#make sure to tell me about it !!! I love hearing them

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I'm so happy that you're inbox is open! I love your fics 💜

I have a few ideas for request but I don't want to overwhelm your inbox 😅

I thought about Eddie x fem reader where reader is not into PDA and all of Eddie's friends are telling him that reader is not into him and he should let her go. They don't believe Eddie saying the reader is crazy about him like he is about her.

She cares about him, help him with homework and even put his socks on when he's napping during movie night. Eddie's friends think that he sees her through rose colored glasses.

But one time Gareth or someone else saw how she threatened cheerleader that was telling shit about Eddie.

Or other time Gareth came to trailer park because Eddie had a cold and he was shocked when he saw reader taking care of Eddie.

Thank you for you time!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

No PDA

Eddie found himself in a new relationship with Y/N, she was a cheerleader and popular. Their relationship was a shock to everyone and Eddie's friends were skeptical.

Gareth was suspicious from the start. To him, it was weird that Eddie and Y/N didn't act like a couple. They have been together for a few months and Gareth had never seen them do anything more than talking. He didn't think he had ever seen them hold hands or kiss, they looked like friends.

He had talked to Eddie about it many times but Eddie always said that Y/N was crazy about him and there was nothing to be worried about. Gareth wasn't sure if he could believe that without seeing it with his own eyes.

Eddie knew Y/N loved him. It was obvious in the way she took care of him. She wasn't much for public display of affection and Eddie was cool with that. He felt loved by her in different ways. She stayed late to help him with homework, bought his favorite snacks at the store, and always let him pick the movie for date night.

~~~

Gareth was walking down the hallway when he heard the sound of arguing. He looked around the corner and saw Y/N and another cheerleader getting into each other's faces.

"Keep his name out of your mouth. I'm not going to let you talk shit about my boyfriend. If I hear you say anything about him again, I'll get your ass kicked off the team."

Gareth watched as the other stomped and walked away, Y/N looked proud of herself as she walked in the other direction.

Well, Gareth had to give her a point there.

~~~

Eddie came down with a bad cold so he couldn't go to school. Gareth, as his best friend, collected all his homework and planned to drop it off. He stopped at the store for medicine and soup, just in case Wayne was too busy to grab some.

Gareth was confused when he saw another car parked in front of the trailer. He carried the bag of groceries and endless homework. He knocked on the door and called out for Eddie.

But Eddie didn't answer the door, it was Y/N.

"Hey Gareth, come on in," she said, a polite smile on her face

"What are you doing here?" Gareth asked, setting down the groceries on the table

"Taking care of Eddie," she laughed, "Homework and food?" she asked as she began to take out the food from the bags

"Uh yeah, I wasn't sure if Wayne would be able to take care of him," Gareth explained

"Yeah, he's at work, thank you for grabbing all of this. He's in his bedroom if you want to see him."

Gareth nodded, watching as she began to make soup on the stove. He walked towards to Eddie's bedroom, shocked to see how clean it was.

"I don't think I've ever seen your room so clean," Gareth said in awe as he walked in

Eddie tried to laugh but it came out as a harsh cough, "Yeah, Y/N cleaned while I slept."

"I brought you your homework and some soup," Gareth said as he put the books on Eddie's bed

"Thanks, man," Eddie said through sniffles.

"So how long has Y/N been here?" Gareth asked, standing near the door so he didn't catch anything.

"All day, once I told her I was sick she drove over here and has been taking care of me all day. Even put my socks in the dryer so they can be warm!" Eddie gushed, wiggling his toes in his warm socks.

"So she uh, really takes care of you, huh?" Gareth asked

"I told you, she cares about me and loves me. She prefers to do it in private," Eddie said, "and other things in private," he added as he wiggled his eyebrows

"Eddie, don't be a perv," Y/N said as she walked through the door with a bowl of hot soup

Eddie rolled his eyes but happily took the bowl of soup. He sat up as she set the bowl in his hands.

Gareth watched as Eddie ate his soup, and Y/N pushed back his hair to feel his forehead.

Maybe he should have believed Eddie in the first place

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[hoshifighting]

hi! i absolutely love your work ❤️ i binged all of your reaction scenarios in a day- your writting is absolutely amazing.

anyway- i wanted to put in a request if that's ok 🥹

how do you think hoshi would be as a dom/hard dom hehe 🫠

how hoshi would be as a hard dom WARNINGS: smut, penetrative sex, kneeling, humiliation, chocking, biting, hard dom dynamics, sub/brat dynamics.

when hoshi’s in charge, i think there’s no softness in him. no hesitation. you see it in his eyes the second the switch flips—how they darken, how he looks at you like you’re a toy, something to play with, break, and put back together. it always starts with a challenge. a look, maybe a smirk you give him because you think it’ll be fun to rile him up. but hoshi isn’t someone you can push around, not when he’s like this, you know his rage problemsss. when you test him, all you do is set yourself up for what’s coming next.

“you think you can handle me?” he’ll say, amused. it’s a warning, one you always ignore, and before you know it, he’s got you pinned up against a wall, his hand around your throat. he doesn’t squeeze right away, just enough pressure to make you aware of how easily he could. his lips ghost over your ear as he whispers, “you wanted this. now you’re gonna take it.”

hoshi doesn’t waste time. there’s nothing slow or gentle about the way he pulls your clothes off, ripping them if you’re too slow, making you stand there naked in front of him while he stays fully dressed. the control he has is intoxicating, and it makes you feel small, weak, in the best way. he’ll make you kneel, his hand still gripping the back of your neck, pushing you down. “look at you,” he’ll say, “on your knees already. tsk!! pathetic.” and then, without warning, he’ll slap your ass, hard enough to make you yelp. “you like being treated like this, yea?” he growls, and the sting of his palm still lingers as he pulls you up by your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes. “answer me.”

“yes,” you whisper, and that’s all he needs to hear before he’s got you bent over whatever surface is closest—a table, the bed, the floor, the sink, the kitchen counter, the balcony, doesn’t matter to him. hoshi’s rough. there’s no easing into it, no slow teasing. he’ll push your legs apart, fingers digging into your thighs, and when he fucks you, it’s hard, fast, relentless.

he’ll keep a hand around your throat or pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, making sure you can’t move. and he talks, too—filthy, degrading, words spilling from his mouth like he’s been holding them in alllll day. “fuck, you’re so tight. you gonna come already? after all that attitude?”he’ll slap your ass again, leaving red handprints, then spread you open wider, making sure you feel every inch of him. and when you start to moan, when you can’t hold back anymore, he laughs, low and dark. “so fucking loud,” he’ll say, “you want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are, huh?”

he doesn’t stop until you’re begging, tears in your eyes, body trembling. and even then, he’ll pull out just to make you beg harder, make you tell him how much you need it. “say it,” he commands, fingers digging into your skin. “tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.”

and when you do—when you give him exactly what he wants—he’ll pull you close, biting down on your shoulder, leaving marks that’ll last for days. he’ll take you harder than before, until you can’t even form words, only sobbing into the sheets, legs shaking, body spent.and when he’s finished, when he’s finally had his fill, he’ll collapse next to you, chest heaving, a satisfied smirk on his face. he won’t say anything at first, just watch you catch your breath, maybe brush the hair out of your face.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

To Call You Mine

Chapter 12

Authors note: Getting back into the swing of things! I hope lol, enjoy the update!

Word count: 4738

Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist TCYM Masterlist

Nat walks into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror by the closet. You've already got your black suit pants on and your suit jacket is lying on the bed with your tie. She watches for a few moments while you work on buttoning up your gray dress shirt and you quirk a brow at her in the reflection.

“See something you like, Omega?” you tease

She smirks at you before taking a few steps forward, “Oh I most certainly do, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to seeing you in your security uniform again”

You turn around and look into her eyes, “Oh, is that so?”

“Mhm, what can I say? I’m a sucker for a girl in uniform”

Right now you want nothing more than to smash your lips against your mates and spend the rest of the evening and well into the night worshiping her. But you're getting dressed up for a reason, and that reason prevents you from doing anything

“Damn Tony Stark and his stupid galas”

Nat chuckles, “Don’t worry lyubov'(love), we’ll have time to do whatever it is you're thinking about this weekend”

“I’ll hold you to that, Natty” you tell her, sending a wink her way

Her cheeks turn the adorable shade of pink that you've come to love, “How about you hold me?”

You chuckle at her, but indulge her and wrap your arms around her, careful to situate her bump appropriately, “You alright?”

“Mhm” she mumbles against your neck, “Just going to miss you tonight”

“I’ll miss you too detka(baby), but I should be home before you know it with Yelena and Kate here to keep you company”

She chuckles a bit, “I know they're going to be here to make sure Dima and I stay safe, but I honestly think I’m the one watching them tonight”

“Well, Clint can’t keep them out of trouble all the time” you joke earning a smile

“Oh don’t I know it, especially because he encourages them”

Just then the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of the two being talked about. Nat pulls herself away from you and you watch her head out of the room before going back to getting ready. Down the hall you can hear the excited voices of your mates sister and her friend as they greet her, and soon the voices get even more excited as they walk into the living room and spot Dima.

Your pup was equally as excited as you could hear him cooing and repeatedly asking for his Aunt Lena to pick him up. You assume she must do so as soon his giggles are echoing around the house along with a few of Kates. Your mate takes this moment to slip away from them and back to you.

“You ready lyubov'(love)? After work traffic will be pretty heavy right now, don’t want you to be late.”

“Yeah, just gotta get my shoes on” you assure her with a smile

She smiles back before a slight pout overtakes her features, “I’ll miss you tonight”

“I’ll miss you too, my Omega” you tell her as you make your way over to her, “I shouldn’t be home too late though since this is a benefactor party. Midnight at the latest”

“But I suppose you’ll tell me not to wait up”

“I think I’ve become too predictable with you.” you chuckle, “True I’d prefer you to get your rest, especially since your carrying two little ones- ”

“Shhh” she cuts you off, “if Yelena finds out through your big mouth instead of from me later, I’ll make you take the couch tonight”

“Okay okay, geez.” you laugh, “My point was, yes I’d like you to sleep as much as possible. But I know you don’t sleep well without me and I also know that with those two goofballs out there that a late night is most likely going to happen”

Nat smiles again, “Well, you can at least take comfort in the fact that Dima will be going to sleep at his usual time”

You laugh again, “Oh good, at least he’ll be getting his rest”

She giggles and you finally wrap your arms around her. She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck as she wraps her arms around you in return, and a soft purr escapes her as your hand comes to rest on her belly. The two of you take a moment to just enjoy each other's embrace, letting the sound of her purrs fill the space.

After a few minutes you reluctantly pull back from her, “I should get going love”

“Drive safe, and have a good night” she tells you before leaning in for a kiss

You of course indulge her in this and kiss her back before you both head out to the living room. You exchange quick greetings with the two Betas and thank them for coming to spend time with your Omega while you have to work, and then you make your way over to the pup. You affectionately ruffle his hair and kiss his forehead as you say goodbye to him and though there's no need to as he's always been well behaved, you remind him to be good for his Mama.

Your mate walks with you as you head to the garage and the two of you share in another quick hug and kiss, “I’ll see you later baby, have fun with your sister and don’t worry too much about me”

“I’ll try. Just text me when you get there and when you're leaving for home, please”

You nod, “Of course my Omega”

And with that you hop in your car and pull out of the driveway. Natasha watches the garage door shut before she returns to the living room, where she finds her sister bouncing Dima on her lap while Kate is indulging Liho in her attention seeking by playing with one of her toys with her. Nat can’t help but chuckle as she joins them on the couch

“Setra(sister), how are you feeling?” Yelena asks, shifting her focus but still bouncing the pup

“I’m good all things considered, this pregnancy hasn’t been as rough as Dimas was. At least so far. I’ve had morning sickness a few times and I of course have the normal body aches and pains but Y/n is really good at keeping everything I need to ease those nearby”

“That's good! I’m glad your Alpha is caring for you well!” Kate exclaims, and Yelena nods in agreement, “Have you guys gone to find out what you're having yet?”

Natasha can’t help the wide smile that breaks out across her face, and one matching it shows up on Yelena's face, “ Well come on, tell us!”

“We’re having two pups, both girls!”

“Oh setra(sister), that's wonderful!” Yelena exclaims, wrapping her one arm around her as the other secures Dima, “And did your Alpha like this news?”

“She's just as excited as I am, If not more” Nat laughs, “I’ve had to help her calm down a few times while we’re putting together their nursery in our room. She doesn’t read the instructions properly in her excitement”

“Sounds just like what I witnessed with Clint when Laura was with Nathaniel” Kate laughs

“Might be worse” Nat admits, “Because this is Y/ns first time getting to care for me and prepare for pups with me”

Yelena gives her a soft look, “I've never seen you so happy”

“Well, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Dima and I are safe here with Y/n as our Alpha, and she's so good to us. She's everything I knew she would be, and more. She gave us little Liho and now we’re growing our family” she states, rubbing her belly, “I couldn’t ask for a better mate, or a better life”

“I’m glad you got this sestra(sister), I truly am. Seeing you so happy, thrills me”

Kate nods in agreement, “It's good to see you smile again.”

