#in the upcoming chapter

[eilinelsghost]

An excerpt from Grief in All Her Guises

Part 2 of the Atandil Series

Finrod laughed and lay back in the grass. “Ela!” he breathed as he looked up at the night sky and beckoned for Balan to join him. “Do you see him there?” he drew a pattern in the stars above them as Balan moved to lie beside him. “Menelmacar, the Swordsman of the Sky.”

“No, where are you pointing?”

“There.” He shifted so his line of sight was closer to Balan’s. “There are three stars a hand’s width over the tree-line, brighter than their sisters about them. Do you see?”

“I believe so.” Balan tried to focus as his mind still worked to grasp what he had experienced.

“Those are his belt. Now follow the furthest upwards and you’ll find his blade raised in charge.”

“Yes, I see it.”

“Then cross here and the curve of his shield wards the skies.”

“Mendelcar?”

“Menelmacar,” he corrected, “heaven’s warrior.” The finger moved further along the sky, itself luminous where it caught the moonlight, and Balan felt again the unsettling presence of a second thought within his own as the image of a dim huddle of stars rose ahead of the finger’s path to illumine what Finrod outlined. “This is Itseloktë.”

“Itselot—Itseloktë.” He turned the word over on his tongue and added it to the list of recitations. “Itseloktë. What does it mean?”

“It…how would you say it in your tongue…insects, perhaps? Gnats? Nay, flies would be nearer, I deem. The fly cluster.” He glanced over at Balan with a grin as the adan snorted despite himself. “Our Sindarin kin name it better. Remmirath they call it, the Netted Stars: a mesh of those jewels that alone are fit to crown the head of Tintallë.”

Balan recalled waking beside the embers and seeing the visions flowing out from Nóm’s song: among them was a woman measurelessly tall, strong beyond reckoning, wrapped in a mantle of twilit blue that reached beyond the horizon, that was the horizon. Light spilled out from her and he closed his eyes against the brilliance of the memory.

“Varda Elentári, our Lady of Light, who wove the stars into their celestial dance and set their steps in a sign of doom. Anarríma, Soronúmë, Telumendil, Wilwarin…”

“Butterfly.” Balan reflexively named the translation under his breath and Finrod laughed.

“Yes, the evening’s butterfly.” He pointed to a distant stretch of sky. “There he flits above the mountains: a wing here, another just there.”

“I see it.” Balan raised his hand toward the patterned stars and his finger rested lightly against the other’s. He lingered as long as he dared, then shifted their hands together toward the north. “And what of this one?” he asked as he dropped his arm back onto the grass. “Have you a name for it?”

“We do.”

“I’ve been drawn to it as long as I can remember, ever since I was a boy,” Balan continued as the other did not elaborate. “Some nights when I can’t sleep I’ll sit outside and follow it through the sky. It steadies me, I know not how.”

“It is the Valacirca,” Finrod said after a long silence, his voice quiet, “the Sickle of the Valar. It was set there in the heavens ere your people or mine awakened, as a sign of that truth which we hold in estel: it is Light that shall endure, not Darkness.” He turned his face toward the other and studied Balan’s profile outlined against the tangle of stars. “And I confess, my friend, it gladdens my heart to find this is shared between us as well: many of those nights when you watched its path, we would have kept vigil together. Ever have I looked to those same stars in times of despair to recall that all works of the Dark are for naught. That they will, as was said at the first Music, be but an instrument of things yet more wonderful than those it sought to destroy.”

“And that comforts you?”

“It does—to know we are creatures of the One who is Goodness, and from whose works must ultimately come joy, if not happiness. Lost on the ice before the sun’s first rising, when I came nearest to forsaking hope, even then I looked up through the bitter cold and behold! I saw the Seven Stars rise triumphant in the north, crowning the work of Eru to which Morgoth Bauglir shall never lay full claim, and over which he shall never triumph. In that hour I knew, as I answer you now,” he returned his finger briefly to Balan’s forehead in reminder of the question he addressed, “we are not abandoned.”

Read the full work on AO3

[priscirat]

picked up my dungeon meshi reading again. kikimari

[marimbles]

Silly little doodles for a silly little fic I am working on

[kasieli]

Hear me out: MC and Seb exploring the underwater caves together

[its-no-biggie]

so we know that orv is basically kim dokja's self insert ways of survival fix-it fanfic right. and we know that his narration is coloured by his interpretation of the characters and the way he sees not only the real world, but also the world of ways of survival. anyway can we talk about how his self insert happy ending fanfic involves him working closely with the protagonist, his favourite character ever, and he spends a good chunk of it thinking - despite all evidence to the contrary - that yoo joonghyuk doesnt care about him. he thinks its out of character for yoo joonghyuk to like him. he thinks its OUT OF CHARACTER for his FAVOURITE CHARACTER to LIKE HIM. im going to be sick

and it has to do with the way he conceptualizes himself as a "self insert" - he doesnt consider himself a person yoo joonghyuk would care about because he doesn't consider himself a person yoo joonghyuk interacts with. it's about the divide between a character and a real person..... if a new character that could rival yoo joonghyuk's strength showed up in ways of survival, proved himself trustworthy, and did everything he could to make sure yoo joonghyuk didn't die, of COURSE yoo joonghyuk would begin to trust that character - especially in the early regressions. but kim dokja isn't a character. he's manipulating the story from the other side of the fourth wall - he's not someone yoo joonghyuk can have a relationship with. (almost like the oldest dream..... ohhh my god. head in hands.) of course we aren't companions - he's a character and i'm a real person. they're incarnations and i'm a constellation. they're all real people and i'm a character, written and sold by my own mother. theres a thick wall between us.....

and why would you conceptualize it that way kim dokja. why would you tell a story where all the characters get a happy ending but you arent a character. why does your idea of a good story involve none of your companions caring about whether you live or die. kim dokja i am knocking on the wall

[yarrystyleeza]

whenever I'm writing and I drop "The Devil smirked/smiled/grinned" this is what I want to project:

I can't stress enough how much this man has an effect on me.

[pdalicedraws]

Have you ever even briefly picked up someone much bigger than you? It delights them.

[first] [previous] [next]

[index]

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [4] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm; mingi x reader (this chapter); 9.6k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind. also note: these chapters are very much introductory of each character & their roles, so smut is further down the line ♡.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder references, manipulation, blood, dark magic, kidnapping, emotional turmoil, injuries, smut referenced

Chapter 4:

"Do you think she's fairing well?" Wooyoung steps over a pile of debris, slipping closer to him. "The others are taking care of her?"

"What is with you and this woman?" Yeosang glances at him. Wooyoung's fingers are outstretched, his hand slipping into his with ease. The latter says nothing to deter his touch, knowing it's something that calms him. "Do you desire her?"

"Yes," Wooyoung shrugs. "But that's not the only reason. She's simple but different. She can't fall for my tricks because I can't manipulate her mind. Everything she says to me is genuine. I can't help but want her to want me. Is that wrong?"

"She is a human, nothing she says is genuine. Have you forgotten what we are?" Yeosang pulls Wooyoung closer as he steps over a fallen trunk. It's not too old – it may be no more than a few days since its demise. He places his palm against the trunk, whispering a spell before turning back to him. "Unseelie aren't kind to humans. And she will find out that you were the one who killed her lover, Woo. I doubt she'll take that well."

"I'm not going to tell her that," Wooyoung waves him off. "Besides, the male was so boring. She'll be much more entertained by our spark."

Yeosang holds up a hand, stopping him from speaking. Leaves crunch in the distance, Yeosang whispering a spell unto his free hand and pulling Wooyoung closer. He holds his breath, watching as the faeries appear in the small meadow. The spell he has cast only lasts for a few minutes or so. He can only hope that neither of them linger. The Seelie stay close to each other, rapid words exchanged.

"The human is resistant to faeries? How can that be?"

Neither of them speak, but Yeosang can feel how Wooyoung's shoulder tenses at the words.

"Yeonjun told us. He tried to penetrate her mind but she did not blink. Not one human on this Earth could stop him from entering their mind. She is the sole being."

"Then did he take her?"

"Not yet, not until he catches them off guard. Tonight he set the example, though. I doubt the Unseelie will be able to fight back after that mess. Bodies are everywhere."

Wooyoung’s eyes widen. He presses his hand against his mouth, closing his eyes to control his anger. His body trembles beneath the low light. Hongjoong instructed them that it was a brief mission, no bloodshed. But would he have guessed that the Seelie would cause their own to be deceased? Yeosang's hand grabs the side of Wooyoung's face, forcing him to look. Yeosang merely shakes his head, mouthing words.

