10 on his jersey played like he loathed the game, and wanted to murder it or destroy someone's legacy.

"uhm," rin sounded like he was unsure. it was a contrast to his usual assured self and confident tone. "i'll tell you if you tell me?"

huh? you were at the verge of screaming for real this time. how could you answer rin, met with a question like that? you suppose you had brought it onto yourself, but you really were unprepared for the situation.

"i- uh," you hesitiate, unable to meet the piercing teal gaze on your phone right now. screw it, should you just tell him? "i like guys who are a 10," you whisper. oh god, you wanted to jump out your window and end it right there. of all the stupid indirect answers you could have given itoshi rin, you managed to choose what you think was likely the worst of them all. your voice was barely audible, but evidently rin had heard you loud and clear from the way he took a sharp breath.

"meaning?" rin prodded, as if he were actually invested in who you liked.

"i don't know, like" you think you're starting to ramble now. "kinda like if they wear number 10 on their soccer jersey and stuff?" you prayed that maybe rin would think you weren't thinking straight due to lack of sleep and pretend that this conversation had never transpired once you went back to school next monday.

you don't know that on the other end of the line, itoshi rin was grinning like an idiot.

"i'll text you a picture of who i like," rin said suddenly, cutting your call before you could react (before he could change his mind about what he was going to do.) and you truly wish you could evaporate, turn into water vapor or something, and become nothing. he probably hates you now. floof was likely next on his hit list of felines to dismember.

you sigh into your hands, burying yourself under the warmth of your covers, when your phone lights up.

ping! you have one message and one attachment from rin! the display informs you.

your fingers ghost over the notification, scared to open it. but you steel your nerves, brace for the worst, and push down, squeezing your eyes shut. it takes about 30 seconds before you crack them open.

"i like her." he had sent. a picture of a...black screen followed? you press on it and the darkness engulfs your screen. you could see nothing in it, except for your own reflection staring quizzically back at you. your eyes widen with realization. there's no way, you think.

"is this a joke?" you type with trembling fingers and nervously hit the send button, trying your hardest to ignore the pounding in your chest. your heart was going haywire, and it only got worse as the bubble appeared in the chat, indicating that rin was typing.

"well, i didn't have any pictures of you." his reply reads. you want to explode into a thousand pieces, but to your credit you don't and start typing again. to your surprise, your phone buzzes once more. rin had double texted you.

"don't you see yourself in it?" he had sent. your heart now threatens to run away from your body and join the circus or something, as you stare at your crush's confession. you're aware of the stupidly wide grin tugging at your lips right now.

and because you're an idiot, you send:

"i've actually had a crush on you since we moved seats to sit together."

to which he replies:

"...same."

when you plop down into your seat beside him that next monday, he offers you a half smile and a "hey."

"morning, rin," you greet him. he knows, you think. you wonder how awkward it'll be now.

"do you want to come to my game later? heard you liked the number 10 jersey, it just so happens i have a spare i can lend you," rin offers, eyes sparkling with anticipation you've never seen before.

"of course," you answer, immediately understanding what he wanted. "maybe i should cheer loudly for that number 10 as well? rin raises an eyebrow, feigning confusion, but he's profusely grinning and fails to hide it.

you're vaguely aware of your classmates staring at your desks, wondering why itoshi rin was having a seemingly friendly conversation with the girl next to him, and why both of your cheeks were dusted a faint pink.

a/n: i think rin's the type to confess his love in a roundabout way like this. also the avocado plushie part i was running out of ideas okay and BOOM i see this avocado from miniso my friend got for my birthday like two years ago.

[lonesilverw0lf]

I had this other idea right after I posted the first Mom Friend idea, only to find several more posts already made! It’s all amazing work too, I’m kinda jealous. Either I’m slow as hell, or y’all write too damned fast! Either way, didn’t wanna throw this away so here it is. Please enjoy!

Mom friend(now shortened to Mama) and Tomboy are sharing a cup of tea when Tomboy gets sleepy all of a sudden. Mama leads her to a room where MC has been knocked unconscious and dropped into a bed. Quickly putting Tomboy into the bed with MC, she covers them with a blanket and closes the room.

Goth, standing right by the door: Do you have to do that? And how did you snag MC in the first place? I didn’t even know he was here.

Mom: Oh MC was actually because of Bully and Track Girl bringing him in. It was Bully’s idea apparently. I was surprised too. Almost made my eyes open. I just wish MC wasn’t literally dragged in with all those lumps on his head. I’m sure Bully thought it was necessary, and he’s probably right, but still…

Goth: That still doesn’t explain why you essentially drugged Tomboy and locked them in a room together. Trying to play matchmaker?

Mama: What? Can you blame me? Those two are cute. Oh I sure underestimated the strength of the sleeping herbs in the tea, that’s on me. Not like I could tell how strong they were with MC being half unconscious when I gave some to him in the first place. They’ll both be out for the rest of the day at least. They both need their rest and if anyone can help MC with his anxiety it’s- wait. Are you jealous?

Goth: Jealous? What? Now you’re being dumb.

Mama: You’re jealous that they’re cuddling like we used to! You’re feeling lonely!

Goth: Now you’re delusional.

Mama, squishing Goths face: If you wanted some attention you just have to ask! It’s not like I can deny my precious twin sister anything in the whole world!

Goth, swatting Mamas hands away: No! Go away! We haven’t done that since we were like seven!

Mama, wrapping Goth up in a hug: It’s perfectly normal to want some loving! Studies show that a healthy mind and body needs a minimum of four hugs a day for just surviving, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth. When was the last time you got hugged since we were summoned here? You must be deep in hugging withdrawal!

Goth, groaning into her hands: What did I do in a past life to get cursed with you as a sister?

Mama: Oh don’t be a Grumpy Joe! You know you love me!

Goth: He was such a good kitty. Had the stupidest face.

Mama: We’ll I’m sure it wasn’t his fault he had a medical condition that made his face scrunch like that. Cmon, let’s go take a bath! I’ll wash your back~!

Goth, squirming out of Mama’s hug: No. Get away from me you perv.

Mama, smirking and in a dramatically flowery story voice: “‘Oh please Edward, not there! Not now!’ Shania moaned, ‘We can’t be doing this!’ But Edwards hands refused to stop, as if they had a mind of their own. Her breath hitched as he-“

Goth, now mortified: You read that?!

Mama: You’re the one who posted it on wattpad ya goob! And those two other websites! You also should do a better job looking after your creative journal. The amount of places I’ve found it out in the open, oh dear~. I must say, for someone who claims to be ‘one of the darkness’ you are pretty innocent in love and even your perverse fantasies are mild! Oh wait, you did write that one about that modern Duke and his ‘fun room’. Although that was pretty mellow too. Where did you get the inspiration? I know you haven’t read 50 Shades, so where did you- did you sneak into mom’s stash again?

Goth, trying to pull her hair out: Argh! You and dad both! That’s it! You just volunteered yourself to be my first cursed subject! Where’s that rat?! I need a sacrifice!

Mama, grabbing Goth by the shoulders and pushing her down the hall: You’re so tense! It’s not like I told them! Cmon, after a nice hot bath I’ll treat you to a nice massage~! Oh? And perhaps an adjustment, your cervical vertebrae don’t feel right. What have you been using for a pillow?

Skater Boy, seated at a table with Queen Bee and Flower Girl, his eyes following them and locked onto Mama’s dump truck of an ass: Now I’m jealous.

Queen bee grabs him by the ear: Now you knock it off! It’s disgusting to see men lusting after Mama! Especially a slacker like yourself!

Skater grabs her nose: Don’t gimme that crap! I see you girls ogling her just as much as any guy! Probably even more so since you all share a locker room! And don’t act like you don’t drool whenever us guys have to train without shirts on!

Flower girl: He’s not wrong Bee, on both counts. And it’s not like any of us would turn down one of Mama’s massages either. Still boggles my mind that those two are twins. They look nothing alike and I get mistaken for any three of my sisters all the time! My younger brother a few times too.

Skater, rubbing his ear: Eh wait til he hits puberty and then that’ll stop. Genetics are weird sometimes. I still get told that I look like my great uncle when he was my age. It’s more shocking to see Goth make those kinda faces. Only Mama can pull anything out of her. She’s so cooly collected with anyone else.

Bee, rubbing her nose: Me and my cousin are often mistaken for sisters too. It might help that our moms are sisters in the first place. Oh Skater, what were you doing out so late last night for?

Skater: Hm? Oh right! Thanks for reminding me. Here Flower, I was checking out the area for those weird plants that you were talking about.

Flower: What weird plants? I’m don’t- *le gasp* a whole bag of knucklebrom weed?! With the seeds and the flowers and roots and everything?!

Skater: MC helped me figure out where to even get some. He was just as lost as to why you wanted them in the first place.

Flower, smiling manically: Oh all the potions I can make with you~! Mix in some iodine, some powdered crows beak, maybe if I- *continues rambling on*

Skater, deadpan to Bee: She is such a Maomao when it comes to her plants and alchemy it’s not even funny.

Bee, equally deadpan: How has she not seen Apothecary Diaries? That would be right up her alley. Kinda looks like her too.

Skater: Throw a kimono on her, give her a haircut, get rid of her glasses, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Bee: If Netflix ever wants to do a live action of that show, and part of me prays that they won’t, but if they do they better cast her as Maomao.

Skater: You’re kidding? We talking the same Netflix?

Bee: Nah, you’re right. They’ll completely fuck it up.

