#to be honest i’ll be stunned if season one gets more than one or two votes lol

[adriancatrin]

been thinking about this for a while and wonder if my opinion is “““controversial””” so. figured i’d just ask

[burst-of-iridescent]

atla live action thoughts: episodes 3 & 4

SPOILERS AHEAD

tw: opinions

things i liked:

jet, you beautiful, beautiful man. had me twirling my hair and kicking my feet fr i NEED this show to get a season 2 just so i can see more of him in the ba sing se arc please netflix

but looks aside, sebastian amoruso DELIVERED on the performance. the softness, the vulnerability, the charm, the intelligence, yet also the ruthlessness beneath it all? KILLED IT.

the moment between him and katara where he tells her to remember her mother as she was alive and not just her death was absolutely lovely. “remember the sunrise” made me very emotional

on that note, can’t believe jetara fake marriage is canon now lmao

i am SO here for desi omashu. i love the vibe and aesthetic of the city and again the visuals are STUNNING. live action repping the south asians better than the original ever did i’ll be honest

shameless fan service but “MY CABBAGES” being so fucking dramatic had me dying

of all the things i expected from the atla live action, secret tunnel and omashu being lesbians wasn’t even on the list but i’m not mad. hilarious that they turned the cave of two lovers into the cave of two platonic siblings though

jet, omashu and northern air temple arcs actually meshed together better than i thought. the NAT episode never sat well with me in the original so i’m glad they moved them to omashu instead.

the freedom fighters were RIGHT OUT OF THE ANIMATION. casting directors absolutely killed

love that they showed resistance movements within the fire nation and azula being part of rooting them out. it’s a nice nod to the deserter, since i’m guessing they’re not including that episode

really glad to see that the atla live action is following the tradition of having weirdly unnecessary zutara crumbs in every iteration of the story because what in the om shanti om was that zutara scarf moment. 10/10 no notes

having one of the earthbenders transporting iroh be angry over losing a loved one because of iroh’s siege of ba sing se was a really great change. i’ve always thought the original glossed over the true extent of the damage iroh did, so having him come face to face with what he’d done in the past was a great way to add some complexity

“how dare you beat up that child!” everyone go home seeing zuko being beat up by a random old lady is the highlight of this series. really love that they were just running around throwing things at each other that was major book 1 zuko/aang fight energy lmao

SECRET TUNNELLLLLLLL

leaves from the vine instrumental was 100% to inflict emotional damage and it fucking worked. the scene between zuko and iroh at lu ten’s funeral was so beautiful & then to have it flipped around at the end when iroh says “everything i need is on this boat”… fuck you for this netflix i didn’t need these tears today

things i disliked/am conflicted about:

not a fan of what they’re doing with katara’s character. they’re toning down a lot of her rage and fierceness, and boiling her down to “trauma over mother’s death.” in the original katara didn’t freeze jet and splash water at him because he tried to fight her, she did it because she was hurt and pissed off! there’s no way animated katara would’ve just run away from jet without sending a water whip at his face first. i’m concerned for how the pakku fight is gonna go tbh

bumi my guy, what did they do to you 💀 this series seems hellbent on having everyone remind aang that he ran away which doesn’t work when a) you already changed aang actively running away to him just going off for a break and b) you’ve made that point! the original omashu episode was about bumi teaching aang to look at the world differently, here it just weirdly feels as though he’s punishing aang by venting all his anger and despair on him?? that’s NOT what animated bumi was like & they didn’t even have the two of them go sliding down the delivery system in the flashbacks so adding it in at the end felt very out of nowhere. they didn’t even genuinely seem to be FRIENDS

having aang immediately figure out it was bumi was… sigh. can we please not do the thing where characters already know everything it’s giving me trauma flashbacks to the percy jackson show

jet’s plan feels more reasonable here than it did in the original. i get they’re trying to show that he didn’t care about the collateral damage to innocent people and that’s bad, but idk him wiping out an entire town unilaterally felt more extreme than a few bombings.

heavily dislike what they’ve done with zhao. i know they’re trying to show him clawing his way to power but that’s more of a long feng move than a ZHAO move. it’s important that zhao always holds more power than zuko and that he has an overinflated sense of ego from the start for him to fulfil his narrative purpose of serving as a warning to zuko of what he might become.

i like seeing mailee but why are they in this show? it feels as though they’re cardboard cutouts there for fan service instead of being actual characters

overall i liked these episodes better than the previous two & i do enjoy how action-packed and visually pleasing the show has been so far.

overall rating: 8/10 for episode 3, 7/10 for episode 4

[claireelle18]

Let Me - Vince Dunn

Thank you for all the love on my Gem post! Another idea came to me for him…I hope you enjoy this one just as much!

It wasn’t a purposeful keeping the marriage unknown. All records are open to the public. She had her last name changed as well. Neither her nor Vince just announced the marriage. It was only three weeks since eloping. A beautiful day, some stunning scenery out in Toronto. Just the two of them, their photographer, and the officiant. The ring glittering under the arena lights. She was surprised she still showed up to the arena that night after the wicked nasty fight that occurred right before he was supposed to be at the arena for pregame. She had asked him about just continuing to keep their new status a little more private, but he said he was wanting to tell the guys on the team before playoffs started. They all knew her, but no one knew of the change in status for the couple. That was the reason they fought this afternoon.

She groaned, “Vince, did you even think about that this could take away the focus on the playoff games?”

He scoffed. “No, I figured it would let them know another reason why I am so determined to bring home the Stanley Cup.”

If she was being honest, she was more worried about him being spotted with his ring on and fans speculating. Most fans were so sweet to her, but she did get the rude remarks and glares. He had always told her it didn’t matter what they said because he was her’s, but she still struggled dealing with that while he was on the ice. “Think about it Vin! People catch you with the ring and they will want to know so much more about that than how the game goes!”

“It’s been a few weeks already and no one has caught on! I think we will be fine!”

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to let more people know about our marriage! Do you not respect that wish of mine?” Some of the girls had not been very kind in the past to her after Vince once slipped up about their relationship. Vile to her about how she loved him for his money. Vile with comments about how he liked to flirt with other girls and cheat on her.

“What do you mean? Of course I do! No one will catch the fact I wear a ring.” He looks at the clock. “I better go before I am late. Will I see you there?” He asks, looking at her. He can see the tears rimming her eyes, threatening to pour down her face. It doesn’t sit well with him that they just fought before the playoff game, darkening his already anxious mood.

Game time rolls around, and every little chance he has to berate the opposing team’s players, he does. Before long, he keeps landing himself in the penalty box, every chance he gets too. His mind clouded with how she looked before her left for the arena. How she looked a little cracked, how she seemed so small for herself. After this next round in the penalty box, she hears the announcers comment. “I don’t know what is up with Vince Dunn tonight, but for someone who’s loud through the regular season, he sure has it out tonight to be in that penalty box more than on the ice.”

“You’re right there. If I didn’t know better, I may say that coach will be looking to remove him for the playoff roster.” Her heart plummeted into her feet. Removing him from the playoff roster? He played such an intricate part of the core defense that removing him could be an awful outcome. She yanked her phone out, dialing that contact she’s never used before. “Who is this?” The man’s voice questioned across the line. She explained to him that she just needs to see Vince immediately. “I’m sorry but this isn’t a way to see him. You have a better chance at going to the games or one of their open practices.”

“I’m not a fan. I need to see Vince Dunn now. You have to get me down to the locker room before the start of the next period.”

He laughed. “Why would I get you in to see him?” “Because I’m his wife.” She identified herself to him.

Commotion happening across the phone line. “Meet me next to the shop. I’ll see you in three minutes.”

She followed the man down the back halls to get towards the locker room. The sound spilling out of the locker room could be heard down the hallway. His manager talking with the defense coach. Coach motioned some number at her, she could care less how much time, she just needed the time, then let her slip past into the room. A defeated Vince sat in his gear cubby, eyes casted towards the floor. “You’re going to burn a hole into the floor, mister,” she teased as she crouched down in from of him. The whispers could be heard of ‘why is she down here’ and a few ‘who is she’ sprinkled in.

She knelt between his knees, putting her hand on his cheek. “Vin…Vin…Vince…,” she cooed. He broke out of his trance. “Breathe babe. It will be okay. You know fights happen, but do not get your ass kicked off this roster. Do not throw this chance for a second Cup for you out because you’re upset.” He melted into her her hand, taking a few breaths. “I’m sorry we fought. I just felt caught off guard. I get where you came from, wanting to share the news with the team.”

“Time is up Mrs. Dunn,” Coach called out. She went to stand, and Vince pulled her into a quick kiss. The room cheered, noise dying down as they made their way back to the bench.

After the game, she was brought back into the locker room to announce their marriage officially to the team, together.

[lightwise]

TBB S3 E10 Reaction

Life has been a bit busier the last few weeks so I am finally catching up on my episode reactions (I’m determined to do all of them this season!) And I apologize y’all, this episode made me very snarky apparently.

I’ll be honest. When this episode first came out I was nowhere near as surprised by it or horrified by it as reviewers seemed to be. Nothing about Palpatine hunting down force sensitive children as experiments and using Cad Bane to do it is a surprise, and the Vault feels so much like Andor. But even on a rewatch this episode holds up so well and honestly just starts to give a cold chill under the skin as the quiet horror of it sinks in.

- Cute kid. And the Batch nowhere to be seen. This is going to be a different episode isn’t it

- Oh no. He’s force sensitive 😫😫😫 hmmm how could that possibly go wrong

- This is giving Andor vibes 👀

- It’s always interesting seeing “regular people” in Star Wars and little markets and how they’re just trying to go about their daily lives.

- Don’t go around snitching people! Nothing good ever comes of it!!!

- Yeah this guy is worse than Timm from Andor. Wtf dude. You’re turning in a baby!!

- Also is it just me or typical Star Wars “houses” end up being pretty dark and depressing?

- Wait okay okay. So this is the CX chamber. Why can’t we see any of them yet 😩😩 what is this red fog? What are these weird conditioning pods? What kind of armor is on this datapad?? *trying to crawl inside my screen* I NEED ANSWERS JENNIFER!!

- “Do you trust me?” Ooooh why do I think that’s going to come back around

- But also, babygirl, I don’t think you actually know what you’re signing up for

- “I could be more useful” “you wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” Alright. This. This is interesting. This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two have shared. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with it. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting though.

- But I get it, the man’s busy, he’s got a lot of evil shit he’s trying to do all at the same time 🙄

- So we have “the assets”, which is the area that Hemlock took Palpatine in the first episodes, where the orange containment pods are and the zillo beast is being kept. We still don’t know what those assets are. The Vault is something different.

- Well. Shit. It’s Andor and Narkina 5 for kids. Lovely 😳💀

- “There are few adults left with such characteristics” I WONDER IN THE NAME OF ONE EMPEROR PALPATINE WHY

- Okay so this entire exchange is awful. The kids are so cute! Hemlock is so cold. “Specimens. Assets” ughhh Emerie what are you getting yourself into!!

- Is this the first time we’ve heard the word glasses in Star Wars?

- Oh no. So THIS is why Cad Bane was brought back 🥺🥺

- The score in this episode is perfectly eerie

- Lol Todo is not good with kids huh 🤣

- That poor mama when she wakes up and finds her baby is gone

- I hope that dude has his entire life flash before his eyes as he’s trying to pick all of those credits up

- “My name’s Eva” 🥹🥹🥹 Emerie has no idea how to handle this 😂

- I still wanna know what’s happened with these commandos. No way a clone of Jango Fett is able to look a child in the eyes, call them a “specimen” and not have even an ounce of remorse as they stun them point blank.

- “Jax?” And Eva just points. The power in knowing someone’s name vs a dehumanizing number

- It’s also interesting that these kids are species that are red, blue, and green, and when they get Bayrn in, he’s white. RGB colors make up white light when put together.

- The little peeks of Emerie’s backstory we keep getting are so interesting. She was abandoned by Nala Se. She knows that these children don’t belong here, the same way that Omega told both her and Crosshair that they didn’t belong here either. Nala Se says that the Empire will hold these kids to control them. Emerie feels like she has no power to do anything differently. So much to unpack here.

- Why is Tarkin’s holo so large?

- Lol I honestly love getting to see the backbiting politics of how the Empire functions. It’s so bad and so funny

- Also love that Project Necromancer is so secret that even Tarkin doesn’t know what it is. He’s so nosy

- Okay why does he bring up the CX schematic again and why is it so different than the one we saw earlier??

- Whoa Cid was tortured???

- “The other operatives aren’t ready to join you in the field” why????

- We’re visiting a lot of space stations this season

- Man I wish Emerie had fudged this test

- Nooo let the poor baby go home 🥺

- Oh and now we’re putting kids in solitary confinement. Great.

- C’mon Emerie. Keep clicking that moral compass until it points north

- She kept the straw Lula. She’s giving it to Eva 😭. There’s hope for her yet

[alloveydovey]

Dramas from this past month. I'm having such a hard time finishing things 😭

The Forbidden Marriage (rewatch) (kdrama) 9 ⭐️

A broken-hearted king imposes a seven-year ban on marriage, and after claiming to be able to channel the deceased crown princess, the FL ends up as one of his court ladies. Both the king and the officer assigned to protect her (the king's closest friend) end up developing an interest in her.

I love it so much that it became a comfort drama. I’m not into love triangles (who is?), but I looved every aspect of it. It’s a bit crazy how they go from extreme comedy to extreme drama, I’ll admit, but the actors deal with it really well. Romance is 11/10, the usual historical visuals are stunning, and the comedy had me laughing hard.

Love Me, Love my Voice (cdrama) 7.5

Nothing more soft and warm than watching these two characters fall in love. There are no obstacles here, just a doctor/voice actor wooing a senior student/singer/composer with the magic of cooking.

On the other side, because there are no complications, it gets boring. The characters get together way too soon for a drama where nothing happens. Luckily the second couple is as entertaining (if not more) as the leads. So, the main reason I continued watching, honestly, was because of them.

Secret Playlist (kdrama) 7

Cute 8 episode drama about an internet music composer and an idol who join forces to create music. Romance was a bit mid, but the songs were cute as hell, and so were the leads.

And Yet, You Are So Sweet (jmovie) 7

This was adorable af. A little silly (as usual with school love) but I liked the vibes. Girl confesses to her crush, he turns her down harshly and popular boy offers himself as a replacement for the crush. They both start a game where he basically lends himself to her so she can have a fake crush on him and forget about the other guy, except he obviously has feelings for her and she starts having real feelings for him as well. It’s a weird premise, but it gave out a lot of cute moments.

D.P. Season 2 (kdrama) 10

I’ve never watched a season 2 from a drama, and from what I’ve gathered, most of them usually disappoint or are good but don’t come close to the first season. Well, for me, this one was not the case at all. It just felt like a continuation of the first part. I'd say I even enjoyed this one more. Also, I miss theeeeem.

Sixteen Shoukougun (jdrama) 7.5

Okay, so basically, a fuckboy with mommy issues wants to get in between a "tomboy" girl who is known among girls as a prince and her best friend, a girl suffering from severe PTSD. He initially tries to go for the PTSD one, but soon realizes that her friendship with the "tomboy" girl is a little... special. After a few interactions, though, he begins to actually like the "tomboy" girl. In between all this, a sensible boy who is deemed "feminine" is thrown into the mix.

I'll be honest, I went into this one thinking it'd be gl but got disappointed it wasn't the case. At the same time, I actually enjoyed tomboy and fuckboy's relationship too. It's all a bit crazy, especially the friendship between the girls, but I was low-key into it. Fuckboy redeems himself, so I was okay with it, I guess? I don't know, jdramas are extreme, man. What I liked a lot about this one (apart from the sick intro that goes really hard) was how they showed the characters' feelings and the overall theme of just being 16 and growing up around prejudice, abandonment, and liking someone regardless of gender.

Our Secret Diary (jmovie) 8.5

Girl finds a love confession note on her classroom desk from the popular guy in school. Confused about it, she decides to answer him and soon begins exchanging secret notes until she realizes that the note was actually meant for her best friend.

This cute little school movie was very cliché but absolutely perfect.

I am Not a Robot (kdrama) 8/8.5

Here's to me never adding this one to my list because I was not into robots and stuff like that at all, and then completely ignoring my watchlist and going for it since I've read it's very cute.

The comments were right. The storyline is a bit wack and unreliable buuuut, as usual, the main leads make up for it with good acting and adorable scenes.

I'm adding these ones even though I didn't really finish them he ⬇️

The Matchmakers (kdrama) 8/8.5, because it's actually good, just a bit heavy.

Another comedy with Rowoon, sign me up. This one took me a while to get into because even though it was clever, the comedy was really good, and the mockumentary style rocked, there were just too many politics in it for me to fully dive into. I’d get lost and bored at times. It picked up after episode 5, though, and by episode 7, it was definitely more fun. It's more entertaining when they focus on the leads and the ladies they are supposed to set up. I still haven't finished it yet because... I don't know. It is a kind of slow drama, and I don't think I fully get what's going on with the murder and politics.

I May Love You (cdrama) 6.5

Oof. I have so many opinions about this one. ML asks FL to help him woo her best friend not knowing that FL has been in love with him for the past four years. FL fails to help him (on purpose lol) and after spending some meaningful moments together decides to confess in what I like to call the lousiest confession ever. ML rejects her but regrets it later on.

I'm always a girls girl, but here... FL was testing me. The ML spends most of the drama groveling because the FL is mad and upset he asked her for help wooing her friend and then rejected her (also rejected her book project which is possibly the worst thing he did) But the thing is, ML didn't even know FL liked him when he asked for help in the first place, and I believe he had every right to reject her after she told him she liked him because he was rich and handsome. Like?? Who confesses like that? And that's basically the whole drama. I don't know why they thought it'd be cute for the FL to have a wall full of his pictures and then forcefully kiss him. Truly not a good-written character.

A Good Day to Be a Dog (kdrama) 8

I'm gonna finish this, I swear. The whole girl turns into a dog and boy has to kiss her in dog form to break the spell is a bit... weird. Buuut aside from that, these characters and their interactions are just the cutest. It works well because Park Gyu Young is amazing with comedy and her chemistry with Eun Woo is perfect.

Now, the past lives part of the story? A bit too much meh. Some aspects are interesting (the whole story of the mountain spirit and the lady. I thought I'd die of boredom, but they actually made it cute and sad lol). The revenge thing? Boring and so over it. Still gotta watch the last four episodes.

[bohemian-nights]

So bridgerton really skipped Eloise, Benedict and Francesca for Cunt hungry Colin and man pleaser Penelope. They both give me nothing but people who think they have it bad but literally live in luxury. Literally over the whole Bridgerton series after queen charlotte I don’t care anymore

Eh, Bridgerton is on a probation period for me. And I’ll say that even though I don’t particularly like either Colin or Penelope, at this point, I don’t care that they skipped over Benedict’s story for them.

(I have a theory of why they did this and if my theory is correct I’m happy as a clam).

And if we are going by book order Polin’s season should come before Eloise(who is book #5 and it doesn’t matter but I personally am uninterested in her character) and Francesca’s (love her/her book is my second favorite and I am excited to see her and Michael, but her book is #6).

Now the real reason why Bridgerton is on probation for me isn’t Benophie being skipped, it’s the issue of Sophie’s casting and how everytime you mention her (possibly) being Black, people start crying.

I’ll be honest and say if Shonda pulls another stunt and doesn’t finally cast a Black girl for Sophie Beckett my Black ass ain’t watching this shit anymore.

I don’t want to hear any it’s “bad representation” especially not from a bunch of non-Black women. Sophie isn’t a slave(she literally says she could’ve left anytime she wanted to which is something that slaves never could) and more importantly, she gets a happy ending.

And yes I know about Gregory’s book and no I don’t want to wait another five to six years for that child’s boring season(I give Polin crap, but their book is actually better than that dry mess) where he is spending half of it pinning after another girl. It’s a very strong possibility his season never happens or if it does happen it combines with Hyacinth which is unacceptable if that’s our only representation on this show.

Fortunately the rumors are that a casting call went out for a Black female lead for season 4 and people speculate Masali Baduza (who is stunning and talented) was the one who landed the role.

So I’m remaining cautiously optimistic that one of the these two rumors is true, but if not (as I’ve stated) season 3 will be the last season of this show I watch.

I already have one show(and racist fandom) that acts like Black women are the plague.

Hell, might as well say Black people period because some of these dumbasses have been crying about Michael being (more than likely) Black and saying there are “too many Black people”(it’s giving me HOTD fandom war flashbacks) on the show and it not being “diverse enough.”

Mind you they say all this even though the showrunner is a Black woman(which is why I expect Sophie to be Black cause I would never expect nor demand that from someone else), but instead of being understanding why most of the diversity would and should be Black they want her to mule for them, but I’m not supposed to say that since it hurts their feelings.

This show is plenty diverse, but because Shonda hasn’t completely stopped featuring Black people they are upset.

People want every season to be like season two and that’s fine and dandy, but Black people are under-presented in the media and not only that our representation is absolute shit riddled with stereotypes.

I don’t think Shonda(or I hope not) created this show to further sideline us so a Black Sophie is the hill I’m willing to die on. I’m not watching three seasons back to back to back with a non-Black lead and definitely not five seasons back to back 5x over with a non-Black female lead.

I will not be suffering through another anti-Black fandom whose showrunners prioritize and appease said non-Black racist fandom at the expense of Black people. That’s my grievance with the show.

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 7

[I knew that this was going to happen one of these days XP I posted this on the wrong blog at first. XP ok, now it is fixed]

Grian sored through the sky, far to his right the sun sat on the horizon glowing across the water, as he followed the coast. As soon as the day was reset he had gone to his base and shoved a couple of things in a shulker box before heading off to X’s base.

It wasn’t long before the purple top of the portal tower came into view. Grian circled down and skipped to a stop in front of X’s house. Ok, so maybe he was a bit early. Xsiuma was nowhere in sight.

Grian hesitated then knocked on the front door. A couple minutes and X came to the door, he was wearing a t-shirt and sweats, and yawned, running a hand through rumpled hair.

“You're punctual,” X chuckled, “Come on in,” he moved aside to let Grian enter, “I was just getting a morning nap to keep the phantoms off. Spent too many all nighters already trying to fix this,” He shrugged, closing the door behind Grian and moving over to some barrels set against the wall and rummaging around inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry for bothering you. I can come back later if you would rather do this then.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Want some coffee?” He asked, pulling speed, regen and fire res pots from the barrel and setting them down on an empty furnace top.

“Sure” Grian shrugged looking around. The interior was sparsely decorated, there was an oak wood floor and exposed roof rafters overhead. Chests and barrels lined one of the longer walls with a crafting table and furnace nearby. There was a bed shoved into a back corner. But that was it as far as furniture went.

X got two mugs out of a chest and started mixing the potions “Sorry about the poor excuse for an interior. To be honest I hadn’t done anything before George showed up and I had to throw something together quickly for him. Do you take speed one or two in your coffee?” He added.

“Juse one, and don’t worry about the interior, did you see the inside of my base last season,” Grian laughed.

“True,” X shrugged, stirring a little fire res into the coffee to heat it up before handing Grian his mug.  

Grian held the mug up to his nose and took a deep inhale, letting out a long sigh of contentment. “Gotta love that smell,”

X closed his eyes and took a long draught before opening them again looking at Grian. Despite the tiredness still hovering behind his eyes he was back in business mode. “Alright, we can go ahead and get started. I really should do something about a table and chairs though.” He added as he started to look around for some supplies.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grian assured, “We can sit outside on the steps, it’s a beautiful morning. Besides, we'll probably want some space to work. Admin stuff might not take up much space but Watcher magic works a little differently.”

“Oh sure, Just let me get my shoes on,” X said. He summoned a pair of boots and the rest of his armor from his inventory and hurriedly started to put them on. Grian wordlessly took X’s coffee mug from him so he could use his hands without spilling on himself and then went out to sit on the steps and wait for X.

He took a sip of his coffee. The sunrise was almost over but the view was still beautiful. Grian remembered X had mentioned he was planning on building a massive statue that would fill up the sky.

X came out to join him, now dressed in his full suit of pink armor, and sat down on the step beside him taking his mug back as Grian handed it to him. His visor was up and he took another sip of his coffee before speaking “So what did you have in mind? You said you wanted to try some things. I’ve done about everything I could think of on my own.

“Yeah, first I just wanted you to give me admin permissions to leave, like you would whitelist someone. From what they were saying it sounded like their admin could give people permission to leave if he wanted to.”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan, tell me when you're ready,” X said, pulling up his HUD and setting his mug aside on the step beside him.

Grian also set his mug down and stood up “Alright- wait, did you ever actually get around to whitelisting me? I mean, it’s not like I was exactly invited in the first place. This might not work if I’m not whitelisted properly.”

“Yeah,” X nodded “I whitelisted you when we did the last server reset. As far as I can tell your connection to the server is stable.”

“Alright then, X, fire away,” Grian said, stretching.

X typed in the command and then looked back at Grian when finished “It’s done.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know how this goes,” Grian said, rubbing his hands together, soft purple sparks flying as his eyes start to glow. With a sweep of his arm he ripped a gash in reality, edged with purple void, and passed through.

Grian stands in the void where the server dwells, purple currents and mist swirl and push around him. It feels cold against his skin. He shivers. He never liked lingering in the void, it was too open, too vulnerable. Grian flaps his wings and lifts off, the mist billowing around him. He feels no resistance as he leaves the Hermitcraft Server’s domain. It seems like X’s permissions worked.

Grian turns his attention to the Dream SMP Server, he Immediately feels the mist grow thick and warm, clawing at him as he fights to stay airborne. A current knocks him askew and he flaps his wings frantically to regain control.

Slam!

He runs full force into a barrier. Stunned, he starts falling. Falling forever. Grian thinks of Hermitcraft and he can feel the soft mist of the server welcome him. He struggles to twist himself around, ripping an exit in the air below him as he falls.

Grian came tumbling through into the light and Xisuma jumped up from the steps. “Grian! What happened? Oh gods you're bleeding!”

Grian shakily picked himself up, his head throbbing. He touched his hand to his nose and it came away red. “Oh, so I am,” He muttered. “Ow,” He added as his eyes tried to adjust to the bright light of day. Was it this bright when he left? “I just-”

“Sit, sit down, you don’t look so good,” Xisuma insisted, helping Grian sit back on the step.

Grian didn’t protest “Oof, that was even worse than the first time I tried to get into that server. It’s really locked itself off”

“But what happened?”

“Um... for lack of a better explanation, I flew straight into a wall. When I am in the void I can usually move between server’s just by thinking about them. But the Dream SMP is the only server that is Watcher proof. It basically put up a fight and refused to let me in.” Grian explained.

“Hum,” X muttered rubbing the chin of his helmet as he took in the information.

“I’ve still got a couple more things we can try though. We can try and simulate the server reset and if that doesn't work, I might be able to make a special portal to-”

“Oh no you don’t, you’re done for today,” X interrupted “We need to get you checked out and make sure you don’t have a concussion,”

“I’m fine,” Grain protested, standing up and trying to force himself to focus... ok so maybe he had a concussion.

[Notes: Ok, so I wasn’t planning on giving Grian a concussion but sometimes these things just happen. It’ll make things interesting. Hope you all enjoyed this.]

[snowywrites]

Monika x Fem!reader

summary: fluffy fic of Monika and the reader on the reader's birthday.

word count: 2.4k

As far as birthdays go, this one wasn't really anything too special. Well, maybe you're being a little too cynical. After all, last year you hadn't really gotten to spend your birthday with any friends- you'd been preoccupied with getting home to watch the newest season of your favorite anime.

This year, however, Sayori had managed to get you into the Literature Club, and it had, not to be dramatic, changed your life. For better or worse, that was yet to be seen.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" Sayori asks expectantly, bright blue eyes examining you with bewilderment.

You focus back on the present, giving your friend a reassuring smile. "Yeah, sorry! Everything's great." And you aren't lying; today for the club meeting, Natsuki had brought cupcakes for everyone to share, Sayori had actually not realized what day it was and so gave you a 'birthday hug,' Yuri had given you a copy of one of her favorite horror novels as a gift, even signed by the author, and yet...

You can't help but give a very small sigh. "I just kind of miss Monika, I guess."

Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri all exchange glances in their respective chairs at one of the club tables. They then all focus on you with varying expressions: Sayori with mischief, Natsuki with exasperation, and Yuri with knowing amusement.

"What? Don't look at me like that!" You squeak defensively, feeling your face begin to heat up at what they were implying. "I only meant that it's- it's weird being at a meeting without our club president! T-That's all." Not that this could be called a meeting per se- more like a celebration between friends.

Sayori giggles at your reaction, and you hear Yuri whisper to Natsuki, "The lady doth protest too much," which elicits a snort of laughter from the pink-haired tsundere.

You groan, standing up abruptly from your seat and smoothing down your school uniform a bit, self-conscious all of a sudden. As your embarrassment dies down though, you feel a wave of affection for your fellow club members. As much as they tend to tease you about your little crush on Monika, they had made your birthday really special this year, and you were grateful. "Anyway, thank you guys again for everything! I had a lot of fun," you say earnestly, deciding it was probably time to wrap up and head home.

Sayori bounces up to join you, and you bid your farewells to Natsuki and Yuri, gathering up your things and heading out of the classroom.

Sayori glances back to make sure that Natsuki and Yuri are in fact walking away, and then she reaches out to stop you. "Uhm, Y/N...?"

You pause to look at her expectantly, unsure of why she's much less energetic now than she was a few minutes ago. "Yes?"