Do not lose yourself.

Wooyoung nods slowly, taking slow breaths. They've missed a bit of the conversation.

"He will get her? That is his goal?"

"His goal is to hurt Hongjoong. Nothing else matters besides that. The human is just another body is his way."

They disappear from sight. Just as they do, the Unseelie bodies shimmer, appearing back in focus of onlookers. Wooyoung falls to the grass, fingers digging into the dirt. "They plan to kill my sunlight. My solaris. They will rid of her and we aren't there to see what they've done. We have to go back. We have to –"

"We aren't done, Wooyoung," Yeosang shakes his head. "Just a few more days. Hold on for a few more days."

"They've killed faeries, Yeosang. What if they killed one of our spark? What if Yunho–"

"You know they haven’t. Don't let yourself fall down that hole. We already have enough unstable mates, I don't need another one to fall apart right in front of me. Don't delude yourself like this," Yeosang ignores his words, sighing. "You would have felt it, Wooyoung. We are bonded. We would have felt the tear."

Wooyoung takes a long breath, "You're right. I need to calm down."

There's a pause as he stares. For a moment, he thinks that they should go back. For his peace of mind. Instead, he moves forward, hand reaching back. Without a moment's pause Wooyoung’s fingers slip into his, letting Yeosang guide him through.

—

Seonghwa wipes the floor. The stench is always overpowering. Each time a Seelie dies they leave behind such a putrid smell. A bit funny, considering how pure they are meant to be. He reaches for the knife you dropped, pausing. The look you gave them. It was like it was not you at all. He has grown used to the annoyance you've shown them, the fear when their words turned sharp. But not that kind of fear, terror. The glazed look. As if you didn't know who you are, what you were doing. It eerily reminded him of how Yunho loses himself sometimes. Seonghwa picks up the weapon, whispering. It cleanses itself at his words, harshly throwing itself back into its spot. Hopefully for good.

Jongho helped you off the floor, nearly carrying you to the room because you were so out of it. Hongjoong stared as you stepped out of the room, an unreadable expression on his face. There was nothing to be done then. Nothing they could speak about when you couldn't even think clearly. But Seonghwa just didn't like the look on his mate's face. Didn't like the slight gleam in his eye. In that moment, looking back now, he wonders if asking Hongjoong what he was thinking would change anything that’s soon to come.

He stands, flicking his hand to let the cleaning supplies pick up the rest. He sits at his table, eyeing the book he was reading once before. Seonghwa considered that you weren't a human. But he pushed those thoughts away. Assumed that he was thinking too far ahead. But now, seeing how you killed a Seelie? A human, killing a Seelie without any help? There's no possible way you're just a human.

He just has to figure out what you are exactly.

"You've been locked in here for hours."

Seonghwa barely gives Mingi a glance as he enters with hands tucked in his pockets, knowing the Unseelie would only try to calm him down. Or get angry with him, it depends on the day. "Hiding from us won't make our minds calm."

"I'm trying to figure out what's going on. Having you all speaking over each other in confusion and anger will only taint my thoughts."

"You used to find comfort in the chaos. It looks like you avoid it now. And continuously buy those toys of yours."

"You didn't have a problem with my figurines before," Seonghwa frowns.

"And I still don't now. I just can’t help but wonder why we can't be that safe place for you instead of plastic."

Seonghwa looks up from his book, finally meeting the eyes of his mate. Dried blood coats his face and clothing, white splatters burned into the fabric. He can see how his body trembles, bottom lip pulled back between his teeth. His chest tightens at the sight. Mingi lets their combined emotions affect him often. No matter how much they all insisted that he let them deal with it on their own.

Seonghwa closes his book. "You're upset."

"I want us, all of us, to be okay. But it seems like danger follows us no matter which path we take."

He sighs. "If you want us to get rid of her we will."

"I don't want that, hyung."

"Then what? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to talk to us. Tell us how you're feeling. Stop hiding in the laboratory or library or the forest. At least try to let us in. Do you know how long it took me to calm Yunho down? I don't even think I have, he just stressed himself out to the point of exhaustion. I'm –" Mingi runs his bloodstained fingers through his hair. "I'm stuck. And I'm tired of pretending I'm okay with it all. I listen to Hongjoong's words even though I question them. I guard what you all want me to guard. I kill who you want me to kill. But I just can't stand around and accept it anymore. How long must I pretend to believe that everything is okay?"

Seonghwa watches Mingi's facade break, his rambling continuing on and on. He cannot believe he didn't notice how much it affected him. Sure, he was thoroughly involved with you, but that's no excuse to not see when one of his mates is falling into themselves. He covers his face with his hands, not bothering to wipe the blood off.

"Yunho is so lost, Seonghwa. I've seen him gone, but not like this. Not this much."

"I can talk to him," Seonghwa says softly. "You can be there too. And any of the others. Would you like that from me?"

“Yes,” Mingi murmurs. There seems to be something else in his voice. Mingi isn’t one to hide his feelings, so it comes as a shock that this is even a conversation at all. So Seonghwa continues to dig.

“And I’ll figure out how to persuade Hongjoong to take a more careful route. How about that?”

Relief seeps into Mingi’s face, nodding slowly. “I would like that.”

“Everything will be fine, Mingi. We just have to take it all one step at a time,” Seonghwa says softly. “If you’re ever bothered, I’m here. We all are.”

Mingi continues to nod, thinking. “And the human? What if we have to kill her?”

Seonghwa looks at him, unable to answer that question. Despite it being mere months since knowing of your existence, he can’t justify killing you now. Not when he is so involved with you, along with the others. Mingi seems to know the answer without Seonghwa saying anything at all. So he sits beside him, watching his mate continue to flip through the endless amount of research he has done.

After a couple of minutes, Seonghwa closes his research. Mingi watches him curiously, a box appearing on the table instead. A bit cheeky, Seonghwa places several smaller boxes of toys in front of him. Mingi picks up one, a photo of an assortment of plastic flowers branded to the side.

"I planned on gifting these to you all after I build them, but I think it'll be more fun to build together with you, don't you think?"

Mingi looks at him. He never really shares his hobby with anyone else in the spark, maybe San once in a while. Him opening up and allowing Mingi to intercept his time only makes his heart swell with glee. Mingi nods, sitting down at the table.

"It'll be fun," Seonghwa grins, slipping next to him.

—

The silence is draining.

You sit in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against your chest, head sitting on top. Mind utterly blank as you’re desperately trying to figure out why, how. What strength do you have to just murder a Seelie without help from one of the others?

You can remember the looks on their faces when they entered. Blood stinging your eyes, knife barely held between your fingers. The indiscernible face of the Seelie beneath the weapon. It didn’t look like one at all, not even a creature. Just a pile of parts. You try pushing those thoughts away, even if the image is burned in your mind each time you blink.

“Do you take us for fools?”

You barely give him any indication that you heard him at all.

“Now you pretend not to hear my words?”

“I’ve done nothing to you at all so I’m not sure why you’re even speaking to me,” you admit, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. His arms against his chest seem to cement themselves in place at your words. Him being furious with you is on the absolute bottom of your list. You haven’t even properly introduced yourself and he’s already pegged you for someone he can walk over. You’ve already been through it with Mingi. You’d rather not deal with it again.

“Your presence is threatening our position.”

“If you let me go none of this would have even happened. How is it my fault?” You frown.

San scoffs. “What a nuisance.”

“Look,” you finally turn your head, meeting the eyes of the angry Unseelie. “You can hate me all you want, but I didn’t choose to be here. Go and get pissed off with someone else for all I care, but not me. I’d rather be at home than dealing with all of you.”

“You would be home by now, but it is unsafe. I could care less, frankly. But the others do.”

“Better than dealing with a room full of strange people,” you murmur.

“It is crawling with faeries, human. If you even step near it, you will be killed. Leaving our premises might as well be a death sentence. But fine, go ahead. I doubt you won't last more than a minute outside of our borders," he turns around, giving you his back.

You don't dare test his harsh words. There's no way to prove that he's exaggerating or not, so you just settle it for yourself that it must be true. You can't help the thoughts that linger; Is Soobin okay? Would they attack him if he decided to show up at your house one day? Has he entered town at all? Have your parents tried to contact you? Why hasn't anyone noticed you're gone? There's no reason to ask San because he would just give half truths. Something you're very much used to.

