#what weird description of me r u??? find out !!

[hyukascampfire]

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O3 ❩ ⸺ 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 24.5k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ violence, death, descriptions of past trauma, oral (m receiving), PIV sex, poisoning, mean taehyun... tell me if I missed anything ｡ ( playlist )

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🪶 ⦂ this one is hhheeefttty and packed with a bunch of angst, so buckle up pls. also... if you see any typos or weird sentences, no u didn't... 24k is a lot of words guys... but also lmk so i can fix it LMAOO. enjoy!!

You wipe at your forehead, dragging in breaths as you realign your stance. Each swipe and jab you run through wells up inside you, amassing frustration. They all feel infuriatingly sloppy. You had cracked open a window in the room. Though it lets a nasty winter breeze in, the cold works wonders against your clammy skin.  

You had initially been practicing in the sparring room, but the heavy, blood-stained and battle-worn swords displayed on the walls, hung right next to the taxidermy heads of fallen faeries, began making you uneasy so you opted for another room in the estate. Taehyun’s father must’ve been a vicious general.  

The words of both Yeonjun and the barkeeping hob at The Hovel are snug under your skin like burrs. He sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, the barkeep had said. Staring into the lifeless, beady eyes of the felled creatures had made you wonder exactly how wicked that seed had been. As far as you know, Taehyun harbors no love for his father, though. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d want to resemble him, especially in his behaviors. You can’t help but feel that you’re missing some intrinsic piece that would clear it all up for you. 

There’s also the matter of what that man in the forest had said after you had stabbed him. You’re fucking dead, anyway. The words have echoed and ricocheted in your head endlessly, and you’ve tried ardently to dissect them. You’re only left with a queasy pit in your gut each time you do. You’ve decided that it’s best to pretend that they’re just the angry words of a man stabbed. You’d probably try to instill fear in the person who’d stabbed you if it was the last thing you could do, too. 

Despite that, it still is concerning that he had known where to find you and had claimed that someone had told him where to do so. There’s also the fact that there had been people in The Hovel looking for you two. You’re not exactly sure what would happen if you and Taehyun were discovered; your suspicions range from a slap on the wrist to the breaking out of war between The North and The High Court. You’ve never so much as seen The Queen, but you can’t imagine she’d take too kindly to discover that The King has spies actively infiltrating her court. Your chest becomes tight with the reminder that the mission that you and Taehyun are on is endlessly delicate. 

“You’re leaving too many openings between swings.”  

Taehyun’s voice tugs you from your own mind. You drop your arms, making great effort to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Your limbs wobble with exertion. You had wanted to practice alone; having Taehyun observe and pick at your shortcomings would only irk you and make you so consciously aware of them that you could think nowhere beyond them. You had pointedly avoided seeking out his help for a reason. 

 “And,” he adds, “you’re so focused on what you do with your arms that you forget to move your feet.”

You toss your head back, willing down the tightness in your throat and the warm, frustrated tears pooling at your eyes. He’s right; you can feel it yourself, but no matter your efforts, your own limbs work against you. Your frustration manifests itself in the form of your heart thumping in your ears. It’s all you can hear. You snap at him. “I know.”  

Taehyun doesn’t look taken aback by the bite in your tone, but he does release his sword from its scabbard, approaching you and leveling his arms into an offensive, swinging stance. Your arms are dead weight as you do the same, but with a defensive one. You anticipate his first swing, meeting it with a sturdy block. Metal sings as he sends you another one.  

“Frustration throws your technique and strength out the window,” he says, going for a jab with the hilt. You narrowly miss it, throwing yourself back. 

 That would’ve been a black eye.  

You furrow your brows at him, and then step forward, slashing your blade with hostile shock. He knocks it away. You throw your free hand up in an exasperated gesture. “What the hell? That would’ve knocked my eye out,” you say. It’s an overdramatization, but it definitely would’ve left a mark. 

He slides a swift foot right at your feet, sending you crumpling the floor of wood. Your body quakes, soft and jelly against the ungiving ground. You stay down for a few moments, trying to brave the bout of roaring pain that sears your body in its entirety. Your knees weep red as you lift yourself to your arms, looking up from your spot on the ground right to the point of his blade in your face. You look past it, into his eyes. He’s studying you, picking apart where you lack and internalizing it. 

“You let yourself get too frustrated. You need a level mind to make clever moves,” he says, sheathing the weapon and offering you a hand up. You accept it, not before sending him an accusatory glare first, your weary muscles pleading with you as you stand. You shake off the radiant pain in your wrists; you shouldn’t have broken your fall with your arms. Taehyun circles you, and you listen to his footsteps creaking until he’s standing behind you.  

“Get in position.”  

You collect your sword from the ground and bring it up by your face, staggering your feet. You shift and readjust your arms and legs here and there, trying to find a sweet spot where it all feels right. None of it does.  

Taehyun’s arms find your shoulders, squaring them. You hold your breath as one of his arms then adjusts the height at which you’re holding the sword, reaching his arm around you. His skin is as cold to the touch as you remember it being, and the way it slides against the skin of your arm is tauntingly familiar.  

You scramble to shove those memories far, far back. When his hands finally drop off you, you stifle a sigh of relief. 

When Taehyun reappears in front of you, he’s holding the hilt of the sword at his hip in a white-knuckled grip, and his jaw is clenched tight. You hold your new stance, trying to settle into it, afraid you’re frustrating him. 

“Swing,” he says. You hesitate. He doesn’t even have his sword out, but he’s watching you so expectantly, and so you do it, cutting the air. You don’t even get to finish the swing before the world whirls around you, Taehyun’s arms twisting you and encasing you so that your sword-wielding arm is stuck behind you. He smells of frosty pinewood musk as he holds you there. Your mouth drops open, and you try to register how he even approached you, caught your swinging arm, and pinned you in that minimal time frame.  

He takes the sword from out of your compromised hand and tosses it. The heavy thing clatters to the ground a few feet away. “What would you do if I was an attacker?” he asks. “You’ve got no weapons. Show me what you’d do.” His muscle-corded forearms hold you pinned in a similar fashion to how that faerie man had in the forest, except now your arm is twisted behind you in an unnatural way that pinches your shoulder blade. 

You wonder if he’s getting flashes of that moment in the forest, too. 

Wiggling proves useless, so you try hooking your own leg into one of his to knock him down. He’s planted too well to the ground. You huff out in frustration, letting your head drop. He’s got you in his arms so tight that your lungs can’t even fully expand.  

“Okay, I can’t,” you say. “Let me go.”  

A few heartbeats pass before he does.  

Taehyun crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d die, if that was real. We don’t know if we’re going to run into more things like what happened at The Hovel. There are ways to defend yourself from bigger attackers.” 

You wince. The press of that dagger into your chest haunts you along with the sensations of hot blood coating your hands, and the pained grunts of the man. “We might at least know a little more, if you hadn’t stabbed him through the stomach before I could ask him any questions.” You rest your sword up against a wall, along with yourself.  

“He was just trying to scare you,” Taehyun says, leaning back onto the edge of an old war strategy desk. You can tell he doesn’t even believe the words himself, his eyes narrowing as cogs turn in his head. 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think he was.” It takes every ounce of resilience you’ve got to not crumple down to the floor. You’ve been practicing for hours. “He said that he had found us, not that he just stumbled across us. And he knew who you are.” You remember the distaste with which he had regarded Taehyun. It may allude to his motivations. 

Taehyun listens to you, his eyes narrowed in thought, and you take it as an invitation to continue. “I think he knew, Taehyun. He’s got to be the one who was asking about us at The Hovel. Unless he’s not even the only one who knows.” You kick yourself off the wall, despite the ache, and pace. “But he knew you. And I don’t think he liked you, either.”  

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a few moments as he thinks, tossing metal pieces from the strategy table he leans on as he does. His brow creases. “The Queen must have her own people laying low in Court. Summer’s solstice is only a few weeks away,” he says.  

“What about the Summer Solstice?” you say. You know that the constant holding of Court in your time here has all been in service of the Solstice, but you can’t imagine why that would entail needing ears in your court. 

“I’m not sure,” Taehyun says, thumbing over that figure of metal, feeling its grooves and features. “But The Queen would not have people out there looking for our kind unless she had something she wants quiet.”  

You lick your dry lips. The Queen knows you’re here. “What do we do about the fact that they know there’s infiltrators?” At the very least, that faerie who saw your faces is dead. How much more death will you see in these coming weeks? Telling yourself that it’s for your own safety is doing a flimsy job of soothing you already; you’re unsure how well it’ll work when you have more blood on your hands.  

Taehyun breathes out through his nose, standing up from the desk and taking another metal figure from it. He pushes the ones left, most of them fallen and in disarray, off to the side, before standing the two in his hands. They’re stood generally where the estate would stand on the map. He erects a few of the discarded figures, lining them up around where Court might be, and then lays one felled off in the woods that The Hovel boasts as its home. The faerie he had killed. 

Something about seeing Taehyun, shady eyes and clad in the clothes of a warlord, interacting with the same strategy table that his father would’ve used to lay out his plans of carnage reminds you of repeated warnings and wary eyes bowing before Taehyun. Had the downfalls of those lifeless heads in the sparring room been planned on that same table, with those same figures? 

“All we can do is keep doing what we’ve been doing. Can you promise me that you’ll be as discreet as possible from this point onward?” Taehyun finally pries his eyes from the table up to yours. “You need to watch your words no matter who you’re around. That includes the prince.” 

Attitude flares in your chest at his last words, but you wrangle it back. You don’t think you have to worry about Yeonjun, but you know it’s better to err on the side of caution. You nod. “And if something happens?” you ask. The question is grim and grey on your tongue. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of what this life really means, you can’t help but ask.  

“You do what it takes to survive, and then we return home with all the information we’ve got, and that’s that.”  

The smell of hot iron melts over you, red and suffocating. You remember the thickness of it, and how it had crusted over a deep brown color and stayed plastered to your skin until you took water to it and scrubbed.  

“Taehyun, I barely made it out of that forest. I’m...” You steady your breathing as it seems to get ahead of you. “I’m not going to win a fight one on one, Taehyun. I’m trying to get better, but that’s just not realistic, and you know it. That was luck.”  

Some emotion passes over his face, his eyebrows pinching and eyes wincing, but it’s gone before you can even name it. “This is how you learn to survive. You don’t learn in sparring rooms,” he says. His sword clicks from the scabbard and its metal trills as he draws it again. "But for now, you need to make sure your odds are as good as they can be.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, releasing your breath.  

“I’ve been in here for hours, Taehyun. I’m tired.”  

He shakes his head. “You need to know how to fight tired.” 

You’re not sure you’ll even be able to swing properly. You don’t barely have it in you to talk, nonetheless fight in any way worthwhile. But he’s right. You swipe your sword off the wall, the dingy metal no longer warmed by your hands. It bites your skin as you settle into the best stance you can muster. To use every bit of your energy in a wild offensive attack, or to slip into the defensive and try to last as long as you can? You’re not sure.  

Taehyun seems to be making the decision for you, though, rooted in his spot, his eyes steady on you. He doesn't urge you to attack him; he just watches to see what you’ll do. Willing your poor, poor legs into motion, you gain on him. You know your legs and pace are lethargic as you move, but you just need to be closer so that you can begin to make moves. He doesn’t comment on the height of your arms or your pace this time. 

You dart your eyes about his torso as if planning a hit there, before swinging down at his sword-bearing arm. Taehyun’s eyes flicker with something akin to surprise, but he dodges well before you can connect. You try not to groan as he darts away and sets back into that unmoving, certain stance. He’s trying to gauge the attacks you opt for. You throw a few unexceptional swings, and he meets all of them. You dart and swing. You need to catch him unaware or unprepared.  

Every time you bring down your sword, it’s doing nothing for you except for draining your energy. He’s full of energy; he hadn’t been practicing like you. You drag full breaths in through your nose, each one not feeling like enough to feed your starved lungs. If you keep fighting like this, you’ll run your well dry.  

You narrow your eyes. Everyone has openings, you just need to find Taehyun’s, however hidden and subtle they are. You take in the sure stance of him, the glimmering dark metal of his heavy blade, the slight way he has his face drawn so that it betrays none of his thoughts, and even the broad musculature of his chest. None are particularly helpful in finding you a clever attack, so you swing at his left. Taehyun is left-handed, you’ve observed that much in the time you’ve known him. Swinging closer to his sword will leave him with less airtime to deflect your hit. Hopefully. 

Taehyun manages to parry your slashing, but it’s just with the edge of his blade, and he has to stumble back. He’s quick to reset, regarding you with twinkling interest in his licorice black eyes. That doesn’t matter—you have your angle, now. You suck in as much air as you can. Your limbs plead with you, whispering that your bed is waiting for you. You answer them by feinting a blow to the right, before pulling back and raising your arms and bringing the entirety of your blade to his left. Metal screeches. Taehyun narrowly meets your sword with his own, supporting the flat side of it with his palm, looking down at you with a smile twitching at his lips. 

 Is that a dimple? 

A sturdy arm curls around your waist, spinning you up and tangling you into a knot. Taehyun pins you against him in exactly the fashion the faerie man had, arms pressed to your sides without seam.  

“Damn it!” you hiss. You dig your fingers into the expanse of his forearm, tensed across your chest like a metal bar. Your sword lies discarded somewhere on the floor. Taehyun is quite a bit taller than that other faerie; he has you held so crushingly that only your toes connect with the ground. 

“You need to stop wearing your thoughts on your face,” he says. His words puff out onto the breadth of your neck, so warm on your skin tingling with the winter air. “But good job trying to find an advantage.”  

You tap out at his arm. “Okay, okay,” you say, trying to find good purchase on your tiptoes. 

“No,” he says, voice thick and stern. He holds you fast to him with his one arm. “You can get out of this. I’ve seen you do it, so do it.”  

You’re sent back to caging arms and words snarled into your ears for the nth time today. “I can’t,” you say, voice wobbly and untrustworthy. “I had to stab him, Taehyun.” You feel nauseous and claustrophobic.   

“He was going to kill you. You don’t need mercy for those who have none for you; It doesn’t serve you.” He wraps his free arm around your waist, tight and oppressive in the same way his other arm is. “C’mon.”  

You grit your teeth kick and buck wildly, digging your heels into his shins and prying at the bar of his arm. Your veins are empty of any fire. You let your head fall back, huffing, and it makes contact with the hardness of his shoulder.  

He pulls you in so that your hips are flush to him. His head drops down near the crook of your neck. “Come on,” he repeats, more punctuated and demanding this time. The contours of his body are solid and hard against you. Your brain feels a little fuzzy. Is it from your shallow breathing, or the way you can feel the heaviness of his eyes boring into you? You’re unsure.  

You pry and pry at his arms, wriggling yourself in hopes that, at one point, you’ll bend your body in a way that will let you slip out. You even reach behind you and shove at the hard planes of his stomach. All of it is infuriatingly futile.  

“You can do more than that,” Taehyun says. “Hit me. Do something. A real captor would’ve done whatever they please with you by now. Come on!”  

“I don’t want to hit you!” you say. When you begin twisting again, he opts for holding you to him by one hip, rather than his whole arm. His fingers dig into you. 

Taehyun’s voice is low in your ears. “I told you to hit me, so do it.”  

All that can be heard in the room for a few long, long moments are your panting breaths, until you bring your foot up and stomp down on his foot, driving your heel down. The thick leather and laces of his boots may pillow some of the force, but not all of it. He grunts, cursing thick and meaningful. He falls back from you, stumbling back until he’s propped up on that strategy table.  

“I’m sorry,” you say, rushing over to him. You had brought your foot down on his harder than you had wanted.  

Taehyun raises a dismissive hand, the wood of the table creaking under his weight as he leans on it, but his face has dropped and smoothed over. You wonder how one could ever be so good at veiling their emotions so completely. He nods at you, his eyes rounded and soft, despite how his foot might be groaning. “Good job,” he says. 

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “You’re insane,” you say. 

He smiles at you. “Maybe.” 

There’s that dimple, again. It’s a soft, kind thing, so at odds with the hard lines and angles of his face. Finally, you let your shoulders soften and relax. You may fall asleep standing upright, if you don’t find the plush of a mattress soon. 

❆

You bite down your hisses and sounds. Yeonjun runs his thumb over the deep purple and yellow bruises that litter your legs and arms, and some are too fresh to be touching. His face is pinched and troubled as his eyes linger over your scabbed knees. 

“Where are you getting these?” he asks. His eyes flicker up to yours, sparkling under the dim firelight that he keeps in his room. Your mouth goes dry. The concern you see brimming there has you wanting to explode in a frenzy of apologies and truths. He deserves to know what you are.  

Sighing, you prop yourself up and onto your elbows. “I do a lot of work at the estate,” you say. It’s a weak excuse for the severity of your bruising, but it’s all you have. His eyebrows lift, and he tilts his head to one side as he looks down at you, something unnamed playing in the lines of his eyes. 

“He lets you get all beaten up like this?” he scoffs. “What kind of work does he even have you doing, anyway? What a piece of shit.” 

 You can tell he wants to extend his offer again. His eyes plead silently with you. You feel guilt the most of any emotion, these days. You shake your head, shrugging him off. “It’s not his fault, Yeonjun. Seriously. I’m just not the best at what I do.”  

“It is his fault, if you come back to me looking like this under his care. I’m sick of it.  Look at your arms,” he says, picking up the battered thing pointedly. “It kills me every moment you’re there with him, and I don’t know what’s happening to you. But then, you show up... like this. It’s hard for me to believe what you say, pretty.” 

You sit up fully. You’re trying to find a way to explain it all away for him. You really are. 

Your silence has him recanting. "I believe you. I do. It’s just...” Yeonjun takes his hand and soothes it over a deep bruise, his eyes trained on it and a bit distant. “I don’t trust him.”  

There it is again. It’s beginning to feel more like cryptic omens the more you hear it. You gnaw at your cheek. “Why?” you blurt. “Why not? I don’t understand.”  

“That family is a line of blood-drinking generals, and I can assure you that he is no different. His father pillaged and devastated as he pleased. Taehyun had no qualms with taking on his father’s legacy. He’s no stranger to killing, pretty. I don’t want you staying in that home.” 

You shake your head, stomach feeling sick. You’ve known about Taehyun’s lineage. But you also know that Taehyun hates his father. Why would he maim himself the way he did if he’s just like his father?  

An image of Taehyun, stone-faced and dark-eyed, standing over the body of that faerie man comes alive in your memories. He had sliced through that man like he was some sort of practice dummy, not a living, breathing thing.  

“Please. I just want you to at least consider why I am asking you to stay with me.”  

You nod, letting him bring you into soft, warm arms. His skin is flush and full of life against yours. It only makes you think of the crystalline and cold that Taehyun’s is. Where Yeonjun is a lush, living thing, Taehyun is more like if frost was stricken with the curse of sentience. 

“Some of my friends are out having a bonfire,” he says, his voice soft. “Do you want to go?” 

You nod. A night under the stars may not be enough to free you of your worries, but it’s enough to let you pretend that they don’t exist.  

❆

The company Yeonjun keeps is admittedly less stuffy and pompous than you had in mind, but still, they are unfamiliar to you. You sit leaned into Yeonjun on some chopped up log, its dry bark digging into your palms and dirtying your skirts. The rumble of Yeonjun’s chest as he laughs and talks with the other faeries circling the towering fire is smooth on your ears. All that lights the gathering is the orange of the flame and the stars above. It’s a moonless night.  

Some of his friends dance free and unabashed to the strumming of a lyre. The faerie plucking at its strings had stricken you a bit frozen when your eyes had first laid on him. You’re familiar with that flop of blonde hair, and that delicately built face. It was the same faerie Taehyun had spoken with in The Hovel. Your eyes linger on him the most—you’re not entirely sure why, but it just feels like an odd coincidence to you. The Hovel, or even its patrons and performers, is not the kind of place you imagined Yeonjun would find his friends. 

He sings to some ridiculous and bawdy faerie ode that you pay no mind. His voice is clear, and it harmonizes wonderfully with the crackle of the bonfire. A jaunty pixie girl cracks up between her dancing at an especially outrageous line.  

“Who is that?” you say, looking up at Yeonjun.  

He looks down at you with starlight in his eyes, alive with the fragrant bliss floating through the air. “Who?” he asks, lips sweet with a smile. You want to kiss them. Is it okay to kiss him here? 

“The guy playing the instrument,” you say, pointing him out. Yeonjun looks in the direction you point. 

“Oh,” he says. “That’s Kai. Why, pretty?” he says, looking back down at you. His black tunic is silken and shimmers under firelight. He brushes strands of your hair from your face so that he can look into your eyes better.  

You shrug. “No reason. Is he a bard?”  

He nods, eyes searching yours. “He is. What are you so curious for?” he asks, the corners of his lips upturned and playful. His skin is fire-warmed, smelling of his familiar sandalwood and clove. You breathe him in. 

“I’m just trying to get to know your friends,” you say. You maintain an air of cheekiness, but you can’t help running over the moment you had first seen the instrument-strumming faerie. 

Yeonjun’s heart seems to tug at that. “I know. Thank you,” he says. His smile is radiant and smooth, and his eyes form crescents.  

“They’re a bit less...” you say. You sit up from him, studying your company to find your words. They’re all more familiar to you—wilder fae, like the kind you might’ve interacted with back home. Not the preening gentry that you’ve mingled with in Court. As a prince, you had imagined Yeonjun might find his home in children of the gentry. 

“Less what? Less frumpy than you thought?” he asks, laughing. His cheeks are flushed with some thick, nectary faerie spirit that the lot have been sipping on, and his breath is sweet with it. “I can’t stand that crowd. Reminds me of home.”  

Your brows pinch with curiosity. “What is your court like?” you say. Someone hoots off in the background, but neither you nor Yeonjun are phased by it. You’ve been surrounded by similar sounds from the moment you arrived here. 

His gaze turns skyward. “Court is court, no matter where it is,” he says, breathing out softly through his nose. “But... at home, things are different. At least, for me they are. I can’t...” He shakes his head as if he’s sorting through old memories that you’re asking him to bare. “I can’t live up to what they expect me to be. There was a time in my life where I tried, but It’s not who I am. You grow tired when it’s your own blood smiling in your face before sticking their blades in your back. All this,”—he takes his silken shirt in his hands— “It becomes tired.”  

His eyes become duller as he speaks. You wince.  

“Maybe it’s a cage of gold, but it is still a cage,” he says into the buzzing night air. Or, rather, he says it to the stars. “So, you get real good at pretending. When everybody is wearing a mask around you, you learn to wear one too.”  

Yeonjun’s head finally drops back down, and he scans around, eyes drinking in the sight of cavorting faeries and the living fire. His eyes then land on you, soft and brimming and full. “It’s nice to have some place to take that mask off.” 

You feel your heart surging in a bittersweet way. You don’t deserve to be that for him. All you do is lie to him, and yet, you can’t help the way your heart aches for him. 

His gaze flickers down at your lips, and he’s leaning in tentative and unsure. You bridge the gap between your lips. He cups your face delicately with a hand, running it back into your hair. His lips have become something familiar; some sort of tonic that washes over you and seeps into your wounds. When you inevitably pull from him, he’s looking right into you. He tastes like that nectar liqueur, as well.  

“I’m gonna go talk. You coming?” he says.  

You shake your head. “I’ll stay right by this fire, thank you very much. It’s cold.”  

He snorts, a corner of his lips turning up. “Yeah, it is. Who let you outside with nothing more than that dress, anyway? It’s freezing out here.” 

“You did.”  

He rubs at the back of his neck, sucking his lips in sheepishly before shuffling away. You roll your eyes and settle into your earthy seat, watching him go. You observe the gathering around you some more while you sit alone, enjoying the sound of true laughs and the music that Kai fills the rest of the air with. Some are sappy, and some are tellings of ancient faerie epics, but there’s one that, for a reason that you’re unsure of, catches your ear and beckons you to listen to it. 

Walls have ears,

 Doors have eyes,

Trees have voices,  

Beasts tell lies,

Beware the rain,

Beware the snow,

Beware the man You think you know. 

You listen as he repeats the ode like a mantra, your bones unsettled. It’s just an ode; you know that. It’s no different from any old, dauntingly ominous faerie folk song. But you think of Taehyun as the bard repeats the words, and you think of how many times you’ve been told to do just that. You try to shrug off that zinging feeling in the back of your neck telling you that you don’t really know Taehyun. In Faerie, there are no coincidences. You don’t know how long you can let words of concern and warning bounce off of you before you start to let them soak right in. 

The metal tang of blood on your tongue tells you that it’s time to get up and distract yourself from your thoughts. You’d gnawed your cheek up. You stretch your limbs and find Yeonjun. He stands talking to a small crowd of faeries, and you join, sliding in next to him. A few of them gawk, and you feel it burning your skin, but you keep your eyes on Yeonjun and do your best to shimmy the feeling off. He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you in closer to him. 

Their conversation is quite honestly hilarious. Their snorts and hollering draw laughs out of you. They loosen your limbs and leave your cheeks pink. You feel as drunk on your laughter as they are on their drinks. Kai soon decides that, since nobody is even listening to his word-spinning anymore, he should join the circle.You don’t notice it, but at some point, the circle cracks off into many different conversations. You stick with Yeonjun, clinging to him for a sense of belonging among the unfamiliar faces. He talks with Kai and a lanky, bark-skinned faerie. The unfamiliar faerie’s eyes are beady and wet, and you feel uneasy under them. You have to strain your ear to clearly hear what they talk about as the other conversations around you mingle and turn into a big blur of jumbled words and sounds. 

