#there. do what you wish with this information

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[edwinspaynes]

Dearest Niko,

It is quite odd, being a ghost who grieves, and yet I am finding myself having yet another unprecedented experience. Each day, as the sun comes up, I find myself purposefully peering out the window to witness its rays illuminating the world beneath it. And, my beloved Niko, that moment – the moment in which yellow and orange rays bathe the Earth in gold – reminds me precisely of you.

Not an hour goes by where your smile does not appear behind my eyelids as I am thinking. I see the depths of your eyes in the stone paperweight that Charles insisted would match our office décor; I hear your laugh each time I pass by a bookshop and see the manga contained within. Sometimes, when the wind I cannot feel whips my hair about, I am ridiculous enough to wonder if it is you attempting to communicate with me.

I must confess that I cry alone sometimes. I do not wish to tell anyone that besides you. I love Charles dearly, but there are a great many things that I do not wish to discuss with anyone but you, my Niko.

I have attempted to draw several portraits of you within the pages of my notebook. I do not wish to forget what your face looks like as the days and the weeks and the unfathomable stretch of eternity appears before me.

I care greatly for my notebook – and the pages that contain information from the cases that we have solved together – but I would give it up in a heartbeat if it meant having you back. Having you here, with myself and with Charles and with Crystal, where you belong.

Forever yours, Edwin Payne

[sarahreesbrennan]

Quick Evil Note

To all my wicked darlings, I have now received rather a lot of messages asking me about the influences of Long Live Evil. And I wish to get messages about LLE and truly appreciate the ones I do get! And I wish to answer them. But answers about influences are tricky.

The book has been out in the US for a little over two weeks, and it’s going so well so far, I couldn’t be more delighted and appreciative about its reception.

But also I’ve been informed (not asked) that two of my characters are obviously somehow both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy of Harry Potter, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. (Very puzzling as I don’t think these pairings - and one isn’t a pair - have much in common with each other or with mine. Vague hostility against a vaguely academic backdrop for a bit? For the record… in the book everyone is an adult and I don’t even have any academic backdrops to be vaguely hostile in front of…) This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, because I haven’t had an original novel out in a long time due to illness, and it is upsetting to always be discussed differently than writers who didn’t openly link their real names to their fan identity.

I have very different feelings and new appreciation for fandom than I once had. It’s been amazing to see and meet people who have stuck with me for decades. People are generally way more open and affectionate to and within fandom than they once were. Love matters to me a good deal more than hate. But getting death threats in your early 20s for excitedly telling your Internet friends you were going to publish a book does mark the psyche, and so does having your characters dismissed as other people’s characters.

And we can say there is nothing wrong with fanfiction or writing fanfiction and there isn’t! Fanfiction is great and can be genius. Terry Pratchett wrote Jane Austen fanfiction, and didn’t (and shouldn’t) have people saying Captain Wentworth = Captain Vimes. Still, when a TV show is discussed as ‘like fanfiction’ or when Diana Gabaldon said she didn’t like fanfiction and many said ‘YOU write fanfiction’ it isn’t intended in any kind spirit, even when it’s fannish folk saying it. And it’s just generally odd to have everyone call your apple a tomato, and has had professional consequences for me in the past.

However! All the asks I’ve received have been very kind, and I do want to answer them. I do want to talk about my influences because they are manifold and because I actually think it’s important to always talk about influences. I don’t believe stories exist in isolation - we tell tales in a rich tradition, and also a story doesn’t come alive to me all the way until it’s heard or read.

Long Live Evil is a love letter to fandom: it’s chock full of references to many many stories I’ve loved, to fairytales, myths and legend and Internet memes and epic fantasy and meta. My acknowledgements are endless partly for this reason. I do owe a great debt to many portal fantasies and archetypes and musicals and jokes about genre and plays through the ages, though I do think of my characters as themselves and nobody else.

I was frankly tempted to go ‘Yes I stole EVERYTHING! Bwhahaha!’ But while I am thoroughly enjoying and finding great freedom in my villain era, I do want to talk sincerely to you all as well, especially when asked sincerely interested questions.

But I’m a little scared to do so and have people say ‘AHA! Now we know what it’s fanfiction of’ (it’s happened before) or ignore me and go ‘we know the truth!’ (it’s happened before) and to feel like I’ve injured my book. Long Live Evil means more to me than any other and I really want to get talking about it right, and make sure it has the best reception I can give it.

So. Questions on all Evil topics very very welcome but answers to influence questions may come slowly. Bear with me. I am working on this!

[bouquetface]

Navamsa/D9 Observations 3

Accuracy influenced by ENTIRE chart. Looking at one placement will only provide general information.

This is a general post - not taking into consideration any aspects, or signs, or or ruler placement.

Sun in First House

The person prioritizes superficial traits - their appearance/body, their career, their family status, etc. This isn’t a criticism. Often these people have reached a good amount of status themselves or/& take care of their body/appearance - they want someone to do the same.

They want a powerful spouse, however in marriage they can want authority over spouse. They don’t want the spouse to accidentally embrasas them as these people are often popular/well known later in life. A possible problem that could arise with this placement: Both partners desire authority, they refuse balance, they fight a lot.

You can develop a competitive nature after marriage and/or later in life. Due to this you will likely create a lot of enemies. You may find later in life, you are aware of many people who begin to oppose you.

After marriage and/or later in life, you can gain status and attention with this placement. This can manifest in different ways - ex: You start your own business so many people in the community know you.

Accuracy depends on entire chart. This does not take into consideration aspects, other signs, and other planets.

Jupiter in First House

This almost always guarantees the person will get married. I know many with this placement that did not believe in marriage in their younger years, but still got married.

This is a good placement for marriage too. Any issues that arise in marriage and life, these people will know how to handle the situation. They can see the bigger picture, they truly understand their spouse, they know what to do and say.

You will have enough of everything you need to have a nice + calm life.

The spouse and/or children will look to you for advice. You are seen as intelligent. You can be good at debate, having effective communication. Reasonable person.

Rahu in 4th House

This person can desire a big home with many features - pool, basketball court, garden, theatre room, etc.

These people can wish to live further away from the place they lived before marriage and/or birth city. However, this is not promised. They will desire it. If not, they will own foreign things in the home - ex: cooking foods from different places, owning furniture from a different country, etc. They will remain curious about foreign places and things.

These people can make up lack of fulfillment in other areas through the home. Buying many expensive things, buying an expensive home, throwing big parties in the home to show off wealth.

Rahu is never satisfied. In the 4th, there is always a desire for more reagrding home. You want to move, you want a new place, you want renovations, you want to change the decor or paint, etc.

There can be a paranoia too about the home. You can have a lot of security cameras inside and out.

Ketu in 10th House

You can become disinterested in society and reputation. This can make people view you as outcast. You may not even do something mean on purpose, however your lack of social etiquette can make people think you are mean/rude.

Accuracy depends on entire chart. It is important to look at sign and aspects, where 10th house ruler is.

Mercury in 5th House

If well placed, this can give children who become highly skilled. They can do very well in their careers. They may even be a prodigy.

However, if afflicted communication can be difficult with children and/or spouse.

You can enjoy travel with this placement. You are curious about new experiences.

You can make a lot of money through communication - written or speaking.

Ketu in 3rd House

When communicating with the spouse, you or them will interrupt and always want to push your opinions on the other. This doesn't mean the marriage will be bad. Simply, you can talk over each other at times when passionate about the conversation topic.

You may talk less or lose contact with siblings. This could be due to many reasons. You could go through a period later in life where you are fighting with one another. In this fight, past resentments may come to light.

The entire chart would have to be taken into consideration for accuracy. This is simply a general post - not taking into consideration any aspects, or signs, or or ruler placement.

Ketu in 8th House

This can go 2 ways depending on entire chart: One is close to their in-laws. You truly consider them family. This is more likely is Venus is well placed and if 8th H Ruler is well placed.

Or you are not close to them. This doesn't always indicate there are issues. One simply may not care enough to have gotten close with them. This is detachment is more likely is there is Mars, Saturn or Rahu in 4th House. In this case, it is likely you will live far from in-laws. However, you must take into consideration the entire chart - signs, aspects, ruling planets.

This is one indicator for having a child or being pregnant before marriage/wedding. If this is the case, you are likely to keep this secret from most people. This is not always the case, only one indicator.

The wedding will likely not be a big ceremony. This can be due to many reasons. One possible example is the spouse may have a small family. Or you may together decide not to spend too much on a wedding.

This is an indicator that you bring more money and assets into the marriage. You may have separate finances as well with this placement.

Accuracy is dependent on entire natal/langa and d9 chart. Reading for only one placement will only give general info.

Rahu in 11th House

You can make a lot of wealth with this placement. Your wealth will be connected to your ability to gain a huge social network, clients and possibly followers.

It is possible with this placement you can gain by manipulating/putting on a mask. However, it is just as likely someone or many will be fake to you. This is someone you will not realize are fake until after marriage and/or later in life.

You could be friends with many people who are different from you. They are of a different country, race, religion.

If placed in Leo, you can desire status and authority over your social network. You want them to have high status or treat you like a King or Queen.

For further insight, you should check the sign of 11th H, aspects and where 11th Ruler is located. This and the natal will influence accuracy.

Saturn in 8th House

I have seen this placement in so many charts. I feel this is the BIGGEST indicator of a strained relationship with the in-laws. There can be conflict that occurs after marriage and/or later in life. This conflict will limit your access to the spouse's resources and vice versa.

This isn't an indicator of a bad marriage as long as the person with this placement did not intend to use the spouse for their resources. Sometimes the manifestation isn't the spouse & you refusing to join assets. Instead, it can be the spouse family cutting them off or decreasing/limiting the resources. Other times I have seen it as the couple being unable to save money in their younger years together.

On the bright side, saturn is a slow and steady planet. If you put in the work and have patience, financial issues, in-law issues, any issues at all can be resolved. If saturn is well placed, it is more likely you will resolve any issues and accumulate good shared resources.

Another thing about this placement is the married couple will experience a bad reputation at some point. This doesn’t mean the marriage is bad - sometimes the couple is a target of bullying/hate. This can be due to many reasons - possible examples I have observed to give you an idea:

- One couple had a period of time where they struggled financially. The husband lost his job, the wife had to go back to work as a result everyone knew they were struggling. Some were sympathetic, others were being judgemental a-holes. It seems this brought them closer together. Their marriage did not suffer due to the judgement they received amongst family + friends + colleagues.

- Another example: The husband got very drunk at a wedding. This lead to many rumours that he was an alcoholic. This bothered the couple but there was nothing they could do to stop people from talking/believing what they want.

- Third example: This woman has a feminine husband. This has led others to speculate that he is gay or bi. I am close friends with this woman, I know none of this true. However, that does not stop others from spreading false info/"jokes" about them.

- Fourth example: This woman’s mother would not stop gossiping about her spouse. She would criticize him unfairly. The mother’s side was believed by a lot on the woman’s side of the family. As a result, the entire family was mean & passive aggressive with the spouse. They never tried to get to know the spouse/see his side of things. It was disgusting, the family bonded over bullying her & her spouse.

This placement can indicate problems with your own family after marriage and/or later in life. You may have to distance yourself from your own family instead of the in-laws. This rarely means you will mever speak to either your own family or in-laws. It can be a one time situation the couple must deal with at some point. EX: At a dinner, your brother insults the spouse's job. You defend the spouse and leave the dinner early. A few weeks later all is forgiven and basically forgotten.

Accuracy will depend on entire d9 AND NATAL chart.

Sun in 5th

You are likely to be an educated & opinionated person later in life and/or after marriage. You may develop interest in politics & history. You can become fixed on your beliefs - refusing to be open minded to any other beliefs.

You can refuse to have a spouse who does not have similar beliefs. You can raise the children to be proud - ex: proud of their history/heritage, the family, or families beliefs/religion. You want confident children.

This placement is an indicator for having children late. It is an indicator of having less children - choosing to only have one child is a possibility. However, this is just one indicator. Sign, and aspects especially to Jupiter will change accuracy.

Ego can be a problem in the marriage. You or the spouse can have a tough time admitting you’re wrong. You or the spouse can desire authority & final say on decisions. This doesn’t mean the marriage will be miserable. You will just have to deal with a clashing of ego at some point in life. It can even be a small issue such as how the house will be decorated, public or private school for kids, where to go to eat, etc.

