#ugh just let me try it???? i get it it might increase my blood pressure but if i'm having problems focusing and switching tasks and starting

[danieyells]

"so you wanna go back on the medication you were on before"

"no???????? The previous doctor and i discussed putting me on. . .something else stronger, stimulants, i can't remember the name, I wasn't taken off for the hbp i was taken off because i wasn't seeing results"

"let me see what they put. Oh okay i see they were going to put you on ritalin"

"yes!! That's what it was called!" (It was actually Adderall but i forgot until now but ritalin is fine it's stronger than what i was on before)

"but this isn't good for you if it's raising your blood pressure it's bad for you medication won't fix all of your problems you know uwu"

I already don't like this guy much man.

. . .also i'm reminded that i don't know if my testosterone is ready. I need to take that tonight and i don't have any left. . . .

[radiant-reid]

Ouch

A/n: I combined these two requests, hope you don’t mind !!

heyyy can you do something that like reader got injured during a case, doesn’t have to b anything too major but like spencer gets rly worried and insists on taking care of them

okay so like i recently fractured my ankle and i was wondering if you could do something w like reader getting injured and spencer wanting to take care of them and just like cuddling and fluff and stuff

Summary: After getting injured in the field, Y/n is looked after by Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader ( fluff)

Content Warning: fractured ankle | hospitals

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

"Spence, I'm fine, really." Y/n tried to assure the genius, trying to let the nurse leave so she could see her other patients.

Spencer was the epitome of worried, ordering far more tests than Y/n needed and insisting on staying at the hospital with her. He was always concerned when someone on the team was injured, but his girlfriend's injury amplified his worrying.

"Y/n, if you're fine, then what are you doing in the hospital?" Spencer asked her, his worry coming off in an icy tone.

The nurse excused herself, handing over the discharge papers. Y/n assumed the nurse was hoping Spencer wouldn't demand she ran more tests.

As soon as she shut the door, leaving the couple alone, Y/n narrowed her eyes at him. "I get that you're concerned, but cool it, Spencer, seriously."

Spencer's eyes softened as he looked at her face instead of her injury. "'m sorry." He mumbled, a pout growing on his lips.

"Hug?" Y/n requested, opening her arms so Spencer could wrap her in his arms. He was gentler than usual, holding her like she was made of glass. She pulled away, wiggling over and patting the empty space she created. "I'm sorry I wasn't being careful." She apologized.

Spencer sat next to her, shaking his head. Even if she tried, he knew she couldn't stop her fearlessness. It was one of the things he loved most about her, and he would have done the same thing. "It's really not your fault."

It wasn't. Y/n chased after the unsub, but it was said unsub who threw obstacles in her way, causing her to end up in the hospital.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asked, glancing down at her fractured, bruised purple ankle.

Y/n giggled at his concerned face, nodding her head as she signed the discharge papers. "I'm good, really. I just want to go home." She answered.

"Okay." Spencer agreed, grabbing the crutches for her from the other side of the room. He put them on the side of the bed, holding Y/n's hand. She winced as she swung her legs off the bed, her moon boot hitting the floor.

"Ugh, this sucks." Y/n groaned, hobbling as she reached out for the crutches.

Spencer handed them to her, holding her hips to guide her. "You've got me to look after you, so you'll be fine." He boldly declared.

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm grateful for you, Spence, I really am, but if I have to spend the next however many weeks I'm in this stupid thing listening to statistics about fractures, I might kill you." She was looking down at the boot with disdain.

"6 weeks." Spencer corrected, not off-put by the annoyance she was transferring onto him. "Darling, you're lucky it was only a partial lateral malleolus fracture. I thought you would have, at least, broken your fibula, if not your tibia. Actually, maybe even worse. Even in your ankle, you could have had a bimalleolar fracture or trimalleolar fracture, both of which require surgery." He rambled, voicing his worrying.

It was the cause of his pacing in the hours it took to find out what was broken. Somehow, he'd managed to keep it in while Y/n was getting her X-ray, not wanting to increase her blood pressure to the level his own was at. He hated feeling helpless more than anything else.

Y/n looked up at him, pleasingly asking him to stop talking. Usually, she'd love it, but the amount of pain she was in prohibited that. "I'm not feeling too lucky at the moment." She mentioned, shuffling around to get her things as best she could.

Spencer pouted, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll do everything I can to make it as easy as possible." He assured her, pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"Thank you," Y/n said, smiling up at him before leaning up to kiss him. As gently as he could, Spencer held her cheek, kissing her back. "Love you." She commented.

"Love you too," Spencer mumbled, grabbing Y/n's things and nodding towards the desk so she could hand in her papers. "And I'm sorry for worrying, but it's my job."

Once she was done, Spencer carried her things to the car. He held her hand, helping her onto her seat while trying to let her be independent.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, glancing over at her from the driver's seat.

Y/n nodded, offering her hand out for him to hold. Spencer did, placing a kiss on the back of her hand.

In the time they'd been in the hospital, the rest of the team had finished the paperwork. Spencer drove to the jet, helping her out of the car and up the steps.

"Hey, princess, you doing okay?" Morgan asked when she hobbled in, still getting used to the crutches.

Everyone on the team was looking at her with concern, despite Spencer's constant updates. Y/n could see they'd brought out all the extra pillows and blankets for the couch, ensuring she'd be as comfortable as possible.

Y/n nodded tiredly, only aware of her exhaustion after they'd left the hospital's fluorescent lighting. "I'm alright, thank you, guys. It could be worse." She mentioned, looking up at Spencer, who nodded. "Plus, I can still come on cases, right?" She asked, looking at Hotch.

Spencer shook his head as he looked at the unit chief, knowing Y/n couldn't see him doing it.

Hotch frowned, thinking it over. "You'll stay with Garcia for at least one, then you'll need doctor's approval." He confirmed before clarifying his point as he stared at Spencer. "A medical doctor's."

Y/n nodded, playfully looking up at Spencer like a child whose parents had taken their side in an argument. He didn't exactly want her out in the field so soon, but he was reminded of all the times he'd been injured and probably gone back too soon. Plus, Spencer knew she wouldn't be chasing unsubs for a little while.

Spencer helped her lay down, gathering pillows to put under her foot, getting ice for her foot, making coffee for her, and giving her snacks.

Y/n had to all but give him a partial lateral malleolus fracture to get him to sit down. Not even Morgan's comment about how he was now Y/n's bitch made Spencer stop fussing.

They ended up in the opposite of their usual position. With Y/n's head on Spencer's lap while he ran his fingers through her hair, occasionally leaning down to place kisses on her face.

"Y/n, you did a good job today," Hotch told her once the rest of the team had left the jet after he'd packed up his own things. There was almost a smile on his face. She nodded at him, appreciative of his praise. "Reid, make sure you take good care of her." He instructed, narrowing his eyes at Spencer, who quickly nodded before Hotch left the jet.

Spencer looked like he was about to say something when Y/n stopped him. "I'm good, don't worry." She insisted.

Spencer held up his hands in defense before nodding, carrying both of their stuff while Y/n used her crutches to make her way to the car.

Once they got to their apartment, Spencer was quick to make an offer. "Do you want me to carry you up the stairs?"

"We do have an elevator, you know?" Y/n asked with a smile, leaning on one arm to ruffle his hair. "I'm just excited to be working on my arm strength for the next few weeks. Might even get abs." She joked.

Spencer shook his head while he laughed. "I didn't." He complained with a pout. Y/n just left him with that, making her way to their apartment and leaving Spencer to deal with their things.

"Do you need anything?" Spencer asked once he'd put their things away.

From the couch, Y/n shook her head. "No thanks, just cuddles." She requested with a pouty smile.

Spencer quickly nodded, taking his tie off so he'd be more comfortable. He walked over as Y/n moved a little. She laid on her back, foot propped up while Spencer laid on his side, pulling Y/n into his chest.

"Thank you, Spencer," Y/n mentioned, turning her face to look at him.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what she was talking about. He was almost too distracted to think as he admired her beauty. "For what?"

Y/n smiled at him, reaching out to touch his nose. "For being you. My caring, amazing, slightly overprotective, intelligent boyfriend."

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[todoscript]

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) & val ( @shoutodoki​ ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

[retrievablememories]

somewhere only we know | doyoung (m)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Mark!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he blinks, you are gone again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doyoung scoffs. “Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always here,” you say.

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

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

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

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

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y-you’re welcome.”

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

“Are there...many of you here?”