“Wouldn’t you?” the tall faerie says, his voice gravelly and heavy with bass. “The Queen knows it. She has until the Solstice to deal away with it.” Yeonjun and Kai share a look that is quick, but it is charged with meaning. You don’t miss how they shift with his words. 

You shove down the urge to snap your head up and frown. The Solstice? What does The Queen know? And what is it? 

The faerie adds, “I heard from a bird that they’ve got something set up at The Hovel for it, anyway. No worries.”  

His word choice sends a chill over you. You can almost feel the blood draining from your face. It’s an echo of what you had heard in the forest after leaving The Hovel. It feels intentional, like some sort of code or meaning that you’re not privy to. Your mind begins patching together thoughts and memories and gathered information in a messy, hodge-podged way, but none of it forms a coherent line of reasoning. You commit the features of this unfamiliar faerie to your memory. You buzz with the consuming need to begin tearing through the woods and find Taehyun, wherever he might be tonight. 

“Are you okay, pretty?” Yeonjun asks, leaning down. His voice is low and delicate. “You’re pale. Are you cold?” 

You failed to contain your jolt of surprise, and a frown etches deep between his brows. “Is something wrong?” he says. 

You can hardly feel your face. “I’m fine,” you say, dismissing him with a shake of your head. “Just tired. Really tired.” You need to be back at the estate. You need to tell Taehyun what you just heard. 

Yeonjun’s face softens, and he pulls back. “Okay. Let’s get you to bed, then,” he says. 

You can’t help but gnaw at your already chewed cheeks and lips as he walks you home through the ice-capped forest. Your feet break through shrubbery and, though some snap back up and claw at your legs, you can barely register their sting through the fogging of your brain. You’re not sure exactly what or when, but something is going to happen at The Hovel.  

❆

You suck in breaths through your nose, holding your pounding chest as you come flying through the front door of the estate. You visit each of the rooms Taehyun frequents—his room, the sparring quarters, the war room—you find him in none of them.  

You groan. Is he still at Court? Yeonjun had only just dropped you off here; seeking out Taehyun at Court would be a risky move. If he decides that he’s not done with the day and you run into him... You don’t even have a time, nor any idea what is actually going to be happening at The Hovel, to offer Taehyun anyway. But there’s this electricity flowing through your veins. It urges you to move; to do something.  

You pace the floor of the estate furiously until you fear you may look down and find the wood weathered and worn down by your boots. Once you’re sure that enough time has passed and Yeonjun would have cleared the flat and the wooded area, you set for Court with your mind racing in the very same way your heart does. 

Your feet carry you with the lightness of determination and will until you find yourself looking onto the warm, dancing lights of Court. You let yourself fear the consequences of what Yeonjun spotting you might bring for only a moment before you stamp it out and slip through the old pillar trees and join the merriments of Court with every morsel of bravery you have in you. 

Your eyes rake over the scene. You filter out the noise of dancing bodies and opt for tunneling in on the faeries standing still and making conversation—that’s where you’ll find Taehyun. There are multiple groups and bundles littering the floor, and yet, you find that tall head of hair and cold face in none of them. You soothe over your dress with anxious hands as you narrow your eyes and look over the hall again. If not conversation, where is he? 

Your eyes brush past a tall, brooding figure posted at the end of a table, his arms crossed and a heavy sword at his hip. Your eyes sweep back for a double take. Taehyun. 

 You restrain the initial urge to pick the hem of your dress off the floor and take off for him. It would only bring curious eyes your way, and you absolutely do not need that. You need to keep a low profile, like how a spy would. You forget yourself more with each moment you spend at Yeonjun’s side. Fearing attention is what you should be doing, not just as a spy, but as a human intermingling with cruel faerie courts, anyway. You make your way through the thick bunches of court-goers and tables. 

Taehyun’s brows furrow when he spots you, full of questioning. You don’t usually seek each other out during court; it’s easier to float below everybody’s attention when separate. 

Your veins buzz, thrilled to spill every word that has been sitting on your tongue with urgency. “Taehyun,” you say, closing the last steps of distance between you. “I have something to tell you, but... I can’t say it here.” He scans your surroundings, and you can see curiosity brimming all over him. He doesn’t ask the questions he has on his mind, though, simply departing from his post at the table and sifting through the crowds. You follow.  

Only once you’ve left the hall that holds court and are into the trees does he ask, “You found something?”  

You nod, but hasten your pace. Not only is the outside air biting into your skin without any tall bonfires to ward it away, but you’ve felt watched for a while now. The woods that you use as a segway between Court and Taehyun’s estate no longer feels like a haven—instead of just ancient holly and pine trees decorating the snowy grounds, you feel eyes on trees and ears in bushes. Taehyun doesn’t push any when you don’t explain, his face only grows increasingly grim. 

When you’re surrounded by the sturdy, familiar walls of the estate you finally stop and lean into the dining table, running your hands over your face. Taehyun’s shoulders have become tensed and rigid. Your silence must be getting under his skin. 

“I was out with Yeonjun, and I heard something. It was like—” 

Taehyun cuts you off, his face souring. “Why weren’t you at Court? Where were you?”  

“A bonfire,” you say, avoiding his other question. “Just with some of his friends. But that’s not the point. The point is that there was somebody there that was talking about The Queen knowing something, and that something is supposed to happen at The Hovel for it. He said something about how she has to deal with it before the solstice.” Your words run over each other and twist with the way you hurry to get their weight off your tongue.  

Taehyun seems to process your jumbles of information for a moment before he says, “What did he look like?”  

“He had bark skin, and was pretty tall,” you say. “I didn’t hear his name, or anything. Do you think you know him?”  

He shakes his head. “I don’t. Did Yeonjun?” he asks, and something in his tone feels accusatory.  

You shake your head. You’re not sure why you do it. “No, but that wasn’t all. There was something he said,”—your stomach flips at the memory— “it just felt off.” 

“What?” 

“He said that he had heard about whatever is happening at The Hovel from a bird,” you say, fiddling with frayed nerves at a heavy jewel hanging in your ear that Yeonjun had gifted you.  

You recognize the look that etches itself into his features as you say it—it mirrors exactly the way your insides twisted when you had heard it. “We have to go see what’s going to happen, Taehyun. I mean, The Queen is involved! Doesn’t it all feel like it’s something bigger? What if that guy who attacked us was in on it?” You toe the wood flooring. “I feel weird about it.” 

His face pulls into a grimace, but he nods. “We can check it out,” he says. “But I’m still wondering why you were out in the middle of the forest with a group of strangers, instead of at court where you should be.”  

You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m doing what you told me to do,” you say, tired of this conversation. “You asked me to make a show out of it, so I am. It was a little hangout with his friends, and Yeonjun was there with me anyway.”   

“There’s no purpose in showing yourself off to his friends,” he says, his voice taking on a biting, sword edge. “Listen to yourself,” he says, throwing his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I don’t care if Yeonjun was there. You were in the woods, surrounded by only him and his friends, alone. You found out for yourself what kind of company he keeps, didn’t you? What makes you so sure that he would choose you over your friends?” he sneers, and then his jaw sets. “I don’t care how much you’re practicing, or how many weapons you wear, you should be smarter than to put yourself into situations like that.” 

You spin on your heel, venom spinning itself up potent and mean in your mouth. You choose to keep it there despite the way it sours and begs for you to spit it all out.  

Taehyun’s fingers dig into your wrist as he catches it, as firm and unforgiving as his temper. “Don’t walk away from me,” he grits out. You throw your head back in an effort to keep yourself together, but all the effort it had taken you to not explode suddenly slips through your fingers like water.  

You rip your arm from out of his hand, scathing him with your eyes. “It’s not up to you. If you want me to do something, then tell me. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m tired of you acting like I don’t have my own brain. I can decide for myself what’s safe and what’s not.” 

He shakes his head, tugging at the collar of his tunic as if it’s stifling around his neck. “I know you can,” he says, his words trained. “I expect more than whatever this is from you. This behavior is unbecoming of a spy.”  

Your shoulders slump heavy with his words. “What? What is?” you say. “We’ve found nothing of value in court. The only thing you ever brought us fell flat on its face, and you brought me closer to death than I ever have. So, tell me how what I did is so awful? I found us something to follow. Can’t you just acknowledge that and move on, without reaching to find something to criticize me for?” 

When you study his face, you expect to find only his torturous mask of ice, but you find his eyes at war with his face. While he seems to be trying to pull that mask over his face, he’s unsuccessful in smoothing over the layered, flickering emotion that his eyes are brimming with. You’re unsure of which emotions you see there. They’re knotty and thorny, and so viscous that you can’t see through or discern them. He doesn’t reply, only pressing his mouth into a thin, cruel line. You wish you could read his eyes and see there what he can’t seem to say with his words. When Taehyun feels his mask slipping away from him, he frantically grasps at straws of rage and mean words to distract from it. 

“Yeah, I’m going to bed,” you say. You know it’s not what this conversation needs; you know that what you need to do is stay here and talk, but that would just be a waste of your time. Taehyun will never offer you the amount of bare emotion that something like that would require, and so you just save yourself the frustration. 

 You chew over more angry words as you storm off for your quarters. Taehyun does not make any attempts to stop you. 

❆

Your eyes flutter open, and you blink them a few times to adjust to the morning rays of light. Birds trill outside your window.  

Your bedding is a warming embrace around you, and it has your eyes drooping and mind fuzzy with sleep just as quickly as you had awoken. You fight it for only a few moments before letting sleep settle itself into your bones once more. 

Your eyes pop back open as the sharp sound of something small and hard colliding with glass rings through your room. You sit up, removing yourself regretfully from the nurturing arms of your bedsheets, and listen. You jump when it happens again. It’s coming from your window. You slide regretfully from the bed and rub at your eyes before padding over to your window. 

You frown at Yeonjun’s silhouette staring up to you from the ground, his hands in his pockets. The grin that he plastered over his mouth when he spots you in the window tells you that he is aware of the fact he had just dragged you out of your slumber. You push open the window, grimacing down at him. 

“Why don’t you just go through the front door?” you gripe, running fingers through your tangle of hair. “Like a normal person would.” 

He tilts his head, swiping his tongue over his lips. “I’m not normal,” he snarks. “You should know that by now, pretty. Do you need me to show you how special I am again?” 

You flush at his innuendo. 

“Tell me why you’re throwing rocks at my window at this hour,” you say, skirting around his words. 

He scoffs. “This hour? What time do you think it is? It’s midday, darling.”  

It’s midday? You’d slept like a rock. 

“Anyway,” he says, “can’t a man just visit a pretty lady? You look lovely fresh from bed, might I add.” He waggles his brows in a gaudy, overdone way.  

You grab at the open window. “Tell me why you’re here, or else I swear I’m closing this window and going back to bed.” 

Yeonjun snorts, leaning his shoulder into the tree at his side. “I have somewhere to take you.” 

You can’t help but remember how Taehyun had scorned you last night for something just like this.  

You shoot a suspicious look down at him. “Where?” 

“Somewhere,” he says. “You’ll love it. I promise.” 

You close the window, saving your room from the bite of the morning air. You have such little time here with Yeonjun. It wouldn’t hurt to use your time together to its fullest extent. A knot forms in your throat as you think of the day you leave this place for home. Would Yeonjun follow you? 

You meet him outside. Your breath furls from your mouth in white plumes, and his nose is tinted pinkish. You quirk an eyebrow, hunched and rallying your own warmth with your arms wrapped around yourself. “What’s inspired you to drag me from my sleep today?” you say. 

Yeonjun shakes his head, eyes creasing into a sweet, sweet smile that wraps your cold bones and rids you of chills. “You’ve seemed worried recently. Is it so wrong for me to take you away for only a day? Would your lord object to even that?” 

You hadn’t realized how much your double life has been weighing down on you. Is it that obvious? He must’ve been worrying. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, kicking at a snow-tufted tree root jutting from the ground. "I haven’t meant to be uptight, or anything.” Your skin prickles as straying snowflakes twirl down and pepper your skin. 

Yeonjun takes your chin in a firm hand, turning your face up from the ground to meet his own. He shakes his head at you, his eyes firm. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You don’t have to apologize for being tired, or worried, or whatever it is. Not to me, at least. Let me take care of you; let me make it better.”  

If your heart was fluttering before, it has grown legs and escaped you by now. You blink once, twice, or even three full times before you suck your lips in and give him a wordless nod. He smiles a content smile, running his thumb just under the plumpness of your bottom lip. “Good,” he says, voice thick. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips that leaves the cold skin of your cheeks warring against the blush that rises there. He slides a warming arm around you and leads you around the estate.  

You pause as you round the corner and catch sight of a powerful, pearly-coated creature standing on the front grounds. It paws the ground, muscles rippling under its shining pelt.  

“I am not getting on that thing,” you say, looking between Yeonjun and the frilly horse with your eyes blown wide. Horses are something only the gentry use as means of transportation—the rest of faerie ride by other means or simply by foot. This one is perhaps the second you’ve seen in the entirety of your life. You gawk at its long, powerful legs. 

Yeonjun digs into a pouch that sits on the white flank of the creature, a taunting twist to his face. “You’re afraid of horses?” 

His words rile you. “No,” you say, voice tilting up in affront. You reach out to run your fingers over the smooth surface of its neck and retract your hand when the muscles there flinch. Yeonjun, or perhaps his attendants, must care for it well. Its tail is laced with flowers of faerie, only unwilted for the fact that they have some form of faerie enchantment placed over them, and its mane is a white, dripping silk that does not even look windblown, though you assume Yeonjun had ridden it here. It seems that all things flourish under Yeonjun’s touch. “I’ve just never been on one before.” 

He finishes rummaging through the pouch and produces something from it. A thick, fur-lined coverup made of white deerskin, inlaid with whorls of silvery thread. He offers it to you, and you gladly drown yourself in it. You sigh as it thaws out your skin. "I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, reassuring you before kicking himself up over the top of the horse with practiced ease the speaks to his upbringing. He looks exceedingly princely as he extends his hand down to you, his hair falling into his eyes and his lips lined with charm. When you hesitate, eyeing up the climb onto the horse, he adds, “Trust me.” 

And you do. Perhaps it’s foolish in a world built with elaborately hidden non-truths into its seams, but you do. You’re unsure of whether it emphasizes your foolishness or Yeonjun’s innate charm. You take his hand and slide your foot into the stirrup. You teeter on one leg before you feel the firmness of his hand in yours, and you throw the other one up and over, and then you’re seated on the solid back of the impressive creature. You laugh in disbelief, looking around at the world from this height. When you look down at the floor beneath you, you gasp and circle your arms around Yeonjun’s middle. 

He runs and hand over yours, interlocking your fingers over his abdomen. “Hold on well, okay?” he says over his shoulder. He pats your hands before taking the reins into his own. You dig your fingers into the front of his doublet and press your cheek into his back, squeezing your eyes closed. When he feels your hold tighten, he snaps the reins. The way that the horse whinnies and then takes off, moving faster than you’ve ever moved within only a few blinks, has you reeling. The pull of the speed that you bolt with makes it feel as though you’ll tip back or fly off the rear of the being. You scoot yourself closer to Yeonjun; so close that your front melds into the hardness of his back, the muscles there tensed as he works on guiding the horse.  

Wind whips your hair behind you, and you’re thankful for the way trees begin to litter the scenery. You slow to a trot, winding through ancient, towering trees gray of bark and crawling with lichen. The ambience of the silvery light rays that filter through the branch overhang and the singing of little songbirds has you breathing in until you feel as though you are bursting with air and then releasing it all in a deep, deep sigh. Hoofbeats form a deep, resounding song that you find yourself lost in. 

“You’re quiet back there,” Yeonjun says. You can feel the reverberations of his voice through your cheek.  

You hum, letting your eyes droop closed. “Mhm.” 

A laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “Are you going to fall asleep?” he says, and you can hear his smile in his voice. “We’re not too far from where we’re going, pretty. Why are you so sleepy? You didn’t go to bed too late last night.” 

His question drains every bit of exhaustion from you. You manage the tensing of your limbs carefully. To him, you had gone to bed early last night, but you were too busy sneaking around him and tossing in your bed to get a full night’s sleep last night. “I don’t know,” you say. Your lie is wretched in your mouth and mind. You’re sat on the back of his royal steed and he’s taking you somewhere because he’s worried about you, and you have the gall to lie to him straight through your teeth. For the first time, you envy the faerie composition for their inability to lie. Words claw long, raking welts down your throat as you tamper them down and pretend that they are not there. If you ever tell him your truth, it shouldn’t be now. 

The trotting of the horse turns into leisurely walk. You sit up. Your surroundings look no more special than the last thirty minutes had.  

“We’re here?” you say. 

He slides off the back of the horse, his feet meeting the forest floor the only sound bar the typical buzzing of the forest. He offers you his arm. “We are.” 

Despite his help, your descent is marginally less graceful than his. “Here, where?” you do a full spin before leveling him a curious stare. “This forest is nice, I suppose, but...” 

“I’ve spoiled you rotten,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “This isn’t enough for you? I mean, these trees are just something else.” 

You know the sparkle in his eyes is all taunt. You narrow your eyes at him. “It’s beautiful, yeah... But I could’ve gone tree gazing literally anywhere else.” You inspect the hollows between trees and the forest floor for some sort of faerie trick or veiling.  

He smirks off your complaining, producing a small, silken cloth from the horse’s satchel. He unfolds it to unveil a glistening, plump chunk of Lachrymose. Faerie fruit.  

“What is that for?” you say, giving him an incredulous stare.  

He raises it to you. The dusty blue skin of it is coated in a fuzz. You’re not mistaken at all—that is faerie fruit. “I need you to eat it,” Yeonjun says. 

“But that’s Lachrymose,” you say. “It’s faerie fruit. I can’t eat that. Why do you want me to eat it?” Shame tickles at your skull as you replay Taehyun’s words from last night. Yeonjun has showered you with nothing but his affection, you have no reason to doubt his intentions now.  

“I know,” he says. “I know it is. Do you trust me?” 

Do you? He had led you here to the forest and now is holding the fruit known to drunken your kind. Taehyun’s words double, and they meld with all that you know about the folk. They don’t care about you. What makes this faerie prince any different? Who’s to say that he didn’t bring you out here with ill intent? It’s not like anybody would come searching for you, anyway.  

But, despite it all, you do. You trust Yeonjun with the blazing intensity of a girl who has not known what it is to be treated delicately. You trust Yeonjun even if it is to a fault. You nod.  

He brings the chunk of yellow-pulp fruit to his lips, and his bite is punctuated by the crisp puncturing of the skin. He chews the fruit and swallows it, and then swipes his tongue over the pink of his lips to collect the thick nectar there. He drops the fruit to the ground. 

Any words or questions die in your throat as he crashes his lips into yours. He rolls his tongue around yours and brings his hands up to hold your face in place. You mewl surprise into his mouth, but the cloying flavor of the nectar lingering on his tongue has each inch of your skin buzzing with the twinkle of faerie enchantment. The taste of Yeonjun mingles with the fruit in a way that seizes your senses. He licks at your bottom lip before pulling off of your mouth. The black of his pupil threatens to drink his eye whole, his eyes dilated and heavy with rolling lust.  

You reclaim your stolen breaths as you watch him and his wet lips, but something behind him catches your attention. You peer around him.  

Behind Yeonjun are multiple merchant stalls so full of odd ornaments and draping fabrics that you fear they’ll spill over onto the forest ground, seemingly appearing where nothing had stood before. Behind the stalls stand a myriad of different fairfolk, some haggling with customers and some fussing over their goods. Your feet grow roots into the ground and you gawk at the scene in front of you. 

“How?—” 

Yeonjun pats the flank of the horse, looping a lead around its gear and making a tree the anchor for the other end. “Faerie fruit is intoxicating to humans, yes,” he says, “but at lower doses it gives you true sight.” He looks over the little marketplace. “There’s so much of Faerie that you miss. Hidden places like this... I want to show you all of them. This is your home, too, isn’t it?” 

Your eyes burn and your throat burns as you strain to bottle your tears up. Your home.  

He takes one of your hands and gestures toward the stalls in a pointing gesture. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve put out for sale.”  

You peruse the stalls with only your eyes for a few moments before walking up to one. This one, you find as you approach the stall, has art for sale. Canvases slathered with paint and telling stories of betrayals and greatness are propped up on display easels, so plentiful that the shopkeeper began littering them about the ground as well. Earthenware and pottery glazed in sparkling silvers and bronzes stand tall and beautiful alongside them. You can’t help but notice that the subjects of the art pieces are all human. 

You drift to the next stall, but Yeonjun stays admiring the art pieces. This one boasts an odd collection of all sorts of seemingly stolen things. Piles of worn buttons and door handles and all other sorts of trinkets. You look over all the hanging baubles and dangling metal pieces that chime when a breeze worms through them. Much of it you can’t even recognize what sort of purpose it may serve, or at least what purpose it may have served at some point. 

It’s all human. 

A gnarled voice startles you. “Do you not see something you like, girl?” says the goblin shopkeeper as he peeks up and over the piles of his selection. The cap on his head is pointed and red, and his ears membranous and bat-like. You immediately know upon seeing him that all of this was gathered by the shopkeeper himself, and not bought off of suppliers. Goblins are infamous for their sticky fingers and fondness toward inconsequential human things like these. He zeroes in on a heavy, unfamiliar coin in your hands, his nose snuffling on his pointed snout. “That’ll run you a fair chunk of your hair.” 

“Oh, I’m just looking,” you say, letting the coin drop back into the piles of unsorted knick-knacks. “Is this all human goods?” 

The shopkeeper chortles. “This is a market for human things, girl. You’ll be harder pressed to find something of faerie make here.” 

Your heart skips a couple beats. Yeonjun had brought you here because he thought being among human things might comfort you.  

You move on to the next stall. This one offers delicate works of silver—earrings, necklaces, bangles, and even cold silver weaponry. You pick up a resplendent dagger, embellished with a myriad of swirling carvings running up the handle. You test its weight. It is heavy and the blade of it is in great shape. The ones you have been using from the arsenal at Taehyun’s estate pale in comparison. 

“Anything catching your eye?” Yeonjun says, his voice sneaking up to your left. He must’ve caught up to you while you were busy browsing. 

You nod, holding up the dagger of silver. "This is gorgeous.” 

He gives you an odd look, tilting his head as he looks down at the weapon and then up at you. “What would you need a weapon for?” he says. “Not that it isn’t lovely.” 

You laugh, and you hope it doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “I was just saying that it’s nice,” you say, shrugging. It’s hard to part from the beautiful, silver thing as you place it back down. 

“This is all human stuff, isn’t it?” You turn to look at him. 

He smiles, and his nose crinkles with it. “So, you noticed,” he says. “I thought you might like it.” 

“I do,” you say. “I... I didn’t know there was anything like this here.” You gesture at the market around you, seemingly risen from plain snow and tree. It doesn’t make any bit of sense that there would be a market for human things when faerie craft is unfathomably superior. “I’m not sure why, though. It’s all so...” You mull over a way to put your thoughts into word for a moment. You look over the selection of the stalls, their goods dented and rusting and frayed around the edges. “Lackluster.” 

He shakes his head, looking back at the paintings of the first stall that he had hovered at. “What makes you say that?” he says.

You pick up a necklace on a white gold chain, heavy with a weeping pearl at its apex, from a pile of other odds and ends. “A lot of it is pretty,” you acknowledge, bringing the pearl into your palm and feeling the imperfect shape of it. The color of it is a pale, oil spill mauve shade that you’ve never seen on a pearl, and it is not lovely and round like other pearls, either. “But none of it really matters, like handcraft here does. Like, those paintings don’t strike love in the viewer’s heart...” You look around, and your eyes are pulled like gravity to the blade that you had laid down. “And that dagger doesn’t gift its wielder the blessing of guaranteed victory in any fight they bring to it. They’re just... stuff.” 

Yeonjun takes the necklace from your hands. He reaches around you, clasping the ends of it at the back of your neck. He picks up the drooping pearl from where it dangles about your cleavage, observing it and spinning it in his fingers. “Maybe this necklace isn’t inlaid with magic. Maybe it doesn’t gift its wearer boundless beauty, or act as a ward against evil enchantments. But how I look at it, somebody worked hard days of their lives learning the skillset and working their fingers raw to finally be able to make a piece like this. They had no faerie magic to help them do it, and they did not have the long lifespan of a faerie, either. Their lives were short and valuable, and yet, they spent their scarce time mastering their craft until they made this. Don’t you think that is more lovely than any faerie thing?” 

You take the necklace into your own hand. Suddenly, the weight of it on your chest is more right than anything ever before. The junk around you begins to sparkle with the light of someone’s passions.  

“It looks lovely around your neck, darling,” he says. The husky timbre that is spun into the words makes your skin burn. “It’s yours. Whatever you want from here is yours.” 

You shake your head, still holding the pearl between your fingers and feeling its shape and temperature. “This is all I want.”