It’s also noticed with this placement, the person received recognition in career in their mid 40-50s. You can see promotions and rewards. You can retire well respected in your industry or company.

Mars in 8th

This is a malefic planet & it is mars nature to “cut”. This can be literal as in surgery or metaphorical. Often, I see this placement (unless positively placed) can cut ties with in-laws. This doesn’t always mean you will get into a fight and never speak. There may be a few years you go without speaking.

If positively placed by let’s say Jupiter, your spouse could have a big family. They argue and bicker but it is in fun and rarely serious arguments. If exalted in cap, the spouse’s family can be very hardworking & devoted to their family - which would include you after marriage.

The spouse and you are not the type to hold back their true feelings/thoughts in marriage. You can bicker over small things. This placement brings strong attraction to one another too. You can sometimes enjoy fighting as it builds passion. If well placed, this can be in a funny old couple teasing each other kind of way.

It is believed this placement holds a lot of karma. Your spouse will treat you how you treated a spouse in a past life. I know not everyone believes in past lives & I am not fully convinced myself but I think it’s an interesting belief to mention.

Later in life, you can be in conflict with a sibling especially a brother. Why will depend on entire chart.

Due to mars nature, these fights with your spouse, your family and/or in-laws occur quickly. EX: Everything can be fine for years & one day you or they have said something very insulting. Quickly, this causes conflict.

Depending on entire chart, (aspects, 8th H Ruler placement & signs) these fights can be resolved just as quick as they started.

For ex: Mars in sag - you will be angered very fast, express it but see the bigger picture & choose family.

Mars in Cancer or Libra - you will be angered, you could struggle to express it. You or they may be passive aggressive. This can lead to a lifetime of unacknowledged issues.

Mars in scorpio or taurus - you hold a grudge over what was said or done. Even if you decide to resolve issues, you can still hold resentment.

[evelynpr]

Genshin Official Relationships and Status

Something to take note off in character relationships is what their "official and known" relationships are. So, I decided to try to make a chart of one with the playable cast and some extras.

This is a draft though. If you have criticisms and comments, absolutely please do leave them because I don't think my interpretations of these government systems are that accurate.

Anyways, here they are! The higher the placement, the higher the authority. Distance does not apply, and the legend is in each of the pictures.

Mondstadt: That's a lotta knights

They can be split between the Church and Knights, but the Church is still under the Grand Master as far as I know.

Power is surprisingly concentrated to 1/2 individuals only for a nation of freedom...Mond you gotta work on that...

Jean, Diluc, Kaeya, and Lisa are arranged the way they are in reference to the Klee summer event where they passed on who was looking after Mond.

Diluc still retains his high position because he has so many high credentials and connections (The Darknight Hero, Mond's richest man, high status in an intelligence network), despite being the Ex-Cavalry Captain.

Rosaria is an official recognized nun, but her vigilante works are by her own accord, hence the colors.

I am not sure whatsoever where Jean and Barbara's father, the Cardinal, should really be placed, or if he even still holds the position.

Poor Noelle does so much more Mond, but is lowest in status...please just make her a knight already T__T

Liyue: Zhongli and his powerful lesbians

I really am not sure if Ningguang is who Liyue's closest "leader", but that is how I felt during most of Liyues events

I'm assuming that the adepti now have a lesser status in Liyue because of the shift in power to the humans during the archon quest

How high Beidou's status is is, completely informal. She's right beside Ningguang because they do find each other to be equal competitors in their own way.

Those directly connected to Zhongli are those I assumed to have taken direct orders from him, hence why Beidou and Keqing are not included although they do respect him as their archon (Keqing in her own way)

I feel like I'm missing people here, compared to Mond, so uh, help me out here-

Inazuma: They just had a civil war...woops

I am reallyyy unsure how to label Sangonomiya island's status. Are they under the shogun? Are they their own separate territory?

Otherwise, Inazuma is pretty straightforward with its 3 factions and families

Sumeru: The whole government was just overthrown

Are there like, genuinely so sages right now, or replacement Grand Sage??? Nahida you need to do something asap-

Scara doesn't exactly have equal status to Alhaitham as Acting Grand Sage, but I felt it was more important to show that Scara is working directly under Nahida

Speaking of which, the title "shadow" is used because it's the same role that Ei served to Makoto, which I find poetic. If there is an official or better title tho, I'd love to hear it.

Hopefully, as time passes, there will be more representatives from the desert with high status. Poor Candace is carrying the desert's status on her back-

Should I have included the Corps of Thirty even if there are no playable characters...?

Fontaine: Fancy Schmancy Titles

I honestly reallyyyy wished that Neuv and Wrio were on equal standing, but in the eyes of Fontaine, that probably just isn't true.

Even so, absolute do not underestimate how important Wrio's role is in Fontaine's justice system, because without the Fortress functioning as it is, so much of Fontaine's justice would fall apart.

Despite Furina's death penalty and retirement, I still believe she deserves the title of archon with the highest status. No matter what happens, she is still Fontaine's idol and savior. (Besides, if she wanted/needed anything, Neuv would give it to her.)

How high Navia, Clorinde, and Chevy's statuses are in relation to each other in reality is...not explicit?

Really, Clorinde is just another employee under Fontaine's justice system, and isn't a head in anyway, while Chevy and Navia are actual leaders. But, Clorinde is the best Champion Duelist, so does that make them cancel out...?

Anyways that's all from me! It's pretty interesting to me just how much of the cast are part of their respective nation's government, which only makes sense given the kind of ruckus the traveler causes. Have a good day!

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

The beauty of accidental marriage proposals

Yuuri very likely didn't intend to propse to Viktor at the airport but his heart knew what it (and he) truly desired and twisted his words into a proposal—or rather something akin to a proposal that resulted in a spontaneous engagement.

Let's unpack this.

Yuuri returns from the Rostelecom Cup with his mind full of things that he wants to tell Viktor. While we don't learn the details, his inner monologue in the previous scene gives us a good idea of the things he's mulling over.

Yuuri has convinced himself that Viktor will abandon him after the Grand Prix Final. Thus, that competition is his final chance to win gold and he's determined to fulfil the promise he made in his speech in ep. 5 and win that medal. But even if doesn't win gold, there is one thing that he feels he needs to do after seeing skaters and skating fans react to Viktor becoming a coach at two consecutive competitions.

Regardless of how much Yuuri has profited from Viktor's support, he is very conscious about the fact that Viktor belongs to the ice. Or at least that is what his anxious brain has convinced him of. In this sense, giving up his own career so that Viktor can resume his own is an act of love and the only possible solution for them to stay together (in Yuuri's brain).

We never learn about the end of Yuuri's contemplation, but the subtext of the next scene implies that breaking up with Viktor is not an option. Or if it was an option, it was off the table once he was back in Viktor's arms.

Since Yuuri has anxiety, it's safe to assume that he has been overthinking his talk with Viktor over and over during the flight, going through all kinds of scenarios based on Viktor's imagined reaction. After hours on the plane, his brain must have been on the verge of exploding, casting poor Yuuri into a state of total overwhelm. If you have anxiety, you can possibly relate.

However, the moment that he spots Viktor, his mind goes blank and instinct takes over as he runs into Viktor's arms and instead of whatever speech he has prepared, he just blurts out the following line:

僕も考えてた。引退まで 僕のこと—　お願いします！ "I've been thinking, too. Please take care of me until I retire!"

The English translation is a bit messed up here. In the original, Yuuri never uses the word coach in that line. "Please take care of me" is Japanese proposal language. The translators probably didn't recognise this nuance and sadly, the nuance is still lost in the Bluray version.

But that's why Viktor recognises the proposal in Yuuri's words.

However, based on the details given and the illogical ways anxious brains work, Yuuri intended to inform Viktor about his retirement plans and to voice his desire to make the most of the little time he thinks they have left. But that's not what his heart wants. And since episode 5 we know what that is:

初めて自分から繋ぎとめたいと思った人、それがヴィクトルです

A more accurate translation of that line is "The first person I want to tie myself to and never let go is Viktor" because 繋ぎとめたい means wanting to tie someone / something to you and never let it go (see this translation error masterpost).

Of course, Yuuri doesn't want his relationship with Viktor to end and no matter if his anxiety his skyrocketing in the face of the GPF looming ahead, that desire has taken root in his heart and brain. However, his anxiety stops him from proposing actually and turns his addition "until I retire" into a gentle prodding to find out whether he and Viktor are on the same page.

And of coruse, they are.

And it's all Yuuri has wished for. He's been anxious the whole time. Until Viktor recognises the proposal and response with a yes in the same fashion that Yuuri has asked.

To wrap all of this up:

Absence nurtures desire and in this case, the time apart has shown Yuuri and Viktor how much they want to be by each other's side. Because he missed Viktor so desperately, Yuuri's heart wins over his anxiety for once and enables him to tell Viktor his deepest desire. By recognising said desire, Viktor is able to accept the proposal and the two boys are now officially engaged. And that's yet another beautiful aspect about this show.

Unfortunately Viktor didn't really catch the part about the retirement, which will result in him thinking that Yuuri wants to break up when Yuuri announces his retirement plans in Barcelona. On the other hand, knowing that Viktor wants to stay by his side forever is a huge relief for Yuuri and allows him to enter the GPF without any emotional baggage.

Bonus: look at that cute tiny smile right between Viktor recognising the proposal and the second hug.

For further readings related to this please check out:

Japanese dating culture in YOI

Unwrapping "Let's end this"

On Yuuri's top-secret love life

If you enjoyed this meta you might like to check out my YOI canon works on AO3 or just support me by reblogging this post.

[nqueso-emergency]

it's gonna be long but i'm so tired of this lame shit.

stop doing this "both sides are bad" bullshit. both sides have bad apples but hell should not put bad bucktommys in the same "bad" category as people who is:

1. an owner of a big news acount inciting bully and harrassment to a queer black teenager because they got accused of creating a new news account when it's actually a buddie who made that account, and guess what, never appologized!

2. a person who infiltrate a discord space and getting informations like age and sexuality from people out of that discord to X/twitter and let the cult bullying and calling the discord's people "hags"

3. made a tumblr blog dedicated just for wishing harm and death on a fictional character

4. orchestrated on creating some horrible fanfictions with the wrong tags about a fictional character being a child abuser and child killer, and sent the links of those fanfictions to the fans of said fictional character through inboxes

5. changing a fluff ficlet of a ship created by a fan to a horrible abuse story and sending it to so many fans of the ship through inboxes

6. harassing artists by reuploading art on other social media just for your cult to shit on the art

7. creating a fanart and draw a fictional character as a monster and using the term "lizard people" (but hey they got rewarded!)

8. harassing multishippers for creating fanarts and fanfictions for the newer ship

9. sending phising links and reporting as spam to a positivity project

10. you can check on Lou Ferrigno Jr's latest post on X/Twitter about him swallowing an apple sticker and see how many wishes of harms and deaths you can find on the quotes and the replies

11. throwing tantrums and sending threats to THE showrunner over a scene that didn't included on the final cut (the scene not even significant enough to the whole episode arc:((()

12. recorded an X/Twitter space when the black fans there expressing their disappointment about people (actors included)'s treatment toward a certain actor with racism history during blm, putting the recording out so the cult could harrass the fans who's talking in the said space

there are bad apples on bucktommys side. even sometimes i think maybe i am one of the bad apples. but i love how bucktommys never holding back for calling out someone's bad behavior even it's from their own side. so i'm always grateful that i'm on bucktommys side. oh, for all of those points of bad behavior above, we have receipts, bcs we would never speak without receipts.

P. S. certain group of shipper could made a team to investigate who nqueso-emergency actually is but not one of them move to investigate who are these people orchestrating csa fics and made their community look bad? shocker!!!

P. S. S. points of bad behaviors above is mostly about their treatment toward other fans and real life person. i'm not getting deep into their treatment toward fictional characters on the show, especially their treatment toward a certain gay character because when we tried to call them out, they just twist it to "hAtinG on a rAciSt aNd mYsOgIniSt chArActEr iS hoMOpHoBic noW?". well, honey, that character is already change to a better person now and he stated that he's not a good person back then. you know who's homophobic, now? yes! YOU ARE!

thank you for your your service, nqueso, have a great day. and i love you, bucktommys! we'll get through this🫶🏽

[belladonnadawn]

Helloo! your yandere Issac fic was so amazing! i was wondering if we could get a yandere Elias?