"I-I was actually supposed to tell you something," your best friend begins, uncharacteristically quiet. You wonder briefly why she hadn't mentioned this before... maybe she had been debating on whether or not she actually wanted to tell you whatever it is, considering how the words are practically being dragged from her at this point. "Ah, well, Monika asked me to, that is. The reason she couldn't come to the Literature Club today was because she was stuck at a meeting with the student council, but..." Sayori exhales in what could be a sigh. "She did still wanna see you for your birthday, so she hoped you could stop by there and wait for her."

You stand there in the mostly empty hall of the school, puzzled at why this news would bring such a reaction from your friend- especially when it makes you feel so fluttery inside. "Oh!" You try not to let it show, but you're fairly certain you're lighting up like a Christmas tree. "I see. Thank you for telling me, Sayori!"

As you turn to leave, you feel Sayori reach out to touch your shoulder, but she retracts her hand quickly. When you look back at her, she's her old self, giving you a big smile. "Yeah, I guess you're gonna go see her, huh? Well, I'll catch you later, Y/N!"

Before you can respond, Sayori dashes off, forgetting to wish you a happy birthday.

Well, that was weird. Then again, Sayori's been pretty off lately whenever you and Monika are involved.

The thought of the brunette is enough to make you forget all about whatever might be troubling your best friend, and you make your way through the school to the student council room with a giddy spring in your step. They must not be out yet since the halls are pretty deserted still.

You risk taking a peek through the little glass window on the door, and your hunch is confirmed. Students belonging to the council are all sitting in a circle of chairs, discussing... well, school-related business stuff. You aren't really sure what they do, exactly.

You catch sight of Monika at the head of them, naturally because she is the president, but you aren't expecting to see her with such an expression.

Usually, Monika seems to you warm, open, patient, and friendly... but here, she looks... not even bored, but more like she's utterly apathetic towards all the conversations going on around her. You've never seen her so uncaring, to the point where she seems almost irritated by the presence of everyone in the room with her.

Maybe she's having a bad day? The thought makes you a bit sad, and you find yourself wondering if she would even want to see you. Do the others in the council even realize she's so unlike herself?

As if to answer your silent question, one of the other students turns to Monika to say something, and when they do, the familiar expression you're used to your club president wearing slips back with ease onto her face. She listens attentively to whatever it is she's being told, and then she smiles and nods, commenting something you can't hear in return.

You watch the exchange, too fascinated to stop watching even if you do worry someone might notice you peeking inside for such a long minute. As soon as the student turns away from her, Monika is once again the picture of discontentment; you even notice her tapping her nails listlessly against the surface of the table they're all seated at.

The sound of the doorknob rattling causes you to leap backwards in shock, stumbling slightly over your own two feet. The meeting must be over, because someone is stepping out, and then another, and then you're hurriedly dodging out of the path of the entire student body as they file out, talking and laughing with one another as they head down the hall, eventually leaving you alone.

"Y/N?"

Looking away from their retreating figures, you face Monika and find her as she always is with you- curious emerald eyes and a friendly air about her. "Ah- hello," you greet her, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel about your... let's be honest, spying.

"I wasn't really sure that you'd show!" She exclaims, startling you with a sudden hug.

You've actually never gotten a hug from Monika, although you have a ton of hugs to compare hers to- Sayori throws herself at you pretty much daily, and hers tend to be suffocating, always too tight and lasting a bit too long.

From Monika, though? Her hug, despite making your head spin and your heart skip a beat, makes you feel so safe, secure... she's so warm and you can't help but be enamored with whatever perfume she uses.

Unfortunately, you're too stunned to return the embrace in time before Monika pulls back from you, and you could swear she has a faint blush on her cheeks. She doesn't apologize for her impromptu action, though, and you're glad for that.

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask, dumbstruck.

She studies you for a few seconds, and you get the idea that she's trying to detect if you're being serious or not. Eventually she says, "Oh, nevermind that! I am glad to see you, though. I have something I wanted to give you."

'Please refrain from saying something really stupid and cheesy like, 'the best gift you could give me is just getting to see you on my birthday,' you think to yourself. "A gift? You really didn't have to- or, I mean, you shouldn't have-! Not that I don't appreciate it, though...!" You don't typically struggle so much with your words, but you're still a little off your game after the lovely hug. It's like your mind is foggy, your tongue is twisted, and you simply can't think straight. Which isn't really new when you're around Monika, but today it's impacting you even more than normal. Maybe because you two are all alone for once, not surrounded by Sayori, Yuri, or Natsuki, or even any other students for that matter.

Monika gives a soft laugh. "I wanted to. Technically it's two somethings rather than one," she admits.

You find your mind racing as it tries to go over the potential possibilities. A book like Yuri? That would be very fitting, since you'd befriended Monika through the Literature Club.

You watch as she takes a gift box out of her bookbag, offering it to you with a sweet, "Happy birthday, Y/N."

God, you're definitely blushing. Like, fierce blushing. Either that or the school suddenly decided to turn fifty heaters on all at once. 'Geez, pull yourself together!! Act normal!' You internally berate yourself. If there had been any doubt before, it was all erased in this one instant- you were head over heels for your club president.

"Awh, thank you! It's nice of you." You accept the gift, examining it momentarily. As expected of the class star Monika, the box itself is wrapped perfectly. It's even your favorite color, with a matching ribbon tying it shut. Whether or not you're a sentimental person, you recognize that this is the sort of memento that could easily be kept for a long, long time. You glance back to your friend. "May I open it now?"

Monika nods. "Please do!"

You feel her gaze on you as you carefully untie the ribbon and open up the gift box to see what's inside.

She was right, it is more than one thing. They sort of go together though, you realize as you lift one of the presents up to admire it.

In your hand is a necklace. The chain is a light silver, and the pendant contains a pretty stone in the shape of a heart. The stone shimmers slightly as it reflects the light of the school hall.

"It's so pretty...!" You breathe.

"I'm glad, I thought it was pretty too," Monika says. She sounds calm, but when you glance at her you think she's ecstatic, but the expression is gone as soon as you blink, leaving you to wonder if it had been your imagination playing tricks on you. "It's your birthstone, did you notice?"

You hadn't noticed until she'd pointed it out, but it was indeed your birthstone. Monika is just... so very thoughtful. It's really no wonder she's so popular. "Thank you so much!!" You chirp, still somewhat surprised that she would go so far just for a birthday gift for you. You hadn't known her personally for very long, after all.

You set the necklace back down inside the box to bring out the other gift, another accessory- it's the same color as your birthstone necklace, but it actually reminds you of something else.

Yes, it's a big bow similar to Monika's own. If you were to wear it, it could even look like she and you were matching. You could just be reading too much into things, though...

"I.. love them. So much." You have an overwhelming urge to put your thoughts onto paper in order to give Monika the proper thanks that she deserves for being possibly the most generous person in existence, and because you feel like you're failing miserably at voicing just how touched you really are by these gifts. "I almost want to get you something in return...!"

Monika shakes her head in amusement. "It's your birthday, not mine." A contemplative finger rests on her chin as she adds, "Although... there is something you could do for me. If you wouldn't mind, of course."

Perplexed, you respond without giving yourself a chance to think about it. "Anything!"

You're rewarded with an affectionate smile from Monika, but it seems as though she was expecting that to be your answer.

She extends a hand for the gift box that you've already set both the bow and necklace back in, inquiring, "May I?"

Wordlessly, your intrigue piqued, you hand it back to her. She takes the bow out first, stepping closer to you.

It's not foolish of you to have been anticipating a kiss- even now you could very easily initiate one if you so chose, because of how terrifyingly close Monika is to you as she gently pulls your hair back for you, tying it back with the Y/FC bow and even brushing a stray lock of hair from your face after she does so.

While you're struggling to recover from your short-circuiting, Monika takes the necklace and places it around your neck. The brush of her fingers sends sparks of static against your skin, and you feel as if time is standing completely still, and it's just you and her in this world.

The faint click of the necklace as it clasps shut is what brings you back to reality, and all too soon Monika is stepping away from you again, still close but at a much more reasonable distance away.

She appraises your appearance and then smiles softly. "As I thought."

Is she being mysterious on purpose or does being around her just happen to kill your brain cells? "E-Eh?"

"You look lovely, Y/N."

The compliment makes you want to bury your face in your hands in the futile hopes of hiding your blush, but by now it's probably too late for that.

You stutter out your thanks, desperately trying to mend your scattered thoughts, and she once again wishes you a happy birthday, reminding you as well to bring your poetry assignment to the club meeting tomorrow.

As she's leaving, you realize you never got the chance to ask about the strange behavior she'd exhibited during the meeting with the other students.

[antiherocorner]

They won’t dare to bother you anymore...

(This is my first Niki Lauda x Reader fic ever, and my second fanfic in general, ever... English is still not my native language, sorry for the mistakes in advance... I wrote this in one sitting, because I got inspired by my one and only @mymagicsuitcase and her Niki Lauda headcanon... The giving you their jacket one... I read it... Loved it... And this happened... Enjoy <3 )

WARNINGS: little drinking, little swearing, possibly smoking, Hunt is a dick, Lauda is a sweatheart (maybe went a little OOC, I’m not sure... I tried not to but... yeah), Reader is female, no name or y/n is mentioned

Word: 1,7k~

You were excited, but a nervous wreck as well, at the same time. 

You met Niki at a party of one of the other F1 drivers’. A friend of yours had been a good friend of him, whom owned the place, and they dragged you along, quote “You’re gonna die alone, come on! They are interesting people, and you would be just bored in your house!”. So, yeah. That’s how you found yourself leaning to the wall, beer in hand, in a massive living room, observing people in front of you. You weren’t that good in F1, you had been watching it on the TV and following some news, but you were sort of a rookie in that field. You knew some names, especially the ones which were everywhere, either after achieving something big, or having a huge rivalry. Such as Hunt and Lauda. As you were deep in your thoughts, you didn’t see that one of the mentioned drivers was looking directly at you. Also leaning to the wall with a drink in his hands, his curly locks loosely hugging his face, some have escaped from the others, and were fallen in front of his forehead. He thought you looked beautiful in those red dress of yours with a black leather jacket. Even though you looked very awkward and uncomfortable, clearly you felt that you didn’t belong there and looked like that as well, still. There was something in you which captivated him. Like you had power, but you didn’t want to waste it on something, or someone. You didn’t want to just use it randomly. You even looked mysterious. He wanted you. Only to himself. And although it entertained him greatly, that how you slipped away ever so slightly from anyone who came near you, and a visibly pain started to form on your face, like the whole world’s problem was on your shoulder, the temptation to save you from the situation, to wanted to know who you were, was way more stronger. Just as he launched himself of the wall with the foot that was rested on it, he froze in his steps. Someone else was more agile. And forward. And loud. Also drunk.

- Hey, hey, hey! Why is that, that a beautiful woman like you just standing next to a wall at a party? - startled you the one and only, James Hunt, leaning on the wall directly next to you.

- Omm… It just… I’m not a party people I guess… - you answered slightly taken back, shyly.

- Then why are you here, my lady? - he smelled like all kinds of alcohol and cigarette.

- A friend of mine brought me here… - you started but you were cut off immediately by him.

- Really? I should thank them, they brought you to me, a stunning woman who…

- That’s enough, Hunt. You’re clearly making her uncomfortable. Leave her alone. -  A hand grabbed Hunt’s shoulder, and you snapped your head to the direction of whom it might be.

- What? You want her to yourself?! Lauda… Go away, I was here sooner!!

- You’re drunk. There are plenty of ladies who would kindly do anything you say so. Now fuck off. - He didn’t want to start a fight, but he wanted to sound demanding. He really wanted him to piss off.

- Jesus… - and just like that, without a word hi was gone.

You stared at the leaving figure for a couple of seconds before you looked at the other driver in the eyes and realized he was already looking at you, like he was searching for something.

- Are you alright?

- Yeah, I think so… Thank you, Mr. Lauda. - you said shyly.

- Oh please, call me Niki. - the corner of his mouth twitched up a little.

- Thank you… Niki. - you said again, with a slight blush - I think I should go… I don’t want to start more drama, and I have already stayed more than I am comfortable with… My friend will be fine, I just get a taxi or something… - you trailed off, halfly speaking to him, halfly just thinking out loud - I shouldn’t have come… - you added quietly, but he picked it up.

- Wait! Please… Come out with me to the balcony… Get some fresh air. You look a little bit railed up, I don’t want you to leave alone like this, to be honest. - he tried so say it as casual as possible, but he really was worried for you. A little bit. Maybe. He didn’t want to admit it to himself either.

You didn’t know what to say, so without thinking you just nod slightly and let him led you towards the balcony. As you passed by the dancing figures of the party, you felt Niki’s hand touch the lower of your back. He didn’t want to startle you more than this, he just wanted to make sure that no one could bump into you, and you could get to the damn balcony as soon as possibble. Well, that’s what he said to himself in that moment, that was the reason why he touched you, surely. He relaxed a little bit, when you weren’t complaining. And you certainly weren't planning to. On the balcony you just chatted for a while. You told him your name, why you were there, your job, little things like these. In exchange he told you about himself, his job, and how this season was going for him, his plans for the remaining time of the race.  You also told him that you followed his race, the whole season, but you didn’t know everything, or rather didn’t understand everything. You liked cars, but you were no mechanic. There were a whole two weeks until the next race, which took place in the city. He offered you to go with him to his garage the next day. He could show you some stuff which might interest you. He also offered you to drive you home if you still want to leave, so you didn’t have to take a taxi or worse. You weren’t sure why, you just met this man, but there was a spark between the two of you. You said yes to him. For both things.

And now here you were, awkwardly standing at the Ferrari’s garage. During the last 2 weeks, you got to know Niki pretty well. You met him nearly everyday, either in his garage, talking to you while patching up the car, or taking you out to drinking. You weren’t together or anything. But you did liked him. A lot. You could see how he was sometimes stubborn and quick-tempered, but with you, he was way more softer. Although he rather did not show this side of him to anyone else. It was only for you. He wanted you to come to this race, but he didn’t want to drag you into any kind of gossip, which was very common in the F1 family, so you came here alone, he was already here. He got you a full-pass, so you could come to his garage, without anyone stopping you. You couldn’t see him yet, so you just stood there, out of the way of everyone. You felt a hand on your back.

- Well, well, isn’t that the beautiful lady from the that party? You missed me? - fuckin’ Hunt.

- I’m not here for you, Hunt. - you tried to say it as cold as humanly possible.

- Are you mad about our drunk incident? Look, let’s talk about that… - he stepped a few inch closer to you, as you would have liked it, trying to intimidate you.

- Get off her before I run you over with my car. - Niki appeared out of nowhere, his eyes were shooting lightnings. If looks could kill...

- Whoa, easy there Lauda. You really came here for him? - Hunt looked at you in disbelief  - You have an interesting taste… - he trailed off as he walked away, again, no more words, grinning to himself.

Niki went to go after him to hit that grin off of Hunt’s face, but you grabbed his arm.

- Calm down, it’s okay. You have to concentrate on the race. Don’t let him get under your skin. - you tried to reason him, and it seemed to work. You had his full attention.

You only noticed it now, that in his free hand there was a jacket, a red one, just like his suit. He freed himself from your grasp, and showed you the back of the jacket. NIKI LAUDA was printed on it, with huge letters. Without letting you say anything, he grabbed it, and put it over your shoulders. He carefully fixed it, so it looked good on you.

- What’s this for? - you smiled, you liked the jacket that was given to you by him.

- Just to show everyone who you support, so they won’t dare to bother you anymore. - ha said casually, grinning proudly.

- Okay - you laughed - I am only here to only support you.

- Good. - he beamed at you.

You heard a voice calling for attention. The drivers had to get into their cars. Niki was ready to go but before he could have left you, you stepped on your tiptoes, put one of your hands on the side of his face, and gave a little peck on the other side.

- I’ll be waiting for you right here. Fuck Hunt up. - you whispered into his ear.

You moved back, but Niki quickly took a hold on you, before you went to far from him.

- I might be in love with you… Can I take you out to a dinner? - he asked with the biggest grin you had saw on him.

- As a date?

- Yes. - he said with confidence.

- Only if you win… - you smiled mischievously.

- Deal. - he returned the same smile.

He let go of you and stormed to his crew and car. He jumped into his car and put on his helmet. Before he closed of its lid, he looked at you last time. You locked eyes and he winked at you. You blushed deep, but kept smiling as he drove off to the track. 

This is gonna be a good day...

[princessjungeun]

Hey Beautiful: Jennie x Reader

Request: Hii :) i have a request for jennie x femreader, where the reader is a famous idol and Jennie has a crush on her. They attend the same award show and at the end when they are backstage the reader asks Jennie for her number. Then they go on a date or something just cute stuff (fluff i guess😅)

A/N: I’ll write a continuation of this if you’d like for the date part :D

Awards show season was in full swing and you were to attend the MAMAs tonight. It was your first time attending without a date, usually your best friend tagged along but she was working the night shift at her job so she couldn’t make it. 

You were already in your dress and your glam team was getting your hair and makeup done before you were to leave. This had been going on for hours and you were simply exhausted and hungry, the only thing keeping you going was knowing that you’d be seeing some friends of yours later in the evening. 

It took two hours but eventually your hair and makeup were finished and you were cleared to leave. Your manager sat across from you in the car, a smile on his face as she teasingly asked, “so anyone you’re excited to meet in particular?” 

You knew exactly what he meant, there was one person that had showed an interest in meeting you for months, Kim Jennie. To be honest when she said she was your fan in an interview, you were a little surprised. Despite being one of the most popular female soloists at the time, you were still shocked when you heard artists you looked up to liked you. 

Jennie in particular had mentioned on many occasions that you were her ideal type and she’d date you if she had the chance. Blinks and your fans shipped the two of you heavily as well. Most of the time you hated when you were shipped with people you never met because it made for uncomfortable times when you actually did happen to meet them. It’d happened in the past when people shipped you with a popular member of a boy group, he was to produce a song with you. However with all of the shipping flying around, you didn’t want to risk you or him getting involved in a scandal that would just add fuel to the fire. But with Jennie you entertained it, saying you’d date her too and she was your ideal type as well. Fans had been praying for an interaction for the longest and you knew you two were probably going to cross paths tonight. 

Once you’d walked the red carpet and avoided falling on your face, you were escorted inside to find your seat. The idols on the plus couch across from you were TWICE, the girls greeted you warmly, especially Nayeon who happened to be a close friend of yours. 

She scooted closer to you, and started catching you up on everything that had happened in the past month because you two hadn’t talked in a bit. You were both performing tonight, she wasn’t nervous whereas you were for the first time. 

Before Nayeon got up she nudged you gently, using her head to point you towards a familiar idol. You squinted, having forgotten your contacts at home, you realized it was Jennie, sitting with her members and talking to them. Nayeon stated, “I’m gonna call her over.” 

You panicked, “No no, not yet. Don’t call her over- Nayeon I sweat to god-” YOur friend only laughed, waving the girl down and mouthing to her from afar. You froze, trying to look everywhere but at Jennie, this was not how you wanted to meet her for the first time. Giving up, you hid your face in Nayeon’s shoulder, your face beet red as you laughed, the rest of Twice laughing and teasing you playfully. 

Nayeon patted your head, “she’s gone.” 

You peeked from her shoulder to make sure she was serious and not playing a prank, and she was. Jennie was now talking to Irene, facing the other direction and not paying you any mind. 

Nayeon told you, “you’re gonna need to work on that. She also said you’re cute...you missed it while you were hiding.” 

You smacked her shoulder and said, “I wouldn’t have had to hide if you just left her alone in the first place Nay. That was so embarrassing please never put me through that traumatizing experience again.” She sighed and said “okay fine, but you should talk to her before the night ends. She really does like you.” 

Nayeon scooted back towards her members and you focused straight ahead for the stage. As performances went on and awards were given out, you felt your heart race knowing that your big performance was coming up. 

A staff came and got you from your seat to escort you backstage during a break. Your manager was already in your dressing room with your stylist, both of them getting everything you need for your performance. Your dancers were warming up as well in a corner. 

You changed and start to warm up your vocals as well as your body, it was a new song and a new choreography which you’d never performed in front of such a large audience. The dance break was what you were most worried about because you hadn’t had a lot to time to practice in your shoes so you were afraid of messing up and hurting yourself. 

Your manager noticed the look on your face, “Hey don’t be nervous. Everyone in that crowd is your fan. You could go out there and just breathe into the mic and everyone would still lose their shit. So go out there and do your thing, I’ll be watching from in here. You’ll do great, stop worrying babe.” He always knew the right thing to say, he was like your best friend and soulmate all at the same time. 

You hugged him, “Thank you, I’ll meet you back in here when I’m done.” 

The dancers pulled you into a huddle, putting your hands together you all yelled, “1-2-lets get it.” You all broke and made your way towards the stage where a staff last minute checked your IEMs and mic to make sure they were working. 

You took a deep breath before making your way to the stage, the lights dimmed before the song started. Looking at your dancer they gave you a subtle nod, and smile giving you the last bit of confidence that you needed. 

During your performance all of your nerves melted away. You hit every note and move perfectly, gaining a huge reaction for the audience. The deafening sound of fans and other idols cheering you on only made your confidence rise, and it showed throughout your performance. When you were done almost everyone was standing up, even the idols as they cheered for you. 

After you were off of the stage you pulled your IEMs and mic pack off, handing them to your manager so you could go and change once more. Your second outfit was different, more elegant yet subtle. You changed your shoes to a pair of sneakers, relived that you could finally get out of heels. 

As your stylist touched up your makeup and hair you remembered that Blackpink was preforming in a bit. You wondered if you’d see Jennie back here, Nayeon did mention that she would probably be here when you got off the stage. 

Your questions were answered on the way back out to the audience because you ran into Jennie. The woman was passing you, looking down at her phone as she was walking. 

She looked up from the device to bow as she walked by, “Oh! Y/N hey!” she beamed as she tucked her phone in her back pocket. Although she knew she had to be somewhere she didn’t care, she wasn’t going to miss her opportunity

You looked her over and tried to not let your eyes linger on her very toned abs for a second too long. She told you sweetly, “you did amazing earlier, you looked stunning.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks the longer she looked into your eyes, you stuttered out, “t-thanks...you’re going to kill it out there, more than me definitely.” 

Just as she was about to respond Jisoo called down the hall for her, waving her over with a clearly impatient manager. 

Jennie quickly turned to you and asked, “hey, I know this is the first time we met but can I have your number? Maybe we could go out sometime?” Her hand rested comfortably on your arm, a subtle touch that still made your heart burst inside. 

You nodded, “yeah, sure. I’d really like that.” Quickly she whipped out her phone and you put in your number, saving your name with a red heart emoji. 

Jennie smiled, “I’ll text you later.” 

You told her with a shy smile, “okay, good luck out there.” 

Jennie kissed your cheek, “thanks beautiful, i’ll see you out there.” She walked past you and to her members and managers who were waiting for her. 

You touched your cheek and smiled before following a staff member that was to take you back to your seat. When you got back Nayeon took one look at you before bursting out laughing. You frowned, “what?” 

Your friend replied, “run into Jennie did you?” 

You asked, shocked at how she already knew, “wha- how did you know?” 

Nayeon swiped her thumb over your cheek a few times before pulling away, showing you the faint lipstick stained on her skin, “She isn’t exactly the most subtle.” 

You poked Nayeon’s neck with a smirk, “Well turns out you and Jeongyeon aren’t either, Nay.” Her face flushed red as she pulled the collar of her top up and brushed her hair around her neck, you let out a laugh earning a slap on the arm from her. The two of you went back and forth playfully until the lights dimmed indicating Blackpink coming on to perform. 

You watched intently as the girls performed Lovesick Girls, Jennie staring at you as she sang that last part, winking in your direction as she made the heart gesture with her hands. You couldn’t help but smile back at her, trying to hold back how flustered the simple gesture. 

At the end of the night you were finally home and able to check your phone and as promised, Jennie did reach out to you. The message read: 

Unknown Number: Hey beautiful, I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more tonight. But I can make it up to you by taking you to that new art exhibition downtown. Are you free next Saturday?

You typed back quickly, not caring if it made you look desperate or like you were watching your phone: Don’t apologize, nights like these are hectic and unpredictable. I am free and I’m more than happy to go, thank you <3

You quickly updated her contact to Jennie and broke into a happy dance when she told you what time she’d come pick you up. You’d been dying to check out the art exhibition since you found out it was coming to town but tickets sold out before you could get the chance. So not only were you going on a date with your crush, but also to check out what you’d been dying to see for weeks. 

You flopped onto your bed and sighed, relieved that the day was finally over and that you were able to end it on a positive note. 

[voltage-vixen]

Operation Get Laid

‘Tis the Season of Smut Challenge Days 7 & 8

Prompt: MC wearing nothing but a Santa hat & I’ll be sure to stuff your stocking (NSFW)

Fandom: Obey Me!

Pairing: Lucifer x MC (Female)

“Yoo-hoo! Lucifer, wait up! Wait for me!” Asmodeous’s cheery voiced echoed as he skipped after his elder brother. Lucifer had heard the annoying chirping of the younger demon and scowled in displeasure at the havoc was wreaking in the hallways.

“Shut up, Asmodeous!” Lucifer snapped, while turning to confront him. “All students are held to the highest of standards, and I would expect nothing less of them, much less from one of own siblings. Please remember to conduct yourself accordingly.”

“But Lucifer, I have some-”

“Enough!” Lucifer bellowed, casting him a final glare before spinning back around. “Diavolo and I are scheduled to meet in precisely five minutes, and I mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Increasing his pace, Lucifer stormed down the hall until he reached the main entrance where Diavolo was waiting for him. Diavolo and Barbatos were engaged in what appeared to be a private discussion, given their hushed tones and the occasional glances that surveyed the room.

Did something happen? Lucifier pondered, wondering what circumstances could have possible led to the disappearance of the carefree smile the young ruler normally wore on his face. As he approached the pair, Lucifer cleared his throat to announce his arrival, and no sooner was the familiar grin painted back on Diavolo’s face.

“Lucifer! Thank you for being willing to meet me on such short notice,” Diavolo boomed, arms outstretched to greet his second-in-command. “I have a very important assignment, and you’re the only one I entrust to be able to get the job done.” Peering over Lucifer’s shoulder, Diavolo beckoned for him to scooch closer.

“Asmodeous was supposed to deliver this message, but there’s no time for that anymore. I need you to immediately visit MC’s room and discuss what this Christmas holiday in her world looks like. This year we would like to incorporate traditions from the other realms, however we don’t have much time to do so, meaning you have to hurry with this. Can I count on you to do this for me?”

“Of course, you can! Rest assured, I will not fail you,” Lucifer vowed, before speeding up his pace down the hallway.

“Well, that went rather smoothly,” Barbatos commented. “It seems he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“Did he fall for it?” Asmodeous asked when he finally came strolling up.

See it had not gone unnoticed that recently Lucifer had been agitated and more snappy than usual. He had been so absorbed in his studies and monitoring the other students, this left him feeling….well, rather pented up. This prompted Diavolo to form the committee of him, Barbatos, and Asmodeous known as Operation Get Lucifer Laid. MC at first was mortified when they contacted her about the plan, but soon fell onboard since she herself was feeling lonely and in need of her own ‘relief’.

“It would appear so,” Diavolo confidently responded. “However, just in case go keep an eye on the situation for me, will you, Asmodeous?”

Nodding in compliance, Asmodeous began to trot down the hallway and stealthily journeyed to MC’s room.

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

“MC? MC, I’m here under Diavolo’s orders,” Lucifer projected through the door. “First and foremost, you have my sincerest gratitude that you were willing to assist us in this matter in helping expand the traditions of Devildom……are you there? Why aren’t you responding to me? Are you alright? Anyway, I’m coming in now.”

The handle on the door creaked open and Lucifer walked only to nearly crash into the chair in front of him when his sight was blessed with MC posing provocatively on the bed in only her natural glory minus this red hat perched on the top of her head.  Lucifer unconsciously gulped when his girth below the waist strained uncomfortably against the seams of his pants. The sight of the normally composed eldest demon brother being caught acting rattled must have been the reaction MC was seeking since she cracked a low giggle.

“You should probably shut the door,” MC instructed the still dumbfounded Lucifer. “Unless you prefer an audience? And in case you haven’t put two and two together by now, Diavolo set you up so we could spend some time together.”

Lucifer didn’t need to be informed twice to hustle behind him to slam the door close. He would worry about Diavolo later, but now the very idea of anyone else witnessing his human in this state of undress would be unforgivable. Once the door was securely locked, MC traipsed over and threw her arms around his neck. She removed the hat from her head and instead placed it on top of Lucifer’s.

“Merry early Christmas, Lucifer,” she breathed, intentionally rolling the words into a slur as she uttered them. “In my world the children believe that a man by the name of Santa Claus brings good girls and boys presents for behaving all year long. Well, haven’t I been a good exchange student this year, Lucifer? Don’t I deserve a little special something as well?”

Gone was student council president’s stunned state of mind, and back was his typical confidence of arrogance. We wasted not a moment’s notice leaning towards her and use his teeth to fervently nibble on the contour of MC’s neck. While heated pants pursued through the crease of her lips, Lucifer managed to disrobe himself until he was left standing bare. MC tore away from the attack of the demon’s lips, and her fingers descended the canvas of her body seeking the most sensitive of her spots.

“Indeed, you are right about being a good girl, MC,” Lucifer chuckled, his hands wrapping around his own firm cock to jerk himself in preparation of fucking her senseless. “My good girl knows just how much it pleases me to see her get off while thinking about me.”

“Please, help me,” MC whimpered, her body longing for more stimulation than she was able to provide on her own. “I’m wet enough to handle you now. Please let me give myself to you!”

Never one to deny himself the pleasures in life, Lucifer willingly obliged by sauntering over the bed to join MC. Throwing her ankle over his shoulder, Lucifer slipped a finger, followed by a second inside of her to see how wet she really was.