“Thank you both. Now then, I can hear my boys tummy growling. Lets get dinner started, shall we?”

“Okay, but you are letting Kate Bishop and I do most of the work. You just tell us what needs done”

As your mate begins to prepare dinner with the two Betas you are still on your way to the city. The drive isn’t too long, but you do feel a bit restless. Likely because this will be the longest you've been apart from your mate and pup. The knowledge that her sister and friend are there with them does at least bring you comfort, as you know she's safe. But still the anxiety of being apart from them remains. You decide to turn the radio on in the hopes that it either calms you or distracts you. It seems to work, for now at least, and you drive on with a sense of ease.

But outside your house, there is indeed a reason for this anxiety to linger. Because parked just down the street from where your mate currently cooks with the Betas sits a car. And in that car is a very familiar and unwelcome Alpha along with two Alpha friends of his.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna just grab him tonight? I mean we watched the Alpha leave, and two Betas aren't a threat at all.” the Alpha in the front passenger seat says

“For the final time, yes I am sure.” Bruce answers, his grip on the steering wheel tightening

“But why?” the other Alpha in the backseat questions, “Isn’t your Omega in there?”

Bruce growls, “That bitch has me so angry right now that if I saw her, I’m likely to snap. And while I’d love to snuff the life out of her beloved new mate, that's not a fate I want for Natasha.”

It falls silent for a while before one of the Alphas speaks up again, “So we just watch then?”

“Yes, we learn their routines. And we wait.” Bruce continues, “As soon as Y/n leaves this house with my son, she's as good as dead and Dima is as good as mine again.”

The car continues to sit there for a while but does eventually pull away and leave, coincidently around the same time you had texted your mate about your arrival at Stark Industries. You're now in the employee elevator heading on up to the floor the party is being held on. As soon as the doors open you spot Tony, wearing his signature shades even though he's indoors. He spots you too

“Y/n!! Good to see you!!” he shouts, causing Pepper, the chef, Happy, and a few of the other security members to look your way

“Hey Tony!” you greet with a wave and make your way over to him, “How many are we expecting tonight?”

His face scrunches up in thought, “Well I had a couple hundred invites sent out, but they all included an additional plus one, so really, could be a hundred could be triple that!”

“Oh, wonderful” you mutter, graciously taking the tablet Pepper passes to you

“This is a layout of knights event, Happy already added his suggestions on where tonights additionally security should be placed, you just have to sign off on it”

“Okay great. I’ll look it over.” you assure them, “Are there any guests we know of that will for sure be here that we need to keep an eye on?”

“Just Justin Hammer, as usual” Tony says, “Keep him away from any of my tech. That includes computers and tablets. As usual.”

You nod, “Right. Let me just look this over then and we can get everyone in place before the first guest arrives”

“Wonderful”

A few hours later and the gala event is in full swing. The floor is now filled with rich and well off guests who are mingling and drinking while a live band plays off in the one corner. Servers have been rushing around all night to provide everyone with enough drinks and the bar alone was not meant to handle this sheer number of people, and hors d’oeuvres have been flowing out of the kitchen at a steady pace.

Thankfully it's been business as usual and nothing out of place or suspicious has occurred. You're still on alert though as it is quite literally your job to be, but you must admit that you do still have lingering anxiety about your family. You're able to push past it though, and focus on the crowd before you.

Back at home your Omega has just finished tucking Dima into bed and is now preparing to watch a movie with the two Betas. Kate has a large bowl of popcorn on her lap while Yelena has some nachos.

“Where did you even get those?” the redhead asks with a chuckle

“I made sure to bring them!” Yelena exclaims, “I was in the mood for them tonight. There's still more out in my bag if you want some, or if Kate Bishop doesn’t share the popcorn”

“Hey, I can share!” she exclaims, “Besides the bag I made this from was from Nats pantry, If i didn’t share I’d be a terrible guest”

Yelena shrugs, “I just know how you are with snacks thats all”

“Oh? And how am I with snacks, Yelena?”

The blonde gulps as she tries to take her foot back out of her mouth and looks to her older sister for help. But the Omega has no plans on getting in the middle of this, “Well, I think it's time I go make myself some nachos”

Natasha can feel her sister's glare in her back as she walks out of the room and she chuckles when she sees Liho down by her feet, joining her on her trek to the kitchen. Once they reach the kitchen counter she stops to pet the adorable furball, who is quickly growing, before grabbing a plate for her nachos. By the time she got her plate ready and walks back into the room, whatever words that may have been spoken have already been exchanged and Nat has to bite her tongue to avoid teasing Yelena for looking like a kicked puppy or teasing Kate for looking so smug.

“Alright, what Bond film are we starting with?”

A few more hours and a few Bond films later Natasha can feel herself getting a bit antsy. Its growing later and is nearly the time she lays down for sleep, her body is growing tired but her mind is well aware of the lack of her Alphas presence.

“Why don’t you go get your blanket from your nest, that should have enough of Y/ns scent on it to comfort you” Kate offers, having smelled the slight discomfort coming off your Omega

“Yeah, good idea” she mumbles, getting up to go get it. While grabbing it she spots the two stuffies you'd bought her sitting in her nest as well and she finds herself reaching out for the lion one

When she returns and gets all snuggled up under the blanket neither Beta mention the stuffed animal that now sits on the Omegas lap getting cuddled against her, but she's aware of the small knowing smiles that appear on their faces.

Back at the Gala it's finally time for donations to be made, which means you and the rest of the guests will likely have to hear a few speeches from both Tony and the benefactors. Thankfully your boss was usually able to avoid being long winded, but the others weren’t as reliable.

As the third donator drones on you spot some unusual movement off to the side of the crowd. A young man seems to be slipping past everyone, making his way towards the front where the stage and Tony are. You aren’t alerted right away, as perhaps he was with the press and trying to get a better shot or something. But the longer you look at him, you find yourself unable to find any sort of press badge or even a camera

“All hands, be prepared. I have a fellow acting strange here on the right side of the crowd, moving up”

Your ear piece is full of other security members saying they understood followed by the ones closest to that region saying their eyes were on him and they were ready to move at your notice. Having not actually done anything yet and still being a ways away from Tony you tell them to just remain vigilant for now. But then he's lifting his suit off his chest with his left hand and his right makes a move to go into the space just created, as if he was reaching for something concealed.

“Move in now!” you order, quickly breaking away from your own position in order to form a barrier in his line of sight to Tony

As soon as your infront of him his eyes widen but he doesn’t have the time to do or say anything before your men are grabbing him and forcing him to the ground. The crowds attention is of course grabbed by this and their eyes all fall on the scene instead of what was happening at the front of the room.

“Nothing to worry about, please carry on!” you assure, sending your boss a thumbs up

He nods, “Well, I’m sure whatever my security just dealt with was riveting but please folks, let's get back to the matter at hand”

The gala goes back to its regular activities as you and a few men escort the now hancuffed man out of the room and to a small room where you can question him and hold him until you figure out if the police need to be notified.

Your men sit him down a bit harshly at the small table as you speak, “What the hell were you thinking out there?”

The man remains silent and his gaze shifts away from you and down to the floor. That was fine with you. He didn’t have to explain himself, you could simply search him and figure out what he had on him and piece together his motives. But as you reach for his suit he starts to squirm

“Hey, back off! You can’t touch me! I know my rights!”

“Then you're well aware that its within the law for a private security team to search you once your in custody to determine you have no weapons and pose no threat”

This proves to only upset him further however and without warning his leg shoots up and his foot hits you in the gut. The sound of all the air leaving your lungs fills the room as you stumble backwards a bit and without saying a word your men move to hold him down.

“Get off me! I said let go!”

You scoff at his behavior and again reach for his suit. You pull it back and reach inside, expecting to find a shoulder slung holster and pistol which is exactly what you find. You whistle as you pull the gun out

“My my, what have we here?” it's a rhetorical question, which you answer yourself while checking to be sure the safety is on before removing the magazine, “A Glock 17 huh, oh and look at that, you even had one in the chamber ready to fire. Boys sit tight here, I’m going to call in the police to deal with this guy”

After a few more hours, half of which was taken up by paperwork, police paperwork and an interview, the gala finally seems to be winding down. Majority of the guests are either making their way out or are currently grabbing their belongings to make their way out. And a sigh of relief slips past your lips. Tonight had been more daunting than you anticipated, especially with someone actually managing to get a firearm inside despite all measures taken. If you hadn’t spotted him, you're unsure how well his plan to shoot Tony would have gone and that makes a chill run through you.

But you had stopped him and that's what mattered. Now all that was on your mind was getting back home to your Omega. You wanted nothing more than to just get nice and cozy in her nest and hold her close. And this was apparently written on your face

“You know, you don’t have to come in for a while” Happy says as he comes to stand beside you, “I can handle the set up, and its easy enough to just email you plans to double check”

You ponder it for only a second, “No, this is my job Happy and I can handle it.”

“Kid, this job has a bit of danger to it, as we were reminded tonight, and you have a pregnant Omega at home. What would she think of the situation you just had to deal with?”

You sigh, “She’d probably panic”

“Right. And my guess is that she's already nervous enough when you just leave the house for groceries, let alone your job.” your silence on the matter proves his point and he continues, “Take some time off. Be there for her during the pregnancy and give her that piece of mind. At least until the pups are born, but hell id wait until they were a year if I were you”

“I can’t just take a year off from work!” you exclaim

“You won’t be taking it off, you’d just work remotely. Do everything from your home office instead of being the hands on guy here. And hey, if it works well for you, being a family Alpha now, you might just wanna make that a permanent position”

You think about what he's saying, and it does make sense. You have a family now, why put yourself in harm's way and stress your mate out by doing so. And why stress you both out by being apart from her when you really didn’t need to be

“Yeah, you're right. I’ll talk to Tony about it before I head home tonight. Thanks Happy”

“Anytime kid”

Finally you're pulling into your own driveway. It's an hour later than you had told your mate to expect you, but you know Nat won’t hold that against you. Especially when Tonys parties are known to be long.

You're greeted by Liho as you enter the house and quickly reach down to pet her, “Missed you too little one”

You can still hear a movie playing in the living room, which puzzles you a bit as you hadn’t gotten a response from your mate when you said you were on your way home so you had expected to find everyone in bed. You stop petting Liho, much to her displeasure, and make your way further into the house. There's no sound to indicate that anyone is even home, let alone watching the film and you honestly start to worry a bit. But that all goes away once you actually enter the living room, and a soft smile spreads across your features as you take in the scene before you.

A Bond movie is still playing on the tv but all three of the women that had once been watching it are now fast asleep on the couch. Yelena is in between your mate and Kate, who both have their heads resting on the blonds shoulders, and Nat is all wrapped up in your blanket from her nest. She even has her lion stuffie cuddled up against her chest. You can’t imagine how hard you being away from home must have been for her considering how hard it was for you tonight.

You take a moment to just watch the three before you reach out to cup Nats cheek, “lyubov'(love), I’m home”

Her eyes slowly open and she looks at you in the most adorable groggy way, “Alpha?”

“Hi baby”

She smiles and reaches out for you, “Missed you”

“Missed you too” you reply, instantly wrapping your arms around her, “Why don’t we get you into your nest”

She hums in agreement so you shift your hold on her, one arm bracing her back as the other slides under her legs. You lift her with ease and she wraps the blanket closer as she snuggles into you. You both continue down the hall in a comforting silence, but when you attempt to set her down in the nest alone she looks at you quizzically

“You’re joining me, right?”

You chuckle, “I will be. I just gotta make sure your sister and Kate make it up to the spare room. And I’ve also gotta get out of this suit”

“Okay” she huffs, “Just don’t take too long”

“I won’t, love. But go to sleep if you need to, don’t wait on me” you tell her as you slip back out of the room

You head back down the hall and into the living room to find a groggy Yelena looking at you, “Y/n?”

“Hey Lena”

She blinks away some of her sleepiness, “What time is it?”

“Time for you and Kate to head upstairs and crash in the guest room” you reply, making her chuckle

“Yeah, okay. Go ahead off to bed with my sister, I’ll take care of sleepy head” You nod and turn to leave but halfway down the hall you have to hold back laughter as you hear the sound of a pillow hitting something followed by Yelena whisper shouting, “Kate Bishop! Up!”

Now back in your room you find your mate checking in on your pup via the monitor, but her attention quickly shifts to you, “Dimas still in a deep sleep”

“Good, because sending those two up near him may bite us in the ass otherwise”

She chuckles and watches you fondly as you change out of your work clothes and into your pajamas, “How was the gala?”

“It went well. I think he earned more than double what he asked for in donations. It will be nice to see what internship programs he builds with the funds and what charities he’ll donate to” You answer, finally climbing into the nest behind her

Her own hand covers yours as it comes to rest on the swell of her belly, “No security concerns?”