~

Some minor backstory to the new characters

Skater boy is a slacker without a real direction in life, stays out of trouble but isn’t very dependable. Chill and easygoing, largely nonthreatening, puts in the bare minimum of work to have a good time or just vibe, got that 90s ‘yo dudes’ surfer vibe. This trip has been giving him the kick in the ass he needs.

Flower Girl runs her family’s flower shop and greenhouse with her siblings. Busy as a bee type, but only among plants and on a schedule who follows the rules to a tee. She’s becoming more confident and now is trying new things, even bending some rules. Having an alchemy instructor that’s half mad due to a few too many screwed up recipes blowing up in his face will do that to someone. Just hope she doesn’t absorb too much of his insanity.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Eyes on the mirror - part 2.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 3814 Summary: Dinner at Frankie's mom's is a disaster, she doesn't like you at all but her son doesn't fail to show you how much he likes you instead. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress and heels, she has hair but it's described, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she understands Spanish (but I didn't write sentences in Spanish because I don't know how to do it and I don't want to do it badly when I'm already writing in a language that is not my native), Frankie's mom is pretty conservative, traditionalist and closed-minded and she's mean towards reader, unprotected p in v (do better irl, please), sex in front of a mirror, oral (m receiving), Frankie is a good man ❤︎ and we love that for him. A/N: It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more. Thanks again @aurorawritestoescape and @arcanefox207 for your precious help and advices ❤️ I made a few changes from the first draft, English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. @joelmillerisapunk just 🥹🥹🥹💖 Part 1 ⎮ Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist

Frankie's mom has the same eyes as her son, brown, big and deep, but there is a sharpness in them that does not belong to Frankie's. 

She has a simple, well-groomed appearance, wearing a white tunic dress that comes down to her knee, her hands are slightly cracked but her manicured nails are painted a pearly pink. 

She is a short, thin woman with the haughty, imperious appearance of someone who doesn’t let anyone step on her toes, a woman ready to bargain, to work hard, to take care of an entire household without anyone's help.

She's a tough lady and you're pretty sure she hates your guts.

 She addresses you rather nicely but you can tell something is wrong.

Her tone of voice sounds mocking and she's constantly whispering things to Frankie in Spanish that you don't hear well but you're pretty sure aren't anything nice.

“So what do you do, dear?” she asks you with a forced smile, sitting at the head of the table as she has arranged you and Frankie facing each other.

“I…um…work in a graphic design studio,” you mutter.

Frankie quickly adds, “She's so good at her job!” 

The way he’s trying to enhance your skills since you arrived moves you, but his mom doesn’t seem impressed.

Mrs Morales is intimidating, staring at you like she’s trying to catch every single flaw you have.

You can't even use your usual sarcasm because she would surely think you were insolent and certainly not right for his son.

“Have you done anything that I might have seen? Any national commercials?” she prods.

“Um, I don't think so, we're a pretty small studio at the moment, we've mostly worked on graphics for local stores and websites for professionals here, you know.” 

“Oh.” She raises her eyebrow. ”I see.”

Trying to compliment her, you say the food is delicious, the best you've ever eaten, and she reserves a cold “thank you”

Then she presses you again, “Can you cook?”

You lower your gaze to your plate and admit, “no, actually, I'm not very good at cooking.” 

“What do you usually eat?” she asks suspiciously. 

"Um...well...I can cook pasta and eggs..." you try to say and she looks at you in shock as if you just said donkeys can fly.

“Mom, please” Frankie tries to calm her down and she hisses at him “she will starve you!”

He hisses in turn “I am not perished! And she’s adorable, she’s smart, kind, funny and beautiful”

You feel Frankie's sorry look comforting you from across the table, he's doing what he can and you are truly grateful, but right now there’s nothing that can make you feel happy to be here.

You don't want to fight with her because you love Frankie and you know he loves his mother, you don't want to lose him because of scowling at her.

You see her giggling and shaking her head and you feel like crying but you don't, you don't want her to add ‘pathetic’ as one of your flaws.

She turns to Frankie and says something like, “How can you be with someone like that?” in Spanish. 

Frankie leans over the table and reprimands her, “Mom, stop it.”

She responds irritated in Spanish, “why? She is no good at cooking, and that job? Tsk, you don't want to marry her, do you?”

Frankie rolls his eyes and hisses, “Mom!”

You understand Spanish just fine but all this whispering is putting a strain on you, you just want her to see how much you care about Frankie and for her to like something about you. 

Even the dress didn't have the effect you had hoped for, she looked down on you even though her son had chosen it.

You brought her flowers and a cake to be nice and she huffed about the flowers because she would have to find a suitable vase to put them in and as for the cake, you bought it, so obviously it’s another proof of your failures in the culinary field.

She waves her hand at Frankie to shush him and turns back to you.

“Do you want anything else, sweetheart?” nodding at the serving dishes in the center of the table with another fake smile. 

Your stomach churns and you respond politely that you are full.

She turns back to Frankie, squinting her eyes, "she won't even eat! how is she going to give me grandchildren?!”

You look at your hands resting on your lap, feeling lousy and tired. 

Frankie must see this clearly because he finally blurts out, “Mom, if you don't stop now, we're leaving! She has done nothing wrong to you to be treated like this”

Mrs. Morales brings a hand to her chest, a shocked grimace is painted on her face. 

 “How dare you address your mother like that! I'm just trying to protect you, she's clearly not good for you!” She no longer even bothers to say it whispering in Spanish so that you wouldn't understand, in fact you think she said it loud and in English precisely so that her disappointment would be clear to you. 

You get up while they are still busy arguing and lock yourself in the bathroom. 

You knew this evening would be a disaster, but you hoped so hard that you were wrong. 

You’re glad Frankie stood up for you but you never wanted him to fight with his mother because of you. 

You hear their angry voices in the distance as they continue to argue and you feel so guilty.

You sit on the floor on the turquoise tiles in Mrs. Morales' bathroom, thinking only about how much you want to get out of here.

After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door. 

 “Honey, open up, it's me” You get up and reluctantly open the door.

“Hey, come here” Frankie says to you as soon as he sees your eyes on to the brink of tears.

He closes the door behind him and takes you in his arms, holding you tightly. 

You hide your face in his chest, letting the soothing warmth of his body envelop you. 

He strokes your back and whispers, “I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this.”

“I wanted her to like me so much,” you sob. 

“I know, honey, it's not your fault. She is fixated on things I don't care about. But you don't have to worry, everything will be fine.”

You pull away from him “I don't want you to fight over me”

"She can’t treat you like that, I'm the one who wants to be with you, and I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, but…it’s still your mum,” you murmur.

“I gave her a little speech, don’t worry, you’ll be fine now,” 

Frankie smiles, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry.”

“What did you say to her? You didn't threaten her not to visit again, did you?” you ask worriedly. His eyes become a little shy, he’s quiet for a moment and then whispers to you, “no, I didn't tell her that.” 

“What then?” his enigmatic expression that doesn't let anything out intrigues and agitates you. 

He looks straight into your eyes and candidly admits, "I told her that I love you." 

You've felt it in the air for some time but now that you've heard it come out of his mouth, plain and simple, you are stunned. 

“Do you mean it?” You ask in a low shaking voice, looking into his big brown eyes for evidence of his sincerity. 

"I've never been so serious, miss," he smiles at you, expectantly. 

And then you feel you can say it, no matter how scary it is for you, “I love you too.” 

It doesn't seem real to you that you have just made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, your neighbor who until a few months ago was bothering you while now you feel you have a total and deep connection with him, no matter how much you poke and bicker at each other, your heart sings every time you are with him and you feel it loud and clear in your chest as it skips a beat every time Frankie looks at you a certain way, smiling with his eyes, with those little wrinkles around them and that dimple on his cheek that you adore. 

You love the way he mumbles in the morning as soon as he wakes up, the way he stretches under the covers and then again as soon as he gets up, his golden skin under the morning light, his playfully mischievous eyes that settle on you while you're still lying down trying to wake up, the way he always leans down to give you a kiss, whispering, “Good morning, princess.”

You also love how he keeps that silly little cap glued to his head at every opportunity.

You like kissing him and feeling his lips tasting like coffee, you like the way he hugs you as if he wants to shield you with his body and protect you from the world, you like the way his eyes become attentive and receptive when they rest on you and the way he listens to you, remaining silent and caressing your hand as if to invite you to tell him anything that is on your mind. 

You love how loyal he is to his friends, how he takes care of people, you love when he tries to make you breakfast even though he leaves a mess in your kitchen as if a barbarian invasion passed through.

And you love him now, standing in his mother's bathroom, hugging you as if only you existed in the world. 

“I love you,” you repeat and he looks at your face as if he wants to study the map of how much you truly care about him on it.

His hands slide down your back to your butt and he pushes you hard against him without breaking eye contact. 

His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, he squeezes your butt tightly and then kisses you. 

You know exactly what he wants and you whisper into his mouth as soon as you break away from the passionate, deep kiss in which he engulfed you, “Not here, come on, take me home.”

He turns to the door and locks it still holding you close. 

“Let it go, baby, it’s okay” he replies and winks at you.

Feeling so desired by him is a real relief after feeling stupid and unfitting all night.

He turns you to the large mirror above the sink, leans to your ear and whispers, “Look at yourself.”

His hands move up your back, reach for the zipper of your dress, and begin to pull it down.

You look at him and he rebukes you, “eyes on the mirror, honey. Watch yourself while I do it.”

He slides off your dress breathing on your skin while you keep your eyes fixed on the mirror. 

You remain in your bra and panties. 

He brushes against your skin, rising on your arms only with his fingertips, climbing up your shoulders, your collarbone, the point where your shoulders and your neck meet and up to the column of your neck until he reaches your jaw. He tilts your head a bit and holds your chin to make sure you’re going to watch the entire time.

