#look at my terrible evil child

[birbwell]

character prns are it/its!

PLEASE go follow my friend her art is phenomenal

Last Artfight attack for my friend @birbwell

The watching angel

[snekdood]

bitches really be treating you like a dumb bimbo when you're blonde huh

[agallimaufryofoddments]

Do I attempt to salvage the thought I had about Fermet printing Fermetes 2+ hours ago into a post at 10:23 PM or do I salvage the 1883 words of a .md file I apparently wrote before the two hours of helping someone assemble monitor stand + cable management session began into some droll post for tomorrow?

[inhonoredglory]

Aziraphale’s Choice, the Job Connection, and Michael Sheen’s Morality

Update: Michael Sheen liked this post on Twitter, so I'm fairly certain there is a lot of validity to it.

I’ve had time to process Aziraphale’s choice at the end of Season 2. And I think only blaming the religious trauma misses something important in Aziraphale’s character. I think what happened was also Aziraphale’s own conscious choice––as a growth from his trauma, in fact. Hear me out.

Since November 2022 I’ve been haunted by something Michael Sheen said at the MCM London Comic Con. At the Q&A, someone asked him about which fantasy creature he enjoyed playing most and Michael (bless him, truly) veered on a tangent about angels and goodness and how, specifically,

We as a society tend to sort of undervalue goodness. It’s sort of seen as sort of somehow weak and a bit nimby and “oh it’s nice.” And I think to be good takes enormous reserves of courage and stamina. I mean, you have to look the dark in the face to be truly good and to be truly of the light…. The idea that goodness is somehow lesser and less interesting and not as kind of muscular and as passionate and as fierce as evil somehow and darkness, I think is nonsense. The idea of being able to portray an angel, a being of love. I love seeing the things people have put online about angels being ferocious creatures, and I love that. I think that’s a really good representation of what goodness can be, what it should be, I suppose.

I was looking forward to BAMF!Aziraphale all season long, and I think that’s what we got in the end. Remember Neil said that the Job minisode was important for Aziraphale’s story. Remember how Aziraphale sat on that rock and reconciled to himself that he MUST go to Hell, because he lied and thwarted the will of God. He believed that––truly, honestly, with the faith of a child, but the bravery of a soldier.

Aziraphale, a being of love with more goodness than all of Heaven combined, believed he needed to walk through the Gates of Hell because it was the Right Thing to do. (Like Job, he didn’t understand his sin but believed he needed to sacrifice his happiness to do the Right Thing.)

That’s why we saw Aziraphale as a soldier this season: the bookshop battle, the halo. But yes, the ending as well.

Because Aziraphale never wanted to go to Heaven, and he never wanted to go there without Crowley.

But it was Crowley who taught him that he could, even SHOULD, act when his moral heart told him something was wrong. While Crowley was willing to run away and let the world burn, it was Aziraphale (in that bandstand at the end of the world) who stood his ground and said No. We can make a difference. We can save everyone.

And Aziraphale knew he could not give up the ace up his sleeve (his position as an angel) to talk to God and make them see the truth in his heart.

I was messed up by Ineffable Bureaucracy (Boxfly) getting their happy ending when our Ineffable Husbands didn’t, but I see now that them running away served to prove something to Aziraphale. (And I am fully convinced that Gabriel and Beelzebub saw the example of the Ineffables at the Not-pocalypse and took inspiration from them for choosing to ditch their respective sides)

But my point is that Aziraphale saw them, and in some ways, they looked like him and Crowley. And he saw how Gabriel, the biggest bully in Heaven, was also like him in a way (a being capable of love) and also just a child when he wasn’t influenced by the poison of Heaven. Muriel, too, wasn’t a bad person. The Metatron also seemed to have grown more flexible with his morality (from Aziraphale's perspective). Like Earth, Heaven was shades of (light?) gray.

Aziraphale is too good an angel not to believe in hope. Or forgiveness (something he’s very good at it).

Aziraphale has been scarred by Heaven all his life. But with the cracks in Heaven’s armor (cracks he and Crowley helped create), Aziraphale is seeing something else. A chance to change them. They did terrible things to him, but he is better than them, and because of Crowley, he feels ready to face them.

(Will it work? Can Heaven change, institutionally? Probably not, but I can't blame Aziraphale for trying.)

At the cafe, the Metatron said something big was coming in the Great Plan. Aziraphale knows how trapped he had felt when he didn’t have God’s ear the first time something huge happened in the Big Plan. He can’t take a chance again to risk the world by not having a foot in the door of Heaven. That’s why we saw individual human deaths (or the threat of death) so much more this season: Elspeth, Wee Morag, Job’s children, the 1940s magician. Aziraphale almost killed a child when he couldn’t get through to God, and he’s not going through that again.

“We could make a difference.” We could save everyone.

Remember what Michael Sheen said about courage and doing good––and having to “look the dark in the face to be truly good.” That’s what happened when Aziraphale was willing to go to Hell for his actions. That’s what happened when he decided he had to go to Heaven, where he had been abused and belittled and made to feel small. He decided to willingly go into the Lion’s Den, to face his abusers and his anxiety, to make them better so that they would not try to destroy the world again.

Him, just one angel. He needed Crowley to be there with him, to help him be brave, to ask the questions that Heaven needed to hear, to tell them God was wrong. Crowley is the inspiration that drives Aziraphale’s change, Crowley is the engine that fuels Aziraphale’s courage.

But then Crowley tells him that going to Heaven is stupid. That they don’t need Heaven. And he’s right. Aziraphale knows he’s right.

Aziraphale doesn’t need Heaven; Heaven needs him. They just don’t know how much they need him, or how much humanity needs him there, too. (If everyone who ran for office was corrupt, how can the system change?)

Terry Pratchett (in the Discworld book, Small Gods) is scathing of God, organized religion, and the corrupt people religion empowers, but he is sympathetic to the individual who has real, pure faith and a good heart. In fact, the everyman protagonist of Small Gods is a better person than the god he serves, and in the end, he ends up changing the church to be better, more open-minded, and more humanist than god could ever do alone.

Aziraphale is willing to go to the darkest places to do the Right Thing, and Heaven is no exception. When Crowley says that Heaven is toxic, that’s exactly why Aziraphale knows he needs to go there. “You’re exactly is different from my exactly.”

____

In the aftermath of Trump's election in the US, Brexit happened in 2018. Michael Sheen felt compelled to figure out what was going on in his country after this shock. But he was living in Los Angeles with Sarah Silverman at the time, and she also wanted to become more politically active in the US.

Sheen: “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it [meant] coming back [to Britain] – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.” In the end, they split up and Michael moved back to the UK.

Sometimes doing the Right Thing means sacrificing your own happiness. Sometimes it means going to Hell. Sometimes it means going to Heaven. Sometimes it means losing a relationship.

And that’s why what happened in the end was so difficult for Aziraphale. Because he loves Crowley desperately. He wants to be together. He wanted that kiss for thousands of years. He knows that taking command of Heaven means they would never again have to bow to the demands of a God they couldn’t understand, or run from a Hell who still came after them. They could change the rules of the game.

And he’s still going to do that. But it hurts him that he has to do that alone.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[palskippah]

Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

[deadghosy]

Ive just been reading your Lucifer big sister headcanons, and thier so so so so good, i love how you wrote it🥰. What about Lucifer with a little sister? Any thoughts? How different would he treat her? Maybe she fell at the same time as him and Lucifer blames himself for leading his sister down the same path as him. I can seen him being a protective older brother because come on their in hell surrounded by sinners its got to be stressful even tho she isnt weak what so ever but Lucifer can help but baby his sweet little sister.

(Obviously no pressure to write this)

Have a nice day 😁👋

As a younger sibling, I was gonna make this as I made the elder sister! So I’m glad you asked this as I can’t help but love to make this version. 🦆 sorry if it’s long, I just had fun making this🔥

YOUNGER SISTER! READER X PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: you are the younger sister of Lucifer Morningstar who fell along her older brother.

Dead ass you fell on top of Lucifer when you both fell from heaven.

“Groannsss….GET OFF!” Lucifer yells pushing you off him. You huffed getting off him as you dust yourself.

I headcannon reader to have a slight rebellious attitude sometimes like Adam but she’s not as terrible.

Like reader has a shirt that says “kiss my ass” with a kiss mark on the shirt as she puts up a rock gesture 🤟

Lucifer found your shirt and burned it, he can’t have his baby sister have such an inappropriate shirt!

“LU-LU! NOOO MY SHIRTTT” “THIS SHIRT IS NASTY LITTLE SIS!-”

He put his hand to your face to keep you away as he burned it. It was a funny sight as you huffed kicking him in his nuts as he groaned falling face first to the ground.

I also headcannon that reader is the reason why Charlie had a emo phase as reader kinda has a different aesthetic than Lucifer.

But on a serious note, Lucifer was kinda scared when you fell with him as he puts his hand through his hair watching you sleep. He couldn’t believe he brought his baby sister with him on his down fall. He knew he influenced you as you looked up to him more than the other angels. It was like if you were his child, his baby.

But he tucks you in bed as you were sprawled out in your bed snoring loudly. He chuckles kissing your head and leaving your room as he closes your door with a slight sad look.

Back to the funny sibling things, you are definitely the one who sneaks in the kitchen to take his leftovers for payback. After Lucifer walks out of his workshop tired and hungry.

You basically told him to take care of himself more. He walked in the kitchen to find his leftovers gone. So you could tell what happened next.

“Y/NNNNN!” You heard a fierce yell as you had shoved the food down your mouth and ran as you heard a loud flapping of wings behind you. “WHEN I CATCH YOU, YOU BETTER PRAY!”

It’s was so cartoony at how Lucifer chases you while you ran for you life. You have wings but he flys better than you so it’s no use.

He caught you, making you cook dinner for a month as you groan while he smirks patting a duck like a mafia man. “And you better wash the dishes too-” “NOW YOU ASKIN' TOOO MUCHHH!”

But soon the sinners came and made the freedom Lucifer gave them, turn into pure hell as you watch worried at the stress your older brother had. Lucifer tries to smile to show you it’s not affecting him, but it is.

He soon makes you stay all time in the palace, scared for your safety as you stay in your room worried at how isolated he soon becomes. Charlie would walk around babbling about you as she kept your company. You smile at your cute niece giving her boops to her nose.

I also headcannon you and Lucifer are like secret twins as you both hyper fixate about a lot of things like [favorite thing] as he hyper fixates on ducks and gives you his ducks to show off how cool he is as your older brother.

But also I can see reader being shorter than Lucifer, like to his shoulder as Lucifer blinks like a frog as you smile with an evil gremlin ready to stab someone.

But now for some overprotective brother headcannons.

You know how Lucifer when to see Charlie at her hotel, you joined wearing basically a female version of Lucifer’s outfit. But you wore shades to off your ✨coolness✨

Alastor was irritated at your louder personality but you also had a charming aura around you like how Lucifer has his prideful smile. Alastor smirks down at you as you are shorter than Lucifer, he kisses your hand with made you just stand there with a dotted blank expression.

Immediately Lucifer picks you up like a doll as he growls at Alastor like a dog ready to chump his hand off. He knew the radio demon just wanted to piss him off, so the whole time you were in the hotel with him. He always has you close and behind him from the radio demon.

Now if it was a sinner trying to court you, they better hope you don’t snitch like the young sibling you are. Cause ohhhh boy! Lucifer is teleporting to their house to give them nightmares. Maybe even killing them if they made you uncomfortable.

Heaven and hell agrees you are a cutie, demon or angel. Cause in heaven there were angels trying to court you but your brother was always behind you looking stern as he puff his chest trying to see if they suit you best.

Like literally he scares people off as you stand there minding your business.

“I feel a disturbance in the air…” Lucifer says as he was reading a book but pulls the curtains to see an angel trying to court you with their wings.

Immediately you’re being teleported to your room confused as a duck poofs in your hand.

“What the fuckkkk….” You say confused

[juanarc-thethird]

Sorry but I already have plans.

Jaune: *Eating breakfast*

Suddenly Team Rwby arrives for breakfast too.

Yang: Oh but look who decided to wake up early for once.

Jaune: I would have preferred a "Good morning"

Yang: Sorry~

Ruby: Since we found you here. We were thinking of going with everyone to check out that new Ramen restaurant that opened up by the park. Do you want to go?

Jaune: Sorry but I already have plans.

Weiss: Don't tell me, a new game came out.

Jaune: *Ugh!* (Not good! If this keeps up, they will think I'm an adult who act like a man child! I must act like a proper adult here...) Well... Actually... *Gulp* I'm going on a date.

At that moment all the girls of Team Rwby went numb.

Jaune: Well... I have to go so... SeeYouLater! *Runs away*

Moments later

Jaune is walking down the road, feeling a big pressure on his shoulders.

Jaune: (They're totally following me...)

Behind hime Team Rwby is watching him closely while trying, and I mean really trying, to keep themselves hidden.

Jaune: (What should I do? At this rate they'll think I lied out of a bizarre sense of pride. They'll see me as a pathetic adult!. But I still want to buy that game... and besides, I don't even have a date.)

At that moment he bumps into someone.

Jaune: Oh, sorry... Prof Goodwitch?

Glynda: Oh Jaune, what a surprise to find you here.

Meanwhile

In the kitchen today it's Penny, Pyrrha, Bleiss and Ciel's turn to clean.

Bleiss: *Jumping over and over again* Why can't I clean Jaune's mug?!

Pyrrha: *Holding the cup as high as possible* Because you’ll end up licking it!

Bleiss: Of course not!

Ciel: Can you two stop?! The faster we finish, the more time you'll have to spend with Jaune.

Suddenly Penny starts vibrating like a cell phone.

Penny: Emergency. Jaune is not available at the moment.

Ciel: What do you mean?

Penny: According to the information gathered, Jaune is on a date.

Ciel/Bleiss/Pyrrha: DATE?!!!

Meanwhile Meanwhile

In the evil's lair (Service Closet). Cinder is on the phone while Neo and Emerald are resting.

Cinder: Are you saying someone broke the truce?!

Neo: 🤨

Emerald: What happen?

Cinder: And on top of that Jaune is on a DATE?!!

At that moment the three of them become serious and begin to prepare to fight.

Cinder: That bitch is gonna pay.

Meanwhile Meanwhile Meanwhile

In a cafeteria, Neo, Reese, May and Arslan are having coffee.

*Ring, Ring!*

Neon: Hi Bleiss, were you able to get Jaune's mug?

Bleiss: Forget the mug! Code Red! Code RED!!

Neon: What are you talking about?

Bleiss: Glynda is on a date with Jaune right now!

At that moment the atmosphere became dark and heavy. And the faces of the four girls became serious.

Neon: I see

Meanwhile Meanwhile Meanwhile Meanwhile

At the park

Coco: *Sitting on a bench* What a nice day

Velvet: *Running towards Coco* Coco! Coco! Coco!!!

Coco: Wow! Calm down, what happen?

Velvet: Something terrible just happen!

Coco: *Worry* What is it?!

Velvet: Jaune is on a date with Glynda!

Coco: *Her eyes turned dark and soulless*... Excuse me?

Back with Jaune

Glyda and Jaune are walking together to their destination.

Glynda: So you're on your way to buy a game?

Jaune: Y-Yeah. (Is she going to judge me because I play video games?)

Glynda: It's good that you have a method to de-stress after your missions.

Jaune: You don't think it's bad to play video games at my age?

Glynda: Why should I? Everyone has their own methods, for me it's knitting, believe it or not. So I don't see anything wrong with you playing video games.

Jaune: *Hugs her* Professor!!!

Glynda: *Worry* Jaune?!

In the distance you could hear the voice of a very angry girl.

Bleiss: Code Black! CODE BLACK!!!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Home to My Family

Amazing idea from @avada-kedavra-bitch-187!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: After you give birth to twins, they're taken by a nurse for checkups. You soon realize that she's not a nurse, so Tim calls in reinforcements to save your children and catch their abductor.

Warnings: child abduction, r just gave birth but story begins post-labor, angst, happy ending with fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Congratulations,” the doctor says as your second baby is placed in your arms. “Two healthy babies.”

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, your eyes on the baby boy in your arms.

“A nurse will be in shortly to take them for full checkups,” someone informs you.

“How do you feel?” Tim asks.

You look away from your son and smile at the sight of Tim holding his daughter. She beat her brother into the world by nearly three minutes, and Tim has been enraptured with her since then.

“I’m okay,” you assure him. “We did good.”

Tim scoffs and lays his hand on your son’s back as he corrects, “We did great.”

“Hello, Bradfords,” a nurse greets with a knock on the open door. “I’m here to borrow these babies.”

You watch as Tim hands your daughter to the nurse to be placed in a bassinet before he turns to you to take your son. It makes you uncomfortable to hand them over so soon after giving birth, but the first checkup is necessary. Tim takes your hand and sits on the edge of your hospital bed to wait together.

“Did you call Angela?” you ask.

“Where are those pretty Bradford babies?” another nurse singsongs as she enters. “Checkup time!”

You furrow your brows, but Tim is on his feet before you can ask any questions. Tim is heartbreakingly familiar with the reality of evil in the world, and he realizes before you that something terrible has happened. As he races into the hall, fear settles over you as tears build in your eyes. If the real nurse is here now, who has your children? And where are they?

The nurse leaves to double-check that your babies weren’t transported by another nurse, and you’re left alone. After several minutes alone, scared, Tim returns and shakes his head. His jaw is clenched tightly, but you can tell he’s only a moment from breaking.

“I reported it to the department,” Tim says, his voice tight. “Angela’s on the way and I let her know too.”

You nod before you sit up carefully, wincing in pain as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, hey, no,” Tim murmurs, rounding the foot of the bed. He lowers before you and lays his hands over your thighs. “You just gave birth; you need to rest.”

“I need to find them, Tim. We have to find them!” you exclaim through your cries.

“I know. We will, I promise we will.”

“But you don’t need my help.”

Tim smiles at your attitude, understandable anger building beneath your pain, fear, and tiredness.

“Your help isn’t the issue, it’s your health.”

“Timothy,” Angela greets. She walks to your side and hugs you tightly. “Tell me everything.”

You lie back carefully as Tim recounts the events of the past few minutes. Angela nods along, then looks around your room.

“They’re still in the hospital, I’d bet,” Tim concludes.

“Grey stationed officers at every opening to keep it that way,” Angela responds. “There’s plenty of hiding places in a hospital. But Tim…”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I have no idea who would do this. I’ve put plenty of people away, called CPS hundreds of times, any of those people could have decided to return the favor.”

Lucy and Nolan knock on the open door, and Tim waves them in as Angela draws a diagram of the hospital on the whiteboard opposite you. Lucy walks directly to your side while Nolan stands beside the door to watch the hallway.

“What do you need?” Lucy asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Other than the obvious.”

“We’re going to find them. Half of the station is here for you.”

“There’s only one option that finishes this quickly,” Angela decides. “We split up and search every floor of this hospital.”

Tim looks to you rather than answering, and you promise, “I’m okay to be alone. I trust you, all of you, to find them and bring them back to me. Do whatever you have to do.”

“We will,” Tim promises. “Nolan, stay here, keep an eye on this hallway. Lucy, you’re with me.”

Lucy squeezes your hand kindly before she walks to Tim’s side. Nolan steps out of your room with them and closes the door. Completely alone, all you can do is wait.

“Hey,” Tim calls urgently. A male nurse spins and raises his hands in question. “Have you seen a nurse in pink scrubs with twins?”

“There’s lots of nurses, pink scrubs, and twins here, sir,” the man answers.

Tim takes a measured step toward him, and the man steps back urgently, bumping into the desk behind him.

“Do you want to be charged with aiding and abetting a kidnapping?”