“Dryads?”

“Ah, yes...dryads.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We all send our best regards.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint at him. “Safe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did the flowers help?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I...love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The time slips by blissfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe there was still a way to alter the course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in, then.”

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

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

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

“D…Doyoung is courting a dryad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you lain with this creature?”

“Sh-she’s not...I…”

“Have you? Do not lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, Doyoung does not respond, his tongue heavy and immobile.

“You are your family’s honor. The consequences will not be as harsh for you...as long as you obey.” The King’s body relaxes now, as if all the day’s tension has suddenly unwound itself, though this is more of a false sense of security than any true calm. “Is that understood?”

Doyoung’s throat burns. It seems like he’s being pressed in on all sides. Not answering the King is not an option. Not seeing you again is not an option, either, if he wishes to preserve any iota of happiness on this Earth. Here it comes, now—the wetness gathering in his eyes and the tightening of his chest.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

It has only been a few days since Doyoung last saw you, but this alone feels like centuries to him, especially with the King’s order trailing him like a cement block tied to his leg.

He doesn’t intend on following it, regardless of the consequences. Maybe he’s not thinking straight anymore, but nothing else matters as much as you to him now.

There isn’t any way to easily get to you, though, considering the guards that have been stationed outside his room every night. And the other guards who follow him around the castle nearly 24/7 now. His glamors only grant him enough leeway to disguise his face, which is no use in making it out of his doorway undetected.

The stress of it all nearly makes him physically sick.

His brothers and cousins are not guarded quite so constantly as he, but they are similarly forbidden from leaving the castle—lest they try to report back to you with a message from Doyoung, or something similar.

Doyoung still does not know how the King found out and has had no free opportunity to question his brothers and cousins about it. In the back of his mind, though, the idea that he could’ve been betrayed lives constantly among his thoughts. Thinking on it for too long makes the back of his mouth taste sour, but he can’t help the festering sense of distrust he feels towards everyone around him.

Frayed and at his wit’s end, Doyoung finally thinks of an idea after an entire week of missing your presence. It’s a lot to ask for and may not work, but he needs to at least try it once before ruling it out. He has to be careful about it, of course, to avoid being found out by any of the watchful guards. Still, he manages to write a note during an etiquette lesson with his brothers, when the guards are standing outside the room. It’s easy enough to disguise his pen’s movements as him simply taking notes.

When the instructor looks down to read something from his book—squinting harshly even in his glasses, for his lack of sight—Doyoung slips the piece of paper to Mark. Mark gives him a questioning glance, though he says nothing. He only opens the note towards the end of the lesson, which is probably for the best because he makes a startled noise after reading it. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by the instructor who is too busy listening to Sicheng answer a question he just asked him. Mark’s eyes burn into the side of Doyoung’s face, though the older man only gives him a sparing glance and returns his attention to his papers.

 Mark and Doyoung don’t get to talk formally until their next set of archery lessons. Only one of Doyoung’s guards is present that day, and he hangs back far enough outside of the archery range that it’d be difficult to hear their conversation, especially with them talking in low tones. Doyoung is the first one to initiate once their archery teacher becomes preoccupied with showing Jungwoo and Jaemin the technique for a trick shot.

He glances over at Mark after letting his arrow fly, then turns slightly toward him as he grabs another from his quiver. “Mark.”

The younger man’s eyes widen a bit at hearing his name called. “What?” he answers full-voiced, which causes Doyoung to give him a glare. Catching onto what’s going on, Mark throws an anxious glance behind them to the guard and to his left to the instructor, but no one pays him any mind.

“The note.”

Mark makes a face as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then quickly tries to relax his expression. “Doyoung, I don’t think…is this really a good idea?”

“I need to see her, Mark,” Doyoung hisses.

Mark’s eyebrows crease. He takes a moment to shoot his arrow at the target, not wanting to come off as suspicious to the others by just standing there. “I’ve never created a portal like…between Donghyuck’s room and mine, back at our castle? Yes, that’s perfectly fine. But from here all the way to the forest? That’s…” The younger man shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You have to try,” Doyoung begs. “Practice it or something. All you need to do is create one to get to my room, and then to the forest. I don’t care if it takes you a while, as long as I can see her again before we have to go back.” He does care, but at this point, he figures it’s better to have something than nothing.

Mark gives Doyoung a long look, shakes his head again, and then nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

Doyoung presses his lips together and nods. His eyes are desperate, though he tries not to be. “It’s okay. Just try, Mark.”

Mark spends the next few days in the library in-between lessons. Though he hasn’t taken much interest in this part of the castle before now, he finds himself pouring through old, dusty books in search of something that can help him find a way to create a long-distance portal.

One of the books he finds describes simply just concentrating all your energy into your hands and putting it forth to open up a rip in space—which he is already capable of, but that doesn’t help him with projecting it out further. Another contains a weird chanting verse that he tries to pronounce, to no avail. Even if it did work, he wouldn’t know how to say it.

However, he eventually happens upon something that catches his eye.

“The Root Chakra serves as the foundation of your body and soul. Only when you are firmly grounded in your current body, space, and time can you begin to manipulate other spaces in time…whether it concerns generating long-range portals through space manipulation or even accessing different moments in history.”

“Opening the Root Chakra, huh?” Mark laughs to himself quietly and shakes his head. Despite being a magic user since birth, along with the rest of his brothers, this is the first time he’s heard anything of the sort. But it’s better later than never to learn.

Perhaps he’s more invested in this scheme than he should be, for both his and his brother’s sakes, but he also knows that he hasn’t seen Doyoung so fulfilled and joyful since discovering the forest. If his efforts can make a bit of difference in Doyoung’s current sunken mood, Mark is willing to try.

Therefore, he sets to work on “opening” this purported Chakra, keeping his practice to late-night hours to ensure he won’t be walked in on by anyone else. He feels a bit awkward at first, maybe even a little foolish, with “meditating” and trying to reach out to some strange energy inside himself. He’s never had to put much thought into creating portals before; it’s just something that happens as he wills it. He never considered that there might be more to the practice—that he’d need to tap into some kind of extra energy to improve his skills. He thinks back to the magic crystals in the marketplace and wonders if they’d be any help in this situation, though there’s no way of finding out.

Mark practices opening portals within the floor, knowing his room is above an empty guest room, as it’s too risky to try any of the walls; Jisung and Jungwoo sleep in the rooms on either side of him. He is soon able to make his portals wider than before—where they used to be the width of only his palms—which allows him to peer more clearly into the empty room below, though he still hasn’t tried to conjure anything farther away than that.

Once he feels he has more control over his energy, Mark soon begins experimenting with visualization, a technique the book cites for conjuring up long-distance locations. Allowing his energy to concentrate in his hands, he places his palms just above the floor of his room and pictures a place he’s fairly familiar with by now—the library. If it goes as planned, he’ll have created a portal to the library; if not…who knows what will be on the other side.

He feels the energy flow through his body, from his core, up his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms…it gathers in his palms and fingertips and triggers a small rip in time, which he gradually coaxes open wider, all the while visualizing the library as clearly as he can. Mark pushes the portal open a bit wider still and opens his eyes slightly to see if it’s worked. He’s dismayed, however, when he still sees the empty guest room sitting below him. A heavy sigh leaves his body, and it pushes the rest of his energy out with it; the portal closes with a silent snap.

Guess he’ll just have to try again.

The next few tries work similarly, and on those nights, he often ends up climbing into bed feeling discouraged and sapped of strength and wondering if he’ll ever get it, or if any of this is worth it. He keeps at it, though, for Doyoung’s benefit. And also partly because he’s curious to see what he’s capable of; now that he’s opened these floodgates, he needs to see how far he can push himself.

The first real hint of success takes him by surprise. It doesn’t happen quite as cleanly or perfectly as the book says, but something happens. When Mark opens his eyes that time, he’s still looking at the guest room—but now there appears to be a faint afterimage of the library merged with it, as if someone had tried to paint two different pictures at once. It’s not a complete location shift by any means, and he doesn’t try to go into the portal—afraid he might somehow get stuck between two realities—but it’s a start.

Improving on that start requires a little more time. More hours of meditating, reading, pushing his energy out and expanding it, visualizing. The afterimage begins growing clearer all the while.