“Hmm, your body is feeling very honest today,” he breathed, “It looks like my good girl is ready to get her stocking stuffed.” “Wait, how did you know about stock-!”

The words of her question were gone and overtaken by loud moans as Lucifer aligned himself at her entrance and pressed beyond her glistening folds. His hips came crashing into hers as the demon leaned forward to allow his tongue to tease the flushed breasts of her generous chest. Their bodies thrusting in rhythm together, MC adjusted her position to stimulate her clit against the muscles of Lucifer’s toned lower body and uttered a guttural groan when she glided against the sweat now dripping down the cuts of his toned abdomen.

Lucifer filled her to the brim, stretching MC out until her walls began to tingle and flutter around his cock. She mewled and dragged her nails down the sides of his arms, a glimpse of desperation flashing in her eyes as she silently pleaded with him.

“Does my good girl want to come?” Lucifer taunted, his deliberately grazing along the swell of her swollen clit. “Very well then. I’ll be nice to you today and oblige.”

Shaking her leg off from his shoulder, Lucifer bent down to lift MC up and place her over his shaft standing tall at attention. Wrapping her legs around his torso, MC and Lucifer both hissed when she sank down onto him and the rush of heat pulsated through every inch of their bodies. Her breasts swayed in synch to the pace of their movements, each becoming more frenzied than the last while they rose closer and closer to reaching their peaks provided by the other. Lucifer’s mouth was suddenly drawn to MC’s, and his tongue forced its way through the part of her lips. His tongue danced in her mouth while the lewd sounds of the demon pumping deeper and deeper into MC’s arousal echoed throughout her room.

She bounced on his erection, sighing and panting in a carnal delight at how absolutely blissful it felt to have Lucifer assaulting her in one of the most satisfying ways possible. Bodies on fire, all the stimulation led to the eventual release they both had been desperately seeking. Lucifer gently tossed MC back onto her bed and he collapsed beside her as he fought to regain his breathing under control.

“Wow,” MC sighed, breathless and a bit sore from the intense sex the two just engaged in together.

“I knew I would please you,” Lucifer boasted. “Say, remind me to thank Diavolo later.”

“Diavolo?” MC blinked in confusion. “Sure, did he do something for you?” Ready for round two, Lucifer rolled over and swiftly straddled MC, secretly fuming she had the nerve to utter the name of another man in front of him!

“Don’t mention other men when you’re around me,” he chastised. “Bad girls need to be punished just like good goods need to be rewarded, and you my dear were a very naughty girl just now.”

Curling his long fingers around the curves of MC’s waist, Lucifer gave no warning before snapping his hips forward and roughly plunging deep into the heat of her core, leaving her begging for him to really give it to her.

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

Meanwhile, outside the door was a nosy Asmodeous with his ear pressed against the door. MC’s screams of ecstasy were enough to assure the younger demon that the Operation Get Lucifer Laid could be deemed successful. Although Asmo was supposed to report back to Diavolo regarding their victorious achievement, he did a quick surveillance of the hallway to assure he was completely alone. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, he slid his hands down the front of his pants to relish some playtime with himself at the expense of his brother and partner as a reward for his contribution to the plan that got Lucifer laid.

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 3: Grocery Gathering

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/58625389

@alexalexisalexej

I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope y’all enjoy!

It had been a little over a week since Remus made the croissants, and the daily routines still hadn’t quite recovered. At breakfast, Virgil showed up ten minutes later than usual, and stood nervously in the doorway, checking to make sure nobody unexpected would be in the kitchen. Roman never came to visit the kitchen, but Patton brought him meals three times a day— 9:30 am, 1:20 pm, and 5:50 pm. Virgil would occasionally join him. 

Patton and Janus still met for tea every single day, but they never stayed in the kitchen anymore. Patton would ask Janus to take walks with him. They’d stroll through Roman’s side of the imagination, then drink their tea and talk. The only reason Logan knew this was because Patton brought it up at dinner one night. Virgil left shortly after. 

The only people who remained unaffected were Remus and him. They kept to their usual schedules. Except now Logan found himself staying up late to talk to Remus while he cooked. He had yet to make paella— something about wanting to save it for a special occasion.

Every day felt like a special occasion. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the charts he had made, one pre-Remus, and one post-Remus. Color coded and organized. Pristine.

“It’s surprising,” Logan had said at breakfast that morning, eating some waffles Patton had made, “that Remus spending one day in the kitchen threw all of our schedules into chaos.”

Virgil glared at him silently. Patton stared down blankly at his waffles.

“I don’t like him,” Patton murmured.

“You seem to get along with Deceit just fine,” Virgil spat, lip twitching in silent anger. Patton sighed.

“His name is Janus, Virgil. Be polite.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because it’s rude to call him Deceit— Logan, how would you feel if we only called you Logic?”

Logan sat straight. If he said he didn’t care, that would be mostly honest. If he said he did care, that would make it seem he had some sort of emotional attachment to his name. He swallowed.

“I don’t care either way. However, Janus now seems to prefer we address him by his real name. Besides, deceit is not his only function.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staring angrily down at his plate of waffles. That was the end of the conversation at the breakfast table. Logan ate in silence, slowly sipping water out of a glass with a lemon on the rim. 

Now, he sat at his desk. The clock said it was 2:28 pm. The kitchen would be perfectly empty, since Virgil and Patton no longer had their little talks in the kitchen. Logan didn’t know where they went, and he didn’t care to ask. Of course he worried about them, but he didn’t think where they talked mattered so much. He set down his pen, thinking of when Roman had run from the kitchen in horror, Remus doing nothing but sitting at the table.

Suddenly, someone knocked at his door. Logan stood from his comfortable office chair, and walked to the door. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair down before calmly opening it. That calm facade almost broke when he saw Remus on the other side, wearing a painfully bright yellow bucket hat, a fishnet shirt, and a green pair of cargo shorts. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Remus.”

“You remember how you said I should make paella? Well I thought real long and hard and I thought that you could not only help me with the cooking but you could also help me with gathering the shit that goes in it! Like clams and mussels. One recipe says squid but I’ve honestly never cooked with squid and I’m not interested in fucking with that.”

Logan blinked, slowly trying to take in the information, and the sight of Remus before him. Remus never came to his room. Nobody did. It seemed like there had been an unspoken rule made, that he was never to be interrupted. Now the matter at hand.

“You want me to accompany you in collecting the ingredients?”

Remus nodded violently, causing the bright hat to flop off his head. He picked it up, and put it back on. Logan blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And this involves going under the water?”

“No shit Sherlock! That’s where the mussels are! Unless you count these guns—“ Remus flexed his arms, a stunning smile on his face. Logan looked at the bag he carried, then to the yellow hat on his head.

“I think it would be best if you changed into something more… sensible.”

Remus wagged his brows, leaning up against the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m wearing a speedo under these shorts.”

“I meant the hat. It will make you very, very visible.”

“It’s okay,” Remus rebutted, “I think fish are colorblind. Maybe. Do you know?”

Logan gnawed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say so, that would be seen as weakness. But Remus was… different, somehow, uncaring about strength and weakness. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know,” Logan responded, “most fish only see two colors, but I’m unsure how many can see yellow. However, if your plans are to go underwater, it would be wise to forgo the hat.”

Remus shrugged, took off his hat, and tossed it into Logan’s room. It landed on the neat sheets of his bed.

“We won’t be in the water the whole time,” Remus said, “we still have to get other things? Like, erm, I don’t have the recipe on me but we’re almost out of apples, and honey— honey will be a bitch to get but you know what I have?”

Logan furrowed his brows, staring at the bag.

“A beekeeping suit, a smoker, and an apiary of some sort?”

“Nope! Just my morning star and overwhelming hubris!”

Logan didn't know what he’d expected. Of course Remus wouldn’t go about getting honey in any sort of logical way. 

“There are other things we will need.”

“You have a special request?”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t. But paella requires saffron,” Logan explained. “Saffron is derived from the stigma of Crocus sativus.”

“Huh? What’s uh….” Remus trailed off, snapping his fingers a few times. “What’s the common name of that?”

“They are also known as autumn crocus, or saffron crocus. Do you know where these flowers grow?”

Remus raised his eyebrows, tapping his fingers to one another— thumb to index, thumb to middle, thumb to ring, thumb to pinkie. 

“Lemme think… I have a spice garden in my side, but I didn’t know that saffron came from a fucking flower! But I do have a bit of land I could… flowers. Goddamn! Saffron from flowers! That’s pretty cool! I have to ask— how did people think of putting it on shit?”

Logan suppressed a smile as Remus flapped one of his hands a little. It felt nice, being asked harmless questions, not being interrupted. Even then, he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for Remus to tell him to shut up. He took a deep breath.

“It is commonly believed that saffron originated in Greece, however most of it is grown in Iran, I believe.” He paused, giving Remus ample time to say something. Instead, Remus waved his hand at him.

“Well? Go on.” 

Logan shifted from foot to foot.

“Saffron is incredibly expensive due to the fact that one flower only produces three strands when it blooms, and the flowers only bloom for one week each year. Saffron has been used and cultivated by humans for more than three thousand and five hundred years, and has been used not only as a seasoning, but also as a dye, fragrance, and medicine.”

Remus grinned, eyebrows raised. 

“Cocaine used to be used as a medicine! Freud diagnosed it to some of his patients for depression, I think! Did you know that cocaine, like meth, can cause people to hallucinate vermin crawling under their skin? And they’ll scratch at their skins to get them out!”

“Ah, yes, delusional parasitosis, also called formication.”

“Fornication?”

Logan shook his head.

“I doubt formication and fornication could be mistaken for one another, unless ones idea of fornication is subdermal penetration.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me!” Remus cried, rolling his shoulders. Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a small smile, but turned his expression back to a straight face as quickly as he could. 

“So what are you looking to retrieve?” Logan asked. Remus reached into one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He dramatically unfolded it.

“Apples, honey, saffron, I guess, and mussels and clams and whatever else we may find. So is that a yes?”

Logan paused for a moment. He’d been to Roman’s side of the imagination, and the land was bright and beautiful, filled with fantastical creatures and lush landscapes. However, Remus was the opposite of Roman, or at least the bits of creativity that Thomas considered unpleasant enough to purge from his consciousness. So what did that include? The horrifying, the macabre, and the explicit. Dicks, drugs, and the disturbing. None of it could hurt him. And judging by the fact Remus sought him out to come with him, he wouldn’t even be threatened. As long as he was cautious, he would remain unharmed during their journey. That was reasonable enough to assume.

 But what about the others? He would be expected back at dinner, which was at five pm. That would only give him two and a half hours with Remus, and time seemed to go much faster while around him, probably something to do with how Remus’ nature distorted reality around him, that reality including the way one would perceive time passing. Logan looked into his room. If he left the door closed, the others wouldn’t bother him. Patton would leave dinner outside of his door, he’d done it before, many times, but he wouldn’t come in. So he could miss dinner. If they asked questions, he could say he was busy. And they’d believe him.

Logan stared at the yellow bucket hat, garish and blinding on top of his sheets. He swallowed.

“Yes, I will accompany you.”

Remus flapped his hands expressively, smiling like a million and a half suns. He hopped from foot to foot, then did a little spin. 

“Fuck yeah! I’ll let you get changed, meet me in the kitchen as soon as possible! It’ll be so much fun!”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to tell Remus he would be wearing his usual clothing, Remus sprinted away. He let out a deep sigh. He wore his usual outfit— black dress pants, a black polo, indigo tie, dress shoes. Comfortable and professional. If he were to open his closet, there would be exact clones of the exact same outfit. Of course there was always the clothing he wore on Halloween, but a bulky, velveteen coat would be even less practical. The Sherlock costume would be out of the question, and he’d long since gotten rid of his onesie. 

So that left him in his typical outfit. However, the tie around his throat could possibly get caught and damaged. Logan touched his striped indigo tie, and slowly loosened it. Halfway through doing so, he realized he would look like an absolute fool without his tie. Even to Remus. Logan pulled the tie tight, so tight it almost choked him, and walked out of his room, slowly shutting the door behind him.

Logan silently crept through the hallway then down the stairs, making sure to skip the one squeaky step. If Virgil caught him with Remus, willingly spending time with him… well, he didn’t know how he would react. Virgil hated him, saw him as a nuisance, and there certainly was some history between the two of them. He had no clue what, despite the fact Virgil had once been a ‘dark’ side. 

He stepped into the kitchen. Remus sat on the table, kicking his legs back and forth. Somehow, even wearing those ridiculous clothes, he looked like he belonged in the kitchen. Logan pushed his glasses up. Remus smiled at him, hopping off of the table and grabbing his arm in a tight grip. His hands felt burning hot.

“Are you ready to go?”

Was he? If the others—

“—Yes, I am.”

Remus tugged on his arm, and they both sunk down into the white tile of the kitchen floor.

A gust of warm, sweet air hit him in the face. Logan gasped at the sensation, staggering backwards. He tripped on a stone, and landed on his ass in tall grass. All around them grew wildflowers and grass, and the clouds gently danced in the sky. The flowers swayed in the wind, blossoms of all hues growing around them. Truly, a beautiful landscape. Strange.

“Is this your side of the imagination?” Logan asked, ignoring Remus’ offered hand in favor of standing up by himself. 

“Yup! Wild and uncivilized. I had an idea for a monster— it’s an intelligent being that’s made of fungi that connects to the roots of plants, like how a brain makes neuron paths! Earth brain! We’re currently standing upon the brain of the smartest being in the imagination! Well, except for you, now that you’re here.”

Logan nervously looked down at his feet, face flushed. He really didn’t want to ask what the thing looked like, but his curiosity begged him to. His ego, meanwhile, preened at the small praise.

“Does it have a body?” Logan asked, “does it need to feed?”

“Yes to both questions!” Remus proclaimed, “The body is like. Laying down sort of? It’s like a big, smart pancake! And it eats! Don’t worry, it won’t eat us. Or any other side. Or cows since it’s lactose intolerant. But it won’t eat any sentient beings, like us sides! Except for Roman and his creations of course.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why only him?”

Remus twirled around, then pointed off into the distance. Logan looked to where he was pointing, and there in the horizon he spotted a massive palace, one he immediately recognized as belonging to Roman.. 

Remus opened his mouth, then suddenly shut it, a manic smile splitting his face. 

“Look, here comes a unicorn! Oh, you’ll love this.”

And just as Remus had said, a white stallion with a gleaming horn pranced into the field of flowers. It wandered forward, then bent down and started to graze. As it opened its mouth to take a bite, the plants suddenly burst to life, wrapping around the unicorn. It fought and kicked as the thick grass dragged it to the ground— no, into the ground, as if the prairie earth had turned into quicksand. The unicorn whinnied and thrashed, until it was pulled fully under the ground, horn disappearing in the thick foliage. 

“It absorbs its prey, like a protist.” Logan said breathlessly. If he could feel, he wouldn’t know if he felt shocked or impressed. 

“Yeah! This land, in like a mile wide stripe, is the border between my land and Roman’s. And I don’t want anything to do with his shit. So anything that comes over here gets chomped up by Bartholomew!”

“Bartholomew?” Logan asked.

Remus crouched, patting the ground. He flopped onto his front, pressing a little kiss to the earth.

“It goes by Bart for short. And don’t worry, we had a conversation and it’s fine with it/its pronouns. Anyways what should we get first?”

Logan stared at the earth, shifting from foot to foot. Thousands of questions were bubbling in his head, but Remus had brought him to gather ingredients, not to ask questions. 

“Apples,” he croaked out. Remus leapt to his feet, looking him in the eye.

“I said it won’t absorb you. It only eats Roman and Roman’s shit. And even if you did get eaten, you’d be able to sink out. You’re safe.”

Logan inhaled slowly, then let out a deep breath. He didn’t care if he was safe. He wanted to ask how Bartholomew dissolved its prey, what acid it used to break down prey, he wanted to ask about the ph of the soil—

“Let’s go get the apples,” Logan insisted.

Remus nodded.

“The orchard is like, ten miles away? I don’t know but I can teleport us. Will it make you puke? Since Jannie told me that when he and Patton were in the imagination they saw Roman and Roman teleported them away from him and then Patton puked his guts up!”

“I don’t puke,” Logan explained, “I’m not human, and I can’t pretend to be.”

“You are a part of a human. Anyways, let’s go!”

Remus grabbed his arm, and the world shifted around them, the ground fell out from under his feet— for an instant, he felt like he was flying and falling all at the same time.

Then the ground appeared again. Logan stumbled. The sun was filtered through the branches of tall trees, taller than any apple tree he’d seen. The ground felt hard, and thorny bushes grew between each massive tree. Strangely enough, even though the air felt warm, the branches had no leaves, as if winter was coming. Logan looked down at his feet. The earth was covered in a layer of frost. He crouched down and touched it, and his fingers brushed coarse weeds and warm frost.

“This is fascinating,” Logan said. He scooped a little bit of frost into his hand. It didn’t melt. 

“How so?”

“Where do I start? The trees— they’re far too tall to be apple trees, yet they still bear fruit. And they have no leaves, which raises the question of how they perform photosynthesis. Not only that but the ground is covered in frost, and the frost is warm. The frost is warm, but it also doesn’t melt in my touch. Truly fascinating.”

Remus flicked his wrist, and a red apple the size of a fist fell into his palm.

“I like the way that frost looks, but I fucking hate the cold! So I made this place! And the branches are high so I can climb them and see out above the entirety of the land! But if you take issue with the height of the trees…”

Remus took a bite of the apple. He stomped his foot. Suddenly, one of the trees shrank, smaller and smaller, until it was the size of an actual apple tree. Ripe, beautiful apples hung off the branches.

“There,” Remus said, “that should be low enough for you to reach.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Logan said, “do you have something to keep the apples in?”

Remus reached into the bag, and pulled out a wicker basket. Logan almost asked how he managed to do that, but realized it would be pointless. This was Remus’ land, it ran by his rules.

“I have a question!” Remus proclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Logan said, silently glad Remus had gone back to asking questions.

“Why are you so touchy about shapeshifting? Like. You never do it. I mean when the cameras aren’t rolling. You look exactly like Thomas and you never change it up!”

Logan froze. He pulled an apple from one of the branches and set it carefully in the basket.

“Patton is emotionally unstable. Virgil is a ticking time bomb. Roman tends to prioritize fantastical ideals over reality. Janus is level headed, but Thomas only just accepted him. And I’m unsure if he’ll ever accept you.”

Remus took another big bite of the apple.

“And what does this have to do with you not shapeshifting?”

Logan sighed.

“Thomas needs someone to be steady. Someone for him to rely on and trust no matter what the situation is. I don’t want to lose his trust.”

Remus giggled. Logan picked another apple.

“He trusts Patton even when he’s a fucking puppet. It’s not about trust, is it?”

Logan set the apple down in his basket.

“How many of these do we need?”

“Fuck if I know, fill the basket. But if it’s not about trust, then what is it about?”

Logan picked an apple, staring at the deep red color. He rubbed it against his polo, and he could see his reflection.

“Thomas hasn’t been listening to me as much as he should. I’m hoping that if I maintain the same appearance as him, he’ll be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

Logan stared at the apple. He shouldn’t be here. If the others found out he’d spent so much time with Remus, then what would they think of him? Would they consider him a friend anymore? That plus the fact he was picking apples, something they didn’t even need to do because they could be summoned with the snap of a finger. He didn’t need to eat. Logan set the apple in his basket.

Remus hummed. He flicked his wrist again, and apples began to rain from the sky. They struck the ground hard enough to bruise, and the noise they made was thunderous.

“Do you think the apple rain helps or diminishes the experience of apple picking?”

Logan stared up at the sky�� cloudy, with a chance of apples.

“I don’t think catching apples in a basket counts as picking.”

“But it does count as fun!” Remus insisted.

“It’s not very effective.”

“Really now? Watch this!”

Remus pulled another wicker basket from the bag, and held it above his head. One, two, three apples hit the basket hard. The fourth made a sickening crunch as it hit the basket, and Logan flinched.

“What was that?”

“Some of the apples have bones!”

Logan furrowed his brows, looking at Remus. Another apple fell into his basket, thankfully lacking the crunching.

“An odd feature for an apple to have. What are the purpose of the bones? Structural stability? Do the bones assist in reproduction?”

“None of that!” Remus responded, “I just like the crunch! And Jannie likes the extra calcium!”

Logan nodded. Somehow, the fact that nothing made sense was logical. This was Remus’ land, it obeyed him. He plucked another apple from the tree.

“You know, Logan,” Remus said after a moment,  basket held over his head, “I think you’re Eve.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Remus shrugged. Another apple landed in the basket with a crunch.

“Well, you see, Eve ate the apple from the forbidden tree, because she wanted to know the difference between good and evil, she wanted to see like god. In all honesty, I don’t think she was tricked. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was getting into. She was just scared to be held liable. She was scared of the judgement.”

Logan plucked another apple from the tree. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. What Remus was saying made no sense. If God had dropped him in the garden and told him to not eat the apple, he would’ve followed the rules. And he certainly feared no judgement. Certainly.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? So you would have rather stayed ignorant? Unharmed by what you don’t know?”

Logan froze. Remus continued talking.

“I remember Janus told me you really went off at him when he suggested that ignorance is bliss. So, I think you’re just like Eve. I mean, would you give up peace for knowledge?”

Logan plucked another apple. Of course he would. What he wanted more than anything was a life full of books and reading, knowing everything there was to know. Being an academic.

“That isn’t my choice to make. Thomas has chosen his path in life.”

“But what if it was your choice? Then what would you do?”

Logan picked another apple. The basket was close to full.

“I would choose knowledge. I have told you what I would do as a human, I would pursue knowledge above all. I wouldn’t be able to stop my pursuit. I would never be satisfied.”

Remus snapped his fingers, and the apple rain stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. Proverbs 1, verse 20.  You’d never be able to stop learning once you started. Which I think is pretty cool!” Remus looked him dead in the eye, lowering his basket from his head. “You’re a passionate guy, Lo. Show it. I liked hearing you talk about saffron. And if they won’t listen? Then—“

“Then make them listen. Yes. You said it before.” Logan sighed. “I must admit, I don’t think I would be able to. Once they see me as a joke, it’s over. I’m only listened to when I’m being used to counter something that inhibits Virgil and Patton. For example, when you and Janus first appeared. I… I think we have enough apples.”

Remus took his basket, full of apples, and shoved it into the bag. Logan gave him his basket, and watched Remus make it disappear.

“If they won’t listen to you just because they see you act improperly, because they see you smile and feel happy, then they’re a bunch of hypocrites that I want to punt into the fucking sun.”

Logan took a deep breath in. A tiny little voice inside of him screamed to lash out, punch a tree in anger and frustration and pain, but that would be illogical. The apples had been picked. That was all. Now saffron, or honey, or whatever Remus would drag him to next. Then he’d be back in his room, asleep in his chair, then in the morning—

“I honestly don’t know why you care so much,” Remus said.

Logan exhaled.

“They’re all I have.”

Remus set a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re have me now, too. Let’s go get the saffron!”

The earth suddenly fell out from under his feet. Logan couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped his mouth, hand flying out to grab Remus’ arm. Then as quickly as it disappeared, the earth came back, and his feet hit the ground. He yanked his hand away from Remus, brushing invisible dust off of the front of his shirt. 

They had appeared in a desert. The sun beat down bright and strong, no clouds in the sky to inhibit it. His feet sank into the sand. A harsh wind kicked up the sand, and it flew around in a flurry like a blizzard. Logan gazed at the horizon. Nothing for miles and miles, just sand, low and level.

“Is this where you find saffron?” Logan asked. Remus crossed his arms.

“You should know better than anyone that flowers can’t grow in a desert! And besides, I just found out saffron came from flowers. So I have to grow them!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why bring us to a desert then?”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Remus turned away from him. He raised his hands out, like he was conducting a band. He slowly breathed in. Logan felt the sand under his feet shift, pull together, and shake. Logan’s eyes went wide.

“What’re you—“

Remus turned back to Logan, eyes filled with fire.

“What is the best condition for crocuses, Logan?”

Logan swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Saffron crocuses bloom in early to mid fall, and prefer sandy loam and lots of sunshine. They prefer soil with good drainage, as well as a pH range of 6.0 to 7.0. Crocus grow best in hardiness zones 5 through 8, not too hot, but not too cold either.”

A cool, fall breeze ruffled Remus’ hair and the fishnet shirt he wore. Logan raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell the temperature, but it certainly had gotten cooler.

“What is sandy loam?” Remus asked, knocking Logan’s train of thought off the tracks.

Logan paused for a moment. Remus really wanted to know. But why? The imagination didn’t follow the laws of physics or nature, why would he want to know? He said he liked hearing him talk. But did he?

“Sandy loam is soil that, while containing silt and clay, has primarily sand in it. It is a good soil for gardening because of its draining abilities… Does it matter?”

Remus tilted his head.

“Well, if you were to be making a big ol’ crocus field, you’d care about the soil! Everything about it! So since it matters to you…”

Remus smiled brightly, and grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him. Logan let himself be pulled, finding himself right in front of Remus, stumbling as the ground shifted under his feet. Bright sand melded together and changed, turning into dark, rich earth. Logan knelt, scooping a little bit into his hand. Sandy loam. 

The soil in his hand moved, like a miniature earthquake. A small, green sprout rose from the dirt, reaching towards the sun. Delicate green leaves grew, and so did a small, purple bud. It opened. Vibrant amethyst petals showed themselves to him, but so did three red stigma. Saffron.

“My god,” Logan said, “that was amazing!”

Remus snorted out a laugh.

“What, you've never seen Roman do something like that?”

Logan shook his head. Roman preferred to run his side of the imagination like an actual human kingdom, planting saplings and waiting patiently for them to grow. Sometimes, he’d see Roman in the wheat fields, harvesting wheat with a large iron scythe, just how a human would do. He let everything take its time, and grow at its own pace. 

“Really?” Remus crowed. “Well then— watch this!”

Remus cackled, and snapped his fingers.

The ground shifted under Logan’s knees, and hundreds of little green sprouts poked out from the dark earth, basking in the gentle sunlight. Glorious purple buds opened to reveal perfect crocuses, each with three sprigs of saffron inside. Logan gazed out to the horizon. The desert had turned to a field of purple, as grand and never ending as a sunset.

Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock. For miles and miles, nothing but crocus…

“Amazing,” Logan whispered, “absolutely amazing.”

With a thud, Remus sat down next to him. He leaned forward, and tore one of the crocuses from the ground, holding it up to Logan. Then, the petals shuddered, as if blown by an invisible wind, merging and shifting until they had formed a purple frog.

“Look,” Remus exclaimed, “it’s a croak-us!”

Logan couldn’t help but snort with laughter, covering his mouth quickly. His eyes went wide. Remus didn’t seem to have any intention of poking fun at him for laughing, but it was better safe than sorry. Though he couldn’t help but think of Remus, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but an apron, saying that he’d beaten him fair and square, and could do so again. Logan lowered his hand from his mouth, chuckling quietly. It was a pretty funny pun.

"Yes," Logan opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. "'It's quite ribbit-ing." 

Logan looked up, meeting Remus’ eyes. There was no judgement, no smugness. Remus looked absolutely fucking delighted, a manic glint in his eyes.

"You've toad the line!” Remus cackled. Logan laughed quietly, staring right at the little frog in the flower, trying to think of another frog pun. His brows furrowed in thought. 

"Did you know that in South America, there's a species of big frog with enough poison to kill two thousand men?” Remus said, interrupting Logan’s train of a thought. 

"I don't believe that's true. The golden dart frog grows only up to five millimeters, as opposed to the goliath frog, which can grow up to three-hundred and twenty, and weigh just over four pounds."

“Damn, you know a lot about frogs,” Remus said, “it’s pretty cool!”

“I researched them extensively after Patton turned into one, just in case another problem arose.” 

They stared at each other, much too long to be considered normal. Remus's lips twitched. The silence grated on Logan’s nerves. Had he said something wrong? 

“Would you like to play a word association game?” Logan nervously asked.

"Part two: Electric Boogaloo!" Remus exclaimed, startling the croak-us enough to hop into the fields of its former kin.

He brought his hand down onto Logan's in a low five, purple petals smeared onto his palm. Remus was still grinning, parts of his moustache standing on end, like he'd been shocked. Electric Boogaloo. Remus sat, cross-legged in the new soil so they were face to face. Logan brushed against him, and felt the burn of a spark go out on his leg. Electric Boogaloo, again.

"Vampire,” Remus said.

Logan’s mind jumped to when Virgil had dressed as a vampire for halloween.

"Halloween."

“Black?”

"Orange."

"Bok choy!” Remus chirped.

Logan paused. What led to that connection? Remus shrugged.

"Plant,” Logan said, brushing off his previous confusion.

"Maple.”

"Canada.”

"Pancakes."

"Syrup."

"HONEY!"

Remus snapped, loud as a cracking whip. Logan watched him shake a freshly printed page he clutched in his hand, peering at it intensely. 

“It says on our list that we need honey!”

Logan looked back out at the field of crocuses. Every single one of them had three sprigs of saffron inside, red and beautiful. He could smell it, the aroma beautiful and heavy. 

“We have to harvest the saffron first, for the paella. How much will we need for the recipe, Remus?”

Remus sighed.

“Harvesting saffron ourselves sounds like a big waste of time. Don’t you think?”

Logan brushed his fingers on the warm, rich soil. He imagined Remus and him in the field of saffron, carefully plucking saffron from the flowers, putting the delicate threads in jars to be dried later. Then he could ask all the questions in the world about the soil, the saffron. He could spend hours talking to Remus about everything he wanted to. He wanted to say so much. And yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. Remus wouldn’t tell him to shut up, so what was stopping him? Nothing was stopping him.

“Yes,” Logan said, “it would take up a good deal of time. But honey won’t take that long, will it?”