“Sir, if you’ve seen a woman in pink scrubs with two bassinets, you need to tell us now,” Angela interjects.

“I haven’t,” he answers quickly. “I swear I haven’t.”

Tim steps away from the scared nurse and sighs.

“This floor is clear, no sign of them,” Angela reports.

Tim’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he retrieves it without looking away from the empty hallway.

“I remember when I wasn’t allowed to look at my phone on duty,” Lucy muses.

“Your children hadn’t been abducted,” Tim snaps. He reads a message, furrows his brows, and then says, “Angela.”

Angela knows that Tim using her first name isn’t a good sign, and she's proven right when he passes his phone over. “Where is this?”

“I can’t tell. The message seems familiar,” Tim replies.

Angela zooms in on the picture while Tim repeats the message to himself. Lucy moves beside Angela and looks at the picture, pointing to any discernable items in the background. The image shows your son in the bassinet front and center, and while it’s clear that they’re still in the sterile, white hospital, it’s unclear where.

“Supply closet,” Angela realizes just as Tim says, “Keiran Tumble.”

“The counterfeiter?” Lucy asks. “What’s his problem with you?”

“I arrested him, but I’m also why he lost visitation rights for his kids. They were in the warehouse with the printing fumes. He hasn’t been out of prison long.”

“Prison for counterfeiting?”

“Federal prison. The Reserve pressed additional charges. When he got out, he got served with the papers about his kids.”

“Wait,” Angela interrupts. “You said it was a female nurse.”

“Keiran’s girlfriend,” Tim guesses. “I didn’t see her, she wasn’t there when we raided his operation, but I’ve heard plenty about her.”

“Me too. Tim, she’s suspected of at least three murders. This isn’t a manhunt; we have to find her without risking your kids.”

“ Supply closet?” Tim repeats. “Let’s find the right one, and then we move in. She makes one move toward them, and you drop her.”

“Tim, maybe you should sit this one out,” Lucy suggests.

“No,” Angela answers. “If this were Jack, I’d want to be right there when we found him. Look that monster in the face and remind her that at the end of every day, I go home to my family.”

“I’m more use here, Chen,” Tim assures. “How’s Nolan?”

“He said everything’s clear there. Only a few nurses through since we left.”

Tim nods, but Angela purses her lips in thought.

“What?” Tim inquires.

“Isn’t your room across from a supply area? Wouldn’t someone have needed something by now?” she asks.

“No one saw them because they didn’t go far,” Lucy realizes.

“Let’s go!” Angela exclaims.

Fiddling with the blanket over your legs, you think about what you will do when you get your babies back. Kiss them, apologize even though they won’t know what’s happening, and then beg Tim to take you home. You refuse to think about any alternative.

“Yep,” Nolan says on the other side of your door. “All clear here, too. Good luck.”

“C’mon, Tim,” you whisper.

You trust him more than anything, but right now, your fear threatens to override all of your rational thoughts.

Suddenly, a single gunshot sounds. Immediately after, you hear screams and loud promises that everything is alright and everyone is safe. You, however, refuse to believe it until you see your husband and children. Frozen in uncertainty and fear, you count your shallow breaths rather than running through possible scenarios.

Two firm knocks on your door are followed by Nolan smiling as he holds the door open. Tim steps in with both of your babies cradled in his arms and a relieved look. You release a shaky breath, then smile as tears roll over your cheeks.

“It’s over,” Angela promises as she hugs you. “We got her.”

Tim walks to the other side of your bed and carefully lowers the twins to your chest. They coo softly in their sleep, none the wiser about what they’ve been through. Holding them against you, you kiss their heads and whisper that you love them.

“Do you know what you need now?” Lucy asks.

“Get me out of here,” you beg, smiling.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she answers, leading Nolan out of the room.

“What happened?” you ask Tim.

“Do you remember Keiran Tumble?” You nod, and he places his arm around your shoulders as he continues, “He got out, mad about his arrest and losing his kids, and sent his girlfriend to make me feel some of the same pain. Or that’s the working theory.”

“It’s right,” Angela adds. “Only a criminal would be that stupid.”

"So, Nolan radioed an all-clear, got her guard down, and we went in. She shouldn't be out for a very long time."

You lay your head against Tim’s shoulder and say, “I love you.”

“Aw, I love you, too!” Angela jokes.

“If you weren’t our first choice for godmother, I’d kick you out,” Tim tells her.

“You love me.”

“Thank you,” you interject. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

“I’m going to go fill in Grey and then make sure your house is ready for an early return,” Angela says as she steps toward the door. “Need anything else?”

“You’ve done more than I can ever thank you for,” you answer. “I’ll call you later.”

“Like she won’t still be at the house when we get home,” Tim mumbles.

“Hey, I filled up your freezer with comfort food, be nice to me, Timothy.”

Alone with your babies, you smile as Tim extends his finger to your slowly waking son. You’ll never get tired of being with them, and there’s no one else you’d rather have by your side than Tim Bradford.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Old wounds (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you guard Celebrimbor to make sure he finishes the Nine, and he makes the mistake of underestimating the bond you and your husband share

Warnings: evil!reader, some lines about reader being captive and Sauron being tortured in the past, her family being killed, touching of wounds, making out in front of the poor guy you’re keeping prisoner

Note: same reader as the one in Jealousy and Reveal, but works on its own too. Also, I’m no expert in the lore, the aspects regarding reader’s past/powers are just what’s convenient for the fic.

“After all the time I spent watching you work,” you say, leaning against the table, “you truly think I can’t tell when you’re stalling?”

Celebrimbor looks up at you, fingers faltering in their movements with one of the unfinished Nine. It’s terribly unfair, of course—berating him for his slow pace when he is being made to work with a shackle around his wrist, a battle being waged outside and the threat of your husband’s wrath ever looming above his head. Still, you know his patterns, and this isn’t fatigue or nervousness. It’s a misguided attempt at gathering his thoughts, thinking he might stand a better chance at escaping now, while Sauron himself isn’t in the room. Underestimating you.

“This work requires precision,” he says, begrudgingly.

“Celebrimbor...” You tilt your head, speaking in the same manner as a mother scolding a child. “This is not precision. This is lack of care—for your people, whose only hope for salvation is that you do as you were asked and deliver the last of the Rings.”

Your voice sharpens by the end. Celebrimbor swallows thickly, casting his eyes back down to his work in defeat. His focus seems renewed as he tinkers with the Ring, and, satisfied, you head to the balcony to watch the battle unfold.

But then he speaks again.

“You said...”

He stops unsurely when you turn back towards him. It’s irritating that his focus is on you instead of the work, but he begins speaking again before you can complain.

“You said that while you dwelled in my kingdom, awaiting your... husband’s return, under the guise of a mere smith... it hurt your pride to obey my orders.” He pauses, weaving a trace of defiance in his tone. “Yet you seem perfectly content obeying his.”

You know better than to fall prey to the silent challenge in his words. Still, there is a tick in your jaw you can’t suppress at the implication.

“I obey no one,” you say firmly. “My husband and I share in our toils, the same as we will share in the reward.”

Celebrimbor gives you a sorrowful smile.

“That is what I believed as well,” he says quietly. “What Mirdania must have believed. As countless others must have before. Once he has no more use of you, he will cast you aside—and the rewards of your labour shall be his alone.”

He is so sure of his words. He looks at you as though he’s doing you a kindness, as if you need his warning as much as he would have needed one before.

Anger grips your heart. A sudden gust of wind enters the room, blowing out the candle closest to you.

“Do not speak,” you say, cold as the chill suddenly in the air, “of what you do not know.”

Celebrimbor shudders. Most likely he had meant to insist, but your reaction and the darkness in your gaze are enough to quiet him once more, at least for the moment. As he returns to work, the fire within you lessens, melting into a dull ache.

Of course he would assume such a thing. That you are nothing more than another pawn in the Dark Lord’s design, to be moved about as he pleases and discarded in a heartbeat. He doesn’t know the truth. How could he? No one does.

Suddenly, you’re moved to speak.

“When we bound ourselves to one another in marriage, part of my love’s power and might became my own,” you tell him. Your voice is soft, the complete opposite of how venomous it was only a moment ago. Celebrimbor turns to you hesitantly, though he remains looking at you.

“But even before he shared this gift with me, I was not without my own,” you say, proudly. “I was a great healer, you see. With a touch of my fingertips, bones mended, sickness faded, terrible wounds healed... Some said even hearts.” You chuckle faintly. “I don’t know about that.”

For a moment, there is a flicker of light in your eyes, but it dies as quickly as it appears.

“But I know it was for this gift that Morgoth kept me alive once he had slayed my kin. For this, he kept me. For he wished to torment his own to his heart’s desire without leaving them too weakened to serve him after. Without the need to stop. And there was one he loved to torment above all. The mighty Sauron, Morgoth’s fearsome lieutenant, who struck unspeakable horror into the hearts of his enemies...” You close your eyes, voice dropping to a whisper still trembling with the terror of those days. “His screams of anguish were so loud and terrible, they felt like blades in my ears.”

Tears fall silently from your eyes as you open them, meeting Celebrimbor’s gaze.

“And when silence finally came,” you speak slowly, moving closer to him. “I was brought to his side...”

Celebrimbor shifts in his seat as you come to stand near him.

“I kneeled by his bloodied, mangled form...”

You sit down in the chair next to Celebrimbor’s, voice little more than a whisper as you lean in uncomfortably close to him.

“And as he writhed and moaned in agony... I touched his skin...”

Celebrimbor flinches as your fingertips find a cut on his temple.

“And caressed his wounds...”

You trace the cut with eerie gentleness, watching as blood gathers at your fingertips and Celebrimbor shudders beneath your gaze.

“And took his pain...”

More tears slide down your cheeks as you look straight through the alarmed Celebrimbor, lost in another time.

“And I put him back together... piece by piece.”

Your eyes return to Celebrimbor then, suddenly regaining clarity.

“Only for Morgoth to take him apart again. And again. And again. To punish... or perfect. Who could tell?”

To his visible relief, your hand leaves his face and you pull away, eyes drifting to the Rings lined before him and you.

“I know not how long it lasted,” you go on. “But with time, I realized that he and I—we were not right and wrong, or light and dark. We were both of us slaves. And in that place of bleak despair—”

“A bond was forged,” Sauron speaks—as you and Celebrimbor turn to see he has silently joined you. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes meet yours and he speaks the words on your tongue, “...stronger than any that ever was or ever will be.”

Your chest aches unbearably as emotion overcomes you. You long to run into his arms, but at the same time you can barely move. However long time passes, the memories take their toll.

Thankfully, your husband comes to you. You look up at him with tear-filled eyes as he lays one hand on your shoulder, the other cupping your cheek with utmost tenderness. Your eyes fall shut, and you lean into his touch, and finally, you can breathe easy.

“Your people’s fate depends on the fruits of your labour, Celebrimbor,” your husband says, frowning deeply as he takes in your state. “How is it then that you still find the time to upset my wife?”

“My most sincere apologies,” Celebrimbor says flatly.

“I have no need of your apologies.” Sauron fixes him with a sharp look. “Only of your Rings. I thought they would be finished by now.”

“I was a bit of a distraction,” you admit, some of your teasing nature returning to you. Your husband’s gaze softens as he turns it to you.

“When are you not?”

You smile then, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before you stand and will your tears to vanish from your cheeks. Moving with grace, Sauron pulls your chair a little further away from the table and Celebrimbor, and takes the seat himself. He knows you too well to believe your mood has brightened in the blink of an eye, not when the past is as painful a memory to him as well. He tugs at your hand, and you’re all too happy to take his invitation and settle comfortably in his lap.

For a moment, you are alone in the world. You hold each other’s gaze as you put your arm around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, holding you close to him. He takes your hand reverently, bringing it to his mouth to place a most gentle kiss to your knuckles. He murmurs an endearment in Black Speech, so sweet even the foul-sounding language wraps beautifully around the words, and your eyes fall shut in bliss, forehead resting against his.

Your company is completely forgotten as peace returns to you in the arms of your love. That is, until you hear something clatter and Celebrimbor mutters a soft curse. Even then, you don’t even bother to look.

“A most glorious sight we may be together,” Sauron tells him, cruelly casual, “but I must insist that you concentrate on the work.”

You pull back slightly, opening your eyes. At the periphery of your vision, a very flustered Celebrimbor recovers the Ring he had dropped and returns to work—this time, you think, for good.

“Pay us no mind,” you tell the smith breathily, consumed by your husband’s piercing gaze. You touch his cheek, marveling for the millionth time at the perfection beneath your fingertips, and press your lips to his, melting into a deep, languid kiss.

Celebrimbor is wise enough not to disturb you again.

Previous fic with same reader -> Theatrics

Next fic with same reader -> Kill and make up

[missglaskin]

Yandere S.T.A.R.S Team (Resident Evil) platonic headcanons

Note- I am back (It's been years), this has been in my drafts so I said fuck it/this is so messy and the timeline/canon may not be accurate but enjoy! This is mainly platonic, but w/some characters it could be interpreted romantically

Characters; Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Barry Burton, Joseph Forest, Brad Vickers, Forest Speyer, Richard Aiken, Enrico Marini, Kenneth Sullivan, Edward Dewey

The first person you perhaps meet is Albert; he is the leader of the S.T.A.R.S Team. Not only do all the recruiters get approved by him, but he also overlooks all your tests. He greets you like any other, but gradually something takes a hold of him. He's in denial at first, even seeming harsh. You may initially believe he didn't like you; oblivious to the countless files and cameras hidden everywhere.

Having the rest of the team be just as enamored was not on the table. You are immediately welcomed by the team and Rebecca is the first to befriend you since you two are the youngest of the team. Like how Richard was tasked with watching over Rebecca, he’s tasked with the same responsibility over you (even if Wesker preferred to do it himself).

Chris can't help but grow quickly fond of you. He positions himself in the role of your protector; feeling the utmost responsibility for your happiness and safety. So if you have any problems - whether it's with Chief Irons or getting in trouble for say, breaking a rule; trust he'll be quick to intervene and 'save' the day.

You're all Chris ever talks about to Claire and before long, the two of you cross paths. Claire, like her brother assumes herself in the role of being your friend right away. She occasionally pays you visits and you can be sure that you will receive calls from times when she's unable to visit. Claire expects Chris to keep her informed of you at all times.

Barry, Enrico, and Kenneth all take fatherly roles; they look at you and already placed adopted papers on the table ready for you to sign. It makes it all the harder for Wesker to have any absolute control as they all put their foot down.

Barry adores you and it’s not taken lightly when it’s said he treats you as his child, probably cause he views you as actually one of his own. He invites you to a family dinner, introducing you to his family who all naturally take a liking to you. Barry insists on his house always being open if you need a place to stay or run into trouble. 

Since Barry sees you as his own, there is a never-end to his dad jokes. Even when you comment on how terrible it is, he likes seeing the smile on your face. Trust you'll be invited to every birthday, barbecue, or any family Burton event.

Enrico while he adopted a fatherly role, he was a bit reluctant to get so attached to you. He’s the few in the team who's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to call out the others when he thinks they are going too far. He worries a lot about your safety, and most times it's Enrico who comes out on top of arguments on who gets to drive you home. 

Kenneth as the oldest of the team, feels the most responsible for you. He is aware just like Enrico and doesn't wish for you to be scared of him or the team. He wants you to come to him whenever you need anything, even for small tasks such as finding a specific file. Like Enrico, Kenneth has no problem telling the others to back off if you need space.

More trouble comes along when Forest and Joseph come along. They develop their tendencies the quickest and tend to be the most clingy out of the team. They (along with Chris) become your partners in crime.

Joseph is someone you can always count on to make you smile even in the most serious of situations; he doesn’t care when others lecture him for it. You're not safe from his teasing. Granted you're not the target of his pranks but he likes to poke fun at you from time to time. It's why no alarms are ringing in your head when he says something questionable, assuming he’s just being Joseph.

You're not safe from Forest's playful teasings either. He can be a little annoying, poking your cheek or trying to tickle you when wanting your attention. Like Joseph, he's very affectionate, putting his arm around your shoulder and resting his head on your lap if you allow it. The others lecture him for doing it so publicly but Joseph knows it's jealousy talking more than anything.

As said, a squad of its own is formed; Chris, Joseph, Forest, and you. While they tend to be jealous, the three are okay with sharing when it comes to each other. Forest and Chris enjoy competing in shoot training and showing off who can do it better, inviting you to place bets. They're happy to show you all the gun's tricks and let you choose your weapon's signature.

Joseph, being a mechanic, can't always spend as much time with you. But he'll eagerly drag you into teaching you the ropes, whisking you away from the other two. He beams with pride when you grasp something from his impromptu lessons. Even if he's not exactly teaching you anything, he's happy to chat about anything as he works. 

Jill becomes someone you’re close to, someone whom Chris and Barry trust to leave you alone with. She’s not afraid to whisk you away from the others when she wants to and won’t hesitate to call out anyone selfishly taking your time (Uhm Joseph). 

Most of all, Jill loves having girl time with you. She's there for any fashion advice, gladly taking you shopping to revamp your wardrobe. If you're unsure how to do your makeup, she's eager to help, though Jill never wants to teach you so you can keep coming to her.

Jill is also willing to use any excuse to have you stay over at her place anytime even suggesting sharing an apartment to ‘save money”. And if you think Wesker’s the only one with a bunch of files, Jill has a hidden drawer filled with everything she has on you. 

Brad becomes incredibly attached but is a bit shy about approaching you. He'll do little things to make your day better, like bringing your favorite coffee (watching you do it too many times) or organizing your desk just the way you like it.

Brad tries to agree with everything you do, supporting any ideas you bring forth in, team meetings and hesitates to snitch on you, always trying to talk to you first to prevent trouble (aka punishments). Similar to Kenneth, he's aware of his tendencies and doesn't want you to fear him.

Richard is the softest guy on the team as said, was tasked with watching over you and quickly grew fond of you, He has made it well known that if you ever need help you can seek him out even when you get in trouble, he’ll gladly keep it hidden from the others to avoid you being in trouble even taking the brunt of it.

If you find yourself spending time with Richard, trust that Rebecca is there, too, being the sweetest in the group as well. Initially, she might not fully grasp her tendencies, but once she does, her sole concern is your safety and happiness. She frowns upon hearing Jill and Chris discussing ways to keep you confined and is the one who tries to reassure the others not to be too 'harsh' on you.

Edward may appear intimidating, but he's actually a softie at heart. While he might not warm up to you as quickly as Forest and Joseph did, given some time, he grows fond of you and eventually places him as your trusted friend. He's aware that his demeanor can be intimidating and desires nothing more than for you to feel comfortable opening up to him, always offering a smile whenever he sees you around the RPD.

----------------------------------------------

Chief Irons has learned that you're the one person he can't even dare to go near. You might be a troublemaker, breaking every rule in the book, but Albert will put his foot down to ensure nothing comes of it. It's enough that the rest of the team has a dislike towards Irons, and he, along with everyone in the RPD, knows that crossing you means crossing the Stars team.

Wesker also keeps the extent of his monitoring and knowledge of you a closely guarded secret. He's aware that Kenneth, Enrico, Richie, Edward, and Barry all vocally dislike the idea of 'stalking' you in such ways (they all do but try to keep it as ‘morally right’). In his grand plan, he hopes to lure you away, but he must do it in a way that won't raise suspicion.

You have the most protective people watching over you. Even a simple accident like someone spilling a cup on you puts everyone on high alert.

Your favoritism doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the RPD, sparking rumors around the station that Edward and Barry quickly shut down whenever they hear someone bad-mouthing you.

Chris and Forest, on the other hand, can be incredibly impulsive, leading to all sorts of issues that Wesker and Enrico have to deal with. Jill and Joseph even got in trouble once for punching someone.