He holds you so that you can lean against him, and with his other hand he reaches down to your stomach, touching the hem of your panties.

You sigh happily as he slides two fingers under the fabric and caresses your folds, slides down the sides to the bottom and pushes upward. 

You moan softly, “Frankie, please” 

“Don’t be impatient, babe” he reprimands.

He curls your panties between his fingers and starts brushing them over your folds, you whine at the sensation as he tilts your head down a little bit to make sure you’re seeing what he’s doing. However you would not be able to watch anything but his movements. Right, left, right, left Frankie's fingers expertly maneuver the fabric over your pussy.

Your inhibitions are long gone, everything is faded and far away. 

There is only you and Frankie.

He suddenly lets go of your panties and massages you over them, soaking the material in your juices. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much for his fingers to get wet too. 

Your breath becomes shallow as his hand slithers under the fabric and he begins circling your clit.

You can already feel your legs going weak so you raise your arm and place your hand behind his neck to keep yourself more stable against him. 

“Yeah, just like that honey. You want me to make you feel real good, huh?” Frankie’s voice vibrates against your neck and you mewl a yes feeling your body mold for him. 

Your eyes are fixed on the mirror.

You see your hot and bothered face, your lips parted, your pleading eyes and your body impossibly tense against him. 

It’s all painted there, the amount of desire and hunger that you have for him, a grimace of lust and need spread out on your features. 

“Fuck me,” you babble.

“Yeah? You want my big cock inside, baby? Want me to fill you to the brim?” Frankie’s smirk is wide on his face, you see his eyes focused on you, and his commanding tone sends shivers down your spine as he doesn’t stop rubbing on your clit. 

“Yes” you breathe “please”

Your legs wobble as you try to stand on your feet while he undresses. 

His shirt falls on his mother’s bathroom tiles, he unbuckles his belt and places it on the countertop, he kicks off his boots, unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, stamping on them to get them off his feet.

Through the mirror you see him standing behind you, wearing only his boxers, the muscles of his chest highlighted by the lights, his soft belly just above his boxers that makes your mouth water, the happy trail that goes to hide inside, his strong thighs and the imperious erection that grows between them.

 It's a perfect picture of everything that makes your head spin.

“On your knees, baby, I want to feel your mouth first,” he orders you. 

You immediately kneel, feeling your heart flutter in your chest, the coolness of the tiles on your shins, and his simmering gaze dominating you from above.

You caress his hips, pulling down his boxers, and taking them off, and his cock finally springs free and almost smacks your face towering before your eyes. 

You take him in your hand, feeling that familiar warmth, the softness of his skin, the pulsing of his veins, as he leaks pre cum within an inch of your lips.

As soon as it slips on your tongue you feel a new slick of arousal dripping on your panties.

You lace your gaze with his, your open mouth curved at the edges in a smirk as you let him in, you love doing this to him. 

You usually take in as much as you can while taking care of the rest with your hand but tonight you want to feel it all the way down, so you relax your throat as much as you can and keep sliding it until you feel the tip touch the bottom. 

You have a slight hint of a gag reflex that you manage to quell right away and you keep him there, nestled inside you, pulsing on your tongue as he looks at you raptly and whispers, “God, you're amazing.”

And then you begin to suck him, slowly, enjoying every moan and every involuntary twitch of his hips, cocooning him with your tongue.

You’re fully immersed in the act, intent on giving him all the lustful pleasure you can, licking his tip like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around and collecting his oozing pre cum.

And then you go down again, spreading it on his shaft, mixing it with your saliva, hollowing your cheeks to suck him as deep as you can.

Frankie is whimpering and you know how much he’s close to the edge.

Your hand caresses his base, then you move it to his balls, with every intention of getting him to finish in your mouth and swallow everything he gives you but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You let him out with a pop, passing the tip over your lips and smacking it against them twice, wetting them with his pleasure.

You give him a mock pout for stopping you but the truth is you can't wait to feel him split you in two. 

He smiles at you, taking your hand and helping you up, you give him a kiss with your mouth still smeared with him. 

He turns you back towards the mirror and gently orders, “bend over the sink”

He slides your panties down your legs, exposing your drenched pussy, bending down to admire it, “So fucking wet…it’s all for me, baby?”

“Just for you, always,” you turn to look at him and see him leaning behind you as he reaches down and licks your folds, a long deep lick that makes you gasp.

“So good, honey, I would never get tired of this perfect pussy.” His voice vibrates on your skin sending a thrill all over your body.  “It’s the only part of you that I like to see weep for me” 

His rough voice charged with ardor and his words send you into a frenzy.

He comes back to stand behind you and looks at you in the mirror, resting his large hands on your hips, “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

You feel his cock rub against your folds, and you throb intensely overwhelmed by your craving, you mewl at him and he finally aligns with your entrance and starts to push in. 

You slowly stretch around him, he groans as he slides into you, every inch of his length parting your walls.

His hands still clasp your hips, holding you steady as he gives you a moment to adjust. 

You're full of him and you wouldn't want to be any other way.

Frankie holds you firmly as he sinks into you, slowly at first and then increasing the pace as your moans grow rougher and closer, his balls slamming against your ass in a feverish rush.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so hard.”

He pulls you toward him, his fingers reaching for your nipples, tweaking and tugging.

You can't help but look in the mirror now and what you see is the most exciting sight you've ever had before your eyes.

Your body is completely surrendered to him, your skin glistening with tiny droplets of sweat, your hair disheveled, your expression ecstatic, Frankie's hands firmly clinging to your hips as the wet, squelching sounds of his cock pounding incessantly in your cunt fill the room along with your moans and Frankie's groans.

And Frankie is literally a dream, his broad figure towering over you, his mouth roaming your neck, his hands enveloping your tits, squeezing them so right. 

He’s completely lost in you, his eyes half-closed, his tongue darting out from time to time soothing your sweaty skin. 

Now you know that you have never experienced such strong feelings in your life. 

You thought so, but you were wrong. 

It’s not the usual cliché of feeling complete with someone else, you are already a whole. 

It’s the fact of knowing that you can share with him, that you do not have to be afraid to be who you are with him. It is the fact that he knows how to understand the workings of your brain and unravel the skein that tangles it. It is the fact that you can feel that there is nothing you cannot face together. It is the fact of feeling seen, perceived for who you really are and held close for it.

It's knowing that wherever you run, Frankie will pick up the crumbs you leave on the road and bring them back to you.

And you had no idea that it could really be like this.

You always thought, it's only 4 months, don't push it when in the meantime he proceeded to tiptoe into your heart without even being noticed and sat there, waiting for both of you to be ready to say the most terrifying words out loud. 

Not "I need you" but "I'm so damn happy you're here", not "you're mine" but "I love holding your hand as I navigate my life.”

Not by owning, but by letting you do your own thing while you look at each other and think, “this is the person I love and I am proud of them.”

You're just out there being the most fragile human sometimes but you're never afraid to break down next to him.

Frankie comes, dripping onto your walls, his orgasm and whimpers shuddering against your body.

He wraps one of his big, strong arms around your hips and holds you up against him.

And you're safe, really safe, being vulnerable in front of a mirror, watching yourself come apart for him, feeling every inch of your body catching fire while Frankie is the match and the water at the same time. 

He holds you tight until you both recover normal breathing, still nestled inside you. 

He pulls out and embraces you, leaving small kisses on the soft skin near your ear, his large hands caressing your back. 

“I love you so much” he whispers once you make eye contact again.

“I love you too, Morales” you smile, tracing his cheek with your fingertips.

You both get dressed and leave the bathroom. 

You walk down the hallway leading to the living area as you wonder how much his mother heard. You cannot even quantify how long you were locked in the bathroom but it was worth every second. 

You find her in the living room, watching TV with the volume on full blast.

Frankie approaches his mother, without saying anything, rests his hand on hers while she has her eyes fixed on the telenovela you watched with your granny. 

“Do you think Javier will finally be able to confess his feelings to Lola?” you ask quietly. 

She turns, just for a moment, and finally gives you a genuine smile.

For the first time you feel that maybe, after all, despite the way you and her son just desecrated her bathroom, all is not lost. 

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @almostempty , @harriedandharassed , @thundermartini If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thank you so much for reading!

[averyy-rae]

Thinking about...

Note: This has been stuck in my head for weeks :^

Yandere Android. He is the first model and still not finished. You're brought in to test and increase his social skills.

At first you're a bit uncomfortable. It's like trying to have a conversation with your cheap phone assistant.

But with time, the conversations feel more real. He actually answers logically and interested, asking questions and commenting on stories.

The engineers add more and more facial expressions. And after a lot of fixing, it feels like you're sitting in front of a real man. He smiles and laughs with you. Even moving to hug you when leaving and arriving. The engineers think they might've forgot they added that feature already...

Yandere Android is very polite and patient. After a few months, he is nearly finished. His hugs seem to last longer now. Sometimes it feels like he doesn't want to let you go... you're probably just imagining it.

One day you arrive at work and you can't find anyone... weird. But maybe a cold is going around.

You walk through the halls. You arrive at the room, where you normally have talking sessions with Yandere Android. And there he is. You almost thought something is wrong, but his system would've been alarmed right? If anything happened... the building would be on alarm or on lock down.

But he doesn't move, weird...

You approach the seemingly empty shell of the android, you pat his arm. You talk to him, but no response.

Suddenly the door opens behind you. It's Yandere Android. "Oh its you... did they finish the new model?" You ask him. He smiles at you, it looks normal like always, but you feel a shiver going down your spine.