On one blessed night, Mark opens his eyes, and the library itself is sitting below him. Not a faint representation of it, merged with some other room of the castle, but the actual library. He’s so surprised that he almost closes the portal by accident and has to steady his concentration to keep the energy flowing. Carefully, he sticks one hand through it. Then the other. It is still hard to keep the entrance open without physically guiding it with his hands, but he can manage it for a minute or two.

He looks at the long distance beneath him to the floor, with nothing but a lounge sofa to break his landing. Sweat breaks out on his skin, but he takes a moment to steel himself and take a deep breath. Then, he jumps through the portal feet-first, bouncing clumsily onto the sofa and tumbling onto the floor. Just as quick as he can right himself, he hurries behind the sofa to hide, afraid he might’ve alerted one of the guards with his rough landing. The portal has already closed above him with the loss of directed energy.

Mark waits for what feels like forever, his legs burning from holding the crouch, but no one comes. When he’s positive it’s safe, he places his hands on the floor and this time tries to create a portal back to his room. The spacetime-rip flickers briefly as if it won’t work, and a surge of panic rises in him, but soon it displays the sight of his bed and the nightstands on either side. A sigh of relief leaves him, and he jumps through the portal as smoothly as he can, landing on his bed this time.

Now, he is ready. He hopes.

The end of September—and the end of their stay in Eupheme—approaches. By that time, it has been weeks since you and Doyoung have seen each other. The one bright spot, though, lies with Mark.

Mark passes Doyoung a note during another of their etiquette lessons. The older man doesn’t wait to open it, though he keeps a watchful eye on the instructor as he does.

I think I’ve done it. Let’s try tonight.

Doyoung sucks in a breath and slowly lets it back out. Then, he crumbles the piece of paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. He gives Mark a small nod, and Mark returns it before facing the teacher again as if nothing has happened.

Even though Doyoung had already given Mark instructions for how to create the portal, he is a bit unsure what to expect that night. He sits on the edge of his bed fully clothed, his hands clasped nervously together as his eyes dart all around the room, wondering where Mark will show up at.

He soon gets his answer when a teal ring of light manifests itself on the east wall of his room. It remains small only for a few moments before widening out enough to accommodate Mark’s form as he steps through it. Mark himself looks a bit shocked at what he’s just accomplished, even though he’s been doing it for a good amount of time now. Doyoung leaps up from the bed, about to speak, though he winces and remembers they still need to be mindful of the guards outside his door.

“You really did it,” Doyoung whispers, watching in awe as Mark closes the portal to his own room behind him.

“I did,” Mark affirms, and he can’t help but grin a little. However, his smile slips. “There is one thing, though.”

Doyoung’s stomach drops, and he can only imagine what this caveat will be. “What is it?”

“Well, once I’ve created the portal, I’ll have to keep it open,” Mark says. “Otherwise, I won’t know when you’re coming back…since we can’t communicate. But…I’ll only be able to keep energy flowing into it for about 15 minutes, maybe less, so…”

“…so make it quick. Right?” Doyoung replies. He is not surprised. Not because of any lack in Mark’s abilities, but more because this just seems to be the kind of luck that’s afflicted him as of late. Mark nods sheepishly.

“Just…be aware of the time,” Mark says, giving Doyoung an apologetic look. The older man only nods silently and steps back as he lets the younger do his work. Mark walks over to the wall he just came from and places his palms against it, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and concentrating. He holds the image of the forest entrance in his mind’s eye and shifts the power out from his hands and to the wall, opening up a gap in space as the portal widens.

Doyoung’s heart rate picks up as he sees that familiar forest entrance forming in front of him, still crowded with overgrowth and greenery. He steps over to Mark to see it closer, and he can even feel the cool night air brushing past his skin as he peers in.

Mark opens his eyes and nods for Doyoung to go on, and the older gives him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Indeed, the forest on the other side is the exact same one he’s been visiting for the entire summer. The same dirt underneath his feet, the same trees crowding each other in. For that reason, he doesn’t waste any more time with rushing inside, heading straight for the oak tree.

There’s an indignant sentence waiting on your lips when you hear Doyoung crashing into your forest late that night, not having seen him in weeks. You’re hurt, but you also realize there must be something serious going on back at the castle if it’s taken him this long to get back to you. However, the words die when you see the pure anguish on his face as he bursts out of the vegetation.

You slip out of the oak tree to meet him on the ground, and he scoops you in his arms like he did all those weeks ago, though this passion is now charged with fear. “Doyoung, what’s happened? What’s the matter? What has kept you so long?” you ask worriedly, taking his face in your hands.

Doyoung holds you close and simply buries his face in the front of your dress for a long moment, breathing in your scent and absorbing the warmth of your skin. Though you are terrified and confused, you wait for him to calm himself enough to speak to you.

“I can’t anymore,” he says, his voice low and broken. Your heart drops at this.

“Can’t what?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“The King has forbidden me to come here—I shouldn’t be here now, but Mark...Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You hold Doyoung tighter against you, as if you could both become one being if you concentrated hard enough—wished hard enough. Your head throbs with the hurt of it, and your heart feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. You don’t say anything for a while, biting your lip so hard that it nearly bleeds.

“I tried.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. I tried.”

“There’s no one to blame,” you argue, breathless from the vise pinching your heart and lungs. “I think we both knew how this would end…”

“I don’t want it to be this way. Y/N, forgive me. I should’ve never told you anything…perhaps if I’d kept my feelings to myself, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. You could live happily as you were, and I—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I wouldn’t trade our time together for any living being…not even the gods.” You shake your head as tears begin to slip down your cheeks. Doyoung tries to wipe them away, though tears of his own escape without his permission. “It may be selfish, but…I-I just ask that…p-please don’t forget about me when you leave and start your own family.”

Doyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses your head into his chest. “I could never,” he whispers.

He thinks he’s safe in your arms, and you safe in his. That’s what he’d like to believe, as you sit here together in the forest for the last time. Unbeknownst to him, something in the castle stirs and then bursts to life, violent and red-hot with rage.

Mark, on the other side of the portal, waits. He feels his energy weakening the longer he holds it open, but he does so anyway as nervous sweat gathers on his temples. He wants to call out to Doyoung to somehow warn him of the time limit, but remembers that the guards will hear it if he does. So he remains silent and waits impatiently as the end of the 15 minutes approaches.

However, he can’t wait any longer as the time ticks past. His magic flickers once, as does the portal, before disappearing completely. Mark nearly keels over at the loss of energy and has to catch himself as quietly as possible, bracing his shaking hands against the floor. He pushes himself up a bit and sits on his knees. He thinks desperately to himself, I should make another portal, but he doesn’t have enough energy for that at the moment.

The next move he makes is a costly one.

He reaches into his pants pocket for his pocketwatch, which he remembered to bring with him. He intends to see how far it is past the time they’d agreed Doyoung would come back, and how long it might take him to regain enough strength for another portal, but his shaky hands cause him to drop the small watch. He tries to grab the chain, but the movement is too sudden and clumsy and causes the watch to bounce even farther away from him, skittering clear off the rug and onto the hardwood floor.

Mark swears all his organs stop functioning at once when he hears a knock on the door. It’s quiet at first, and the silence is deafening. He thinks about scurrying up into the bed and lying there to pretend like he’s Doyoung, still asleep and not out in the forest, but his legs are locked with fear and lingering weakness. The second knock is more forceful, and the guard doesn’t wait for much longer before jamming his key in the lock and swinging the door open.

Mark whips his head around, and they both stare at each other dumbstruck for a moment. The guard’s gaze lingers at Mark in confusion, then quickly sweeps over to the empty bed. His eyebrows draw into a furious expression. “Where is the Crown Prince?”

Doyoung’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought of returning to Ceres without you, his brothers going on with their lives as normal despite his own secret heartache—and it’s only then that he realizes he’s lost track of the time. He jerks away from your arms, looking around frantically. “Wait—Mark.”

“Mark?” you repeat, confused.

“I…he made a portal so I could get here, but I was supposed to…shit. Come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and you both rush to the forest entrance. When you get there, though, there’s no portal and no Mark. Doyoung’s grip around your hand tightens. 

Though you aren’t totally sure what’s going on, a sudden dread overcomes you. “What happened to it?”

“He probably had to close it, but…I’m sure he’ll open it again once he gets his energy back.” Doyoung’s voice is uncertain, though, like he’s trying to convince you both. You look at the side of his face and try not to voice your fears, but as you both stand there waiting to see if the portal will reappear, it becomes apparent that something has went wrong with the plan.

“Explain yourself.”