That means going on no dangerous missions; the one thing they all agree on. Wesker ensures that all your missions are carefully managed, eliminating any risks of you being in danger, and he pretends not to know what you mean if you ask. The other members are willing to gaslight you, suggesting that you just happen to get the easy ones, even Rebecca and Brad.

They're all eager to fight each other to train you, each claiming they're better at teaching you self-defense. Chris and Forest are the ones who usually end up teaching you since they're often the first ones to arrive. But everyone knows that if Wesker insists on training you, they can't object. And it's probably for the best, as some (Uhm Richard, and Edward) will pretend to lose or go easy on you because they don't want to "hurt" you.

The team normally doesn’t go out, but they all want to spend time with you. Usually, all of you go to diners (except for Wesker, wonder why). There's a little argument over who should order you to prove who knows you the best.

Your seat is chosen to please everyone, sometimes between Jill and Chris, other times between Richard and Rebecca. Another silent argument happens when they debate on who should pay for you; Enrico succeeds by slipping the payment to the waiter when the others aren’t looking.

Everyone always makes sure you come home safe. You expect numerous calls from everyone checking up on you. They all secretly know you're fine, as they're in cahoots with each other, but they just want to hear your voice.

There's also a chance that if Richard, Forest, or Jill are the ones bringing you home, they'll make some excuse about needing to stay overnight because they're tired or the weather is bad.

 If you need someone to drive you to the station or pick you up, perhaps because you can’t drive, they're all willing to fight each other once again to do so. They've left important meetings or appointments countless times just to rush to your aid. It's almost always Wesker, Richard, Enrico (and sometimes Chris) who beat the others in picking you up.

Once again, you're always taken to events that the teammates have. Brad is getting takeout, he's on his way to pick you up since he assumes you're also hungry. Forest wants to go out for a drink, prepare for him to be at your door, and when you attend together, he’s protecting your drink with his life and will even pretend to be your boyfriend. Barry has a baseball game he wants to attend, so why not come with him and his family. 

Jill needs to pick up a new outfit or something in the way, she decides to take you as well. Rebecca comes along, and sometimes the three of you have spa days in the process. Rebecca also loves going on road trips with you; there needs to be a person or two with you to ensure nothing bad happens. Rebecca once brought you to her favorite team's basketball game and the two of you shared those nachos and fries. It was Rebecca's happiest memory.

Movie nights are a must. Brad and Edward agree with anything you wish to watch, while Jill and Joseph are fighting over which ones to watch. Chris and Forest are trying to get your attention more than actually watching a movie. Meanwhile, Rebecca is actually enjoying the movie and wants to talk to you about it later on. She and Richard ensure you have your popcorn, and Richard brings your favorite bakery treats.

Expect to be always praised when you're around the team. Wesker himself praises you for a job well done whenever you find a clue or bring him the right file. Richard, Edward, and Rebecca are the most vocal. Also expect Chris and Barry to give you a pat on the back, while Forest and Joseph jokingly pat your head.

Wesker has you as his right-hand assistant, even when it’s not officially confirmed as such. You're tasked to help and stay by him whenever he needs assistance. He pretends not to see everyone side-eyeing him when he places your desk right next to his, but then again, they all ignore his stare when they come to your desk for whatever excuse they need.

The best people to comfort you are Barry, Enrico, Kenneth, and Richard. These men hate seeing you in tears. Brad will try to make you laugh while hugging you, while also finding the right words to comfort you. You can lie to Enrico, and he'll still know; he's memorized your body language, pulling you into an immediate hug before the tears even come. 

Kenneth's ability to comfort shines in giving the best advice and solving any issues you have. Richard will sit next to you and listen; it could be the middle of the night, and he'll gladly answer any call or stay up to do any activities that will cheer you up.

Something everyone has huge arguments about is punishments; it gets heated at times. These discussions are, of course, not done in your presence.

Wesker is open to punishments, Chris and Jill agree with precautions, and Barry may reluctantly agree but claim he wants nothing to do with it. Brad and Rebecca voice their disagreement but can’t really intervene. Edward and Richie, like Barry, say they want nothing to do with it. Forest and Joseph don’t like it but will let the others make the decisions. Enrico and Kenneth are the most vocal against such decisions.

-------------------------------------------

Everything is going well in the team until the mansion incident.

You had to be with the Alpha team, unaware of the fate that fell upon the Bravo team, as there was no way Wesker would have let you out of his sight.

You had to witness Joseph get mauled by the zombie dogs, and if it weren’t for Wesker shooting the one coming at you and Chris pulling you along, you may have been a victim of it. Getting into the mansion has them immediately checking for injuries, only to realize you are just shaken up.

If you try to suggest coming along with Chris to check on what’s happening, Wesker immediately disapproves, even pulling rank to have you stay by him, and Jill agrees. Chris assures you he'll be just fine.

Things happen and it may lead you to be separated from Wesker and Jill. It makes all of them panic and look for you. Chris is nervous but assumes you must be with either Wesker or Jill. Jill and Wesker are trying to remain calm as they search. There is a chance you will meet Rebecca, who informs you of Edward's death, and this leads to you reuniting with Chris. 

Alternatively, you may come across Barry, who refuses to leave your side, leading you to reunite with Jill. Both scenarios will have you meeting Richard, who immediately embraces you upon seeing you safe. You may also encounter Enrico, who seems hesitant to inform you of who he believes is responsible for the situation.

Forbid you get injured at any moment in the mansion, everyone will be in panic. Barry will try to reassure you, holding your wound while Jill rushes to get any herbs. Or Rebecca will try to tend to you while Chris silently panics in the background, refusing to leave your side. Richard will insist you stay in a room for your safety while he tries to find Rebecca or first aid. Enrico tries to remain calm, bringing you along with him as he rids the area of any zombies, fearing the risk of leaving you alone.

Soon enough, you will find out about Wesker's involvement, and his first act is to keep you as a hostage, even knocking you out. He’s merely bluffing but needs to keep the others away. If he encounters Enrico, he is well aware the man knows he’s a traitor and will kill him in front of you. After all, you will know the truth either way.

It all ends with Wesker believed to be 'dead,' killed by the tyrant, and the mansion about to blow up. You and everyone mourn all those who you have lost, and you are surrounded by the remaining survivors as they try to comfort you and tend to any injuries you may have gained. 

You are too lost in your grief and all you have experienced that you don’t realize the eyes all watching you, as they all make a silent vow to themselves to forever keep you safe. And most of all, you don’t know that Wesker has been reborn, getting out of the mansion as he plots his revenge.

@aphroditelovesu @yanderes-galore @gwynsly @tiddlybops

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 23.2k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

warnings angst, unprotected sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, jealousy, angst again, dubious intentions of multiple main characters... poor mc has no idea who to believe

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶ashlynn's note this part, i put my heart and soul into! i rewrote so many parts and agonized over following the path that i most wanted the story to go down—i hope it shows! xoxoxoxo, love ya! again, this is a long one, so pls let me know about spelling mistakes :,)

← ⑊ →

You had hoped that learning of Yeonjun’s relationship with the same crowd who have made attempts on your life would be enough to rattle your brittle heart into sense. You really had. As you watch Taehyun, bent over the war strategy table, though, you wish you had more time to sort it out in your head. You hate the thought of settling on half-baked answers and information all for the fact that time is not on your side. When had time ever really been kind to you, though? It had not made exceptions when you were small and innocent in your cradle, had not slowed down to allow you to at least cherish your final moments a normal child with her human parents. You can only fantasize who you would be if you had been given just enough time to know that gentle love. Even now, time makes your choices for you.  

Taehyun looks over those metal figurines as if searching for something in them. There are more of them stood and strewn out on the map. It reminds you how you are now faced with a plethora of newer, more powerful players.  

You miss when this had been a simple spying mission—when your path forward had been unobscured and clear. You envy that version of yourself: able to believe that bad things presented themselves as such. The world had been clean-cut. Evil had jagged teeth and foul breath, and good had soft edges and sweet smiles. You’re not sure where that distinction lies anymore.  

“How’s your shoulder?” you say, making your presence known. You’re sure he had been keen to your presence from the moment you’d entered the estate, though; not only thanks to his better hearing, but also because Taehyun is constantly assessing his surroundings. The smallest insect could hardly sneak up on him. You push off the doorframe and enter the room. 

He nods his head once in greeting, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from the table’s ensemble. “It’s doing fine.” 

Sighing, you decide not to push it. The sight of that puncture had been ghastly, and it wreaks havoc in your belly every time you replay it, but the tick in his jaw when you mention it tells you enough of how he feels about disclosing whether or not anything might hurt him. How many times in the past few weeks had you forced him to do just that? It’s no wonder that the two of you butt heads so terribly. Allowing you to stitch him up must’ve been the extent of how far he’d let you see him in need of help. 

You gesture toward the table. “Have you decided when we leave?” 

Taehyun answers you with a strained sigh out through his nose: a testament to how he’d been mulling it over. He levies those figures a few more moments of his gaze as if they might speak an answer for him. They don’t. He concedes to their lack of direction and turns to you. “Every moment we spend here, we risk our identities further,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest.  

You wince. He still believes that you’d at least contained some of your identity by taking out those three faeries. You know better. Even the bard in that tavern had known what had happened; it’s why Yeonjun ended up finding out in the first place. Even if not all of them had been a part of that rebellion, it’s reckless to assume that there were no more than that. 

Continuing, he says, “And judging by what we’ve picked up, we need to get it all back before the solstice.” He doesn’t pace as he thinks. Only the faraway look in his eyes betray the noise in his head. 

You hate the way it sounds like he’s going to demand that you leave immediately, and you hate how it sieges your tongue and makes it dance into a pitiful ploy to stay. To give yourself some credit, it’s better that Taehyun knows every bit of information you have. This moment is desperate for informed decisions. 

“I saw Yeonjun this morning,” you blurt. The words bubbled and bubbled behind your lips until they’d found the tipping point and spilled out. You’d agonized over what to make of it all for hours: that Yeonjun had been as deceitful with you as you’d been with him, that you are a sorry human girl that had wedged her way into the cross-firings of a war much beyond yourself, that you still have the gall to consider your own feelings despite its grandness... None of that worrying had led you to a conclusion that both your heart and mind would agree on.  

Taehyun’s gaze snaps to you, contained and remote aside from the twitching at the corners of his lips. The intensity of it makes you waver, but you have no time for wavering.  

“He’s... been made aware of our purpose here. He knows that we’re spies,” you say. As you watch him try to piece that together, you add, “He’s part of their rebellion.” 

Now he laughs, barbed and full of mock and disbelief. “The prince is rebelling against his father? He thinks he’ll find the throne like that? What’s his plan for when this falls through? For when his father hears of his mutiny? The prince will lose his head.” 

The thought makes you nauseous, despite how Yeonjun’s image has grown to be something murky. You don’t know what Yeonjun’s intentions are in aligning with the rebellion here. You hardly know anything about his relationship with his father and the High Court aside from the fact that he feels suffocated by his life back there. You’d assume that there’s a lot more to his reasoning, but you’ve learned your lesson about assuming that you know who people are. The inability to lie comes with the need for secrets. The thought that perhaps Yeonjun is only making a shady attempt for power crosses your mind, but either your own reasoning or your own stubbornness shoves it down. Nobody in faerie would hand their fealty to a prince who’d taken the throne of a long-standing king by those sorts of means. He’d be a king with no denizens to preside over. 

You interject Taehyun’s parade of scoffs. “He told me that war is coming, that it’s been coming.” 

His face drops, and he straightens up. “Of course it is. It’ll begin the moment we return with what we’ve found.” 

Your lips go a bit numb, and then your fingers follow. You know that this is your duty—it’d been this all along. It should come as no shock to you that he intends to relay this all to The King. But that was before you allowed your heart to make its home here. How simply he demands that you return to those lands with information that would kill Yeonjun... it has acid crawling a path up your throat. 

You make your best effort to ensure that your voice doesn’t falter as you speak. “He offered us protection as long as we stay here,” you say. “We don’t have to leave now.” You try to catch his gaze as you add, “We don’t have to leave at all.”  

You know that Yeonjun plays a part in the rebellion, but you don’t know how deep his devotion goes, and you also don’t know to what ends you can trust his intentions. How far do his loyalties to the rebellion go? And, where do his loyalties to you stand? The thought that he may have never loved you at all... it’s been a plague to your heart and mind from the very moment he’d revealed the truth to you this morning. Your guilt has chipped away at you without mercy—you’ve spent so many awful nights wishing you could unload your deceptions in front of him. How had it ended up so trivial in the grand scheme of things? How are you the one left feeling betrayed? 

You really, really cannot imagine having Yeonjun’s blood on your hands. He is one of them—a creature deception, and yet you still cannot shake those stolen nights from your bones. He had been your first. He’d made this place a home for you, where you had never had a home. It’s pitiful to search so deeply in someone else for your own strengths; even you can see that. Nevertheless, you do it. You suppose that a pair of warm arms and sweet words will do that to someone, no matter if you know that they could rot you like sweets do the tooth. It’s not unlike drunkards who find their day’s comfort in their drinks, even as it rots their body and mind away. Anything for a stretch of belonging and bliss. You're desperate for it. 

Taehyun’s sinewy words rattle your wandering mind back to reality. “He tells you that he is a member of the same group of people that have tried multiple times to kill you, and you believe him when he says he’s going to protect you? Still?” he spits, shaking his head. “What makes you so sure that he’s not just keeping us from running? That he isn’t handing us on a platter to his rebel friends? You’re going to get us fucking killed.” 

Blood roars like frothy-white rapids in your ears, warring with the echoes of his honey-glazed exclamations of love. To some capacity, he had to have meant those words. Faeries can’t lie, and he had said it so plainly. He loves you. 

“We can’t leave yet,” you say, stepping toward him on legs that you fear might collapse beneath you. “You said it yourself; we can’t return without the whole story. If we return now, we could be missing something.” You study the frosty set to his face and suck in a stabilizing breath. “Please, Taehyun. Please trust me on this.”  

You sound desperate and pleading, but you don’t reel it in at all. You are desperate and pleading. You have no intent of returning as some successful spy and continuing a life of deception and violence. It’s not who you are; it’ll never be who you are. Maybe this world tries to ask it of you, but you refuse to concede to it. 

“Part of our job is staying alive,” he says, his body rigid. He doesn’t like where you’re going with this, you can tell that much. 

“Is that what you want? To be a pawn of war? Isn’t that what we are if we bring this information back?” you challenge. “Don’t you think that if the prince of all people has turned against him, then serving at his hand is the wrong choice? I don’t know The King—I’ve never even seen him! Why should I be excited to serve him?” 

“The prince has more reason than anybody to want his father off his throne.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say, stepping further toward him. Though, it does make you revisit those thoughts. If vying for the crown is really Yeonjun’s intention, you suppose he’d have no problems pleading with you to stay in order to tie off loose ends. You wish you could see it all from somebody else’s untainted eyes. “What I’m saying is, do you want to be a spy? What has The King ever done for you to earn your loyalty?” 

Taehyun looks at you with disbelief, the corners of his mouth tilting down. “I don’t care about the damn king,” he snaps, and then gestures down at the table with all those figures. “The Queen operates on necessary evils. Where she can find a string to pull, she will pull it. My father was her general for a reason. Do you think she would keep him unless she approved of his violence? There is no good side to this war—just sides. If you’re suggesting that we stay here and try to forget that we came as spies, then you can forget it.” 

You glance over at the war table and wonder how you’ve become a moving piece in ancient faerie politics when all you’d set out for was a purpose. You’d been so warped by your bitterness with your upbringing that you’d failed to see how anything could be worse than that. You’d been so excited that you jumped willingly into dark water without knowing how deep it was, and now your feet can’t touch the ground. Is this the purpose you want? 

“Leave, then,” you say, stepping back. “You can leave. Just let me stay here. Please.” 

Something in Taehyun’s expression flips, so subtle that you can’t name it. It unsettles you, your hair standing on edge. There is something in his eyes that you do not like.  

“So, that’s it?” he says, his voice odd too. “That’s all it took for you to hand your future over on a leash to him?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you stammer. The only ones with a collar around your neck are the spies. They’re the ones who insisted on that geas—the ones who needed to compel you with their faerie magic to ensure your obedience.  

“It means that you got all the way here, uncovered a whole rebellion, and made a life for yourself, not handed to you by a prince, and you’re going to trade it in. It means that you’ve let him convince you that you are weak and need to be coddled.” 

Your fists curl tight and dig your nails into your palms. “I never wanted to be a spy,” you grit out. Yeonjun is not the reason you want to stay here. He may be part of it, but you’ve come to be utterly unwilling to return to that spy den like it’s your home, or something. It’s not. You’d slept there for one night. Beyond just your word and that geas, what reason do you have to return? 

“You didn’t? And yet, it’s what we are, isn’t it?” he says. “Do you think that I dreamed of being a spy? That I do it because I love it? Actions have their consequences.” 

“Then, what do you do it for, Taehyun?” you say. “When do you begin living your life for you? Doing what you do because it’s what you want?” 

Taehyun seems to consider your words for a few long heartbeats before settling into something in his head. You allow yourself to let go of some of the tension in your shoulders as you watch his expression morph into something much less poisonous. 

You hadn’t expected him to react like that. 

“Do you have any weapons on you?” he says. 

Faltering, you sputter out, “What?” You look over the room. The last time you’d been in here, you’d sparred. Does he intend to properly fight you in here now? Had you pushed him too far? Shaking your head and feeling at all the places you usually tuck your blades away, you say, “No... I don’t.” 

“Get some. Where we’re about to go...” he trails off, as if reconsidering, but then he continues, “I’ll get you a hag stone.” 

You furrow your brows, not taking off to do so. “A hag stone?” you echo, thankful that he isn’t trying to duel you, but wary at the need for such a faerie ward. Hag stones are of the more serious class of wards used to protect humans from faerie enchantment or glamour. Most often, humans would string theirs up with a bit of thread through the hole of it and wear it around their necks as a pendant. Unlike turning one’s clothes inside out or taking red berries on your person, hag stones protect against the more devastating faerie magic. You shudder simply wondering what you might need a hag stone to protect yourself from. 

He nods a bit solemnly. “Kelpie do not let a meal or trick pass them by when they wait so long to have them.” 

You look at him with wild eyes, hoping to see him laugh or play his words off as a joke. He does not, but of course he doesn’t. Taehyun doesn’t waste his words on jokes. 

“Why... Why would we be going to a kelpie?” you ask him, laughing around the ball of fright in your chest. 

He lends you a wretched look. “I have old debts to call on.” 

❆

The forest in which Taehyun leads you is untamed. At some point, the sound of nature’s buzzing tapers off, and you know that you’ve entered a deeper forest than you ought to be sticking your nose in. When the forest goes silent, it’s only for one reason.  

You’d grown up here. Maybe you’d been born elsewhere, but that does not negate the fact that you had grown up scared every day of the powerful creatures that inhabit this world. Your fear has ruled you for your whole life, and you let it. You’d be a fool not to. It’s how you survive in this world. Your limbs tremble; they plead with you to listen to everything you’ve ever known—do not mess with what is bigger than you.  

You step around frost-capped puddles and dance between briars, careful not to snag yourself on their claws. It unsettles you further that this part of the forest is so untrodden and overgrown. With no folk coming through, you fear how the kelpie might behave when you make an audience before it. Will it climb straight from its frosty swamp and drag you back down with it? Is the hag stone you clutch at your chest enough to keep you safe? 

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this, Taehyun,” you say, delicately avoiding any tumbles as you speed up to gauge his feelings by his face. You’re not fond of the remote blankness in his eyes, nor the staunch determined set to his jaw. “That thing might kill us, and your shoulder is hurt. You shouldn’t be out here; you should be letting it heal.” 