“I don’t even need honey,” Remus admitted, “I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you without any of the others popping in or having to wait until like five am. You’re the functional one, you gotta get some sleep.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. Remus’ words slowly went through his head. His heart did a backflip— even though that certainly was anatomically impossible— and his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Yeah,” Logan said, voice quiet, “I do. I mean— uh. Spending time with you is much better than laying unconscious for eight hours.”

“As if you get eight hours of sleep,” Remus said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“So. We don’t need honey?”

“We still need mussels.”

“Mussels, yeah,” Logan said, breathless, standing up, “lead the way.”

“What about the saffron?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. He stood.

“...Well. We can always come back for that some other time.”

Remus nodded, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, some other time. Well then. Off we go!”

Remus grabbed Logan’s arm, and the world fell away from them. Logan closed his eyes. 

Waves crashed gently. He could hear them, and feel a cold sea breeze blow on his skin, ruffling his hair. He slowly opened his eyes. Apparently, night had fallen while his eyes were shut, and moonlight bathed everything in a pearly pale light. The air smelled like salt. Both of his feet were solidly on a wooden dock. Remus’ hand still felt warm on his arm.

“How long did that take?” Logan asked. The sun had still been up when they left.

“It’s always night here,” Remus explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I like it better that way. Look at the beach and you’ll see why.”

Logan turned his head. The moon shone gently on the black sand beach, but more impressive were the waves— each foaming, rushing wave carried with it an ethereal teal glow, like all the stars in the sky were gently ebbing with every wave. Logan stared at the water, eyes wide. 

“The waves glow like that because of an algal bloom, right? And when the water moves it causes the algae to glow. It is absolutely wonderful, Remus.”

Remus smiled, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he was shy.

“Thanks, this place is one of the first places I’ve ever made, and the first one I felt satisfied with. The rest of this place I like to keep constantly changing, but not here.”

Remus walked to the end of the dock. He calmly set his bag down, then yanked off his fishnet top, holding it in his hand. Logan watched his hands undo the button of his shorts, then watched Remus toss his shorts onto the dock, revealing the bright green speedo he wore, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Remus raised his arms out like Christ on the cross, looking up at the full moon. Then he tilted backwards, gracefully falling off the dock, and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Logan slowly walked to the end of the dock. He knelt, knees pressed against wet wood. Even through the glowing waves and the dark water he could see Remus’ back, his legs, pale skin disappearing quickly underwater. 

Logan’s hands clasped the indigo fabric of his tie. Then they drifted down. He sat down, cross legged, staring down at the water. Slowly, he took one shoe off, setting it carefully behind him. Then the other. He pulled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Then his pants, leaving him in boxers, his shirt, and his tie. He took off his glasses.

His hands clasped his tie again. He gazed at the water, dark as the night around him except for the beautiful waves and the occasional glimpse of Remus’ skin. Then he raised his head, staring out into the distance. He could see for miles. Empty, dark ocean, with no land in sight. Slowly, he loosened the knot. His hands shook. 

Remus wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he took off his tie. He wouldn’t see him as less. He would see him as Logic, as Logan. Nothing less. 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cold, salty air. pulled off his tie, setting it with the rest of his clothing. Before he could lose his nerve he yanked his shirt off, threw it haphazardly in the pile of clothing, and ran to the end of the dock. He jumped. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the air, flying to the water—

He landed with a loud, graceless splash. The water around him lit up like fireworks. Surprisingly, the water felt warm compared to the bite of the wind. Logan couldn’t tell where Remus was, he just knew he was underwater with him now. Logan kicked and paddled until he reached the surface, gasping for breath. A sharp laugh escaped him. His heart pounded in his chest— he could feel it beating, even though he knew he didn’t need one to function. The waves rushed over him, bright as all the stars. 

Logan treaded water in place, then let himself tilt back, until he floated on his back. Waves gently rocked him, and he let them. What had he been so scared of? He laughed again, much quieter, listening to the waves rush to shore. 

Next to him, he heard Remus surface, taking a deep breath.

“You good?” Remus asked. Logan turned his head a little, looking at Remus. His hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead.

“Perfectly fine,” Logan responded, “and you?”

Remus didn’t answer, just smiled and sunk into the water. The wind blew cold over his skin, sending a shudder up his spine. Remus had to be swimming under him, collecting the mussels he’d use for the paella. Logan couldn’t help but wait for the time they’d be able to spend in the kitchen, knees bumping, or the time they’d spend collecting saffron, the sun shining on violet flowers in a golden gleam. 

Logan breathed out slowly. There was something with Remus that made all his thoughts become portraits. Cohesive, yes, but coated in a loveliness that never used to be there. It might have to do with the imagination. It might not. 

The waves beneath him swelled, then gently ebbed out. Remus surfaced again, treading water as easily as breathing. He’d changed his fishnet top into a net, which was full of mussels and what looked like clams, maybe? Logan couldn’t tell. 

Remus gingerly grabbed Logan’s arm. The waves under them swelled. 

“Let’s go back up onto the dock,” Remus whispered.

Logan nodded. Within the blink of the eye, they both appeared on the dock, both of them soaking wet. Remus shook his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. Logan raised his hand to keep the water from hitting him, even though he was already absolutely soaked. Remus set the bag of shellfish on the dock with a clatter. 

He calmly took one out of the net, and Logan realized they were oysters, not clams. Remus grabbed his bag, unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a knife. He held the oyster carefully, curved side flat against his palm, and wiggled his knife into the hinge between the shells. Remus’ hands were surprisingly steady, even as the knife slipped between the shells and the oyster popped open. He scraped the knife against the inside of the shell, freeing up the meat, then knocked the oyster back like a shot.

Silently, he offered Logan the knife. Their fingers brushed as Logan took the hilt of the knife, grabbing an oyster from the net. He mimicked Remus’ movements, trying to slip the knife between the two shells. Remus chuckled, and grabbed the hand that held the knife. 

“You have to press harder,” he said, “you can’t finesse your way into the shell, you have to put some oomf behind it. If you don’t, it’ll never ever open up.”

Logan swallowed. He felt oddly lightheaded as Remus guided the knife between the shells of the oyster, helping him push the knife into the space between the shell, easing the hinges apart with the flat of the blade. The shell slipped into the cup of his fingers, just so, supported by the weight of Remus's hands over his, thumb pushing against his, twisting the hinge open with a pop.

"See?" Remus was grinning, that ever-present expression of glee, and Logan tore his eyes from it to the movement of hands again, guiding the knife under the oyster to lift the flat shell off. 

"These would be good for the garden," Logan blurted out. Remus looked up, just as attentive as he'd always been, and the words caught in his throat for a second. "For- for the soil, oyster shells, when ground into powder, have been shown to improve soil pH and nutrient status, strengthening cell walls due to an increase in calcium, overall resulting in healthier produce.”

Remus tilted his head. Logan’s face flushed.

“...I know you employ an extraordinary method of growing and cultivating, and therefore have no need for this knowledge, but tossing them aside or simply letting them disappear seemed.. unnecessary."

"I think you need to stop worrying about what I need to know, and start asking what else I'd want to hear,” Remus said with a grin, “But it is flattering that you think it's extraordinary. Now why don’t you try the oyster?”

Logan stared at the meat of the oyster.

“I just… drink it?”

“Like a shot, yeah.”

Logan slowly brought the oyster to his mouth. Slowly, he tilted his head back, opening his mouth.

The taste made his eyes go wide. The meat of the oyster was plump against his tongue, but it tasted like coppery brine. He swallowed it without chewing, since he hadn’t noticed Remus’ jaw moving. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh, ocean air.

“Why don’t you stay here?” Remus suddenly asked. Logan’s eyes shot wide open. He had another oyster in his hands, wriggling his knife between the shells.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Remus looked down at the oyster, face surprisingly blank and unreadable.

“You spend all day in your room except for when you come out and cook with me. I have a feeling that I almost wasn’t able to get you out of your room today. So why don’t you just stay here? I can make you a castle or a cottage for you to study in, and you won’t have to worry about the others bothering you. And you’ll be able to come here whenever you want. So what do you say. Will you stay?”

Logan stared down at his hands. He could. He could say yes, and watch Remus make him a place to stay, a place that was truly his. No worries of anyone walking in and seeing him disheveled, just himself and Remus.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes. I’m needed with the rest of the sides, and Virgil may see my leaving as betrayal, or a sign of untrustworthiness. I need to keep them on my side. I need them to trust me, to listen to me.”

Remus still was fixated on the oyster. The knife slipped between the two shells, and it popped open. Remus’ brows rose.

“I still think you’d enjoy it here more than you would crammed in your little room all the time. And I don’t know how to tell you in a way that’ll make you listen, but they need you more than you think they do. You are all of Thomas’ cleverness and wit. Where would he be without you? Creativity is nothing without knowledge— whether its working with or against knowledge.”

Logan shook his head. Remus slowly reached for Logan’s hand. Logan let him take it, pull his fingers open, and press something into his palm. It felt like a pebble. Logan felt his hands ball into fists.

“Roman seems to mostly work against me, but at least Thomas heeds his words. I really can’t stay here. I…. I should honestly go. It’s late.”

Logan awkwardly stood, fists still clenched. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out. A part of him still wanted to stay, to sit with Remus at the dock and watch the glowing waves, to eat oysters with him. He closed his mouth and nodded. Remus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll teleport you and your clothes back to your room. Just… you’re welcome back whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”

Logan smiled. He wanted to say something, but the next thing he knew the world vanished around him. Then it reappeared, and he saw the door to his room. There was a bowl of spaghetti in front of it. It had long grown cold, but Logan picked it up anyways, and stepped into his room.

He set the bowl of spaghetti on his desk, and haphazardly tossed his clothes on the floor. He felt soaked to the bone, and started to shiver a little, even though he knew he couldn’t feel cold, couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t feel the cocktail of conflicting emotions inside of him. With a sigh, he sat in his office chair. His hands, still curled into fists, shook slightly. What had Remus given him? Slowly, he relaxed his fingers. 

Resting in his palm was a round, black pearl. 

Logan stared at the black pearl in his palm. A million different thoughts rushed through his head, most of them strange and illogical. He could go back to the pier and watch the luminescent waves, or help Remus grind the oyster shells down into fertilizer. And they would eat oysters together until they had enough pearls to make a necklace, a necklace he’d wear wherever he went.

Then what? 

Then Logan would wear the necklace, and someone would ask where he got it from.

This was for the best for Thomas’ stability. It had to be.

Logan let his head flop against the headrest of his office chair, and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

He never let go of the pearl.

[the-silentium]

Doppelganger

Summary: Reader found herself in front of the weirdest situation ever. Her boyfriend... fighting himself from another timeline.

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2250 words

Warnings: TUA season 2 spoilers, violence, sex reference, swears. 

A/N: The season 2 was crazyyy! Can’t wait for a season 3 now . Okay, so let's say Five got his time travel to 2019 good and is the same age as his siblings and the reader.

Being in a relationship with one Hargreeves was strange enough. It took you a while to get used to your boyfriend's habit of jumping from spot to spot, mainly because he, sometimes, would bring you with him and nausea would hit you like a train. As much as you admired his ability, your stomach had a limit and space-jumping was far from it. 

Five Hargreeves was your best friend from the age of seven. Whenever he wasn't practicing, studying or fighting crime, he passed his time with you, playing around, pranking his siblings or simply hanging out. He became your boyfriend on your twelfth birthday. You were never one for big parties, so Five took you out, bought you the next book of your favorite series that recently got published and took you to the roof of his house. The space had been decorated with string lights, pillows, blankets, a projector and a plate of doughnuts you suspected were from Griddy's. You passed the evening watching Marvel movies, both of you leaning on the other, your head on his shoulder. He asked you to be his girlfriend at the end of the night.

Being in a relationship with one Hargreeves naturally comes with passing time with his siblings, which let’s be honest, add to the strangeness of your daily life. Klauss constantly talking to an invisible Ben, sometimes laughing at you like a maniac because you almost sit on his brother. Diego with his usual black suit, sharpening knives at any time of the day and throwing them randomly only to move them in the air. You didn't have enough fingers to count the times you had leaned down in a hurry trying to dodge a knife that had ultimately deflected from its trajectory before it could reach you. You knew they would never hit you, but your survival instinct was strong. Luther and Vanya were usually silent when you were around. From what Five had told you, Luther was just shy around you and Vanya was… Vanya. Allison was pretty happy to have another girl to hang out with. You liked her kind heart and felt comfortable around her. 

You never thought that your life could get more strange. Or fucked up. But then there was Five’s disappearance, which broke your young heart. This same heart started beating again 17 years later at Sir Hargreeves’ funeral, when your boyfriend reappeared, taller than in your memories. His hair was longer, his young features were now mature and his stubble made him incredibly attractive. Tears fell from your eyes when your gaze found his. Immediately, he space jumped to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your smaller form.  

Finally, you thought. Everything is back to normal. You should have known. The apocalypse was at the corner and you had to stop it. Needless to say it wasn't a big success. So there you found yourself, in 1963, in front of two fighting Five. The Five of your timeline wasn't doing a lot of progress convincing the older Five to follow the plan and get into the portal, so you got an idea. 

At the bar, the older Five couldn't take his eyes from you. His fingers twitched at his sides when he first saw you, a clear urge to take you in his arms written on his features. With a smile you made the first move, sliding your arms around his waist in a hug, head on his chest. His sharp breath made you tighten your hold a bit. He just passed 45 years without you and you couldn't imagine the pain he was in. His embrace was just as tight around you, but you didn't mind. Your own Five had been as desperate for contact when you both reunited. 

You faintly heard a soft "I missed you" before a forced cough ended the moment. You released your hold around him with a smile. The second his hands were off you, another hand got a hold of yours and pulled you to a strong body. Your boyfriend radiated jealousy. You rolled your eyes, knowing that it was useless to explain your actions because of the paranoïa he was currently in. 

Back to the present, Luther was getting more agitated by the minute and the hits he received from both Five were nothing to help. Before something too dramatic happened, you took the matter in your own hands. 

"Five!" Your shout got both their attention almost immediately. Both of them had the other's collar in their grip, fist in the air ready to strike.

As you walked up to them, the fists slowly fell down, surely to avoid hurting you in the process. Their grips though stayed the same. 

"This," you said removing both their hands off the other, "is childish." They both huffed, insulted but not daring to talk back to you. You put yourself between them, facing your boyfriend and pointed to Luther. "Go with Luther." 

His brow furrowed in indignation. The sweat dripping from his forehead, his messy hair, his wide eyes and his crumpled clothes made him look like a wild animal. You hoped he wouldn't be jealous and trigger the seventh phase. You couldn't deal with homicidal rage and you doubted Luther could either. 

"I won't let you-" you cut him off by raising your hand between you. Reluctantly, he closes his mouth and glare at you. Sadly for him, his glare had stopped affecting you long ago. 

"I got this." Your palm made contact with the tense muscles of his torso. Never before had you felt him like that. Stiff. Ready to slit throats. You shot him a wink, hoping he would back down and let you execute your plan. Again, you should’ve known that it would never be as easy. 

Having run out of patience, Luther got a hold of the sniper rifle and pointed it in your general direction. “Hey, assholes!” The second your boyfriend registered that the rifle was pointed at you, he quickly got a hold of your left arm and pulled you to safety behind him. In the corner of your eyes, you saw the old-timer do the same, only a second too late. “I’m done listening to you both. I’m in charge now!” The barrel of the sniper traveled from one Five to the other multiple times, accelerating your heartbeat. 

“Luther, lower that gun.” Both Five growled at the same time. Two hands were still traping you behind your younger Five, his protective grip keeping you in place. 

Luther shook his head. “Not before you two-” his words abruptly died under the two murderous ice-blue gaze of well trained assassins. That was your cue to save the day.

“Luther. Lower the gun.” Your voice was steady, you knew what you had to do. To your surprise, Luther listened to you, the gun slowly lowering to the ground once again. You gently pushed Five toward his brother. “Let me talk to him.” You were pleased with your confidant tone despite how insecure you felt inside. Five’s grip on your arm loosened after a while, allowing you to take a step toward the older Five. 

You were pleasantly surprised to see that your boyfriend’s blue gaze would never lose its brightness. The older version of Five still has his stunning icy eyes, which means that you will have the pleasure to get lost in them for your whole life. The enamored smile that slowly stretched your lips caused the older Five’s heartbeat to skyrocket. He had missed that smile for 45 years and he was desperate to see it again and again. 

“You could have it, you know?” His eyes went wide, mouth slowly opening in silent words. His astonishment made you chuckles. “You may not be the Five of my timeline, but you are still Five. I can still read you like a book.” Your beautiful smile almost made him tear up. He was definitely helpless when it came to you.

“I really can? After all I’ve done?” You didn’t have to read him to know he was apprehensive of your answer. As kids, Five always repeated to you that he never cared anyone’s thought of him, never failing to put the emphasis on anyone. But you were perfectly aware that your opinion counted. And a lot at that.

“Of course.” You looked at him with sad eyes, thinking of the you of his timeline. The you that is still waiting for the love of her life to come back. Your gaze fell on a couple down the parking lot, walking happily hand in hand. “I know for a fact that I’m waiting for you back home.” Your eyes found his once again. “Because my heart will always belong to you.” 

The older Five took a sharp breath in, trying to keep his composure. He opened his arms a bit inviting you for a last embrace that you contentedly accepted. You made sure to do it quickly so there was no more jealous altercation but made sure to convey your message properly. “You know, if you make sure that your siblings are good with Vanya, you and the other me will have plenty of time to catch up instead of worrying about the apocalypse. And if I could give you a bit of advice…” You got on your tiptoes to be closer to his ear, whispering the next part. “Don’t shave your stubble. I can’t resist it.”

Older Five’s chuckles reached your ears, making you smile. You two separated after a few seconds and the old-timer nodded to his younger self, who needed not to be told twice. As quickly as he could, your boyfriend used his power to create a blue vortex toward 2019. 

“Into the vortex you go, asshole.” Five’s sharpness made you roll your eyes. His hands pulled you to him, allowing him to kiss your cheek possessively. 

“Give me the math so I don’t end up too young or too old for her.” He winked at you, earning a laugh from you. There could be a thousand Five out there, but you were 100% sure they would all be the same. Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s arms tightened around you. 

“You stand next to the vortex and I’ll tell ya.” The old-timer hesitated a moment, knowing well that his younger self could easily double-cross him.  “Go!” You smiled at him and nodded, assuring him that you would not let that happen. Older Five made his way toward the vortex, close enough that he started to be pulled slightly by it. 

“Now give it to me!” You kept an eye on your boyfriend before he gave the equation, wanting to be sure he would be honest. You saw a flicker of mischief, but a slap on his chest from you got him back to business. 

“It was a typo. We put the decimal in the wrong spot in our proof of the existence of a bound for the number of limit cycles of planar polynomial vector fields of fixed degree. We wrote down five-point-seven. It should be-”  You were so lost it almost made you laugh. Instead, you put your head on his chest, hugging his side. His arm automatically wrapped around you, his hand stroking tenderly your back. Oh, how you loved your genius. 

“Zero-point-nine-seven.” Their synchronism got the best of you this time and your laugh escaped your mouth. A kiss on your head made you tighten your grip for a second, reciprocating the sentiment. 

“Son of a bitch! I knew that didn’t look right!” Older Five took a time to breathe and prepare himself. He looked at the young couple in front of him, ready to finally find his happiness once again. “I guess this is it. I’ll see you soon.” He winked at you. You smiled and waved goodbye.

“Now off you go.” By your Five’s tone, you knew it was time for the old-timer to go. If he took another second, you were sure that Five would push his older self through the vortex with enthusiasm. Just before the old-timer has time to get in, a fire extinguisher was expulsed out of the vortex, hitting Luther square in the head. 

Your eyes went wide from the shock. You didn’t see that coming, but then you remembered Klaus throwing it in the blue vortex, back at the funeral, and you can’t help yourself and laugh wholeheartedly. 

During this time, the old-timer entered the vortex, safely appearing on the other side. True to his word, the younger Five gave him the good formula. He felt young again. But most importantly, in front of him was you, the second part of him. Before the tears in your eyes could fell, he space jumped to you, pulling you in his arms. He silently thanked the you that was still stuck in 1963 for convincing him to get in the vortex. 

In 1963, you smiled at your Five before giving him a kiss. He was still a sweaty mess, but you two have already been there. If you were lucky, maybe later you two would be a sweaty mess together. A smirk appeared on Five’s lips, clearly telling you that he caught your train of thoughts. 

“We did it!” Luther’s cheers burst your bubble, pulling you back to reality. “We have the briefcase!” Five sighed in your hair. There was still much to do before getting some alone time. 

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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DAY SIXTEEN

The realisation of the decision you have to make hits you like a truck the moment you wake up.

You hadn’t lied to Yoongi last night. Chatting with him about it was helpful, and you’re insanely grateful for his attentiveness and the fact that you can be honest with him about things like that. But it doesn’t mean you’re any closer to knowing who you want to be eliminated.

You’ve barely been awake and coherent for a minute before your phone buzzes noisily on your nightstand. Blinking blearily at the screen, a message from Taehyung lights it up. Bunkroom, please.

He’d sent it two minutes ago, your phone giving you that 2min reminder. It must have been what woke you. Your sleepy fingers manage to type out a quick coming now before you force yourself out from the cosiness of the covers and heading down.

Jimin is already there when you arrive, arms crossed to preserve the warmth of his body and perched on the foot of Taehyung’s bed. The masseuse had picked the two-set of bunks, directly across from the door, and he sits wrapped up in blankets, cross-legged and leaning against the far wall. He pats the mattress with a covered hand and you sit between the two, Jimin naturally scooting up to sandwich you between the two.

“Is this an intervention?” you joke weakly, voice still croaky from sleep.

“Not really.” You feel the pressure of Taehyung’s head on your shoulder. “Do you know who you’re voting out yet?”

You let out a self-deprecating scoff. “I do not.”

Taehyung goes silent for a moment. “Well… I have an idea.”

Jimin turns to face him, clearly just as in the dark as you are. “About who to vote out?”

“Kinda,” Taehyung murmurs. The only light in the room is what sneaks in through the crack of the doorway. You let your eyes slip shut as Taehyung winds his fingers into yours. “I want you to vote out me.”

Both you and Jimin go stiff, protesting at the same time. “Tae…”

“No,” the older man to your left says harshly. “Why would you want that?”

Taehyung seems to similarly shrink away and lean in closer, making himself small. “It would be easier on Y/n,” he states in an equally small voice.

Your eyes snap open even though you can only see grey-scale versions of the boys. “Tae, that’s not how this is meant to be. I’m a big girl; I’ll live.”

“You don’t get it,” Taehyung insists, sitting up and untangling himself from you so he can face you full-on. “I know the decision is hard on you. But it’s really hard on us too, and I realised last night that it’s not because I’m worried about getting voted out, it’s because I hate seeing you so upset. We’ve already made a promise to each other. I’ve seen more of you and shared more with you than most of the other guys, and I just think… You know, fuck the competition. You and Jimin both mean more to me than the game, and so I think I’d be happy to take that hit to make things easier on all of us.” His gaze drops, fingers picking at the thread of the blanket. “And, you know, maybe we’d be able to keep us a secret longer if the others saw you vote me out.”

While you sit stunned into silence, Jimin burst into action, gripping your thigh gently but emphatically. “It should be me, then. You’ve been nothing less than a sweetheart this entire time, Tae, you don’t deserve last place. Let Y/n vote me.”

Taehyung chuckles, no sadness or resentment in his voice. “Nobody would believe that Y/n would vote you out, Minnie,” he quips, his teeth gleaming in the dim room. “You’re too good at what you do.”

“I’ve been an asshole. I got in a fight the other day. I don’t think it’s hard to believe at all.” Taehyung makes a noise of protest in his throat, so Jimin cuts back in before he can voice it. “At least let’s flip a coin for it. Leave it up to chance.”

Your body goes lax against the wall with a silent sob of miserable irony. Just yesterday Taehyung had jauntily suggested you could choose who to vote off with a coin toss, and now he was rifling through his bag for one, to see if he or Jimin would be the one to leave. “I haven’t even said yes,” you point out lowly, “I haven’t said I want this. That I’m happy for one of you to leave.”

Jimin lets out a quiet sigh, his face cast in the warm hallway light as Taehyung opens the door wider to see more. “But would you be happier if you made one of them seventh place? Had them think they’re the worst in the house?”

“At least this way we won’t be offended or mad at you,” Taehyung assures as he returns, running his thumb over the engravings on a 50 won coin. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

They’re waiting for you. You bite down on your tongue and force yourself to think. To picture the faces of the others, of how they might react. Hoseok if he was on the chopping block for the second time in a row. Namjoon if he felt like his inexperience was his downfall. Jungkook thinking the fight yesterday was the nail in his coffin, or Jin seeing your elimination as a rejection of him and his feelings. Yoongi after letting you confide in him only to send him figuratively packing.

You’d have to eliminate them eventually. All but one of the guys on this show would face that goodbye at some point. Was it selfish of you to push it off for one more week?

“You can flip it,” you decide after a moment, your stomach sinking immediately. “Fuck, this sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin’s grip on your thigh squeezes once comfortingly, and Taehyung rubs your shoulder, before he turns to his elder. “Min, heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Jimin picks without hesitation.

Taehyung, however, does hesitate. “Doesn’t heads come up more often?” he questions warily.

Jimin grits his teeth and nods. “It should be me.”

The masseuse frowns, his black curls like a dark halo as he steadies the coin on his thumb. “Whoever’s comes up gets eliminated?”

Jimin nods again. “Flip it, Tae.”

The second he flicks his thumb and the coin rises, you squeeze your eyes shut, not even breathing. Hoping that the moment where both of them are going to stay in could last a little longer.

The two boys go silent. You feel their eyes on you, then their hands, both slipping into yours just seconds apart from each other. Feeling your eyes prickle, you clear your throat. “Who is it?”

Without a word, your right side becomes heavy as Taehyung buries his face into your shoulder, free arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

You begin to cry before you can even think to stop it, leaning back into him as much as you can with both your hands occupied. Opening your eyes, they remain too blurry to really see out of, but you feel the two of them shift, fingers wiping under your cheeks and cupping your jaw.

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, petal,” Taehyung voice croons, smooth like velvet. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”

You sniff shudderingly, detaching your hands from theirs so you can press over your eyes, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you mumble in a thick voice, “I’ll just miss you.”

You blink away the last of your tears so that his face comes into focus, lips curving slightly, eyes swimming with emotion and with tears of his own. “Hey,” he soothes again, “I’m not going anywhere. All this means is that I can’t have sex with you. It’s not like sex is the only valuable thing about you, the only thing I like about you, you know? I can still hold your hand, I can still be beside you, I can still make you smile. I wanna see that pretty smile again, petal.”

Even though you probably look like a mess, and your heart is fizzy with mangled emotion, you can’t fight the smile that stretches across your lips. Taehyung brightens at the sight, praising you softly as you reach out and shove him playfully. “You sap,” you whine petulantly, heart settling nonetheless.

Having let the two of you share that moment together, Jimin finally pitches in, his voice bright and soothing like yuja tea. “Worst case scenario,” he jibes lightly, “you’ll just have to fuck pup with his hands tied and take the punishment.”

Your laugh is watery but it’s genuine. “Ah, Tae, are you gonna put me in some crazy lingerie or something?”

“I don’t have to when you look gorgeous in everything you wear already,” he admits with a fond smile, before it stretches wider, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Lingerie sounds nice though. Good thinking.”

Jimin clears his throat lightly and stands up off the bed, slipping his phone out of his pocket to consult the time. “It’s just gone eight, so you have about an hour. I’ll give you two some privacy, yeah?”

Jimin shuts the door behind him, inadvertently pitching the room back into darkness. Taehyung lets out a breathy giggle, getting up to stumble around for the curtains.

You wince and shield your eyes when the white walls gleam with the brightness of the morning sun.

Taehyung looks more gorgeous in the well-lit room than he did in a dim one, so you will your eyes to quickly adjust, drinking him in. Deep chocolate curls resting on his brow, he shakes them back as he gestures up with a single hand. “We should probably go on the top bunk.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I don’t wanna get my hair caught on the metal springs on the bottom there,” he explains, leaning forward to wrap his fingers around the network of wire that holds up the mattress of the top bunk just above your head. “I swear I’ve done that so many times in just this one night. It hurts.”

Slipping out dutifully, you climb the few rungs of the ladder to sit atop the bunk, reminded of the last time you stayed here with Namjoon and Hoseok. The mood is so different now, only emphasised by the way Taehyung gently tips you back against the pillow the second he joins you.

“Tae, what are you- Tae,” you gasp, feeling the slight tickle of his hair on your neck as he leans in and pulls the neckline of your sleep shirt over your shoulder, baring the flesh. His lips leave light butterfly kisses over the sensitive skin, making you sigh out at the feeling. “What are you doing, Tae?”

He sits up, braced by his forearms on either side of your head. Like this, his hair casts a shadow over his face, but you can see the insistent fire in his eyes. “I want to touch you, petal,” he confesses, “one last time.”

Your heart is seized with emotion, a lump thickening in your throat. “It won’t be the last last time, Tae.”

“True,” he acquiesces, “but for the rest of our time here I’ll have to see the others with you, our Minnie will be able to still be with you, but you and I won’t be able to do any more than hold hands. Won’t you let me treat you like your deserve before then?”

You nod quickly, breath hitching. “Touch me, Tae.”

This time he doesn’t waste time shifting the fabric to the side. Instead, his large palms slip under the small of your back, guiding you to arch it so he can slip your shirt off entirely, tossing it down all the way to the floor.

You sit up and peer over the edge with a wince, glancing back up at Taehyung. “Please don’t fall over,” you plead in a small voice.

