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luvvixu · 11 months ago

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mind over matter pt. 2

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: couldn't still believe that this ff blew up like tysm for all of your support! and thank you so much for waiting~ and like always, this is not proofread lol

previous / masterlist / next

“if i'm not mistaken, the mission would take at least three to four business days.” yaga passes satoru a sheet of paper where it contains all of the information he needed to know and what kind of things he should focus on investigating.

satoru looked at his former teacher in uncertainty despite the blindfold in his eyes. he's very hesitant to take the mission not because he cannot beat this curse, but because he still needs to apologize to you as soon as possible.

“yaga, c—can i not…” satoru was about to continue when he suddenly trailed off.

“not what?” yaga raises his eyebrow.

but to think that it's all his fault, he must have really hurted you this time, and you wouldn't probably hear him out that easily. that is why satoru thinks that it is best to just give you some space as of now, and when he comes back from his mission, that is the time when he would bother you with his presence.

“it's nothing. i’ll be taking my leave now.”

“very well—” before yaga could even finish his sentence, satoru already vanished in thin air.

the duo, yuuji and megumi, was on their way to visit you just like what they had promised to themselves a while ago.

it was around eight o'clock in the evening and here they are, kind of tiptoeing through the hallway where your room is located.

“i think it's better to let her know our presence first.” megumi said quietly to the pink haired male while holding out a basket with foods that are suitable for digestion of a pregnant lady.

“then it wouldn't be a surprise if we told her.” yuuji then answered. he was carrying two board games on his left arm and a uno card on his right hand. you actually once told them that you were exceptionally good at these kinds of games, so yuuji wanted to test that out.

suddenly, the two boys stopped in front of a door where they immediately froze at the smell of something oddly familiar. “me…megumi, is this y/n sensei’s room?” yuuji slowly mumbles out a word, his eyes going wide.

however, megumi didn't answer him. instead, he immediately tries to open the door without any hesitation just to know that it is locked.

panic slashed across their faces as the smell of blood coming out of your room becomes the leading factor of their franticness behavior.

“y/n sensei! are you there?!” yuuji keeps on calling out to you while megumi does the door breaking.

“it's locked! i can’t break the door!” curse these doors in jujutsu high. megumi could not help but to mumble profanities when he remembered that the doors in jujutsu high are purposely made this strong so any invading curses could not sneak in especially during sleeping hours where most of the sorcerers are vulnerable.

“itadori! call yaga sensei and shoko-san, quick!” megumi screamed at the other boy, whom he instantly obliged.

a weave of panic surge on their bodies because you are involved in this situation. not to mention, you are pregnant on top of that and that puts the situation into a more nerve-wracking experience.

sweat drips on megumi’s forehead as he still tries to break the door. kicks and punches were made but still the door wouldn't flinch his attacks. the idea of using his curse technique came into his mind but he's afraid that it would worsen the situation.

sooner and faster, yuuji came back with the two elders running faster than before. both also have a panic flash on their faces as yaga begins to break the door with his insane force. and after countless tries, he successfully invades the door.

everybody froze at the sight, because there they saw you, lying unconsciously in a pool of your blood that trickled down on your lower body.

“shit! what happened?!” shoko was the first to react and immediately came closer to you to check your pulse, it was there but weak. then shoko proceeds to check your baby's heartbeat, and to her disappointment, there was none that she could detect.

“yaga sensei, please help me get y/n to my clinic. now!” without a further do, yaga carefully lifted up your body and then proceeded to follow the frantic shoko to her said clinic.

on the other hand, yuuji and megumi watch the two elders quickly move away from the scene and that leaves the two. they had been quiet all the time, probably still traumatized because they just saw one of their teachers (plus with an unborn child) on the literal verge of dying.

megumi's eyes trailed on the pool of blood that had been sitting on your floor. he could tell that you had been unconscious for like way past an hour now due to some parts of the blood being fresh while some parts were dried.

“what the hell just happened…?” yuuji was still flabbergasted. he would never expect that this would happen when he just visualizes this night as a fun one because he got everything ready for a surprise mini party to cheer you up.

“i don't know.” megumi solemnly answered.

“...do you think y/n sensei and her baby would be alright?” yuuji added, totally worried about your situation.

for the first time in his life, megumi didn't think he that would utter the same word but with a different tone, different meaning, and in a different situation.

“i…i don't know.”

satoru gojo was busy walking through the busy street of roppongi despite the sky being nighttime. the whole atmosphere was still so lively from bright signage up to crowded night market stalls. this makes a perfect night for a perfect leisure.

but satoru isn't here to do that. he was supposed to do a job and finish it as soon as possible so he could get back to you and finally do the right thing.

he was about to enter an abandoned building when he received a phone call. without looking at the caller, he answered.

“what?”

“where are you?” it was his corporate friend, nanami.

a teasing smile made it into his demeanor. “oh wow! here is my underclassmen calling me first—!”

“i am asking you, where are you?” nanami was clearly not in the mood for his bullshit. his tone was beyond serious and it made satoru wonder if something happened.

“i'm in roppongi. somewhere behind a luxurious night bar.” gojo said.

the moment he said his address, the phone suddenly dropped. confused, the six eyes looked at his phone then just shrugged it off. for the second time, he was about to enter the said building when someone appeared from behind.

“you should go back.” there he saw nanami, breathless as he tried to catch his breath. looks like he ran his way towards his location.

“yo, my man! what are you doing he—”

“go back to the jujutsu high. i’ll be taking your mission here.” nanami explained like he was .

did something happen? was on satoru's mind.

“why?” satoru dropped all of his mischievousness as it was replaced by his unhidden worry—you were literally there at the jujutsu high.

there was a pause on nanami, he seemed very hesitant to say it and satoru was growing impatient.

“just say it nanami—”

“yaga asked me to take your mission on your behalf after something happened. it's about your wife. she was found unconscious in her room.”

never ever in his life he could feel the quickest adrenaline rush in his body as nanami didn't even manage to utter the last syllables of his sentence when satoru already uses his technique and teleports himself towards your room back in jujutsu high.

and there, he was welcomed by the janitors of the said school, mopping the dried liquid on the floor. the smell was so familiar that it made his body tremble in a span of a second.

“w-what the fuck happened here?” he asked the janitor who looked at him in pity as he continued to solemnly wipe the floor.

“miss y/n was found unconscious and there was blood…in her lower area.”

blood, y/n, unconscious, my wife, danger, the baby…my baby!

that was the only thing that came into his mind as he went out of the hallway and ran somewhere he wasn't aware of. his mind raced with negative thoughts.

and since his life is not always about sugarcoating—he thought that probably you just had a miscarriage, got attacked by some curses, or worse, you're dead. his wife, you, were hurt when he was away and not even there to at least protect you.

unbeknownst, to the man, tears were threatening to slip down his six eyes, making his blindfold become wet as it was being absorbed by his tears constantly. satoru could feel that his body was filled with self-loathing, guilt, and regret all over his system.

“satoru.” a voice called him from behind. satoru does not need to turn around to know who it was. it was yaga.

“come to my office.” without waiting for him, yaga already left with satoru trailing behind him. taking off his blindfold, satoru wiped the tears that were about to fall.

when they arrived at yaga’s office, he saw his two students, yuuji and megumi, sitting quietly by the couch. they were both acting quietly odd, like they knew what was going on too.

“where's y/n?” satoru asked.

“do you want to know what happened first?” yaga avoided his question for now. instead, he goes into the other aspect that he's been wondering too. satoru fell quiet, so yaga took it as a yes.

the principal looked at the two students who were already looking at him. sighing deeply, yaga then proceeds to start explaining.

“y/n was found unconscious by these two. it has been over an hour since she's been in that situation judging by the dryness of her blood. right now, we still had no idea about her state since shoko's the one who's been handling the situation. and it's been a while too since we have seen her.”

“and the baby…i'm sorry, gojo. but we have no idea either.” yaga sighed heavily. satoru was all silent, he couldn't bring himself to utter any word. he was too caught up about the situation that he had so many things to say to the point that he couldn't figure out where to start.

“i know it's not my business to interfere but…did something happen that leads to this?” the principal asked the strongest. the next moment was something that everyone expected—they did not receive any response from the man.

suddenly, the door burst open, revealing the tired doctor. her eyes landed on your husband who's still frozen about your condition. on the other hand, satoru was too busy drowning himself with his thoughts to notice shoko in the room.

“itadori, megumi…go back to your dorm for now. it's getting late and i’ll just update you two tomorrow.” shoko scurry the two younger boys and they obliged.

as the door in yaga's office closed, the three grown-ups fell into a silent atmosphere, only the sound of the air ventilation could be heard inside.

“h-how’s y/n and the child?” yaga was the first one to speak among the three. but shoko's attention was drawn to gojo only and gojo was still unable to move.

“her situation was so severe that we needed to put her into a hospital as soon as possible.” shoko said quietly and directed to gojo only. her eyes were trailed to him, and only him. she wants him to taste the bitter medicine of his aftermath and she is going to make sure he's taking it.

call her brutal and cruel, but in your realm of marriage where her role is only being a worried close friend, she would choose you over everything. that's how much she cares for you. shoko could see what kind of person you are, and she believes that you deserve better than what you are right now.

sure, gojo was right when he said that she'd only known you for a short period of time. but that is enough for her to determine that she is going to stick by your side whatever may happen. because she knows how a gojo satoru works, she knows what kind of person he could be.

if gojo can manage to leave shoko out in his life, then he could do it to y/n too.

“she was bleeding too much, i'm afraid it has to do with the child. so if we don't act fast, we might have to choose who to save—are we going to save y/n and lose the baby? are we going to save the baby and lose y/n? or…what if we lose them both—”

*boogsh!*

a sudden explosion was seen. the four walls inside yaga’s office have officially become three when satoru couldn't handle his emotions that he let his cursed energy slip and create a hole into one of yaga’s walls. the impact was so strong that it literally shook the whole jujutsu high.

and surprisingly, none of the three inside the scene was scratched, just emotionally taken aback. the once gojo satoru who couldn't even utter a word earlier, was now looking at shoko with a mixture of menace, trouble, anger, grief, and…extreme sadness.

shoko ties his stare, looking equivalently. “did you hear what i said, gojo? your wife and your baby are currently facing the grim reaper. do you understand that?” she said calmly but there is a hit or hardness into her tone.

“shut up! fucking shut up!” another surge of curse energy flows in different directions, making yaga and shoko feel goosebumps on how strong it is.

“satoru!” yaga yelled in panic.

“where is she? where the fuck is she?! show me where she is!” satoru screamed at the doctor. shoko, whose face is now back to emotionless, decides to subside her annoyance to the man as she knows you are the top priority right now.

“i will let you see her. but once you see her, you have to teleport us into the hospital immediately if you still want to see her open her eyes.” shoko said seriously. thankfully, satoru managed to calm himself alone and just stared at shoko, waiting for her to continue.

“y/n was experiencing placenta abruption. it's a very serious complication in her case because the placenta in the inner wall of her uterus is completely detached. it greatly affects the baby’s supply of oxygen and nutrients and the situation causes her to bleed heavily.”

“i immediately minimize the bleeding but i cannot guarantee the two's safety, especially the baby, since it is not worth the risk to imply cursed energy to an unborn child—” before shoko could even finished explaining, satoru already stormed out of the room and just proceeds to the room where his guts tell you where. he was being followed by shoko who was screaming at him.

opening one of the doors, there he saw you all pale. he could feel your cursed energy barely beating, and that scared the shit out of him because that indicates your weakness.

“o-oh god…” satoru couldn't help but to feel his breathing pattern becoming irregular as a single tear followed by another drop from his gorgeous powerful blue eyes.

this can't be happening. you were just fine a while ago!

“y/n, oh my g-god! my wife…” gojo satoru, known by his title as the strongest sorcerer in his generation, was seen crying over his dying wife and dying unborn child. his tall figure was trembling in tangled emotions that he couldn't even determine the two ends.

“sorry to ruin your moment, but if you want to save your family, it's better for us to keep moving now.” shoko followed the suit, still savage as ever.

gojo does what she said and teleports the three of you into the bestest hospital that he knows. ignoring the toll on his cursed energy as it took more, more than the usual usage, satoru believes that your well-being should be his priority rather than his.

when they arrived, shoko immediately started to bump the people out of the way and started to call for help. “someone! get us to an emergency!” she screamed.

meanwhile, satoru keeps your body close to him. hugging your frame ever so delicately, scared that you might break or disappear.

a man like satoru gojo, whom to some called him a man-god, find himself crying out to every gods and deities out there to help you, to help him get this through. he prays and prays to keep you safe and how he's sorry for all of the things he would do.

for sure, he knew this sudden care for you is not born out of pity or regret, it is a late realization on how much he couldn't bear to see you like this. because deep inside him, satoru couldn't deny the warm feeling of having someone that was waiting for him to come home, provide him service, and even give him a bundle of joy.

the words he swore to himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is completely capable of being by himself was getting eaten by his current self. served on a silver platter, satoru didn't mind eating his own words.

a stretcher was bought on sight and shoko instructed him to put your body there and watch the series of doctors rush your body into the emergency room. satoru watches the light above the door where you were in turns red, signaling that it requires immediate medical attention.

placing his traumatized body on one of the cold walls of the hospital, sliding his man shoulders and crumbling himself into small pieces to make himself as small as possible. never he would have thought that the night would end with him continuing to pray for your safety.

satoru didn't realize that he dozed off within the walls of a random corner of a hospital where he brought you in. he only realized his current situation when he could feel someone kicking his lower body constantly.

opening his tired eyes, he saw shoko eyeing him while still continuing to nudge him. “good, you're awake.” she said.

it feels like a surge of energy flows to his body and it immediately makes him rise up faster than he could. that was also when he started to feel all of the aches in his body just from sleeping in that kind of position.

“fuck, my whole body aches.” he mumbles to himself. satoru was about to stretch himself when he saw the time on the wall.

5:05 AM

and then his eyes landed on the door.

there was no red light anymore.

“y/n. shoko, where's y/n?!” anxiousness washed all over his body. he didn't know what to expect on what answers he's about to receive regarding his family condition.

meanwhile, shoko thinks that gojo looked like a lost puppy on how his eyes literally beg for a positive answer. despite his six foot frame, he looks like a poor and desperate child.

“the operation ended an hour ago. y/n was now stable and goy transferred into one of the private rooms. while the baby…” she pauses.

“w-what? what happened to my baby?” shoko almost grimaces the way satoru addresses the unborn child, wondering where the hell did he get the guts to say that.

the doctor was this close to brutally and savagely roast this man until he flew in shame—that’s how mad, angry, and upset shoko from what satoru did to you. but today is not the suitable day for that, she may be cruel but she had limits. so, shoko forcefully swallowed the harsh words and decided to just put it aside.

“the baby was delivered early through cesarean, it's the only way to save y/n and the child. the baby is currently in a neonatal intensive care unit where the bestest doctors monitor the child until it reaches mature development.”

so basically, you give birth to his child. satoru couldn't explain what he's feeling right now. he's happy for the baby, and yet at the same time, he feels really undeserving, but he still wants to be part of the child's life—this is too complicated for him.

and besides, this is not the right time to contemplate. because as a husband and father, he needed to stay with his family to provide them love, support, and to patch that once had been wounded. and he's going to start with…

“can i go and see y/n?” deep inside him, satoru felt ridiculous for asking that question since he is the literal husband! or was he? after everything he had done to her for five years?

shoko then tiredly pointed at the room at the end of the hallway and satoru, with the help of his long legs, never ran faster than his whole life.

gently opening the door in your room, satoru was greeted by your peaceful and sleeping form with all of the tubes connected on the back of your hand. closing the door behind him, satoru finally let go of the tears he's been holding the whole time, ranging from the confrontation with you until to to this situation.

sitting on the chair beside your bed, satoru weeps as he holds your arm. at this moment, the strongest no longer exists, it was just gojo satoru who couldn't stop himself from muttering an apology to his wife that he did so wrong.

they say, you would only realize the importance of something when it's now late. satoru would absolutely agree to that statement and he could even provide proofs and evidence. at first, he's being a total dick and douchebag to his wife who clearly doesn't even do anything wrong to him. then his own wife endured all of his actions for the whole five years and still remained as if their relationship could be only determined on a sheet of paper.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.” satoru may not know what would happen the moment you would open your eyes. would you send him away? or would you let him stay despite all of the pain and trauma he caused you? for now, he can never know.

but one thing he's going to let you know, he's going to change for you and for his baby. he's done doing things for himself, and now, he should focus on you.

and he's going to start with cutting all of his ties to his mistress.

[part 3 is now posted! for those who wanted to be tagged, just say it on the comments — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @username23345 @lvstru @neteyxms

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fafodill · 1 month ago

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On Snape depriving himself sexually...

SO, I got hyperfocused and I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I needed only one person to tell me they were interested so thank you @severus-snaps haha. And thank you @wisteria-lodge for encouraging me !

This is a continuation of my previous post about Snape's relation with intimacy. I'm always a sucker for the pent up and deprived trope and I feel like Snape could fit the profile perfectly. Of course this is complete HC, as we literally have zero information about him having any personal life whatsoever so... pure speculation and meta discussion. Let's have fun, buckle up, here is why I think he'd make a great candidate for it :

Early teens: Many of us tend to interpret Snape as sexually inexperienced. This of course comes partly from his unpopularity in school, a time where teenagers start experimenting a bit. It's hard to imagine the little scrawny greasy potion nerd getting a lot of action. Though I'm open to thinking something might have happened here and there. I mean, girls also like smart and scrawny guys, I would love to read a fic where a Ravenclaw or Slytherin has a crush on him and he's utterly clueless because he's too engrossed in his books and when he realizes he's so flustered and clumsy about it. And they snog in the library and he's so afraid of getting caught by Mrs Pince. But being consistently bullied would have hurt his reputation, thus making people avoid being associated with him to not become targets as well. Also, his bullies were good-looking guys and it may have contributed to highlighting his bad looks in the public eye way more than if he had been left alone. And just with the nickname alone, but you won't tell me James and Sirius never insulted his nose, his hair, his complexion or his thin frame.

So one of the first core belief that might have emerged and latched itself to his sexuality would have been: I'm ugly/repelling.

But we don't have any proof in canon that he wasn't interested in romantic/sexual interactions back then. For all we know, he was a socially awkward teenager going through puberty. Even if he was certainly anxious and angry due to the bullying, he was still going through the same hormone cocktail as everyone.

HC : I've been wondering how the students find places to masturbate in peace and of course we don't exactly know why he invented the Muffliato charm but give me a Snape who was too whimpery to be completely silent and used it for this.

Post SWM though, I think it's safe to assume the trauma scared him unconsciously regarding the subject. Being perceived before wasn't easy, as he was aware he wasn't exactly good-looking and his self-esteem was impacted for sure, but after... oh boy. I can imagine him so traumatized that the mere idea of undressing in the vicinity of people was making his blood freeze. This may have led to hygiene issues as well, or only feeling safe to shower in the dead of night or at times where the dormitories where utterly empty. The shame linked to having his body and underwear exposed could have definitely stunned his sexual awakening as it happened at such a crucial age. How can you safely explore your own sexuality if every time you think about how ugly you are and that so many people saw your body and laughed at it ? (and the adults doing nothing to punish the people who did that hammered the beliefs that he was indeed laughable)

So second core belief added: I'm ridicule.

Also the SWM incident might have triggered his need to cover/shield his body from head to toe at all time and nobody can convince me otherwise.

At the very least I imagine masturbating would then be heavily linked to the anger and shame of that moment. The memory would either unlock or at least impact it unconsciously in some way, marking the act with a profound bitterness or stopping it altogether. The result: every time his body would ask for attention, he'd be overcome with very intense traumatic feelings and have no idea how to deal with them; so he'd start recoiling instinctively from any sexual thought. Also, since undressing/changing clothes became a triggering act, being even partially nude to touch himself would also stress him immensely.

So instead of indulging, he'd start developing coping mechanisms like focusing on anything else that brought him a sense of pleasure to trick his brain : potions, the dark arts, creating spells etc.

And of course, we can assume that even if someone was trying to approach him at that point, he'd recoil like a wounded animal, expecting mockery and reacting very aggressively.

After Hogwarts: We don't know what might have happened during his 3-4 years after school. We have a lot of creative space, though we know he got a Potion Mastery (??) so he must have studied somewhere and he was active within the DE circles. As @maxdibert pointed in a few posts - which I think is an astute point - the Dark Lord was aware of the affection/attraction Severus had felt towards Lily and, to prove his disinterest, he might have engaged with a few pureblood women. We could speculate on different situations here (and if anyone's interested we could explore this), but as I'm going for deprived!Snape, I'd say it wasn't helpful. At this point he's a young adult, torn between his inexperience and his limboing self-esteem. On top of that he's a deeply proud individual, obsessed with controlling the way he's being perceived. He's already occlumenting his emotions to remain safe, and well, engaging sexually does require some sort of vulnerability he isn't capable of at that point.

Maybe he said some harsh things to his partners when confronted with his clumsiness (even if they were kind), maybe he got bit back (and deserved it). He'd use these instances as confirmation bias to convince himself intimacy wasn't something emotionally safe, interesting nor even remotely pleasant enough.

Then there's Lily's death, and I personally don't see her as having a lot of influence on his sexuality directly (except maybe for the fact that when he had feelings for her, he might have felt she was 'too pretty for him', which fed the first core belief), but it did fuel a ton the last core belief which is : I'm undeserving (because I'm a bad person).

The undeserving part existed prior to her death. It stemmed from his upbringing (undeserving of care), of his social status (undeserving of material comfort), his blood status (undeserving of opportunities), his social awkwardness (undeserving of friendship), his special interest in the dark arts (undeserving of respect).

Lily's death crystallized such deep guilt inside of him that he devoted his life after that to atoning. I'm a firm believer that there's a clear before and after regarding the way he treated his body. Not that things were drastically different, but it made it worse. He ate less, slept less and touched himself even less. Probable not at all for a good few months, maybe even up to a year or so as he was extremely stressed from his new job, depressed and overcomed with grief. Honestly, at that point in his life he was barely functioning.

Then we have his adult life at Hogwarts: at that point in his life he's working and living where his worst trauma occurred. Not great for healing. During those years, he mastered the art of shutting down with occlumency everything he couldn't deal with, including his body's basic needs. He had excuses for everything. Sleeping? How could he rest when he had so much work to do dealing with the little shitheads and that infuriating Headmaster? Eating? Pfft, he had been fine all his childhood, so now he'd eat what he needed to function, but craving something and getting it wasn't something he'd allow himself. Masturbating? Tricky part, because he almost never thought about it anymore. He would not even treat it as a basic need. Like, sleep and food were still required to function, even in limited amount or he would pass out, but he could function without sex. Bottom line is, deep down he would feel undeserving of any sort of pleasure.

Rewarding his body, taking care of it wasn't allowed. It was part of his self-inflicted punishment.

But it would be still natural for his body to seek sexual release from time to time. He'd have hard-ons sometimes in the morning and ignore it until it went away, maybe take a cold shower or - why not - even take a potion he'd have invented to calm it down (or worse, to make it hurt so it would go down, if you want to go the masochistic way). The way I see it, every time he'd have an unwanted sensual/sexual thought (oh, this person at the Three Broomsticks has disarmingly pretty lips, this other person's got very elegant hands, or this one's hips look live they're meant to be grabbed), he'd shut it down immediately.

Fantasizing wouldn't be pleasant either. Each time, it would trigger the self-depreciating thoughts. Who are you fooling ? This person would never touch you, never look at you. And if they did, you wouldn't deserve it and would fuck it up anyway. Faceless people then, but it would still always be tainted with the ghost of years of bitterness, loneliness and unmet needs. So it'd be easier to pretend he doesn't have them or doesn't care. Of course this would do nothing to soothe his sour mood (and here talking from experience: I've been sexually frustrated quite a lot in my twenties, and I can definitely say that the mental relief you feel alongside the physical release when you get it is quite something. Like, I'd be a changed person, just because chemically my brain would finally be swimming again in endorphins. So yeah, at that point in his life I believe he's in dire need of a good shag and is partly always on edge because of this).

And when he would indulge in masturbation, it'd be because he's too tired to fight it or just because he knows that if he does, his body would leave him alone for a while. It would be quick, mechanical, in the dark, the mess cleaned up immediately and then forgotten about. The less thinking involved, the better so it wouldn't trigger the core beliefs. Maybe it'd happen when being tipsy after a night out with the other professors, or just when he was too stressed or exhausted at the end of terms and it was his body's way of asking for a break and a distraction.

I think he'd be also more prone to having his sexual needs resurface when he's not at Hogwarts and the mental toll of being there isn't weighing on him (maybe during summer or maybe even if he goes into the Forbidden Forest to gather potion ingredients, or a trip to Diagon Alley). He would find it really annoying, not realizing how the two are linked.

Then how would he be dealing with the constant tension and redirecting the release ? (fun stuff)

I think he could get a sick pleasure from being able to not indulge for long periods of time, thriving on his sense of control. He'd maybe even feel shame when he finally does, chastising himself for being weak.

