#happy place is a euphemism for death and giving up

[shallowrambles]

I guess the truth is we’re all a little bit in purgatory, a world where work is a redundant, rote, day-to-day grind.

Black-and-white. Unthinking. Uncomplicated. Just survival. “Pure,” so we can philosophize to our heart’s content and meditate on our own emotions.

Assigned task, completed task.

We don’t emerge whole into the real world except in glimpses, seeing the damage our careers and commerce do or the horror the govt we serve has wrought.

So we retreat again—into the metaphysical purgatory of the day-to-day. “We’ve got work to do.” If we have to do it to survive, it lessens the moral wound of it.

[catbountry]

Kill. Murder. Rape. Suicide. Pedophile. Nazi. Hitler. Covid. Dead. Death.

When's the last time you watched a YouTube video or a TikTok video where some or even all of these words were censored, either by being bleeped out like what used to be reserved solely for swear words, or having sound-alike stand-ins (sewer slide, PDF File) or euphemisms (unalive)?

I'm not sure exactly where "unalive" came from, but I want to say it was in a similar batch of Roblox screencaps of children trying to creatively get past wordfilters by telling people to "go commit die." And I guess Fortnite played a role as well. Apparently "game-end" is attributed to a short film covered by Pyrocynical which was made to be family friendly, but I swear I have this memory of official Epic Games promo material using the term and I don't know if this real or not. I don't play Fortnite and I never will, so this was not considered important enough to really properly commit it to memory.

EDIT: It came from a Spider-man cartoon where Deadpool used it in an incredibly in-character way. Thanks, Guy I'm Going to Reference Later in this Post.

It's an incredibly childish word. It seems like it was one that used to be used ironically until TikTok, being owned by a Chinese company where censorship laws are much stricter than here in the U.S., decided that words like "dead" and "death" and even "hole" were too dangerous of something, causing users to start getting creative and adapting these absurd euphemisms and they became so popular that people started using it who weren't even using it as a cheeky way to get around these word filters, on other sites that didn't have these same restrictions.

YouTubers can say the word "death" and "die" and (usually) don't have to worry about demonitization. The self-censoring that I remember starting on this very website, done as a way to either prevent posts being found through search or possibly offending the most sensitive of followers, is now being used by users to get around the restrictions set by giant faceless corporations to protect The Children, whose parents are giving them unrestricted access to the internet at younger and younger ages. I watched a video from an adult YouTuber crying about Newgrounds-style animations that were on YouTube about My Little Pony and about how traumatized he was by these, while also insisting he had good parents.

Good parents would not have let you have unrestricted access to 2012 YouTube unsupervised at age seven. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I gotta be the one to tell you this. I'm sure your parents are very nice people, but they could have easily used the internet to find out what kind of stuff was available on the internet. That was an oversight.

I was an adult on the internet in 2012. If I saw a parent just sit their toddler in front of YouTube, I would have asked them what the hell was wrong with them. Now, I see my cousin's children with their iPads watching videos of a faceless person playing with Paw Patrol figures, and I feel uneasy, but a little more hesitant to say something since my cousin seems well aware of the kind of place the internet is, and is always nearby when his kids are watching things. The internet was a constant presence for me in middle and high school, in the late 90's to early 2000's, and I saw some shit I should not have seen. But the trade-off was that I had a space where I could express myself openly, a place my mom didn't care about and wouldn't see. I clicked things I know I shouldn't have because I was a dumb, curious kid, and my mom was happy to not have to deal with me and have me be quiet, I guess. And my cousin is only a year older than I am, so I imagine our experiences on the early internet weren't that much different, considering he's also a bit of a nerd.

So this YouTuber aims his ire at the animators, who were making animations for other adult fans of the show (which he acknowledges), for daring to make edgy content of something made for children, holding up this children's media as a sort of sacred cow. For comparison, in middle and high school I was watching crude animations of frogs in blenders, stick figures bashing each other's heads into walls, and torture simulators featuring anyone from Pikachu and Elmo to Osama bin Laden. But because kids like him, kids brought up in the age of web 2.0, found these videos and watched them before their age had hit double-digits, those videos got lots of views from other children. And from that, we got Elsagate and Finger Family, videos that are still around but have mutated from featuring Elsa and Spider-man to now featuring Huggy Wuggy from Poppy's Playtime, or Pomni from The Amazing Digital Circus or Bluey from, uh, Bluey. These aren't edgy animations made for and by teenagers and young adults for a laugh, they're videos presumably made by teams of adults to mass produce and fill with as much shocking, click-baity content that doesn't even require being able to understand English to understand the plot, all to get watch-time to make money. There's no artistic merit to it. It's neither satire, nor is it an earnest expression of love for the source material, the latter of which, whether you like it or not, is where most rule 34 falls. No, these videos have only ever been content slop since this started around 2016. And this shit is still happening.

That same YouTuber has made a video about how we need to stop saying "unalive," which is part of what inspired me to post this at all, and I can't help but feel like this dude takes himself way too goddamn seriously, frowning upon "commit toaster bath" and "late term fetus deletus," which my edgelord, former 4channer millennial brain finds funny (it is too late for me, lads). This dude is in his early 20's and it's really interesting seeing someone discover pretty much things I've known since I was his age, but acting like they're these huge revelations. Like yeah, I've known about media influence on culture since I was in middle school, because of the internet, which was new and unrestricted by the Standards and Practices that shackled old media like radio and television. That used to be something that pretty much everybody on the internet was aware of; it's the reason why we came here in the first place. And you are right that giant corporations are censoring people, but also, the internet being corralled into a small handful of websites makes internet culture more homogenized and disposable. People can still meet life-long friends through the internet, but the sites where I first met some of my best friends are digital ghost towns, if they still exist at all, or they've become overrun with users infected by political brainworms that make them have incredibly strong opinions on a one-off promotional video done by Budweiser with a transgender TikTok influencer. You've got better luck making life-long friends through playing in the same Minecraft server together than you do being mutuals on Instagram or Twitter. And while Discord is the closest thing I've been able to find that replicates the feeling of both forum culture and chatrooms of the past, it's got its own set of problems unique to it. I can just say "Discord kitten" and most people who use Discord will know exactly what I mean.

Whoever decided to stop teaching kids about how to be safe online should probably be shot. Facebook made putting your whole-ass name and face and location on the internet not just normal, but people will find you suspicious if you choose not to do that. God, I fucking hate Facebook so much.

He's right, though, about the social contagion effect of language. This was a concern for me on this website a decade ago, but that was all social pressure. There was no corporate mandate cracking down on people, making them type "st*pid" to get around restrictions. That was all moral peacocking, baby. People did that shit to themselves.

Tumblr nowadays feels more sane, just because those of us left after the porn ban got a couple of years to grow up and chill out. But because of the porn ban, we can only really talk about the effects of it and complain, rather than be able to post our smut openly. Human sexuality expresses itself in some genuinely weird ways; I should know, and you should probably donate to Archive of Our Own to make sure there's a space where these things can be expressed without fear of censorship to protect The Children. But "unalive" is a symptom of a much larger problem, which is to sand off all the edges of the internet to make it marketable; the free market is more than happy to cater to the whims of the CCCP if they think it can make them more money. There's a lot of people in China, after all. The internet has more people on it but they're confined to much smaller spaces. Children don't have their own spaces online, and when they do, they're not as carefully moderated, instead opting for either overworked humans overseas, or dumb robots that just filter certain words and just become an obstacle to maneuver around to tell something to kill themselves with the creativity of someone who's at a sixth-grade reading level. People in their 20's are uncomfortable with nudity and sex scenes in films, perhaps under the assumption that it's always exploitation, that these scenes can't have artistic merit and are solely there to titillate, and given the sort of dumbing down of art thanks to Marvel and Disney, this seems like the only natural result when combined with the trauma of finding things online that you shouldn't have at way too young of an age. I do not like where this is going, and it's really saying something that those brought up in a sex-negative, American puritanical mindset only start paying attention when the censorship is affecting how we talk about death, something we have absolutely no problem with glorifying in our culture.

And if you're wondering why I wrote yet another long-ass essay bemoaning the slow death of internet culture and the Weenie Hut Jr's-fication of younger generations, well, it's because of this screenshot from 4chan.

Now if only they could bully out the tradcaths.

[callsignmercy]

I'm sorry - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Prompt: Rivals to friends to enemies to friends to lovers in 8.5k words. That’s it. That’s the entire fic.

Words: ~8.5k

Warning: near-death experience, Jake being a dick. Rooster being the best friend we deserve. Phoenix being extra supportive and ready to kick Jake’s ass any moment. Language. Happy ending. Lots of hate before that. Idk anymore.

Note: found a tweet that said « enemies to lovers isn’t enough. I need rivals to friends to enemies to friends again to lovers. » So here’s the whole experience in a Hangman fic for you. I’m currently writing three (3) other fics about Rooster, Iceman and Bob but decided to write an entirely different and super long one about hangman because HANGMAN. but anyway here it is people. This is highly unedited. please don’t copy, repost or translate my work. English is not my first language so apologies for the easy vocabulary and bad grammar. Enjoy!

Y/C/S: Your callsign.

————————————————————————

To say Jake Seresin was getting on your nerves was a euphemism. He was infuriating. Always had to be the best at anything and everything. Being the best in the air wasn’t sufficient for him. Oh no, on the contrary. He had to be the best in class, in the air, even at darts and pool and even had to be the one that drank the most without being actually drunk. What the hell is wrong with him?

You were rivals at Top Gun. Being in the same class as him had its ups and downs. You could actually thank him for being so stubborn and competitive as it gave you will to be better at what you do. And yet he was always better than you. But you didn’t abandon the fight. You didn’t really mind in the end. Being at Top Gun already was an achievement. Even if it meant coming up second in the end.

The thirteen weeks of the program were almost coming to an end and you doubted you could top Hangman before the end but it wasn’t really a big deal for you. Even though it was for him.

“Guess I’ll be winning this after all Y/C/S! Don’t get mad though you did well honey.” He said with a smirk. “Why thanks darling, I’ll be sure to kiss your ass on the way out.” You replied sarcastically. He smiled brightly and you rolled your eyes at him.

--

You all headed to The Hard Deck at the end of the day to get some fun time together.

You were nursing your beer at the bar, talking with Penny, as you usually did. “So, almost done with Top Gun then?” She asked. “Yup, only one week left and I’m out. I don’t know if I’ll get a new assignment at the end of this though. I kinda want to go back to the warriors, I really liked it back there. Had friends and everything.” “You didn’t make any friends those past twelve weeks?” “Why do you think I’m here every Friday night sitting at the bar and talking to you?” “Ouch.” She replied. “That’s not what I meant, you know it.” You smiled. “I know but come on, none of them are your friends now?” “They’re rivals mostly. Hangman still gives me a run for my money every time we’re in the air.” “You should stop considering them rivals and become a little more friendly, some of them might become more than that?” “If you’re talking about getting in a relationship that’s a hard pass. I’m not jeopardising my future and my potential second place for any of those men. What I am saying, men, they’re still boys. Immature ones on top of that.” “Yeah well Jake’s looking at you.” She smirked.

Your head shoots up meeting the eyes of Hangman, smiling at you.

He puts down his beer and comes over to you.

“Why is he coming here?” You ask Penny, starting to panic. “I don’t know, but you’ll find out.” She smirks.

“Alright Y/C/S, I’m tired of seeing you all alone every Friday night when we come here. Come play darts with me and Coyote.” He says and offers you his hand. “We’re rivals Hangman, why do you care?” You ask, suspicious, narrowing your eyes. “Alright, how about we call a truce. We can be friends from now on and still fight each other up in the air. But you seem like a good person and I wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to be friends with a nice and outgoing person like you.” You seem genuinely surprised by his words and think for a few seconds before taking his hand and smiling. “Alright Hangman, lead the way. Maybe I’ll finally beat you at something.” You smirk. He lets out a loud laugh before replying. “In your dreams.” You roll your eyes and follow him to the dart board where Coyote was waiting for you both.

“Ever played darts?” Jake asks. “Of course I have, who do you take me for?” “Okay then, you start.” He replies.

After a few games that all ended in exactly the same way, meaning Jake came first, you second and Coyote third, you gave up and went to the bar to get yourself and the guys another round of drinks. “Looks like It’s always gonna be this way uh? Me first and you second.” He smirks as he comes up to you at the bar. “Alright Hangman I get it, you’re the best in everything that exists. Happy?” You reply sarcastically. “Very.” He gives you a bright smile in response. You hand him his beer and go back to the back of the bar to give Coyote his. “Okay, how about a game of pool?” He ask. “So you can win and rub it in my face? Pass.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

“What if I let you win?” “It’s not fair, I want to win the normal way, just by being better than you.” “Oh come on, I just want to have friendly activities, I don’t want you moping around on your own like the other friday nights.” He whines. “I was not moping around, I was talking with Penny. She happens to be very interesting and very interested in what I have to say. Thank you very much.” “Alright, I’m sorry, I just want to be your friend. What do you want to do then?” “It’s okay we can play pool if you want, but I don’t want you to let me win.” “Deal.” He replies with a bright smile.

The night ended in yet another second place on your part and a first place on Jake’s but you didn’t really mind. Jake was nice to you and he offered to be your friend which was a nice change in your life. Even though you were still rivals at Top Gun, you were friends on land and that’s all that mattered.

--

The week went by pretty rapidly and you were sad when you woke up that Friday morning. You knew it was your last day being with all of them and you were not ready to let them all go. That last class taught by Warlock, that last dogfight up in the air, those last risky manoeuvres, all of those you’ll deeply miss at the end of that day and could only hope you’ll be back one day.

Before you went up in the air that last afternoon, walking side by side with Jake and Javy, you thought about all the memories you would bring back with you. You stopped by your jets and looked at them. “Well, last flight together boys. Try not to kill me. I’ll see you on the ground.” You smiled. “Try to make this one count guys.” Javy answered. “May the best fighter pilot win.” Jake winked at you and you rolled your eyes as per usual. “You know you should really stop doing that, one day you’ll get stuck with your eyes back there.” Jake grinned. You chuckled and rolled your eyes again before turning back and walking to your jet to check it before take-off.

Dogfighting was thrilling as usual and even though you gave it all, Jake managed to win the fight yet again. Leaving you in second place, not without a smile on your face.

The party that followed the last class was nice and seeing everyone happy made you incredibly emotional. After getting your diplomas and taking the class photos  Jake came up to you and gave you a hug, congratulating you for those thirteen weeks spent being rivals with you.

“You really gave me a run for my money and I really appreciate the fact that you accepted to be friends in the end. I’m really proud of you and I hope we can see more of each other in the future.” He says with a genuine smile. “Thank you for all of this, and for being my friend. Did you get your assignment yet?” “Yeah, I’m going back to Lemoore and the vigilantes. What about you?” “Well looks like we’re going to see each other a lot more than you think.” “You’re coming to Lemoore too?” Yup, same squadron as you pal.” You smile. “Really?” He asks, hopeful, and you nod. “They want me in the vigilantes.” Jake isn’t able to contain his happiness and engulfs you in a tight hug. “Oh God, I’m so happy! You can’t imagine how sad I was to be letting a friend like you go back to Virginia while I was on the other side of the country.” “Easy Cowboy!” You laugh as he still wasn’t letting you get out of his arms.

The party came to an end and you were all headed to The Hard Deck for a last night together before going back to your assigned squadrons. You played a few games of darts and pool with Jake and Javy before eclipsing yourself to go sit on the beach. You looked at the stars and thought about those thirteen weeks and the people you’ll be leaving behind. You were happy to be stationed with Jake and Javy at Lemoore and even more to be on Jake’s squadron. You knew you’d make a great duo together.

“Thought I’d find you here.” You heard the familiar voice of your future wingman coming toward you and you smiled to yourself.

“Why are you here on your own?” He asks. “Just getting some fresh air. Thinking about it all.” You reply with an absent-minded smile on your face. “You know we’re not leaving each other right? You’ll still see my incredibly handsome physique everyday from now on.” You chuckled and nudged his side playfully. “Alright come here.” He said and offered you his chest to rest on. “I got a question.” He asks and you hum in response. “Last week you said that Penny listened to whatever you had to say to her, how come since last week you never said anything to me since? Like nothing really personal that you might have said to Penny.” He asks, concerned. “Because I don’t trust you to keep my secrets.” You smile.

“Oh wow okay, very nice.” He rolls his eyes. “No you don’t understand. We’ve been rivals for thirteen weeks, Penny and I were just casually chatting on Friday nights, I’m not going to see her again before a long time, probably ever. I trust her not to divulge anything I said to her and even if she did, who would know me? You, I still had a week left being your friend slash rival and I didn’t know if I could really trust you with my secrets. Let’s be honest you could have been making fun of me and repeating them to everyone just to ruin my reputation or jeopardise my second place.” You explain.

“Alright, you’re probably right. I shouldn’t force you to say anything to me but know that if you need, I’ll always be there to listen and help if I can.” “Thanks Jake, that’s very nice of you. I appreciate the gesture.” “You’re welcome Y/C/S.”

A few days later you landed in Lemoore with Jake and Javy and a few others of your Top Gun class.

“Well boys. Here we are. Back at it again.” “Well, I’ll see you soon guys. Please don’t die and good luck with whatever comes your way I guess.” Javy bid you goodbye before heading to his own squadron. “You too buddy.” Jake replies.

“Well here we go, Y/C/S. Ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be Hangman. Show me the way.”

--

A few months passed since the end of Top Gun and you and Hangman were by far the best wingmen in the squadron. Being Top Gun graduates gave you the skills and aptitudes to be the winning team every time.

Most of your jobs consisted in flying and keeping track of enemy aircrafts and carriers. Yet after many months flying side by side together you were called on an important mission.

The mission wasn’t difficult as much as it was important. You were to collect data on enemy carriers who were seemingly too close from the Californian coast.

You went up in the air with Jake and headed toward the sea in a few minutes only.

“Do you see it Hangman?” “Yes I do. What do you think it’s doing here?” “No idea. Wait I got two aircrafts on my radar. Control, are they with us?” “Negative Y/C/S, no other F-18 are flying near your position.” “You think they’re enemy aircrafts? What would they be doing here? Do they want to cause a war or something?” You say to Jake. “No idea Y/C/S. Stay alert.”

Suddenly the enemy aircrafts came flying your way and passed very close to your own jets. “Jesus fuck. What the hell? Control, what do we do?” “They are not with us, I repeat they are not Americans. You can counter if anything happens.” “Copy control.” You reply. “Hangman you with me?” “Affirmative Y/C/S.” “Alright let’s see what they want. I’m going to try and get close to one of them.” “Be careful Y/C/S.”

You approached one of their jets and started signing to ask them who they were and why they were here but they ignored you. Jake was right behind you as the other aircraft dropped behind Jake. “Y/C/S, they’re getting into fight positions.” “yeah I saw that, break left on three. One, two, three.” You and Jake break left and the enemy aircrafts follow your paths.

The dogfight starts as you try to get them off you but they don’t seem to budge. “Control, we’re probably going to need some help here.” “We’re sending you backups, they should be here in a few minutes, hold tight.” You started panicking when you saw the two aircrafts behind you seemingly trying to shoot you down and asked Jake for help. “Hangman, they’re on my tail, get them off me.” You tried several manoeuvres, trying to get the jets off you but you received no answer from your wingman.

“Hangman, where are you?” Still no response. With an agile manoeuvre you managed to get behind one of them and shoot him down but the other didn’t seem to be as easy to get off you. “Hangman!” You screamed as you heard the tone and froze from the realisation that your time had probably come but you managed to pull the ejection handle and shot through the sky.

The panic attack started as you were actively trying to search for another aircraft in the sky, Jake’s jet, but could only see one, the one that just shot you down. “Control to Y/C/S are you okay? I repeat, are you okay?” “Yes control, I’m alright. Can you come pick me up?” “They’re already on their way, hold tight Y/C/S.”

It wasn’t long before you hit the ground and you barely had enough time to pack up your parachute before the medical team came to get you back to base. But what you could only think about was where the hell was your wingman. Had he been shot down? Was he dead?

You landed on base and walked up the take-off and landing runway up to the hospital to get checked out. Suddenly you stopped dead in your tracks as you read the name of Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin on his aircraft. The jet was here, and in perfect condition. So he wasn’t dead. He left you on your own up there. He left you there to die.

You went to get checked out and got out after a couple hours and headed to your admiral’s office to give him a report on what you saw and what happened.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, come in.” You entered and saluted the admiral. “I’m here to give you my report on the mission and its outcome Admiral.” “Go on.” “At 10:00 Lieutenant Seresin and I went up to get information on the position of the enemy carrier near our coast and noticed two enemy aircrafts on our territory. I contacted the tower to get information on those jets and after getting confirmation that they were not American I tried to get in contact with them but was left with no response on their part. We noticed with Lieutenant Seresin that they were getting into fighting position and after getting cleared by control we tried to fight them back. At that point I lost communication with Lieutenant Seresin. I managed to shoot down one of them but was left alone and the other jet caught me and shot me down. I had to eject and called control for immediate assistance to which they replied and came to get me back to base. I got cleared by the medical staff and came straight to you sir.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. You may go.” “Sir, can I ask, where is Lieutenant Seresin?” “He came back before you were shot down, he might be somewhere on base.” “Thank you Sir.” You replied with a salute before leaving his office.

You went down to the changing room to get a quick shower and get changed before getting into a fresh flight suit as yours was drenched in sweat from your rocky beginning of the day.

A few minutes later, you went to the mess to get some lunch. It wasn’t before you got back to the tarmac that you saw Jake, doing the last checks before getting back on his jet. You approach him with a death glare.

“Were you going to come check on me?” You ask bitterly. He didn’t reply. His expression seemed to be a mix of sadness and terror. “I only have one question Jake. Why?” He tried to speak, he tried to say sorry but no sound came out of his mouth as tears pooled in his eyes. “You left me on purpose up there? If I didn’t ask you before, now I know why your callsign is Hangman. Leaving people out to dry. At the mercy of heartless people up there. I knew I couldn’t trust you with my secrets. Now I know I can’t trust you with my life. From now on I never want to see you again.”

Tears made their way up to your eyes but you turned around before Jake could see them. You went back to the Admiral’s office and knocked on his door.

“Come in.” You entered and saluted. “What can I do for you Lieutenant Y/L/N?” “If it’s not too much trouble I would like to get my old post back at the Golden Warriors in Virginia, Sir.” “What guided your decision?”

“I came to the realisation that California might not be made for me after all.” “Are you sure?” “I am Sir.” “Alright. I’ll make some calls and get you back to Virginia. We’ll miss you here Lieutenant, you were a great asset to this squadron.” “Thank you Sir, for everything.” You saluted and left the admiral’s office.

You went back to your quarters to pack your belongings. After an hour, the Admiral called you back into his office. “Lieutenant, I hope your bag is ready, you’re leaving with a fret in ten minutes.” “I’m ready Sir. Thank you for everything.”

You were boarding the fret plane that was about to get you to Virginia when you saw him. Jake, a few metres away from your plane, looking at you with sadness. You looked at him and shook your head before climbing up on the plane, never to see him again.

Being back to the warriors was a joy. You met up with your old friends and comrade whom you left when leaving for Top Gun. They were so happy to see you again and so happy to find out that you came second in your Top Gun class. They knew you were posted with the vigilantes for a few months, you didn’t, however, tell them about the reason you came back to them.

“So does this mean I’m getting my best wingwoman back?” You turn to meet the voice that said this with a bright smile on your face. “Oh my God, Hi Rooster! I’m so happy to see you again!” “You too Y/C/S, it’s been too long. You’re finally back with us? Did they mistreat you or something?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “It’s complicated. You give him a small smile with your answer. “Alright, we’ll talk about it later.”

As it was friday evening when you came back, you comrades and you were headed to the bar as usual. “Hi Y/N, it’s been so long! Where have you been?” Lila, the bartender asks you. “Hi Lila, I was stationed in California but I’m back for good now.” You smile at her. “Good to know, the usual for you guys?” Everybody agrees and Lila gets to work as you head toward the pool table with the rest of the guys.

“So tell me all about what happened. There has to be an excellent reason for you to be back otherwise you would have stayed back in Lemoore.” Rooster asks you as he takes the pool sticks and hands one to you. “Alright, alright, I almost died.” You reply, sighing. “What?” Rooster says, shocked.

“Yeah, my wingman left me with two enemy aircrafts and I had to eject after getting toned. I almost died this morning.” “This morning?” “Yeah it happened at 10 o’clock I got back and asked Hangman for explanations which he couldn’t give me so I went to see the Admiral and asked to come back to my old squadron and he accepted.”

“Wait, Hangman left you up there?” “Yeah you know him?” “Who do you think gave him the callsign? I was with him at the navy academy.” “Yeah well, I thought he was my friend, turns out I was wrong. I told him I never wanted to see him again.” “You did good, and I’m so glad you’re here Y/C/S, I missed you.” He gives you a genuine smile and you start your game as the beers arrive at your tables.

Going back to the Golden Warriors was the best decision you took in a while. You truly felt at home there. You knew you could count on your comrades and they could count on you.

--

The year after, Rooster went to Top Gun too and decided to be assigned back to the warriors which felt like a relief to you as he was your closest friend there. Following Bradley’s return, you and Rooster were stationed abroad for a few years as wingmen.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Y/C/S! Happy birthday to you.” Your whole squadron sang in unison in honour of your thirtieth birthday and you smiled brightly at them.

“So how is it being thirty?” Rooster asks you. “Well not a great change if you ask me. I’m still surrounded by the best people there are. Even six years later I’m still not tired of hanging out with you guys. As Rooster was about to reply both of your phones rang.

“Hello?” “Lieutenant Y/L/N, this is Vice Admiral Simpson. You’ve been called back to Top Gun for a top secret mission. You are to be on base at 0900 in two days.” “Copy Sir.”

You hung up the phone at the same time as Rooster and turned to face him. “I’ve been called back to Top Gun, I have to leave tomorrow.” He says. “Do you really think you’re going alone?” You smirk and he gives you a bright smile in response.

The next day you pack your bags and go to the airport to get on a plane for Miramar. “Hey you!” You exclaim when you see Bradley coming up to you. “How you doing Y/N?” “I’m good, I can’t wait to go back there, it’s been so long.” “What do you think we’re gonna do there?” “I don’t know but I intend to find out and I’m not going back to Virginia  before we succeed on this top secret mission.”

“Make it two.” “Who do you think will join us there? This can’t possibly be just the two of us.” “Well I think there’s a girl that I was at Top Gun with that’ll join us, her name’s Phoenix. And well, maybe you know who else.” “Yeah don’t tell me about it.” You reply, losing your smile.

“It’s been six years Y/C/S, maybe he’s changed.” “Or maybe he’s still the exact same Roo.” He gives you a sad smile when the voice calls for your flight to board.

“There’s no comparison, I really prefer to be the one flying, this thing was way too long.” You exclaim arching your back to try and relieve the pain that developed during the hours you sat on the uncomfortable plane seat. “I agree, Y/C/S.” “Why couldn’t we take a fret to fightertown uh?” “Because it’s a top secret mission Y/C/S, people can’t know where we’re going, remember?” “Ah yeah, right. Well how about we go to The Hard Deck  to end the day before tomorrow uh?” “Let’s go!” Rooster replies.

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” A woman’s voice exclaimed. “Ah that should be Phoenix, the girl I told you about.” “This is how I find out you’re stateside?” “Yeah I just thought I’d surprise you.” “Uhm.” Phoenix uhmed as she took her shot at pool and struck Bradley in the stomach with her pool stick. “I guess I surprised you back.” “It’s good to see you.” “Good to see you too.”

“Y/C/S this is Phoenix, Phe this is Y/C/S. We’re together at the warriors.” “Nice to meet you Phoenix.” You smile, giving her your hand to shake. She shook your hand with a smile. “You too.” “I hope Rooster’s not giving you too much trouble back there.” “He’s alright, I have to shake him up from time to time, you know.” “Oh believe me I know. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have won Top Gun right, Bradshaw?” She grinned and you chuckled.

“Bradshaw. As I live and breathe.” Oh you knew that voice alright. The smug voice of your once best-friend, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. You rolled your eyes and kept on discussing with Phoenix, hidden behind her figure. Jake hadn’t seen you yet, too focused on messing with your wingman. “Hangman.” Rooster deadpanned. “You look… good.” “Well I am good Rooster. I am very good. In fact I am too good to be true.” He said with a smirk and everybody shook their heads and rolled their eyes in response. 

“So…” Payback intervened to ease up the tension. “Anybody know what this uh- special detachment is all about?” “Well, mission's a mission.” Jake answered. “They don’t confront me. What I wanna know… who’s gonna be team leader. And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me.” “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Rooster replied, not missing a beat. Your heart dropped, hearing the word come out of Rooster’s mouth, making you relive the moment once again. At that point Phoenix had moved and you were in full view of Jake but when he saw you, his expression didn’t change one bit. Some of them knew what he had done which made the moment uncomfortable for everyone but nobody said anything.

Fanboy, who wasn’t aware of your past with Jake oohed in the background, making everybody stop on their track but Jake’s smirk remained on his face nonetheless. “Well anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you ain’t it Rooster? You’re snug on that perch waiting for just the right moment… that never comes.” Jake replied, not to appear weak after Rooster’s comment. Rooster knew better but to reply to Jake after that and held his tongue. “I love this song.” Jake said and moved from the table.

You and Phoenix approach Rooster, still looking at Jake. “Well he hasn’t changed.” Phoenix says. “Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Rooster replies, looking back at you, making sure you were alright after their exchange.

After that, Rooster headed toward the jukebox to unplug it and piss off Jake for not listening to his favourite song and sat down at the piano. “I hope you’re okay. Rooster told me what happened to you with Jake when we were at Top Gun together.” Phoenix says to you. “I’m alright. But trust me, I won’t let him be team leader if that’s the last thing I ever do.” “I’ll help you, we can’t follow someone like that.”

“Hi Y/C/S.” Coyote came up to greet you with a small smile on his lips. “Hi Javy, how are you doing?” “Well, I’m alright, I’m glad to see you again after so long, I’m sad you didn’t come say goodbye when you left.” “Yeah well, you know, life happened.” His expression saddened but you gave him a soft smile and a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye, Javy, I took a quick decision and didn’t look back before I left.” “It’s alright, I understand.” He replied.

Rooster began to play the keys to Great Balls of Fire and Phoenix beckoned you all to go join Rooster.

--

The next morning at 9am you were all on base as asked by the vice admiral. Jake hadn’t talked to you at The Hard Deck last night and hasn’t laid eyes on you ever since you all arrived this morning. You didn’t know how to feel. You were torn between sadness of seeing your old friend not wanting to talk nor apologise to you but you were also relieved that he didn’t because you wouldn’t know how to react and you were scared to fall down in tears in front of him.

But in the end all you wanted was to know why you weren’t important enough for him to let alone to die.

—

“I’m dead, dickhead!” Phoenix said. You had to admit, seeing Hangman leave Phoenix and Bob on their own during dogfighting had a bitter taste and reminded you of your near death experience. You still couldn’t figure out why he would leave people out to dry like that all the time, why he had this need to escape danger and then save the day in the end just to appear like the hero of the day when all he did was flee.

You were about to go up for dogfighting with Payback and Fanboy when you heard Phoenix shout after Hangman. “You gonna do that everytime? Risk everyone’s life like that just to protect yourself? We’re a team up there Bagman. I know you almost killed Y/C/S six years ago and I won’t let you pull that stuff again with another one of us.I’m going to protect them by not letting you be team leader, believe me on that.” She pointed a finger at him during her speech and he didn’t say a word in return. She walked away as soon as she ended her rant and headed back to the rec room to meet the others.

You went up and waited for Maverick to show up with the guys. “Guys, you see him?” “Negative Y/C/S.” Suddenly you see Maverick drop down right in front of you, your jet facing his, coming at you. You wanted to take a shot but you also wanted to avoid getting toned so you dropped down to escape.

“Guys I need you on my right for this, I’ve got an idea.” You say to your wingmen. After turning around and getting chased by Maverick for a few minutes you managed to slow down and invert your plane so that you could get behind him and take your shot while Payback and Fanboy shot up in front of his jet to surprise him.

“That’s a kill Mav!” You exclaim out of breath. You heard Payback and Fanboy screaming of joy in their jet and couldn’t help but laugh. You were ordered to go back to base and turn your jet around, back to the tarmac. You saw Phoenix and Rooster running up to you to congratulate you as you were the first to shoot Maverick down all day. Even Jake couldn’t manage it.

--

After a few days, Jake still hadn’t said a word to you nor looked at you and you started to feel sad that he lied to you about being important to him. You thought that if you were that important he would have explained why he left you on your own that day. But he still hadn’t dared approach you.

“You alright Y/C/S?” Rooster asked you at the end of the first week, as you were all headed to The Hard Deck for a few drinks. “Not sure.” “Is this about Hangman?” You nodded and he pursed his lips. “You know, in my opinion you should either forget about it all and move on or face the problem head on and go talk to Hangman to get answers because it seems like he won’t be the one willing to give them to you.”

“I think I just need closure. I need him to explain why he did it, that's it. After that I’ll leave him alone if that’s what he wants but I just need to know.” “Then you should go see him and get your answers because otherwise you’ll never get ‘em.” “Yeah you’re probably right.” You sighed.

“Hi Penny, how you doing?” “I’m great, I’m so glad you’re all back here. Has your week been okay?” “It has, thanks.” “What can I get you?” “I’ll take 6 beers please.” “Comin’ up.” While Penny was getting your order you took a look around the bar to see if you recognized any familiar faces in the lot, only to be met by Jake’s eyes, staring at you with sadness while holding a conversation with Coyote.