He smiles at you before pulling out a heavy bagful of coins, handing it to the shopkeeper who finally looks up from his ministrations behind the counter. “The necklace for the lady,” Yeonjun says. The shopkeeper’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he accepts the jingling pouch of coins that is visibly too much for just the necklace, but he does not protest or point it out. 

Your heart tugs. That shopkeeper knows Yeonjun is prince—there is not a sentient being in these lands that does not know his title. Yeonjun could’ve asked for the necklace and the shopkeeper would’ve given it to him. Maybe a bit begrudgingly, but he would. And yet, Yeonjun handed him the payment for the necklace and more. The amount of money that Yeonjun just handed him is no dent to him, but to the shopkeeper... 

“C’mon,” Yeonjun says, looping his arm around you. “We don’t have long before your true sight fades off. Let’s look at everything before then, yeah?” 

You nod, leaning into his touch. You’re not sure you ever want that fruit to fade; not sure you ever want to leave the forest and face what you’re really here for. But, at least for the time you have here, you’ll pretend that this is it. 

❆

You bound down the stairs, greeting Taehyun with a nod of your head when you spot him leaned against the wall by the door. He returns your nod. It’s the first you’ve seen of him in a few days. 

You frown at him. He looks as if he’s been waiting on you. What other reason would he be hovering around the front door? 

“What’s up?” you say. 

He lets out a sigh, laced with frustration. “Whatever they’re doing at The Hovel, they’ve got it under wraps. It doesn’t matter if I sit there for half the day; nothing but usual customers pass through.”  

You appreciate that he doesn’t mention how your information might be null, despite the fact that you know he’s thinking it. You are. Hopefully, it’s not because you whined so much about being taken seriously that he just accommodates you like a moody toddler. That can’t be the truth, though. If he’s taken multiple of his own days from your finite time here in the north to check it out, he has to believe that it holds some water.  

Shrugging, you say, “We could just leave it, if it doesn’t seem like it’s actually anything.” 

He shakes his head. “No. We’re going to follow this through,” he says. “Get some shoes on. I want to bring you with me, this time.” 

He wants you to come this time. He wants your help. Maybe he’s just saying it to mend the tension that seems to be a permanent aspect of your relationship, but that doesn’t feel like Taehyun’s style. It feels dizzyingly validating for each of the nights you’ve spent running through your sword fighting skills until you wore your muscles down, even when you felt you might collapse.  

You bend down to lace up your boots. Your necklace dangles from your chest, swinging and bumping your chin as you do. When you stand to ask him why he believes you being there might help, you pause as you catch his eyes trained intensely at your chest. You furrow your brows, thrown off by the smolder in his narrowed eyes.  

He steps toward you, reaching up and taking Yeonjun’s necklace from where it rests. His fingers brush right where your breasts begin, if only for a brief, heart-stopping moment. “Where did you get this?” he asks, his tone flat and untelling, but his eyes blaze and do not flicker away from the pearl around your neck for even a moment.  

You can’t muster an answer for a few beats, blundering with his sudden and uncalled for intensity. But, when you finally can, your voice wavers. You have no reason to have guilt roiling in your belly for wearing Yeonjun’s necklace, but you do. “Some market that sells human stuff,” you say. 

His face tightens. “How did you get there?” he says. He must know exactly which market. He won’t look at you. “It’s from Yeonjun,” he says, more a statement than a question. He sounds scorned, as if you wearing some necklace has any reason to encourage this sort of reaction.   

You wince, ready for him to berate you for drowning yourself in Yeonjun’s luxuries, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops the necklace as if it’s cold iron searing into his skin, stepping back from you. “Let’s go,” he says, cold and sharp and short. 

There it goes; a smooth, flawless mask slides over his face and clicks into place without falter. You’ve become so sick of staring into an emotionless face. 

“No,” you say, crossing your arms. 

His eyebrows shoot up. “No?” he echoes. 

“You’re angry about something. What’s your problem?” You narrow your eyes at him.  

“My problem?” he asks, his lip curling. “I have no problem. We need to go.” 

You bark out a barbed laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Sure, let’s do this again. You lead the way.” You gesture at the door in an overblown, dramatic wave of your arm, utterly sardonic. 

He gives you a long look before he does. When the heavy wood door swings open, a cold front of air blasts in, smacking you in the face. You snatch a woolen cloak up from near the door, wrapping yourself up in it and following Taehyun out into whipping wind. 

You drag your feet through snow without any complaint or word exchanged with Taehyun—it’s not the first time you’ve braved a snow storm alongside a sickeningly quiet Taehyun, anyway. 

❆

As you hook your boot into a low-hanging branch, tugging yourself up on unsure arms, you look up to see Taehyun already squatted and settled onto a thick branch a few levels up. He reaches a hand down to you, and you take it, amazed by how much easier it makes the rest of your climb up feel. You remember the buff of his forearms and the feel of them wrapped around you like solid metal through flickering memories, and it adds up. Taehyun does not just wield weapons well; his whole body is honed and molded to be used just as well as any weapon from what you’re sure are from years of spy work and being a general’s son.  

You wobble on this higher branch, wrapping an arm around the trunk of the tree when you look down and see how high you are from the ground. Though it is powdered generously with a white layer of snow, you’re sure that fall would hurt. You focus on breathing. You’re not sure you would, if you don’t. 

Taehyun and you had made the trek to this forest in a familiar, tense silence, only broken when he told you that you’d be climbing into a tree and keeping a bird's eye view of the path to The Hovel. Even now, he won’t address you. It irks you down to your soul; you had done nothing to deserve a cold shoulder from him.  

Taehyun readjusts his footing on the branch and it wobbles under your feet, creaking. Your heart jumps up into your throat, and your arms encircle the tree until it aches. Bark bites your skin, but you couldn’t care less.  

“You need to relax,” Taehyun says. “The more tense you are up here, the more likely it is that you’ll actually fall.” 

You breathe out through your nose shakily, gritting your teeth. “It’s not that easy.” 

“I know it isn’t,” he says, placing a steadying hand on your back. “But you have to.” 

 You attempt to let go of the trunk, but the second you let go, you find that your footing is insufficient, and you teeter. Your arms are back around the tree faster than you can even think. 

“I didn’t say let go of the tree.” 

You bite back a snark, opting to focus your energy on not slipping and cracking your neck. You would not be this uptight if the branches weren’t coated here and there in sheets of snow that has hardened into ice, making good foot placement imperative. 

“How long are we going to be sitting up here?” you ask. You’re thankful for the way the branches and pine needles shelter you from the wind, but you’re unsure of how long you can handle the feeling of your lungs frozen in fear. 

“A while.” he says. 

You shudder out a breath at that. Well, if the tense atmosphere between you two wasn’t already enough on your plate, the threat of falling from this height is a lovely addition. 

The two of you sit perched and hidden in the trees without so much as a passerby for awful stretches of hours. The more you throw yourself into listening and watching, despite the absence of anything to listen or watch, the less taut your muscles grow. At some point, you’re able to let go of the tree, holding to the branch underneath you. You grow intensely bored by the monotonous sight of falling snow and the occasional forest creature. Of course, nobody is visiting The Hovel today. Who would be? 

“Okay, I think it’s safe to call it quits, Taehyun,” you say. Your knees ache furiously from the constant crouch you’re sat in, and you’re reaching your measly human threshold for cold temperatures despite your bundling. “Nobody’s coming. I’m sorry, I guess I interpreted things wrong. Let’s just cut our losses and go back.” 

Taehyun looks at you with a strange look in his eyes. “I’ve been doing this for days. For days, I’ve been sat up in these trees and poking around the place. Do you think I’d waste that time on something that sounds like it could’ve been interpreted wrong?” he snaps. “None of that sounded like coincidence. You found something good, and we’re not going to leave it now.” 

He says the words a bit harsher than you had hoped, but in some odd way that only Taehyun could pull off, it feels like an apology for treating you like dead weight before. 

You huff. “If it’s nothing, you can’t say it’s my fault that we’ve wasted time on this.” 

He doesn’t answer, and the forest slips back into just the quiet howl of wind and rustling branches. You rest your cheek into the tree, submitting to another bout of painfully fruitless watching. 

Taehyun rustles on the branch next to you, sitting up and suddenly very alert. You shoot him a confused glance. There’s nothing and nobody in sight. You mouth the word “What?” at him.  

He presses a finger over his mouth in a shushing gesture, holding it there as he seems to listen to something that you can’t hear. He pulls his bow off his back, notching an arrow. Your heart thumps in your neck wildly as you watch him do it. What, exactly, does he hear? 

It’s a few long, long minutes before you start hearing anything. Indistinct chatter bounces off of trees and reaches you as a pair of faeries, one of them a long-limbed pixie and the other more humanoid aside from the pointed ears peeking out from his hair. You watch them trudge through the piling snow, unable to pick up their conversation from even this distance. 

Taehyun pulls the bowstring taut, aiming at the pixie one with deadly precision. Your eyes bulge, and you turn your gaze to him with a wide-eyed stare. You want to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but you keep your mouth sealed water-tight. You can’t let them know you’re hidden away up here. 

The utterly remote look on Taehyun’s face, even while having his bow pulled tight and ready to shoot a killing arrow at them, makes you nauseous. He doesn’t look to you, he only narrows his eyes in on the pair, studying them. They look inconspicuous to your eyes—he won’t let that arrow fly, you tell yourself. You tell it to yourself again as he readjusts his squat to better angle at them as they travel further down the path. That consolation does not work, though, when he releases the arrow out onto the pixie. It whistles before piercing the faerie right in the neck. 

You cover your mouth so as to not cry out in shock, but the wail of the other faerie does the job for you. He drops to the floor, his eyes wide and his hands clasping around the entry point of the arrow as if to staunch the bleeding—as if it would save a man with an arrow through the neck. He looks up and around, searching for where the stray arrow had flown from, but Taehyun has you two hidden too perfectly among the branches.  

You look up to Taehyun. He’s loosing another arrow, locking it into place and lining it up with the living faerie, his hands steady in a killing calm. The poor faerie is only just able to realize how vulnerable they are to an arrow before one spears through his chest. Taehyun had aimed for his heart, and he had not missed. His eyes go wide, his skin draining of its color, before he crumples over himself and joins his companion on the ground. 

You watch the sight of their blood slowly embellishing the white snow unable to look away but so sick at the sight that you might bend over and hurl up your guts.  

‘Why the fuck did you just kill them?” you say, and it’s all you can manage to get past your paralyzed lips.  

When he turns away from his carnage and looks at you, all you can see is that detached face as he had made the conscious decision to let those arrows fly and rob those faeries of their lives without warning or even speaking to them. “They’re errand runners for The Queen,” he says before he slinks down the branches, landing on the forest ground. You follow him, suddenly lithe and unafraid of falling with the liquid adrenaline simmering in your bloodstream. 

“So, you shoot and kill them on sight?” you say. “They didn’t deserve that. The most they do is run messages for her, they have no part in any of this.” Your lips tremble as you avoid looking at their still bodies, already losing heat in the snow. You can’t look; not this close. Down here, at their height, you can almost imagine the fear of looking up and knowing that someone sits somewhere in the shadows and knowing that you will be the next on the ground. 

“That’s exactly it,” he says. “They run messages. We need those messages, and we wouldn’t have gotten them by just asking them and saying please.” The rustling sound tells you that he’s searching their bodies.  

You squeeze your eyes shut, the noxious tang of blood finally hitting your nose. Your knees feel like they’ll buckle under you as you remember a time where you had been the cause of that smell. Only a few long steps away from here, you had dug your dagger into the flesh of another living being. How many more times will you see death, now that you’ve found yourself as a spy? Will you one day be as desensitized to its presence as Taehyun is? 

No, you won’t. You can’t see yourself ever valuing the life of any living thing so little that you view it as some means to an end. 

“They had lives, Taehyun. You have no right taking the liberty of that into your own hands. What are you going to do if you find nothing on them? What are you going to do?” 

There’s some more rustling before Taehyun answers. “They would laugh to see you die.” 

It’s true. You know it’s true. Yet, you still can’t find justice in their deaths.   

“You don’t know that; you didn’t know them,” you say. 

He laughs, but it’s empty of what a laugh should be. It feels cold and mocking. “They all would. Every last one of them.” 

You spin on him, hearing his unspoken words. Yeonjun, too. “And you wouldn’t?” you hiss. As you finally look at him, you notice the folded-up paper he holds in his hands.  

His eyes flash. “I am not one of them.” 

Your eyes run over the roundness of his ears. No matter how round he may have sheared them, they can never soften the sharp faerie angles of his face. Not when you’ve seen him kill as wildly and beastly as they do. He has human running in his blood, and yet, the most terrible things you’ve seen have been at his hands. “Aren’t you?” you say. “I think it’s time you come to terms with the fact that you are, and learn how to live with it.” 

He looks at you with eyes of such intensity that you have to make sure you’re still breathing. “You know nothing about me,” he snarls.  

“Maybe I don’t,” you say, rubbing your hands together to fight the cold. “But... killing them, that wasn’t human.” 

“I’m not human, either,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Then, what are you, Taehyun?” you ask.  

He looks at you for a long time, his face unmoving as if he tries but cannot conjure up an answer. “I don’t know,” he says, his tongue lashing. The raw emotion consuming his features, cracking his mask of ice, softens you.  

“Why not?” you say, stepping toward him despite the turning of your stomach when the two fallen faeries come into view. The snow is already dusting them over and covering them; the earth reclaiming what is hers. “You don’t have to live your life in the shadow of that man. You don’t have to deny yourself your own identity because he was a monster. You are not him.”  

As quickly as he let it fall, Taehyun plasters his face in ice and stone. “You have no clue who I am, or what I’ve done.”  

With that last menacing line, Taehyun unfurls the piece of paper he pulled off the errand runners. You’re not sure if the chill resting at the base of your spine is you surpassing your threshold for freezing temperatures, or if the thought of Taehyun committing the same unimaginable atrocities as his father scares you that bad. With what you had just seen... Maybe Taehyun is the same monster that you’ve been continuously warned he could be.  

His brows pinch as he takes in what’s scrawled on the paper, slowly becoming translucent is some places as snow flurries down and falls on it.  

“What?” you say. You hope that whatever is on that paper is worth their lives. 

“It’s just a nursery rhyme,” he says, flipping the paper over to check if there’s anything more. There isn’t. 

You frown. “Let me see.” You take the paper from his hands. At the top sits a crude scribbling of a bird, and beneath it is a nursery rhyme you are vaguely familiar with.  

One for sorrow,  

Two for mirth, 

Three for a wedding,  

Four for a birth,  

Five for silver, 

Six for gold,  

Seven for a secret never to be told,  

Eight for a kiss, 

Nine for a wish, 

Nine for a bird you must not miss

It’s a rhyme about magpies and the meaning behind the numbers you might see them in. On the paper, the last line is written over many times, the writing jagged and almost violent. At the bottom, there are the words tomorrow day written, small and less likely to draw the eye than the bold lines of the rhyme. Your mind freezes up. 

“Taehyun,” you say, swallowing hard. “Do you remember what kind of bird we found dead before I got attacked?” 

He nods, as if catching on to what you’re saying. “It was a magpie.” 

“And everybody is talking in these... codes about birds, right. There is some kind of organized thing happening here, Taehyun, and it involves The Queen. And, down there,” you say, pointing at the bottom of the paper. “Do you think it means that tomorrow is when it’s happening?” 

He thinks for a long moment, probably running through any other possibilities. He nods. “Sounds like it,” he says, inspecting the paper for another few beats before folding it back up and stashing it away. “Let’s get back before it gets too dark.” 

You look up at the overcast and dimming sky, nodding. You’re not sure what you’re going to run into tomorrow at that hidden little tavern, but you feel that you’ll need a better night’s sleep to face it than you’ve been getting. “Okay,” you say. 

❆

You didn’t sleep well last night. Not at all. You tossed and turned, torn between trying to figure out what all the stuff you’re finding could mean and spinning your conversation with Taehyun over and over in your head until you’re sick of it, and then you spin it some more. You thought of the dead indifference on his face as he killed them, and you thought of what he had told you. You have no idea who I am, or what I’ve done. You had hoped for some showcase of the monster that everybody paints him out to be, and you had gotten it.  

You know that the life of a spy is not a cake walk—you know it comes with violence and the constant threat of death. Killing those errand runners was clearly vital to discovering whatever The Queen has going on, and that note was a great help, yeah. Sure. But you can’t convince yourself that the loss of their lives was justifiable. You just can’t. Not even when the inhabitants of this world would do the same unto you without any such remorse. 

When you tug yourself out of bed and meet Taehyun out by the blackthorn tree, he looks at you strangely. You must look as sleep deprived as you feel. He doesn’t mention it, though, and only runs his eyes over you to check if you’ve armed yourself adequately. Nodding in approval, he sets out. 

Once you’ve cleared the trek to The Hovel and are looking upon the little hidey-hole entrance, you suck in a shuddering breath. This moment had plagued you last night, too. You run your hands down each place where you store away your hidden daggers—just for reassurance. 

“Same as last time,” Taehyun says, breaking the silence of the woods to preface your entering the tavern. “If we look like anything other than lord and human servant, we’re going to get attention that we don’t want. Especially when we don’t know who could be in here. If they were able to find out who we were last time, we need to be a thousand times more careful this time. Unless I tell you otherwise, you need to stick by me, understood?” 

You have to breathe manually, wiping your palms on your plain dress. You don’t have the luxury of wearing pants this time, no matter how much better it is in the case that you have to fight your way out of here. Female servants do not wear pants. “Understood,” you say, nodding your head and stepping into the mound entrance. 

Your entrance into the tavern is almost as wild and slippery as last time, but at least you know what to expect this time around. You scan the room as soon as you catch ground, smoothing down your dress. Instantly, you catch sight of Kai’s blonde mop of hair, leaned up against a dirt wall, strumming a fast-paced song on an instrument. The crowd is no busier than the first time you had been here, either.  

Maybe you had interpreted the paper wrong. Nothing looks amiss or curious. You let a little bit of your bottled-up stress out in a slow puff of air.  

When Taehyun appears next to you, you whisper to him, “What do we do?” 

He scans the room in a similar fashion that you had, before he cocks his head to the side in a follow me gesture. He pushes into the measly crowds. You follow him, weaving around drunken bodies and cackling, snaggle-tooth hobs until he comes to a stop. 

You suck in a breath. Of course, he had to head straight for Kai. Just your luck. Taehyun may think that Kai is a good source for information, but you really wish he would’ve picked quite literally anybody else to try and pull information from. Kai is Yeonjun’s friend, and you have no idea what might happen tonight. 

Kai looks up from his bored playing, and his brows shoot up as he spots you next to Taehyun. He doesn’t stop playing his music, though. You’re sure he could be asleep and his fingers would still be plucking strings. “Odd seeing you here,” he says, smiling at you before nodding his head in greetings to Taehyun. “Especially odd that you’re not with Yeonjun. What brings you here?” 

Taehyun looks between you and Kai. You know he’s wondering how you two might know each other.  

“Just out for some fun,” Taehyun says, cutting in and answering before you can. “She’s my ward, I’m unsure why she would make an appearance here with the prince.” There’s a distinct sour undertone to his words, but you can hardly determine why.  

Kai is undeterred by Taehyun’s brooding, a lilting smile tugging his lips up. He tilts his head to one side, and the action reveals a pair of short goat’s horns that peek from his hair. The brown of them compliments well his forest green doublet. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the prince’s fondness for her, then, if she’s your ward.”  

You had, when you first met him, thought that Kai fears Taehyun. Now, you’re more under the impression that he is not the type to really fear anyone.  

Taehyun’s lips pull into a muted frown, but you can tell that he’s ruffled by the stiffness of his shoulders. “I’ve been made aware of it, yes,” he says. His jaw feathers, and he turns his gaze on you. “Would you bring us some drinks?” he says. 

Kai gasps dramatically, furrowing his brows and placing a hand over his chest to feint offense. “That’s no way to treat a lady, Lord,” he says. “It’s no wonder she runs around with Yeonjun the way she does.” 

You resist the urge to snort when Taehyun grits his teeth. He’s only acting like that because it’s how most faeries treat their human servants, but Kai knows how to taunt in a way that meets its mark. 

“She is far from a lady,” Taehyun says, crossing his arms. “Grabbing a drink is a reasonable task for a servant, is it not?”  

You decide to just scurry off and grab drink to save yourself the effort of not laughing at him. When you find the tap barrels from which you had gotten drinks from last time, it’s the same barkeeper. He greets you, but his demeanor is totally different now. He doesn’t speak to you again as he flips up the taps and fills you some goblets. It unsettles you, but you had only interacted with him that one time. You don’t know him well enough to justify saying that he’s acting weird. 

You observe the patrons around you more closely while you wait for the drinks. If there is anything at all supposed to happen today like you had heard, they did a fine job of concealing it. You narrow your eyes, passing everybody over once more and then twice more. You had only been given a date, not a time. You may have to be here all day. 

“Your drinks,” the barkeeper says, jousting out the goblets. Some of the drinks spill over the top and seep into the dirt below. You accept them and try not to let any more go to waste as you slither through the crowds.  

Slipping back into Kai and Taehyun’s conversation, you hand Taehyun his drink. He doesn’t look at it or drink it; it’s more a prop than for his enjoyment.  

“Oh yeah?” Kai says, challenging something Taehyun must’ve said while you were away. He looks to you. “How would you like to dance to some of my music, Lady?” he asks.  

Dance? You look to Taehyun. You doubt he’d want you dancing right now.

He doesn’t object or shake his head like you think he might. 

“Right now?” you ask, looking around you to the faeries cavorting and spinning. “I’m not sure I should. Dancing is dangerous, you know?” 

Kai laughs, easing one song into another, more wild and twisting one. “You won’t lose yourself here. My music is different from other faerie music.” 

You step back so that you hover near where most of the dancing folk are, looking to Taehyun. You’re not sure if this is what you should be doing right now. What if something happens, and you’re here dancing carelessly while he needs you? Maybe it’ll work wonders to keep your cover if you look like a simple human girl losing herself to dancing. You look around once more, gnawing at your cheek, before asking Taehyun with your eyes again for any objections.

He smiles, leaning into the dirt wall behind him and crossing his arms. “Dance,” he says, his tone softer and more playful than you've heard from his lips before.

Well, if he wants you to dance, then you’ll dance. You pick up the ends of your dress and begin twirling and letting yourself fall into the intoxicating ups and downs of Kai’s music. Kai is right—the edges of your vision don’t blur, and you don’t feel your mind slipping away from you, but your cheeks do begin to flush as you tap your boots to the floor and let your hands swirl about to Kai’s singing voice. You feel the burning of Taehyun’s eyes on you. It sends an electric feeling up from the root of your feet to the center of your spine. You can’t explain why the weight of his eyes is so exhilarating, but perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, for once, you are being free in front of him and he isn’t pretending that it’s the worst thing ever. Or, maybe, it’s because you remember the way he tastes.  

You look out from your spot of spinning and enjoying yourself to Taehyun. He rips his attention off of you when your eyes find him, sipping at his drink and looking over the tavern as if he had not been watching you at all.

Once your skin grows slick with effort and your thighs begin to burn, you crawl off the dancefloor and sidle up next to Taehyun.

Well, if he’s drinking, then you can drink too, right? You seek out yours, taking it into your hands. You swirl it and inspect it as you stand beside Taehyun. The bubbly liquid tornadoes beneath an unmoving, frothy layer on the top.  

You pause. You suppose you couldn’t have expected a place like this to have the highest quality wine. You sip it anyway—you intend to relish the sour taste of the plum wine. It’s a bit powdery upon the first drink; little grits of something wash down with the sweet fruitiness. Your nose crinkles. It’s nasty. 

Taehyun doesn’t speak with Kai any more. It seems that he did not have any of the information he had hoped he could find from him. Still, he stays nestled in the little corner where Kai prefers to perform in; you’re sure it’s because it keeps his back protected against the wall, not to mention it lets him observe the entirety of the tavern. Kai doesn’t seem to mind; he’s far more interested in his music, anyway.  

You try and look over the place as well, but there isn’t much to note. Faeries stumble around drunkenly when they aren’t tittering and dancing. Kai’s music begins to swirl and blur in your ears. You blink away the same blurring around the edges of your vision. That must be an awfully strong cup of wine. 

You affirm that none of it is indicative of some covert, shady thing that you’re anticipating. Your stomach feels heavy. Taehyun had sat out here for multiple days because he relied on you; he had killed those two errand runners because of your information. And here is the fruit of your efforts to contribute to this mission: you’re wasting your time in a shabby, dug out little tavern alongside drunken faeries, joining in on their debauchery with a drink in your own hand. You frown down at your cup of wine. The image of it bends and wobbles. 

“Did I do a bad job?” you ask. Your words slur, as if your lips can’t keep up.  

Taehyun stops his monitoring to look at you. His face is fuzzy in your eyes, but you can see the confusion written all over it. “What?” he says. 

You stumble a bit. Your feet don’t seem to be falling where you will them to. “I’m sorry,” you slur. “It’s my fault.” 