“I know my limits,” he says. 

Grimacing, you return his curt tone. “Taehyun.” You grab at the material of his sleeve with urgency. When he stops to look at you, you continue. “I want you to actually listen to me. You’re being unreasonable. Yeonjun said he’d use his pull to protect us. Both of us. We have no reason to be out here, you’re just putting us in danger.” 

He lets your words stew in the air for a moment before saying, “I’m the one putting us in danger? Me?” He scoffs. “We are about as safe dealing with a kelpie as we are living off his promises. I’m doing what’s best for us. Trust me.” 

You’re winded by his choice of words. You’ve become wary of dealing out your trust so frivolously. Those two words ring alarm bells. 

“But where is this coming from? You didn’t want to stay.” Your breath furls out in a plume of white smoke in front of your face as you speak.  

He looks as if he doesn’t want to answer that. It only makes you more apprehensive. Your limbs fill with lead, planting you where you stand. “Taehyun, I’m scared,” you say. “Isn’t finding help from a solitary faerie a bit too far? How is trusting Yeonjun any more dangerous than that?” 

Taehyun steps toward you. “He is going to kill us. It’s not if, it’s when. That bastard is going to hurt you. This... This is for us. We are self-sufficient; we don’t need his protection shit.” A bitter tang colors his words. “I know that you’re scared. I won’t let it hurt you; I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise that you’ll be okay. You want to stay, don’t you?” 

You nod. You would even make deals with a kelpie for it.  

“Okay, then, let’s go,” he says, taking off with those words, effectively punctuating the conversation.  

You follow him. 

You grow more anxious the deeper you trudge into the forest without any consolation as the daylight begins creeping away. Following behind Taehyun, the wind whips at the perfect angle so that his form takes most of its terror, allowing you a respite from at least some of the brutal cold. You don’t feel any remorse using him as a shield against the elements—frost runs through his veins. He doesn’t shiver or wince at it. 

Taehyun stops a few feet before a wintry mire framed by crystallized cattails and reeds. Your heart stutters as he looks around to ensure that this is the right spot. The water is dark and deep. You stay a healthy distance away from it. You do not want to find out just how deep it is. 

“Where is it?” you say, keeping your voice low as if the beast might lunge from the water and snatch you up if you don’t. 

Taehyun surveys the forest surrounding you and then the body of water as he always does, and when he looks to you, you already know he’s calculated and planned. He doesn’t face a situation without thought—that notion soothes you, even if it’s to the slightest degree.  

“It won’t come until I call it,” he says, gesturing at those murky and horrible watery depths. Swallowing hard, you consider how close you stand to it. You take a shuffled step back. “When you see it, you need to stay calm. Don’t let it see your fear. It’ll find it amusing and latch onto you. Do you understand?” 

A rush of heavy dread spreads from your core and seizes your lungs at his words. You’ve made it this far. You want to stay. You want to stay, bad. If this thing outsmarts you, you will not go down without swinging this time. You have your daggers, and you know how to wield them. Bravery is most of the battle, isn’t it? 

You muster a nod, trying to give yourself a brave heart, but Taehyun shakes his head. Your eyes must betray how stricken you are. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice sharp and grave. 

“I do.” 

He accepts your words, pressing on. “It will try to trip you over your words and spin you into a trap with tricky words. Do not entertain it, even as it tries, okay?” 

You’ve been terrorized by faerie tricks your whole life. You can handle their schemes just fine. “Okay.” 

Taehyun frees a blade from its hiding place and brings it to his palm. He slides it there, slicing it open. Crimson creeps from the slit, running in between his fingers and trickling onto the snow. He’d cut pretty deep. 

“Why are you—Taehyun?” you say, stepping toward him as he curls his wounded hand into a fist over the water, shaking it so as to let the droplets down into the black water. You regret those steps you’d made toward him as something comes crashing through the surface. 

No, rather than emerging from under the surface, the beast is born from the water, manifesting from it as something gangly and wretched. From its pointed ears to its hooves, it pushes up from nothingness until it is standing there, real and terrible before you. Its skin glistens with a thickness like oil and its hair and tail hang in heavy, seaweed-like tendrils, plastered against its body. The scum floating on top of the water clung to its hair and pelt as it rose, twigs and the like poking from its withered body. A bridle cages its head, leather reins dangling down. Of all its awful things, you believe that its eyes are the worst—bone-white and piercing, they send a terror down your spine that solidifies in your bones. You know you will not soon forget the ancient soullessness that lives there. The folk do sometimes resemble the places in which they hail from; you suppose that the kelpie bares striking resemblance to the swirling water that sits at its feet. 

You try not to choke or gasp or react in any way at all, but it isn’t easy. You focus your adrenaline on keeping your breathing as even as you can manage. 

“It has been a long time since I’ve found a human at my doorstep,” the creature says, steam blowing from its nostrils as it snorts. How long might a long time mean to a faerie, especially one you know is so ancient? You hope that your presence does not intrigue the beast at all. 

Taehyun swoops in before you can speak, and you are boundlessly thankful for it. “I’ve come to call on the debt you owe me,” he says. He doesn’t leave any room for any familiarity or playfulness. 

“Is it that time?” the kelpie says, placing one hoof down onto the snow. It had looked so incorporeal and liquid that you half expect it to burst and turn to water as it does, but it climbs out just fine. Very real.  

Taehyun eyes the kelpie as it makes land, dribbling with water and its kelp hair swinging. You swallow hard as it disregards his presence to observe you. You’re used to the folk disregarding you, not this. How many years had you yearned for their attention? Right now, you scare under it.  

“For what do you need my help, boy?” it says, voice gurgled, “And why do you bring this human along? Is it for her? Or, rather, have you brought her as your peace offering?” 

Your legs tremble beneath you.  

“I don’t owe you any peace offering, kelpie,” Taehyun says, his head held righteously high. “You’ll offer me what I ask, or you’ll suffer for it.” 

Shifting under the tense atmosphere, you still don’t speak. In Faerie, debt is law. The folk live by a law that is, like many other things about them, foreign to you. Whatever natural laws by which they govern themselves are vastly lost on you—but of keeping promises and respecting debts, you are very aware. They hate to be indebted—you’re sure it’s why this kelpie is so peevish. You hope that the folk’s need to balance their debts is enough to keep it hospitable.  

The kelpie makes a rumbling and throaty sound that mimics that of a laugh. It rumbles the ground below your feet. “Just as rigid as the last time we met like this,” it says. “I wonder if it's because you’ve inherited your father’s stone heart, or because you fear me?” 

The kelpie remains playful with its intonation, but tension lies thick and dangerous beneath both of their words. You know well enough that the beast is not being light-hearted.  

Taehyun holds his face firm. He refuses to give an inch. “Do not try that with me. You have your word to upkeep for my help.” 

Shimmering under the moon’s light now, the beast treats us with a long moment of hostile silence. You can feel its malintent despite how hollow those eyes remain.  

“What do you ask of me?” it finally says, whipping its drooping tail behind it. 

“There is a rebellion here,” starts Taehyun, shoulders relaxing to the slightest degree as the kelpie defers, “The north is uneasy. I’m optimistic that you’ll lend us your protection and hand, whenever I call on it. Regardless of it being in my interest, I’m sure that you aim to keep your lands peaceful, no?” 

“Rebellion? For what would anything of the courts be in my interest? Of their rebellion or even just their ridiculousness, I do not care. I’ve left your gentry to you, leave me to mine.” 

Taehyun’s nostrils flare. “I’m not asking you to care about the courts, I’m asking you to lend me your help when I ask of it,” he grits out, “Or, rather, I’m not asking. I am informing you that I am expecting you to uphold your debt to me, and you’d better be ready to do so. This is just courtesy.” 

You feel the kelpie’s offense in the hollow quiet that follows Taehyun’s demands. Among many things, the fae are prideful creatures. Your stomach is in terrible knots. Taehyun is just trying to regain the power in the situation. You know that. It doesn’t make you any less scared for your life. With an ancient creature like a kelpie, it is paramount to earn its respect, or else it will push you around. 

Worse than that. It will drag you down into its waters and make your soul into a meal. 

“It’s a pity you think that hag stone will save you from me, human.” The kelpie turns its attention back on you. You bade your knees not to crumple. “It takes much more than that to protect you in places like these. Perhaps you’ll be safe from petty enchantment, though.”  

Taehyun shoves his words in before you can give the kelpie any sort of reaction. Not even a tremble. “Understood?” 

“You’ve made deals with our kind before. The magic reeks on you. It’s lousy enchantment, I could dissolve that geas for you. All you’d have to do is climb up on my back, and I’d grant you your freedom.”  

You can’t help but perk up. The prospect of ridding yourself of the geas placed over you is a painfully delicious one. 

Bristling, Taehyun steps between you and the kelpie. Whether he does it to fight off the beast should it lunge at you or to prevent you from approaching it, you’re unsure. “Do not,” he says. 

“Wasn’t going to.” You say it, and of course it’s true. The kelpie is poking around to see what will most entice you. Regardless, you can’t deny how awfully you wish that geas were gone. It’s the one thing that you fear will tether you to The King’s bidding. No matter how you armor yourselves from the rebellion here in the north, what’s to stop the spies from tugging on the enchanted leash? One command from Cricket, and your body would betray you and walk the whole way there itself. 

Though you don’t verbalize your interest, the kelpie no doubt sees the interest alight in your eyes. It pounces accordingly. “Unless you’d prefer that I give you a whole other enchantment. Protection against any of our kind’s glamours? Permanant true sight? A touch to my pelt would be all it would take for you to make yourself free.” 

Taehyun clicks just the hilt of his sword free from the sheathe. “Stop with the tricks. You can find your fun elsewhere.” 

Like the swampish water behind it, the kelpie stands there totally still, studying Taehyun. You really wish this altercation could wrap up at any pace faster than it currently is. You’re itching to escape those white eyes. They’re much more intimidating as night settles in. What sort of thing had Taehyun even done to indebt a creature like this to him? Once again, you’re left confronting how little you know of him and his past. By the time you’ve come to terms with the last thing, the next arrives to remind you that the folk lead much longer lives than you do. 

It finally speaks again. “Why have you brought this human with you, Lord?” Its furls out the term like a weapon. This bitter intonation that you’ve seen be used multiple times to speak of Taehyun’s title sticks with you. The title is a taunt. In this case, the you know it comes from the kelpie’s place of utter indifference and lack of obeisances toward whatever sovereignty the Courts may claim. The kelpie only answers to the land.  

“Because I needed you to know that your protection will extend to her. Know her face, learn it so that when I call on you, you’ll play your part correctly.” 

“I fail to see why you dote over her safety. Who is the human to you?” The kelpie takes a step forward, its powerful muscles rippling with the moon’s white light on its ink pelt. You mirror it with a step back. Taehyun stays put. “I owe her no help. That’s not how this works. I concede that I am bound to your help, but I do not repay double. You overestimate my generosity.” 

You watch as Taehyun takes on a posture that you’ve come to recognize as his offensive posture, potent adrenaline twisting up your stomach and sending your heart into a fit so fierce that you feel it in all your pulse points. You’re sure that swords are a laughable matter to the kelpie. Iron, though, you’re sure would still burn. Turning your hands to fists, you make a conscious effort not to find your iron weapons. If the kelpie were to see that, it may escalate things. You do not want to escalate.  

It’s only smart for you to consider your disadvantages: Taehyun is wounded. He had literally been struck by an arrow last night. You’re so far into the woods that running would consist of stumbling over roots and avoiding thorny bushes. Taehyun might know them, but you’re fully unfamiliar with a kelpie’s weaknesses, or if they even have any at all. You’re better off appeasing the beast.  

“Taehyun,” you warn. 

He pays it no mind. “I said,” he snarls, “stop with the tricks. You owe your very ability to draw breath to me, and beyond that. It was my neck on the line to grant you that. What I did for you was worth many debts. If you want to settle it all to even, you’ll do it. Don’t play this like a fool.” He doesn’t address the kelpie’s first question. 

Taehyun creeps toward the kelpie. You’re not sure where he sources all that fearlessness from inside himself. He’s way too close for your comfort. “What are you doing?” you hiss, quiet and meant for just him. There is no way he intends to fight this thing right now. You’d prefer taking the risk of trusting Yeonjun’s word over this any day. 

“Even the general”—the kelpie spits that word with a similar distaste as he had Taehyun’s title—“knew when he was in over his head. Ask a more respectable payment of me.” 

You suck in a breath. “Let’s just go,” you tell Taehyun. “We don’t need to do this; we didn’t need to in the first place.”  

As Taehyun takes one last step toward the kelpie, he reaches a sword’s distance from it.  

Really? Is this happening right now? 

“I’m giving you grace right now, kelpie,” he says, his voice pure warning, “My father is the one who landed you like that. It’s humorous that you’d even speak of him while we’re sorting out the debts that you incurred because of him. I suggest that you give up the sly act.” 

Once again, a charged and meaningful pause rings throughout the forest. The silence speaks volumes of how the kelpie takes his words.  

It’s a flash of movement, the two dark figures like blurs as Taehyun’s hand flies out to grab a hold of the reins that hang from its head and the kelpie rears back with a bone-piercing, harrowing whinny. He braces himself on its side and uses its flank to push off of. The creature bucks fast, but Taehyun is faster.  

The rage that it bellows with guts you. The forest ground trembles with its frantic clambering, hooves battering the snow.  

The kelpie’s frenzy ends as Taehyun takes the reins in both hands. It doesn’t make any more attempts to send him off, nor does it stumble about wildly. It settles. The kelpie bows its head. Your hands cover your mouth. They’re ready to muffle your scream. You wait for Taehyun to become one with the beast’s figure and for it to drag him down to the depths of its water that don’t see the sun’s light. Nothing happens. Instead, he slips off the back of the kelpie without any trouble, landing with a thud back on the ground.  

“Fix your appearance,” Taehyun commands.  

You allow a sound of surprise to slip as the beast melts down, shedding water to the ground and crumpling over. You watch it shrink all the way down until, where once the gangly beast had stood, the form of a faerie man stands. He unfurls from the forest floor to his full height, taller than Taehyun and reedy in his limbs. His hair cascades down from his head in shaggy, damp brown locks with twigs and leaves tangled in. Sharp faerie ears protrude from it. It confirms to you that this is just another form of the kelpie, not someone else entirely. 

“You’re a fool,” the man says, turning on Taehyun with wild eyes.  

You join his confrontation on Taehyun. “What the hell is going on?” you say. You’re still jittery with the urge to run. 

Taehyun entertains only you, saying, “I hoped that he’d just make things easy in the first place.” 

The man, dripping with water from his tattered, sopping rags for clothes, sneers. “I would not serve you if you fucking killed me. Of course you had to take my bridle.” 

You give Taehyun an expectant look. You’re in dire need of being filled in. 

“His bridle,” he says, grabbing the reins that still hang from the man’s face even in his human form and tugging him into a walk into the forest, “I grabbed it. He serves me, now. He can hate it all he wants, but he’ll do what I ask.” 

The thought makes you deeply uncomfortable, but you can’t pin exactly why. It lives somewhere around the place inside you that loathed the way the folk made your kind into their glamoured servants.  

“We’re just going to bring him back with us?” You trail them tentatively back through the woods that you had arrived from. “Like a prisoner, or something?” 

“Exactly like a prisoner,” the man says, excited to get a hit in on Taehyun. Of course, he’s unhappy.  

He stumbles as Taehyun tugs him forward by his bridle. “Shut your mouth,” Taehyun says. It’s more commanding than angry. “What’s your name?” he asks him.  

The man looks as though he wants to deny him that knowledge. Names are a powerful thing to a faerie. They spend their lives hiding them away—to give away their real name would make them totally vulnerable to the whims of whoever knows and uses it. However, you assume that whatever hold Taehyun has over him now works in a similar way, and his lips move despite his revolt.  

“Beomgyu,” he answers, eyes full of bite. 

You climb between a pair of close-resting, gnarled trees. “Does he have to keep that thing on, Taehyun?” you say, struggling with the sight of him being dragged along. It’s unsettling. “Like, does it work without that?” 

Stopping, Taehyun reaches up to pull the bridle off and around from Beomgyu’s head. He lets it fall to the snow. “You can use his name if you need to command him and I’m not around. He’ll have to do what you say.” Pushing Beomgyu into a walk, he says, “You’re going to protect us if in any case we need it. That includes her. You’re going to stay within my estate, unless one of us brings you somewhere. You won’t try your hand at any escape, and you won’t make any attempts to harm us either directly or by omitting something you are aware will do so.” 

You rub your hands together to generate heat as he lists his commands. Why would he even need those precautions, if Beomgyu is supposed to be his compulsory servant now? Would that not mean that he’d be unable to harm him? Either Taehyun is being extra precautious, or the command he has over him is weaker than you had thought at first. Beomgyu scowls the whole way through. Perhaps if Taehyun had not spoken those exact words, he would have lunged at him. 

As the kelpie stalls, Taehyun urges him forward once again with a shove. “Walk,” he snaps. “You did this to yourself. If you’d been a respectable man, I’d have only asked for your help when we needed. Now, you’re following us everywhere.” He allows him to stew on that for a little before saying, “You do your job well and I’ll let you return to your waters. I’ll forget I even made you my servant, and you’ll live knowing you’re no longer in my debt. You’ll not have to worry that someone might tame you again, because I already had, and I won’t even utilize it. We’ll never even make each other’s acquaintance again. You’ll be free to toil in your forest, and I will stay far away. All I need is for you to keep us alive and unharmed.” 

At least he doesn’t intend to keep him forever as an eternal servant. Most faeries that fall into debts work their long lives as living servants. Your years as Nut-hatch's worker taught you how that life whittles your soul down. Hundreds of years of just that is unfathomable. Maybe that is the cost of betraying honor here, though.

“So be it,” Beomgyu says, teeth gritted.  

You continue to trudge through the forest behind them. 

❆

Once you’re within the walls of the estate and Beomgyu is given a place to stay, you turn to Taehyun. “What part of that was safer than trusting Yeonjun?” you say.  

His eyes drop closed and he sighs. “It was worlds safer,” he grits out. “I knew what I was doing. You had that hag stone, and I’d have cut him down if he tried anything.” 

He stretches out his shoulders, shifting them uncomfortably under the fabric of his tunic. You know that his sewn-up wound bothers him. Could it be getting infected? You hope not—an infection this early on would most definitely mean it would be a nasty one. If only he weren’t insistent on pretending that it’s nothing. “I don’t think you could”—you gesture at your own shoulder—“you’re going to infect your shoulder. I don’t know how to treat an infected wound that big.” 

“I wouldn’t have even gone there if I thought I couldn’t handle it. I had a plan. I can protect us just fine.” 

Us. You’ve been wondering what your purpose here might become once you abandon returning to your duties. Would you be staying with Yeonjun? If he betrays you, and Taehyun were to push you out now that you’re no longer partners in duty, where would you go? Crawl to the doorstep of some random faerie to place yourself in their services, just to find yourself a warm place to stay? Taehyun now makes it clear that he still sees the two of you as a pair, but why? You still can’t understand why he’d suddenly switched up the moment you said you’d stay here even if he left. Realistically, he should’ve killed you for being a traitor to the king that he serves. You know that his intentions are more complex than that, but you fail to grasp where they lie. His actions and his words clash.  

“And when Yeonjun doesn’t betray us? What will all of this be for?” 

“This doesn’t stop at the prince,” he says, “there are more players than just him and The Queen. Any one of them could determine that we’re liabilities. Don’t you think that we should prepare for that? We came here as spies infiltrating their court from the very king that they rebel against; of course they’ll have plans for us. It’s still best that you stay your distance from the prince from this point on, regardless, unless you bring the kelpie.” 