You turned back to Penny and she put down the six beers you ordered in front of you. “Open a tab for me please.” You say as you handed her your card. You headed back to the table where you sat with Rooster, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy and Bob and gave them their beers not looking back at Jake once.

As the night went on you forced yourself not to think about him but you could feel his eyes on your back and it made you uncomfortable. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and walked out of the bar to get fresh air. “It’s alright.” You thought to yourself. “It’s alright.I’m alright.” You breathed. You walked up to the beach and sat down on the sand.

You felt someone come up to you and sit down in the sand next to you. You didn’t need to turn your head to see who it was, you could smell the cologne a mile away.

“I’m sorry.” He said in a whisper. “What for?” You asked not nearly louder. “Almost killing you.” “Why did you do it?” “I don’t know.” “Well you must know something.” “I saw my life flashing before my eyes up there, I thought I was going to die and I left you when they were chasing you because it was my only chance to escape. I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was your friend.” Tears made their way up to your eyes. “I thought you were my wingman and I thought I was important enough for you to not let me die. I was right, I can’t trust you up there.” “I’m sorry.” He repeated. “It’s gonna take a whole lot more than that, trust me.” You stated as you got up and went back inside.

--

“Y/C/S, I’m appointing you team leader.” Maverick said the next wednesday. “Thank you sir.” You replied, not feeling entirely ready for the task, but proud that he believed in you nonetheless. You finished training a week early as the mission had been updated and left that morning to get on the carrier that would bring you close enough to enemy coastlines.

“Y/C/S, your two fox-trot teams?” Cyclone asked. “Payback and Fanboy, Phoenix and Bob.” They looked at you with an expression of surprise mixed with anxiousness and fear. “And your wingman?” You looked at them all. “Rooster.” He knew you would pick him as you made a great team back with the warriors.

You all got ready to get in your jets. “Don’t leave me alone up there alright?” You asked Rooster. “I promise you I won’t.” “Alright, let’s go light up some things.”

--

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat dagger one is hit!” You heard Phoenix shout through your com as you ejected from your superhornet after almost getting hit by enemy fire. You landed on the ground and quickly tried to pack up your parachute when another enemy aircraft noticed you and tried to kill you.

You ran away as fast as you could but knew your life was almost to an end when you heard a loud explosion behind you. You turned your head around, still running when you saw the enemy crashing down and saw Rooster flying away mere seconds before getting shot down. You froze on the spot, not believing what you saw and hoped Rooster wasn’t dead when you saw his seat eject from his jet and his parachute open.

You let out a sigh of relief before running up to where Rooster was going to land. You ran up to him and tackled him to the ground in a tight hug. Rooster let out a loud oof before returning the hug. “Thank you for coming to save me.” “I would never let you die Y/C/S.”

--

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Rooster whispers as you were looking at the last enemy aircraft left intact. “Yeah well, that’s the only solution we’ve got isn’t it? Nobody can come get us and if we get caught we die. So…” You walked quickly to the F-14 in the makeshift hanger and looked at the panel next to it. “Alright let me remember this.” You say, closing your eyes.

“You know how to pilot this?” “Yeah well, I got bored reading my F-18 NATOPS, so I got back to the old ones.” You shrugged. “Jesus Christ.” “Okay.” You started lighting up buttons and opened the canopy. “Once I give you the signal for the air, you’re gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to 120. When the engine starts you’re gonna pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?” You ask seriously. “Yeah.” He replies.

You flip the switch and air starts running through the pipes. “Yes!” You exclaim. “Once I’m up, store the ladder.” You say as you put your helmet back on and climb into the two-seater.

“Okay.” You say to yourself. “I hope I remember this correctly.” You add, flipping some switches and giving Bradley the signal. He does as asked and removes the pins before climbing up into the plane. “Oh my God, this thing’s so old!” He exclaims. “Alright.” You push down the stick and the plane starts moving. You get in place on the cratered runway and hope to God this will work.

“Runway’s cratered. How are we gonna get this museum piece in the air?” “I got an idea.” You reply and deploy the wings. “Why are the wings coming out Y/C/S?” You ignore him and keep pulling buttons. “Y/C/S this is a taxiway, not a runway. This is a very short taxiway Y/C/S.” You keep ignoring him and push down the stick. “You just hang on.” You say and let go of the pedal and the jet starts moving quickly. “Holy shit!” “Come on, come on, come on.” You pray to no one in particular and the plane starts going up.

As you made your way back to the carrier Bradley turned on his geolocation for the carrier to track him. “Y/C/S tally two, five o’clock low.” Bradley says to you. “What do we do?” “Okay look, be cool. If they knew who we were we’d be dead already.” You both put on your masks and tried to act normal as the enemy aircrafts got closer to you.

--

You kept fighting the two aircrafts and managed to shoot one down and make the other crash into a mountain below. “You alright Y/C/S?” Rooster asks. “I’m out of breath, this shit’s so hard to pilot. I’ll be glad to get an F-18 back when all this is over.” “I bet you do! Not sure they’ll be happy we crashed two multi-million dollar planes though.” He says and you chuckle in response.

You were finally flying above the ocean, only miles away from the carrier and you gave a sigh of relief to know this will finally be over. Only to be met with a ringing sound in the plane, warning you that an enemy plane was near you again. “Oh my God.” You whispered and looked everywhere. “Where the hell is this guy?” “He’s on our nose.” You deadpan.

You try to shoot him but nothing comes out. “Dammit! We’re out of ammo.” You say as you see a missile coming out of the enemy plane and coming straight at you. “Smoke in the air! Rooster flares!” You shout and break left. Rooster pushes the button that would eject the last flares of the plane and confuse the missile. “We’re out of flares Y/C/S!” He shouts. “Shit he’s already on us!”

You get attacked by the enemy as he tries to shoot you down with his guns. “Aaah this is not good!” Bradley screams. You do whatever is in your power to avoid enemy fire but you’re exhausted. “We took another hit!” “No no no no!” You exclaim. “We can’t take much more of this!” Rooster says after you get hit again. “We can’t outrun this guy, we gotta eject!” “What?” “We need altitude. Pull the ejection handles the second I tell you.” “Y/C/S wait !”

“Rooster, there's no other way!” You shout as you pull the stick as hard as you can and your plane shoots up almost vertically. “Eject! Eject! Eject!” Rooster tries to pull the handles but nothing happens. “Rooster pull the handle! Eject!” “It’s not working!” “Y/C/S!” He shouts.

“I’m sorry.” You kept going, slowly coming to the realisation that you were going to die. You didn’t want to eject either because you didn’t want to be responsible for Rooster’s death.

So you stayed like that. Awaiting your fate. You closed your eyes and prayed silently.

You awaited the missile that would finally kill you, saying sorry to Rooster. When you suddenly heard a loud explosion behind you. You turned your head along with Rooster to check out what just happened.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen! This is your saviour speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions and prepare for landing.” You heard the smug voice of Jake Seresin through your intercom and tears made their way up in your eyes. You didn’t dare look at him because you wouldn’t know what to do.

“Hey Hangman! You look good!” “I am good, Rooster! I’m very good. I’ll see you back on deck.” He says before heading back to the carrier as you followed.

When you crash-landed on the carrier you finally let yourself cry a little before getting out of your plane.

“Was this the kind of sorry you’re willing to accept from me?” Jake shouts through the noise as he approaches you after getting out of his plane. “Thank you.” You tell him with tears in your eyes. He hesitates but finally engulfs you in a tight hug which you reciprocate. “I’ve missed you those last six years. I’m so sorry for what I did. You can’t imagine how sorry I am and how terrified I was that you almost died.” You could feel his tears crashing on your flight suit as you hug him tighter. “I want my friend back.” He says in a whisper but you heard him nonetheless. “You got her Jake.”

You spend the two days it took you to go back stateside reminiscing with Jake about your lost six years.

That afternoon when you landed, you all headed to The Hard Deck to get a few drink to celebrate.

“Who are you looking at like that?” Phoenix asks you that evening. “Uhm?” You turn your head to her. “You look lovesick. Who are you looking at?” She grins. “No one.” You state. “Is it Hangman?” She smirks. “No.” Your eyes go wide at her words. “Oh my God, you have a crush on Jake!” She exclaims, excited.

“Shhh! Don’t tell anyone okay? I thought we were just friends but turns out I might have harboured a tiny crush on him since Top Gun…” “Why didn’t you tell him?” “Because I’m obviously just his friend and I spent the last six years being mad at him?” “Well I think you should tell him.”

“We’ll be leaving each other tomorrow anyway. What change does it make?” “Well you obviously could be happier with him than you are right now and who knows, maybe he’ll stop trying to kill you when you’re in danger.” “I’ll be going back abroad with Bradley anyway, I won’t see him for another ten years probably, so no, I’m not going to tell him how I feel.”

“Tell who how you feel?” Rooster interrupted. “Nothi-” “Y/C/S has a crush on Hangman but won’t tell him because she says it’s pointless and she won’t be seeing him for years after tomorrow.” Phoenix replied, cutting your answer short. You sighed and looked down, nursing your beer. “Well Hangman just happened to tell me the exact same thing! How crazy?” Rooster grins.

Your head shoots up to meet Rooster’s face, looking for a lie in his eyes but nothing. “What are you talking about?”

“Jake’s been in love with you since Top Gun apparently. He wanted to tell you but he didn’t, don’t ask me why, and that day up in the sky he got so scared of possibly seeing you die that he just left. And he’s held himself accountable for that for six years and now he’s just too scared to tell you so he said he’d rather be friends with you if it just kept you near him.” “God you’re both so stubborn.” Phoenix slaps her forehead.

“There’s no point, Rooster and I are leaving tomorrow, we’ll be going back to Italy or probably be posted in Guam or Hawaii or something. I won’t be seeing him for years probably. I won’t make myself sad by him rejecting me or even worse, by him saying he loves me back and me leaving him like that.” You shake your head.

“Well I hate to break it to you Y/C/S but you’ve been asked to go back to the vigilantes. It’s up to you whether you want to go back with me or you want to have a future with Hangman.” Rooster shrugs. “I- what?” You furrow your brows. “Yeah, Cyclone told me when we landed. He’s going to call you tomorrow to get your answer. You should really think about it.” Rooster grins.

“I-uh I don’t know, guys. The decision was easy before. What do I do now?” You start panicking. “Well you go get yourself another drink and tell Jake you’re in love with him. Simple as that.” Phoenix nudges you towards the bar and inevitably, toward Jake.

You take small steps toward the bar and order yourself another beer. “Go tell her!” You hear Coyote whisper to Jake behind you. “No dude I can’t, she’s leaving tomorrow I won’t see her again, what’s the point?” “I’m telling you she looks at you like you hung the moon, go tell her you feel the same or I swear I’ll do it for you.” Javy urges.

Penny hands you your beer and you turn around, facing Jake, whom Javy had pushed toward you in a desperate attempt to make him talk to you.

“Oh sorry!” You say, almost hitting Jake when you turned around. “It’s alright, can-uh can we go talk outside?” “Uh yeah, let’s go.” You start panicking.

“Y/N I-uh. I need to tell you something. I believe it’s pointless because you’ll be going back to Virginia or wherever tomorrow and I’ll go back to Lemoore but Javy believes I should tell you so…” He starts playing with his fingers, not sure what to say now. “I-uh. I like you.” He says looking up at you.

“I like you a lot. I’ve like you since Top Gun and I never told you and I regretted it for the last six years but here I am, being the better man and telling you how I feel.” Your heart is racing and tears make their way to your eyes. You don’t know what to say, you didn’t know you would ever hear him say those words to you. “Please say something.” He begs.

“I like you too Jake. I’ve liked you since Top Gun, even though I spent the last six years hating you I feel like I’ve never stopped loving you. And I also believed it was pointless to tell you but now I’m not so sure anymore.” “We’re gonna figure out a way to see each other, don't worry. I’m not letting you go again, I promise.” “It’s alright Jake, I already have a solution.” You give him a watery grin.

“You do?” “I’ve been asked to go back to the vigilantes.” “Oh God I could kiss you right now.” He smiles widely. “Yeah I wonder why you still haven’t actually.” You shrug. He looks at you with nothing but love and cups your cheeks before putting his lips on yours.

Inside, Javy, Natasha and Bradley are high-fiving and cheering seeing you two finally admitting your love to each other.

“Please, don’t ever leave me up there on my own again.” “I won’t baby, I promise.” You grin before kissing him again.

[karkkidoeswriting]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday, Karkki!

Today’s question is: Are there any sayings or phrases in your setting that would be confusing if someone used them in real life? This can be anything from swearing by a deity, to idioms referring to a setting-specific plant or animal.

Happy WBW!!! Thank you for the question! :) This is very fun one! I have come up with a lot of phrases and sayings as I've written, but I haven't gathered them anywhere, so this ended up being very helpful! I was surprised how much there was and yeah it got pretty long :D

Angusian Empire

There's couple of common swears involving deities in Angusian Empire. The official religion is Arkhonism, which worships two gods, Ylía, the god of sun, and Scadi, the god of earth, and a lot of swears appeal to them. These gods are always at odds with each other and Ylía is usually depicted as the more helpful and gentle one (though his anger is vindictive), while Scadi is portrayed as the scary one (though she's just as necessary), and it reflects in the swears.

A side note: Ylía is often referred to as masculine and Scadi as feminine, though in different context they are portrayed as different genders and just different forms from human, as they aren't believed to have fixed genders or forms.

Ylía is often appealed to for help, for example when something bad, frustrating or scary happens people often say:

"Light guide us!"/"Light!"/"Dear Light!"

Scadi is often appealed to when cursing someone:

"May Scadi's demons take you!" "May Darkness devour you!" "Rot in dirt!"

The last one implies that they shouldn't get a cremation, which is believed to be necessary for a soul to reincarnate, so it's basically the opposite of rest in peace. It doesn't directly invoke Scadi, but indirectly, as one of Scadi's jobs is to punish souls that won't reincarnate.

Ylía is sometimes appealed to in curses too. It usually has a more condemning or judgemental implication:

"May Flames of Judgement curse you!" "Sun will burn you desolate!"

There's also blessings, basically good luck wish, where Ylía and Scadi are invoked:

“May the Sun bless you with light, and the Earth give you strength to stand.” "Light will show you the way."

Dragons are/were (they are very rare nowadays) terrifying forces of nature, sort of demigods. Ylía and Scadi are both often portrayed as dragons and dragons are believed to be their avatars, executioners of their will on earth, usually in a form of punishment or destruction. Which is why they are often used in curses:

"Dragon's curse upon you!" "Dragon will bring you judgement!" "May you be purified in dragon flames!"

Dragons are also common comparisons. They are associated with power, strength, destruction, awe and massive size. Some examples how it's used:

Something is massive: "It's larger than dragon." Something is completely destroyed/wiped out: "It's like a dragon was here." Expressing awe of something they saw: "It was like seeing a dragon."

There's also a really specific curse related to Plains of Moiros in desert in Horegtos (a province in the Angusian Empire). The place is believed to be super haunted, because there was an ancient bloody battle. Like the most haunted place in the Empire. So Moiros has become a bit of a curse word that can be used on it's own or in a variety of ways, like to curse someone:

"Go to Moiros!"/"To Moiros with you!"

Or to express something is terrible/scary:

"It was like Moiros in there."

Cabalusia

Cabalusia is part of Angusian Empire, but they have local sayings in addition to the more universal ones.

"Covered in mourning stars" is an euphemism for death. Mourning start is a very small white flower, which is the first flower to bloom in spring and grows in moors too, covering them in white. There's attached symbolism about death and rebirth as it grows from the earth that's "dead" after the winter and signals the beginning of rebirth of the earth. Which is why it's used in funerals to cover the burial mounds (they cremate the body first and then bury the ashes and bones, though burial mounds are not a common practice in the Empire outside Cabalusia).

The phrase can be used to talk about death in a gentle tone:

"They are covered in mourning stars now."

But it can be also used as threat.

"You'll be soon covered in mourning stars!"

Dir'ahin

Ahinians have a very different culture from the Angusian Empire and they don't follow Arkhonism, but rather worship the Moon Goddess, and so they have very different sayings. Moon related sayings are naturally very common. The Moon Goddess is very gentle and benevolent figure, so there's not curses that invoke her.

To wish for good luck, usually when someone is leaving for a journey or about to do something challenging:

"Moon's blessing."

Ways to console someone:

"The night is gentle." "The night shines brightest."

They have a little bit different connotations, but the point is the same, the moon looks brightest and the Moon Goddess is most powerful during the night. In the first one the implication is that during darkest times the Moon Goddess and more concretely people around you will give the most solace and not leave you alone with it, a phrase often said to someone grieving. In the second one the implication is that in the darkest times the hope is brightest, and it's more of an encouragement to have hope and keep going.

Names are very important for magic and since magic is very present in Ahinian culture, there's a lot of phrases related to names. Knowing someone's True Name (name in the spirit language) gives power over them. This applies to spirits and humans alike. Powerful spells require the name of the spirit used. Names and souls are intertwined so losing your soul makes you lose your name too. So these concepts are invoked in curses:

"You shall be nameless!" "I know the name of pain/fever/frost!"

The second one is sort of a threat, basically saying they could call upon some sort of misfortune to the person they're talking to, but usually it's an empty threat and the other knows it, so really it's understood more sort of wishing ill will. If a sage would say something like that, it would be taken totally differently as there's actually a change they do know the name of the misfortune they are talking about, and it would be like actual threat, which might even put them in legal trouble. Also frost is commonly invoked, because it's the biggest threat to crops in Dir'ahin, so invoking it is wishing bad yield.

[gruesomejack]

A wide grin quickly pulled across his cheeks, and Vi hummed, bouncing on his toes for a moment, bashful and giddy. "I'm absolutely sure." Even if the plan was to bite him, he couldn't help but feel enormously happy to know Charlie was interested in him. He quickly shoved the growing guilt as far down as he could before giving the man's hand a gentle tug. "I mean it." He said as he started to walk again, "There's- Ha! There's definitely still euphemism there, but I do want to keep talking to you." Glancing over, Victory smiled again, softer. "I want to know what more we have in common."

It was terrible. He felt so young and excited holding onto Charlie's hand; he could almost forget he was pulling him towards potential death. He was a tall and delicate grim reaper, dressed in dark silk. Charlie was holding on, hoping to God he led him to paradise.

Tugging him with a little more intent, he grinned again for him and pulled him towards one of the motel doors on the ground floor. "Wait til you see this. Technically, I rent this place?" He said as he pat his pockets for the key. "I needed a place away from home, and the owner was happy just to take my money." Fishing out a keychain from his back pocket, he hummed to himself and unlocked the door. Vi stepped in and hit the light on the wall, revealing what looked like someone's bedroom rather than a dingey motel room. The walls were painted and clean, adorned with a few pictures and paintings. He'd shoved a bookshelf in the corner that was close to overflowing. The bed was made and dressed in soft linens and blankets-- A far cry from anything you'd get if you asked for a regular room. There was a rug and chair that had obviously been brought in from somewhere else, leaving the place feeling almost home-y.

"Pretty neat, huh?" Vi closed the door behind them and turned to Charlie with a warm smile. "I spend a good amount of time here..." Before he could start to overthink and stumble over his words, Vi ducked in again and stole another kiss. It was warmer this time, lingering to allow it time to shift and deepen until his arms were snaked around him. Teasing, wet tongue tickled at his lip, eagerly dipping in the moment Charlie let him.

He was unbearably sweet. The bitter taste of beer still remained on his tongue and palate, but it wasn't even close to a deterrent. Charlie was warm, and the smell of his skin and hair was as inviting as it was overwhelming. Hands moving, Victory traced his palms up the man's sides, letting one slip just under his shirt to brush at his soft skin.

His heart was pounding. Vi pressed in close until their bodies were flush and tilted to taste Charlie just a little deeper, using his forked tongue to map his pretty mouth. Lungs squeezing, he hummed and broke to breathe. He lifted his chin to bump their noses together and smiled. "Come here." He whispered and took Charlie by the wrist, pulling him towards the bed. Gentle, but firm, he gave him a tiny shove to get him seated on the edge. Vi watched him with hunger in his eyes as he straddled himself on his lap. "I took a chance on you..." He said, "Glad I did." Lifting a hand to his face, he brushed a lock of hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. "I can make you feel good..." He nearly purred and ducked to nuzzle at his cheek. "Will you let me?"

He refused dinner again. He always did. Ever since he was a child, he couldn't bring himself to sit in that dining room and watch someone be bled into crystal glasses for his father's entertainment. The spectacle left him sicker than it did hungry. He could only think of that French dish-- Ortolan. A tiny songbird bird is caught and forcefed until fat and helpless before being drowned in liquor and eaten whole. The participants of the meal were supposed to wear shrouds over their faces to hide their sin from each other and God, but his father indulged his terrible gluttony happily and in full view.

No, Victory was out instead, ready to offer an ending just as cruel to another person, just in a way he could stomach.

The bar smelled like stale beer. If he wasn't so hungry, he sometimes spent a few hours alone in a booth just to listen to the chatter of people going on about their lives. He wasn't like them, and he could only just barely pretend to be, but he held onto it, scribbling down snippets and thoughts into the notebook he carried along with him. The joy and heartache of the human species were inspirations like no other. He didn't have that time tonight, though. Despite his staunch avoidance of his father's meals, he was still hungry, and trying to put it off any longer would only leave him sick.

Vi leaned against the bartop and frowned, flicking his eyes over the floor. It was slim pickings tonight. He tried to limit himself to people he thought could survive the meal-- Or at least wouldn't be missed if they couldn't. Everyone here seemed like they had a tribe of their own. They were laughing and talking and leaning against each other in ways that made his chest twist and ache; the loneliness was nearly as bad as the hunger. Pushing himself up, he started to inch towards the door. There were always other spots he could try.

Before he could reach the door, he found his gaze pulled towards a booth that seemed different from the others. The inhabitant was alone; there were a couple of empty glasses off to the side while a half-drunk one sat in front of him. There didn't seem to be anything or anyone for him to celebrate with. He was alone, just like him. Vi hesitated, but the ache in his stomach trumped any second thoughts he had.

Approaching the booth, he let himself slide into the empty seat opposite of the young man and found himself speechless for just a moment. He'd only caught his silhouette when he'd been near the door, but up close, he couldn't help but stare. Beneath the dejected expression, Victory felt his strange heart flutter as he admired the strong structure of such a lovely face. Clearing his throat, he warmed a little and hummed, his lips pulling into a small smile.

"I could feel your heavy heart from across the bar." He said and propped an elbow on the table, placing his cheek in his hand. The English dripping from his lips was perfect, but dressed in something elegant and foreign. The rest of him seemed about the same-- From the dark half-buttoned silk shirt he wore to the shock of white-grey hair framing a youthful face, he didn't exactly fit in with the surroundings Peridot eyes peeked over shaded glasses, almost too green as they searched the man's face. His nails were filed and immaculate, as was the rest of him. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on his visible skin. If perfection was something attainable, Victory was very, very close. "You're far too pretty to look so sad. What's ailing you?"

@purposefully-lost

[papirouge]

The good samaritan complex, projection, and how to *not*throw stones while living in a house made of glass - a study

You mean, the same fragility as pro choicers calling pregnancy "torture" and saying that stating the biological & logical reality that restraining from sex resolves from unwanted pregnant is "victim blaming"?

"Because they'll [pro choicers] sit there and reblog the most horrendous things- about how pro lifers are like rapists, describing the most grueling case of pedophilia/rape, characterizing pro lifers as pro rape, "forced birhters", as nazis, as callous, heartless mysognists. They'll spread misinformation and lies, while ignoring anything that would contradict them or add nuance to their views. Shrug off the suffering of anyone who's the usual scapegoat of of abortion culture -such as disabled, poor people, or child from rape- without even a hint of empathy."

Wow, crazy how well it works the other way around. So what's your point OP? why don't you have the same energy to call out this inquisitive behavior only to pro lifers when the same behavior can be found among your kin.

And sorry to burst your bubble, but abortion DOES murder a baby, so by definition, abortion are "baby murderers" ; I don't get why some you are so bothered by this statement. As harsh as it, it's technically true.

Note here how OP acknowledges that pro lifers are attacked over beliefs, and is complaining about the hypocrisy of freaking out at having a tease of their own medecine, but NOWHERE does she adresses the issue of.....attacking people over beliefs? I mean, that's seemingly what she was complaining about in the previous paragraph. Maybe don't give pro lifers any ground for them to "victimize" themselves by attacking themselves in the first place, I- ?? Why complaining about something you admit partially being responsible of?

Oh and peep the euphemism of "not so civil"; Girl, there's been literally death & rape threats and bullying. Some people out there are mentally ill/suicidal so we should thread lightly with this kYs🤪 crappy trolling. You being wishy washy to call it for what is it prove how dishonest you are lol

It's not a "feeling". Either pro lifers are attacked, or they're not.

Note the subtly attempt at using "feeling" as if none of the attacks prolifers were complai- excuse me, victimizing themselves over weren't really true and were rather up of their "feeling". Typical EMOTIONALISM ("feelings") tactics that is familiar with abortionists.

Yeah I know you OP (I hid your username as I always do to not cause any bullying). I remember you latching onto one of my pro life post to put out the stale already seen 1000 times before pro choicer word salad talking points, and then a bunch of abortionist minions leeches went with the flow to diss and clown me - while acting they were threatened by a random post from the internet.

Funny enough how you suddenly didn't care about the "most horrendous things" being thrown at me right in the notifications of your reblogs. And no, I don't victimize myself because it pretty unphased me (I am blocking happy), but I can't with your hypocrisy of professing this kumbaya gospel while you actually don't do shit when these "horrendous things" are happening right at your door.

Oh and I also remember how you couldn't help yourself to say how "nice" you were and pull out that branding of the "nice and understanding" pro choicer. Your image seems very important to you huh? But you're not fooling anyone. Because being "nice" (which isn't really true, because advocating for murder of unborn isnt "nice" IMO) isn't mutually excluse to be offensive.

Your condescendance & disdain is dripping from your whole post. "have been trained to not try to learn" Ah yes, because prolifers HAVE to be uneducated idiots who *need* the Truth of pro choicer Gospel.... *Fun fact: I was initially pro choice, but that's when I started seeking into what abortion was and the reality of the abortion industry that I became pro life :)* Do I need to be reeducated?

Calling us "ignorant" "insulated to their echo chambers" actually makes you no different from the same people you're criticizing a few paragraph before....yet feel somehow different from. Not using big words and slurs still make you as mean spirited and antagonist, so don't pretend being morally superior at this game. You're not a bigger person for remaining civil with pro lifers ; plentiful of pro lifers are super chill too. It doesn't protect them for being hurled slurs and harassment. No one is going to give you a cookie for not being deranged on main like some abortionists are. That's called being NORMAL.

Here again talking about "feelings" or "instincts". Note how OP is obsessively trying to alienize any logic or reasoning behind the pro life stance. How anymore condescending someone could be?

Pro lifers do not always rely on "feelings" to make their point. Science states that life starts at conception. BY DEFINITION A fetus isn't a parasite, but HUMAN. Pregnancy death are lowering 0% in most developped countries, yet almost all pro choicers obsessively argue that pregnancy is deadly and dangerous to defend abortion, which goes againt actual OBJECTIVE REALITY. THIS is literally documented. Won't you learn? Won't you listen?

As annoying and stupid some prolifers can be (yeah cause unlike OP I have no issue to acknowledge there are pos on BOTH sides of the spectrum) you can't deny this cold hard reality, that's why you will weep and weep about how hard & dangerous pregnancy is and make posts to bitch about pro lifers, when the crux of the whole discourse is unborn HUMANS being murdered for convenience - whether you accept it or not. The shitty behavior of prolifers will NOT erase that; don't get it twisted.

Your "annoyance" <<<< the life of the unborn.

[newronantic]

HAIKYUU!! FICS

so this is mostly gonna be for myself to keep track of my favorite fics i’ve read, but hey if anyone else wants to check some of these out then thats great

MHA one is up!!

ill keep updating this as i read more, feel free to send me suggestions!

KageHina

plain as day - emleewrites

In which Hinata has spent the better part of the last twenty years putting his heart and soul into volleyball, hoping to be recognised, to be noticed. And yet he spends all these years also thinking of himself as rather plain, beyond his lack of height and bright hair, and not really noticeable at all.

In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

Chaotic Neutral - akaraka

Who's this Kageyama person on twitter and is he gay?

1: Anonymous: see title

2: Anonymous: curry king

3: Anonymous >> 1: It's the curry king, obviously. Have you been using his memes this whole time without knowing who he was?

4: Anonymous: 1) Hinata Shouyou's boyfriend 2) See above

jellyfish - mysterytwin

At the beginning of his last year at Karasuno High School, Hinata Shouyou starts a list and calls it THINGS TO DO BEFORE GRADUATION, all with high hopes that he’ll be able to complete it before his time runs out.

TsukkiYama

Try This On For Size - CloudMonsta

A lot changed for Yamaguchi Tadashi over the course of high school. He started trying on dresses, for one.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team.

No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.”

Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

IwaOi

Terrarium - sausaged

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

They Say it Rain Diamonds on Jupiter - exsao

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

bait and switch - Stylographic_Blue_Rhapsody

Oikawa's university volleyball team knows he's in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school. They imagine a sweet-faced girl that matches his sarcasm with patience. They are so incredibly wrong.

my heart is where it’s always been - foreverautumn

Iwaizumi places his phone down carefully.

Oikawa. Pining after someone. There’s no way.

(Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.)

KuroKen

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life - todxrxki

Kuroo Tetsurou runs a private Twitter account where he's constantly tweeting about how desperately in love he is with Kozume Kenma. Little does he know that Kenma sees all the tweets and keeps referencing the account in an attempt to get Kuroo to confess to him. / Or, five times Kuroo didn't notice Kenma hinting about his private Twitter account, and one time he finally did.

the things that get caught in the valves of his heart - ghostpot

Emotional competency is not exactly Kuroo's strong suit. Kenma finds it quite amusing.

Accidentally In Love - todxrxki

Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"

Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win." / Kuroo decides he and Kenma should do the 36 questions to fall in love as a joke, but they both start to realize they might actually be in love already.

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony

TW: major character death

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

even if you’re ahead for a bit, i will catch up - ghostpot

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around.

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

teach me the way home - icespyders

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

in this universe - crossbelladonna

Living with Kuroo is sometimes, just like this. It always feels surreal like he's living half a world and a lot of things rush by too quickly. Kenma feels like he'd watched him come and go in a blink, eyes wide and wordless as the shared space went snug in an instant and far larger in the next.

All this, and a glass of water.

Beginning’s End - todxrxki

Somehow over the course of Kenma's lifetime, he’s never really had an opportunity to miss Kuroo. He’s always been there. Even when they went to different schools, Kuroo would meet him afterwards so they could walk home together, shoulders brushing, Kuroo occasionally taking the opportunity to guide him when his nose was buried in the newest video game. The thought of Kuroo not being there anymore is uncomfortable, to say the least. / Kozume Kenma's third year and the changes the year brings in himself and his relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou.

All I Want for Christmas is You - todxrxki

“Kuro,” he says. “You’re a single guy.”

“Yeah, great, thanks for pointing that out.”

“And my parents already know you, plus they already know you like guys or whatever so… what if you pretended to be my date for Christmas dinner?” / In which Kenma recruits his housemate and best friend Kuroo to be his fake date for Christmas.

BokuAka

just to miss the sun - rosevtea

Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

Operation BokuAka - kazzydolyn

After spending two whole years watching Bokuto and Akaashi pine for one another, the rest of the Fukuroudani Volleyball Club has had enough. When everyone meets up for a reunion dinner, the team decides to play matchmaker and finally get the two of them together. Unfortunately, their plan starts to fall apart when they discover that Akaashi is already dating someone. And apparently so is Bokuto. What a strange coincidence.

bitter - silvercistern

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

In Another Life - LittleLuxray

TW: major character death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

120% yes - pissedofsandwich

TOKYO FRANCHISE COMING SOON @OnigiriMiya

in reply to @bokkun_official 

Congratulations! In celebration of your historic engagement, please DM us so we can send you a free membership code with a 25% discount on every fourth purchase!

Kissing Ace - karasunovolleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way.

But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) - gabstar

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

SakuAtsu

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara (syailendra)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

A Liar’s Truth - internetpistol

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

[retrievablememories]

somewhere only we know | doyoung (m)

title: somewhere only we know pairing: elf!doyoung x dryad!reader genre: fantasy, major angst, fluff, smut, royal!au, 1800s!au summary: as the Crown Prince faces increasing pressure to select a wife, he finally falls in love over the course of a summer—charmed by the sounds of nature and a mysterious tree nymph. word count: 32,000+ warnings: major character death, descriptions of death, familial conflict, discrimination/prejudice (both regarding familial lineage and species), classism, physical violence, descriptions of fire, voyeurism (but not in a kink context), strict gender roles/gender stereotypes, sexism/sexist language, some sexual jokes/vulgar language, outdoor sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex (don’t try at home) a/n: this felt like writing a movie, especially towards the end, and i am TIYADDD. i usually actively avoid writing this many characters/plot points because it gets hard to keep things organized, so this fic was a serious test of my abilities lol... there may or may not be an epilogue after this, but that depends on the audience’s (y’all) interest in one

as always, let’s keep in mind this is just fiction and not a judgment of or truly accurate representation of the personalities of any of the idols depicted in this story. 

@constipation08​ thank you for the request and fic idea, this has been a wild ass ride lmao 😭

“Why do we have to leave the kingdom?! I was doing just fine right here!”

“Because our parents say we have to,” Mark replies nonchalantly, already growing weary of hearing Donghyuck’s griping about the King and Queen’s decision. The younger male throws himself onto his bed beside Mark, sighing loudly the entire time.