You hold your fingers against your temple, humming softly. It's not enough that you're staying here. You'll only be ridiculed by one of them. Frankly, you miss Wooyoung being around. At least he was a comfort in between the angst. And what was his name… Jongho? Though your interaction was brief, he was kind to you. Calmed you down in the slightest bit. His words of comfort as he led you to this room helped.

"Do you know what you did to that thing? Why I'm standing here now? Do you even realize what it takes to take down a Seelie, human?"

"No, I don't. And my name is y/n, not human."

San stares at you. You weren't afraid of him since you've met him, but there is something in that look. Something that makes you tense. You truly doubt he would kill you at mere words. But he could kill you if he wanted to. That thought is enough for you to drop your attitude, at least for now.

"Taking down a Seelie requires strength unlike humans. Majik, unwavering strength. Mental fortitude. You have to know how to kill one, our flesh isn't as soft as a human's. We haven't been killed by one in centuries. So can you see why we're cautious of you?"

"I do," you sigh. "I do, but I don't even know how I did it? It's… there's nothing there. Nothing. When I try to think of it it's like it didn't even happen. I just remember entering the room, then Seonghwa came in and opened the door. And I had a knife in my hand. That's it."

"Why did you say what you said?" San asks.

"Say what?"

"You held the knife in your hand, you looked at Jongho. Then you said you didn't mean to. You looked terrified despite the situation. As if you didn't just kill one of the deadliest beings on this planet."

"I don't know."

"You have to know."

"San, I don't know."

Just as San steps forward your bedroom door opens. Expecting someone else, maybe Wooyoung, Mingi stands there. His eyes flick between yours and San, narrowing slightly. He nudges to the door as he looks at him. San's arms drop from his chest. He seems a bit hesitant. Mingi gestures toward the door again.

"I don't want you to be alone here with her," San murmurs.

"She won't hurt me."

It's as if you're not there at all. San continues to resist, until Mingi rests his hand on his arm. It's enough for San to nod slowly. He squeezes his arm, leaving the room. Mingi shuts the door behind him as he leaves, turning to you.

"Sleep."

"Sleep?" You repeat, and he nods.

"Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow. Yeosang and Wooyoung won't be back for days. But when they do come back, they'll have news. And we'll need to be prepared for that."

"I don't understand."

"Human," Mingi says sharply. "I get it, you're incompetent and unintelligent. But you do understand the language I'm speaking, no? You haven't the slightest idea what you have done? Did San not explain the danger to you? You killed Beomgyu, y/n."

Another name that continues to mean nothing to you. Mingi's frustration grows.

"He is a high Seelie. One of the most powerful faeries on this Earth. And you killed him. Now sleep. We must prepare you for what is to come."

He leaves.

—

You stare at your hands. A few cuts are slowly healing, scabs covering the wounds. None of them have mentioned the night. Not even San, as angry as he seems to be watching you roam around their home. Hongjoong hasn't been seen by you either. Very likely locked in that laboratory of his, experiments continuing. Mingi and perhaps Jongho, are the only two who've either greeted you or joined you in rooms. Yunho, despite how worried you are, hasn't showed up since that night. Mentioning it to Mingi wasn't the greatest idea – the painful look in his eyes made you switch the subject immediately – but you just want to know if he's okay. You saw that Seelie drag him away and there was little you could do. You ran, and he could have been killed. The least you can offer is an apology. Guilt ridden, you look up from your hands.

Mingi holds out the wooden sword to you for the nth time today. With great exhaustion, you take it from his hands. He scoffs. "You will be given a break if you knock it from my hands, human. It shouldn't be this difficult."

You hold back your frustration. "My leg is still messed up. You're taller and faster than me. How could I –"

"Use your size as an advantage. I've told you this endlessly."

"You haven't given me an opening!" Your voice rises, dropping when you see the quirk of his brow. "I just need an opening," you murmur.

"Fighting a Seelie who's trained since birth to kill won't allow for an opening. You have to defend and attack. Each time I raise my sword you freeze. You will die if none of us are around."

"I survived before."

"And you have yet to understand why or how it happened. You're at a loss just like the rest of us. Don't be foolish. Fight, because your life will depend on it."

You step back from him, planting your feet into the grass. Mingi holds no weapons in his hands. Just as you still forward Mingi flicks his fingers. Your body hits the ground again, and this time you don't bother trying to get up, groaning. "You're an ass, by the way. Didn't you all say those powers don't work on me? How can you just throw me to the ground?"

"Our influence does not work on your mind, y/n. But we can still move you. You just have to learn how to resist just like your mind has. Once you master that, we can move to true combat."

"I don't know why you can't mess with my mind!"

"Another reason why you have to stop using your pity as an excuse and help yourself. Stand and try again," he holds out his hand.

"She will be dead from exhaustion before she has even learned it," the snarky tone is one you wish you'd never hear again. Mingi stands up straighter, hands moving behind his back. He bows only slightly at the newcomer. "We have to move quickly. It is only a matter of time until one of them decides to penetrate our majik. Do you not agree?"

"I do," Mingi says simply. "But I thought you were with Yunho today."

"Jongho is tending to his care now. I've come to watch you train. By the looks of it, it only seems like torture."

You slowly lift yourself from the ground, dusting off your clothing. Mingi does not bother helping you up and neither does Hongjoong. Your legs shake as you stand, turning to Hongjoong. He rests against a fallen tree. Arms crossed, same mischievous twinkle in his eye. His gaze roams over your body, stopping when he sees the disgusted look on your face.

"What a weak, little thing. Too bad we can't just get rid of you." His fingers pull back his hair. The exhaustion riddled on his face does not move past you. All of them seem tired and drained from what's been happening. Yourself as well, body aching and limbs throbbing from your brief encounter with the Seelie you've killed. Killed.

You'd never in your life peg yourself as a murderer. And yet here you are. Gathered around many of them, yourself included. At this point you have no right to judge.

"I've already said what I needed to to you," you murmur, turning back to Mingi. "Again." You step forward and he lifts his hand again. This time you fall forward, his arm stopping you from hitting the ground head first. You push it away, straightening yourself. "Fuck this."

"You have to train–"

"I can barely walk straight and all we're going now is creating more and more bruises. What are we achieving? How have I gained anything in the past few hours?"

Mingi's brow twitches. "You haven't tried."

"I don't know if you remember but, I am a human. I can't just learn to be as strong as you by being battered over and over. I won't suddenly be able to fight against you."

Your frustration grows as you look at Mingi, a blank gaze watching you back. It's like he can't even hear what you're saying, no matter how you phrase it. Hongjoong clears his throat, distracting you.

"She's right, you know. I want you to train her. Not mangle her up to the point of her being unrecognizable." He glances at you. "y/n, do you not remember the night at all? Not a sliver of memory? It would make this all easier if you did."

"No, I don't," you say firmly. "If I did, I wouldn't let myself be thrown to the ground over and over again."

Hongjoong shrugs, "Then that settles it all, no? Mingi, change. We will be dining together shortly. Human, you do the same. Seonghwa will see you after this."

"What for –"

Hongjoong disappears from existence entirely, leaving Mingi and you alone. He steps around you, grabbing the wooden swords scattered about on the ground and placing it back in its holder. Just as he goes to leave, he turns back. "You don't seem to understand the situation we are under because of you. I've advocated for your death but everyone wants to keep you around because of your resistance to us. I hope sometime soon you find yourself useful, or I'll be the one to end your life."

There is no chance for you to twist his words, nothing that would make you believe anything other than what he's said to you. He speaks firmly and straight to the point. Very unlikely the rest of the Unseelie you've met. There's no room for interpretation. You nod, and he leaves you alone in the training field.

Ignoring the throbbing in your legs, you make your way back to the house. Despite how open it is, it’s only a facade - you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to leave. And now, knowing how much danger you’re in, you doubt you even want to.

Jongho appears through a doorway, holding a book in his hand. His gaze meets yours, flicking over you. “Are you okay?” He glances down at your leg. “Not much time has passed since you were all mangled.”

You snort, “As good as I can be.”

He joins you promptly, the two of you walking down the hall. It’s funny - his presence feels more welcoming than the others. Softer eyes, smaller smile. Nervous maybe, but still. You’d describe it as comforting.

“What are you reading?” You ask. He looks down at the book.