Your mouth drops open, brows pinching. You don’t like the thought of being chaperoned at all. If Yeonjun is to betray you, then it’ll be your own fault. You can take the consequences of your actions just fine. “I think I can make that decision for myself,” you say, voice low. “And I can protect myself, too. Are you saying my skills aren’t up to your standards? Well, I didn’t spend that time working on them for nothing, and I don’t plan on stopping. I know I’m not perfect, but I think I can at least use a dagger adequately.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Taehyun says, eyes flat with frustration. “You can protect yourself well. I know that. What I mean is that you shouldn’t rest your life on his integrity. I have no doubts that you’d be able to protect yourself from him alone. He’s delicate. The King doesn’t pamper his children, but I have no doubt that the prince hasn’t wielded a sword anywhere other than in sparring. But you don’t know if you’ll ever truly be alone, and you don’t know whether or not he’s setting you up. I think you can at least agree that it’s best that you can acknowledge that and behave accordingly, no?” 

“I rested my life on your integrity today. Am I supposed to trust you blindly, too? What if you’re just stringing me along until you kill me for my treason to The King? You were his spy, no? How many years did you serve him? Why have you given it up so easily? Why are you staying here? None of it makes sense to me, but I still trusted you. Was I wrong for that? Are you a liar, Taehyun? Does your tongue tell lies?” 

His eyes crystallize, a few degrees colder than you’d seen them all day. “I can lie,” he says. “But would I have done what I did today if I intended to kill you? It’s time that you see that actions tell you so much more than words ever will.” 

Again, he treads around your questions about his intentions. “Why are you staying here?” you repeat, studying him with your suspicion.  

He’s quiet. 

“Answer me,” you demand. 

“Is this not my home?” he says. 

Unsatisfied, you press more. “I thought you hated this place. Why would you want to stay here? Don’t you have an awful reputation here?” 

His eyebrows shoot up, but his face stays hauntingly blank. You’re used to his blank mask, but this feels different. “If you think that I left here because of my reputation, then you’ve fooled yourself.” He begins making for his quarters. “I have obligations to fulfilling my father’s role as Lord of this estate,” he says before turning and ending the conversation on his terms. 

That leaves you just as confused. If he cared about his responsibilities here, he would’ve never left them in the first place to become a spy under The King. It makes no sense. Whether or not it’s true, you’re positive that you aren’t getting the whole story. You sigh and drag your feet bed-bound. You hope to never have another day as unending as today again. 

❆

You dodge Beomgyu for the entirety of the day, not sure what to make of a new presence around the estate, even if it’s an indebted servant beast of a presence. You’d half expected Taehyun to rope him up in the horse stalls outside, making that his permanent residence, but he’d given Beomgyu a place somewhere in the servant’s quarters. You’re glad of it—you may be wary of him, but you don’t wish anything like that for him. Now that he has a more human form, you find yourself able to empathize with him more than you were when he was a hulking, killer water horse. He doesn’t necessarily run around much—without a doubt because he’s not the happiest about being forced into Taehyun’s servitude. You don’t blame him. 

Despite your efforts, he enters the kitchens while you’re alternating between chomping on a slice of bread and a platter of dates. He eyes you. Though in this form his eyes are not as piercing, they’re still heavy.  

You offer him a slice of the bread and push the platter toward him. “Hungry?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t eat the way you do.” 

Then why’d he come to the kitchens? Either he’s exploring, or he came looking for you. “Not even like this?” you ask, gesturing down to his form. 

“I eat when someone is foolish enough to come to my waters,” he says. “I thought I’d be eating yesterday, but the Lord subverted those plans, didn’t he?” 

You laugh a bit, though it’s absurd to laugh about being eaten with the same creature that had intended to do so.  

“I sometimes go for more years than the entire span of your human life without eating,” he says, tilting his head to one side. Shaggy locks of hair follow his head with it. It’s unkempt and in dire need of a washing to rid it of dirt. 

You gesture at his dirt-smudged cheek. “Do you want to clean up? I’m sure Taehyun has some clothes to spare for you. There are some pretty nice bathing quarters, here, too. The kind that makes you reluctant to get out.” 

A wry smile cracks across his face, a bit feral like the rest of him. “I’m not afraid of some dirt. These are my clothes. I’d go naked before dressing myself in his.” 

“Okay, then,” you snort, shrugging. “No baths.” You rip a bite out of the wrinkled fruit in your hand. “How did you even end up... in debt to Taehyun?” you ask, eager to fill yourself in. If Taehyun insists on not telling you anything, you’ll find it in other places. You’d picked up that it had something to do with his father, but you need to know more. The more you’re able to piece together, the better you’ll be able to make sense of Taehyun’s behaviors. You hope so, at least. He holds is truths very close to himself, and almost everybody else seems to harbor a poignant distaste for him. 

Beomgyu’s face sours up again. “I had a dispute with his father. The General was going to raze my forest and kill each one of us. I’d called on him and asked for his help. I’m not sure what he did, but The General never came. If I knew it’d land me like this, though...” He grimaces. “I’d have just let him make me history.” 

Reigning in the laugh that bubbles in your chest at his resentment, because you’re positive that you finding humor in his misfortunes would ruffle him, you nod and pocket that information. “Then, why didn’t you just agree to help when he tried to collect your debt in the first place?” 

“I was going to,” he snaps. “He’s just a prideful creature. No patience. If he’d waited a few moments, I’d have agreed.” 

Humming, you don’t tell him that he’s definitely the one who wound himself up like this. Taehyun had made it clear multiple times that Beomgyu needed to stop playing around.  

Taehyun’s voice comes from the doorway, cutting into the conversation with its matter-of-factness. “Speaking bad on my name while I’m away, kelpie? Should I amend your list of commands to include watch your mouth?” His tone is bare and humorless. 

Beomgyu bristles beside you, about to rebut him before you spy the weapon at Taehyun’s hip and interrupt before they can come to verbal blows. “Where are you going?” 

Taehyun rips his icy gaze from Beomgyu to you. “To Court,” he answers, plain and as if it were obvious. 

Furrowing your brows, you say, “Court? Why didn’t you tell me we’re going? I don’t want to get ready in a rush.” Your mind turns. You weren’t even sure what you’d be doing now that you’re no longer here as spies. There’s no need to infiltrate Court, now. Would you just be attending as revelers? Not to mention that Yeonjun no doubt has no clue that you’re even staying. You hadn’t seen him since you’d ran to him yesterday morning and had your world thrown for a loop as he revealed his truth. How had so much happened in one day?  

His mouth hardens. “You’re not attending with me,” he says, knuckles turning white over the pommel of his sword. “You’ll stay here with him today.” 

Your heart thrums in your chest; not with fear like it had been doing so much over the span of the last few days, but with anger. “What?” you say, shock straining your voice. “No. I’m getting ready; wait for me, or don’t. I don’t care.” You spin on your heels to do just that, gritting your teeth. He thinks he can tell you what to do? Is that it? You don’t care what he’s done for you, or what power he thinks he has over you because of it. You’d left your life of taking commands behind for a reason. This was supposed to be new beginnings, not just your past life under a new skin. 

He catches your upper arm frantically. Whipping your head to him, you rip yourself away from him and back off. “I said, no,” you grit out, lips twitching into a heavily emotional scowl. It’s not just that he’s telling you to stay back today: you know that what he’s doing is much bigger than that. It sends memories of a life in a seamstress’ cottage flooding back. You struggle to keep your head afloat, to keep yourself from drowning in it, but they’re old and deep wounds. 

“Oh, look at that,” Beomgyu croons. “You are just like him. Except, your father was a general, so at least he had some reason to believe that folk would obey him. You? Not so much.” 

Taehyun’s head snaps to him. He barks a command. “Leave.” 

His eyes flash and he reels against it, but Beomgyu’s body moves against his own will. There’s a spark of ravenous hate smeared across his lips and in the glare he gives Taehyun as he leaves. 

“So, you’re just going to hand out commands and expect them to be followed now, huh? Because you’re suddenly just... taking up this role as Lord? Well, you’re not my Lord. You’re not his, either.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Stop that.” 

Laughing a bitter laugh, you spit, “Stop what? Oh, I’m sorry. I should just obey you like a good human does, huh? ‘Cause that’s what we’re for, right? My bad, I’ll get a head start on working around the estate—what would you like for dinner, my lord? Or, do you need me to press your clothes? Go ahead and place your glamour over me, so at least then I won’t have to serve you consciously.” Your words are angry, but you choke toward the end around the lump of emotion in the back of your throat. 

He takes both your arms into his hands, his brow furrowed hard. “Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop it, damn it. Don’t do that. You’re not a servant here. Don’t you try to cry to me, I expect better than this from you. That’s not it at all.” 

You shove back on his chest, putting some distance between you. “I’m not crying,” you say. “And, so what if I was? There’s nothing wrong with it. Really, I think it’d do you a little good to cry some time.” 

“It’s weak,” he says. “Pitying yourself just ends up making you into a fool. If you just sit around and wallow, you’ll stay where you are. The only thing you can do is act.”  

That sounds about right coming from his lips. “Is that what your father taught you?” you ask. “Well, he was wrong. You can cry and try and take care of things at the same time. Crying is not the weaker emotion.” 

“I’m just asking you to stay back today,” he says. 

“Why?” you say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Tell me why? It’s not like we’re spying around or have some sort of mission to keep secret. Why can’t I just go enjoy it like that for once?” 

“Can you just do this for me?” Taehyun says, jaw tight. “I just need you to stay.” 

You’ve become sick of him not telling you things. Being in the dark never feels good, but it especially feels like shaky ground now. If he thinks you’ll be attacked, so what? You’re the one who wanted to stay here. Let you come. You’re better off being attacked as a group of three than he would be by himself, no? 

You decide to lean into his own concerns to appeal. “What if they’re waiting for you? Wouldn’t it be better that Beomgyu and I are there? Isn’t that why you did that whole thing yesterday?” 

He shakes his head. “If they are, then it’ll be easier for me to slip out if it’s just me.” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you determine by the solemn lines to his face that he’s not going to give. “Fine,” you say. “I’ll stay here today. If it’s so necessary, I’ll stay here. Do you want me to stay inside the estate, too? Could I go see Yeonjun?” 

“I’d prefer that you stay here,” he says, slow and measured and veiling tension. 

You shake your head, pairing it with a tired laugh. “Yeah, right, I forgot. He’s a threat too. Well, you have fun then.” Turning and departing from the kitchens, you leave behind your bread and dates. So much for lunch. 

❆

Reaffirming Taehyun’s ability to lie, it was not just that one day. The next day, Taehyun slipped out for Court, sword on hip and pleading with you to stay in the estate on the terms that he believes they still might have an attack planned for you. It turned into a week that you were cooped up in the estate, and then two. The same walls you’d once looked at in wonder for their beauty became the ones you stared at mindlessly during the most boring of hours. 

You spend most of your time listening to Beomgyu drone on and on about the ways he’d tricked faeries and humans. He’s quite odd, but it’s not like you can blame him for it—most of the folk are odd to you, and he’s an ancient beast among them. You feel like that warrants a spunky personality like his. He’s nice company, anyway. Such a long life lends you an impressive wealth of stories. 

You can’t help but think about Yeonjun. He’s got to have seen Taehyun at Court by now. If there haven’t been any incidents at this point, doesn’t that mean that he doesn’t intend to betray you? The images of him thinking that you’re avoiding him makes you want to slip out to see him. You not sure why you don’t. Maybe the lies that sat between you affect you more than you thought they did. You’re quite the hypocrite, though. You’d kept secrets just as much as he had. 

You miss those stolen nights you two had shared. A knot, queasy and pessimistic, sits in your belly each time you lay in your bed and remember them and tells you that you’ll never see anything like that again. You’d allowed a girlish part of you to blossom beside him—a part of you that could throw caution to the wind and melt into the fun things in life.  

As you rot your days away in that estate that has become more like a dungeon than an estate, you allow yourself to miss him only a little. Once it begins transforming into a certain impending doom about how you’d thought that staying here would be everything you’d ever wanted, you find something else to do. If you aren’t toiling around by yourself or listening to Beomgyu drone, you’re practicing your combat skills. The times that Taehyun stops in to help you, it ends with you insisting that you’re fine to make appearances in Court by now, or at least see Yeonjun with Beomgyu in attendance. He never agrees. Each time, it’s the same awful excuse: Tensions are worse. He doesn’t know if they’re planning something. When you ask why he demands that he can attend, but you and Beomgyu can’t join: He’s a lord. It’s his duty to attend Court. 

The solstice is nearing, too. You’d looked forward to it, honestly. Hopefully Taehyun will let you attend by then. 

You sit crisscrossed on the hardwood flooring, running your fingers through your hair. Beomgyu is stood a couple feet away, and makes big gestures as he explains the one time he’d been called to attend Court as a solitary faerie. Moments like this have kept you grounded over the weeks. 

“And the stupid crone tried to say that I was wrong for catching him,” he exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head as if the ancient memory were still as fresh as day one.  

You laugh. “What did you even do to end up there, anyway?” you ask. You can hardly picture Beomgyu in the setting of Court, even more so meeting with The Queen and her council. Moreover, you’re intrigued to know what he’d said to talk himself out of trouble. You’re amazed that he managed to make a sufficient enough case to save his life. 

“They said that I’d been taking too many of their folk—hah! I must eat too, you know? Oh, the pretention! Do they expect me to starve? If a fool lands themselves on my pelt and then in my waters, it’s only natural that they’re eaten. I’m simply freeing them from one more mud-brained fool. The Courts are full of those, too. It’d take me a millennium to eat them all. What are they so worried for, I wonder? They do the very same to their own people.” 

“Aren’t they ridiculous?” you say. Like you, he’d been an outsider in Court. Though you’re sure that it’s just as, if not more, intricate to those well-versed in it, to the ones like you two... It’s odd to see. You had grown used to it in the time you spent there, but you still know what the first day had felt like. Anyway, you hadn’t spent as many days there as you feel you had. All that had happened had bloated that time in your memories. “To be quite honest with you, your kind are all so odd to me. I grew up among you, but still... my instincts are always kinda at odds with my surroundings, you know?” 

Beomgyu considers that for a moment, as if trying to view the fae from a human’s eyes. “Even when we look so similar?” he asks you, grabbing at a lock of his hair and making a round gesture over himself. 

You nod. “Even in this form, you just... I don’t feel like I’m looking into the face of another human. Maybe that’s because I watched you turn to this from a horse, though.” 

“A kelpie,” he corrects. “What gives it away?” 

“Sorry, a kelpie,” you snicker. You look over his face. It’s so close to right, but somewhere in your mind you can decipher that something is not right. Like all of the fae, though, there’s an unspeakable beauty there, beyond explanation. It demands your human attention. Even the most terrifying are beautiful. “Well, for starters, your ears. They’re pointy. All of you have that, and none of us do. And then... I guess”—you narrow your eyes—“your eyes? They’re just different. And your limbs are pretty lanky, too.” 

He frowns as if he’s unable to see it. “You don’t sound so sure,” he says, joining you on the floor. “I’ve had quite some time to look at myself in my life. I don’t think I ever saw any of that when I was in this form...” 

“I’m sure you did,” you say, lips turning up in a playful mock. A water creature no doubt has an eternity to stare into the water at themselves in its rippled reflection. “Did you do a lot of that?” 

Scowling, he huffs. “No. But I’m sure you would, if you looked like this, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” His face morphs from dismay to careful concentration. Frowning, you look around and ask, “What?” 

“I hear somebody,” he answers, pushing off the floor. 

Your spine tingles, but you search for the logical explanation. “Like... Taehyun?” 

“No... the walk is definitely different.” He strains to listen. “He’s usually pretty quiet. This one... they don’t conceal their footsteps.” 

Neither of you can get to a window to scope anything out before there’s three heavy knocks from the door, the metal knocker ringing. You shoot him a wary look and tilt your head toward the door. You mouth the word, answer? 

He considers for a moment and then nods. Well, he’s the one able to hear their approach. You trust they’re at least not imminent danger. You pull the door open. A breeze of frost comes rushing in as you do, blowing your hair and as jarring as a hit to the face might be. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long you’ve forgotten how bitter the cold here is.  

Behind the door your eyes lock with a pair of inky ones, settled into a pinched and snooty face. “Letters from the palace I have for you, my lady,” she says, her voice mousy. She holds out a stack full of letters to you, all held together by some twine. 

An errand runner. You furrow your brows down at her and accept them. The little hob wrings out her long fingers. “From who?” you ask her.  

She bows her head to you hurriedly. “Oh, from the prince, my lady! He sends these for you!” 

You look down at the stack in your hands, and your heart begins to run amok in your chest. He’d sent to you? You thank her. She scurries off in the snow and you close the door, sharing a look with Beomgyu. 

“The prince?” he says, brows shot up. “Meaning, The King’s son? He’s sent letters for you?” 

Nodding, you hold the stack close to you. Your feet ache to find your quarters and to begin tearing into each one; you’re ravenous for any sort of word from him. Does he hate you? Does he miss you? At least he still thinks of you. You’d worried that he might’ve found another lady of the court to dote on in your absence... 

“Yeah,” you say over your shoulder, more interested in tearing the letters open than explaining to him why the prince would be sending you letters. Curiosity sits in his furrowed brow. You hadn’t exactly prattled on about Yeonjun to him. Had you even mentioned him at all? 

He tags along as you head to your room and plop onto your bed. You don’t tell him to leave you; opening these letters alone... You appreciate his presence in some odd way.  

Unstringing the pile, you pull the first one out and run a thumb over the wax seal that identifies it as definitely from the High Prince—a fine silver dusted over white wax and branded with the image of Yeonjun’s insignia, the fox. It’s uneven and dribbled, clearly sealed by Yeonjun himself with the insignia ring he often wears on his finger. You pry it open and then unfurl the parchment inside. 

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝒹 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑟𝑡? 𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑤𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑚𝒾𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝒾𝓈 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝑀𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝓈 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊.  

𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝓈 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛.

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Beomgyu’s gaze burns holes through you as you read this first one. You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you reach for the next one. This one twists a hot knife of guilt into your belly and up into your heart. 

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔?   

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝓈𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝓎𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑢𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒. 𝐴𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑎𝑏𝓈𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝓈𝑒.

𝐼𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒾𝑑𝑒𝓃𝑡𝒾𝑡𝓎? 𝐼𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢? 

𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝓊𝑡𝑚𝑜𝓈𝑡 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟: 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝒶𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝓇.   

𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝒾𝒹𝑖𝑐𝓊𝑙𝑜𝑢𝓈, 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝒶𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑏𝓇𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝓇𝑡, 𝑟𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡? 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑢𝓈.  

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝓎 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝒾𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝓈𝑡. 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝓈, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝒾𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝓉 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑚𝑒𝑡, 𝑡𝑜𝑜? 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝒹𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝒾𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝓈𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝓇 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑟𝓈𝑒?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝓉𝑦. 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝓉 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝒶𝑦. 

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

“What do they say?” Beomgyu asks, timbred voice whipping you from the words that had settled a quaking ache in your chest.  

You’re not entirely sure how to tell him that they’re desperate letters of the High Prince’s love for you, a worthless human girl that had avoided him on purpose. He probably wouldn't believe you, anyway. Leaving behind your old life, you had pleaded with the sky to make your life something worth note. It seems that it had answered. Fate works in odd ways like that, granting your wishes in the last way you might expect.  

“A lot,” you say, brushing him off. Your voice cracks with it, though,  

Hearing the veiled emotion, he frowns, inching forward to take a peek. “Why are you upset?” he pries, and then gasps as a thought formulates in his head. “Have they called you to be tried by the council?” He considers his own suggestion for a long moment and then shakes his head. “You hardly have gone anywhere enough to cause that degree of trouble, though.”  

You let your face drop into your hands. Is the tremor in your chest from laughter, or from crying? You couldn’t say. Maybe it’s both. 