Donghyuck turns over on his back to give Mark a look. “But why do we need to leave to take gentlemen’s lessons? None of us here need to learn how to be gentlemen, we already are. At least, I am.”

“Your behavior is saying otherwise,” Doyoung counters, watching the two younger men from the bedroom’s doorway. “Perhaps it won’t be that bad. You’ll get to get away from the kingdom for a few months. It’s almost like a vacation.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “No vacation I’ve ever heard of involves work.”

“I don’t know, I’m a bit interested,” Mark says. “Everyone says Eupheme has the best gentlemen’s tutors in the country, so maybe it’ll be—”

“Ugh, don’t say fun.” Donghyuck grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and smacks Mark across the face with it, causing the other man to yelp in surprise and topple over. They soon become embroiled in a battle of who can land the most hits with their respective pillows, which eventually evolves into them wrestling each other.

“See, this is why mother and father say you all need etiquette lessons. It’s like everything you learned as kids evaporated as soon as you hit puberty.” Doyoung shakes his head, but he also can’t help but laugh a little at their continual bickering. “You’ll spend a few months in the company of the other princes, too, so it’s not all bad. I really don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Maybe because he won’t get to see Nayeon while he’s gone,” Mark says this while Donghyuck has him in a headlock, and the younger boy’s grip tightens around his neck.

“Shut up, Mark!”

Doyoung snorts. “Oh, how could I forget?” Nayeon was the daughter of a local lawmaker and someone who Donghyuck had obviously fancied for a while. Nayeon seemed to enjoy his company well enough, and she was undoubtedly within a proper social standing that everyone approved of, should marriage ever come into question. And, perhaps most importantly, she was also of elven blood. Nevertheless, there was talk that her heart had already been captured by another. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe she’ll realize she really is in love with you while you’re gone.”

“Or she’ll enjoy the sweet silence she gets without hearing Donghyuck chatting her ear off at every available moment.” This comment from Mark sends them into another bout of rolling around on the bed, trying to land hits on each other.

“I pity your future wife,” Donghyuck huffs as Mark tries to overtake him. “She’ll get the title of princess in exchange for what? A husband who will be too frightened to peel the sheets back on her first night!”

Doyoung rolls his eyes when he sees the fighting clearly isn’t coming to an end any time soon. Despite that, he certainly isn’t inclined to try to break them up; the last time he got in the middle of one of their scuffles, he ended up with an accidental black eye. The thought of trying to explain to the public what had happened was too embarrassing for words, and he was resigned to stay confined to the castle as it healed.

It would not surprise him if that incident were a part of the equation that finally convinced their parents to send them away for additional royal training. He, for one, isn’t complaining about it.

Doyoung waves his hand and decides to take his leave, quickly tiring of their theatrics. “You two have fun, then. Try not to kill each other; we’re expected to arrive in Eupheme all in one piece.”

They spend the next few days making the necessary preparations to leave for Eupheme—picking out luggage, selecting which outfits to bring, and deciding which guards will accompany them. Their parents have already arranged for them to stay with the King and Queen of Eupheme, who they are long-time friends of, and their three sons, Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung. Once there, Jungwoo, Mark, Donghyuck, and Sicheng will receive gentlemen’s tutoring alongside the younger three men.

Though they have been to Eupheme and the King and Queen’s home in the past as adolescents, their destination this time is a little different, with a new royal castle only just coming to completion a few years back. The King of Eupheme, always one to pull out all the stops with luxury and extravagance, had seen it fit to build a bigger and more attractive castle in the very center of the kingdom. Their old mansion would go to the oldest son and Crown Prince, Jeno, whenever he married.

The King and Queen of Ceres decide to appoint Doyoung as a chaperone for the boys because of his seniority as Crown Prince—and also because he’s the only older brother they’ll even attempt to listen to. Yuta and Jaehyun stay behind to handle other royal affairs and ambassadorial duties in Doyoung’s place. Some members of the Royal Court are far from thrilled by Doyoung’s departure and Yuta’s taking over a portion of his responsibilities in his absence, but they also know better than to air their grievances out in the open where any of the family could hear.

Yuta is initially not too pleased about being left out of the trip, but he knows there are obligations to attend to in Ceres. He also won’t deny that he relishes being given this role to play, feeling like he has obtained some heightened level of importance within the family for the first time in a long time. He tries not to be so conspicuous about how often he thinks about the position of Crown Prince, and what it might be like if he were only a year older and born of the same mother as his brothers. Yuta tends to think of himself as a master actor in maintaining his unfazed façade concerning his lowered station within the family, with no one the wiser. Well, except for the one he can trust.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is not nearly so chagrined by having to stay as Yuta is. But of course, leaving would mean having to pause his budding romance with the daughter of the Marquess, so he’s more than willing to stay if tasked to do so.

The day of their departure comes fast. Soon, they’re all standing outside the castle as the servants load the men’s things into several of their stagecoaches. The five of them bid their farewells to their parents and two brothers, if a bit over-exaggeratedly.

“I hope you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” Donghyuck says, crowding up to Jaehyun and annoying him with kissy faces.

Jaehyun smiles and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Try not to torment our cousins too much.” Even with his joking, he gives the younger boy a hug and pets his hair before letting him go off to bother Yuta.

Doyoung is already there talking with Yuta, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Take care of things while I’m gone, yeah? If there’s anyone around here who can do it, it’s you.”

“Of course, brother. I always honor my duties.” Then Yuta smirks. “Don’t let Jaehyun hear you saying that, though.”

Sicheng isn’t happy about being separated from Yuta for a span of months, but he doesn’t complain in front of the others about it. He simply gives his brother a long hug, sighing into his shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” Yuta insists, trying to get Sicheng to wipe the pout off his face. “Look at the bright side of it. When you come back, you’ll finally have some proper manners.” Yuta gently pinches his ear and Sicheng makes a face at that, though his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“Maybe. For their sake, perhaps these lessons won’t go to complete waste.” Sicheng glances at his other brothers as he says this, and he gives Yuta another nod before walking to one of the stagecoaches.

“Do take care of your brothers,” the Queen says to Doyoung, fixing his collar and patting his shoulders like she often did when he was smaller. Then she sighs. “We have not been parted for such a long time in years. Hurry back, my son…and please remember to be patient with them…you know how they can be.”

Doyoung smiles as she pats his cheek, though he feels a little embarrassed at his mother’s fussing over him. “I promise everything will go well, mother. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Sicheng and Mark take one stagecoach while Doyoung, Donghyuck, and Jungwoo take the other; their guards and servants have another two to themselves. After everyone is loaded in, they wave goodbye to the King and Queen as they ride away from the castle and towards a summer ahead in Eupheme.

In the stagecoaches, it takes a journey of nearly three days to reach Eupheme. By then, everyone is more than ready to get some space away from each other. Their stagecoaches are more finely outfitted than the ones used for public travel by the common folk, but that still doesn’t make them pleasant to keep an extended stay in. There’s nothing quite like being stowed up in one small space with your siblings for days to realize the value of alone time.

 The castle, they find out as they ride along the path leading to it, sits not too far from a nearby village. Beyond that village, an expansive forest stretches out along the land. As to be expected, new property comes with new people and sights.

 The princes had not last visited Eupheme since before the new castle was completed; now, all this newness comes as a welcome surprise. Donghyuck and Jungwoo press their faces up against the stagecoach window to catch glimpses of the village through the trees as they drive past. It’s raining lightly outside, and the waterdrops slide against the windowpanes as they peer out, obscuring their vision slightly.

Doyoung can already see the rapt excitement in their eyes. “Remember we didn’t come here to play in the village all day,” Doyoung tells the others, sighing deeply as he already knows what their plans will be

“Doesn’t mean we won’t, brother,” Jungwoo chuckles, and Donghyuck voices his agreement.

In Sicheng and Mark’s stagecoach, they also look at the scenery with fascination.

“It’s quite different from their old home,” Sicheng remarks. “But prettier.”

Mark presses his palm against the stagecoach’s interior wall, beside the windowpane, and focuses his energy to create a small portal to the outside. He sticks his hand through it to feel the raindrops pattering against his fingers; the air outside is humid and sticky.

“Showboat. You could’ve just opened the window,” Sicheng points out, though he smirks in amusement.

Their cousins’ castle is a grand thing. It’s similar to their own in many ways, but one thing the Euphemian royals have always prided themselves on is their outstanding landscaping. Their front lawn, backyard, and the surrounding fields create a vast world of their own, filled with intricately-shaped hedges, rare flowers, unique stone statues, and even a winding maze of greenery leading to the castle’s front entrance. It was more than enough land for anyone to get lost in for days. One could spend a week just traversing their entire property alone—forget the village and forest.

As their entourage of stagecoaches makes its way through the path to the mansion, the men talk more excitedly with each other, planning the things they hope to do once they get settled in. The King and Queen of Eupheme and their three sons are already standing in front of the castle steps ready to greet them once they arrive.

“Doyoung!” Jeno calls out the prince’s name as soon as he sees his head pop out of the window, and Doyoung waves excitedly to the younger man as he and the others get out.

Once all five men exit the carriage, they bow to the King and Queen.

“It is so good to see you all again after such a long time,” the Queen says, clasping her hands together with a warm smile.

“Surely, you’ve all grown into fine young men.” The King is a big, intimidating man, even for someone of his rank, and the current smile he wears does little to take away from that fact, but the five men return the gesture all the same.

The men get reacquainted with their cousins as the servants unload their things from the stagecoaches.

“You’ve grown up so much. Let me look at you,” Doyoung says, fawning over Jeno as the other men look on and laugh.

“You act worse than a parent,” Jungwoo says, giggling at Jeno’s blushing face.

Sicheng nods his agreement, looking at the two with an embarrassed expression. “Quite obviously—why do you think they picked him to be our chaperone?”

“Come on, we’ll give you a tour around the castle,” Jisung says, excitedly pulling Mark and Donghyuck along with him as he heads for the castle steps.

“I think we’ll be walking around for an entire day.” Donghyuck snickers. “It’s huge.”

Jisung grins, a knowing glance in his eyes. “An entire day? Oh, cousin, that’s just the east wing.”

Unsurprisingly, the group of brothers aren’t immediately unleashed to go exploring in the village.

Their tutors have them settle into a couple weeks of lessons before adding unsupervised free time to their schedules for them to do whatever they please with. It’s not a lot at first—only 30 minutes at a time—but Doyoung knows that’s more than enough time for them to get into trouble, if they so wish.

The men were hardly impressed with being treated like reckless children and would take whatever chance they could to escape the tutors’ watchful eyes, which meant staying on their best behavior and trying to adhere to all their professors’ instructions until they were granted more leniency.

By that point, their instructors were almost being driven crazy by the men’s frequent and not-so-subtle side conversations about what they’d see in the village once they finally got there.

“Alright, here is your first free break of the day. Go on, make use of it. I say, I’ve never seen a bunch of royals so infatuated with what the commoners are doing,” their music tutor exclaims, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t you much rather stay in here where things are clean and predictable and safe—and most importantly, clean?”

“Hmm, no. Clean’s boring!” Donghyuck counters, and he’s the first one to take off and leave the room once he’s gathered all his things. The rest of the men soon trail out of the room after him, with Doyoung heading up the rear. By their parents’ request, he usually sits in on their lessons to make sure they follow their tutors’ orders, or to help them out with whatever questions they have if the teacher is preoccupied with someone else.

“Are you all going to accompany us?” Donghyuck asks Jeno after the older man catches up to him in the hallway.

Jeno gives him a suspicious look. “Accompany you where?”

Donghyuck lowers his voice to prevent Doyoung from overhearing their conversation. “We’re going to visit the village today, see the lay of the land. There’s no time to waste, so if you want to come…”

Jeno shakes his head, a slightly unimpressed look coloring his features. “You go on ahead. If you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it a thousand times before.”

Donghyuck looks at him skeptically, then claps a hand on his back. “Suit yourself!”

It doesn’t take long for Donghyuck to convince Sicheng, Jungwoo, and Mark to use their free time to go to the village with him, and they decide to take the horses to shorten the time it’ll take to get there. They bypass their rooms and head straight outside for the stable, leaving their books and writing utensils sitting in a heap in a corner to avoid wasting any precious time with putting their things away.

While they’re out in the stable, Donghyuck fawns endlessly over the horses. He’s particularly drawn to an all-black one with a shiny coat and an impossibly long mane. Her expressions are almost elven-like, her eyes showing a certain eerie understanding of the words he speaks to her. A large golden label on her stall reads Lily in black curly lettering.

“She’s amazing,” Donghyuck says, gently stroking her muzzle as she peers at him with her huge black eyes. Mark and Jungwoo come over to take a look at the mare, and Mark agrees to Donghyuck’s observation, grinning softly as he brushes his fingers along Lily’s soft coat. Their moment is suddenly disturbed, however, by a voice coming from the stable entrance. The three of them jump a little in surprise.

“Where are you all going?” It’s Doyoung, of course. Donghyuck scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his older brother as he keeps petting the horse.

“We’re going out,” Sicheng says, laughing from the other side of the stable as he leads one of the horses out of its stall.

“Obviously, but where?” Doyoung walks further into the stable with the other boys, though he screws up his face at the strong smell of horse and hay. Much like the others, riding horses is an activity he quite fancies, but he doesn’t enjoy the smell of it.

“Leave us for once, brother, please! If you come with us, it’s just going to spoil the mood. Between the tutors and the King and Queen, we have enough overbearing people breathing down our necks.” Mark shushes Donghyuck at that, as if he half expects the King and Queen themselves to come out from the shadows and reprimand them.

Doyoung crosses his arms. “I have no intentions of stopping you, but I’m also not going to let you return here with a herd of angry townspeople on your tail if you do something to set them off.”

“Yes, which means you’ll stop us from doing anything fun,” Sicheng retorts, nearly pouting. He’s used his sad eyes and natural charm on his older brothers to get his way in many situations in the past, but Doyoung isn’t budging this time.

“Doyoung is going to come regardless, can the rest of you just bear with it so we can leave?” Jungwoo says impatiently, leading one of the other horses out and fixing its saddle on. “We don’t have all day to argue.”

“Fine.” Sicheng and Donghyuck aren’t thrilled about the prospect of having their older brother tag along to thwart any mischievous plans they might’ve had. They don’t truly hate it, though; they rarely miss an opportunity to try to get on his nerves if they can, and now is no exception.

After they’ve all picked a steed, they mount their horses and take off to leave the castle.

On the horses, it takes only 5 or 6 minutes to reach the village rather than the 20 minutes they’d spend walking there. When they get there, they are greeted by a sign that reads Arthenia Village. It shows obvious signs of wear, but it looks to have been recently covered with a fresh coat of green paint.

From the first glance, it’s easy to tell that the small town mostly consists of supernatural beings—though they could figure that from the atmosphere alone. The air is thick with magic, and it dances across their skin like static. Fairies and orcs and the occasional elf like themselves walk, ride, or fly through the streets, plus many more beings beyond those. Even a small portion of humans live there, though they blend in almost seamlessly with the others—except for their lack of a magical aura.

Some townspeople stop to watch the men enter the village as they trot down the cobbled streets on their horses, all dressed up in their fineries. In the men’s own eyes, their outfits are quite average for a day of schooling, but the villagers rarely see such luxury in their daily lives.

The townspeople are not really used to interacting with royalty, due to the castle’s inhabitants mostly keeping to their own circles of nobility—and seeing everyone else as beneath them, even if they don’t immediately concede to it. Some villagers are in awe of their entrance, while others look on with expressions of contempt. Donghyuck doesn’t mind the glares, though, and waves excitedly to anyone who’ll wave back.

“I wonder about you sometimes,” Mark says to the younger man, and he narrowly avoids Donghyuck trying to reach out and swipe him off his horse.

They eventually dismount the horses and tie them up at a nearby stall so they can walk around the Market Square. There’s little danger of anyone trying to make off with one of the animals; their saddles decorated with the royal colors and insignia would immediately incriminate any person who’d attempt it. And in any case, a punishment of being sent to the guillotine is more than enough to keep potential thieves away.

Arthenia may be small, but it’s still filled with a distinct culture and a sense of hominess, with people selling their homemade wares and groups of little kids playing and weaving through the streets. A group of girls gathered at a small jewelry shop whisper animatedly among themselves as they watch the men walk by, and they freeze when Doyoung meets their eyes. He waves to them with a warm smile on his face, just as he was taught to do, and they wave back enthusiastically, their free hands covering their mouths to disguise their giggles.

Jungwoo quickly becomes entangled in a game of Horseshoes with a group of adolescents who bet he can’t beat them at their own game. And, despite Sicheng’s earlier complaints, he ends up trailing behind Doyoung for most of their trip, unsure how to interact with the villagers except for following his etiquette training and simply smiling politely at them. If he were in an “I told you so” kind of mood, Doyoung might’ve pointed out the irony of the situation, but he decides to let it be, knowing Sicheng is still trying to adjust.

At the very edge of the village, a small dirt pathway gives way to the same forest they saw on their way to the castle. The expanse of the forest is easier to see when outside of Arthenia itself; it spreads like a thick patch of dark green against the lighter green fields and hills. Up close and personal, though, the forest entrance is thick with foliage, making it hard to see through. The unknown nature of it beckons. Donghyuck catches Mark’s eyes lingering in that direction, and he comes up next to the older man, throwing his arm across his shoulders.

“Is that our next conquest?” he proposes, mischief written across his face. “Want to see what lies there?”

Mark looks back at him, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I’m willing if you are.”

A seller at a nearby stall—an elderly orc—overhears their conversation and shakes his head, chuckling as if he’s just heard something utterly ridiculous. “Young men...don’t go in there with bad intentions. The women will drive you out.”

Donghyuck and Mark turn to him with confusion written on their faces. “Women?”

“There are women who live in the trees,” the seller continues. “They protect the trees, protect the forest. Everything there is under their dominion. Before you step foot in there, make sure you’re thinking with your head up top,” he taps a finger against the side of his head, “and not the one between your legs.”

“U-um, that wasn’t—alright.” Mark is openly flustered at being called out, and Donghyuck only laughs, steering Mark away from the stall and back towards the heart of the village.

“Don’t get so discomfited about it, brother. Desires of the flesh are natural for men.” Donghyuck slaps Mark on the chest, and the other coughs a bit at the sudden hit.

“But do you think he said that just to deter us? Or is it true?”

“I’d say there’s only one way to find out.”

Sicheng turns a corner and nearly runs into them, and they both startle at his sudden appearance. “Whatever you’re so eager to find out, it’s not happening today. It’s time to go back already.” He’s no more happy about it than they are, though, rolling his eyes at the prospect of heading back to the mansion when there’s still much to see.

“Already?” Donghyuck questions Sicheng as he starts heading back to the Market Square where their horses are stationed. Sicheng unfolds his pocketwatch and shows him the time, nodding without a word before continuing on. “Ah, shit. We’ll see the forest next time, then. Don’t forget! We’ve got to make haste.”

“Remember what that old man said, though,” Mark says, calling back to Donghyuck as he follows Sicheng. “We aren’t using up all our break time to find lovers or concubines.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Who do you take me for? No one can find a lover in just 30 minutes, Mark, unless it’s you. Then you’d only need 5 minutes at most.” Then he takes off through the streets as Mark chases after him, threatening to kick his ass once he lays his hands on him.

It’s another week before they can make it out to the village—and therefore, the forest—again, but once the time rolls around, Donghyuck is once again the first out of the castle with Mark on his tail. Jungwoo and Sicheng decide to tag along too, along with Doyoung, which none of them are particularly surprised about.

The villagers’ responses are less awe-struck this time, though some of them still express some surprise at seeing the men come to their little town two weeks in a row. Many of them give friendly waves, though others look on with skepticism as they see the men heading for the woods. They pass by the same elderly orc from last week, who gives them a knowing look; Mark shoots him a nervous smile in return.

Entering the woods on horses requires them to duck their heads a bit to avoid the overhanging foliage threatening to poke them in the eyes or get tangled in their hair. A few of them gripe about this, but they quickly grow captivated with interest as they journey deeper into the terrain and survey the woods.

“This place is nice,” Jungwoo comments. His eyes dart to and fro, though, as if he expects one of the aforementioned women to come out of nowhere and sternly rebuke them for entering their forest abode.

“I can’t wait to see what kind of beautiful women live in this forest,” Donghyuck announces.

“Don’t be so eager, I’m positive none of them would be interested in a kid,” Sicheng scoffs. No sooner do the words leave Sicheng’s lips do a pair of pinecones come falling out of a tall pine tree just a ways above their heads. One only narrowly misses Sicheng, but the other catches Donghyuck on the shoulder.

“Ow! Did you see that?” He grabs his shoulder as if it’s injured and whips his head to look up at the pine’s towering trunk, but there’s no sign of anything other than a few unsuspecting birds.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say anything else foolish if I were you, brother. Seems like the forest already has something against you.” He laughs to himself, steering his horse away from the others to explore more of the woods.

“It’s not the forest, it’s the women that stall vendor was talking about,” Donghyuck insists, looking over his shoulder for any more falling objects.

“Sure. Next, you will tell us you’re no longer an elf.” Sicheng is less convinced by the presence of the dryads than the other men, but he’s along for the ride anyway. He will at least get to see what all the fuss is about, and even if it’s not true, he’ll have some time away from the castle. Although the King and Queen are as dutifully welcoming as they should be, he can’t shake the feeling of the King’s judgment brewing just underneath the surface. It’s like his aura intentionally closes itself off to the younger man, too haughty and refined to be in the presence of a concubine’s son.

“Let’s just keep on and see what we come across,” Mark says, steering his horse around a fallen log as he traverses further ahead.

Doyoung catches sight of a large oak tree just a little ways off. It doesn’t look much different from the other trees around, save for a hollow hole in its front, but he’s intrigued by it and decides to look more closely. Once he gets over to it, he climbs off his horse and walks up to its large trunk, carefully maneuvering around the thick roots beneath his feet.

Cautiously peeking into the hollow, he sees a nest, but there are no current occupants. He presses one hand against the trunk and feels the grooves and ridges of its texture underneath his palm. It feels old and powerful, and he guesses it must’ve been here for a long time already.

Doyoung hears rustling a few feet above him from the branches, and a few leaves drift down, brushing his face. He expects to see some bird or squirrel when he looks up, maybe the owner of the nest come back to object to his snooping around, but he’s shocked at the sight of a woman.

Doyoung only catches a glimpse of you, for when you notice him looking at you, you gasp and dart further up into the tree’s branches, causing more leaves to fall on the way. Doyoung shields his eyes from them as they come cascading around him, but he fails to get another look. It’s like the tree has enveloped you entirely, hiding you from view.

“That was odd,” he says aloud. So the seller’s words were true after all. He lingers for a while longer, hoping to maybe stay long enough to see you again, but you’ve disappeared. He’s a bit reluctant to leave, but it’s apparent you’re not going to reappear while he’s still around, so he leads his horse away by its reins and looks for the others.

“I saw something,” he says as soon as he spots Donghyuck. “Or someone.”

“Seriously?” Donghyuck’s eyes light up. “What did she look like? Was she pretty? Did you get her name?”

“‘Was she pretty?’ Is that all you can think about?” Doyoung sighs. “I didn’t get anything. I barely saw her. She was among the tree branches one minute and gone the next.” Donghyuck slumps a bit at that, but he’s still determined to see one of the forest’s female inhabitants for himself.

“Hmmm…no matter. There’s many more chances where that came from. We can always return later and see who shows up.”

Their conversation is cut short by a nearby shout from Mark, who’s loudly complaining about his head. Apparently he’s been struck by something much messier than a pinecone—a robin’s egg. “Ugh. What have you fools gotten into?!” Donghyuck calls out, spurring on his horse.

Doyoung mounts his own horse and follows the younger man in search of their brothers. Just before they get out of sight of the oak tree, Doyoung throws a glance backwards, still burning with curiosity. He’s startled to see the same face from earlier staring back at him from the uppermost reaches of the tree, your eyes wide with an inquisitiveness he thinks must mirror his own.

When he blinks, you are gone again.

Even though the other men look at him a bit oddly for it, Doyoung decides to bring a gift the next time they go to the forest.

He doesn’t know much about tree nymphs. He does know, however, that there is a library full of books in the castle; many being history and reference books, no doubt. After visiting the library one day after his brothers’ lessons, he manages to scrape up a little information on tree nymphs—or dryads, as they’re also called—even though he isn’t entirely sure what he’s looking for.

His research tells him the tree nymphs are friends of the gods and goddesses, and history shows that the higher beings have always liked—even demanded for—gifts. So why wouldn’t the women of the forest be the same way? Maybe if he brings a gift, the women will warm up to their presence and realize they aren’t just a bunch of horny travelers. At the very least, maybe they wouldn’t have any more pinecones and eggs thrown at them.

When the brothers get a chance to go to the forest again, Doyoung carries a couple cinnamon scones and a small, bright clementine from their earlier breakfast in his saddlebag. The chef’s scones are the best he’s ever tasted, and he doesn’t think he could ever go back to eating the ones from their cook back home—not that he’d ever say that out loud, though.

Everyone likes food, right? He figures there’s no way to go wrong with this idea, and even if the girl in the oak tree doesn’t like it, maybe one of the other tree nymphs or woodland creatures can eat it.

You aren’t in sight when he stops by the oak tree again. Donghyuck, who’s accompanying Doyoung on his personal quest, watches as he leaves the food in the small tree hollow, keeping it carefully wrapped in its blue and white handkerchief.

“You think she’ll take it?” Donghyuck asks, keeping his voice low. He doesn’t really want you to hear him talking about you if you’re still around somewhere, which could possibly alert you to their presence and scare you off again. But unbeknownst to him, that’s unlikely to happen; dryads always know when someone enters their forest.

“I wouldn’t reject free food,” Doyoung says, laughing quietly. He steps back once he’s finished with his job and looks towards the branches, as if he expects you to appear right then and accept his offering. That won’t likely happen, but he wouldn’t mind seeing what you look like more closely.

“Well, come on then.” Donghyuck waves his hand. “There’s still more to see. We can double back and see if it worked later.”

They hear rustling among the trees as they guide their horses through one of the forest’s many paths, but they don’t see any signs of the dryads. There’s only the occasional forest creature, such as a racoon or squirrel. Mark, Sicheng, and Jungwoo are farther away in another part of the woods, though the two men can hear them talking faintly, their voices carrying on the wind. Sunlight from the midday sun filters through the leaves, turning the landscape into a speckled show of light and shadow.

When Donghyuck and Doyoung get far enough away from the oak tree, they eventually come across a lake that splits the forest in half. It’s not very wide, but if you tried to jump across it you’d almost certainly land in the water instead of on dry land.

There are signs that sprites have recently been near the lake, or quite possibly live within the forest. The ground is littered with half-eaten berries and chewed-on leaves, but that’s not the only clue; that could be the work of any forest animal. Sprites, however, leave a very distinct tinge of magic in places they’ve visited. It’s akin to walking through a spiderweb, or feeling the air change when you go from the hot outdoors to a cold room. Doyoung almost swears he can hear tiny tinkling laughter next to his ear, though it fades away as soon as he turns around.

Donghyuck is more interested in the lake, though, and guides his horse to walk along the edge of the grass where the water begins. “Do you figure we could go swimming in it?” he calls back to Doyoung.

Doyoung scoffs. “Now?”

“Of course not now! Maybe some other day, when we don’t have 20 other things to do.”

“Maybe. The water seems safe enough…” Doyoung peers into the running waters himself, watching a few twigs and stray leaves float past. There aren’t any apparent dangers or concerns, and the water’s shallow enough where you can see the bottom of the lake, but appearances aren’t always as they seem. It’s always essential to be wary in magically-charged places like this forest.

They ride through the woods for a while longer, listening to birds cry out from the trees and sing softer chirps that serve as background music. Despite the forest’s inherent mystery, it’s almost calming at this moment, with the steady hum of wildlife around. It’s like time has been suspended and they’ve been enveloped in a dimension separate from their own, even though they can see familiar signs of life prospering all around them. The contradiction of the forest’s calm and unsettling quality is both strange and wonderful to experience.

By the time their half-hour of exploration starts running out, they circle back to the grand oak tree to see what’s become of Doyoung’s offering. He’s actually a bit surprised to see it gone, handkerchief and all, and he gets off his horse to inspect the tree hollow.

“It worked!” Donghyuck exclaims this a little too loudly and a nearby bird takes off. He flinches reflexively, expecting another pinecone to come hurtling at him from the trees, though none do.

“It did,” Doyoung agrees, pressing his fingers against the wood as he looks into the tree hollow. He’s even more pleased than he expected to be, a small grin playing on his lips. “It did.”

Doyoung leaves more gifts over the next few weeks, which ends up in him actually buying things for your merriment. Many of them are cute and inexpensive little trinkets from the Market Square, like smooth blue moonstones and jagged sharp crystals that the vendors swear have been blessed with witches’ magic, though he often still leaves food.

Even with these regular visits, he’s still yet to catch more than a few glimpses at a time of you. Unbeknownst to him and Donghyuck, these sightings, no matter how sparse they are, are largely due to you throwing them a bone and allowing them to perceive you. At any other time, it would be all too easy to just disappear completely and wait for them to leave after depositing their offerings.

They don’t always see you when they come to the tree, but it happens enough to be worth noting.

Despite this inability to get you to stay, Donghyuck still tries his luck with calling out greetings to your retreating form. These words, no matter how friendly they are, are often swallowed up in the rustling of the leaves.

The same thing happens today. Donghyuck spots your feet peeking out from an uppermost branch, not quite concealed by the leaves, and he rushes out the first thing he can think of to say. “Hey, there—” At the sound of his voice, though, you quickly retreat. “Uh, nice tree-climbing skills? Oh, alright, okay…”

“I don’t think she wants to talk right now,” Doyoung remarks, a smirk on his face as he goes to leave his token for today. This time, it’s another food gift; a pair of peaches and a biscuit with jam.

“That’s fine!” Donghyuck tries not to seem embarrassed about his fruitless greetings. “I’ll just keep greeting her until she does feel like answering. It would be rude not to say hello otherwise! Unlike someone else here. Not very princely of you, huh, brother?”

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at his brother and spurs his horse to gallop off into the trees, feeling the air whip past his cheeks. In the back of his mind, he himself knows why he keeps calling out to you even if he won’t get an answer, though he doesn’t intend on letting Doyoung know why. Some things are better kept to oneself; he’s had to learn that lesson over time.

He eventually ends up on a small hill in the forest, which is surrounded by tall trees and covered in sparse patches of moss. He hears giggling above him from one of the trees, though when he turns his head to look, there’s nothing there.

Still chagrined from the time he got hit with a pinecone, he keeps his head turned skyward, trying to see if he can spot anything among the tree canopy. However, all he sees is green and more green. He’s about to give up and go about his way when an acorn comes zooming down and hits him square in the forehead.

“Hey!” he shouts, rubbing the sore spot on his head. His exclamation reverberates off the tree trunks and bounces back to him. The echo of it almost overtakes the small set of giggles from just in front of him, but his ear catches them. “Whoever you are, come out!”

Donghyuck’s horse whinnies softly but does nothing else to alert him to where the possible culprit might be hiding, and he sighs heavily. He decides to get off the horse to walk around the area, inspecting it more closely as the wind stirs his hair and tickles his ears. The forest is almost eerily silent the entire time; all Donghyuck can hear is the sound of his own breaths and his boots in the grass.

Suddenly, he yells when a mop of black hair falls on top of his head. The shock of it sends him falling to the ground, dirtying his pants. When he gets enough distance between himself and the strange black hair, he realizes it’s one of the tree nymphs. Not you from the oak tree, though, to his slight disappointment. This one hangs upside down from a thick branch as she looks at him, her eyes playful and bright.

“You’re a cute one, aren’t you?” Her voice sounds like windchimes tinkling in the breeze, light and airy. Donghyuck tries to respond, but he finds himself lost for words after finally facing one of the women who have been an enigma this entire time. When she sees he isn’t responding, she says, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Who...where…?” Donghyuck scrambles to his feet, and the girl rights herself on her tree branch, skittering along the length of it to hide partway behind the tree trunk. She doesn’t appear to actually be shy or apprehensive, though. Her grin tells him that this is all part of her game.

“Hmm. Well, when you figure out what you’d like to say, call for me.” The girl disappears completely behind the tree trunk, and Donghyuck darts behind it, expecting to see her still hiding there. However, there’s nothing but air.

“But I don’t know your name?” Donghyuck calls after her, but there’s only his own voice reflected back to him.

“Don’t know whose name?” Mark’s voice makes Donghyuck turn around in surprise, a blush coloring his cheeks. He hadn’t even heard the older man’s horse come trotting up.

“No one,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he walks back to his horse. “You must be hearing things.”

You and three other dryads sit in a circle in a small clearing one night, talking amongst yourselves, eating berries, and gazing at the moon as it shines directly upon your little spot. Cassia lays her head in your lap, her long black hair splaying across your legs. The other two, Peony and Daphne, cuddle close to each other, their legs entangling as they feed each other berries.

You all only come out like this when you’re sure the forest is free of any unwelcome visitors or sudden drop-ins, so you can enjoy each other’s company in peace and talk without prying ears or eyes. And speak of the devil—the subject soon turns to the men who’ve been gallivanting through the forest as of late.

“We can never have any peace,” Cassia says, though her tone is laced with laughter. “If it isn��t one group of thirsty and untouched men, it’s another.”

“That one man always comes around this area, the one with the long hair. Along with the rest of them…all on their horses, making so much noise and chaos,” Peony complains.