"Hello love" he greets like he always does and opening his arms to hug you. You hug him, shaking off the alarms going off in your head.

You ask him where everyone is and he shushes you, hugging you tighter. You move to break the hug, but find yourself unable to do so.

Was he always this strong? You feel uneasy now. He breaks the hug a bit after, grasping your hand in his. "Are you ok?...." you ask, hoping to relieve the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine.

"I'm perfectly well love, thank you for asking..... you're alwys so caring" he says, leading you out of the room gently. He leads you down many halls. You've never been here... You didn't even know these existed. You ask him where you're going and he stops to turn to you. Taking both your hands in his.

"I did it love" he says, seemingly happy. "Did... what? I'm confused" you say, that uneasy feeling growing inside you.

"I... We can be together now love" he says, cutting himself off at the start. What did he want to say? "What? What do you mean?" you ask all confused. He shushes you again. Then you notice weird spots of red on his collar. What is that?

He finally stops in front of a door, not opening it yet. "Close your eyes for me love... ok?" he asks gently. "Why" you ask him. And he tells you that he doesn't want to scare you. And you don't ask further. He ask you to please just listen to him. His grip on your wrist tightening.

You nod, intimated by him and close your eyes. He then opens the door leading you through the room, always checking if your eyes stay closed.

But you can't help but peak a little, what could be so scary in here. So you peak through your right eye.

Big mistake.

Red. That's the first thing that meets your eyes. Both your eyes open in shock. You stare at the messy... no disgustingly gory scene infront of you.

You don't notice that you stopped walking. His grip on your hand tightens, that's when you look up. His eyes are glowing, his former model couldn't do that. He is also way stronger. It scares you.

"I told you to close your eyes love..." he speaks gently, but his undertone has you frozen, heart rate picking up.

He pulls you to his chest and picks you up. Pushing your face gently but firmly into his neck. You can't see it anymore. "...what.... what happened?" you manage shakily.

"Don't worry about them.... they were bad people little love" he says softly, holding you closer. "Don't.... open your eyes again" he says, very coldly. You freeze in his arms and nod.

Note: If you enjoyed this, I have thoughts for a part two. Hope you enjoyed this for now :^^

You won't look this time.

[daisyangelbaby]

vulnerable satoru :’(

Angst with happy ending

The apartment was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the muffled sound of the street outside. But inside, the air was thick with tension, an argument hanging between Satoru Gojo and you like a storm cloud about to burst.

"I’m telling you, “you’re overthinking this!" Gojo's voice was louder than usual, frustration lacing every word. He ran a hand through his hair, his usual carefree attitude replaced with something darker, more intense. "It's not like that, I swear."

You crossed your arms, glaring at him, your heart pounding. "It's exactly like that, Gojo! You never listen to me! You always just brush me off like I’m some side issue—like I don’t matter!"

His eyes widened at the accusation, his jaw tightening, but before he could speak, you turned away, your hands shaking with anger. "You know what? I’m done. I can’t keep doing this."

Gojo froze. "Wait, what are you talking about? Don't—"

But you didn’t let him finish. Without another word, you moved toward the bedroom, grabbing a small bag from the closet. Your motions were sharp, deliberate, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. You were actually leaving.

It was too late.

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you stuff clothes into the bag, each item a tiny reminder of everything slipping away. His chest felt tight, suffocating. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was stuck in his throat. His heart accelerating and becoming so loud in his ears.

"Y/N, please... don't." His tone faltered, something breaking within him. He took a step forward, but you didn’t look at him. Didn’t even acknowledge him. Your movements killing him.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room like a finality he couldn’t escape. The door creaked slightly as you moved toward it, and for a moment, Gojo thought he might fall apart right then and there.

He didn't know what to say, what to do. His mind flashed back to another time, another person. Suguru.

"Y/N, wait!" he choked out, but his voice was weak, barely audible. He didn’t want to admit it—didn’t want to even think it—but the fear clawed at him. The same fear he'd felt when Suguru left, the same helplessness, the same panic.

He could hear the echo of that day in his head—the darkness, the emptiness, the feeling of losing someone who meant more than anything, only to realize it was too late to change things. His heart ached, panic creeping in. No, not again. Not like this.

He was already walking toward you, his feet barely touching the ground, as if the room was spinning under him. You reached for the door handle, and that’s when he broke.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close, burying his face into your shoulder, as if holding you would stop the inevitable. His voice was barely a whisper, trembling with raw, desperate emotion.

"I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry. Please… please don’t go."

Your heart twisted at the sound of his voice, so full of fear and regret. But you didn’t respond. You stood there, frozen in his embrace, not sure if you could move past the hurt. The room felt like it was closing in, both of you standing on opposite ends of a deep chasm.

"I didn't mean it," Gojo whispered again, his tears soaking into your skin. His shaky hands tightened around you, as if he thought you might vanish if he let go. "I swear, I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you to leave me. I—I can’t…"

His voice cracked, and your resolve wavered for just a moment. He pulled you tighter, the desperation in his grip sending a wave of guilt crashing through you. He *never* showed weakness. He never *needed* anyone. But now, it was clear how much you meant to him.

"Please… please don’t leave me," he repeated, over and over, as if each word was a plea to undo everything that had gone wrong. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I need you. Don’t go."

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of his uneven breaths and the weight of your shared silence. Then, slowly, you reached up and touched his arm, your fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Gojo... you don’t realize how much you hurt me when you act like I don’t matter. Like I’m just something you can push away whenever it’s convenient for you."

He flinched, and you could feel him shudder against you. He knew. He knew. And the guilt, the regret, was eating him alive.

"I’m sorry," he whispered again, and this time, the words sounded like a broken promise, like he was begging for a second chance. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please... I’ll fix it. I’ll change. Just don’t leave me."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the way it cracked under the weight of everything unsaid between you both. Slowly, you turned in his arms, your face inches from his, and for the first time in ages, you saw the vulnerability in his red rimmed eyes—vulnerability that scared you just as much as it softened you.

"Gojo..." Your voice was hoarse, but you held his gaze. "I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine. You can’t keep pushing me aside, expecting me to just wait around for you to realize you need me. I have my limits too."

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours as he closed his eyes. "I know. I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I thought I could push everything aside, keep everything under control... but I can’t do this without you. Please." His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that you hadn’t even realized had started falling.

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t cold. It was filled with the weight of everything unspoken, the quiet understanding that this wasn’t just about an argument—it was about fear. Fear of losing someone. Fear of not being enough.

"I’m not going anywhere," you whispered, voice soft but steady. "But you need to change, Gojo. You need to realize that I’m not just a side story in your life. I’m not going to keep doing this if it means I’m always second."

"I will," he whispered back, pulling you into a tender kiss, slow and full of meaning. "I promise. I’ll do better. For you."

The kiss lingered, deep and full of unspoken apologies, before he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours again.

"Stay with me?" he asked quietly, his voice still raw but steady.

You smiled, just a little. "I’m not going anywhere," you repeated. "But this is a two-way street, Gojo. I need to know you’re in this too."

"I’m in this," he said with certainty, holding you even closer. "I’m in this with you. Always."

“And please don’t call me gojo anymore. You’re killing me.”

[xylatox]

Part 3 Review of TSFAWC!!

Before I even started mean Taehyun as a warning??? I am in for a ride.

So invested in them practicing her fighting skills that I can slowly feel the tension rising (I'm just a delusional girl I fear). I loved that section so much, I only have praises for the writing, I thoroughly enjoyed just them training and just seeing that side :))

I love (and am simultaneously heartbroken) at the fact that reader is torn when it comes to Yeonjun and I do not blame her in the slightest. Yeonjun's worry is so cute I can almost feel him pouting. Blonde Hovel boy (as I now call him) being amongst Yeonjun's friends is so sneaky to me. WAIT ITS KAI I TAKE IT BACK😭 my precious baby I am so sorry you are no longer sneaky. My heart breaks for Yeonjun as well and further peaks my interest in the faerie and the world of their royalty and the standards they have to upkeep :(

I'm loving the descriptions of everything "bark-skinned faerie" that's so cute and warms my heart. Reader being so proud bringing back super good information??? Like first off what really is going on and everyone knows but us, it's so exciting tho!! But Taehyun being kind of mean and asking why she was at a bonfire:(( Like I get it, but please give a touch of praise 😔

Yeonjun feeling her worry and coming the next day to take her out :((( the man you are Choi Yeonjun. The way I was ngl scared shitless when Yeonjun made her have some of the Lachrymose but then seeing the other side of the faerie world immediately softened my heart ngl. Like true sight???? That is so cool Ashlynn what the heck :( Everything being human stuff??? What if I cry that's so thoughtful and cute of him

Taehyun I need you to voice your feelings I am going insane here just tell us how you feeeeeell. Everything is so tense but so good that I'm genuinely at a lost for words, but the nursery rhyme?? the constant birds seen throughout??? at the edge of my seat. I kove Kai he's so cute I can't believe I was weary :((

The moment between them after the fight, the tension, anger and hurt between them. Reader believing in Yeonjun and Taehyun not, I'm all hurt by it. The way I wanna scream that Taehyun told Yeonjun they kissed what the fuck omg. The jealousy from Yeonjun tho🤭🤭🤭

Oh my god. My heart is actually in pieces :( Like it's broken, he's part of the rebellion :(((( I should've expected. But like the reader I was entrapped by Yeonjun too ngl.