The kelpie makes an unsure sound, clearing his throat. “I... uh, I jest...” 

Collecting yourself, you say, “No. I’m not being called in for trial.”  

Dried up rose petals come fluttering out with the next letter. The flower of love. 

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝓉 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝓇𝑡ℎ? 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓈𝑜? 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝓎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐻𝑎𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒?

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝓈𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑠𝑖𝒹𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝒾𝑠 𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝑡𝑒, 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝓊𝑟𝑒 𝒾𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜, 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝓎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑔. 𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝓉𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝓈𝑡 𝑤𝒶𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝓇𝑜𝑛𝑔. 

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Why hadn’t you at least gone and told him that you’ve stayed? How had you allowed yourself to feel fear when you think of him? You don’t deserve his love. You don’t even know if you deserve love at all. All it would’ve taken was one night of slipping out. He deserved to know that you’re okay. You don’t remember being this selfish. When had it happened? Maybe selfish is what becomes of you when you’ve wasted a lifetime expected to serve others before yourself and then are granted the freedom to consider yourself first. You don’t want to be selfish, though.  

The one you pull open now is more raw. Hurt. The paper, scrawled in writing that becomes less elegant and more frenzied as you read down it, crumples in your hand. 

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝒶𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝓎 𝑓𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝓈ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝒶𝑟𝑚𝓈. 𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡.   

𝐷𝑜 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝓇𝑒?   

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊, 𝑑𝒶𝓇𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝒶𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑖𝑐𝑘  

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

You stuff the letters back in their envelopes and shove them into a box in your wardrobe. If you don’t, you’ll read them over until you’re ill. Once over was enough for you. 

❆

“The Lord would have my pelt if I let you leave,” Beomgyu, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, says. “Let alone by yourself.” Realizing that his words insinuate that Taehyun holds any true power over him, he backtracks. “If it weren’t for the harness, I’d be unconcerned with his anger, but... Of course, you know, I’m obligated by my imposition to his word, so...” 

Tugging your boots on, you say, “So, tell him I commanded you to stay. You’ll be fine.”  

You had waited for Taehyun to leave for Court, anyway. You have hours of the night to sly-foot your way around him. 

You’d moped around for a few more days, your gut heavy with stones each time you remember Yeonjun’s letters. Stuffing them into a box, no matter how deep into the corner of your wardrobe, still could not wipe those words from your mind. You’d turned them over and over until you couldn’t handle imagining him writing those letters with a hopeful heart any longer.  

The solstice is only a few days away now, too. You’d been bound to the estate for weeks. Although you’re unsure what Taehyun’s real intentions are in boarding you in, you can no longer even care if leaving will end up getting you attacked. You’ve become a bird with clipped wings.  

Even if your wings are out of order, you’ll walk your way to your freedom. Hell, you’d crawl there. It just so happens that Yeonjun’s doorway feels like freedom in this moment.  

Like he’d always said, the doors remain unbarred. You don’t even have to use the metal knocker; you just push through the doors of swirling white engravements. Just as if nothing had changed. He’d been waiting for you. 

Instead of Yeonjun in his quarters, you find a brownie diligently working on doing up Yeonjun’s bedding. When she turns to you, her hands continue their efforts. 

“The prince is not here right now, dear,” she says, snout twitching. Round eyes recognize you before you can introduce yourself. “He’s only just made for Court, though. You should catch him quite quickly, if you mean to.” 

It seems he hasn’t given up searching for you in Court, either. You offer her your gratitude and slip out from his room. Picking up the hems of your dress, you race to catch Yeonjun before he’s arrived at Court. Once he does, things get more sticky—if Taehyun spots you... Pushing down the anxiety that bubbles up at the thought, you cross your fingers. Let luck be on your side.  

Your Court dress, though heavy, feels nice on your skin. Although you often look down on court goers for their pompousness, you can’t deny how good it feels to fit in. That’s perhaps the reason you cling to Court the way you do; you’re beyond desperate for belonging. 

On the plush, snow-dusted bits of the forest’s floor, you spot a set of footsteps. They’re quickly being filled with the flurries. You clasp your hands in an overwhelming bout of gratitude—luck had listened, this time. Those tracks are as fresh as can be. You double your pace. 

Around a bend, you’re overjoyed to see his figure walking there. Finally hearing you coming over the roar of snowfall, he spins. His face pinches and then drops as he recognizes you. 

“You... You came?” he says. Disbelief flips his lips into a frown. “You got my letters?” 

“I did,” you answer, catching your breath. “I’m so sorry.” 

A few feet float between you, the space not yet closed but so magnetic. His cheeks are tinged pink with the cold. Yours must be too.  

“I’d thought you left. I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Your chest caves in a little at the hurt in his voice and the way it clashes with the longing in his eyes. He wants to be angry; he wants to yell at you. He can’t do either when he’s just thankful to see your face. You had missed his just as much. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “It shouldn’t have happened.” 

Yeonjun approaches you and takes your face into his hands. His fingers are ice on your skin. He swallows in your face, soft black eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and around the rest of it; just like he’d begged you to let him do in his letters. 

“Why?” Yeonjun asks you, brushing your hair back with his fingers like he’s just testing the feel of it. 

You don’t know how to answer him. You could tell him a lot of things: Taehyun told me to stay away. He had told me that you’d hurt me. I’d started to believe him. I became scared of you. We had lied to each other. None of them feel adequate in this moment, so you shake your head. 

His eyes harden to a degree as you don’t answer. “Why wouldn’t you come talk to me, pretty?” he urges. “If something was wrong, why couldn’t you come to me? We can’t leave things broken. I sent you weeks of letters. Weeks.” 

Weeks? You’d only seen four.  

“Finally, I got smart enough to send them when he’s at Court. And then you show up here. Tell me, how am I to think that you’re okay? When he won’t even let you speak with me?” 

You blink once. Twice. Taehyun had been intercepting letters. A pit of anger flares in your belly. Whatever this protecting thing he’s doing really is, you’re sick of it. Since when had he become your keeper? He’d demanded that Yeonjun was trying to do just that, but here he is, and you have no clue why he’s doing it. 

“I didn’t know you’d sent letters until yesterday,” you tell him. “I should’ve come and seen you.” 

Running his thumb over your cheek, he murmurs, “You’re not going back there. Please, tell me you’ll stay with me. If you’re to stay here in the north forever, let it be with me. We can’t slip around like this forever.” 

Shaking your head in his hands, you pull back. You can’t decipher the dread that washes over you at his suggestion once again. Your heart is wary with the need to do just that—to not return to the estate where you’d become some sort of prisoner. Something washes over you and tells you that it won’t go the way you’d wanted, just as most things in your life hadn’t. 

Seeing the way you retract, Yeonjun becomes more desperate. “Please,” he says, hands finding your shoulders to hold you as if you’ll leave him there.  

“We’ll figure it out,” you say. “Just give me a few days to think about it, okay?” 

His face stays drawn as if he wants to argue it, but he relents. Taking your frozen hands into his own and wrapping them up in attempts to warm them, he says, “Okay. Okay, let’s get away from this blizzard, then. I’ll wait for you, love.” 

Your chest sizzles. The cold isn’t so bad, today. In a way, you’d missed it. You nod.  

Yeonjun brings you to his chambers and urges you to settle into a plush seat. You run your hands over the embroidered whorls of thread on the cushions as you watch him rummage through a chest. “What are you looking for?” you ask him, drinking in his figure. He’d switched his Court shirts for some more comfortable wear, but even in those he looks princely. He’s so pretty. Your heart flutters as he fishes out what he’d been searching for and turns to you with a smile. He settles beside you carrying a leatherbound book and a miniature wood sculpture of a girl. 

“These,” he says, setting them down on the cushion between you.  

You pick up the wood thing, looking over its painted pink cheeks and feeling the carvings that make its face. It’s fitted with a dress; one unlike any you’d ever seen. Your brow furrows. “What’s this thing?” you ask. 

“It’s called a doll,” he says explains. You feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction, not on the thing in your hands. “Human girls carry them around to play with. They change the dresses and stuff. They even make things for them to hold, but... I couldn’t get ahold of any of those.”  

Heart stuttering, you look at the wood-carved thing. “Human girls?” you ask, imagining a life where you too could have worried only about what dress your toy would wear. You revere the resilience your younger self had to have. At least you didn’t know any better; you didn’t know how you could’ve had it. That ignorance saved you. The painted eyes of the doll stare back at you. 

“Kinda cute, huh?” he says, smiling and scooting closer to fiddle with the thing’s hair. “They even do their hair up all pretty.” Looking back up to you, he says, “It’s a shame that no human who has ever grown up here knows of things like these. Simple joys.” 

You nod, a little choked up. “Yeah. I wish I had. It would have been nice to have something like this as a girl.”  

He tucks some hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face from the side. “How did you ever end up being a spy?” 

Tearing your gaze from the doll to meet his, you find a sadness there despite you not even having told him yet. It’s as if he knows it’ll hurt him already. You fiddle with the little doll’s dress as you recount. “I was a servant to a seamstress,” you start. “A royal seamstress, too. She was favored well by the gentry. She brought in hordes of clients and made dresses and Court clothes for them—but, really, her work mostly ended at being there to hear what they’d want and inlaying the dresses with her magic when they’d ask for it. The rest was my work. Taking their measurements, making their dresses... I worked her shop as soon as I became able to.” Memories of cruel and wicked faces that snickered at your expense or those who found it entertainment to scare you come back, as fresh as ever. Those memories never leave you; the ones so early on that they’d calcified into permanent parts of your personality. That terrified little girl will always be somewhere in your mind. She surfaces quite a lot, these days.  

“There was this one time...” you say, trailing off to trudge up a more awful memory. “A Lady had come in to have a dress made. She brought a guard along with her. He was this massive troll with grey skin like a toad.” You’d recall his details without any trouble for the rest of your life, you think. “I’d ran off to grab some fabric for the Lady, and he followed,” you say, voice wavering just how your little heart had wavered as you had turned around from the bolts of fabric to see the goblin stood there. “He yanked me around by my hair until I sobbed, and then he had me get on the floor and beg him to let me live.” You know now that of course he wasn’t going to kill you—he wouldn’t want problems with Nut-hatch—but you hadn’t known it then. You thought you were dead. “When he had enough of his fun, he let me go. When the other two saw how hysterical I was, all I got was being asked why I’d left them waiting so long.”  

Yeonjun asks, voice soft and tender, “The seamstress allowed that?” His eyes are heavy with a mixture of emotions. You see sadness and anger there, but also something a bit more. 

“Nut-hatch?” you say. “Of course.” They’d known what he was doing in there, of course. Even a human could have heard it. As long as you served your purpose, the folk could not care less. 

He looks taken aback at that, recognition turning his brows up. “Nut-hatch? You worked for Nut-hatch?” he asks. 

Nodding, you hum. You had no doubt he’d know her name. Her work was well-renowned in his father’s court and beyond. “I did.” 

His eyes rake over you for a long few beats before he turns your face up. “Their names?” he asks. 

“Huh?” 

“The goblin and the Lady. What are their names?” 

You try to tug at the threads of that old memory. “I don’t remember,” you say. Much of it is fresh, but you hadn’t committed their names to memory. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of it. “It’s okay. It’s passed now.” 

He doesn’t look very convinced, mind wheeling behind his eyes. You don’t want to stay on this memory for too long. Pushing it back into the dusty corner where it stays, you continue explaining. “I accepted that as my life for a long time, but... At some point, I just wanted more. I imagined all the ways I could find a new life as a human here. There are so many other things I’d preferred, but the only one I could manage was that. Even that, I was wrong about. I’m not really made for that, you know?” You lighten your tone in hopes that it’ll make your chest feel lighter as well.  

He listens intently and then leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling you into his chest and keeping you notched under his chin, he says, his voice smooth to your ears, “I’m so happy you’re here now, pretty.” 

Letting out the weight in your lungs in a long, meaningful sigh, you melt into his touch. It’s difficult not to when his body is so warm against yours. You revel in it for some time, just letting him smooth over your hair and rub your back. You try your best not to let any old, sad emotions pour out through your eyes; this is a happy moment. You’ve made it. Perhaps things had been harder than you imagined they’d be, but you knew it’d be a long journey when you escaped that sewing cottage anyway. 

Peppering a few last kisses to the top of your head, he releases you to pick up the book he had also grabbed from that chest. On the front it reads: Pride & Prejudice.  

“A book?” you say, looking over the brown leather and gold printing. It’s an unfamiliar name to you, but you never read much anyway.  

He nods and pries it open. The spine crackles with age. “It’s also from the human world.” Thumbing through the pages, he adds, “It’s a story. I read it often, it’s quite a nice one. I want to give it to you so that you can read it too; it’s a beautiful love story.” 

You lean in to take a look at the words, too perfect to be handwritten. “Where do you get all this stuff?” you say. It reminds you of he’d brought you to that market for human goods. He seems to be interested in things that are human. Perhaps that includes you. Either that or he continues to show you these kinds of things for your sake. 

“I lived in their world for some years,” he says, flipping through the pages. “It’s quite different. Though... I found myself not wanting to leave. When the time came, I brought these back with me to remind me of that time.” 

Lived? Not just visited, but Yeonjun had lived in the human realm? Your heart flurries with a lifetime of wondering what your true home was like. How ironic is it that he knew more of humans than you? That you’re the one asking him questions about your kind? “How long?” you ask first. “And why were you living there?” 

“Just for something my father wanted me to do,” he answers, “Somewhere around a decade, I believe.” 

He’d spent ten years there. Multiple things click into place—no wonder he’s so able to understand your human emotions. No wonder it feels as though you’ve been seen to a different degree by him than you’d ever known before. He’d spent years with your kind. “What is it like?” you say, not sure where to begin with your questions. 

He smiles fondly. “You wouldn’t even be able to believe me, pretty. You’ll just have to see it.” 

See it. “You’d take me there?” you say.  

“Of course,” Yeonjun says, frowning. He takes one of your hands into his, pressing a kiss to it. “You deserve to see it.” He presses another kiss to your skin, now at your wrist. The hair on your skin raises at the contact. His eyes find yours as he begins a slow ascent of kisses up your arm. Each is warm and sends your spine blazing. Once he reaches your shoulder, he slows down, leaving a long moment between kisses. He continues this pace—one that both makes you wish he’d slow down and that he’d hurry and quell your want—right up the juncture of your neck and up the column, too. His controlled breaths puff out like fire on your skin where his mouth lingers. You let your head back to help his path up. He places one final kiss at your jawline before his lips land on yours, drunken and in no rush at all.  

You can’t help the visceral urge to run your hands over his soft skin, to check if the warmth there was real or if you’d manifested it in your longing. Yeonjun breaks this lethargic kiss just to laugh, but he’s quick to recapture your lips. He meets your hand and brings it under his silken shirt, guiding you up the soft planes of his abdomen. 

Pushing you back, he whispers into your mouth, “I missed you so much, pretty.” 

You rememorize the gentle muscles of his stomach beneath your palm. “It was only so many days,” you tease, “you’re just horny.” 

He lets go of your hand to begin slipping down your dress from the shoulders. “Yeah?” he hums, gobbling up each inch of skin that he reveals. “I suppose I am. It’s a gift to be able to love you in this way.” Once the fabric is clear of your hips and he’s tugging it down your legs, his face turns sly. He studies your wettened core. “I think you missed me too, though, love.” 

You drag your bottom lip into your teeth. You had. Your chest thumps rhythmically in your chest, syncing like symphony with the throb between your thighs. 

Blood sings in your veins when he places his palm right on the boundary between your lower belly and your cunt. Your stomach soars, too, so excited by his touch so near where your body craves it. He runs it up, feeling the curves of your body, up to your breast. You expect him to stop and pay attention to your chest, but he presses his hand down right over your heart and feels its beating against his palm. His eyes flutter to a shut, and he leaves his hand there for a few moments, relishing in it.  

“What other purer form of love can I show you?” he says, tapping on your hip. “On your hands and knees, baby.” 

You flip, your limbs a bit clumsy in anticipation. Once you’ve found your way there, he dances his fingertips on the small of your spine. 

“Did you think of my touches while we were apart?” 

“Mhm,” you hum. Especially on the nights when the estate seemed the emptiest. Some nights, your fingers were just not enough to save you, and you’d contemplate making a big escape to find him.  

“Well, I shouldn’t make you wait too much longer then, huh?” he coos, running that hand down to ghost touches over your slit. Though minimal, you jolt. You’d been so ravenous for this. He’d worked his shirt off so that when he leans forward to meld his chest to your back, it’s his skin that touches yours, not fabric. His hand stays ghosting touches that leave you softly gasping. 

He teasingly pinches your clit, laughing in your hair at the sharp hiss it draws from you. “So reactive,” Yeonjun muses. His fingers find their way to your hole. He dips the middle two in. “Just like the first time we made love like this. Your lovely face is burned into my mind, pretty. You have such hungry eyes.” As he pushes his fingers in, he uses his free hand to tilt your face against the cushion so that he can better see your eyes. 

You sigh, shuddering and breathy, as he begins to curl his fingers. It only takes him a few curls to rediscover that spot that has sparks flying behind your eyes. 

“There?” he asks, chin on your shoulder. “That feel good, darling?” 

Your muscles tremble at their own accord, rendering your huffs trembled as well. “Yes,” you answer. Each meaningful curl hits its mark, knees unsteady pillars that dig into the cushions. “So—so good. Please don’t stop.”  

He maintains a sickening pace—your muscles twitch around his giving fingers, just enough so that your entire body buzzes and your stomach twists, but not enough to send you shaking yet. You collapse down from your elbows, chest in the cushions. He brushes back the hair that obscures your face with the movement, adamant to see your face.  

He eggs you on by curling deeper; faster. Your answering groan is shaky and tense—you can’t get enough of the knot he curates in your belly, but at the same time, it’s daunting. He sits back, but his fingers don’t falter. His free hand explores, feeling your body up for all the time he couldn’t.  

Stomach taut and brimming on your peak, you suck in a breath. Your orgasm sits so close, running a line of electricity from between your legs up to your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.  

Your eyes fly open, mouth ready to scold, as Yeonjun pulls his fingers from you. Your chest bubbles up with frustration, your orgasm drifting off to somewhere else. “Why?” you ask, cheeks burning. It slips and slips away from you, hole twitching around nothing as if seeking out just enough stimulus to bring it crashing back. “I was so close.” 

His hand soothes the loss ever so slightly by circling your cunt, but he does not make the mistake of offering you any touch where you most need it. It only prolongs the float down, keeping you suspended. You abhor it.  

“Please,” you whine. 

He doesn’t entertain your whines. He only continues to deliver just enough to torment you until he’s sure that you’re not so wound up that you’ll cum the moment he touches you, and then he slides his fingers back in and begins building up a more tense knot with pointed curls. Your insides delight in the return of attention, falling almost instantly back into a brutal climb. Yeonjun doesn’t bother with languid, teasing strokes now. He aims for your ruining. 

You writhe against the cushions. Your heart is a fluttering bird in your chest, trilling at the prospect of your release. It’s so close—so close that you might be able to just touch it. It tastes like honey on your tongue, painting your words sweet. “Love you,” you tell him. “Love you so much.” 

Yeonjun rewards your sweetness with his free hand on your throbbing clit, sending your hands gripping at the cushions. You wiggle your hips helplessly in search of just the right amount of friction that it’ll finally give you want you’ve been wanting. “Yes,” you mewl. “Yes, so close—” 

“Wait, baby,” he commands from behind you. “It’ll feel so much better. I promise. Hold it back.” 

He reins in his touches once again, not stopping like last time. It’s not enough to put a stop to the orgasm rippling right under your skin, right at the edge of ripping through you. You can’t hold it back; it’s right there. 