“It’s impossible not to notice their presence. I wish they’d just stay wherever they come from; they make far too much noise out here,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “They must scare away every woodland creature within a 20-foot radius.”

You’re quiet and thoughtful as you listen to the other girls’ complaints. Finally, you decide to chime in. “I don’t know. They do seem a bit mannerless at times, but they’re kind of interesting.”

Peony shrugs. “Not surprised you’d say that. The one with the long hair is always looking up your tree and leaving you gifts.”

“She just doesn’t want the stream of admiration to stop,” Cassia giggles.

You sigh. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, but whatever you say.”

“Everyone in the world likes attention, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassia admits, “especially when it’s coming from someone who isn’t half-bad. This batch of men is by far the most attractive we’ve seen in a while.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” Peony says, and her and Daphne giggle to themselves like they’re in on a joke only the two of them know.

“He must think he’ll get in your good graces if he gives you enough presents,” Daphne adds in. “What say you?”

You tilt your head and think. “Get in my good graces? That depends on what he wants.”

“What he wants?” Peony separates herself from Daphne and crawls over to you, mischief shining in her eyes. “And what do you think he wants?” Her grin doesn’t diminish as she waits for your answer. Daphne smiles and laughs and licks berry juice off her hands as she observes you both.

You stare at the other girl for a long moment, not wanting to laugh but cracking a grin anyway. “I couldn’t possibly know! Maybe you should ask him—or ask the younger one you all have been obsessed with.”

Cassia stretches her arms upwards toward the night sky, crossing her fingers over each other. “Nope. He’s just fun to tease.”

“Fun enough for you to reveal yourself to him,” you point out.

“Say what you will,” she responds. “But at some point, you will probably have to talk to the man. Think carefully. You want to make a good impression on your not-so-secret admirer, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” you say nonchalantly, though you are already thinking of what you might say to him the next time he comes around.

Daphne looks to Cassia, then at you. “Well, just remember this. I wouldn’t waste too much of my good time with him if I were you. We all know elves don’t like us.” The mood shifts a bit at this, with the three of you giving each other unsettled looks as a familiar thought drifts in the back of your minds. It is not uncommon for elves to demean other species, nor is it rare for them to use this perceived superiority to take what they want from others.

Cassia pulls up a handful of grass and throws it at the other girl. “Must you spoil the mood? We’re just having a bit of fun. Besides, these elves obviously don’t object to us if they keep hanging around here unprovoked.”

“I’m trying to look out for the best interest of a fellow dryad,” Daphne protests. “Elven men are very seductive…everything you want them to be until they’re not. But, by all means, do as you please.”

“Like Cassia said, it’s just fun.” You keep your voice nonchalant, though you are already rising to your feet to walk back to your tree. “And thank you for the concern…although I’m not certain it’s warranted.”

The other girls let you walk back alone, knowing you need a bit of time to yourself to think. You wonder what the man’s motive could truly be, and what it means for you. The elves of Arthenia have historically been easy to get along with as they don’t share the views of many others in their race. The same can’t always be said for elven people outside of this small area, though.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

One day, Doyoung manages to go out to the forest by himself while his brothers are still busy with their studies.

He plans to leave you something again, maybe hoping to see you fully this time, though he’s also content to just be out in nature and enjoy the scenery if that’s not possible. At least that’s what he tells himself. Fortunately for him, Lady Luck takes his side today.

After getting off his horse, he heads straight for your oak tree with his gift in hand. It’s a small piece of dyed glass that he got from the Market Square, shaped like a maple leaf. It appears to change colors when held up to the light, as if it were a real leaf with the sun shining through its cells.

You’re already sitting on one of the upper branches when he comes to the tree. He stops in his tracks, thinking you might run off again if he comes any closer, but you simply sit and look at him, your knees close to your chest. He thinks about what a precarious position that is to take on a tree branch, but you’re obviously used to keeping your balance up there.

There’s a tense silence. Doyoung’s afraid you might leave, but he’s surprised when you stay put as the seconds tick past, wrapping your arms around your knees and watching him. When he becomes a little more confident that you won’t try to escape, he steps closer, albeit slowly. “Hello,” he says, keeping his voice even and quiet. Like he’s speaking to something vulnerable and scared.

After a few beats of silence, you say, “Hi.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m...Doyoung.”

“Doyoung.” You cock your head, weighing whether you should tell him your name or not, but you eventually do.

“It’s a pretty name,” he says, and he actually means it rather than saying it just to be polite. “Um…” He looks to the glass leaf in his hand, which is cradled in another handkerchief. “I was wondering if I’d ever get to see you in person.”

“I’m always here,” you say.

Doyoung nods and chuckles. “Well...I can’t argue with that.”

“You’re always here, too. With your group of men. Making so much noise that you scare all the creatures in the forest away.”

Doyoung winces. He already knew that they weren’t the quietest mice in the bunch whenever they came to the forest. “I’m...sorry about that. I’ll tell the others to keep it down from now on.”

You nod. “That would be nice. The other girls don’t like the noise.”

“What about you?”

You shrug. “They’re not wrong for being irritated about it.”

“Could this make up for it? At least, for you?” Doyoung pulls away the handkerchief and holds the glass leaf up for you to see. You climb down from your high post to look at it more closely, though you don’t leave the tree entirely; you just balance on one of the lower branches.

“It’s pretty,” you whisper, and Doyoung notices your eyes seem to sparkle a bit more at the sight of the ornament even though your outer demeanor is calm.

“Then I’ll leave it here.” Doyoung tucks it into the small tree hollow where he’s always put the rest of his presents.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, and he is surprised to see a slight smile on your face; the first one he’s ever seen from you. He realizes he’s staring at you a little longer than he should and catches himself.

“Ah, y-you’re welcome.”

You nod but don’t say anything more, and Doyoung knows he ought to speak again soon if he doesn’t want to surrender this small opportunity he’s had to talk to you.

“Are there...many of you here?”

“Dryads?”

“Ah, yes...dryads.”

“There are many, yes,” you answer. “Not every tree has a keeper; some are just empty. But many do. We live in our trees.”

“In?” Doyoung realizes this may be referring to something other than just literally living among the branches, which he didn’t think of until now. You nod.

“Maybe it’s a little different from your elven magic.” You glance at his ears and momentarily think of the conversation you had with the other dryads. “But it’s a type of magic all the same.”

“I see…” Doyoung remembers to file that bit of information away so he can tell Donghyuck, who’s been burning to know. The books in the library only provided so many answers, much to their disappointment, with them not having much recorded information on the tree nymph race. Dryads seemed to be a thing of mystery to many, though he could easily guess why.

“You’re not Eupheme-born,” you say abruptly. “Where do you hail from?”

“The kingdom of Ceres,” Doyoung answers. You nod, and he takes this as recognition. “Have you been there before?

You shake your head. “I can’t leave the forest.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“We’re connected to the trees. They keep us alive, and vice versa. If we’re separated over too far of a distance, both will die.”

“That’s grim,” Doyoung says, his eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t you ever want to leave? Go somewhere else? It can’t be happy to be chained to one place forever.”

You raise your eyebrows and laugh, incredulous at his statement. “Chained? The forest is my home. There’s nowhere else I’d ever want to be.”

Doyoung shrugs. “You have a much stronger constitution than me, then. I don’t know that I’d want to be tied to any one place for my entire life.”

You squint your eyes, staring at him carefully. “You’re royalty, aren’t you?” He nods in response. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. You can come to this forest however you please and have fun, but you’ll have to have a family sooner or later...something more permanent to tie you to this world.” You slip down from your branch, letting your feet touch the ground, and Doyoung steps back a little to give you space. “Men like to roam and be free and sow their wild oats. They’re more than welcome to do that, but I’ll stay here among the trees.”

He stares at you in wonder, your words repeating in his head as you gingerly take his gift out of the hollow. You turn back to him momentarily, giving him a quick parting smile and a nod before skipping off into the trees.

“A letter came!” Jungwoo holds up a cream-colored envelope that sports their family’s familiar crest on a wax seal on the back. It’s a letter from their parents—their first correspondence since the men have left the castle.

“What does it say?” Mark and Donghyuck crowd around him to persuade him into opening the envelope faster. Before Jungwoo can read it, Sicheng plucks it out of his hand and holds it up to the light, making a show of squinting at the inky black handwriting. “Well? Go on!” Donghyuck prods him.

“Hmm...” Sicheng purses his lips and crinkles his brows as if concentrating hard, then gives them all a sly smile. “It says you’re all kicked off the inheritance and I’m becoming the next Crown Prince.”

Doyoung shakes his head and takes the letter from Sicheng as the younger man laughs. The other three boys balk at his attempt at a joke, and Doyoung knows the atmosphere could easily turn awkward if he doesn’t step in now. “Anyway. Let’s see what it really says, I’m sure they must be missing our presence…”

They all stand around Doyoung as he reads the letter out to them, trying to look over his shoulder as if he can’t read fast enough to satisfy their curiosity.

“Dear boys, we hope Eupheme has been finding you well.

Affairs in Ceres have been running as normal in your absence, thankfully, and Yuta and Jaehyun have been handling their new duties well. They also send their regards and hope to see you back soon.

“There is also important news for our Doyoungie. We are considering a potential match for you—the Duke of Ceres’ daughter, with whom you should already be familiar—and plan to set a meeting as soon as you return at summer’s end. We think you will find her very agreeable...” Doyoung’s voice falters a bit.

“Aw, is our indecisive brother finally going to become a married man this year?” Jungwoo slings his arm around Doyoung’s shoulders, and the older man lets out a puff of air.

“By the beginning of next year, who wants to bet?” Donghyuck snickers. “Girls naturally love you, it won’t take long for you to charm her. Either way, it’s not like you have very much longer to wait.” Mark elbows him in the side and he complains in turn, but not before cuffing Mark over the head.

“...I suppose.” That comment about being a “ladies’ man” might have drawn a laugh or two or even a boast if it were said months ago, but now Doyoung just feels strangely unsettled about it all—the impending courtship and his inevitable marriage. He continues reading the rest of the letter, though if someone were to ask him later, he wouldn’t be able to remember the rest of the words.

“We think you will find her very agreeable and are thrilled for you to get to know each other better. It is nothing to worry yourself over now, but do keep this in mind.

“Boys—remember to keep following all of your tutors’ instructions, and please refrain from making yourselves bothersome. You all are guests, and the King and Queen of Eupheme are being very honorable by hosting you this summer.

“We all send our best regards.”

That night, Doyoung tries his best to fall asleep but is kept awake by the contents of the letter. It’s hard to tear his mind away from what will happen once he returns to Ceres. Though he’d thought he’d be prepared for this, he feels unexpectedly nervous and averse to the idea of yet again courting someone he barely knows for months—and quite possibly marrying them this time around. He doesn’t know how much longer their parents’ patience in allowing him to take his time with finding a partner will last.

It’s proper. It’s tradition. It’s what’s expected of him and his brothers, and he’s been primed for this duty his entire life. Yet, that knowledge does nothing to quell the uncomfortable sensation—dare he call it dread?—creeping upon him.

He watches the clock on the mantle across his bedroom, just above the fireplace. Its little black hands tick by endlessly, counting down the seconds, minutes, hours. When another hour passes and he’s still staring at the clock, Doyoung peels the covers back and decides to leave the castle for a bit. He already knows of a few tucked-away passages he can slip out of that lead to the outside in some way or another, having bribed Jaemin into telling him where they are in case any of his brothers tries to sneak out. How ironic that he’s now using that knowledge for his own gains.

Although he’s not sure if he’ll need it, Doyoung throws on a cloak for good measure before escaping to the outside. He spends a while walking through the castle’s extensive gardens and making sure he’s staying out of sight of the guards, though he feels no sleepier than he did when he first got there. Exasperated, he’s about to turn around and head back for the indoors when the woods beyond Arthenia pop into his mind.

Should he? He’s already outside; what’s the harm in it? Admittedly, the answer is a lot if he’s caught, but he pushes those thoughts away, as his feet are already turning to lead him away from the castle grounds. Doyoung decides he’ll use his glamor for a bit to disguise his face and elven ears once he gets to Arthenia, though there probably won’t be many people awake at this time of night.

Without a horse, the walk to the forest is long. Doyoung doesn’t create any of his light orbs until he’s sure he’s far enough away from the castle to not be spotted by any of the night watch guards. When he thinks it’s safe, he conjures a small ball of burning blue light in his palm, which is enough to illuminate his footsteps.

Doyoung’s boots are wet from the damp grass by the time he reaches the Market Square, and he passes by the rows of houses and outbuildings without a sound. Some lights are still on in some homes, glowing a warm yellow in the dim light of the half moon, while others are pitch black and fade into the surrounding darkness.

The forest looks even more intimidating at night, even with the limited light. He hesitates at the forest entrance for a minute, wondering if it’s safe to go inside. He’s yet to see anything truly dangerous during the daylight hours, but things can be different at night. He didn’t think to possibly bring his bow and arrow from their archery lessons, and there will be no easy escape on horse if something menacing crosses his path. Shaking his head and sighing, he enters anyway and prays to whatever goddess will listen for the best. He’s already walked this far.

Doyoung convinces himself that he’s just going to walk around for a bit, maybe sit at the lake for a while, but after turning in a wide, looping circle, his feet eventually end up leading him to the oak tree. You are already sitting on a low branch when he arrives, as if waiting for his appearance. He notices you’re wearing the moonstone he once left in the tree hollow; somehow it’s been fashioned into a necklace, and he wonders where you got the tools to do that. One of your legs trails off the tree branch you’re perched on, swinging leisurely in the cool night air, and he tries not to stare.

“Y/N,” slips from his lips. “You’re awake at this hour?”

You smirk. “So are you.” Doyoung moves the cloak’s hood away from his face with this free hand, and you study the glowing orb in his other hand. “You’re a Light User...that’s interesting.”

“I guess it could make for a fun trick at a ball,” he says, and tosses the glowing orb up into the air. He does this a few times until he throws it up one last time and it hovers in the air, as if stuck by an invisible force. Doyoung manipulates the orb with his fingers in a way that causes it to split up into a dozen more bright glowing spheres, all suspended in the air. By now, the entire area around the oak tree is lit up from the light emanating from these numerous orbs.

You laugh softly at this display, reaching out to touch the orb nearest to you and discovering that, despite your hand passing through it, the air still feels oddly warm in the spot where the light glows. “Very pretty. It’s peculiar to see you at this hour, though. Are you even allowed to be out this late?” you ask, your eyes still lingering on the orb.

“No, but…” Doyoung trails off, unsure if he wants to revive that concern. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You finally look back at him, and your face creases slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Doyoung says, and he doesn’t know, really. Getting married was always a part of the plan, as royalty. So why is he doubting it now? Maybe he knows more about why he’s feeling this way than he’ll admit to, but there are things he’s still not even sure of himself at the moment.

You decide not to press the matter for now, especially after seeing his conflicted face. “You don’t have your horse. Was it a long walk?”

He nods and laughs a little, thinking maybe it was a bit ridiculous to walk all the way here in the middle of the night. He still has to walk all the way back, which isn’t an appealing thought. “Nothing like a bit of exercise to tire you out, I guess. Hopefully I’ll sleep better after.”

“You sound like a troubled sleeper. I eat jasmine petals if I have trouble sleeping. You know, there’s a bush of them around here.” It’s an offer for him to partake, if he wants to.

“My mom likes jasmine tea,” Doyoung says, grinning slightly. “Do you often have trouble falling asleep? I would think it would be easier being surrounded by nature like this.”

You slide off the lower branch and land on the grass with a soft thump. “Not always…but I’d rather have an easy remedy than be left without one when I needed it.” Then you move to follow a dirt path leading away from the tree, but not before turning back to look at Doyoung. “Come on, then. I’ll show you the bush.”

Once again, he hesitates like he did just before entering the forest. “Is...it safe?”

You squint at him. “Safe?”

“I mean…there must be other creatures in this forest besides the agreeable woodland variety.”

“Yes…but they mostly live on the far outskirts. And either way, none of the other inhabitants will hurt a dryad. We’re the forest’s keepers. So you’ll be safe if you’re with me.”

Doyoung decides to take your word for it and follows you along the path, his blue orbs trailing after him. He sends some further ahead to light the narrow path so you both can see better, though you already know where the bush is by heart.

Soon, you’re both standing in front of the aforementioned bush, which is laden with white jasmine blooms. They seem to shine unnaturally brightly under the illumination of the blue orbs.

“Take some,” you say, carefully plucking one of the flowers from the bush. You hold it up to his nose so he can smell it, and he does so. The scent envelops him like a warm hug, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s already making him feel better. When you hold the flower out to him, he takes it gingerly. He doesn’t fail to notice the soft blossom’s texture, or the equal softness of your hand.

“Will your friends be okay with this?” Doyoung asks tentatively, holding the flower in his hand with a certain fragility.

“They will. And if they aren't, it can be our secret.” There are no secrets in this forest, really, but you humor him anyway, wanting to do something nice in return for the gifts he’s given you.

Doyoung nods and takes a couple more of the flowers, their leaves included, for the tea. He tucks them safely in the pocket of his pants.

You smile at him once he’s taken what he wants. “You’re quite gentle,” you remark. Doyoung doesn’t expect to hear that from you, and he looks at you quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“You just appear to be very...cognizant. Many people who’ve come to the forest before don’t give any thought to disturbing the natural balance of things and taking what they want. Not the villagers, but others.”

“I see,” Doyoung nods, feeling his face grow warm. He’s never had that particular attribute associated with him before. Gentle. Men are meant to be strong and brave and fearless; gentleness is for the fairer sex. He doesn’t dislike it, though. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You nod in return. “Well, it’s getting a bit late...later than it already is, anyway. I don’t know how things at your castle work, but you may want to be getting back before someone notices you’re gone. The sun will be rising soon enough.”

Doyoung smiles slightly. “You’re quite right.”

“Would you like me to walk back with you? To keep you safe, you know.” You giggle at this. “I will only go as far as the edge of the forest. But you should be alright beyond that point.”

“That’s fine with me.” Doyoung can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about being on the receiving end of such niceties, thinking that this is the kind of thing he’d be doing for you in any other context. He’s not going to pass up the offer of safety, though—and the opportunity to spend a few more minutes in your company.

You talk in low voices on the way back towards the forest’s opening. Mostly about things in the forest, though Doyoung does mention his brothers once or twice. Secretly, you think it’s a bit endearing how much he cares about them even if they get on his nerves.

“We’re here,” you say once you’re in view of the village again.

“Thank you for walking with me. And thank you for the jasmine.” Doyoung pats his pocket.

You grin and wave. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

Doyoung starts walking off but suddenly turns back to you as if there’s something more he wants to say. You raise your eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak, but after a second, he only smiles—if a bit nervously—and returns your wave.

You shuffle back into the underbrush a bit, though you stay there and watch him walk away until he’s just a speck amongst the backdrop of the village.

Doyoung makes it back home undetected and climbs back into bed feeling tired enough to sleep now, though he also attributes some of his sleepiness to the pleasant smell of jasmine still clinging to him.

When he slumbers, he dreams of a soft hand touching his, ripe with the scent of jasmine flowers.

The days get progressively hotter as the summer months settle in. With their tutors’ increasing lenience thanks to them taking well to their educational and etiquette lessons, the men get more time to themselves to do whatever they wish. The heat encourages them to spend more time outdoors, whether it’s running through the castle’s expansive yards, shooting arrows at targets or some poor stuffed mannequins, or heading to the village—and subsequently, the forest.

One hot day when they have little responsibilities to tend to, Jungwoo comes up with the brilliant idea to head to the lake for a couple hours, perhaps to cool down from the heat by wading in the water for a while. Sicheng, who has grown a bit disenchanted with the forest, decides to spend the day with their three cousins instead.

However, when the men get within shouting distance of the lake, they realize it’s already occupied.

“Wait!” Mark hisses, pulling on the reins of his horse to make it stop. He holds a finger to his lips, and before any of the men can question him, the sound of shouting, laughter, and water splashing drifts to them on the wind. It appears they aren’t the only ones who’ve had the idea of visiting the lake today.

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen, and he and Jungwoo waste no time with getting off their own steeds to head for the riverbank.

“Wait, where the hell are you leaving off to?” Doyoung whisper-shouts, but the two pay him no mind as they creep over to a cluster of bushes near the edge of the lake. The shrubs are big enough to conceal them while still providing a few gaps to peek through, and from their new post they spot the dryads farther down the length of the lake, standing in a shallow portion. The women aren’t near enough to spot the men hiding in the bush, but they are still close enough to see clearly from this distance.

“W-what do you see?” Mark asks, his body poised as if he wants to get off his horse and join them too, but he’s still unsure.

“You’ve got to see it for yourself,” Donghyuck snickers, waving the older man over.

Mark looks to Doyoung. Doyoung gives him an incredulous look, and Mark shoots an apologetic one back before dismounting his horse and going over to join his brothers, squeezing in-between them as they crouch on the ground. He sees a group of six dryads playing in the lake, splashing each other with the water. Two more sit on the bank observing the festivities and talking about something they’re holding in their hands, though Mark can’t quite make out what the small objects are.

Donghyuck has only barely seen you during the times he’s gone with Doyoung to deliver your gifts, though he instantly recognizes you as one of the girls standing in the lake. His breath catches a bit as he watches you with water glistening off your skin and your dress clinging to your body.

“Isn’t this a little distasteful?” Mark mutters, his big eyes darting nervously between his brothers. He shifts uncomfortably, looking like he’s ready to make a run for it if need be. “I mean, watching them through the bushes like this…”

“Probably,” Jungwoo replies. “But as long as they don’t notice us…”

Mark almost shouts at feeling a hand come down on his shoulder, and Donghyuck whips his head around when the same happens to him; however, it’s only Doyoung. “You all need to get up right now,” he hisses lowly. “Haven’t you learned anything over the past few months? This is inappropriate—”

“Why are you standing?! Get down before they—”

Before any of them can realize what’s happening, what must be a gallon of lake water splashes down on all four of their heads. Screams of shock ring through the forest, along with a loud round of laughter—coming from both above them and further down the lake.

Mark, Jungwoo, and Donghyuck get to their feet in a rush, looking and feeling very much embarrassed. They look up toward the treetops and see two dryads sitting in the cleft of some of the sturdier branches, openly giggling at them. Jungwoo notices they aren’t holding buckets or any other objects that could’ve explained how they got the water up there in the first place—just a net woven with leaves, which he is certain they couldn’t have been transporting the water in. And yet… “How did you...?”

The women aren’t interested in answering his question, though, and instead disappear into the branches, leaving nothing but a few stray leaves fallen to the ground.

“I think we probably deserved that,” Mark says, sighing and trying to shake some of the water out of his clothes. The rest of the dryads who are still in the water follow the lead of the other two girls, running out of the lake and scattering through the forest, the echoes of their laughter the only evidence that they were ever there. The only ones who stay are you and the two other tree nymphs sitting on the riverbank. Now that everyone is in full view of each other, Mark belatedly realizes that the “objects” the two girls were holding and cooing over are not objects at all, but small sprites.

You step a little closer to the group of men, and the other two girls watch them intently. “If you wanted to play with us, you could just say so. It would benefit you not to be a bunch of cads about it.” You roll your eyes, though you are somewhat amused by seeing them standing there looking soaked and embarrassed.

“O-of course! I tried to tell them, but you know how it is with these kids...we were just leaving, actually.” Doyoung grips Donghyuck and Jungwoo’s collars like he’s about to drag them off like two misbehaving children, and Donghyuck’s face flushes at being treated like a kid in front of you.

“Are you sure about that?” you ask, and Doyoung raises his eyebrows at your question. You lower your hand into the lake water as if you’re only checking its temperature or letting it flow through your fingers—which is why they’re taken off guard when you draw your hand back and send a big splash of water flying in their direction.

Donghyuck is the first to react, pulling away from Doyoung’s grasp and rushing into the water to splash you back. It’s not long before things quickly evolve into another splash battle, with the other boys wading into the lake to join. The other two girls give skeptical glances at first, but they eventually bid goodbye to their sprite friends and jump into the lake, too.

You all spend what feels like hours running through the water and splashing each other, and your two friends take more quickly to the men than you expected. When the hour for them to leave comes rolling around, you are all soaked but smiling.

“We’re never going to hear the end of it,” Mark says, looking down at their wet clothes. Still, there’s no concealing the bright and amused smile coloring his features.

Your two friends wave to the men and quickly slip off back to their trees, though you linger for a while longer as you watch them climb out of the lake and try to wring out their clothes. Doyoung’s the last one left standing in the water with you, and you turn to him.

“Did the flowers help?” you ask.

“The flow—? Oh, the flowers! They worked just as intended, thank you…” Doyoung blushes a little at the memory. As the others head for their horses, Donghyuck hangs back a little to hear the conversation, wanting to be nosy and wondering what flowers you’re referring to.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you reply, smiling and feeling a little proud that your remedy worked—even though you knew it would. “You know, if you ever need anything else, you can just ask…there are a lot of resourceful things here. It’s like living in an apothecary.”

“Well, I’m interested if he isn’t!” Haechan interjects.

You smirk lightly at him while Doyoung shoots him an irritated look. “Sure. I suppose you’ve taken interest in the forest itself and are no longer just looking for a pretty woman to mess around with?”

Donghyuck flushes at your words, and his smile falters a little at being called out on his earlier intentions. Beside him, Doyoung gloats internally, and he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. “Um…sorry about that.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say matter-of-factly. Then you turn to Doyoung. “Anyways…don’t forget what I said. I’ve gotten used to seeing you around here, so...don’t be a stranger.” You go to leave then, but not before turning back around once more. “And don’t go snooping around. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Donghyuck only nods, too embarrassed to respond and unable to justify himself. Both men watch as you walk away, likely back towards your tree. Doyoung turns to the younger man. “Come on, then. Let’s be heading back; maybe our clothes will dry out on the way there.”

After the lake incident, Donghyuck insists on using all his lesson breaks for the next couple of weeks to go with Doyoung whenever he travels to the forest to see you. Donghyuck becomes even more invested in this after knowing that Doyoung had already met you face-to-face after going to the forest by himself. The older man acquiesces, though deep down he’d like to spend more time with you alone—especially with managing to make these visits only once or twice a week. Still, seeing you with his little brother clinging to his side is better than not seeing you at all.

Donghyuck is talkative and lively and inquisitive in your presence, much more willing to learn new things from you than from even the highest-rated tutors in Eupheme. Doyoung finds that particularly ironic, though he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he listens intently along with Donghyuck as you tell him about the many different kinds of plants within the forest, including what purposes they serve. Doyoung is always reminded of the night you gave him those jasmine flowers, and even now, he stares at your hands as you point out different leaves and subtly wishes he could have any excuse to touch them again.

“These berries are safe to eat, though they look very similar to poisonous Pokeweed berries. That’s why you want to be sure you can tell the difference between them…” You place a few in your palm and hold them out for Donghyuck to see.

Donghyuck—who looks at you like you know everything in the world. You know many things, but not everything; but you’ll continue to let him look at you so admirably, because you find it endearing. He somewhat makes you think of what it might be like to have a younger brother or an amiable male friend. Someone to offer you a different perspective of the world external from the community of women you’ve always lived in.

Could Doyoung be that male friend or curious brother, too? Maybe, but maybe not.

Whenever you turn and speak to Doyoung to keep him included in the conversation, you don’t get that companionable feeling. There’s something much warmer there, something that makes you smile a little wider and causes more interesting facts to pop into your head. You enjoy telling him more about the forest, your home, and you somehow feel like you’d tell him anything he wants to know whenever he looks at you.

You like to see his smile, and the way his eyes grow smaller as he laughs or grins at something you’ve said. You haven’t felt this in a very long time, but if there’s anything to compare it to, it’d be eating warm honey straight from the honeycomb, or breathing in a lungful of jasmine scent before drifting off to sleep.

You don’t dwell on it for too long, simply wanting to experience the emotions as they are rather than spend too much time worrying over what they mean. Nevertheless…your idea of Doyoung is quite different from a friend or brother, indeed.

Although it is a Saturday when Doyoung comes to visit you, the sky is a dark and restless contrast to the day’s liveliness, the clouds looking heavy enough to drag down to Earth. He knows it’ll likely rain soon, which means he should probably stay in the castle and keep dry, but he ventures out to see you anyway. Today is the first time in a while he’s been able to see you without Donghyuck by his side, so he’s taking the opportunity.

You’re not in your tree when he comes. He thinks maybe he might go and look for you, but you’ll know where he is faster than he could find you. It takes a few minutes, but as expected, you appear from the further reaches of the woodland, laughing to yourself and holding a ring of flowers. There’s a similar one on your head made up of purple and white blooms. Doyoung thinks you look something like an angel against the sky’s gloom, with a halo made of blossoms instead of light.

“You’re here now? It’s about to rain,” you say, though your tone shows you’re clearly happy to see him.

He shrugs. “I felt like getting some air...I’m not concerned with a little water, as you probably already know.” I wanted to see you, is what he’d really like to say, but he doesn’t want to jump the gun. You nod in understanding, then hold up the ring of flowers in your hand; it has a few blue ones reminiscent of Doyoung’s light orbs. You offer the flower crown up to him, and he bends so you can place it on his head.

“Now you look like a true prince,” you say, smiling in satisfaction at your masterpiece. “I’ve never seen you with a crown until now. That’s a shame.”

“It is a shame.” Doyoung brings a hand up to feel the petals of one of the flowers between his fingers, and he grins. “I’m quite handsome in one.”

“Oh, my prince!” You start prancing around Doyoung and his horse like a fairy, or maybe like a young maiden at a fancy ball, brushing your hand along the animal’s shiny coat as you do. “It’s such an honor for you to grace our forest with your elegant visage.” You finally stop in front of him with a curtsy, though you have to take a moment to readjust your flower crown when it almost flies off at the sudden stop. “What can I have the pleasure of doing for you today?”

Though he laughs at your acting, he’s also a little awestruck for a moment, taken away by your cuteness and humor. Doyoung realizes there’s an awkward silence settling between you as he’s yet to say anything, and he finally stutters out, “There was something I...w-wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?” You come out of your curtsy and stand straight in front of him, all ears open for whatever he’s about to say.

“Well, it’s…” It’s a lot scarier to say what you want when you’re standing in front of someone and not just practicing in front of the vanity mirror. Doyoung is still piecing the words together when a few drops of rain hit his cheek. He doesn’t think much of it at first, but the droplets become impossible to ignore when they suddenly come hammering down without pretense, as if the gods have given word for the heavens’ floodgates to open.

“Come on!” You start running and Doyoung has no choice but to follow, tugging his horse along with him. It doesn’t take long for you to lead him to a small cave he’s never seen before. To his defense, that’s likely because the opening of it is partially obscured by hanging vines and other vegetation. It’s tall enough for someone of Doyoung’s height to stand in comfortably, which he’s relieved by. He doesn’t consider himself to be one of the more uptight royals like many others he knows, but he also wouldn’t be thrilled by the idea of sitting down in a cold, dirty cave in the rain. Even with your haste, though, you’re both quite wet by now.

Though the cave is spacious enough for you two, it becomes apparent that both of you and the horse won’t fit. Instead, Doyoung guides the animal to take shelter nearby under a willow tree with overhanging branches.

The cave is not very deep at all, only extending a few feet backwards. Perhaps that’s reassuring, at least for Doyoung, because there won’t be any disgruntled animals popping out to protest against their space being invaded.

“Well, that was interesting.” You chuckle as you squeeze water out of the hem of your dress.

“Suppose I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” Doyoung does the same for the ends of his hair, though he knows it will be a while before it gets acceptably dry.

You laugh and nod. “You said you wanted to tell me something. What was it?” you ask.

Doyoung pauses and looks at you carefully, with rainwater dripping off his chin and darkening his clothes. He looks very serious, which is something you haven’t really seen before. It makes concern rise in your stomach, thinking maybe he has some bad news to deliver.

However, you’ve mistaken the intensity in his eyes for somberness when it’s something else entirely.

“I...love you.”

You regard him with wide eyes, feeling a little taken aback. The rain pours noisily in the background, but you’ve heard him loud and clear.

“I know we have only known each other for a few months,” he continues, “but I love you. I want to be with you.”

You’re surprised that he feels this strongly about you already, but it’s also true that you’ve felt yourself falling for him in the past few months, with his thoughtful gifts and kind smile and soft voice. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, lips parting minutely. He catches the small movement of your mouth, like he notices everything about you—whether you acknowledged it before or not.

Doyoung takes your hand. Though his palm is wet from the rain, you don’t care about that. “I think about you when I’m not here in the forest…and when I’m overseeing my brothers’ lessons. I dream about you when I sleep at night. Every time I get another gift for you, it’s because I want to see you smile so brightly like that again, because of me. I never want to know a day without you.”

You know Eupheme isn’t his home, that he has to leave someday. You know elves don't generally think kindly of dryads, viewing you all as frivolous and foolish and loose; and even if him and his brothers don’t, there’s no telling what the rest of his family thinks. You also know that even without those two things standing in the way, he’s still a prince who’ll need to be married to a suitable bride at some point. All of those things make you nervous. There are many obstacles before you, but you allow yourself to forget them momentarily as you stand in this cave with him.

You bring Doyoung’s hand up to your lips and kiss his knuckles softly, taking what warmth you can despite his cool skin. You hold his hand tightly, like it might be taken away from you otherwise. “Doyoung…you have charmed me unlike anyone else.”

You bring that hand closer and place it over your racing heart, and he seems a bit hesitant at first because of the proximity to your breast, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he readily responds to the kiss you give him afterwards, drinking in your warmth as a balm for the sudden cool air. For a while, there’s only the sound of rain coming down and your lips connecting with each other’s.