“Your Highness…I…um…” Mark’s mouth is too dry for him to properly form words, and his legs shake where he stands. Not because of having his energy sapped—because of the King’s overbearing presence. The King stands in front of him, not even bothering to go to his desk this time, and Mark has to crane his neck a bit to look at him, though he can’t meet his eyes. “It was just…”

“I won’t ask again.”

Mark shakes his head and pulls at his hair, silently begging Doyoung for forgiveness in his mind. Still, he doesn’t say anything to give his brother up, keeping his eyes averted more out of fear than deference. “Please, Your Highness…I just…”

When the King sees that Mark won’t give a direct answer, he scoffs in disgust, sweeps the younger man out of the way, and heads for the door. Though Mark only moves a few inches, he feels like he might as well have been thrown clear across the room. The King speaks to one of Doyoung’s guards, who was standing just behind Mark. “Call the rest of the guards. I’ve exhausted my patience on the matter; these lecherous whores cannot be allowed to continue defiling my kingdom.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” Mark’s small voice is lost to the air as the King leaves the room without a glance backwards. The guard goes to enact his order, while the other one grips Mark tightly by the upper arm and drags him out of the sitting room. “N-no, wait, what’s about to happen?”

The guard yanks Mark’s arm in a gesture that calls for the questioning to come to an end. “Best keep quiet, boy. You and the Crown Prince have gotten yourself into enough shit tonight.” Then he chuckles. “One of these days, he was bound to find out that everyone won’t keep coddling him and wiping his ass. About to lose his title over some pussy. Quite sad, isn’t it?”

The guard’s words—and the realization that none of them have ever really cared about Doyoung’s wellbeing beyond being his hired watchdogs—sets Mark off. “Shut the fuck up!” Mark spits in his eye and stomps on the man’s foot at the same time, and the guard curses and lets him go for a split second. Mark doesn’t wait. He takes off down the hall, unsure where he’s going but knowing the castle is big enough to lose the guard—as long as he doesn’t run into anyone else.

He just needs to get somewhere where he can have enough time to create another portal.

“This can’t be good…” you finally say. You and Doyoung must have a death grip on each other’s hands right now, but neither of you are willing to pull away.

Doyoung shakes his head slowly. “No…it’s been too long. Maybe I-I should go back. Maybe if I go back willingly now…” He trails off, not knowing what could come at the end of that sentence.

“Doyoung, no. I…please don’t leave me.” You feel mentally torn between sending him away and knowing this is the last time you’ll see him versus having him stay here with you, if only for a few minutes more. At this point, you’re not sure what the right answer is anymore.

“They might come looking for me, Y/N, and I don’t want them coming here disturbing the forest—"

“Stay! You can hide somewhere, I…as the keepers of the forest, we’ve been handling ourselves against intruders for years. We can protect ourselves—and you. If they come, you can hide out here until they leave. Please, stay.”

Doyoung cannot say no to you or your pleading eyes. He nods. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen after all this—if he wants to go back to the castle, or if he’ll even be allowed to return. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to him in retaliation, and even the vague idea of it frightens him. Having his title removed is one thing, but the King of Eupheme is far more vindictive than that.

You and Doyoung only make it to the small cave you’d hidden in on that rainy day before you hear the distinct sound of another pair of feet crashing through the woods. You both whip your heads around, though you also grab Doyoung’s arm and pull him under the cover of the willow tree. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and you are too frantic to be able to sense who this new person is; though the question is quickly answered by a sharp whisper.

“Doyoung! Doyoung?”

“It’s Mark,” Doyoung hisses, his eyes widening. He slips between the tree branches and softly calls Mark’s name. In another few moments, the younger man is standing under the tree with you both.

“What happened?!” Doyoung asks, holding onto the younger boy’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Doyoung.” This is all Mark can say, and the words roll off his tongue repeatedly. He hangs his head. “The King knows, and he’s sent the guards to come here—I don’t know what he’s going to do, but—please believe me. It doesn’t sound good. He’s done being reasoned with.”

You and Doyoung look at each other with trepidation gripping your chests, realizing the stakes are much higher than you anticipated. This does not sound like just another case of “unwelcome intruders,” but “unwelcome intruders with bloodlust on their minds.”

“But—I can create another portal. I’m sorry, the last time, I just—but I can make one now. Come with us, please.” The last sentence is directed at you, and you shake your head.

“And go where? They’ll still be waiting for me at the castle. Are you suggesting we run away from Eupheme?” Doyoung’s voice is not reprimanding, but more incredulous than anything else.

Mark’s hands shake at the idea of turning his back on his family, which is something he’s never had to consider before—not even in the slightest sense. Things have gotten much more out of hand than he could’ve predicted.

You shake your head again, your hand slipping from Doyoung’s. “Just…I’ll stay here and help the others. You should go.”

“Y/N, I...” Doyoung’s throat tightens as he tries to speak, but his thoughts are disrupted by a quickly mounting commotion. The sound of hooves beating in the distance, though getting increasingly closer. The shouts of men who are ready to wage a battle, with fire racing through their veins.

Though most of Arthenia is asleep at this time of night, the noise of the horses’ hooves and the soldiers’ shouts is enough to begin waking the townspeople up out of their beds. Faces press against windows and peep out of doorways to see what’s happening.

The villagers are terrified when they see a group of soldiers adorned in the royal insignia and riding on horses enter Arthenia with lit torches in their hands, thinking their homes are about to be destroyed. However, they become even more confused and frantic when they quickly realize this band of men is paying their properties no mind and heading straight in the direction of the forest instead.

Some of Arthenia’s magic-wielders rush from their homes to try to put a stop to the men once they understand the situation, and the orcs and ogres meet them with brute force alone. The guards are met with a fight fiercer than they expected, even with their torches and daggers, not realizing the villagers could be so battle-hardy.

The King watches the battle ensuing in Arthenia from a hilly vantage point above the small town. The guards have failed to make much more headway against the villagers, who are gradually inching them back towards the village entrance. Shaking his head in disgust, the King pulls on his horse’s reins. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Some of the townspeople notice the King’s appearance just before he rides into the village. A few of them falter and cower in fear, finding the nearest exit point and taking their leave. Some others, incensed at their town being threatened and generally filled with rage at the King’s lack of fair leadership, decide to charge him head-on. They’re quickly extinguished, though, when the King conjures a great sphere of fire in his hands and whips it across them without a second thought.

He does the same to any other Arthenians who attempt to challenge him as he cuts a path through the village, uncaring of the land and homes he sets on fire as he does. A couple of the guards hop back on their steeds and follow him to his ultimate destination.

The King drives forward into the foliage. The women of the forest are armed with their own heavy rocks and sharpened arrows and daggers dipped in poisonous berry juice, though their weapons can barely leave their hands before everything is suddenly being enveloped in a wide swath of fire, meted out by the King’s hand. He leaves a path clear for himself and the guards in the middle, but the trees on either side are sent up in a blaze.

The two guards remain in single file behind him to use his fire as a shield and avoid the sharp rocks and poison-dipped darts zooming past their heads. Perhaps they’ve underestimated these tree-dwellers; already, there have been a few scrapes that were too close for comfort with the jagged edge of a rock or two. The guards light up as much greenery as they can as they go, using their torches to ignite leaves and low-hanging branches.

All around them, there are the sounds of Arthenians and dryads screaming in tandem as their homes go up in flames. A few nymphs lie fallen among the grass, unmoving as their tree homes burn up in the night.

The King, who has had the foresight to bring his shield, keeps it steady in front of him as he blasts fireballs out from behind it, lighting up one group of trees after another. He doesn’t know which one belongs to you, but he is willing to burn down the entire forest to find out. His movements are wilder than they’d normally be, which says a lot even for him, who has previously had no trouble slashing down anyone who stood in his way during battle—even if they were innocents.

“Doyoung!” The King shouts, and he whips up a great blanket of fire. He sends it careening up towards the sky like a shooting star, and it lands high among the tree canopy, heavy and far-reaching enough to burn treetops several feet in every direction. The guards become a bit wary at this, as the flames blaze above their heads and send sparks and burning debris flying down. “Doyoung!” His voice shakes the leaves like thunder. “If you do not wish to burn alive with these forest dregs, show yourself now!”

Doyoung’s spine stiffens as he hears his name echoing through the woods. It comes from a distance behind you all but is still too close for reassurance. If you stay in this spot for another few minutes, the King or one of his guards could be right on top of your heads.