He rushes over to you. You don’t even notice you’re falling until he’s catching your weight, keeping you held upright. “Shit,” he says, snatching your drink from you. He inspects it for a moment, swirling it how you had earlier. Whatever he sees makes his face drop, his eyes hardening—as if preparing for something. For what? You lift your head with much effort. It feels dragged down to the earth. You blink and look around.  

Taehyun throws your drink to the ground, the goblet thudding against the dirt. You watch a few heads pop up from the crowd. They watch as Taehyun tries to carry you out. Your clumsy limbs make his efforts more difficult. You can feel him growing more desperate beside you until he curses under his breath, and then hoists you over his shoulder. The world spins around you until you’re staring down at the ground, and Taehyun is heading for the exit. Your fingers and toes buzz. 

Taehyun crawls up the entrance, all while you’re laying over his shoulder like dead weight. Fresh air burns your skin as he clears it. You watch the ground turn from trodden dirt and twigs to snow path. He secures an arm around your waist to steady you, and then he’s taking crashing through the forest. 

You can feel your mind slipping more, as something liquid and hot replaces your blood. You watch the ground pass you by, trying to count the bushes and study the shrubs in hopes that it’ll help you stay present. You can’t tell if it’s working. 

Taehyun stumbles to the ground. You, being on his shoulder, follow. The white blanket on the forest floor does not do anything to cushion the fall. Sharp foliage greets you, slicing up your skin. You bite down a warbled yelp as you struggle up onto your arms.  

Taehyun is hunched over into the snow, grunting into the ground. A bird-feather arrow pierces his shoulder, making the cloth around it dark and sticky with his blood. He writhes there for a moment that seems to stretch. You crawl toward him; you’re sure that if you stand, you’ll just fall anyway.  

“Taehyun.” You shake him. Your heart is up in your throat, choking you. “Taehyun, get up,” you beg. The ground thunders beneath you. There are people coming. Too many of them to fight off by yourself, if the roar of their approach is anything to go by. Adrenaline pumps through you, pushing out some of that substance and making room for itself. It sobers you up, just enough to grasp the dire situation you’re in. You can’t fight them in this state, and you’re not sure if Taehyun can now, either. “Please!” 

He trembles as pushes himself off the ground. The growled sounds of pure, undiluted pain he makes twists your stomach sick. “Do I pull it out?” you ask, your voice thin. Your words are still a bit slow and they still blend into one another, but at least you’re making sense now. 

He pants, shaking his head. “Break it off,” he grits out through his teeth. You crawl behind him on your knees to inspect the arrow. A short breath of relief slips past your lips. It’s shallow enough that you’re certain it didn’t puncture his lung. You bring your hands up and take the whittled shaft of the arrow into your hands. His shuddered breath as you do makes you pause. 

You can’t. You really, really can’t get your hands to move. You’re stricken down by fear, frozen by it. Your breaths come shallow and inadequate—as if your fear constricts your lungs and takes up the space where air should be. Approaching voices and the rumbling forest floor devastates every last ounce of rationality you’ve got in you. 

“Now,” he snaps. “Do it now. Break the end off, and get back. Don’t worry about me.” 

You blow out air, gripping the stem of the arrow harder. You betray your mind and wrench the thing down, trying to snap it in half. It doesn’t work, only digging the tip end of it around in his shoulder. You cover your mouth with your quivering hand as he roars, digging his fingers into his pant legs. His whole body is wracked with tremors at your clumsy hand. Acid crawls up your throat. You grab the portion that is nearest to his skin, holding it in place as you try and snap it again. It works this time. Taehyun’s chest rumbles with a deep, tortured groan under your hands, but it worked. 

He rises from the ground, his pupils blown wide and his skin clammy. He turns to face your pursuers, sliding his sword out. He takes on a defensive stance. There’s a grim set to his face. You wonder if he’s making peace with the impossibility of you making it out of this alive. He’s wounded, you’re not of the right state of mind, and you’d be outnumbered in even a perfect state. 

A flock of faeries you recognize from The Hovel surround you. A red cap with a gnarly scar scrawled across his face, a man with spindly black hair and jagged tusks that curl up from his mouth, and a lanky horned imp with beady eyes. All of them had been separate and inconspicuous when you had seen them, hidden between the crowds. Despite your imposition, you drag yourself off the ground. They don’t even spare you a passing glance. 

“I thought we’d just be snuffing out some forgettable flame today,” the red cap says, laughing. “Oh, could you have imagined it’d be the general’s son?” 

The one with the tusks barks a laugh from your left. He’s holding a bow—he’s the one who shot Taehyun down. “To think you gave your loyalties to The King, considering your own father’s loyalties to our queen,” he says, sneering at Taehyun. This is a hunt—they’ve chased you down like a wild animal, and now that the arrow has hit its mark, they intend to laugh and yip at you like prey. “You’re the spy,” he says, and then gestures at you, “and this is the human companion, then?” 

Taehyun doesn’t answer. 

“Fine. We don’t need your conversation to enjoy this, Lord.” He spits out Taehyun’s title in the very same way the man had during your first run-in that had taken place in this forest. They’re connected—it’s all connected in some grand scheme. And, The Queen is involved. Even if you and Taehyun make it out of this forest alive, leaving a single one of these lackeys alive would expose your identities. Not to mention, it would confirm the fact that The King has spies here. Even if you don’t die here, you and Taehyun are done. Where had you gone wrong? You’re not sure where any of this had slipped off. You hope that it’s just been to the effect of some grand plan much, much out of your own control. You hope it isn’t Taehyun’s blood on your hands, next. 

“I’d heard that you returned to Court recently,” the man continues. “I couldn’t have imagined that it would be because you’d return to your own Court as a spy. Is that why you ran off to those lands? To work at the hand of that worthless king? What would your father think?” 

Taehyun tenses up, the grip on his sword white-knuckled. You pray he doesn’t slip right into their taunting. If you’re to die here today, let it not be as their entertainment. The one thing you promised you would no longer be is their entertainment.  

The horned one cuts in, speaking for the first time. He sounds young. “Speak up, you piece of shit. You at least owe us your fear, for all you and your father did to these lands.” 

They’re growing more antsy and aggressive, their jaws snapping like hungry, circling wolves. You’re not sure how much longer they plan on just taunting.  

“And where is your allegiance?” Taehyun says, breaking his tense silence. “What is this?” He gestures at them with his sword. 

The three of them share a laugh, short and sardonic. The black-haired one speaks. “This is what happens when a worthless man sits on the throne for a millennium, expecting fealty for only his name. This is revolt.” 

You frown. As far as you know, the land of Faerie has never known a time where its denizens, specifically the ones that swore fealty to him, would outright denounce The King. A revolt is unheard of—the throne is an ancient, primordial thing. 

“The Queen is committing treason,” Taehyun says, low and menacing. “And so are you. What name do you call your insurgency?” 

The redcap answers. “We call ourselves The Magpies,” he says. There it is—it all makes sense. All the weird, cryptic words and the wobbly scent trail you and Taehyun have been following. That poem you found on those errand runners, that dead magpie you had found before getting attacked. One for sorrow. It was a message. All of this was a set up; they had intended for those errand runners to die, and they had anticipated you would catch wind and wind up here. You’ve walked yourselves into a wolf den, fully believing that you were the ones a step ahead. You walked yourselves to your deaths.  

No. You walked the two of you to your deaths.  

They don’t plan on you surviving. Them laying this all out for you attests to that. You don’t want to die; not now, not when you’ve found something to live for. Not when Yeonjun will have to deal with the loss of you.  

“C’mon. Where’s all your fight now? Where’s the man that tore down villages by his father’s side? Do something.” The redcap says. They all inch a little closer.  

Your heart stutters in your chest. You hope that he lies; that he’s embellishing Taehyun’s past. You look at Taehyun, and that dead, killing face is there. You know it’s true. He’s exactly the monster you’re supposed to be wary of. But you’re here clawing for your life right beside him. He’s here making a stand to protect you; he could run and leave you here in order to save his own life. You’d be stuck here on poisoned legs and be swiftly dealt with before they take off for him. But he doesn’t leave you. He won’t let you die alone. Is that the heart of a beast? 

“I am loyal to no king or queen,” Taehyun spits out. “Not to my father, either.” 

The red cap groans a patronizing groan. “You’re loyal to nothing, not even yourself. It’s why you fled your homeland the moment you could, isn’t it? You thought distance would change what you’d done?” 

You have to do something. They won’t expect you to, and to sit here would be to just lay down and accept it. You refuse to. If Taehyun can stick his neck out for you, you can try. Maybe your limbs are clumsy and drunken, but if you die, it won’t be for not trying. And, if you make it, you can sort all of this stuff out with Taehyun. 

You inspect the three men. They don’t have their eyes on you; you’ve got that to your advantage. Plus, your blade is made of cold iron. A normal stab would hurt, but a stab with iron would poison them. If you can eliminate at least one of them, you’ll even the playing field just enough for a real fighting chance. You narrow your eyes. You’ll have to use the fact that they aren’t paying attention to you the most efficiently you can—you have to get the biggest threat down. The horned imp is reedy and he doesn’t scare you as bad as the other two do. The black-haired one is wide set and imposing, but you know you’ve got to go for the redcap. Their kind are violent and savage by nature; they breathe the tang of blood in the same way you breathe air. Once they satisfy their bottomless thirst for killing, they dip their red cap into the blood of their victim, and wear it as a trophy. This one’s cap is a testament to his danger, so crusted over and made stiff with old, brown blood that it does not move. You’re unsure why he believes he has the right to accuse Taehyun of violence while he wears his own violence upon his head. 

You bring your hand down to your hip and find a dagger under your dress and at your thigh as fast as you can. You know that if you don’t move fast enough, they’ll see you reaching for something and put an arrow or sword through you. You stumble for the redcap, willing your legs to keep you upright as you do. Please. Please, let this work. Let you be good for something. 

You drive your blade into his abdomen, and then reclaim it from his body. The spray of warm, molten blood comes as less of a shock this time, but it makes you no less nauseous. He makes a sound of howling pain, and then he falls to the ground, spitting out blood. His abdomen hisses and steams, as if burning. You’re sure he’ll stay down there. 

Stabbing him had them finally tearing their attention away from Taehyun. The one with black hair grabs you up quick, spinning you into a hold. He grabs you by the throat, cutting off your air supply. You sputter, clawing at his hand.  

“You’re a sneaky little bitch, aren’t you?” he growls, pulling you tighter. You make a strangled noise. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. “I was going to deal with you after him, but look what you’ve done now. Should’ve stayed in your place, huh? Have you forgotten what it is? Let me remind you.”  

You’re shoved down to cold earth, and then his foot comes down onto your neck, twisting and digging into it. “In the dirt. You are nothing. You had no right poking yourself into the business of your superiors, so what made you think you could come here as a spy—”  

You can tell he intends to continue, but he’s cut short by the sword that pierces his chest. He stumbles off you, and you suck in air once his foot is off your neck.  

Your body hurts. It hurts as if your muscles and bones are punishing you for depriving them of their oxygen, as if the poison still loitering around in your veins is making a final, excruciating hurrah. You don’t have time to sink into it, though. You push yourself up on your arms just in time to see Taehyun, wide-eyed and looking part beast, cutting down that imp as well. It’s quick and brutal. Once he’s down and unmoving, Taehyun looks to you. You almost flinch at the sight of him, blood-sprayed and lip-curled. He clears the distance between you in a few, long-legged strides and tugs you up. 

On your feet, you look down at the carnage below you. Blood sits on the snow in puddles and sprinkles it like terrible little blooming flowers. The redcap writhes on the floor, slow and meaningless, as the iron works itself through him. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Taehyun tugs at your arm. “We need to go. We need to go now.” 

You find yourself unable to move. 

“Now,” he growls. “I don’t know if there’s more of them. We need to get out of this forest before we die.” 

You try, but your legs are as solid as water as you do. You were clear headed enough for that last-ditch effort, but it was just that: a last-ditch effort. You barely have control of your limbs enough to go running through the forest. 

“Damn it,” he says, sheathing his sword and taking you back over his good shoulder. It’s just as disorienting this time, but you don’t have it in you to complain. And then, he’s cutting through the forest again, the forest floor of ice and snow whirling by and rendering you sick. 

Please, let there be nobody following you. 

❆

At some point, the poison had worn off you enough for you to travel the rest of the way yourself. It’s an awful journey, with both you and Taehyun watching over your shoulders and each sound of rustling forest creatures makes you jump. Taehyun doesn’t make any commotion about the arrowhead still nestled into his shoulder, but you can see in the stiffness of his movements that it’s bothering him.  

The last stretch of white, snow flats until you’re finally back at the estate is long and arduous. You sigh in relief as you stumble through the front door.  

You can’t fully relax yet, though. Taehyun collapses into the table almost immediately, sliding down into a seat. His skin has a sickly pallor to it.  

“You need to take this thing out of my shoulder,” he says, straining to look up to you. His eyes are so, so wary.  

Your stomach does a cruel twist with just the words, but you know it’s true. You nod. “I’ll go get some thread.”  

You clamber up the stairs and throw open drawers in a frantic search for your sewing kit. If working for Nut-hatch had taught you one thing, it was the importance of keeping a sewing kit around. Oh, and how to sew a solid stitch. You’re not so sure how well your stitching skills will cross over into suturing skin closed, but it has to be better than nothing. It has to be. 

You find the little wooden box in a dressing drawer, and then you bolt back down the stairs. He had spent so much time free bleeding that you worry he’s lost too much; you’ve got to get that closed up. 

Taehyun is peeling off his layers as you’re bounding down the last steps. You help him peel the last bit of his doublet off, and then his tunic, until his bare back faces you, a plane of toned muscle and marred skin. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

His back is littered with an outrageous number of scars, some superficial and some so deep that they leave jagged valleys in their paths. None of them are as gruesome or gnarly a sight as the festering wound at his shoulder, shimmering with his blood. The tip of the arrow is lodged well into it. You run a hand up the skin of his back until it’s resting right before the puncture wound begins. The thought of digging your fingers in there and tugging that arrow out from his flesh is a terrible, terrible one.  

You just have to do it. 

You curl your fingers around the ragged, splintered butt of the arrow where you had snapped it off, and you begin trying to wiggle it loose. Taehyun’s head drops, and he suppresses strangled grunts.  

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. You know it doesn’t make it feel any better, but you want him at least to know that doing this to him is making you ill. You tug on it some more, trying to find the path of least resistance. He shakes under your hand. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”  

The arrow dislodges finally, leaving an awful open wound now dripping with fresh blood. You take a deep breath before reaching for your sewing kit, grabbing a curved needle. It doesn’t steady your trembling hands.  

He doesn’t make so much noise as you stitch the wound closed, just dangling his head, facing it head-strong. Each time you dig the needle through his skin on one side and then again on the other to form a stitch, you grow increasingly ill. You rub circles into his other shoulder. You’re not sure if they even register for him. Maybe they’re more for you than they are for him. 

“What do we do now, Taehyun?” you ask. You know it’s not the best time to be interrogating him, but you’re lost. You’re not sure if you’re going to be fleeing here tonight, or if you’re going to be able to carry on under the radar. “Do we leave?” 

Taehyun speaks through gritted teeth. “We don’t know all who was at The Hovel. We have no idea who saw what happened. We can’t be certain that every loose end is tied up.” 

Your stomach drops, swift and heavy. You can’t leave; you can’t leave Yeonjun here. You know he returns to his court for the rest of the season, but things will be different there from here. Can’t you just stay here, in this time and frame where you are cherished, forever? At some point, you had forgotten that this was your fate from the very start.  

You wince as a particular stitch has Taehyun trying to hold back his shaking. “When do we leave?” you ask. Let there at least be enough time for you to see Yeonjun.  

He steadies himself. “I don’t know—” he sucks in a withering breath as you stitch him mid-sentence, “let me think about it.” 

You sigh out a selfish, self-serving puff of air. At least you aren’t packing up and scrambling tonight.  

You continue sewing his wound closed for a few tense, silent moments more. 

“Taehyun,” you say. You have to ask; have to talk about it. You have so many questions. Do you leave with Taehyun to continue being a spy when you now know that Taehyun has skeletons in his closet? Is that the new life you dreamed of when you ran away from your old one? 

Taehyun lifts his head to let you know he’s listening. You’re sure he can hear the tension in your tone. 

“In the forest,” you begin. “They said you did those awful things with your father. And, they’re not the only ones I’ve heard say stuff like that.” 

His head snaps up. “From the prince?” he says, his eyes dark and dense with pain.  

“What does it matter?” you say, stepping back from your stitching. “What does it matter where I heard it from? Explain it to me, Taehyun.” Your tone is rigid and accusatory, but there’s also an undercurrent of pleading that slips from you before you can catch it.  

His jaw feathers, and he swallows hard. 

“So, it’s true, huh?” You finish up your last stitch with imprecise hands, tying it then and cutting it off so that you make some distance between you and him. You had known that, but you had hoped it’d all be by your misunderstanding. “What was that story in the cave about your father, then? Buttering me up so that I wouldn’t be afraid of you? And I believed it all, too. Are you even half human? What are you, Taehyun?” you say, your words a bitter echo of a question you had already asked him. 

Hurt fizzles over his eyes and lines his face. “It seems you’ve already decided what I am for me, haven’t you?” He stumbles up from his seat, towering over you with a curled lip. “Say it,” he challenges. “Say what I am.” 

“You’re just like all of the rest of them,” you say. You back up some more; he’s standing over you with more venom and unadulterated emotion than you’ve ever seen him allow. It terrifies you. How deep had you driven your pick, that you had shattered that ice mask and revealed his true face? “You’re a monster.”  

“Like the rest of them?” he says, his eyes blazing. “What about the prince, then? Is he a monster, too?” 

Your back touches the wall. He’s standing right over you. It’s a mirror image of the time he had you backed against a tree, but this time he doesn’t reach out and touch you. “Yeonjun is different. Different from you, at least. He isn’t a murderer. He loves me.” 

Taehyun reaches up for your chest. You flinch, bracing, but he only grabs Yeonjun’s necklace there. Disbelief and hurt flashes over his eyes as you do. You’re not sure why he’s surprised; you had just dubbed him a monster. Maybe the distinction lies somewhere on the borderline where you would believe that he would hurt you. 

“You can’t trust a word from his mouth. Not one.” He rips the necklace from your neck, snapping the delicate chain. You reach up, feeling the empty space there. And then, you see red. 

A few moments of thick, charged disbelief fill the air before you’re finally able to pull together your scattered, frayed and vicious thoughts. “And I’m supposed to believe yours?” you snap, blood roaring in your ears. “You are a filthy, filthy liar, and a murderer too.” You’re not sure whether or not Taehyun can lie. You’re not sure whether or not he is any part human. You’re not sure of anything about him at all. 

“The prince is a liar, too,” Taehyun says. "You really think that he is going to wed you? To make you his wife? Maybe he loves you today, but he will forget you tomorrow. You’re nothing more than a thing to dress up to him, until he finds the next thing to do the same to.” He holds up your ruined necklace and dangles it in the air. “He thinks he can buy you with this. Is that your worth? Pretty necklaces?” 

When you don’t answer, he continues, his face pulled taut into a sneer. “It is now, isn’t it? You’d be content with a life as his mistress, hidden away because he is ashamed of you, for the entirety of your life, just as long as you’re draped in his silks and bows. He will never marry you. He is a prince.” 

That one drives deep into your chest, the wound as visceral and aching as the one in Taehyun’s shoulder. You will back scalding, angry tears. “He said he loves me,” you say. You try and not let your voice wobble, and to not let it sound pathetic and self-convincing. You try to make it sound true. 

He laughs in your face. “He’s had a lifetime perfecting how to lie in his own way.” 

You shake your head. You know sincere eyes when you see them, don’t you? His words weasel down into your mind, anyway. Perhaps you had let your disgusting, decayed heart cling to the smallest morsel of what you had thought was love just a little too tightly. You hope it would not destroy you to try and pry it off; that you are not so sickeningly dependent on the thought of being wanted that it would ruin you to lose it. 

You have nothing. No longer a home, no longer a companion, and no longer a lover. Though, maybe you never had Yeonjun in the first place.  

“Maybe he’s just playing me,” you say. “Maybe that’s true, but you are a murderer, Taehyun.” 

“I never had a choice,” Taehyun says.  

It’s your turn to laugh in his face. “It wasn’t your choice to kill?” 

He shakes his head. His face is still pale with blood loss. “My father brought me when he’d tear down those villages. He’d make me sit and watch because he knew it tortured me. I never once killed any of those people. He was embarrassed to have an heir that didn’t carry out his will, and so he let them think I did it by his side.” 

You reel, trying to imagine a young Taehyun made to witness the gory deaths of innocents. Your words from earlier rise like bile in your throat. You want to ask why he never did anything, why he wouldn’t save them, but you know looking over the jagged, nasty scars that litter his arms and torso that he had. He had, and he took his father’s wrath each time he did. 

“Why didn’t you try to tell them that you didn’t?” you ask. “Why did you let them believe that about you?” 

“I don’t care how they see me. I don’t care for any of it.” 

The estate is silent again as you grapple with your own mind. You know why he left the north, but none of this explains why he’d found himself as a spy to The King.  

Taehyun retracts. You can tell that bearing this out is not a comfortable thing for him; his face is grave and almost sullen.  

Your stomach feels full of rocks. His mean words fill your mind to the brink, and then your own top it off until your mind is spilling over. You grit your teeth. You want to stomp off and explode in your room, to scream into a pillow and pace the floor until daylight. But you can do none of that without disinfecting his wound. 

So, you take a rag and alcohol from the kitchens, and you dab it at the stitching in dense, dense silence. And once you’re done, you disappear upstairs to toss and turn in your bed with awful thoughts and fitful sleep. 

❆

You slip out of the estate as soon as the sun settles into the sky. You don’t know if Taehyun intends on leaving today, or any day soon, but you can’t go without seeing Yeonjun. You have so much you want to leech from your mind. You can’t leave with your mind full like this. When you make it to Yeonjun’s place, no servants even send you a second glance. They know your face, now.  

Your body buzzes as you reach his tall, white doors, and you walk in without any hesitating. You had been tortured with the inability to see or speak or touch him not just since last night, but also for the past few days.  

Yeonjun’s head swivels to you once you’re in his room, eyebrows pulling together. He’s buttoning up a silken shirt, no doubt getting dressed and ready for the day.  

“Is something wrong?” he says, looking over you with worried eyes. 

You crash right into him, circling your arms around him and holding him in your arms. 

He rubs one hand over your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You stay that way for a bit, before he pulls you off him and inspects your face. His eyes then dart to the empty space at your neck. “Where is your necklace?” he asks, his voice dipping. 

You hate the concern on his face. You can’t tell if it’s an act, or if he really worries for you.  

“Hey,” he says, taking your face in one hand with a grounding hold. “Say something. Please.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it got broken,” you say, grimacing. “Just hold me, please.” You want to feel his arms around you, to have him envelope you so entirely that you can’t help but believe there is anything but love in his hold. 

He does without question, delicately guiding you back into the wall. “It can be fixed, darling. We can fix it,” he says, soft and lovely into your ear. 

It feels as though he reached his hand right into your core and brushes his fingers over your tainted thoughts. You almost begin fearing that he has been keen to your thoughts this whole time, the way his words patch over your open wounds. It’s as if he knows something beyond just the necklace has been broken here. 

He presses your hip into the wall with a hand. He brings his head back to inspect your face before bringing your lips together in a warm, savory kiss. You flatten your palm against his stomach, and then drag it down until you cup his rapidly hardening length through his pants. He makes a sharp sound into your mouth and then pulls his mouth off of you to shoot you a look.  

“What are you doing, you little vixen?” he says. You palm him harder, reveling in the way he sucks his lip into his teeth to repress a groan. Please, just let you have this one night in his arms before you have to go. You need his warmth to thaw you out, and then maybe you can leave this frozen place and return to the place where there is no frost or snow. Maybe it’ll make it harder in the end, but you can’t find it within yourself to care right now. You need to breathe him in like oxygen. 

You slide down the wall and let your knees rest on the cold wood of the floor, looking up to his hair obscuring his eyes as he watches you get on the floor for him. You work on his pants, unbuttoning them with nimble, eager hands and then freeing him. The way his length stands tall in front of your face exhilarates you—you did this to him. 

“You don’t have to do this, baby,” he says, but the haze over his eyes says differently.  

You take his cock into your hands. It’s warm and heavy, and leaking from the tip. You do. You need to see how much he needs you; how he craves your touch. You want to make him so ravenous for your touch that he’ll declare his love for you, and it’ll be real, and then you can stay here like this forever. You want his arms to be home, where you don’t have any other place to call home. “You don’t want my mouth?” you say, drunken with the potent need in his eyes. 

“I didn’t say that,” he says, groaning as you kitten lick his slit and then down the side. “On your knees is such a filthy place for a pretty lady to be,” he says, eating up the image of you.  

You take him into your mouth, making sure to run your tongue along the bottom of him as you let him in. He shudders and lets his head fall back, and then snaps his head back down as if thriving off the sight. You bob your head, taking him down until he tickles the back of your throat. You have to force down the gags that prick tears at the corners of your eyes. He cradles the back of your head. 

Yeonjun laughs. “How did you learn to use your mouth like this?” he says between his panted breaths. “You haven’t let him have this, have you?” 

Your eyes flutter open as he says it, your brows furrowed.  