You don’t know how long you kiss each other, but there’s nothing else you can do in this small cave, so you continue without thought to the outside circumstances. Even after your lips part, you huddle close together. You close your eyes in Doyoung’s embrace, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and breathing underneath your ears and basking in the fullness of your own heart.

When the rain finally stops, Doyoung has to leave. The sun will be setting soon; the downpour went on longer than either of you anticipated.

“I promise I’ll come back soon,” he says, clinging to your hand with both of his.

“You always do.” You already trust him more than you can say.

Doyoung nods to your words, smiling somewhat bashfully. He steps out of the cave and lets your hand slip from his. But before he can get more than a few feet away, he turns around and comes back to kiss you once more on the lips, his fingertips on your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You laugh once you separate from each other. “The sun’s getting low, and the others will question you. Go on now.”

Doyoung keeps to his word and makes his way out after fetching his horse, but he keeps glancing back to you until he’s completely disappeared among the brush.

You feel like your mind has been filled with soft moss, all airy and soft and tangled together with unending thoughts. You walk back to your tree feeling as if you could float there instead, enjoying the damp grass under your feet.

The time slips by blissfully.

Doyoung keeps coming out to see you during his free time each week, as he has done since he’s been in Eupheme, though sometimes he’s able to manage more than just one or two visits. On those weeks when he comes out more often, whether it be at night or during the day, you hold him especially tightly, enjoying the extra time with him and wanting to live inside of it—to freeze a moment in time and keep it close to your chest for as long as possible.

“I wish you could see the castle,” Doyoung says this low and close to your ear like he’s telling you a secret. He lies on his side beside you in the grass, playing with your fingers. A gap in the treetops lets a lopsided circle of sunlight shine down on your faces, warming you both from the inside out. “Walk through the maze of land...or see the stable.”

You hum softly. “Hmm...I’m sure it’s nice.” Doyoung laughs, knowing you’re not interested in any place else other than your forest; you can’t hide the neutral note in your tone, though he knows it isn’t towards him.

“Or I could live out here with you.” He strokes the pad of his thumb along the length of your ring finger, and you don’t fail to notice this.

You turn to him, full on grinning now. “I thought you said you’d never want to be tied to one place. Remember?”

Doyoung grins sheepishly along with you. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Mmm, how indecisive you are…if you stay with me here, you can’t ever leave.” You pluck a tiny blue flower from the ground and brush it against his lips, tracing the shape of his cupid’s bow with it. “Make your choice wisely.”

Doyoung purses his lips against the small flower, as if giving it a kiss, and does the same with your fingers as they ghost across his mouth. “I’ve chosen already, princess.”

You lean in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway. The little blue flower slips from your hand. You don’t know if there could ever be a more perfect moment, kissing him like this with the warmth of the sun on your back and your ears full of the sounds of birds chirping and insects purring—and, in the very distance, the lake water running.

You don’t get to bask in the moment for too long, though, before something is interrupting you; and it’s not one of the other women like you might’ve expected.

There’s a rustling and a crash in the bushes, and you whip your head towards the noise, but it’s only a deer—or maybe some other creature—running off. You catch a few glimpses of its brown coat before it becomes obscured by the leaves. You still keep your gaze turned towards the bushes. Though there is nothing else there, you still get the odd sensation of being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung whispers, his index finger touching your cheek. He glances at the source of the noise, but his eyes stay mostly focused on you.

“I know it’s odd, but…have you ever felt like you were being watched? Even though nothing’s there?” you ask slowly.  “I’ve…sort of felt like this a few other times when we were together.”

Doyoung looks suspicious for a moment, though he eventually shakes his head. “No, I...not really.” He sits up to look at the same space you’re staring at, but he doesn’t see anything more than you do. “If someone else were out here besides the other dryads and the animals, wouldn’t you already know?”

“I suppose that is true,” you say, though you still look towards the bush, trying to see if there’s something you’re somehow not spotting. The sense that you have a pair of eyes at your back still doesn’t go away, even when Doyoung finally pulls you away from the spot to walk further into the woods.

In the middle of August, the Archduke of Eupheme holds a ball. He has been renown for his exorbitant parties for many years, and although he couches this party in the excuse of making the Crown Prince and his brothers feel a bit more at home in the kingdom, everyone knows it’s really just a reason to get drunk and have some fun. No one would dare complain, though; after all, who’d pass up the chance to attend? To rub elbows with handsome men and women and forget more pressing worries for a while?

The King and Queen of Eupheme see it as a good way for the young men to show off their newly acquired social etiquette they’ve been sharpening during their lessons—and possibly mingle with noble women. Similarly, none of the brothers will object to the latter idea. Except for maybe Doyoung.

“Cheer up! I’ve never seen you look so unsettled when going to a party,” Jungwoo says, pinching Doyoung’s cheek. They’re all loaded into their separate stagecoaches, with Jungwoo, Doyoung, Jaemin, and Mark in one and the other boys inside another behind them.

“I’m fine,” Doyoung insists, waving away the concern and plastering a hesitant smile on his face. He can already guess what’s in store for tonight.

The ride to the Archduke’s place is shorter than Doyoung expected. It’s been a long time since they last visited the Archduke’s mansion, and he swears he remembers the journey being longer than this. He sucks in a deep breath as he steps out of the stagecoach. The mansion looms large up ahead, obviously not quite as big as the King and Queen’s castle, but extravagant enough to be of note. Its stone interior glows with rows of brightly burning torches decorating either side of its grand entryway.

The Archduke’s large ballroom is filled to the brim with high-ranking officials and other nobility, with everyone mingling together in a big glittering clump of bodies and puffy dresses and long hair. There’s no other race but elves there, which is usually expected at royal balls like these; other species are often relegated to roles of servant, cleaner, waiter, and so on.

There’s a notable stir when the King and Queen and the eight men enter, and the room parts down the middle to make room for them.

The men wave and smile and mingle like they’ve been taught to, though some revel in it a bit more than others. They’re quickly embraced by the crowd, and the Archduke and Archduchess come to greet them. A young woman walks slightly behind them, her brown hair pinned up in an elaborate updo, wisps of hair clinging around her elven ears. Doyoung remembers her as their daughter and only child, who was never allowed to play in the yard with them as children because “such rowdy behavior wasn’t fitting for a lady of her sensibilities,” as her mother used to say.

“I’m sure you all remember Eunomia,” the Archduke says, encouraging the young woman to come to the front. The brothers all nod in acknowledgement, answering her curtsy with their own bows.

“You’ve grown even prettier since we were young,” Jungwoo says, smiling politely. The girl smiles timidly back to him.

“Thank you. You’ve become quite handsome yourself.”

“We’re so glad that we could be graced with the presence of the Crown Prince of Ceres tonight,” the Archduke continues. “We’ve all been looking forward to your appearance since we got word of your family visiting Eupheme. The timing, especially, is quite extraordinary, as we’ve been vetting possible suitors for our Eunomia.” It’s everything just short of an actual proposition to marry his daughter, and Doyoung’s lips twitch as a thousand different thoughts flit through his mind.

Doyoung bows his head slightly in acknowledgement of their statement and schools his expression into something neutral and amiable. “Extraordinary timing, indeed.”

It’s not long before the music is rising to a grand swell again. The other boys part ways to search for dance partners in the crowd, and Doyoung already knows what’s expected of him. He holds his hand out to Eunomia. “Would you like to dance?”

She nods and takes his hand. Doyoung leads her onto the main dancefloor beside a few other individuals who have already coupled up. A relatively fast tune carries their feet across the floor like the wind.

Eunomia is pretty, nice, and quiet. She’s too shy to meet Doyoung’s eyes directly—no doubt as a result of her parents’ training—and she lets him lead the conversation the same way he leads their dance. She would make the perfect wife to any other man but him.

Doyoung might have been more willing to pursue something with her if this gathering had happened a year before or even a few months ago, before their visit to Eupheme. Now, he only feels uninterested at best—and burdened at worst—about it all. He’s uncomfortable with the way her hand sweats in his palm, and with how fragile she feels in his hold. His mind keeps drifting back to the forest, though he tries to be present in the here and now.

The next few dances go similarly. Though his brothers and cousins seem to be enjoying themselves with the number of pretty women they have at their behest, Doyoung doesn’t feel the same. He ends up approached by various noblemen throughout the night, all holding some prestigious rank or another and seeking to introduce him to their daughters and insinuate a dance. And of course, being the gentleman and prince he is, how can he say no?

Each of the women is unique in their own way, but still not quite enough to hold his attention for long. He’s already made his mind up about who he wants, though you can’t be with him here now—or anywhere but the forest, really. This knowledge is equal parts comforting and disagreeable. He finally has an answer to the question about whether he’d ever find someone to love, though it turns out he cannot even be with you in an easy, convenient way.

By the time the night ends and the royals are on their way back to the castle, Doyoung is rather tightly wound. His mind swarms with thoughts of everything that occurred earlier in the evening and how annoyed and restless it all made him. Increasingly, he’s beginning to feel like he’s up against a wall that he just can’t surmount. He almost yearns for the days when he unquestioningly accepted his duty and actually received some enjoyment from his courtships, but he’d never truly want to go back. Not if it meant not knowing you.

“Are you okay? You seem upset,” Mark says hesitantly, noticing Doyoung’s tensed jaw as he keeps his face turned towards the window, looking out at the nightscape. Doyoung only gives his brother a quick glance before nodding curtly.

“I’m quite alright.” It’s a lie, but Doyoung doesn’t feel like trying to explain his mood at the moment. Though it’s easy enough for them to guess why Doyoung’s visits to the forest have been so much more frequent over the past month or so—and subsequently, why his mood is so sour now—it remains an open secret.

Jaemin settles back in his cushioned seat, grinning slightly to himself before looking up at Doyoung. “Your name must be on many a lady’s dance card tonight, Doyoung. I suspect every woman at the party had a turn, if not the Archduchess herself.” Mark elbows him in the side, but the younger man doesn’t think anything of it.

“I suppose so.” Doyoung rubs his finger over his lower lip. “But maybe you should be more concerned that the competition is diminishing your chances.” Mark and Jungwoo chuckle at that.

“Not to worry. When the time comes, the only choice they’ll have is me.” The younger two laugh even more enthusiastically, and Doyoung only shakes his head, grinning slightly despite himself.

 Once everyone is settled in for the night, Doyoung waits in his bed for an hour to be safe and then decides to sneak out to see you. Once again, he doesn’t bother with visiting the stable to take the horse, nor does he try to make himself look “presentable,” tired of being princely for the night. The only thing he does is pull on his pants and shoes and button up his shirt halfway before losing his patience and yanking his cloak on.

He uses his glamor to momentarily disguise himself as he passes through Arthenia, though the few stragglers outside don’t pay him much mind.

“Y/N?” Doyoung calls out your name, slipping his cloak to the ground once he gets to your familiar oak tree. He soon hears and sees the fluttering of tree leaves as you descend from the canopy and touch the ground, alighting from the branches as gracefully as if you’ve been doing it your entire life—which you have.

“My, sir. Here at this hour again? What could b—” You don’t get to finish your sentence before Doyoung is gathering you up in his arms and kissing you hard, his forearms wrapped tight around your waist. He picks you up off the ground and you let yourself be lifted, toes barely grazing the grass.

It’s a long moment before you can regain your breath. You look at him incredulously as he sets you back on the grass, pressing his forehead to yours.

“What...what’s got you in such a state?”

“Love,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your lips. You laugh at that, holding his flushed face in your hands.

“It’s a pleasant thing, isn’t it? But really, what is it? You seem tense.”

“I am tense,” Doyoung says, though he keeps his lips close to yours. He’s not really in the mood to go into detail about the evening and disturb what’s currently unfolding between you. “It’s just...royal niceties. They can become quite tiring.”

“That’s a pity,” you reply, though you pause in your next thought when his lips find your jawline and press against it firmly. This is the most intimate contact you’ve had since you met, or since he confessed to you, and it ignites a burning flame in your chest. “Maybe there is something that can help you with that.”

Doyoung pulls back to look you in the eyes, wondering if you’re insinuating exactly what he thinks. You step away from him and tug on his hand, pulling him away from the tree. “I’ll show you.”

You both walk along a section of the forest that Doyoung isn’t familiar with, and he conjures some light orbs to illuminate the pathway. You spend a long time walking—so long that he’s almost afraid he won’t be able to find his way back out. Or maybe he’ll encounter one of those unfriendly creatures that you previously mentioned lives on the outskirts. Wherever you’re taking him is farther than he’s ventured before.

You finally stop when you get near the west edge of the forest. The trees are slightly sparser here, and there’s a path through the middle that trails off onto the bottom of a steep hill. The hill marks the end of the forest and flattens out onto a field of tall grass. He catches glimpses of the grass swaying in the breeze under the moonlight and the light of his own orbs.

That’s far from the most eye-catching thing here, though. Another lake sits before you two, though it’s much smaller than the other one—more like a pond—and forms a nearly perfect circle.

You walk along the grassy bank and pull Doyoung along with you, and he’s surprised to feel heat coming from the water as he gets nearer to it. It’s not a burning hotness, but a comfortable warmth.

“Shall we swim?” You look at Doyoung over your shoulder, letting go of his hand to tug at one strap of your dress. He nods, watching wordlessly as you peel your dress off in front of him. His throat tightens to see you’re wearing nothing underneath. Standing nude underneath the combined glow of the moon and his own blue light makes you look positively ethereal, and Doyoung mentally imprints this image in his mind, filing it away as a permanent memory.

He watches as you step off the grassy bank and get into the pond, the black water lapping at your legs as you wade further into it. He’s still standing and simply observing you as you turn around to look at him and lift your arms out of the water, like you’re asking for a hug. “Are you going to leave me all alone in here?” You give him your best pleading eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to strip his clothes off and come in after you.

He dips underneath the water’s surface and swims around you, and you giggle as you can just barely make out his form under the water. You can only spot the ripples he leaves behind.

Doyoung’s head pops above the water on the farther side of the pond, with his long black hair sticking to his face and covering his shoulders. It makes his ears stand out more, and you laugh. You swim over to him and he pulls you into him when you’re close enough, your naked bodies molding themselves to each other. You’re about to say something, but his lips quickly envelop yours and you forget any words you formerly had. You kiss for a while in the lake’s warm water, with the full moon and Doyoung’s lights serving as your only illumination.

You haven’t done much else but kiss so far, but you can still feel something hard and warm pressing into your stomach. Doyoung’s lips separate from yours to travel to your neck, pressing against your pulse point and softly sucking the skin there.

You pull away to look at him, your body feeling strangely light and hot all at the same time. “Maybe we should get out of the water,” you say, smiling coyly.

Doyoung nods and scoops you up, carrying you out of the lake and setting you down on the unnaturally soft grass surrounding the waters. It feels almost like a cotton blanket underneath you.

You’re both fully exposed in front of each other now, though you don’t really feel embarrassed about it. Doyoung’s hands are warm as he cups the sides of your face and nudges his nose against yours, teasing you momentarily with the promise of his lips before actually kissing you again.

You like feeling his hair underneath your palm, all wet and slick beneath your fingertips, and you run your fingers through the strands. They coil around his neck and shoulders like little snakes, or maybe vines on a climbing plant.

His member stands against his stomach, already leaking precum from the press of your lips and the warmth of your body against his. You reach out to touch him, tracing your fingertip against a vein and feeling the stickiness of the precum, and Doyoung sighs against your lips. His hands come to your inner thighs, pushing them a bit further apart so he can dip his fingers between them and feel you wet and warm for him.

You gasp sharply when he slides a finger into you. He reaches deeply inside you, his palm rubbing against your clit as he fingers you, and it makes you spread your legs wider and push your hips closer into his touch. You wrap your fingers around him, and you enjoy the pulse of his cock in your hand as you stroke him.

Doyoung soon slips another finger into you, stretching you out more for him, and you moan as he does. You press your mouth against the base of this throat and his collarbones, feeling the firmness of them as you lightly drag your teeth over them. As if by luck, he shifts his fingers a certain way and brushes against that sweet spot that has you leaning further into his body and moaning hotly against his neck.

“Doyoung…” you sigh. He gives you an answering moan as your fingertips slide over his tip, purposely lingering at the slit. Your lips brush against each other’s, not quite kissing but making some semblance of the motion. Despite how good you’re feeling now, with his hand working you up to an inescapable high, you decide you need to have more of him; you need to get as close as possible. “Doyoung, please.”

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice unbearably gentle and breathy in your ear.

“You.” You take your hand away from him to guide his body on top of yours, parting your legs to invite him in-between. You are less preoccupied with foreplay at the moment and just want him inside you, which he has no complaints about.

The firm press of him inside you is unlike anything you’ve felt in the recent past. It’s not like dryads go their entire lives without sexual pleasure—of course, there’s always self-pleasure and the company of other women, and even the occasional agreeable male visitor who comes into the forest—but it’s been a long time since you’ve experienced it delivered by another person’s body. It’s almost strange, but also good and familiar, if only a little painful at first.

You try to breathe evenly as Doyoung seats himself inside you, his hands stroking you so adoringly that it makes you lose your bearings. Him leaning forward to kiss you only takes more of your breath.

“Is this good for you?” he asks quietly. You’re not quite sure what part of it he’s referring to—him inside you or his hands strumming along your breasts and clit—but you nod enthusiastically. Everything he’s doing feels undeniably good. Just when you think it could not get any better, he pulls out a bit and starts thrusting into you. His pace is slow, allowing you to adjust, but it’s enough to make you cry out loud, gripping his slick shoulders for support.

Doyoung brings himself close to kiss your lips again, grinning against your mouth. “Shhh, my princess. If you’re too loud, you’ll wake all the others.”

You nod against his wet forehead, breathing heavily, though it’s a bit hard to keep yourself quiet as he fills your body over and over again. You press your thighs tight against his hips, feeling the muscles in his body flex as he thrusts into you. His movements create a slick sound between you, and the lewd quality of it entices you more.

While one of his hands slides slick and slow across your clit, you grasp the other and bring it up to your lips, kissing his fingers like you did the day he told you he loved you, and then nibbling on them, sucking them into your mouth. Doyoung twitches inside you when your mouth tightens around his fingers, and he groans into the night air. You’re reluctant to let his hand go, but you do it so he can leverage himself enough to dip his head lower and give more attention to your breasts, drawing his tongue across the round firmness of them and catching your nipples in his mouth.

He angles himself a bit differently so he can find your spot again and concentrates on repeatedly pushing into that sensitive part of you. His attentions bring you to your climax soon, and you can barely quiet yourself as you come around him. The pleasure seems never-ending, like it’s pouring into you from a bottomless well, and small tears bead at the corners of your eyes. Doyoung cups your face and kisses your tears away, and you hold the back of his head as he does.

When Doyoung gets close, he slips himself from inside you and thrusts in between the tight space of your thighs, his tip rubbing across your stomach. He comes soon after doing this, his seed pooling on your skin, some of it running into the grass.

You both lie in the grass after the aftermath, with Doyoung pulling you so you can lay your body on top of his. His heartbeat is still fast; you hear it hammering in his chest as you rest your head against his breast. You close your eyes and let the sound of it calm your own restless body.

After a few long moments of listening to the insects and night creatures making their midnight songs, you stir from your position on his chest and draw yourself up. “Doyoung…” you murmur, straddling either side of his waist so you’re hovering over him. You press your lips against his and he responds with a slow kiss. You can practically feel how satisfied he is as his lips push against yours, like a drunken sprite who’s gotten into a cup of ale.

You depart from his lips and trail your mouth over the rest of his body until you’re level with his softened cock. It jumps a bit when you grasp it, and Doyoung groans softly; his voice increases slightly when you press your lips to it, still tasting the remnants of his salty release and your own pleasure. His hand comes to hold the back of your head as you take him into your mouth, licking the shaft and feeling his balls in your other hand.

Though he was the one who’d hushed you earlier, now he has to choke back his own moans as you suck him and stroke your tongue around his tip.

You draw your mouth away from him, and a trail of spit follows your lips. “Does this feel good, my prince?” you ask, still stroking him languidly to keep his pleasure stoked. You know it does, but you want to hear it from his mouth anyway.

“So good.” He makes a noise between a whimper and a groan, and it travels straight to the apex of your thighs. His stomach tenses with his strained breaths as you take him back into your mouth, focusing your attention on the leaking slit.

His thighs tremble when he gets closer, and as much as you’d like to have him come in your mouth and drip over your chin, you decide to pull away and straddle your legs around his waist again. Doyoung whines needily, though his complaints are quickly forgotten when your sex slides over his slick shaft. He waits with bated breath as you grab the base of his member and line him up with your entrance, pushing him into you as you sink down on him. Feeling him part your walls makes your legs shake a little, and you readjust your posture so you can maintain your stability.

You seat yourself fully on top of Doyoung and let him press himself up into you as you push back down on him, your hands scraping for purchase on his chest. In this position, you can control the pace and ride him just so that his tip is pressing into your most sensitive spot.

Eventually, you lean forward with your mouth covering his. Another orgasm approaches you fast, and you pant against his lips as you search for that release again. “I love you,” you moan softly, trying to muffle your sounds with the touch of his lips.

Doyoung’s hands roam your body, coming up to palm your breasts and thumb at your nipples. “I adore you,” he whispers.

This time you both come within moments of each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. Doyoung pushes himself into you until you’re leaking over him once more, and then he hurriedly pulls out and comes across your thigh, leaving trails of white dripping down your skin.

Doyoung knows he’ll need to get up and get dressed at some point—and begin the long trek back to the castle—but he doesn’t think about that right now. He just pulls you closer and enjoys the warm stickiness of your bodies together, the lukewarm breeze stirring his hair, and the gentle grass tickling his skin.

“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”

Jungwoo brings this up to Donghyuck during one of their archery lessons as they sit beside each other underneath the sun. The younger man was noticeably not as concentrated or effortless as he’d usually be, and many of his arrows ended up being off-mark, if not missing their targets entirely.

Currently, they both sit in the grass after their instructor called for a break earlier, stating that they needed some time to cool off and pull it together—Donghyuck in particular.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck grumbles, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. If he could close his ears, too, he would. Unfortunately for him, his brother doesn’t take that as a sign to stop talking.

“That’s doubtful. Really, what’s chafing you? I know all the lessons can be annoying, but there is nothing we can do about that for now.” The younger man doesn’t answer at all this time, but Jungwoo continues on. “I know Doyoung isn’t with us during our breaks as often as he was before, but isn’t that a good thing? He can’t tell us what to do all the time.”

Donghyuck groans, wiping his hands over his face at the mention of their older brother. Jungwoo perks up at this. “Oh? Is it something with Doyoung that’s bothering you? What is it?”

Donghyuck is quiet for a moment longer. When it’s clear Jungwoo won’t leave the matter alone, he turns to face his brother fully, looking at him more closely. He hesitates for a moment before finally saying, “What would you do if you wanted something you couldn’t have?”

Jungwoo thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. It depends on what it is. Maybe the logical answer would be to just give it up and stop indulging a fruitless case.”

Donghyuck sighs, hanging his head. “Of course. But what if...alright, what if it was a person? Someone you’re particularly fond of. And…they just make you feel as if…if they looked at you once, you wouldn’t hesitate to hand them anything they could ever want. Then would you give up on them so easily?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen, and Donghyuck thinks he must’ve said too much. Before he can speak to try to defuse the situation, Jungwoo says, “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about Nayeon. I’m sorry Donghyuck, but—”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck pushes himself to his feet, taking up his bow and arrow again and walking off to one of the targets farther away from Jungwoo. “Nevermind.”

After Donghyuck gives a few more unsuccessful tries, the instructor decides to dismiss them early and encourages Donghyuck to keep his head clear for their next session. “I am well aware of what you’re capable of, Donghyuck, and I know you understand your own abilities. Just look at it as simply having an off day, but do try to keep your concentration next time.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, already feeling drained even though they’re only halfway through the day. The walk back to the castle with Jungwoo is quiet, though crossing the ample landscape gives him plenty of time to think to himself. What you’re capable of...Yes. What is he capable of?

Maybe there was still a way to alter the course.

“You’re particularly quiet today,” you remark, studying Doyoung’s face. You’re both sitting in the small clearing where you and the other dryads often gather at night, only it’s daytime now and the other girls are off doing their own things. Deeper among the woods, you can hear their laughter from a distance.

Doyoung came to visit you with a solemn look, and though you can tell he is still glad to see you, there’s also a tinge of disquiet beneath it.

A strong gust blows some strands of hair into his face, and you brush them away before he can do it himself. He turns his head and stares at you as you do, his eyes big and imploring and brewing with a distress you can’t place. “Actually, you seem to be a bit different since...that night,” you continue. Your face warms at the thought of your first time together, and how Doyoung took you in the grass and whispered sweet adoration to you. “Is something wrong?”

Doyoung’s lips part like he wants to speak, though he remains silent for a few moments more. Then he says something that nearly makes your heart stop, the words coming slow off his tongue. “I want to give up my title.”

“Your title? As Crown Prince? How can you do that?”

“I could do it,” he says, his voice still low. “There’s no law against it. It might be...dishonorable. No, it would certainly not be…” He pauses, then abandons whatever he was about to say. “But there’s no law to stop me.”

“But why? I thought you liked being royalty, at least to some degree. Your station in life affords you many things others don’t have.”

“It doesn’t afford me you.” He grasps your hand where it lies in the grass. “We can’t be together if I’m still Crown Prince. If I walk away, though...”

You’re also quiet now, unsure how to respond to a declaration like this. For Doyoung to give up his royal title for you...it’s a much bigger implication than you think he’s really considering.

“But, the throne...you’re the heir, and it just…” You’re almost desperate to come up with at least 100 reasons why he can’t do it, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe you’re too afraid to hope it could be possible, even if it’s the slightest chance.

“I have six other brothers. Any one of them could...” Doyoung falters, remembering Yuta’s and Sicheng’s controversial parentage, and then sighs but tries to remain hopeful. You look at him with wrinkled brows, worry crowding your heart. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, looping his arm with yours.

“I don’t know if they’d ever agree to it,” you say it almost inaudibly.

“There’s no way to know if we don’t try…” Doyoung replies, hugging you tightly to him. “I don’t care about giving up my title.”

You shake your head. “There are so many other things to consider, Doyoung.”

Doyoung knows you’re worried and doubtful, but he holds you close to him and kisses your temple and tries not to think about those things. He only wants to think about all the good things the future could hold for you.

A small grin appears on his face as he wills his mind to drift elsewhere. “How many children would you like to have?” Doyoung asks suddenly. You give him an incredulous look, though there is a grin of your own slowly taking over your lips.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want children.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “As long as I’ve been on this Earth, I’d have them by now if I wanted them.”

“Then it’d be just the two of us forever?” Doyoung pulls you so you’re both lying down and entangles himself with you, his head on your chest. He listens to your heart, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a sense of sleepiness. “That’s fine with me.”

You feel a tug at your heart, like the chambers are contracting in pain. “Yes, an eternity together.”

Despite your many doubts and questions, you have a warm dream that night. One of you and Doyoung living in the forest together, running through the hills, jumping across creeks, and enjoying each other’s company to your heart’s content.

Donghyuck knocks on the door of the King’s sitting room, his palms sweating as he waits for a response. Sicheng stands beside him, quiet and waiting to see if the man will respond. The King of Eupheme may be a long-term friend of their father’s, but Donghyuck can’t help the slight fear he feels whenever he’s in the man’s presence. Something about him has always been a little colder, more unforgiving, and more unyielding than their own father is.

“Who is it?” The man’s voice booms from behind the door.

“It...it’s Donghyuck and Sicheng, Your Highness.” Donghyuck’s voice wavers a bit as he speaks, and he tries to suppress the tremors in his speech. “We’re here for our...meeting.”

“Come in, then.”

Donghyuck turns the doorknob and enters the room, closing the heavy door behind him and his brother.

“Well, then. What is the pressing matter you have to inform me of?” The King raises one eyebrow, looking skeptical about whether Donghyuck has anything to report or not, though he waits patiently for the boy’s response.

The elven King’s presence seems impossibly heavier in this singular room, filling every corner of the space and physically weighing down the Earth’s gravity. Donghyuck almost doesn’t know what to do with himself in response to this force. Sicheng is less affected by it—or better at hiding it—though his face creases minutely. Donghyuck ends up speaking without thinking clearly about what he practiced prior.

“D…Doyoung is courting a dryad.”

“A...what, boy?” The King slowly leans forward, his sharp eyebrows drawing together, one hand coming up to stroke his long beard. They both know that he knows full well what a dryad is, but he seems unable to comprehend what Donghyuck has just blurted out. Or maybe he thinks the younger man is lying.

“A-a dryad, Your Highness. He’s been using his assigned free time—and sneaking out at night—every week to see her, in the forest beyond Arthenia. H…he’s even thinking of asking to be relieved from his title to be with her.” Donghyuck feels sweat gathering on the back of his neck, as if he’s the one about to be punished.

The King’s brows furrow even more, though this time his eyes hold a hint of rising anger. He leans back in his seat again, holding Donghyuck and Sicheng with a hard stare. “These are quite damning claims to make. Where is your proof?” Before either one can respond, the King continues on. “He will doubtless be questioned, but I would think that both of you have ample reason to try to sabotage the Crown Prince—especially you.” He directs his gaze to Sicheng at this, and Sicheng’s face falters. “A whore’s son will always believe he’s owed more than he’s worth.”

Disgust and hatred rises up in Sicheng’s chest at being regarded like this—always as less than his half-brothers—though he tries not to let his rage show. His jaw clenches as he speaks, keeping his tone measured, and it takes him a long moment to force out a proper response. “We indeed have proof…Your Highness.”

“If you’ll allow us, we need a mirror, Your Highness,” Donghyuck adds.

Still with a skeptical look on his face, the King waves his hand towards a small round mirror hanging on the east wall, sitting formerly unacknowledged despite all its ornate trappings. Sicheng walks over and takes it off the wall, coming back to stand in front of the King with it. Donghyuck comes up behind Sicheng and lays a hand on the back of the older man’s neck, pressing his index and middle finger where his brain stem would be. Donghyuck closes his eyes and concentrates, while Sicheng keeps his own eyes open, staring into the depths of the mirror and his own reflection.

In the mirror image, his eyes turn a foggy gray. Donghyuck’s memories flood into his mind as if they were his own, experienced with his own five senses; he can almost smell the forest grass and feel the sun burning his skin. Sicheng then takes his right hand and presses his fingertips against the mirror, forcing it to bend to his power and replicate what he’s seeing in his mind’s eye.

When the image becomes steady, Sicheng holds the mirror up to the King and lets him see what it displays; you and Doyoung lying in the grass together, with you dragging a tiny blue flower across his lips. Doyoung tilting his head up to accept your kiss. You looking straight ahead, trying to figure out why you sense a disturbance in the forest, only to see a deer—and missing the invisible form of Donghyuck staring at you and your lover from the bushes. Your conversation is hard to hear, consisting of mostly vague echoes, as if you were speaking underwater—channeling sounds is harder than conjuring up images—but there’s no need for words to understand what’s going on.

The King’s eyes are a windstorm of emotions at this point, a close rival to the actual stormy gray of Sicheng’s eyes as he reveals the memory. He is silent for an excruciatingly long moment. Still, he continually strokes his beard in a repetitive motion, though his gaze displays the true anger burning beneath the surface.

“And where is Doyoung right now?” he finally asks, after it seems like an eon has passed. Then he waves his hand sharply towards the mirror. “I’ve seen enough of that.”

“He has no duties to attend to as of right now, so he must’ve gone to the forest,” Sicheng responds. Donghyuck takes his hand away from his neck then, stepping back in a jerky motion as he tries to regain some of the energy spent from transferring the memory. Likewise, the mirror image fades once Sicheng takes his hand away from the glass, and the normal brown of his irises bleeds back into his eyes. “To see her again, no doubt.”

The King nods, pressing his fingers together into a steeple, his thick rings glinting in the light of the room. “Just as you say, the matter is quite grave. The King and Queen of Ceres will have to be notified immediately...and it will be handled accordingly.”

Donghyuck and Sicheng nod to the King’s statement, shooting each other looks out of the corners of their eyes. Donghyuck feels a small sense of triumph at knowing his brother will likely be sent back to Ceres soon—or at least, forbidden to see you anymore—even if he knows deep within that he shouldn’t be reveling in Doyoung’s impending heartbreak like this.

“Unfortunately, it also cannot be forgotten that you two, and all your other brothers, withheld this information for months.” The King blinks slowly. “I must also assume that my sons have been swept up in concealing this utter nonsense, to some degree. Those transgressions will be dealt with accordingly as well.” He draws the last sentence out to emphasize his claim, though the men have already heard him clearly. The tiny smirks they allowed themselves to show quickly fade.

Donghyuck feels as if he’s just had a bucket of cold water poured down his back, and Sicheng’s fists curl tightly around the mirror.

Donghyuck is the first to respond, bowing his head. “A-as necessary, Your Highness.” Sicheng lowers his own head after the younger does, though with noticeable reluctance.

The King waves his hand as a signal for the two men to leave, though he still looks thoughtful for reasons neither of them could guess. “You are both dismissed.”

Sicheng is fuming once they leave the sitting room, though Donghyuck’s anxiety manifests itself as tense silence, which is a true rarity for him.

“Look what your impulsiveness has gotten us into this time,” Sicheng gripes once they’re far enough away to not be heard. Donghyuck reawakens at that and shoots his brother daggers with his gaze.

“I didn’t think we’d get punished, too! And if you thought it was such a bad idea, you should’ve never agreed to it!”

Sicheng shakes his head, scoffing. “It’s neither here nor there anymore. Whatever comes of this had better be worth it.”