“Come on!” Doyoung pulls your hand tightly as he helps you up the edge of a steep grassy incline, Mark supporting you from below. Though you’d be able to make it up there any other time by yourself, you don’t dare deny the help now. Your whole body feels like a live wire of fear and panic; the forest burns around you, and the encroaching smoke threatens to choke all three of you to death. Most of all, you feel devastated to see what’s happening around you, being essentially powerless to stop it. Nothing of this degree has ever befallen your home before; even the rare small blaze could be easily enough snuffed out. But not when the flames are being stoked and encouraged like this—building upon each other to see which can reach the tallest tree or the farthest edge of the forest.

After you reach solid ground, Doyoung drags Mark up behind you. There’s no time to pause after all three of you are on the ground; Doyoung grips your hand again and Mark follows behind the two of you as you run.

“The tree, the tree, the tree…” These words spill from your lips in a frenzy. Though your tree hasn’t been touched by the flames yet, it’s only a matter of time with the forest rapidly catching on fire. You can still feel the deep anguish of every other tree in the forest as their trunks catch fire, their leaves shrivel up, and the water evaporates from their root systems. Their silent screams and the shouts of your fellow dryads ring in your head loud enough to make you fear that your skull will split.

“Where are we going?” Mark asks, covering his nose with his sleeve and coughing profusely at the smoke all around.

“Out of the forest!” Doyoung shouts back. He doesn’t really know where to go except for the edge of the woods, and you aren’t in a state to tell him where to head. Deep down, he knows you want to turn back and go to your tree. The oak tree lives innately in you and you inside of it, and it calls you to come back, but the path is too dangerous; returning to it would only speed up what appears to be progressively inevitable. The King and his guards are somewhere in the forest behind you all, and turning back would only land you right in their hands or in the tendrils of the fire.

One of the guards feels a tinge of nervousness grow as the fire rages on around them, and he decides to try to reach out to the King. “Your Highness! I will go in search of Doyoung. Perhaps we should fetch him now before some danger befalls him; the fire is spreading exponentially.” The King gives him a signal to depart, though his eyes still burn just as brightly as the flames do.

The guard separates from the King to cut a path diagonally through the woods, going off to find Doyoung. The Crown Prince may have disobeyed the King—which is as good as committing treason against the kingdom—but it would still not look favorable for him to have died in a fire started at the King’s hands. However, the King is too far engulfed in the whirlwind of his own rage to consider these things more deeply.

The other guard stays by the King’s side, though his horse nervously shifts in place at the flames all around. The two men come to a stop in a wide and messy half-circle of fire, their backs to the flames as they watch the woods ahead for any signs of approaching creatures—or Doyoung himself.

Unbeknownst to the King, your oak tree sits only a few feet away in a yet-untouched portion of greenery.

A few leaves suddenly fall off a tree up ahead—too sudden to merely be caused by the wind—and this makes the King whip his head around and raise his hand to unleash more fire. Nothing appears from that spot, however, and the leaves remain as still as they were before. That moment of hesitancy costs him.

A small poison-tipped dart shoots from the leaves, catapulted by the force of a sudden, expertly-timed breath through a wooden blowgun. It lands squarely in the King’s open palm, which still faces the tree. A shout bursts from his throat in response, and it is only then that the guard realizes what’s just happened.

“Your Highness—!”

The shock and pain of the sudden assault causes the King to strike out in delayed anger, sending a wave of fire at the row of trees ahead of him—and a little further beyond, your oak tree in its small, grassy clearing. The dart burns up in his palm as he does, but its sharp point has already broken his skin. His reaction, though hampered by a few seconds, doesn’t afford Cassia much time to do anything but watch as a wall of feverish red and orange overtakes her, but her last few thoughts linger with you—where you might be within the forest right now, and if she could see you again in some faraway afterlife.

You’ve always known you would die when your tree finally did, but you weren’t sure what you expected it to feel like.

Certainly, not this kind of great reckoning—a sensation of every living element simultaneously being drained from your body. It feels like the core essence of your being has been cracked like an egg and is now flowing out endlessly, laid to waste in the grass. The sudden weakness that eclipses you makes it so that you can barely move your legs to continue running, and you collapse to the ground.

Mark nearly trips over your fallen form, but he quickly finds his voice and screams for Doyoung. The older man is already turning around, however, at feeling your hand slip from his. He rushes to you immediately, his eyes growing wide as he tucks his hands under you and scoops you into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please! Y/N, please, no!”

“Doyoung…”

“No. No! I’m begging...please, stay with me.”

Tears spill from his eyes in an endless torrent. You would like to touch his face at least once more, and you are infinitely glad—if not also heartbroken—when he grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. His tears wet your skin, running down your palm.

“I…I already told you not to forget me, so please…”

“Y/N, I’ve got to get you out of here…” Doyoung says desperately, and he struggles to make it to his feet. His legs tremble too much to support him, though, and his shoes slide in the leaves and dirt underfoot. Mark stumbles backwards, his back hitting a tree trunk as his muscles tense in horror at the scene in front of him.

“D-don’t. Leave me here.” Even saying this much feels like a massive effort.

“What?”

“Th-the forest and I are one in the same. I live and die here. Please…do this one thing for me, Doyoung.” You look at him imploringly with as much strength as you can summon despite your eyes growing heavier. Beyond the smoke, the cloudiness of your own tears, and the pull of death, it’s becoming harder to see; his features blur amid your surroundings.

Doyoung is quiet for a moment, though he slowly nods, gripping your hand tightly. He lowers his forehead to yours, and through the smoke and fire, he swears he can still smell the scent of jasmine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“My prince…” The corners of your mouth rise in a tiny smile. “I love you.”

The Crown Prince keeps his forehead against yours, his tears raining down on your cheeks long after you’ve gone limp in his arms.

Mark slumps to the ground, feeling as if his stomach will turn itself inside out, his heart hammering in his chest. He tries to breathe evenly, though his chest tightens painfully from the attempt. Eventually, he buries his face in his hands, trying to physically shut out the ache. He’s not sure how much time passes like that, with him and his brother immobilized on the ground, but he does know they need to leave, soon, as the air around them grows more stifling.

“Doyoung…D-Doyoung, we need to…w-we should…” Mark’s voice cracks, coming out weak in the roar of the noise around them. He coughs again, then shuffles to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.

Doyoung looks up at him without a word, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Then, slowly, he unravels himself from you and lays your body gently on the ground. He shuns his cloak to cover you with it, though part of him desires to stay here and perish with you instead of leaving only a portion of himself behind.

Him and Mark travel a few more yards through the woods, and though he’s never seen this part of the landscape before, he can guess they might be nearing the edge of the forest. The trees have begun thinning out here like they did at the small circular lake.

“Wait—" Mark calls out. Doyoung doesn’t bother looking back at Mark, but he can hear it too. The sound of horse hooves increases in volume, and they soon see one of the guards riding towards them, torch still in hand.

“Crown Prince! Prince Mark!” he shouts. “Come with me immediately!”

Doyoung looks frantically towards the ground. A sizeable rock catches his eye, bigger than the palm of his hand, and he picks it up. Without a second thought, he launches it at the guard’s face. It catches the guard on the left side of his face with a sickening pop, causing him to yell out in pain and fall from his horse. His torch falls from his grasp, starting yet another small fire where it lands.

With its rider gone, the horse slows its pace, though it does not stop. Doyoung catches it by the reins and is able to bring it to a pause long enough for him and Mark to get on. Everything else falls away from him as he guides them towards the forest’s outskirts; he barely feels the wind whipping past them, the lingering smoke stinging his eyes, or even the sturdy animal racing underneath him. He has a brief thought about what happened to those dangerous animals you said live on the outskirts, as there are none here now, but he reasons that maybe they’ve already made their own escape.

The sky is turning lighter now from the approaching dawn. When they finally breach the last row of trees in the woods, they come out onto an expansive field, only broken up by stray trees here and there and other landforms. On the far horizon, another town looms against the sky, though it’s much bigger than Arthenia.

Doyoung signals for the horse to stop, and both he and Mark sit there for a few long moments. Mark sucks in a few deep breaths, as if he were the one running this entire time. 

“W-what…what now?”

Doyoung doesn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, he asks, “Are you coming?”

Mark doesn’t know where his brother intends to go, but he wordlessly understands that it isn’t back to the castle. Or even Ceres. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I…I have to see the others.” He means their brothers. He means their parents back in Ceres, if he is even allowed to live. He is not sure what the King will do to him once he returns—if he’ll be tried for treason. Still, his chest burns with the desire to see his siblings at least once more.