You let out a sigh, knowing you had to tell her, “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you seeing it on the news tomorrow and panicking”

She stiffens slightly, and her grasp on your hand tightens, “What happened?”

“There was a guy acting suspicious and heading towards Tony. I stopped him and my men detained him. He had a gun. Was probably planning on shooting Tony on stage” She immediately turns around to face you and her hands cup your face. You can instantly sense her mild distress and do your best to soothe her, “Nothing bad happened though, I’m okay. Everyone is”

“You could have been shot” she says, her voice a mere whisper

“But I wasn’t”

“But you could have been” she stresses, “It could have gone differently and you could have gotten really hurt, and I could have…could have lost you”

“Omega…” you croon as your thumbs delicately wipe her tears away, “Things could have gone differently, yes. But they didn’t. I made it home safe and I’m here with you right now. Focus on that”

“How can I when you have to go back again for the next gala, or for an autograph signing, or a private group tour, or an outing to the race track, or anything else Tony decides he needs you for? It's hard enough watching you leave the house now that I’m with pups, but now that I know just how much danger you're in….I don’t know if I can do it, Alpha”

“You won’t have to” you assure her as you bring your forehead to rest against hers, “I’m still his head of security, but I no longer need to work events. I just do online meetings, schedules and event set ups now. I just have to go to my office now. No danger.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” you tell her,placing a soft kiss against her lips, “Now get some rest detka(baby), you three need it. I’ll be right here.”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming  @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2 @naslt @lattayhottay16 @yelenabelov-ed @thatonebrazilian @that-one-gay-mosquito @marvelwomen-simp @wannabe-fic-reader @tashakink @whitewidowsbite @smromanoff

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH2024 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

@ppascalrain @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @milla-frenchy @schnarfer

[seungkw1]

pretty little present — smg

♡ pairing: bf!mingi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut ♡ wc: 2.5k ♡ warnings: dom!mingi, sub!reader, size kink (obviously), reader wears lingerie, mingi picks up reader and carries them, masturbation (f. & m.), oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), dacryphilia, possessiveness, creampie, reader gets one (1) hickey, pet names (princess, doll, babygirl), great aftercare, fluff ending ♡ a/n: i don’t normally write atz but bestie @myhimbomingi requested a mingi fic and i absolutely said yes!! i had such a fun time writing him hehe

The soft light of early dawn filters through your eyelids as you slowly drift into consciousness. You roll over, flopping your arm over your sleeping boyfriend to snuggle up next to him - but your hand hits nothing but the bedsheets. You sleepily pry your eyes open to see his side of the bed vacant. You grab your phone to check your texts - sure enough, you have a message from Mingi, sent at 6:14am:

good morning babe :) sorry to leave without saying goodbye but i didnt wanna wake u, u looked so cute!! i had to leave early for work today but i promise i’ll make it up to u! i left u a present on the counter, we’ll put it to good use tonight ;) love you ❤️

You were planning on going back to sleep, but now you're simply too curious. You hop out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. There, on the counter, you see a flat, gift-wrapped box - creamy white in color with baby pink ribbons tying it together. Whatever it is, it looks expensive. You untie the pastel bow and remove the lid. Underneath several layers of crisp white tissue paper, you find your present: a lingerie set. 

The set is jet black, made of silky mesh adorned with lace and satin ribbons. It’s light as a feather, buttery soft to the touch - clearly a luxury item. You've never worn anything like it in your life, but it's beautiful. 

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend. 

got your gift, hurry home to me ;) 

The typing bubble immediately pops up. Within seconds he responds. 

i will baby 😘

The day passes at an annoyingly slow pace. You didn't have much to do today anyway, so you try to occupy yourself with chores, but you can't help daydreaming about what all Mingi will be doing to you later. 

Finally, evening rolls around - Mingi will be home soon. 

You take a quick shower to freshen up, afterwards donning your new lingerie set. With all its various straps it takes you a few minutes to even figure out how to get it on, but once you do you step in front of your full length mirror to check it out. You knew it was gonna be really pretty on, but you look fucking hot. You start thinking about how feral it's going to make Mingi - quickly ruining the delicate panties at the mere thought of him. 

You grab some leggings and a big tshirt and throw them on. Another peek in the mirror verifies that you can't tell what you're wearing underneath the comfy clothes - all the more perfect to surprise him with. 

A few minutes later, you hear the sound of the front door being unlocked and opened. 

“Babe, I’m home!” Mingi calls out. 

You flutter on over to meet him, practically skipping as you jump into his arms. He pulls you in for a big kiss, placing his large hand on the back of your head, petting your hair softly as he holds you tight against him. As his lips depart from yours, he smiles, gazing at you with pure love. 

“I missed you,” you tell him as you place your hand on his chest. 

“I missed you too,” he replies as he kisses your forehead. 

“Soooo,” he starts as he tosses his bag down and kicks his shoes off. “What do you say we try out your new present?”

“Already?” you reply coyly. “Don’t you wanna eat dinner first?”

“It can wait,” he says as he lightly grabs onto your chin. His voice turns low and rumbly. 

“I’d rather eat you.”

You giggle. “Well somebody's horny.”

“I've been thinking about you all day - thinking about how good you're gonna look in your gift.” He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “Gonna be my pretty little present.”

He grabs the hem of your tshirt, starting to pull it off of you. 

“Why don't we get you out of these clothes already and-”

He stops. He’s lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the black lacy lingerie underneath. 

“Oh.”

“One step ahead of you, baby,” you say sweetly. 

“Fuckkkkk,” he groans. He helps you lift your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it aside as he takes in the sight of you. The mesh lining of the bra is entirely sheer, putting your nipples on full display. The coolness of the room combined with how turned on you’re getting makes them perk up, poking through the delicate fabric. 

He brushes his fingers over the protruding buds, making them even harder. He licks his lips as he gazes at you, the love in his eyes quickly turning into lust. 

You reach for the waist of your leggings, sliding them off of you to reveal the rest of the set. You kick them aside, standing up before him to show yourself off.

“Turn around for me,” Mingi commands.

You give him a twirl, wiggling your butt as your back faces him. He grabs onto you with both hands, squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

You let him touch you for a few moments before you spin around, grabbing his hands as you pull him with you toward the bedroom.

“Come on, what are you waiting for?” you tease.

Before you can take another step you feel your feet depart from the ground - Mingi grabs you by the waist, lifting you off the floor as he picks you up. He practically tosses you over his shoulder as he carries you down the hallway, his arm wrapped tightly around your torso as he holds you against him. 

“Hey!!” you shout, but a big grin spreads across your face. So he’s in this kind of mood. You know he’s about to throw you around, have his way with you - even more so than normal. You feel your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You arrive at the bedroom. Mingi tosses you onto the bed - you land on your back, resting upon the pile of pillows. You keep your legs open, showing off your pussy through the sheer fabric of your underwear. 

“So wet for me already,” he says as he runs two fingers lightly across your clothed slit. He gives your cunt a gentle smack. 

“Touch yourself for me, princess. Leave your panties on.”

You obediently slide your fingers to your core. Mingi quickly pulls his shirt over his head, then reaches for his belt. You begin stroking your clit through the soft mesh as you watch him remove his clothes, freeing the large bulge that has formed in his pants. He pulls his boxers down, his length springing free. As many times as you’ve had sex with him, you’re still always taken aback by his size. His cock is thick, long, hard - precum already dribbling from his tip. He strokes himself a few times as he watches you. You slip your fingers underneath your panties, sliding them into your opening. You moan softly at the sensation - but you know this is absolutely nothing compared to how much his cock is going to fill you up. 

He watches you slowly fuck yourself for a minute, gripping his length in his fist. As you start to wriggle slightly to your own touch, he steps forward. You yelp as he grabs you by the ankles, yanking you toward the edge of the mattress. He kneels down, leaning against the bed, positioning his face in front of your cunt. His hands slide up the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up and into the bed, nearly folding you in half as he opens you up even further before him. He sticks his tongue out, dragging its tip ever so lightly over your clit through the panties - it’s enough to drive you insane.

“Mingi,” you whine, trying to push yourself into his mouth. He retracts his head, not letting you get what you want just yet.

“What’s that, baby?” he asks. The way he’s staring at you, you can tell he is dying to taste you - but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to taunt you a bit.

“Please,” you softly mumble under your breath.

“Use your words, doll. Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me,” you manage to utter, still trying to push your cunt against his mouth - but his grip on you is too strong. “Want you to make me cum.”

“Like this?” he asks, teasing you once more as his tongue dances over your pussy.

“God, yes,” you cry. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind if he delays any further. 

“Or,” he continues as he reaches beneath the hem of your panties, pulling them aside. The coolness of the air hits your soaked core, countered by the hot exhales of Mingi’s breath against you. “Like this…”

He dives into you, his warm mouth greeting your cunt as his tongue traces between your folds. He sticks the tip into your hole - you’re so wet right now that it slips in with ease. You groan as he fucks you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit as he swirls his tongue around inside you. He pulls it out, flattening his tongue and licking a big stripe up your center before latching onto your clit. You cry out at the overpowering stimulation, writhing beneath Mingi’s strong arms as he sucks on the sensitive bud. A white-hot sensation swells in your gut, burning delightfully as you feel your orgasm approach. Your body tenses, your legs beginning to quiver as Mingi devours you. You reach for his head, grasping onto his hair as your climax takes over. You scream out Mingi’s name as you cum on his face, his tongue moving relentlessly against your clit as you ride out your high. He grips onto you until the very end, face buried in your pussy as you come down. Just when you think it’s over, he starts up again, sucking on your clit as he slips his fingers into you, curling them perfectly to reach your g-spot. Within moments, you’re cumming again, grinding against his tongue as overwhelming pleasure courses through your veins. He slows his motions, giving your clit a few last gentle licks as he slides his fingers out of you. They’re dripping wet, as is his entire chin - he places them in his mouth, licking them clean, making sure he doesn’t waste a single drop of you. 

You lay there, your chest rising up and down with heavy breaths as you try to recover. Mingi crawls up to meet your face, kissing you slowly on the mouth as he lays his weight upon you - resting on his forearms so he doesn’t completely squish you. You feel his cock throbbing against your cunt as he makes out with you - you can just tell he is unbearably hard. 

Mingi’s lips part from yours - barely, just enough so he can gaze into your eyes as he strokes your hair.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nuzzles his head into your neck, sucking at your skin - lightly, but enough that you know it’ll leave a mark. 

“Anything for my princess,” he whispers into your ear. 

He stands up, pulling your hips toward him. He grabs onto the panties, ripping them off of you and throwing them aside. He lines his cock up with your entrance; he pushes just the head in, but he’s already stretching you out. Slowly he slides his full length into you - you cry out at the overwhelming fullness. He rests inside you for a few moments, letting you get used to his size. You begin shifting your hips, trying to ride his cock from beneath him. Mingi grins.

“So eager,” he coos, tracing his fingers over your stomach. “Are you ready babygirl?”

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, nodding your head swiftly.

He begins fucking you, steadily at first, but your cries quickly makes him increase his pace. Tears flow from your eyes as his thickness stretches you with each motion. He grasps tightly onto your hips, pulling you against him as he thrusts into you. He looks down at you, his pretty baby, losing all composure on his cock. He moans loudly, uninhibited - he doesn’t care if the whole world hears him. He wants everybody to know you’re his.

He reaches down, feeling your breasts through the lacy sheer bra.

“So pretty,” he groans. “So perfect, all mine.”

His hand slides down to your stomach, pushing down on your abdomen as he fucks you. The other reaches for your clit - you didn’t think you could possibly cum again, but the gentle pressure of his fingers combined with his cock nearly splitting you in half just feels too good. 

“Gonna cum,” you manage to get out, barely able to speak through your cries of pleasure. 

“Cum for me babygirl,” Mingi growls, very near his own release.

You cum on his cock, crying out his name as your walls squeeze around him - sending him over the edge. He releases, painting your insides with his hot white ropes. He grasps onto your hips, holding you down against him as his cock pulsates inside you. He breathes heavily, grunting as he gives you every last spurt of his cum. As he finishes, he holds still, his cock resting inside you. He leans over, careful not to pull out just yet - gently he grabs your jaw as he kisses you, his lips hungrily interlocked with yours. 

“Wait right here baby,” he says softly as your mouths finally part. You groan as he carefully pulls his cock out of you, immediately missing the sensation. Mingi quickly makes his way to the bathroom; he returns with a small towel, doused in warm water. Gently he cleans you up, cautious as not to overstimulate you. As he finishes he tosses the towel back into the bathroom, scooping you up and pulling you into the bed with him. He tucks the both of you underneath the blankets, taking you in his arms as he nuzzles up against you. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, kissing you on the forehead.

“Not with you here.”

“Good.”

You lay there in silence, deep breaths filling the air as you relax into each other's arms.