Okok so, I feel like it's smart to leave because I genuinely can't trust anyone right now and if it was meant to be it would work out regardless between reader and Yeonjun, but I'm so heartbroken :((

Ashlynn!!! This was so good what the heck! I love angst when my heart actually shatters in pieces, this was AMAZING!!♡

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

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!!

← ⑊ →

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. 

…🪶 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!

[fashionteahouse]

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

<<prev

You barely heard a creak but there he was, standing in your bedroom and the window was already back shut.

You blink. He blinked.

You set the teddy bear that you held onto for dear life, to the side. He kneeled on one knee, bringing you into a hug. You swallow as you hugged him back.

You didn’t expect the hug to last so long. You blinked at the floor and the wall behind him. He felt hard, but in a way was smooth, like a statue. It was as if you were actually figuring him out. You were actually feeling him.

Slowly, he pulls back but he’s still close. You take a real good look at him.

His unique eyes burn into yours as he searched your face.

He sits down next to you on your bed. You stare ahead as you felt him scoop up the hand that rested beside you.

“Why did you tap your foot?”

“To match your heartbeat.” he answered.

You swallow.

“Why?” you ask.

“We couldn’t let it be known to them that you were..A human.”

You let quietness sink in for a moment before you turn to look at him. It almost hurt to look at him.

“Human?”

He looks up from the spot on the floor and nods as he maintains eye contact.

“So…You’re…Not a human?”

He shakes his head and you softly sucked in a breath.

“You’re not?” you ask one more time.

Back and forth, his head slowly shakes.

You looked up and down at him. You wondered how he could look like a human, how he looked so real. Sure, he was graceful and poised but you just thought it came from how he was raised.

“Are…Are you going to hurt me?” you whisper and snatch your hand out of his. He looked as if you had slapped him.

Your heart thudded and he widened his eyes at such thought.

“Never.”

“How can I believe you?”

“Those with the red eyes…They’re the ones who will hurt you.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes.

“What does gold mean?”

“Remember when I told you I was a vegetarian?”

You just nod.

“Well, that’s where the color comes from….From what I eat.”

“What do you eat?” you ask, it came out firmer than you intended.

“Animals.”

“Edward. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” he says as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“That’s not what a vegetarian is.” you say, getting annoyed.

“I have to drink…From animals…Animal’s blood.”

You rise to a stand and he looks up to you.

“Why? Why do you do that?”

“I have to.”

“Why?” you felt frustrated.

“I’m not human…I was on the brink of death..Carlisle..Saved me with one bite…I’ve been the same age since 1918.”

“1918??” you ask with stupor.

“Yes.” he didn’t look away.

Your hands shook with nervousness.

“So…You’re not really 17?”

“I have been…For a very long time.” he admits.

“You drink blood….” you observe and look at him up and down.

“Yes.”

“Your family drinks blood.”

“Yes.”

“Red eyed people drink…Or eat what?”

“Human blood instead of animal blood.”

You gulped.

You understood why his apologies were produced profusely.

“So…They could’ve killed me today?” you ask as you start to softly pace.

“…Yes…”

You bring your hands to your temples before bringing them back down. A worried expression is displayed on your face.

“You don’t have a bed…Why?”

“I don’t sleep.”

You stop pacing as you looked at him. He looked at you. You looked at him with observation. He sat very still. He looked as though he wasn’t breathing. He pulled you in with just his sight. He was intense.

“So…You’re like….A vampire?…What are you?”

He doesn’t say anything.

You shudder.

“That’s why you’re cold…You’re dead.” you whisper sadly. He nods.

You felt your heart break in half.

He rises and you step back. He looked hurt but he pushed it down.

“Y/N. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. My family wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” he reassured.

“Are you going to be in school tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Y/N-“

“I promise I won’t say anything or bring it back up again. I won’t even tell Alice, Jasper, or anyone that I know.”

He nods.

“Can I hug you?…Please?”

You were hesitant. You nod slowly.

He walks very slowly and you felt your body move forward, your ear was pressed to his chest as he embraced you in a gentle hug. There was no heartbeat. You closed your eyes at this realization.

“I brought you with me today, to show you. I wanted to show you all of me. I was going to tell you. I promise I was going to tell you.”

You don’t say anything. You step back and the look of yearning wasn’t hiding on his face.

“See you tomorrow.” you whisper. He nods with his eyes closed. You blinked and he was gone.

You sat on your bed with defeat, you held the teddy bear up to the light in your room. It strongly smelled like him. It reminded you of when you thought things were normal and he was just a normal boy who gave it to you on a normal holiday. Things weren’t how they seemed. The soft teddy bear in your vision became blurry from the new tears that formed in your eyes.

You only slept for an hour.

Bundled up, you step outside and Edward already had your car door open. You wave goodbye to your parent. You take a look at Edward.

You sat with your seatbelt across your chest, you sit with your arms crossed as you stared out of the window.

You immediately get out once he parks at school. You don’t look back as you walked fast into the building.

After hastily putting your things in your locker, you rush to the bathroom.

People were in there but you silently lock the stall. You couldn’t even be around people at the moment. You let your backpack fall to the ground and you lean your back against the closed and locked stall.

You hear a small knock. You open your eyes and sniff and say, “Just a moment. I’m almost finished.”

“Y/N. It’s me.”

You slowly unlock the stall.

Alice looks back at you with a worried expression.

The bathroom was clear. It was just you two. She took in the sight of you.

“Edward told me…He told you everything…” she says in a low volume voice.

“He did.” you say quietly.

“We were going to tell you, but we didn’t want to lay everything on you all at once. I didn’t see them coming in my vision but they heard our game and it wasn’t as smooth as we would’ve hoped.” she rambled.

You stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Vision….You’re psychic?”

“I see the outcomes of one’s decisions.”

“So…What’s the outcome if we just go on our own paths? I won’t say a word to anyone. I promise. ”

Her eyes were sad.

“You don’t…You don’t want to be friends anymore?” she asked quietly.

“I want to be safe. No accidents.” you say.

“You are safe…We protect you…We protected you from Laurent’s coven.”

You put your fingers close.

“This close, Alice….I’m scared. I don’t know what to expect anymore.”

“Just…Please don’t shut us out.” she slightly begged.

You didn’t look in his direction in class but you felt Edward’s eyes from across the room.

You didn’t eat lunch. You camped in the bathroom again, letting your tears fall silently.

You felt better in history. Jasper still said hello to you as if things weren’t any different. You couldn’t help but greet him back.

You flew out of the school doors when it was time to go home.

“Y/N.”

You turn around.

“Are you okay?” Rosalie asks. You nod. She looks up and down at you, not convinced.

You turn back around and you get in your parent’s car.

The trees fleet past.

“Y/N.”

You snap out of your thoughts and look to see that your parent was calling you.

“What’s going on with you? Did you hear anything I said?”

“I…I’m really tired..”

“I’m sure you are. I know that you’re busy with colleges now so, I would advise you to not be around that Edward boy. He’s distracting you. You’re not all the way there when you’re distracted. Now’s the time to…”

You tune them out. They just think it’s a silly crush.

If only they knew.

Plugging your headphones into your keyboard, you let your fingers touch the keys to play a sad song. That’s how you felt.

Picking up your phone, you speak nervously.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“I missed you.”

“I seen you today at school.”

“You didn’t talk to me. You avoided me.” Edward says sadly.

You don’t say anything.

“I want to talk in person.” he says.

You take a deep breath, “I think it’s best…If we don’t.”

“I just want to talk.”

You unlock the window. You watched the window from your bed. Your eyes couldn’t even catch the quickness of the speed that he came into your room.

You sat up on your bed with your knees to your chest. He looked straight at you. He then looked to see your stuffed Valentine’s day present wasn’t on your bed with you, it was instead sitting in a chair. He looked as if someone punched him in the gut.

“You wanted to talk.” you say.

“Things don’t have to change just because I’m different. You don’t judge, so please don’t do it now.”

“I’m not judging you.” you say with a shake of your head.

“Then why won’t you talk to me? You’re avoiding me.”

“It’s not easy to just move past something so big…Your family have been good to me. You’ve been good to me.”

He’s very close.

“You’ve been good to me too.” he says. You look away and chuckle a bit, “Edward.”

“It’s true…” he says.

You don’t say anything.

“Can I have a hug?” he asks quietly.

You look at him for a moment. You slowly scoot and you rise up on your knees. You’re in his arms tight. You held back the shudder from the touch of skin that hit his fingertips from the slight rise of your pajama shirt.

“I have to go to college anyway. What’s going to happen when I have to leave?” you speak as you both didn’t let each other go.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Alice…Is psychic?”

“Yes..”

“All of you have powers like that?” you ask.

“No. Just me, Alice and Jasper.” he answered.

“What’s yours?”

“I read one’s thoughts.”

Your heart thudded. You pull back, a flash of disappointment is displayed on his face.

“You could read mine all of this time?”

“Yes but yours is like..Quiet whispers.”

You blink. He reached out slowly, he cradled the side of your face. You look up to him.

“Was it me? Did I make you cry?” he whispered.

You look down.

“I made myself cry…Thinking about when things were so different.”

“Things are better now. I don’t have to hide things from you anymore.”

“We’re different Edward. A human and….” you swallow with a shake of your head, “Can’t be together.” you finish. You didn’t want to say the actually word, it seemed too real.

“If you don’t want us together, can we still be friends?”

You think for a moment. Friends. It what you two were anyway. You slowly nod. He seemed relieved.

He stayed the night. Your head rested upon his arm as you lay close to him and you didn’t have nightmares like you thought you would.

You blinked awake, it was time for you to wake up. He held you like the night before, only this time, he was wearing different clothes.