Maybe that’s how he justifies it.

He’s not entirely sure why he refuses Doyoung in this moment, even when he thinks back on it years from now. Maybe he is too ashamed of the guilt—of feeling like it was all his fault. (If he hadn’t dropped the stopwatch…) He doesn’t want to serve as that constant reminder for his brother.

“Can you get back, then?” Doyoung asks. Mark realizes he’s referring to creating another portal, and he nods, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Y…yeah. I can.” He swallows again and hesitates for another moment. Then, Mark dismounts from the horse and looks up at Doyoung. “Where…where will you go?”

If the older man has already planned his route, he doesn’t disclose it. He simply looks at Mark with an expression that can only be described as pitiable, broken. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is ashen. “Goodbye, Mark.”

Mark stares at his retreating back as he leads the horse away and across the field. The space between them stretches out into forever, with a million unsaid thoughts and emotions falling in the gap.

Behind him, the forest continues to burn, taking all life with it. In front of him, Doyoung’s form turns into a speck against the endless green. It is a long time before Mark leaves that spot in the grass.

In the castle, Donghyuck slumps against his window as he watches smoke rising in the far distance, already knowing where it’s coming from. Like a mirror image of his older brother, tear tracks make their way down his face as he buries his head in his arms.

“What have I done?”

[delimeful]

to taste your beating heart (2)

warnings: blood, captivity, hypnosis, mild violence

thank you to @kieraelieson for the commission! i hope you enjoy! :)  

-

Patton worked his spatula back and forth, gently prying the last cookie from the baking tray and setting it onto the baking rack. He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was time for him to check in on Virgil. 

He’d volunteered to be the one to play guard, and despite their concern, Roman and Logan had eventually acquiesced. The two of them weren’t subtle, at least not to Patton. Logan ran off to go scour the field journals and supernatural research logs in his study for any information on memory loss, and Roman had secluded himself in the gym to train. Patton pitied the punching bag that received his anger today. 

Still, he would let them have their time alone to process and plan. It made things easier for him, too, not having them hovering over his shoulders while he did this. Patton balanced the cookie dish on one hand and grabbed a bag from the fridge with the other, bumping the door closed with his hip. 

From there, it was easy-peasy for him to walk down the stairs and peer into the holding room, making sure that their resident vampire was still there and not in the middle of an escape attempt. 

Virgil was, in fact, still strapped to the chair, though Patton could see grooves in the wooden armrests where he’d dug his sharp nails in. Beyond that, his position hadn’t changed much, and he was staring at the two-way mirror suspiciously. 

Patton trotted across the room and tucked the bag under his arm to knock on the door leading into the hold. “Knock knock!” He said, for good measure.

There was a long pause. “Come in?” The vampire answered, bewildered tone just like Virgil’s when a pun when over his head. Patton unlocked the five bolts on the door and pushed it open, poking his head in.

“You’re supposed to say who’s there, silly!” 

Virgil stared at him, head tilted slightly, before visibly remembering that he was supposed to be a big, scary vampire. He scowled pointedly. “Oh, whoops. How could I forget that jokes are the most important part of a kidnapping?”  

Patton chuckled, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. Logan would be furious at him for entering a room with a malignant vampire alone with no backup, but this was different. This was Virgil. 

“Are those cookies?” Virgil asked, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You know I’m a vampire, right? Did the ‘trying to murder you’ thing just go right over your head?”

“The cookies are mostly for me.” Patton admitted as he came closer, setting the dish down on the table. Virgil pressed against the back of his chair as he approached, hard enough to make his joints pop loudly, and Patton’s heart ached at the fear in his eyes. “It’s important to eat something after having your blood drawn, after all!” 

He carefully pulled the bag out from under his arm, setting it on the table next to the cookies. The deep red of the blood inside made his stomach twist unpleasantly, but he was well practiced in ignoring such things by now, and picked up a warm cookie to distract himself. 

Virgil’s eyes flickered between the blood bag and Patton, his wariness not quite concealing the hunger in his gaze. Memories or not, though, this was still Virgil. 

“I told you I don’t have any information.” He said stubbornly, and if his arms were free, Patton got the impression that he would have crossed them defensively. 

He hurried to finish chewing before he spoke. “Oh, that’s okay. This isn’t a bribe or incentive or anything, I just thought you were probably hungry.” 

“Oh, and you’re in the habit of feeding vampires out of the goodness of your heart?” Virgil bit out, frowning so severely that Patton worried his face might get stuck that way. 

“I do when the vampire in question is my best friend and clearly doesn’t want to hurt anybody.” Patton answered without missing a beat. Virgil’s face immediately scrunched up with pain, and he couldn’t help but reach out to the vampire. “Virgil? Are you-?”

“Don’t call me that.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, right arm straining against the chair’s metal cuff as though he wanted to lash out. He glared, daring him to move his hand closer. “I’m not your friend.”

Patton slowly withdrew, feeling his eyes grow a little hot despite himself. He pushed the sadness aside firmly, somehow managing to speak without his voice cracking. “What would you like me to call you, then?” 

Virgil stilled, caught off guard, and watched Patton for a long moment with those eerie purple eyes. “... Anx.” 

“Anx.” Patton tested the word out and felt like it fit the sharp edges of this lonely version of Virgil. “I’m Patton. Are you okay, Anx?” 

“Oh, just peachy.” Anx smiled sarcastically for a moment before letting it drop. “I’m tired of playing this game, hunter. Why don’t you just kill me already?” 

Patton took a deep breath, exhale coming out shaky. “Anx, we’re… we’re not going to kill you.” 

“Yes, you are.” Anx said with utmost certainty. “I’m dead as soon as you hunters finally get it through your thick skulls that your friend is gone. He’s not coming back, ever. Might as well cut out all the bullshit and just get it over with now.”  

The very idea of Virgil being gone, lost to them maybe not in body but certainly in mind, was enough to make Patton lose what little appetite he had left. He’d have to take the cookies to the others later. He swallowed thickly.

“I… I hope that’s not the case, but… even if that is true, and you really won’t ever remember or care about us the way he did, we’re not going to kill you. That’s not… We don’t do that.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Anx asked, frustrated. “Of course you do! You’re a hunter. Your job description is literally to kill monsters.” 

Patton shook his head. “Our job is to help innocents, Anx. Even the ones that aren’t human.” 

The vampire shook his head slowly, as though in disbelief, before looking pointedly away. Patton sighed. He picked up the blood bag, holding it up. “I won’t bother you anymore after this, but you should eat.” 

For a moment, he thought Anx would continue to ignore him, but the vampire sniffed once and couldn’t help but eye the bag with a mixture of hunger and recognition. “That’s really your blood.” 

“Sure is!” Patton wasn’t surprised the vamp could tell. “I’ve got Type O blood, the tasty kind! I’ve gotta say, though, with vampires around it can be a real… pain in the neck.” 

Anx took a beat to comprehend the joke, face blanking. “Ugh, that was awful.” 

He grinned, not missing the way Anx’s lips pressed together in the same way Virgil’s did when he was trying not to smile. He offered the bag again, and this time Anx leaned forwards to bite into it, grimacing at the cold but sucking the bag dry nonetheless. 

Patton tried not to breathe too deeply with the scent of iron thick in the air, thinking about cats to keep himself from getting nauseous. He’d seen the cutest, fluffiest tabby cat in a neighbor’s window the other day, being absolutely perfect and delightful… 

Distracted and trusting, he didn’t see the loose cuff on the left side of the chair until there were inhumanly cold fingers wrapped around his arm and sharp teeth digging into his wrist a heartbeat later.     

He cried out in pain, bag falling to the ground and splattering what little blood remained across the floor, and then his world went dark and hazy around the edges.

-

Anx waited until Patton’s eyes had gone glassy and dull before loosening his jaw and pulling away, leaving the human standing with a vacant look on his face as his wrist dripped blood on the floor.

“Shit. Uh, put pressure on that.” He said, his tongue darting down to clear away the blood on his lips as Patton pressed the sleeve of his sweater to the bite. The lack of spurting meant he probably hadn’t hit an artery, but better safe than sorry. Every human he’d ever met was so fragile. 

Luckily, their fragility had left them to underestimate Anx’s own resilience, exemplified by the last several hours he’d spent digging into the wood around his left wrist to weaken the bond. He pried at the other cuff now, the force of both hands enough to pull the metal from the wood with a crack, and then he was on his feet. Free.