“Thanks for the present, baby,” you finally say, your voice soft and sleepy.

“You’re welcome, love.”

“You did completely rip it to shreds, though,” you remind him.

Mingi smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. You just looked too good.”

He cradles your cheek in his palm. “I’ll just have to get you another one,” he tells you with a kiss.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you say as you snuggle up into him. “Just give me a few business weeks to recover from this please.”

He laughs, drawing you even closer into him. You begin to drift off to sleep, comfortable and warm in his embrace.

“Mingi?” you say softly.

“Yes, babe?”

“I love you.”

You feel his cheeks turn into a smile.

“I love you too, baby.”

[hardlyinteresting]

To Have and To Hold

Jake Seresin x Reader

Jake comes home

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended) Word count: 1.8K

The floorboards creak with the weight of his footsteps still. there's a strange comfort in the sounds of this old house settling; the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the quiet slide of his socks across wood floors. If he listens carefully, he can hear the whistle of the wind blowing past the window he meant to reseal all those months ago. The reminder of another missed task weighs heavy in his heart; a failure to provide a safe, warm home. It's the little things that matter most, his mama's voice reminds him, but it's the little things he so often misses-- always overlooked with the prayer that he won't be made a liar when he says he'll do it later. 

Time plays him for a fool. At 35 he rushes to make sure he meets the milestones he set out for himself, steadfast and resilient in his resolve to do more-- to be more. He breaks records, and sets precedents. But, he struggles to relax. Breathing doesn't come easy to him when it's not through his aviator's mask. In for seven, out for five. He counts the seconds of his inhales and exhales grounding himself in the moment. 

He does his best to hold tight to the moments he has here, But still, it never seems to be enough. like sand through an hourglass it all seems to slip away from him; these new found days of domestic bliss escape through his fingers like the memories of his childhood back in Texas. He wonders if one day he might be afforded the chance to pick up all the pieces and fit them together in some semblance of a “normal” life. He worries about his time away from home, what he's missed, and worse yet what he stands to miss if this life is taken from him too soon. 

Tonight marks the end of a six month separation, and tomorrow morning the count down to his next inevitable departure will begin. Always running out of time. It never used to bother him, it exhilarated him even, time blasting by in a blink of an eye. Back when he was younger, back when he had nothing to lose, and no idea what he stood to gain by sticking around. Now he worries about the quality of the lock on the front door, he thinks about restaining the floor downstairs and fixing up the kitchen. Domestic life snuck up on him. Slowly but surely his house became a home. Sun-baked bricks and weather-worn siding, with a shade of green paint he's been told matches his eyes. Four walls and roof that keep the outside world at bay. 

Down the hall in their bedroom, he Expects to find his wife sleeping, waiting in dreams for him to come home to her. It's the part of his job he struggles with the most now. It's so hard to leave this life they've built now that part of him is forever tethered to the earth. 

“I worry sometimes that I'm holding you back,” she confessed one night, “your job is hard enough as it is…I don't want to make it harder for you”. He hadn't been able to find the words to tell her how wrong she was.How could he describe the ways she had changed him? 

The need to return home to her never leaves him stunted in the sky, it fuels him. Long gone are the days where he fought just to be seen; she sees him. He's quick up there, tens of thousands of feet above the ground, he's calm and he's brilliant. His colleagues can call him cocky all they want, but his confidence is founded on his proven ability, and sometimes it's necessary to show off a little bit even if it's just so he can have another story to tell his sweetheart when he gets home. He imagines himself writing her name in the sky, carving her likeness in the clouds, a blazing trail racing home to her. 

So many of his earlier years had been spent playing the field too afraid to commit, too afraid to be loved. Adaptability, while necessary for his job, had never been his strong suit. A tiny part of him deep in the back of his mind always left the hair at the back of his neck on end when faced with change.

He had struggled in school, not academically, but socially and learned to over compensate to make up for his discomfort. The navy had given him the structure he had craved, a way to make his bed and fold his clothes, instructions that weren't open to interpretation. Living on his own allowed him to follow the same schedule and practices as he did on base.  In a split second, his life on the line, he never hesitates, but sustained change to his daily life left him nauseated. Welcoming another person into his life, and into his home had pushed him past the edges of where he believed his comfort laid, but forced him to confide in a support system outside of routine. 

Over the course of a few weeks her belongings joined his, sprinkled through out the house like a treasures to be found. Without a word she had taken care to intermix her books with the few of his own on the shelf, sorting them by alphabetical order just as he'd been doing for years. His anxiety slowly waned as his darling girl continued to prove she understood him better than anyone else ever had. 

“Do you prefer flying at dusk or dawn?” She had asked a few weeks after she moved in. curled up on their sofa, her head tucked under his chin, college football playing on the tv, she traced invisible shapes across his chest. “I don't have a preference, sweetheart. I just like flying,” his response felt half-baked, but it was the honest-to-good truth. 

“But if you had to pick?” she persisted. He weighed his answer before giving it to her, “if I had to pick, it would be dusk. There’s a moment, if you're up at the right time where you can see the night sky blending into the sunset…the sky is a gray-blue and you can see the sun at the horizon and the little pinpricks of stars”. 

“It sounds beautiful,” her smile was soft and genuine when she cupped his cheek to make sure he was looking at her. A habit of hers, not letting him hide away from the softer parts of himself, she seemed to so easily pull out. “It is”.

That weekend he’d spent 72 hours on base and returned home on Monday evening to the faintest smell of fresh paint. In the low evening light, it took him a moment to figure it out, standing puzzled in the middle of the living room, still dressed in his service khakis trying to identify the source of the smell. “You’re home!” she’d grinned coming down the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt splattered with gray. It’s then he noticed with his darling girl looking so proud of herself, the walls of the living room coated in a soft heather blue-grey, no longer just a coat of contractor-grade white reflecting the shade of twilight through the windows. Flicking on the light he watched her grow nervous as he felt his brow furrow processing the unexpected change. “Do you like it?” she asked. 

“It’s perfect, baby,” he promised pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly, “It’s beautiful”. 

A few months later he came home from work to find his shower gel and shampoo had both been replaced by a new set. Confused and with no other option, he chose to use them, deciding he liked the smell of eucalyptus and mint much more than he'd liked sport: for men anyway. 

“Baby, what happened to my shower gel?” 

“You were complaining about how dry your skin has been”.

“Hmm,” the consideration to change his routine to better himself hadn't occurred to him before she moved in. 

More recently he'd come home from a night out with the squadron, and woken up under a Forest green duvet, a jarring difference to the burgundy plaid cover he'd owned for years. Momentary panic filled his chest. Like a sharp, sudden plunge into cold water he'd gasped his eyes scanning the room to confirm his location. The familiar scent of her perfume, the sound of the ocean breeze, assured him he was in fact in their room. In the dark when he'd come home, colour of the duvet hadn't been noticeable and he found himself mildly embarrassed by how badly it startled him. Her hand reaching out for him, stretching across the sheets to touch him lured him back to a flat position letting her snuggle herself right up against his side. It was then he noticed that the weight of the blanket was the same as before, and it was just as plush as it had always been. Her on going respect for his comfort continued to leave him floored. A memory of her texting him to ask his favourite colour (green) filled his mind and left him drifting back to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Secretly, he'd begun to look forward to the tiny changes she brought into his life and into the house. The littlest reminders of their strengthening bond, their lives stitching together in more tangible and visible ways. The Navy had taught him to think literally, latteral thinking developed and honed to reach conclusions and make decisions quickly and effectively, but the metaphor of their lives blending like the presence of her belongings along side his own, and freshly painted walls is not lost on him. 

Tonight the house is quiet as it often is when he returns so late. He knows if she knew what day he was set to come back home she would've done her best to stay awake for him, dozing off on the sofa with the living room curtains wide open, hoping to catch the sight of his headlights pulling into the driveway. It's thoughts of her safe and waiting for him that have pulled him through this latest deployment, so he does his best not to disturb her sleep as he makes his way to her. Like a silent sirens call an unspeakable force drags him through the house. His boots are left by the door, laces tucked in. His bag is heavy in his hand, more than just its physical weight tugging at him, and he's glad to be able to put it down by the bedroom door. 

“Welcome home,” she whispers stirring from her sleep as he slips beneath the sheets, freshly showered. 

[moosesarecute]

The Shadows Heal

A continuation of: “The Shadows Sing”

Previous part: The Shadows Love

“It’s not as scary as it looks,” Azriel assured you as he led you into your room. His hand held yours.

It was technically his room, but you had been sleeping there every night since the attack and you didn’t think you’d ever go back to your old bedroom.

“Can you relax for me, love?”

“I am relaxed,” you answered.

Azriel raised his eyebrows and looked over to your shadows. They were swirling anxiously around you. You tried to calm them down, but you couldn’t.

“Hey,” Azriel spoke with his softest voice. He moved some hair away from your face. “I just want to make life better for you, but to do that, I need your help. Okay?”

You nodded. His smile warmed you.

“Let’s start.”

He led you to the bed and both of you sat down. His shadows brought him a pen and some paper.

He had explained his plans to you, but you were still very anxious. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Let’s start with living arrangements. Do you want to live here at the House or in your room in the library?”

You shifted uncomfortably. Of course you wanted to stay at the House of Wind, that’s where Azriel was. But they got you your own place in the library. What if they thought you didn’t appreciate that?

“Love, you shouldn’t overthink, just speak.”

His shadows had found their way to your hair and were brushing through it. Some of them were cuddling to your legs.

“Here, I would like to stay here,” your voice was shakier than you would have liked.

“Good,” Azriel wore a happy smile. “That’s where I want you too. Would you like your own room? Or would you like to stay here with me?”

You more than anything wanted to stay in Azriel’s room. You have had the best nights of your life sleeping beside your mate.

But you didn’t want to be too eager. What if he found it uncomfortable to sleep in the same bed as you? What if he needed his own space?

“Would you mind me staying here?” You asked in a whisper.

“I would love for you to stay here,” he answered, no hesitation.

He took your hand in his and gave you a small squeeze.

“What about work? Do you want to work?”

That’s what started this entire conversation. Azriel had overheard you saying to your shadows that you didn’t like working at the library. It was too quiet and slow for you. You wanted to move more and speak without being shhh’ed at.

But it was no way you were admitting that.

“I can work at the library,” you stated emotional less.

“I know you can work at the library, I’m asking if you want to.”

“I can work where I’m needed.”

“I know, but what do you want?”

“I want to work where I’m needed.”

“Liar.”

He almost knew you too well. He looked patiently at you. You knew he wasn’t going to move past this.

A small part of you appreciated it. You felt seen, you felt loved. But at the same time, you felt ungrateful. Azriel and his family had given you a second chance at life and you complained? It felt wrong.

“I want-,” you had to take a deep breath. “I want work that’s more productive, where I can move more and speak more. It’s too quiet for me.”

Azriel wrote down what you said.

“Good, that’s good. Do you have any particular work in mind?”

You shook your head. You didn’t know what existed. You knew too little to make that choice yourself.

“That’s alright. We’ll find something perfect for you.”

You didn’t think that would be possible, but you didn’t tell him that.

“What do you feel about training?”

“I really like learning new ways to use and tire out the shadows.”

“I’m happy to hear that. What about more physical training?”

You immediately felt a shiver down your spine. Did he want you to fight? You had enjoyed life so much not having to fight, you weren’t sure if you could go back to survival mode.

“Y/N,” Azriel’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “I mean training as a way to move your body. As a way to use up some of the energy you have. And as a way to clear your mind and feel relaxed. Not as in fighting or going hunting, unless you want to.”

You had never in your life thought about training as something else than surviving. You had to workout daily to be strong enough to hunt or to fight for goods.

But you had to admit, you missed moving your body.

“I could try, but I don’t want to fight,” you answered truthfully. It had become a little easier.

Azriel sat down the pen and paper after he had written down what you said.

“I’m proud of you, lovely,” he said as he moved you into his lap. His arms were around your waist and his wings hugged you too. You leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Azzie.”

You could feel him smiling.

“So she hates working at the library?” Feyre asked after Azriel had read the list of things you wanted. “We’ve asked her multiple times and she always said she liked it!”

“She’s terrified of people thinking she’s ungrateful,” Azriel said.

He had gotten Rhys, Cassian, Feyre and Nesta to meet up with him to help him help you.

“She has only given me minimal details about what she wants, but it’s better than nothing.”

Rhys picked up the paper and read through it once more. A soft smile grew on his face.

“She’s staying at the House?” He asked.

Azriel nodded, but couldn’t hold his shadows back from dancing around him.

“Someone’s in love,” Cassian sang.

Azriel sent him a glare. He wasn’t in a joking mood.

You had lived your entire life never getting to make choices. Even in this past year in Velaris you hadn’t done things you enjoyed. You had only pretended and Azriel hated that he hadn’t realized it before now.

That why he asked his family for help. He wanted to figure something out quickly.

“So Y/N will join us for strength and endurance training and when we go over to fighting, she can train with shadows?” Nesta suggested.