“No,” he says, once again ripping his touch from you. It doesn’t stop anything—you go rigid just before it crashes over you, and then you’re shaking without his hands even on you. You cum with a vengeance—body reclaiming twofold what he had denied you.  

“Holy shit.” Yeonjun groans watching you come unraveled without his help. “So riled up that you’re cumming by yourself, pretty,” he says, running a hand around to feel your belly muscles twitching and the way they roll along with the twitches of your hips. He eggs on your orgasm with gentle touches at your clit, sending you jolting, until you’re a panting mess and he can tell that you’ve had enough. 

You attempt to push yourself off your chest, but he gently guides you back down with a palm against your back. “Stay there, pretty. You can handle a little more, right? You did so well, I know you can. Let me make love to you, darling.” 

The cushions are awfully warm against your skin and you’re still dealing with the waves of pleasure that drift up from your cunt, but you nod your head for him. “’Kay,” you say. 

The rustling behind you tells of how he’s slipping out of the rest of his attire. You lay boneless as he does, focusing on the waves running down your thighs. It’s ecstasy in its purest form. It floats through your veins, addling any consciousness and breaking you down into what you are at your core. 

The familiar prod at your entrance jolts you back to life. As he presses in, he presses a hand to your flushed cheek. It’s a welcome temperature difference—you feel set ablaze in some sort of languid flame, one that takes its time to consume you. He laughs softly. “You’re burning up,” he says as he bottoms out, as if the feeling of him filling you up isn’t rendering you jittery in anticipation. “Ready for me, pretty?” he teases, taking your hips into his hands. “I need you to make those pretty sounds for me. I want to know that they’re just as sweet as I remember them.” He punctuates his sentence with deep rolls of his hips, aiming where he knows will have you singing. 

You’re helpless to the chorus of ‘Oh's and ‘Yes’s that he draws from you, the smacking of his hips and your sweet moans much too loud for you. You dread the thought of his servants hearing you and push your face into the cushions, muffling the array of sounds that bubble over. It’s all you can do—you could hardly contain your sounds. 

Your scalp strains as he tugs your head back, tugging your face from the cushion. “None of that, love. I waited too long for that. Don’t hide your pretty voice.”  

You shake your head. “Too loud,” you pant. “They’re gonna hear.” 

“I don’t care who hears you. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, or I’m going to stop. Do you want me to stop?” His fingers cling to your soft hips, betraying how much this is affecting him. You know that he hardly wants to stop. 

You’re turned to mush, though. In this moment, being heard feels nowhere near as awful as Yeonjun ceasing those dizzying thrusts. You shake your head, scalp aching against the movement. “No,” you say, breathless.  

“That’s what I thought,” Yeonjun taunts, letting your cheek drop back into the fabric. “Let them hear our love. Let them hear how real it is, darling. Louder.”  

You tentatively let your sounds out into the thick air, but he decides that it’s not enough for him. Taking his hand off your hip to brace himself on the seat’s plush armrest, he doubles down his thrusts, feverish and desperate to guide you both to a beautifully explosive end. Your mouth drops open, unfiltered words and sounds spilling out from your chest as you grab at the cushions for help. With the hand that he doesn’t use to deliver those wild thrusts, he encases your hand in his own, threading his fingers between yours.  

For a few more incandescent moments, Yeonjun’s room only consists of your unabashed cries, his alternating grunts and whines, the rhythmic and hollow smacks of his hips to your skin, and the musk of your passion. Frantic bodies dance against each other, skin against skin in the purest way. Your thighs tremble pathetically, his cock brushing against your sweet spot until you squeeze your eyes shut and ride out the quivering of your cunt around him. You squeeze his hand as you shake. 

“Yes,” his pretty voice whines, “Just like that.”  

Picking up his pace, he chases to join you in your orgasm. He pants behind you, desperately fucking into you until his hips stutter and he stills, falling into your shoulder to deliver needy rolls and shooting warm spurts of his release into you.  

You two stay like this for some unhurried moments. You focus on his heartbeat; feeling it thudding against your back reminds you that he is real, and he is love. You hold his hand in yours a little tighter. 

❆

“I doubt that this will go exactly as you believe it will,” Beomgyu says, watching you do your hair up. Your eyes meet his in the vanity’s mirror.  

Arms burning as your hold them over your head, your words come out clipped with the ache. “It worked yesterday, didn’t it?” you say. You push a filigree comb into your hair to secure it up. “I got back hours before he did.” 

“I’m not saying that Taehyun is right,” he says, “but I think that it would do us both a favor if you practice a bit more precaution.” 

“What, are you afraid of Taehyun?” you ask, raising your brows at him in the reflection.  

Your taunt hits its mark, Beomgyu shifting in your bed and scowling. “Of Taehyun, never,” he parries, “of the fact that he could ask me to do anything and I’d do it, yes.” He shakes out his lightly matted tresses, a habit you’ve noticed over the passing weeks. “I played a little too closely to the fire with him once, and it landed me like this: no longer the owner of my being. I’d sooner chew off my own fingers than become his obedient dog, but I believe you also know that it’s best to soar low with this, no? Are we not together in this?” 

You press your lips into a thin line. In a way, you’d come to an alliance of sorts with Beomgyu. Despite his being a kelpie, the two of you are not so different now. Both confined to these walls, listening to Taehyun when he commands it. You don’t want any of your actions to snap back on Beomgyu, though. With you attending Court today, it’s almost definite that Taehyun will see you. You turn to face him. “Why don’t you join us, then?” you offer. “I’ll tell him myself that I commanded you to come with me. I’m sure he’ll be less upset if I have you there with me.” 

He gives it a thought, his eyes looking as tired and sunken as they always do. “I’m not one for Court,” he says. 

“But I’ll be there,” you plead, unable to help the twitching of smirk on your lips. “If we do it together, it can’t be so bad.” 

He frowns, but you can see that you’ve won. “I grieve for how the forest left me to my own,” Beomgyu grumbles. 

You surge up from your seat, eyes bright. “You’ll go?” you say, giddy to return to the thrill of faerie revelry and also to see the strange kelpie in the center of it. 

Grimacing, he answers, “I will join you.” 

You take his hands into yours and press a cheeky kiss to his forehead. “You’re not so scary as you try to paint yourself,” you tell him, watching as he catches bait. You laugh as he glowers. 

“Don’t push it.” He climbs off your bed. “I’m scarier than you should imagine, girl. I do this for my own reasons.” 

You pull a patronizing frown and nod. “Of course, I know.” 

You don’t have to wait for him to get ready to any capacity; he tells you that he has no intentions of making any impressions, and you’ve seen faeries in far more drastic states of disarray. Many show up for their reveling in just their skin. 

Beomgyu drones on about how he detests the audaciousness of the gentry folk while you make for the hall. The forest around you is as quiet as you remember it being when you’d first met him. It reminds you that, no matter how used you become to him, he is a creature to be feared. The little folk are right to hide away. For you, though, his might is a relief: should Taehyun be right, you’ll be safe. He moves at your beck and call. Though, the thought of forcing the kelpie to carry out your will is an uneasy one that you do not strive to fulfill. 

Once the buzzing of Court comes into earshot, wonderful faerie music along with it, you breathe it in. “First time in... how long since you’ve shown your face here?” 

“Perhaps four-hundred-something years,” he answers, looking over the scene with as much distaste in his face as his voice. “We solitary folk don’t make ourselves known here unless to bow to a crown. I do not bow to any crown.” 

Itching to find your prince, you gesture toward it. He should be fine—Court is supposed to be an insouciant place. “Don’t they host anybody who decides to come? Faerie hospitality, and all that? You’ll be fine.” 

“It’s all hospitality until you step foot from those trees,” he says. “And even hospitality is sometimes betrayed. You know how capricious we can be, I’m sure.”  

You approach the warm lights, but his words remain with you. It beckons you to remember that their minds are fickle and fundamentally different from yours. However you think they may act, they might act in the complete opposite way. You should at least let that guide how you conduct your actions a little bit. 

As you breach the pillars of trees and are finally surrounded once again by their pinched faces and gangly limbs, you search for both Taehyun and Yeonjun. You see neither, and so you make your way to the tables to seek snacks. You scour them for something sweet to chew over as you wait for him to appear. He’d said he’d be coming around this time, right? You surely hadn’t mistaken the time he’d told you? 

Beomgyu speaks from beside you, observing a hag that loiters nearby. “Is he not here?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you say, “He’ll be here soon.”  

You watch the hag inching closer, bent over with age; though, you assume that’s she’s been old for the entirety of her life. Her pointed ears droop from her thin tresses of silver, cuffed with gold.  

Turning from her, you gesture over the cavorting crowds, more frantically chasing their merriments than ever before. The solstice arrives tomorrow; they welcome its presence with their excitement. “This is all for the solstice?” 

He offers you an affirmative nod. “Just some excuse to entertain themselves like this,” he explains, “the solstice will arrive whether they encourage its coming or not. I believe that they just enjoy this debauchery too much.” His hollow eyes rake over the throngs. “Anyway, many of them are just here because it’s the only time that they’ll see Court. Otherwise, only the gentry gather here.” 

“What makes you any different than them?” you ask. “What makes you so averse to offering your allegiance to the High Courts? Would it not be nice to have their protection, and to keep them off your back?” You seek Yeonjun once more in the crowds, but still, he doesn’t appear. “You know, so they don’t call you in for things like eating too much?” 

“I do not surrender my sovereignty to any. Come they to my doorstep and demand that I do, I could not care. I’m content with the way I make my life.”  

His refusal to do just that must be why Taehyun’s father had come to claim his life. You’re sure that it’s also why the coming of the General’s son to steal his autonomy must’ve made him so angry. You don’t blame him.  

Why would The Queen demand fealty from the solitary folk? You’d thought that, like the High King, she’d leave them to their forests. If they’re all as adamant as Beomgyu, it seems like a lost cause. 

“Well,” you say, “I’m glad that—” 

A gnarled hand, fingers knobbed against your skin and skin about as soft as tree bark, tugs your arm. You spin to find who owns it.  

The hag’s eyes remind you of Beomgyu’s, piercing and dull with the weight of a long life. Though, hers are much more unsightly than his mud-brown ones, saggy eyelids drooping over a pair of eyes with ink-black where the whites of her eyes should be. She pulls you toward her by your skirts.  

You tug yourself back, pinching your brows. “Who are you?” 

She points her clawed, grey hand out at you, bangles of gold and chunky beads jingling as she does. “You, girl,” the hag says, urgent. Her voice is harsh and it crackles as she speaks. She reaches inside of her furry robes and produces a wood trinket from it. In her palm that she shoves at you lays a bit of wood carved into the shape of a wolf, painted in black. Its shaggy black fur reminds you of the kind Taehyun would sometimes wear over his shoulder.  

“I don’t need that,” you say, rejecting her hand. Nothing in faerie comes for free—the hag just sees a human girl that she can offer free things to in hopes that you’ll know no better and take. Then, you’d be in her debt, and she’d demand something from you. You do know better, though. 

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head as she draws out the word. “You do, girl. Take it, take it. You need it, I know it. Take it, I won’t hold it to you, girl, just have it.” Razor teeth appear behind her curled lips. “It is dormant with me. But, in your hands... Take it.” She shakes her jousted hand out at you each time she demands that you take it. “It offers you protection. It would do no good in my possession. It beckons me to give it to you, its pleas are so loud—loud, loud, loud! Take it off my hand, won’t you?” 

Her urging unsettles you, but so do her words. You assume that it’s inlaid with some sort of protective enchantment. Why would you need protection? Although, she could also just be fooling you. She could be holding a perfectly plain hunk of carved wood in her palm for all you know. You shoot a look at Beomgyu. If she were any trouble, he’d tell you. 

He looks about as lost as you do, shrugging. 

“Oh, sakes!” the hag grumbles, clutching her robes to her body. She takes Beomgyu’s hands and places the thing there. “There. I have no reasons to be here fooling humans. Useless debts, what could you give me? Nothing I need.” She points a sturdy, twiggy finger at you. “Keep it on you, girl, else it won’t do its work.” 

With those final ill-boding words, the hag hobbles off, her curved back disappearing between the gaps in the crowd. 

“Here,” Beomgyu says, regarding the trinket with his observation. “That hag really wanted this to be yours, so I think it ought to be in your hands.” He tries pushing it off to you. 

Laughing, you don’t reach out to take it, darting his hand with your whole body. You hang your hands in the air. “I’m not taking that thing,” you say. “She handed it to you, so I really think it ought to be in your hands.” 

He deadpans. “I’ve just been collecting myself a heap of debts, haven’t I?” He closes it into his fist for his lack of pockets. “What’s this one to add?” 

“Does it... feel like it has anything bad on it?” you ask, remembering how he’d identified your geas. “Like a curse, or a bad enchantment, or something?” 

Shaking his head, he says, “No. I feel it does have a protective purpose, but the magic there is... odd. Hard for me to decipher. Probably that hag’s.”  

You purse your lips, nodding. Regardless, whatever protection that thing might have offered you, you’ll be fine without it. 

Shaking off the odd interaction, you resume perusing the snack platters in your wait. You skip over glazed pinecones. Those would be terrible on your human stomach and teeth. You can only imagine how they’d jab at your gums. You opt for a helping of braised fiddlehead ferns. Chewing on the furled thing, you entertain yourself with the revelers. Littler folk dart in and out of legs. Long-limbed gentryfolk with flowers in their hair spin with interlocked hands at the center of the clamor. Sharp-eyed faeries with even sharper mouths speak in clusters, no doubt scheming. In all its oddness, you’d missed it.  

 A silk-smooth voice steals your attention. “A kelpie?” Yeonjun says, regarding Beomgyu beside you. “Now, how did you manage to befriend a kelpie? Even better, how did you drag it here?” 

Your chest lights up. “Long story,” you say, brushing his curiosity off. “What took you so long?”  

He’s dressed in his Courtly best—cuffs made of ruffle and an array of rings decorating his fingers. They catch light as he brings his hand up to run a hand along the expanse of your collarbone. He hesitates to answer for a split second. “I ran into Kai on my way,” he explains. “He’s performing here today and for tomorrow's solstice.” 

Accepting his answer, you go to tell Beomgyu that you’re going off, but he’s not even there as you turn. He must’ve wandered off as Yeonjun had arrived. 

“Want to join them?” he asks, tilting his head toward the dancing bodies. Soft black strands drift over his eyes.  

Shaking your head, you offer him some of the sweets you’d been eyeing, knowing that he’s got a knack for sweets. “Not today. I think I want to remember all of tonight, and, well...” Memories of the way you’d danced uncontrollably until it’d fade to black lick at your mind. You want to revel in your return to normalcy fully, not with a buzzing mind. You can’t deny the allure of that tingling in your bones as you hear the faerie music, though. It curls a wild finger at you, beckoning. 

An uncomfortable look passes through his eyes, gone as fast as it had come. “All right, darling,” he hums, accepting the sweets. “Does the Lord know you’re here?” 

Lips tugging into a faint frown, you say, “Not yet, I think.” The quick expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Unlike the ice the Taehyun offers you, Yeonjun wears his feelings all over himself. It’s just one way that they are fundamentally different. “Is something wrong?” 

Yeonjun looks taken aback at your asking. “I’m doing just fine,” he says. “Why do you ask?” 

He does not say nothing wrong. You know it is because he cannot lie. You look him over. What had happened? And, why is he averse to telling you the truth? “Just thought you looked a bit upset.” You shrug. “Did you want to dance?” 

His nose crinkles with a laugh. “No, pretty. I’d be in your presence doing nothing and still be content.” He takes your hands into his, the metal on his fingers biting cold against your skin. “How about we go listen to Kai play?” 

He leads you to where the musicians work at concocting their works, claiming a chalice of some drink from a table on the way. Kai, of course, stands away from the rest, back to a tree while his fingers dance on the strings. You look around for Taehyun from here, but still, you don’t see his face. 

Yeonjun holds the chalice’s neck between his middle two fingers, sipping from it. “It’s nice to know that even as this season ends, I won’t be forced to go back there.” 

His pretty lips wrap over the edge of the chalice as he drinks from it. “Won’t your father know something is up when you don’t return?” 

Nodding slowly, he grimaces. “I suppose that time has finally come.” 

You squeeze his hand in yours. “We both sacrificed things to be here, huh?” you say. You don’t know a lot of what Yeonjun’s life back in his home court was like, but you know that it would be hard to revolt against your own family for anybody. Even for the prince of Faerie. 

He captures your eyes, his soft brown ones making crescents with his gentle smile. “We did,” he muses. 

“Remember our first night in Court?” you say. You’d been so uneasy, searching for a place to fit in. Then, from the crowds of overwhelming faces, he’d appeared, all charm and welcoming smiles. How couldn’t you have let your heart fall? 

Another flash of disconcertment, his smile faltering. He hides it behind another sip of his drink. Swallowing, he nods, laughing off-kilter. “I do. I think watching you dance that time was the best thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Odd, but you don’t push the issue. If he says that he’s fine, it must just be something to little effect. “What made you come up to me that night?” you say, remembering how confused you’d been when such a pretty gentry boy had taken interest in you. You’d agonized over why he’d done so for long, and sometimes you still, but you’ve made some peace with it by now.  

His lips are tight. “I... It’s hard to explain.” 

You accept that answer at face-value and let your head fall into his shoulder while you watch Kai dutifully work at his songmaking. Among those making the music for Court, his contributions stand out as the most enthralling. Faerie music is too elusive for you to decipher why, but perhaps it’s just his lazed passion. “I understand,” you say. His shoulder is tight and less cushy than you expect it to be. Looking up to him, you frown to see how he’s looking down at you, eyes stormy. He looks like he’s sick to his stomach. You go to ask if he’s going to be okay, but he speaks before you can. 

“Pretty, I... I have to tell you something.” He pulls you off of him to look into your eyes. He’s always been so steadfast and sure, but now his gaze wavers. “I’m so sorry.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. “What?” you say, a tingle in your spine telling you that something isn’t right; that you’re not going to like what he’s going to say. “Yeonjun, you’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?” 

You know it’s awful and you’re not sure why you do it, but for a split second, you inspect the hall for possible attackers. A terrible bout of potent adrenaline makes you want to run or cry. Beomgyu is here, right? 

He swallows hard, face a ghostly pallor. “I can’t keep doing this,” he says, voice trembling. “I need to tell you the truth, it’s... it’s been eating me alive. I can’t look into your sweet face and know...” 

Acid climbs up your throat. Your heart joins it, thick in your throat and choking you. “What? Know what Yeonjun?” you ask, lips trembling. Your skin prickles, hair raising. You may throw up. He looks stricken in place, not answering you. “What?” you demand. 

“I didn’t come up to you for no reason that day.” 

Your heart, still caught in your throat, bursts. It’s a horrifying, bloody affair. “No,” you say, shaking your head. You feel so removed from your body that you can almost envision how your blood-drained face might match his. 

“I knew that you were the spies the moment I saw you. It was....” He sucks in a breath. Your world spins around you as you wait. “I was supposed to determine who the spies were. I was supposed to have them killed, but pretty, I knew I couldn’t do that the moment I saw you. I thought it was just going to be some... some random faerie that I’d...” 

If your world was spinning before, it’s now flipped upside down and inverted. “No,” you repeat, a guttural plea that you know won’t change anything. It’s the only word that your mouth will make for right now, though. 

You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re frozen. 

Yeonjun grabs for your hands, but you rip yourself away from him, your glaring eyes so at odds with your wobbling lips. “It doesn’t change anything,” he says. “It doesn’t change how I love you now. You know I love you. You know I love you, right? I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I did my best to protect you. Please, I never wanted to hurt you,” he rambles, frantically grabbing for your arms as he falls down to his knees before you. 