“San gave this to me. It’s about faeries from human tales. It’s quite interesting. Tinkling bells is my favorite,” he adds, “Ever heard of her? Apparently she’s really famous.”

“Tinker bell?” You correct, and he sighs.

“Right, Tinker bell.”

“Yes I have,” you grin, and he nods. “Why’d he give that to you? He seems like he hates humans, doesn’t seem like the type to want to learn about us. From what I’ve seen,” you add. “He avoids me every chance he gets.”

“San is…” Jongho pauses for a moment. “He protects us fiercely, yes. He hates you now because he thinks you’re a threat. But once Seonghwa figures out why you’re the way you are, things will change. It’s silly, you're slowly falling into our hearts, so he will protect you as he protects us sooner rather than later. And he enjoys human entertainment a lot. I'm sure once he gets over himself you two would get along well.” His words are easily said.

Falling into their hearts?

“You care for me? Some of you do?” you stop walking. Jongho freezes, grip on his book tightening.

“I’ve said too much,” he says quickly. “They will be angry with me,” he sighs, looking down the hall. Seemingly making the decision on his own, he turns back to you. “Yes we do care for you, y/n. Why do you think we fiercely protect you? It is not only because we’re curious about your nature. We’ve known you for a while now. Even if all of us haven’t really officially met you. We are bonded. Our care lives within us all. Mostly Wooyoung’s fault,” he scowls. “He’s stuck on you.”

“That is the spark thing Yunho mentioned to me, right? It's like a pack.”

Jongho nods, “Yes. Once we’ve chosen to be in our spark, we are glued to each other. If one of us is hurt we all know, if one of us feels strongly about something, we all feel it. So that’s why it’s so easy for us to find your presence in our lives… normal? Ordinary? I’m not really great at human words.”

“No no,” you wave off his last sentence. “You speaking to me like this is enough. And you’re very eloquent, Jongho. No need to doubt.”

His lip quirks slightly. “I can see why they’ve grown fond of you. But yes, that’s why. Ah, but more importantly,” he digs into his pocket. A rock appears in his hand, similar to one Yunho gave you at the masquerade. “Yunho asked me to place a spell on this. To monitor your health, nothing more.” He says quickly. “I cannot lie.”

“...Thanks,” you take it, staring down at the surface. “Is Yunho okay?”

He bites his lip, “He’s recovering. But it’s best if you stay away until he’s fully himself. That’s what he asked us to do. I’m sorry I can’t say anything more.”

“You’ve said what you’ve needed to, Jongho. Thank you. I’ll see you at dinner?”

He bows slightly, walking past you and out of sight. You hold the rock tightly, making your way back to your room.

—

Seonghwa doesn't come to lead you to his lab for a few weeks and that you're grateful for. Rarely have you gotten the chance to be alone. Dinner that night was uncomfortable to say the least. Silence mostly. Three seats empty. Jongho gave you small smiles and it was enough to help you get through it. But still - the future of you dealing with them watching you with caution is not one you’re yearning for.

The door to your room swings open, almost cracking against the wall. Before you can even turn to see who it is, your breath is knocked out of you. You hit the floor, well almost, he holds you up with his hand before you land. Wooyoung almost squeezes the life out of you as he holds you close, body trembling.

“You’re okay,” He whispers into your shoulder. You grip his sleeve to pull him off, and he leans back, eyes flicking over your face. “You’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. You can let me go,” you tug on him again and this time he does, helping you off the floor. Your body throbs at how he threw himself at you, bruises from whatever happened with that Seelie that night throbbing. “I see that you’re back.”

He grins, “Of course! I’ll always come back for you. I had to see Hongjoong first to report,” he rolls his eyes. “He told me to stay away from you since we don’t know what you are, but how could I leave my solaris alone?” he tilts his head, taking a small step toward you. Without thinking, you move back.

He frowns, “Solaris?”

“I’d rather be left alone, Wooyoung.”

He scoffs, brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Ah, is it because of what happened a few weeks ago? You don't need to worry, I know you won’t hurt me.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you murmur.

“What are you saying? Don’t you know that I won’t hurt you?” It’s different from when you first met him. The snide grin, the teasing gaze. All replaced with seriousness, perhaps a bit of worry.

Are you sure of that? You know what they are, what they may or may not have done. None of them have even told you how they feed, how they hunt for their next meal. You could tell whenever they eat in front of you. The reluctance to take bites, the side glances they gave one another. You can fairly easily presume that it’s through horrid means. You’ve seen enough blood splattered around to be sure of that, at least. But will they hurt you?

Will he hurt you?

The silence must have been filling up the room too long, Wooyoung’s face dropping as he waits for your response. Would saying no be lying? It seems like each time you do lie he immediately knows. So, despite the hopeful look in his gaze, you tell him the truth.

“I don’t know that,” you whisper.

His body physically deflates, hands clenching and unclenching at your words. “You’re not lying.” It’s a statement, not a question. He closes his eyes for a moment, a breath escaping him. “I won’t hurt you, solaris. I won’t. Just as I trust that you won’t hurt me.”

His words ring as true as he means them to be, but yet… you can’t bring yourself to believe them. No matter how much you know that Unseelie cannot lie. “Okay,” you say.

“Why are you treating my words as if I’m lying?”

“Unseelie are sly.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not lying about never hurting you, y/n. That’s not something I’d skirt around. I. Won’t. Hurt. You.”

“You say that,” you start, glancing at the open doorway. It would be silly of you to believe that you’re truly alone. All of these men you’ve met so far eavesdrop on every conversation in their home. “You say that, but if Hongjoong or Seonghwa told you to hurt me you would do it. Even if you don’t want to.”

“They wouldn’t ask–“

“But you don’t know that for sure, do you? You believe it now, but tomorrow, they could change their mind about me. What if San didn’t like my presence around here anymore? What if Yunho told you my time was up? Would you defy their words and save me? Would you?”

He stares at his hands, saying nothing.

"What if I hurt one of you like I did to that Seelie? Would you just stand by?"

"Don't say idiotic things."

"Then stop lying to yourself, Wooyoung. You do not care for me like them and you never will. Stop trying to force yourself to like me because I'm different. I don't like you, okay? I don't. So stop prying, and stop making yourself believe that there is something here when there's not."

Wooyoung stands up, shaking his head, "How could you lie?"

"For fucks sake–"

Wooyoung steps closer to you, your body sinking further into the seat. He places his hands on either side of your shoulders, eyes darkening. "You lie so easily. Why? Why do you do it?" His fingers slowly tighten. It's not enough to bruise you or hurt you, but it feels uncomfortable. If seconds continue to pass, he could just as easily break a bone.

"Let me go."

"You think we are mad? You think I am mad for caring about you? Do you have any sense yourself?"

"Let go, Wooyoung. You'll bruise her if you continue."

You look over, Mingi leaning against the doorframe. His expression is still as always, though now it rests on Wooyoung's grip. He seems to push through his thoughts, hands gone from your body. You stand up and move farther away. Closer to the entrance of the balcony. Wooyoung stares down at his hands, body trembling.

"Sorry," his tone is tight, looking up. "I got carried away."

“Hongjoong told you to stay away.”

He glances away, “I know.”

“And yet here you stand.”

Wooyoung looks at him, “Mingi –”

“Go. Before you make this worse for yourself. I won’t ask again.”

Wooyoung’s shoulders fall. He turns to see your expression but you’ve already given him your back, leaving to stand on the porch. Whatever commotion is happening behind you you’d rather avoid. Your heart hurts too much. He isn’t lying, you care for him. And you hate that you do. They’re Unseelie, beings that took you from your home because of curiosity. How could you care for them? How could you miss Wooyoung? The cool breeze hits your cheek as you slide open the door, sitting on the small stool resting against the wall. The night is clearer now that he’s back. You hate even more how the solid rock of worry in your chest is subdued since you’ve seen him. He was so close to hurting you, barely seconds away.

So why the Hell do you want to tell him it’s okay?

“He lets his emotions get the best of him,” the deep voice of Mingi fills the silence. He leans against the doorway, staring out into the night. “That’s why Hongjoong told him to stay away for a while. Though I doubt it would help that much, his excitement to see you would have only grown.”

“He cares too much about someone he doesn’t know,” you say.

“That I agree with,” Mingi nods, humming. “But you should be saying the same to yourself.”

“I don’t.”