“That could work. Az can take the lead on the strength training and I take the fighting, so she would be near you the entire time,” Cassian added.

Azriel nodded in agreement. He knew it would be hard for you to start training again, so if he could stay with you, that would help.

“As for work, we can probably rule out anything that has with books. And also other jobs where she would be alone.”

You had lived alone in a cabin since you were 15 years. While you met other people, you spent most of your time alone, hunting in the woods.

“I hear Madja is looking for a receptionist. It would definitely be louder and more hectic than working at the library,” Feyre explained.

It was perfect.

Azriel literally jumped out the window the second your shadows informed his that you were done at work.

You had your first day as a receptionist for Madja and while you were excited to do something else than working in the library, you were also very nervous.

Azriel had woken up several times from you twisting in bed from not being able to sleep.

He landed in front of the office and you walked out the second you saw him. There was a lightness to your steps that Azriel never had seen before.

You also smiled from ear to ear as you walked towards him and crashed into his chest.

Gods, you’re adorable.

“I’m exhausted,” you mumbled into his chest before you took his hand and you walked towards the House. “I love it! I’ve talked to so many people. And I’ve helped a few too. Most of the time it was just pointing to the toilet and announce when it was ready for the next patient. But sometimes someone wanted to talk. And I’ve heard so many life stories! And there was a small babe that would stop crying, but then Elizabeth and Tobias started swirling around him and he stopped immediately.”

Azriel loved seeing you like this. Your smile lit up his entire heart. He couldn’t stop himself as he grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him into a passionate kiss.

Butterflies spread through his stomach. He loved kissing you. But kissing you when you were blooming with happiness was even better.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Azzie. And so does my shadows,” you said with a laugh.

Azriel first now realized the shadows that were twisted into his hair.

He tried to brush them off, but they stayed. He didn’t care. They were a part of you and he loved you so he loved them, even though they annoyed him sometimes.

“I’ve got dinner ready at home. It’s your favorite,” Azriel informed. He was very proud of himself, not as proud as he was of you of course, but proud. He had rushed home from training to have dinner ready for you as a surprise.

“Really! Chicken pasta?” You asked hopefully. Azriel noticed something off in your voice as you asked him, but he ignored it as he nodded. “Thank you soo much Azriel! I can’t wait.”

Azriel halted his steps. Your words didn’t sound sincere and Azriel immediately knew what it was.

“They told you, didn’t they?” He asked signaling towards your shadows.

You nodded carefully.

Azriel shook his head with a sigh. Now he knew what all his friends felt like when they tried to surprise him.

“Does your leg hurt?” Azriel asked you the second you walked into the training ground. “Your weight is uneven.”

“Nope, just not used to the new prosthetic yet.”

Nuan had worked on a new prosthetic for you, since your old one was malfunctioning a lot after the attack.

You had only recently started using it, so it felt very unnatural. The first day you used it was like hell. Every time you moved, you would get shooting pain in your foot. So you had taken a few days break from it.

“Okay, please let me know if it starts hurting again.”

“I will,” you answered truthfully. Azriel had been extremely helpful when you were experiencing phantom pain and you really enjoyed him taking care of you.

However, you hated when he worried and you had quickly realized that the more you told him about your chronic pain, the less he worried unnecessary.

You walked over to Nesta. She was standing with two other females. Gwyn, you knew from the library, but you didn’t know who the other female was. You could only see her magnificent wings, but clipped, illyrian wings.

“Y/N! Glad you’re finally here!” Nesta spoke the second she saw you. “This is Emerie and you already know Gwyn. This is Y/N!”

You felt comfortable talking to them, it felt nice.

“Okay, we’ll start with running,” Azriel said and everyone started running.

While you enjoyed feeling the burn in your legs and sweat on your forehead, you also felt tense. You had never been running unless it was away from danger.

The pleasant burn, soon turned painful. Your controlled breath turned into panic. And at last, the sweat turned into tears.

You were about to start your second to last lap when you felt your shadows stopping you. They carefully led you away from the path.

“You’re okay, Y/N,” Azriel soft voice told you. “You did great. You’re safe.”

His voice grounded you and soon your shadows let you loose.

Azriel got closer to you, but didn’t touch you. You moved towards him and let him hold you.

“That was scary.”

His arms tightened.

“You did great, next time you’ll get further. I’m sure of it.”

The rest of the training went surprisingly well. You did almost all the exercises correctly and only needed a little help from Azriel.

You felt very light and relaxed as you walked together with Azriel to the other side of the training ground. It was shadow time.

“You’re going to defend yourself against my shadows,” Azriel explained. “I’ll try to cover you in darkness and your shadow should try to keep your sight clear.”

“You actually think they’ll do that?”

“I know they can do it, my shadows have done it for yours. You just have to command them and commit to it.”

It annoyed you how easy he made it seem.

You stood ready and tried to calm your mind enough to concentrate properly on your shadows.

“I’ll close my eyes, so that you’ll be the only one that has control over the situation. Just ask me to stop if it gets too much.”

You nodded sharply in agreement and not even a second later, you were covered in darkness.

There was a time in your life when this would have terrified you. For example the first time your shadows covered you and you had panicked for over an hour afterwards.

But now, it only felt comforting.

The shadows danced around, they enjoyed taking a lot of space. And even though they were alert, they still sometimes hugged you as they swirled past.

And the smell. The smell was the best part. You were covered in night chilled mist and cedar. You realized you were right where you were supposed to be.

“You okay?” Azriel asked.

“Yeah, just need a little more time.”

You sent your shadows to Azriel’s shadows that were the closest to you. You made them push against them. And suddenly, even though you still felt Azriel’s shadows around you, you could see through the darkness.

You sent your shadows further, and soon you realized that it was no longer Azriel’s shadows that laid the training ground in darkness. It was yours.

So you did the most logical thing.

You shadow-walked directly in front of your mate, laid your hand at his chest and caught his lips in the softest kiss you could.

You then pulled back your shadows. They immediately began twisting into Azriel’s, asking for reassurance that they did a good job.

You were however completely lost in the sparkling hazel eyes that looked deeply into your own.

You were the luckiest fae alive. You were sure of it.

“That was awesome!” Cassian’s voice drew your attention away from Azriel.

“Yes, Y/N, it was really cool,” Emerie told you.

You felt so proud.

“What are you thinking about?” Azriel asked you as the two of you laid down in bed.

You had laid on his chest, half asleep, for the past hour as he read his book. That had become a part of your nighttime routine. His arm was resting on your waist, his shadows were playing with your hair and your shadows helped him turn the pages.

“You’ve been distracted since training earlier. Is everything okay?”

You had been thinking about the shadow training the entire day.

Even though you were proud of your achievement, you still had one question that was burning in your chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Azriel immediately put away the book and shifted all his attention towards you.

“Of course, lovely. Anything.”

“Did you let me win over your shadows that easily?”

“You really found it that easy huh?”

“To be honest, yeah I did.”

He took some time just looking at you. By the feelings he sent down the bond you knew it was both admiration and respect, but also a little lustfulness that made you laugh.

“I didn’t make it easy for you. The opposite actually. I tried to fight back, but I couldn’t.”

You were almost speechless. He had tried to hold back, and you still managed to take control with minimal effort.

“You don’t need to look so surprised, lovely,” he said and gave your forehead a small kiss. “I have always known you were extraordinary, you just need to believe it yourself.”

From that day forward, you understood that you actually already had the courage to do exactly that.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman @mybestfriendmademe @scatteredstardustt @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @topaz125 @miadialila @ivy-34 @goldenmagnolias @bwormie @animalistic0

Deviders by @cafekitsune

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

I love the way you write Logan, it's so comforting! Can't wait to see more of your work, it's lovely💗

Idk if this would be your thing so feel free to ignore obviously!

How do you think Logan's dynamic would be with a reader having intense intimacy issues, to the point where they struggle to even think about doing anything more than make out with him? I really haven't found any fic like that and I think that you would a concept like that more than justice

I do see him having some intimacy issues himself (traumatized wet cat💀)

this is so sweet, thank you so much! My brain immediately supplied a list of head canons, I hope that you enjoy <3

~ So I am thinking about Logan from the original trilogy for these in particular ~ He definitely has some intimacy issues, more so on the emotional intimacy side than physical intimacy ~That is, until he meets you. You're a professor at the school, and while he can tell you love the young mutants with a large part of your heart, you remain physically distant from them. When the Youngers ones reach for a hug, you meet them instead with a fist bump or a high five. Never cruel, but always setting your boundary. ~The first time you catch him noticing your habit, you expect him to roll his eyes, or hit you with a judgy side eye. Instead, he quirks his head and resumes what he had previously been doing. ~Eventually, the two of you start spending a lot more time together. He will nudge a cup of coffee your way, and ask after you when you have a headache. He never encroaches on your space, despite being quite touchy with the other faculty.

~You spend a week working up the courage to confront him about it, strategizing the best way to ask for the reassurance you want but have trouble asking for. You expect him to blow you off, but when you knock on his door, he ushers you inside and lets you choose where to sit in the room, choosing his seat to be close enough to show he is invested but far enough away for your comfort. It isn't even a conscious thought for him, it's natural. ~You fumble through your question, doing your best to explain your line of thinking, before eventually just spitting out "do you hate me?" ~He is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say for a few seconds, which only makes your anxiety feel worse. ~He takes a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then you can see the typical Logan smirk start sparkling in his eye again. "Sweetheart, it's a little hard to hate the person you're acting a fool over". Your eyes practically bug out of your skull, and he chuckles to himself. He is twitching in his seat, and you can tell he is trying his best to not gather you up in his arms. ~You extend a hand out to him, palm upturned. He takes it instantly. He raises your entwined hands halfway towards his mouth, before meeting your eyes and waiting for your reaction. ~You nod, holding your breath and he drops a kiss on the back of your hand, before adjusting so that he can kiss your palm as well. ~When he hears your heartbeat stutter, he is quick to hold your hand again, resting against his knee. He confirms that you feel the same way, insistent on getting verbal confirmation. Your face feels like it is on fire, but you reply in the affirmative. "We are going to take this as slow as you need. I... I care about you so much, and your comfort always comes before anything else." ~You feel a few tears well up, and he moves to wipe them away as they begin to fall. Again, he pauses before actually making contact with your face, waiting for your gentle nod. ~From that day on, you are even more attached at the hip than before. Logan loves knowing that you are with him for more than his body, and he is constantly making sure that you know how much he values you. ~Overall, I just imagine him being very sweet and understanding and taking it as slow as you need. He is protective of you when you meet new people, often coming in between you and others who are not as considerate as he thinks they should be. Definitely sends his protective instincts into a bit of an overdrive, but you also appreciate having the scary dog privilege when you are out in public as well. People are definitely giving you a wider berth than you are used to. You always feels safe and taken care of with him, which is exactly how he wants it to be

[hyukascampfire]

To: Someone From a Warm Climate

wc: 23.2k

genre: smut, angst, fantasy violence

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

synopsis: 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.

a/n: 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 :,)

! 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: taehyun | yeonjun | series

prev | next

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.  

“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?” 

“Then, what do you do it for, Taehyun?” you say. “When will you begin living your life for you?” 

Taehyun seems to consider your words for a few long heartbeats, and then he seems to settle 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, no?” 

“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, voice strained with shock. “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 say, 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?” 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. 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 a fool. If you just sit around and wallow, you’ll just 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.” 

“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 each other. Though, the Lord is always there. I wonder where you are. If my letter reaches you, please write me back. Or better, come see me. 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 I love you when we only knew each other 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 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 you, but also so far beyond your reach that 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 apart from the words on paper that manage to send your heart hurting.  

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. Life works in odd ways.  

“A lot,” you say, brushing him off. Your voice cracks with the word, 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 can’t tell. 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.” You reach for the next letter.  

The next envelope has dried up rose petals that come falling out when you pull out the 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 in his estate, I send these letters to you. I’m not sure if they’ll reach you, but I hope that they’ll 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 this happened? Maybe this is just what happens when someone spends a lifetime not allowed to think of themselves before serving others. You don’t want to be selfish, though.  

The next one you open 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 that 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 anymore?  

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 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 flashes, 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. 

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 hair 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?  

END PART 4

a/n: 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?

taglist: @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @sanshiningstarhwa , @hyucktapes ,

[harrywavycurly]

I just know there’s moment with SC girl and Harry when she does something and Harry just thinks she’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen😩😩

Hiii babes!!! Ohh I’m sure there are soooo many moments that Harry just looks at her and goes “you’re so damn cute” but he’d have to make sure she can’t hear him or he’d get a quick “language!” Tossed back at him for saying the word damn😂 but I hope you enjoy this little blurb about a moment between them, it’s totally random but I can see it happening💖

-find all things Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: You don’t even realize you’re doing it but Harry doesn’t mind because he thinks you’re adorable, enjoy✨

“Oh sugar did I tell you about my meet the teacher next week?” Harry adjusts the bag on his shoulder as you briefly let go of his hand making him frown as he looks down at you just as you reach into the front pocket of your denim shorts and grab your chapstick. “I think it’s the same night as that dinner thing with Mitch and oh darn it.” Harry watches you in amusement as you run the chapstick over your lips while your eyebrows scrunch together while you try to remember the name of the other person invited to the dinner you’re talking about next week.