The masseuse grins fondly, taking a peek before moving the other way, towards the wall. “It’s not that high,” he protests softly, even as he props himself up on one elbow, his leg thrown low over your thighs, keeping you locked in close too. His hand lowers to run lightly down your side, making you shiver. “Better?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Better.”

With a slightly bemused hum, Taehyung dips his head and his lips find your skin again, making use of the lack of shirt to trail kisses lower, unhurried even with the very real threat of the deadline hanging over you.

You let out an airy sigh at the intimate way he moves down your shoulder, over your collarbones, to the swell of your chest. Instead of a straight line, every kiss is plotted out in mindless curls and loops, like he wants to cover as much ground as possible.

As his hair tickles your skin, it sends tingles running down your nerves, your nipples peaking as they anticipate his attention. “Tae…” you breathe, giggling when his chaste touches make you shiver.

His voice vibrates slightly against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he praises, his free arm slipping over to gently grasp your arm, thumb running over the crook of your inner elbow. “So gorgeous, petal.”

His palms are like hot coals against your skin as it breaks out in goosebumps, hair standing on end. It feels like a quiet eternity before his mouth reaches one of your nipples, closing around it with the sudden wet heat of his tongue. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and jerk, but the weight of his head, leg and arm carefully pinning you against the sheets keep you steady.

Taehyung takes his time worshipping your breasts, sucking your nipple with a wet pop as his hand shifts once more to play with the other. Pausing to lick the pads of his thumb and forefinger, he returns to roll the bud between them, making heat pool in your core.

Part of you feels like pushing his head between your legs, or wrapping your legs around his waist and demanding he fills you, but you don’t want this moment to be over any sooner than it has to be. Instead, your fingers wind into his hair, cradling his head to you as you arch your chest up into that delicious stimulation.

Even as you feel his cock plump up between the layers of clothing that separate you, he doesn’t so much as grind his hips, focussing fully on your pleasure. After what could be mere moments or entire minutes, he swaps over, leaning to the opposite breast to lave his tongue over it, baring the slightest nip of teeth to make you gasp.

It feels like a lazy eternity before his hand moves again, this time running a flat palm between your breasts, down your stomach and slipping under the worn elastic waistband. Wanting to give yourself a little room to breathe under the baggy pants you’d worn to bed, you’d foregone panties, and Taehyung hisses in sharply when his fingers run over your mound and immediately dip into your folds.

Recovering quickly, he begins to massage your hooded clit, using your own wetness to lubricate it for a smoother slide. You let out a throaty moan, legs parting to make more room for his sizeable hand. “Tae,” you pant out again, whimpering when he begins pressing kisses to your stomach.

“Yes, petal?” Taehyung questions sweetly, his movement on your clit so slow that you find yourself rocking your hips against him just for more stimulation.

“Want you to kiss me.”

“I am kissing you,” he counters, lips dragging over your hipbone as he speaks.

You whine. “On the lips, Tae.”

His fingers delve lower, parting your folds. “Which ones?”

Though the thought makes you clench around nothing, you push weakly at his shoulder in protest. “Up here, Tae, wanna kiss you properly.”

He gives in, shifting up to join his swollen lips to yours for the first time since you’d gotten up here. Just as you hook your hand on the nape of his neck and kiss him, he breaches your walls with two slick fingers, making you cry out into his mouth.

Taehyung chuckles, massaging you from the inside, fingers scissoring and curling rather than thrusting. “That feel good, petal?”

You nod shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you put your mind into kissing him properly, tongue running down the seam of his lips so that he parts them for you. He continues to work you open with languid grace, his fingers so long and deft that even the most minimal movements take your breath away.

He may be focused on your pleasure, but he doesn’t seem to be pushing you to orgasm, instead letting you bask in the warmth of your arousal and his steady stimulation. Even as he slips a third finger inside you and uses the base of his palm to rub against your clit, you’re reminded of a massage. The way he draws out the moment so that you can enjoy the experience of it, not just the final result. Your muscles go lax and one of your legs hitch up to spread yourself wider for him, but still his ministrations are so slow that you can’t even hear how obscenely wet you must be.

Still fully clothed, you can feel Taehyung’s hardness against your hip, his leg splayed over one of your thighs to keep you still for him. As your pleasure steadily rises, but that familiar curl in your stomach never tightens, you begin to grow needy. First attempting to rut against his fingers, then nipping at his lip in the hopes of riling him up, you eventually resort to pulling away from him and giving him your best puppy eyes. “Please, Tae, I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes are still blissfully shut from the kiss, and his brows furrow just slightly, hand stilling inside you. “I wanna make this last.”

You bite your lip, pressing a hand to his cheek fondly. “I don’t want to run out of time. We’ll end up being late to the meeting.”

Taehyung sighs, tilting his head to press a kiss to your palm. “Who cares if we’re late?”

Your lip twitches. “Sejin, probably. Do you want him coming up here at one minute past nine, interrupting us?”

The masseuse winces, his fingers slipping out of your wet heat. “You think he’d do that?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna risk it either,” you offer up.

“Fuck.” Taehyung sits up and quickly tugs down your waistband, making you squeal and giggle at his sudden change of pace. “You’re right, shit.”

He strips himself even quicker than he did you, jimmying out of his boxer shorts and tugging his shirt over his head like it’s scalding him. Immediately you feel his erection against your thigh, heavy and wet with precum. Instead of getting back up on top of you, you feel Taehyung’s hand - still sticky from your arousal - pulling your hip up to guide you to lie on your side.

With legs intertwined, he hitches your outer leg over his waist and lines himself up at your entrance. Almost shaking with excitement, you cling to him and hold your breath as he pushes forward, his head entering you slowly but surely.

It’s quiet in the bunkroom, the only sound being your shared breathing, but there’s something so vulnerable and tender in that silence, and you tremble as he bottoms out inside you. The angle you’re both at, lying side by side, makes it feel like he’s deeper than you’ve ever felt before, filling you completely. You picture his cock so far inside you that it presses against your stomach, and the thought makes you tremble.

“Okay?” Taehyung checks in, giving you a moment to adjust.

You nod and lean forward to capture his lips, savouring that familiar embrace. “Ready, Tae,” you confirm, clenching around his girth. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Taehyung lets out an unbidden groan, and just like that his patience is dissolved, rutting up into you with short, staccato thrusts that punch the air right out of you. Your fingers curl, clutching onto him for dear life as your nerves are set alight.

Every rock of his hips grinds his cock into the base of your clit, and you find yourself grinding against him, helplessly seeking out the best angle. “T-Tae, fuck, so good,” you manage to force out, voice wobbling even more than your legs.

His hands are all over you; running over your thighs, stroking your back, gripping your ass to meet every thrust. As you look over to him blearily, that same desperate hunger is evident in his face. You take a few moments to appreciate him. This will be the last time in a while that he’s writhing in carnal bliss because of you, and you fight to memorise every last inch of his face.

His hair is messy from sleep and the roughness of your current predicament, some curling at his temples even as the rest sticks up at odd angles, but on him it looks like some kind of wild halo that just makes him all the more gorgeous. His eyes are clenched shut even as his mouth goes slack. The tiniest gloss of drool gathers in the corner of his lips, which are a swollen pink, contrasting so beautifully with his olive skin. Light moans and exertions fall past those lips like a steady river, rushing louder every time you clench around him.

Unable to hold yourself back any more, you lurch forward, teeth pinching your lip with how eagerly you rejoin yourself to his. His responding whimper is muffled, but the way his thrusts stutter as his hands fly up to cup your face close to him speaks volumes.

The movement of his cock deep inside you isn’t measured, or ruthless, or graceful. It’s seeking pleasure and giving pleasure mindlessly, wishing to be as close as you possibly can for as long as you can, barely even speaking to each other.

His lips are equally uncoordinated as they slant against you, his tongue dipping out thoughtlessly, teeth nipping needily. You lose your mind to this primal moment between the two of you, sense of time fading away as minute details like a drop of sweat rolling down your back take centre stage. All you can focus on are his fingernails lightly pressing into your cheek; the roughness of his leg hair against your calf; the squeaking of the springs beneath you.

You can’t even tell if you’re making any noise yourself, so lost in those divine notes that slip off his tongue. At one point your mouths slide apart and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, focuses on thrusting harder. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, trying to meet those thrusts but every moment your pleasure mounts it just gets harder to make your body obey.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, if Sejin is waiting outside or if you still have most of the hour. Once he buried himself inside you, you slowly stopped caring about the outside world. Those doors felt like an impenetrable wall that would keep you and him secure for as long as you needed it. His voice comes to you muffled, a tickle on your collarbone. “Wanna feel you cum, petal,” he confesses, voice hoarse. “Are you close?”

You gasp, writhing against him. “Need more, Tae.” You barely manage to finish your sentence before fingers are grinding against your clit, pressing it between the pad of his thumb and his cock. Immediately, heat rushes through you, making your eyes roll back. “Fu-fuck, right there,” you cry, core pulsing with every thrust.

With an added source of pleasure, your orgasm begins to quickly approach, your entire body alight with it. At some point your eyes have fallen shut, and you’ve failed to meet his thrusts, almost entirely unable to think, your mind just overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock moving so deeply inside you.

Taehyung, although similarly delirious with pleasure, seems slightly more put together than you. His hips begin to snap faster, fucking into you without abandon even as the angle prevents him from getting too much momentum. His thumb speeds up, rolling your most sensitive bud over his shaft as it drives into you, and his free hand is trapped between you and the sheets, fingers tangled in your hair.

“Close, so close, gon’cum soon, Tae,” you warn him in a garbled stream when the stimulation begins to surmount what your body can handle. Toes curling, you pant and wait before your orgasm to hit any second, whining every time his length pulls out.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s breathy like a prayer. “Kiss me.”

You have just enough time to seek out his lips before the dam breaks and you’re cumming around him. Still seeking his own end, Taehyung ruts into you and makes out with you messily, groaning into your mouth when you tighten, nerves singing with raw pleasure, an orgasm that never seems to end.

You continue to kiss him as he finally begins to spill inside you, going tense and grinding his hips rather than thrusting. It feels so right, being joined like this with limbs entangled and every breath shared.

It takes you a few moments of coming down from your high to notice the wetness on your cheeks. At first you think you’re crying, overwhelmed from a powerful orgasm, but as you crack your eyes open you see Taehyung pull back, shoulders jerking and a hand clapped over his mouth and nose.

He cries silently, tears soaking the pillow and dripping off his nose, but there’s nothing you can say. It’s just a game, you still have me, we only have to wait a little while, these things wouldn’t bring him any comfort, not when he already knew them. His wasn’t a sadness you had to explain away or solve, it was one he just needed to feel in its entirety.

So, just as quietly as sobs wrack his body, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and hold him close.

He calms down eventually, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head, but the two of you stay like that for every last minute that you have left.

When your phone vibrates, followed quickly by his, you know that your time is up, and you dress in silence.

--

The meeting starts at 9:12 a.m. You know this, because by the time Taehyung descends the stairs - joining you several minutes later to prevent suspicion - Sejin is wearing a hole in the carpet, informing the group there is a schedule for a reason.

“Can we get started now?” Sejin asks in a snappish tone, before taking in a measured breath, calming himself. “Sorry. Long day.”

“But it’s only nine… thirteen a.m.,” Taehyung supplies helpfully. Sejin doesn’t seem to find it very helpful. “Sorry. Yes, we can start.”

As the masseuse settles himself on a couch beside Jimin, you do your best not to look their way. Sat beside Sejin on the edge of the coffee table, you’re facing the whole group, but there is a strange sense of calm that comes over you when you look at the others. Knowing they’re safe for at least another week.

“Once again,” Sejin announces, knee bumping yours, “the gentlemen have a chance to defend themselves before Y/n makes her decision. Clockwise around the room; Namjoon, we’ll start with you.”

It’s been a pretty rainy morning, a cold front frosting up the windows and making the heatpump slow to act. The academic has himself bundled up in a thick brown sweater and chunky pants, hands slipped between his own thighs for an extra bit of warmth. Somehow, the stocky clothes just make him look smaller. “Y/n,” he begins, “I know I’m never going to be as experienced as the others beside me, but I do really want to keep learning with you, and exploring different things. You make me feel really comfortable and at ease, which is unusual since usually I panic even thinking about kissing someone, and so I’d be really sad if I lost that learning curve that I’m going up with you. I hope you enjoy our time together enough that you’ll let me stay a little longer.”

As he is most days, Hoseok sits beside Namjoon, half-leaning on the taller man. He’s wearing sleek black today; skinny jeans, fitted turtleneck and a cinched waist. Reminiscent of the first two scenes you’d done together, you wonder if he’s wearing those clothes strategically. “My turn? Y/n, if you’re thinking of voting Namjoon out, vote me instead, and if you’re thinking of voting out any of the other guys, good luck to them.” His cheeks lift in a warm smile as you laugh, the humour skimming off some of the tension that weighs the room down. “But on a serious note, I think you and I are extremely sexually compatible, and I take great pleasure in watching you fall apart for me. I want for you to see me as somebody that you can trust to take care of you, but also push you and challenge you. For that, I do hope you choose not to eliminate me.”

You suck in a slow breath. It’s strange hearing them out with no intention of voting them out anyway. Rather than making you feel more indecisive, it reaffirms all the good that you have in this house, that you’re lucky to still retain after the meeting today. You owed Taehyung a massive thank you.

Wedged on the other side of Hoseok is the youngest gentleman. Jungkook has his legs tucked under him, fluffy grey bedsocks peeking out. When Sejin looks at hiim expectantly, he clears his throat. “I actually, um, have a presentation.”

As the rest of the room watches in bewilderment, he hops off the couch and flicks on the television. On the screen, two mirrored selfies of him pouting and winking bracket a message, VOTE FOR JUNGKOOK.

He sucks in a breath suddenly, whirling around to face you. “That should say don’t,” he explains in a rush, “don’t vote for Jungkook.”

Turning back, he crouches beside the cabinet to where a laptop is hooked up to the back of the TV. Changing slides, he straightens up again. A crossfade gives way to a slide which begins with the title, Who Is Jungkook?

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi grumbles, shifting to get himself comfortable on the middle couch he shares with Jin. “Wake me up when it’s my turn.”

Clearing his throat, Jungkook begins to read off the screen. “Who is Jungkook? Successful camboy, avid gamer, budding chef - that’s a picture of me helping hyung cook - and most importantly… Objectively the most attractive guy in the house.”

Even as he hurries to change slides, the other men - namely Jin and Taehyung - protest with cries of outrage and disbelief. Jungkook ignores them, just raising his voice enough to carry over their complaints, waiting for the new slide to bounce in above the previous one. “Why should you save Jungkook?” This time, Jungkook stays crouched, each bullet point having its own slide with a related picture of him. “I will stream with you. I will help cook for you. I will let you play as Widowmaker. I will work out every day so that I stay capable of lifting you easily. I will show you the unflattering pictures I take of the hyungs.” Somehow, Jungkook’s managed to capture a shot of Hoseok mid-yawn, nose scrunched and jaw wide open at the dining table. The man himself lets out an indignant huff, only relaxing once Jungkook switches slides again, a dissolve transition leaving you with a final selfie with Jungkook biting his lip and flicking the camera a peace sign. Jungkook straightens up. “I will give you all these things and more if I’m still in the competition, so please, don’t vote Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s hesitant smattering of applause fills the room as Jungkook switches off the television, sitting himself back down beside Hoseok. Even as he smiles and acts casual about it, you can see his nerves in the way he wrings his hands in his lap. Even if you hadn’t already decided to vote out Tae, there was no way you could’ve voted Jungkook out this week.

Jin is next up, on the couch directly in front of you. His ment is simple. “Vote me out if you think I deserve it. If you genuinely think I’m the worst in the house. I don’t think you do.” The rest of the room falls silent, waiting for him to continue, but he sits back and shuffles Yoongi’s shoulder to indicate his turn.

Sitting up, honey blonde hair disheveled from the back of the couch, Yoongi clears his throat and looks over at you. “You and I spoke last night about the others, about reasons for them to stay in, reasons for them to be voted out. But you didn’t cover me, so here’s mine. Pros: I know my way around the female body in general and, I believe, your body specifically. I’m very willing to give most things a go, I learn fast, and you know that I can keep my head above the water in moments of crisis. I’m a safe person to have in the game.”

You grin. “And your cons?”

Yoongi harrumphs, pouting petulantly. “Well, I’m not going to say them now, am I? I’m trying to promote myself.”

Your bemusement is quick to evaporate when you realise it’s Jimin and Taehyung that are last to defend themselves. Running clockwise, Taehyung is the one who has to speak up now. His eyes dance around the room rather than settling, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his jacket pocket. “Y/n,” he announces, voice so soft and tentative, “I think you and I have a lot of, um, potential together in the bedroom, and, you know, if you keep me in the game, you’ll be able to enjoy the best hands in the business. And I really enjoyed my time with you so much, especially this week. It’s like we have an understanding when we...” Taehyung’s mouth opens, closes. “Uh, so… Don’t vote me out, because you’ll miss out on those things.”

You try not to let the blue cloud in your chest show on your face, staying neutral. You and him both knew you would miss out on those things. That you would miss those things too. Giving a little nod, hyperaware of your reactions, you turn to Jimin.

He’s looking you dead-on, barely moving. “You should vote me out,” he says plainly. “Not...any of the others.” Not Taehyung. “I was a dick the other day, I’ve been an asshole mostly this whole time, and I’m sure the other guys would love it if you did, because they all know I’m the biggest competition. If you ever miss me, I have countless videos online you could watch, or you could watch me fuck one of the guys here. And I’m sure you already have a name in mind, but change it to mine. It should be me.”

Your mouth goes dry, heart racing sickly in your chest. Taehyung’s staring at Jimin with puppy eyes, a silent protest. On the other side of the room, Jungkook lets out a surprised chuckle. “Reverse psychology!” he chirps. “Nice, hyung.”

“So, Y/n,” Sejin asks, voice warm with sympathy, “who’ll it be?”

With eyes stinging, you duck your head, the name on your tongue bitter like battery acid. What you wouldn’t give to throw yourself away instead. “Taehyung.”

The room goes dead quiet. No sighs of relief, expressions of condolence. No announcement from Sejin.

In the two weeks you’d been here, you’d been in this position once before. But that time, exactly one week ago, you’d been subject to a sudden change in events that saved everyone. Now, with Taehyung’s name still hanging in the air like a melancholy ghost, the weight of this decision and its finality sit heavy around the room.

The first cut is the deepest, and as Sejin begins to instruct Taehyung on how to proceed as an eliminated member, you feel like your heart has been sliced in two. The half of you that wants to rush up to him and kiss him silly and take back what you said, and the half that’s filled with an overwhelming relief that you’ve kept the others safe for now.

Taehyung doesn’t look at you much as he leaves. There’s a moment, a single glance, where he gives you a teary smile of approval and comfort. A million words that you can’t say in front of everyone. But then he turns, and he walks out the front door.

Jungkook, who was too shocked into silence to even be listening, straightens up with the wooden thunk of the door closing. “He’s not leaving for good, is he?”

Sejin shakes his head stiffly, before clearing his throat and slipping back into his producer mode. Even as he does so, you can see the elimination upsets him too, his eyes sad. “Taehyung is going around back to the confessional booth for his exit interview. He doesn’t need to be around for prompt distribution, so he’s going to just do it now. Which brings me to this week’s theme.” Sejin pauses for dramatic effect, but it only serves to highlight the sullen mood in the room. “Work hard, play hard.”

You frown in confusion. The first two weeks were easy. Locations, roleplay. You knew what type of thing would be occurring even if you didn’t have the specifics for each member. But this time, you felt totally lost.

Sejin continues. “This week, prompt distribution is also different. Usually, we have you randomly pick a prompt from the bunch. But this time, we have a Bangasm Bomb coming into play. Week 3’s Bangasm Bomb is that whoever won fan favourite in Week 2 will distribute the prompts for Week 3. Yoongi, that’s you.”

Though all of you are a bit reserved, you can’t help but perk up, the interest around the room growing. Yoongi, sat beside Jin but taking up most of the couch, sits up suddenly. “So I give them out randomly, or…?”

“You read all of the prompts and assign them however you choose. Without revealing the prompt to the rest of the group, I ask that you give a reason for each choice.”

Yoongi grins, jumping up in an usual show of liveliness to get the slips of folded paper off Sejin. “I guess I picked the right week to absolutely kill it in the audience vote.” He makes you wait an eternity as he painstakingly opens them all and considers them, eyes dark as they search the room, making little noises of consideration and indecision. Finally, he stands up straight and immediately pockets one.

“A reason, Yoongi,” Sejin reminds.

The doctor blinks. “Because I want it?” Moving to the next one in his pile, he approaches Hoseok first. “Okay, this one is because I think it’s best done by a professional.”

Hoseok takes the slip and holds it close to his chest as he reads, brows lifting. “That’s probably a good idea,” he affirms. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi, clearly gleeful with his position of temporary power, glances at the next slip. “Ooh! Okay, this one is for Jin-hyung because it fits perfectly.”

Jin accepts the slip warily, letting out an exasperated laugh when he reads it. “You little shit.”

Yoongi’s grin is wide enough that you can see his gums. “I love this,” he informs Sejin, “whoever came up with this needs a raise. Anyways; next one.” Opening a fourth piece of paper, he immediately seeks out Namjoon. “I’m giving this to you because I think you’ll get a kick out of it, and I heard through the pipeline that you like to be called daddy.”

Namjoon goes red faster than a changing traffic light, spluttering violently on a lungful of air when he reads the prompt.

Before he has the chance to put it away, Hoseok puts a strong hand on his shoulder and holds him in place so he can quickly sneak a peek of it, collapsing into a peal of laughter when he sees it. “You’re probably right,” he quips to Yoongi, who preens in satisfaction.

“Okay, moving on,” Yoongi continues, “Jungkook, this one’s for you. I figure you’re such a switch that you could play this either way, and I’m curious.”

You furrow your brows, as does Jungkook, but the moment the youngest man reads his prompt, the lines in his face smooth out in realisation. “Thanks, hyung,” he offers up sweetly. “I like this one.”

“I’m sure you do, kid,” the doctor says with a pat of his shoulder, before handing Jimin the final prompt. “And I’m giving you this one because it’s the last one left.”

Jimin scoffs at the weak reasoning, but his eyes dart up to you immediately once he looks at what it says. With a lip curling in bemusement and interest, Jimin thanks Yoongi. “This suits me just fine.”

Done assigning prompts, Yoongi turns to Sejin. “If this show gets greenlit for a second season and you don’t offer me a job, I’ll be personally offended.”

Sejin rolls his eyes with a begrudging smile. “Good job, Yoongi. And meeting adjourned, ev- Wait, no! There’s more; almost forgot.”

You lift your brows, waiting for some other groundbreaking twist or dramatic flair that seemed to keep cropping up during these meetings.

The producer stands himself up, patting his back pocket where his phone rests. “I just had a meeting with the showrunners, and they’re not happy with the punishment for breaking elimination rules. I’ll go tell Taehyung this after, since it mostly concerns him and Y/n, but as an FYI, the protocol around eliminated members has changed a bit.” He takes a breath, hands up and ready to gesture his explanation. “Basically, our old system was that if an eliminated member touched Y/n sexually, he’d be out of the house for good, and if Y/n touched the eliminated member sexually, she had to wear an outfit of that person’s choice. Uh, it seems that second system isn’t really that drastic, and could easily be manipulated, so we’re changing it up upon the showrunners’ request. Now, if the eliminated member touches Y/n sexually, he’ll have to leave as usual, but if Y/n touches him sexually, her punishment has changed to being taken out of the house for 24 hours.”

You tip your head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a punishment.”

Sejin gives a strained smile. “You’ll be taken out of the house for 24 hours, handcuffed to me.”

“Huh?” Jin asks incredulously. “Bit wish fulfilment isn’t it, big guy?”

The producer has the good grace to blush. “It’s not like that, and it wasn’t my decision. Apparently, the viewers these days are taking more interest in the workings of staff. Additionally, as with the clothing rule, handcuffing Y/n to another member of the house is once again too easy to work around. Anyways, that’s the new rule. Got it?”

You blink. “So… let’s say I run outside right now and touch Tae’s dick. I’d then have to be handcuffed to you for a whole day and like, do producer shit? Meetings and editing and stuff?”

“That is correct.”

“What happens when one of us needs to pee?”

Sejin lets out a weak laugh. “You’d be allowed out of the cuffs to use the bathroom.”

“What happens when it’s nighttime?” you question, heart sinking as you realise your loophole to Tae is quickly closing up.

“Well, I usually go home around 11 each night, and my girlfriend is happy to take the couch should that happen.”

“What- What if-” Your mind whirls as the other guys chuckle at your predicament. “What if I wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink but you’re still sleeping? What if the guys in your meetings ask why you have a young girl handcuffed to you and I have to explain it’s technically a sex thing? What if-”

“All the things that make this a punishment, Y/n. I suggest you practice restraint and avoid breaking the rule.”

Your glare is softened by a petulant pout. “You’re a sadist.”

“This wasn’t my idea, Y/n. It’ll be a punishment for me too.” Sejin clears his throat. “Anyways; meeting adjourned. I’m off to catch Taehyung up.”

The stunned silence lasts no more than ten seconds once Sejin leaves. Jungkook, a toothy grin and cheeky eyes, starts bouncing in his seat. “Y/n and Sejin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-”

“Shut up,” you shout with a whine. “This sucks.”

“Such a relief you have six other dicks still to choose from,” Yoongi drawls. “I’m sure you’ll live without one.”

Without thinking, you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh at your antics, before pushing on Jin’s thigh to stand up. “Well,” the doctor announces, “I, for one, could do with a celebratory brunch.”

Jimin frowns. “What are we celebrating?”

Yoongi beams. “Me making you all my little bitch,” he declares, letting out a startled hoot when Jin jumps up to tackle him, manhandling him towards the kitchen.

As the two chefs of the house begin to lug out ingredients from the pantry, Jungkook turns to the rest of the group with a worried frown. “D’you think Tae is gonna be really sad?” he asks in a small voice.

Finally getting up off the hard surface of the coffee table, you make your way over to him, perching yourself on the arm of the couch. “Maybe,” you admit honestly, “but I think if he needs space, he’ll go upstairs, and if he wants comfort, he’ll come back to us. We should let him choose.”

As it turns out, Taehyung chooses both. The kitchen is steaming with a delightfully savoury aroma by the time he comes back in through the front door. He hovers in the entrance to the kitchen and dining area for a moment or two, waiting for the chatter to die down once everyone catches sight of him.

Announcing that he was taking a long shower but that he’d be back down and not to wait up, he’d rushed to his bedroom and left you all to confusedly finish preparing the food. He doesn’t return until you’ve all almost finished eating.

When he does, though, he appears like an entirely different person.

Wearing a raggedy shirt and pants, face red from a hot shower but hair dry, he dumps a white plastic bag on an empty space on the table with a dramatic flair.

Jimin watches him warily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taehyung chirps easily, “we’re dying our hair today.”

The words out of his mouth are totally unexpected, and everyone freezes into a bewildered silence.

Hoseok, with a spoonful of soup and green onion halfway to his face, falters. “Sorry, what?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Taehyung explains, like this is the most important thing he’s ever said. “I don’t want to be excluded and I want to have some fun with you guys instead of moping, so we’re going to dye our hair together.” Pushing aside empty bowls and half-eaten side dishes, the masseuse begins emptying the plastic bag onto the table. Bleach, developer, blood red dye, an emerald green and a deep royal blue.

“Where did you even get those from?” Jin asks, abandoning his plate to eye the products with interest.

“Ordered them online,” Taehyung answers with a shrug. “Well - technically I ordered them ages ago, Jungkookie wanted the e-girl TikTok hair, but I reckon we should just go for it. Some of us are in urgent need of a dye job. Namjoon; that’s you.”

The academic recoils, tugging at his grown-out faded purple ends. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Hoseok winces. “We don’t all have to dye our hair, do we?”

“‘Course not, hyung, you can supervise.”

It takes Yoongi insisting that everyone help clean up the table first that springs everyone into action, and in no time at all Taehyung has scoffed up whatever leftovers remained, and Jin has gathered additional supplies like bowls, towels and tin foil, hustling your ragtag group of eight down to the first-floor bathroom.

It doesnt take long before a temporary salon has been set up in there. With chairs taken from the kitchen, product being mixed in little black bowls on the sink benchtop, and three willing victims clutching towels over their shoulders.

In the first chair, Namjoon is watching in mild alarm as Jimin mixes bleach and developer in a bowl, eyeballing the measurements. With gleaming blue hair of his own, Jimin seems more experienced than some of you, but his job is more difficult than the other stylists of the day, since he had to get rid of Namjoon’s purple before bleaching and dying the lot.

You’d chosen the easiest of the three, Jungkook, and painstakingly consult with some of his favourite TikToks for the right amount of hair to section out as Taehyung takes charge of mixing his own concoction of bleach.

Finally, it’s Jin who has also volunteered to dye hair, although it’s not his own that he wishes to dye. Yoongi sits with a bitter scowl on his face as Jin pours in different coloured dyes into one bowl like a mad scientist. With already blonde hair, Yoongi at least has the luxury of skipping out the extra step, but it just gives Jin more time to conceive a crazy colour.

Hoseok, happy to take on the supervisor role, flutters around and hypes everyone up; massaging Namjoon’s shoulders, letting Jungkook show him countless videos and grimacing at what Jin has in his bowl.

“Hey, Tae,” Yoongi calls out in a forced casual tone, “why is it that when you were the one who bought the dye, you aren’t the one getting chemicals all over his hair?”

The masseuse shrugs easily, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder as he stirs away. “What can I say? I’m an artist, not a canvas.”