Cop Car

“I pretended you were mine. It made me calm, babe.”

Elias wants to keep you, and what better way to express that than actions? Yandere!Elias x reader Content Warning: Mentions of violence, obsessive behavior, drug usage, and imprisonment. Please do not interact if you're uncomfortable with these types of content.

The thunder rumbled as the rain continued to pour, covering the sky with thick dark clouds. It has been a rainy week for you and Elias, and you missed gazing at the stars with him and his telescope. Those tranquil nights are something that you looked forward to ever since you stayed with him in the safe house.

The soft sound of rain and Elias’ video game as your background felt strangely domestic. If you ignore your current situation, you'd be sure that you won't mind living like this with him.

“I wish rain would really go away,” You sighed, holding the cup of coffee close as you looked at the window.

Elias responded with a soft hum, eyes not looking away on the screen.

“I missed our old routine. I want to stargaze with you again. Having this rain makes me realize how boring things can be,” You huffed.

“Yeah, but you know that rain doesn't make things boring,” Elias looked at you with a smile, stretching as he finished another round of video games.

“Says the one playing video games.”

“Hey, I'm more than willing to teach you. Thank you very much.” He turned to you, “Besides, I'm pretty sure that you have hobbies when it's raining before you got here.”

You tapped your mug softly, contemplating the things you usually do when it's raining. “Well, usually during these times the cafe is filled with customers. So I'm busy serving customers who want to warm themselves up or people who just need a place to stay so they buy the cheapest coffee to do that.” A soft smile flashed in your face as you reminisced.

“You?”

“I usually just stay and play video games. Sometimes I ride my bike when it's raining. I don't know how to explain, but something about taking a ride in this weather seems therapeutic,” Elias answered.

You nod in acknowledgement, gazing at the window again. “Maybe once we're out, I'm going to enjoy this weather by dancing or playing in the rain.”

Elias nodded, the sudden mention of going out felt strange to him. A realization that he hasn't thought of what he would do once the situation is over hits him.

Truth be told, Elias is lost on what to do once things are over. He knows that his fate is sealed– that he was meant to take over like his father. But he doesn't want to revolve himself on that, he still wanted to live normally.

The thought of going back to his old life felt terrifying. He'd be back in the higher ups’ gaze, being on high alert, and most importantly, he doesn't know if the relationship that you both have will stay this way.

Uncertainties continued to eat him up. Questions and what ifs swarmed his mind like a hive. It felt all consuming, all devouring, ready to ea–

“Elias!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I'm asking if I could play,” You walked towards him with a concerned look on your face, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, I was just a bit preoccupied,” He gave you a small smile. “So what do you want to play?”

“There has been positive progress in this case. Right now, we are still doing investigations but I'm sure that both of you will be out sooner,” James reported the news.

You beamed, beyond elated at the information. Finally, after weeks of hiding, freedom is now closer than ever. You thought of what you could do once you're out and your mind jumbled at the endless possibilities. To say that you're excited and relieved is beyond understatement. You thought of your life outside, promising yourself to not take it for granted again.

“You hear that, Elias?! We're gonna be free!” You cheered, turning to him with the widest smile.

He only gave you a small smile, “Right, it's really exciting.”

Elias tried to be happy, he really did, but the worries and doubts continued to gnaw at him. The fear of losing you from his grasp felt terrifyingly real. As he glanced at you wearing the sweetest smile that he ever saw, he knew he wanted to keep you. He knew that he can't– and will never let you go.

The table was filled with foods that he ordered. Elias insisted on doing a little celebration before both of you go out to your old lives. On the screen, the movie continued to play as you sat closely next to him.

“Do you like this little celebration? I made sure to get your favorites,” Elias spoke, looking at you with such affection.

You nodded eagerly, “Of course, I couldn't ask for more. I have this good movie, our favorite food, and you by my side. Everything is perfect, Elias.”

A soft sigh escaped from your lips, "Can't believe that we're leaving this place. I was now used to living like this, but now the upcoming change is so welcome."

He squeezed your arm, “I'm glad.” For a moment, he fell silent, until he spoke once more. “I could get used to this too, just the two of us. Can you?” He looked in your eyes intently, his cheek caressing you.

“Of course, as long as I'm with you.”

Elias smiled, almost grinning, “Great, that's all I want.”

He stood up from his seat, walking towards the kitchen. Your brows furrowed, figuring that he just needs to grab something. Once he's back, he's holding two mugs in his hand.

“Remember what's my favorite order? I want you to try it too. This is a little tribute to how we met. I hope you like it.”

Your heart warmed at his gesture. The night couldn't get more perfect. You immediately reached for the drink, “Elias, this is so sweet. I really appreciate it.”

“It's nothing. Knowing that you'll stay with me through thick and thin, this is the least I can do,” He sat beside you, holding your hand.

You smiled, immediately sipping the coffee. It was warm and soothing, strong but delicious; no wonder why he likes ordering it. “This taste so good, you should be a barista.”

“I like that idea, but I'll be your barista,” He chuckled, watching you drink. A hint of anticipation in his eyes.

As you finished the half of the coffee, you felt strange. You just drank caffeine, yet you feel incredibly drowsy. Clearing your throat, you tried to keep yourself still.

Elias continued to watch you, trying to conceal his expression. A part of him was anxious that he did not put enough rohypnol for it to affect, another was anxious that he put too much.

You held him, trying to ground yourself, but your eyelid felt heavy– everything felt heavy. “Elias…” It was soft, barely heard by him.

As everything seemed to cave in, he only looked at you with the same smile. You felt a shiver down your spine as the realization seeps in, “You–”

Elias immediately caught you, a sigh of relief as he saw the drug finally worked. He immediately composed himself, he can't be too careless and sloppy. There's no time to waste when it comes to a future with you.

You woke up in a haze, head pounding as you opened your eyes. Everything felt strange, your brain felt as if someone rebooted it, your body was sore and aching– every move is painful. Everything is unbearable.

Scanning your surroundings, you realize that everything is unfamiliar: the wallpaper, the furniture, the decorations, everything. You sat up, feeling as if a cold bucket were poured all over your body. This is a dream.

You slapped yourself, chanting the same thing all over again: this is a dream, this is not real. As you opened your eyes, you were welcomed with the same view. It felt sickening.

But there's no time to wallow and contemplate. Summoning all your strength, you stood up, filled with adrenaline as you explored the room, finding exits. The windows were boarded by steel, there's no key lying around, and the door seems to have a sensor that needs biometrics to unlock it. You were fucked.

You cracked your brain, trying to think of what happened. Were you ambushed? Kidnapped? Did the higher ups want to get rid of you?

Then you remember– Elias.

Memories rushed in you like waves. You saw his smile as you slowly passed out in front of him. But it can't be, that's not the Elias that you knew. He's sweet, rough on some edges but he's kind. Elias would never commit such thing, he woul–

“You're awake,” Elias entered with a tray of food, “Sorry I left. I got you some food so you won't go hungry.” He gently placed it on the table.

You looked at him dumbfounded as he continued to act as if everything was normal. “Why am I here?”

“Because this is our house. We live here now. I don't want us to stay in that place since I know you're starting to hate it. So I figured to give you a change in our surroundings.”

You felt more confused at every sentence that he spoke. Our house. We live here now.

It felt like a sick prank– you wished that it was just a prank. But the scene in front of you screams otherwise.

"Just let me out, Elias. This is not fucking funny."

"Do you think I'm joking?" He took a step near you, but you immediately took a step back. Whoever's facing you is not the Elias that you knew. And that realization is beyond terrifying.

"I don't know what changed since you told me that you would stay. That you could get used to it as long as you're with me. I just granted it–"

"I didn't say you should put me to another prison, Elias! I wanted out, I want to see the world!"

"Then look at the window!"

The situation is impossible. Elias is beyond impossible. You wanted to curse at him and to show him how absurd the situation is. But those are not your priority, your priority is to get out and leave this place behind.

Elias only stared at you, sighing, "I just wanted to be with you and take care of you," His eyes downcast, "I thought you'll sta–"

You immediately bolted towards the door, but Elias immediately grabbed you by your arm, slamming you to the wall.

"Why would you do that? Are you going to leave me too? Why?" He towered over you, caging you in his arms. You tried to squirm out of his grasp, but to no avail.

"Elias, stop it. Please just let go." His grip tightened.

"Let me go, please! Just let me go!" Elias held you tighter, trying to soothe you but all it did was make you squirm harder.

All of a sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your shoulder. And once again, everything felt heavy until it turned black.

He didn't mind the tears. He didn't mind the tantrums. He can take everything that you may throw at him. You promised to stay after all. Elias knew that one day you'll come around, he knew that you'll get used to it. Just like you always do.

Divider: Cafekitsune

[harvesti]

What are few things you would advice to young girls to stop doing right this instance? Like right now? It could health wise, emotionally, physically etc

first of all, thanks for the question, I loved it! here's a list of things I wish I could tell younger me:

stop posting your face, name and general personal information online. people who say that it's "suspicious" or "inappropriate" to not have personal information online are potential predators. you owe nobody nothing! keep your anonymity, it's your right!

on that note, please stop sending nudes. not in a slut-/kink-shaming way, but in a you really don't understand how not private the internet is so please don't assume you're safe way. only send pics that you wouldn't mind if they got out!

the future is so fucking unpredictable it will make you sick. it will make you literally dizzy. you have zero control over like 99% of what will fundamentally direct your fate. so truly it is in your best interest to find a way to only concern yourself with what IS under your control.

for teens in particular: older men who claim you're special, mature and different from other girls your age are lying. the most mature teenage girl in the world is still a teenage girl, and they know it. no, it's not because girls mature faster than boys: it's because they know you'll fall for that shit so they can violate you and get away with it. if you're into older men, that's fine; older men who are into you, however, are not fine.

remember that there is an entire social structure that profits off your insecurities. people are making money off of you thinking that you're fat and ugly, and they want to keep benefitting from your tears and suffering. don't let them!

no person in the world is a permanent presence in your life. no matter if they're childhood friends, family members, love affairs: if they make you suffer, get away from them. cut them off. you owe nobody nothing.

save some fucking money whenever you can. honestly.

and, of course, QUIT SUGAR!

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 16 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 (here) — Epilogue

“203 shots.” Carmilla announced once the time was out.

Husk halted in his attack while Valentino dropped to the floor, the charged cards all losing their effects and fell to the ground one by one. Wounds all over Valentino’s form to the point where it looked like he was dumped in red paint. The demon didn’t even have the energy to argue or ask what all that was about. On the other hand, Husk landed on his feet and folded his wings with a proud look on his face, evident by his smirk. 

“The victor is Valentino, since he had landed more shots.” You spoke up, not missing the way Valentino gave Husk a dirty look while Husk wasn’t even fazed by the ‘lose’. 

Valentino taunted with a smirk, “Can’t even win when you cheat.”

Husk gazed at him lazily, “For your information, you only said hit the red things, you never specifically say what red things. So… I wasn’t even cheating.”

“You..” Valentino growled, just as he was about to stomp his way to Husk, you interrupted.

“Husk, what would be your challenge?” 

“Flight.” Husk stated as his wings opened, “Let’s see who can reach our own booth the quickest. Or you could just give me the win.” 

Valentino’s eye twitched, a scowling frown shown. “As if I would ever.”

After catching your nod of acknowledgement, Husk started the countdown. “Ready, set, go!”

The moment Valentino opened his wings with a pained expression, Husk threw charged bomb dices at Valentino and readied his cards once more. In his wounded state, Valentino could only take the ambush and defend himself as best he could. “What is this…?”

Husk answered nothing and continued to attack while Valentino tried to evade. When Valentino was in the air, Husk counted and flew ahead of him with his healthier state, grabbing Valentino in whatever area he could get his claws on and threw the moth back onto the platform. From the amount of craters and the depth of them, everyone could see there was no playing around with Husk.

While the challenges all sounded simple enough and practically childish, it takes the participant’s mindset and logic to make it twisted. If one were to think simply, all would take it at face value, like Valentino did with his challenge when he summoned actual target boards to shoot. Husk saw the loophole in the rules and done accordingly, to satisfy your wishes while fulfilling his own personal wants. That was what you wanted from your Overlords.