“Do you need a-”

“No no don’t give me a hint just yet it’s on the tip of my tongue I can practically taste it.” You cut off his attempt to help making him chuckle as the two of you come to a pause on the sidewalk, enjoying an afternoon walk to the beach on one of Harry’s rare Saturdays off. He turns to face you and without really thinking you get up on the very top of your tiptoes with the chapstick in one hand, you reach up and gently hold the side of his face with your free hand and quickly run the balm over his lips before capping it and putting it back in your pocket. “James! That’s his name!” You all but shout excitedly before you reach down and grab Harry’s hand and begin walking.

Harry can’t do much besides stare at you for a moment before his brain reminds him that you’re walking so he needs to also move his feet before you start to actually drag him down the sidewalk. He knows you’re totally unaware of the fact his heart just felt like it melted into a puddle at his feet the moment he felt your hand on his cheek to hold his face still so you could swiftly apply the much needed chapstick to his lips. You have a tendency to do things that just have him left standing there in awe of you because it’s just little acts like you applying chapstick to his lips, the times you patch up a holes in his jeans (without him having to ask) because you already have your sewing kit out, you absentmindedly putting sunscreen or bug spray on him before leaving the house after applying it on yourself or when you pack him a lunch to take to the studio and leave it in the fridge for him with a little love note tucked inside that show him how effortless it is for you to care about him and that’s just something he’s not used to.

“Honey? You okay?” Your tone is laced with a hint of worry causing your accent to be a bit thicker than normal snapping Harry out of his thoughts, he blinks a few times and just nods as he brings your hand up to his lips.

“I’m good sweetheart.” The smile you give him when he places a few kisses to the top of your hand is enough to make his knees want to give out. “So what were you saying about your meet the teacher?” He asks in hopes it makes you go on a little rant.

Something Harry has learned over the last few months of dating you is that he does love it when you get caught up in a story because you just get so animated and your accent goes thicker as you speak so fast sometimes he wishes subtitles would appear in front of you so he doesn’t have to ask so many follow up questions that make you think he wasn’t listening. Because one thing about Harry is that he always listens it’s just sometimes he gets too caught up in how your voice sounds saying the words rather than focusing on what the words actually are.

“Oh well since it’s the same night as that dinner with Mitch and James I was seeing if I could just send you off with a dessert of some sort since I won’t be able to make it.” You stop walking when you come up to a stop sign, Harry stands next to you for a moment before you see him take a step towards the street. You naturally drop his hand and hold your arm out blocking him from taking another step without even looking at him. Harry looks down at your arm that hits him below his chest and he has to rub his lips together to hold back his smirk. “I’m thinking a bunt cake? I haven’t made one in a good long while and it’s about to be fall so I think that’s the perfect time for a bunt cake.” You continue as you lean forward a bit and look to your left and see there’s no cars coming and then look to your right and see the coast is clear making you drop your arm and grab Harry’s hand so you can lead him across the street.

“Baby did you-”

“I just don’t know if it’s too early for a pumpkin flavored one? Does Mitch even like pumpkin things? I’ll have to text him.” Harry can’t fight the smile that takes over his face as you keep walking and talking, and he knows you don’t mean to ignore him he knows you’re just deep in your thoughts and probably didn’t even hear him.

“Baby.” He says it a bit louder but still just as softly as he did the first time, you turn your head and look at him and he has to stop walking making you raise an eyebrow as you stop and look up at him. “Did you just mom arm me at that crosswalk?” He doesn’t ask to embarrass you he asks because he needs to know if it’s something you even know you do or not. You turn your head to look at the crosswalk not even a few feet behind the two of you and then back up at Harry with a playful look in your eye.

“I sure did.” You answer making Harry laugh as he reaches down with his free hand and tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “What was I supposed to do just let you walk out into the street without looking both ways? I mean really sugar even my four year olds know better than that.” There it is, your classic way of teasing him but also making him know you care about him at the same time.

“You are so fucking adorable.” You roll your eyes as he leans down so he can place a kiss to your lips, he knows you’re going to get on to him for the cursing but right now he doesn’t care because your lips are soft and taste like strawberries.

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 17

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: and were back. were so back after getting this chapter deleted. trigger warning for this chapter as it contains blood, car accidents.

About You Series

2014, Circuit de Monaco

From this point of view, one could overlook Monaco as a whole. There was the sea that is fleeted with yachts, specifically docked there to watch the Grand Prix this weekend. Then, the clustered hills filled with trees and apartments, the composite of it can be eye-catching or an eyesore in Y/N’s opinion. And of course, she simply can’t miss how the balcony has the perfect view of the start of the Monaco Grand Prix. She can hear and see the Formula 2 cars dash around in their practice sessions.

“What do you think?” Sebastian walked in with a smile.

“This is just gorgeous. I mean I thought that I have seen amazing Monaco apartments when McLaren or when Red Bull booked us but this…”

Y/N lets out a loud ‘woah’ to conclude her statement.

It was no wonder that this apartment seems empty and unoccupied. If Y/N has to guess then the price for this place is skyrocketing. This was a dream location for anyone who wanted to stay in Monaco.

“So why did you call me here?” Y/N asked. The Red Bull driver has texted the location and she is still confused to Seb’s interest in this place. It was gorgeous but she knew how Sebastian explained several times that he was not one for the Monaco lifestyle.

“I bought it-”

She was mildly surprised with that. Only mildly because Red Bull has clearly lined up Sebastian’s pockets well especially after winning continuously for several years. Even today, Y/N pretty sure that despite the lack of win streak, Sebastian is still getting paid generously.

“-and I want you to have keys for it”

“I must have misheard that Sebastian” Y/N stated.

A key was laid out in her palm. It has a keychain of the checkered flag with an imprint of Y/N’s name as well as the date today. It contained two keys which has been poorly labelled with Sebastian’s handwriting on a plaster tape. One was scribbled as Mon, an acronym for Monaco while the other has Mar.

Maybe there was too much car fumes or petrol in Sebastian’s head which is why he is going crazy for giving Y/N this apartment so she tries to hand back the key. He just shakes his head in disagreement.

“This place is yours as much as its mine” Sebastian insisted “I knew you love Monaco and I want you to have a place to go whenever you feel like staying here.”

It wouldn’t be that bad to have a place to go to here in Monaco. However, there was this certain guilt that this was too much and she doesn’t think that she deserves this. It was something that Sebastian caught on, he could read her so well.

“I thought of you that’s why I bought it. You love the sea, you love the races, and bonus points because you have Nico and Lewis as neighbours”

The last statement elicited a laugh from the two of them. Sebastian wanted to convince her because this was a literal vision in his head that he wanted a safe space for Y/N to go home to. England and Australia may be her home town but it doesn’t give her the privacy that she needs. Monaco, on the other hand, is quieter and more peaceful despite the extravagance.

“Okay but I’m still going to text you when I’m going to go here”Y/N settled.

“Perfect”

“Now what is Mar?” Y/N’s curiosity got the best of her “And please tell me that its not a key to a boat in the Marina”

“Mar is Maranello”Sebastian clarifies.

It was time to move to the second surprise that he has for Y/N. He had been so excited to tell her about this but he had to keep it down until everything was settled and signed. Last week, he signed the contract.

The girl was confused. It didn’t make any sense to why Sebastian would be in Maranello when the Red Bull headquarters is in Brackley. Only Ferrari resides in Maranello, why would Sebastian be there?

“Sebastian Vettel, you are Ferrari’s new driver?”

There were talks that Ferrari would change their driver lineup but she haven’t heard Sebastian’s name being thrown in the hat. She couldn’t contain the excitement that she was feeling and leaned into hug Sebastian. Driving for Ferrari is a milestone for Sebastian especially when he used to idolize Michael when he drove for the red team.

“When are you announcing this? Who else knows?” Y/N quizzes.

“No one yet”Sebastian grins “I wanted you to be the first one out of the signing team to know”

This was an exciting news and hopefully one of the first of the many happy memories shared in this Monaco apartment. Things are finally turning for the better.

2014, Red Bull Ring

In a very media-centered event, it surprises a lot of people that there are places in the Grand Prix where any forms of press and media is not allowed. Of course, this varies depending on whose home turf they are racing on. Mercedes and McLaren definitely have bigger private spaces in Silverstone, just like how Red Bull have their own private lounge reserved for their private guest.

Jenson sticks out like a sore thumb with his McLaren merchandise. He seems to stick out even more with the way that he stands there and just gazing at the view in front of him. Sebastian, Y/N, and the little baby Margarette—if Jenson didn’t know any better then he would have guessed that they are an actual family. He was lucky that the media weren’t there to catch his reactions because they could catch Jenson spilling the truth about his feelings.

“Jenson is that you?” a voice broke Jenson out of his reverie. His head turned to see Hanna with a plate of fries.

“Hello Hanna, nice to see you around”Jenson politely greeted.

He honestly couldn’t fathom why Sebastian has invited her over. He gets it if Sebastian wanted to see the kid but to add this woman that has been the cause of pain of Y/N, Jenson could not help but scoff. His emotions does not seem to be hidden well as Hanna shifted nervously.

“I know you are probably thinking that I don’t deserve to be here and I think that too”Hanna explained “But Y/N invited me to take Marga because Seb is missing her”

“Y/N?”

The woman chuckles, “Yeah, I can’t believe it as well. She has been nothing but nice to me. I know that she have every right to hate me but she has been a supporting pillar and someone really wonderful to Marga”

They glanced back to Y/N, who was playing with the baby. She was gently rocking the baby and it giggles as it tries to reach her hair. Sebastian, on the other hand, was sat next to her with a loving gaze on the two of them.

Jenson couldn’t feel but sigh and ask if it was him in Sebastian’s place then would Y/N be as happy as that?

There were no need for words but Hanna have realized from the small interactions how Jenson is deeply inlove with Y/N. It felt like a déjà vu because that was the way she used to look at Sebastian. Her actions to force things to happen has ruined a lot of things for Sebastian and she was glad that things are still repairable.

“I know that look” Hanna pointed out “You love her”

It was something that Jenson cannot rebut. He had always thought that he was good at hiding things especially with his flirty attitude and his chill self. This was the first time he was seen for what he feels.

“That obvious huh?” Jenson nervously replied.

He had tried his luck once upon a time and he ended up in the friendzone. He took the friendship if that is all that she could offer just so he could keep her in his orbit. There is a part of him that knows that no matter how many girls he meet, it was always Y/N who occupies his heart. Confessing is not an option given how complicated things are and how telling will only do more harm than good.

“We were in the same position a year ago” Hanna understands Jenson “All I could tell you that it is best to move on so it won’t hurt you anymore”

A year ago, Hanna would have not suggested that. She would have urged Jenson to confess so he can end up with Y/N and Sebastian could end up as her’s. The past few months have been a huge period of moving on for Hanna. Maybe it’s the birth of her child that allowed her to refocus the unreciprocated love to the child. She also understood how much Sebastian and Y/N means to each other, she wouldn’t do anything more to damage them.

“That’s easy to say but so hard to do”Jenson mutters.

Hanna’s hands patted Jenson’s shoulders. It was a comforting thought that someone gets how he is feeling and maybe Hanna can serve his inspiration that maybe he could move on from this unrequited love.

“Everything will be alright Jenson”

2014, Silverstone Grand Prix

Jenson Button and Assistant Webber involved in a freak accident.

Jenson Button was going home after a celebration of Lewis Hamilton’s win in the recent Silverstone Grand Prix when he and assistant, Y/N Webber collided with a ten wheeler truck. The driver of ten wheeler truck has been drunk and lost control of the car. It was of sheer miracle that Jenson was not driving the car during the time of the accident because he was at the backseat drunk and sleepy. Due to that Jenson is able walk away from the accident with just some bruises and ready for the next Grand Prix. Unfortunately, Y/N who is behind the steering wheel received more dangerous injuries. Suffering from a head trauma and crippling injuries, Y/N was rushed to the hospital where she is placed in Intensive Care Unit.

The bright light and the white aesthetics of the hospital was a stark contrast to the blood that stained Jenson’s hands. His hands were shaking knowing that this blood was not his but from the girl who is currently fighting for her life. Tears were stinging his already bloodshot eyes as he watched the clock tick painfully slow.

Its already been a hour since Y/N was rushed inside. The doors of the operating room remained close and Jenson doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Scrambling footsteps screeched in Jenson’s hallway. He saw his fellow drivers and Mark. All of them equally frazzled with the worry and fear being the top ones to show.

“What happened?” Mark was quick to ask.