“You’d better hope,” Donghyuck continues. “Like we don’t know you’d sell us all out to have Yuta, your favorite brother, as the Crown Prince instead of Doyoung.”

Sicheng whips back around to Donghyuck. “I’d think he’d deserve it more than any of you ingrates who’ve had everything handed to you. You could never even imagine what it’s like to have to fight and scrape for an iota of respect among your own family.”

Donghyuck wants to scream something childish and hurtful back at him, but he’s lost on what to say. They all know Sicheng and Yuta have always been a bit separate from the rest of them despite their best efforts to make them feel included, but he hadn’t realized Sicheng felt quite this forsaken. The King’s earlier words certainly don’t help. Donghyuck has enough conscience left to feel guilty, though he refuses to acknowledge that aloud now.

When Sicheng sees that Donghyuck doesn’t have a response, he nods in vindication and stomps off.

After Doyoung returns to the castle that afternoon, the atmosphere in the castle is notably more tense. It’s as if storm clouds have gathered in the rafters, waiting for the perfect time to rain down hell. He senses this acutely, though he can’t quite understand the reasoning for it.

Donghyuck is uncharacteristically quiet today, and Sicheng is similarly reserved. Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin conduct their business as usual, though there is a certain stiffness to their auras; the kind of careful and cautious demeanor you learn to adopt when living under the constant presence of a ticking timebomb. Mark and Jungwoo, who accompanied Doyoung on his visit to Arthenia and the forest, remain just as clueless as him about what’s wrong, though they also feel uncomfortable underneath the weight of the tension.

The air stays this way for hours, including during their nightly dinner. The Queen and King don’t do or say anything out of the ordinary, though Doyoung can feel the King’s eyes on him as he eats. The sensation of being watched makes his stomach curl into a ball, and his heart kicks up like a drum at the thought that pops into his mind. Maybe he’s been found out? But how? He’s been as careful as he knows how to be. He doesn’t truly believe any of his brothers would tell, and his cousins have been too disinterested in the affair to go stirring up trouble behind it.

Their three cousins eat quietly with their eyes glued to their plates, wondering what could be the cause of their father’s anger this time. They’ve known him long enough to pick up on the telltale signs of his rage, even when not openly expressed.

It’s nothing short of a relief when dinner is finally over, though Doyoung’s blood turns to lead when he hears the King’s deep voice booming from behind him. “Doyoung. Come with me.” The other men shoot him varying looks as they file out of the dining room, though none of them say a word. Donghyuck throws him a concerned glance in an attempt to remain unsuspecting, though there is a slight unsteadiness in his step.

By the time he gets to the King’s sitting room, Doyoung’s heart is beating overtime. He stands in front of the older man with his spine ramrod straight and his lips tucked into a thin line. The King doesn’t even acknowledge his presence for a few moments, simply stroking his beard and looking at some spot in the distance. Doyoung can’t decide if this is worse than being pinned under his gaze or not, though he quickly gets his answer when the King finally looks at him.

“Do you understand your position as Crown Prince?” This is not what he expected to hear first, though it fails to ease his anxiety.

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s a high honor, and one that requires a certain discipline.”

“Then why have you allowed yourself to become quite so undisciplined in your activities?”

Doyoung doesn’t know how to respond to this at first. He blinks rapidly and sweat breaks out over his skin. “Activities?” he stammers out, his mouth drying up.

“You’ve allowed yourself to be enamored by a woman who is so low she must live in the forest like an animal and forage for food. And you think this behavior is becoming of a man of your station?”

The room appears to spin. If his heart was hammering before, now it stops momentarily. Doyoung feels like he’s just smashed into a stone wall head-on. “Your Highness...I…”

“Have you lain with this creature?”

“Sh-she’s not...I…”

“Have you? Do not lie.”

Doyoung thinks of your hands on him and feels sick at such an intimate moment being forced out into the open like this, in such a cruel manner. “Y…yes.”

The King shakes his head, his frown deepening even more, if that’s possible. “And is there any chance that she could be with child now?”

Doyoung can’t remember ever feeling this humiliated, flayed open for all to see. “No. I was...careful.” The King pauses for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe Doyoung’s claim. He doesn’t ask any further questions about it, though, and Doyoung doesn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved about that.

“Understand that you are infinitely lucky that you are not a woman, Doyoung, and can remain relatively unsullied by such acts. Nevertheless, I would’ve thought your father would’ve raised more diligent sons than this.” The King leans forward, and it seems like the Earth itself shifts with this movement.

“Then let one of the others have my title,” Doyoung blurts out, finally finding his voice again. “Yuta or Jaehyun. It doesn’t matter who it is.”

“Yuta isn’t getting anything,” the King spits. “Do you mean to make a complete mockery of your family? Your kingdom? To have a bastard sitting on the throne? Your father is a noble man, but laying with whores has resulted in the two biggest mistakes of his life.”

Doyoung’s head swims, and he has to bite back the first response that rises to his mind. “Your Highness, you’re correct in noting that I’ve made a grave error. Perhaps I’m truly not suited for the role. Don’t you think having my title transferred would be the best way to remedy that? Jaehyun is fit to be the Crown Prince. He can take my title, and I—”

“And you can do what? Live in the forest with the rest of the dregs?” The King draws himself up in his chair, and the action reminds Doyoung of a big brown bear attempting to intimidate a trespasser in its territory. His muscles turn rigid with fear. “It would behoove you to abandon this insane talk if you don’t wish to make the consequences worse for yourself. I’m not your father, boy, but as long as he’s left you under my care, I won’t entertain such dishonor on his behalf. ”

Doyoung wants to continue protesting but also knows that, just like you told him, this appears to be a fruitless case. He lowers his head as his stomach twists and his body tenses up further with the fear of what will come next.

“As you can expect, there will be no more visits to the village or the forest, if you can exercise no more self-control than this.”

Doyoung blinks rapidly, though there are no tears coming. “Will you send me away?”

“That would only draw more attention, which is the last thing we need to do. You are simply to remain in the castle until it’s time for you all to return to Ceres. Barring any more royal events, you will not be going anywhere further than the front lawn.”

Doyoung says nothing to this. To speak or nod would feel like sealing his own fate, though it’s already been chosen for him.

“You are lucky, Doyoung. Remember that. It is easier than you think for all of this to be forgotten, swept under the rug, so you can return to your homeland with your title and dignity intact. See—we do not even need to let your mother and father know. In a year from now, you will be wed, and this will be nothing but a regretful—if vague—memory.”

Still, Doyoung does not respond, his tongue heavy and immobile.

“You are your family’s honor. The consequences will not be as harsh for you...as long as you obey.” The King’s body relaxes now, as if all the day’s tension has suddenly unwound itself, though this is more of a false sense of security than any true calm. “Is that understood?”

Doyoung’s throat burns. It seems like he’s being pressed in on all sides. Not answering the King is not an option. Not seeing you again is not an option, either, if he wishes to preserve any iota of happiness on this Earth. Here it comes, now—the wetness gathering in his eyes and the tightening of his chest.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

It has only been a few days since Doyoung last saw you, but this alone feels like centuries to him, especially with the King’s order trailing him like a cement block tied to his leg.

He doesn’t intend on following it, regardless of the consequences. Maybe he’s not thinking straight anymore, but nothing else matters as much as you to him now.

There isn’t any way to easily get to you, though, considering the guards that have been stationed outside his room every night. And the other guards who follow him around the castle nearly 24/7 now. His glamors only grant him enough leeway to disguise his face, which is no use in making it out of his doorway undetected.

The stress of it all nearly makes him physically sick.

His brothers and cousins are not guarded quite so constantly as he, but they are similarly forbidden from leaving the castle—lest they try to report back to you with a message from Doyoung, or something similar.

Doyoung still does not know how the King found out and has had no free opportunity to question his brothers and cousins about it. In the back of his mind, though, the idea that he could’ve been betrayed lives constantly among his thoughts. Thinking on it for too long makes the back of his mouth taste sour, but he can’t help the festering sense of distrust he feels towards everyone around him.

Frayed and at his wit’s end, Doyoung finally thinks of an idea after an entire week of missing your presence. It’s a lot to ask for and may not work, but he needs to at least try it once before ruling it out. He has to be careful about it, of course, to avoid being found out by any of the watchful guards. Still, he manages to write a note during an etiquette lesson with his brothers, when the guards are standing outside the room. It’s easy enough to disguise his pen’s movements as him simply taking notes.

When the instructor looks down to read something from his book—squinting harshly even in his glasses, for his lack of sight—Doyoung slips the piece of paper to Mark. Mark gives him a questioning glance, though he says nothing. He only opens the note towards the end of the lesson, which is probably for the best because he makes a startled noise after reading it. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by the instructor who is too busy listening to Sicheng answer a question he just asked him. Mark’s eyes burn into the side of Doyoung’s face, though the older man only gives him a sparing glance and returns his attention to his papers.

 Mark and Doyoung don’t get to talk formally until their next set of archery lessons. Only one of Doyoung’s guards is present that day, and he hangs back far enough outside of the archery range that it’d be difficult to hear their conversation, especially with them talking in low tones. Doyoung is the first one to initiate once their archery teacher becomes preoccupied with showing Jungwoo and Jaemin the technique for a trick shot.

He glances over at Mark after letting his arrow fly, then turns slightly toward him as he grabs another from his quiver. “Mark.”

The younger man’s eyes widen a bit at hearing his name called. “What?” he answers full-voiced, which causes Doyoung to give him a glare. Catching onto what’s going on, Mark throws an anxious glance behind them to the guard and to his left to the instructor, but no one pays him any mind.

“The note.”

Mark makes a face as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then quickly tries to relax his expression. “Doyoung, I don’t think…is this really a good idea?”

“I need to see her, Mark,” Doyoung hisses.

Mark’s eyebrows crease. He takes a moment to shoot his arrow at the target, not wanting to come off as suspicious to the others by just standing there. “I’ve never created a portal like…between Donghyuck’s room and mine, back at our castle? Yes, that’s perfectly fine. But from here all the way to the forest? That’s…” The younger man shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You have to try,” Doyoung begs. “Practice it or something. All you need to do is create one to get to my room, and then to the forest. I don’t care if it takes you a while, as long as I can see her again before we have to go back.” He does care, but at this point, he figures it’s better to have something than nothing.

Mark gives Doyoung a long look, shakes his head again, and then nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

Doyoung presses his lips together and nods. His eyes are desperate, though he tries not to be. “It’s okay. Just try, Mark.”

Mark spends the next few days in the library in-between lessons. Though he hasn’t taken much interest in this part of the castle before now, he finds himself pouring through old, dusty books in search of something that can help him find a way to create a long-distance portal.

One of the books he finds describes simply just concentrating all your energy into your hands and putting it forth to open up a rip in space—which he is already capable of, but that doesn’t help him with projecting it out further. Another contains a weird chanting verse that he tries to pronounce, to no avail. Even if it did work, he wouldn’t know how to say it.

However, he eventually happens upon something that catches his eye.

“The Root Chakra serves as the foundation of your body and soul. Only when you are firmly grounded in your current body, space, and time can you begin to manipulate other spaces in time…whether it concerns generating long-range portals through space manipulation or even accessing different moments in history.”

“Opening the Root Chakra, huh?” Mark laughs to himself quietly and shakes his head. Despite being a magic user since birth, along with the rest of his brothers, this is the first time he’s heard anything of the sort. But it’s better later than never to learn.

Perhaps he’s more invested in this scheme than he should be, for both his and his brother’s sakes, but he also knows that he hasn’t seen Doyoung so fulfilled and joyful since discovering the forest. If his efforts can make a bit of difference in Doyoung’s current sunken mood, Mark is willing to try.

Therefore, he sets to work on “opening” this purported Chakra, keeping his practice to late-night hours to ensure he won’t be walked in on by anyone else. He feels a bit awkward at first, maybe even a little foolish, with “meditating” and trying to reach out to some strange energy inside himself. He’s never had to put much thought into creating portals before; it’s just something that happens as he wills it. He never considered that there might be more to the practice—that he’d need to tap into some kind of extra energy to improve his skills. He thinks back to the magic crystals in the marketplace and wonders if they’d be any help in this situation, though there’s no way of finding out.

Mark practices opening portals within the floor, knowing his room is above an empty guest room, as it’s too risky to try any of the walls; Jisung and Jungwoo sleep in the rooms on either side of him. He is soon able to make his portals wider than before—where they used to be the width of only his palms—which allows him to peer more clearly into the empty room below, though he still hasn’t tried to conjure anything farther away than that.

Once he feels he has more control over his energy, Mark soon begins experimenting with visualization, a technique the book cites for conjuring up long-distance locations. Allowing his energy to concentrate in his hands, he places his palms just above the floor of his room and pictures a place he’s fairly familiar with by now—the library. If it goes as planned, he’ll have created a portal to the library; if not…who knows what will be on the other side.

He feels the energy flow through his body, from his core, up his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms…it gathers in his palms and fingertips and triggers a small rip in time, which he gradually coaxes open wider, all the while visualizing the library as clearly as he can. Mark pushes the portal open a bit wider still and opens his eyes slightly to see if it’s worked. He’s dismayed, however, when he still sees the empty guest room sitting below him. A heavy sigh leaves his body, and it pushes the rest of his energy out with it; the portal closes with a silent snap.

Guess he’ll just have to try again.

The next few tries work similarly, and on those nights, he often ends up climbing into bed feeling discouraged and sapped of strength and wondering if he’ll ever get it, or if any of this is worth it. He keeps at it, though, for Doyoung’s benefit. And also partly because he’s curious to see what he’s capable of; now that he’s opened these floodgates, he needs to see how far he can push himself.

The first real hint of success takes him by surprise. It doesn’t happen quite as cleanly or perfectly as the book says, but something happens. When Mark opens his eyes that time, he’s still looking at the guest room—but now there appears to be a faint afterimage of the library merged with it, as if someone had tried to paint two different pictures at once. It’s not a complete location shift by any means, and he doesn’t try to go into the portal—afraid he might somehow get stuck between two realities—but it’s a start.

Improving on that start requires a little more time. More hours of meditating, reading, pushing his energy out and expanding it, visualizing. The afterimage begins growing clearer all the while.

On one blessed night, Mark opens his eyes, and the library itself is sitting below him. Not a faint representation of it, merged with some other room of the castle, but the actual library. He’s so surprised that he almost closes the portal by accident and has to steady his concentration to keep the energy flowing. Carefully, he sticks one hand through it. Then the other. It is still hard to keep the entrance open without physically guiding it with his hands, but he can manage it for a minute or two.

He looks at the long distance beneath him to the floor, with nothing but a lounge sofa to break his landing. Sweat breaks out on his skin, but he takes a moment to steel himself and take a deep breath. Then, he jumps through the portal feet-first, bouncing clumsily onto the sofa and tumbling onto the floor. Just as quick as he can right himself, he hurries behind the sofa to hide, afraid he might’ve alerted one of the guards with his rough landing. The portal has already closed above him with the loss of directed energy.

Mark waits for what feels like forever, his legs burning from holding the crouch, but no one comes. When he’s positive it’s safe, he places his hands on the floor and this time tries to create a portal back to his room. The spacetime-rip flickers briefly as if it won’t work, and a surge of panic rises in him, but soon it displays the sight of his bed and the nightstands on either side. A sigh of relief leaves him, and he jumps through the portal as smoothly as he can, landing on his bed this time.

Now, he is ready. He hopes.

The end of September—and the end of their stay in Eupheme—approaches. By that time, it has been weeks since you and Doyoung have seen each other. The one bright spot, though, lies with Mark.

Mark passes Doyoung a note during another of their etiquette lessons. The older man doesn’t wait to open it, though he keeps a watchful eye on the instructor as he does.

I think I’ve done it. Let’s try tonight.

Doyoung sucks in a breath and slowly lets it back out. Then, he crumbles the piece of paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. He gives Mark a small nod, and Mark returns it before facing the teacher again as if nothing has happened.

Even though Doyoung had already given Mark instructions for how to create the portal, he is a bit unsure what to expect that night. He sits on the edge of his bed fully clothed, his hands clasped nervously together as his eyes dart all around the room, wondering where Mark will show up at.

He soon gets his answer when a teal ring of light manifests itself on the east wall of his room. It remains small only for a few moments before widening out enough to accommodate Mark’s form as he steps through it. Mark himself looks a bit shocked at what he’s just accomplished, even though he’s been doing it for a good amount of time now. Doyoung leaps up from the bed, about to speak, though he winces and remembers they still need to be mindful of the guards outside his door.

“You really did it,” Doyoung whispers, watching in awe as Mark closes the portal to his own room behind him.

“I did,” Mark affirms, and he can’t help but grin a little. However, his smile slips. “There is one thing, though.”

Doyoung’s stomach drops, and he can only imagine what this caveat will be. “What is it?”

“Well, once I’ve created the portal, I’ll have to keep it open,” Mark says. “Otherwise, I won’t know when you’re coming back…since we can’t communicate. But…I’ll only be able to keep energy flowing into it for about 15 minutes, maybe less, so…”

“…so make it quick. Right?” Doyoung replies. He is not surprised. Not because of any lack in Mark’s abilities, but more because this just seems to be the kind of luck that’s afflicted him as of late. Mark nods sheepishly.

“Just…be aware of the time,” Mark says, giving Doyoung an apologetic look. The older man only nods silently and steps back as he lets the younger do his work. Mark walks over to the wall he just came from and places his palms against it, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and concentrating. He holds the image of the forest entrance in his mind’s eye and shifts the power out from his hands and to the wall, opening up a gap in space as the portal widens.

Doyoung’s heart rate picks up as he sees that familiar forest entrance forming in front of him, still crowded with overgrowth and greenery. He steps over to Mark to see it closer, and he can even feel the cool night air brushing past his skin as he peers in.

Mark opens his eyes and nods for Doyoung to go on, and the older gives him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Indeed, the forest on the other side is the exact same one he’s been visiting for the entire summer. The same dirt underneath his feet, the same trees crowding each other in. For that reason, he doesn’t waste any more time with rushing inside, heading straight for the oak tree.

There’s an indignant sentence waiting on your lips when you hear Doyoung crashing into your forest late that night, not having seen him in weeks. You’re hurt, but you also realize there must be something serious going on back at the castle if it’s taken him this long to get back to you. However, the words die when you see the pure anguish on his face as he bursts out of the vegetation.

You slip out of the oak tree to meet him on the ground, and he scoops you in his arms like he did all those weeks ago, though this passion is now charged with fear. “Doyoung, what’s happened? What’s the matter? What has kept you so long?” you ask worriedly, taking his face in your hands.

Doyoung holds you close and simply buries his face in the front of your dress for a long moment, breathing in your scent and absorbing the warmth of your skin. Though you are terrified and confused, you wait for him to calm himself enough to speak to you.

“I can’t anymore,” he says, his voice low and broken. Your heart drops at this.

“Can’t what?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“The King has forbidden me to come here—I shouldn’t be here now, but Mark...Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You hold Doyoung tighter against you, as if you could both become one being if you concentrated hard enough—wished hard enough. Your head throbs with the hurt of it, and your heart feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. You don’t say anything for a while, biting your lip so hard that it nearly bleeds.

“I tried.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. I tried.”

“There’s no one to blame,” you argue, breathless from the vise pinching your heart and lungs. “I think we both knew how this would end…”

“I don’t want it to be this way. Y/N, forgive me. I should’ve never told you anything…perhaps if I’d kept my feelings to myself, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. You could live happily as you were, and I—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I wouldn’t trade our time together for any living being…not even the gods.” You shake your head as tears begin to slip down your cheeks. Doyoung tries to wipe them away, though tears of his own escape without his permission. “It may be selfish, but…I-I just ask that…p-please don’t forget about me when you leave and start your own family.”

Doyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses your head into his chest. “I could never,” he whispers.

He thinks he’s safe in your arms, and you safe in his. That’s what he’d like to believe, as you sit here together in the forest for the last time. Unbeknownst to him, something in the castle stirs and then bursts to life, violent and red-hot with rage.

Mark, on the other side of the portal, waits. He feels his energy weakening the longer he holds it open, but he does so anyway as nervous sweat gathers on his temples. He wants to call out to Doyoung to somehow warn him of the time limit, but remembers that the guards will hear it if he does. So he remains silent and waits impatiently as the end of the 15 minutes approaches.

However, he can’t wait any longer as the time ticks past. His magic flickers once, as does the portal, before disappearing completely. Mark nearly keels over at the loss of energy and has to catch himself as quietly as possible, bracing his shaking hands against the floor. He pushes himself up a bit and sits on his knees. He thinks desperately to himself, I should make another portal, but he doesn’t have enough energy for that at the moment.

The next move he makes is a costly one.

He reaches into his pants pocket for his pocketwatch, which he remembered to bring with him. He intends to see how far it is past the time they’d agreed Doyoung would come back, and how long it might take him to regain enough strength for another portal, but his shaky hands cause him to drop the small watch. He tries to grab the chain, but the movement is too sudden and clumsy and causes the watch to bounce even farther away from him, skittering clear off the rug and onto the hardwood floor.

Mark swears all his organs stop functioning at once when he hears a knock on the door. It’s quiet at first, and the silence is deafening. He thinks about scurrying up into the bed and lying there to pretend like he’s Doyoung, still asleep and not out in the forest, but his legs are locked with fear and lingering weakness. The second knock is more forceful, and the guard doesn’t wait for much longer before jamming his key in the lock and swinging the door open.

Mark whips his head around, and they both stare at each other dumbstruck for a moment. The guard’s gaze lingers at Mark in confusion, then quickly sweeps over to the empty bed. His eyebrows draw into a furious expression. “Where is the Crown Prince?”

Doyoung’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought of returning to Ceres without you, his brothers going on with their lives as normal despite his own secret heartache—and it’s only then that he realizes he’s lost track of the time. He jerks away from your arms, looking around frantically. “Wait—Mark.”

“Mark?” you repeat, confused.

“I…he made a portal so I could get here, but I was supposed to…shit. Come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and you both rush to the forest entrance. When you get there, though, there’s no portal and no Mark. Doyoung’s grip around your hand tightens. 

Though you aren’t totally sure what’s going on, a sudden dread overcomes you. “What happened to it?”

“He probably had to close it, but…I’m sure he’ll open it again once he gets his energy back.” Doyoung’s voice is uncertain, though, like he’s trying to convince you both. You look at the side of his face and try not to voice your fears, but as you both stand there waiting to see if the portal will reappear, it becomes apparent that something has went wrong with the plan.

“Explain yourself.”

“Your Highness…I…um…” Mark’s mouth is too dry for him to properly form words, and his legs shake where he stands. Not because of having his energy sapped—because of the King’s overbearing presence. The King stands in front of him, not even bothering to go to his desk this time, and Mark has to crane his neck a bit to look at him, though he can’t meet his eyes. “It was just…”

“I won’t ask again.”

Mark shakes his head and pulls at his hair, silently begging Doyoung for forgiveness in his mind. Still, he doesn’t say anything to give his brother up, keeping his eyes averted more out of fear than deference. “Please, Your Highness…I just…”

When the King sees that Mark won’t give a direct answer, he scoffs in disgust, sweeps the younger man out of the way, and heads for the door. Though Mark only moves a few inches, he feels like he might as well have been thrown clear across the room. The King speaks to one of Doyoung’s guards, who was standing just behind Mark. “Call the rest of the guards. I’ve exhausted my patience on the matter; these lecherous whores cannot be allowed to continue defiling my kingdom.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” Mark’s small voice is lost to the air as the King leaves the room without a glance backwards. The guard goes to enact his order, while the other one grips Mark tightly by the upper arm and drags him out of the sitting room. “N-no, wait, what’s about to happen?”

The guard yanks Mark’s arm in a gesture that calls for the questioning to come to an end. “Best keep quiet, boy. You and the Crown Prince have gotten yourself into enough shit tonight.” Then he chuckles. “One of these days, he was bound to find out that everyone won’t keep coddling him and wiping his ass. About to lose his title over some pussy. Quite sad, isn’t it?”

The guard’s words—and the realization that none of them have ever really cared about Doyoung’s wellbeing beyond being his hired watchdogs—sets Mark off. “Shut the fuck up!” Mark spits in his eye and stomps on the man’s foot at the same time, and the guard curses and lets him go for a split second. Mark doesn’t wait. He takes off down the hall, unsure where he’s going but knowing the castle is big enough to lose the guard—as long as he doesn’t run into anyone else.

He just needs to get somewhere where he can have enough time to create another portal.

“This can’t be good…” you finally say. You and Doyoung must have a death grip on each other’s hands right now, but neither of you are willing to pull away.

Doyoung shakes his head slowly. “No…it’s been too long. Maybe I-I should go back. Maybe if I go back willingly now…” He trails off, not knowing what could come at the end of that sentence.

“Doyoung, no. I…please don’t leave me.” You feel mentally torn between sending him away and knowing this is the last time you’ll see him versus having him stay here with you, if only for a few minutes more. At this point, you’re not sure what the right answer is anymore.

“They might come looking for me, Y/N, and I don’t want them coming here disturbing the forest—"

“Stay! You can hide somewhere, I…as the keepers of the forest, we’ve been handling ourselves against intruders for years. We can protect ourselves—and you. If they come, you can hide out here until they leave. Please, stay.”

Doyoung cannot say no to you or your pleading eyes. He nods. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen after all this—if he wants to go back to the castle, or if he’ll even be allowed to return. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to him in retaliation, and even the vague idea of it frightens him. Having his title removed is one thing, but the King of Eupheme is far more vindictive than that.

You and Doyoung only make it to the small cave you’d hidden in on that rainy day before you hear the distinct sound of another pair of feet crashing through the woods. You both whip your heads around, though you also grab Doyoung’s arm and pull him under the cover of the willow tree. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and you are too frantic to be able to sense who this new person is; though the question is quickly answered by a sharp whisper.

“Doyoung! Doyoung?”

“It’s Mark,” Doyoung hisses, his eyes widening. He slips between the tree branches and softly calls Mark’s name. In another few moments, the younger man is standing under the tree with you both.

“What happened?!” Doyoung asks, holding onto the younger boy’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Doyoung.” This is all Mark can say, and the words roll off his tongue repeatedly. He hangs his head. “The King knows, and he’s sent the guards to come here—I don’t know what he’s going to do, but—please believe me. It doesn’t sound good. He’s done being reasoned with.”

You and Doyoung look at each other with trepidation gripping your chests, realizing the stakes are much higher than you anticipated. This does not sound like just another case of “unwelcome intruders,” but “unwelcome intruders with bloodlust on their minds.”

“But—I can create another portal. I’m sorry, the last time, I just—but I can make one now. Come with us, please.” The last sentence is directed at you, and you shake your head.

“And go where? They’ll still be waiting for me at the castle. Are you suggesting we run away from Eupheme?” Doyoung’s voice is not reprimanding, but more incredulous than anything else.

Mark’s hands shake at the idea of turning his back on his family, which is something he’s never had to consider before—not even in the slightest sense. Things have gotten much more out of hand than he could’ve predicted.

You shake your head again, your hand slipping from Doyoung’s. “Just…I’ll stay here and help the others. You should go.”

“Y/N, I...” Doyoung’s throat tightens as he tries to speak, but his thoughts are disrupted by a quickly mounting commotion. The sound of hooves beating in the distance, though getting increasingly closer. The shouts of men who are ready to wage a battle, with fire racing through their veins.

Though most of Arthenia is asleep at this time of night, the noise of the horses’ hooves and the soldiers’ shouts is enough to begin waking the townspeople up out of their beds. Faces press against windows and peep out of doorways to see what’s happening.

The villagers are terrified when they see a group of soldiers adorned in the royal insignia and riding on horses enter Arthenia with lit torches in their hands, thinking their homes are about to be destroyed. However, they become even more confused and frantic when they quickly realize this band of men is paying their properties no mind and heading straight in the direction of the forest instead.

Some of Arthenia’s magic-wielders rush from their homes to try to put a stop to the men once they understand the situation, and the orcs and ogres meet them with brute force alone. The guards are met with a fight fiercer than they expected, even with their torches and daggers, not realizing the villagers could be so battle-hardy.

The King watches the battle ensuing in Arthenia from a hilly vantage point above the small town. The guards have failed to make much more headway against the villagers, who are gradually inching them back towards the village entrance. Shaking his head in disgust, the King pulls on his horse’s reins. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Some of the townspeople notice the King’s appearance just before he rides into the village. A few of them falter and cower in fear, finding the nearest exit point and taking their leave. Some others, incensed at their town being threatened and generally filled with rage at the King’s lack of fair leadership, decide to charge him head-on. They’re quickly extinguished, though, when the King conjures a great sphere of fire in his hands and whips it across them without a second thought.

He does the same to any other Arthenians who attempt to challenge him as he cuts a path through the village, uncaring of the land and homes he sets on fire as he does. A couple of the guards hop back on their steeds and follow him to his ultimate destination.

The King drives forward into the foliage. The women of the forest are armed with their own heavy rocks and sharpened arrows and daggers dipped in poisonous berry juice, though their weapons can barely leave their hands before everything is suddenly being enveloped in a wide swath of fire, meted out by the King’s hand. He leaves a path clear for himself and the guards in the middle, but the trees on either side are sent up in a blaze.

The two guards remain in single file behind him to use his fire as a shield and avoid the sharp rocks and poison-dipped darts zooming past their heads. Perhaps they’ve underestimated these tree-dwellers; already, there have been a few scrapes that were too close for comfort with the jagged edge of a rock or two. The guards light up as much greenery as they can as they go, using their torches to ignite leaves and low-hanging branches.

All around them, there are the sounds of Arthenians and dryads screaming in tandem as their homes go up in flames. A few nymphs lie fallen among the grass, unmoving as their tree homes burn up in the night.

The King, who has had the foresight to bring his shield, keeps it steady in front of him as he blasts fireballs out from behind it, lighting up one group of trees after another. He doesn’t know which one belongs to you, but he is willing to burn down the entire forest to find out. His movements are wilder than they’d normally be, which says a lot even for him, who has previously had no trouble slashing down anyone who stood in his way during battle—even if they were innocents.

“Doyoung!” The King shouts, and he whips up a great blanket of fire. He sends it careening up towards the sky like a shooting star, and it lands high among the tree canopy, heavy and far-reaching enough to burn treetops several feet in every direction. The guards become a bit wary at this, as the flames blaze above their heads and send sparks and burning debris flying down. “Doyoung!” His voice shakes the leaves like thunder. “If you do not wish to burn alive with these forest dregs, show yourself now!”

Doyoung’s spine stiffens as he hears his name echoing through the woods. It comes from a distance behind you all but is still too close for reassurance. If you stay in this spot for another few minutes, the King or one of his guards could be right on top of your heads.

“Come on!” Doyoung pulls your hand tightly as he helps you up the edge of a steep grassy incline, Mark supporting you from below. Though you’d be able to make it up there any other time by yourself, you don’t dare deny the help now. Your whole body feels like a live wire of fear and panic; the forest burns around you, and the encroaching smoke threatens to choke all three of you to death. Most of all, you feel devastated to see what’s happening around you, being essentially powerless to stop it. Nothing of this degree has ever befallen your home before; even the rare small blaze could be easily enough snuffed out. But not when the flames are being stoked and encouraged like this—building upon each other to see which can reach the tallest tree or the farthest edge of the forest.

After you reach solid ground, Doyoung drags Mark up behind you. There’s no time to pause after all three of you are on the ground; Doyoung grips your hand again and Mark follows behind the two of you as you run.

“The tree, the tree, the tree…” These words spill from your lips in a frenzy. Though your tree hasn’t been touched by the flames yet, it’s only a matter of time with the forest rapidly catching on fire. You can still feel the deep anguish of every other tree in the forest as their trunks catch fire, their leaves shrivel up, and the water evaporates from their root systems. Their silent screams and the shouts of your fellow dryads ring in your head loud enough to make you fear that your skull will split.

“Where are we going?” Mark asks, covering his nose with his sleeve and coughing profusely at the smoke all around.

“Out of the forest!” Doyoung shouts back. He doesn’t really know where to go except for the edge of the woods, and you aren’t in a state to tell him where to head. Deep down, he knows you want to turn back and go to your tree. The oak tree lives innately in you and you inside of it, and it calls you to come back, but the path is too dangerous; returning to it would only speed up what appears to be progressively inevitable. The King and his guards are somewhere in the forest behind you all, and turning back would only land you right in their hands or in the tendrils of the fire.

One of the guards feels a tinge of nervousness grow as the fire rages on around them, and he decides to try to reach out to the King. “Your Highness! I will go in search of Doyoung. Perhaps we should fetch him now before some danger befalls him; the fire is spreading exponentially.” The King gives him a signal to depart, though his eyes still burn just as brightly as the flames do.

The guard separates from the King to cut a path diagonally through the woods, going off to find Doyoung. The Crown Prince may have disobeyed the King—which is as good as committing treason against the kingdom—but it would still not look favorable for him to have died in a fire started at the King’s hands. However, the King is too far engulfed in the whirlwind of his own rage to consider these things more deeply.

The other guard stays by the King’s side, though his horse nervously shifts in place at the flames all around. The two men come to a stop in a wide and messy half-circle of fire, their backs to the flames as they watch the woods ahead for any signs of approaching creatures—or Doyoung himself.

Unbeknownst to the King, your oak tree sits only a few feet away in a yet-untouched portion of greenery.

A few leaves suddenly fall off a tree up ahead—too sudden to merely be caused by the wind—and this makes the King whip his head around and raise his hand to unleash more fire. Nothing appears from that spot, however, and the leaves remain as still as they were before. That moment of hesitancy costs him.

A small poison-tipped dart shoots from the leaves, catapulted by the force of a sudden, expertly-timed breath through a wooden blowgun. It lands squarely in the King’s open palm, which still faces the tree. A shout bursts from his throat in response, and it is only then that the guard realizes what’s just happened.