Without a timelimit, essentially, this round could only end when one of them actually reaches their respective booth or Valentino gives up. 

“My bet’s on Husk for this round. What say you all?” Rosie opened a conversation while the platform’s battle continued. 

Every spectator looked over to Rosie who actually had the guts to chat during such an important event happening before them. Velvette looked over to Carmilla and Vox eyed Zestial for some form of hint as to what they could do or say since their status as Overlord was still relatively new in your eyes.

Alastor chuckled, “I second that. No way would the cat I brought under my well care lose to a moth of that stature.” He played with his cane as he gave the others a smirk, “Failure is not an option.”

You hummed, with a soft smile, you lifted your cup to your lips. “In that regard, if Husk were to have challenged you, would you lie down and protect his victory?”

Once more, Alastor chuckled, “Of course not, My Liege, the moment Husk regained his title by your will, he is no longer under my care but yours. However, I’d never let the challenge through,” He raised to his feet with a bow, “For all your precises souls should never fight each other for the sake of our own scabbles. Not unless,” His eyes glowed at the obvious implications. “You permit it, My Liege.”

Your smile widened. Alastor sure does have his way with words. “Well said, Alastor.”

“So the victor was decided the moment this challenge began.” Carmilla remarked with a grin of her own. “My Liege, you have a wicked sense of humour.”

You merely hummed as you sipped on your drink, making no comment on her claims. 

It wasn’t like Valentino didn’t tried to retaliate after Husk showed his true colours in his round, but it was more like he was unable to. Although the previous round was his win, he has exhausted his guns and bullets, adding to that, he was never the confrontational type where he battles other demons on the front line. Such was the reason why he was so keen on sharing the Overlord title with Vox and Velvette because they would hide his misability and weaknesses while showing his strength.

Still, even when it was Husk’s lost in the previous round, he used it as a guarantee win for his round. By inflicting such wounds and injuries on Valentino, the moth was basically powerless. It showed everyone Husk’s calculated moves and quick thinking to give himself the edge and step down on his opponent. Not to mention, showcasing his superior strength and powers even after just being released from his soul contract with Alastor.

“...I give up…” Valentino choked out.

“Tsk. Coward.” Husk clicked his tongue and backed away. 

“It appears to be a tie, so the winner of the final and special round will be the owner of Angel Dust.” You stated with a hint of playfulness. “The last round is simple.”

Valentino and Husk were forcefully moved to the oppose side of the platform while Angel and his cage was moved to the center. The platform was split into three areas, with the grey area that separated the red area where Valentino resided and the black area where Husk resided.  

“If this isn’t obvious enough, I’ll have Angel decide where he wants to go. There’s no catch or play. If Angel goes to the red shaded region, he will continue to belong to Valentino. If by choice Angel goes to the black shaded region, his soul contract will be moved to Husk as his new owner. The round ends when Angel touches either region. If Angel doesn’t move within 20 seconds, however, he will be… Well, let’s not get to that.” You grinned, “Oh, but the Overlords can’t leave their region, how to tell is their feet must be touching their respective region. Are the rules clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Crystal.”

“Wonderful.” The cage disappeared with the snap of your fingers and the round begins.

A smokey chain appeared around Angel’s neck and wrists just as Angel started to sprint to Husk’s direction, only to be dragged back. Valentino held the end of the chains with a snarl. “You must be f***ing high if you think I’d just let you go!”

“Damnit!” Husk cursed as he fired his charged cards at Valentino and the chain. 

“Let go of me!” Angel screamed. 

Husk’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the chains and their quality. Smoke and loose. Just like the contract. “Angel, pull back!”

An extra pair of hands formed and Angel turned around and planted his feet into the platform as hard as he could to give him some form of advantage against Valentino’s pull. “I’m not letting you boss me anymore!”

Husk closed his eyes as he tried to force out something.

“Overlords all have some sort of trump card or a more dominant and haunting form.” You told Husk as Alastor was cooking you a meal. It was late into the night and all the hotel residents were in their room but you three who were still lingering in the kitchen and dining area. “Take Alastor for example, he has an enlarged form and a more demonic form. The others also have them, but they are more secretive with theirs. It’s elementary but a crucial tool to use against others.”

“I’ve never had something like that before.” Husk spoke honestly and defendedly. 

You hummed since you couldn’t understand what the challenge was, you looked over to Alastor and asked, “Say, Alastor, which form is easier? Enlargement or demonic?”

At your question, Alastor’s head turned 180 to look at you, making a resounding crack sound. “Hmm, not sure. It came so easily to me. But… Perhaps demonic? Size manipulation does take a bit of energy. I merely prefer both at the same time.”

You smiled, “And how dashing you looked when you do.”

“Mn!” Alastor flinched at your comment and snapped his head to the side with a blush, “Thank- Thank you, My Liege.”

“Your meat’s burning.” You reminded.

Alastor immediately snapped back to normal and continued cooking while your words repeatedly looped in his mind like a broken record. 

You turned back to Husk, “I’d agree, demonic seems easier and more straightforward for you to master in a short time. However, because it’s so normal and easier, it’s seen as nothing special. So in terms of intimadation, it would be lacking.” You pointed and poked at Husk in the chest from across the table. “At the moment, your powers are limited because of your contract with Alastor, so there’s not much you can do. If you want to win against Valentino for your dear friend, you need to adapt and change the moment you’re released from your contract.”

Husk’s claw tapped on the table with a frown of uncertainty. “Can I though?”

“The challenge for his contract won’t be announced by me, initiative is with you. This will also be your only chance because I have will remove Valentino from my Collection of Elites permanently.” You stated.

“Is this something you can tell me?!” Husk flinched at the news. 

Your face was one of disinterest, near emotionless. “My keener Overlords are aware who would be next to be devoured. They are only in the dark about when it will happen. You’ll pick up this bit soon, or Alastor and the other would let you know in time. Some are saved and one’s not so lucky to escape. So you see, there will be changes.”

“... Okay… But if he’s to be removed… Then Angel will be free…”

You laughed, and Alastor even chuckled, a teasing smirk now on your face as you ridiculed Husk’s naive and fantastical thought. “To remove him means everything of his will be mine. Including Angel. I am no saint nor am I an angel that grants happy ending. This is Hell. All contracts under Valentino’s ownership wll be mine and so their souls will be reduced to nothing as well, just like their master.”

Husk gasped.

You got up and went to join Alastor while giving Husk one last advice. “Being uncertain and cowardly will cost you a lot more when you’re in my Collection. Remember these words.”

Husk roared as his wings opened and slowly enlarged, growing two times his size, then three, four, five, and six. Similar to an extra pair of hands, his wings curved forward and came to Angel’s side. The marginal coverts part of his wing gently wrapped around Angel’s form, while the other wing flicked at Valentino to produce strong winds that knocked him back to the edge of the platform. 

With Valentino’s hold over the chains gone, Angel was free. He immediately ran into Husk’s hold while Husk’s large wings covered Angel from Valentino’s view. “Husk!”

“You’re safe now…” Husk sighed in relief, his wings returning back to their usual size. He held Angel’s hand and looked in your direction. “It’s over. This round, this challenge is over.”

You smile. “Indeed it is.”

“No. No! I don’t deserve this! I was betrayed! Those fucking b*tches Vox and Velvette left—!”

“Don’t you dare talk down to them.” Your Cages all dove down into Valentino and began tearing into his body bit by bit, his screams rang in everyone’s ears as it went on. As that happened, you changed the content of the contract and moved the ownership of Angel to Husk before passing it into his care. 

Your Overlords all stood in attention and bowed deeply to you. Angel flinched and also did the same, silently thankful that you would allow such a thing and even let him have a say in this. Even though there was no need for you to even care when he acted so foreign and borderline hostile to you in the hotel. 

You crossed one leg over the other and smirked, leaning your cheek to your knuckles. Your head tilted with your signature smirk, “With that, this gathering is over.”

.

.

.

“Hellish morning today at 666 News, right, Tom?”

“Right you are, Katie. Don’t we have something important to announce to all of Hell today?”

Zestial was seated in the empty audience seat of Velvette’s new threatre while she was on stage with her workers organizing them and arranging everything.

“Breaking news indeed! This just in from our big boss The Collector, the Vees have broken off from each other! Velvette and Vox remains but Valentino is no more.”

Rosie grinned with sharpened teeth as she watched her people devour a feast provided by your generosity. She eyed the meal in front of her and her hands cupped an soul with a wavy tail at the top. A soul. Slowly, she brought it up to her lips and devoured it in one gulp.

“Gone. Disappeared. Dead. Off the face of Hell. Who knows, he’s gone that’s it!”

Carmilla and Vox were both looking over designs for some technological weapon and serveiliance system together in Carmilla’s workshop while her daughters were setting refreshments on the table.

“That’s not all, folks! We got news that Husk as returned to the Overlord ranks and has taken over Valentino’s region, the gambling areas and bars alike! Looks like he’s giving the other Overlords a run for their money, or should I say souls? Hahahaha!”

Husk’s wings let him hover in the air as he directed his contractees and Zeezi’s what to do for the Vees tower to be reconstructed as his base. Husk landed before Zeezi and gave her a smirk to while she returned, they looked forward to the construction before them.

“That was some big changes. Looks like after a meeting held by Carmilla Carmine, alleged leader of the Overlords, their members have changed and so have the domain ownership in this Pride Ring.”

“That’s right, Tom. So everyone’s gotta make sure to be more aware of the new Overlords and their domains at least. After the last purge, they are not pulling any punches. With Alastor’s return, the Princess’ win against Heaven’s extermination, there’s more to come for Hell.”

Alastor set down a tray of your favourites while your head was turned to the direction of Hell’s scenery, he placed everything in a neat order and bowed his head before he was gently moved by your Cages to take a seat in front of you. 

You turned your attention to Alastor and smiled. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Note: Now, this is the final part, but there's still the Epilogue that transitions into Season 2. Supposedly. Question for you guys~ What do you think is the relationship between the Collector and 666 News?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Prologue

tags: king gojo x princess f!reader, arranged marriage au, mentions of abuse from reader's family, tw: she is yelled at and stuck, her name is lia ravencrest (oc), gojo will appear in the next part

series masterlist (to be updated soon)

"his majesty satoru gojo has pledged his support in exchange for lady Ravencrest's hand in marriage." your family turns, stunned to see you speak with a crumbled letter in the fist of your hand. "he calls for nothing in return, only wishing to unite both kingdoms under one. his family asks the Ravencrest's that lady Ravencrest live alongside her husband, as it has been for customary "

"so it's settled." your stepfather, crowned king of your wing of the kingdom announces. "you shall marry into the gojo clan."

"we must commence the wedding plans." your mother chimes, "she'll look beautiful in lunaris silk."

you watch, hurt and deflated as the two adults discuss your parents until you interrupt, "Is my presence here so insignificant that you plan my life without a word to me?”

the regret fills your body as soon as you are thrown inside your room by your stepfather. your mother's cries muffled by the large doors of your room held back by servants per order of the king. he strikes.

"you ungrateful petulant being!" the man roars, "have you forgotten? It is I who picked you out of the shit! no one wanted to marry your mother but me! and I took care of your mouth, fed you, and you dare disobey me?!" his screams leave you silent, trembling as his hands point at you. "you have truly shamed us. go ahead and say no. deny the prince! say no! go on, if you say you have no voice then use it. we'll send you off to a whorehouse. maybe that is where you belong." whenever he acts like that and leaves, the servant girls peek. they're too shy, maybe too scared to approach you, but they always leave you water and something cold to soothe the pain in your cheek.

"his majesty gojo will be fortunate to have a bride like you." says a servant girl, brushing your hair the next morning, "my lady is too kind, far too gentle."

"have you heard word of his majesty?" you ask, knowing she might not have any knowledge, but hopeful. "what is he like?"

"none from me, but one of the house ladies says she spoke to the gojo clan messenger. it is said he is fair tempered, a good head on his neck."

you hum, clearly not so pleased with limited information. was that all? fear thumped along your heart. what if he was like your stepfather? what if he was better? if he was, could he change into something worse? continue as your mother but worse?

"darina," you speak, the name of your servant girl with such softness. your memory was far better than your mother's, able to know nearly everyone's from the castle, "do you think... my stepfather... is cruel?" she exhales.