Honestly, Jenson was not much of a help. He was lying down and he just remembered how Y/N was reminding him that he has to get up early to apologize to a Ronnie in the morning. He was too dizzy after having too many tequilas and then a bright light followed by a loud crunch.

“Holy shit, is that your blood?”Lewis noticed “Man its all over you”

“It’s Y/N” Jenson muttered. He remembered how his hands and his clothes were stained when he tried to pull her out of the wreckage.

The reality of the whole situation sinks in. Mark, was supported by Nico and Lewis, as he falls down on his knees. Sebastian was pacing back and forth while Jules seems to be praying. They were all a mess as they await updates about the girl. As Formula 1 drivers, they should have been used to accidents and collisions because it was a risk that comes with their work. It hits a little different when it happens to someone who is not a driver and someone very dear to them.

It took another 40 minutes before a doctor appeared in front of them.

“How is my sister?” “Is she doing okay?” “What happened to her”

The flurry of questions was something that cannot be stopped. The doctor’s expression was not giving away anything if the operation turned out positive or negative.

“She is stable now” the Doctor explained “We stitched up the head wound and hopefully she will be awake in a few hours”

A sigh of relief erupted out of every single one of them. They were just so relieved that she survived the whole crash.

“But there is something that you must know about her..”

2014, Hockenheimring

“Seb, you have to focus” Y/N reminded him “This is your home race that we are talking about”

“I know but quali don’t start in about…” Sebastian knows he has 10 more minutes before it starts but he grins “20 minutes”

The grainy camera could showcase Y/N sitting on her bed. The balcony must have been open hence the sunlight gracing her face and shining light to the newfound hollowness in her face. Her busted lips and the stitches were a constant reminder of the tragedy that she survived.

With all those imperfections, Sebastian continues to stare at her lovingly across the screen. His thoughts remain the same that Y/N is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Sebastian, don’t make me call Christian”Y/N warned.

The German driver just raises his hand in surrender, “I’m just checking in you sunshine and I really miss you more than ever today”

It would have been really nice if she was here during his home race. Maybe he would have taken her for a drive to his parents’ house or they can get to explore some German countryside just like when they were younger.

“I’ll be there and recover soon”

“And I’ll be waiting. You take your time” Sebastian assures.

The door creaks open and Y/N could be seen turning sideways. She pans her camera to show Sebastian the visitor.

“Hey Mark!” Sebastian greeted.

Honestly, the retirement of Mark was a perfect timing. Sebastian couldn’t always take care of Y/N so Mark was placed in charge during race weekend. The Monaco apartment was big enough to have guests to stay over so Mark is currently camping at one of the guest room.

“Seb aren’t you supposed to be in your car right now?”Mark made a tsk tsk sound.

“I am but I wanted to talk to my best girl here” Sebastian reasoned out.

Y/N couldn’t hide the flush of red in her cheeks, “now you go and race! I love you!”

“I love you more sunshine”Sebastian replied

2014, Hungaroring

“That’s a terrible finish for Sebastian”

Mark’s comment from earlier has been ringing in her ears for the past few hours. Sebastian has started from P2 and ended up in P8 so Mark’s statement was not shocking. She has also seen the articles and the people in social media talking about Sebastian. Usually, people can blame the car or the strategy but today, Daniel won from P4. People are pointing fingers that Sebastian is past his prime.

She was fidgeting with her necklace again. She wonders if maybe her condition is a contributing factorin the recent poor performance of Sebastian.

Of course, Sebastian didn’t blame her for anything. He has always been supportive, kind, and lovely throughout this recovery journey. However, she feels like she is burdening Sebastian and distracting him from his true passion.

Speaking of the devil, the face of Sebastian shows up in her screen. Her hands hesitated to pick it up but she eventually pressed the green button.

“Hey! I have been so caught up with the meeting and I was only able to call now” Sebastian’s voice was cheery. If Y/N didn’t watch the race then she would have thought that he won with that smile on his face “Are you okay sunshine?”

“Yeah, tell me about your day”

Y/N is definitely lying but she no longer wanted to burden Sebastian. She continues to listen on with a forced smile on herself as she tries to fight the plaguing thoughts in her head.

2014, Autodromo Nazionale Monza

Seb: I know you dont like me much but we have to talk. Call me when you get this.

Mark: Hey mate. I wanted to talk to you about Y/N. Mark: Ring me up when you are available.

The notifications stared in front of Jenson for a good five minutes. It wasn't a difficult decision to ring up Mark because a) its about Y/N and b) Sebastian isn't someone he adores a lot. Although Jenson was hoping that Mark wouldn't pick up since its the late hours of the night.

"Jenson, its been a while"

Indeed it has been. Jenson can count how it had been almost 5 weeks since that accident. Heck,he could even count the hours and minutes that have passed if asked about. It was something on his mind 24/7 slowly eating him alive.

"Mark,how are you doing? How is she?"Jenson asked immediately.

"She is not doing well"Mark admits.

"But I thought everything is alright?"Jenson was confused.

He may or may not have been avoiding Y/N out of the eating guilt. However,he have heard from Nico that she was doing well. As far as he knows, she is staying with Mark in the apartment in Monaco.

"Her physical inabilities is taking a toll on her mental well-being"Mark explained "But I think she has been taking it too hard on herself."

Mark continued to talk about she has been pushing herself to the limits and wanted to expedite the whole process of getting back on her feet. He also mentioned how Y/N is clouded with guilt that she is a huge problem and a burden for everyone.

"But she isn't a problem or a burden"Jenson interjected.

"We know but she doesn't believe me" Mark sighs.

"What are we going to do about it?"

There was nothing that he wouldn't do for Y/N. Even if guilt was eating him up, he would have been an invisible figure being there for her. He would do whatever it takes just to bring back the old happy her.

"We are going to the next Grand Prix. Sebastian is making arrangements because he thinks maybe Y/N will feel better if she is surrounded by friends and the family she knows."

The Singapore Grand Prix was two weeks from now. Jenson immediately made a mental note for this one. Maybe he will busy himself with some media team bullshit or maybe he will have to arrive late for the free practice.

"I'm calling to let you know so you won't run away Jenson" Mark added "I know that you blame yourself for what happened but please, she misses you"

"You know me too well Mark"

"We're arranging dinner, promise you'll be there?" Mark continued to push.

"Anything for her"

2014, Marina Bay Street Circuit

When the news broke out about Y/N returning for Singapore, almost every driver arrived early to Singapore so they could attend the dinner arranged by Mark. Y/N was a beloved figure in the grid and even if she was not as close to everyone in a Nico, Lewis, Jules, or Jenson level—they all greatly miss her.

It was a good thing that Mark booked this restaurant for the night as people would have been really curious why the drivers gathered in one place.

Mark received a message from Sebastian that they were all there. He gently pushed the wheelchair to the elevator and texted him back that they will be there in a minute or two.

"Are you ready?" Mark wondered. "Its nice to get out of Monaco"

Y/N hummed in agreement. The glass elevator has a view of the whole Singapore nightlife. She could see the fireworks up in the sky to celebrate the upcoming weekend and the busy streets. It brings her a small smile that this was just like the old times.

The minute that the elevator opened, Jenson was standing there in front of them. Mark watched as Jenson immediately hugged Y/N and they were immediately crying.

Mark knew that if there was anyone who took this harder than Y/N then it was Jenson. He thinks he haven't seen Jenson interact or message after Y/N was pronounced safe from disaster. He knows how Jenson have blamed himself and thinks he should have been the one driving behind the wheel so this would not happen.

It was a joy to see them together again.

"I'm really sorry if I couldn't be with you a lot"Jenson continued to apologize.

"There is no need for that Jense"

"You might have needed me and I left you by yourself. I felt so guilty by the whole accident that I thought that its better to leave you alone"Jenson explained.

The hug just got tighter. There was no need for Jenson to explain himself because Y/N already understood. Many people forget that the two of them have been involved in the accident. Y/N's damage was physically present but Jenson's wound was something invisible to the naked eye.

"It's alright Jenson, were alright"Y/N assured.

It wss a good thing that the two met here rather than inside the restaurant. They wouldn't want the tears to get in the way of reconnecting and meeting with other friends.

"Let's get inside"Jenson wipes his tears "Everyone is waiting for you"

Before Jenson could open the door, Y/N shouted to wait.

"Mark,can you help me up?"Y/N asked.

Mark looked at her unsure. They have been through this several times in the Monaco apartment. Even if she tried to stand up,she normally can't walk because of the pain let alone stand for so long.

"Are you sure this is a good decision?"Mark was trying to find reason.

"I don't want them to see me in a wheelchair"Y/N admitted.

Mark gently helped Y/N up with Jenson assisting her as well. It was a team effort to keep her standing up but she is bearing most of its weight because of the excruciating pain that is hitting her.

The doors were gently pushed open and the drivers' attention turned to the newcomers of the restaurant. It made Sebastian shocked to see her standing there and trying her best to walk. He immediately went to assist her but he stops on his track.

"You stay there"Y/N instructed when Sebastian was three steps away "I'll do my best to get there"

It was quite painful for Y/N to take the first step and loosen her grip to her human crutches. Her teeth grinded each other as she tries to hide the pain away. She focused her attention to the hand of Sebastian reaching out for her.

"You can do it Y/N" Jules cheered on.

"Just careful steps"Sebastian encouraged.

The whole room seems to stand still with awaited breath as she takes another step towards Sebastian. It was like seeing a miracle for them and they felt speechless to see such feat. Some of them couldn't help but have tears in their eyes with how emotional this moment is.

"You've got this,one more"

Pain was shooting up but Y/N did her best to take another one. Her hands gripped Sebastian outreached hand before she could fall. Sebastian, gently held her close.

"You did it. You did it sunshine"Sebastian whispered.

The feeling of tears were welling up in her eyes. She doesm't know if this was because of the pain or maybe the longing that she felt for Sebastian. It didn't help when she looked at Sebastian and found his eyes tearing up as well.

There was a moment of comfort and peace that they both have been lacking the past few weeks. Everything was okay again now that they are back in each other's arms.

2014, Suzuka Circuit

Even if Y/N walked a few steps in Singapore,she was still advised to use the wheelchair. Her physical therapist have been trying to up her routines so she could walk again. For now she was stuck in a wheelchair and Sebastian don't mind pushing for her.

But today, Sebastian is quite busy so Jules have to sub for him.

"The media is going crazy with the news" Y/N observed. Today was the day that Sebastian was announced to replace Fernando Alonso and will start driving for Scuderia Ferrari. The media have been interviewing Sebastian as early as 8 in the morning and now its nearly lunchtime.

"I know, people say Sebastian may be the key to getting the championship back to Ferrari"Jules said.

"That puts a lot of pressure in Seb then"

"I'm sure he can handle it"Jules assured.

Jules pushed Y/N to the track. Their grid walks were something that Y/N have terribly missed. It was a good thing that its a bit cloudy so Jules wouldn't have to bring an umbrella for them.

"Speaking of Ferrari.."Jules opened up "I think I have to let you know that I may be replacing Kimi in 2016"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She felt like she was in a deja vu moment when Sebastian first told her about the Ferrari contract.

"Ohmygod that sounds amazing Jules!"Y/N beamed.

Jules seems to be a little bit unsure of himself judging by the nervous smile that graced his face.

"Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself but you know I'm already thinking about it. Would the people cheer for me when I announce that I signed to Ferrari"Jules glanced at the Tifosi crowd chanting Sebastian's name.

Y/N knows how sometimes driver can doubt their ability. She believed that they are one of the best drivers in the world because it isn't easy to be a Formula 1 driver. The skills,the reaction time, and even their quick thinking is an asset that not many people have. They often downplay themselves when they felt like they are performing poorly.

"You have got to be confident Jules. I'm sure the Tifosis would love to have you in their team"Y/N comforts "You just have a shitbox that can't compete right now but Ferrari would give you a beautiful machinery and I swear you will be up on the podium"

It was a beautiful picture in Jules' head. Any kid would have dreamed of driving for Ferrari but winning with Ferrari is a different kind of euphoria. He glanced at her and he hoped that he could see her cheering for him someday when he is at the top of the podium.

"Thank you little sister"Jules said "I'll make you proud someday"

"You already make me so proud Jules"

READ: Statement regarding Jules Bianchi crash.

[merakiui]

Okay, but serial killer Azul getting revenge on everybody after he's presumed dead in a prank gone wrong.

Maybe you were a popular girl that he was always in love with, since you were the only one who wasn't outright cruel to him. One day you end up asking him to the prom and for him it's a dream come true, his true love is finally recognizing him. Unaware that it's a Carrie situation where you and your friends plan to humiliate him at the dance. He's so happy to spend the night with you, wanting everything to be perfect.

But when the prank happens, something goes wrong, leaving Azul worse for wear and you and your friends believe he's dead and get rid of the body. But he's still alive and not happy about what happened on the best night of his life.