When too tired to notice, late at night in his office, his body would hijack control a little bit and he'd start rubbing himself unconsciously with one hand while correcting essays and immediately stop upon realizing.

He'd be a GREAT candidate for edging. Like telling himself that if there's no release it doesn't count and he could get some pleasure whilst still shaming and punishing himself. Maybe sometimes even without touching himself directly, just letting the fabric rub on him, while shifting his hips just a bit. A good compromise he wouldn't want to analyze too closely.

Being pent up all the time makes one irritable, so some of that tension is fueling his already short-tempered nature and getting out by lashing out at idiots. It would also be a way to... spill out but with words (classy I know).

I don't see him doing any sport to get endorphins and relieve tension (though he does prowl the castle at night, that counts as walking haha).

The only part of his body I could see him pay attention to would be his hands as he uses them for potion work. He could be proud of their dexterity and I can imagine him taking care of them. Like, once of twice a week he'd put a cream or an ointment (self-made ofc) and massage his fingers and palms. Nothing sexual about it but it would be the closest he has to a gentle self-touch.

But mostly, his sole source of pleasure would still come from focusing on his interests. Working all night on improving a new potion, loosing himself in the method and appreciating his own skills, or reading about and experimenting with the Dark Arts (I don't think he ever stopped seeking knowledge, which is why he was able to save Dumbledore's ass from Marvolo's ring). These two things are his private garden, something that's inherently his despite everything, and it would be his way of pleasuring himself in an acceptable way: intellectually.

But what about the people around him or potential partners ?

He'd hate any sexual jokes or comments about him or in general. Sexually open people would make him angry (jealous). It'd irk him. As it's such a loaded and repressed subject for him he'd see them as flaunting their unspoken good experiences. He'd try to unconsciously shame them into silence by telling them they're being inappropriate. At the end of the day, it's just his way of protecting himself because he wouldn't know how to navigate the conversation, and his pride wouldn't let him feel ridiculed again.

He would also hate being looked at, even clothed. People judging his body would definitely trigger the awful memory from SWM. He would struggle immensely to accept the possibility of being looked at in an appraising way. If someone was sincere and stubborn enough to convince him they're not lying, he'd be extremely confused and wary.

And if he was to be attracted to that person as well, he'd have to deal with an almost second puberty on top of his core beliefs. He'd be so clumsy, so out of touch with his body and very frustrated with all the unwanted sensations he's not used to deal with. And that's such an interesting and fascinating subject aaaah.

At the end of the day, deep down he doesn't believes he deserves pleasure or comfort in his life so a partner would have to be patient with him. There's a lot of strategies they could try and I'd be delighted to explore them but I'm gonna stop here because this essay is so long already haha. SO, in conclusion:

He needs a good shag.

Thank you for reading.

I'd love to discuss how it would go with different characters trying to approach him, or I could talk about the classic trope of losing control because of his short temper but with him deprived, so many possibilties aaah, I love it when he's angry AND horny AND clumsy-

Also, my current favorite oneshot of deprived!Snape here : Cursed into Temptation by @marvel-snape-writes (very smutty, amazing, I'm on my knees)

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latenightdaydreams · 11 months ago

Note

I'm thinking how Konig would react when his wife call him with full him in an argument (about culture bc I'm Asian ehe), like it's a sign of seriousness.

It's the same in my culture! I love thinking about giant König just freezing knowing he went too far😶

Laundry Day (fem)

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, argument, fluff

König has recently retired so that means that he is home constantly now. It means that you both get to spend a lot of time together and you love it, but sometimes he talks to you as Colonel König instead of just your Kö. Today was one of those days.

König comes into the laundry room wearing a towel around his waist as he has just gotten out of the shower. He is holding black workout shorts in his hand with an annoyed look on his face.

“Y/n, you didn’t wash my gym clothes?”

“No, today I only washed bed sheets and towels so far, I’ll get to them.”

“Nien, I told you to wash them last night.” He snaps back quickly.

At this point König is becoming very demanding and his voice has become stern, as if you’re his subordinate. You continue to fold towels and place them into the laundry basket. Trying to remain calm to not make König explode further. After a lifetime in the military, he has remaining traumas and it causes him to act out. You try to not take it so personally, but it’s hard.

“I know, but I wasn’t aware you needed them for today.”

“Of course I would, I work out every day!” He raises his voice slightly.

You take a deep breath, placing the towel down and turning to him. “Yes, but I wasn’t aware that you had no more clean-”

“Why would I ask you if I had clean clothes!” He cuts you off and yells this time.

You tighten your jaw and glare at him. You might be smaller than him, but you aren’t going to just let him walk all over you.

“Maybe next time you should inform me of your schedule and I-”

“Ich bin dein Ehemann! You do what I say, when I ask!” König’s pale face turns bright red as he yells at you, holding up his shorts in a bit of blind rage directed at you.

You’ve had enough, he knows better than to speak to you this way. You toss the basket of clean towels on the floor and turn towards him. The look in your eyes puts fear in the giant man’s heart.

“Alexander Jan König! You DO NOT speak to me that way!” Your voice is loud and stern.

König looks at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He is stunned, he isn’t used to people speaking to him like that; especially not his sweet wife. He doesn’t say anything. His face softens and his shoulders drop. His pale blue eyes glued to you, he’s still too scared to move or say anything.

“Do you understand?!”

“Ja-y-yes.” He stumbles over his words as he stands up straight.

“Good!” you walk past him out of the laundry room and he just watches you go before looking back down at the towels on the floor. He listens to you stomp away and slam the bedroom door. He is terrified, but also slightly aroused.

He quickly bends down and begins to clean up the towels on the floor. He begins to start the washer to clean them again for you, he also plans on drying and folding. He goes back to the bathroom and grabs his own gym clothes and gets them ready to be washed next.

Going into the kitchen, he saw dishes in the sink and began to wash them for you. He looks at the clock once he is done and only twenty minutes have passed, but he is still in his towel from the shower so he tries to go up into the bedroom to see if you’re okay.

As you sit on the bed with your arms crossed, still angry, you hear a light knock at the bedroom door.

“Liebling?” König’s voice is gentle as if he’s talking to a child.

“What?”

König opens the door slightly and pokes his head in. His eyes meet yours and he smiles at you timidly.

“Hallo mein Herz, can I come in?”

“Sure.”

König walks in like a dog with his tail between his legs. Your eyes travel over his attractive body as he makes his way to the bed and sits at the edge.

“I-I’m sorry…” the words struggle to leave his lips. Not because he doesn’t feel bad, but because his ego is so fucking big. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

You continue to just sit there and look at him as his head is dropped and his gaze is to the floor, “And what else?”

He turns his head to the side to look at you but quickly looks back away when he sees how mad you still are.

“And I’ll never do it again.”

“And?”

“I’ll take you out tonight for dinner, I can buy you whatever you want.”

You just look at him, up and down. A small smile comes up across your lips. You love to see this behemoth war criminal melt at your feet like this.

“Good. I also want a massage.”

“Absolutely.” König nods while he looks at you. “I’m very sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

König looks at you with a genuine sympathetic look in his eyes. You're the one person in this world that understands him, he never meant to hurt or lash out at you.

“Thank you for apologizing Kö.”

He reaches his hand out for yours with a small smile on his lips. You reach out and intertwin your fingers with his. König can feel himself begin to relax as he squeezes your hand.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig angst #konig x female reader #konig fluff #könig fluff #fluff #cod konig #konig x you #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 2 years ago

Text

bioluminescence | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season one — you thought all bellamy blake wanted was sex and other women, but when you sneak outside of the camp walls at night, bioluminescent plants are not the only shocking discovery you make, and not everyone is happy about it.

warnings: fluff, swearing, jealousy, mention of sexual themes, (L/N) use, roma

pairing: bellamy blake x reader

word count: 4.1k

Sleep was a rare luxury after you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to Earth, especially since you were all crowded in a small camp surrounding the drop ship. Teenage hormones, anger, violence, and trauma were not a great combination for peace. So, it was either crying, fistfights, or the incessant moans of couples who couldn't keep it in their pants for more than five minutes that usually kept you awake at night.

You were certain it was Bellamy Blake and his two model-looking female companions who were often to blame for that last subject. Although to everyone in the camp, it was very obvious that their relationship was solely physical, neither Roma nor Bree seemed to appreciate when other women talked, interacted with, or even sat near him. Clarke was a heavy target because of her co-leadership with Bellamy. And so were you.

You were within the inner circle, the informal 'Earth council'. You were also handy with a rifle and knowledgeable in tracking, so it wasn't exactly surprising whenever Bellamy took you with him on various missions and hunts. Sometimes though, he would bring you with him even if the task wasn't within your skillset—those were the times you were left feeling a little confused.

Nevertheless, a small friendship sprung from it. You weren't best buddies, but you weren't opposed to each other's company either. That was a big no-no to Roma and Bree and they frequently expressed that fact through passive-aggressive tactics.

This night was no different from others. Thankfully, it was the never-ending fistfights that kept you awake instead of other's carnal endeavours. You opened the flap of your tent and stepped out into the crisp air; autumn was definitely approaching. Hugging your jacket closer to your body, you looked around the camp, unsure of where to wait out the commotion. Everywhere was taken, so you decided a brief walk in the woods wouldn't hurt. Well, you hoped it wouldn't. At least if the Grounders killed you, you would finally get some undisturbed rest.

As you made your way over to one of the fence-wall openings, you ran smack-bang into a barely dressed girl with long brown hair. Roma.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," she spat, scrutinising your appearance from top to bottom.

Ignoring her lovely remark, you eyed her jeans and the way her upper half was only covered by a grey sports bra. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not now I'm not." She smirked, eyes flickering to Bellamy's tent.

You grimaced. I so didn't need to know that.

Right on cue, Bellamy emerged from his tent, fully clothed. He scanned the surroundings before his hardened gaze briefly landed on Roma and then settled on you; it was impossible to miss the way his face softened when your eyes met. Strange.

"Jealous?" she asked, regaining your attention.

"Unlikely."

You brushed past her, though she made an effort to forcefully knock your shoulder and spit another curse at you. Classy.

Bellamy took a step toward you. "Hey—"

But you simply moved past him, continuing toward the wall and saying, "A real gem you've got yourself there."

At least Bree was all bark and no bite.

You could hear him sigh as the distance between you both grew.

Truth be told, you were a little jealous. An unfortunate truth but still a truth all the same. You knew you were beginning to feel something deeper for Bellamy and it was becoming difficult listening to other girls brag about their nights with him. Not like you would ever tell him though—he wasn't a relationship type of guy and as far as you could tell, his feelings for you were platonic.

Never mind. You could settle for his friendship... for now.

You had made it outside the camp walls. At first, you planned on circling the fence for a while, but when your eyes caught on something glowing from the opposite side of a tree, you strayed from your path. Rounding the tree's trunk, you found a glowing neon-pink flower; the species of which you were unsure, but it was beautiful. Then, in your peripheral vision, there was something else lighting up your vision, something blue this time. There was another flower just a few trees away.

And again, you walked over to the strange plant, only to find yourself now on a journey that kept leading to more and more glowing flowers the deeper into the woods you trekked. They were almost everywhere and at this point, you were practically running with an excited grin on your face. In the near distance, numerous radiant colours lit up an area covered by a thick cluster of trees. You wove yourself through branches and leaves, pushing your way into the bright section of the woods.

Once you emerged from the trees, amazement morphed into your expression. You had stepped into a small meadow filled with glowing flowers of various colours that covered the forest floor. There were countless species, but they all shared the same mesmerising radiance. Much to your disbelief, there were even electric blue luminous butterflies that concealed the tree trunks and fluttered in the air.

"Bioluminescence," you whispered to yourself.

It was so beautiful, you could have cried.

Maybe you should just leave the camp and build a hut here. It would certainly beat living with the others.

As you moved further into the small clearing, the butterflies flew closer around you. Holding out an arm, one butterfly tentatively circled your hand before landing in your palm. You laughed in amazement, watching as the small creature curiously crawled across your hand and ticked your skin. Okay, that settled it—you were definitely a Disney princess.

The sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling suddenly pulled you from your amazement; it was coming from where you had entered the clearing. You reached down to your belt only to find the knife holster on it empty. Of course, you didn't bring your knife. You had left the camp's safety and didn't even think to bring a weapon. So stupid.

Before you could reprimand yourself any further, a tall figure emerged from the tree line. The tight dark blue shirt was an easy identifier as to who the figure was. And so were those deep brown eyes.

It was Bellamy. "Woah."

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your tensed body relax again.

His gaze swept across the vivid tree-encompassed meadow, sharing the same wonderous expression you once had. The overpowering glow from the butterflies turned his tanned skin a light blue, defining the contours of his face and arm muscles. He sort of looked otherworldly.

"What are you doing out here?" you asked.

The incident before you left camp quickly returned to mind and it was evident in the slight irritation etched on your face. He didn't need to respond for you to realise that he had followed you. Great. His little girlfriends were going to have a field day tomorrow if they saw him come after you.

Bellamy's eyes found yours, taking note of your negative reaction. His steps were cautious as he began walking towards you. "I could ask you the same thing."

He stopped in front of you, peering down through a few stray strands of dark brown hair whilst wearing his infamous lazy smirk. No wonder girls were always fawning over him; he was gorgeous, and he damn well knew it too. Even you were falling into the very same trap. Unlike them, though, it was the moments you shared with him when you were alone that conjured your attraction to him. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you had also learnt that he was surprisingly a decent human being. More than decent actually, despite how he presented himself to others.

He treated you with respect—a lot more than many others had ever done. You had learnt to trust each other, communicate effectively, and work as a team. Sometimes, you would even find yourselves discussing things that you both intended to keep within till the day you died, things that felt too intimate to share with anyone else.

No matter how much you hated it, you couldn't help but develop feelings for him. Even when it seemed he was preoccupied with other women.

Bellamy eyed you, waiting for the snarky retort he knew you were putting together.

You sighed and turned around, crouching on the floor to inspect one of the neon-pink flowers. "Shouldn't you be teaching Roma and Bree gun handling safety in your tent right now?"

That line was dangerously close to sounding like jealousy and you knew it. You bit your tongue because Lord knows you were most likely to expose your feelings for Bellamy through word vomit.

If only you had been facing him to witness the shame washing through his eyes.

"Funny," he said. "But no. I've got more important things to do."

"Like what? Making sure your best hunting partner doesn't get killed by glowing plants?" you joked, glancing over your shoulder to see his reaction.

It wasn't a grin or smirk like you expected. Not even a little chuckle. Instead, he simply stared at you with this intense look in his eye; it was almost sad but also like he was trying to communicate something to you telepathically.

"Something like that," he murmured.

After those words left his mouth, something about the atmosphere shifted. You suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion and his soul-piercing stare was not helping. There wasn't a wide selection of movies on the Ark, but you had watched them all, including all the romance movies. The only thing you could compare Bellamy's gaze to was Mr. Darcy's in Pride and Prejudice. Reluctance. Longing. It was all there. Had you been completely wrong about his feelings for you? Or were you just imagining it?

The likelihood of Bellamy sharing your same feelings seemed impossible, so you chalked it up to your wishful imagination.

You stood back up, facing him but avoiding making eye contact. "Well, I—uh," you stammered. "I'm not going back. Not yet."

"I didn't come here to take you back."

That made your gaze meet his.

Why did you come then, Bellamy? you thought.

He side-stepped you and you turned to see him wandering deeper into the meadow. He began observing each and every beauty and oddity the small sanctuary held, touching the petals of every flower with a delicateness you had never witnessed before. Soon enough, you felt compelled to join him.

The two of you must have spent an hour in that meadow, inspecting each species of flora, hovering your fingertips through the glowing cusp of each plant as if you could feel its light on your skin, laughing together when a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose. Sometimes you caught Bellamy watching whenever your face lit up with excitement as you discovered something new. He never really looked at what you had found; he just looked at you, but you were too overjoyed to even contemplate why.

You felt like you had entered a dream, protected from the outside world where there were Grounders, war, and bitchy brown-haired girls. Everything real was forgotten, even your unrequited feelings for Bellamy. You just enjoyed his company in this dream and pretended it would last forever.

Somehow, you had both ended up lying on the forest floor side-by-side, surrounded by flowers as you stared up at the starry night sky through the tree crowns. It wasn't as cold as before; you guessed it was because of Bellamy's close proximity to you. One of his hands was behind his head, the other on his stomach. His warmth was radiating off his skin and onto your own.

You could have fallen asleep if you closed your eyes. Probably not the most logical idea though.

Bellamy's quiet, yet deep voice disrupted the silence. "It's just a distraction, you know?"

"Hm?"

"Those girls," he clarified, and you watched as his words turned to mist, carrying into the black sky. "If I focus too much on the fact that I have to control an entire camp of teenagers, fight a war against the Grounders, while taking care of Octavia and y—" he cut himself off, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I just feel like I start to lose myself."

Your focus shifted from the sky to him. Even he didn't seem to be looking at the sky anymore, despite his gaze still being pointed straight upward. He looked lost in his own thoughts. Serious and sombre—much different compared to how they had been just a short while ago.

"Well," you began softly. "We can't have that. You already seem a little rough around the edges, Blake."

A grin slowly formed across his lips and he shook his head. He turned his head to the side, looking down at your smiling expression from where he lay. The weightiness from before had melted from his demeanour. Because of a little distraction.

You had thought those two girls he spent most nights with were there purely for his own physical needs or because his attraction to them was greater than his self-control. Never had you contemplated the fact that it might have been because he was mentally struggling with the hardships of being a leader. Of course, how could you have? He had never told you before now.

Your brows furrowed. "Why tell me?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched and the grin fell from his lips. A sense of seriousness returned but this time it was less heavy. It seemed more like a weight was lifting from his shoulders. Like a declaration. Like a long-awaited confession.

You felt something warm brush against your hand; it gently grazed over your knuckles, lighting a fire beneath your skin. In Bellamy's dark eyes, you could see the reflection of his hand caressing your own and your heart leapt to your throat.

"Why do you think?" he murmured, his eyes flickering between your own, urging you to connect the dots instead of making him say it aloud.

Your lips parted and the crease between your eyebrows deepened.

Every time he picked you first to be his partner on a mission, every deep conversation you shared when no one else was around—they all had a hidden meaning. All the times his hand brushed against yours as you walked in sync side-by-side, the times you caught him staring at you through a one-hundred-person dense crowd, or the way he would step in front of you as if to shield you whenever there was even a hint of danger—it was all because...

"Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah." His eyes flickered between yours before he turned back to the stars. "And I—I understand if you don't feel the same way; I know I haven't given you much reason to. From those girls to the... the radio, and the culling on the Ark. If I could take—"

His sentence was cut short as you leaned over him, pressing your lips to his. You could feel his pulse racing in his lips. Or was it your own? Probably both. Your hair fell to the side and his mouth started to move against your own. He began to rise, moving you up along with him until you were both kissing in a sitting position.

Bellamy's hand moved to cradle your jaw, his lips slow and tender. Everything felt like it had fallen into place, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be, with his lips on yours in the middle of a fairy-tale-like meadow whilst surrounded by a field of glowing flowers and beautiful winged creatures.

The butterflies weren't just circling you now, they were somehow fluttering around in your stomach too and it felt exhilarating.

Unfortunately, the kiss did have to come to an end at some point. Even so, the warm fluttering in your stomach never ceased. Bellamy had pulled away first, his hands gently falling from your jaw and back into his lap. He was looking at you and at first, you were afraid he would get up and leave, or tell you he had changed his mind. But he didn't. A smile crept across his lips—not a self-satisfied smirk or a tantalising grin, but a genuine smile.

Forget the butterflies; your stomach was doing somersaults now. He found your hand once more and interlocked it with his own in your lap. His thumb drew small circles on the side of your palm almost as if he knew you needed a reminder that this moment was really happening.

"That was my first kiss," you admitted.

His smile became a little nervous. "Was it okay?"

Was it okay? This boy was a little clueless if he couldn't tell that you thoroughly enjoyed having his lips on yours. So, you answered him with another soft peck to his lips, then pulled back again to see his reaction. He chuckled, nodding his head to say he understood.

"We can always come out here to practice if you want," he said, this time with a smirk.

You laughed. "I think that's a good idea."

He tucked a lock behind your ear and gently brushed pieces of hair away from your face. You could feel warmth creeping into your cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. Well, it was probably more of a violet hue due to the intense blue glow from the plants and butterflies. Either way, it still revealed how nervous he made you feel.

"It's getting late. We should probably head back and sleep," you said. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, creating his own little innuendo with your words and your eyes widened. "Not together! Alone, I mean. In separate tents. With clothes... on..." you trailed off, realising you were only digging yourself a deeper hole.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.

He just chuckled and rose to his feet. "Come on, (L/N). Let's go sleep."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he helped you stand up with him.

For a brief moment, you gave the area one last look, imprinting the memory into your mind. Who could have guessed that when you left the camp walls you would enter a fairy tale of vivid colours and electric butterflies? Or, even more surprising, that Bellamy Blake would later confess his feelings for you? All you had wanted was an escape; instead, you got a dream come true.

Bellamy pressed a hand to your lower back, guiding you with him towards the tree line in comfortable silence.

The walk back to the drop ship was pretty quiet. No more words needed to be said; a conversation that clarified what you two were now could wait for tomorrow when your brains weren't clouded by fatigue and the fresh excitement from confession. Some things hadn't changed though. Bellamy still stole glances at you every now and then, as you did him, earning a nervous smile and blush each time either of you got caught. Your hands alternated from brushing against one another to ever-so-slightly linking pinkies.

Okay, maybe things had changed a little.

You passed each flower that had led you to the meadow and this time, they became less and less as you grew closer to the drop ship. As you came up on the camp walls, the sound of fighting and conversations had died down and was replaced by the faint crackling of dying fires.

Finally, you both stepped through one of the openings and were within the camp. There didn't seem to be anyone awake; with the way the moon was shining down straight overhead, it was clear why.

Your pinkie fell from Bellamy's and you moved in front of him, taking a few slow steps backwards. "Uh, that's my tent over there," you said, gesturing behind you.

His eyes never left yours as he continued to walk toward you. "Yeah, I know."

"Oh, you know, do you?"

A grin stretched across his lips as he hummed and reached for your waist, pulling you against his body. Your hands wound around his neck, a smile present on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from your own. His lips had just brushed against your own when someone behind you cleared their throat and you both jumped apart.

Bellamy peered beside your head, semi-glaring at the interrupter behind you.

What a surprise it was when you turned around to see Roma, arms crossed—clothes on, thankfully—and looking severely unhappy.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said with a scowl.

Perfect. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Looks like her field day had come early.

No way. You were too tired to deal with this. You gave Bellamy an apologetic glance before attempting to slip away through the gaps between tents. Unfortunately, it wasn't in Roma's best interest to let you off so easily. She caught your wrist and jerked you back toward her.

Bellamy looked like he was about to step in, but you beat him to it.

You tore your wrist from her grasp, words dripping with bitterness as you said, "Never do that again."

For a split second, she looked the slightest bit intimidated, but then quickly covered it up with disdain. Her gaze flickered from you to Bellamy; it was hard to miss the way she straightened her posture and tried to look more presentable for him.

And for a split second of your own, you felt the slightest twinge of fear that Bellamy would change his mind about you and leave with her again. But at that very same moment, he gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to his side, dissipating all your previous worries.

Both you and Roma looked down at your interlocked hands in disbelief.

"Listen, Roma." He sighed, sounding like he was desperately trying to keep his cool. "I think it's best if you and Bree find another tent to sleep in from now on."

Her disbelief turned into pure astonishment. "What? Are you serious?"

Bellamy lightly squeezed your hand.

God, he was putting this girl through the five stages of grief. You almost felt bad. Then you remembered the daily torment she had been putting you through just for existing and the remorse immediately washed away.

"Because of her? She's not even—"

"Choose your next words very carefully," he warned in a dangerously low voice.

Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she realised any insult thrown at you would end badly for her. It's not like Bellamy would hurt her, but he did have power over the camp, so he would probably force her to share a tent with Myles or something. His non-stop babbling would drive her to insanity.

She gave him a defiant look. "What if we don't want to leave?"

"I'll take the tent down and move it somewhere else."

"Then Bree and I will make both your lives a living Hell."

You could hear Bellamy suppress a laugh. "Unlikely," he echoed your previous words.

Roma looked to you as if you could help her case—the audacity. You gave her a sarcastic 'what-can-you-do?' shrug which just enhanced her seething temper. It was obvious that she was getting nowhere and the moment she realised, you swore you could see her ego literally deflating.

She made a short high-pitched noise of frustration and spun around, her hair whipping melodramatically through the air as she practically stomped back to Bellamy's tent. You could hear her call out to the other girl inside, telling her to 'pack her shit' and that they were moving tents. Not long after, the blonde-haired girl emerged from the tent flap holding a bundle of clothes. Roma must have explained to her what happened because they both shot a venomous glare in your direction and then walked off in search of another tent.

You sighed in relief as they disappeared out of sight. You were about to walk back to your own tent, but Bellamy tugged you back to him once more, his arms wrapping around your torso as your hands fell on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought she'd handle it better."