Well. A step closer to free. He stepped closer to Patton, hearing the steady thudding heart of a human under thrall. His own headache matched the rhythm. 

“How do I get out of the house?” He asked, hoping that his allure was strong enough. Some humans had wills strong enough to resist talking, even under thrall.

To his surprise, Patton barely flickered an eyelid before speaking. “Up the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the front door.” 

Anx frowned. That was too easy. “Where are the others?” 

This answer came slower this time, like Patton had forgotten how to form the syllables. “They’re not in the way. They won’t catch you leaving.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Anx said, curious despite himself. He knew enthralling a human meant they would either tell the truth or not speak at all, but Patton seemed to be using a curious loophole. “Where are they in the house?”

“Not in the way.” Patton echoed, and then bit down on his lip hard enough to split it, staying silent. His heart rate increased slightly.

Anx nodded once, almost to himself. “Okay. Alright, whatever. Even if they do end up seeing me, I’m fast enough to get away.” 

“You’re pretty fast.” Patton murmured in agreement, despite the fact that Anx hadn’t asked a direct question. He squinted at the hunter suspiciously, a little freaked. Some humans were chatty under thrall, but they generally didn’t sound as coherent as Patton. More like they were drugged, really. 

“Sit in this chair and keep pressure on that bite. And, uh, don’t come after me.” He watched as Patton settled into the chair, not bothering to restrain him. He’d wasted enough time as it was. 

Patton’s bright blue eyes followed him unerringly through the mirror as he hurried out of the tiny room, bolting all the locks shut and then scaling the steps two at a time to find himself in a… surprisingly normal-looking house. He’d have never guessed they had an interrogation basement if he hadn’t just been in it. 

Sure enough, just past the kitchen was the foyer and front door, and neither of the other humans were in sight. Anx forced himself not to get too excited, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he quickened his pace regardless and hurried out the door. 

It was that strange half-dark of early morning, and the city was a line of buildings on the horizon. Far away, but with his speed it wasn’t much of an inconvenience. Even better was knowing where the hunters’ hideout was in case of future kidnappings. Anx let himself grin at the fresh air. He was out. 

Two yards from the door, he hit a barrier like a wall, crackling against his skin and nearly whiting his vision out with pain. He fell back, staring at the lawn ahead of him. There was nothing particularly incriminating, just a simple ring of- 

A ring of hawthorn bushes, ankle high. 

Though he’d never been told by others in his coven, he somehow knew the plant’s placement was intentional, arranged to protect the house from vampiric detection or invasion. And now it was keeping him stuck here, unable to even touch the offending brambles. 

Anx took a deep breath. It was fine. He’d get Patton to dig up a gap in the bushes and slip right through. He just had to be fast. He tugged on the connection between him and the enthralled human, waiting for a long moment. 

Patton didn’t get any closer. Anx frowned for a moment, and then resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall when he realized that the human was locked in that interrogation cell by Anx’s own hand. 

Anx turned back to the house, his headache growing worse. He’d just have to do this the old-fashioned way, and go get Patton himself. By willingly going back into a hunter’s den.

What could go wrong?

[writingsbymo-mo]

how about this!!! Tomura suffers an accident (please, not in canon) and forgets everything but reader.. but he doesn't remember they broke up some time ago

Sorry this took so long anon, but I finally finished it!!! I hope you like it!  I hope what you mean by canon is not in the current timeline…if it was for an alternate universe where quirks didn’t exist, I’m sorry anon.

Who Am I?

Tomura x Reader

SFW

Note: gender-neutral reader, mentions of blood, head injury, mending wounds, some angst.

It’s also a lot longer than I thought it’d be.

__________________________________________

It was cold and damp in the dim lit alleyway. Shigaraki lay face first into the gritty, wet pavement, unconscious. A bit of blood seeped from the back of his head and onto his black, long-sleeved v-neck shirt.

He awoke, head throbbing, body aching all over. Shigaraki’s eyes darted towards his surroundings. His voice wavered, a bit dry as he spoke, “w-where…am I?” He lifted an arm and placed his hand on the pavement as it started to crumble. Noticing, he quickly removed his hand, giving it a questioning look, “the hell?” He tried it with his other hand, same thing happened. “Why…is this happening…? Just…who am I?”

With his elbows, he managed to sit upright, “ugh, my head…,” he groaned, gripping the source of the pain. ‘Did I hit my head?’ He rested for a few minutes, trying to figure out why his head is injured, what he’s doing there, and exactly who he is. One thing came to mind, his eyes lit up. “(Y/n)! I…I know them. They…they’re my player 2! I need to find them!”

He bolted up, still gripping his head as he limped out of the alleyway and into the open street.

People gave him disgusted or concerned looks as he passed by them. Shigaraki was looking for a map of sorts. He knew where you lived so this made it much easier to find you.

He stumbled upon a train station to view the map of the stops. The name of the ward you lived in was on the map as well as his location. ‘Yes, almost there! Maybe (y/n) can help me!’ He grinned at the thought of you always being so kind to him. It was only a matter of time now. With the location being so close, he walked, limping on his right leg, ignoring the pain the whole way.

The surroundings looked oddly familiar to him now as he stumbled upon your apartment complex. Stairs on either side of the building went up to each level. You happened to be on the fourth floor.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened as a smile crept up his bruised face. He ran to the base of the stairs, climbing his way up as he made it to your door at the end of the balcony. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

You had just gotten ready for bed, wearing a pair of (f/c) pajama pants with a matching short-sleeved top when you heard the knocking. “Coming!” You yelled, making your way to the door.

With your right hand, you unlocked the door and opened it freezing in your tracks as the color left your face. Shigaraki happened to be the one knocking on your door, your ex-boyfriend. Your eyes narrowed as you clench your fists, “what…are you doing here…Shigaraki?” You snapped.

Shigaraki flinched at the harsh tone though he figured his name is Shigaraki, “I…I wanted to see you…,” he cried.

“See me!! Y-you want to see me….a-after everything you’ve done? Shigaraki, you broke up me months ago!” You shouted, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Broke up? W-w-we broke up?” His voice wavered as his eyes became glossy. A stabbing pain spread throughout his head causing him to fall to his knees, clutching his head, moaning in agony.

Seeing him like this, hearing his wails of painful cries, you clasp your hands over your mouth. The anger you had dissipated. That’s when you noticed the blood crusted on the back of his head. “Oh god, Shiggy…what…happened?” You immediately dropped to your knees to try find the source. “I’m sorry, I…you can come in. I-I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Shigaraki’s pain splitting headache slowly dissipated and made his way inside the apartment with your help. You brought him to the warm-lit bathroom, hoping to get some of the blood out to get a better look at the wound. “Let’s get your shirt off Shigaraki. Don’t want it to get wet.”

He grips his shirt with five fingers as it falls to pieces on the floor, growling in frustration, “shit…why is this happening…?”

“It’s your quirk Shigaraki. When you touch anything with all of your fingers, it disintegrates.” You grab a wash cloth off the shelf and turn the faucet in the tub. “You…don’t remember you have a quirk?”

“Quirk…so that’s what this is,” he said, examining his hands. The sound of running, splashing water filled the room, echoing from inside the tub.

This confirmed he probably had some sort of brain damage causing him to not remember certain things. “Yeah, you held things so daintily because of it. I…thought it was cute…when you did that…” You felt your body grow warm at the thought before shaking your head, getting the washcloth wet with warm water. “Can you come closer to the tub Shigaraki? I might have to have you bend over the tub to wash the blood and dirt out.”

He nods, crawling over on his knees to the tub, leaning over it. You tried not to stare at his shirtless form as he made his way towards you, but it was hard not to stare. With the washcloth in hand, you pat at the dried blood earning hisses and curses from Shigaraki’s mouth. Yeah, the washcloth wasn’t going to work. You needed to run his hair under water. You turn on the shower head on the lowest pressure setting, leaving it feeling like a gentle stream. Shigaraki went ahead and bent forward closer to you. “This might sting a bit okay?”

Blood ran down the drain as you rotated the shower head in your hand over Shigaraki’s head, the hissing and gripes of pain continued as you tried reassuring him. Soon, enough of the blood and grime was washed away for you to see a gash at the back of his head. ‘What happened to you Shig? Did a villain do this to you?’ You thought. You knew he kept a lot of secrets about his life, which made you curious as to what he was up to when you weren’t around.