"his lordship has... firm character, yet I believe he has an interest to improve the reputation of the family."

"I didn't ask if he was cruel to the crown, rina. I asked if he was cruel to his family."

"he... he could be kinder. that I am certain. it pains me to see my lady sad."

"don't worry." you say, "I have already accepted the marriage. in 30 days I shall become bride to the next king of the north. I may be a princess, but no one shall touch me as queen."

[mae-lou-ron]

Back to Sleep

Summary: After some bad dreams interrupt your sleep, you find some unexpected comfort in your beloved partner, Tech.

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader

Word Count: ~800

TWs/Tags: pretty G rated, hurt/comfort, waking from bad dreams (no details), fluffy practical Tech in a newish relationship

A/N: AHHHHHH okay okay okay so the plot bunnies absolutely infested my brain after I saw THIS ✨incredible✨ artwork of our darling Tech by @ghostymarni 🫶🏻

This is completely self indulgent because, well, I love him, your honor. I was also inspired by the scene in the episode of Schitt’s Creek where Alexis tells David about her breakup with Mutt and realizes she needs a hug 😂

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Tech?" you murmured into the room he was occupying.

Tech hummed softly in acknowledgment. "It is late and I am in the middle of repairs—what do you need?" he asked quietly, not looking up from his project.

You didn't take offense to his demeanor when interrupted; it was just how his brain worked. He did that sometimes. His mind never ceasing its search for information and solutions. Sometimes that meant extracting himself from your sleepy cocoon to pursue whatever pathway his incredible mind had opened up to him in the middle of the night. But when you didn't respond for a moment, it shifted his unwavering attention to you, immediately noticing your slightly disheveled state.

"I just…" You paused again. "Maker, this is so stupid," you muttered under your breath, unsure if Tech heard you or not.

There was no room for anxiety in your gut now that the mortified butterflies had taken over. Things were still fairly new with you and Tech. You appreciated that he wasn't one who typically relied on physical affection to convey his feelings—and neither were you, really, but right now you were still a human with a rattled nervous system.

You heard the sound of tools being set down gently and the quiet thump of his approaching footsteps.

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You weren't a child, clearly, you should be able to console yourself and go back to sleep, but you were here now and had his undivided attention. Something that made your chest flutter wildly whenever you had it.

The toes of his boots came into your view as he stopped in front of you. "Sarad?" Tech inquired, his voice softening. "Is something the matter? You seem… unsettled." He offered. The warmth he always radiated displaced some of the chill that had set into your bones, and you instinctively leaned forward into him a little more. "Did I wak—"

"I had a nightmare—" you blurted out, inwardly groaning. Your eyes flicked up to his briefly before focusing on the middle of his chest. “I woke up and you…”

"I see," he said softly after a moment, adjusting his goggles as he regarded you. "You were seeking comfort after your bad dreams had woken you?"

"It's nothing—I was just a bit anxious when I woke up, but it's… it's nothing," you said again, standing on your tiptoes and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'm fine, I really should go back to sleep…and don’t to stay up too la—" you rambled, still talking yourself out of your needs and taking a step or two back the way you came, but Tech’s hands on your shoulders stopped you.

"Your heart rate is elevated," he said plainly, peering at you. "You are flushed and speaking more quickly than usual." Tech lifted the back of his hand to gently run along your heated cheekbone. "…and you are avoiding eye contact with me, so I can deduce that you are, in fact, not 'fine’, my dear," he said softly, his fingers trailing down your chin before he pulled them away.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked genuinely. “I know that helps you sometimes,”

You shook your head, furrowing your brow. "It's just the same one I told you about," you confessed, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to determine yourself what it is you were seeking. His hand was back at his side, but you wished it was still caressing your face.

"I think I might need a hug…" you said warily, as if you were unsure of the words that came out of your own mouth. "…or something?" You added, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ah," he said, his eyes darting back and forth processing this information. You couldn't help but smile at seeing the brain you adored at work for you. "I understand," he added before walking back to his workbench—making it seem as though he didn't actually understand at all. You took a few steps in his direction as he pulled over a nearby chair and sat down.

Confusion was visible on your face. You told him you needed a hug, or something, and he immediately went and sat down? Possibly to continue the task you had just interrupted? But he didn't start working; he just looked at you expectantly.

"Come here, sarad," he said gently, shifting in the seat and patting his legs.

You smiled slowly, now understanding, and tiptoed over to him, gingerly taking a seat in his lap. He pulled you to him tightly, encouraging you to relax and lounge fully on him. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hand up and down your spine as you curled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of clean soap and mechanical ozone.

"This is nice," you sighed contentedly, feeling the tension in your chest releasing.

"Good," he quipped, brushing your face with his fingers again. "Rest. Fall asleep if you wish… I shall be here."

"Thank you," you murmured, curling your arm around his waist and closing your eyes. Tech's hands eventually left you to resume his task, but he pressed his lips into the top of your head every so often, reminding you he was still right there with you. His warmth and the steady thrum of his heart soothed you, while the sounds of his gentle tinkering and even breathing lulled you back into a peaceful sleep.

When you awoke, you found yourself back in Tech's bunk, but this time he was wrapped around you, snoring softly into your shoulder.

[torchstelechos]

sometimes i think about the scene where Siffrin has a momentary breakdown over the Universe watching and clapping and not doing anything to help, to lead, and i wonder about an interpretation where the Universe is helping, is leading, is telling them what to do. where the Universe is favoring one of the two people from the Country like the King calls out. its us, the Player, the ones that 'create' their universe in a sense by installing and playing the game and leading Siffrin around through it

i wonder if it'd make it better or worse for him in that moment if they could look through that glass window to the stars above and see a glimpse of how helpless we, the Universe, were in that moment too, trying to guide him and failing just as much as everyone else

do you get me. does this make any sense.

Okay Bell, you do not fucking get how much this means to me. I have been on the theory of “the universe is actually the players” since I started wandering about this fandom. I do think ALL the players are part of the universe, but are not the universe as a whole. Like, one player is one star and yes, they are part of the overall universe, but there are more stars to see in the same universe so they aren't the universe specifically. My reasoning for this is actually part of how I see Loop’s wish, and thus I get to discuss how I think wishcraft works alongside Loop’s wish and how it affected the timeline. >:3c 

First, I will be using a general assumption of 1.) The looping only affected Vaugarde like The King’s “curse” 2.) There is only one Timeline and 3.) The theory Path of Least resistance (will be explained in conjunction with wishcraft).

As I have mentioned in a previous post I do think that Siffrin’s wish piggybacked off the King’s wish and used it as a blueprint for how far the Timecraft went, which meant that it only turned back the time of Vaugarde. The King says, when asked about wishcraft: 

He says that the country is skipping, stopping, rewinding, restarting, and how that must look from the outside. Which! I would like to point out that the king is NOT a reliable source of information because the King will lie to get you to lower your guard, however! It’s corroborated by the change god, even if they don't implicitly state it, during the Who’s on the Phone event they say: 

“Dormont, repeating! Dormont, Unchanging! Stagnating!” + “In this bubble, where everything stays the exact same…” The Change god also acknowledges that the extent of Timecraft is smaller than the whole world and specifies Dormont, which is the last place affected by the Time Curse (and thus the last place to change in all of Vaugarde). I would take this to mean that the whole world is still going on while Vaugarde is, well, glitching like a DVD with scratches. 

Next, which I think a lot of people tend to skip over, is that there is only one timeline! This is confirmed by Insertdisc5 (Adrienne), on Tumblr on their ISAT spoiler Q&A: 

Which has such interesting implications, but it does help explain something that I want to connect with the third assumption!

Now! The path of least resistance theory! Craft is an energy based magic, which uses the users energy unless powered by an outside force (however it appears to still take energy to direct the craft). This means that it has rules and if I had to guess, is very similar to electricity. Electricity doesn’t actually only go down one path when we apply this theory, instead it has an inverse in output depending on the resistance of the path. So if one path has less resistance then it will have more energy go down that path with more output, if the other has more resistance than that path will have less output/energy. We can apply this to wishcraft and how it affected the outcome of the two wishes that directly went against each other, the Kings and Siffrin’s wishes. Since Siffrin had a lot of energy behind his wish and the king less, Siffrin’s wish went above the King’s own in regards to who ended up with their wish “granted.” (the output was greater due to the fact it was less resistant to the whole of Vaugarde’s wish + Loop’s wish)

So, with all this written out, how do we the Players come into this? :3c well… We are a self contained paradox wish! Siffrin’s initial wish was to (insert one of the initial options) and “You want to stay with them!” which is the wish that caused the Timecraft ability for Timelooping (if I wanted to be pedantic I would actually say Siffrin can Travel time and isn't looping but that's a whole ass other post). This wish DID NOT bring us to the loops nor did it give Siffrin a guide, it was just a wish made to stay with people already in this timeline/universe. This made it impossible for outside help as it was VERY specific to only this universe, “stay with them.” But when Siffrin gave up, they made a secondary wish, 

(Loop: For someone… Anyone, to help me!!!)

This wish let us, The Players, directly able to interact with ISAT and SAAP. As they reached out into the universe and called for help, the Universe answered by letting outside help interact with timeline by guiding the new Siffrin. We are only able to help out by Loop making this wish! But, now, how does that make us a self contained paradox wish? Well… Thats because in order for the wish to happen, we needed to help Loop make the wish in the first place! By playing the SAAP, we helped Loop get to a position in which they made the wish which allowed us to help them which allowed them to make the wish etc etc. 

Thus we the players are now able to continue helping out when the timeline goes forward into ISAT, alongside Loop who’s wish allowed for a second try (a Start again if you will). 

The reason I also added the other information is because I think its important to remember that craft takes energy, and what Loop says about their wish is that they “destroyed” themself rather than “destroy the world” which… I think it means that Loop basically blew up like the Big Bang rather than become a Black Hole like Siffrin did. This “restarted” the timeline as a whole rather than just Vaugarde as we can see differences in Loop’s timeline and Siffrin’s, and if they’re the same timeline why are there such big differences? Well, yeah,,, Loop remade the entirety of the timeline rather than just Vaugarde… Oops! Big Bang, yaknow? Its still a singular Timeline, it’s just that it restarted the timeline’s progress pretty far back as a whole rather than specific segments. Also, Loop doesnt appear to help until after the initial ISAT wish, so we can just assume that the Universe plucked them from their wish making directly into this timeline section. 

As for why I added the whole Path of Least Resistance Theory for wishcraft… that’s cause Siffrin having Loop’s wish actually helped guide Vaugarde’s wishes into an easier path which allowed them beat the King easier <3. Without Loop’s wish, it would have been impossible for Siffrin to actually progress and get out of the loops alive. Lol. ANYWAY, this is all to say, I do think the Universe is a separate entity to the Players BUT by virtue of how the Players interact with Siffrin I would say we are part of the universe via proxy measures. :3c

This really got away from me,,, hope this is all good and understandable I had to use a google doc to write this all out,,,,

[hyukascampfire]

To: Someone From a Warm Climate

wc: 23.2k

genre: smut, angst, fantasy violence

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

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

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

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

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

playlists: taehyun | yeonjun | series

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hadn’t expected him to react like that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❉

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

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

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

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

“I know my limits,” he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You follow him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your legs tremble beneath you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyun,” you warn. 

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

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

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

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

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

Really? Is this happening right now? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Fix your appearance,” Taehyun commands.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You continue to trudge through the forest behind them. 

❉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s still best that you stay your distance from the prince from this point on, regardless, unless you bring the kelpie.” 

Your mouth drops open, brows pinching. You don’t like the thought of being chaperoned at all. If Yeonjun is to betray you, then it’ll be your own fault. You can take the consequences of your actions just fine. “I think I can make that decision for myself,” you say, voice low. “And I can protect myself, too. Are you saying my skills aren’t up to your standards? Well, I didn’t spend that time working on them for nothing, and I don’t plan on stopping. I know I’m not perfect, but I think I can at least use a dagger adequately, no?” 

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

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

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

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

He’s quiet. 

“Answer me,” you demand. 

“Is this not my home?” he says. 

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

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

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

❉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laughing a bitter laugh, you spit, “Stop what? Oh, I’m sorry. I should just obey you like a good human does, huh? ‘Cause that’s what we’re for, right? My bad, I’ll get a head start on working around the estate—what would you like for dinner, my lord? Or, do you need me to press your clothes?” Your words are angry, but you choke toward the end around the lump of emotion in the back of your throat. 