You fiddled with the material of his shirt, half-smiling. "I told you she was a gem."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "My taste of women has been a little... questionable."

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling your body up against his. His fingertips grazed the exposed skin of your waist, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.

"You should really try breaking that trend."

He had that same intense look in his eye as when you were both in the meadow. This time it didn't hold any sadness or longing, but rather a sense of finality and affection, like his greatest wish had finally come true—that would make two of you. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as his face grew closer to yours.

The heart thumping in your chest almost gave out as you reflexively leaned further into his warm embrace.

"I already have," he murmured before his soft lips descended upon yours.

And the butterflies returned.

#yes roma is a warning #wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake #bellamy x clarke #bellarke #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake x reader #bellamyblake #the100edit #the 100 #bellarke fanfiction #bob morley smut #bob morley #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x y/n

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elleandstufff · 3 months ago

Text

Let's Play a Game -`✮´- Part 2

Young and in the club scene due to the family business, you meet an up-and-coming rapper who calls himself Thanos. As the two of you become deeply embedded in the dark world of fame, money, and drugs, you begin to wonder if you can make it out alive. Pre-games, during the games, and post-games Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: Club setting, moderate drinking, reader’s dad kinda sucks, reader’s mom is dead, discussion of childhood trauma (including parent with addiction, overdose, death of a parent, physical/verbal abuse), hurt/comfort, pet names galore, dialogue spoken in English is written in bold italics, 3.2k words

Part 1 Masterlist

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The next evening you arrive at the club before opening, anxious, hungry, and on four hours of sleep. Unfortunately, you know this scenario all too well. Most days are like this for you, but that just comes with the lifestyle.

You are, however, a bit more anxious than normal. The reason why you got less sleep than normal is because a certain underground rapper plagued your thoughts. He was like no one you had ever met before. The many men you met over the last couple years mainly wanted to take advantage of you, so you swore to stop giving anyone a chance. Your father and brothers had even told you that you would never meet a decent man at the club. Now you were questioning everything you had ever believed all over a guy who got his stage name from a purple alien.

Su-bong had been so sweet, yet persistent, last night that you were sure he would come back and prove that he was interested in more than some baseless sex or money. After leaving the club last night, you began to worry. What if you played too hard to get? What if he never came back and you never saw him again? The thought made your mind race and your stomach turn.

Your first task of the night was to approach the front bouncers and make sure that Su-bong could get into the club if he showed up. Your heart drops when you get to their station and see that none of the bouncers were here the night before–meaning that none of them would recognize Su-bong. You approach anyway, determined to not let this be the reason that your plan fails.

“Hi, I have someone that I need to make sure gains entry tonight. Someone who isn’t on my usual list.” You smile sweetly to cover up your nervousness.

“Sure, Miss Social. What is her name?” The bouncer asks, expecting it to be another one of your girl friends.

“Um, his name is Choi Su-bong, but he might go by Thanos.”

The bouncer looks at you through a quirked eyebrow as he writes the information down on his clipboard. “Right… and do you have a picture of him?”

“Well, no.” You frown. “But he’s tall, dark hair, brown eyes-”

“Sorry, but that describes most of the guys who come through here. I really need a picture to be able to spot him in the line.”

You sigh, then pull out your phone for your last ditch effort. You type Thanos into instagram and scroll through a couple profiles until you find the one that is indisputably his. Tapping on a picture that clearly shows his face, you hold it up to the bouncer eye level. He quirks his eyebrows at you yet again and uses his own phone to snap a picture. “Your dad know about this?”

“No, and if you don’t tell him I can give you an extra day's pay on your next paycheck.”

The bouncer pretends to lock his lips and throw away the key and you excuse yourself. With step one done, now you need to ask a favor from your father without tipping him off. You find him upstairs in his office typing away on his computer.

“Hi, Appa,” you say, entering the room cautiously.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he responds absentmindedly without looking up from his computer.

You sit on the edge of his desk. “You know that new rapper guy the other night was pretty good…” You continue when the only acknowledgement your father gives is a mhm. “I was thinking maybe we could add him to our line up permanently, or at least for a while.”

“I don’t know, Princess. Our schedule is already pretty booked. Plus I don’t want to take more out of our budget to pay a rapper that no one even knows.”

For once you’re glad your father isn’t paying attention to you so that he misses the massive eye roll you give. You know very well that the budget is more than okay. “Appa, it would just be a very small amount of money, and he would still only have that fifteen minute slot. It’s not much, but then when he makes it big we could say that he got his start here.”

Your father considers for a minute. “Okay, whatever you think is best.”

“Thank you, Appa!” You hop off the desk and lean down to give your father a hug, He reciprocates the hug and gives you a kiss on the forehead all without tearing his eyes away from his stupid fucking computer.

Back downstairs, you help around until open to calm your nerves. Once people start trickling in you keep your eyes peeled, hoping to catch a glance of a tall and handsome rapper. After an hour you feel a pit form in your stomach. He probably wasn’t coming back. Why would he?

You wipe a stray tear from your eye and head to the bar to find something to do. There’s no point in crying over a guy you met one time. “Do you need any help?” you ask the head bartender.

“V.I.P. table three just put in a big order. Think you can take it to them?”

She loads a tray up with several drinks and you carefully maneuver your way through the crowd to the V.I.P. table. As you pass out their drinks, several of the men’s hands linger against yours for longer than comfortable. You pull away and ignore their seductive smiles that they’ve been giving you for years now, even before you were of legal age.

You shudder as you walk away, when all of a sudden you feel a pair of hands grab you by the waist and pull you into them. You’re about to throw a punch before you hear your favorite deep voice in your ear. “You miss me, baby?”

You turn around in his grasp and place your arms around his neck when he doesn’t break his grasp on your waist. “You came back.”

“Of course I did. I was promised the phone number of the prettiest girl in all of Seoul.” You blush and he continues. “I was a bit worried I wasn’t going to be able to get in with how long the line was and how exclusive this place is, but right after I got in line the bouncer found me and told me I was on Miss Social’s special entry list. He even had a picture of me and everything. You stalking my Instagram now, baby?”

“It was either that or you weren’t getting in.” You playfully roll your eyes. “Let’s get some drinks and go sit down somewhere. I need to talk to you.”

He follows after you with his hand on the small of your back. “Is that a good talk to you or a bad talk to you?”

You giggle at the slight worry on his face. “Good.”

You find another secluded couch in the back of the club. Here the lights are dim, casting shadows across your features. Between the seclusion and the darkness, you feel like you are the only two here despite the music blasting throughout the building. He helps you sit first before joining you. He slides his body right up against yours, and this time you just let yourself relax. Su-bong rests his arm across the back of the couch behind you, his eyes looking straight into your soul.

“So… how would you feel about performing here every night?”

“That would be a dream come true.”

“Well, then I guess your dream came true.” You smile at him and his eyes grow wide when he realizes that you’re being serious.

“What? How?”

You shrug. “I pulled some strings.”

He brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “I knew you’d be my good girl.”

He places a hand against your cheek and you welcome the comfort. You lean into his hand and the two of you look at each other through heavy-lidded eyes. You feel at peace, for once, until you see a familiar face heading toward you.

“Holy shit, it’s my dad!” In your fear and haste to put space between you two, you accidentally shove Su-bong away harsher than you meant to. You see a flash of hurt on his face, but he acts nonchalantly anyway.

Your father finally lays eyes on you as he approaches. “There you are, Angel! Been looking all over for you.” Confusion spreads across his features when he sees Su-bong. “Who’s this?”

You clear your throat, worried about getting caught. “Appa, this is Su-bong. He’s the new rapper I was telling you about…”

“Hmm, nice to meet you.” Your father throws his hand up for him to shake. Su-bong doesn’t miss a beat as he shakes your father’s hand, but you see his other hand nervously fiddling with his vape under the table.

Your father looks toward you. “I’m thinking about going home early tonight. It’s a pretty quiet night in terms of crowd and I think the rest of the staff have it handled. Let me drive you home.”

“No, Appa, I will just come home later-”

“Angel, I drove you here, I'm going to drive you home.” You begrudgingly start to stand. “Let me drive your friend home too.”

“Oh, no, sir…” Su-bong tries to decline the offer. “It’s fine, really.”

“Well you took the subway, right?” Your father says to Su-bong, a hint of judgement in his tone that you don’t like.

“Yeah, but-”

“Then let me save you the trip.”

Your father urges you out of the booth with a hand on your arm. You shoot Su-bong an apologetic look, but you’re forced to walk through the club. Once you reach the crisp air of the outside world, you’re surprised to see Su-bong still with you. You uncomfortably wait for the driver to pull around. When the black car approaches, your dad holds the back door open for you and Su-bong to slide into. Your father sits in the front seat, his aura making the atmosphere tense. Su-bong gives his address and the car goes into motion.

You stay silent throughout the car ride, mostly staring out the window at the night lights of Seoul. The car stops sometime later outside of an apartment building. Su-bong thanks your father for the ride, and you turn to him before he exits the vehicle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He turns to you and gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. You watch him head up the stairs to the apartment then throw your head in your hands. He didn’t get your number again and your dad acted like an asshole and probably scared him off. Now he definitely wasn’t coming back.

You wait to say anything until you get home to spare the driver from having to be involved. You can tell your father is doing the same. Once at home, you storm inside the large house and try to make a beeline for your room, but your father stops you.

“You don’t need to be talking to this boy.”

“You just had to ruin everything, didn’t you?”

“So he is your boyfriend?”

“No!” You shout, anger pent up inside you. “But he’s the only friend I’ve made that I’m actually sure isn’t just using me to gain something! And you had to be rude to him because he wasn’t born into a rich family like I was.”

Your father sighs. “Friend or not you just don’t need to be talking to boys, Princess.”

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊

The next evening Su-bong shows up again by some miracle. Since he’s performing, he gets there early and you make a beeline for him. You reach to give him a hug, to apologize, but he backs away. You recoil, your face downtrodden.

“Just don’t want to get you in trouble with your dad again.”

“He doesn’t come down that often,” you say.

“He did last night.”

“That was different-” you plead, but he cuts you off.

“Just don’t want your dad to think poorly about you the way my dad always thought about me.”

You look down. You didn’t know that about his dad. You feel fat tears welling up in your eyes at the enormous complexity of the situation–you’re angry at your father, you feel guilty about making Su-bong feel like he’s the problem, and you don’t want to lose Su-bong before you even have him. “Can we talk more? I know a place.”

He follows your lead until you enter an unlabeled room. When you first walk in there’s box-filled shelves, but at the back lies a giant bean bag and some blankets.

“What is this?” Su-bong asks.

“Storage closet I guess. I don’t think anyone has used it in a long time. When I was sixteen I found it and put the bean bag in. Don’t get me wrong I love the atmosphere here, but coming here every single night of your life can get a bit tiresome at times.”

“Your dad is freakishly overprotective of you, but he let you start coming here when you were sixteen?”

You laugh bitterly. “My nanny retired when I was sixteen. I don’t think he wanted to hire another one.”

“You had a nanny at sixteen?”

“I’m surprised I don’t still have a nanny,” you say. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad very much. I’m thankful for the life I’ve been given, but I wish he would give me a little space. He’s just trying to keep a tighter rein on me than he kept on my mom.”

“Did she leave?” He asks cautiously.

“She left this planet,” you say, then backtrack when you see his bewildered expression. “It’s okay, it was almost ten years ago.”

Su-bong’s encouraging eyes urge you to go on and you spill your guts. You tell him everything. You tell him about how you were an accident, your brothers much older than you. You tell him that your father was too committed to his job and your brothers too busy with school or work or girlfriends to ever be around. It was just you and Mom for the first part of your life. But being so close meant that she didn’t hide the most secret part of her life–the part that no one else bothered to notice. Day after day you watched your mother pop more and more pills. Our secret she would whisper. You didn’t quite understand what the pills did, but you knew they hurt her. So you would grab them by the handful and flush them down the toilet or bury them in a flower pot. But they always came back. One night you cuddled up to watch a movie and watched her eat them like candy. Our secret she whispered right before you fell asleep curled against her body. When you awoke in the early hours of the morning, her body was cold, her eyes glossy. You hit at her chest and screamed at her but you knew it was no use. Before you called your father you frantically ran throughout the giant house collecting all of her stashes and throwing them out. When the police questioned your father they asked if she had an addiction. No, I never saw anything he said back to them. What about you, Angel? You looked the police officer and your father in the eyes and said you never saw a thing.

You look over at Su-bong with a sad smile. “You have no idea how good that feels to get off my chest to someone I can trust.”

He rubs circles on your back and leans the two of you back on the beanbag, entangling your legs together. Then, he tells you everything. He tells you about how his family was good once upon a time, until his father started guzzling whiskey by the bottle. Then he started being mean to both Su-bong and his mother. Nothing about them was good enough. Then the physical abuse started, and it didn’t end until they ran away one night after he passed out.

You lie there in the bean-bag that is definitely too small for the two of you for quite a while. Just fingers tracing shapes on thighs, backs, arms. Eventually you know that it’s time to go so he can perform. But you turn to him seriously first, “I don’t want this to end. I like talking to you. Can’t we just hide from my dad?”

He pulls you to your feet. “Course, good girl.”

He performs. It’s brief but you’re right there the whole time in the front row soaking it all in. After his performance you dance together, then order way too many drinks and head up to your secret spot. By the end of the night you’re both pretty drunk and you finally remember that he still doesn’t have your number.

“My phone has been dead for hours, Sweetheart.”

“Why does something happen at the end of every night that prevents you from getting my number?” You whine.

“I’ll just remember it!”

You groan. It’s nearly four in the morning, he’s drunk, and there’s no way he’ll remember your number until he can get home and charge his phone. But you tell him anyway.

The following day you awake still tired, as usual. You’re dragging yourself and your blanket to the living room to relax on the couch for a bit when you see a message on your phone. What time does my princess wake up? Need to know when to send good morning… I mean good afternoon texts.

You’re absolutely beaming. You can’t believe he managed to remember your number. The next hour is spent texting him nonstop and not even trying to hide the smile on your face. You feel like a high-schooler again, even though high school wasn’t that long ago.

“Who the hell are you talking to and smiling that big?”

You smack a hand over your heart. “Jesus, Tae, you scared me!”

Your brother walks into the living room holding a bowl of cereal in his hands. He’s still quite a bit older than you, but he is the sibling closest in age to you, so you have always been closest to him. He doesn’t live at home anymore, so you weren’t expecting him.

“So? Who you talking to?”

You roll your eyes. “My friends.”

“Those fake ass friends? Yeah, you totally smile like that when talking to them,” he says sarcastically. He snatches the phone from your hands and reads your screen with big eyes. You try to yank the phone back but it’s too late. “Su-bong with a heart emoji?!”

“Give it back! He’s just my friend.” You snatch the phone from him and bury it in your blanket to protect it from getting stolen again.

“Holy shit, isn’t that the rapper you just hired on at The Social? You realize Dad is gonna kill him, right?”

“I’m nineteen, almost twenty. I’m allowed to talk to a guy if I want to. Besides, Dad’s not gonna kill him,” you say sternly. “Because you are not going to tell him.”

“So that Dad can kill me when he finds out that I knew and didn’t tell him? Yeah, no way.”

“When you were my age I covered for you for far worse things. Just let me have this one thing, for once in my life.”

He looks at you weird and you realize that you’re genuinely pleading with him. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t get all weird and emotional on me.”

He walks off and you clutch your phone to your chest. Just let me have this one thing, you ask the universe.

ᡣ𐭩 Taglist ᡣ𐭩

@naatggeo

@private-vampire

@arzias

#thanos #thanos x reader #thanos squid game #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #player 230 x reader

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sugar-grigri · 10 months ago

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Nayuta wasn't killed by Barem, she's his ally

Poor fandom, you're disorientated just when your compasses should be working properly.

Let's learn how to eat sushi properly, step by step. Or rather, how about reading Chainsaw Man in the right order? By calmly superimposing everything we know in the right order

So let's not panic, let's get on with it. Dry your tears, clean your snot and let's get back to the introductions.

First layer of sushi: Denji and Pochita are made for each other

Who is Chainsaw Man? It's a question we've been asking ourselves a lot, but how about a simple answer - we're not here to mess around. Chainsaw Man is the combined result of Pochita + Denji. Do we agree? Why have they become so close? Because they look alike, don't they? Alone, hungry, in need of a little warmth and a little love.

Second layer of sushi: birthday, despair, amnesia...

If we take the stories in outline, Denji meets Makima and then bonds with his siblings. A sibling who eventually dies, and whose final breaking point is his sister, cut in two. On top of that, it's his birthday, isn't it? Makima invites Denji to open the door that confined his traumas, including the death of Denji’s father?

You see, I've already missed it, I went too fast. Let's resume calmly, birthday... Denji had forgotten it was his birthday, hadn't he? His birthday is the day you're born, it's one of the few pieces of information we don't really question, but Denji forgot it. But haven't you ever really wondered...

If Denji had celebrated his birthday? And why, how, he wanted to eat a cake? His father was violent and his mother died when he was very young, so is it really safe to say that Denji celebrated his birthday?

I had another question, why does Fujimoto always seem to accentuate the cakes so much?

I really think that cake is one of the keys, because it's a tunnel of memories that resurfaces in Denji, the cake, his birthday, then Power's death, then his father's death. It's a sushi within a sushi (we're slowly taking things back in order), I think it's about layers that need to be taken back in chronological order, yes chronological 1) the death of Denji's father 2) the death of Power 3) Denji's birthday 4) the cake. Which brings us to this scene.

Was this scene shown not just metaphorical or symbolic, but actually happened? Denji having contracted with the control demon whose power is to control memory, in order to reshape him perfectly so as not to be happy and to do whatever she asks of him later. Why couldn't Denji open that door? Why does Aki's death sound so abruptly like Denji's absence, with a mini ellipsis that doesn't show us in concrete terms how Chainsaw Man killed him? I'm going too fast again, let's start again...

Makima hasn't made Denji unhappy, she's created a being made for unhappiness.

This scene refers to an anniversary, amnesia and despair, all ingredients that enabled Pochita to take complete possession of Denji and show us the most complete version of Chainsaw Man.

Which means Barem isn't lying, is he? Same here, I'm going too fast!

Third layer of sushi: the closer Denji gets to happiness, the more he doubts...

Denji manages to become himself again and succeeds in killing Makima, by devouring her. In a very simple and concrete way, Makima was devoured and this put an end to her existence. Keep this in mind. Nayuta is reborn, becoming Denji's little sister, lots of dogs surround them, Chainsaw Man becomes extremely popular and it's in this part 2 that Denji will feel the least like himself, the least like Chainsaw Man. Strangely enough, it's when he approaches a semblance of happiness that Denji pulls away from himself.

Barem really doesn't seem to be lying, does he? But once again, I'm going too fast, let's get on with it!

Fourth layer of sushi: Barem never lies

This is something I quickly came up with, and it's so precise, I think his character is thought of that way, and it's his narrative role. Even though he's deceitful, manipulative and devious, the bro does NOT LIE. He didn't lie about the weapons attack, he didn't lie that he looked like a Chainsaw Man fan, and he doesn't lie in the last chapter. But same, I'm going too fast.

Fifth layer of sushi: Nayuta betrayed by Chainsaw Man

When Denji made the choice to become Chainsaw Man, the house, his source of happiness, was falling to ashes, his dogs, his cat were dying. Denji went through with his dream and abandoned the little sister who made him happy. Barem didn't impose misfortune on Denji; it was Denji who chose misfortune, despite Nayuta's fears. The happier he was with her, the more he lost himself. He left her in Barem's hands and provoked an existential crisis in her. Which made her reconnect with her old self.

Sixth layer of sushi: an unblocked memory.

The aftertaste that sticks to your palate is a piece of information I mentioned earlier. Makima has been devoured. What defines the Knights of the Apocalypse from the rest of the demons? Their memory. What if Nayuta had now understood how Chainsaw Man's power worked?

Seventh layer of sushi: chapter 170.

This explains Nayuta's severed head, a macabre mise-en-scène to make her brother lose his mind a little more. As for Barem, he doesn't lie to us and gives us instructions on how to read Chainsaw Man. He knows how to read Chainsaw Man, since he knows the two conditions for him to regain his full power because Nayuta gave them to him. For all this is nothing more than their death.

Layer zero of sushi: the unknown.

Now I'm entering the quintessential madness of my analysis. Makima contracted with Denji at a very young age, and gave him several orders: survive at all costs, remain miserable, and one day kill Power and Aki. Above all, she ordered him to contract with Pochita, hence Denji's reflex to hand his open wound directly to the demon. This misfortune, this amnesia due to the contract with Makima, this survival on his own, finally allowed a weakened Chainsaw Man to find a kindred spirit, a loved one. Believing in happiness, then destroying it, kept Chainsaw Man's power in check, those vain dreams only a human could imagine. Denji was a kind of Russian doll, holding back Pochita and his over-power. That's why these two conditions exist.

To be unhappy, or to break this Russian doll.

To be feared by all, or to be alone.

Or kill Denji.

To save Pochita.

Layer - 100000 of sushi: did you think I'd finished losing my head? I don't think so. What if everything I've been telling you all along, taking things in order, were to be done in reverse? Take them out of order. I'll ask the questions so you can understand. Why is Makima so obsessed with Chainsaw Man? Why did the Knights of the Apocalypse fight Chainsaw Man in the underworld? How did they manage to retain their memories? Why start the story with a parricide? Why was Denji finely polished by Makima to welcome Pochita when Makima never saw Denji, the reason for her own death? How could she enter into a contract with someone she has never seen?

Because someone is controlling the control demon itself. Just as it controls the way the story is presented to us. How can we trust an antagonist who controls memory? And an amnesiac protagonist?

Why did Pochita do what he did in the underworld? Why this sudden fury? Why do demons hear chainsaws at the moment of their death?

Because we've come full circle. More precisely, what you're reading is not part 2 but part 1, or to be more (MORE) precise, the end of Chainsaw Man will lead to its beginning. The desire to create a better world, to kill death, will lead to a temporal loop in the world that will never cross the apocalypse, blocked just ahead.

Makima herself is controlled by her future self, which allows her to make references to the future and know the recipes for unleashing Chainsaw Man's power without understanding why, her future self knows Chainsaw Man, she loved him. So Makima also loves Chainsaw Man without really understanding why, amnesiac like Denji.

Denji doesn't kill his father, it's his old self who is killed.

But another Denji tries to put an end to this...

Spiral.

Stuck between two worlds, two temporalities, morning (Asa), night (Yoru), someone is trying to put an end to this endless world, before dawn.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #denji #asa mitaka #my thoughts #yoru #nayuta #barem bridge #barem #fake!csm #csm 170 #chainsaw man chapter 170 #chainsaw man spoilers

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crowbraincoin · 5 months ago

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Where to make friends as an adult.

Recently I saw a devastating citation stating that most adults find it hard to make new friends as it feels like there is a lack of community and resources to do so. It takes nearly 50 hours of time together to move from mere acquaintance to casual friend. For more advanced levels of friendship, it can take more than 200 hours before you can consider someone “close”. (source)

So, though I'm not an expert by any means, I thought I'd offer some examples, ideas, and tips on finding and making friends as an adult! Check below the break :>

Ideas on where to find friends:

🆓 Local free (or cheap) events. I went to a presentation that included a free beer in the ticket cost and I had a blast! Most cities have an events calendar you can look at. Soon I'm attending a free event for the transgender community honoring those that came before us. 📖 Library programs. Most libraries that I've seen don't even require a library card, just your email or phone number to sign up for a program! Be it a presentation, class, or event, the library is the place to be!

❕Events of interest. I think about what I'm interested in and what I would like to connect with people about, and I search around to see what I can find. I use sites like Eventbrite to help me search.

💻 Online Communities. For those who can't make it out very often, consider joining online communities by searching for fandoms or topics of interest and see if there is a discord server, bluesky feed, tumblr community, or other communities on socials!

How to make friends:

Consistency. Once you find a place you enjoy going to, an organization you whose events your enjoy attending, or a series of events that takes place KEEP GOING!! Consistency is key, you have to keep interacting with folks to become friends with them.

Transparency. Just be yourself, but that doesn't mean you should be trauma dumping! Sharing personal detail allows us to feel closer to people, but make sure you're not sharing too much information! That can always come later when you're closer friends.

Confidence. You have to believe that you're someone that people want to be friends with. Don't believe it? Well ask your current friends why they are friends with you! You'll not only get a confidence boost, but also hopefully share a touching moment with your existing friends.

Follow up. If you want to be friends with someone you've met, you have to build up the nerve to further connect with them. This means sharing phone numbers or socials.

Start talking. The best way to do this is by asking questions or by giving a non-threatening compliment. Try not to make it all about you, though it is easiest to talk about the one thing we know best (ourselves) it typically won't help you make new friends! Show that you're interested in them, their thoughts and feelings on the topic of the event or a neutral topic such as musicians or food.

Questions. Ask open ended and non-invasive questions and follow through. Examples below!