“Your Highness—!”

The shock and pain of the sudden assault causes the King to strike out in delayed anger, sending a wave of fire at the row of trees ahead of him—and a little further beyond, your oak tree in its small, grassy clearing. The dart burns up in his palm as he does, but its sharp point has already broken his skin. His reaction, though hampered by a few seconds, doesn’t afford Cassia much time to do anything but watch as a wall of feverish red and orange overtakes her, but her last few thoughts linger with you—where you might be within the forest right now, and if she could see you again in some faraway afterlife.

You’ve always known you would die when your tree finally did, but you weren’t sure what you expected it to feel like.

Certainly, not this kind of great reckoning—a sensation of every living element simultaneously being drained from your body. It feels like the core essence of your being has been cracked like an egg and is now flowing out endlessly, laid to waste in the grass. The sudden weakness that eclipses you makes it so that you can barely move your legs to continue running, and you collapse to the ground.

Mark nearly trips over your fallen form, but he quickly finds his voice and screams for Doyoung. The older man is already turning around, however, at feeling your hand slip from his. He rushes to you immediately, his eyes growing wide as he tucks his hands under you and scoops you into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please! Y/N, please, no!”

“Doyoung…”

“No. No! I’m begging...please, stay with me.”

Tears spill from his eyes in an endless torrent. You would like to touch his face at least once more, and you are infinitely glad—if not also heartbroken—when he grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. His tears wet your skin, running down your palm.

“I…I already told you not to forget me, so please…”

“Y/N, I’ve got to get you out of here…” Doyoung says desperately, and he struggles to make it to his feet. His legs tremble too much to support him, though, and his shoes slide in the leaves and dirt underfoot. Mark stumbles backwards, his back hitting a tree trunk as his muscles tense in horror at the scene in front of him.

“D-don’t. Leave me here.” Even saying this much feels like a massive effort.

“What?”

“Th-the forest and I are one in the same. I live and die here. Please…do this one thing for me, Doyoung.” You look at him imploringly with as much strength as you can summon despite your eyes growing heavier. Beyond the smoke, the cloudiness of your own tears, and the pull of death, it’s becoming harder to see; his features blur amid your surroundings.

Doyoung is quiet for a moment, though he slowly nods, gripping your hand tightly. He lowers his forehead to yours, and through the smoke and fire, he swears he can still smell the scent of jasmine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“My prince…” The corners of your mouth rise in a tiny smile. “I love you.”

The Crown Prince keeps his forehead against yours, his tears raining down on your cheeks long after you’ve gone limp in his arms.

Mark slumps to the ground, feeling as if his stomach will turn itself inside out, his heart hammering in his chest. He tries to breathe evenly, though his chest tightens painfully from the attempt. Eventually, he buries his face in his hands, trying to physically shut out the ache. He’s not sure how much time passes like that, with him and his brother immobilized on the ground, but he does know they need to leave, soon, as the air around them grows more stifling.

“Doyoung…D-Doyoung, we need to…w-we should…” Mark’s voice cracks, coming out weak in the roar of the noise around them. He coughs again, then shuffles to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.

Doyoung looks up at him without a word, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Then, slowly, he unravels himself from you and lays your body gently on the ground. He shuns his cloak to cover you with it, though part of him desires to stay here and perish with you instead of leaving only a portion of himself behind.

Him and Mark travel a few more yards through the woods, and though he’s never seen this part of the landscape before, he can guess they might be nearing the edge of the forest. The trees have begun thinning out here like they did at the small circular lake.

“Wait—" Mark calls out. Doyoung doesn’t bother looking back at Mark, but he can hear it too. The sound of horse hooves increases in volume, and they soon see one of the guards riding towards them, torch still in hand.

“Crown Prince! Prince Mark!” he shouts. “Come with me immediately!”

Doyoung looks frantically towards the ground. A sizeable rock catches his eye, bigger than the palm of his hand, and he picks it up. Without a second thought, he launches it at the guard’s face. It catches the guard on the left side of his face with a sickening pop, causing him to yell out in pain and fall from his horse. His torch falls from his grasp, starting yet another small fire where it lands.

With its rider gone, the horse slows its pace, though it does not stop. Doyoung catches it by the reins and is able to bring it to a pause long enough for him and Mark to get on. Everything else falls away from him as he guides them towards the forest’s outskirts; he barely feels the wind whipping past them, the lingering smoke stinging his eyes, or even the sturdy animal racing underneath him. He has a brief thought about what happened to those dangerous animals you said live on the outskirts, as there are none here now, but he reasons that maybe they’ve already made their own escape.

The sky is turning lighter now from the approaching dawn. When they finally breach the last row of trees in the woods, they come out onto an expansive field, only broken up by stray trees here and there and other landforms. On the far horizon, another town looms against the sky, though it’s much bigger than Arthenia.

Doyoung signals for the horse to stop, and both he and Mark sit there for a few long moments. Mark sucks in a few deep breaths, as if he were the one running this entire time. 

“W-what…what now?”

Doyoung doesn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, he asks, “Are you coming?”

Mark doesn’t know where his brother intends to go, but he wordlessly understands that it isn’t back to the castle. Or even Ceres. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I…I have to see the others.” He means their brothers. He means their parents back in Ceres, if he is even allowed to live. He is not sure what the King will do to him once he returns—if he’ll be tried for treason. Still, his chest burns with the desire to see his siblings at least once more.

Maybe that’s how he justifies it.

He’s not entirely sure why he refuses Doyoung in this moment, even when he thinks back on it years from now. Maybe he is too ashamed of the guilt—of feeling like it was all his fault. (If he hadn’t dropped the stopwatch…) He doesn’t want to serve as that constant reminder for his brother.

“Can you get back, then?” Doyoung asks. Mark realizes he’s referring to creating another portal, and he nods, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Y…yeah. I can.” He swallows again and hesitates for another moment. Then, Mark dismounts from the horse and looks up at Doyoung. “Where…where will you go?”

If the older man has already planned his route, he doesn’t disclose it. He simply looks at Mark with an expression that can only be described as pitiable, broken. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is ashen. “Goodbye, Mark.”

Mark stares at his retreating back as he leads the horse away and across the field. The space between them stretches out into forever, with a million unsaid thoughts and emotions falling in the gap.

Behind him, the forest continues to burn, taking all life with it. In front of him, Doyoung’s form turns into a speck against the endless green. It is a long time before Mark leaves that spot in the grass.

In the castle, Donghyuck slumps against his window as he watches smoke rising in the far distance, already knowing where it’s coming from. Like a mirror image of his older brother, tear tracks make their way down his face as he buries his head in his arms.

“What have I done?”

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[fbfh]

nico di angelo relationship and intimacy headcanons

As with all steamy/nsfw works, the characters are aged up to 18+/college era

so

let’s get started ‘,:)

(1.1k words ooooh boy get ready)

Clingy cat boyf

If he’s dating you he already feels really close and comfortable around you

Do not be surprised if he gets really physically affectionate really fast

I’m talking jump your bones after a week of being official

Pun intended

He loves when you kiss his neck

Blushes so easily

Tends to mutter things in italian when he gets overwhelmed 

Which is often

but that doesn’t stop him

Believe me

Okay he’s an old fashioned fella

He still has a lot of internalized dating and courting etiquette rules from the 30’s 

and you’d think it makes him wanna take it slow

But nah son

During the 30’s no one had any goddamn time for taking it slow

Don’t worry about that 

It was also common for soldiers to get gifts like gum, candy, flowers, chocolate, and nylon stockings for girls they liked

Nico subconsciously falls back on this a lot

You end up with a small collection of fuzzy socks

You don’t automatically get the connection, but when you realize how important nylon stockings were in the 30’s because of the shortage, and that he was getting the present day equivalent of that for you

You appreciate your little collection of socks even more

All that being said we can come to two conclusions

His love language (amplified by the whole son of the God of wealth and death thing) is gifts, physical contact, and quality time

Especially with how much mortal danger he and the gang have been in the past few years, he does not want to waste any time, especially if he really likes you

Which he probably does 

Really really likes it when you take off his clothes 

Especially his shirt

That’s up there among his favorite parts

Absolutely an any time any place kinda guy 

Thinks of it exclusively as making love

Finds any new slang or euphemisms hilarious 

You call it banging once and he laughed for like 20 minutes

“So, are we banging or what?”

“Nico?”

“Nico why are you laughing?”

He has a lot of trauma obviously

His problems aren’t magically instantly fixed by you but he’s noticed how drastically your presence helps him feel better 

Can barely sleep if you’re not there

Like he has some of your cologne/perfume on him in case you get separated and can’t sleep next to him

If he does have nightmares 

Which thank gods are getting fewer and further between

A little light making out and netflix can usually solve the problem

Or like

Riding him

That usually works too

The faces he makes are,,,,,,

Very nice,,,,

he’s also very vocal

You one time deleted a happy birthday voice mail from a childhood friend to make room on your phone for an audio recording he sent you

And like be real

If your friend had heard it they would have deleted their message themselves

It takes him a while to get the hang of technology 

As soon as he does

He sends you a voice text

You’re like aww 

So you listen to it 

“Hello, cuore mio…”

Oh shit

Your face got very red

You were really lucky you were alone

Every time you see audio messages from him you know not to listen to them without headphones 

You also try not to listen to them until you’re on your way to somewhere you can be alone with him

There have been a lot of “meet me in the janitor’s closet” texts between the two of you

aLsO play with his hair

You did it once cause some hair fell in his face 

He moaned

“… will you do that again?”

The answer is yes

Yes you will

Write him love letters and his heart will explode

Everything from “thoughts of you get me through the day” to “truly astonished by how much I want you to rail me”

All are super effective 

He absolutely 100% has a locket with a picture of you

He just gazes at it sometimes when he needs a little extra hit of serotonin 

Okay okay we all know a certain Mr. Jackson who is king of surprising you in the shower

Nico is a close second

Honestly you and him probably break the intimacy ice first of any couples in the demisquad

Stamina for dayyyys

Never gets tired???????

Even you find yourself laughing “are you actually hard again?” Way more than you’d expect to

Also expect a lot of…. Private photos and Polaroids

You never would have expected to have a shoebox buried in your closet full of pictures and love letters that are very much not suited for general audiences

Much less three or four

K i n g  of quickies

“Any time, any place” -Nico Di Angelo probably

Likes buying you underwear and lingerie 

A whole lot

He’ll sometimes surprise you with a bunch of shopping bags 

You look through them equally excited every time

You do a little fashion show of all the stuff he got you

You usually don’t make it past three things before they’re on the floor

His kisses are so gentle and tender

They have all the soft fierce passion of Shakespeare plays and jazz vinyls

At one point pretty early on you started to feel bad that he was spending so much money on you 

“Don’t worry, vita Mia, it’s a non issue." 

After you’re done shopping he pulls out a black credit card with gold accents from a bank you don’t recognize

It says "bank of afthonos”, and in a fancy, minimalistic script below, “palladium select”

He sees you looking at the card and a smile plays at the corner of his lips

“Birthday gift from dad,” he answers without you having to ask

Ah

You can tell the cashier wants to roll her eyes, but he always makes a point to tip very generously

He hands her a few big bills and the irritation falls her face 

he holds you close as you leave the store, still a little surprised by everything that had happened in the past five minutes

“Anything else you want?”

You think back to when you two first got together

“I’ve had everything I want for a while now,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze

He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek 

He pulls you into a small family bathroom and locks the door, pulling you close and kissing your neck

“I think we can be a little late to our lunch reservation…”

[fanfic-scribbles]

Supernatural Fic Masterlist

I have sorted this masterlist by main character/reader pairings, with a small section at the very bottom for stories that do not involve a reader insert. Any series/one shot sections are further segmented, and stories under “Poly/Other” will have the pairings noted in with the rest of the story info. Everything is alphabetical (although series with more than one part are listed chronologically). A slash [/] means romance while an ampersand [&] means friendship.

I used a cut so as not to clog anyone’s page should it pop up in the tags. I write 99% reader inserts and primarily have a lot of Castiel and Gabriel, with the odd Sam, Dean, Chuck, and a handful of friendship fics. I hope you find something you enjoy <3

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Castiel/Reader

Series

“Revelations and Resolutions (Masterlist)” (Formerly Titled “October Challenge 2017") – Romance – Castiel/Reader – Slight angst/mostly fluff

Summary: Thirty-one days is enough time to tell someone you’ve fallen in love with them, right?

Wherein you decide to use the month of October to try to tell Castiel you’re in love with him, Sam, Dean and Gabriel try to help (?) from the sidelines, and Castiel is mostly just confused.

A Reader/Cas focused project that started out as a series of semi-connected prompts and turned into a story driven by said prompts.

“Already Yours (Masterlist)” (aka October Challenge 2018) – Romance – established Castiel/Reader – Also slight angst/mostly fluff

Sequel to “Revelations and Resolutions” mentioned above.

Summary: You and Castiel don’t have a traditional relationship, but you’ve been happily together for a year now. Which begs the question– how do a human and an angel celebrate their one-year anniversary? You’re still not sure, but one thing is certain: it’s time to over-think things.

One-Shots

“Amends” – Romance – Words: 1186

Summary: Castiel made a mistake and you’re more than happy to give him the silent treatment. Until he comes up with a way to make it up to you.

“Awfully Fond of You” – Romance – Words: 2039

Summary: Oh rubber duckie, you’re the one…capable of confusing an angel to frustration. Castiel just wants to know what rubber ducks are for. Cue shenanigans until you can set the angel straight.

“Cas Café” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2970 Follow-up to “Cat’s Cradle” below

Summary: Cas is good at running himself into the ground. Your solution to fix that is better than either of you know.

“Cat’s Cradle” – Romance (pre-relationship); Fluff – Words: 1252

Summary: A Cas fluff drabble about stopping to smell the roses. Or stopping to pet a cat. And no, that’s not a euphemism.

“Closer Still” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 606

Summary: A drabble about wanting more. And kissing.

“Conditioning” – Romance – Words: 768

Summary: It’s fairly easy to train an angel to accept a quick kiss. That he learns how to give them is an unexpected bonus.

“Enclosed” – Romance – Words: 810

Summary: Cas keeps you calm when you need it most.

“Gray” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 410

Summary: You’re bored in a graveyard on a very ‘meh’ day. Cas comes by and makes it a little better.

“Headache” – Romance – Words: 1097

Summary: You have a headache and Castiel learns to help you heal– the human way.

“How the Mighty Fall” – Romance – Words: 3139

Summary: Castiel doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s fallen in love and given himself to you. He finds that he does not mind this at all.

“Mistletoe” – Romance – Words: 2298

Summary: Castiel wants to get caught under the mistletoe with you. More than once. A lot more than once.

“No Longer Pining” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 802

Summary: A bad encounter with a Djinn leads some truths to light.

“Secret Admirer(s)” – Romance – Words: 1902

Summary: Castiel decides to try and use Valentine’s Day to help him express how he feels for you. Dean, Sam, and Jack help. It goes…well?

“Sharing is Caring” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1160

Summary: You and Castiel share a bed…and a little more.

“Substitution” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1005

Summary: You thought you could stop fantasizing if reality got in the way of what you wanted. Thankfully, Castiel is both patient and opportunistic.

“Through the Bramble” – Romance – Words: 2352

Summary: You’ll do what it takes to get your angel back. Even if it means living through a fairytale.

“Waking Up” – Romance; Hurt/Comfort; Fluff – Words: 798

Summary: You’re feeling upset. Cas doesn’t want you to be alone.

“Warning Signs” – Romance(-ish) – Words: 1500

Summary: Castiel doesn’t admit to fear and neither do you. Until you meet each other.

“Watch Your Back (And I Will Too)” – Romance – Words: 1469

Summary: You and Cas watch out for each other, on more than just the battlefield.

“Win-Win” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2639

Summary: You and Cas need to learn how to be a couple, so you decide to turn it into a game.

“Wishlist” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 978

Summary: You are way in for the holiday season…maybe a bit too enthusiastically for the Winchesters’ liking. Cas comes to visit and ends up helping in more than one way.

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Chuck/Reader

“Call Me By Name” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 894

Summary: You want attention but Chuck’s busy writing. He won’t respond to his new name, so you decide to pull out some classics.

“Dust” – Romance; Comfort – Words: 409

Summary: You’re having a rough time, and Chuck is comforting.

“Ladybug” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1050

Summary: You come home, weighed down by a long day. Chuck knows how to make you light again.

“O Christmas Tree” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 2432

Summary: Christmas can be an emotional season. In the case of you and Chuck, that ends up being a good thing.

“Sincerely Yours” – Romance – Words: 6265

Summary: The apocalypse is over and you try to go home to Chuck to heal, only to find that he’s gone too. You take comfort in writing letters to your dead lover, even though he’ll never read them. Or so you think.

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Gabriel/Reader

“13 Kisses (And One To Grow On)” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 4242

Summary: While browsing mindlessly one day, you stumble across a list of the most underrated places to be kissed. Gabriel decides to test them out. For science.

“A Healing Touch” – Romance; Fluff – Female Reader – Words: 1349

Summary: Gabriel doesn’t need a nurse and, in fact, makes an excellent one. You’re just too stubborn to appreciate it.

“A Little Pickle” – Romance; Dialogue – Words: 386

Summary: Gabriel needs to look before he leaps. He’ll be hearing about this one for a while.  

“Acrophobia” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 563

Summary: You don’t like heights and Gabriel has wings. You make it work.

“And When You Sleep, Dream of Me” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1534

Summary: Sleeping isn’t new to Gabriel. However these nightmares are. He doesn’t like to make a habit of asking for help, though, so he decides to go on in the time-honored tradition of human coping mechanisms and just pretend it isn’t happening. However your solution may be better. For the both of you.

“Bright Side” – Friendship; Hurt/Comfort; Fluff – Words: 2423

Summary: Gabriel is feeling a bit down. You notice and try to help.

“Cursed Communication” – Romance; Humor; Fluff – Words:1622

Summary: You’re going to assassinate an archangel for his assertion over your anatomical authority.

“Decked” – Romance; Christmas Fic – Words: 842

Summary: The holidays hold complicated feelings, especially for an archangel. You soothe him however you can.

“(Don’t) Play It Again” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2512

Summary: Everyone has that one song that they just can’t stand for whatever reason, regardless of how good, bad, or innocuous it actually is. For you, hearing that song is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.

Gabriel, of course, takes this as a challenge.

“Expressions of Affection” – Romance – Words: 1966

Summary: You have a resting bitch face and are used to it chasing people off. Gabriel deals with it in his own way.

“Home Away From Home” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1784

Summary: You’re not sure who is stealing your clothes but you would like it to stop. Please and thank you.

“Incommunicado” – Romance – Words: 2573

Summary:  Some of the best things in life are often left unsaid, and the others just need to find the right medium of communication. Gabriel can’t find his words, you can’t find the right ones, but, somehow, you both stumble towards understanding anyways.

“Lead Me to the River” – Romance – Words: 1159

Summary: Gabriel stops by during a hunt and a ghost forces your feelings to light.

“One Lump Or Two” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1888

Summary: You find out Gabriel is your soulmate. You have…issues with this.

“Soft” – Friendship or Romance (ambiguous); Fluff – Words: 596

Summary: Gabriel takes care of you. Just don’t tell anyone.

“Starting Over” – Romance – Words: 2509

Summary: Gabriel’s plan for revenge develops a new sense of urgency when you get caught up in it.

“Tie a Yellow Ribbon For Me” – Romance – Words: 2459

Summary: Roses are red, Violets are blue, Even death can’t keep him From finding his way back to you.

“Waking Up In Vegas” – Romance – Words: 4174

Summary: You’re off with Gabriel on what’s supposed to be a little vacation, but it takes a turn for the worst when you’re forced to face your own desires and insecurities in order to make it back to him.

“Where You’ve Been” – Romance – Words: 2611

Summary: Lucifer killed Gabriel and you find yourself going through the motions. Until the motions become that much easier to ride. You never thought you’d want to strangle your guardian angel but Gabriel is talented like that.

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Misc Poly Romances & Other Characters

Balthazar/Reader “Imprints” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 999

Summary: You and Balthazar make a pit stop on a long drive to have some fun in the snow. Well, you do. Balthazar needs some convincing. Luckily, he has you.

Dean & Reader

“In Our [Supernatural] Time” – Friendship; Humor – Words: 585

Summary: Dean is a great hunting partner to have but sometimes his timing leaves much to be desired. Luckily you’re full of great ideas on how to pass the time.

Dean/Reader

“Have Your Cake and Eat It Too” – Romance – Words: 1615

Summary: Dean and you visit a cake shop while on a hunt and pose as a couple, as usual. Only, at least one of you is tired of pretending.

“Hold Fast” – Romance – Words: 843

Summary: You thought you’d take your feelings for Dean Winchester to the grave. Well…‘almost’ counts; right?

“Something To Gain” – Romance; Christmas fic – Words: 1451

Summary: Dean and you share a drink on a cold December night and discover that playing it safe is not playing at all.

Dean/Castiel/Reader “Chill” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 975

Summary: Reader is starting to feel the burn of the hunting life. Luckily Dean and Cas are always on their side.

“Pick Me Up” – Romance(-ish) – Words: 1579

Summary: You set out to give Castiel an experience and he and Dean end up turning that back on you. Terrible, awful pick-up lines– who knew they worked so well?

(An excerpt/link to the PWP part 2 can be found here)

Dean/Gabriel/Reader “We All Fall Down” – Romance – Words: 3695

Summary: Once is an accident. Twice is a mistake. More than that is…worrisome. But you brush it off as harmless. Dean and Gabriel are excellent, occasional bed partners and nothing more. Nothing. More.

Or so you like to tell yourself.

Sam/Reader 

“Between the Lines” –  Romance; Hurt/Comfort – Words: 1254

Summary: Sam’s been down lately and you can guess why, so you try to cheer him up without directly pointing out a subject he seems loathe to talk about. Freaking Winchesters.

“Minted” –  Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 688

Summary: Sam doesn’t get the appeal of candy canes until you explain it. ‘Explain’ being a fairly loose term, in this case. Luckily, kissing is a language of love, and you both have quite a bit to say.

Sam/Gabriel/Reader

“Whole” – Romance – Words: 1390

Summary: Gabriel’s trying to help Jack out with his powers. It doesn’t go as intended. Or so he says.

Team Free Will & Reader “Taking Care” – Friendship – Dean & Sam & Reader – Words: 2452

Summary: Dean and Sam think they know best, but so do you. No matter how dumb you all are about it, though, you’re lucky to have each other. 

“The World In Solemn Stillness Lay” – Friendship; Fluff; Christmas fic – Dean, Sam, Castiel, Jack, Gabriel, & Reader – Words: 975

Summary: You’re upset that you won’t make it to Christmas, but at least you saved your friends. Your friends, however, aren’t letting you go without a fight.

“To Want” – Friendship; Hurt/Comfort – Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel, & Reader (& Chuck) – Words: 1573

Summary: The apocalypse has ended and you feel like a fifth wheel. You figure it’s time to move on.

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Non-Reader-Inserts

“The Light. The Way.” – Romance – Gabriel/Sam Winchester – Words: 548

Summary: Sometimes, Gabriel forgets how to breathe. Sam helps, whether he knows it or not.

[amuhseen2003]

SANDERS SIDES KARAOKE: GOTHIC LITERATURE MUSICALS EDITION

Okay, so after four years of being in the Sanders Sides fandom, I’m going to attempt to write some headcanons. Here we go.

Since it’s well-known in fanon that the sides do have karaoke sessions, imagine what would happen if they sang musicals based on gothic literature.

Roman’s happy because broadway, duh, Logan is happy because it’s canon that he enjoys gothic literature since he dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster for Halloween, same reason for Virgil and Patton’s happy that his family is bonding. He made extra cookies for the occasion. He’s dangerous like that. 

(I headcanon that when Thomas had to write analyses of gothic literature novels for school, Virgil, Roman and Logan would work together to come up with stuff and write the best essays in class and Patton would be so proud of them)

I’m not going to count Les Mis because I’m not too sure if that counts as gothic literature and whilst the Hunchback of Notre Dame is indeed gothic (trust me I read that in a plane once. An entire, like, ten pages is dedicated to describing the scenery) I don’t think it became a broadway show.

Now this isn’t like their usual karaoke nights, no sir. Just idly remaining in the living room won’t do. Where is the gusto? The pizazz? The accolade winning extravaganza? The-

“We get it Princey, can you just get on with it?” - Virgil

No, this type of singing can only be accompanied with an atmosphere that will do it justice. To the imagination they go and with Logan’s (who has practically memorised every single one of these books and is not geeking out at all) input on how the novels describe each setting, Roman creates very intricate landscapes for each song.

When they sing ‘Alive’ from ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ Roman thought that it would be really cool for Patton to play Mr Edward Hyde since Hyde is literally the human id and Patton, being the embodiment of morality, is literally the superego (although to be fair, Patton is also shown to be quite childish and impulsive since he’s also the base of Thomas’ emotions and Hyde is impulsive because he’s a way for Jekyll to act on his own emotions - especially since the only crime that Hyde does in the book are him over-reacting with his anger by beating a man to death. And in the novella, Jekyll writes that he and Hyde are like father and son and that Hyde is actually younger than Jekyll is, he does have that sense of childishness that Patton has only instead of that childishness being good and helpful, it’s bad and hurtful. Plus in the soundtrack of Alive, whilst Anthony Warlow does sing about how good being evil feels like, he also sounds like he is crying tears of joy of being able to be himself, the first words post-transformation being freedom and anyways these are supposed to be fun headcanons not analytical headcanons so I digress…)

Anyways Patton is happy to play the villain because “look kiddos, Roman conjured up this really swell cape” “the correct term is cloak” “and check out this top hat and cane!” and he’s just belting out the words and froliking around Victorian London without a care in the world, making his cape swoosh in the wind.

“Patton I would advise you not to take your shoes off. This is nineteenth-century London with people dying of cholera by the dozens, your feet could catch a myriad of infections.”

“Worry not, specs, the scenery is merely an illusion. I would never allow for our dear padre to succumb to the villain of illness”

“Aww, thanks kiddo (cue Patton’s sunshine smile) now where was I? IT’S THE FEELING OF BEING ALIVE! FILLED WITH EVIL AND TRULY ALIVE!”

They have Logan sing ‘I Need To Know’ because a doctor of science singing about wanting to expand his knowledge and having that thirst to do whatever it takes to get said knowledge. That is a Logan Sanders song right there. At first he’s like “why do I have to sing. I was happy enough giving directions and helping you with the scenery” but Roman creates this big scientific library that could rival the one from Beauty and the Beast/ laboratory from that’s practically the identical to Jekyll’s lab in the book and he’s like “Fine” like he isn’t enjoying himself. He is. They all know it. He’s not fooling anyone

Patton and Roman sing ‘Bring on the men’ together (yes, whilst wearing dresses) whilst Virgil and Logan drink apple juice from those big british beer glasses in the mind-scape created Red Rat (which Logan is quick to point out doesn’t exist and is vocally upset at how the musical adaptation added unnecessary romantic subplots with Lisa and Lucy when the book itself only had three background female characters who were only there for like one paragraph. He’s even more upset at the other inaccuracies with the book like how in the play Jekyll creates his formula as a cure for mental illness and Hyde was accidental whilst in the book he did it because he wanted to indulge in sin without fearing the consequences and Hyde, whilst not being exactly what he wanted, was actually created on purpose or how in the book Hyde only kills one man and in the musical he kills practically everyone except for the one person he did kill. Virgil pats him on the back with sympathy). Roman and Virgil are sniggering at the sexual euphemisms at the end of the song whilst Patton’s confused. She just seems really enthusiastic about food.

Roman sings both parts of ‘Confrontation’ by himself. He gets a standing ovation.

He also does ‘Transformation’. The problem is that he was so good at sounding like he was in complete agony and near death that they had to stop the song prematurely because Patton was getting upset. Don’t worry, Pat gets lots of cuddles by Roman afterwords.

(You know what I might do some sides reacting to The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde later because 1. It’s my favourite book and 2. All four of them would have very interesting takes on it)

From the Frankenstein musical Virgil plays the criminal from ‘Say Amen’ because he wants to (seriously, the guy’s first words in the song are ‘I curse the day that I was born into a world so black with hate’) and Logan plays Victor Frankenstein but Patton refuses for his son to even pretend to be executed by the noose so they have Roman play a man wearing a british executioner outfit with a foam sword and the creative side just bonks the anxious side on the neck with it. Logan despairs about the historical inaccuracy from his place in the stands whilst Patton is cheering next to him. Patton also hands him an extra jumper to keep him warm in the Switzerland cold. 

“Patton, I am grateful that you are thinking of my health but no one in eighteenth century Switzerland wore bright blue jumpers with cartoon kittens on them”

“Really, Logan, are you paw-sitive?”

“I would like to change places with Virgil. Immediately” 

Roman and Logan turn ‘Birth to my creation’ into a duet because Logan enjoys the scientific aspect of it and Roman can’t resist the drama (of course). He goes all out. He makes Victor’s lab perfect to the smallest detail (and cheers when Logan’s eyes start lighting up and he does that cute clappy thing when he’s excited), he conjures a storm and makes lightning strike at the best moments of the song. He even creates a ‘wretch’ (what Victor calls the monster in the book. I’ve heard that it’s name is Adam but all I remember from the novel is Victor calling himself god and the creature his Adam) to lie on the table. 

“And we didn’t even have to go grave-robbing for it. Or drop out of University.” - Roman

“No matter how many times I wanted to.” - Virgil

Roman and Virgil do most of the songs from Dracula. The creative side creates this huge, expensive-looking window-balcony thing with glass double doors and billowing silk curtains so that he could dramatically sing ‘the longer I live’ whilst the wind blows through his hair and he dramatically drapes himself on the balustrade so that the light from the full moon hits his figure just right. Patton’s close to crying.

Logan is very eager to give as many facts as he can about nineteenth-century mental institutions for ‘The Master’s Song’. He gets really into the history behind certain treatments and different cases. Roman plays Renfield and the others play doctors. 

Virgil is super into Dracula’s castle during ‘Life after life’. He and Roman duet that song wearing all-black. Logan tries to help Patton’s slight fear by telling him the history behind different pieces of architecture.

Patton plays Christine during Phantom of the Opera

Roman, Virgil and Logan sing ‘A story told’ from The Count of Monte Cristo around a circular table in a dimly lit tavern. Patton takes pictures and drinks hot chocolate in the sidelines.

[ask-risorgimento-italy]

Main Story Masterpost

I decided to make a masterpost for everything one might need to know in order to understand this blog and its story - historical background, characters and crucial plot points. I also added information that was not yet included on this blog but has been discussed on Discord.

Important terminology:

“Risorgimento”

(1) the 19th century movement for Italian political unity

(2) a time of renewal or renaissance, revival

“National representative”/”Representative” - the officially approved personification of a region

“Personification” - a semi-immortal being who embodies a region/culture akin to the idea of a “Leviathan” (Hobbes). Their origins are unknown. They might lead a very public life or prefer to stay anonymous. Usually they're somewhat obscure - most people wouldn't recognize them on the street. Some might believe them to be guardian spirits, pagan Gods, angels sent from Heaven or the spawn of Satan ...depending on who you ask.

“Fusion” - A personification gives up their immortality and allows another representative to “take over” their region. 

“Brother”/”Sibling”/”Partner” - personifications usually have multiple overlapping relationship dynamics. None of them are truly related by blood, but some will consider each other to be siblings. Some might consider each other related in the first half of a century and denounce it in the latter or vice versa.

What happened so far...

1798 - The Fall of the Republic

The story of this blog begins after the fall of the Serenissima. The maritime republic has been independent for centuries and is now in the hands of Napoleon. Even though Venice has been struggling to maintain power before, this is considered its death blow. Art is looted or burned and symbols of power destroyed. It is in the very moment Feliciano’s house is vandalized by French troops where he realizes that his life would never be as it was before.

1815 - The Kingdom of Venetia-Lombardo is founded at the Congress of Vienna 

Napoleon’s reign is over and Europe is drawing new borders at the famous Congress in the capital of the Habsburg empire. The Veneto is paired with its neighbor Lombardy to form a kingdom that now belongs to the Austrians. Feliciano and Benigno (the representative of Lombardy) have to agree to something akin to an arranged marriage.

1845-47 - The Prelude and the Financial Crisis

Famine, fiscal troubles and the demand for reforms all over Europe turn the continent into a powder keg. Feliciano and Benigno are no longer in a forced partnership. Instead, they are both angry soon-to-be revolutionaries, supporting each other in their struggles.

1848 - The Revolution

Revolutions erupt all over Europe. New governments are formed. Venice becomes the Republic of St. Mark. Lombardy goes through the Five Days of Milan. Feliciano and Benigno often fight in separate places, but are united in spirit. 

This is the first time in centuries where Feliciano personally gets his hands dirty in a conflict - he is angry and full of spite. Death to The Austrians is written on the walls with red paint.

1849 - The Fall of the Republic, Act II

After a long siege, starvation and sickness ultimately beat the city of Venice into submission. Feliciano’s fighting spirit is broken and his mental and physical health is at an all-time low. He is forcibly separated from Benigno and does not see him again until 1866.

1848-61 - The Predecessor State

After the failed revolution, the unification takes a much different form. 

Tactical warfare and treaties soon replace guerilla warfare. The driving force of this process is the Kingdom of Piedmont. It is sometimes called the predecessor state of Italy. Its personification is a woman called Cassandra. Her goal - to be the sole representative of the peninsula - is considered madness by some and visionary by others.