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and uses it to pull you off of him. You suck in full breaths while you have the chance. “What?” he says, letting his saliva-slick length rest on your cheek. It feels more lewd and dirty than having him in your mouth. “I know you kissed him. He told me himself.” 

Your mouth drops open, but he’s guiding himself back into your mouth before you can say anything. Taehyun had told Yeonjun you’d kissed? You couldn’t defend yourself if you tried; he’s rutting into your mouth, hand fisted at the back of your head as he looks down at you with something blazing in his eyes. You can feel the restraint in his hands and in his face. His stomach grows taut. 

“I should’ve known he’d get his hands on you the second he could, pretty. That dog doesn’t know how to keep hands off of what’s not his. I’m going to have to keep you on a tighter leash, huh? I don’t like other men knowing what you taste like, baby.” His words are measured and taunting, but he’s twitching in your mouth and his thrusts are growing more frantic, and his hand is twisted into your hair as if you’ll run away and leave him needy if he doesn’t hold you there. 

You’ve never heard Yeonjun speak like this. He’s expressed distaste for Taehyun before, but never like this. Never like he’s sinking his teeth into you and staking his claim. Yeonjun doesn’t need to cling to his possessions—not when everything he’s ever wanted has been at his fingertips. So, why does he sound like a frantic dog showing its teeth so that another won’t reach for its toy? 

His thrusts become more feverish and shallow, whimpers escaping the back of his throat. Saliva pools out from your lips and sullies your chin, but you’re too focused letting him use your throat that you can’t be bothered with it. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, his abdomen going rigid. He slips out of your mouth quick, before he can melt into your mouth and cum. His cock is red and angry, frustrated with denied release. “Your mouth is so good, baby, but when I cum, I want it to be in you,” he says, reaching down to wipe the mess off your chin with his thumb.  

You whine, the sound a bit hoarse with use. He uses his words in a way that leaves you so weak. The two of you stumble over to the bed, where he lays out and you climb up over him. He pushes your dress up and over your thighs, the skimming of his fingers electric and shooting up straight into your cunt. You hover just above him, lining the weeping tip of him up with you, but not yet sinking down onto him. 

“I waited for this,” he says, taking your hips into his hands. “For multiple days, I yearned to touch you like this again. And, where were you these past few days, darling? In his bed?” 

You brace your hands on his chest, the shirt there disheveled and unbuttoned now, despite him having only freshly put it on. You sink down just a little bit, watching his face contort despite his fiery words. 

“No,” you insist, sinking lower. He stretches you just as deliciously as the first time. “No, ‘Jun. I promise, baby. This is just for you.” 

His head falls back, and he’s looking at you down his nose, his fingers digging divots into your hips. You take him down to the hilt, and then pick yourself up and drop back down, falling into a delicious rhythm. The roll of your hips and the perfect angle of his cock has him brushing up against a sweet, soft spot inside of you, sending your thighs trembling each time it does.  

“Make me believe that, pretty,” he says. His lips are bitten red as you pick up speed, leaning forward onto your hands to fuck yourself down on him harder and faster. You relish in the way he reacts for you. “Make me believe you never gave him what is mine.” 

You try. Oh, you try. Your thighs begin aching, burning with exertion, and sweat sheens your neck. Once your thighs are unable to fully lift you off of him, you opt for rolling your hips into him frantically, chasing that knot deep in your belly the same way you chase to watch him grow restless under you, his hands alternating between holding your hips and the bedsheets and your chin. 

His hands come to your hips again, taking them with a more solid, reinforcing grip. His cheeks are tinted pink. “Need help, baby? Getting tired?” he purrs, picking you up and bringing you back down on his cock with renewed vigor that has you falling forward and whimpering into his neck. He opts for fucking up into feverishly you now that you’re bent over him. 

“I love you— I love you, Yeonjun,” you pant, clinging to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

You’re sorry for so much. You’re so sorry that you can’t help but let it slip out into his skin while you’re in his arms. You’re sorry that you’ve lied to him, you’re sorry that you’ve doubted him, and you’re so awfully sorry that you have to leave him.  

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay,” he manages through his labored breaths. He holds you to his chest like he can meld you into him there. You know he’s not comforting you for what you wish he would be, but it swells emotion up in your chest regardless.  

He’s so, so close. You can feel him twitching inside you, so riled up that he’s going to cum before you.  

You lift off of him, taking in his heavy eyes and rapidly rising and falling chest, before you crawl off of his cock.  

He whines, reaching out for you. “What are you—” he says, cut off by the strangled hum of relief as you wrap your hand around his length, slick and ruined with your essence. A look of recognition passes over his eyes, and something akin to hurt as well. You hadn’t worried about letting him cum in you last time, but last time you had been reckless and forgotten that you’re living on borrowed time. Your mind was not jaded with the knowledge that you don’t have forever like it is now.

You slide your wrist up and down him, devouring the bucking of his hips and the way he chants your name. Your name. Finally, he stills, cursing and cumming white, hot spurts up onto his belly, soiling part of his shirt that had not yet ridden up. The sight of it has you fluttering around nothing.  

He pants, but picks his head up off the bed with effort before frowning. “You didn’t get off. Let me help you, pretty. Let me take care of you.” He pushes up off the bed, taking your face in one hand. 

You shake your head, falling down into the side of his bed that has become yours. “I’m okay,” you say. Though you’re a sticky, awful mess between your thighs, that’s not what you need. You usher him to lay down with you with a hand. “I just want to be here with you.” 

He gives you an odd look, but lays down on his side, facing you, albeit tentatively. The two of you are quiet for a minute, eyes flickering over each other's faces as if you both have something you want to say, but both can’t form the words or speak them. 

You breathe in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You have to tell him; it’s what you came here for. Can’t your last day just be left untainted? You worry you’ll be forever forced to remember these moments by the sick flipping of your stomach, instead of the angles of his face and the rhythm of his heart beating as it floats down from euphoria. 

“I have to leave this place, Yeonjun,” you say, eyes flickering up to his finally. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Something happened, and I have...” You swallow hard. “I have to tell you something.” 

You expect his face to twist up in confusion or worry, but it doesn’t. Instead, it falls. He doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and your heart plays cruel tricks on you.  

“I know,” he says, and all the air is whooshed from your lungs. 

“What?” you say, flying up onto your arms. “What do you mean?” 

“I know why you’re here. I know that the both of you are spies for my father.” 

Your mouth is paralyzed with all the moments you’ve spent petrified of this exact moment so that you can barely speak. “How?” you say. “Since when?” 

He sighs, sitting up as well. “Since today.” 

He doesn’t answer how, but you already know. It all clicks into place in at this very moment. The only way that he might have found out just today was that Kai had told him. You remember the looks on their faces when that bark-skinned faerie had said something about the solstice and some kind of set-up at The Hovel. Not only had that been a set-up, but Yeonjun had known about it. Him and Kai both had. Whether or not they knew it would be you and Taehyun who would show up until you did, you don’t know. Kai knew there would be a poisoned drink for the spies if they fell into that trap that day, and the moment he saw you go down he knew it was you and Taehyun. 

You jump off the bed, backing up and away from him. “You’re one of them?” you say, your voice fragile.  

“What?” he says, looking at you weird. “One of them? You mean part of the rebellion?” 

You scoff. “Yes.” 

“Is there something wrong with that?” 

Is there something wrong with that? They had tried to kill you twice. Would he be complacent with your death, so long as it’s in the name of his loyalty to The Queen? 

“Your people poisoned me, and have made attempts on my life twice,” you say, stepping away from him again. “And I’m leaving because they might make even more.” 

He shakes his head, his eyes wary watching you back away from him. “They won’t,” he says. “Not now that I know it’s you. They will never lay another finger on you again, nobody will. You don’t have to leave here.” 

“Oh, but if it were any other human girl, that’d be fine? You’d live with the knowledge that the people you cozy yourself up with killed her? And, what about Taehyun? Does your courtesy extend to him, prince? You expect me to just accept your protection and let them hunt for his head? I know your distaste for your father and that crown, Yeonjun. But, is this really the way you intend to do this? Inciting war is not going to mend that.” 

He shakes his head, closing in on you and taking your face into his hands. “War is going to happen regardless of my meddling. It has been charging up for years. I don’t want you working as a spy for my father when it happens; I want you here.” His eyes dart between yours. “If Taehyun decides on staying here, if it will allow me to keep you here, then I will extend every bit of my power to protect the both of you. Forget your duties to my father. You have no need to work as a spy when I will support your life endlessly, pretty. Please.” 

Your stomach roils with flame and acid. Yeonjun hadn’t lied to you, but somehow this is worse. You suppose you can’t feel too left in the dark—he had just found out your deceit, and yet... Here he is, pleading with you to stay. You had imagined he’d cast you out and renounce you upon finding out your truth. In some ways, that almost seems better. You don’t know how to work with this, and you had not prepared for this.  

 Would Taehyun even agree to stay here? You honestly don’t know. You don’t know what Taehyun’s intentions are with being a spy, but you can’t imagine him wanting to stay here. Not when you know his past here in the north.  

Do you want to be a spy? If war is genuinely coming, would it just be returning home with a target on your back?  

Taehyun’s spitted words crawl up to the forefront of your mind. You’ll never be sure if Yeonjun will stay true to his promises of protection and love. Would he wed a human, even when estranged from the throne and his father? 

You search Yeonjun’s desperate, pleading eyes. You hope that what you see there is more than just sparkling need to dig his claws into his play toys. 

🪶 ⦂ yeaaah. i said it was angsty!! i know u taehyun girlies are waiting on a taehyun scene but guys i promise the longer you wait the better it'll be I PROMISEEE. also, lmk in the comments if you think she should leave the north or stay there with Yeonjun.

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[heartilywrites]

Korra x female firebender reader pretty please 💗

It can start off as fluff and turn into smut AUGHAG <33

Obviously, the time is during s3-s4, reader writes numerous letters to Korra, yearning for her (but ofc they just act as very close friends through the letters) and then Korra comes back from the North Pole, but instead of disappearing to the swamp, she go sees reader instead. I think you and I both know where this is going 😻

THANK YOU HOPE THIS IS ENOUGH HAVE A LOVELY DAY <333

،، 𝓜ake it Better ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: where Korra gives you a visit after three years of being away.

content warning: fluff and if you squint enough there's angst ; Korra x fem!reader ; r is a firebender ! ; ¡¡ MINORS DNI !! ; nsfw ; thigh riding ; fingering ; oral (r receiving) ; scissoring ; switch!korra n' r ; after care i think??? i mean, i believe it is some type of after care what i wrote- ; description of amber colored eyes for r ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.8k

a/n: this is my first smut in like,,, 8 months i think, be nice to me i cry easily /j. i didn’t really mention that r was a firebender that much, i got carried away- hope thats okay 🥺 ENJOY THANK U FOR REQUESTING :D

“ If I could figure it out, I'd take you back to my house so we could meddle about.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “𝓓earest Korra,

It's been a whole week since you left us, can you believe it? Things here are... not the same without you.

How have you been? I mean, it's been just seven days, but it's just weird, we haven't been this far since I met you. I hope you're doing okay, know that I will be writing you eventually! Everyone says hi, by the way, I'm sure you'll get a letter from them too, but just to let you know. Bolin is the most excited to receive a letter back, I've seen him practice his calligraphy, it's cute.

Write me back too when you have the chance! I would like to read about you.

Sincerely yours,”

Blue eyes read once, twice, even three times the letter with a weak smile on her face. Her fingers caressed your letter and streak your name.

Being back in the south by herself sure got the best out of her, she missed everyone, she missed you, but it was something she needed to do to get better. To be better and feel like she deserved you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest,

Hey! I'm sorry for not responding back earlier, but it's been hard.

I've been good? I'm starting physiotherapy with Katara and it's something. Thank you for writing me, I can't tell you how much I miss you guys; Three weeks is a crazy amount of time to be away from you, hope you don't miss me much, blaze.

Can I ask you to do me a favor? Don't tell the others I wrote to you, I'm just now finding the correct words to write to you and I don’t want them to feel like I don’t appreciate them. I trust you, commander arson.

Yours always,

Korra.”

A little laugh left your mouth after reading the two nicknames the avatar had always used on you. Your heart skipped at the beginning, how she only wrote dearest without your name... That couldn't mean much, right? She was one of your best friends, even if your feelings for her were strong, your willpower to keep the relationship as it is was way stronger.

Your friends have talked to you about an opportunity were she may feel the same back and it was just a matter of talking it out, but then Zaheer targeted Korra again and all romance–talk went through out the window. It all sank after the result of the war between the red lotus and the whole team, the letter were all you had left of the girl and at that moment you wouldn't risk losing it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest Korra,

I'm starting to think that maybe this new job is not for me... The people is boring and I'm running out of ideas to keep the fun atmosphere, maybe I should go and work with Asami, don't you think, breeze? My experience on dealing with disasters may be of help if she needs a test subject for the inventions, I'm good at dispersing fire with more fire!

I can't believe it's been a whole year since we last saw each other... How is the physiotherapy going? I hope is going great, don't be so hard on yourself, Korra, I know you. Healing usually takes time and it's okay to go on your own pace... I lo am sending all of my good energy your way, know that I am always here for you, in the good and the bad, please let me know if you need anything. Hopefully we'll see each other soon.

Sincerely yours,”

The night that Korra was reading again that specific letter from you was the same night were she hit rock bottom with her whole healing process. A couple of tears ran down her cheeks after the last paragraph, only the moon knew how much Korra missed and loved you and having you say such words to her knowing how at some point the girl may get burnout from trying was what made the avatar fall in love with you. You knew her to a point where only if she looked in the back on her brain she may find how you were right and that made her feel warm.

  ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dearest blaze,

Hey... I hope you didn't waited too long for me to write you back. I'm so sorry, it has been a really rough time for me and I didn’t feel like burdening you with my problems.

I did receive the last couple of letters you sent and I read them, I'm so grateful to have you with me. Thank you for not giving up on me just yet, you're the best.

Yours always,

Korra.”

Your hand was moving fast over the new sheet of paper while writing your thoughts on the last letter. How could she say she was a burden? You've make sure she never felt that way! Since meeting Korra you always worked on making the girl trust you with everything, you made your mission being her confident, the shoulder she looked for when she needed to cry and reading how she felt bad with herself made your heart burn with pain.

Even if by then two years have gone by, you felt like nothing has changed between the waterbender and you, hell! you could say that the bond was stronger than ever despite your heart's desire.

The letter just kept going and coming every now and then until at one point after six months over the three years, they stopped from Korra's side. You got worried, of course, but thought that maybe the white lotus was training her again to get her back in the game and that made her time very limited. Your mind found another way to keep occupied from those loud thoughts and you keep it that way.

Humming a melody made your throat vibrate and your index finger made a little little flame to lit up a scent candle and accommodate it on the table at your living room, you were getting ready to read a little bit when a knocking on your door made you stand up again.

When you opened your door, your eyes widened and you felt as if someone had hypnotized you. A short haired Korra was in front of you, wearing earth kingdom clothes and with an eye starting to swell, she smiled with a sad aura, but her eyes sparkled a little bit with excitement at finally seeing you again.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My spirits, Korra... I'm– I– what happened to you?” you broke the silence, mumbling at the questions trying to come out your mouth all at once. You took her hand to get her inside your house, she just kept her eyes on you.

You were as beautiful as she remembered, dare to say even more than before. Your fire nation clothes hugging your body and that wonderful scent that characterizes you was what Korra had missed. She took a deep breath in to smell it again and was met with the familiar scent of your house as well, how she missed it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I needed to see you.” she spoke, her voice sounded deeper than it was, you felt a tiny electric current travel your spine. “I just... I couldn't be far from you anymore.”

A smile began to creep on your face and your arms were quick to hug the avatar, she swallowed a grunt at the sudden hit of your body on hers as she missed that and hugged you back. A small sob was heard.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you so much, Korra.” you whispered sobbing again. “You have no idea.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you too.” her hand went to your head where she left tiny caresses. “I'm so sorry for disappearing, I've been trying to feel like myself again.”

You distanced yourself from her and looked at her with concern. Your hand reached hers and were fast to guide her to sit at the couch so you could talk to the girl.

For the first time, Korra let out everything she had been feeling and thinking after so many years and you listened to her cautiously, stroking her hand with your thumb to make her feel safe and to convince you that she was there, that it wasn't another one of your dreams. When she finished she looked back up to you and you smiled at her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I can't even imagine how hard it is to you,” you said in a soft tone, your amber eyes looked down to both your and her hands. “You're so strong, Korra. Physically and mentally, you are the strongest person I know and I know you're capable of coming out of this. You will be okay,” your eyes went back to the blue ones. “You won't have to do it alone, darling, I'm here for you.”

The avatar softened her gaze at you, that was all she needed to hear at that moment. She felt fortunate to have you by her side even at the worst moments.

Her free hand made its way to your cheek were she left strokes just as you were doing with her hand, both colored eyes were fixated to each other with such devotion. Both bodies moved unconsciously to be closer together until the breath mixed, warm and hot meeting. Your mind was cloudy at such close distance, you were sure you hallucinated with her eyes twitching to your lips and were about to move and offer her coffee when her lips clashed on yours in such a unsynchronized way that it was almost funny, you pulled away for a moment surprised to the act.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Shit, listen, I–” she tried to explain herself before you interrupted her with another kiss.

This one was more harmonized than the first one, your hands had left hers and looked to rest on each side of her face, pulling her as close as the anatomy allowed you to be. At first instance, it was supposed to be a sweet kiss of reconciliation with your feelings, but a small moan had vibrated on your throat without your permission and Korra took it as an opportunity to deepen the gesture.

While her tongue was fighting with yours, both her hands moved to your hips and in a quick move she had put you on top of her while still attending your lips. When your lungs burned for air, her mouth was fast to make a trail from yours to your neck.

Your head was thrown back to give her more access, one of your hands tangled with the brown locks on her head. She stopped at a sensitive spot after hearing you sigh with such devotion, smiling a little bit malicious she decided to make a hickey by sucking the skin under her mouth making you do satisfied sounds that vibrated your vocal chords, after admiring her work that she knew would leave a dark mark, she tried to continue but was stopped with the fabric of your superior part, Korra distanced a bit to look at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Can I?” was asked referring to the piece, you nodded a little bit and watch her hands take the belt off your waist and helped her to take off the whole fabric and letting it fall to the floor.

When her lips met your neck again, Korra breathe in your scent, delighted to how sweet you smelled. Your hips under her hands looked for more closeness by rocking a little bit to the front and that only action gave the girl an idea.

She pulled away again and made her hands guide your body to sit on only one of her legs, you followed without any complaint; Korra made you start grinding on her thigh, with tiny moans you were obedient to keep the action she did and when the girl raised her leg to apply pressure to your core making you let out a sigh of relief at how good it felt. Foreign lips went back to your skin, she was attending now your breast over your bra, making more hickeys on her way.

The calling of her name in a shaky voice made her look up to your amber eyes drowned in lust. “I need you, please.”

Her mouth took yours in a desperate kiss and was quick to stand up from the couch with you on her arms to make the well known way to your bedroom. Even if the avatar's body felt heavy by the constant fights she had before deciding to visit you, at that moment she didn’t feel exhausted, the hunger she had for you had substituted her tiredness.

With caution, your body was left on the mattress while the kiss continued. Korra made her way again to your breasts, taking off your last piece on the top her mouth attended your nipples making you moan at the sensation of her tongue moving while her hands were undoing your pants. When she got them off, her left hand slipped under your underwear to your intimacy. Iced color eyes looked at you with a smile at the feeling of wetness between your thighs.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “All that for me?” she raised an eyebrow, you could feel your face burn and tried to look away, but Korra's free hand made you turn your gaze back at her without harm. “Eyes on me.”

Her middle finger was tracing on top of your intimacy, making you moan in complain, you were about to talk again when one of her digits slipped in you now allowing you to moan with pleasure. The way her pace was slow was driving you crazy, your hips moved over her hand like asking for more non-verbally and she pleased by adding a second finger, the way your walls clutched over her fingers made her giggled a little bit.

She continued her action for a couple more seconds watching your expressions and loving the sound of your moans for her before she completely removed her fingers from you gaining a grunt.

She was quick to remove completely your last piece of clothes and move over to be between your legs, your eyes followed her curious to see how she was going down on you and when her lips got your clitoris along with one of her fingers entering again in your core, a loud moan came out of you.

Raising your back from the mattress, one one your hands went to her hair tangling brown locks to your fingers, another finger interfered in you and her pace got faster. Your free hand reached to squeeze your own breast while you were being taken care off and when a knot on your abdomen started to form you tried to call for the girl to tell her but was only able to moan out her name in a scream followed by your orgasm.

Your eyes got heavy but you forced yourself to stay awake when the avatar stood back up with your juices on her chin and a little bit on her nose, you smiled pulling her on a kiss tasting yourself in the process.

Your hands tried to undress the girl in a clumsy way while trying to comeback on yourself so she did it herself. Korra didn’t know what you tried to do, but surely stripped to her underwear. Just as she did, you took of her bottom piece and now forced her to lay on the bed.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What are you–” you put your finger over your own mouth on a silent expression.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Trust me.” you said hoarsely with a tired smile.

Your hands made her legs open for you to position yourself between them. Still sensitive after your first climax, you rubbed yourself against the southerner with such pleasure that you now were able to finally hear moans from her that made you smile. Korra was calling for your name between moans and heavy breaths she was giving, you folded over to kiss her and let the moans drown on both mouths. When picking a faster pace, both bodies started to feel the same knot on the lower area and after the waterbender got to her climax you followed her, now completely defeated you fell besides her.

Korra pulled you closer to her with her arms and hugged you tight, letting you rest your head on her chest. A couple of minutes were needed for both to recuperate, the avatar was leaving caresses on your head and tiny pecks on your crown.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We'll find someone who can help you,” you spat, still hoarsely, now looking up to her. Amber eyes filled with compasion. “Don't give up just yet, I know we can find someone.”

Cold eyes looked at you with such tenderness and love before Korra pulled you in for a sweet kiss. “I love you.” she whispered over your lips, making you smile big. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I love you too,” you said back, leaving caresses on her cheeks. “I always have and always will, my love.”

[the-kr8tor]

Hi! I hope you're well! I've got a bit of a request (maybe? idk can be whatever u want it to be:D) So- R recently has had their wisdom tooth removed, and I think you've seen how people get so loopy afterwards. I think it'd be hilarious writing Hobie trying to keep a straight face and talk to R rambling on about some random things in the most serious manner he can muster lol

Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘 ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Hobie's nervous for no reason, he knows you're alright behind the tooth shaped door but the sound of the drill’s muffled whirring has his spidey senses going haywire. He thinks it's the weird smell of the dentist's office and the stark white of the walls that adds to his anxiety. His leg nervously bounces to the beat of the crappy music that the dentist's assistant keeps playing on loop (torturing him basically.)

He kneads at his temple to get the scraping sound out of his ears, due to his enhanced senses that includes super hearing, he can hear every pull and tug of your tooth, unfortunately. But he thinks you have it worse since you're the one who feels every tug and pull. Or maybe he just hates it when you get hurt, especially if he can't help you or even see you. He curses the tooth shaped door for hiding you from his view. Seriously, who makes a door shaped like that?

With a sigh, the toothy door finally opens, and out you roll out of it in a squeaky wheelchair. Hobie stands up lightning quick to get to your side. The dentist smiles at him with her perfect teeth, hands guiding you out of the sterile room.

“She’s good, don't worry.” The dentist senses Hobie's worry, or she just sees it etched on his face. “Your girl's a bit loopy because of the meds but it'll wear off in a few minutes.”

Hobie kneels down to face you. He almost laughs loudly at your swollen cheek that makes you look like a squirrel that's hiding its nuts inside its mouth. He rubs your knee softly to wake your foggy self based on how glossy your eyes are. Drool drips from the cotton in your mouth and he swears he almost loses it right there and then.

“Hi, love, ready to come home?” Hobie smiles softly like he usually does when he finds you endearing. Despite all the bloody saliva dripping out of your mouth.

“Hat?” You ask, voice murmured by the cotton. Hobie guesses you said ‘what?’ instead of asking for his invisible hat.

Raising your hand to his face, you give him a good pat on his cheek, you then let out a giggle that sounded more like a cackle. It all makes him raise an eyebrow.

“You gave her the good stuff huh, doc?” He asks, never leaving his eyes off your disoriented self.

The dentist chuckles, “just give her paracetamol for the pain and don't let her eat or drink anything for an hour or two if she can help it.”

“Thanks, doc.” Hobie gives her a polite smile while standing back up to his feet. “Ready to walk with me?”

You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows knitted, hands balling at your soft pants. You dressed for the occasion, or rather, dressed down for it. You had the foresight to know that you'll be bleeding all over your clothes right after. Like how you are right now with one of Hobie's old band shirts. He clearly doesn't mind since he owns a hundred like them. But he won't miss the opportunity to tease you about it once you're sober and well awake.

You look at him like he told you the copper you gave him is in a poor state. “I hab boyfriend.”

“I know you do, it's me.” He sees the dentist crack a smile. “Get up, love, you'll kick my arse if we miss your episode.”

“Episode?” You once again ask with wonderment.