Invite them out. Once you've established an acquaintance, invite them to hang out! BUT if you're the one inviting them out then you need to make sure you have some plan in mind. This could be going to a trivia night, a local event, or going to a new place together.

Further questions or topics of discussion:

I'm new to this [place or reocurring event] how long have you been coming here? Do you like it so far?

If you could be a crab or a lobster, which would you be and why? (make sure you have an answer ready!)

How long have you known about [place or event theme]? What got you interested in [place or event theme]?

(If at an event with drinks or food) I'm having trouble deciding what to choose, what should I try?

What superpower would you want and why?

What do you do for work? Do you like it? (follow by asking non-invasive questions about their job. This is easier when you have no clue what the job position actually is, lol).

Hey, I really like your style! Where did you get your outfit?/Who or what are your fashion influences?

What questions or topics of discussion do you typically go for when meeting new people?

#tips #adult tips #friendship

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theerurishipper · 1 year ago

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I feel like people really underestimate the importance of Dick being the first Robin. Like, reverse Robin AUs are interesting and such, but I just hope people realize that in the context of canon, they would never work. The reason Batman and Robin ever works is because the first Robin was Dick Grayson specifically. Because Bruce would never have taken in any child if Dick's tragedy hadn't specifically happened to mirror his own experience. Dick Grayson was the only one Bruce truly saw himself in first, because the fundamental event that defines them is the same. And he sees the opportunity to help someone the way he was never helped, to make sure that Dick didn't go down the dark path he did. So, my point here is that the only one Bruce actually made the choice to take in, the only one who could kickstart it all, is Dick Grayson, because he is the only one with whom Bruce could immediately empathize and connect with.

This never happened with any other Robin. He took in Jason because he missed Dick, he took in Tim because Tim forced himself into the role, he took in Steph because he was trying to make Tim come back to being Robin, and Dick made Damian Robin. Of course, he loved all of them, and they all have their unique relationships with Bruce that are very important and inform their characters, and he does need them too. But he specifically formed this connection with Dick that made Dick the only person he ever considered taking in. It took a very specific set of circumstances in Dick's backstory that made Bruce commit an impulse adoption that just isn't really present in any other Robin's story. And the reason Jason or Tim or Steph or Damian or anyone else whom Bruce has taken under his wing even got that chance is because of the work Dick Grayson put into Bruce Wayne.

Before Dick, Bruce was reckless and didn't care at all about himself, to the point of almost being borderline suicidal. He was more brutal, more violent, etc. The reason all this changed, is because of Dick Grayson specifically. He was the one with whom Bruce opened up, with whom Bruce was forced to grow up, to take responsibility and learn to take care of both Dick and himself. Dick, to Bruce was the one who brought "color to their [his and Alfred's] monochrome lives." Dick Grayson's specific brand of happiness and joy changed Bruce for the better. Dick gave Bruce hope. This is true for other Robins too, but only because they followed the precedent that Dick Grayson set, only because they slid into his role (they have their own interesting relationships with Bruce, but this specifically is from Dick that other Robins carried on. A legacy, if you will). Dick Grayson turned Bruce into the kind of man who would become a serial adopter.

Without his influence, without his precedent, there would be no Batfamily, because Bruce would never have gotten to the point where he would be able or willing to take in someone else and care for them properly (It took living through his trauma again to get him to take Dick in lmao). Hell, there would be no Batman because Bruce would have gotten himself killed a long time ago if Dick hadn't helped him learn self-care. Dick knows Bruce best, because he understands him on a fundamentally deeper level than anyone else in the world. And he's the only one who can make Bruce open up at his rawest, most downtrodden state. He is the only one who can give Bruce at his lowest that kind of hope. There is no Robin without Dick Grayson. It's literally a tribute to his parents, using their colors and the name his mother called him. He created that identity as a symbol of hope. He helped Bruce become the kind of man who could and would let other people that he had to care for into his life. Without Dick Grayson, you can simply forget about any other Robin or the Batfamily as a concept even existing.

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 4 months ago

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Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Do I Look Like Her?

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 4.2K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

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Mama, I'm chasin' a ghost Do I look like him? (Like what?) Like him.

“I want to go on patrols.”

It came out of nowhere in Tommy’s eyes. He had joined you to bring new feed and supplies to the stables when you popped the question. Since you had started living with Tommy and Maria you have opened from your shell more. There were times when you would slip in your progress retreating to the old habits from when you first arrived. But being in a more stable home that was more active in inviting you to ‘family’ time you say you gained a closer relationship with Tommy and Maria in just a few months of staying with them still winter but it was settling entering March as the cold and snowstorms seem to retreat for the upcoming spring.

“I…I don’t think that’s a smart idea,” Tommy says slowly dropping the bag of feed by the other bags they were bringing in.

“Why not, I’ve been doing this for almost three months now and this past month has been no problems,” You question pulling out a knife to cut open the bag of feed to pour in the troughs for the horses, “You said it would be good for me to get more comfortable around others. What better than patrolling,” You say pointing your knife at him and reminding him of his past words.

He could already hear the disagreements from the other council members even outside that, especially Joel and their last argument in regards to you. Despite telling him to reach out to you if he wants you in his care from what he hears there is nothing. But the look you were giving him and he knew working this job was good for you and all but he could tell you were getting antsy and didn’t know what you might try if he said no.

“Look…how about the next time I take Ellie out shooting you join us,” He starts and he sees you perk up, “If I think you can handle it I'll see about you joining in patrols.”

A wide grin takes over your face and it comes as a shock to both of you when you hug him, “Thank you, Tommy!” You seem to realize what you did quickly pulling away as if it burned you immediately shrinking in, “I’m sorry…I don’t know,”

“It’s alright kid,” Tommy reassures you, “If I decide you’re good, and only if I think so, it’s small patrol routes and with larger groups, nothing smaller or longer than that you hear me,” He says and you nod and for the rest of the day there seems to be a pep in your step and a boost of energy.

At the Tipsy Bison Tommy stares off into the nothing with Joel returning with their drinks in hand, “Something on your mind?” Joel asks sensing the conflict in his brother’s demeanor. Tommy sighs taking a swig of his drink, letting it rest on the counter.

“I’m thinking of letting the kid join patrols,” Tommy says and immediately winces at the loud noise Joel makes.

“Hell no, Tommy! Did you hit your head or somethin’ We have no idea what could happen if you let her leave Jackson with those raiders,” Joel says and Tommy rubs his temples.

“Joel it’s just a thought, Jesus Christ. Look I’m having her join Ellie and I’s shooting sessions together and if I feel like she can handle herself I'll have her join larger patrols on shorter routes,” Tommy says before giving his brother a look, “Why are you so concerned for her? The last time we spoke about her you’ve made zero effort in trying to reach out to her. I already talked to Maria about it and she’s on board.”

Joel sends his brother a dirty look, “For your information, I have tried but she completely acts as if I don’t exist.”

“I wonder why..” Tommy mumbles under his breath, “Look Joel I understand why she’s hesitant to be around you, not a lot of fond memories have happened with you two. You can’t just force yourself around her. If she wants you involved in her life great, if not you can’t be mad at her for that.”

Joel is silent at Tommy’s words looking away spotting you and Ellie walking down the street. Ellie speaks animatedly with their hands while you nod along with a small smile as you throw in your two cents. He always has an outside view of who you really are, never able to be there to see the real you. Tommy rests a hand on his brother's shoulder drawing his attention back.

“Joel I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you didn’t need to know,” He starts having seen the way he looks at you as if you were his own but too afraid to admit it, “You care for her, just like you care for Ellie. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

Joel nods silently before the conversation drifts to other topics his hand absentmindedly drifting to the broken watch on his wrist. He couldn’t explain why he felt such a need to look after and protect you.

The morning of joining Ellie and Tommy's excursion was filled with excitement and nerves. Maria fixed your coat for the millionth time looking over you like a fusing mother that makes your heart ache.

“You have everything you need in your pack?” She asks and you nod. You double and triple-checked your bag that Maria helped pack for you with anything she could think of you needing despite only being gone for a few hours.

“Maria we gotta get going,” Tommy calls out as one of the stablehands handles the trio of horses. Maria waves him off before cupping your face and tucking stray hairs behind your ears.

“Be smart listen to Tommy and if anything goes wrong you head straight back here no questions asked,” She says before pulling out one final item. Your eyes widen seeing your revolver in her hands. You thought you left it in the cabin all those months ago when being brought here. It looks like it’s of much better quality as you hold it in your hands lightly tracing the carving onto the wooden handle.

‘03/21’

Maria sees the surprise on your face change to a frown as you look over the numbers. It’s Tommy calling out that stops your internal thoughts and you give Maria a weak smile tucking your revolver into your holster. You see Joel speaking to Tommy clapping his shoulder before he says something to Ellie she nods hugging Joel before climbing onto her horse Shimmer. You move to and climb on Red petting her neck as she makes sounds of contentment.

“Kid,” You turn surprised to see Joel standing beside you, He holds out a rifle and you take a brief look of surprise at him interacting with you that isn’t yelling or fighting, “Be smart out there.” You both stare at each other before you nod accepting the well taken care of weapon seeing the initials carved into the stock. ‘J.M.’

“Thanks, Joel,” You say and he nods stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving a brief nod. Slinging the strap across your shoulders before grabbing the reins. Tommy looks back at the two girls.

“You girls ready?” The pair of you nod and with a snap of the reins and a call to the guards the large gates open to the open world and you’re off. You take one last fleeting glance at Joel and Maria standing beside each other, Maria gives a wave while Joel is silent an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you all disappear in the horizon.

The open mountain range is peaceful lowering the binoculars and do not see any infected on the other side of the range, “I’m not seeing anything,” You say lowering them as you pass them off to Ellie who takes a look while Tommy uses his rifle which has a scope on it.

“Nah I got a few clickers coming through the trees, look at the large rock coming behind that,” Tommy explains and Ellie moves the binoculars before making a noise having spotted them. She quickly passes it off to you as you take a look taking his note and soon you spot a trio of clickers appear from the treeline. The horrid infected twitches using clicking noises to listen as they stumble around. The crack of a gunshot makes you flinch slightly seeing one of them drop dead. The other two screech and start running around. Another bullet hits the second one in the leg before getting it on the head. The final shot misses seeing the snow shot in the air from the bullet hitting it before a clean headshot ends the event. Seeing Ellie lower the rifle as Tommy pats her shoulder.

“Nice job, just remember to anticipate the drop from a distance,” Tommy reminds the young girl who nods. “There’s a small town nearby that might give you some opportunities to show off.” He directs and you nod. You all return to your horses saddling up before following Tommy through the mountain trails he knows. Soon you find yourself on a ridge looking down at the town.

“Up ahead by the bank a pair of runners,” Tommy directs and you sling your rifle off your shoulder lining up the shot seeing the infected at the bank on the outskirts of the town. You see the pair of clickers twitch moving amongst each other and your finger hovers over the trigger waiting for the moment. One of them moves to walk in front of the other and you pull the trigger. The bullet rips through both clicker’s skulls as they drop dead and you lower your rifle. You look over at both Tommy and Ellie’s shocked expressions.

“Holy shit that was amazing!” Ellie cheers, shaking your shoulder and you cringe in embarrassment. Looking over at Tommy he gives a nod of approval.

“Nice work kid,” He says, and your skin flushes at the compliment, “Looks like a few runners heard. Think you can take care of them?” He asks and you nod, lifting the rifle, racking the bolt back ejecting the empty casing, and racking the next round. You see through your sights four runners burst through the doors of a store stumbling through the street. Your gaze and rifle quickly follow after the one who tries darting away gets a quick bullet in its head quickly racking back the cling of the casing flying out of the chamber. Tracing your sights to the next furthest-away runner and firing the bullet rips through its next, decapitating the head from its body as it falls like a dead weight. Another bullet out of the chamber and without hesitation fires at a runner right through the head. Racking the chamber for a final time following after the last runner who looks to have a limp to their leg. Firing but at the last minute it jerks and the bullet hits its shoulder, not the head. Quickly emptying the chamber and firing again the bullet chases the infected and it hits the doorway of a diner that it enters.

“Shit!” You curse lowering the rifle in frustration. Tommy’s hand rests on your shoulder to ease your tension.

“Hey don’t get too hung up over it,” Tommy says as you keep your gaze stuck on the small town to see if maybe it comes back out when you spot something completely different. You see a scruffy little girl wandering through the streets in practically rags, ice fills your veins as you see them wander into the diner. Swinging your rifle over your shoulder almost hitting Tommy in the face as you rush to Red saddling her quickly.

“Hyah Red!” With a snap of your reins, Red takes off kicking up some snow shocking Tommy and Ellie who quickly mount their horses chasing after you.

“Y/n Stop!” Tommy yells and Ellie yells some pleads for you to stop but you ignore them urging Red to go fast as she races down the ridge to the town leaving them in the dust. Reaching the town, you almost fall off the Red with how fast you try dismounting pulling your revolver out of your holster entering the dinner. Clicking on your flashlight the dinner is silent and quickly abandoned by the outbreak and in the time following afterward. Keeping a firm grip on your gun walking down the path of booths on either side of you checking each one for any sign of life. Turning to the last booth that leads to doorways to the kitchen you see a flash of metal jumping back as you point your gun and the light shines down on the same little girl from before. She is young way too young to be out here alone as she clutches a hunting knife between her tiny hands. Lowering your gun and she gives you a quizzical look.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, kid,” You whisper aware of the possible infected in the building but not in the main dining area. The child shakes her head shrinking further under the table and you reach your hand out pleading to her. “We really need to go ther—”

The screech of infected fills the dinner as the doors beside you burst open comes a runner that tackles you to the groan, your flashlight, and gun clattering to the ground of your grasp. The girl screams as you struggle against the male runner as it snarls and gnashes at you trying to rip your throat out. Your hands dig into his shoulders using all your strength to fight it off you as it thrashes above you not able to grab your gun or the knife at your hip. The runner screeches as you see a flash of metal as the knife embeds into his shoulder seeing the little girl trying to help aid.

“Y/n!” The shout of Ellie and she comes in like a hurricane tackling the infected as your arms snatch the girl holding it away from the sight of Ellie stabbing the runner multiple times in the neck and head until it twitches and stops moving. Ellie pulls off the creature falling back on her ass and leaning against the booth catching her breath as you do the same the little girl shaking in your arms. The rushing footsteps and Tommy bursting in the dinner rifle is raised but quickly lowers it seeing the infected dead and both girls okay though taken out by the encounter.

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks and you nod looking over your hands and arms that were near the infected snapping mouth sighing not seeing any bites.

“I’m clean,” You say in relief before looking down at the girl passed out in your arms, but she looked clean with no bites. You assumed it was exhaustion or the shock that caused her to collapse. “She looks good as well. Thanks for coming in when you did I would have been fucked.” You say as Ellie stands to her feet coming over and offering her hand and you freeze seeing the injury on her hand.

“Ellie…” Your voice is filled with fear as your gaze is locked onto her hand as you scooch away from her and she follows your gaze and on her hand is a bite mark.

“Shit!” Her eyes flash to Tommy but then to you who is slowly reaching for your gun and Tommy realizes it as well. “Wait stop!” Quickly you rise to your feet gun in your free hand still clutching the little girl to your chest.

“You’re infected!” You hiss aiming right at Ellie. Your chest ached with pain you didn’t want it to be her she was so young but she was one of them now.

“No, it’s fine! I swear Y/n put the gun down,” Ellie pleads holding her hands up but you don’t dare to budge.

“Y/n put the gun down,” Tommy orders and your gaze whips over to the older man.

“Tommy she’s fucking bit! There’s nothing we can do about it.” You whisper-yell. You see both Tommy and Ellie give each other looks having a silent conversation. Ellie pulls up her sleeve revealing the chemical burn on her inner forearm and the lineart of the tattoo covering it.

“Y/n this isn’t an accidental burn, I burned myself because I was bitten two years ago but never turned…I’m immune.” She says and you look at the burn and the fresh bite mark on her hand.

“You’re lying. I’ve never met someone immune,” You say before looking at Tommy who doesn't say anything and his face doesn’t show he’s lying or being deceitful. Your face changes from fear and anger to shock as your hold on your gun falters, “You’re…but how?”

“I don’t know…” Ellie says with a shake of her head and a conflicted look, “That’s how I met Joel I was supposed to be brought to the Fireflies. They had plans to make some sort of cure but it didn’t work out. You know what the fireflies were working on but I swear I’m immune, Joel knows, and Tommy and Maria do too.” Her whole explanation is insane and you can’t believe it. Ellie was immune…and that opens a whole other door. Was she and Joel at the hospital when it got attacked all those years ago? Who attacked them? Could she get others infected? Why didn’t making a cure work?

“I know this is a lot to dump on your kid, but here isn’t a good place to talk this out,” Tommy says, his gaze whipping from both the pair of you and the still-open doors of the diner. You all head out trying to find a location to recuperate before returning to Jackson. You ended up finding a car shop that Tommy had gone through to clear out and once deemed safe you all brought the horses into the large garage before entering the store portion and settling in for a bit. About an hour passed, and you and Ellie sat at a table peeling back the bandage seeing there was nothing wrong with it, no veins of infections just looks like a regular bite mark.

“Holy shit…” You mumble looking at the injury, your hand lightly tracing around the clean bite mark and looking at the chemical burns and tattoo both items that cover the true nature of the injury, “So nothing can happen to you, no bites or spores affect you?” You ask and Ellie shakes her head.

“No obviously infected can still kill me by mauling me to death,” She jokes and you smirk slightly, “But I can breathe in spores without any problem though Joel still makes me wear a mask for appearances.” You lean back in your chair, a look of shock still on your face trying to wrap your mind around it.

“Did you see other immune people with the Fireflies? I knew there was word of finding some cure. I didn't know they actually found an immune person. I thought it was just hope and speculation.” You say and see a shift in Ellie’s demeanor from your question.

“Uh it’s a long story but I was asleep the entire time so I didn’t get to talk to other people until I got pulled out of the hospital.” She seems highly uncomfortable with the topic and you let it go. Tommy stands by the doorway his gaze outside the barred windows for any signs of infected or people. A shuffling comes from the small lounge couch that the little girl rests on as she slowly wakes up. You see the stiffening in her body not recognizing her location until her darting eyes land on you.

“Hey…you’re okay kid, we’re not gonna hurt you.” You say and she rises to sit up clutching the hem of the ratty sweater that was probably not keeping her warm, her pants all ripped and patched together and her shoes very broken in. “What’s your name?” You ask and she looks between you, Ellie who gives a friendly smile, and Tommy who looks over the whole situation.

She hesitates for a second before speaking, “Lila,” She whispers and you nod before pointing at yourself,

“I’m Y/n, and this is Ellie and Tommy,” You say while pointing at both of them and she nods slowly understanding. Reaching into your pack you see her tense up. “It’s okay…I just wanted to see if you were hungry while I cleaned you up.” You say pulling out the sandwich that was meant to be yours but it was going to be in better hands and you’ve gone with skipping a meal. Her eyes light up seeing the sandwich before you as you hold it out and she instantly snatches out and starts devouring it. With her fueling up you pull out your canteen and find a dusty rag in one of the cabinets wetting it and start wiping away the dirt and blood from her face. She flinches slightly from the cold but allows you to continue.

“We should head out soon, it’s getting close to sunset and we still have an hour’s ride back to Jackson,” Tommy says as you clean up Lila.

“Lila, did you come here alone or with people?” You ask as Lila wipes the crumbs of the sandwich from her face also having accepted pieces of chocolate that Ellie provided.

“My momma sent me out to find…the stuff to help ouchies,” She says and you see the look Tommy gets hearing this even you were surprised but it was extremely close to home. You remember your mother sending you out with ration cards or errands in the QZ as soon as you were able to walk and talk. “Are you going to take me back to my momma?” Lila asks and you pause in your cleaning. You give Tommy a look unsure what to say.

“Listen, kid, if we run into them then yes. But if not we do have to return home and we’ll try to see after some rest and food in all of us we can find your family.” Tommy says as gently as possible hoping not to set off the kid but she just nods understanding and continues munching on her chocolate.

“Okay!” You finish cleaning her off and freeze when you take in her features that now aren’t covered in blood or dirt, both Ellie and Tommy also notice what you see. Lila looked oddly familiar as both Ellie and Tommy’s gazes dart from you and Lila seeing the similar features though slightly different. Your noses were different, but your hair texture was the same but different hair colors, you had different eye shapes but your eye color was identical. You were silent looking at Lila she looked like a mini you but some things were off or tweaked. It’s as if your mother had another you. She looks at you and tilts her head slightly.

“What’s wrong?” She asks and you quickly stand putting the stuff away in your pack grabbing your rifle that leaned on the table and slinging it over your shoulder.

“We should head back.” You say and just like that Ellie and Tommy can sense the tension coming off you. You all quickly pack up dressing Lila in your coat to give her some extra warmth during the ride home. Entering the garage you climb onto Red and Tommy lifts Lila for you to hold who rests in front of you.

“Horsie!” She claps her hands and you stroke her hair with a soft smile before tightening your grip on the reins. Tommy lifts the garage door open before mounting his horse and the four of you leave the car shop and the leaving the town. The sun begins its descent as you make your trek back to Jackson. It’s about thirty minutes into your trip that you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched as you travel through the forest. Immediately you are surrounded by four other horses with people on them but they don’t look great for wear even the horses look exhausted. Your hand rests on your revolver, while Tommy and Ellie hold their rifles pointed at them as the others have their weapons pointed at them.

“What business you got here?” A man with a cap and bandana around his mouth gruffs, his shotgun pointed at Tommy who keeps a steady hold on his rifle.

“Just passing through, we mean no harm. They’re just children and myself no one else.” Tommy explains trying to ease the high tension. Anything could happen. One wrong move can turn this into a bloodbath. You can see each individual, pausing at a woman who wears a balaclava covering the lower half of her face but you recognize those eyes. Lila squirms seemingly recognizing the group as the woman lowers her mask, both you and Lila saying the same thing.

“Mom..?” “Momma!”

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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If your name is crossed out tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry :(

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jasmineandcedar · 2 months ago

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In the absence of shadows

I've been reflecting on Azriel's shadows while working on a piece of writing, naturally reminiscing about what SJM has given us so far. This is nothing new, but the behaviour of his shadows is to me one of the most beautiful ways in which SJM has shown just how much Elain means to Azriel.

Because, is it really a coincidence that Azriel uses his shadows to hide, to conceal his inner world and emotional state (“the shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much,” as Rhys said), and yet around Elain, they behave differently? She is the one around whom his shadows tend to vanish, and who understands his emotional state without him having to put it into words (“Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days”).

And is it a coincidence that Azriel’s shadows serve as his source of intel—“the news brought to him on his shadows’ whispers,” and so on—yet around Elain, they tend to vanish? That with her, he doesn’t need them to understand her?

His understanding of Elain isn’t born from the observational skills honed through his magic or his role as Spymaster. He isn’t just Azriel the Spymaster doing his job. It has nothing to do with duty, the duties that stand in the way of his happiness and well-being.

When it comes to Elain, it’s simply Azriel the male, stripped of magic, powers, and titles, seeing and understanding Elain the female. No shadows. No duties. No veil. Not Azriel the Spymaster, nor Azriel the shadowsinger. Just Azriel.

None of this is coincidental, of course. SJM didn’t accidentally write such a beautifully poetic circumstance. I think it’s a testament to how important Elain is to Azriel, and how his character development is wholeheartedly tied to her.

Without Elain, he is stagnant. He has been stagnant for over five hundred years.

The vanishing of his shadows, the absence of his need to hide and his need to stay informed about his surroundings, shows just how much peace and quiet she offers him. A kind of peace and quiet I don’t think he has ever known.

I often focus on the Elain part of Elriel, her choice and agency, but the Azriel part is just as beautiful. They fit together like notes in a chord. Because it is quite frankly monumental for the shadowsinger, who has kept everyone at arm’s length for centuries, who has never truly felt he belonged anywhere, to not only let his guard down but to be received the way Elain receives him.

As if he belongs there, unhidden and exposed before her.

When she, who sees the version of Azriel unhidden by shadows, looks at him, she breathes “beautiful,” at the sight of what he’s most insecure about. Whereas others have only ever said “scarred” or “brutalized” about his hands. When she looked up at him on Solstice, he saw someone so “trusting and hopeful and open” he was stunned anyone could look at him like that.

And here’s another beautifully poetic circumstance—because SJM becomes a poet when she writes Elriel:

We all love the image of Azriel, the boy robbed of sunlight, being chosen by Elain, who is basically the sun incarnate—glowing like the sun at dawn, in his eyes. But there’s more to it than that.

How did Feyre describe Azriel when she saw him bathed in sunlight, free of shadows? “More human than I had ever seen him.”

The first time we see Azriel and Elain together after she's Made, he flies her to the townhouse, “no shadows to be seen”, and takes her to the garden, “sunlight bathing them”. Elain experiences beauty again, after the trauma of being Made, when she breathes "beautiful" about his outstretched hand.

Elain, the very embodiment of the sun, who was traumatically robbed of her human life, gets to see and be cared for by the truest, rawest version of Azriel. The version of him that appears almost human.