Suddenly your friends begin to go missing one by one, until you're the only one left. It's then that Azul reveals that he's still alive. Except he believes that you weren't apart of the prank, that you were tricked into it somehow Delusional Tako. Now that all your friends are out of the way, you two can finally be happy together.

I hope you don't mind my rambling. Slasher Azul just gave me ideas.

AAAAAAAAA OTL oh, the wrath of a scorned octopus... this is so good!!! Being a popular bully and thinking it would be so funny to take that loser Azul to prom, only to then prank him alongside your friends. And when it goes terribly wrong the lot of you are in a panic. Suddenly, you have to delete all of the videos and pictures you took, and you all take an oath to never tell anyone about it, making sure to keep your stories and alibis in check in case you're questioned. All of you need to remain innocent when they start investigating his disappearance.

Dumping Azul's body somewhere in the woods and then going on with your lives, hoping no one will ever find him. >_< the heartbreak and betrayal and fear Azul must have felt that night... now he's just angry and so vengeful. He already hated your friends; he always thought they were a terrible lot. This was the final push he needed to do something about them once and for all.

It could never be you, though!! You must have been pressured into it by those bullies. After all, you asked him to prom! You were so excited, so sweet! He got you a pretty corsage with your favorite flowers. He made sure to look his absolute best, and you told him he looked handsome in his suit. So it definitely couldn't have been you!

He doesn't understand why you're crying, why you're fleeing. He should be the one crying! It's his life that was ruined, and your friends laughed at his suffering! Your friends tossed him aside so easily when they thought he was dead because they wanted to save their skins. You don't get to run away. Not this time. He's going to have that dance with you no matter what—the dance you promised him! A blood-stained, masked Azul is closing in on you, and you've run yourself into a dead end. :)

No one hears from you ever again.

[heavyhitterheaux]

“If you roll your eyes one more time.” For First Lady and Jack

From the moment you had woken up, it seemed as if you had an attitude with everyone and everything including your loving husband who was thoroughly confused by the entire thing. The previous night, the two of you had taken a bath together and watched a movie after putting all the kids to bed in their respective rooms. You fell asleep halfway through the movie and cuddled up to Jack the rest of the night. 

He guessed that he could blame it on your pregnancy mood swings, but he wasn't so sure. One minute you couldn’t keep your hands off of him and the next moment, you wanted to be by yourself surrounded by a tower of cheese curls. You were now in month seven of carrying your twins and everything on your body hurt and you were constantly annoyed.

Jack felt like he was walking on eggshells the entire day thinking that you were mad at him and it started when he told you that he was leaving out for a meeting and that he would be back in about an hour or so.

“Baby, I'll be back soon. But if you need anything just call me, okay?” He told you as he reached down to place a kiss on top of your head. You instantly let out a huff and rolled your eyes which made Jack turn up his nose.

“Is something wrong, babe?”

“Nope.” Was all you responded as you then turned on the TV to watch Netflix.

“Obviously there is because of that huff you just let out.”

“Jackman, you have somewhere to be so I suggest you get there. Don't be late on my account.”

“Yes, I will be late on account of you. You're my wife last time I checked and I want to make sure that you're okay.”

“I'm fine. Bye.” You said as you were struggling to adjust the pillow behind your back and Jack quickly did it for you. 

“Not leaving until you tell me you love me.” Jack said and you rolled your eyes once more.

“You know I do.”

“So? I still want to hear it.”

“I love you, Jackman Thomas, now get out of my sight.”

“Um, okay. Not what I was expecting. I love you too.”

It was now ten at night and there you were sitting with your arms crossed against your  chest as Jack walked into your shared bedroom from checking on the triplets and Nova.

“Baby?” He started to say and you instantly rolled your eyes, for Jack that was the absolute last straw.

“If you roll your eyes one more time….” He said and your eyes immediately snapped up in his direction.

“You’ve had a damn attitude from the moment your ass opened your eyes this morning and I’m tired of it. So what the hell is the problem? Are you mad at me? I obviously did something because every time I open my mouth, you roll your eyes at me. I will fuck that attitude out of you. So, out with it. NOW.”

“You got me pregnant…..”

“Um, yes? I know, babe. I was there when it happened the last time I checked. I was an active participant."

“I should roll my eyes again for you saying that. You got me pregnant and my body fucking hurts and I’m swollen and look like Shamu the whale.”

“And you’re mad at me about that? And you do not look like a whale so stop saying that.”

“Well who else can I get mad at? You’re the one who did it. And when you did the laundry last week, you shrunk my fuzzy pink socks that I’ve had since I was pregnant with the triplets and you know that those are the only ones I wear when I’m pregnant! I’m so just fat and tired of this. My belly is so heavy, I crave KFC all the time and I want to throw up at the thought…”

“Not too much on KFC now….”

“Shut up, Jackman and let the pregnant woman finish. As I was saying, carrying a mixture of genders is different than carrying just one. When it was the triplets, I was swollen but not like this. Nova, I didn’t even know about until it was damn near my due date, these boys are kicking my ass. I am DONE after this.”

“Baby, I’ll buy you more socks. I can fix that problem, but I can’t make them come out any faster. They still have to bake.”

“Did you just compare our children to bakery items?”

“They’re in a warm, safe environment, so same thing?”

All you did was stare at him as you sighed.

“Is there anything else I can do for my wife to make her feel better?” He asked as he scooted closer to you and kissed your cheek.

“No, and I’m sorry that I was a brat earlier. I just wanted you to stay with me all day, but I know you can’t do that.”

“Uh, yeah the hell I can. Meetings can wait. I have one wife and if she needs me, she needs me. Not you getting mad and having an attitude because you wanted me all to yourself today.”

“I always want you to myself. I can’t wait until this pregnancy is over.”

“It’ll be worth it, babe.”

"Sooo.... are you still going to fuck the attitude out of me?" You asked as you glanced over at him and he immediately smirked.

"Lay on your back."

[sarawritestories]

Tell Me A Story, Nes

Nessian Fic

NESSIAN WEEK DAY 5: BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Summary: Cassian offers to braid Nesta's hair and she begins to talk about her Book. Which leads the General to make an unusual request.

A/N: I Adored this prompt because I know these two are so soft behind closed doors!

If you see mistakes, no, you didn't!

@nessianweek

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Cassian smiled as the door to his and Nesta's room opened. The later walking in eyes bright but tired. "A good book club with Em, and Gwyn?" He began to rise from his seat by the fire when his mate held up a hand.

"Let me change and I'll tell you all about it." She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, "When I come out, would you be willing to braid my hair?"

Cassian's grinn widened, "As if you have to ask, Nes." He motioned for her to come toward him, and she complied. With his thumb, he softly pulled her bottom lip from her gnawing. Placing a chaste kiss on her mouth, he whispered, "I love you."

Nesta, face warmed with a flush, never tiring of the Illyrian saying those words to her, her silver eyes twinkling against the light of the flame. A flame she no longer feared, no longer pictured her father's neck snapping at the sound of a crack. The male in front of her was to thank for taking the time to work with her through that trauma from the war.

She kissed him once more, and she could hear Cassian's wings rustling in response. "And I love you, Cas." She watched as his Honey colored eyes warmed at the sentiment as if he too had waited for someone to utter those words to him. She lightly patted his cheek as she headed to the bathing chambers.

When she returned her favorite silk nightgown in her favorite shade of red hugging her body, Cassian patted the spot between his legs comb in hand, "Feel better." Nesta smiled and watched as the General took in her whole body. She shifted under his soft scrutiny. She wasn't sure if she would ever be used to someone who not only looked at her with such fierce passion as Cassian's eyes always did. Not sure she would ever be used to being seen as someone worth cherishing worth protecting and asking for nothing in return.

"Nes?" His low voice pulled her from her thoughts to find his dark brows furrowed with concern, "You alright?"

The eldest Archeron grinned widely, showing teeth, a smile reserved for him, Her Valkyries, and Azriel: her inner circle. "I'm wonderful."

Cassian chuckled, "Then come here, I'm wanting to hear about this book."

Nesta grabbed the book from the table and rushed over to where he had motioned her to sit, when she adjusted to a comfortable position on the floor between his legs, he began to separate her hair and began to braid. Nesta hummed and leaned into his touch, reminded that the calloused hands of the Lord of Bloodshed held a gentleness to them. Cassian loved doing these things for her, and when she once asked him about why he loved braiding and brushing her hair he had said:

"It reminds me that my hands are capable of being gentle and loving, not just a weapon of war."

So became their nightly routine. Nesta would tell him about the book her book club was reading as he brushed and plaited her hair.

This particular night, she was telling him a story told in a series of books that Gwyn found in a dark corner of the library, it had Assassins, hidden princesses, witches and fearsome warriors and an epic battle they were about to embark on in the final book.

Once Nesta had finished explaining, silence fell between them in the room. She knew he was awake as his fingers were gently tugging her hair to manipulate it into going where he wanted it. Another moment went by before she took a glance at the mirror beside the fireplace to find Cassian smiling at her reflection. "What?" She whispered.

"You always look so free when you talk about your stories? Just like when music plays out by the rainbow, your body comes alive, as does your facial expressions." He pauses his work on her hair to rub his tanned hands against her bare arms, causing a shiver down her spine. "You are breathtaking every day. But I could spend centuries watching you talk about the things you love." He pressed his lips softly to her temple before moving to pinning her braids into a crown, just the way she likes it.

"Cassian, you're too sweet, I fear."

Cassian's chest rumbled with laughter, "You deserve the world, Nes, you deserve someone being sweet to you." Cassian tapped her arm, indicating he was done, and she quickly rose to move toward his lap. Cassian quick to wrap an arm around her waist and hand wrapping over her bare thigh. "You don't want to check my work."

Nesta scoffed, "I trust you." She kissed his cheek, "Thank you, My Love."

"Anything for you, Sweetheart." His wings curved to provide an extra warmth to the room. They fell into silence once more.

"Tell Me a Story, Nes." Cassian whispered.

Nesta faced him, his eyes meeting her silver once with sincerity, "What?"

"Read to me." There was no question to the statement. He continued, "I want to know how the Princess reclaims her throne."

Nesta pressed her hand to her cheek, making sure the warmth of them were not due to a fever. "No one i have courted before has ever been interested in my books," her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian's hand moved from her thigh to cup her face, "I am not, 'no one'. I would crawl to the ends of the earth for you. There is nothing about you that I don't want to know. I want to experience storytelling with you the way I have with music. You have given music meaning for me, Nes. Let us have that with reading to."

Nesta eyes began to glisten with tears, "Okay."

Cassian reached and handed her the book. "Okay."

Nesta opened to the first chapter and her voice a sweet Symphony to the Lord of Bloodshed's ears, "Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom..."

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[half-oz-eddie]

I do not want to do discourse but I am quite tired so feel free to scroll past this or ignore it idc

First and foremost I do not care if other positivity projects exist. They can exist in unique ways for unique reasons. It's a beautiful thing. I'm sure people love what they do and they're doing it for fun. Personally? I love what I do. A normal amount. And I do it my own way. Kinley Café is my heartbeat and it's always been a project that I deeply enjoy and that I am passionate about. I ask for nothing in return except the chance to touch other people's lives and make them smile by sending out your orders.

I am so comforted by the amount of love and support I receive. It's motivating and has helped me through difficult times. I have been so distracted spreading joy that I've basically breezed through what is usually the most difficult month of my life.

And yet. And yet!! I have been reported as spam so the café does not come up in searches (it's limited/partially shadowbanned I guess you can say. I constantly worry that this affects people getting notified when they receive treats because I want them to know someone is thinking of them. But I have been communicating with Tumblr about it, so don't worry too much). I have received phishing links in DMs and on the order form. And more recently, a password protected blog that hasn't had any activity in 40 days receives nearly a dozen notifications out of the blue because of a months old post circulating as some sort of gotcha, and I find out someone is telling people that I copied an idea (from myself btw) and sent out anons trying to encourage people to call me out over...stealing my own idea?

And I don't wanna hear "they didn't know it was me" because nobody asked me shit! I didn't show anybody any disrespect. In fact, I was being supportive! I showed love! I took the time out to make something because I wanted to continue to encourage the spread the positivity.

And yet, people made accusations even though I was being kind? Do you want a trampoline since you like fucking jumping to conclusions?

KC has been open for FIVE weeks. And I've dealt with all this in a short period of time for absolutely no reason. I've been nothing but kind and supportive of others. I genuinely and sincerely try my best.

I don't wanna let this taint something beautiful or let anything discourage me from doing this again. But I swear to god.....this shit is getting really annoying and bringing out the worst in me. lmao why am I fighting for my life during this little hiatus? I'm dedicating my free time to creating things, and collaborating with others just to spread love and kindness. I don't want anything but peace and quiet.

What's next? Do I have to keep dealing with dumbassery? Or can I go back to sending out treats and going on about my fucking business? Because I do not have time for this. I do not want all this static!!!

I've turned off reblogs. If you want to talk to me privately that's fine but this has been a little overwhelming and I just wanted to get this off my chest.