Jungkook blinks up at him past your shoulder. “I’d like to see you dye your hair, Tae. You’d look pretty with any colour.”

Taehyung reaches out to pinch the maknae’s cheek fondly, but accidentally leaves a smear of white behind. Jumping into action, you hold Jungkook’s chin steady as you wipe it off with your thumb, feeling his eyes on you and his breath hitch.

“Oh, you’re not- Y- You’re going straight in there,” Namjoon stutters shakily. Letting go of Jungkook’s face and stepping away, you glance over to Namjoon and Jimin.

The younger man has Namjoon’s hair sectioned with clips, painting thick globs of bleach onto the purple in his lower layers. “Don’t worry,” Jimin assures, “you’ll look fantastic after this.”

“Worst case scenario, you can lop it all off,” Jin points out cheerily.

Yoongi’s arm reaches out between folds of the towel on his shoulders, keeping Jin at bay. “You better not lay a fucking hand on me with that mindset.”

“Don’t be silly, Yoonie,” Jin teases, adding in some more green. “You’re my Mona Lisa.”

Yoongi humphs and collapses back against his chair, pink smattering his cheekbones.

Taehyung’s hand wraps lightly around your wrist, handing you the bleach he’d mixed up. “We’re good to go,” he declares to you and Jungkook, “I wanna go see what colour Yoongi-hyung’s getting. You guys start.”

Left in charge of the bleach, you turn back to Jungkook. Standing over him, it’s impossible to ignore the way his doe-eyes observe your every move. “Are you still good with these two chunks?” you check.

He nods quickly, lips pressing into an eager but shy smile. “Do you think it’ll look good?” he asks hopefully.

“You’ll look gorgeous.” Getting him to hold the bowl of bleach up for you, you dip the brush included in the box and begin to brush the white, thick liquid over the strands of black hair. He doesn’t flinch as the brush moves higher, sitting so still and patient. “What colour are you going to get it?”

His cheeks puff as he blows air into them. “Hm, I don’t know. Tae said maybe pink? I could mix in only a little bit of red so it’s not so strong. But then pink fades fast.”

You hum, switching to the other side. “You could dye it red and then when it fades it would fade to pink.”

He lets out a little gasp. “That’s smart! I like it.”

From down the room, Taehyung’s voice echoes. “Hyung, you’re fucked!”

“Hey!” Jin cries. “It’s going to look good, just trust me on this!”

Taehyung leans his back against the sink and clasps his palms together like he’s praying. “Yoongi-hyung, picture this. You’re Bob Ross. You’re painting a beautiful lake on a sunny day. Blue sky, clear water, lush riverbanks. Can you see it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Sure.”

“The little cup of dirty water you used to clean your brushes with? That’ll be your hair.”

“Oh, god,” Yoongi moans miserably, slumping so low he almost falls off the seat.

“Disrespectful little brat,” Jin enunciates as Taehyung moves back across the room. “This was your idea!”

It takes the entire rest of the day, but by the time you all sit down on the couches for dinner - courtesy of a food delivery app, Yoongi and Jin both too tired to cook - three of the eight of you have shiny new looks.

Jungkook looks undeniably striking with his stripes of firetruck red framing his face. Contrasting sharply with the black of the rest of his hair, you could easily mistake him for a Twitch streamer or something, pulling off the look with a natural coolness.

Done with purple, Namjoon had taken advantage of Jimin’s decent level of expertise and let the blue-haired man work his magic, bleaching his hair a couple of times and dying it to the unusual choice of silvery grey, the roots slightly darker so that - in Jimin’s words - he could get away with regrowth for longer.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of all is Yoongi, who smugly peacocks around the room with a unique shade somewhere between mint and teal in his hair. Jin had quietly confessed to you and Jungkook when he was cleaning his bowl that it wasn’t in fact, the colour he intended it to be, but that what Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The blue-green tones are somewhat reminiscent of the clear lake Taehyung was describing, and it brings out the soft pink of Yoongi’s lips and his dark lashes so beautifully. How Jin’s luck never seemed to run out, you didn’t know, but part of you wished you had volunteered yourself for a dye job too. Now you, Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung were the leftovers with natural hair.

Like some sort of unspoken agreement, the seven of you keep a close eye on Taehyung throughout the evening. You let him pick a movie for all of you to watch, pile extra food into his bowl, Jungkook even brings a secret stash of chocolate down from his room to share with him. All of you sensitive of how he must be feeling, it’s only natural that you take extra good care of the masseuse.

And, when it finally comes to head up to bed, Taehyung is flooded by offers to keep him company in the bunkroom. It’s Jungkook he picks, the two thick as thieves, and shortly after midnight your phone goes off from a text that Jungkook has sent to everyone except Taehyung. Just two words that are enough to allow your mind and body to rest. He’s okay.

[saint-eridell]

A Silent Prayer (Midoriya Izuku/F!Reader)

I… honestly don't know how this happened. The words just kinda came out. I didn't start out intending to write a slow burn saga, but that's apparently what my brain decided to do with it. Might continue the series at some point, to be honest; this whole universe has its hooks into me.

Collab piece for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​'s Citrus Dome server collaboration. 15k, completed, proofread, no beta. Pairings: Dryad!Midoriya Izuku/Human!Reader, Human!Toshinori Yagi/Dryad!Midoriya Inko Prompt: Gods Content warnings: Background character death, non-con (very brief, not explicit)

Read on AO3

Quick Guide (ctrl-F to jump)

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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Prologue

Your village's clearing, while spacious enough to afford room for a small population, is essentially cut off from the outside world by the dense verdant wall that circles it on all sides. One of two paths out leads toward a well-maintained temple where the locals (and rare traveler) leave offerings to the Fae that populate the forest, and one leads out to the nearest trading post… which lies a week's away ride on a speedy horse. This clearing of hand-built homes and ancient looking shops is the only thing you've known. Your studies as a temple attendant began young, before you could even comprehend what you were training to do, and have kept you attached to the village with zero chance of travel.

That has suited you just fine so far. From what the hunters talk about seeing in the forest… you'd rather stay alive than "sightsee".

The first thing you're taught in your village is to respect the forest. Even the youngest of your people know not to step in Fae circles, or follow strange sets of eyes in the dark, or listen to any voices that come trickling out of the treeline on quiet nights. The Fae could be immensely giving, but they're fickle creatures on a good day and absolutely dangerous at their worst. Contact with any roaming Fae, regardless of the type or how friendly it seems, has long been banned among your people. Your job as an attendant, despite a common misconception that you have direct contact with beasts and monsters, is to maintain the temple, greet travelers, and meditate among the many gardens built within the temple walls.

Worship is a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods.

But you never expected one to answer… much less three times.

---

Part 1

The first time is after a terrible fire that razes half of the village during your first year of training. A roaming wyvern tears through the fields surrounding its back half in a fury, razing an entire cluster of homes and over half of the summer crops already suffering through a prolonged drought. The village finds itself in disarray amid the smoldering remains: one half wants to burn the temple in retaliation, seeing the wyvern as an omen that some Fae lord is on the warpath, while the other seeks to gather what remained of the crops as one final beseechment to whoever or whatever they'd angered.

Having just been initiated, your young mind goes directly to one of your first lessons: true offerings are of the heart. In your barely school age mind, that means offering something that means a lot to you. After some consideration you narrow it down - your favorite doll, a gift from a mother you never had the chance to know - and take it to the temple. You find a quiet altar to lay the doll down upon, and as soon as you find your knees to begin praying before it you catch sight of a boy hovering behind the marble pedestal.

His head is wrapped in emerald linen, but it rounds off enough to suggest there's densely packed hair underneath. A single curl peeks out at the center of his forehead, somehow even deeper than the rich dyed fabric over it, its point resting between huge green eyes that seem to peer right down to your very soul. It would be eerie if he wasn't smiling at you with a gap where one tooth should be, a bright beam of sunshine in an otherwise rather gloomy marble-lined room.

"Is that a doll?" he asks, and his voice chirps with the same excitement of the first few birds that poke out of the melting winter snow. You nod, frozen with trained hesitation that wars with your naive curiosity - he doesn't look familiar, nor does he look like the child of anyone who had recently come through the village. But he doesn't look dangerous to you. He's barely as tall as you, and he smiles too nice to be a threat… right? 

You open your mouth to call for your matron but the boy holds both hands up suddenly, his eyes somehow widening even further with a bolt of fear. "Wait," he whispers. "I'm not supposed to be here. I heard people praying and snuck away from my mother." He tilts his head. "Did you sneak away from your mom, too?"

You shake your head in response. "I live here," you explain quietly, matching his hushed tone. "I'll work in the temple one day. I came here to offer my doll so our fields will come back."

The boy's face splits into a grin. "Does that mean I'll get to see you again?"

You aren't given time to answer: a sharp voice echoes into the room from somewhere beyond the open door, growing louder by the second as someone approaches. You turn your head to listen until a quiet shuffling brings your attention back to the boy, who's moved around the altar and taken the doll in one hand. He quickly tugs off the linen wrap covering his head and thrusts it toward you. You struggle to grasp it, shocked by a pair of tiny antler nubs that poke through the curls on the top of the boy’s head... or Fae’s rather. There’s no mistaking the point of his upper ears. "Here," he whispers urgently. "It's my favorite, so be careful with it. Wrap it around some ashes from your burned crops and bury it in the middle of the field." He waves as he steps back with another one of those beaming smiles, your doll clutched tight to his chest. "I promise I'll keep your doll safe. Maybe we can play next time!"

You blink, and as quick as he appeared he's gone. Matron Elspeth, a short and round woman with more than enough years in the temple to justify her limited patience (and the woman in charge of your temple training), appears behind you the second he’s gone. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she snaps as she grabs you by the upper arm and hauls you toward the door. “We’re convening the-

You dig your heels into the floor. “Wait!” you exclaim with all the assertiveness your tiny voice can muster. “I have something!”

The matron stops to glare down at you. You hold up the linen like it’s a prized tapestry. “A boy appeared in here and gave this to me. I brought my doll as an offering and he gave this to me.”

The matron’s brows knit deep between her eyes. “And you took it?”

You nod eagerly, but you aren’t prepared to see such a terrifying old woman blanch like she just witnessed a murder. She stops you both in the hallway, all sense of urgency abandoned, a wrinkled hand held to the wall as she breathes out a long, ragged sigh. “Oh, child,” she murmurs. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve just done.” She gives you a smile that’s softer than anything you’ve ever seen from her, and it’s disarming enough to have you stunned silent. Isn’t she supposed to be rapping you across the knuckles with her willow switch? “He was Fae, wasn’t he?”

You nod slowly, your excitement slowly twisting into pangs of dread. “I didn’t give him my name,” you burst out after a sudden realization - of course she’s worried, she thinks you just signed yourself away to the forest. What was the first thing she’d taught you? You wave your hands in front of you defenselessly, the scarf flapping back and forth. “I only said the doll was my favorite, and that I’d brought it as an offering. He said this headscarf was his favorite and that I should bury it in the field wrapped around some ashes from the crops and -”

“Eeeeeeasy,” Elspeth chides gently. She lowers herself to a knee to put herself on eye level with you, both hands wrapped around your shoulders. “You did the right thing. I wouldn’t have expected someone so small to learn our ways as quickly as you have.” She holds her hand out for the scarf and you hand it over. She turns it over gently, running her fingers over the seams with a pensive hum. “And you say he told you to bury it?”

“In the field, wrapped around ashes from the burned crops."

“And you absolutely did not give him your name?”

You shake your head fervently. “He didn’t even ask for it.”

Elspeth’s frown deepens. “Curious.” She rises slowly to her feet with a wince as both knees audibly crack under her shifting weight. You grab her arm to help her stay upright as she rests a hand on the wall once again with a low groan. “I’m getting too old for this,” she grouses. “You need to hurry up and grow already so I can hand off the robes.” Her wrinkled hand takes one of yours as she leads the way toward the temple’s main hall. “Tell me more about the boy.”

You go through everything you can remember - same height, pale freckled skin, lots of green curls, big eyes… “Oh, and horns,” you add on.

Elspeth stops you both at the end of the last hall. Several groups of people in various temple garb hover in the large foyer beyond, but your matron turns your back to them with both hands on your shoulders. She bends low at the waist to stare you down from only a few inches away. “Horns?” she hisses.

You nod, confused by the sudden change in her demeanor. “Tiny ones,” you reply. “Like when the young bucks grow their first set at the beginning of summer. I didn’t see them or his ears until after he gave me his scarf.”

Elspeth goes quiet for several seconds, her gaze averted to the throng behind you, and just as you open your mouth to question if she’s okay she’s steering you around and through the crowd with a purpose. “We need to speak to the temple Ascendant,” she urges quietly. “This is beyond both of us now, little one.”

---

Part 2

You hadn’t been approached by just any run-of-the-mill forest creature. If you really had experienced the entire moment (which the linen basically proved without a shadow of a doubt despite your own dumbfounded disbelief), you’d come across a young dryad. Or rather, he’d found you, which is an incredible occurrence in itself: dryads are known for being among the most reclusive of Fae, preferring to live in their heavily altered pockets of the forest where only their kind can survive. According to the ancient lore they’re protectors of a vast plane beyond the one humans live in, a vanguard of Fae hidden among life-providing vegetation and deceptively thick forest floor in wait for someone or something to come along and threaten their territory. The tomes in the temple library are filled with tales from “survivors” of attacks by wandering dryads, all telling of razor sharp teeth and sickly green skin and a heathenly worship of the old gods that on its own warrants avoiding them at all costs.

But in the whirlwind following your encounter with the young Fae, something becomes glaringly obvious: no one wants to talk about who had provided the linen that saved them all, despite it successfully bringing back their fields during a single earth-shaking rainstorm and assuring a solid harvest that would more than provide through the winter. All the villagers flock to the temple with offerings by the basket, but no one wants to acknowledge who had actually saved them. That reality sticks with you like a sharp thorn, as does the dryad boy’s hauntingly sweet voice as you grow older within the temple walls, your studies growing more intense by the year. By the time you reach adulthood, you’re actively involved with just about every aspect of temple life. You’ve grown popular among your fellow attendants and the temple-goers alike, even the ones who seem reluctant to be there at all. Your easy-going demeanor and disarming smile is able to diffuse even the staunchest of cynicism. You have, for all intents, and purposes, become the shining example of everything Matron Elspeth raised you to be. Nothing in this world makes you prouder than knowing you're on the way to earning her robes… and maybe, at some time in the future, the temple Ascendant's.

You remain faithful to your doctrine, but in the dead of night every full moon you pray that he’ll come back. You’ve had years to think about it: if you give him a “given” name, he’ll have to use that. It’s not yours, so he won’t own you. Dryads are attracted to beehives, presumably for the same reason pixies are attracted to berry bushes (an almost impulsive sweet tooth) so you’re ready with a clump of the temple’s finest honeycomb every time the moon reaches its largest point.

But despite your increasingly saddened prayers and offers over the years, no sign of him or any other dryads appear. There are rumors of the occasional peculiar looking traveler with big green eyes, but your temple work prevents you from wandering into the village unless it’s on a designated supply pickup day. Elspeth tells you to forget him and focus on your studies every time she catches you quietly moping: “We can’t have our future Ascendant being wooed away by some doe-eyed boy, regardless of if he’s human or not.”

On the evening after your confirmation and the following party, once you’ve returned from the village and gathered up your usual prayer supplies, you make your way to your favorite altar in the temple as the moon finds its highest point in the sky above. The room’s roof has been removed to give a full view of the sky for astral worship, but you prefer it for the way it allows moonlight to fill the center with a skirt of fading dark that swallows the edges of the room. It’s easier to focus here, to lay yourself bare before whatever force that lays beyond the clearing’s edge and let it speak through the beams of light emanating from above.

Elspeth disapproves of your “fixation”, but doesn't argue back when you request privacy for the rest of the evening. Your birthday this present is in the form of your matron keeping all wandering staff away from your prayer room, and that seems perfectly fair to you. You’ve already made plans to repay her empathy with a few of her favorite lemon pastries.

You lay out the contents of the basket hanging from your arm across the marble altar’s polished surface: green and gold candles, several lengths of high quality gold pendant chain, a large bowl of fresh, sticky honeycomb and an ornate goblet full of a rare winterberry mead you were given by the lead hunter’s son (“For the day you get free of that prison and decide to marry”, he’d boasted... his mistake, you’re keeping the mead and he can choke on the cork).

In the center goes a hand-sized velvet pillow upon which you set an emerald big enough to fill your palm. It had taken three years to save up enough for it, but in your eyes it’s the best thing you’ve ever bought. The moonlight dancing off the lines of the gem’s depths flicker and dance exactly like the Fae’s eyes had so many years ago. You pause to take in the sight, transfixed by the shifting planes that white themselves out before immediately shifting to deep green and then to inky black when you tilt your head.

A slight breeze rattling through the room snaps you from your reverie. You glance upward where the moon hangs directly overhead, a wide white circle set deep into an array of scattered stars and inky skyspace beyond. A vivid memory of pale skin dotted with freckles flashes across your mind’s eye and you have to force yourself to redirect to the present, shaking your head hard as the breeze fades away. “Focus,” you murmur to yourself. You don’t have long before the moon will move away from the center of the open roof.

Once the candles are lit, several cones of musky incense set into miniature cauldrons come next, wisps of pungent smoke permeating every dark corner of the room within seconds. You kneel before the altar once everything is in place with your plain white robes folding neatly under you. As you take your first deep breath, the incense fills your nose and drowns out anything beyond it; a hazy blanket hovers thick and heavy in your sinuses, even after you exhale.

This is an easy process for you. You've long mastered how to find your own meditative headspace through years of disciplined practice. You let the chirping of bugs beyond the temple echo around your ears, your breathing slow and light. You tilt your closed eyes up toward where you can vaguely tell the glow of the moon is strongest. "I have no crisis," you say in your head. "I seek no power, no glory, no riches. I only wish to see my friend again." A deep sense of peace radiates down to your bones as you let out a slow breath. The entire room comes to a standstill, even the wind seemingly reverent of your descent toward the lowest floor of your headspace. If you go any further, you feel like you could slip right through the floor.

"We're friends, eh?"

Your eyes fly open as a shriek tears through you, every semblance of calm shattered. You kick yourself backward and the cushion you'd been kneeling on flying forward to bounce off the ornate carving set into the front of the pedestal. You skitter in the opposite direction, prepared to take off running down the hall and find the first guard you come across, when you stop dead with your hands planted to the cold marble floor.

It's him.

The dryad boy is standing in the same spot he'd appeared in last time, smiling at you with that same beaming grin. Or… it looks like him, at least. He's taller now, but he still looks to be around your height, maybe just an inch or so taller. It's obvious he's been up to something strenuous: his tunic sleeves cut off around defined upper arms, where you can spot an array of thin scars set into his pale, freckled skin. He's dressed in emerald traveler garb, a linen wrap identical to the one he'd given wrapped loosely around his neck, and as you look further up you choke on a gasp.

You hadn't been hallucinating all those years ago. The tiny antler nubs he'd been sporting before have grown fivefold and now branch over his head in tall, proud spikes that circle his hair like a jagged halo. He seems to catch what your eyes lock onto and he dips his head, a scarred hand reaching to clutch at the fabric draped around his neck like he wants to throw it up over his head. "I'm sorry," he says quietly, and you're immediately floored by how achingly familiar the lilt of his voice is. You've heard it in your dreams enough to know it's him. "I didn't mean to scare you that bad."

You push yourself up to your feet with an indignant huff. "Scare me that bad?" you grumble back as you dust yourself off and right your robes.

He laughs again, light as air. Your anger slips away at the sound despite your best attempt to hold onto it. You're not some shrinking violet, dammit. "I had to take the opportunity when it presented itself," he replies through a fond smile. "Couldn't help myself."

You huff your disapproval, which gets you another chuckle. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he says as he takes a step forward with his hands raised in a show of surrender. "No more scares, I promise." He fixes you with another beaming smile. "Happy birthday. I'm here now."

Your heart flips sideways into your ribs. He'd really heard you. But if he could hear you tonight…

"Why didn't you come any other time I prayed?" you ask before you can consider the implications of your query. You slap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry," you say quickly from behind your palm. "I don't mean to say I expected you to listen or appear, I just…"

The dryad fixes you with a concerned frown. "You just what?" he asks back without a trace of anger, which catches you off guard. "I'm not gonna cut your tongue out or anything. You didn't offend me."

You let out your held breath in one hard burst. Thank every god in existence. You pause, waiting to make sure he really isn't angry and just playing head games, then proceed with only a tiny tremble: "I just hoped you would."

Something akin to pain dances across his face and you immediately regret your admission for reasons you can't quite figure out. "I'm sorry," you exclaim again, but he holds up a finger before you can try to babble through a reason why.

"It's not easy for my kind to survive here," he says with a solemnity that draws the entire room to a standstill. "The air is too dry for ones who haven't acclimated to it. I'll admit, the first time I tried I got incredibly sick upon returning home." His gaze flicks to the span of marble between your feet. "But I've been practicing. I should be able to stay a few hours now." He finds your eye again and the sincerity behind them smashes into you like a cannonball. How could anyone ever say his kind are hideous? Is it the antlers? 

"If you'll have me, that is."

Oh gods above, below, and in gran's cookbooks. "Of course," you breathe back without hesitation.

His smile returns, wide and genuine, bright enough to narrow the room to just him alone. "I was hoping you would say that." He bows politely, his traveler's cloak brushing the floor as it sweeps back. "I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before. May I have your name?"

A caustic jolt rushes up the length of your spine. Every hair on your body raises at the root as you cut a glare in his direction. Oh no no no, you didn't go through an entire childhood of Matron Elspeth's lectures to fall for his ruses that easily, no matter how hard he makes your stomach flutter. "No you may not," you say back with practiced ease. He sits up abruptly to give you another wounded look, but you're too on guard for it to work. "I'm sorry." You really aren't.

He huffs a laugh. "Fair play. I should have known better. May I have a name to address you by?"

You've trained for this your entire life. In no way is he going to get you. "No you may not," you say again. "But I was born under a sparrow's first nest." A meaningless fact that would at least lead him toward something you'll answer to without naming you directly. Elspeth is going to be so proud.

He hums, seemingly picking up your subtle lead. "Sparrow, then," he confirms. "It suits you."

You clear your throat as the collar of your robe shifts against your reddening neck. You can't hold eye contact and keep your flush contained so you opt for the former while your hands clasp respectfully behind your back. You're an anointed temple servant. You won't be reduced to a pile of girlish mush in your own temple. "Thank you," you reply with a polite bow. "And is there a known name I may refer to you by?"

"Deku," he chirps back. "You could have just asked. I'm not as picky with my known name as you humans seem to be."

You straighten up with a placid smile. "Can you blame me?"

Deku shrugs. "I mean, a little," he replies with an honesty that almost knocks you backward again. "I've seen the records humans keep on us. The way your "beastmasters" talk makes us sound like feral crypt monsters." 

You catch the bitterness in his tone and squirm on the spot. You hadn't meant any insult. "We've had a lot of people killed by dryads over the years," you reply as gently as you can. "And even more that have disappeared around the same time one was seen. The people here are just fearful."

"Fear doesn't excuse ignorance." His jaw flexes and your frame draws tight with tension. He takes a slow breath as he pauses, and his anger visibly recedes. "But you haven't taken off running yet, so I guess it's safe to assume you're not as ignorant as the others."

Your voice drops to a murmur when you respond. "I remember what you did for us. We would have starved the winter after that fire if you hadn't brought our crops back."

"Thank my dad for that. It was his idea. He couldn't make the trip himself, so he sent my mom and I with instructions."

The pieces click into place with a weight that knocks the wind from your lungs. Deku watches you ponder as he steps around the altar and perches on its edge. "You didn't just save us. You risked your life to do it. But… why?"

"Because you asked me to-" He plucks the goblet and gives it an appreciative sniff. "-And you brought a worthy offering to go with it." He sips the mulled wine with a deep groan of approval. At least the idiot who'd been hitting on you throughout the entire celebration has good taste in booze. "Winterberries?" You nod, and he takes a longer sip before offering you the goblet. You take it with pride as he traces his thumb over his lower lip to catch a stray drop (don't stare don't stare don't stare don't stare). "Gods, this is fantastic. I hope your meadery has put in offerings, because they deserve whatever they were asking for."

You go to take a sip as he continues his praise, but another bolt of anxiety keeps you from raising the cup all the way to your lips. This isn't a directly outlawed interaction (you can't recall a rule that says you're not allowed to share an offering, as far as you can remember); however, something still feels… ominous about accepting such an offer. Or maybe you're just being paranoid. The lore books also said dryads instinctively kill humans on sight.

His features darken at your hesitation. "I can guarantee that I've already got a tolerance if you just tried to slip me something," he spits out with a mix of anger and raw hurt. The venom in his tone paralyzes you with fear and for a long moment all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. You swallow around your dry tongue as you struggle to formulate a disarming response.

"It's not like that," you finally say back with the goblet held in both shaky hands. You raise it for a prolonged sip and make a display of showing that you actually took a drink, which seems to assuage his anxiety as much as it does yours, the mead warming your throat and chest as it settles in a warm ball somewhere deep in your core. The Hammerbar meadery doesn't mess around with the efficiency of their products, apparently. "See? If there's something in it now you'll know."

Deku shakes his head. "Then let's hope it's just mead. I'm sorry. I don't think you'd do that." He turns away to pick at the honeycomb and pops a corner into his mouth, which is received with another appreciative noise from deep in his chest.

The conversation is light and easy from the very beginning. He's young for his kind with double your lifespan ahead of him, maybe longer if he "ascends" (a term that has you both laughing in solidarity as you commiserate on your respective mentors). After a good hour of chatting a silence finally lapses between you, the buzz of cicadas filling the space as Deku picks up the last chunk of honeycomb. You sit at the altar's base, just within touching range of the leg he has dangling over the edge of the pedestal, his eerie green eyes trained on you with the sharpness of a royal blade.

He's ethereal in close range. The air around him carries a drift of something wild and feral, like an inaudible drumbeat that thumps in time with your heart.

"Do I make you nervous?" 

That feels like a loaded question if you've ever heard one. He seems to pick up on your hesitation once again and tilts his head, his lips parted slightly around a faint smile that makes your heart skip a beat. "No," you reply, but it's a hollow projection. Deku raises a brow, a clear sign he caught your lie.

"Uh… maybe a little. You said it yourself, human understanding of your kind is apparently woefully inaccurate." Which bothers you a lot. You're one of the people responsible for interpreting every tome in the archive. How much else do humans have wrong?

Deku nods. "I know it's not very helpful, but we don't hate humans. The elders pity your lack of connection to wild magic, but that's a sentiment that's fading with the younger generations."

"And what do you think of us?" 

The Fae pauses, his head tilted askew as he ponders your question. You have the urge to take it back before he replies suddenly, his teeth flashing in a grin that makes your stomach flip and promptly fall into your feet:

"I don't care about other humans. I care about you."

You swallow hard. You're completely unprepared for the weight of his tone. It's all you can do to remember to breathe normally as panic and excitement go to all-out war. You're vaguely aware that you've been warned about this: Fae rely on glamour magic to conceal their true selves while among humans. The closer you are to one and the longer you spend there, the more likely you are to fall for it. This isn't him, you say to yourself in a firm tone. You're seeing a spell. And yet you remain rooted to the spot amid the molasses-thick silence, his emerald eyes transfixed on you like he's trying to bore himself right down to your soul. Logic is no longer enough to make yourself move, to speak, to do anything but watch him with deep fascination. Part of you doesn't want to move at all, and you're vaguely aware that your lack of fear should probably be some kind of warning sign.

He suddenly pushes himself off the altar and lands on his feet, cat-like and eerily graceful, his hand extended to help you up as well. You take it and are immediately shocked by how rough his palm is under your fingers. He doesn't look old enough to have gone through years of hard labor, but his hands tell a completely different story. You frown at your palms where they're flattened together, his weathered fingers draped gently around the side of your hand. He radiates heat like a stone dock in summer. Even with a foot or two between you, you have to wrestle down the urge to step closer and draw yourself into the warmth that surrounds him.

He leans far enough to get your attention and flashes you another dazzling smile (you're not insane, he can't feel even warmer now how is that even possible). "I have a present for you," he chirps. A hand disappears into his satchel and reappears a moment later with a long piece of rich emerald silk. You can't help but beam until your cheeks ache: the delicate gold embroidery along its edges is identical to what is on the linen scarf you've held onto for all these years. The delicate silk threads are woven into a river of shiny deep green that pools around your fingers in feather-light ripples. It's clearly worth more than anything you've ever owned and everything you currently own combined, adding an extra level of surreal that has your head slightly spinning.

"I embroidered it myself," he says, pride radiating through his words. He holds it up with an encouraging nod toward you. "May I?"

It takes your brain a few seconds to catch up with what's happening, but when it does you nod slowly. He closes the gap between you in one slow step and oh, you aren't ready for the scent of earth and pine that radiates from him and the crackle of something intangible that hits you like a mallet once you're nearly standing chest to chest.

The scarf is draped over your shoulders in a single flourish. He secures it in an ornate knot at your throat, his knuckles dragging little brushes of electricity across your skin as you do your best to stay still. Gods, whatever glamour he's using is powerful because he's absolutely breathtaking this close. The freckles you remember from so many years ago are still there, softened by the slight tan of his cheeks but still a pronounced constellation under his soft eyes as he smiles down at you with a mind-nymbing warmth.

"Green is your color," he murmurs close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting across your throat. Your heart flies upward and, on a whim you can't wrestle down, you reach for his hand once again to deftly slide your fingers between his. Deku jumps, clearly startled, but he makes no move to pull away or retreat. In fact, he gives your hand a squeeze in return that makes every hair on your body stand on its end. He draws even closer, pressing out every bit of air between you. Your interwoven hands are guided to between your chests, the breeze and ambient noise from outside coming to a dead standstill.