Because his shadows vanish in her presence. Because he doesn’t need to hide when he’s with her. Because he doesn’t need his shadows to understand her. Because he finally belongs and is safe.

Azriel’s final destination is Elain.

Elain. Elain. Elain. Elain.

Elain.

There’s nothing else for him. No more satisfying or complete resolution of his character arc. She isn’t just part of it—she is his whole character arc.

And together, they fit into each other’s stories like the entwined stems of a flower crown. To me, they are the two most stunning character arcs SJM has ever woven together. Which is why I’m still thinking about them, seven years after I started anticipating Elain’s book. Because I just cannot let them go until they’re finally home.

#elriel

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suuuupernovaaa · 8 months ago

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The Book Seller - Azriel x f!OC (Part 3/3)

Summary: Azriel’s mate decides whether she wants to accept the mating bond, or if it’s all too much.

Content Warning: Adult, 18+, mentions of death and trauma, sexual content

Part 1, Part 2

The next day, Azriel came and fixed the door to my apartment. While he was there, he noticed a few cabinets askew, and fixed those as well.

Afterwards, we made our way down to sit outside the storefront and enjoy lunch by the river, and he noticed a wiggling floorboard, and a crooked bookshelf.

He fixed those, as well.

My heart swelled to watch him pouring energy into the small bookshop that had been my life for so long. It felt quite right, to see him wipe sweat from his brow as he aligned the book shelf just so, and the satisfied smile that crossed his face was enough to make my heart stop when he turned to me.

I laid awake all the previous night, thinking of the bits of information he’d shared with me. His childhood and the pain he’d endured. The way he found his brothers, Cassian and Rhysand. All the wars and trials they’d been through since then. The killing and the torture. The way the peaceful times we were living in now felt like a dream to him.

It had been hard to part ways with just a chaste kiss to his cheek, but I wasn’t sure how fast or slow we were going to move. Some mates took their time, and some took no time at all. I knew at least that he’d be back the next day, to fix the door and so much more.

I set a tray of food in front of us as we sat down to enjoy one of the last warm days we’d see for a while. The food was ordered from a cafe around the corner, as I knew the significance of preparing a meal for the man before me. Preparing and offering a meal was a sign of accepting the bond.

“Thank you for fixing all of that. My brother, I’ve asked him so many times, but he has a little one at home and not much time to help.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “You can ask me now,” he said, and a fist squeezed around my heart.

“It’s a little funny that…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Go on,” he said, setting his food down.

“We don’t really know each other, do we? We met last night but it feels, almost, like I could rely on you. If I decided to.”

The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile, and that was his only response.

—

Azriel stopped by every day over the next week. Sometimes when the store was open, just to quickly say hi, and twice after to take a walk along the chilly river and talk, hands or arms clasped together. His company was becoming easy, comforting, and I was growing accustomed to him so quickly.

I wondered, was it because we were mates, or would we have found ourselves drawn to each other otherwise?

Despite the ease and excitement, something loomed over me. Azriel was not a normal fae, not a carpenter or a tradesman, not someone I met down the street or at a bar. He was the Shadowsinger, at the hand of our High Lord, and there were parts of his life I was not sure I would ever be privy to. Would that be a true partnership, if part of himself was kept hidden away?

If our era of peace ended, he’d have to put himself in danger. What did being a Shadowsinger truly entail? Would his duties take him away from time to time?We never talked about it, because I didn’t ask.

I was too afraid to. What if he told me he couldn’t share that? What if he told me something I didn’t want to hear? What if he thought it was too soon for me to ask?

When he stopped in the following Saturday, early in the morning with a tea in hand for me, my father was in the shop.

My family joined for dinner together every Wednesday night at my parents house, and my eldest sister had been quick to announce I’d met my mate this past family dinner.

Though they had all insisted on meeting him, I’d not yet broached the topic with Azriel. My family was loud, boisterous, always in each other’s business, and fiercely loving but sometimes overwhelming. Azriel was quiet, and I was nervous that he wouldn’t appreciate them.

My father, a tall man but still a dwarf compared to the Shadowsinger, did not balk when Azriel entered and strode to my desk, handing me the tea.

“Good morning. I came to tell you -“

“Is this him?” father interrupted, and I chided him with a tisk.

“Father!” I hissed, and Azriel straightened. It occurred to me then that truly, Azriel was older than my parents, but fatherhood had made my father mature in a way that only being a parent can, and he looked at Azriel through those eyes.

The tension grew in the air quickly as the two men stared at each other until my father, who had never been described as intimidating a day in his life, grabbed Azriel’s hand in his and shook it violently up and down.

“Great to meet you, son,” my father said to Azriel, the High Lord’s Shadowsinger, his elder by 100 years, as if he was any other man on the street.

To his credit, Azriel returned the shake with enthusiasm, and tipped his head as a sign of respect. “You as well, sir,” he replied.

Father waved his hand to dismiss the title. “No formalities in family. Will you join us for dinner this week?”

Azriel looked to me, and I tried to communicate my apologies with my expression.

He cleared his throat. “Actually, I came to tell you, Holly, I leave tonight and will be gone about a week.”

I gripped my tea in my hands as my father wisely made some mumbled excuse to leave us alone at my desk. I stood from my chair and came around to meet Azriel, perching on the edge of my desk.

“Oh. Um, work?”

He nodded.

“I wanted to ask… how much I might be allowed to know. In the future.”

His face grew dark and serious. “I would tell you anything you want to know, though some of it you may not want to hear. It is not always pleasant, extracting secrets.”

I nodded gravely. “Oh. Right.”

“Which brings me to another point… being my mate, it could land you in trouble. One day. Soon or in the distant future. I’d feel better if you could defend yourself.”

“Fight?” I asked, glancing around at the book store to make sure no one was listening.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never have to, but I would feel more at ease if I knew you could defend yourself. If need be.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of - the danger that came with the man in front of me. It only took a week to bubble to the surface.

“Cassian and Nesta have offered to train you.”

“Why not you?”

A small smile crossed his lips. “Just this week, while I’m gone. I’ll join once I return. I thought you’d be more comfortable, with Nesta there.”

Nervous, I reached out and grabbed his hand. He held mine fiercely.

“Will you be safe? Are you going somewhere dangerous?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to me. “No, no one will even know I’m there,” he replied quietly, and pressed his forehead to mind. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent.

“Do you promise?” I whispered.

To my shock, Azriel’s lips found mine then. For the first time. Soft, warm, and all enveloping, I pressed my body flush to his and opened my mouth to allow him entry, a soft sigh escaping.

I had been waiting, every moment since we’d met, for him to kiss me. Stealing glances at his lips, kissing his cheek with every departure, it wasn’t enough.

He snaked his arms around my waist, and I held his beautifully sculpted face in my hands as his tongue explored.

Every single part of me was on fire in a way I had never imagined possible. I could feel sparks shooting from my toes and the ends of my hair. Azriel groaned quietly as he pressed me tighter to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold him in place.

He tasted like mint tea and I wove my hands through his silky, dark hair, desperate for more.

Too fast, too suddenly, Azriel pulled away and smiled down at me. Only a moment later, I heard my father approaching.

He must have heard him first.

I removed my hands from his hair and smoothed it, removing any traces that I had been there, as we continued to smile at each other.

“Cassian will fetch you at 6am tomorrow, and have you back in time to open at 10,” he said, and my face fell.

“Azriel, 6am? You cannot be serious.”

He was laughing as he walked out the door.

—

The next week was grueling. Every morning, I met Cassian outside at 6am so he could prove to me how weak I truly was. I had no strength, no skill, no balance.

Nesta assured me she had been the same before Cassian had forced her to train, but it was hard to believe, watching her move with such grace and strength now.

Not only was the training draining me, but I missed Azriel. It felt strange to admit it. Two weeks ago, I had only known him by reputation. Now, a day without him was painful.

Near the end of the week, I’d asked the girls to run the shop for me for the day so I could rest, and Nesta invited me to join her for breakfast after training, just the two of us.

Sweaty and tired, I slumped at the table and asked the house for some water and tea. It appeared magically, delighting me as it had every time this past week.

“Can I ask you something a little personal?” I asked once I’d drank the entire glass of water, and Nesta nodded warily.

Though I did consider us friends, Nesta was still guarded, and I wanted to tread carefully.

“Is it hard, to be Cassian’s mate?”

She surprised me by laughing. “In what sense? He is very annoying.”

“I mean, him being who he is. The position he holds.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I don’t know if I can say. I was human before, and all I’ve known of being fae is these people, this life,” she gestured to the grand home around us, and I understood.

Her ushering into this life had been straight into grandeur. She had not lived life as a normal high fae, only royalty.

“I asked you to come here last week because I wanted you to meet Azriel. Something felt right, when I thought of you two together. I can’t explain it. I almost knew. Once the idea occurred to me, of you two together, I couldn’t shake it. It nagged at me until I brought you here.”

Though I had suspected, she hadn’t confirmed it before.

I pursed my lips and looked down at the full plated breakfast before me.

“He seems worth it, to me. Worth whatever… trouble, it could bring. To be his,” I said finally, picking up my fork. “I don’t know if I’m worthy of him.”

Nesta reached over and grabbed my arm. “You are. I would not trouble with you, if you weren’t.” She spoke plainly, stating a fact with no emotion behind it, and nodded in return.

—

I returned home early in the afternoon, greeted my employees, and headed up for a long bath and possibly a nap.

After soaking for a very long time to remove all the sweat and grime, I dressed in a simple tan dress, and pulled a book from my night stand. The bath had rejuvenated me enough to no longer need to sleep, so I sat next to the window to read.

Only ten minutes later, I closed the book, unable to focus on the words on the page. They danced around, always spelling Azriel in my mind.

A scary but not entirely unwelcome thought greeted me then: I was in love with the shadowsinger. With his soft smiles and tight expressions. His attention to detail and need to care and fix. His past and present and hopefully, his future.

I wasn’t just falling in love with him because the living bond between us brought us together, but for who he was. I would have loved him without this bond. Would have been struck by his beauty and grace. The quiet assuredness with which he moved through the world.

As I got lost deeper and deeper into my own thoughts, a knock came at the door. Probably Aurelia or Jessiminda, needing something for the store. I placed my book on the shelf before crossing my small apartment to pull open the door.

Neither girl stood there, but instead, Azriel barreled in, sweeping me into his arms in a warm embrace that I eagerly returned.

“You’re back!” I exclaimed, breathing him in. How fully I missed him really hit me then, as I held him safely in my arms. It was as if something had been wrong the last week, something missing from me, a part of my soul, and here it was, returned.

“I came back as soon as I could,” he said, his face in my hair. The unspoken part of that sentence seemed to be, to get back to you.

“How was training?” he asked as he pulled away, just a few inches to look at me, and I could not stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“I’m sore everywhere. I could not kick anyone’s ass.”

He laughed, a low chuckle. “Give it time.”

“I have been thinking… Jessaminda wants more hours, and the store is doing well. I could have her open every morning for me, so I only work afternoons.”

His smile grew. “You don’t want to train at six am.”

“Of course not. But also, it would mean more time for me.”

For us.

Through the bond, I felt a ripple of joy. Only once or twice before had I felt what I thought were Azriel’s emotions - we wouldn’t truly be able to feel each other until I accepted the bond, and we hadn’t discussed that yet.

“Good idea,” was his full reply, and I beamed at him.

“Are you hungry? I could make a stew.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you offering to cook for me? Now?”

I sauntered away from him into the kitchen, gathering the supplies I needed and lighting the stove.

“Sit, and tell me about your trip,” I instructed as I began chopping. He sat at my small dining table, looking as nervous as he was capable of after centuries of skillfully hiding his emotions, and told me of his trip. Simple fact finding and information gathering in the autumn court, where he’d also met up with some old friends. I asked questions, and he readily answered, giving me any information I wanted to know, which brought comfort to my heart.

When the stew was done, I filled two bowls, and turned to him.

“Before I give this to you, I want you to know… I think you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met. If you weren’t my mate, I would still find you as handsome, as impressive, as captivating, as awe-inspiring as I do now. I don’t care that we’ve only just met or there’s so much we have to learn about each other. I’m greatly looking forward to that.”

I sat down across from him, and wondered if my family would be upset that we’d done this in private. Many fae made a ceremony of this moment, but I couldn’t imagine that was something Azriel would want, and I didn’t really either.

There was a look in his eyes that I thought might be wonder, or awe, I set the bowl and spoon down in front of Azriel, and waited.

He lifted the spoon and stared at me with such intensity that it made my stomach churn with nerves.

“I have waited 500 years for you. Had I known what I was waiting for, I would have agreed to wait 500 more.” His voice trembled with emotion, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

We were silent as he took his first bite, and finished the bowl in mere minutes. I hadn’t even touched mine, I realized, and took my first bite as he took his last.

We stared at each other then, the air charged, and I felt it. The bond strengthening, solidifying between us, and I closed my eyes and listened.

I could feel him so clearly. His pain, his joy, and drowning everything else out, how badly Azriel wanted me in that moment. How desperate he was to touch me, and the thread he was using to hold himself back until he got a signal from me.

When I opened my dark eyes, his golden eyes bore into mine, passion sparking behind them.

“Yes,” was all I said, and all he needed, to sweep the table aside and pull me into his sturdy, waiting arms.

His mouth found mine eagerly, and his hands roamed my body. I found myself beyond glad I’d had time to bathe before he arrived.

He lifted me up by the shelf of my rear, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He walked the few steps over to my bed and without breaking the kiss, lay me on my soft green bedding, kneeling between my spread legs.

“Azriel,” I moaned, and I felt how badly he wanted me as he pressed himself into me. I arched my back, searching for more friction.

He reached down, pulling at the hem of my dress slowly, pushing it up over my thighs, his fingers trailing over my stomach, and I sat up so he could pull it over my head.

I made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, revealing his broad golden chest and firm abs.

“Gods,” I hissed as he tossed the shirt across the room. This sculpted angel before me was enough to send me into a spiral. He pushed me back onto the bed, and looked down at me as something to devour.

“I need to taste you,” he said, his voice all breath and gravel, and I nodded eagerly.

He started at my neck with lazy, languid kisses, running his warm tongue over my skin, and then down. Over my chest, he stopped to take my nipple into his mouth, biting and sucking gently. I arched my back, pressing myself into his mouth, and we groaned together.

Down, further down he went, trailing his tongue over my naval until he reached the apex of my thighs, and did not waste any time teasing me.

He pulled my sensitive bud between his lips and sucked. I was so swollen, so sensitive, and so desperate for him. I moaned his name and put my hands into his hair, guiding him as he truly devoured me. He slowed and sped, and stuck his tongue deep inside me, causing another loud moan to escape my chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and I nearly came at the sound of it.

“I need you,” I replied.

“Need me where, baby?”

“Inside me. Please. Now,” I panted.

He stood up slowly, torturing me, and removed the buckle from his pants, and slid them down over taught, muscular thighs.

The bulge in his underwear was obscenely large, and I wondered how on earth it was going to fit. He removed his underwear and sprang free, and my mouth watered.

He was on top of me once more, his fingers dragging through my wet folds, circling my clit, as I moaned into his mouth.

I spread my legs as wide as they would go, and reached down to grip his considerable length, and place it at my entrance.

“Please,” I breathed, and my mate’s eyes met mine. I felt him, his love and his admiration and his lust, surging through the bond. “Azriel.”

“Holly,” he whispered, reverently, worshipping my name as he worshipped my body, and slid slowly inside me.

“Gods!” I exclaimed, and dug my nails into his back.

He groaned, stopping to allow me to adjust to his size. “Good girl. You can take it all. Be a good girl for me,” he whispered in my ear.

When he was finally fully seated in me, to the hilt, he stilled again. I felt impossibly full but gods, so good, and I wiggled, encouraging him to move.

He chuckled and placed a rough kiss on my mouth before beginning to move. Slowly, carefully at first.

“More. I won’t break.”

He moaned again then, a sweet sound in my ears, and picked up the pace, sliding in and out of me faster and faster until he reached a punishing pace, and I was making noises in his ear I’d never made before.

“Come for me, mate,” he demanded in my ear, and I came apart around him with a blinding scream, clamping my legs around his waist and scratching my nails down his bag.

He groaned a moment later, finding his release, and collapsed on top of me.

I was thoroughly devoured.

—

We stayed in my apartment for four days together, learning and exploring each other, and I had never felt so blissfully happy.

Or so sore.

The frenzy. I’d heard of it before. It was a dangerous time for newly fated males, but Azriel and I stayed locked up together for the worst of it.

When we were not actively learning each other, we talked, or ate, or slept, or read together. I thought life like this forever might be okay, but of course, it couldn’t last.

On the fifth day, Azriel recommended we might emerge and let our friends and family know we had affirmed the bond, as if they didn’t know. I had sent word to my employees to run the store without me, to my family that I’d miss dinner, and I knew he’d sent word to his family too.

I had not known they’d planned a party, or else I would have insisted we stay locked away for much longer.

As we left through my apartment window, I already wished we were back inside, Azriel inside me and all around me, where nothing and no one else existed.

Sadly, we had responsibilities outside, and decisions to make.

Like where we would live. The thought of Azriel residing with me in my small apartment was cozy, but laughable. He spent most of his time at the House of Wind, but also had a room in the High Lord’s newest home, and his townhome central to the city.

I had suggested it might be nice to have a place all our own. Near the water, and my store, somewhere just for us.

Azriel had liked the idea so well, he’d taken me against the window as we looked out at the city, planning.

We arrived at the House of Wind as the sun was setting, entering through a door in the courtyard that I’d not yet seen. Azriel led me to his room, dark and quiet and without decoration, and I wondered what our new home would look like.

He opened his closet and from within, drew out a golden gown, the color of his eyes. It was beautiful, floor length with a plunging neck line, long adorned sleeves, and intricate bead work throughout.

“For you,” he said, bringing it over to me. “From Feyre.”

I reached out to touch the most lovely dress I’d ever seen. “I can’t accept this.”

He shrugged. “You can,” he replied simply. Money had not yet crossed my mind - what kind of salary did a Shadowsinger draw? Surely more than a book peddler.

I turned and allowed him to remove my dress, and once I stood nearly naked before him, I leaned over the black dresser in front of me, bearing myself to him as I stepped out of my shoes.

His breath hissed between his teeth, and I smiled. I turned and placed my hands on his shoulders, stepping into the dress. He drug it up my body, and stepped around me to zip it up. It fit perfectly, making curves where I’d thought I had none. I turned to look in the mirror, pushing my hair from my face, and decided on a simple, long braid, so as not to distract from the dress.

When I finished, Azriel grabbed my hand. “I also have this for you,” he said, holding out a ring. A thin gold band adorned with one shining purple jewel. Simple, and lovely, and I wordlessly spread my fingers so he could slide it on.

Two weeks ago, I was alone. I was lonely. Time is a funny thing.

—

I expected at most, a handful of people when we entered the dining room, but as we grew closer, the chatter of a crowd was hard to miss.

I gasped when we entered. The hall was decorated beautifully, in purple and gold everywhere, flowers and tapestries and other finery as far as the eye could see.

Everyone in my family was there. My parents, all three siblings and their spouses, and their children as well, five in total.

All mixed in with Azriel’s family, Rhysand and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, Amren and Mor standing with a beautiful woman who had to be Feyre’s third sister, hanging on the arm of a stunning man with red hair.

“Oh gods!” I shouted.

“Surprise!” Cassian hollered, igniting a laugh through the small crowd.

“Aunt Holly!” my youngest nephew ran to me as I entered and continued taking in the scene, and I bent down to scoop him into my arms. Nearing five, I would soon be unable to pick him up and throw him around, and I relished in holding him when I could.

I turned to Azriel, who smiled at me with mischief in his eyes. “Did you know?”

He shrugged, confirming it. “It was Feyre’s idea.”

Well, my mate was nothing if not clever. He knew I could not be mad if it was my High Lady’s idea. She approached then, arms open to wrap me and my nephew wiggling in my arms in a tight hug.

“I don’t know how you feel about surprises, but it didn’t feel right not to celebrate a new family member.”

I tried hard, but couldn’t resist a small bow. “Thank you, My Lady.”

She tisked. “Enough of that today. Just Feyre.”

Aiken jumped from my arms and ran back to my family, and we spent the rest of the night laughing and drinking as our two families blended. The atmosphere in the room was light, joyful, and calm.

I knew it would not always be this way. There would be very hard times ahead, and times of even greater joy and celebration.

Azriel and I were just getting started. It was all so new and fresh, but I was so sure of it too. So sure of him. The mating bond flowed between us, steady and strong, and we felt when the other was ready to end the night. I saw my family off before Rhysand and Mor helped them all home, promising we’d be at every Wednesday dinner we could, and we bid Feyre and her sisters farewell.

We returned to Azriel’s room quietly, hands clasped together, and I wondered if someone could be too happy.

If it was dangerous, to be too content, so quickly. To have so much change come into your life and to be so incandescently happy with it.

Was I asking for something terrible? Was I inviting in chaos and danger, simply by being overjoyed?

If so, I would not have changed a thing. Would not have chosen another mate, another family, another life for all the coin on the continent.

Azriel wrapped me in his arms as we fell asleep a while later, and I listened to his heartbeat in his chest, counting them.

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

A beautiful sound. The sound of my mate, alive and well.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked, sensing my overwhelming emotions down the bond.

“That I love you,” I replied quietly, eyes still closed, heart beating wildly.

I heard his speed up, too.

A confusing mix of emotions came through the bond. Pain, longing, fear, lust, but there under all of that, there was love.

“I don’t deserve you. You are good and pure. You are kind. Faultless.” His gravely voice was strained, and I propped myself up to see his golden eyes shining.

“You deserve every happiness in the world, and I will see to it that you have them, my mate.”

He leaned up, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

“I love you, too,” he said, and shouted it down the bond as well.

We fell asleep intertwined in his dark sheets, only love enveloping us.

The book seller and the shadowsinger.

@rcarbo1

#azriel fic #azriel #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel shadowsinger

244 notes · View notes

hyukascampfire · 10 months ago

Text

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O2 ❩ ⸺ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵

𝓘N WHICH 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."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 17.5k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ violence (stabbing... twice..), a dead animal appears in a scene, fem reader, mentions of past family trauma, cunnilingus, overstimulation, unprotected sex ｡ ( playlist )

← rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd! ♡(ᗒᗣᗕ )՞ →

🪶 ⦂ I have so much in store for you. I was hunched over my desk writing this like a scientist mixing their chemicals.

It’s more difficult than you had anticipated to keep your mouth shut about what had happened, but Taehyun stays quiet, so you do too. You make yourself useful, packing up with him, hoping to ease the palpable tension.

Insecurities whisper in your ears that the kiss was just… disappointing to him. It was your first kiss, anyway. The feel of his lips on yours is brutally seared into your mind. You hope your mouth harasses his mind as much as his does yours. You can’t let that fester for too long, though. You have a lot to do to become a useful spy. Your inadequacy is why you’re even here, traveling in silence next to Taehyun, heading north. You’re not sure why they decided to throw you to the wolves for your first assignment, but there has to be a reason. You can only throw yourself more fully into improving your skillset.

You decide on trying to cut the nagging tension with words. You’ve walked for hours with it looming in the air. But, it isn’t easy. You open your mouth to speak, closing it to rethink your words, and repeat a few times, before finally just saying, “What are we going to even be doing, when we reach the north?” You readjust your bag on your shoulders, its thick straps digging into the bone of your shoulder. The bag is heavier than it was yesterday. Everything is heavier today. Maybe it’s the realization that you’re progressing toward your dream, but it’s all hazier than you imagined it would be. Or, maybe, it’s the awful cold shoulder Taehyun is throwing at you.

“Do you know much about the Unseelie queen?” He asks.

You shake your head. You know that her kingdom is revered as the most fearsome in Faerie, and you know that they hold a special brew of distaste for humans. But, you do not know much more. Your school lessons had, for reasons you could infer, brushed over the ice kingdom only very briefly. The folk prefer that humans don’t see those sides of this world. Not for your peace of mind—but, because it keeps you complacent. It’s not like you don’t see it, anyway. You know the evils of this world well.

“You need to be careful when we get there. Things get rough for humans up there. You need to remember that you can’t trust the words that come from their mouths.”

How long until snow powders the ground? The scenery around you has already grown wintry—trees are sparse, and foliage is hardier. It all is so much more muted. Probably not too long.

“We’re going to be infiltrating The Queen’s Court. She’s always pledged allegiance to him, but The King wants eyes and ears in the north.”

The King thinks that she’s going behind his back? There’s more in this world that you are oblivious to than you imagined. You’ve been under the impression that the Northern Queen was starkly allegiant to The High King. It makes sense, though. There isn’t much incentive to keep humans in the know on faerie politics when you’re just here to be working bodies. “Does he have any reason to believe that?” you ask. It would be nice to have some more information.

Taehyun explains, “The Northern Court and High Court have had a history of tension. It’s why it became a tradition to send their children to intermingle with each other’s courts. However, the Queen hasn’t upheld that tradition for at least the past hundred years.” An extra chilly breeze licks at your cheeks, and you shiver. You are definitely making progress northward.