“Human, we are Unseelie. We’ve witnessed your kind lying for centuries. I can read that expression of yours with ease,” he glances down at you. “I’m not hovering around you to pass the time. Since Yunho cannot do it right now, I’m here to watch you. Just say my name and I’ll be here. Though it is my fault right now that I didn’t come when I heard about Wooyoung and Yeosang walking around.” He rubs his face, “What a headache.”

“Thanks,” you say, looking back at the landscape. The moon is hiding tonight. “He didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Because he’s delusional,” he snickers. “Not wrong entirely, but trying to force the answer from you is very… silly. You’re welcome.”

He says nothing else and neither do you. The fear of him being around has subdued, whether it be from him getting used to your presence or not, you’re grateful. Walking on your toes is exhausting enough as it is. From the first training session to now, the two of you have grown closer. Laughs exchanged, quieter moments. None uncomfortable. Enough so that you would consider him a friend, along with Jongho. Despite this, you can't help but let your thoughts wander. It's been so long since you've seen people you actually know. One in particular that you hate you cannot get out of your head. You already have things to deal with on your own.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” he starts, closing the door behind him. He rests on the chair adjacent to yours, sitting down slowly. Ah, so he plans on staying around for a while. “Letting that weight continue will only break you in the end.”

You shrug, “It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing you wouldn’t look so uncomfortable right now. It’s fine, I’d rather not push,” MIngi says. “But I know from experience that keeping it to yourself is not good. I may not be as comforting as Yunho or Jongho, but I’m a good listener.”

Is he? His kindness doesn’t feel fake. Still, you’re wary of his motives. After a couple more minutes of saying nothing, you push past your fear.

"I don't want to hurt anymore," you stare at your hands, watching as they tremble beneath your gaze. "I'm so tired of hurting so much, I'm tired of caring so much. He left me. He promised he wouldn't and he did. He left me, Mingi. He…" Your fists curled into themselves. "And the more I think about it the more pathetic I sound. I've been through that moment over and over again, trying to figure out what I've done, what I didn't see. But I was faithful to him, I did everything for us. I wasn't selfish. I loved him with everything that I have. And he still left me alone. Just like everyone else does. And I can't even ask him why he did it because he just left. He's gone."

A slow breath drags from between your lips. "And here I am, talking to an Unseelie about it. You probably think I'm pathetic or –"

"You keep using that word," Mingi narrows his eyes, thinking. "Pathetic. Like it's pathetic to feel emotions strongly. You know that you're allowed to feel, right?" He leans over, covering your outstretched hands with his. He’s warm. "I can't calm down your heart or tell you it will be okay, because I am just an Unseelie. We don't give empty promises. But what I can say is that you're not pathetic. His absence hurts. And you're allowed to be hurt. But you are not pathetic, y/n. Do you understand?"

There is some hesitance. Slowly, he reaches out, hand hovering over your cheek. He places it, flattening it against your skin. You warily lean into his palm. "You are not pathetic, okay?"

Eyes closed, you nod. "... Okay."

"You don't believe your words," Mingi frowns.

"Saying it and believing it are two different things."

“I told you to not lie when I can tell,” he says sharply. There’s no malice in it, frustration perhaps. But not anger. He pulls his hand away from you, standing. “Get some sleep. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

He leaves you alone on the porch. You tuck your knees close, the breeze chilly against your skin. You don’t realize it yourself, but that brief moment with him turned things for you. For some very strange reason, your thoughts no longer rested on your ex. Instead, they lingered on them. On everything that's happened since you've arrived.

They lingered on Mingi.

—

Seonghwa still hasn’t taken you back into his lab. You sit in the living room on a loveseat, eyes glued to the rest of the Unseelie. Most are here except Yunho and Seonghwa, speaking to each other about various things. San and Yeosang entwined on the seat across from you. His arm wrapped around the waist of Yeosang, words soft and quick. Almost too intimate for you to look at longer than a couple of seconds. Jongho flipping through pages of another book he has, likely given to him by San. Mingi beside him, eating an apple as he stares at nothing.

And then there’s the last two.

The feeling is subtle, at first. Hongjoong and Wooyoung laugh together. Hands roaming along each other's arms, legs entangled as they show each other the potions they have created. Annoyed glances filled with fondness. It is something that you've lost since Soobin left. Affection, especially around others, was never something he quite enjoyed. Sure, holding hands or embracing for a moment. But never this – effortless care. Whether it be from embarrassment of townsfolk noticing the two of you, or uncomfort. But watching them as an outsider just makes the feeling rise, chest throbbing. Ah, now you understand the feeling.

Envy.

"Hold this," You jump. Mingi touches your own hand with his fingers, dragging yours open to place a gray stone on your palm. "It will help that heart of yours."

Your hand closes around it, brows furrowed. "Is there something wrong?"

"You tell me. I could hear it from across the room. Thumping away."

“Thanks.”

He merely nods.

“y/n,” Jongho calls from the other side of the room. Pauses in conversation stop for a moment as he walks over, book held out to you. You take it from his hands, glancing over the words. You quickly recognize it as the Giving Tree, a novel read to you when you were a child. Jongho looked furious as he stood above you, frown only deepening. “It can’t just be a stump at the end.”

“Isn't it devastating?” San says from his spot. “I knew it'd bother you.”

Jongho turns to look at San, a scowl crossing his lips. “I wanted an entertaining tale. You gave me a book about a selfish human child.”

San shrugs, “Maybe it would finally let you let me borrow some of your things –”

“Absolutely not,” Jongho sighs. “You see what he does? He's just a nuisance.”

“Well it's one of my favorite stories,” you say, flipping through the pages. “Unconditional love with a price; hoping that it's returned but it never really is.”

“A silly story,” Mingi murmurs, but he takes the book from your hand, humming as he walks away, Jongho following close behind him. You could hear his low voice grumbling something about his book being taken away. Your eyes look over to Yeosang and San. This time, San stares at you. There isn't exactly any anger in it now, but an emotion you can't pin. It's unlike anything you've ever seen from him.

“They always bicker,” Wooyoung says, glancing back. “Don't worry too much about it solaris, a little fight won't hurt them.”

Well you aren't exactly worried about it. You don't bother responding to him, sinking yourself deeper into the couch.

“y/n.”

His smooth voice speaks through the air. Avoiding his gaze would only cause his irritation to grow, so you look at him. He holds a knife in his hand, peeling off the skin of an apple. He looks at you as he does so, taking a small bite.

“You're allowed to go.”

Everyone in the room looks at Hongjoong. The expressions range from shocked to confused. Hongjoong ignores them entirely, taking another bite. “After Yeosang and Wooyoung completed their assignment, the threat was subdued. Of course, you could have left weeks ago. All of us just needed to be sure it was safe. We put a spell around your home. No Seelie would be able to enter. No faerie can visit you aside from us. I thought you'd like to know that you can leave at any time. We would need you from time to time, but now, there's no immediate threat. And even if there were, you'd be able to take care of it better now.”

Yeosang leans up from his spot, “Hyung–”

Hongjoong holds up his hand. “Any further discussion can be done privately. y/n, leave when you'd like. None of us will stop you. And if they try,” he looks at Wooyoung as he says his next words. “They will be dealt with.”

“This isn't a joke?” You ask, slowly standing from your spot. The thought of finally being in your own home, your own place – you didn't realize how much you've missed it until this very moment. Hongjoong nods, and you would hug him if he weren't Hongjoong. Instead, you leave the room promptly. They all watch you go, presumably to your room to grab your things.

Wooyoung shakes his head, “Hongjoong, our mission wasn't successful. We did nothing to deter the Seelies. They'll come for her when they see we're not around.”

“You think I don't know that?” Hongjoong frowns, chewing slowly. “Seonghwa hasn't made any progress and Yunho cannot do experiments right now. We have no use for her other than entertainment. And wouldn't you rather our home be free of humans? Or has she hooked herself so deeply into your body you can't live without?”

“I want her,” Wooyoung whispers. “Why would you send her away?”

“She doesn't love you,” Hongjoong snorts. “It'll be a pity if you continue to delude yourself.”

“A bit harsh, hyung,” Yeosang says, moving out of Sans embrace. “If you spoke to us prior he might have been able to prepare and take the news well. Instead–”

“You know my thoughts. She was never going to stay forever. You all know this.” He passes his half eaten apple to Wooyoung, stepping around him. “I must inform Seonghwa. Discuss amongst yourselves, but it is done. She will be gone.” He waves, tucking his hand in his pockets.