"I never forgot you," he rumbles, eyes half-lidded from the close proximity. "Not for a second."

"I dreamed about you," you whisper back, and the last few inches between you are gone in an instant. You draw in synchronized inhales as a surprisingly strong set of arms wraps around your back. Your own thread around his waist to clutch at the Fae and keep him pressed close with a sudden flash of desperation. He seems to be of the same mind: he kisses you with a ferocity you've never known, demanding and insistent enough that your lungs' cries for oxygen go willfully ignored. When you finally rip apart it's with another unified inhale and a wonble as the world spins on its ear. You can feel yourself grinning despite the shock still numbing out your brain. 

A Fae kissed you… and you kissed him back without hesitation. There's something unsaid in the room now and it hangs heavy in his stare, which has once again fixated upon you with trickles of gold dancing along the edges of deep green. You quietly gasp. You've never seen feral magic this close. Shouldn't you be afraid by now?

"Come with me," he breathes out of nowhere. Your knees just about give out from shock. What?

"I'm serious." He holds both your hands under his chin. "I can give you things you don't even know exist. Anything you want, I'll make it happen."

You gape back. It's the sort of dramatic offer you read about in children's books, but never in a thousand years did you think you'd really be offered something like this. "Deku…"

"I know it's a lot," he blurts out. "You've spent your whole life here and I would never want to separate you from the world you know, but if I can find you in the same spot twice I'm sure we can find a way to go back and forth -" 

Something in you decided the second he asked. There's no question what your heart wants. You press in again while he's rambling to cut him off with another firm kiss. Deku grunts into it as he's forcibly quieted before a hand gently cradles the back of your head.

You pull away with less ferocity this time and hover in his space, hazy with giddiness. "I didn't say no," you whisper, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder. "But there are things that need to be done in the meantime. I have duties here, Deku."

"We can figure out how to do both," he replies with rapidly growing excitement. The thin gold veins around his irises have begun to overtake the emerald. Your heart thunders as his excitement edges on feral. "Please just consider it. If you want, I can come back this same time next year and we can figure it out from there."

A year seems long enough to your addled brain. "Sure," you wheeze. "One year from tonight."

"One year." Deku nods furtively, but as he lets go of you it's obvious you're not the only one who hates having to do it. He looks to the floor, then to the darkest corner of the room where he'd appeared, then back to you with a smile too heavy for the ones you're used to. "I'll be watching over you. The embroidery of that scarf is kind of powerful, so I'd be careful wearing it around anyone or anything that might pull it."

You look to the fabric tied around your neck and your frown deepens. "What's that supposed to -"

Too late. By the time you look up again he's gone, and the altar in front of you is empty.

---

Part 3

You hold his promise close to your heart and don't breathe a single word of it to anyone, even your mentor. Elspeth would have an absolute fit if she figured out you're planning on not only leaving the temple, but running off with a dryad of all things. And besides that, she doesn't deserve the disrespect of knowing all her years of effort might go to waste. You can't bring yourself to face that very real chance just yet.

You stick to your studies and daily duties as your matron's hearth declines through the year, and nearly a year to the day since Deku's last visit the inevitable comes. Matron Elspeth passes in her sleep with you at her side, holding her hand while humming her favorite hymns until you see her chest rise and fall for the last time. She lived to a blessedly old age, but that doesn't help the fierce tear of grief that rips you open when she's finally gone. Elspeth was essentially your mother along with being your mentor.

And beyond that, if it hadn't been for her, you would have never met Deku.

You head up the organization of her final ceremonies, as is your place. Her pyre is constructed along the edge of the clearing's small lake, a neatly organized stack of wood and highly flammable fabric from the temple with a gap in the middle for her remains. You make sure to include clippings from her favorite lavender box as a final personal farewell.

The pyre is set ablaze with your own torch. This is how it has to be. It's how she sent her mentor off, and it will be how your mentor sends you off as well. You can only hope you've given her the honor she deserves, every decision you've made considered.

You make your way back to the temple alone at sunset while the other attendants remain behind. You need time to think. You've spent every quiet moment that day crying alone. If you don't get a second of true isolation you're going to break in front of half the temple. Elspeth wouldn't like that. You're stronger than your grief, at least for the moment, so you make a beeline for your preferred prayer room and let your feet move in that direction on autopilot, emerald scarf drawn up around your cheeks. You hold it close and will yourself to remain calm until there's a door between you and the rest of the world.

You're running by the time you throw yourself into the altar room and shove the door closed behind you. It lands in its frame with a thunderous BANG that muffles the broken sob that cracks from between the hands you have clutched over your face, along with the shuffling of a second person in the room that had gone unnoticed while you were trying to escape everyone else. A boot heel slides along the marble floor and you whirl around, eyes wide as you peer through the strands of summer dusk that pour through the room's open roof. Your heart flies into your throat with a burst of excitement. "Deku?" you call out, shaking with the urge to throw yourself toward the person as he emerges from the darkest shadowed corner.

But it's not Deku. Elation flips to horror as the lead hunter's son appears with a lecherous grin. He's still a good ten feet away, but you can smell strong booze radiating odd him in nauseating waves. "Why are you here?" you demand. "Only temple attendants are allowed in the prayer spaces alone. You need to leave."

"Do I?" he asks back derisively. Ice floods your veins with his first step. You instinctively shuffle back toward the door. "Because I'm pretty sure I can do what I want. Your temple wouldn't have food without me."

"Without your father," you clarify in a sharp tone. All manners have already been abandoned: this is not the day, and you are not the attendant to bother. You don't want to deal with calling guards or causing a cacophony. You just want to be left alone with your grief.

Your comment makes him clench his jaw. "Without." He takes another heavy step forward, and as he draws closer it becomes apparent how much of a size advantage he has. "Me." He takes another heavy step as your bones ice over. You want to take off, but you're terrified that any sudden movement will just propel him toward you faster, and you're not strong enough to shove the heavy stone door open without a few seconds of effort.

"You're drunk," you point out in hopes of derailing his train of thought. You can feel your pulse thumping hard and fast in your throat. "Go home and sleep it off. I won't tell anyone you were here."

"You think I give a shit f'anyone knows I was here?" he slurs back with increasing volume. "You fuckin' demon worshippers are all th'same, so far up your own ass you wouldn't know a good offer if it kissed you right on th'mouth."

A realization hits you like a brick. "Is this about what happened at my birthday last year?" you ask, using his off-kilter focus to your advantage as you slowly begin to step backward toward the door. "You pushed yourself onto me and wouldn't let me go until I kissed your cheek, then you threatened to drop me off the roof if I didn't accept your marriage proposal on the spot. Do you…" You cut yourself off. Of course he doesn't remember. He'd been just as off his head back then as he is now.

"I was only joking!" he retorts. "Why would I drop m'future wife off a roof? Thasstupid. Y're nuts for thinking I'd actually go through with it."

You successfully baby-step your way to within reach of the carved inlet that serves as the door handle. Just keep him rambling. You can hit him with the door before you take off. "And you're nuts for thinking anyone would immediately accept a marriage offer from someone who reeks like the bottom of an ale barrel."

You know the second you shoot off your mouth that it wasn't a good move. He tenses on the spot, both hands drawn into club-like fists at either side, his stony features pinched with disgust.

"You sayin' you're too good for me, bitch?"

He rushes forward, too fast for you to get the door more than a crack open before he throws a massive shoulder against it to slam it shut once more. You scream as he grabs the front of your robes, praying it echoes down the hall with your heels dug against the floor in a fruitless effort to prevent him from bodily dragging you toward the empty altar. He's far too strong to break away from. Your nails digging into his wrists seems to not even register, even when blood wells under them. "Let go," you plead, wide eyed fixed on the pedestal as he drags you toward it clawing and kicking the whole way.

Nothing seems to faze him. He forces your upper half over the marble pedestal with enough force to knock the wind out of your lungs. You wheeze under the weight of a forearm that presses hard into your upper back, reinforced by extra weight that's too heavy to roll out from under. You struggle the entire time, unwilling to stop, with everything in you that isn't trying to escape screaming toward the Aether for someone, something, anything to see what's going on and intervene. You've spent your whole life serving this temple… why would the Fae abandon you now?

As you flail, a small brown sparrow lands on the edge of the open roof and peers down directly at you two. It chirps once, clear as a bell, and the sound hits something deep and instinctive in your chest.

You aren't given enough time to ponder. He grabs your scarf from behind without warning and the knot instantly digs into your windpipe as he yanks the garment back in an attempt to rip it off of you. You sputter and flail your hands to signal for him to let go, to warn him of the danger that lingers in your head with Deku's last warning, but it's not enough.

You hear a piece of embroidery thread snap somewhere in his closed fist. A gust of humid air blasts across you and the weight above you disappears immediately, followed by a nauseating crunch of bones breaking amid the shatter of cracked marble. You wail in fear, clutching to the warmth that had drifted through you with both arms over your head as you sob into the marble. You can't bring yourself to move yet.

Where are you? You said you'd be watching out for me…

You finally force yourself upright once you begin to lose circulation in your arms. You wipe your face, sniffling quietly as you turn. You nearly collapse as a petrified shriek rips itself out of your chest: the hunter had been thrown back against the marble wall next to the door with enough force to crater it inward. His unmoving frame is slumped over in the center amid a splash of red that drips heavily off the jagged edges around him.

It isn't the wall that grabs your attention, though: his tunic has been ripped with several round puncture wounds arranged in a rough circle, the apparent source of the blood pooling at his sides. You tremble from head to toe despite the summer breeze coursing through the room. The longer you stare at the hunter's chest wounds and the way they're arranged, the more they begin to look like… 

"Antler wounds."

You smack a hand over your mouth like you'd just hexed someone. He really had been watching out… somehow. What kind of magic had gone into your scarf's embroidered edge? You run your fingers over it, seeking out the thread that snapped. The wind dies out in time for you to hear another set of feet shuffling in the room. It's almost too much; you nearly faint with the panic that latches around your throat. You sway back toward the altar to use for leverage as your knees once again threaten to buckle and are bolstered by a rough set of hands that press against your shoulder blades to keep you upright.

You're too strung out to do anything but gape as Deku - the real one, the same one from the year before with his antlers and freckles and big, terrifying green eyes oh gods he's finally here - steps around and immediately yanks you against his chest. You cling back with both arms circled tight around his ribs and let out another ragged sob into the soft fabric of his cloak.

"Are you okay?" he rumbles. You can only nod back and clutch him like he's keeping you anchored to the ground. You feel his head turn above yours, toward the cracked wall and what remains of the hunter, and a low growl vibrates through him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I tried to get here as fast as I could." You feel his arms tighten around your upper half, boxing you in and insulating you from the sight behind him.

"You saved me," you manage to choke back. "You don't have to apologize for anything." You step back far enough to wipe at your eyes and clear your sinuses, trembling like a leaf in the circle of his arms. "What was that? What attacked him?" 

Deku's mouth draws into a tense line. "I can't tell you," he replies. "But I know someone who can." You blink, confused by his ambivalence. "Have you considered what we talked about last year?"

…What? "Of course I have," you retort. Your head hurts. Where's that spiced wine when you need it? "But I hardly think this is a time to talk about-"

"No no no, think about it," Deku cuts in hurriedly. "I don't mean this in a threatening way at all, but the people of your village are going to get suspicious when someone turns up dead with a set of puncture wounds to the chest."

Your entire body numbs out with panic. He's right. Your gaze snaps to the top of his head, where a set of now fully grown antlers jut out of his wild verdant curls. You begin to count how many points they have, but shove the impulse away with disgust. You don't want to know. Even if you did, it's probably for the best to remain ignorant for now.

Voices echo through the open roof from somewhere beyond, possibly the temple courtyard. "I have to go," he says with a hint of genuine hurt. "They can't find me."

This is too much. The decision to leave was always supposed to be planned out. You've had an entire year to get everything ready, only to have your plans shattered into jagged chunks of broken marble by a drunk hunter and some creature powerful enough to kill him with velocity alone. You clutch yourself to his chest again as panic grips your throat with white-hot claws. "We'll find a way to come back, right?" you whisper with a silent prayer of hope to the entire cosmos.

He nods. "I swear it on my name." He pushes you gingerly by the shoulders so he can look you in the face again, his own tense with mounting anxiety. "We have to go now, my sparrow. Please… I'm begging you, come with me. I don't want to go back without you again." His hands tighten over your shoulders as tears well up along the edges of his wide green eyes. "Please."

It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and flung out through the open roof. You open your mouth to blurt out some pained apology for making him assume you'd say no, the voices outside growing louder and clearer in the pause, but can only choke around a whimper as everything you want to say jams in your throat. Instead you simply nod, a single weak incline of your head.

That's all it takes for him to scoop you around the waist again and drag you both sideways toward the corner where he appeared. "You might be kind of shocked when we get through," he warns as he hurls you both toward the marble seam you're convinced is going to split your head open on contact. "Hold your breath!"

The command is sharp enough to make your lungs draw in a deep inhale without conscious thought. Your eyes snap shut as your forehead approaches the shadowed corner; it meets only an icy wall of air as the lights beyond your closed eyelids pitches black. You can feel Deku holding you around the waist, an anchor that keeps you tethered to your own sanity as he rushes you through the dark at breakneck pace. The icy rush whipping against your face seems to deplete the lungful of air you're still stubbornly holding onto and within seconds they're screaming for relief. Deku smacks a hand over your mouth just when you think you're going to break and try to take a breath, and a second later you're both tumbling across the stone floor of an unfamiliar but warm kitchen.

---

Part 4

The second your head stops spinning long enough to see again, you realize there's a woman standing between you and Deku. You weakly recognize the faded emerald of the hair she has trimmed neatly at her shoulders. You glance her over and realize with a jump that the skin you can see around her modest summer dress is a pale shamrock green.

"By the gods, who's chasing you now?"

You blink from where you've landed in a sprawl sprawl against an ornately carved kitchen cabinet, too dizzy from the rush of air that fills your lungs when you take a greedy inhale to answer immediately (even though the question was clearly directed at Deku, who landed upside down with his long legs arched over his head against a stone hearth in a corner of the kitchen). You take another breath, but the bottoms of your lungs feel heavy like they've been filled with a thick gas. Deku slumps over to right himself and immediately looks to you. You're beginning to breathe faster as exhaustion gives way to panic.

The woman turns, fixing you with a look of shock that probably rivals your own. She's a spitting image of Deku, down to the ear points that poke out of her silver-streaked hair and the way her eyes go impossibly wide with genuine emotion. "You're human!" she exclaims.

You nod back, too panicked to form proper words. "Oh… oh, you're human!" 

She jumps into motion like she'd just been zapped by a bolt of lightning. She procures a large wooden bowl from a cabinet and fills it with a few handfuls of herbs snatched from dried bundles hanging over the hearth, then steaming water from a kettle that she carefully pulls out from its resting place in the coals. She mutters something in a lilt you can't follow as the bowl is set on the floor in front of you, the woman following suit to kneel on the other side. "Lean down and breathe through the steam," she instructs gently, tilting down to encourage the motion. "The air here is different from the other side. You need to coat your lungs before they start rejecting the pollen floating around."

You tilt forward with a choked noise of panic and take as deep of a breath as you can with the steaming water wafting up across your face. Relief finds you immediately: you can draw a breath all the way to the bottom of your lungs, which takes the edge off your panic enough to finally slow down your respiration rate.

"There you go," the woman encourages gently. She rests a small, comforting hand between your shoulders that's shockingly cold for how warm the kitchen is. "You should be fine now." She turns to give her son an exasperated look. "You brought a human back without giving her anything to prepare?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Deku pleads back. "It was that or risk an entire war on their side-" 

The woman holds up a hand to stop him and Deku immediately obeys. "Hold on," she says slowly, turning back to look at you with both brows raised. Her gaze drops to your neck and freezes. "You're the temple girl, the one he's been going to see."

The room goes silent, spare the crackling of the fireplace and your own rapid heartbeat. The older dryad watches, still as stone as she takes you in with one long look before staring at the fabric around your neck once more. All you can do is nod back. something akin to pain flashes across her face and she sits up with a fond smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but I think it might be best if you let my son explain a majority of them over some tea. You look exhausted."

My son. "So you're Deku's mother?"

The dryad wrinkles her nose. "Yes," she replies stiffly. "Though I very much dislike his chosen name. It's undignified." She turns to Deku again. "You haven't given her your name yet?"

Deku waves his hands in front of him and goldfishes for a response before you cut in. "It's not his fault," you quickly counter. "I didn't want to offer mine. I was raised in a temple that had some pretty strict rules against that in particular."

"Understandable. Though I can't say I'm thrilled at the prospect of my own son having courted someone for nearly an entire year-" (Courted, what!?) "-Without even having offered his name."

"I did offer it!"

His mother chuckles. "I have to fetch someone who will be of much more significant counsel than I, but that will give you two some time to settle in."

You nod in acknowledgment, but her words don't really process in your brain. Now that you're breathing normally again, exhaustion has begun to creep into your bones. You'd been going on fumes before the hunter decided to ambush you, and now that you've quietly literally been flung through a Fae circle it's hard to do anything but lean against the cabinet. The dryad brushes her hand over your shoulder as she passes on her way out. "My name is Inko" echoes through your own head with the contact, jarring you into a sharp yelp, which only makes her chuckle in the same light-as-air way as Deku.

"Well… this is a hell of a way to meet someone's parents."

Said dryad has found his feet and is watching you with a sheepish smile, a hand absently scratching at the base of an antler. "At least it's over now?"

Your head thumps back against the cabinet. This is too much. You need to sleep. If you don't find somewhere to lay down soon, your body is going to give out. "Could we just…" You glance around the kitchen and into the room beyond, where another hearth flickers around a circle of ornately carved wooden den furniture. Perfect.

He follows your line of sight and seems to catch on without you having to finish your request. He moves toward you, arms extended to help you to your feet. When you wobble upon standing he immediately seams your sides up to take a gentle lead toward the sitting room. The furniture all looks hand-carved, the seats made up of soft animal hides that look older than both of you. He lays you down on the longest bench with a small blanket under your head for a pillow, the deerhide that's draped over the back of the sofa gently pulled across you for a proper blanket.

"We can talk later." He leans down to press a kiss to your temple. You groan as he turns to move away, an arm shooting out from under the hide to grab his tunic and hold him in place.

"Wait," you plead quietly, fatigue tugging heavily at your eyelids. "Please stay with me, at least until I fall asleep." You have no idea where you are or how long you'll be out. All you know is Deku being gone means you're here alone and you absolutely cannot bear that thought.

A soft smile breaks across his face. "Of course," he murmurs back. "Anything you need, just like I promised." You scoot to make room and he steps over to fit himself between you and the back of the sofa without prompting. This is what you really needed: a space heater behind you, a fire in front, and a strong arm draping itself over your midsection to hold the knotted ends of your scarf as you both drift off. If nothing else, Deku has more than proven he'll kill anything that comes near you… or at least has access to something that can.

He's still there when you come to. The lighting in the room hasn't changed when you open your eyes to peer around, and it isn't until now that you notice neither the kitchen nor den have any windows. The fire has burned down to a low pile of flickering embers, which means you were at least out long enough to burn through what had been there earlier. With no view of the sun, however, it's impossible to tell how long you were out.

Your stirring rouses Deku, who grunts in his sleep and pulls you back into his chest. The arm cradled under yours has turned an eerie cold. When it registers you sit up to face him, concerned until it snaps into another bolt of shock.

You yelp and fall off the edge of the sofa. Deku's skin has turned a shade of green identical to his mother's, his freckles standing out in sharp contrast. He bolts upright as well, looking around for the source of the panic before he spots you on the floor, half covered by the deer hide you'd accidentally tugged with you. "What's wrong?" he asks urgently, glancing around again.

"You're…"

He gives you a puzzled look, then glances down to where you're staring at his forearms. "Oh!" His hands rub absently at the opposite forearm as his cheeks flush ever so slightly. "Uh… yeah. I told you you might be a little shocked."

Shit. You did it again. You push yourself up to scoot onto the end of the sofa near his feet, and he respectfully folds his legs up to his chest to give you room without having to make contact. It's a gesture you appreciate, but not one you (or him) necessarily need. You sidle up to his shins, where you lean your side with your hands acting as a chin rest on his knees.

"Surprised is more the word," you clarify before poking your tongue out at him playfully. "A little advance notice would have been nice."

"Hey now," Deku chuckles. "I tried. We had a solid plan going there for a minute." He reaches a hand forward and, with a twitch of hesitation, shifts a lock of hair off your forehead and behind an ear. His fingertips are ice cold, a sharp juxtaposition to the warmth in his tone and the care with which he brushes across your skin. "I'm glad you're here, regardless of how it came to be. I've thought of you every single day since my last visit."

How had anyone mistaken dryads for monsters? If the others are a fraction as kind as Deku and his mother, then they've been handed a grave injustice when it comes to human comprehension of their kind. You lean your head toward his hand and he opens his fingers. Your cheek brushes against his weathered palm, eliciting a shiver that courses down your back as the temperature of his skin clashes against the warmth of the den. For a long moment you simply exist, anchored by the green stare fixed upon your own and the callused thumb that smooths over your cheek. Whatever it takes for you to keep this kind of tenderness around will be well worth the effort. You've already decided (long ago, you silently realize) that he is the only one you ever want to be this close to you.

"Do I make you nervous?"

You're taken back to the altar room for a moment as you recall the image of Deku sitting on the pedestal, bathed in pale light with the cicadas humming behind his ethereal laugh. "No," you reply truthfully, hushed and reverent in the slowly disappearing space between you as you both lean forward. Both your eyelids lower as you both lean closer. It's a chaste contact when Deku leans in to kiss you, as soft as his tone and the way he brushes the rest of your hair from the side of your face. Within a few seconds, the soft contact is enough to have you melting against his hand.

A deep male voice breaks the reverie from somewhere behind Deku: "Ah, excuse us…"

This time you both jump hard enough to nearly land on your asses. Deku pushes himself back until he thumps against the arm rest of the sofa as Inko enters the room, followed by what can only be described as a mountain of a man with wild goldenrod hair and deep-set sclera black eyes, their vivid contrasting pupils locked directly on you as he and the dryad approach.

"I hate to be a bother and intrude on such a formative moment, but Inko was insistent upon checking to make sure you're both still alive." He bows his head in deep apology. You're startled by how easily he seems to hold himself level with the massive antlers jutting out of his hair; they're taller than his head and several inches wider on either side. As you force yourself to not take count of the antler points, you vaguely wonder to yourself how he fits through doorways or in anything less than giant-sized.

Deku rises to his feet, and you quickly follow suit. "Ahh, this is my father," he says quickly. "I get the feeling you two are going to be fast friends."

"If you're willing to risk traversal sickness for her, she's got to be worth her weight in gold," the man booms back. He approaches with a hand the size of a serving platter toward you, the deep lines of his face bent around a beaming grin you recognize on the spot. "My name is Yagi Toshinori. Don't worry, it's safe to introduce yourself to me. I'm not Fae."

You twitch your head to the side but take his hand to shake it anyway, suddenly flummoxed. "But the antlers…"

"A by-product of the life I've found for myself." He lifts an arm as Inko steps up to his side and lays it over her back. It's kind of amusing to see such a small woman under the arm of a moving mountain, but the care with which he moves about her is heart-warmingly familiar. "All by choice, zero regrets."

The two of them take a seat on a smaller bench in the den, and you and Deku take your seats once they're both settled. "The drop in is rough, eh? That ice tunnel is awful."

You frown back. "How did you find this place?" 

"I didn't find this place." He puts his arm behind Inko's neck, who leans into him with an appreciative hum. "I found my wife first. She's the one who brought me here."

You can't help but laugh, and mercifully the other three join in. "That sounds familiar," you reply through a chuckle.

"It happens less than it used to, but it's not unheard of," Inko adds. "I had a feeling my son would be following in my footsteps."

There's just enough flatness to her words that you squirm on the spot. "I hope that's not a bad thing," Deku says as he draws himself closer to your side. "Unless my logic is severely flawed, there wouldn't be a son to follow in your footsteps if you hadn't done it first."

Yagi lets out an undignified snort. Inko tries to frown, but it breaks around a smile as she nods in defeat. "All the same, I wish this hadn't been so sudden," she adds. "Not that I'm upset you're here now-" She holds a hand up quickly toward you. "-It was just rather abrupt. I wish we could have had time to prepare a proper welcome."

You glance down to your lap. "Deku saved me from something terrible," you respond quietly. "We didn't really have a choice in the matter." You look up again to offer the older dryad an encouraging smile. "Though rest assured he's been nothing but respectful the entire time I've known him." You bow your head politely. "Your hospitality is much appreciated. Thank you for giving me shelter."

Something behind Inko's eyes softens enough to make your heart twist. She watches you for a long moment, studying you as you do your best to not squirm. "The door has been opened for this place to potentially become your home," she replies to break the silence. "No need to speak of it as a foreign place. You already belong."

You feel Deku draw in a sharp breath. When you glance up to him he's hastily wiping his eyes on the back of his free hand. "Don't mind me," he chirps with a slight tremble. "This is normal. Been a crybaby since I was a sapling."

"You are not a crybaby," Yagi jabs back as he casually swipes a thumb under one of his eyes. "You have a heart."

And I wonder where he gets it, you think to yourself as you lean into Deku's side to comfort him.

The situation that brought Deku's parents together is so similar to your own it's almost eerie: Toshinori had been a well-known hunter from another village who found himself "lost" during an extended journey into the forest; in reality, he'd been lured away from the village so a team of rogues could take him out and claim his hunting grounds. He reached out for Inko, who'd already been coming around in a similar fashion to Deku responding to your meditation, and she answered by snaring the entire group in a wave of venom-thorned vines before sweeping him through a circle and away from the chaos. They were married within a year, and Deku came along a few years after that.

"It's oddly romantic, when you take out the death-by-murder-vine part," you offer to keep the mood light. All three of them laugh, especially Inko, who chortles behind her hand until her cheeks turn pink.

Something is digging at you, though. You can't let the entire moment go without at least trying to ask. "You said you're human," you repeat to Yagi. "But you also say the antlers come from magic. I thought we couldn't access magic."

"We can't," he replies casually. Thank goodness, you'd been incredibly nervous about broaching such a personal subject. "Not by default, at least. Humans haven't earned the right as a whole. However, sometimes things happen and the magic itself chooses someone who might be worth it." He nods toward the scarf tied around your neck. "Not just anyone can affect a connection through something like that. It takes something predetermined by forces beyond our control for that connection to be forged at all."

The air in your lungs evaporates. "So this was fate."

Yagi nods sagely. "Yes, as was me coming here. We aren't the first, and we won't be the last." He jabs a finger at Deku, who's taken to clinging to your side like a newborn bear cub. "His antlers, however, come from a direct blood connection to feral magic. He's full dryad, and it'll be even more apparent once he's eventually the most powerful one."

The world screeches to a halt amid Yagi's beaming pride. You feel Deku go very, very still next to you. "Um… I beg your pardon?"

"The Ascendant," Inko answers. "There is a thread of feral magic more concentrated than anything else recorded in our history. It chooses who it resides within, and whoever that force chooses is essentially the most powerful being in our charted world." She inclines her head toward her son. "And one day that will be him."

You look between the two of them, then back to Yagi. "So that means you're the Ascendant."

"For the moment. My time is coming to an end soon. I've served my purpose, so it's time for the next cycle to begin."

"You don't mean…"

Yagi's eyes go wide. "Oh no no no, I'm not going to die, dear," he booms. "It's time for me to pass along my power. I'm fortunate to have a successor in time, and it would seem like this little excursion is a good indicator he might be prepared for it."

"We don't know that," Deku cuts in, and it isn't until now that you notice how flushed his cheeks are. "It'll happen if it's meant to happen, right?" You lay a hand on his knee that's immediately covered by one of his own. He sags into your side in quiet gratitude.

Inko nods. "And it hasn't happened yet, so we won't fret about it for now." Her tone is soft, but there's a comforting finality ronit that effectively ends the subject for discussion.

You're given a tour of their house, which Deku fervently clarifies is not the place where he's lived for several years (Inko replies with a smug "And yet there's almost always a third plate at the table", which seems to be more than enough for him to take a back seat with his dad and let Inko lead them around). She walks you through the lower floor, where several cozy bedrooms are situated around a circular pit set into the floor. The center is full of a myriad of cushions and pillows in an eye-catching pile of patterns and colors all jumbled together in a space wide enough to fit at least three Yagis with extra foot room. "You can pick any of the empty rooms for yourself," Inko says to you sweetly before shooting a pointed look toward her son, who drops his head and shuffles anxiously on the spot. "But I ask that you remain in yours. I know you're grown, but this is my-"

Deku squirms harder. "Yep, got it," he confirms hastily. It's clear there's literally anything else he'd rather be talking about. "Can we start dinner? I'm starving."

Your stomach audibly rumbles at the mention of food. Yes, that's an excellent idea for more than one reason. When is the last time you ate? If you can't remember, it's probably been way too long. Yagi sweeps everyone toward the stairs with both arms stretched to herd them forward. You silently thank him with a smile as he squeezes your shoulder on the way past.

Four people working at once means dinner is made with a quickness, something you're intensely grateful for when you finally sit down to ea. Your stomach hurts from lack of food so much it almost hurts more to eat until you've got enough sustenance in you to level out. You see to the tableware afterward as Deku cleans what remains of the kitchen mess. The other two take their leave for the night with one last round of greeting, Inko's eyes trained on her son as she warns him about "straying past boundaries" on the way toward the stairs, her husband chortling the whole time.