“So, he risks the lives of his heirs?” you ask, pursing your lips. If the northern court is supposed to be so vicious, you cannot imagine why The King would even consider it, especially if relations are supposed to be so strained.

“The Queen would not outright harm them. She values the power that his alliance gives her too much, and she would lose the war that would follow. She is the scheming type.” Taehyun tugs up the hood of his cloak to keep the wind from chapping his skin, and you do so with yours as well. “Which is why we’re going up there in the first place.”

You acknowledge his answer with a nod. The wind whips past you, and you have to fight it to keep your eyes open. You would appreciate the accompanying snowfall if it was not blowing wildly down on you and stinging your cheeks. With a flex of your fingers, you confirm that they’re still mobile, but they’re lethargic and locked up in the cold. A powdery layer of snow builds on the ground, and you curse it for the way it has your toes freezing through even your leather boots.

“Can,”—Your teeth chatter—“Can we get a fire going, or something?”

You catch a glimpse of his face under his hood as he turns to you. His nose and cheeks are rosy, but it seems that the cold affects him less than it does you. The snow is high enough now that you have to drag your feet through with each forward step. Is the rest of the way going to be like this? You might freeze to death, then.

“We’ve got a bit of time. Let’s get as far as we can, before stopping.”

You roll your eyes. Maybe he wants you to freeze to death, and then he could be freed from any trace of what had happened last night. You bring your hands to your mouth and let out warm puffs of air as if it would thaw out your poor hands and nose.

Your mouth struggles to even form words.“I would appreciate living to see tomorrow,” you say slowly. You still lace it with plenty of attitude.

Taehyun doesn’t respond.

❆

Taehyun curses as visibility wanes to only a few feet. All that lays in your path is whipping snow and haze.

Your boot catches on something beneath the snow, and you tumble. Frigid snow and ice shards greet you on the ground, biting your skin. Looking up, you find Taehyun gone. He has to be at least somewhere in the gray haze around you; it’s only been a few seconds. If you can’t find him, you’ll die here. That isn’t up for debate.

“Taehyun?” you shout, your voice muffled and carried away by the howling wind.

You stay where you are, but lift yourself from the ground. You can’t start wandering blindly, you’ll end up separating further from him.

He calls your name, but it’s distant.

“Here,” you say, “I’m over here!”

There are many ways that you do not want to die, but you especially do not want to die like this. Your throat tightens the longer he doesn’t respond.

“Taehyun?”

He appears through the veil of snow and haze. A cry erupts from your throat, your voice breaking with relief. He takes you by the arm and tugs you behind him wordlessly, searching for something.

“I thought I was dead,” you say to the air, but it mostly drowns you out.

“I know.” His voice is thick. “I did too.”

He finds whatever it is that he seems to be searching for, and you might cry as you recognize the rocky opening to be a cavemouth. You won’t be dying today, at least.

“I’m going to start a fire,” Taehyun announces only moments after you both duck under the low cavemouth and step into the refuge of the cave walls.

“You’ll get lost.” It’s true, but you also just cannot stand the idea of sitting in this cave alone for any extended amount of time. Your hand is barely visible in front of you, and it’s only getting darker as the blizzard grows thicker outside.

“I’ll be fine. You’re going to freeze to death without it,” he says, before he dips out, leaving you alone and shivering. He could’ve at least given you a second to protest.

You’re not usually too scared of the dark, but you do press your back to the wall, decorated with liverwort, and sit. Getting separated earlier nags at your mind. You have to remember that you aren’t safe. A line of work like this guarantees it. You could easily have become a body losing heat out in that flurry of wind and snow. You would’ve died before ever seeing the fruits of what you could make of yourself; would’ve died living an insignificant life. Some jaded part of you wonders what Taehyun might’ve felt if you had. Would he move on with this assignment without delay?

At least the wind is no longer circulating about the cave and producing the howl that has been haunting you. There are no such wintry winds to freeze up your extremities in here, but it’s still cold enough to have you shuddering and tucking your hands underneath your knees to ration your warmth.

Will you even be able to make it all the way to the Northern Court? You imagine telling Taehyun that you can’t handle it, or that you’re going back, and you imagine the look that would fall over his face. No. You’d become a statue of ice, frozen forever at a crossroads between a meaningless life and new beginnings, before that.

The cold beckons you to sleep, and the aching in your tired back and limbs say that sleep is a splendid idea, but you resist. You need to see him return so that you know that a fire will warm your aching bones to sleep. But you are so cold, and sleeping it away sounds so nice…

Your eyelids are heavy, and it’s harder to keep them open than it is to just let them fall. Your veins are sluggish with the cold.

When your head drops, you’re brought back to consciousness, but it’s so, so cold when you’re awake. It’s so cold that it burns. Even your lungs are slow and weary.

You are so cold that you can no longer shiver.

Something is muffled and shuffling beyond your huddle, but you can’t rally the energy to worry about it. You hang suspended between dream and consciousness. You want both so badly.

Taehyun curses. “I need you to stay awake,” He says. You can only muster a nod for him. Your eyes protest as you hold them open, watching Taehyun hastily sparking up a fire. He strikes rocks against each other, growing more frustrated each time a spark doesn’t catch. When one does, the flame starts slowly on the snow-wetted wood. Your skin tingles under the warmth radiating from it. The roiling flame is intense, having been cold for so long.

You bask in the fire’s flickering light. Movement comes easier to your limbs as you defrost. Taehyun produces a few hardy roots and skins them with a dagger that glints in the low light, then sets them to roast over the flame.

“How did you find those?” you say. It was hard to even walk out there, and you’re sure it had gotten worse while he was out. How would he even find them under the snowpiles, unless he knew where to look?

He gives you a long look, as if considering something. “Just got lucky digging through the snow while I was looking for the wood.”

That explanation doesn’t make sense; finding three subsurface roots underneath thick snow is different from finding hunks of wood protruding from it. It might be the truth, but you decide to ask, “Under the snow?”

Fire crackling is the only sound to fill the silent moment as he doesn’t answer. Well, if you weren't already iffy, you are now. He watches the flames prance around for a charged moment, the reflection of it shimmering in his dark eyes.

“I’m from the north,” he finally says. You frown. Why hadn’t he just said that in the first place?

“Is that why your ears aren’t pointed?” you ask, sitting up a bit. He pulls the roots, lightly toasted, off the fire.

His gaze rips away from the flame, landing on you. His eyes are a little too intense for such a simple question. “No,” he says. His behavior tickles a curious part of you; if you’re going to be on this assignment together for so many weeks, then it’s best to get to know each other. You also have been intensely curious about his ears from the moment you noticed their curvature. It’s odd to see fundamentally human features on a faerie.

You don’t mean to be overly invasive, though, and you feel bad for prodding so much as his face hardens. You hadn’t thought too much about why it might be a sensitive subject for him; you just wanted to satisfy your curiosity. You’re seconds from telling him that you like his ears, but he speaks before you can.

“My mother was human,” he says, his eyes trained on the cave floor in front of him. He’s half human? That’s why he’s so averse to mentioning his ears—he’s embarrassed by his human mother. You stew over that. If he dislikes his mother for her humanity, it explains how he has acted concerning you. You pity him, though. It would be difficult to belong anywhere with that specific mix of blood: humanity fears him, and Faerie does not treat half-blooded faeries as truly its own.

“She hid herself away when she found she was pregnant, and gave birth to me where she thought she would be safest. She knew what my father would do. He found her eventually. He killed her because she was dirt on his name. He couldn’t kill me, though.” Your stomach does a sickened flip. You know that, by faerie honor, he would have to raise Taehyun.

“I’m so sorry, Taehyun,” you say. He just presses his lips thin and hands you a roasted root to eat.

“I hated him for it more each day, so one day I took a blade to my ears and made sure I never resembled him again. At least, in that way.” Your heart lurches. The thought of him carving off the points of his ears to spite his dad… He had maimed himself, and you’ve been poking and prodding him about it. You wince.

You want to apologize again, but you have a feeling that he doesn’t want any more apologies, and you don’t know him well enough to comfort him in any meaningful way. Instead of saying something that you’re sure will ring hollow, you say, “The faerie that stole me from my parents was a seamstress. She wanted a human girl to work her shop for her, without having to pay wages like she would for a faerie. It was taxing work, even when I was this tall,”—you denote the height of a child six or seven years old with your hand—“Maybe she just didn’t know what it means to raise a human child, but she wasn’t the best replacement for parents. She knew that I needed to be fed at least regularly, and provided everything I needed for hygiene, but she didn’t know that I needed a mother. She gave me an education, and I know that humans here don’t usually get that. I’m grateful for it—I really, really am, but it’s just… The fact that it was more for her own benefit than out of the goodness of her heart…”

Taehyun listens, his eyes reflecting the oranges and yellows of the fire. You know that you’re rambling. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is… I guess…” You hope the yellow glow of the flames is enough to disguise your embarrassment, and also that he doesn’t think you’re trying to upstage him. You just feel wretched for putting him in a position where he had to surrender such dark memories to you.

He doesn’t say anything, taking a root from the fire for himself and biting into it.

You bite into the fat, tuber-like root too, appreciating its nutty flavor, and you embrace the silence that grips the cave. Only the garbling of the fire speaks, but it is a comfortable quiet.

❆

The snowstorm must’ve died down while you slept, because the snow isn’t too much higher when you and Taehyun set back out the next day. It’s a bit of a drag to fight the mountains of snow it left with each step, but you don’t complain.

Sunlight shimmers off ice crystals and sends droplets down from snow-dusted branches and to your cheeks. Every breath into your lungs is crisp, but you have bundled yourself in the thermal clothing from the bag Taehyun had packed for you, so you’re mostly comfortable. At least your fingers and toes are mobile now.

Taehyun says that you have less than a day until you’re there. You repeat that like a mantra in your head as your feet ache with the strain of traveling so far by foot. He hasn’t said much else since, though, and you wonder if it has anything to do with last night’s topics of choice. His shoulders are as tense as his demeanor.

It’s getting boring walking for hours on end, and Taehyun isn’t the most talkative. The most you get for entertainment is your thoughts and watching the scenery change. So, you decide to put this time to use. You apply the silent walking technique that he had taught you despite how awfully your feet ache. It’s harder in the snow, but you’re better off knowing how to do it even in extraneous circumstances. You don’t know all that you’ll be facing in the north. Sliding your sword off your back, you realize how much it had been dragging your back down. No wonder your spine aches…. You practice swings and jabs, still sloppy with inexperience.

Taehyun hears you, and says over his shoulder, “Don’t push yourself today. You were close to freezing to death last night, just recharge your energy.”

Was it so bad? You know you had gotten pretty cold, but you feel fine now. “I was just exhausted, not freezing. We walked forever yesterday.”

You continue trying to get used to the weight of a sword in your hands.

Trees start coming fewer and farther between, and though the snow on the ground grows lower, it is crusted over in an icy layer that you have to break through with each step. Everything is sharper and more icy, less fluffy and light. Icicles drip from trees so sharp they could substitute for a weapon. You put away your sword; the ground is slick, and you’ll fall if you don’t think your steps through. You’ve got to be in the Northern Kingdom, now.

You walk like this for a while longer, only sparse trees and shrubbery, until an estate standing tall on the snowy flat peeks through the midday haze. An ancient and gnarled blackthorn tree sits proud on the estate’s grounds. Its spiny branches, bare of any fruit or leaf, twist among themselves. They remind you of impish claws.

Taehyun is heading straight for the estate.

“Are we about to meet somebody?” you ask, closing the distance between you with a little jog.

He shakes his head. “It’s my father’s residence.”

You stop, and he makes it a few steps ahead of you before he realizes. “We’re meeting your father?” you say. The thought turns your mouth to cotton. He had killed Taehyun’s human mother. Faerie hospitality doesn’t seem to mean much to him, and you don’t think he’ll like you much.

Taehyun’s brow creases. “What? No,” he says, looking back at the estate. “He’s been dead for a while.”

You reign in the relief that you feel, but that tidbit of information renders you curious again. Faeries don’t die of old age. How had he died? Is Taehyun pleased that he’s gone?

“Oh,” you say, not pushing it. You learned that lesson yesterday. “Good, ‘cause I’m not in any shape to be meeting anybody right now.” You drag your fingers through your knotty and tousled hair to make a statement. It’s wet in some places, where snowflakes found their way to your head and melted there. You’re sure it looks even worse than it feels. “Are we staying here, then?” You could use someplace to make yourself look less like you’ve just traveled three straight days, and it’s relatively optimistic that the sizable estate ahead of you has what you might need.

Taehyun hums in confirmation.

You approach the heavy ironwood front doors, and you gape at the wood interior and high ceilings. Nut-hatch’s humble cottage was more than the roaming life the wilder fae prefer, but it pales next to this. Charcoal-black banners hang down from the mezzanine and are embroidered with silver into a family crest that resembles the blackthorn tree that sits on the grounds outside.

“Who, exactly, was your father?” you ask, running fingers along the top of the dusty dining table that sits center of the estate. The sight of the empty chairs that encircle it is almost mournful.

Taehyun doesn’t answer, and when you look for him to see why, he is planted to the floor. A muscle feathers in his jaw as takes in the estate.

“He was general of The Queen’s guard. And, I guess, also a lord in her court.” There’s icy distance in his voice.

This is absolutely the estate of an esteemed general and lord if you’ve ever seen one.

“Anywhere for me to clean up?” you ask. You don’t want to intrude on whatever he’s dealing with returning here.

He nods, pointing up to the mezzanine floor where the walls are lined with doors. “There should be some stuff left over. You can use whatever you find.”

You follow him as he leads to a room. As you draw yourself a bath with water warmed over a fire stove, you cannot help but wonder what awful memories this place might hold for him in its ornate, wooden walls.

❆

Waking up in the warm sheets of a plush bed was a soothing balm for your aching joints and bones. Your hair is fresh and perfumed with the soaps and powdery-scented oils left over in the bathing room. You delighted in brushing out the tangles. The estate is full of pleasures that only the gentry could find mundane; you, on the other hand, are only left scheming how you might make this life your own.

You don’t see much of Taehyun all day, until he pokes into the bedroom you’re staying in and informs you that you’re attending Court tonight, and though you’ve known for a while now, a thick ball of nerves coils up in your stomach.

You unstring your travel bag, worrying that you’ll have to wear what you arrived here in, but Taehyun had packed accordingly. You tug out a mute dress, beige in color, and embroidered in the bodice and skirt of it with bronze threads. The short, puffed sleeves are pretty. There isn’t much to decorate yourself with, no pretty pins or silk shoes in the dressing tables or wardrobes, so you just wear your hair as it is and lace up your traveling boots for footwear. You find yourself in the mirror to be prettier than you’ve ever looked. Any dresses you’ve had access to in your life have been largely unspecial, and they marked you as a human servant. Even nakedness, in the land of Faerie, is more ornate than those kinds of dresses.

You hold the skirts of your dress up and above your feet so that it does not tread on wet snow and dirt as you and Taehyun leave the estate for Court. The knots in your stomach don’t let up any. You know you’ll stick out as a human, that’s a given, but you are deeply terrified you’re going to make a fool out of yourself by forgoing some unspoken faerie revel rule. You can’t compromise your assignment. Does Taehyun know you’ve never partied alongside the fae? Humans often attend faerie revels in the High King’s court, but are they even allowed to do so here?

Taehyun is dressed lavishly, clad in black from head to foot, and he wears a sleeved doublet encrusted with shimmering black beads and threads that glitter in the moon’s light. He wears the black fur pelt of some beast around the collar of his neck. He resembles entirely the son of a general. You feel plain, next to him.

“What do I do when we get there?” you ask, stepping around a puddle encased in a thin layer of cracked ice.

“The King wants to know if anything is going on, so you need to just listen. Look around a little, talk to people you think are interesting, and go from there.”

Sounds simple enough.

A thick forest surrounds the snowy flat that Taehyun’s estate sits on, and as you approach it, Taehyun says, “When we’re there, you can’t dance, no matter how badly you’ll want to.”

“I won’t.” You reassure him, but you’ll just run on the hope that Taehyun sticks near you. Faerie celebration is untamed, and if a human happens to dance among them, they will not be able to regain control over themselves until a faerie takes pity and pulls them out. That isn’t usually the case, though. The folk delight in seeing humans lose themselves to the abundance of faerie delights.

Taehyun accepts your answer, but he stops at one of the many wax-leaved holly trees and plucks a few jewel-red berries from their branches. Holly berries are faerie wards, and humans often carry a handful of them in their pockets to protect themselves from simple faerie glamours.

“I don’t have anywhere to keep them,” you say, taking the berries he drops into your hands. You feel around your dress to reaffirm that it doesn’t have any hidden pockets or pouches. None.

He produces a needle and some twine thread, offering it to you.

“What?” you say, a little lost. Obviously, he wants you to do something with it, because the berry’s juices would burn him, but you’re not exactly sure what.

“String the berries on it, and then I’ll show you.”

You purse your lips and do so as you continue on your way to the revel. Some squish as you do, but you tug them down the thread anyway. The thread seems long enough to wear as a necklace.

When you’re done stringing the berries, you look up to find that you’ve arrived. You admire how The Queen’s hall of revelries is not even a true hall, and is instead formed with tree trunks for walls and their branches for ceilings. Off-kilter faerie music twists and turns and floats alive in the air; the lilting flutes urge your limbs to move. Maybe it’ll be more difficult to stay off the dancing floor than you had initially anticipated.

Taking the strung berries from your hands, Taehyun gives you a look that you yet again cannot decipher before walking around you. He takes the top section of your hair into his hands.

“What are you doing?” you say.

He sections the hair into two and spins the pieces before pinning them in place. He continues fiddling with it for a bit, tugging something around and in between the hair, and then steps away. You feel your hair. He had pinned the hair into a half-updo with an ornamental hair comb and braided the berry string through it as a ward that doubles as a pretty hairstyle. It’s a fairly intricate hairstyle.

“How’d you learn to do hair?” you ask, spinning to face him.

He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s intuitive.”

You laugh a nose-crinkling laugh for the first time in a while and take him by the elbow to drag him toward the reverie ahead of you.

❆

You stand eating fruity delicacies and glazed meats off banquet tables, to curb your anxieties. There is plenty to enjoy—throngs of faeries dancing like nobody's watching to the rich song of the fiddle, long tables surrounded by chatting folk and rendered full with the plumpest of fruits and blocks of various cheeses. You had worried that you would stick out as a human attending Court in the north, but you have quickly realized that most are more worried about sinking in the debauchery than ogling you. There are so many conversations to listen to, but you don’t have the slightest clue which to even begin with. The Queen does not make an appearance today, but you don’t know if she ever even does.

You stand here, though, because Taehyun suggested it was best you split off and try to cover the most you can. You’ve been trying your best to strain your ear, but it all blurs into Court jargon to you. You inspect each of your snacks for the poisons Taehyun had taught you. It’s not like anybody cared enough to poison you, but Faerie courts are fickle.

A tap on your shoulders has you turning around to face the most beautiful faerie man you have ever seen. His brown eyes twinkle under the chandeliers hanging from branches overhead as he regards you, as do the plethora of crystals sewn into his extravagant white get-up. You gulp down the last of the cheese block in your hand.

He smiles, the corners of his lips turned up in a cheeky tilt. “Are the snacks any good?” he says.

It feels a bit odd that he’d be worrying what a human thinks of the food, but you reply anyway, “The cheese is fantastic.”

He laughs, having just watched you gulp down the last bit of it. His honeyed laugh compels laughter from you, too. And, so quickly that you don’t notice it, the rest of the revelry fades around you.

“Do you want to dance?” he says, gesturing over at the whirling sea of faeries. He holds himself with grace, down to his posture.

Your lips tug down into a disappointed frown. There are quite a few things you’re better off not doing here, but that is what you should do the least. “I don’t think I should.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, but his smile doesn’t falter any. “I’ll pull you out if it becomes too much,” he says. “I promise you that.” He presses a pristine hand over his chest, right at his heart, in testament to his sincerity.

Well, his words are plain enough to know that he isn’t lying. But you’re not here to dance; you’re here to perform your duties.

He can tell that you’re not convinced as he studies your face. “We can always stay here and enjoy these,”—he pops a cube of cheese in his mouth, so his next words are muffled—“No problem.”

His quickness to compromise is unfamiliar to you.“Let’s have some cheese.” You try to emulate his smile with your mouth, but you’re sure it looks better on him because he throws his head back and laughs.

The more you study his features, the more you realize how reminiscent of a fox they are. “Can I ask your name, pretty?” he says. The sugary-sweet words taste good in your mouth, and they rot your inhibitions. You shouldn’t be sitting here twirling your hair. Where is Taehyun under this canopy of branches? You wonder if he’s catching any useful stuff. Guilt digs its claws at your skin.

You flounder and try to catch your name as it seems to slip away from your mind and into the air. You’re not always this ditzy, it’s just that his sharp eyes and mouth confuse you. You tell him your name.

“Are all human names as pretty as yours?” he says. He thinks your name is beautiful? Human names are unspirited and prone to repetition, not singular like a faerie name.

You’re not sure how to respond, so you deflect. “What’s your’s?”

His black hair slides over his eyes as he tilts his head, eyes alight. He wears so much on his face. You’re wary, though. Maybe he is cunning like the fox, maybe his face tells you a different story than his mind. You worry again why he is sitting here making conversation with you.

“Yeonjun,” he says, and you try to remember when he had gotten so close.

“Well, Yeonjun,” you say, trying his name in your mouth. “I’m not the most interesting, so if you’re looking for entertainment, I don’t think you’ll find too much here.”

His eyes roam your face for a few heartbeats. “I think you’re plenty interesting. Maybe the most interesting lady this court has had the pleasure of keeping.” His use of the word lady, addressing you, feels good in a bittersweet way. You’re a far cry from a lady, but the sound of it settles deep in your bones and warms you.

The way he sees your burning cheeks, and seems to delight in it, should alarm you. You know his words are saccharine. But, his attention is delicious. You find yourself hoping he’ll stay here and keep you company until the night is over.

“Okay, now I know you’ve got to be up to something,” you say.

He grins and, stepping back, says, “I’m going to go get something for you. Don’t move.” He slips through the gaps of chatting revelers before you can tell him that you won’t move; that you’ll be right here all night because you should be. Taehyun trusts that you’re doing your job. You sigh a breath, trying to force down the guilt that gnaws hungrily at you again.

You make an effort to tune your ears into the conversations around you. There was so much you could’ve missed in the time you spent talking to Yeonjun.

As you do, pair of frilly and silk-draped faerie girls, one with skin like white snow and crystalline wings at her back, and the other with hair inlaid with glittering strands of gold, approach the banquet table arm-in-arm. You hate the way their eyes land on you, and then on your awful dress. You hate the look they share, and the way one hoots at something the other says. Your skin burns with how you become something to laugh at.

You don’t notice Yeonjun’s return until he steps in front of you, his hands full with a bounty of bonbons and indulgences from various tables throughout the hall.

“I want you to try these,” he says. You shoot him a skeptical eye, raising a brow, to which he scoffs and says, “I just wanna know what you think. They’re my favorites.”

You take a sweetmeat and place it in your mouth. Your brows shoot up at its full, mallow flavor.

“You have a sweet tooth?” you ask, chomping on another.

“You could say that,” he says. The flip of his words and the facetious raise of his brows make you feel that he isn’t just talking about confectionaries. You squirm a bit under his heavy gaze.

You continue taste-testing the sweets he brought, but your mind keeps cruelly spinning the jeering of those faerie girls. You scorn your inadequacies; your inability to be a worthy spy, and your inability to ever fit in. It would be easier to act as one with the court and to coax out meaningful secrets if you look at least like you belong. However, Yeonjun seems like the only place you have to start.

“You meant what you said about pulling me out if it becomes too much?” you say.

Yeonjun doesn’t look at all taken aback by your words. He must’ve seen the way your eyes flickered over to the rambunctious dancefloor. “Of course. I won’t let you lose yourself, and nobody will touch a hair on your head.”

“Let’s dance,” you say, and giddiness blooms wide in your chest. Is dancing among the faeries as enchanting as it's said to be?

Here’s to finding out.

Yeonjun brings you to the dance floor, and he smiles down at you as you begin moving. Your limbs are heavy with hesitance. His hands find your waist, and the touch soaks up the stiffness right from you. Suddenly, you are alive in ways that you hadn’t known you could be before. Your boots slide over the packed earth, and he guides you to a rhythm that you can feel thrumming in your bloodstream. Yeonjun’s eyes are on your face. You can feel the other dancers all around you, and you brush up against some here and there, but you don’t mind much. You feel the music in your heartbeat. His fingertips dig divots into your skin, and it’s the only thing you can really feel.

He leans in over your shoulder. “I heard what they said. Do you want dresses? I can give you dresses more beautiful than those girls could dream of wearing.”

It takes the words a bit to cut through the fog in your head, but you narrow your eyes at him. “Is this one really so bad?”