Yeosang wastes no time in moving close to his partner. He can see his body begin to crumble, irises trembling at the news. His arms wrap about his mates, whispering quiet words to him.

“She's leaving, Yeo,” Wooyoung grips his shirt.

“She's leaving me again.”

—

You shove your clothing into your bag, quickly trying to pack up enough. Hoping that Hongjoong doesn't change hid mind about this. All you've known for a few months now is this mansion, this home that is and never will be yours. Being free, cord snapped, feels so … exhilarating. Never have you felt so much enjoyment to go back to that silly little down and the old bookstore. Resting on your hard mattress – ecstacy.

The bitter feeling burns your throat. Leaving them behind after knowing them for a while. Your heart hurts, to say the least. Though you kept your eyes on Hongjoong’s face as he told you the news, it wasn't only to digest it. It was to keep yourself steady, keep your thoughts solid. If your gaze ever wavered, looked over at one of the others – you would have thought twice. And if you let these thoughts stay for a while longer, you would have stayed. And that realization is enough for you to run out of here without looking back. No goodbyes. No greetings. Nothing that would make your feelings pause.

No one is in the hallways as you walk through, bag tucked beneath your arm. You step outside, rain splattering against your cheeks. As if the forest is mourning your departure. You hold your jacket above your head as you walk down the path. The feelings are too much for you to try and decipher right now.

You were in a loving relationship that ended and Soobin disappeared, leaving just a note behind. Whatever feeling that's dwelling within you right now is not what you think. You're just heartbroken, and lonely. And they're here.

It's nothing more than that.

The rain spills over the sides of the jacket, splashing against your skin. You flinch as it enters your eyes, strands of your hair sticking to your face. Just a few more steps, a few more and you'll be out of here. You won't have to see them again. You'd be free of faeries. You'd finally let go of these strange feelings.

"Won't you let me take you home?" A shimmering cloud rises from the darkness. Wooyoung conjures up in front of you, arms crossed against his chest. You stop on the path, a sigh escaping your lips.

"The bus is fine."

"Waiting for it in the downpour? What if it's late?"

You maneuver around him, frowning, "Then I'll walk."

"You live ten kilometers from our home." His footsteps follow close behind you. "And it would be safer to be with us."

"I need to get in a workout, anyway."

“You can wait a while.”

“Wooyoung,” you step over a pile of rocks. “Hongjoong told me I can go. Stop trying to stop me from leaving. This is my choice.”

“I'm not trying to stop you, solaris. I know this is your decision. But I can't help but wonder. Is it because of that estranged boyfriend of yours?" He asks, appearing in front of you again. "Is that why you're hesitant to stay over longer? Worried you're committing adultery?"

"He left me," you say through your teeth. "He has no hold over me. And I wouldn't be committing adultery since we were never married."

"Then why are you afraid of your emotions?" He tilts his head, pouting. "You care and yet you run. Everyday you spend with us you pretend to not care for us. Is that just something humans do? Run from the emotions they feel?"

"I don't have time for this Wooyoung."

Wooyoung steps closer, your foot stumbling over the saturated grass. He catches you with ease, arm hooking around your torso, pulling you close to his chest. His face is barely a breath away from you. Just as you're about to tell him you're fine, his grip tightens.

"How long will we have to wait?" His tone is soft. "For your shame of loving Unseelies to fade away?"

"I don't –"

He hums, shaking his head, "Ah ah. Don't you remember? I can't lie." He leans forward, lips hovering just over yours. "I hope we can stop playing pretend one day, my pretty solaris. I hope you can see how easily we shine together. Because I am very much drowning in my affection for you and desperately clawing for a reprieve that only your confession can grant. It is a bit pathetic," He steadies you, face pulling away from yours. The warmth of your body consumes you from his touch. If he notices it he does not mention it. He bows.

"You better catch your bus or else I'll truly have to keep you to myself," his lip lifts, gesturing in front of you. He dissipates into the night, your hurried steps running out the forest and onto the bus. There are very few others on it as it drives off, your eyes flicking out the window. For a moment you think you see the shimmer of gold between the trees.

-

“I told her you would come for her. And now that she’s gone, we’re delayed on our experimentation.”

“I said I couldn’t do anything right now without Yunho,” Seonghwa explains simply, flipping through his pages. “I’ve told you this countlessly but you chose not to listen. And you decided to let her go, not I.”

“The humans were noticing her disappearance along with her old mate,” Hongjoong pauses. “It would have brought us great exhaustion if they continued questioning what happened. I had to let her go for now.”

“Then there’s that, are we done with this conversation?” Seonghwa glances up from his research, looking across to Hongjoong. He sits on the seat that you used to occupy whenever you entered the laboratory, fingers dragging along the armrest. Somehow the action annoyed him, brow furrowing. “Hongjoong?”

“We haven’t seen you join us for dinners.”

“I’ve been occupied.”

“Occupied enough to not show your face?” He tilts his head. “I’m sure she desired your presence as well, but you’ve hidden yourself in here. What could be the reason why?”

He’s prying. Seonghwa sees it, knows he’s itching for him to tell the truth. Having a back and forth with him is the last thing he wants right now, head throbbing at the thought. So he sighs, shaking his head. "My mind isn’t itself. I want her so desperately, it's making me unreasonable, makes me want to be by her side," Seonghwa grips the desk, thinking. "This is a new sensation for me."

"This is what happens when you've rejected every advance I've given you your whole life," Hongjoong sings, hanging on the edge of the seat. "And now all you want to do is feel her around your cock because you barely fuck anyone."

The familiar warmth coats his cheeks, looking away from Hongjoong. "How vulgar. No wonder the others don't speak to you about these things."

"Is it not true?" His brow raises. "I saw as you watched her hold the knife in her hand. Her soft, human fingers wrapped around it so tightly. The way she looked for help, her lips," Hongjoong sighs, falling back into the cushions. "If I were her partner, I'd never move close to faerie territory. Why risk someone so delectable? Because of a silly dream of yours? Quite stupid."

"You're too horny to think straight. And you're only enchanted with her because she does not fall for our usual ploys. And now even more since she isn't as human as we once thought."

“I am only interested in power, Seonghwa. And she is the epitome of that. And…” he scoffs, "Me? Horny?" In the typical Hongjoong fashion, he picks at only one portion of the conversation. "You're the one clenching the table in the middle of a woe is me moment. You can barely stand straight," Hongjoong's eyes flick to his slacks. "Better take care of that. And besides, she will enjoy us."

"Saying it does not make it true. Our hands are tainted. Hongjoong. Once she finds out that we have ruined her life with her partner, she will despise us. We are tainted. Do you not see it? All of your sweet nothings, soft words to her will not work. None of it will work. There not passes a day where she does not mention him."

"But she desires us, no?"

"She does," he admits. "But she yearns for him much more. I fear there will never come a day where she does not. It is like… it feels like she is one of us. Once we choose a mate, we will never move on from it."

"She's a human."

"As far as we know, yes. But Hongjoong–"

"That means there's a chance that we will change her mind," Hongjoong murmurs. "We can change her."

"Is it wise? Shouldn't we just… leave her?"

It's as if Hongjoong does not hear at all what Seonghwa is saying, brows scrunched in thought. He looks at his mate, swallowing. "We can change it Seonghwa. She will never move on from him unless he comes back and tells her he doesn’t want her,” Hongjoong murmurs, eyes flicking across the patterns in the rug. “And he was killed before we could force him to do it.”

“There’s no going back,” Seonghwa concures.

“I agree, there’s not. But we can do something so her mourning period ends quicker.”

“And that is?”

A strange look crosses his face. "I need Mingi."

His eyes widen slightly, “Hongjoong, we shouldn’t.” Just as Seonghwa raises his hand and begins to whisper, Hongjoong dissipates in an instant, leaving the eldest alone. Seonghwa lets go of the table, pacing back and forth. He can handle this. You're just a human, nothing more. He can handle this inane desire on his own. He can handle what Mingi is going to do. Even if his own thoughts seemingly cry out to run to you, to take you as his own. He can push past that. He grabs his research, flipping through.

Seonghwa stared at the book in his hands, his eyes wide with disbelief. He had read it over and over again, but he couldn't believe what he was seeing. There, in black and white, was the answer to the question that had been haunting him for months.

He had always known that you were different from other humans since the first moment he caught your eye. You had never been truly afraid of him, even when he had first revealed his true nature to you. You had never been seduced by his beauty or his power. You had always seen him for who he was, a faerie, and you had accepted him anyway.