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

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

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

That sounds about right coming from his lips. “Is that what your father taught you?” you ask. “Well, he was wrong. You can cry and try and take care of things at the same time.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They always have been. 

Yeonjun 

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

Have I done something wrong?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeonjun 

“What do they say?” Beomgyu asks, timbred voice whipping you apart from the words on paper that manage to send your heart hurting.  

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

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

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

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

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

Collecting yourself, you say, “No. I’m not being called in for trial.” You reach for the next letter.  

The next envelope has a dried up rose petals that come falling out when you pull out the letter. The flower of love. 

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

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

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

Yeonjun 

Why hadn’t you at least gone and told him that you’ve stayed? How had you allowed yourself to feel fear when you think of him? You don’t deserve his love.  

You don’t even know if you deserve love at all. All it would’ve taken was one night of slipping out. He deserved to know that you’re okay. You don’t remember being this selfish. When had this happened? Maybe this is just what happens when someone spends a lifetime not allowed to think of themselves before serving others. You don’t want to be selfish, though.  

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

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

Do I need to say it anymore?  

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

Yeonjun 

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

❉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weeks? You’d only seen four.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you whine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❉

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps four-hundred-something years,” he answers, looking over the scene with as much distaste in his face as his voice. “We solitary folk don’t make ourselves known here unless to bow to a crown. I do not bow to any crown.” 

Itching to find your prince, you gesture toward it. He should be fine—Court is supposed to be an insouciant place. “Don’t they host anybody who decides to come? Faerie hospitality, and all that? You’ll be fine.” 

“It’s all hospitality until you step foot from those trees,” he says. “And even hospitality is sometimes betrayed. You know how capricious we can be, I’m sure.”  

You approach the warm lights, but his words remain with you. It beckons you to remember that their minds are fickle and fundamentally different from yours. However you think they may act, they might act in the complete opposite way. You should at least let that guide how you conduct your actions a little bit. 

As you breach the pillars of trees and are finally surrounded once again by their pinched faces and gangly limbs, you search for both Taehyun and Yeonjun. You see neither, and so you make your way to the tables to seek snacks. You scour them for something sweet to chew over as you wait for him to appear. He’d said he’d be coming around this time, right? You surely hadn’t mistaken the time he’d told you? 

Beomgyu speaks from beside you, observing a hag that loiters nearby. “Is he not here?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you say, “He’ll be here soon.”  

You watch the hag inching closer, bent over with age; though, you assume that’s she’s been old for the entirety of her life. Her pointed ears droop from her thin tresses of silver, cuffed with gold.  

Turning from her, you gesture over the cavorting crowds, more frantically chasing their merriments than ever before. The solstice arrives tomorrow; they welcome its presence with their excitement. “This is all for the solstice?” 

He offers you an affirmative nod. “Just some excuse to entertain themselves like this,” he explains, “the solstice will arrive whether they encourage its coming or not. I believe that they just enjoy this debauchery too much.” His hollow eyes rake over the throngs. “Anyway, many of them are just here because it’s the only time that they’ll see Court. Otherwise, only the gentry gather here.” 

“What makes you any different than them?” you ask. “What makes you so averse to offering your allegiance to the High Courts? Would it not be nice to have their protection, and to keep them off your back?” You seek Yeonjun once more in the crowds, but still, he doesn’t appear. “You know, so they don’t call you in for things like eating too much?” 

“I do not surrender my sovereignty to any. Come they to my doorstep and demand that I do, I could not care. I’m content with the way I make my life.”  

His refusal to do just that must be why Taehyun’s father had come to claim his life. You’re sure that it’s also why the coming of the General’s son to steal his autonomy must’ve made him so angry. You don’t blame him.  

Why would The Queen demand fealty from the solitary folk? You’d thought that, like the High King, she’d leave them to their forests. If they’re all as adamant as Beomgyu, it seems like a lost cause. 

“Well,” you say, “I’m glad that—” 

A gnarled hand, fingers knobbed against your skin and skin about as soft as tree bark, tugs your arm. You spin to find who owns it.  

The hag’s eyes remind you of Beomgyu’s, piercing and dull with the weight of a long life. Though, hers are much more unsightly than his mud-brown ones, saggy eyelids drooping over a pair of eyes with ink-black where the whites of her eyes should be. She pulls you toward her by your skirts.  

You tug yourself back, pinching your brows. “Who are you?” 

She points her clawed, grey hand out at you, bangles of gold and chunky beads jingling as she does. “You, girl,” the hag says, urgent. Her voice is harsh and it crackles as she speaks. She reaches inside of her furry robes and produces a wood trinket from it. In her palm that she shoves at you lays a bit of wood carved into the shape of a wolf, painted in black. Its shaggy black fur reminds you of the kind Taehyun would sometimes wear over his shoulder.  

“I don’t need that,” you say, rejecting her hand. Nothing in faerie comes for free—the hag just sees a human girl that she can offer free things to in hopes that you’ll know no better and take. Then, you’d be in her debt, and she’d demand something from you. You do know better, though. 

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head as she draws out the word. “You do, girl. Take it, take it. You need it, I know it. Take it, I won’t hold it to you, girl, just have it.” Razor teeth appear behind her curled lips. “It is dormant with me. But, in your hands... Take it.” She shakes her jousted hand out at you each time she demands that you take it. “It offers you protection. It would do no good in my possession. It beckons me to give it to you, its pleas are so loud—loud, loud, loud! Take it off my hand, won’t you?” 

Her urging unsettles you, but so do her words. You assume that it’s inlaid with some sort of protective enchantment. Why would you need protection? Although, she could also just be fooling you. She could be holding a perfectly plain hunk of carved wood in her palm for all you know. You shoot a look at Beomgyu. If she were any trouble, he’d tell you. 

He looks about as lost as you do, shrugging. 

“Oh, sakes!” the hag grumbles, clutching her robes to her body. She takes Beomgyu’s hands and places the thing there. “There. I have no reasons to be here fooling humans. Useless debts, what could you give me? Nothing I need.” She points a sturdy, twiggy finger at you. “Keep it on you, girl, else it won’t do its work.” 

With those final ill-boding words, the hag hobbles off, her curved back disappearing between the gaps in the crowd. 

“Here,” Beomgyu says, regarding the trinket with his observation. “That hag really wanted this to be yours, so I think it ought to be in your hands.” He tries pushing it off to you. 

Laughing, you don’t reach out to take it, darting his hand with your whole body. You hang your hands in the air. “I’m not taking that thing,” you say. “She handed it to you, so I really think it ought to be in your hands.” 

He deadpans. “I’ve just been collecting myself a heap of debts, haven’t I?” He closes it into his fist for his lack of pockets. “What’s this one to add?” 

“Does it... feel like it has anything bad on it?” you ask, remembering how he’d identified your geas. “Like a curse, or a bad enchantment, or something?” 

Shaking his head, he says, “No. I feel it does have a protective purpose, but the magic there is... odd. Hard for me to decipher. Probably that hag’s.”  

You purse your lips, nodding. Regardless, whatever protection that thing might have offered you, you’ll be fine without it. 

Shaking off the odd interaction, you resume perusing the snack platters in your wait. You skip over glazed pinecones. Those would be terrible on your human stomach and teeth. You can only imagine how they’d jab at your gums. You opt for a helping of braised fiddlehead ferns. Chewing on the furled thing, you entertain yourself with the revelers. Littler folk dart in and out of legs. Long-limbed gentryfolk with flowers in their hair spin with interlocked hands at the center of the clamor. Sharp-eyed faeries with even sharper mouths speak in clusters, no doubt scheming. In all its oddness, you’d missed it.  

 A silk-smooth voice steals your attention. “A kelpie?” Yeonjun says, regarding Beomgyu beside you. “Now, how did you manage to befriend a kelpie? Even better, how did you drag it here?” 

Your chest lights up. “Long story,” you say, brushing his curiosity off. “What took you so long?”  

He’s dressed in his Courtly best—cuffs made of ruffle and an array of rings decorating his fingers. They catch light as he brings his hand up to run a hand along the expanse of your collarbone. He hesitates to answer for a split second. “I ran into Kai on my way,” he explains. “He’s performing here today and for tomorrow's solstice.” 

Accepting his answer, you go to tell Beomgyu that you’re going off, but he’s not even there as you turn. He must’ve wandered off as Yeonjun had arrived. 

“Want to join them?” he asks, tilting his head toward the dancing bodies. Soft black strands drift over his eyes.  

Shaking your head, you offer him some of the sweets you’d been eyeing, knowing that he’s got a knack for sweets. “Not today. I think I want to remember all of tonight, and, well...” Memories of the way you’d danced uncontrollably until it’d fade to black lick at your mind. You want to revel in your return to normalcy fully, not with a buzzing mind. You can’t deny the allure of that tingling in your bones as you hear the faerie music, though. It curls a wild finger at you, beckoning. 

An uncomfortable look passes through his eyes, gone as fast as it had come. “All right, darling,” he hums, accepting the sweets. “Does the Lord know you’re here?” 

Lips tugging into a faint frown, you say, “Not yet, I think.” The quick expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Unlike the ice the Taehyun offers you, Yeonjun wears his feelings all over himself. It’s just one way that they are fundamentally different. “Is something wrong?” 

Yeonjun looks taken aback at your asking. “I’m doing just fine,” he says. “Why do you ask?” 

He does not say nothing wrong. You know it is because he cannot lie. You look him over. What had happened? And, why is he averse to telling you the truth? “Just thought you looked a bit upset.” You shrug. “Did you want to dance?” 

His nose crinkles with a laugh. “No, pretty. I’d be in your presence doing nothing and still be content.” He takes your hands into his, the metal on his fingers biting cold against your skin. “How about we go listen to Kai play?” 

He leads you to where the musicians work at concocting their works, claiming a chalice of some drink from a table on the way. Kai, of course, stands away from the rest, back to a tree while his fingers dance on the strings. You look around for Taehyun from here, but still, you don’t see his face. 

Yeonjun holds the chalice’s neck between his middle two fingers, sipping from it. “It’s nice to know that even as this season ends, I won’t be forced to go back there.” 

His pretty lips wrap over the edge of the chalice as he drinks from it. “Won’t your father know something is up when you return?” 

Nodding slowly, he grimaces. “I suppose that time has finally come.” 

You squeeze his hand in yours. “We both sacrificed things to be here, huh?” you say. You don’t know a lot of what Yeonjun’s life back in his home court was like, but you know that it would be hard to revolt against your own family for anybody. Even for the prince of Faerie. 

He captures your eyes, his soft brown ones making crescents with his gentle smile. “We did,” he muses. 

“Remember our first night in Court?” you say. You’d been so uneasy, searching for a place to fit in. Then, from the crowds of overwhelming faces, he’d appeared, all charm and welcoming smiles. How couldn’t you have let your heart fall? 

Another flash of disconcertment flashes, his smile faltering. He hides it behind another sip of his drink. Swallowing, he nods, laughing off-kilter. “I do. I think watching you dance that time was the best thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Odd, but you don’t push the issue. If he says that he’s fine, it must just be something to little effect. “What made you come up to me that night?” you say, remembering how confused you’d been when such a pretty gentry boy had taken interest in you. You’d agonized over why he’d done so for long, and sometimes you still, but you’ve made some peace with it by now.  

His lips are tight. “I... It’s hard to explain.” 

You accept that answer at face-value and let your head fall into his shoulder while you watch Kai dutifully work at his songmaking. Among those making the music for Court, his contributions stand out as the most enthralling. Faerie music is too elusive for you to decipher why, but perhaps it’s just his lazed passion. “I understand,” you say. His shoulder is tight and less cushy than you expect it to be. Looking up to him, you frown to see how he’s looking down at you, eyes stormy. He looks like he’s sick to his stomach. You go to ask if he’s going to be okay, but he speaks before you can. 

“Pretty, I... I have to tell you something.” He pulls you off of him to look into your eyes. He’s always been so steadfast and sure, but now his gaze wavers. “I’m so sorry.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. “What?” you say, a tingle in your spine telling you that something isn’t right; that you’re not going to like what he’s going to say. “Yeonjun, you’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?” 