He squeezes his eyes shut in a laugh, as if that were ridiculous, and then opens them to look you in your eyes. “Pretty, you’d look delightful even in your bare skin.” He tugs your bodies impossibly closer, melding them together into one spinning thing. “But, if what they said hurt you, I will give you whatever it is you ask for.”

Even in your hazy state, you know that doesn’t sound right. But, you don’t ask why he would bother with that, you only lose yourself further into his eyes. They devour you.

The music grows faster, and faster, and faster, coiling itself up and around your legs, willing them to dance for you. Yeonjun’s hands grab here and smoothe over there, exploring. Mapping.

“Do you love it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your head is swimming, crashing through the throes of waves, and the undercurrent of panic only thrills you into dancing more.

His eyes rove over you in a languid pass, before he kisses you like your lips are the sweet delicacies he so loves. You are as lost in his lips as you are the spirit of the dancefloor. His hot tongue explores and licks at your lips. The world swirls behind your eyes even as they are squeezed shut, but you welcome the dizzying nature of it. Your heart jumps from its cage in your chest as he brushes a hand along your collarbone, sliding it up the side of your neck, and then places it at the back of your head, pushing you further into his kiss. A vignette blurs your vision, lungs burning for air, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You’re abruptly pulled from the messy tangle of galavanting bodies. Like if someone were to just halt the Earth’s spinning on its axis, your body reels. Your mind comes back to you, but it’s scattered, and your heart pounds like drumbeat in your head.

Someone speaks. It’s Yeonjun’s voice. He situates you in between two of the pillar trees that make the walls of the hall, and you drag in the night air. It’s so fresh it burns your lungs a bit to breathe.

“I feel like shit,” you say. Your heart is still running amok in your chest.

He snorts. “Yeah, I bet. I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were slipping earlier.”

You’re unsure how long you two danced, but the sky is breaking into day, so it had to have been for way longer than you remember. You groan. Taehyun has to be looking for you. Or, perhaps he left without you.

“Something wrong?” he asks, watching you recover.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say. “Thank you for that. I’ve never done anything like it.”

His eyes crinkle. He really, really, is beautiful, down to the points of his ears. “You don’t need to thank me. Seeing you enjoy yourself like that was a sight for sore eyes.”

You laugh a little, looking out at the way the sun crests over the horizon from your little hiding spot. The breeze does wonders in brushing up on your blazing skin and placating it. The thrill still lingering in you makes you wonder if you could claim such a life for yourself.

The sound of Taehyun’s voice saying your name rips out that seedling of hope, and stomps it down into the ground. It was a useless hope, anyway. As he approaches you, Yeonjun nods his head in greeting. Taehyun’s face is drawn, but he bows low at the waist. It’s quite a formal greeting.

“It’s time to go,” Taehyun says, addressing you. His eyes are searching yours like he’s trying to find some answer in them. It seems he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

A crooked smile tugs at Yeonjun’s lips. “Is she under your care?” he asks. It’s a less direct way of asking: does she belong to you?

Taehyun’s face morphs into something hard, but his words remain cordial. “Yes, she is.” You know he says it because it’s the best way to explain why a human would be attending Court, but for some reason, you had expected Taehyun to answer that a little differently.

Taehyun gives you a meaningful look and tilts his head to the side in a silent way to say let’s go. You curtsy a farewell to Yeonjun, letting a soft smile onto your lips before you depart with Taehyun. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything at all, but you feel his eyes following you.

You walk without words until you clear the hall and reach the forest, where the thicket can muffle your sensitive words and keep them just for you. “Did you find anything?” he says. His attention stays ahead, and his jaw is a bit strained. Here it comes; he saw you wasting time.

“Nobody around me was talking about anything other than gossip until I ran into him. His name is—”

“I know who he is.” Taehyun snaps. “Please, enlighten me. What did you learn of him?”

His words feel a bit like he’s spinning you a web. A trap. You don’t even have anything to offer him, because you hadn’t learned anything about Yeonjun.

“You made a promise to me. You promised you wouldn’t dance at all, and I find you dancing with The King’s son.” The world trembles underneath you at his words. You were flirting with a prince all night. You kissed a prince.

The dam of guilt and embarrassment and shame that has been filling you throughout the night crumbles and washes over you. “I didn’t mean to waste time, Taehyun. He just seemed like the most interesting person to talk to. I thought that maybe I could hear something interesting from him.” Your legs protest as you lift them to step over a tall bush. Dancing had exhausted you down to your marrow. “A prince seems like a pretty good place to find information, though.”

“Does kissing him entail hearing something interesting from him?” His words are spat, and when he looks at you, his eyes hold distaste. So he saw that, too.

You sigh. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, either.”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” he echoes, scoffing the words. “You are nowhere near serious about this. Why are you even here? Well, let me tell you this; you did not come here to suck the faces of pretty princes. This life is not yours.”

His words are everything you don’t want to hear, and they antagonize the anger in your chest where shame had previously sat. “It’s a little hard to do what you’re asking of me when you send me in looking like this,” you say, gesturing down at your get-up.

“This is about a dress?” Taehyun says. “You don’t need all that. They’re just putting on a show.” He doesn’t say them, but he dances delicately around the words: You’re human.

You get up in front of him so that he has no choice but to look at you. “You know that I’m going in there at a disadvantage! You know that I can’t just blend in, and it’s so much harder when I look like this.” You point your finger at him accusatorily. “And, did you even get anything? You’re sitting here, picking me apart, but really, what did you do?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Oh, that’s rich,” you say, tone mocking.

“The difference,”—he says his words slow—“Is that I didn’t use the night to enjoy myself in snacks and courting ladies.”

“That’s because you spent your night watching me,” you snap. If he was even trying to pick up information, he wouldn’t have had his eyes on you the whole time. “You just wanted to catch something to give me shit about. Can you not see any value in following this thread? If Yeonjun is the king’s son, and he’s taken interest in me, imagine what I can catch hanging around him.” The estate appears on the snow flat as you two clear the forest. The sun hangs well in the sky, now. Ugly hurt twists in your chest. Yeah, you could’ve been more alert, but you can easily turn whatever you’ve got going on into something.

Taehyun shakes his head at you. “I want you to remember this one thing, if you’re going to remember anything I tell you at all. The folk will never fail to make you into a spectacle. Your duties lie in The King, and only that.”

You walk the rest of the way to the estate, and then split off to your rooms, in an awful silence that sits itchy under your skin. It’s always silence, with Taehyun.

❆

Taehyun’s accusatory voice wakes you up from a hard slumber. You don’t have time to even blink out the sleep from your eyes as he roars, and you listen.

“You had him send you dresses?” There is a scorching flame blazing in his eyes, and they blister you.

“Huh?”

His face is pulled into a sneer. “You had the prince send you dresses because you decided you wanted pretty things? What are you doing?” He holds a silvery, glittering gown in one arm.

His words remind you of what Yeonjun had said to you last night, and you curse. How would he even know where to send them?

“I didn’t ask him to do anything,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m telling you that I didn’t, and I mean it! I didn’t ask him to send me dresses.” You slink out of the mess of a bed, the wood flooring cold under your feet.

“So a royal errand runner shows up at the door, with a pile of dresses directly addressed to you, and I’m supposed to believe that it’s random?”

“Why don’t you just believe me?” you ask, and the words sound pathetic even to you as they leave your mouth. “We’re supposed to be partners. You’re supposed to believe me.”

Rage dissolves from his face, but his features don’t soften. No, instead, they harden into stone. You almost wish they would twist back into fury. You can work with anger. But, whatever this thing that he does is, it leaves you unable to crack through his hardened exterior.

“Take your shit,” he growls, tossing the dress in his arm at you, and then spinning around without care of where it lands.

“I don’t want this, send it back to him,” you say. You go to throw the dress back at him, but his words stop you.

“I already sent them back.”

You watch him storm out. That means that the dress in your hands is not from Yeonjun; it is from Taehyun.

❆

You hold up the gown in front of you. Looking at the sheer material of it, embellished with beads and crystals that remind you of snowflakes in the sky, feels bitter. It only reminds you of the nasty terms you and Taehyun are on.

You haven’t seen him once today, and you assume you’re going to be heading to Court alone, too. All you can feel is resentment.

You go about getting ready with a ten-pound weight in your mind, and Taehyun is as absent as you had imagined he’d be when you leave the estate for Court. The walk feels a bit longer this time. Though you didn’t talk much last night, the presence of Taehyun just being there was enough to ground your nerves.

All is the same as last night in the hall. The tittering of folk and the lovely aroma of burning incense spices the air, and the music is just as inviting. You find that secluded spot Yeonjun had taken you last night when he pulled you out of the crowd and lean into the tree. Tonight, you’re going to just watch which faeries interact. The more you know about who associates with who, the more you’ll be able to dissect your priorities.

Your eyes fall over the throngs, and a majority you remember from last night, but some are new. These folk all have to be important in some capacity; they wouldn’t have a place in Court otherwise. If you look hard enough, maybe you can find who is the most important. It doesn’t help, though, that you’re not familiar with important figures in the Northern Court. Taehyun forgets that he was born into this Court, and you are a foreign human girl. You may be better off playing into your ability to lie; maybe you should spin up a good falsity and ask around with it.

You’re halfway to the crowd with the intent to poke around when Yeonjun steps into your line of vision. His wry smile is inviting, but you can’t do this again.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “But, I don’t recognize that dress.” He looks you over.

“You didn’t tell me who you were, last night,” you say, crossing your arms.

Yeonjun’s suave falters. “Ah. He told you. Did he also not like me sending you those dresses? You sent them back.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Please, I don’t appreciate being toyed with.”

His lips tug into the first frown you’ve seen worn on his ethereal face. “You wound me. I don’t just send gifts like that to anybody. I’m not toying with you. Not even a little bit.”

You’re not sure what to make of his words. He seems like the type that, even when his lips can not form the shape of lies, he would hide them in between the gaps of truths. But you do see sincerity shining in his eyes.

“I didn’t even get to see the dresses,” you say, relenting to the conversation. If he insists on making your company, you’ll entertain him. You wouldn’t dare shoo a prince away, anyway, and his words are a soothing balm to every thought that tugs at your mind.

“Did he give you this one?” he asks, looking down at the glittering thing.

You hum, nodding your head. You wonder if Taehyun has made it here tonight, or if he is even here at all. You’re going to put all your eggs in this basket. If it leads you nowhere, you’ll deal with that when you get there. You don’t know where else to start.

“They’re all yours, whenever you decide you want them. Just come and ask me, sweet thing. I’ll even send you more if you want.”

His words shoot a thrill through you, for whatever reason. It’s hard for you to imagine a life where those kinds of things can be given away so easily.

“Do you want to dance tonight?” He says. His fingers are warm against your skin as he takes your upper arm into his hand. Each time he rubs his thumb over the skin there, it makes you shiver more than it soothes you. You don’t remember much of the time you had spent dancing last night, but you do remember his kiss.

You really can’t do that. You need to do something that keeps you present so that you can pick up on stuff.

You tilt your head to one side and offer, “How about you show me around? I wanna see your hiding places. I know you’ve got some.” You smile a heart-felt smile; running around the hall and discovering the nooks and crannies Yeonjun hides away in actually sounds like fun. It’ll familiarize you with the layout of Court, as well.

Yeonjun agrees, his face lighting up. He brings you around to alcoves and hollows that you wouldn’t imagine even existed unless he was showing you. Leave it to a faerie to find little places to hide.

“How often do you come to the north?” you say. Taehyun had said that The King sends his heirs here for foreign relations. It must be why he’s here.

Yeonjun pauses his touring. “Most of the year. My father prefers me here, so he sends me out often.” You’re a bit taken aback by how generous he is with the information. You had expected to sly-foot it from him.

The King sounds like a paranoid, centuries-old man. Maybe you and Taehyun will find something in your time here that proves his fears right, though. It’s just as probable that tensions run deeper than you think.

“Why doesn’t he have The Queen send one of her children to his domain if it’s for diplomacy? It’s a bit strange that she swears fealty to him, but he’s the one sending his heirs out.” Also, why does he have you and Taehyun here, undercover, when his son is here already?

Yeonjun shushes you with a finger over his lips, and it reminds you that you can’t just say all that comes to your mind here. He doesn’t seem to take any offense, though.

“The Queen doesn’t send her children out as emissaries.” His words take on a rueful, bitter note. The look plastered on his face says what his words don’t: The King does, though.

Yeonjun is good company, and you don’t notice how night bleeds into day.

“I should probably go now,” you say. Your dress itches and your feet ache in a way that calls for the lush bed waiting for you back at the estate. The revelry is still very much alive and kicking, and the crowds haven’t even begun thinning, but they’re so drunk on pinot wines and faerie spirits that you doubt they even feel the toll the night is taking on their bodies.

He nods. “Let me walk you home?” He offers you an arm, his smile so very sweet. You would like nothing more than to have someone to accompany you on the trek home. The walk here had been dreadful in your loneliness.

You pretend to think about it for a minute, a teasing smile playing at your lips, before you say, “Why not?”

He swipes a baked good topped with sweet fig from a platter for the journey, and begins heading for an exit between trees.

“But!” you say, and he halts. Your eyes scan the crowd.

“What is it?” he asks, rejoining you.

“I need to find Taehyun.”

He offers you the delicacy in his hand. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I need to tell him if I’m going to be leaving.”

Yeonjun scoffs at that. He takes you by the arm and points out Taehyun in the crowd. He appears to be in conversation with a spindly, feather-skinned hob. “He’s right there. But, you’re not going to be doing all that. It’s not right that you have to report your every move to him. C’mon.” You know that he’s only saying it because he thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something, but his words are simultaneously gratifying for your current woes.

Your laughs bounce off the darkwood trees as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Yeonjun has a way to him that makes you feel like you’re really living. Maybe you can let this hope fester. Maybe Yeonjun is genuinely courting you. And, you foolishly let yourself think, maybe you don’t need to be a spy to make something of yourself.

When you make it to the door of the estate, Yeonjun is behind you, peppering warm kisses up and down your neck. You pry yourself from him to open the door, and you stumble in. You then stagger up the stairs and to your room. Yeonjun doesn’t make it any easier, roaming his hands everywhere they shouldn’t be.

Yeonjun clicks the door shut behind himself, and your stomach drops seeing the unabated hunger written into his face as he turns and looks at you.

You fizzle under his gaze. “Thanks for walking me,” you say. “That walk is scary alone.”

“Turn around for me, pretty,” he says, his voice glazed with honey and sugary syrup. You do, heart thundering in your chest. Something in the deep pit of your mind feels guilt, but you don’t pay it enough mind to sort it out, you just suck in a breath and hold it as Yeonjun steps so close behind you that you can feel his breaths on your neck, and he starts working at the laces of your dress. He doesn’t lean forward and press any more kisses to your neck like you wish he would; he just undoes the ribbon, until the dress loosens on your body, and you have to hold it onto yourself. Should you drop it? Does he want you to drop it? Is he just toying with you?

A puff of air on your neck makes you shiver as he laughs softly, his face hovering over your shoulder. You wish you could see his face right now.

“You’re so tense,” he says into your ear. He takes the top of the dress into his own hands, sliding them under yours. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your neck so hard that you hear it in your ears, and maybe even he can, too. He rubs a thumb over the skin where the dress starts to slip.

“Tell me you want it.”

You suck in a breath. “I want it.”

He begins letting the dress down, and you let him. Chills rise on your skin, both at the cold that meets your skin as it is freed to the air, and at the kisses and scrapes of his teeth at your now exposed shoulder. “Yeah? You want me to make you feel good?” he says, and you can hear the tease in it. His words douse you in flame.

“Yes, Yeonjun, please,” you say, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. He makes it so hard to sound like the confident spy that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you are.

The dress droops lower and lower on you, releasing your skin in tantalizingly slow increments. He’s in no rush. He just continues to pamper your skin with his tongue, nipping your ear here and nibbling at your shoulder blade there. Your mind unravels a bit more with each.

The fabric finally pools at your ankles, and the both of you sit in an electrically charged moment.

“Turn around. Let me see you.”

When your eyes meet his, your breath catches at the way he takes you in, but mostly at the way his eyes come back up and fix on yours with such depth that you feel it in the way your heartbeat skips. You resist every urge to cover yourself, ignoring the tensing of your muscles that tell you that you should run and hide yourself away. You can’t believe that such a beautiful creature is devouring you with his eyes like this; like he wants you, like it doesn’t matter one bit to him that you are so much less than him. And maybe it should. He’s a prince. A prince of the king that you are supposed to be serving right now.

He guides you by an arm around your waist to the bed, and then stands at the foot of it, looking down on you with hazy eyes. Your stomach flips, and your knees and thighs are pressed together. He drags his bottom lip into his teeth.

“Open your legs, baby. I want to see how much you need me.” He reaches down, patting at your knee.

You hesitate, but slowly pry your knees apart, letting him see the mess that had been brewing there. The cold air immediately brushes at the wetness, and it makes you feel impossibly more exposed.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging out the word like a hiss. The raw, ravenous look in his eyes reaches deep into an unwanted part of you, that had for so long believed that you’re not worthy of anything like this. You know that you’re still not worthy of it, but you’ll happily bask in its warmth while you have it. “So wet,” he growls, eyeing your center without ceremony, as if those aren’t the most lewd words you’ve heard spoken aloud. “Pretty, you’re dripping all over your bedspread, and I haven’t even really touched you yet. Makes me wonder if you’ve ever even been touched before.”

Your cheeks flame the more he stands over the foot of the bed, lazily drinking you in. You haven’t. You had your first kiss in the woods somewhere a few days ago. Flashes of those memories plague you for a second, of bark on your skin and Taehyun’s hand in your hair, and that guilt that you can’t seem to place tugs at you again. You need to forget about it; Taehyun doesn’t seem too caught up on it, so why should you be? Where is Taehyun right now?

“Has he touched you? Did you let him put his hands on your skin,”—he brushes a whisper of a touch on your inner thigh, so close to your center, yet not actually paying any attention to it—“like this?” The rush that shoots up your spine is lethal. He draws such intense feelings from you with the simplest of touches in a way that borders on scary.

Oh, yeah. Yeonjun still thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something. You decide to just lean into it. “Why would he?” you ask.

“Because I saw the way he looked at me yesterday,” he says, and the plush of the bed dips as he settles his knees into it. He hovers over you, notched between your thighs. You knew the truth behind that look, though. Taehyun was livid at you, at how you had shirked your duties and danced all night. You don’t know how to convey that to Yeonjun, though. Any explanation would just lead to more questions you couldn’t answer.

He plants a line of kisses up the length of your inner thigh, just where his hand had ghosted, and you wiggle your hips in anticipation as if it would move him any faster to where you need him most. It doesn’t, he only continues to antagonize your skin with his tongue and lips.

“Please,” you breathe. Yeonjun’s lazy eyes flick up to yours from his place between your legs, and the sight makes the blood in your veins sing.

“You want my mouth?” he says, sitting back up onto his knees and running a smooth hand from the wet patch of skin on your thigh up and over your hip bone, and then the softness of your stomach, and then he brushes a thumb over your breast. You struggle to breathe a bit as he does, and it’s exponentially harder to as his words ricochet in your ears, cutting through the fog of your mind.

“Yes,” you say. You can’t muster anything else. A satisfied, lopsided smile plays at his lips, and he lets his thumb over your nipple, rolling it.

“Do you realize how badly you’ve got me?” he muses. His gaze leaves your chest, opting for your eyes as he says it. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything, if you ask it of me.” The alarm bells ringing in your ears sound more like music than warning. It should sound like too much; you’d met him yesterday. He’s a faerie, you’re a human. His words are cloying; he’s lying. He’s lying.

But, he can’t lie.

He settles his head down, a breath’s-width from providing you with relief from the burning that he so cruelly kindled there. “Here? You want my mouth here?” The words puff onto you. You can feel your ears reddening; he seems to enjoy seeing you debased. It’s like he wants to be the source of your ruination.

“Yes, right there,” you say, toes curling in anticipation. He hums, taking the back of your thighs into his hands and pressing them up. It leaves you even more exposed to him. When the first contact of his mouth to your cunt comes, it’s with a barely there roll of your clit with his tongue, but it spreads like alcohol through your system. You mewl as he holds eye contact as if entranced with the way you react to him, and swirls his tongue around it. Your hands find perch in his hair.

He is wholly overwhelming you: his hands dig divots into your thighs to hold you open for him to eat, his eyes make sure you’re watching as he does, the sound he makes into your cunt. You don’t know what else to do, other than squirm on the sheets and chant nonsensical words. The more his mouth consumes you, the more it consumes your thoughts, until you are tunnel-visioned, only able to feel his touches. He runs his tongue down, and you gasp as it prods at your entrance, but he brings it back up, and then suckles at your clit some more.

“More,” you say.

He detaches from you for only a moment, just to ask, “More what?”—he pushes your thighs further up, molding them to your body—“More this?” He pushes his tongue into you, and then out.

“Mhm!” you cry, digging your hands into his hair harder. He makes a low hum of satisfaction, slurping you up, lazed, as if you were a sweet sugarplum liqueur. A tense knot settles in your belly, sending your legs jittery even as he presses them, and your toes curling in the air. Your hips roll up and into the bed wildly, chasing that knot. “Yeonjun—”

Yeonjun knows what your cries mean, pulling from your hole, if only to suction his lips around your clit. It halts every thought and word in your mind, and the knot tightens so intensely with it that it snaps. You seize up in his hands and then explode in shakes and desperate whimpers. Your body rages, but your mind is suspended somewhere in the sky, removed from you. Yeonjun lavishes you through it, despite the way his tongue bumping into your sensitive spots has you jumping. His mouth follows your hips everywhere they go as you writhe to escape it; he isn’t letting you float down, he keeps your body on that high and builds on it. Your breaths come panted and whimpered.

“Slow—slow down, ‘jun,” you say, pushing at his head. When he pulls off of you, the sight of you all over his mouth draws a moan from you. His tongue swipes at his lips.

“You’re divine,” he purrs. “Did that feel good, sweet thing? Do you want more?” You lay, catching your breath, trying to let the waves of aftershock dissipate so that you can articulate yourself. You feel it still thrumming in the hollows of your bones. He skirts his thumb oh-so-lightly around your throbbing clit, and it’s no help in your efforts.

You nod. “I want to make you feel good, too.” You can’t fathom letting him please you like this without returning the favor. It would be so nice to see him fall apart, too.

“Yeah?” He drinks in your state. He stops circling his thumb to press it to your bud. You let out a surprised sound, your muscles coming back to life to jolt. He acts as though he’s thinking it over, but you can see the teasing lilt on his face. “Say my name again, pretty. It sounds loveliest on your tongue.”

“Yeonjun,” you indulge him. A content sparkle in his eyes tells you that he’s gonna give you what you want. He lets your thighs down, instead resting his weight on either side of your head, leaning down to capture your lips in a sultry kiss. He tugs your bottom lip into his mouth. The scrape of his teeth is dizzying. He’s freeing himself with one hand when he pulls back, and your spine tickles with anticipation until you see the look on his face.

Is he suddenly disgusted with you? You can feel the color drain from your skin as you ask, voice thin, “What?” He climbs off of you, and you could throw up. “What is it?”

“I think your friend is here,” he says, adjusting his clothes. Oh. Your mind wars between relief and terror knowing that, if Yeonjun knows Taehyun is here, Taehyun knows Yeonjun is here. Damn their superior hearing.

You curse. “Go,” you urge, slipping out of bed with sticky thighs and stumbling to the wardrobe to source a shift dress to slip into. Yeonjun thumbs your chin, tugging your face to him, and presses a parting kiss into your lips. It lingers on your lips as he lets out a soft laugh, shoving open the window and disappearing through it. You roll your eyes, finding the image of him clambering down the tree to escape quite humorous.

You clean up and settle into the bed. Is whatever you have going with Yeonjun sustainable? Echoes of Taehyun’s voice, vicious and tart, tell you that you should get it together; that you should nip this in the bud, and focus your energies elsewhere. You want so badly to make the little girl, snatched from her home, proud. You want to fulfill her dreams. But, you can’t shake yourself from whatever hold Yeonjun is securing over you. He so casually promises to give you everything you ever ask for; would you be stupid to ignore it? Is it naive to imagine that a man would say his words and mean it? A faerie, no less?

You sink further as sleep calls you. If Taehyun knows that Yeonjun was here, or what you had done with him, he doesn’t show up to chew you out for it. You wish he would.

❆

The next few days blur into hours of Court spent around Yeonjun and his courtly friends. You try to glean as much information as you can from it, but really, it’s mostly nothing of any importance. You begin to think that Taehyun is right; that you shouldn’t be sticking your nose into the business of a prince. If Yeonjun were to ever find out your reasons for even attending Court… Your stomach does a sickened flip. He might hate you for lying, maybe even begin thinking that you have been using him.

You really do like Yeonjun, though. It’s not just that he’s an interesting thread to follow; he treats you like you’re no different from him. Your bruised and beaten heart clings to him, hoping he’ll soothe over all the years you spent insignificant and unloved. If anything ever comes of all of your stolen nights and kisses, he’d have to know eventually. It can’t be shoved down forever, though you truly wish it could.