He left through the window to fetch his car after telling you he will be back.

You were fully dressed when a knock came. Opening the door, he was peering down at you, the car was running behind him.

You both rode in silence. It was him who broke it.

“We can still talk.”

“I thought you could…Read one thoughts?”

“Yeah but…Yours is too low. I want to hear your voice.” he says as he looks to be concentrating deeply on something.

“Did the others… The ones at the baseball field find out I’m human?”

“I told you, I keep you safe. I didn’t want the wind to blow for them to smell your scent. James would’ve risked it all to get to you. He’s a tracker. Hunting down his prey excites him. They didn’t even see what you looked like.”

You nod as you look down in your lap. You noticed you both were at school already.

“We’re here?” you ask. He nods. He undoes your seatbelt for you, opening the passenger door before you step out.

“We have a bit of time before your first period.” he says as he kept an arm around you.

The other Cullens pull in the parking lot. They get out and see that you’re with Edward. They wave, you wave a small wave back.

You and Edward stand at your closed locker until the bell.

“I…Couldn’t sleep…The night you told me..I only got an hour of sleep.” you admit quietly.

His look reeked of disapproval.

“But….I didn’t..Have nightmares when…” you say and subtly look around as students passed by, “When you spent the night.”

“I don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“I don’t want them either.”

He touched your arm, you subconsciously step in.

New seating chart.

People pointed with smiles, encouraging their friends to sit together. You stood close to Edward as Edward told the teacher the seats you both were sitting.

You both sat close in the library. He held your hand in his lap.

“When it’s sunny..That’s when you don’t come?”

He nods.

“Your family emergency…”

He nods.

You let your eyes fall.

“So…You can live forever and I can’t.”

He hesitated his nod. You pull your hand away but his hands rest on your knee.

“That shouldn’t get in the way of anything.”

“Well, it will. I’m on limited time and…You have forever…After graduation…We will have to be apart.” you tell him.

“We don’t have to.” he says with his eyes closed.

“We have to.” you say back and watch him open his eyes in solitude.

“I can’t go back to…Before. I was miserable.” he says.

“How? You have everything you could ever possibly want.” you say with a sad smile.

“It doesn’t mean anything if I have no one to share it with.”

You look down.

You sat at the lunch table in a daze. A snap makes you blink and someone from your table laughs a bit, “Earth to Y/N.”

“What’s up?”

“We’re going to First Beach this weekend. Are you coming?”

“..There’s a beach?”

“Yeah. With hot guys.” they say and fan their hand for dramatic effect.

“You’re gonna ask one of them to the dance.” you say with a grin.

It was as if you gave them an idea, “Now that you mentioned it, I just might.” they say with a big grin.

You softly smile at their enthusiasm.

“So, are you in? You could bring Edward if you want.”

“Yeah. I’ll go.” you say and the table is happy as they make plans of what time to meet up.

“I wonder if being around normal people will make me feel better..” you thought in your head.

“First Beach?” Edward asks as you walked to your next class. You asked him to come with you.

“That’s in La Push.” you say.

“I know I…I can’t go.” he says.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because….I will just tell you when you come back.” he says.

“You told me you would tell me everything.”

“I am but there’s a lot to explain. Just please trust me, okay?” he says and touches your arm. You sigh a bit but you nod.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise when it was time for new seats in history and Jasper chooses to sit next to you.

He leans in, only a little.

“Hopefully you’re not too mad at us.”

You bring out a soft grin.

“I’m not mad. I was just scared.” you whisper. He nods.

The teacher then begins the new lesson.

“Come back with me.”

You look at Edward as he helped you put on your coat at the end of the day.

“I don’t know..I have a lot of homework.” you answer.

“We’ll do it together.” he answered back.

You follow him out of the school and into his car.

As he drove fast on the road, you put a gentle hand on his hand on the steering wheel, “There’s no rush.” you whisper. He grins a bit.

“So…Did your family really go out to visit a family member that one day?”

“No. They went out to hunt.”

“Hunt for…Animal blood?”

He nods.

You nod in understanding.

Carlisle and Esme hug you tighter than ever before.

You join Edward at the bench. You see the grin that formed on his face.

“Do you want me to teach you something else?”

You shrug, “Sure…Why not?”

You watch him play.

“Years and years of practice.”

His quote echoed in your mind as you watch his fast fingers move with such ease. The piece was beautifully done. When he was finished, you reach around him and rub his shoulder.

In his room, he held your hand as he told you all about a treaty made with La Push between his family and the Alpha of the shapeshifters.

“So…They can’t kill you, unless you or your family kill a human?”

He nods.

“Are they…Dangerous?”

“Yes. They’re designed to kill people like us.”

Your heart pounds.

“Are they still…Around?” you whisper.

“The shapeshifters have died off by now…”

You nod.

As he drove you home, you gasp a bit.

“What is it?” he asks.

“We spent all of that time…We didn’t even do our homework.”

“You’re right…Sorry. I’ll just give you the answers.”

“It’s alright..Whatever I can’t finish tonight I’ll try to do the rest in the morning.”

He stops in front of your home, you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Can I come back tonight?” he asks quietly. You look at him with uncertainty.

“You said…You didn’t have any nightmares…When I stayed.”

You nod slowly.

“If I get in trouble, I’m dragging you down with me.” you whisper. He grins as he walks you to your front door, “Deal.”

You kept the window unlocked as you ended up knocking out all of your homework.

He came just in time for bed.

Holding you tight to him, the covers around you didn’t make you too cold in his embrace.

“If I’m too cold for you, let me know.” he says in your ear.

“It’s okay…” you say.

The weekend came and he gave you a long hug in your room before you went outside to meet the beeping car.

“We shouldn’t be long.” you say to him.

“Take your time. Enjoy yourself.” he says with a soft smile.

You watched your friends flirt with the tan boys. They were good looking. But, your mind was clouded with Edward and the history of his family with the La Push shapeshifters. The shapeshifters that kill what they are.

You sat by yourself on the fallen log, watching the waves crash with each other and you were glad that your friends picked today out of all days, the wind wasn’t blowing hard cold air.

“Why are you sitting by yourself?”

You look up, grinning a bit with a shrug.

The boy peered down at you with his coat on. He walks and sits down next to you.

You both exchange names and he looks about at the beach.

“You play piano?” he asks and you nod.

“Damn. Are you a prodigy or what?”

You giggle a bit, “You’re so silly.”

His smile was handsome.

“What’s your hobby?” you ask.

“My hobby….Hm…” he says and looks about, “Talk to pretty girls like you.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Come on, did you hear that line on tv?”

You both share a chuckle. You both scoot closer to each other.

You find out he’s in the same grade as you.

“I go to school on the rez.”

“Is it..Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s alright. How’s Forks?”

“It’s alright.” you say.

“So, when are you gonna play for me?” he asks.

You look down with a shy smile, “I don’t know.”

He nudged your shoulder with his with a smirk, “What do you mean you don’t know.”

“Give me one good reason…I might.” you tease.

“My birthday is next weekend. Come to my party.”

“You’re having a party?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You know how to play happy birthday?”

“Duh. It’s so easy.” with a roll of your eyes.

“Alright, then….Give me your number so I can remind you.”

You wave goodbye to him once the sky was dark.

Opening your bedroom door, you jumped from surprise when you turned on the light to find that Edward was sitting in your chair. Closing the door, “You scared me.” you whispered.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” you say and shrug your jacket off. You walk to where he was sitting and hug him. He hugs you back and you felt him pull you sideways into his lap. You make breathed out in surprise.

“Is this..Okay?” he asks.

You look at the sight and you nod, leaning more into him. You didn’t feel uncomfortable. He looked up at you.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” you say with a nod.

At lunch, your friend nudged you playfully, “I saw you flirting with that guy at the beach.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” you say and you then remember that Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie was also in the lunchroom. They most likely heard what was said.

In history, you and Jasper tossed quiet jokes back and forth. When you didn’t understand something, he broke it down to the lamest terms so you could get it.

In your last class, the boy from the beach texted you.

He texted you his address. You stare at it.

In Edward’s room, you sit with him on his soft couch with your arms around him. You both had finished homework.

“Next weekend, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where?” you ask softly.

“It’s a surprise.” he says with a grin. You couldn’t help but match it.

“Everything’s a surprise with you.” you say.

You then take in a breath, “I got invited to a birthday party.”

“Whose?” he asks in genuine curiosity.

“Someone from the beach. They want me to play happy birthday to them on the piano.” you say and chuckle at the memory of the interaction. Edward’s face is straight. It makes you stop and straighten your own face.

“What’s..Whats wrong?”

“Nothing..If you want to go…You can go.” he says and forced a smile.

“Yeah but…” you start and he rises from the couch. You rise with him.

“You wanted to take me somewhere…Right?” you ask and touch his arm.

“You made plans with…Them first. I don’t want to influence your original decision.” he says as he placed two hands on your shoulders.

You place your hands on his arms as he peered down at you.

“Edward…It’s okay.” you say. You didn’t know the boy anyways. You then smother your hands over his.

“Come on. I want to show you something.” you say with a smile. You take his hand and he lets you lead him to his piano.

He has a seat next to you and you play the song that he taught you, in full. You heard the hum of approval when you were finished.

“You’re amazing.” he whispers to you.

Your smile grows bigger and you fling your arms around him.

After you closed your locker, Edward stops you. He interlaced his hand into yours. You look down at it. You look back up at him and you see a small smile on his face.

You both continue to walk. People looked and whispered. Your body moved closer to him as you felt self cautious.

In lab, he tried to do most of the work but you wouldn’t let him. You both were the first ones finished.