You and Deku wait in silence until a door audibly opens and closes again. "Well," Deku chirps as he turns to face you with an equally cheeky grin. "I guess I'll bid you goodnight here as well. I'll show you where I live tomorrow, once we've both had a chance to sleep." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it with a dramatic bow. "Sweet dreams, my sparrow."

You snort and take your hand back, but not before giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Good night, Deku." His grin turns sly as he moves off to his own room, leaving you to find the smallest unoccupied bedroom for yourself.

---

Part 5

The next morning both Inko and Yagi see you both out, the former not allowing her son to leave the house before he's verbally promised to come by soon (and in a hushed whisper to keep you safe). It isn't until you're outside that the lack of windows is explained: the front of Inko's home is set underneath the roots of a gargantuan tree that juts straight up toward the sky in a massive straight line. You peer upward toward the canopy, but it's so far above the other trees the bare trunk is swallowed by the forest crown on all sides with no way to see beyond. The house sits at the head of a narrow trail with more angled trees visible down the road. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get settled," he reminds, offering you a bent elbow.

You smile and slip a hand onto his forearm. You take the short walk to his home in lockstep, Deku's skin cooler in the open breeze where it brushes under your fingers. The air is heavy with humidity and the chill of a light fog that hovers over the trail as you walk down it, bugs chirping and creaking from the grass on either side of the path. It's… idyllic.

Deku's house is almost identical to Inko's, but it's only a single floor and houses, much to your delight, a natural spring under the kitchen. He waves you toward it with a grin and something about a fresh tunic, but that devious little glint in his eye is back when he meanders off to change his clothes as you see yourself downstairs.

The hot spring is a deep pool in its own room with a shallow end that slopes up to the water's edge. The torch-illuminated rock wall behind it shimmers with a stream of water that runs down from somewhere above and down into the pool in a soft, trickling wall, next to a sitting area has been carved out of the rock to the right side of the pool. You dig out a couple of towels and a robe made of butter-soft material from a cabinet before ridding yourself of your dirty temple garb and every garment underneath it, your prized scarf folded lovingly on top of the pile before everything gets placed in a basket next to the edge of the pool. You can't bring yourself to leave the scarf somewhere out of arm's reach, and your robes are the last real thing you own.

The water is hot when you step onto the shallowest shelf, not enough to burn but definitely enough to pull a groan of satisfaction from you as you eagerly step in until you're submerged to your bare chest. Every muscle in your back begins to unclench themselves within seconds. You sink lower into the water, past your chin with a slow inhale and all the way down until your knees touch the stone floor of the pool. Everything goes quiet in a rush of water: it fills your ears and drowns out everything else but the odd bubble of warmth you've found below the water's surface. Your nerves balm themselves over for the first time since flying through the ring amid the trickling quiet. I's just you here, with no one else to drop another surprise on you. You stay submerged as long as you can before pushing back up to breach the surface with a satisfied gasp, your head clearer than it's been for days.

You wipe at your face to clear your eyes of excess water and the first thing you see is Deku hovering at the edge of the shallow bank, a towel slung low over his hips. You yelp and jump back amid a slosh of water, partially out of shock and partially to keep yourself from immediately staring at his bare torso. It isn't enough to stave off the newfound knowledge that he's built like a sprint courier and that he's very, very much naked under the towel. "Gods, you've got to quit startling me," you whimper as you swipe a wet hand over your face.

Deku laughs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. To be fair, you were underwater when I opened the door."

You grouse back, but it has no heat. He's right.

"Can I join you?"

Your playful frown turns genuine. "I thought that was understood."

"You didn't say I could come close. You're vulnerable right now. If you tell me to stay out, I will."

"You're very polite for someone who's already stripped down."

His cheeks flush bright pink. "I was hopeful," he replies in an obvious attempt to be aloof, but it doesn't quite mesh with the way he keeps jerking his gaze away from the surface of the water (and, you realize with a bolt of mortification, a clear enough view of your naked form for him to definitely see). "But I meant what I said."

The urge to test him and see what happens flashes through you, but it doesn't seem worth the effort. At the end of it all, you do want him to come closer. You step toward him, willing yourself to keep moving as the water lowers enough to expose your chest. Deku seems equally dead-set on keeping his eyes raised, your flushes a matching shade of garish pink now and getting deeper as you come within arm's reach of him and offer a hand.

"Please?"

His hesitation snaps in an instant. Deku throws the towel aside and hurtles toward the pool, only giving you barely enough time to step aside and avoid the splash of water that cascades over you. He resurfaces and shakes his hair out before turning to face you, grinning from ear to ear. "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?"

Given your own doubts, there's only one real way to tell. You take the initiative and glide toward him in two long steps and snake your arms around his neck. As soon as you're in reach he pulls you in by the waist and kisses the air right out of your lungs. You break away for a breath, but as soon as you've gotten it he tugs you again and the kiss quickly grows sharper with edges of teeth that clack together every time one of you readjusts your head. A hand pushes into your hair to cradle the back of your head; when you tilt into the angle of his hand he presses his tongue past your lips and all bets are off.

The delicacy with which he's touched you so far is gone. Deku kisses like he's been starved of contact for years on end. You give back everything you're given with enthusiasm until you're both struggling to inhale. A dam has been broken: every bit of excitement, fear, doubt, and loneliness that's eaten at you over the years rushes forth in a tidal wave and it's all you can do to cling to him and hope you're not going to wake up in your own bed at any second.

You finally separate with a wet pop. The both of you hover close enough to brush together as you struggle to regain some composure. Deku sighs quietly, his chest still rising and falling hard enough to disturb the water around him. "So I'm not dreaming," he says quietly. "Good. I dunno if I could have handled waking up without you again."

His admission wobbles around a thread of genuine hurt that has you pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around him tight. You circle your fingernails over the backs of his shoulders in lazy circles. "You don't have to," you murmur into his ear. "We're both here now." Which, wow that's a wild truth, but it's a truth nonetheless.

Deku clings back with his face buried in the crook of your neck. A silence lapses with only trickling water to fill the gap. There's no need for either of you need to say anything: there's a wealth of communication in the reciprocal drags of his nails, the tiny ghosting pecks he leaves under your ear, the little sighs when you drag your nails up toward his neck. You're more than aware of the fact that there's something hard pressing into your lower stomach that definitely isn't his abs, but your curiosity can wait.

He doesn't seem to agree. The pecks along your throat lengthen into full kisses as he settles above the thump of your pulse. A faint drag of teeth makes you jump and he muffles a laugh into your neck. "So jumpy," he purrs.

You give him a nip to an earlobe in retaliation. He jumps on the spot as you chuckle into his ear: "Who's jumpy?"

That seems to hit a switch. You're pulled up and out of the water in one unceremonious grab as Deku hauls you over a shoulder. Your yelp echoes off the walls but he pays them no mind, spare a wet smack to your bare ass. He doesn't leave you with any other real option besides being hauled out of the spring and up the stairs once again.

His room is somewhere deep in the house. It's impossible to ascertain exactly what anything looks like while you're slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, so when he shuts the door of a bedroom warmed by a crackling floor pit it's a bit of a shock.

You fully expect to be thrown down, but instead he braces you under the knees and neck to set you on an impossibly soft blanket stretched across his bed. He steps back, a look of apprehension on his features when they come back into view. "As much as I want this," he says as your sense of gravity corrects itself. "I won't touch you unless you want me to. That was rather… abrupt, and I apologize for it."

It takes a second for you to realize why he's even apologizing. The guilt twisting across his face is what makes it click: you hadn't told him to pick you up. It's your turn to frown as you lean toward him. "I'm not mad," you offer gently. "But I appreciate your apology. It's okay. I want to be here."

Deku's apprehension ebbs, but doesn't completely disappear. "You give me your word?"

You nod without hesitation. His smile returns immediately, radiant amid the firelight, and your stomach flips with elation as he eagerly closes the distance between you.

He settles low between your spread knees, a solid weight that keeps you in place without much room to breathe, let alone think. You're dizzy with the intensity, but you kiss him back with every bit of fervor you're given. Deku groans against your flattened tongues. "Can I taste you?"

You nod without opening your eyes and the weight above you slides downward. It's definitely for the best that you hadn't watched him move: a long, hot tongue drags up your slit and draws your back up off the bed in a graceful arc. He seizes you around the waist with a muffled groan.

He takes you apart with a ferocity that's almost scary. Sharp dives of his tongue punctuate the moments he's not wrapped around your core, alternating every time your wails start to get louder or shake apart. You grip at the blanket above your head for an anchor, but abandon it in favor of the verdant curls on top of his head when a cruel twist of his tongue has you pushing nearly all the way off the bed.

His name flying past your lips mixes with a weak moan from the juncture where his face is buried. "Watch the horns," he whimpers (gods, it shouldn't be so hot to hear someone's voice crack). "But do that again."

You tighten your grip obligingly. His head pulls ever so slightly against your grip when he returns to devouring you with a newfound focus. Something thick prods past your folds and you jerk your head up in surprise, but it's a critical mistake. You're afforded a full view of him with his tongue pressed flat to your core and two thick fingers burying themselves to the thickest knuckle and it rips you right over the edge before you can even draw a breath.

He coaxes you through it, drinking you down with your thighs wedged directly over his ears. When you can finally move them away, you're almost concerned you might have hurt him. But then he sits up, his chin shining in the dim light with a wet grin planted just above it, and there's absolutely no doubt he was just as into it as you were. Your own grin edges on feral. "You gonna stop there, or are you gonna take care of yourself as well?"

Deku snorts with an edge of derision that has you shivering. "You think I'm done with you?"

Oh.

He's back in position with one sharp swoop. This time he throws either leg over his own, splaying your knees wide around his ribs. A wave of self-awareness punches you square in the gut as he drags his eyes down the length of your exposed frame. "Incredible," he breathes. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you."

You squirm, but will yourself to remain still. It's almost too much. There's so much tenderness behind the wild thrum shaking through him you're not sure how you even deserve it. Thankfully, his patience seems to run out just as your resolve to remain still snaps. He kisses you again as something thicker presses into you, drawing out a prolonged moan from both of you that breaks off when your laps settle together. "Hang on," Deku grunts hard against your lips. "N-need a second."

He's shaking under your arms where they're circled around his neck, but that could very easily also be you. "Yeah. Gods, Deku, you're-"

"Izuku."

The entire room goes still. He locks eyes with you, his own blown wide with only a ring of gold-flecked emerald left. Fear jumps across them while his throat bibs around a hard swallow. "That's my name. I just want you to have it. You don't have to give me yours."

Fear twists your heart for just a beat before it's replaced by a heavy warmth. You reach a hand up toward his face where it hovers just above yours, tentative and soft, the finger that curls his hair behind an ear ever so gentle. "Soon," you whisper back.

Izuku beams. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

Your lips crash together again, both of them curved upward around matching smiles. Izuku sets up a pace that keeps you close while still allowing him to take the lead and kiss the air out of your lungs, skin softly popping together with shallow thrusts without stopping. He has each hip in hand again with a grip that slowly increases with his breathing. Before long you're both panting into each other's ear, your head thrown back while he worries your throat with his teeth and grunts with barely restrained need.

"Won't last long," he rumbles.

You nod your acknowledgment. You've been a puddle since the second he laid you on the bed and took you apart like a prized garment. It's only fair he ends up just as boneless as you. You set your knees around his ribs to lift yourself into him, but both knees are pushed to the bed just as quickly. Izuku is watching where your bodies meet with a feverish focus. He doesn't seem entirely aware that he's got you completely splayed open but he thrusts hard and deep anyway, guttural noises punching out of him in time with the snapping of wet skin.

He finds an angle that seems to hit right up into your midsection and it's all over. He rips a wail out of you before your mouths are sealed together again, his pace unrelenting. You fall apart hard enough to make your entire frame quake under his grip, which has tightened enough to leave deep bruises where his fingers dig into your thighs. Just when it feels like you might actually have to tap out or risk going unconscious he thrusts in one more time with a sharp growl, then another, then a final one deep in his chest as he rolls himself into your hips and finally paints your insides white hot.

You're both trembling like leaves when he finally collapses on top of you again. You run your nails through the damp curls over his temples as he returns the favor along your hips, idle and tender despite the harsh bruises you can feel blooming along your inner thighs. Your breathing comes back slowly as you lazily kiss through the aftershocks, hands never ceasing in their wandering. It's a perfect feedback loop of calm and relief with only the fire to witness in the otherwise empty house.

As your breathing returns to normal you nudge Izuku up enough to meet his eyes. They've gone back to their normal emerald, the flicker of the fire catching hair-thin veins of gold. With the curved points of his horns looming overhead and flush-kissed shamrock skin, he should be some kind of intimidating. Instead, you can't stop staring at him. He's ethereal, more so than anything you've ever seen in any tome or heard in any story. He's real. He's flesh and bone and big, soft eyes and a heart entirely too warm for a creature who could take down minotaurs bare-handed.

And yet he looks at you like you're made of Faerie porcelain.

The corners of your mouth curl upward. You beckon for him to lean forward again and he does so, seemingly as transfixed as you. You pull him down so your lips can brush the shell of his ear and, after a ghosting kiss to his cheek, you whisper your name.

[dreamieofu]

Just a Best Friend

pairing: haechan x reader  ft. jeno word count: 3.5k genre: best friends to lovers!au, college!au, angst and a little fluff(?) summary: You’ve been best friends for so long, but when Donghyuck sees you with someone else, he wants you.  warning(s): requested! ♡ jealous hyuck, slightly possessive hyuck... let me know if u catch more lmao

Donghyuck’s been next to you for as long as you can remember. Most of your early years of adolescence had images of his smiles, his teasing and his jokes. Happiness is what you find when you think about your best friend, warmth. Naturally, as you grew together, you started to see him differently. Donghyuck was now evidently taller than you, more confident and it seemed that he really grew into his big boy shoes. Although you felt a bit behind, in ways of him being able to get anyone to fall for him. Mr. Charismatic, he seemed to be everyone's friend. But, knowing he was the one waiting, leaning against the school gates, for him to walk you home; made you feel special. Because, even if everyone can call Donghyuck their friend, you’re his best friend.

He also had a soft spot, unknowingly, for you. Donghyuck liked the way you felt familiar, the way you made him feel grounded. Regardless of all the times he’d have his head in the clouds, you were there. Donghyuck also watched you grow, he can call out all of your little phases. But throughout all, you still remained you. A caring heart, a beautiful soul. In some sorts, you both compliment each other. Donghyuck was the end of your sentence, the start of your world. From the outside, it shows you’re both close. And no matter how many constant comments of “Are you two dating?” Donghyuck never expressed anything in the slightest that hinted romance to blossom between you. Even throughout the years, your feelings were a switch of platonic and infatuation. You never resolved for him to reciprocate. Maybe you’d write his name with a heart on your notes occasionally, but you’ve settled in your heart: Donghyuck was better off. Sometimes, in your seasons of fixation he’d have a different girl follow him. Someone temporary under his arm, whispering in his ear. But after each girl, he ended up back to you. Finding home within you.

In this particular season of Autumn, Donghyuck had a different girl he was flirting around with. Although none of these girls were of seriousness, all playful. It still weighed heavy in the corners of your mind. Pining and wishing you’d be the one he’d look at with crescent eyes and a warm embrace. You drifted this time. Distancing away slightly, a bit drained out seeing him with yet another who’s not you. You weren’t sure if he did notice, but he didn’t ask around for you either. You found yourself hanging out with somebody else. He was kind, and also had an infectious smile. Both you and Donghyuck had separate friends outside your tiny party of two. And Jeno was one of those friends. Jeno knew about your feelings towards Donghyuck, and you’re thankful he doesn’t judge you too much from your mumbling frustrations about him.

“It’s just… annoying. Whenever he dates around with another girl, he goes all side tracked.” You puff out, head falling onto your arms in front of you. Stretched out and resting against the wooden library table. You lift your chin to peek at Jeno’s face. He’s sat in front of you, eyes skimming through a textbook. You don’t wait to see if he’s listening because you carry on with your tangent. “Like, for example, he completely blew off our movie night! We have a movie every Thursday!” whining, your tone sparks a bit higher. This catches Jeno’s amused eyes as he flips the page, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, maybe you should tell him then.” He speaks truthfully, but in a playful manner. You lightly kick his foot under the table and he smiles at your poor attempt to hurt him. “Speaking of him,” Jeno mutters, eyebrows raising, and eyes diverting towards the library entrance. Your head turns along with his gesture, instantly locking eyes with none other than Donghyuck himself. And you inwardly roll your eyes, because it’s unfair. Unfair how effortlessly mesmerising he was under the cool lights of the library. He’s wearing your favourite hoodie (one that he’s let you borrow countless amounts of times for sleepovers) and his adidas sweatpants. Donghyuck rakes his fingers through his hair in a quick motion once he enters. Eyes meeting yours and an instant smile begins to form at the corners of his lips. He’s quick with his steps, making his way towards you. But you feel too flustered, quickly looking away just as fast as you noticed him. You send a look of panic to Jeno in front of you, but he just smiles. Awaiting the events that’ll unfold in front of him, making your state all the more amusing.

Before you know it, Donghyuck’s standing next to the edge of the table. His ring clad hands pressed against the wood in front of you. “Y/N… I tried looking for you everywhere,” panting slightly, barely acknowledging Jeno. You look up to Donghyuck through your eyelashes, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “But you didn’t look for me last night… for our movie night,” You fight him, lifting your chin. Your words and actions are barely passive aggressive because you’re pouting. This makes Donghyuck scoff at your cute antics, he did feel slightly guilty though. “Hey… I told you already, I couldn’t. I had a thing… You know, a girl thing.” He tries to indirectly apologise, mirroring your sulk. This makes Jeno laugh to himself as he crosses his arms and leans back against his chair, watching the both of you. You roll your eyes again, making a small noise as you turn your head away from Donghyuck’s lean figure. “Fine, I’ll just have those movie nights with Jeno.” You remark, teasingly. Jeno furrowed his eyebrows, before quickly looking toward Donghyuck for a reaction; because clearly you’re only saying so to push his buttons. “Who?” Donghyuck almost spits.

“Jeno.” You repeat his name more confidently looking at Jeno in the eye. A devilish smile forming, “Isn’t that right? You’ll watch a movie with me?” You completely ignore Donghyuck’s reaction, trying to telepathically scream at Jeno to play along. Your gaze is intense as Jeno gulps. “Yeah,” is all Jeno manages to get out of his mouth. His throat suddenly felt closed up and dry from the tension between you and Donghyuck. Jeno isn’t even looking at you - as his eyes were on Donghyuck who’s been boring holes into your head, whilst you watch Jeno. But as he looks at Donghyuck, he regrets it in a second as Donghyuck looks back. Finally acknowledging him. Jeno straightens his back, sitting up as he looks back at Donghyuck. He can’t read the look on his face, as he kicks your foot under the table for help. Silently pleading for you to say something. “Jeno is my friend,” You explain to Donghyuck, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. Donghyuck stays trained on Jeno’s figure, trying to figure out the type of relationship you both have, even though you just told him. A bit of jealousy tinges in him as he watches the way Jeno looks at you. He also heard the way Jeno kicked at your foot under the table. He didn’t like that, but you didn’t know. After a beat and a few seconds of him feeling embarrassed. Donghyuck tuts his tongue and leaves. Without looking back. You’re obviously confused, as you watch him leave. But Donghyuck always comes back to you, so you let him walk. Without putting up a fight. You sigh content that you managed to irritate Donghyuck, leaning back into your chair. “So movie night?” You grin, ignoring stunned Jeno in front of you. You begin to slowly pack your things as Jeno blinks at your actions. “He seemed more upset than usual. I don’t know-” Jeno starts, before you interrupt him. “No. He’s fine, trust me. He’ll probably call me later,” You send Jeno another reassuring smile and he feels more at ease, beginning to pack his belongings into his bag also. You both leave the library together. You walk out having small talk, mostly about this new Netflix show that premiered earlier in the week. Linking arms, to make way towards your dorm room. Jeno was easy to talk to, and you almost felt as comfortable around him as you did with Donghyuck. Of course the levels of comfort you found in Donghyuck was incomparable. You feel that Jeno thinks the same way. What you don’t notice though, is your best friend, who’s sat on a bench across the library. He’s sat with the same girl he ditched your plans for the night before. The girl's arms clung around his neck, whining about something he doesn’t even listen to. Donghyuck notices you almost right away, from the sound of your voice once you left the building of the library. He’s rarely ever saw you with a male friend and Jeno was new to him. Donghyuck thought you shared everything with him, similar to the way he does for you. And the fact that you didn’t tell him about the fellow, didn’t sit right with him. Donghyuck peels off the girl's arm, leaning forward to weigh his elbows on his knees. He holds his hands near his mouth, thinking, as he watches you walk somewhere linking arms with Jeno. Something feels heavy on his heart, seeing you hold someone else the way you’d walk around with him. Recently, if Donghyuck was honest with himself; he was dating around with different girl’s as a mechanism and a distraction for the way he’s realised he’s felt for you. He doesn’t know when it started, but he found his heart picking up a beat whenever you did the slightest unintentional thing towards him. He drove him mad, especially with the fact that he couldn’t let a single thing change whatever relationship you had for each other in this moment. Years of friendship weighed on his shoulders, tense and lined through all his veins holding him back from holding you the way his heart really wants.

“Okay,” You squeal, handing Jeno your special selection of ‘pick me up’ movies. Jeno skims through the movies and picks one. You arrived at your dorm a few minutes earlier, and so far you’ve received no call or update on Donghyuck, usually he caves in by now and gives you a call. But nothing. You shrug it off and wiggle your way to connect the movie to the projector you had in your room. You and Jeno were snug in your rather small, but comfortable enough, single bed. Knees up to your chest as a pillow laid between the both of you whilst watching. You’ve put your phone to the side, almost forgetting about Donghyuck. But he still seemed to itch the back of your mind. You tried your best to focus on the movie, trying to forget the way he walked away earlier in a strop. You side glanced at Jeno, who’s too immersed into the movie. Fighting back the thoughts but find yourself feeling a bit upset that Jeno wasn’t Donghyuck, in that moment. You do appreciate his company, of course. But it didn’t feel the same. You huff a small bit of air, reaching for your phone sneakily, ready to cave into Donghyuck’s silence to message him. But ultimately choosing not to. You decided that after the movie, which Jeno kindly accepted watching with you has ended, you’ll message Donghyuck.

The movie itself felt rather longer than you remembered, but its scenes made you forget about silly things. Making Jeno and yourself laugh until your stomach tensed and eyes were teary. You let Donghyuck slip your mind until there was a loud bang against your door. You and Jeno stop laughing, as you reach for your phone to check the time. It was 7pm, reaching late hours and also noticing 3 missed calls from Donghyuck, with a bunch of messages. Your quickest guess was that Donghyuck was at your door. “Give me a moment,” You smile at Jeno, you tell him to continue watching as you push yourself off your bed to answer the door. You swing the door open, the cool air brushing your face as you see Donghyuck standing there with a shoulder bag falling off his arm which is lifted in an attempt to knock on your door mid-way, once again. “Hyuck,” You call out for him, but he seems to be looking off behind you. “Hello… Earth to Hyuck,” you repeat.

Donghyuck notices Jeno sitting on your bed straight away. This time barely acknowledging your position calling out his name. That same heavy feeling of bitterness makes his heart beat slower and leaves his mouth with the taste of metal. Questions of: ‘Why is he in your bed?’ clouding his mind. He’s broken from his trance when he feels your warm hand clasp over his cold ones, bringing his fist down and holding it. His exterior softens, as he smiles down at you. “I’m home,” Donghyuck smiles, but you roll your eyes at him. This hurts him a little, seeing how you weren’t as excited to see him as he was seeing you.

“You’re so silly,” you express, still holding Donghyuck’s enclosed fist. You guide him inside, ushering how it’s cold outside. Your concern is warming at his heart, melting his jealousy about Jeno being sat on your bed. He slings his bag down against your dresser, crossing his arms. Eyes returning to Jeno’s frame. Jeno shifts in his seat uncomfortably, feeling a bit more tense under Donghyuck’s hard stare. “Stop trying to scare him,” You warn, playfully nudging his arm as you return back into your space on the bed. Donghyuck feels magnetic and a little over protective as he shadows your footsteps. He chuckles as he removes the pillow between you and Jeno, placing it on Jeno’s lap. He settles in between the both of you, naturally letting his arm maneuver behind your frame, pulling you into the side of his chest. You smile to yourself, easing into his warmth; both of you forgetting your tiny disagreement from earlier. “Did you have a good day?” you mumble, whispering softly as Donghyuck hums in response. His thumb soothing the side of your arm as the movie still rolls. Jeno stays silent and honestly he felt a bit out of place. But he stuck it out, glad that at least the movie was good. Once the movie ended, Jeno started to make his way out. “Thanks for the movie, Y/N. It was nice.” Jeno thanks you, while putting on his shoes. You watch him, returning his smile.

“Thanks for coming, let me know once you’ve arrived home.” You smile at him, a small fist bump to the side of his bicep for extra gratitude. Jeno smiles back at that though, already standing at your door about to leave. “See you next time.” He nods to the both of you. You watch as Jeno leaves through your hallway. He doesn’t look back. “He’s nice.” Donghyuck pulls you back in, still sitting in your bed. You turn your head from the door and smile, shutting it closed and locking it. You fall slump on your bedsheets, feet hanging off the edge of the bed ignoring his comments. Small butterflies seem to flutter in your heart, weighing down as nerves fill you. “He is really nice,” You comment back, eyes looking up at him.

“Nicer than me?” His eyebrows raise, sucking in his bottom lip to pull a face. You giggle at him, arm stretching up to lightly push his face away. Donghyuck catches your hand before you let it slide back to your side. Silence filling the room, the projector softly highlighting his features as a breath hitches in your throat. His hands feel soft as you look up into his eyes. Finding reason. You’re lost for words, because he stares down at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. “Well is he?” Donghyuck asks again, barely inaudible.

His tone of voice causes you to sit up and go closer to him. He feels small, his hand falling with yours to settle onto his lap. “You’re the nicest person I know,” You confess earnestly, trying to find his eyes. But his head is hung low.

“Really?” His voice faint, tracing small lines at the back of your hand with his thumb. “Well, you’re my best friend for a reason,” You chuckle, trying to lighten up his mood, but he doesn’t budge. He just lifts his head, gazing after your smile, fixated on the curves of your lips. He gulps down the nerves and parts his lips, mesmerised by you. “Well, what if I don’t want to be your best friend anymore?” Courage spiking, altering your moods. Now you feel small. He watches your face conform from happy to confused. You pull your hand away from him, suddenly aware of his words.

“What are you talking about?” Donghyuck just sighs, looking away from you. You stare at the side of his head awaiting his answers. Possibilities overcrowding your thoughts through his silence. After a few comfortable seconds, he turns to look at you again. Your eyes are already staring at him, making him feel weaker. “I just, I don’t like you around Jeno,” He mutters, changing the subject he originally wanted to start, cowering out of honesty. “I don’t like the way he looks at you, with that smile.” This time you try your best to hold back on your laugh. You’ve never seen him react this way to someone, you found Donghyuck rather amusing, his cuteness tightening around your heart. “So what do you like?” You tease, watching Donghyuck eyes glisten. He doesn’t reply at all, his dark eyes latching onto your attention in the quietness of your bedroom. Realisation slowly settling in your heart as your position slacks. You feel light headed, you knew him like the back of your hand, and here he was silently granting all your past wishes. His eyes scream at you, but you don’t react the way he was expecting. “That’s not fair.” you spit. Anger starts to bubble at the way he dares to confess something of that magnitude. Wordless, and out of possession. “That’s not fair at all Hyuck,” You echo, air holding your words by a thread. You push distance between you, shaking your head. “I’ve- I have been loving you for years on end,” tears start to form, glassing over your gaze, weakening your confession. “And all of a sudden, because I’m hanging around a boy too much for your ‘liking’ you claim you like me?” The sound of your voice raising a little out of disbelief. You’ve watched Donghyuck on the sidelines flirt with girls, and wave them around your face for so long. And he strolls along with a hearty smile, and his hooks so deep into your heart, vulnerable and telling you he wants you. “Crazy right? Took me to see you smile and cling around with a guy to properly find the courage to tell you. Huh?” He talks, but mostly to himself. He messes with his hair out of frustration, letting a small profanity slip his tongue. He sinks back into your pillows, beating himself up about it more than you were, from the looks of it. Donghyuck begins to mutter about how stupid he was, and that he knows it’s wrong and how silly he is for not realising. You watch him out of curiosity, seeing him have a battle with himself, telling himself off instead of you.

You’re reminded about small habits like this, in Donghyuck. Your previous annoyance drifts the longer you hear him talk bad about himself for being so idiotic and inconsiderate. You’ve decided long enough, he’s beat himself up about it for too long: you reach out, pushing his cheeks together to land a kiss onto his lips. Shutting him right up. He felt tense at first, shocked that you kissed him. But then smiles, noticing how you’ve already forgiven him. As easy as breathing, he falls into your kiss. You pull away with an angry face, “Would you shut up?” teasingly. 

Donghyuck only looks back at your face with hooded eyes and a soft smile. “Only if you kiss me again,” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. Your hands still framing his face, you see a spark in his eyes as he waits patiently for your kiss. He’s finally so close to you and reciprocating. You breathe out a small laugh, smiling, as you connect your lips. Granting his wish. Lips molding togethers perfectly, as his hands pull you by the waist. Pushing your bodies together, fitting effortlessly between his hold. Your thumbs grazing the sides of his face as he changes the direction of his chin, kissing you deeper. His lips are so soft, you feel like you were delving into your dreams. All your fantasies come true, as he holds you close, whispering “ I love you,” in between the gaps of your breaths. Finally becoming more than just a best friend.