“Yeah, that dragon show you like so much. Up you go.”

“Dragons?!” Your voice echoes out in the room, like he just told you dragons are real. You stand up quicker than he thought you could. “Really?” Your question cements what he thinks. “They're dragons right? Not wyverns, they're different creatures y’know.” He tamps down a laugh.

Holding you by your biceps, Hobie flicks his eyes behind you and over to the dentist who just shrugs with a grin. “Her tooth was stubborn. Sorry, I could've given her the lighter stuff but she would've felt it.”

“That's alright, doc, this is how she usually is.” He jokes, which you chortle at. Well at least you recognize humour amidst the fog of whatever concoction the dentist gave you. “Thanks again.” He waves goodbye whilst he guides you out of the clinic.

“Why are you so pretty?” You look at him with sparkling eyes like you're about to cry from his sheer beauty. Tapping his chin, cheek squished against his shoulder, you don't look at where you're walking as you continue to admire him in the sun. “So p-pretty…like a-an angel.”

Hobie does all the walking for you, his arms are looped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the pavement. The tips of your shoes grazes the concrete as you squish his cheeks in your hand, making him pout from your cuteness overload.

“An angel? Just last night you called me a dick for eating your mango.” How could he know you were trying to save it inside the fridge?

You giggle, “mmm, mango.”

“I'll buy you a hundred more if you continue to dote on me.” You two finally make it to the van, he thanks his abilities for not getting winded out by the trek.

You lean back dramatically, making Hobie catch you in his arms. You both look like a cover from a romance novel.

“I can't! I have a boyfriend.” You say with your whole heart, and as serious as you can with your mouth full of cotton.

“Fuckin' hell.” He laughs, lifting you back up before someone in the street sees. “I'll buy you some ice cream if you get in the car. Mango or chocolate flavour?”

“I will,” you poke his chest, “not be,” poke “bribed by you–you stranger!” You poke him several times.

Hobie catches your finger mid poke. Leaning closer to your face, he smells the iron from your mouth. You sniff, moving your head away from him with a pout.

“Love,” he says sweetly, catching the back of your head before it falls further back. Laying his forehead against yours, he gives you a minute to recognize him from his warmth alone. He'd give you forever if he can. Holding your hand, he raises it to his chest, letting you feel the familiar thump of his heart. He remembers that you do it whenever he gets home from patrol. “It's me, yeah?”

Hobie doesn't realize the tears brimming in your eyes. He stands up straight at the sound of your quiet sobbing.

“We're gonna miss the dragons.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, the cotton in your mouth threatens to fall out as you weep in the parking lot with him trying his best to wipe the tears while he coos softly at you.

Hobie definitely has his work cut out for him, now to get you home without crying about dragons or acting like he's kidnapping you. Yet, he'd gladly do it all over again if it's you.

[bambisnc]

dreams come true? i sure hope they don’t. [ft. h.yj]

pairing : han yujin x f!reader <3 genre : so so crack. + lil bit fluffy cw/tw : uneditted + beverage mention + lmk if there r more sobs wc : 0.6k !! <3

“wait so let me get this straight- you like someone.. and instead of doing anything rational, or god forbid even half-normal about it; you’re trying out wikihow rituals to manipulate her dreams?!”

yujin at least has the decency to look sheepish. yeah okay so maybe he did have a crush on a certain someone, namely you, and yeah maybe he was a little too anxious to approach you.

and.. yeah maybe he happened to come across an article which taught him how to alter your dreams via a simple ritual. 

writing out the name of your ~beloved~ along with a detailed description of the dream you wished for them to have on a piece of paper, place 9 orange and purple streaked moonstones on it and crumpling up the paper – was, as the site declared confidently, enough to be able to make yourself a constant presence in the dreams of whomever you wished.

as long as he remembered to loudly announce the exact minutes for which he’d known the aforementioned beloved before starting, that is.

well, yujin thought, it seemed harmless enough.

except some part of him did consider it necessary to do a couple of trial runs. he wouldn’t want you to start having dreams of, say, student council member ahn yujin or that new girl choi yujin who had been a little too friendly with you these past few days. there were a lot of yujin’s around weren't there..

which is what lead to you having a series of rather odd dreams. and the subsequent amount of time you spent lowkey freaking out about them. 

“gyuvin i swear i wasn’t even thinking about greek gods at all before i fell asleep,” you vent to him one day at lunch, “but i was somehow a mermaid god or something?? AND hades, you know, the god of the underworld, was kinda beefing with me for no reason?!”

your friend who is unfortunately sworn to secrecy by yujin tries his best to distract you, “c’mon dreams are contractually meant to be weird; stop overthinking it! and besides-”

“BUT LISTEN when i woke up the first audio i heard, i think some video that yujin sent me, was about greek gods!! this has happened way too many times for me to put it off as a coincidence!!”

“i think you’re just delusional (like some other people i know..)”

you simply sigh out, “sorry, what was that?” not too willing to expend more energy in trying to convince him that your problem is very valid; and he’s just being very unsupportive of you right now.

"..." you suppose you'll have to make peace with the fact that your subconscious was probably just in a silly phase.

-

distant sounds of students leaving after evening classes, rustling of trees with a gentle breeze.. and a flick to your forehead?!

your eyes flutter open, more than eager to chastise whoever had thought it okay to break your comfortable reverie. but when your gaze lands on him, han yujin, you feel your complaints dying down. he’s holding out your favorite beverage to you; a soft smile adorning his face. 

before you can let out a single word though, there’s.. another flick to your forehead?? what do people have against you..

your eyes flutter open (again?), more than eager to reprimand whoever thought it okay to break your .. wait had you been dreaming just now? 

you find yourself with your cheek resting against a table. the one who flicked your forehead yet again appears to be yujin. 

his eyes seem to twinkle slightly as he says, “i thought we were going to get our science assignment done yn? or did you plan on doing it while asleep? i so did not expect this from yo-”

“hey.,” you interrupt, “han yujin. you’re free now right? wanna go on a date with me?”

safe to say that you received a very positive response, especially with his now-flustered appearance.

gyuvin really should learn to keep his mouth shut, huh?

notes : @mellowdyverse MAIIII here u go love <3 i hope this wasnt horrific im struggling tm w writers block + [m.list] + woah the coloured text is going crazyy js ignore that hehe <3 song rec : nightwalker by ten tho. it has nothing 2 do w this but its so yumi likee

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 18)

N was peacefully in sleep mode, wrapped around something he inherently wanted to protect, whatever it was, it was pleasantly cooler than the rest of his body, and he found himself bringing it closer to him.

“En! En! En!” A small little voice chirped into his audio receptors, but even still he remained in sleep mode, where all that was active was his most base code.

That voice was no threat, it was the opposite, it meant love and protection, it was someone who belonged with him, no need to panic, no need to disrupt recharge.

His programming pulled the source closer.

Love. Protect. Mine. Those keyphrases ran on repeat within the part of his system that was always active, always ready to immediately jump into action even when he was asleep.

“Shhh… Tera let your dad sleep…” A second, very sleepy voice met his audio receptors, sending more code running through that system.

Freind. Partner. Love. Protect. Safe.

Still no reason to disrupt charge. Partner not in distress. Offspring not in distress.

“Zi!” He felt something shuffle against him, and the sudden removal of the weight in his arms, finally he snapped out of sleep mode, visor and eyelights popping on all at once in a sudden outburst of conscious thought.

Tera-

“Huh…?” He asked noone, blinking around dumbly, his eyes landed on Uzi, who was currently filling yet another bottle with oil. Tera was unplugged, rolling excitedly in her arms as she impatiently waited for her feed.

“Sorry, I tried to let you sleep.” She said sheepishly, before finishing what she was doing and rolling back down her hoodie, she rubbed her side, apparently all the attention was beginning to make it sore.

“S’okies…” He slurred, still groggy. Dang, what background process was running that had him this out of it?

“Can't believe you have a full size bed and we both used the couch.” She grumbled as she slowly squeezed the oil into Tera’s port, he blushed, oh yeah, they'd cuddled all night…

“Hey the past week's been crazy, you can't blame me for falling asleep.” He defended, not giving into the fact he'd been having a little trouble sleeping without her there.

“Fair.”

Uzi looked disheveled, like she'd just lost a fight or crash landed, her beanie was crooked and her hoodie was lopsided, there were lines under her eyelights that indicated poor sleep.

“How did you sleep?” He asked on instinct, stretching as he splayed out on the couch, he wouldn't lie, it was incredibly comfortable.

“Meh… weird dream.” That was typical for Uzi at this point, “weird” probably didn't describe them very well “terrifying” and “prophetic” was probably a better description.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, only for her to yawn and shake her head, she would put it up on her conspiracy board when she was next home, it was way easier to sort out that way.

“I'm good.”

N looked slightly concerned, he hoped she wasn't bottling in any emotions, she tended to be good at that.

“I got a message from Thad?” She suddenly said, although it was clear she was talking more to herself, N felt his core flip at the mention of the drones name.

Usi had just checked her system messages (and they were nearly always empty) and found several green colored messages awaiting in her inbox.

WID-Thad: Hey Zi, throwing party this wknd, ur still coming right?

WID-Thad: It's gonna b outside. Don't worry, @ nite

WID-Thad: Or r u gonna need a babysitter fr the kid?

The kid? Oh… oh no.

“Thad knows about Tera…” Uzi whispered, living one of her greatest nightmares, how- how did he find out?

“How'd he find out?” N asked as if he read her mind. She wasn't in the headspace to think about that, not when Thad, the least gossipy person she knew, knew about Tera.

“I don't know! I thought I was doing well in hiding it!” She pulled at her hair, eyelights hollow and the feeling of extreme anxiety crawling up her mechanical spine.

Ohnonononononono….

“I mean it's not all bad? What did he say exactly?” N could immediately tell she had started to freak out, and took Tera in his arms, standing up just to put a hand on Uzi's shoulder.

“Uh… if I needed a-uh babysitter to come to his party?” She tried to breathe, maybe it was some sort of weird, oddly coincidental misunderstanding?

“I mean… I would…” He admitted, but that made sense, he was the one who adopted her, that was the main name on those papers, not her.

“Yeah but he asked me that. I'm not- at least not officially!” She stammered, trying to both claim ownership and avoid it at the same time, two juxtaposing desires, to be seen as edgy and mean so that she could protect herself, and all soft and gushy and parental, bragging about her kid.

It was all very confusing.

“It's okay! Maybe it's just Thad?” N offered, smiling like he really, truly meant it.

It was not just Thad.

When Uzi left N's apartment later that day to track down Thad and figure out exactly where he'd found out from. She'd been approached by drones she didn't even know, asking her how the baby was and how N was doing. Like they totally didn't ignore her existence for her entire life.

The entire colony seemed to know. N had just brought Tera home, how has it spread this quickly! And the assumptions! Several drones had asked how long her and N had been together, one had even asked how well her and N's code fit together.

How was she supposed to answer!? Other than how she did, which was a gruff “Bite me, none of your business.” Before she continued her warpath to Thad’s room, a blush slowly but surely growing everytime she was stopped, congratulated, or questioned.

When she did eventually get to the door, she pounded on it with a fury. How the hell did everyone know so soon?!

“Zi? Woah… you look pissed…” Thad opened the door first with a confused smile, then extreme nervousness, glancing from side to side and backing up slowly.

She shoved him wordlessly into his apartment (which was littered with sports memorabilia) and followed him inside, unleashing her tail to close the door behind her with a aggressive smack.

“How the fuck did you find out about Tera?” She asked, so serious that Thad's eyelights gained a few extra lines underneath them.

“Tera? Is that the kids name? It's cute!” He replied, clearly trying to appease her.

Her tail came up to point at him, saliva dripping from it's needle-like teeth, each drip causing his carpet to singe slightly. It's hot organic breath blowing over his visor.

“Wasn't what I asked Thad.” She put a hand on her hip. She wasn't really controlling her tail right now, but she did agree with it's sentiment, less small talk- let's get to the point.

“Right! Right! No need to get the tail involved!” He gulped, backing away from her tail slowly, putting both his hands up in surrender.

“I overheard your Dad talking to some of the WDF! That and Lizzy said she saw you and N walking into his new apartment with a baby! I drew conclusions?!” He stammered out rather loudly. Sweat appearing and falling rapidly down his visor.

“Okay sure, but why does everyone know!” She exclaimed, raising both her hands in irritation and stomping angerly. If it was just Thad she may not have even minded, but it wasn't was it, it was freaking everyone!

“Lizzy is a blabbermouth and your Dad isn't much better…?” He suggested, still attempting to get away from her irate tail, which had begun chasing him as much as it could while still attached to her.

“I didn't say shit Zi! I knew better!” He exclaimed, looking more and more freaked out of the fleshy appendage as it had somewhat backed him up against the wall.

She sighed, groaning as she put her tail away. Of course it was freaking Lizzy!, she didn't even blame her dad for this one, dispite his everything, he kept family matters pretty tight lipped- he probably hadn't said much.

“Dammit… Sorry Thad, I just… didn't want anyone else to find out about uh… her.” Her voice became… not soft but no longer as aggro.

“Hey it's cool. Didn't think you'd ever want kids though, did N wear you down or something?” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh! No! She's- She's not mine. Er, not mine mine. She's adopted, and N adopted her, not me.” She explained, violet breaching her defenses as she stammered over her words. Dammit not now! Not in front of Thad!

“Oooooh, yeah that… that makes way more sense. He always seemed more the type then you.”

“Y-yeah…” She couldn't help it when her voice lost it's edge. Even when she tried to hide it.

“Lizzy took a picture though, she kinda does look like… yours.” He sent her a photo over short-range, and she immediately brought it up to her view.

And yeah, he was absolutely right.

It wasn't just the fact that Tera had purple eyelights as well (it's not like that was uncommon.) But her and N were looking absolutely enamored with her, she was even gripping onto his arm as they were walking to get a better look.

She uh… did not remember doing that.

She looked back up at Thad, who was smiling warily, trying to look supportive but also looking incredibly nervous.

“Uuuuuuuuugh” A blush had taken over her face again, this time impossible to hide.

So that's how everyone knew… there was a picture floating around. Photo evidence of her being soft and squishy with a baby.

“Uh Zi…?” Thad looked at her with an amused smile, quickly recovering from her threats once noticing her bravado had deflated.

“My life is over…” She replied, looking like she was suffering deeply, her arms drooped to the floor.

“Thats… probably overdramatic.” He chuckled, stepping closer into her personal space, he hadn't been scared of Uzi, not really. He wasn't sure why, but he'd never got the impression she ever wanted to actually hurt anyone as much as just scare them. He knew she could, and the tail was intimidating, but want to? Nah.

“Theres photo evidence of me being-ah!” She yelped, she was also always… dramatic, seemingly overanimated at times, some people found it off-putting, he found it endearing. A nice juxtaposition to his eternal mellow.

“Of you… being, motherly?” He asked with a smirk as she seemed to melt with embarrassment.

“Yes!”

“I don't think that's a bad thing. I mean, has it been bad for you so far?” He asked, cocking his head. Surely it hadn't, she looked happy in that picture, happier then he'd ever seen her before.

“Well uh, no…” She admitted, the people who had stopped her had all been relatively nice… not as mocking as she'd expected.

“I think it looks good on you! You can't be edgy all the time.” He replied, this time a wide smile on his face, honestly, Thad had known about Uzi's soft center for a long while. He had known her right before Nori died, she'd been… much sweeter then. Soft spoken but not shy.

“Yes I can! Bite me!” And there was the shield… oh well.

“Sorry. You're trying to help.” Oh. Now that was new, the Uzi he knew would never apologize for anything, much less for saying “Bite me.”

“No issue. So are you and N…?

“Uh… no, we're not… I'm just helping him take care of Tera, and uh… speaking of.” The way she stammered and sputtered told him a lot. Mostly that she was still hiding something that's for damn sure, but he didn't want to pry.

“Riiiiight…” He said as if he didn't quite believe her, and he didn't. There was no hiding it in that picture. Hell, they looked like they were married, not even just dating, with the soft looks they both had.

“Okay now actually Bite Me!” She shouted as she stomped off, but Thad stuck his head out of his doorway to shout back.

“You better be still coming!”

She grumbled all the way back to N's apartment, still being stopped every once in awhile to be asked questions, either about Tera, or about her relationship with N.

While her first instinct was to still snap at them, she found herself actively beginning to surpress it. None of these people were asking out of any sort of malice or trying to be mean. Some of them even looked genuinely happy for her.

So she answered them, possibly not in the best or friendliest way (her voice was still rough and a little rude.) But she did clear up a few things here or there.

“No N and I didn't have a baby. She's adopted.”

“No, N's on the paperwork, I'm just listed as a caretaker.”

And when she did reach N's apartment and opened the door. She found N on the floor, helping Tera roll around to chase her toy, a wide grin on his face as a peel of laugher escaped his adoptive daughter each time she was boosted forward gently by his hand.

His eyes snapped up to meet her and they immediately softened, and Uzi had to supress another blush.

Now that she knew he liked her, the signs were rather obvious.

“What did you find out?” He asked, cute little head cock and all, she sighed, sending him the picture.

He blinked, before his face seemed to explode with color, taking a gander over the picture he couldn't help but think how much they both looked like parents.

“O-oh.” Was the only thing that came from his mouth, he look another look at Uzi, who was obviously far tenser than usual, she looked at him, and with only a beat of hesitation, threw herself onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him.

“Uh! Uzi-wha-” He stammered, was something wrong? She didn't typically initiate hugs like this unless she was extremely upset.

“Shut up and hold me goober.” Was all she said, holding him gently. He couldn't see the blush or the smile on her face that had appeared after she'd heard his core skip over a cycle when she'd made contact.

“Y-yeah okay…”

Next ->

[mothman9283]

Ok i try to keep private but. guys.... i think i have a fever kink... and if this ever gets traced to myself irl i might have to change my identity. heres a rant about my experiences and preferences just to get it out of my system so i can be productive again and stop thinking about it 😇

anyways! i think ive always been intrigued to fevers my whole life. I remember when i was younger, young enough to not know my age, I was playing doctor with my friend and I was taking my stuffies temperature. i remember just continuously adding on pens and sticks and anything i could find to make the thermometer longer because "the temp is too high! the thermometer is gonna burst!"

i also hated showing or telling ppl i was sick ever since i was young, like id always hide it if i was unwell, and i wouldnt tell my parents or friends and would desperately try to make it seem like i was fine

irl i have no interests in sick people or being sick. if one of my friends has a cold or is coughing i always try to keep my distance so i dont get sick either. lowkey sometimes if they r a bit too snotty or whiny i even get annoyed.. 😓😓 I only ever feel this way about characters through a screen, or through little daydreams and fantasies.

anyways, i lowkey dont know if its a sexual tjing or not (ofc not when i was younger), but its just always something that made my stomach then and my heart pound.

i found out abt this community (<3) when i was in my teens. one day i got a yt video in my recommended of one of those "animate my story" videos. the title was smthing along the lines of "im addicted to seeing other people in pain" and i was like "damn. ok lets see whats up!" and clicked it. in the video the guy describes fantasizing about his favourite characters being hurt and being taken care of, and how its never about real people and whatnot, and as little teenage me watched it, i realized "damn. fhis is fr me but with illnesses!" This was the first time ive ever found out there were others like me, so i immediately scrolled to the comments. unfortunately, literally everyone was liek "bro this dude is a freak..." and i was like "oh.. 😕😒" BUT THEN. this one commenter with a pink defualt yt profile pic said "hey :) ! this is actually called whump, and its more common than you think!" and i went WOAH. since then i searched up "sick fever" on google, found tumblr and fanfics and never looked back.

after seeing some of the #s on this site i definitely feel less alone now, but having a fever kink is still pretty uncommon right..? like i dont see anyone posting about it anywhere else except for the two sites a stated prior, and its not listed anywhere either (granted i havent looked very hard).

isnt it also just kinda weird- like even from an evolutionary standpoint... fever = infectious = bad = why would i wanna get closer and die..

regardless of reason, i just love a good sickness- fevers with flushed, hot skin, and chills and coughs. i also need a good temperature readings for the full experience, and i love all the descriptive diction about their health. im not a huge fan of descriptive puking or sinus related stuff, but im happy with it if it contributes to the fever plot-. ive also noticed over the years that its not simply just a cold- they need to be literally described/shown as flushed and sweaty. being "pale" or "green" AINT doing it for me 😡

anyways! yeah that was my rant :) wow thats long. in the unlikely event someone finds this lmk if u have an similar/different experiences, or if a younger me sees this hopefully they wont feel like such a weirdo and feel less alone

[alornights]

hello! if your requests are open i’d like to req mysterion x fem!villain!reader (aka shes on Prof. Chaos’ side :D) and she’s always dressing up as mysterion just to fuck around and do weird shit pretending to be him for shits n gigs!! ^^

headcanons r great if you wanna do that but if you wanna do a fic u can! (if you wanna make this nsfw age him up pleas 🙏😨)

⟢ just like you.

➜ in which ! you dress as mysterion for shits and giggles.

💌 ﹫mysterion aka, kenny mccormick.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗bit of violent descriptions.

🍓 ⟡ notes — we love a good villain!! i dont do nsfw lmao so no worries on that part, but i do hope you enjoy this lil headcanon/fic thing <3

it actually wasn't your idea to dress up as mysterion rather it was butters who overheard the guys talking while he was in the jail cell on how if you wore a mysterion costume, he'd flip out.

oh how fun it was to dress up as him.

barely anyone could tell it wasn't him unless they got a close-up of you. so obviously, as a villain, you do some rather, reckless things. like robbery. and arson. and a tad bit of demon summoning.

so when the mysterious man wakes up and checks the news to see all the allegations about him and sees you instead.

he goes nuts.

"What the FUCK, is wrong with you?!" He sneered, kicking you to a wall, letting your body sag as you coughed a bit. "Do you know how much shit I've had to deal with because of you?"

Despite the pain you may be in, you smile back. "Aw shucks, did little ole me get you into that much trouble?"

He stares at you in disbelief before dropping down to where you sat. "You summoned a bunch of demons. What do you think?"

"I think I looked hot doing it." You simply responded, cupping his cheek with a wink. "You agree don't you mystery man?"

no he does not find you hot. he finds you extremely beautiful.

if it weren't for the fact that you were a villain and had committed so many crimes he totally would not be kissing you right now.

"Don't get your hopes up." He responded plainly holding out his hand to help you stand up.

"Uh huh sure." You responded with a knowing tone before turning around, "I'll see you tomorrow for another fun night, cya!"

no, he did not let you go because he has fun chasing you down and fighting you. no, he did not let you go because without you his life would most certainly not be less boring.

does he regret letting you go though? absolutely.

two days later he wakes up to see that all over twitter there are pictures of "him" drawing penises everywhere, giving people sign-up sheets to join professor chaos, and hanging around + helping racoon man summon a bunch of dead people to be your minions.

is later forced to do a press meeting with the freedom pals explaining to the public that no, that is not him.

"You can not keep getting away with his."

"But you let me because you love me."

"I do not."

You raised an eyebrow holding out your hands. "Okay, then arrest me, hero. Since you do not love me and instead, hate me."

He stares at you blankly as you smiled cockily. "You suck."

You laughed loudly walking up to him, slinging your arms around his neck, and pressing your bodies together. "Sure sure, you suck too."

He groaned turning away as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Life would just be too boring without you.

[omgeto]

hi! i hope you’re doing well. i’m hoping this doesn’t sound too weird but i wanted to ask if you have any tips on writing smut? you’re works are amazing and i just wanted to ask :)

awwwww you think my shit is amazing and want writing tips from moi WOW I shall do my best since I still find my smut skills a bit iffy so some of the stuff I may say I might not even do but we shall see anyways.

READ SMUT: I think the thing that got me to write smut is just the fact that I wank a lot and read a shit ton of smut. therefore I internalise what I read more, and see the common phrases, tropes, plots, that other writes use that I can infuse into my writing. and no im not saying plagiarise and copy ect but im just saying the more you read, the easier it is to write.

USE A PLETHORA OF VERBS: so basically when it comes to me writing any type of fingering or like dick in the v a g i n a scene like try out using a variety of verbs to make your works more descriptive. my trusty little bag of verbs is mainly: charges, drives, forces, pushes, inserts, thrusts ect.

DIALOGUE: to make ur smut a bit more wordy and not as boring, use dialogue, since people talk when they fuck (surprise surprise) it doesn't even have to be a proper convo if you aren't into writing dirty talk and shit but just moans and groans and like gasps like some form of written audio to go along with the visuals.