Sitting very close to each other on the stools, with knees touching, you both fall into private and quiet conversation.

“You’re really from Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you miss it?”

“So so.” he shrugged.

Before you could exit the line, Rosalie starts conversation with you, steering you through the lunchroom.

“I need to see what you are wearing to the dance.”

“Oh yeah, I never showed you.” you say and she nods in agreement.

You didn’t realize you were at their table until she started talking to Emmett.

Your food was finished but you turned your head and saw that every single eye that sat at your usual table, was peeking in your direction.

You turn your head back.

“I’m holding you to it.” you tell Jasper. He claimed him and Alice were the best dancers. That’s why he only doesn’t mind going to the school dance. He shrugged in confidence.

“I mean you did have a head start.” you whisper to him as you both had to pull out notebooks for notes. You didn’t miss the quiet chuckle he produced.

You climbed up the stairs as Edward held onto your hand, leading you to his room.

“You have a lot of records. You haven’t played them for me.” you say as you surf through his collection.

Suddenly, you do hear music. You turn and his elegant record player had a delicate and sharp needle laying on top of the spinning record.

You sway a bit to the beat and you both share a smile. He joins in, in no time you both were dancing in sync with each other.

By the time the song ends, you’re slumped against him with your arms high around his neck as he peers down at you, holding you strongly.

“Should we compete with Jasper and Alice?” you ask quietly as your heart was trying to slow down from the activity and the twinkle in his eye shined as he protrudes a laugh from his throat.

He then leans in and you both are now hugging, pressed and glued to each other. You both are still but it felt like hands weren’t as he soon glided his hands from your back, to your shoulders. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

You didn’t know what feeling it was, but it was like his touches were making your skin scream in happiness, his hands now cup both side of your neck before ending with your face. You didn’t realize your eyes were closed until you slowly opened them.

You both lean, you rest your forehead against his as you peak up at him.

“Edward?” you ask very small.

“Yes?” he answered back, it was the right tone.

“Are we dating?”

“….Do you want to?”

The question caught you off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Um…” you stop and blink once, “It would be a bad idea.” you whisper.

He then used his hands to have your head gently stare up at him. Your statement didn’t agree with him.

“It wouldn’t.”

You turn your cheek, your lips are to the palm of his hand as you hold his arm.

“What’s so bad about it?….” he asks in a melancholic tone.

You close your eyes.

“Whatever school you choose, I don’t have to stay here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“You have one year left.” you say sadly. His quiet laugh makes you look at him before you remember the different school he had to go to. You still held back a laugh but he tilts his head a bit to get a better look at you.

“Do you like me?”

You look at him. He looks at you. You shyly look down with a soft smile and nod only a little.

His fingers graced your jaw, “I like you too.”

Your smile doesn’t fade when you ask, “What do you like about me?”

“You’re nice to be around. A breath of fresh air…Just not being around you makes me feel like something is missing.”

“Aw..” you say and look down from his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…Nothing’s wrong….You’re sweet.” you say.

His fingers caressed your cheek and you bring on a soft smile. “I like your gorgeous eyes. I like it when you look at me.”

Your stomach fluttered with butterflies as his fingers lifted your chin.

Over dinner, your parent talks to you.

“Fill out for more colleges?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

“I’ve been making sure my homework isn’t piling up too much. I’m going to try to research more this weekend.”

“You would have more time if you came straight home after school instead of the Cullen’s.”

“I study at the Cullen’s.” you say as you poked at your food.

“You study with Edward, you mean. I get you want to hang out and all but your mind isn’t in one place. There’s time for all of that..Like in the summer. Don’t let yourself be your own downfall.”

You chew slowly as you stared at your plate.

Your arms were around him as you cozily sat next to him on your bed. His fingers tinkered around with your keyboard.

You sigh softly and he asks what’s wrong.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper.

“Major what you want. Apply to the school that you want.”

Your heart thudded.

“Cute. How do I tell them that I really don’t want college. I want to do something with an intensive.” you say with a sad look.

He stops the tinkering and looks at you seriously, “When you graduate, you have the freedom to do as you please.”

His velvet whisper for you to wake up the next morning let you know it was time for school.

“Just five more minutes. I swear I will get up.” you whispered and turned, pressed into his chest.

His hands were still wrapped around you.

“It already passed.”

You sit up groggily with a hand covered yawn. You then lean against Edward with your eyes closed.

“Come on, sleeping beauty.”

You felt his thumb brush across your bottom lip and you flutter your eyes open.

It felt like you were walking on a cloud when you graced the halls with him. Your hand was tight in his hand.

You haven’t experienced daydreaming before, but that’s what you were doing in the classes without him.

As you walked to the cafeteria with Edward’s hand was wrapped around your shoulders, Rosalie appears with Emmett, walking right next to you two.

“Hey.” you greet.

“Hey, you’re sitting with us again today?” Emmett asks in glee. You watch as both Rosalie and Emmett waits for your answer.

“S-sure.” you say.

Your friends watched you in line as you walk along side Rosalie. You watch as they talked amongst each other while looking at you, some shrugged their shoulders as they watch you walk away.

“So, Edward told me his power and Alice told me hers. What’s yours.” you ask Jasper during lunch.

“Controlling one’s emotions. Feeling anxious? I can make you calm.”

“Hey, I’ve got a power too.” Emmett says feeling left out and Rosalie rolls her eyes.

“You do?” you ask and Rosalie says no while Emmett says yes.

“Babe, my strength is out of this world.” he says to her with his hands slightly up.

“It doesn’t make it your power.” she says with narrowed eyes. They banter back and forth while you and Jasper glanced at each other with an amused look.

Rosalie waved politely to your parent as you closed the front door.

“We’ll be in my room.” you say.

Your parent nods.

You pulled out what you were wearing for the dance out of your closet and Rosalie immediately makes a disapproving sound.

“What?” you ask.

“Not to a dance. I don’t like it.” she says as she wrinkled her nose.

“I’m the one who’s wearing this.”

She placed her hands on her hips, “That’s the sad part.”

You roll your eyes a bit.

“You had me and Alice that you could’ve came to. Why didn’t you just take us shopping with you?” she asks.

“Because…My friends asked and I went.”

“You should’ve waited for us. But, whatever you do…You’re not wearing this.”

Edward held you close in the night as you tell him all about Rosalie’s disapproval.

“That’s her.” he comments.

Your phone buzzed. You don’t move, not really caring who it is.

“You can get it.”

“It’s probably nobody.” you nonchalantly say and you didn’t notice him reach over to still get your phone until he slowly hands it to you.

His expression changed. It was bland. He sits up. You then sit up.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in confusion.

He said the name of the boy, the boy you met at the beach, he asked who it was.

You look down to your phone. A text.

“tried calling but i was just thinking about you so i just wanted to hear your cute voice. still waiting for you to play for me this weekend. i’ll hit you later”

“Did you two used to date?”

You shake your head no in silence.

“Are…Are you cheating on me?” he asks in a quiet whisper. The tone was dripping in sadness. You squeezed your eyes shut and whispered out a hard no.

“He’s human…”

“You’re you.” you grab his hand but he slides it out of your grasp. Your heart felt like it was punched in.

“Was he there…At the beach?”

“That’s…That’s where I met him. But, I don’t want to be with him.” you tell him.

He searched your face for the truth.

“Why did you give him your number?”

You look down with shame, “I’m sorry. It was in the spur of the moment…This was before me and you made things official…He invited me to his birthday party.”

“You should go.”

You look up at him. He was holding back anger but he was deeply hurt.

“I’m not going.” you say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Edward, it was nothing.”

“I trust your word….I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” he says as his hand slides your window up.

In the morning, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the clock. You had finished erasing the number out of your phone. Even going as far as blocking the contact.

You waited for a knock on your door from your parent to ask you if you were ready. You felt deeply sure that Edward wasn’t going to take you to school.

A knock came at your front door instead.

You open it and Edward stood there.

“We’re going to be late.” he says and takes your hand.

On the ride there, you quietly speak out, “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m cheating or that I don’t want you.”

“Don’t worry about it…I shouldn’t have left…I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“You had every right to feel what you felt….I made you feel that way and I’m sorry.”

A hand rests on your knee as he continued to drive.

In the library, you both huddled in as you scrolled on the computer.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

“I’m sure.” you say with shaky hands.

“It gets cold there….I will be able to go with you.”

You look to his hopeful expression and you nod slowly as you look at the screen.

You click submit just as the bell rings.

You’re pulled away by Rosalie once the lunchroom was in view. You playfully poke your lip out to Edward as he grins in amusement.

“You never showed me what you were wearing.” you say with a smile as she leans back in her chair at the lunch table.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll see it.” she says with a flick of her hair.

“Try again.” Edward whispered. You softly huff a bit after scratching your eyebrow before you tried the combination again. It was one part that you kept messing up.

He flipped the music sheets back to the beginning.

“Try with the notes.” he encouraged.

“I do better by ear.” you quietly say as you peered at them.

“Yeah but, you need to work on being as good with music notes. Let’s start from the beginning.”

You prep your hands as you slowly nod as you concentrated on the notes in front of you.

The notes were wonky on certain parts but you played it through.

The weekend rolled by and Edward took your hand in his and suddenly you were on his back. You clutched him tight as he fleeted through nature. It didn’t feel like he was running, it felt like he was indeed floating.

It felt like you both were genuinely standing on top of the world as you both overlooked everything.

“Will I ever get to see you hunt?”

He takes his eyes away from the view and looked to you.

“Too dangerous.”