But now he knew why you were different. You were immune because you were not a faerie nor human at all. He had never met another being like you before. He didn't know if there were others like you out there. He didn't know if you were the only one. He didn't even know that these creatures existed. He assumed it was just folklore.

He ripped out the page, pinning it to his board. The word stands out, bold and underlined.

[seagreenstardust]

Katsuki we literally ALL know you wish it was you

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie quietly falling more and more in love with Steve with every car ride—every time it’s raining, and he watches as Steve does a stupid little run with an umbrella to the front porch so Robin won’t mess up her hair before a marching band concert.

Falling in love with the constancy of it, with every little routine Steve does. It takes a few weeks of listening for Eddie to figure out that when Steve first half-sings, “Good mornin’,” as everyone clambers into the car that he’s imitating the song from Singin’ in the Rain.

Falling in love with how Steve always, always either has the radio on or a tape playing something that he can sing along to, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. How the car’s always this chaotic space but always, always brimming with love and joy—Steve snapping his fingers every few minutes, like, “Oh, Rob, this is our song! You know, when the—yeah, the shift when—no, not that one, the other time that—” (Eddie discovers with fond amusement that many, many songs share the title of ‘Robin and Steve’s song.’)

Steve singing along to the chorus of Mr. Blue Sky whenever Dustin’s called shotgun in the front, and Eddie soon realises, his heart fit to burst, that it’s because Steve must associate the song with Dustin; that he does the same thing with everyone he gives rides to, like it comes so naturally to him, his love for each person intertwined with each song, like he’s making the melody anew every time.

Eddie, tipsy from ‘Graduation Champagne’ courtesy of Nancy, asks Steve once if he has a song tied to him.

“Ah,” Steve says, smiling and bright-eyed in his role as the designated driver, “you have a whole damn catalogue, Eddie.”

And… oh.

Well, Eddie reasons, heart skipping a beat, he doesn’t need to know all of them at once, then. He doesn’t mind waiting, letting each one unfold, like unwrapping an expensive chocolate.

One night the two of them are driving back to Hawkins alone, having spent the day at a mall shopping for Robin’s birthday. They really didn’t need to spend the whole day, had already got her presents within the first couple of hours, but they dawdled, messed around, tried on increasingly ridiculous hats and sunglasses to make the other laugh.

And Steve fiddles with the radio until he finds an obscure station that just plays songs from musicals. And yeah, he sings along, but his voice is a little restrained, almost like he’s shy. Eddie looks at him with a soft smile, suddenly knows he’s seeing something precious, something Steve perhaps reserves for car rides alone. That Steve is letting him into a private moment.

“You have a real pretty voice, man,” he murmurs, quiet enough that they could pretend it goes unheard under the noise of the car driving along.

But as Steve looks ahead, he smiles, and his ears turn red.

He goes for it for the rest of the ride, voice back to its normal volume. He plays it up, trying to make Eddie laugh while they’re waiting for traffic lights to change. Catches his eye and damn near trills, “I feel fizzy and funny and fine, and so pretty, Miss America can just resign.”

And of course, Eddie laughs. Feels his stomach swoop. He knows what this feeling is. Oh, he knows.

As the West Side Story tribute ends, Steve’s voice drops back to his normal register. Turns gentle and sincere as he glances at his wing mirror and sings, almost to himself, “For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy.”

Yes, Eddie thinks, you are, you are, you are.

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Post-Bad Romance, Cell tries to adjust to life on Quesadilla Island.

For Spiderbit Week Day Four: Murder Husbands

-

The island is a prison. And Cell knows prisons.

There are the wardens: the mysterious blank-faced bear things with guns and clipboards that follow the prisoners around asking questions and watching.

There are the prisoners: the idiots trapped on an island paradise and seemingly unwilling to try and escape.

There are the cells: buildings and statues and neighborhoods that the prisoners were allowed to make themselves that have security cameras watching every entrance and exit that the prisoners don't seem to know-slash-care about.

So. Prison.

"Pai? Why are you staring at Mister Roier like that?"

Prison. With children.

"Don't call me that," Cell snaps. "And he likes it, that's why. Go somewhere else."

The kid- assigned by the faceless overlords- just smiles cheekily in response. He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks onto his heels, head tilting slightly.

"Pais Tazer e Craft said I'm not supposed to talk to you," Richarlyson innocently says. His eyes are hidden behind his curls, but Cell can imagine that they're glittering mischievously.

Now, Cell knows that the kid is an evil genius. Like recognizes like: Cell doesn't remember much from his childhood, but he remembers looking at himself in a puddle of blood one morning after breakfast and seeing a smile that he recognizes now every time that he and Richarlyson see each other.

Richarlyson is a master manipulator. He's not even ten years old, but he can already poke and prod his government-assigned parents into doing what he wants. He hides behind childhood innocence and sweet smiles and sweeter words, but he's also a little asshole.

Of course, Roier adores him.

Of course, Cell doesn't want anything to do with him.

But what he does want is whatever Pac and Mike don't want, so he scowls and shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away.

Content, Richarlyson plops onto the grass and props his chin up in the palms of his hands. He watches Roier just as Cell was doing a moment ago, which is bound to make Roier fucking ecstatic.

Or, well, it would if Roier knew that the two of them were there watching him.

Since arriving on the island a week ago, Roier has managed to find himself an entirely new little family. He squeezed into their relationship like a strangler fig, and Jaiden and Bobby accepted him with open arms.

("Friendship", apparently. That's the thing the prisoners care about the most besides their artificially-created government spawn.

Friendship, and communication.

Idealists. Idiots.)

Roier has moved in with Jaiden and Bobby. He's decided that he's Bobby's father. He's decided that Cell is Bobby's other father, and he got Cell to agree with a knife subtly poking into his side.

Cell, meanwhile, lives in a cave. It reminds him too much of the island- the other island, not this one, but it's also natural, and the wardens don't know where it is. He's searched the area a dozen times over by now: no cameras.

One day, if he and Roier are stuck here long enough, he'll hollow it out by hand. He needs a place to keep his tools. He needs a place to hide his bed so nobody can destroy it.

He needs a place to torture Pac and Mike and teach him what real friendship looks like. Roier will be by his side, and they'll show them.

Cell doesn't miss Roier, though.

At all.

They spent three weeks practically together in the Brazilian countryside, and Roier is annoying, and Cell has had enough of him.

Entirely.

Roier is the only person besides Cell to know where the cave is. And he'll be the only one there when Cell shows Pac and Mike a real partnership. Because he and Roier are partners.

That's it.

(When introducing themselves to the other prisoners, this is how they did it:

Roier: Hola, hola! My name is Roier, I am Mexican, and I am engaged to Cell!

Cell: You can call me Cell, and I'm going to kill every one of you someday.

Roier: [Glares at Cell pointedly.]

Cell: [Sighing] And Roier and I are partners.)

Cell definitely isn't just annoyed that Roier decided to go and live with two strangers and not him.

That would be ridiculous.

Today, Roier is working on the garden with Bobby, and Cell is watching him from a hilltop a fair distance away. Jaiden is asleep. (She'd be asleep forever if Cell had anything to say about it, but that would make Roier upset. So.)

Roier glows in the sunlight. With proper access to a shower and shampoo and skincare, he's positively ethereal. His nails are freshly painted. His eyeliner is meticulous. His hair looks soft.

Richarlyson cocks his head in his hands to look up at Cell.

"Why don't you just... go hang out with him? Aren't you guys getting married?"

Cell's scowl only deepens. "Do you see a ring on either of our hands?"

There aren't any. Roier hasn't gotten any, and Cell sure as hell isn't about to start begging the wardens for silver and gold like the other prisoners would. He has dignity. He'll just dig up the materials himself and make them into rings. Somehow.

He scuffs the toe of his boot against the grass, kicking up some into the air.

"Besides," he says, voice softer despite his attempts to remain objective, "he's busy with his kid."

Roier had mentioned once that he had a child. His asshole (piece of shit bastard motherfucker evil-) ex killed the kid, and Roier killed the ex.

Cell doesn't know how old Roier's kid was when it died, but Roier seems to be doing just fine with ten-year-old Bobby. It's like he was born to be a parent, he's just so kind. He's gentle. He teases Bobby, and he teases the other brats on the island, but he doesn't go out of his way to hurt them.

Roier's smile when he's around kids is entirely different than it is when he's around Cell. His eyes are different, they're... they're just different.