MAKE SURE IT FLOWS: like try and find some form of the flow so the smut doesn't read as awkward, like if you're doing a short snapshot smut (like what I do in my "when you have sex..." series )then thats fine but in like actual smut fics, you dont need to have a serious plot BUT it does make it better to read when theres some form of flow. such as including some type of foreplay, then get them to fuck ect. and if ur doing a pure smut fic and struggling to find a plot, think of cheesy porn plots LIKE OLD ASS PORN PLOTS like the pizza delivery man that you want to tip but you end up taking his tip (hehehe im funny right) or like the plumber thats supposed to unplug ur sink but plugs up with pussy instead (am I eating with these or nah omg)

BONUS TIPS these r so unserious kinda sorta

dont call a dick a cock thats lame (this is purely a joke I personally wont be calling a dick a cock but if you want to you can you have my full support)

HAVE FUNN WRITING SMUT, LIKE REALLY AND TRULY IT ISNT THAT DEEP WHATEVER YOU WRITE. JUST MAKE SURE TO TAG UR SHIT PROPERLY, OUTLINE IN UR RULES WHAT U DO AND DONT WRITE IF U TAKE REQS AND STUFF AND THEN LIKE JUST WRITE AND BUILD UR CRAFT. CAUSE LIKE IF U LOOK AT MY FIRST SMUT COMPARED TO NOW ID PERSONALLY SAY IVE IMPROVED (even tho ive got like 15 works loooool)

[chibivesicle]

Daniel Law thoughts and observations.  Why is his last name so bloody difficult to figure out?

This is a quick and frivolous post as opposed to my normally long form ones.  I’ve got it hard for Daniel at the moment; I’m wade through the vast expanse that is the internet looking for merch for him.  Steven merch is like shooting fish in a barrel with how popular he is.  K.K. merch is also easy and super cheap second hand.  But Daniel merch.  Hoooo boy, it takes some time and effort to find.

The first issue around him is his bloody last name.  Which Japanese isn’t equipped to deal with.  This shows in my merch quest as I’ve scrolled through pages and pages of items.  But first:

The Darkhorse translation calls him Daniel Low.

The Funimation translation settles on Daniel Law.

When you listen to the sub and the dub, both the Japanese VA and English VA both clearly say “Law”.  I’d like to also note that the Japanese VA for Steven, Mitsuru Miyamoto, has really good pronunciation for all of the English terms/names he says specifically which makes me really think “Law” is the intended spelling.   The credits also reflect this.

Both versions also settle on the title of Lieutenant.  While the literal translation is Assistant Inspector (keibuho - 警部補).  I’m not sure why they didn’t go with Detective which sounds like the most American term and Inspector being British.  I guess Detective is a role while, Daniel would still have a police rank associated with him. But I know squat about American policing terms and job titles.  Maybe, I should go back and watch some Law and Order and cringe?

Where is this total weirdness around Daniel’s name coming from?  Especially if we get a season three and Marcus also shows up for the Calamity Auction arc.

Now, we all know that having an equal transfer of Law into Japanese can’t happen since there is no way to make say a “La-wa” etc.  The best you can get is to drop down in the r-line to the “ro” combo.  But then you’ve got that pesky “w” you need to do something with.

If you wanted “Low” this would be the easiest way to get it.  Go with “ro” and add the long vowel dash making it “ro-oh”

But we can see this reading of “ro” with a long “o” can be [sighs] Rho, Lau; Low, Loo, Rau, Raux, Roe or Roh.

Okay, this isn’t what happens in the credits.  The Japanese credits write his name out this way.  “ro” with the “u”.  Now, the first hit is “Law”.  Yay!

But then we get also; Loew, Low, Lowe or even Rowe!  Argh! 

So, how does this tie into merch?  Well, how his name is spelled on KKSS merch of course and how to search for it!

For Back 2 Back full color acrylics that were Jump (Festa Specials I’d guess), we get him and Marcus being referred to as Lowe.  ‘Cause they are twin brothers and Daniel is the older one! Another issue with Japanese language mechanics versus English but that’s for another time.  I’d read Daniel to be several years older since he’s referred to as “older brother” in B2B but since you have to place your sibling in age relative to you - Marcus has to say older brother in the original Japanese.    

There is also a small special badge set with Steven and Daniel here, where he is also referred to as “Lowe”.  Did I impulsively buy this?  Yes, yes I did of course!

Yet when we look at other items music/band themed (acoustic guitar) , the American heroes (fighter pilot? why?), ice skating, saloon barkeep/western. he’s got a last name of “Low”.

You might begin to think - okay, it is clear that 1.) there is no official spelling of his name down on paper.  2.) merch designers see ロウ and make an educated guess 3.) his name can’t be “Law”.

Buuutttt let’s go to the actual search function of a Japanese site like Goods Republic.  And what do we find in the character list on the left hand side?  Daniel Law.

Additionally,  you go on Zen Market and access JP Mercari directly, searching with the terms of ダニエル and 血界戦線.  You will get merch that not only pulls up Daniel but all the translated descriptions will always refer to him as Daniel Law.

What have I learned from this?  That until we get season three and Daniel gets a floating info box like below, we will never truly know how his name is spelled.  However, with the sense of humor that Nightow has and his wordplay in English, I really still think the original intent is “Law” because he’s a fucking cop.  Come on, easiest cheese joke ever.

And if he doesn’t get a floating info box in a season three, it means they aren’t giving him full justice due to his increasing role in the series.

[genderfluidbf]

the beekeeper's apprentice: mary russell book one

synopsis (via goodreads): Long retired, Sherlock Holmes quietly pursues his study of honeybee behavior on the Sussex Downs. He never imagines he would encounter anyone whose intellect matched his own, much less an audacious teenage girl with a penchant for detection. Miss Mary Russell becomes Holmes's pupil and quickly hones her talent for deduction, disguises and danger. But when an elusive villain enters the picture, their partnership is put to a real test.

rating before reread: ★★★★★

rating after reread: ★★★★

general thoughts: i have changed as a person since i last read this! i am no longer the pretentious middle schooler so deeply enamoured by holmes and russell's deductive skills. instead, i think, i favor the growth of their relationship and trust in one another.

laurie r king's writing style for this series is honestly immaculate. she has successfully infiltrated the mind of mary russell. its a period piece told from the perspective of a young woman, and shes managed to capture that spirit through her descriptions.

i take off a star however, for repeated rereads. its never going to compare to the first time i read it. its hard to say anything abt the cleverness, for me, when i already know whats gonna happen.

spoilers under the cut!!

firstly i suppose i gotta talk abt the relationship between holmes and russell. gotta say, i love it? but in later books the foundation we've laid here takes a bit of a sinister tinge. for now tho, i love it.

they save each other!!!!! its directly talked abt in the book but to paraphrase, russell saves holmes from dying of boredom, and holmes saves russell from becoming a worse version of her aunt.

they provide each other companionship and a whetstone to hone their minds against. say what u will, but sherlock holmes needs someone to go up against, who can be an equal to him and put him in his place if need be.

laurie r king describes their playact of a falling out in this way: "Holmes and I had only a few days to perfect our rôles of the two friends now turned against each other, the father and daughter alienated, the near-lovers become bitterest, most implacable of enemies"

if i am to criticize one thing in this book, it is their weird relationship. she is 15 when they meet, and he is like, definitely in his 60s. as a middle schooler i was quick to justify and defend my hero, sherlock holmes, but now i find it hard to not feel a little uneasy. i will say tho, the way laurie r king writes their relationship helps to assuage my concerns. it doesnt feel predatory.

anyways, onto mrs. hudson and dr. watson. some say watson is portrayed poorly here. i think it can go either way. those who want all of their characters to be smart and capable in all ways see watson diminished into a bumbling fool. i think tho that watson is aptly characterized, if we're basing it off of the original stories. he is fiercely loyal, an excellent doctor, and, quite frankly, incapable of pulling off some of the more delicate schemes needed to be on the level of sherlock holmes. yes, he is written to be a bit of a fool, but not i would think in a malicious way. he has a big heart, and many other wonderful qualities. he is not, however, capable of disguising himself and losing a tail.

mrs. hudson is a girlboss.

the daughter of moriarty being the villain is perhaps a bit trite? but perhaps thats also why its clever. u dont expect it. moriarty is dead, this is not connected to the original stories, and in the original stories i dont believe theres a mention of his family.

its late, and im getting tired, and i am quite certain no one will read this, so i will end my nonsensical babbling here.

[inventors-fair]

Getting the Bant Back Together: Alara Contest Winners ~

Congratulations to @bread-into-toast, @izzet-always-r-versus-u, and @spooky-bard for winning this week's contest!

@bread-into-toast — Bant Paragon

Bant and Enlist are a match made in heaven, or wherever the angels of Bant live. The name is perfectly reasonable, not too much, perfectly descriptive enough, and surprising that it hasn't been used already. Triple enlist is absolutely a wakening slap, I'll say that much. What I love about this card is that you can enlist the butts off your creatures if you want to smack someone, but a single multicolored creature can get the job done. This is a uniquely decisive design that offers so much more than it seems at first glance. You'll have to invest a little in white, but perhaps the environment is more of a flavorful allowance than a precise measure of everyone-gets-mana-fixing.

Curiosity does drive me here, as does a little bit of nostalgia. Alara certainly had its pips, and it had some weird pips at that. Committing to double colors felt like a bit of a risky miracle. You absolutely could—triple pips if you so chose! But for a three-color environment? Risky, risky, risky. Double here ain't so bad, but you're still encouraged to branch out. So hybrid maybe? Who knows! Or the power here is simply asking for enlistment, white with a splash, a centering. The notion of this knight finding their allies while retaining their central strength is still powerful in its own emotional right, with the single attacker calling back to exalted naturally as well. Thoroughly enjoyable and thoughtful choices were made here. Love this card as a limited tempo beater and a potential mono-white/hybrid aggro constructed card.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Tidehollow Salvage

I mean, hell, c'mon, it's pretty wonderful. I'll talk about the mechanics afterwards, but the flavor? I'll admit: I don't like the Phyrexians invading all the worlds at once. I didn't like the MOM story as much as I could've, I was a huge fan of the ONE world but not as much the invasion aspect, and having my poor baby plane of Alara infected with these guys wasn't my idea of a good time. Here, you've infused that nostalgic factor with a post-conflict eeriness and a grotesque emotional reality on top of a neat draw spell. Yeah, the perfection of Esper is steeped in inequality! Tezzeret was sympathetic for a while! He got really messed up! Etherium is scarce! It still kind of sucks underground here! I didn't know a lot about the Alara storyline when I started playing, but the feeling for the shards was always there. Bant's casts felt uncomfortable for their societal enforcement, but Esper's commodity-based world was uncomfortable in a different, desperate way. Man. This is cool.

Plus, putting the surveil on a separate paragraph? You gotta love it. I know it's a small detail, and it's just a design necessity, but it's the attention to that detail that I love about this card. I can imagine it as part of a cycle of alternate spells, like with a red creature that forces discard on ETB if black was spent to cast it, or a blue return spell that exiles something instead if white was spent to cast it, etc. We got possible multicolor but good draws otherwise, we have the cost of metal-scrapping, and... I mean, what else is there to say? This card's chops speak for themselves.

When I talk in my contests about elegant common design, this is exactly what I'm looking for. As a player, big splashy complex cards will slot in my decks. As a designer and storyteller, tightness is key.

@spooky-bard — Sigiled Construction

See what I mean? I'm only mildly irked that this doesn't have a quote from, like, a Vedalken designer who's learning how to venerate the designs of the angels, or a Bant paladin who for the first time is accepting the use of etherium as a means of fabricated glory. I can imagine both of those scenarios, but argh! At least this card's a pain in the ass. ... Hold on, I'm sounding more negative than I intend. What I mean is that someone's going to get three of these in their sealed pool, play UWX, slam a Thopter, and every turn thereafter is going to have a massive exalted attacker clock. Is it too powerful? Depends on the environment. Is it really cool from a lot of perspectives? Yes, absolutely, and I wanna talk about it.

In short, this card is one of THOSE commons—you know, first-pickable-over-rares sometimes kind of commons—and the chances of it doing nothing if something bigger comes along is also totally there. And that's okay! It's not oppressive, it's not unbalanced, it's not literally better than the mythics that would be appearing in this set. Just a plain old good card. And I do like the implication of how these shards would be coming together. I like how all three winning cards this week highlighted different possible aspects of Alaran unification. The first was a knight finding their way through a harrowing world, the second an emphasis on the underlying Alaran conflict, and this one is the coming-together of two strengths in a positive light. Whatever's happening here, I can still feel the wonder even while I'm whining for flavor text. Dangit, I can only whine so far... Heh. I'd love to play and see this card played.

Runners and more soon! @abelzumi

[blueiight]

I don't know either what's the santization but there's someone here with a VC blog and they have said that the tv show is a sanitization. They gleefully wish for the show to go off air and in general is very weird about it, down to the casting choices. From Jacob to Sam to Eric to Assad. And the way they talk about some of the actors, it's very weird to me too. I have been arguing with them for a better part of the day and got blocked before I could ask them about what they meant about sanitization. So I spent the rest of the day sitting down and thinking if I am looking at it wrong and there indeed is sanitization here...which is why I was wanting a second opinion.

Thank you for your response.

i dont know who that is + based off ur description im sure they wouldnt wanna know me lol. but im sorry u spent a good bit of ur day fussing w them to no productive end? idk man i dont get them some of them r like ‘my lestan would never do this evil act’, complaining about the (rather tame) sex scenes or race/age changes but now its sanitized? howw. is it oochie wally or one mic.. idk. and theres adaptations of books & old animanga remakes that i dont like but i dont constantly go out of my way to find them and complain about them i barely dont talk about them.. like even when mdzs live action came out & flooded the tags 500x more than even the most obnoxious amc iwtv fan ever could i just looked for novel canon only stuff like at the end of the day no book is being took away just bc of a tv show adaptation😭😭

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a Reddit post on r/AmltheAsshole by u/ApprehensiveFix3425, titled "AITA for not attending my daughters gender reveal for her lizard?"

This is literally really stupid but she's really upset about it. So my (48) daughter (23) has a blue tongue skink who she heavily adores. She jokingly refers to it as her daughter, I've found it weird but she says it's because it's the closest thing she'd have to a child and she feels a strong emotional bond similar to a child. She has decided to remain child free for multiple reasons and I have been very supportive of this decision.

Well she recently took her Skink to the vet for a checkup and she was excited to find out her Skinks gender. Afterwards I got a text asking if I'd come to her gender reveal party she was having. She explained it was just a small get together with cake and food for her friends she hasn't seen in a while with the gender reveal being mostly a joke (and a way to make fun of real gender reveals).

Well I didn't come. I didn't see a point. It's just a lizard and I'm a busy person. She later called me and expressed she was kind of sad I didn't come cuz it'd been a while since I'd seen her but she understood I was busy. I told her she couldn't actually expect me to come to a gender reveal for a lizard. She said that it wasn't a real gender reveal, that was more of a joke and it was really just a small gathering to catch up with everyone. I told her if that was the case she should've just called it a gathering because I'm not coming to a gender reveal unless it's for a real grand daughter.

She got quiet for a minute and then turned my words around, claiming I wasn't supportive of her decision to be childfree. I told her she can't possibly expect me to treat a lizard as a grand daughter, she said she didn't expect me too but it was clear I didn't respect her bond with her lizard and her decision, and she just wanted to see me and my reason for coming was hurtful. I told her she was being ridiculous over a lizard, she claimed it wasn't over the lizard and it was a gathering and not even centered around the lizard, but I stick by to what I said. It's ridiculous to have a gender reveal for a lizard.

She hung up and I got a message from her best friend about how I'm an asshole for treating her that way, but I don't think I'm the asshole for not wanting to go to a party for a lizard?]

["EDIT: In the time I was away I got many replies and it was a lot to read through. Let me clear a couple things up.

1. My issue is that she said the party was a gender reveal, if she had called it just a party I would have come. But calling it a gender reveal makes it sound like it's for the lizard, and I'm not going to that even if it is a "joke".

2. I don't know why it matters but the Skink is a girl which is why I said "I'm not coming to a gender reveal unless it's for a real grand daughter."

3. Even though I don't agree with my daughter for being childfree, I have been supportive and only shown mild frustration. The reasons she decided to be childfree is she claims she's asexual, she just doesn't want one, she has emotional baggage and feels unable to care for a real child, she fears pregnancy, and she has a carrier gene like me and "doesn't want to go through what I did" (I had 4 miscarriages and a highly defect child that died after 3 months due to the gene). Yes there has been slight tension between us because I think she just hasn't found the right man (she never dated growing up) and her other fears are unnecessarily exaggerated, but it's ultimately her decision and I don't resent her.

4. We haven't seen each other in three months. I'm a single mother and we have always been close which is why she invited me with her friends, I just didn't want to go to a party with a lizard, and if it wasn't for the lizard she should've called it a party instead of a gender reveal."]

[A comment by u/PrettyFly4AYaoGuai which says, "Ok. So. First off, this is probably the most interesting topic I've ever seen on this sub. I didn't wake up this morning thinking "I hope I get to weigh in on how the social contract relates to gender reveal parties for reptiles" but here we are.

If this was as straight forward as the title suggested, you wouldn't be in the wrong at all. A gender reveal party for a lizard is just...well. It's silly. Gender reveal parties in general are silly, this one is double silly. It's fun, it's cute, but it's silly.

However.

Your daughter did make it clear to you that she was jokingly hosting a gender reveal party for a lizard. What she was actually doing was hosting a small get together and she wanted you to come over. She made it pretty obvious from the get-go gecko that she really just wanted an excuse to have a small party.

So...and I love that I get to use this sentence...

Let's remove the lizard genitals from the situation.

What your daughter was actually doing was inviting you over to spend time with her, and you declined because you're "A busy person with important things to do." You didn't like that she jokingly called it a gender reveal party, even though it had been made clear that it was just a get together. You took a stab at her choice to be child free (She's obviously not presenting this lizard as your grand daughter, it wasn't necessary to say that you'd come to a gender reveal for an actual baby). Basically, you got so hung up on the silly name of the party that you completely ignored the intention and made your daughter feel like crap.

So yeah, YTA, but it's not because you won't be there to celebrate the revealing of the lizard genitals. It's just because your daughter wanted to spend time with you, and you brushed her off Cats in the Cradle style.

ETA: Your edit made this entire situation worse. Congratulations. With just a few sentences, you managed to

-Demonstrate that you were entirely hung up on the name of the party. Despite being told multiple times what the purpose of the party was, you couldn't live with attending a party with a silly name.

-Prove that you are not, in fact, supportive of your daughter's decision to be child free. There's a difference between being "supportive" and "only bitching about it a little bit".

["- Invalidate your daughter's sexual identity. She's not asexual, she just hasn't met the right man yet!

But I think my favorite part was towards the end. Where your daughter provided multiple VERY legitimate reasons not to want children. Not wanting kids, for one. But also a fear of pregnancy, genetic issues, and a maternal history of devastating loss. You suffered 4 miscarriages and lost a child in infancy. How in the world could you, as a mother, want your daughter to suffer like that?

Everyone keeps mentioning the Iranian Yogurt, but after reading your update, I'm prepared to say it.

THE LIZARD GENITALS ARE NOT THE ISSUE HERE."

u/HappiestApple replies "quote, Let's remove the lizard genitals from the situation. unquote.

If the genitals were removed, would that make it a lizard gender neutral reveal party? What is the correct terminology here?"]

[A screenshot of three comments from the OP on the post, which say:

"I wouldn't say I've invalidated it. She says she doesn't experience sexual/romantic attraction nor has a want for it which is only because she hasn't found the right person yet. It's impossible for someone to not feel such a natural feeling, everyone feels it, it is a normal chemical in our body. I've tried to explain this to her, for some reason she fears physical interaction with men. I think her fears probably stems from not having a father because he left when she was three. Yes, it was hard on me. There were many tears and it's partly why her father left, but that's what mother's do. She knows how important to me it is that I finally gave birth to a child that actually lived to grow up, and it does hurt she wouldn't continue for me when I went through that pain. That's why there's been tension for her decision, and I will admit I am unhappy with her decision but I have been as supportive as I can and haven't been mean about it."

"She kept labeling it was a gender reveal though. She bought a cake that says "It's a girl" and popped a pink sparkly glitter popper too, which I think is ridiculous, the lizard can't appreciate or love this, it can't even feel emotions."

"I will be honest I don't have any particular feelings for the lizard. I think it looks like a snake and that freaks me out, and it is incapable of feeling emotions so I don't know why she feels a bond with it. She even named it Ellie, a human name, so she can tell people "I have to get home to Ellie" so she can act like she's busy with a kid at home which I believe is an unhealthy way to cope with her social anxiety, she should learn to get comfortable with saying no instead of using a lizard as an excuse to neglect social obligations."]

This mom sounds so unpleasant to be around idk why her daughter even invited her in the first place

[eggbabey]

I made a quiz yall should take it

Link in reblog baby!!!:^)

[mulletmitsuya]

Bonten groupchat (@sxgarcube-anon)

Warnings: descriptions of violence, descriptions of depression?, orphans, mentions of death and dying, severed fingers, swearing

Mikey: does anyone know where Sanzu is

Mikey: i haven't seen him in three days

Mikey: i'm starting to smell

Koko: ?

Koko: what does that have to do with Sanzu

Mikey: he needs to bathe me

Mikey: and it'd be nice to eat

Mikey: i can't get up, i'm tired, so i can't do it myself

Ran: and Sanzu does all these things for you?

Kakucho: Mikey you can call me when you need these things

Kakucho: i'm at the supermarket right now, what do you need?

Mikey: a will to live

Kaku: ...

Mikey: i ran out of deodarant

Mikey: get me ocean breeze

Rindou: guys do you know where Sanzu is?

Rindou: i told him he was ugly and i haven't seen him in a while

Rindou: do you think i actually hurt his feelings?

Rindou: not that i care or anything, but i've tried calling him 4 times now

Rindou: anyone checked his apartment?

Mikey: someone check his car, sometimes he just passes out there

Takeomi: i'll check both

Rindou: k

Sanzu: aww

Sanzu: you guys care about me

Rindou: nvm idc anymore

Sanzu: don't be alarmed guys

Sanzu: i was kidnapped

Sanzu: but i got out!!

Sanzu: however, they cut my pinkie finger so im gonna try and get that attached

Sanzu: and my stomach feels like it's inside out

Sanzu: i think my organs are bruised

Sanzu: this is the third time i've thrown up blood

Sanzu: anyway, what's up with you guys

Ran: ??

Ran: WHY R U SITTING HERE TEXTING US THEN

Sanzu: to make sure Mikey was okay, duh

Sanzu: Mikey are you okay

Mikey: no

Mikey: could've told me u were kidnapped

Sanzu: they tried to call you for ransom but you didn't answer lmao

Sanzu: not that there's anything wrong with that king🙇‍♂️

Mikey: i don't pick up numbers i don't know

Mikey: perhaps i should

Mikey: sorry

Sanzu: never apologize to me, you've done nothing wrong

Rindou: dude

Koko: go get ur pinkie attached

Ran: send a picture💖

Sanzu: k

Kaku: please don't

Ran: i saw you gut someone open last night☺

Kaku: intestines don't scare me as much as severed fingers do

Kaku: i just find it creepy

Ran: you're so strange Kaku

Koko: you saying that is...

Koko: nevemind

Ran: speak up Kokonoi 😙

Koko: you're weird tbh

Koko: and your brother too

Koko: thought i'd get used to it

Rindou: my motto is "never let them know your next move"

Koko: most of the time it's just embarrassing but ok

Rindou: you side characters wouldn't understand

Takeomi: win a fight first dumbass

Ran: get over that will you??

Ran: we were like, teens

Takeomi: you were adults

Ran: oh

Ran: Rindou back me up

Rindou: uhm

Rindou: lol Takeomi your sister died

Ran: too far

Koko: wow

Kaku: why though

Kaku: why do you think that's funny :/

Rindou: ur mom

Ran: Rin you can stop now

Kaku: cause i'm an orphan?? wow so funny and original ahaha

Rindou: ur dad

Ran: Rindou!! Stop!!

Sanzu: Rindou you're not eating

Sanzu: i don't think i used that right

Koko: huh?

Sanzu: he thought he ate

Sanzu: guess you can't use it in present tense

Mikey: fuck are you talking about

Sanzu: nvm

Rindou: i just ate breakfast?

Sanzu: NVM!

Sanzu: ur too stupid to get it

Rindou: u look like an unfinished barbie doll

Sanzu: unfinished???

Sanzu: what's that supposed to mean🤨

Ran: your fights amount to nothing

Ran: please stop <3

Mikey: yeah u guys end up using actual weapons for no reason so stfu

Rindou: y'all know he's rabid, i'm just tryna protect myself

Koko: and you're not??

Kaku: yeah Rindou you do kinda act like an animal

Sanzu: HAH

Sanzu: BIRTH

Sanzu: *bitch

Rindou: you can't even insult me properly 😐

Takeomi: can u please shut up

Sanzu: omfg just turn off your hearing aids

Takeomi: i'm not that old

Ran: 👴

*Takeomi has left the chat*

Rindou: treat your older brother with respect Haruchiyo

Sanzu: he's not my brother

Sanzu: don't include yourself in matters that have nothing to do with you bitch boy

Sanzu: i'll eat your fucking lungs

Rindou: you are the biggest cunt i have ever met!

Rindou: you are intolerable!

Rindou: how can you stand to look at yourself in the mirror and stand what you see???

Ran: you see what i was talking about 🙂

Sanzu: AND YOU????

Sanzu: CAN YOU NOT SEE THE WAY THAT YOU ACT

Kaku: you're both hypocrites, please stop😐

Sanzu: AS SOON AS I GET OUT THIS HOSPITAL IT'S ON SIGHT

Sanzu: REJECT JOJO LOOKING ASS

Rindou: you have such a terrible personality LMAO

Rindou: no wonder Takeomi picked Senju

Sanzu: ...