1861 - The Kingdom of Italy is proclaimed

After almost half a century of political struggles the proclamation of the Kingdom of Italy marks the beginning of a new era. Cassandra, now referred to as Italia by most, offers great benefits to the remaining region's representatives if they “fuse” with her - fusion being an euphemism for a personification giving up their immortality and status as a representative and transferring it to Italia instead.

While many have agreed to the deal, others stay hesitant - namely Benigno (Lombardy), Romano (Naples) and Chiara (Sicily). And then there’s Feliciano, who is still under Austrian occupation...

1866 - The Veneto becomes part of Italy

Venice had somewhat of a special role in the Risorgimento. In 1861, it was not yet part of the Kingdom of Italy. The Habsburg empire has the city and the surrounding region in an iron grip for five more years.

Due to shared goals in their unification process, Italy and Prussia form an alliance against Austria, and the Prusso-German war finally decides over the fate of the Veneto. With Austria losing, Venice becomes Italian territory.

Feliciano as this point is all too happy to hear Cassandra’s offer about “fusion”. He feels tired and weak. Being able to shift the responsibility of nationhood on someone else’s shoulder sounds promising. It would not take long for him to finalize his decision.

1868 - And then things go wrong

Feliciano has decided: he would no longer be the personification of Venice. He says Goodbye to his family and friends, as he would forget his old life and start a new one as an ordinary citizen. Some don’t take these news well. Benigno especially reacts with anger, as he has believed that Feliciano would not agree to Cassandra’s offer. At some point they have a fight that causes Benigno to storm off teary-eyed. 

From this point onwards we witness the story from Benigno’s and Romano’s  POV.

Benigno is the one to discover Feliciano’s and Cassandra’s corpses. They lie on the floor of Feliciano’s villa in Venice. There is dried blood and flies. No one knows what has happened. The government is shocked to find out about this and tries everything to cover it up. Cassandra’s death could be a fatal blow to the new nation’s political landscape. Her body is preserved with formaldehyde and other heavy chemicals and hidden away in a house somewhere in Turin. Feli is buried in Venice. Benigno is the only one to visit his grave regularly. 

He is the sole north Italian representative to survive, and soon takes over Cassandra’s duties. This is where he also clashes with Romano, who is pissed off for not being considered a fitting substitute for the role (the anger is very much justified).

For a whole year, it seems like everything has gone to shit.

1869 - A mali estremi, estremi rimedi

Benigno and Romano are guided to Venice by a mysterious call for help. Neither the caller nor the call is ordinary in nature - it is their (presumably) dead sibling Feliciano somehow infiltrating their thoughts with garbled nonsense. When they finally open the mausoleum, Feliciano is in a bad state. Skin thin as paper, eyes sunken in and comatose - and yet, somehow, with a beating heart. They bring him to his old house where they try to nurse him back to health while they struggle to figure out what this means for Cassandra, themselves, and wherever...or whoever Italy is.

1870 - The Trespasser 

Some weeks after the gruesome discovery of Feliciano’s body, Romano and Benigno have yet to figure out how to make Feliciano wake up from his “slumber”. At the same time, a stranger is rummaging through the streets of Venice. The representative of Prussia, Gilbert, is onto something. After some digging (and bribing two police officers) he finally finds what he was searching for - the address to the old abandoned villa where Feliciano has once lived. 

When Gilbert decides to break into the place, assuming no one is home, he kicks the door open with a loud bang. Feliciano unexpectedly wakes up in a panicked rush. The situation quickly escalates. There is a bloody fight on a stairwell between Feliciano (who is extremly confused and attacks everyone in sight) and basically everyone else. 

Gilbert manages to subdue him, but not before Feliciano has managed to knock out Benigno. As only Romano and Gilbert are left to clean up this mess, they agree to work together and for now ignore the fact that Gilbert tried to break into the house. They would deal with this later. For now, caring for Feliciano and Benigno was their top priority.

And this is where we catch up with the current chapter of the story, where Benigno wakes up and wants to know what the hell Gilbert is doing here in the first place. We will soon find out!

[somanysigns-13]

Making my case on why haunted and ghost are Taylor euphemisms for all things gay...long story short, ghosts aren’t typically seen by the general public and they are usually feared by many. Ghosts haunt those that do see them. Part 1

1. Haunted - Speak Now - (Emily Poe or Liz Huett?)

Lyrics: “Come on come on don’t leave me like this I thought I had you figured out. Something’s gone terribly wrong won’t finish what you started. Come on come on don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. Can’t breathe whenever you’re gone. Can’t go back now, I’m haunted.”

Interpretation: She thought what she had with a “girl” friend was more than friendship. The other girl started the relationship or the flirtation and maybe it was more at some point but something got in the way (maybe Taylor’s management team). Taylor fell hard and got her heart broken and now she’s unable to forget about that feeling of being in a relationship with another girl. She’s “haunted” by this feeing.

2. Ours - Speak Now

Lyrics: “Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves. They’ll judge it like they know about me and you. And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do. The jury’s out, but my choice is you.” “You never know what people have up their sleeves. Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me. Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles. But I don’t care ‘cause right now you’re mine.”

Interpretation: The management team is aware of the relationship and are trying to decide what to do. If it were up to Taylor she would leave it all behind to be with her girlfriend. She wonders if there are past girlfriends “ghosts” that will come out and ruin what they have especially if they have to keep it hidden. We also have a mention of shadows which make shade and we all know “shade never made anybody less gay.” ;)

3. How You Get The Girl - 1989

Lyrics: “Stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, rain. She’ll open up the door and say are you insane-ane. Say it’s been a long 6 months. And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want.”

Interpretation: The lyrical style of this song seems very similar to the song “Innocent” on Speak Now. It feels like a diary entry where Taylor is referring to herself in the story as the “you”. Like that inner voice that can pump you up or put you down. This is the story of Taylor apologizing for pushing away a new potential girlfriend because she’s afraid it’ll end like they have in the past possibly due to her management team and contracts interfering. The ghost here is Taylor being haunted by her past failed attempts at having true love.

4. This Love - 1989

Lyrics: “Your kiss, my cheek, I watch you leave. Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees. When you’re young, you just run but you come back to what you need.”

Interpretation: I feel this song is about Taylor falling in love with Karlie, but being so afraid to lose her due to both of their careers. Karlie is optimistic (your smile) but Taylor is apprehensive due to past relationship failures (my ghost) and likely management intervention. As I’ve said in a past analysis of this song, I feel that Taylor has always known that she liked girls but has tried to “run” from those feelings or has been forced to hide them but she knows it’s what she needs to be truly happy. There is also a scene in Miss Americana where she’s a little girl and she says “Okay, this is a song I wrote yesterday. And...it’s about a girl who’s just different. And I really like it because it’s just s-so happy. So this is called “Lucky You” 🎶 There’s this little girl in this little town with a little too much heart to go around. “Live forever, never say never, you can do better” That’s what she says.🎶 Obviously the “different” little girl could be based on her talents or could be that she believes that loving another girl is considered “not normal” in the eyes of many people. Either way how profound for someone that age to recognize that.

5. You Are In Love - 1989

Lyrics: “Morning his place, burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt he keeps his word. And for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much but it said enough.

Interpretation: Taylor flips the pronoun here which she doesn’t do often or doesn’t include often. It almost seems like she’s acknowledging that she can make this work by hiding her “ghost”. Her songs can still be about her relationship but the “one step” of using a male pronoun as one of the points of view is enough to maybe appease the management team for now.

6. ...Ready For It - Reputation

Lyrics: “Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him wonder how many girls he had loved and left haunted. But if he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom holdin him for ransom.”

Interpretation: Bearding references. The “boyfriend” is also a “ghost” and she is a phantom (ghost/figment of the imagination) and they can use each other as covers.

7. The Archer - Lover

Lyrics1: “I wake in the night , I pace like a ghost. The room is on fire, invisible smoke. And all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold on to you.”

Interpretation: The fear is back or she’s remembering a time where it almost fell apart due to the rumors. All of her heroes could be referring to female poets from the 1800s (Emily Dickinson, Dorothy Wordsworth) that had to hide their sexuality or use male pseudonyms in order to publish their work and make a living.

Lyrics2: “Cause they see right through me, they see right through me, they see right through the me, can you see right through me. They see right through, they see right through me I see right through me, I see right through me.”

Interpretation: Reminds me of the Indigo Girls song “Closer to Fine”.....“And I went to see the doctor of philosophy, with a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knees. And he never did marry or see a B grade movie, he graded my performance, he said he could see through me.” Also this song begins with “I’m trying to tell you something bout my life. Maybe give me insight between black and white.” and a few lyrics later “And I wrap my fear around me like a blanket, I sailed my ship of safety til I sank it, I’m crawling on your shores.” These lyrics really link to multiple Taylor songs. Also she refers to Indigo eyes in “I Think He Knows”.

8. Death By A Thousand Cuts” - Lover

Lyrics: “Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club”

Interpretation: perhaps a gay “haunted” dive bar on the East side, where you at?”

9. Cardigan - folklore

Lyrics: “I knew you’d haunt all of my what-if’s The smell of smoke would hang around this long, ‘cause I knew everything thing when I was young. I knew I’d curse you for the longest time, chasing shadows in the grocery line.”

Interpretation: her feelings haunt her because she’s not being true to them. She’s trying to push them away again. The smell of smoke and another shadow reference..she knew the rumors of her and Karlie wouldn’t go away but this time she’s chasing the shadows rather than waiting for something to come out at her from them. (Tabloids ref?)

10. my tears ricochet - folklore

Lyrics: “we gather stones never knowing what they’ll mean. Some to throw some to make a diamond ring. You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you but what a ghostly scene. You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me.”

Interpretation: stones = knowledge/information on someone ..it can hurt or it can be used for good. Maybe Scott and Scooter threatened to out Taylor and Karlie if they didn’t go along with a certain plan. Now Taylor has no choice but to have to make them pay for it.

[gyllenhaalstories]

Can you write more of best friend Jake, like a third part?

CLICK THE SOURCE LINK BELOW TO BE REDIRECTED TO THE SECOND PART (which will also lead you to the first part) <3

how about some angst, anon? listen to no light, no light by florence + the machine for vibes!

(warnings: death of a parent, blood, injury, sexual content... this also got very long)

You and Jake have been friends for a few years already. Two peas in a pod. Telepathically connected. Soulmates. You get the whole picture.

But what if you lost all of it?

Jake was in talks for a big movie. Probably the biggest production of his whole life. The director, the producer, the rest of the cast... Let’s just say it was an express ticket to the Academy Awards. But filming happened at the same time as your mother died. So he turned down the role, offering it for someone much less fitting for the part (I  am the only human on Earth who doesn’t like Leonardo DiCaprio, so let’s give it to him for funsies).

You were so thankful. He did not even care about giving up the role of a lifetime, you were devastated and in shock and in need of support. He understood you better than anybody else. He knew what you needed, whether it was a hug or some distance and time alone. He helped you with the funerals. He was a member of the family, at this point. Your mother even wrote in her will to give her collection of vinyls to Jake, who always complimented her on her music taste. He was there during the ceremony, offering you tissues to dry your tears or his hand to hold.

He was there afterwards, for all of the weeks and months you spent feeling dead inside. He was there. He did silly stuff to make you smile, he brought you to fun travel spots like the Hamptons. Why the Hamptons? So you could judge the rich ass people and laugh.

Months went by, you truly believed your friendship was better and stronger than ever.

The Oscars ceremony was playing on television that night. You had forgotten about Jake’s role, but it all came back to you now. Jake attended the ceremony with his sister as his date. It was supposed to be you, but he did not want to pressure you. And you watched the whole thing on tv, waiting until the last categories which included best actor. Leonardo won, easily. He even made a joke, thanking Jake for giving him his second award.

Jake texted you from the after party. He sent you photos of Chris Evans being a total gentleman to literally everyone and everything (he even sent you a clip of Chris holding the door for one minute straight just in case someone walked in and needed help). He sent you photos of Jared Leto and his crazy Gucci suit. He sent you photos of Maggie drinking two flutes of champagne in your honour, followed by a video of her drunkenly singing I love youuuuuu.

And you were not even replying. You were crying. Throwing things around. You were so mad and felt so guilty.

Jake was worried, so he stopped at your place after the party (he had left early). He had a key, so he just walked in and called out your name. And he found you: crying on the floor, your hand had blood stains on it, just like the vase of glass picture frame that was not scattered on the floor, a photo of Jake and you was shredded to pieces.

He ran to grab bandaids and placed one on your wound. “It’s okay, I’m here” Jake tried to hold you tight but you kicked him away. “You’re always here! It should have been you winning this stupid award! It should have been you doing this movie! It should have been you...” Doing this, and that. You yelled that you were responsible for his career slowing down. You told him you were just a burden for him and that he deserved better of a friend than someone who stopped him from being happy.

You didn’t understand that all he needed to be happy was you.

Jake left, knowing you probably needed some time to think.

You never called him or texted him. He tried, but you never picked up the phone or you pretended to never be home when he stopped by. You had one of your friends ask him for your spare key, for your belongings you left at his place in exchange of the ones he left at yours. It was radio silence. You were miserable, and so was Jake.

Jake took on a new role, a much crappier one but it was an easy paycheck. And there was a rumour he was having a fling with his co star, whoever she was you did not even care. Actually you did, but you decided to never check the medias or read magazines that talked about Jake.

Your mutual friend group split up, some remained closer to Jake and others to you. They tried to talk some sense into you, to make you understand that if Jake wanted to focus on his work instead of you, he would have done it. Your friends slowly understood that this was more than a friendship ending. It was a breakup.

You broke up with Jake because you felt like you were holding him back. You broke up with Jake because you wanted him to bloom, to enjoy the remaining years of his career to get the recognition he always deserved. You broke up with Jake because you loved him so much it terrified you.

And deep down, you knew he loved you too and that was even worse.

Eventually, a whole year had passed without hearing Jake’s raspy morning voice during your sleepovers, without his hand holding yours tight, without stealing his beanies when it was cold, without listening to voicemails when he had to explain you a joke but he just laughed the whole time. Fuck, you missed him.

And he missed you too. This romance with his co star? It was bullshit. They had sex one and she just assumed they were a thing but he never cared about her. He only cared about you.

One time, you went to the grocery store. You were with a friend. You grabbed two different bottles of maple syrup. “Do you want the one from Vermont or from Canada?”

“Actually, I have some cool theory about Canada.”

You did not even need to turn around to recognize this voice. It was shy, it was trembling, just like your chin. It was the biggest déjà vu of your life.

You both paid for your groceries and you were magically parked right next to each other. Jake would spot your car in a full parking, you had a small stuffed animal squeezed under the windshield. He bought it for you years ago, knowing sometimes you got scared to drive when it was dark or icy or snowy. He was keeping you safe.

You stood in the parking lot like two idiots. It was cold. He invited you in his car, and you were now sitting in silence like two idiots.

He changed so much, but he was the exact same as when you left him. His hair was longer. He had a few more wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, you wanted to kiss them tenderly. He was wearing that emerald green hoodie that was just so soft you stole it from him just to sleep with it at night when he wasn’t there.

“I bought you something for the holidays, and for Valentine’s day, and for your birthday...” Jake shrugged.

You put on your seat belt. You could get a cab and drive your car back home another time. Jake did not lose time and headed to his place. Presents were piling up in the living room, with deflated balloons and tons of scrunched balls of paper. It was so sad that it was beautiful.

You two spent the evening catching up. You learned that his production company was doing better than ever. He learned that you quit your job recently because your stupid boss refused to give you the promotion you deserved. You learned that Leo, his dog, missed you. His sister too, his nieces too. You told him your dad brought him up in every conversation.

You told him you missed him. He told you he missed you too. It was an euphemism.

You straddled his waist, driven by an adrenaline rush. And you kissed. You made out, it was sloppy and hungry and sad. You both let out a few tears.

He guided you to the bedroom.

And you made love for the first time, the first time since you missed him.

You woke up the next morning, you felt different. His warm body was holding yours as he spooned you. His arm was so tight around you that you just knew it would leave a mark. He was scared you’d leave without him knowing.

You felt warm. You felt good. You felt happy. You felt home. 

Home is not a place. It’s not your parents’ house, it’s not your apartment, it’s not that park bench you always sat on to watch people run and walk their dogs. Home is not a place, it’s a person.

You were Jake’s person, he was yours.

~

You started working at Nine Stories Productions. You were not just Jake’s assistant, you were the head of the communication team. You promoted the company and the projects he supported. You worked with Jake, with Riva and with their other employees.

You moved in with him, finally.

He proposed in London, after he was done with playing Sunday in the park with George.

You got married, a very small and private ceremony. It was his family, it was your dad. You knew your mom was there too. She was looking over the two of you.

Or should I say the three?

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Epilogue

The Dakrness and the Light

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3530

Summary: There are loose ends to tie; with Sam and Dean... and other friends. You really thought the times for rendering you speechless were gone. 

You were wrong.

Warnings: swearing, brief angst, guilt trips, brief talk on religion, fluff

Story masterlist

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True to your words, you decided to ask the experts on weird people appearing out of nowhere and shooting light from their hands about the strange experience you had; an encounter that resulted in you gaining your memories back.

Sam and Dean were ecstatic when you told them about remembering everything – including the time you had spent with them though, one set of memories not replacing the other.

After enough cheering via your Skype call, you sent the footage.

The silence stretched as the brothers watched the recording, their eyes wide with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. They seemed spooked, shocked, perplexed and quite a bit fascinated too, to be honest. Steve’s arm around your waist tightened, both of you holding your breath in anticipation.

Oh God, who was the woman? Was she a friend of Rowena? Worse, was she a friend of the King of Hell they had mentioned? Who-

“Holy shit,” Sam finally exclaimed, making you blink in shock. Since when Sam swore? Admittedly, you hadn’t spent that much time with them, but-?

“Quite literally,” Dean conceded, squinting at the screen again as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were sure you were about to burst – or at least that your heart would beat its way out of your chest with how forcefully it was hammering against your ribcage. “I thought they went under? Or, you know, up?”

“So did I.”

“Guys? We’re not following. You know who or what this was?” you asked them breathlessly, unable to bear the suspense anymore.

Sam cleared his throat and apparently closed the video, because they were following you with their gaze again.

“Uhm yeah. That was God’s sister who paid you a visit.”

Your heart positively stopped for a second-- and then you laughed self-depreciatingly. Don’t be stupid, hey don’t mean that literally.

…they couldn’t, right?

“…is that a euphemism for something?”

“Nope,” Dean accented the ‘P’ and shrugged for a good measure, knocking the air out of your lungs. And of Steve’s, probably freezing his brain along the way, because his figure went absolutely rigid behind you.

“God’s sister?” Steve parroted and you were sure he wasn’t even breathing at that point.

“Yeah. Her name’s Amara. I’m pretty sure she had a crush on Dean,” Sam explained casually as if it wasn’t a big deal.

God.

And God’s sister-

--wait, what? A crush? Huh?

“Dude. Come on!” Dean called out exasperatedly, hint of red pulsing in his cheeks.

“Like… the actual God’s sister? God, the religion figure… and his sister?”

“Yeah. Amara. The Darkness. God’s sister, whatever. We helped them to solve their family issues a while back,” Dean confirmed, a smug smile tugging at his lips at your disbelief.  

“I beg your pardon?” Steve blurted out, as if reading your frantic thoughts.

It was a lot to chew to begin with, but did Dean really just call her The Darkness? Why weren’t they freaked out by that?!

Sam sighed. “It’s complicated. Look, she also brought our mum back from death, but from what we know now, from what she said to you, it looks like Chuck brought you back and Amara thought you should also have your memories. Don’t worry about it, we’re used to this kind of crazy.”

It took you several moments of the wheels in your head turning before you connected the dots and actually registered what he was saying.

Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa, that would mean that Chuck was… the brother. Which made him… which made him-

“God’s name is Chuck?” you choked out at the same time as Steve questioned a different exclaim of Sam’s: “Don’t worry about it?”

“Yeah. Chill. Be grateful,” Dean shrugged it off as if he didn’t notice your confusion and struggle to comprehend why on Earth God would bring you back from the death and his sister (the hell-- heaven?) stopped by to return your memories on top of that.

“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale there,” Dean hummed, eyebrows furrowing in actual concern.

Yeah, no shit. I’d like to see your face if you found out that you were saved by—oh, wait, you actually might have…

“It’s… that’s a lot to chew.”

“Come on, you already knew you rose from the dead, this can’t be-“

Sam covered his brother’s mouth with a hand, annoyed look on his face before he smiled at you compassionately. “We know. But we’re serious. There’s nothing we can do about that, just enjoy what you were given. You both have your soulmate back. Be happy.”

“Though I gotta say, my heart is broken. I was holding out for you,” Dean teased you, having wrestled free from Sam’s grasp.

“Dean!”

To be fair, Steve didn’t even flinch at such suggestion, knowing Dean’s flirty nature already, and you were pretty sure he even rolled his eyes.

“Kidding. Call us if you need help, okay?”

“Can I call to just check up on you?” you pried carefully, unable to help the warm smile slowly spreading on your lips as they slapped their hands over the other’s, Sam’s trying to shut his menacing brother up.

They stopped at instant.

“Uhm… yeah?” Dean hummed, clearly surprised, while the younger brother charmed a sweet smile.

“Good. Be careful, guys. I mean it. Let an angel watch over you. And look after him too. Send him my best wishes.”

“We will. We’ll see you, Fire Princess,” Dean winked at you and you huffed. Jerk.

“I hate you,” you murmured, waved at Sam and shut the laptop close, shaking your head.

Steve’s lips found the crook on your neck, nuzzling his face there then.

“Do you understand any of the things they said?” you slightly shifted, your lips catching his halo-like hair, your back leaning onto his chest.

“Nope.”

“And you don’t care,” you stated when he kissed your skin again

“Nope,” he confirmed cheerily, pulling your back to make you lie down on the bed. You complied, ending up on your side, spooned by his warm muscular form. “Besides wanting to know what Fire Princess means, I’m just happy to have you back, doll. You’re all that matters.”

“Steve…”

You heart fluttered in your chest, chasing heat to your cheeks at his sweettalking.

“I mean it. I’m not letting go of you, ever. If I have to lay down my shield, I don’t care. As long as I have you… I have everything I need.”

“Steve, I…” he eased his hold a bit when you squeezed his hand, allowing you to turn and face him. His eyes burned with sincerity, the way you remembered they always did when trying to convince you about something you found hard to believe – usually concerning his feelings. “I… I don’t-“

“I love you. And I mean it. Just say the word.”

“But I… I can’t be enough, Steve. That’s-“ you protested, your head spinning at the thought.

He couldn’t be serious. Could he? Steve had a heart of gold and fighting for the good cause in his blood. He couldn’t stop. Or maybe he could, but at what cost? How long it would take him to realize what a mistake he had made? And what if he blamed you then? Worse, what if someone on the team would get hurt in his absence and he would blame you for that?

Rationally, you knew the last scenario was of zero probability, because Steve would definitely hold himself responsible, no one else, but that only proved your-

His thumb tenderly traced the shape of your lips, eyes seemingly bluer than usual, as if he forced them to change their colour just to look more genuine and innocent, unable to lie.  

“You are. I spent weeks thinking-- thinking that I lost you – because of what I did, no less – and nothing mattered anymore, not really.”

“You love your job,” you stated slowly, incredulous that he was actually considering it. You tried hard to push the rise of hope and annoyingly adoring feelings towards him that bloomed in your chest.

He couldn’t do that, stop that, you bitch, he was not just yours- it wouldn’t be your choice to make-- but that was just wrong--- what if he got fed up with you-

“I loved my job – mostly because it was the only thing familiar in this century. The job was my life. And look where it got me.”

“Face to face with me, resurrected?” you teased with an awkward attempt at smile, unsure of what to make of this conversation and the mess of feelings it stirred within you. Steve only raised one corner of his lips at your silly joke. “No, seriously. I love you too. I love you and that’s why I can’t let you quit, not for me. You’re Steve Rogers. You’re Captain America. It’s like giving up your half.”

“I’ve done that once,” he muttered darkly, looking away. “And you took the other half with you.”

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes at the reminder of why he might in fact could be able to give up on his job; because of the terrible sorrow it had brought him when making the impossible decision in his title’s favour.

You weren’t naïve, not that much at least. You both knew that that particular situation would have never happened if he was doing literally anything else for living.

You sighed, cupping his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Okay. We’ll think about it and talk about it later, alright? Now I just want to kiss you and cuddle you for eternity.”

His lips curled up in a brilliant smile that always made you smile back automatically, making your whole body pliant and feather-light.

“That is the best plan ever, darling,” he praised, planting a kiss to your forehead, indeed snuggling closer, leading your head to hide under his chin. Gosh, you loved when he did that, engulfing you, protecting you from the whole world.

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers.”

“No. Thank you. Thank you for coming back to me.”

You smiled against his throat, kissing his Adam’s apple. “We’ve been over this, I didn’t exactly-“

Hand still in your hair, he guided you from your favourite spot with light pull, only so he could shut you up with a kiss.

You sure as hell didn’t resist and lazily returned the affection, content to stay in that moment forever.

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In real life, moments like that didn’t last forever. Sooner or later, duties and decisions came knocking.

Decisions were hard, especially when coming back from the dead and having to choose if you should keep it secret or not for instance and oh so many more things that needed to be dealt with; which was exactly the reason why you had been avoiding it, but that couldn’t go on for much longer.

For the moment, you decided there weren’t many people to confide in, but there were still some that deserved it.

A priest of the church where your own little altar was placed was one of them, mostly because of the meeting you wanted to hold there. Then again, officially it had been Steve who invited Ryan to a safe place with little information on the reason behind such action.

Steve had warned you he hadn’t spoken to him since before your death, but it could never prepare you for the cold welcome he had got when they came face to face, while you were hiding in the shadows.

“Captain Rogers,” Ryan greeted him stiffly, voice even and sharp enough to cut deeply and precisely with that particular addressing. You and Steve had talked; you knew he had troubles coming to terms with the title after he had lost you despite burying himself in his work and making it look like it was the exact opposite.

“Ryan. Thank you for coming.”

“Why am I here? What do you want?”

Was it just you or did Ryan sound really annoyed as if he couldn’t leave this encounter soon enough? What happened to him?

“I needed to talk to you about something important,” Steve replied softly despite your best friend’s attitude.

Ryan scoffed, crossing his arms on his chest. He was a bit thinner than you remembered, but that might only be the outfit he was wearing; the sweater looked a size too big for him to begin with.

“I have nothing to talk about with you, Steve. Frankly, you being here in this very church is like a sick joke. You weren’t here when it counted. What held you? Work, I imagine?”

Even you winced at the cruel words. This didn’t sound like the man you were best friends with. Was he truly so angry with Steve? Or was it because his heart was still heavy with grief? You didn’t know whether to be touched, angry back or just sad.

And what did Ryan mean by Steve not being here when it mattered?

“It wasn’t like that-” Steve tried to explain and for the first time, his voice cracked, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Imagine that. All of them were here. All of the freaking Avengers came to her funeral-“

Oh. Oh. You had no idea what to make of that. Steve had kinda forgotten to mention that fact to you. You should have figured; he did warn you they hadn’t spoken since before your death. Shit.

Unlike Ryan, you knew it wasn’t the lack of sorrow that had held Steve back from coming – even without him telling you so, it was clear as day to you.

“-even the one from another planet. But you? Her soulmate? Gosh, Steve… what’s your excuse?”

The question was clearly meant to sting and one single glance at Steve told you that it did precisely that; his eyelids fallen shut, his hands balling into fists.

“Do you really need to ask?” Steve chuckled bitterly, forcing himself to relax his hands. You more heard the tears in his voice than saw them from your spot behind the pillar and your heart ached. “How could I show up, Ryan? After what I did? How could I look into your eyes, to her parents’ eyes? I killed her, Ryan. Don’t you think for a second that I don’t feel guilty or regret it every single day. What I did, why I… I-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Steve. I understand why you made the choice you did…” Ryan interrupted him with a sigh and a sideway look, almost as if in conciliatory manner. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you any less for it. Or that I don’t blame you for her death. Because I do. It was your fault.”

Ouch.

“I know. And I understand. You have every right.”

Well, this was going splendidly. Another guilt trip for Steve and hostility from your friend. Just peachy. You seriously considered just walking in regardless Steve’s plea for you to wait for his signal.

“And yet I’m grateful for the weeks you spent together. You made her happiest I have ever seen her. It’s funny how I can hate you for it at the same time,” Ryan added then, his eyes turning compassionate and kind, only a shadow of sorrow remaining.

“Life is that way sometimes. But… I didn’t come here to ask forgiveness, Ryan.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re not getting any. Why are we here then?”

Now this sounded more like Ryan. The corner of your lips rose in a tinniest smile.

“Because she always said you were her platonic soulmate. She trusted you with everything. And you deserve to know.”

“Deserve to know what?”

“That miracles happen,” Steve said simply, not making any sense to the other man. Drama queen. Then again, God had probably saved you, so he wasn’t exaggerating.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is that why we met in a church? Some weird symbolism to… to what?” Ryan sputtered, getting impatient. You almost walked out right then. But you trusted Steve to prepare your friend better for the shock now.

“No. We met here because I believed it was a safe place and you wouldn’t have come to the Tower.”

“Safe place?” Ryan asked warily, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously, his gaze shifting to your soulmate again. “For what?”

You cleared your throat, deciding this was the moment and stepped out. Ryan’s eyes bulged, his face drained of all colour.

“Hello, Ryan. Long time, no see,” you offered a teary smile and he blinked, your name falling from his lips breathlessly and with thousands of questions unspoken.

His gaze flickered to Steve, who smiled at him tightly, gently beckoning to you, encouraging him.

Ryan took several shaky steps and you stopped, letting him cross the distance in his own pace, getting him a chance to back away when feeling like it. On the inside, you wanted to run to him and let the man engulf you in a hug and never let go, but you realized what kind of a shock it must have been.

Hell, you were still coming to terms with it.

“Baby?” he whispered, voice trembling and breaking on the single word. You didn’t bother blinking away your tears, only nodding.

At that, Ryan erased the distance in two long strides, throwing his arms around your neck and sobbing right in your ear. His breath hitched when you hugged him back; as if he had been expecting this was only a trick.

It wasn’t.

“Hey, Ry-Ry,” you rasped, your sob nearly in sync with his, which was ridiculous.

He withdrew then, framing your face with his palms, his eyes travelling all over you.

“I saw you die,” he choked out, incredulous, awed.

“Yeah, lots of people did,” you agreed, covering one of his hands with yours. “It’s a long story.”

His blown-up irises widened further. “Was that… some kind of a cover-up? Did you- how could you not tell-?!”

“It wasn’t a cover-up!” you hurried, shaking your head as his arms fell from you. ”I died, Ry-Ry. I told you it’s a long story.”

“I have time,” he mused, still starring at you, measuring you from head to toe, perplexed and teary.

“Then maybe you should sit down. Before what I tell you knocks you flat on your ass.”

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A smile was tugging at Steve’s lips at their interaction. Ryan was amazed, naturally, and Steve could relate; having her back was everything. He hadn’t been lying to her when he had told her he would lay down his shield if she asked him to. He would do anything only if it meant she would meet his gaze like at that exact moment, tears and laughter in her eyes, her lips spreading in that beautiful smile that tugged on his heartstrings.

“Steven,” the priest appeared at his side, voice low so he wouldn’t disturb the reunion. “Why don’t you join me in the back? Let the two friends catch up?”

Steve could stay right there, watching you explain the insane story, but perhaps he shouldn’t. Your best friend deserved your undivided attention and Steve would be happy to let you do so. God knew that while you were bickering and joking with the rest of his team and friends – now your friends too, no doubt – you weren’t beaming as much as you were at the moment. You needed your own time with Ryan.

“I… I suppose I should. Thank you, Father, for allowing this,” Steve expressed his gratitude, only for the other man to nod and give him a kind smile.

“Well, your friend had a point about symbolism here. Miracles do happen.... Speaking of those. I have someone who I would like you to meet.”

Steve blinked in surprise, but followed Father Lantom, trustful.  “…alright. What is it, Father?”

“It might come as a shock,” the priest warned him as he stopped in front of the door Steve was familiar with; Father had invited him over for coffee before, but Steve always refused, not wanting to abuse his hospitality.

“My soulmate came back from the dead, Father. I doubt anything can shock me at this point.”

The older-looking man chuckled, his hand laid on the handle. “I’m tempted to make a bet, but I must maintain the façade of an honourable man.”

“Father Lantom… what are you talking about?” Steve gulped, something icy creeping up his spine, his heart speeding up in anticipation.

Surely, the man wouldn’t do anything to hurt Steve. The idea was ridiculous. So why was Steve so nervous all of sudden?

“James? May we enter?”

There was no answer and if there was, Steve couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his ears. A crazy idea, old hope that he could never allow himself to feed because people who died stayed dead, even in this insane world, rising in his chest and suffocating him.

James?

Miracles?

The door opened with a creak and Steve only needed a glimpse to freeze in the doorway, his heart stopping, brain short-circuiting. The world swayed of its place and there was a crushing weight on his chest, crushing and vertigo-inducing at the same time, frantic memories of a friendship that should have lasted until the end of the line flashing in his mind, an agonizing memory of watching the fall, completely helpless.

Steve didn’t know how, but the name left his lips without him remembering forming the simple word; a word that felt like a prayer.

“…Bucky?”

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Bonus chapter ;)

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I know, I know! A cliffhanger. But it’s a nice one, right? A little hopeful, a little teasing your imagination; think about it like a post-credit scene ;) 

I can promise a bonus and a short multichapter fic ending this whole soulmate series.

Thank you for reading and your support, every comment means the world to me :-*