You sit at the ornamental vanity in your room, combing through your hair, when Taehyun makes an appearance at the door. You haven’t had even one conversation with him following the morning Yeonjun had those dresses sent to you.

“We’re not going to Court today,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is steely.

“Oh?” You place the boar bristle brush down. “What are we doing, then?”

He studies the room you’ve been staying in. It looks an awful lot like he’s searching for something. His eyes linger on the bed. “I think I got something last night. We’re going check it out. You’re gonna need your weapons.”

He’s gone from the room with that. The conversation was terse and majorly discourteous, but it’s the most you’ve seen of him in multiple days. You’ll take it. Maybe you’ll even have time to plead your case today, or some way to show him that you’ve been practicing your fighting stances and memorizing poisons on the days sleep doesn’t find you as easy.

You’ve armed yourself to the teeth by the time you meet Taehyun at the bottom of the stairs. He’s armed much lighter than you.

“Did I overdo it?” you say, slicing yourself some cheese to eat on bread.

He adjusts the blade sheathed at his hip, shaking his head. “That’s just fine.”

You frown and bite into your breakfast. What kind of information could he have gotten yesterday? The need for weapons worries you.

You like to think that you’ve adjusted to the chill of the north by now, but as you break through an untrodden forest with brambles catching your legs in each step, it does nip at your skin. You’re still only human, after all, no matter how hard you pretend yourself to be a faerie lady in the Court. You’re still only a spy, you’re reminded, as the two of you come across a mound of packed dirt sitting atop the snowy ground. It’s marked as an entrance only by a hole that looks hand-dug. You’ve lived long enough in Faerie to know that it’s more than just any old dirt hill or foxhole. The folk dwell in odd places like these.

“When we get in there, I need you to pretend that you’re a human servant. Can you do that for me?” he says. You’re unsettled, but you nod.

You head for the entrance first. It’s just big enough for you to slip a leg into, duck under, and wiggle in. The entrance opens up, and you’re sent sliding down a chute of twigs and dirt. It takes every bit of your willpower to not make a ruckus of shouts and gasps in your descent. When your feet meet the ground you stumble to steady yourself, you know you look a mess. Taehyun makes a much more graceful descent, and you explain away any mortification with the notion that Taehyun had been anticipating it.

A throaty voice hoots almost immediately, “So, great Lord Taehyun thinks to show his face at this honkey tonk?”

So, this is that kind of place, then. The reek of ale and wilder spirits tells you enough. What does he think he’ll learn from a place like this? Clearly, he’s known in this place, too. You’re always left with more questions about Taehyun than answers.

Taehyun doesn’t pay the barkeep any mind. “Fetch me a drink,” he says, before leaving you as he cuts through the measly crowd of revelers drowning in their merriments. You narrow your eyes and brew with distaste at his words, but you know he needs you to play the part of demure servant. You don’t know exactly why, but you can do it for him; you’d lived the role your whole life.

You scurry off, shoulders curled in, to the barkeeping hob that stands pouring foamy goblets of honey mead from barrel taps. He eyes you. “Pity you, girl,” he says. “That one’s a real brute.”

You infer that his words are about Taehyun. Really, you should just grab a drink and go, but curiosity compels you. The faerie laughs at the questions brimming in your eyes.

“A real, stone-cold killer,” he drawls, twisting open a different barrel. You resist the eye-roll tugging at your eyes. He’s just looking to entertain himself off of your human fright. You feign hesitance in your limbs when you accept the goblet full for Taehyun. He goes to fill another, from a third barrel. “The House of Blackthorn are all such a frightful bunch. The late Lord even more so, but he sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, regardless.” The worry you let your features into is real this time. There’s so little you know about Taehyun; this is the first you’ve ever heard of him that isn’t directly from his mouth. Should you be scared of Taehyun? Ice runs in his veins, sure, but you can scarcely imagine him as a brutal Lord.

“One mead for the Lord, and one sugar-sweet liqueur for the lady,” the hob says, handing the drinks to you. You offer him a meek, “Thank you.”

He shoots you an unsavory, toothy grin. “Welcome to The Hovel.”

You find Taehyun in conversation with a sweet-faced faerie boy who strums at a lute. Their conversation tapers off as you approach. You hand Taehyun’s drink off to him.

“You’re sure of it?” Taehyun says to the boy.

“Yup. Just last night,” the boy says. His waved mop of blonde hair moves as he nods. You see the cogs of Taehyun’s mind turning behind his eyes as the exchange comes to a close. So, the information he was following from last night came to fruition, then. You kick yourself for your lack of any real results.

“Who was that?” you ask, voice hushed. You tilt your head at the faerie as he rejoins the other musicians, and the stream of lute song intermingles with the other instruments once again. You pretend to sip from the drink the hob had given you for free, tipping it into the dirt when you think nobody is looking. You know it’s bad manners, especially in Faerie, but you have bigger fish to fry. Taehyun hadn’t paid that boy for that info, nor had he paid the tavernkeep for his drink. You recall the hob’s words of warning. They fear him.

He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here, first.”

When fresh air meets your lungs, you realize how stale and muggy the air inside the little burrow is. You pull yourself out through the exit, following Taehyun. The two of you begin your battle against the wild forest again.

“So…?” you say.

It’s getting colder as night arrives. His breath puffs from his mouth, furling like smoke into the air as he says, “Apparently, there were some lackeys there last night asking around about me and a human girl in cahoots with The Prince.”

Your mind launches into a frenzy. Do they know that you’re spies? How would they even know? It’s not like the two of you have even done anything to garner any suspicion. Whoever has had their eyes on you and Taehyun has also noticed that you’re running around with Yeonjun. Is Yeonjun in danger? You gnaw at your cheeks. This person had to have been hovering around you two for days and days—not once had either of you noticed.

“Did you find out who it could’ve been?”

He shakes his head solemnly. You can tell he’s unseaming and picking apart every moment leading up to this one—you are, too. Nothing sticks out.

You freeze in your tracks. A pretty magpie sits dead on the forest ground, its blood decorating the snow in patches. No arrow pierces it, nor is it caught in any sort of trap. It lays with its little legs in the air. The imagery is unnerving.

“Poor thing,” you say, crouching down by it.

Taehyun pays you and the bird no mind, but you feel that something is off when he turns to you with his limbs and shoulders stiff. “What?” you ask.

His eyes survey the forest around you. He must be hearing something that you can’t. The hair on your skin prickles. Are you being watched? Taehyun narrows his eyes, looking over the surrounding forest for a few long moments, before continuing on his way, and so you decide that you should too, despite the feeling buzzing at the back of your neck.

Somebody comes crashing out of the foliage, securing your arms to your side before you can process that they’ve got you. They hold the point of a dagger to your chest.

Metal hisses as Taehyun frees the blade from his hip, but he doesn’t make any advancements. Your heart beats under the point of the weapon, chasing breaths as fear paralyzes your chest.

“A little birdie told me,”—your captor says from behind you—“that I’d find you two here.”

“Let go of her,” Taehyun says. He stands with so much restraint in his limbs.

A patronizing laugh hurts your eardrum with its proximity. He sounds like a cawing crow. “No, I don’t think I will, Lord.” He spits the title out like it is bitter in his mouth, letting the blade dig the littlest bit into your skin. You don’t even feel it with the way adrenaline buzzes in your gut, leaving your limbs shaky.

Taehyun can’t move, so you begin wiggling your fingers for your dagger. Fear chokes you.

“You won’t miss this one, right?” the man says. He uses the metal to point up at your face, before replacing it over your heart. You’ve almost made it to your thigh, and still, he hasn’t taken notice. “I’ll just get this over with, and then we can talk about this more comfortably.” You may throw up.

You bunch up the hem of your dress with the littlest of movements to free your thigh and slide out the dagger hidden there.

“Who told you where to find us?” asks Taehyun. Your palm is sweaty around the metal of the dagger, and you readjust your grip a few times, trying to muster the courage to swing it up.

“I told you already,”—the man readjusts his hold on you—“a little birdie.” There’s a sneer to his words. He points the tip of the dagger up to your chin, ghosting it down the column of your throat. Repressed whimpers of terror bubble to the surface.

“Shut up,” he spits.

Taehyun challenges him. “Do it, then.” Blood roars in your ears.

“You think I won’t?” your snatcher says.

“Do it,” Taehyun repeats, and you almost let your life flash before your eyes until you see that Taehyun is not looking at the man as he speaks; he’s looking at you. He’s telling you to do it. You tighten your grip on the dagger, before driving it behind you. It makes contact, and the faerie man bellows. You use his shock to free yourself.

You had driven the blade deep into the man’s shoulder. He thrashes, ruby-red blood inking his fingers as he holds the wound.

“Bitch!” he howls. “You’re fucking dead, anyway.”

What does that mean?

Taehyun plunges his sword through the faerie before you even notice he had approached, or ask the man what, exactly, he means. He drops to the floor, mouth filling with blood. You can see it when he opens his mouth to scream and is only able to burble. His own blood chokes him. Your fingertips feel numb, and so does your face.

Taehyun turns to you. “You did good.”

You did good? You don’t feel good.

You nod. “Thanks.”

Now, on the forest floor of white snow, lies both a dead faerie man and a dead magpie. You feel the sensation of his skin breaking under your dagger reverberating in your hands, twisting in your mind. His blood paints the ground a nauseating shade of death-red.

“Are you okay?” Taehyun asks, eyeing you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, I am.”

❆

You and Taehyun attend court the next day skittish. Taehyun delegates you a new role, now; make as big of a scene with Yeonjun as you possibly can. The goal is to throw attention to that, rather than to Taehyun as he continues snooping around.

It’s not hard to make a spectacle of you and Yeonjun when everybody is already noticing. He doesn’t hide the way he showers you with luxuries, nor does he want to. You can’t help but wonder why he’s making such a show out of it. At some point, his father will hear of him courting a human. Word flies fast in Faerie. You can’t imagine The King would be pleased.

A hand curls around your hip, and you know it’s Yeonjun’s.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” he says.

You frown. “No need to state the obvious.”

He laughs and thumbs your cheek, and you swear the butterflies that flutter in your stomach are nearly painful. “I missed you,” he says. His eyes glitter with the words. “Did you go somewhere with him?” he asks. You don’t miss the way the word him curls in his mouth, much like how a person of the court would speak of something more unfavorable in a sickly-sweet way, to keep up a mask of indifference.

“We just ran some errands.” You shrug it off. It isn’t the truth, but it also isn’t so far removed from it that you feel uncomfortable about lying to him. Lately, the guilt lays more heavily over you. With each dress and bejeweled trinket Yeonjun sends your way, the more you want to get this big lie out of the way. You should’ve done it before Taehyun set you out to do this; at least then, you could face him and not feel so deceitful. Is there a way to tell him that still conveys that you aren’t using him?

Yeonjun’s eyes flicker to your mouth, and back up to your eyes so quickly you could’ve missed it with a blink. “I see,” he muses. “I could take you under my care, you know. He wouldn’t have a say in any of it.”

Your expression sours a bit, and you know it’s not the reaction Yeonjun had expected if the look on his face says anything.

“I don’t want to just become a playtoy,” you say.

He looks taken aback. “You wouldn’t be a playtoy,” he says. “Ever.” He searches your eyes for something. “Why would you even think that?”

Because you’re a prince, you think. Because I’m a human. Because that’s all we are to your kind.

“Then why don’t we just stay as we are?” you say. There would be no real reason to even go through with such a thing��not when nothing would come of it. Princes of Faerie don’t marry humans. You’d become a mistress, and that’s being optimistic.

“Taehyun is not a good man,” Yeonjun says. His voice is stripped of its usual playful inflection. Why does everybody seem to keep telling you that? “I would feel better knowing that you’re safe.”

Safe? He thinks Taehyun would hurt you? “I’m okay, Yeonjun,” you say, if only to placate him. He doesn’t look convinced at all. “He treats me well,” you laugh. You meet his hand on your cheek with your own, curling it around his. While he doesn’t know the truth of everything, or why you stay with Taehyun in the first place, it stitches some old wounds inside you seeing that he cares for you.

His jaw tightens. “My offer will still stand if you ever decide otherwise.”

He brushes his thumb at the plush of your bottom lip. Your mind goes fuzzy. When he presses it fully to your lips, you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting the imprint of his fingerprint with rolls of your tongue around it. He looks as though he could moan standing there watching you, so you make a point of not losing contact with his eyes. You feel multiple burning stares on you, but you shove them out.

He watches your tongue and his gaze comes alive with hunger, tugging your lower lip down before taking your chin into a hold and molding his lips to yours. His kiss conveys every thought plaguing his mind in its raw nature.

Their eyes are on you; so many eyes are. You know they look, but for the first time, you don’t falter under the weight. He tastes like broken shackles and weightless limbs. He tastes like salvation.

He roams his hands dangerously. When your mouths part, despite your shortage of oxygen, you say, “I’m sure you had many courtly ladies to entertain in my absence.” Your head buzzes.

You’ve never seen Yeonjun so much as interact with another woman, but you still worry that he doesn’t only have eyes for you.

His face turns sly again. “They’re honestly all quite dull.”

Maybe, one day, you’ll join those ranks. You remind yourself that you won’t be here forever—that this moment in time is finite. Hopefully, you won’t be here long enough to see that happen. You’re not sure your self-worth could handle that hit.

“Are you really so superficial?” you ask. You stay playful in your tone, peeling from him to waltz toward an entree table. He follows. The way he trails you like a puppy on a leash does a bit to bloat your ego, despite your worries. “What’s so special about me?” It’s cheap, you know, but you crave his praise. You’ve found yourself thriving off of Yeonjun’s sweet words like oxygen. The question had been plaguing your mind since he had first spoken to you, anyway.

He looks as if he can’t articulate what he’s thinking. Or, maybe, he’s just concocting some words that’ll sound nice to your ears. “This life has become tiring. It drains you, and I am surrounded by it. Endlessly.” He pops a treat off a platter into his mouth. “You’re like a breath of spring air to my lungs.”

You’re his distraction. He saw a human and decided it would be the biggest spectacle he could find to distract from his princely woes. You draw back. What do the faeries in this court think of you? Do they snicker when you turn your back? Do they laugh to see you think that you’re more than just entertainment to him? Does he join them?

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun asks, seeing the way you retract into yourself. “What is it?”

You have to keep this act up; the well-being of your mission relies on it. You should’ve never gotten your feelings so entangled.

“Because I’m human?”

A frown etches into his porcelain face. “No. Maybe at first, but…”—he releases a measured breath—“No.” Selfishly, you’re thankful that his kind can’t lie.

You and Yeonjun find the dancefloor, more packed with cavorting faeries each day, and you accept the distraction from your dreary thoughts. The wild nature of it strips you of such things, leaving you bare to just your happier feelings. It leaves you just as breathless as the first time had. You kick and whirl and flail your limbs freely.

When Yeonjun inevitably tugs you from your trance and out of the throng of folk, you’re dazed. Exhausted. Your hands itch to be all over him.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, smoothing over the wild tousle that your hair had become. You focus on steadying your erratic breaths. “You’re a wild one,” he says, a pleased grin on his lips. The flush on his cheeks mirrors your own, despite his teasing.

You lean into him to support your legs of jelly. You must’ve danced for hours.

Yeonjun looks down at you, and his features are soft. “You wanna rest?” You nod. He laughs and then takes your hands into his. He guides you away from the soiree, out from the canopy of trees, but not toward Taehyun’s estate. You don’t question where he leads you, even as cold air makes you realize how bare this dress leaves your arms, even as the unfamiliar path catches at the hem of your dress. He notices how you don’t care to lift it from the ground, snorting, before lifting you into his arms.

“Woah!” you protest, feet off the ground in seconds. “I can walk.”

“Ah, but, only a fool would let a pretty lady like you soil her dress in the dirt.”

You scowl at him, but it doesn’t change the way your belly swoops. He treats you so delicately.

He carries you until you arrive at a mini palace that is no doubt royal—it towers over any surrounding trees. And, you had thought you had seen luxury. This is luxury. This is a life spent fed off of only crystal spoons. You admire the lush interior as he carries you into the palace.

“This is where you stay?” you say.

He hums, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “For one half of the year, this is my home.”

You notice how utterly empty it is. You had expected advisors and permanent guards and bustling servants. “It must get lonely here.”

“I prefer it here,” he says. You can sympathize with that. You had spent the entirety of your life in the land of summer, but you had found more warmth than ever here in the north. This place was supposed to be a death sentence for humans, and though you had briefly met the danger that the north could present yesterday, you almost dread leaving. Maybe you just need more time, and then you’ll be so overtaken by fear that it’ll make it easy.

Yeonjun carries you through a door, and into what you assume is his room. A bed so large it would swallow up a third of the room you’re staying at in Taehyun’s estate sits in the middle of his room. He sets you down onto its velvety, rose-petal coverlet, before he climbs in next to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so he can admire you.

Your skin sighs as he rubs sweet circles over your bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. The two of you settle into a long, comfortable silence.

“Do you believe that I don’t care for you?” he asks into the quiet. Do you hear hurt in his words?

You meet his gaze and struggle to find words. Is it wrong to lie, just because you can?

Your hesitance tells him enough. His fingers on your skin stop. “I am not so shallow, if you actually meant that.” Your words from earlier must’ve been gnawing at him.

“It’s not that,” you say, avoiding contact with his eyes. It was exactly that. He doesn’t allow you to look away from him, sitting up to cut straight back into your vision.

“What is it, then?”

Your heart thrums. You want to tell him that you’re a liar, and that he should spit in your face and tell you to get out. You want to ask him if he’d still care for you the way he does if he knew your truth. You want to ask him if there’s any way that this can play out where the both of you end up together and unscathed. Your mind beckons you to ask him about every little doubt that has harassed your mind concerning him so that he can comfort you and assure you that they are just doubts.

You ask none of those.

“How can I show you?” he says. He climbs over you, knees straddling each side of your legs. “What would it take to prove to you that I mean it when I tell you that you make my heart ache? What will it take to make you become mine?” He lines a kiss up on your forehead, and then your cheek, and then onto the corner of your mouth. “This?” he asks, and then he hikes up the length of your dress, bunching all the fabric above your hips. He draws back so that he can plant a kiss on your clit, and he makes sure you’re looking at him while he does it. “Or is it this?”

You breathe in the sensation, gasping his name like prayer and making room for him between your thighs.

“Is that what it is, pretty? You need me to make love to you? I can do that,” he says. “I can do that, no problem.”

He works at his clothes with one hand and brushes touches to your cunt with the other. Eventually, his needlessly extravagant Court shirt is off, and he’s holding your hip down as he prods the tip of a finger at your entrance. Your hole flutters in anticipation, his eyes catch it, and he breaks into a lousy grin. He finally begins pushing the finger into you, watching as you gasp at the way he curls into you.

Pleasure whorls in your belly, rendering you increasingly dumber. “I need you,” you say. The muscles in his arm strain as he fingers you, and his black hair falls into his face with the movements. Your heart clenches.

“Slow down, baby. I need to do this, you’re not ready for me yet,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into your temple. “I want to make you feel good.” He slides another finger in, and you suppose he’s right, because it stretches you. He pumps and curls the both of them, and you dig your nails into his forearm as it all starts building in your belly.

Yeonjun tugs his lip into his mouth, biting it, as he watches you grow restless under his fingers. Your peak feels so close, but his pace is so leisurely that you’re worried you’ll never reach it, as if caught in a limbo of torturous delight. “Faster,” you cry. “Faster, please.” It amuses him, and he abandons his casual pace for sloppy curls that have you whimpering into the air of his bedroom.

“Yes, yes, yes!” A crescendo looms over you, until it crashes and your back is arching off the bed and you’re making embarrassing sounds. You dig crescents into Yeonjun’s arm when he continues to finger you. Your insides protest his stimulation, tugging and clenching tight in a way that borders tastefully on discomfort.

“Fuck,” you hear Yeonjun say through the haze. “Just like that. Doesn’t it feel good?” he purrs. His fingers plow you through this peak, hurling you toward another one brutally. “I know it does; you’re clenching around my fingers so hard.”

Your hand covers your face. His words are lewd, and he says them like it’s nothing. It makes your insides burn. You can tell that the orgasm he beckons you into with each deliberate thrust is going to be explosive, frantically squeezing your thighs around his arm to staunch the intensity of his movements. Wet sounds punctuate each curl of his fingers. You can hardly believe that those sounds are coming from you.

“You want another one?” he says. You only answer him with pathetic whimpers. “Keep making those pretty noises for me.”

You do, and he rewards you with his thumb on your clit. It drives you utterly wild. The blend of his fingers inside you and each bump against your nerves is exactly what you need to explode, and so you do, bucking. You’re worried he’s going to try and have you cum again when his fingers don’t stop, but he brings you down gently with small swirls.

You catch your breath while Yeonjun adjusts you on the bed, tugging you down by your hips and sliding one of his thinner pillows under the bottom of your spine in a way that lifts your bottom half into the air. You laugh through ragged breaths; it feels a tad ridiculous.

“What’s that for?”

He massages your inner thigh, soft humor twinkling in his eyes, but also so much more. “You’ll see,” he says. He hovers over you, bracing his weight into one arm at the side of your head so he can look right into your face. His free arm lines the tip of him up with you. Before making any moves to slide into you, he kisses you and takes your bottom lip with him as he pulls back. It exhilarates you; everything he’s ever done to you is exhilarating. You’re swept into a ripwave of emotion. Do you deserve all this? Is this life yours?

His hand rests on your hip, brushing over your hipbone with great gentleness, as he pushes into you. It’s slow and full of peppered kisses all over your face and neck, and then he’s in you to the hilt, and then he’s pulling back out of you so that you’re just so empty, but of course, with just a thrust he’s filling you back up. He falls into a swift pace, but each time he ruts up into you, it’s calculated and well-placed. Maybe it’s the pillow, or perhaps it’s just expertise, but he’s plunging into a sickeningly soft spot inside of you that makes your legs that are locked around his waist shake each time. Your eyes flutter close, but your mouth drops open in a soundless moan.

“No, open your eyes. Look at me. Do you feel it? Do you feel my love for you?” he says, voice raw. “Is this what you needed?”

Yes, this is exactly what you need. You feel so far removed from yourself that you can’t even feel your hurt or worries. You nod your head frantically.

“Please, open your eyes,” he repeats, pleading in his tone. His face is right in front of yours when you do. His eyes flicker between both of yours. The intimacy of it is as consuming as the flames licking your insides, winding you up so tight that you might explode into a ball of blazing fire. The rolls of his hips turn into short, needy ruts. His mouth drops open, but he won’t close his eyes. He wants to watch you.

“Yeonjun—” you breathe. Your muscles are tense all over, especially in your core, where he winds you tighter. The impending orgasm whispers into your ear that it will swallow you whole in its wake, and you believe it; you can’t breathe.

“I know,” he says. When you squeak, face screwing up, Yeonjun reads you like letters on paper. “I know, it feels so good.” He’s just as much of a mess as you, panting while his free hand grabs at each of your curves to ground himself. You hold back your climax; it’s so hot in your belly that you fear how it’s going to wreck you. The hair on your skin prickles and rises.

He feels how tightly you clamp down on him. “C’mon, pretty.”

Your nails rake paths down his biceps. “I can’t” you gasp. “Can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

Warm tears pool in the corners of your eyes and you shake your head. You do everything you can to urge it back; wriggling under him to escape his thrusts, pushing at his chest, biting into your poor lip until you fear it’ll bleed. Pressure builds all over you, your eyes burn and your muscles burn, like a thousand pounds of ecstasy pressing on each square inch of you and begging to be released.

“Stop running from it,” he says, pushing your hips into the mattress, pinning them so that he can deliver pointed thrusts up into that place that is so sensitive. It works wonders. “Let go, baby. Let it happen; I promise you it’ll feel so good.”

You crumble, crying out into the air and clenching wildly around Yeonjun.

“Yes, fuck!” he growls. He’s chasing his own peak now, leaving you no time to breathe through your own.

You chant his name.

“Squeezing me so good—you’re driving me up the fucking walls, pretty.”

The sounds he rips from you are errant the more he pistons into you, and your hair sticks to your neck. For the third time, you cum, circling him in your arms and keeping him close while you try your best to ride this one out.

With the encouragement of you sporadically tightening around him, he stills over you, abdomen tensing up, before cumming into you, producing strangled sighs. He collapses down to his elbows and drops his head into your neck, delivering shallow rolls as he rides it out. Breaths puff onto your skin as he peppers warm kisses over every inch of your exposed skin. He stays like this, intertwined with you, for a while, lazily delivering thrusts until you’re both able to breathe fully again.

When he pulls out of you, you feel him dripping from you. You should’ve told him to pull out; you must have no fears. It’s hard to worry too much about that, though, with the way he’s looking at your cunt as if the sight of his seed oozing from you was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He takes your ankle into his hand from where it hovers in the air, dusting a smooth and chocolatey kiss there.

“Do you see now?” he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

🪶 ⦂ there she is! I wanna see who y'all are more attached to this far.

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