A few faeries around you gasp, and a blur of their commotion forms around you. The crowned prince of Faerie just went to his knees. Your eyes dart wildly around their guffawing faces, and between a space you spot a familiar face: cold eyes and a cracked mask of indifference. He looks right at you. 

What on earth is going on? How is this life right now? You snap back to Yeonjun in front of you. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that, pretty,” he pleads. “Please.” His voice cracks, eyes frantic. “Slap me. Tell me you hate me for it. But please, don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.” 

Tears scald your cheeks. 

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask you that; I know, I know it—but please, I can’t handle it, love. I was never going to let anything happen to you, I knew it the moment I saw you. I felt it right here”—he gestures to his beating heart, the one your hand had felt and cherished so only last night—“I knew that no matter how big my ambitions were, they would never be bigger than that.” 

You can’t listen to any more. His words pour out onto your skin, but they all slip off like rain upon a beast’s winter pelt. None can penetrate the ringing in your ears. 

Yeonjun sees how retracted you’ve become. “Pretty, please,” he says, slower and more dire now. “Say something." 

You don’t know what to do. Your feet are rooted fast to the ground, but you know that you have to leave, or else you’ll start creating excuses for him. You know yourself too well to let that happen. 

Picking up your skirts, you manage only a few words to part him with. “Though your kind can’t lie,” you say, “you have been the biggest liar I have ever known. You said you loved me.” 

“I do,” he says, shaking his head, eyes twinkling. “I do.” 

Maybe love is a different thing to a faerie. 

You take off. He calls for you, but it’s muffled by the restlessness of the folk around you and the still-playing music. You dart between openings and bounce off bodies, lights and angry faces a blur in your frenzy. Most folk don’t spare you even a glance; nothing could pull them from their merriment. But others gawk at you like you put on a performance, greedy eyes drinking in any amount of fanfare. Their eyes itch under your skin. Crossing the expanse of the hall has never felt so arduous.  

You’ve become their spectacle. 

Breaking into the cold night air, you don’t run home or collapse to your knees in a sob. You hold your dress hard in your hands, the one he’d gifted you among so many others, its fabric bunching in your fists, and stand there as if frozen staring into the tree line ahead. You don’t move and you don’t think; both would remind you that this is real and that you are a fool. You just allow the bitter air to swaddle your skin. 

You don’t even know if you doubt that he loves you. You don’t even know if he actually never intended to hurt you. Had there been times where all you’d done was look at him with starry eyes, and he’d look at you deciding whether or not to have you killed? 

Why are you even here? There is nothing left for you. Whatever simple joys you thought you’d found, they’re gone. You’re so far away from home, and you’ve nobody to call home. You’d left behind your beginnings of a purpose, and now the only purpose you serve is to rot away in Taehyun’s estate because you demanded that you stay here. 

All that time you’d spent worrying, and still, you walked yourself into this. You’re a joke. And now, you’re fully serving your purpose as one—to be laughed at.

White breaths unfurl into the night air before you, floating off to join the snowflakes and heavy fog. You just watch those fluffy flakes fall for a while. 

Snow creaks under a few footsteps behind you, someone letting you know that they’re there. “You’ve gotten awfully good at sneaking around,” Taehyun says. 

You let your head fall back, sighing slowly out through your nose. Turning to him, you spit, “I understand. You were right. I got it, okay? I don’t need you to come here and rub it in.” 

Beomgyu approaches from behind Taehyun. 

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a bit, ice-hard eyes darting all over your face. “Take her back to the estate,” he tells Beomgyu. 

Glad to escape him, you begin your way on your own. You know that he’s only looking at your break down as pathetic. Perhaps it is, but recognizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Wind lapping at your wet cheeks have them stinging as you walk. 

Beomgyu awkwardly trails behind you as you follow the path that had become trodden in the time that you and Taehyun have been here, foliage and shrubbery broken down to make somewhat of a path. 

He doesn’t speak; you don’t expect him to. Instead, you break the quiet yourself, unable to stand only the sound of wind twirling between trees. “I should’ve taken that ridiculous charm thing,” you say, laughing through your tears. That hag had absolutely been able to feel what was coming with you with whatever intuition that the magic in her bones lends her. 

“But then,” Beomgyu says, “you wouldn’t know the truth.” 

That’s true. Not knowing the truth doesn’t make it untrue, but at least it spares your fragile heart. “I don’t know if I’d mind that,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it.” 

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. 

❆

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember climbing into your bed, dreading that you’ll be in your head all night, but to some mercy, you’d found sleep not long after that. 

You’d pulled yourself from bed, no matter how it had grown a gravitational pull and insisted that it’d hold you warm while you weep. If you hadn’t, you might not have gotten up at all. As a girl, you’d force yourself into the day’s routine when you had your worst days. It’s the only way that you live through it. You’d also made an effort to walk past your wardrobe. It carries so much of him: the lovely things he’d gifted you, his letters, and that book he’d lent you. It’s not that you don’t want any of these things; to wither away in your bed, to go through his things and wonder how someone who’d showered you so had meant to be your killer, to drag your feet... It’s that you can’t. 

You poke your needle through the fabric. On the cut of white fabric stretched inside the embroidery hoop, you’ve embroidered a dozen woven wheel stitch flowers of different colors and types. Your bottom aches against the hardwood flooring and your lower spine strains, but you don’t pay any mind to their complaining. You just continue to embroider the little flowers. Some are poppy, some rose, and some you’d made up just to have more to stitch. 

A knock resounds through the war room from the doorway. You look to see Taehyun there. He’s dressed in his Court attire. 

“You should get dressed,” he says. “It’s almost midnight. If you want to make it in time, you’ve got to get ready now.” 

Since when had he decided that you’re okay to go? It’s as if this elusive threat that’d he’d been so careful has up and disappeared. “You can go. It’ll take me too long to get ready.” 

Truth be told, you’d go sick seeing Yeonjun’s face, and you know without a doubt that you would. 

“It’s the solstice,” Taehyun says, stepping into the room. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

Despite how much you had wanted to see it, your heart is too apathetic for it to be worth anything now. Returning to the same faces that had seen your demonstration and no doubt now talk of it... You’d rather finish your fifth rose. “I know.” 

He hesitates, studying you while gears turn in his head. “Hadn’t you thought that something would happen on the solstice?” he says. “Come on. It’s worth seeing how this unfolds.” 

“Why? We aren’t spies anymore. I don’t care what happens in their conflict. It’s well beyond my control as a human here.” 

He grimaces, but you don’t recognize the look there to be anger, more a rigidness. He rests his hand on his sword as he always does. “Then we’ll stay here.” 

You furrow your brows. “Huh?” 

“We can celebrate the solstice here,” he elaborates. “We don’t need to do it there. Plenty of folk celebrate on their own.” 

It dawns upon you that this is his stilted attempt at comforting you. It’s the only way he knows how. You push off the ground. You couldn’t ignore this sliver, however little, of tenderness. You’re not sure if you’d ever see it again if you did. You’ll take anything to distract your mind, as well. You can’t escape the image of Yeonjun’s eyes as he’d pleaded with you from the ground. “I’m not sure Beomgyu will join us, though. He doesn’t believe in the need to celebrate the solstices.” 

“He will if I command it,” he says.  

“What, you’re going to command the poor kelpie to sit and watch a bonfire with us?” you say, imagining how he’d brood. 

The north is wickedly cold at all times, but it’s especially so after night falls. You shuffle closer to the bonfire that Taehyun had built. It’s multitudes smaller than the bonfire you’d sat around with Yeonjun, but it’s warm enough for just the two of you. You quickly shove down those tainted memories before they sting. A lump of emotion forms in your throat before you can, though. You clear it. “Is there anything special that you’re supposed to do?” 

Feeding one last log into the flame, he watches it catch. “We started this really early,” he says. “The fire is supposed to keep you warm and represent the sun’s warmth until sunrise...” He trails off, sliding the cuffs of his shirt that he’d slid up to his elbows to tend to the fire down and sucking in an awkward breath. He looks between the fire and you as though he’d not fully thought out his offer when he’d made it. 

You face your palms to the orange flame, letting the roiling waves of heat warm them. “It’s nice like this.” 

The flame sizzles and pops, spewing sparks and eating up the wood, for a few long moments. You’re not in a talky mood, and Taehyun doesn’t seem to know where to begin on conversation with you that isn't functional. No snow falls around you, and any wind is cut by the estate. This—a place to lose yourself to your mind—is both the thing you need and what you most should not have. 

Taehyun stands watching the fire twirling, his arms over his chest.  

“Is your shoulder healing fine?” you ask, once the air starts feeling a bit heavy with the weight of the prolonged quiet. “Are my stitches holding up fine? No infection, or anything?” 

His gaze flicks up to you. “You stitched it up pretty well,” he answers. “I saw the flowers you were making. You’ve got a good hand.” 

Frowning, you say, “You didn’t say it’s not infected...” 

“It’s not infected,” he says. 

That could be a lie or the truth, you know. But... this sort of deception, you’re more comfortable with. Your human mind can pick up on these subtleties, can catch the careful intonation of somebody trying to hide something behind a lie. “Could I see it?” you ask him. 

He hesitates, expression flat as his eyes convey the extent of his consideration. “You can.” He grabs at his tunic, the fabric the only thing his frost blood even needs to wear out in the cold, and pulls it over his head. 

You swallow hard and fight the flush to your cheeks at the sight of his scar-flecked flesh, his muscled abdomen disappearing as he turns around to show you his back. When you’d last seen his bare skin, you’d been so high on your fear and adrenaline that you’d barely flinched.  

Blinking, you focus on the arrow puncture at his shoulder blade. It’s done some healing, but tinged by an angry red and visibly swollen around the stitches. You curse. 

Of course, he’d rather let his shoulder rot away than admit that he needs any more of your help than he’d been forced to allow. That would require admitting that he’s not just an impenetrable wall of ice. “That is definitely infected,” you say. “Were you just going to let that kill you? Infections like that are beyond help once they get in your bloodstream.” 

“I’ve had infected wounds before,” he says, preparing to put his shirt back on. “This one is nothing. It’ll take a bit longer, but... It’ll heal up fine.” 

You grab his arm. “Just let me clean it a bit,” you insist. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’re not scared that it’s gonna hurt, are you?” 

Sighing, Taehyun says, “I thought you wanted to enjoy the solstice.” 

The hopeful girl you’d been had wanted that, but now it’s just a reminder of everything you don’t want to remember. You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “We did. Come on.” 

You find a bucket to fill with water and cloth along with some stash of ancient spirits in the kitchens, their containers lined with a layer of dust so thick that you know they’re left over from Taehyun’s father. He watches you gather it all. 

You beckon him to turn and show you his shoulder again. He does, bracing his arms on a counter and letting his head hang. You spill out some of that strong liquor into the wound. You’re not really sure if it’ll work as a disinfectant, but as a girl you’d seen an older woman pour it over her wound once, and it’s all you know. 

Gently dabbing at his shoulder now with the water-soaked rag, swollen except for where the stitches sinch it, you say, “You should’ve been going gentle on this thing.” 

Taehyun doesn’t make any fuss as you prod at the wound. “I had more important things to concern myself with,” he says plainly. You press the wet rag to the wound and hold it there, and he begins to try and redirect the conversation to anything other than about himself. “What did the prince say to you at Court?” 

Your stomach drops. “It was nothing.” 

“I know that’s not the truth,” he says, picking up his head to try and look over his shoulder at you. “Tell me the truth.” 

You take the long, torn strips of cloth and begin wrapping it around the expanse of his broad shoulders in a sloppy and amateurish wrap. As long as it shields the wound, it’ll work. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “There’s plenty that you lie to me about. You even lied about this.” You tap his shoulder. 

Turning now that you’re done, Taehyun eyes you. You don’t know if he’d been able to hear anything over the sounds of Court or if he’d heard it all with his better hearing ears. You can’t tell which it is.  

“I’ll hear it from some Court gossiper anyway. I think you’d prefer to tell me it yourself.” 

The thought of that scene being a topic of Court gossip makes you ill, but you know that it’s true. The folk love the show, especially one that includes a prince of Faerie on his knees in front of a human. Red-hot embarrassment takes a leisurely stroll up your spine. Your biggest fear has taken flesh in the cruelest way possible.  

Well, if he’s going to end up knowing anyway... You’d prefer it’s from your mouth. You don’t know what sort of conflated half-truths the folk might come up with, since they have no more idea what happened than what they saw. “He was supposed to kill us,” you say, chest too tight to explain it in any depth. “Or, at least, find out who we are, so that we could be killed.” 

Taehyun doesn’t look shocked. He nods. “So, they anticipated our arrival, then. The odds had been stacked against us from the beginning.” 

You nod. Would you have been able to escape? If things had never become entangled between you and Yeonjun, would you and Taehyun lived beyond the first day? Taehyun is strong and you know that he’s no doubt survived plenty in his life, but you’d have been caught completely unaware. “Yeah.” 

“I told you that he’d show you his colors eventually.” 

You want to fight him on that, but you can’t. You have nothing to say. He’d been right. 

What’s left for you now that he has?  

…🪶 ashlynn's note RAHHH! like i said, this part gave me a bit of grief because part 3 was left so open ended—i had so many options and paths i could follow, but ultimately, i chose this one! how do we feel?

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[tiredandoptimistic]

I am forever haunted by Nate and Tessa's fucked up and terrible sibling dynamic. Maybe it's just because I related to Tessa too hard when I was twelve and heard "this is her older sibling who's the coolest person in the world and reuniting with him is her number one priority" and went "yup, makes sense!" but his betrayal is genuinely one of the defining aspects of TID to me.

Sibling relationships are such an underexplored way to fuck somebody up in fiction, in my opinion. Nate has been the one constant in Tessa's life, and no matter how aware she was of his flaws that could never overrule the fact that he's her person. She trusts him on a fundamental level that she just can't experience with anyone else, and part of it is because of how fleeting all her other relationships have been, but a lot of it is just the fact that he's her brother and she's loved him for as long as she's been alive. More than that, she idolizes him. Her entire life crumbles around her when Aunt Harriet dies and she ends up held hostage by the Dark Sisters, but Nate is still there and perfect in her mind. He's her anchor when everything else goes insane; if she can just find her brother then things will be okay again. She's more able to handle her world being shattered by learning about the supernatural because all that magic shit is secondary to the fact that she needs to save Nate.

And then of course she does save him and he turns around to betray her. And again, it hits harder than any other betrayal possibly could because he's more important to her than anyone else could possibly be. By this point she's built up bonds with Will and Jem and the other people at the Institute, and eventually they all become woven into her being, but not when she's sixteen and has known them for a week.

Looking at it from Nate's perspective, the thing that's always fucks me up is the way he tries to convince himself that he sees Tessa as a monster. He's genuinely just a shitty enough person that he set his sister up to be a child bride for a mass murderer because of the payout, but he can't handle thinking of it that way so he clings to this idea that Tessa isn't really his sister, isn't really human. And while yes, that's biologically true (they're not even technically related to each other), it doesn't change the fact that they're siblings in every way that matters. She'll always be his little Tessie, even if he doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want to let himself be the villain in this situation. He does the same thing with Harriet, arguing that she deserved to die because of all her lies because otherwise he would need to admit that he killed his mother out of pure selfishness.

Nate isn't the most evil guy in the world, but he is greedy and allergic to principles. It's so much worse than if he never loved Tessa, because he does love her till the very end and that love just isn't enough to override the allure of wealth and power. That's always the most painful type of relationship to me; the one where a person has just enough good to make it impossible to unequivicobly hate them.

Maybe Will could just write Nate off as a terrible person, but Tessa will always know every detail of his best and kindest moments. I have to believe that he haunts Tessa for the rest of her immortal existence, this knowledge that the person who made her life worth living for the first sixteen years was the one to sell her out. All the pain in the world isn't enough to erase that bond; she'll always have to live with the memory of him dying in her arms, the knowledge that his goodness and love was just as genuine as his duplicity.

Yeah this ended up being a lot longer than I intended, I just have a lot of feelings about the Gray siblings. Nate wasn't a part of the world where Tessa eventually found a home, she'll never have anyone else who understands the knot of emotions surrounding him. She can get sympathy but never empathy. Yes the rest of the TID crew are aware of him, but they barely met him and she outlived all of them too. Nate's so lost in her past, I bet that most people don't even realize that she used to have a brother, that she grew up as a sister, as half of a set. She carries the Gray name forward through her immortal life, and nobody else knows about the family that used to share it. She's still got Jem and Magnus who have been her friends since she was a teenager, who keep the memory of Will and the others alive; but no one else was there for her childhood.

I'm not quite sure how to end this, I'm just feeling emotions about Tessa Gray on this fine Tuesday and felt like sharing them.

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)

Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.

While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.

CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut

To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess

Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂

*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me

*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!

You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.

You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.

You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.

It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.

A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.

A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.

For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.

Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.

Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.

“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”

You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.

Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.

You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.

You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.

You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.

You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.

Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.

He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.

He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.

The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.

Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.

They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.

Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.

When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”

Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.

The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.

Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”

Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.

“Sick? For how long?”

Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”

“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”

“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.

Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.

Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?

Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.

“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.

Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.

Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.

Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.

If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.

Shadowheart be damned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!

You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.

You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.

You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-

“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”

“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”

“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”

Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.

“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.

You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.

Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?

Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.

Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.

It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.

You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.

“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”

“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”

Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.

“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”

“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”

Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!

Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”

“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”

“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.

Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”

“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”

“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”

Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.

You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”

Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.

You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.

“A girl?”

His question breaks the air.

“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”

“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.

A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.

“You don’t want to be involved?”

Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.

“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”

You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”

His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.

“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”

You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.

“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”

Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.

“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”

Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.

You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.

Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”

“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”

“What wish?”

It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

“Right… that.”

The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.

“Astarion-“

“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”

You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.

“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”

You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.

“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”

You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.

Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”

Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.

“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”

“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”

[im-not-your-nice-jewish-boy]

we've got long memories

I am not the least bit surprised by any of the tidal wave of antisemitism the left has spewed since October 7th. Every single post saying Hamas did nothing wrong; every single targeted attack on my fellow Jewish people on this site; the number of people who proudly paraded misinformation and disinformation to the extent of funding organizations actual Palestinians have said outright don't help them in any way just because it's against Israel which means that it must be good. None of this is surprising to me.

Now, maybe you could say that I'm a cynical bastard, and you'd be right. But you'd also completely be missing why I'm a cynical bastard. I learned this from my mother, who was beaten up just for being Jewish as a child. I learned this from family who disappeared between my ancestors fleeing the countries they came from and looking to see who made it with them. I learned this from the story of one of my grandfathers picking a new birthday because his birth certificate had been burned when the Shul was destroyed so he had no idea when it was. I learned this from people using "Jewish" as an insult in school and watching a girl I knew break down in tears because people were calling her a Jew when she wasn't. I learned this from holiday after holiday that repeated the same verse of people trying to destroy us and us celebrating our survival.

We remember these things because the rest of the world is very good at deliberately forgetting them.

"It's not that bad because it happened to the Jews. It's not an actual problem because Jews are white anyway. Was the Holocaust really even so terrible? Why do you want to be oppressed so badly if not to use it as a weapon against people who you're oppressing yourselves?"

Some variety of every single one of those is something I've seen in recent memory.

So, dear Passionate Goy Internet Leftists who have spent the last few months attacking and accosting every single Jewish person who dares to speak on the issue in any way that doesn't make them a Good Jew?

My dear friend, just know that we will remember you. You can try to go back to normal. You can try to just sweep it under the rug. You can try to act like it was all just business as usual and there was no harm done to any "Good Jews" and just to the "Evil Zionists" (both of which deserve their own rant post and have multiple of them from people a lot smarter than I am).

We will remember what you did

You will never be able to make us forget you calling for our deaths

And most of all, we will outlive you, just like everyone else who ever bayed for our blood