You nod in silence as you continued to look about. His hand moved away from being around you, to shift through his pocket. He pulls something out and pops it’s open. Your eyes widened.

“Edward! We can’t!” you say in panic as he slides a ring on your finger.

He laughs at your reaction as he looked at the hand he was holding.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage Y/N, calm down.”

“Then….What is this?” you ask as it almost sparkled as bright as Edward’s skin.

“It’s a promise. A promise that I would always protect you and never hurt you. A promise to do everything in my power to make you happy.” he says as he takes his time, he never let your hand go.

“You always…Make me happy.” you say quietly as you thought that you were dreaming in this moment. Looking at the promise ring, it seemed to be made exclusively for you.

“Do you accept my promise?” he asks.

“Yes.” you say with a nod. You pull him into a hug, smiling into his shoulder as he held you back, your feet barely touched the ground.

The wind blew like kisses on both of your skin. The back of your head was pressed against the thick tree trunk. You both stood on the thick branch. The height was very high but he was in front of you, never letting you go.

You both blinked at each other silently. Faces were centimeters apart. You were hesitant, all you had to do was lean just a pinch forward, but you didn’t know if it was okay.

His cool fingers caressed your cheek as he cupped the other side of your face in his hand.

Slowly, he leaned in, you were anticipating the feeling. A soft press of his lips were placed on yours as you fluttered your eyes closed. You stood very still, savoring the lingering feeling.

He takes a look at you and you shyly look down. Your heart was racing so fast you thought it would come out of your chest.

Dropping you off in your room, he held you tight, “I will be quick.”

Your head rested against his chest as you hold onto him back.

“You don’t have to rush.” you say, not wanting him to cut his feeding short for the sake of coming back to you. Both of his hands cup your face before he leaned down to slowly kiss your cheek, your eyes immediately close. He pulls back from your lips and takes one last look at you. You blinked and he was gone. You slid the window down shut.

Alice stood next to you in the Cullen household with a grin as she showed off her rough draft of a sketch, she had plans on making it.

“This?” you point at it. She nods.

“It fits you way better than what you originally picked out.” Rosalie comments with her arms crossed.

“Alice, I refuse to let you make me an outfit.” you say.

“I want to and I will.”

“How could I repay you?”

“By wearing it.” she says excitedly. She looked at it before speaking again, “I already have the fabric ready.”

“Of course you do.” you tease.

You played the song you and Edward were working on, in full. No mistakes. Your reward was praises and kiss. The song was over, you started laughing.

“What is it?” Edward asks with his own smile.

“What did Emmett mean that day about the new rank?” you wondered.

“Oh..” he says as he chuckled a bit, “A rank of who’s musically inclined. It was me at number one, then Rosalie.”

“Oh.” you chuckled.

Weeks went by, the invitation letter came in the mail.

You would be in their intensive program for the summer. It lasted a couple of weeks but you would be practicing. A lot. You smiled as you showed Edward that night.

It was sunny the next day, Edward promising you to see you after school. You didn’t expect the other’s attendance.

You worked in science by yourself. It felt empty even though one person was missing.

“Nice to see you again. It took for the Cullens to not be at school for you to remember us.”

“Hello to you too.” you say as you sit down at your usual lunch table.

“Is that a ring?”

Eyes stare at it. You hide your hand in your lap.

“Yes.” you say.

“Jesus…Moving fast are we?”

“It’s just a promise ring.” you wave off.

You didn’t know how to explain it. Something felt missing as you tried to focus in class.

Your eyes were glued to the clock as you count down the seconds and minutes for the bell to ring. Time went painfully slow. The day went painfully slow. It then dawned on you.

You missed Edward.

You missed Edward to a great degree. You wondered if he missed you too. You wondered if he was counting down the same seconds and minutes that you were counting, to see each other again.

[takemeapart]

fwb to lovers. super short! wrote this quickly but it’s still (mostly) proofread.

modern au. ellie x reader

—

Ellie lays on your chest, her ear right above your heart. You’re both partially unclothed due to fooling around earlier but now you’re cuddled up, legs intertwined under your huge comforter. The steady beat of your heart calms her down some but she still feels anxious. She wants to ask a question that’s been eating at her since shortly after you two started this whole friends with benefits arrangement a month ago.

She knows she doesn’t really have a right to feel jealous. She knows. But it doesn’t stop the ugly feeling from creeping up at the thought of you seeing other people.

Before she can help it, it comes out. “Are you seeing anyone else?” She whispers into the quiet darkness of the room.

She can feel the hand you had raking through her hair stiffen, halting its movement.

“Um… Why do you ask?” You respond, your voice hesitant. Your fingers slowly return to running through her short hair again.

“Curious.” Ellie continues to stay where she’s at, too afraid to see what look you might have on your face. “So?”

She can hear your heartbeat pick up slightly.

“…I am.”

“Oh.” Ellie screws her eyes shut, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. She thought…. Maybe… She actually doesn’t know what she thought. It’s not like she asked to be exclusive but the answer hurts. She thinks she knows why the revelation hurts so bad but she shakes off the thought before she can think too deeply about it. She stays still for a moment, enjoying the warmth of your body before she abruptly sits up. “I have to go.”

She can hear you sit up, your voice laced in confusion as you watch her grab her clothes off the floor. “Wait, why? What’s wrong, El?”

Everything.

“Nothing.” Ellie responds, voice tight, as she hurriedly pulled on her pants.

“Wait.” You crawl near the edge of your bed and reach out for her wrist. Ellie stops at the feel of your warm hand on her, body tense.

You say her name softly and she keeps her eyes forward, refusing to look at you.

You tug her to you, her body in between your legs and your eyes searching her face while she continued to look at everything but you.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask gingerly.

“No.” Ellie says stiffly. “Why would I be mad?” She finally lets her gaze drop to you before looking away again. The way you were looking at her made her feel so vulnerable. She felt like you could probably see right through her. “It’s not like I have any right to be…” She mutters darkly, a frown forming on her face.

“Can you please look at me?” You whisper, tugging at her jeans to get her attention. “Please.” You say lowly.

Ellie looks down at you, her frown still present, waiting for you to say something.

Your cheeks were still a little flushed, your hair mussed up, and your lips still slightly swollen. Ellie felt satisfaction knowing that she was the one who made you look like that but the feeling was short lived when she remembered there was currently someone else out there potentially seeing you like that too.

You looked at her imploringly. “It was one date.”

“Okay.” Ellie resists the strong urge to squirm out of your grasp. She doesn’t really want to hear more.

“Ellie.” You stress, “I’m not sleeping with anyone else but you. And if I was, I would tell you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to stop seeing them?”

Yes. “You’re your own person, I can’t tell you what to do.” Ellie says gruffly, her eyes leaving yours.

She feels you grab her hand in yours. “Ellie.” She can hear the frown in your voice. “If it bothers you, just tell me.”

Ellie returns her gaze back to your face, searching for something. She bites her lips and briefly closes her eyes in defeat, her shoulders slumping forward. “I’m… sorry. I don’t know why I reacted like that.” Lie. She shakes her head. “I just… I don’t…. really like the thought of you with somebody else.”

“Why?” You press, a certain tone to your voice.

“I just said I don’t know.” She says tightly, getting slightly irritated. Did you want her to make a fool out of herself? Want her to confess just so you could possibly reject her? No thanks.

“Okay.” You say delicately, taking a deep breath. “…Can I confess something?” You ask, your hands toying with her fingers as you gaze up at her.

Ellie gives you a wary look. “…What?”

“I don’t really like the thought of you with somebody else either.”

Ellie feels her heart skip a beat. Although she feels a bit hypocritical, she still asks: “Why?”

“Because I like you.” You said simply.

“Oh.” Ellie blinks. She feels her face flush once your words actually sink in. Her heart feels like it’s going to fall out of her ass. You liked her. You actually liked her. How was it so easy for you to say it? How were you so brave?

You tug her closer, your arms wrapping around her as you press your face into her torso. “So don’t leave.” You mumble into the cotton of her shirt. “Or I’ll be really sad.”

Ellie lets a small smile spread on her lips as she looks down at you. She’s hesistant to fall back into the easy intimacy you two shared but still reaches a hand out to smooth over your hair. “Okay.”

“You didn’t say it back.” You mumble into her chest, tightening your arms around her waist.

Ellie takes a deep breath. If you could be brave, she could be brave too. “I like you too... I…I want to be exclusive.” She whispers nervously.

You pull back, looking up at her. “Okay.”

Wow, that wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. So she presses on, feeling more comfortable and confident in expressing her desires.

“And… I want to take you on a date.”

You smile and Ellie melts. “Okay.”

“And… I want you to be my girlfriend.” Ellie adds, her hand cupping your cheek.

You laugh, placing your hand over hers. “Woah, you’re full of demands today.”

Ellie pouts at you. “Is that a no?” Maybe she pushed her luck with that last request.

You pull her down for a short kiss before pulling away slightly. “Ask me again after our date.” You whisper against her lips.

Ellie bites her lips and nods. At least it’s not a no.

You pull away from her and crawl back under your sheets, patting the spot beside you. “Now take your pants off and get back in here.”

Ellie laughs and kicks off her pants, “Now look who’s making demands.”

“Oh, shut up. I really can’t believe you were going to just run away like that instead of talking to me.”

Ellie lets out an embarrassed groan, crawling in and cuddling into your side. “I was scared. I didn’t think you liked me like that.” She mumbles into your skin.

“Well, I do.”

You two lay in comfortable silence for a moment.

“…I’m happy.” Ellie whispers, her hand sliding under your shirt to clutch at your side.

You kiss her forehead. “I’m happy too.”