Sanzu: wow

Sanzu: k

*Sanzu has left the chat*

Mikey: why would you say that to him

Ran: you always go too far Rindou💀

Ran: even Sanzu has feelings

Ran: probably

Koko: what's up with them though?? like as siblings what went wrong

Rindou: uh

Rindou: me n Haru do this all the time tho

Rindou: we're flirting

Ran: r u joking????

Kaku: you think that's what that is?

Rindou: IS IT NOT??

Rindou: k i gotta go

*Rindou has left the chat*

Ran: young love

Ran: i suppose

Mikey: i will slaughter you all

Kaku: why????

Ran: we didn't even do anything what😭

Mikey: Kaku where are you

Mikey: i managed to get in the bath

Mikey: the faucet's too far

Mikey: best i can do

Kaku: baby steps r important

Kaku: the fact that you got out of bed is really great!

Kaku: i'll be there in a few

Mikey: get Sanzu mochi

Mochi: huh

Mikey: the pink and green ones

Mikey: i think he's sad

Mikey: not you, Mochi

Mochi: k

Kaku: alright :}

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch.5 "2:22"

Summary: Lee and Jo share a sweet texting conversation. He later hangs out with Dr. Bloom and soon after finds himself in another mess. Jo worries when her texts go unanswered. She pays Lee a visit and gets more than one surprise.

*Warning* Angst, language, alcohol/drug use, graphic descriptions, mentions of death, child loss, domestic dispute

Stories Masterlist

Salem, Massachusetts

February 3, 2023

After you left, Lee went upstairs to crash and sleep the day away after eating pizza he had delivered. Lord knows he needed the rest after what he had just put his body through last night. He found himself tossing and turning into the night hours...with relentless thoughts of you. Thoughts of the loss you had suffered. He still worried that if you knew he was the doctor that tended to your brother, would you still look at him the same because he couldn't save him? He eventually just laid there talking to himself....and eventually to God, whom he believed in whole heartedly, although he had went through the first few years of being angry with him after Jacob's death.

Lee then picked up his phone to find a text message from you. When he had used your phone to call his so he would have your number, he actually texted it instead, knowing you would see the message he sent from your phone. It was a simple "Cherries are my favorite fruit btw."

Your reply conjured the biggest smile upon his face.

"So I gathered from the fact of u saying u liked the taste of my cherry chapstick and then dashed off singing about it. How r u doing? R u alright?"

Lee rubbed his eyes and sat up, staring at his phone in the darkened room, contemplating his reply. It was 11 pm, twelve hours after you had been there and he had only slept merely three of it at the most.

He swung his bare feet across the bed and placed them on the wood floor as he yawned and turned on his bed stand light, then put on his reading glasses.

"I am fine. A bit sore and bruised but ok. I just woke up actually. Gonna get up and continue cleaning this money pit lol. What about u? R u alright? How did things go with your mom?"

You had tried so hard to fall asleep but Lee's cologne was all over you, teasing your nose and other parts of you that ached for him. As you placed your hands on your face to inhale his remnants, you were startled by the sound of your phone chiming. You instantly hoped that it was Lee. Fumbling to look at the screen, his name appeared and awoke your butterflies from their dormant state.

"Hey u. Yes, I am fine and I am so glad to hear from u. My mom is drugged up on sleeping meds right now. We have to go to the funeral home tomorrow which I am dreading. I just woke up too, right before u texted me. Weird lol."

Lee softly chuckled. "Clairvoyant maybe? Ur not a witch are u?🤔"

If you had told him about your dream of him being hurt just eight hours before you found him passed out cold on the floor, he might actually think that you were. Hell, you even wondered sometimes, as this wasn't the first time you've ever had premonition like dreams.

"Well, I do live in Salem in one of the witch houses my father bought. I'll let u ponder on that. 😉"

"Oh dear lord. Well that is just perfect. I love witchy stuff."

"Really? Me 2. I actually write about things like that, fantasies and fairytales etc...it's just a hobby but it keeps me grounded, a coping mechanism per se. I kinda like escaping life for awhile."

"Well no shit? I don't write but I love to read. Your genre is right up my alley. I no what u mean about wanting to escape, even if only for a little while. I guess we now have another thing in common."

"It looks that way. So cool. So....do u believe in wishes?"

"Witches, maybe. Wishes....not so much. Why do u ask?"

"Because it is 11:11 right now."

"Ahhhh. Let's just say I have wished upon it before, but I never was granted my desires."

"Well...hurry. Make a wish right now before it turns and I will too. Maybe if we wish at the same time, it will come true lol."

Lee chuckled, then decided to humor you and closed his eyes. The wish he would have liked to make, he knew would not come true...ever, for it was for Jacob to be alive. He had wished it so many times, he lost track. The wish that invaded his mind in that moment stunned him. He wished for you. He had actually wished for you in the past. Not you literally per se as he never knew you, but someone just like you he longed for. It seemed to him that wish may already have been answered but he wanted to do it again, to maybe seal the deal...He then laughed at himself for being so ridiculous. He knew these things weren't real.

In that same moment, you made the same wish. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad it hurt. If only you both had realized that you wanted the same things, a wish would not even be needed, for destiny would take it's course regardless.

"Soooo...what did u wish for?" Lee asked.

"If I tell u, it won't come true. Ha ha."

"Alright. So if it does come true, u will tell me right?"

"Most definitely. Hey, I'm gonna let u go for now so u can go do ur cleaning n stuff. I gotta get up early for all the funeral stuff and what not. Talk later? I hope."

"Oh fo sho girl. Get some sleep...and...thank u so much for everything. Goodnight witchy woman. 😂"

"Omg lol....ur so welcome. Ok. Goodnight Lee. ttyl."

"Sweet dreams lady luck."

Lee began his cleaning while he was wide awake and in the mood. He knew this was going to take him longer than the two weeks he had off because he still had other priorities. He needed to visit his father and still check in on patients by consulting with the covering physician. Plus he had farm animals to tend to along with a cat and a dog, which he would go do each day at some point, and if he absolutely could not do it, he had well paid trustworthy people to take care of it.

He laid his phone on the table with pandora app set on the 80's pop rock station. A song came on that got him in a spunky mood as he started singing while collecting trash from the back porch.

"Josie I've got your number. IIII'm gonna make you mine. Josie don't change your number 867530 ni eee yiiiine." He laughed to himself in amazement at how well that fit with everything.

The doorbell rang in a frenzy. Lee opened it to find Orlando with booze in hand. Wine and whiskey, and of course, munchies.

"Banando!! Come on in man and give me some of that."

Lee grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Orlando's hand and trotted into the kitchen.

"Man, you weren't kidding bro. They really did a number on this place." Dr. Bloom said as his eyes scoured the living room.

"Tell me something I don't know...and if you tell me you open mouth kissed a horse once, I am going to kick your ass."

"Ha ha ha. No...I didn't do that...not recently anyways." Orlando grinned and poured himself a large glass of wine as Lee sat down with the Jim Beam, drinking it straight from the bottle.

"Why does it smell like women's perfume in here dude? You got some chic here somewhere??"

Lee was taken aback that your floral scent still lingered after an entire 12 hours had passed. He figured he must of become nose blind to it, but then he did slightly notice it after Orlando brought it up. The reason he could now smell it was because it was all over his tee shirt from when you had your body against his to help him off the floor...and when you had hugged him, which then explained why Orlando smelled it. Now Lee knew why he could not sleep, besides the fact that you had clouded his mind with your golden eyes and his ears with your angelic voice....and his nose with your succulent sweet scent. He seriously needed a shower, he told himself...a cold one.

"I wish." Lee chuckled. "I think it's your cologne."

"Oh, that's hilarious Bee Gee Lee....Seriously man, I smell it. Who did you have here? What's the big deal?"

"Exactly. What's the big deal?" Lee snarked and took a swig of his whiskey and swiped his finger over his phone., then glared at Orlando as the song by the bee Gee's played called Massachusetts.

Orlando set down his glass and stared at his best friend. "Ok...like...did I just strike some invisible nerve here? What are you not telling me? It's me man. Why do you act like you have some classified secret or something?"

Lee swigged another drink. "Because it is...technically. Doctor patient confidentiality." he smirked.

"Oh hellls naw. Are you shitting me? You're fucking a patient?"

"Whoa, hey. I never said that."

"Uh...you didn't have to. I see it now. It's written all over your sexually deprived face. Who is it? You know you gotta tell me."

"No, I don't."

"Don't or won't?"

"Can't. You know that. If it's a patient...well technically, she's not but.."

"There's that word again, technically. And what?? So there is a...she? Damn it man, spill it."

"Stop getting your also sexually deprived self in a twist. It's just....a girl...that I met at the hospital."

"A girl...a.... girl? Lee mother fucking Pace has met...a girl?" Orlando raved. "Ok, this is news worthy stuff here."

"Ok. This topic is closed. I gotta get this shit hole cleaned up. You helping or not?"

"Yep...I will help....when you tell me who this girl is that has you so damn secretive. Since when have you kept these things like this from me?"

Lee gazed down at his bottle. You weren't just a thing to him, that was why. He respected you, how could he not?

"Since now. I just don't want to talk about it alright? I got too much shit on my mind as it is."

"I'm sorry man. I know how hard this time is for you. I haven't forgotten what yesterday was."

Lee immediately deflected. "So, judging by your attire, I see you just came from the hospital. How are things going there?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Nurse Theresa always up my ass about my handwriting. You know she rudely came into a room when I was tending to a patient and scolded me right in front of her. Such bullshit man. It's how I write. If I try to change it, it will literally take me forever to get things done. Even the patient was pissed off by it. Called her a bitch after she had left the room." Orlando chortled as he pictured that moment.

The good doctor knew that patient was you and he still didn't tell Lee that you had requested to see him, even after he told you he would when he saw Lee again. Orlando wanted his own chance with you and he knew he wouldn't have a prayer against his best friend, since he could tell you were into the ridiculously gorgeous Dr. Pace. Even Nurse Theresa didn't give Lee a hard time and his handwriting was far worse than his. Dr. Bloom had always secretly walked in Lee's shadow.

"You know what I always say to that." Lee coaxed.

"Yep. Fuck em."

Both men bellowed in laughter and continued chatting and drinking for about another hour before attempting to get some work done. It was 1 am and Lee was heavily feeling his tippling inebriated state affecting him. He had never been much of a drinker until the accident and he could usually do it in moderation until the anniversary dates came around, and it certainly didn't help with him by being in that house with all of Jacob's memories and belongings.

Lee just wanted to sell it. Out of sight, out of mind kinda thing. Stupidly he went upstairs to drunk dial Elizabeth and tell her he decided to do it. She had no claim on the property so why he wanted to inform her was even beyond him as he avoided her like the plague. But as usual, his intoxication would always make him do stupid things. Such as drunk texting you as well.

"P.S. I don't want u to let me go." His thumb hesitated over the send button...and then he pushed it. What did he have to lose at this point, he thought. It's relevance was to the end of your prior texting session when you told him you were going to let him go so you could get some sleep.

Then, he called Elizabeth.

"Lizzy...it's me."

"Jesus Lee, it's after 1 in the morning. What the fuck do you want?"

"Do you always have to be such a bitch? I need to tell you something."

"And it couldn't wait till morning? We haven't even spoken in over a year. What could you possibly have to tell me that I could even care about?"

"Ahhh morning. Yes..I am in mourning...still. How about you mommy dearest? Sleeping like a baby at a time like this..."

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe. So? What's it to you? It's how I cope...unlike you who don't give a shit about what happened to your own son. New man less than a month after, new house and a new baby. You've got it all, moved on without a care in the world. Speaking of, that's why I called. To tell you I am going to sell this place. Then all of it will be non existent to you. Oh wait...it already is. My bad."

"And this involves me how exactly? I don't give a shit is right, about what you do with that dump and I am certainly not going to sit here and listen to your drunken rants. You need help Lee. I suggest you get some."

"After what you did to me? To our son, oh sorry, I mean your son. So is your child even the new guy's kid? or are you going to make him believe it is like you did to me? Then drop the bomb on him at the most inopportune time? And if anyone needs help Lizzy, it's you, to learn how to buckle a fucking seatbelt!"

Lee slammed his thumb on the end call button and hurled his phone against the wall as he roared in rage.

Orlando came running up the stairs to find Lee in a panic induced state.

"Lee, man what just happened? I heard you yelling."

Lee slowly turned to him seemingly disoriented.

"Lee! Are you alright man?" Orlando proceeded in concern as Lee wouldn't speak and began to breath heavily.

"Lee, snap out of it man! You're scaring me. I hate it when you get these attacks. You need to breathe..."

Lee knew in that moment how you must have felt just before you passed out. Orlando's words echoed and faded as Lee raced down the stairs and then all went black as he crashed to the floor.

February 4, 2023- 5 am.

Your hand blindlessly fumbled to disable the screeching alarm clock and then you laid back with a sigh after turning the light on. Up you finally went to go get a shower and begin the dreaded day.

Another hobby and talent of yours was ice skating and you were damn good at it too. So good that you could have went down that path professionally, but that wasn't what you wanted as a career. To you, it was just a sport that you began as a child and it became a huge stress and anxiety reliever as you got older. It was all for fun as well and twice a month, you even taught lessons at the ice rink downtown, and one of those days was today. You always went early so you could skate alone with the music blasting and you certainly needed it before you had to go with your mother to make funeral arrangements.

You quickly checked your phone, solely to see if Lee had texted again for any reason and there it was. The one he sent at 1 in the morning telling you he did not want you to let him go. You had to sit back down on the bed for a moment as it had taken you aback. Staring at his words, you pondered on how to even reply to that. What did he mean? A smile formed on your face as you felt a bit flirtatious and sent a simple reply.

"I wasn't planning on it 😉"

Finally, off to the shower you went but not before placing your shirt up over your nose and breathing in his lingering fragrance one last time. You swore you would never wash that shirt.

When you came out, immediately you checked your phone but there was no reply. Of course, though, it was 5:30 am and surely he must be sleeping, you thought. Out of curiosity, you checked the status of the text. Sent but not received. So now you figured his phone must be off and decided to text him later.

It was 7 am when you got to the rink as first you made breakfast for you and your mom, making sure there wasn't enough for Megan when she got up, which probably wouldn't be until late afternoon anyways as she was absolutely unproductive in every aspect of her miserable life.

You unlocked the door and turned on the lights, kicked on the music then sat down and put your skates on.

An oldies genre you picked today, 60's to 70's. You were just in the mood for something different than your usual rock genre. A song came on you hadn't heard in quite awhile. Massachusetts by the Bee Gees.

"Perfect." you said and went gliding out onto the ice. The cold breeze felt so good on your face as you did twizzles around the arena. Your thoughts instantly drifted to Lee and how much you already missed him. As the song concluded, you did a few axle jumps and then whirled around in a camel spin and merging into a sit spin.

You skated until 8:30, then sat down for a break as the class wouldn't begin until 9, which consisted of a dozen girls ranging between the ages of 11 and 13 and would last roughly two hours.

Checking your phone again in hopes to see a text from your dashing doctor, a frown devoured your face to see nothing. Probably still sleeping, you thought. You spent the remaining of your break thinking of him and the way his firm body felt against yours. God, you wanted to see him again so bad.

The class was finally over at 11 am and you then went home to change into something more appropriate for the funeral home appointment.

Noon

Lee awoke on the floor to a raging headache and a broken phone laying beside him....and Orlando asleep on the couch. He grimaced at the sunlight shining on his face and laid his arm over his eyes as he moaned and groaned in agony.

Memories of the prior night were vague but one thing he clearly remembered was stupidly texting you.

He painfully propped himself onto his elbow and saw the shattered screen on his phone. He then recalled throwing it against the wall upstairs after his heated conversation with Elizabeth. Orlando must have brought it down and laid it beside him.

He tried to power it on in desperation to see if you replied but it was dead and most likely trashed.

"Shit..." he muttered through his foul whiskey breath and let it drop from his hand.

Orlando heard the clunk and sprung up with a gasp. He had barely slept as he kept checking Lee throughout the night and early morning to make sure he was breathing. Lee's loud obnoxious snores had assisted in leaving Orlando sleepless so he knew he was going to be alright, but he still had to make sure and monitored his vitals. Dr. Bloom had witnessed these episodes on more than one occasion, even without liquor being a factor, and knew a trip to the ER was not warranted. Lee would have kicked his ass if he had called 911, but Orlando would have done it regardless if he felt it necessary.

"Well look who's up!" he shouted intentionally with a grin.

"Fuck you." Lee snarked and grunted as he placed his hands on his head.

"Oh I am sorry. Am I too loud?" Orlando snickered.

"Yes and I would prefer it if you did not speak at all."

"Well I am going to, to tell you what you already know. That you're a dumb ass. Why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself?? I am always saving you, from high school up to now."

"I was taller than you then, and I still am. I think I can muster the strength to come over there and kick your scrawny ass if you don't shut the hell up."

"Duly noted."

Lee staggered his way up to a standing position and quickly leaned on the wall. He still felt drunk.

"I think I am going to be sick."

He ran off to the bathroom just around the corner and upchucked yesterday's pizza and last night's booze. The taste made him continue his vomiting until he was doing nothing but heaving bile. He laid with his arms draped over the toilet seat and his head hanging almost inside of it.

"God...somebody kill me please." he exclaimed in a growl as he dropped to his butt and leaned up against the bathtub. Orlando peeked around the corner with a now serious and concerned face.

"You're doing a good job of that all on your own. Take some Tylenol with a shit ton of water and go try to sleep. I'll stay. I don't have a shift today. I can make lunch later if you're hungry then."

Lee moaned and laid his head on his knees. "God...no...no food. Man, my phone. It's history. I need it. I have to explain to her..so she understands...."

He abruptly stopped as he remembered exactly what he had said to you.

"Explain what and to whom? Lizzy? I assume that's who you were screaming at since I couldn't help but hear what you said."

"Fuck no...just forget I said anything. Can you go get me my other phone??"

"Just use mine man, if it's that important. It's that girl isn't it? The one you won't tell me about. Damn....you got it bad. I've never seen you act this way over any woman."

"No..." Lee blurted out and raised his blood shot eyes to Orlando. "I...I need one anyways...like now... so could you just do that? Go to the farm and bring me back some soup and crackers or toast. I think I can handle that and keep it down....and feed the animals please? I think my phone is in the kitchen....on the table."

"Alright. I saw Tylenol in the cupboard. Go take some and lay down. I won't be long."

Orlando left and Lee made his way to the kitchen to chug down ice water and take some pills. He stood over the kitchen sink with his hands on the ledge holding himself up and let his head hang as the humiliating events of last night scrambled through his pounding brain.

Off to the couch he went to lay down and try to sleep. All he could think of was you and what you must be thinking due to his blatant text. And he thought of Orlando's words. Yes, he was so right. He had it bad and he didn't know what to do about it.

You ravaged through your wardrobe in disgust. It wasn't that you hated dressier clothing, but the fact of what it was for. What you did hate was heels. You were a boots kinda girl and saved the murderous spikes and unstable wedges for when you had to work on the Haunted Star, as it was a fancy party venue. It absolutely amazed you that you could balance perfectly and gracefully as well as be on spot with coordination on a thin sheer blade over the slickest surface but could twist your ankle or fall at the drop of a hat in a pair of high heels. It wasn't even just the footwear that was a problem, as you were just uncoordinated as hell off the ice. Accident prone was your middle name and you had the scars and bruises to prove it.

You finally chose a long sleeved burgundy button down shirt to pair with your cream colored skirt, completely annoyed with the flimsy material as you fought with trying to find the sleeve.

Then you kicked off your boots and slid your feet into a pair of boring black heels, then pinned up your hair in a messy bun. Mismatched as hell you felt but were running late so it would have to do.

"Jo! Come on...it's time to go. What on earth are you doing up there??" your mom hollered up the stairs.

"Coming!!"

You sat in a chair at the funeral home waiting on the director to come out. Your mom sat beside you with a kleenex clenched tightly in her hands and said nothing until she saw your nose stuck in your phone. You were texting Lee to check on him since it was now 12:22 pm and you had heard nothing. All the usual assumptions ran through your mind as the status still showed sent only. His phone was clearly off. Was it dead? Was he ignoring you? Did he change his mind about wanting to be friends? Did you do or say something wrong? But then your mind wandered to worry. Was he alright? The anxiety was sneaking up. What if he was hurt again? You decided that if you did not hear from him by the time you left, you were going to go check on him.

"Josephine LeeAnn March! Is that all you can do is play on your phone right now?" your mother snapped. She only called you by your full name when she was fed up and meant business.

"Mom...calm down. It's not like we're doing anything at the moment."

"Calm down? Your brother's body is somewhere in this building where we sit and you are more concerned with texting whomever in the hell it is that you are texting. It's that damn doctor isn't it? Why can't you just be happy with Dave? The man adores you and you won't even give him a chance."

You ignored that last part of her ramblings as you were not going to discuss your love life with her.

"Mom...can you not say it like that? His...body."

"How would you have me say it then? That's what it is. You know, I had to see it don't you? To identify him. I couldn't even do it! His face was unrecognizable. All I had to go on was his clothing and his ring. The rest of him was badly burned. Do you know what a sight that was for me??"

"Thanks Mom, I didn't know but now I do after that detailed description. You do remember that I was there when it happened? You so did not need to tell me all this. I have enough anxiety as it is."

"Well maybe you should try taking your medicine and then you wouldn't have that problem." She turned her head and said no more.

God you couldn't take this. No one understood how the medicine made you feel. No one but Lee. You put your phone away to please her and sat with your head turned away as tears burnt your eyes.

It was finally over and you all went back home with a funeral date only days away. You didn't even bother going inside and quickly got in your car, taking off like a bat out of hell with a destination of Lee's place. One more time, you attempted to contact him by calling this time. It went straight to voicemail. You contemplated on leaving a message as his beautiful voice flowed into your ear.

"You've reached Dr. Pace. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, call 911 or go to the nearest hospital."

It was an emergency. You needed him but how ridiculous was it that you felt that way over someone you barely knew. Maybe you should just call Dave instead, you thought. No, you couldn't. You didn't want to. Something felt off and you were extremely worried about Lee after how you had found him...and even more so after his strange text in the early morning hours. Had he been drinking again?

Trying to compose your voice, you left a brief message.

"Hey Lee, it's me...I mean Jo...just wanted to check on you. I'm actually on my way to your place right now. I hope that is alright. Please all me back...or text. Ok...bye."

Your voice started to break up as you had told him to call you back. You hurried and ended the call so if by chance he got the message, he wouldn't hear you being a big baby. You honestly thought you should just turn around but something wouldn't let you.

You cried all the way there after a song played that struck every chord in your soul. You had noticed the clock when it had started. 2:22 pm. Strangely, it was the time you were born. You had this thing with seeing numbers in various ways and at certain moments, wether it was the time, catching the microwave's countdown or even the total on a purchase just to name a few. It was always double or triple digits of the same number. 11, 22, 33, and 44 were the big ones for you, and the 3's came in other ways too, such as the eerie pattern of celebrity deaths. The clairvoyance probability really wasn't that far fetched.

The first time you ever kissed his mouth, you absolutely did feel the earth move in your hand like the trembling heart of a captive bird....just like the lyrics said. You were in way over your head with this man. He had awoken something in you and made you feel alive again. He made you breathe....and without him, you would suffocate.

You pulled into the driveway behind his car and noticed the clock at 2:44. You released a stunned giggling sigh, wiped your eyes and got out, quietly closing the door.

As you came to the front door, you could see Lee through the three small windows it held, sitting on the floor playing catch with a ball against the wall.

You could hear soft muffled music and him singing from inside as you knocked but he didn't hear you, so you walked in.

"Lee?"

He then heard your voice and turned his head.

When he saw that it was you, he eagerly staggered his way up and almost ran into the wall, in which he then leaned on as a crutch. You could tell he had been drinking or maybe even on something else.

"Miss Massachusetts. What are you doing here?"

You sucked in a breath and began rambling.

"I'm sorry, the door...it was open and you didn't hear me. I..I wanted to check on you...your phone...is off or something. I....I hope it's ok that I came."

His body moved unsteadily as he tried to balance and seemingly didn't want to look you in the eyes.

"Yeah...that. Sorry.. I kinda broke my phone. Seems it can't handle the impact of a wall. But my other one should be here soon. Of course it's alright that you came. I am glad you did Jo March. Sucks being here all alone."

'Ohhh...yeah. That can happen." you lightly laughed. "Lee...are you alright?"

"Never better...now that you're here anyways....So...you came all the way here to check on me? Why?"

"I...I was worried about you when you didn't respond to my texts and call."

"You...texted and called? Shit...I am sorry. My phone...I broke it."

"So you already told me. Lee, what's going on?" You sat your purse down and walked over to him as you were worried he was going to fall.

His eyes looked you up and down and then he just gazed at you. His eyes were so glassy and his pupils dilated. He was definitely highly intoxicated, or just high....maybe both.

"My god, you...you are so beautiful it hurts."

Your lips slightly parted as a small gasp escaped them. How were you going to respond to that?

As you went to offer a simple thank you, the door opened and in walked Dr. Bloom.

@redeemer46