"You're literally also Bobby's dad," Richarlyson dryly responds.

He pauses, and then he asks, "Wait, does that make me Bobby's brother?"

"No," is Cell's immediate response. "You aren't even my son."

"No, I am. Cucurucho says so."

"And I say you're not. You have Felps."

"And Pais Pac and Mike."

A foul taste fills Cell's mouth.

"See?" he says. "You already have plenty of parents. You don't need me."

"Maybe," Richarlyson acknowledges. He smiles, and Cell can't tell if he means it or not. "But I want you. You're cool!"

"I know that," Cell scoffs. "But you shouldn't be hanging around a killer, kid. None of the other kids will want to play with you."

"So what? They don't like me, anyway."

Ducking his head to look at the grass, Richarlyson starts tearing some of it up.

Cell winces. He... doesn't know how to deal with kids. It just isn't what he does. It's what Roier, does, but Roier is busy with his actual family now.

In the garden, Roier laughs. He drops a flower onto Bobby's head and ducks away playfully as Bobby swings his sword at him in retaliation.

(Roier's smile is beautiful. Cell doesn't know what beauty is anymore, but he knows this.)

During the war, BadBoyHalo once told Cell that he was too kind. He wouldn't survive that way, and he almost didn't. He didn't start winning battles until he started being mean, and he's been mean ever since. That's simply how the world works.

Cell rolls his eyes up towards the sky. With a grumble, he settles onto the grass next to Richarlyson.

"You're too young to be depressed," Cell says. "So stop that. If the other brats don't want to talk to you, then don't talk to them. They're assholes. Fuck 'em."

Richarlyson frowns. "But that's mean. I want to be their friend."

"And they don't want to be yours. What are you going to do about it?"

Bobby is chasing Roier around the garden, now. Cell loves watching Roier move, he's so... wow with everything he does: long limbs, muscles. Wow.

Richarlyson doesn't say anything for a moment, so Cell takes the silence as an opportunity to keep watching Roier. He wasn't lying earlier, Roier loves to be watched. He practically begs Cell to do it, and Cell is happy enough to play along.

(Sure, Roier hasn't moved in with him, and he hasn't gotten Cell a ring, and he hasn't really done much with Cell, but he wants to be stalked. Fucking freak.)

(Cell isn't much of a stalker, but he'll do it for Roier. He'd do anything for Roier, and isn't that a novel thought? This is a real partnership, fuck you, Pac and Mike.)

Eventually, Richarlyson lets the grass in his fingers fly into the wind.

"I'll make them be my friends?" he tries, looking to Cell for approval.

Cell shakes his head. "That doesn't work. I've tried, trust me. In prison, you have to force people to be your friends. Those relationships don't last. They'll stab you in the back at the first chance of an escape."

"Uuuuugh, then what?" Richarlyson groans. "They all hate me!"

"How do you know?"

"Uh, because they're all siblings and I'm not related to them? Duh?"

Wow, what a stupid kid. He really is Felps' son.

Sighing, Cell nudges Richarlyson's head with his hand. He maybe ruffles the kid's hair a little, but not purposefully.

"They don't know you, idiot," he explains. "How can you be friends if you're strangers? Have you even tried talking to them?"

"No. Because they hate me."

"They don't trust you. Big difference."

Looking right at Roier, Cell continues: "Trust is the most important part of any relationship. From trust comes honesty, and from honesty comes everything else. You need to prove to the other kids that they can trust you."

Richarlyson leans into Cell's touch, still frowning. "Okay, but how?"

Cell shrugs and yanks his hand away. "Hell if I know."

"You trust Mister Roier."

"He's- he's. Roier." Cell's heart twists fondly in his chest. "I don't even know how he did it."

"Oh," says Richarlyson. He smiles, then. "That's nice. You two really are partners, aren't you?"

Cell scoffs, "Of course we are."

"So that's why he's been staring at you for the past, like, five minutes."

"What?"

Cell blinks a few times, scrunches his eyebrows together.

Indeed, Roier is looking at him now. He's looking right at him, eyes glittering in the sun, smile so wide that his jaw has to be aching.

How did Cell not notice? Was he really so caught up with Richarlyson's kid drama? Ugh, he's getting weak. He needs to kill someone.

Roier waves a hand and shouts, "Gatinho!"

Cell raises his own hand in response. "Guapito."

"Come here! Bring our son with you!"

Richarlyson squirms happily at that.

"See?" he crows. "I am your son."

"Yeah, no," Cell huffs.

He stands, anyway, and he brushes the grass off of his pants.

He doesn't rush down the hill, not like Richarlyson does. He might run a little, and his heart might skip a beat as he gets closer, and his face might be fighting a smile, but he doesn't rush.

At all.

Roier meets him at the bottom of the hill with a hug so tight that Cell's lungs threaten to collapse inside of him.

"I missed you," Roier murmurs. "Don't leave me again."

Cell can't help it. He hugs Roier back just as tightly and grumbles, "Says the one ditching me to play house with some strangers. What do you mean, 'don't leave me again'?"

Roier gasps, and it sounds like he's going to cry for just a second.

But then he starts laughing, hard and loud.

"You're jealous!" he declares.

Cell feels himself flush red.

"No," he says, pushing himself out of Roier's grip and turning around entirely to face away from him. "I'm not."

But Roier just hugs him from behind, chin tucking itself right into the crook of Cell's neck.

"Thank you for watching me," he hums.

Cell grunts. For some reason, he can never speak properly around Roier. It's like his brain just shuts down, it's embarrassing.

He doesn't like being held from behind, though, so he grabs Roier's hands and turns back around. Roier, for whatever reason, twirls in Cell's loose hold like a ballerina.

"Wow," Richarlyson comments from somewhere out of sight and out of mind.

"Ew," Bobby agrees, equally ignorable.

Roier would look so good covered in blood right now, Cell thinks. Red is his color. Cell doesn't have a favorite color, but the closest thing he can think of would be the shade of red Roier's face always is when Cell is killing someone.

Leaning in close, Cell murmurs, "Screw the kids. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Roier's eyes light up. "Brazilian?"

Cell ponders. And then he shakes his head. "Not worth the trouble. I'm thinking... Mexican?"

His voice pitches up slightly, questioning.

"Mmm, Quackity, Mariana, or Missa's place?" Roier asks.

For whatever reason, Cell thinks back to a week ago when Quackity and Mariana and Slime had tried stealing Richarlyson away from him... and the others. Missa behaved, he's safe (today.)

Cell's arms find themselves draping over Roier's shoulders loosely. Their heads lean closer together until their foreheads are pressed against each other.

Roier's eyelashes are long and beautiful. He doesn't really use mascara, so it's all natural. He flutters them delicately as Cell thinks.

"Quackity," Cell eventually decides. He smiles crookedly. "Fast food."

Roier's canines aren't as sharp as Cell's are, but he's still borderline vampiric. Wow.

Cell doesn't feel ready to kiss Roier yet- he's still working on speaking around him. But he still considers it as Roier looks up at him through his eyelashes.

One day, he thinks. What did Bad always say, "save it 'til marriage"? Cell can do that. He just needs to figure the rings out first.

"As you wish," Roier breathes.

The kids both groan and wander off to do their own thing elsewhere, but Cell couldn't care less. They aren't his, no matter what Roier says.

And they never will be.

[jonnymarzetti]

doodlez

[witchhazelevesque]

Do me a favor and picture Frank helping Leo with repairs, something in the ceiling or a high up vent. Holding the ladder steady while Leo works and when he’s done Leo starts climbing down but gets distracted with their conversation. After a while of shooting the shit, Leo realizes that something is strange here and it’s because he and Frank are at the same eye level, and he looks down and realizes it’s only because he’s still part way up the ladder.

[rbtlvr]

oh god they absolutely are. i was originally gonna just do angst about how cmh leo has Not Been Hugged In Over A Year but then i remembered that also means his family has not hugged (a) leo in over a year soooo

that said...

(+ individual hugs under read more just because)

[valewritessss]

I’m working on a big Percabeth fanfic recommendations post because someone asked and I just decided to sort through and recommend almost every percabeth fic I’ve read.

I know enough about myself to know that it’s not a good idea to set a due date so I’m just gonna say that I’ll post it by this week probably. If you want to be tagged please say so in the tags or something.

EDIT: school is already taking up time so this will probably take so long I’m sorry😭

[angelbitezzz]

Magical girl enthusiast's Halloween costume