You know it’s awful and you’re not sure why you do it, but for a split second, you inspect the hall for possible attackers. A terrible bout of potent adrenaline makes you want to run or cry. Beomgyu is here, right? 

He swallows hard, face a ghostly pallor. “I can’t keep doing this,” he says, voice trembling. “I need to tell you the truth, it’s... it’s been eating me alive. I can’t look into your sweet face and know...” 

Acid climbs up your throat. Your heart joins it, thick in your throat and choking you. “What? Know what Yeonjun?” you ask, lips trembling. Your skin prickles, hair raising. You may throw up. He looks stricken in place, not answering you. “What?” you demand. 

“I didn’t come up to you for no reason that day.” 

Your heart, still caught in your throat, bursts. It’s a horrifying, bloody affair. “No,” you say, shaking your head. You feel so removed from your body that you can almost envision how your blood-drained face might match his. 

“I knew that you were the spies the moment I saw you. It was....” He sucks in a breath. Your world spins around you as you wait. “I was supposed to determine who the spies were. I was supposed to have them killed, but pretty, I knew I couldn’t do that the moment I saw you. I thought it was just going to be some... some random faerie that I’d...” 

If your world was spinning before, it’s now flipped upside down and inverted. “No,” you repeat, a guttural plea that you know won’t change anything. It’s the only word that your mouth will make for right now, though. 

You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re frozen. 

Yeonjun grabs for your hands, but you rip yourself away from him, your glaring eyes so at odds with your wobbling lips. “It doesn’t change anything,” he says. “It doesn’t change how I love you now. You know I love you. You know I love you, right? I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I did my best to protect you. Please, I never wanted to hurt you,” he rambles, frantically grabbing for your arms as he falls down to his knees before you. 

A few faeries around you gasp, and a blur of their commotion forms around you. The crowned prince of Faerie just went to his knees. Your eyes dart wildly around their guffawing faces, and between a space you spot a familiar face: cold eyes and a cracked mask of indifference. He looks right at you. 

What on earth is going on? How is this life right now? You snap back to Yeonjun in front of you. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that, pretty,” he pleads. “Please.” His voice cracks, eyes frantic. “Slap me. Tell me you hate me for it. But please, don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.” 

Tears scald your cheeks. 

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask you that; I know, I know it—but please, I can’t handle it, love. I was never going to let anything happen to you, I knew it the moment I saw you. I felt it right here”—he gestures to his beating heart, the one your hand had felt and cherished so only last night—“I knew that no matter how big my ambitions were, they would never be bigger than that.” 

You can’t listen to any more. His words pour out onto your skin, but they all slip off like rain upon a beast’s winter pelt. None can penetrate the ringing in your ears. 

Yeonjun sees how retracted you’ve become. “Pretty, please,” he says, slower and more dire now. “Say something." 

You don’t know what to do. Your feet are rooted fast to the ground, but you know that you have to leave, or else you’ll start creating excuses for him. You know yourself too well to let that happen. 

Picking up your skirts, you manage only a few words to part him with. “Though your kind can’t lie,” you say, “you have been the biggest liar I have ever known. You said you loved me.” 

“I do,” he says, shaking his head, eyes twinkling. “I do.” 

Maybe love is a different thing to a faerie. 

You take off. He calls for you, but it’s muffled by the restlessness of the folk around you and the still-playing music. You dart between openings and bounce off bodies, lights and angry faces a blur in your frenzy. Most folk don’t spare you even a glance; nothing could pull them from their merriment. But others gawk at you like you put on a performance, greedy eyes drinking in any amount of fanfare. Their eyes itch under your skin. Crossing the expanse of the hall has never felt so arduous.  

You’ve become their spectacle. 

Breaking into the cold night air, you don’t run home or collapse to your knees in a sob. You hold your dress hard in your hands, the one he’d gifted you among so many others, its fabric bunching in your fists, and stand there as if frozen staring into the tree line ahead. You don’t move and you don’t think; both would remind you that this is real and that you are a fool. You just allow the bitter air to swaddle your skin. 

You don’t even know if you doubt that he loves you. You don’t even know if he actually never intended to hurt you. Had there been times where all you’d done was look at him with starry eyes, and he’d look at you deciding whether or not to have you killed? 

Why are you even here? There is nothing left for you. Whatever simple joys you thought you’d found, they’re gone. You’re so far away from home, and you’ve nobody to call home. You’d left behind your beginnings of a purpose, and now the only purpose you serve is to rot away in Taehyun’s estate because you demanded that you stay here. 

All that time you’d spent worrying, and still, you walked yourself into this. You’re a joke. 

White breaths unfurl into the night air before you, floating off to join the snowflakes and heavy fog. You just watch those fluffy flakes fall for a while. 

Snow creaks under a few footsteps behind you, someone letting you know that they’re there. “You’ve gotten awfully good at sneaking around,” Taehyun says. 

You let your head fall back, sighing slowly out through your nose. Turning to him, you spit, “I understand. You were right. I got it, okay? I don’t need you to come here and rub it in.” 

Beomgyu approaches from behind Taehyun. 

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a bit, ice-hard eyes darting all over your face. “Take her back to the estate,” he tells Beomgyu. 

Glad to escape him, you begin your way on your own. You know that he’s only looking at your break down as pathetic. Perhaps it is, but recognizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Wind lapping at your wet cheeks have them stinging as you walk. 

Beomgyu awkwardly trails behind you as you follow the path that had become trodden in the time that you and Taehyun have been here, foliage and shrubbery broken down to make somewhat of a path. 

He doesn’t speak; you don’t expect him to. Instead, you break the quiet yourself, unable to stand only the sound of wind twirling between trees. “I should’ve taken that ridiculous charm thing,” you say, laughing through your tears. That hag had absolutely been able to feel what was coming with you with whatever intuition that the magic in her bones lends her. 

“But then,” Beomgyu says, “you wouldn’t know the truth.” 

That’s true. Not knowing the truth doesn’t make it untrue, but at least it spares your fragile heart. “I don’t know if I’d mind that,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it.” 

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. 

❉

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember climbing into your bed, dreading that you’ll be in your head all night, but to some mercy, you’d found sleep not long after that. 

You’d pulled yourself from bed, no matter how it had grown a gravitational pull and insisted that it’d hold you warm while you weep. If you hadn’t, you might not have gotten up at all. As a girl, you’d force yourself into the day’s routine when you had your worst days. It’s the only way that you live through it. You’d also made an effort to walk past your wardrobe. It carries so much of him: the lovely things he’d gifted you, his letters, and that book he’d lent you. It’s not that you don’t want any of these things; to wither away in your bed, to go through his things and wonder how someone who’d showered you so had meant to be your killer, to drag your feet... It’s that you can’t. 

You poke your needle through the fabric. On the cut of white fabric stretched inside the embroidery hoop, you’ve embroidered a dozen woven wheel stitch flowers of different colors and types. Your bottom aches against the hardwood flooring and your lower spine strains, but you don’t pay any mind to their complaining. You just continue to embroider the little flowers. Some are poppy, some rose, and some you’d made up just to have more to stitch. 

A knock resounds through the war room from the doorway. You look to see Taehyun there. He’s dressed in his Court attire. 

“You should get dressed,” he says. “It’s almost midnight. If you want to make it in time, you’ve got to get ready now.” 

Since when had he decided that you’re okay to go? It’s as if this elusive threat that’d he’d been so careful has up and disappeared. “You can go. It’ll take me too long to get ready.” 

Truth be told, you’d go sick seeing Yeonjun’s face, and you know without a doubt that you would. 

“It’s the solstice,” Taehyun says, stepping into the room. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

Despite how much you had wanted to see it, your heart is too apathetic for it to be worth anything now. Returning to the same faces that had seen your demonstration and no doubt now talk of it... You’d rather finish your fifth rose. “I know.” 

He hesitates, studying you while gears turn in his head. “Hadn’t you thought that something would happen on the solstice?” he says. “Come on. It’s worth seeing how this unfolds.” 

“Why? We aren’t spies anymore. I don’t care what happens in their conflict. It’s well beyond my control as a human here.” 

He grimaces, but you don’t recognize the look there to be anger, more a rigidness. He rests his hand on his sword as he always does. “Then we’ll stay here.” 

You furrow your brows. “Huh?” 

“We can celebrate the solstice here,” he elaborates. “We don’t need to do it there. Plenty of folk celebrate on their own.” 

It dawns upon you that this is his stilted attempt at comforting you. It’s the only way he knows how. You push off the ground. You couldn’t ignore this sliver, however little, of tenderness. You’re not sure if you’d ever see it again if you did. You’ll take anything to distract your mind, as well. You can’t escape the image of Yeonjun’s eyes as he’d pleaded with you from the ground. “I’m not sure Beomgyu will join us, though. He doesn’t believe in the need to celebrate the solstices.” 

“He will if I command it,” he says.  

“What, you’re going to command the poor kelpie to sit and watch a bonfire with us?” you say, imagining how he’d brood. 

The north is wickedly cold at all times, but it’s especially so after night falls. You shuffle closer to the bonfire that Taehyun had built. It’s multitudes smaller than the bonfire you’d sat around with Yeonjun, but it’s warm enough for just the two of you. You quickly shove down those tainted memories before they sting. A lump of emotion forms in your throat before you can, though. You clear it. “Is there anything special that you’re supposed to do?” 

Feeding one last log into the flame, he watches it catch. “We started this really early,” he says. “The fire is supposed to keep you warm and represent the sun’s warmth until sunrise...” He trails off, sliding the cuffs of his shirt that he’d slid up to his elbows to tend to the fire down and sucking in an awkward breath. He looks between the fire and you as though he’d not fully thought out his offer when he’d made it. 

You face your palms to the orange flame, letting the roiling waves of heat warm them. “It’s nice like this.” 

The flame sizzles and pops, spewing sparks and eating up the wood, for a few long moments. You’re not in a talky mood, and Taehyun doesn’t seem to know where to begin on conversation with you that isn't functional. No snow falls around you, and any wind is cut by the estate. This—a place to lose yourself to your mind—is both the thing you need and what you most should not have. 

Taehyun stands watching the fire twirling, his arms over his chest.  

“Is your shoulder healing fine?” you ask, once the air starts feeling a bit heavy with the weight of the prolonged quiet. “Are my stitches holding up fine? No infection, or anything?” 

His gaze flicks up to you. “You stitched it up pretty well,” he answers. “I saw the flowers you were making. You’ve got a good hand.” 

Frowning, you say, “You didn’t say it’s not infected...” 

“It’s not infected,” he says. 

That could be a lie or the truth, you know. But... this sort of deception, you’re more comfortable with. Your human mind can pick up on these subtleties, can catch the careful intonation of somebody trying to hide something behind a lie. “Could I see it?” you ask him. 

He hesitates, expression flat as his eyes convey the extent of his consideration. “You can.” He grabs at his tunic, the fabric the only thing his frost blood even needs to wear out in the cold, and pulls it over his head. 

You swallow hard and fight the flush to your cheeks at the sight of his scar-flecked flesh, his muscled abdomen disappearing as he turns around to show you his back. When you’d last seen his bare skin, you’d been so high on your fear and adrenaline that you’d barely flinched.  

Blinking, you focus on the arrow puncture at his shoulder blade. It’s done some healing, but tinged by an angry red and visibly swollen around the stitches. You curse. 

Of course, he’d rather let his shoulder rot away than admit that he needs any more of your help than he’d been forced to allow. That would require admitting that he’s not just an impenetrable wall of ice. “That is definitely infected,” you say. “Were you just going to let that kill you? Infections like that are beyond help once they get in your bloodstream.” 

“I’ve had infected wounds before,” he says, preparing to put his shirt back on. “This one is nothing. It’ll take a bit longer, but... It’ll heal up fine.” 

You grab his arm. “Just let me clean it a bit,” you insist. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’re not scared that it’s gonna hurt, are you?” 

Sighing, Taehyun says, “I thought you wanted to enjoy the solstice.” 

The hopeful girl you’d been had wanted that, but now it’s just a reminder of everything you don’t want to remember. You wave your hair in the air dismissively. “We did. Come on.” 

You find a bucket to fill with water and cloth along with some stash of ancient spirits in the kitchens, their containers lined with a layer of dust so thick that you know they’re left over from Taehyun’s father. He watches you gather it all. 

You beckon him to turn and show you his shoulder again. He does, bracing his arms on a counter and letting his head hang. You spill out some of that strong liquor into the wound. You’re not really sure if it’ll work as a disinfectant, but as a girl you’d seen an older woman pour it over her wound once, and it’s all you know. 

Gently dabbing at his shoulder now with the water-soaked rag, swollen except for where the stitches sinch it, you say, “You should’ve been going gentle on this thing.” 

Taehyun doesn’t make any fuss as you prod at the wound. “I had more important things to concern myself with,” he says plainly. You press the wet rag to the wound and hold it there, and he begins to try and redirect the conversation to anything other than about himself. “What did the prince say to you at Court?” 

Your stomach drops. “It was nothing.” 

“I know that’s not the truth,” he says, picking up his head to try and look over his shoulder at you. “Tell me the truth.” 

You take the long, torn strips of cloth and begin wrapping it around the expanse of his broad shoulders in a sloppy and amateurish wrap. As long as it shields the wound, it’ll work. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “There’s plenty that you lie to me about. You even lied about this.” You tap his shoulder. 

Turning now that you’re done, Taehyun eyes you. You don’t know if he’d been able to hear anything over the sounds of Court or if he’d heard it all with his better hearing ears. You can’t tell which it is.  

“I’ll hear it from some Court gossiper anyway. I think you’d prefer to tell me it yourself.” 

The thought of that scene being a topic of Court gossip makes you ill, but you know that it’s true. The folk love the show, especially one that includes a prince of Faerie on his knees in front of a human. Red-hot embarrassment takes a leisurely stroll up your spine. Your biggest fear has taken flesh in the cruelest way possible.  

Well, if he’s going to end up knowing anyway... You’d prefer it’s from your mouth. You don’t know what sort of conflated half-truths the folk might come up with, since they have no more idea what happened than what they saw. “He was supposed to kill us,” you say, chest too tight to explain it in any depth. “Or, at least, find out who we are, so that we could be killed.” 

Taehyun doesn’t look shocked. He nods. “So, they anticipated our arrival, then. The odds had been stacked against us from the beginning.” 

You nod. Would you have been able to escape? If things had never become entangled between you and Yeonjun, would you and Taehyun lived beyond the first day? Taehyun is strong and you know that he’s no doubt survived plenty in his life, but you’d have been caught completely unaware. “Yeah.” 

“I told you that he’d show you his colors eventually.” 

You want to fight him on that, but you can’t. You have nothing to say. He’d been right. 

What’s left for you now that he has?  

END PART 4

a/n: RAHHH! like i said, this part gave me a bit of grief because part 3 was left so open ended—i had so many options and paths i could follow, but ultimately, i chose this one! how do we feel?

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

[wellcomeoneileen]

Why does Randy Harrison deserve compensation? What happened to him? You can DM me if it's not okay to be public

Hey! No it’s totally okay.

⚠️disclaimer - I am a NEW fan and so I am NOT the most informed at all. Other people like @brian-kinney-apologist like really know shit. I initially found things bc watching S4 made me go oh there is bts shit going on for sure and googled, and then when I got on tumblr I saw a bunch of posts talking about it, too.

Lots of older sources are harder to find now bc they didn’t do a digital preservation or the website is expired, but here is what I’ve found, from heated Advocate articles whilst the show aired and then from more measured reflections from podcasts around 2016.

Randy was young and it was his first TV show - when he started he didn’t even have an agent, and really didn’t know what he was getting into. He had done sex scenes on stage and thought that he was pretty prepared for what was to come.

However, he has stated he ended up feeling pretty objectified, such as hearing “we need more shots of Justin’s ass” regularly or expressing a desire to not to go-go dancing type scenes (King of Babylon upset him) and then even more go-go dancing being added (S2 Sap scenes). He was also told to act less gay by casting directors for the show, and to “try to be more butch because Justin isn’t out of the closet”

The show pre-dates intimacy coordinators and there have been allusions, including from the actresses Thea and Michelle, that the sex scenes could be uncomfortable to film.

There was BTS clashing, with producer Tony Jones !!reportedly!!! Saying that Randy was a bitch to work with and “showrunners” “reportedly” saying they would never work with Randy again. There are two interview clips, one from when the show was airing, and one from 2016, when CowLip say they wanted all actors to be comfortable on set, and in BOTH clips , like 15 years apart, Randy kinda like laugh/roll his eyes and Gale looks at him very bemusedly. They had bigger reactions in the ~2003 clip.

He was openly pretty angry as the show went on. He told the Advocate that he would never be friends with or respect Justin if real. He disapproved of the Britin relationship. He said he had to fight to include the scene of Justin topping Brian, which was very important to him. Leading into season 5 he stated he hoped Justin was killed off by getting hit by a truck (obviously being glib, but like he was mad lol)

He has said that lots of scenes needed to be reshot because he struggled to do them so much, like the Cody sexy gun scene that made him so uncomfortable, and then either he or Gale said S5 sex scenes were reshot a lot because they just couldn’t stop laughing at that point anymore.

Peter and Scott recently have said the only time anyone asked for actors’ opinions was right after season 1 ended, and to ME they sounded kinda cheeky about it, all these years later, so perhaps it was a cast sticking point? Unsure, and it wasn’t even Randy who said that. Fat grain of salt.

He has more recently reflected on this time period and expressed regret he went out the way he did, and he understands things better and honors his craft more (heavy paraphrasing!) bc he was mentally checked out by the end and wishes he had finished strong instead.

Also, the cast didn’t realize when signing on how isolated they would be from The Industry. Randy has spoken about this in an unrelated podcast, as have the actors who play Ted and Emmett. NYC or LA are where you want to be for networking, and then signing on to spend the majority of the year in Toronto negatively impacted their careers, they feel. Randy has said he had to start from scratch after the show ended, and Peter and Scott have said Showtime had no idea how to market the show nor their stars, and so they had to just watch as all the initial hype fizzled and nothing was done with them. They were contracted to work too much to seriously be involved elsewhere, while simultaneously not getting good exposure, which I IMAGINE created a dire sort of mood and morale on set. < personal interpretation and fictionalizing history.

Meaning, Randy probably at the very least FELT like he had spent five years on a show that didn’t respect him and it was largely for nothing. He has since stated he appreciates the opportunity and it is the reason he was finically secure, for which he is deeply grateful.

And then finally the fans! He had stalker(s?) and tons of creepy people and was heavily typecast and people would come up to him frequently, which made him uncomfy, and would furthermore act like he was actually Justin, which made him super uncomfy. He was kinda like Chappell Roan!! He was like hey I’m not Justin I’m a person and y’all are freaks. He has publicially declined to speak on the stalking issues, which given his vocal responses to other issues, indicates to ME that it’s pretty personal and upsetting (I mean it’s stalking it’s obviously horrible but you know what I mean). During the show he had a boyfriend that fans like tormented online and even on posters (that bit comes from Tumblr or another forum, so not like verified info on my part at all) because they shipped “Gandy” so hard. I know I’ve read on tumblr about the insane Gandy people but all I remember is they were intense and insane and negatively impacted Randy’s actual real life. Again, that’s info from fans that I haven’t read in article or heard from out of his mouth. Secondary source lol.

This point is PURE speculation, but early interviews with the whole cast were super excited, and they all talked about how excited they were for something ground breaking. By the end, people were angry or giving fluff responses, or in Peter’s case; calmly stating the show was a soap opera and that’s okay. I FEEL like everyone thought they were signing up for something more real/gritty/positive impact to society and then were like oh I’m here to look hot in this show that only moms watch to get them turned on to have sex with their husband. Cool.

Now, do I agree with that - no. But, the show audience was vastly different than expected, and the artistic direction might have been too, both of which might have really disappointed people. Esp Randy and maybe Gale. Randy was a capital T theatre person, and Gale was too and had lots of experimental work and like performance art. Randy has ALSO expressed displeasure with some theater work he did because he didn’t think it was fresh and the audience was only older wealthy white people, so we do know that this sort of thing does matter to his sense of fulfillment at work.

TLDR; had to shoot scenes he didn’t want to, several times, felt objectified on set, disagreed with his character’s direction, maybe felt like he wasn’t being listened to artistically, was cut off from other work opportunities, didn’t appear to get along with leadership, had bad fans, was young and in deep over his head, and at the very least *started* with no career or social support system.

Again!! Am not the most knowledgeable person !!! I do NOT want to spread misinformation so hopefully I’ve tagged where I’m reading into things vs actual quotes but also people who have actually been around pls feel free to say 🙋um actuallllyyyyy

[zenixstime]

LN4 \ LANDO

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Choir x Jock ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Jock. That’s what Lando is. The Stereotypical, football player; cheerleading lover, nerd hating bully, Jock. Or, that’s what everyone thought.

You walk into your Choir Class as usual, always after 6th period P.E, surprisingly, not sweating, or stinking. Not like most people can relate.

You look around and see your usual classmates, the nerdy, bullied, classmates. You used to be embarrassed by them, embarrassed that you even knew them. You got over it by Junior year, you didn’t care that you fit in, you just wanted to have fun. You walk over to your usual section, Soprano. You like to think you’re pretty talented, that you’re good enough to be in advanced choir, which you have to audition for.

You grab your seat that’s stacked up on top of other chairs, setting it in your usual spot, and throwing your bag into the corner of the room. Sitting down in the chair, you check your phone for the time.

‘God, I wish this class started already.’ Thinking to yourself, wanting to get it over with. You enjoy singing, just not after doing Physical Activity.

Your friends sit next to you, though you don’t talk or interact with them, just listening in on the conversation and waiting for class to start.

Everyone’s already sat down, which is why you’re confused to see the class door open. ‘Is it Mr. Rodrigo?’ You think, but; you just saw him in the practice rooms, that don’t block sound very well. Squinting your eyes, since you don’t have the best vision, you see him. Lando. THE Lando Norris, walking into Choir. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, you look confused.

Turning over to your friends, you ask them “What is he doing here? I thought he had like, I don’t know, football or something.” Your tone raised just a bit, sounding confused as ever.

Lando walks over to Mr. Rodrigo and they exchange a few whispers, before he walks over to the guys section.

You and your friends exchange a few words before you focus on Mr. Rodrigo, as class is starting. You all start working on the song you’re going to perform at a concert for Halloween called ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay.

After class is done, you grab your bag and walk out, accidentally bumping into Lando. You squeeze your eyes and purse your lips together before relaxing your face and turning to him. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

He looks down at you, his eyes not showing a hint of anger or frustration, if you look closely, it kind of looks like he’s.. smiling?

“It’s okay, just don’t do it next time.” He said, his British accent ringing through your ears like you’re hitting the triangle instrument. He walks off, his bag slinging over his left shoulder and the rest of it hanging down.

You look as confused as ever, muttering “what the fuck?” to yourself. You start walking out of class, not even thinking about it.

(Time skip because I don’t know what to say AHH I’m so sorry I know this is unprofessional 😓💔)

You’re laying in your bed, your room messy since you were having a breakdown this morning about not having the right clothes to wear. Scrolling through your phone, you get a notification on Instagram.

‘Landonorris has requested to follow you’

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, you accept the follow request and follow him back. Of course his account is public. You scroll through his account, looking at his photos. Football.. football.. family.. football.. family.. vacation.. typical.

You instantly get a messaged from him, you open it and see what it says.

’‘Hey:)’‘

You panic instantly, not knowing what to say. Lando is talking to YOU. You frantically try and figure something out to say.

’‘Hey?’‘ You curse yourself silently, thinking the message sounded WAY too rude. Can’t take it back, though.

’‘What’re you doing?’‘ He messaged, his bubble popping up almost instantly after you sent your message.

’‘Oh uhm, nothing. Just chilling in bed.., how about you?’‘ Was that too much information? FUCK.

’‘Oh, me too! I was just wondering if you had the link to the song we’ll be singing?’‘

’‘I do. Here. *Link*’‘ You send the link and figure he won’t say anything after that.

’‘Thank you, cutie. ;) ’‘

“CUTIE?! CUTTIEEEE?!! AM I DREAMING? WHATEVER. SHIT I left him on seen. He won’t think anything of it, right? He didn’t mean anything by it.. what the fuck.. I’m going to bed.”

You put your phone on your nightstand and charge it, putting on your alarm and closing your eyes, soon enough falling asleep.

(PART 2??)