Shigaraki took in a sharp inhale, “(y/n), you almost done?”

“Yeah, there’s just a little more dirt in there. Just hold on a little longer okay?” You smiled, hoping this gash wasn’t too deep. If it was, he’d need to get stitches and his head examined. ‘Maybe I should’ve taken him there in the first place, but before when he came over injured, he always had me tend to his wounds…even ones that would need hospitalization…so…a hospital is out of the question then?’ You let out a breath, a bit frazzled in thought as you grab some gentle soap to clean the wound.

The sound of running water stopped when you turned off the faucet as soon as the suds were rinsed out. Water droplets dripped from Shigaraki’s hair, into the tub while you put the shower head back in place. You decided to ask him something, “Shig, do you know who you are?”

He lifted and turned his head to face you, “well, I guess my name is Shigaraki…,” he trailed off.

“I guess that means you don’t know. Just so you know, your name is Tomura Shigaraki,” you spoke in a calm voice.

Shigaraki hissed in pain and gripped his forehead as he leaned against the tub, “Tomura…Shigaraki…yeah…that sounds familiar…yeah, that’s my name!” His eyes grew wide, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

You smiled, a bit relieved that he was able to remember something. Shifting to sit on the side of the tub, you examine the gash, moving some strands of his silvery-blue hair away carefully. “Hmm, it looks a bit deep…it probably needs stitches…”

“It’s really that bad huh?” Shigaraki asked. You let him know he could sit up so you could dry him off. He watched you grab a towel and brought it towards his head. It pleased him how careful you were of his wound. Something inside him wanted him to leave, though he didn’t understand why. He enjoyed being with you, so why did he feel this way?

The moment you were finished drying his hair, the soft towel brushed against his sensitive neck, a chill ran down Shigaraki’s spine as he took in a breath.

You had a pink tinge to your face as you rubbed the towel against Shigaraki’s back. It was littered with scars. Some were quite long and deep while others were small, almost like scratches. There was a noticeable one on his right shoulder. You traced the outline of it, half dazed as Shigaraki let out a shuddered gasp making you realize what you were doing. “Uh, sorry…I’ll go get the first aide kit. Just wait here.”

He noticed you were gone before he could say anything, but he found the touch surprisingly soothing and…a bit agitating? “Ugh, why did we break up?” He groaned in frustration, body going a bit slack. It was strange how he only remembered you and nothing else. He didn’t even remember his own name until he heard your soothing voice. It made him feel warm inside, with underlying levels of guilt. He felt a weight in his chest grow, he longed for answers.

What he did remember, was how you always gave him the brightest of smiles whenever you saw him. The way your eyes would sparkle at the slightest of touches. He wanted to see more of these memories. His focus shifted as he heard footsteps increasing in volume.

“Shigaraki, I’m back! I’ll see what I can do with to fix that up.” You set the first aide kit on the counter next to the sink, opening it with a click. You took out some gauze bandages, medical tape, scissors, medical stitches, topical anesthetic spray, and gauze wrap, placing them on the countertop. Shigaraki watches as you take everything out. ‘Oh, right. I’m probably going to have to shave part of his head near the wound…’ Opening the top drawer just below the counter, you dug around, picking up the surgical clippers. With the number of times he showed up in the past with deep cuts, you decided to buy a pair.

Grabbing the items, you traipse towards him, taking a seat on the edge of the tub. “Can you turn around and look down for me?”

Shigaraki nods, shifting his body to face the door as his head points to the floor. You run your hands around the gash, moving his hair out of the way to get a better look. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to shave some of your hair…,” you sighed, hoping he wouldn’t complain. “If you know it will heal better, then it’s fine. Do what you need to,” Shigaraki answered.

You picked up the clippers, turning it on and shaved enough hair away from the wound. Next came the topical anesthetic spray. Spritzing some on him, he hisses for a moment and suddenly stops. “Can you feel this?” You ask, poking his pale skin.

“No, can’t feel a thing.”

With that, you knew it was time for the stitches. “I’m sorry if it hurts…if it does, let me know.” You took the needle and medical stitches and threaded it through, cutting it off and tying it before repeating the process. Shigaraki was very still as the thread pulled at his skin, gently closing off the wound. You managed to give him twenty-four stitches total. “Okay Shigaraki, I just need to place the gauze over it and I’ll be done,” you announced.  He didn’t move, staring at the palms of his hands as he waited for you to finish.

You placed the gauze bandage over his wound, taping it to the back of his head before wrapping some gauze wrap around it, some around his neck and across the bridge of his nose. You went ahead and taped some areas to keep it from falling. “It’s done. You can lift your head now.”

Shigaraki was lost in thought. It occurred to him that you might have done something like this before. He bolted his head up, gasping for a moment, “(y/n)….how many times…have you done this…to me?”

“Dressed your wounds?” You guessed. Shigaraki responds with a nod. “Well…it happened quite a lot…now that I think about it. I’d say, about four times a month while we were still dating.”

“A-and…how long were we…dating?” He faltered. Shigaraki wouldn’t lie to himself, he wanted to know all the details he missed…even if it hurt him.

You grip your right arm, peering at the linoleum flooring. “We dated for about a year…it’s been almost six months since then…”

“Six months…,” he fretted. ‘It’s been….that long?’ He pursed his lips and started scratching at his neck, letting out a frustrated growl, “why…just why can’t I remember?!”

He felt a sensation on his shoulder and jolted, staring directly into your (e/c) eyes. He noticed your worried expression with the glass-like shine of your eyes and how you were biting your bottom lip. “D-do you…want some help trying to remember?” You know you aren’t qualified for any of this, but you wanted to do something.

He gripped your shirt with two fingers, knowing what you said about his quirk, pleading. “Please…please help me…(y/n)…,” he croaked. “What…do you know…about me?”

You sat down next to him against the cold bathtub and sighed. “This will be a long story.”

Shigaraki listened intently. You informed him that he kept a lot of secrets from you, but you figured he was a vigilante or something though you left that part out. He took note how he usually was always grouchy or complaining about society and how the two of you met. It felt familiar to him, what you were saying. He also had friends who you thought sounded quite interesting since he complained about them sometimes too. He thought it was a bit strange he never let you meet them, but then something clicked. ‘Those friends…are my party members…’

He gripped his head and hissed in pain again, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. ‘I never let (y/n) meet them because…because they’re…villains…just like myself…did I ever tell you that about me? No, I-I didn’t…’ Shigaraki scratches at his neck, in annoyance and distress. That’s when he decided to ask, “(y/n), just…what do you think of me as a person?”

You thought back to everything he’s ever done. “Well, I can tell you’re secretive, easily annoyed, smart, sarcastic, and care a lot about the people you’re close to….I enjoyed being with you for the whole year we were together no matter how distressed I was when you came in covered in wounds. But…but one d-day y-you…” You started sobbing, burying your face in your hands as your stomach churned.

“The day we…I broke up with you…?”

You nodded. “You showed up at my house, the day of your birthday…I-I was so happy to see you, but something was wrong. Your eyes were dull and lifeless…it was unusual…I was about to welcome you inside, when you told me…that you h-hated me and didn’t want to s-see me again…”

Shigaraki internally grimaced at himself, hearing you sobbing because of him. ‘You really care about me…but…did I care about you? I care about you now…is it something to do with my line of work?’

You continued through your chokes and sobs, “I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about what you said…you used to tell me how much you meant to me…and then you tell me that…I-I don’t know what I did wrong–“ Your sobs halted when Shigaraki grabbed your shoulder with three fingers, burying your tear stained face into his bare chest, making you stiffen and let out a gasp as he wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry….I’m so sorry (y/n)…” He stammered, tightening the embrace. A sharp pain unfurled inside his head once more. It was that day…that very day…

It was a quiet morning in the bar. Kurogiri was cleaning glasses as Shigaraki trugged his way into the bar and sat on a stool.

Kurogiri slid a glass of amber-colored alcohol in front of Shigaraki. “Tomura Shigaraki, you can’t be around (y/n) any longer. They’re a hindrance to your future,” he advised.

“Tch, why do you care Kurogiri? (Y/n) is a valuable asset to me,” Shigaraki snapped, glaring at him. He grabbed the glass and downed the burning liquid.

“Yes, they’re a great medic but you’ve become too attached. What will you do if something were to happen to them because of you or if they find out WHO you are?”

Shigaraki stopped, glass shattering as it turned to ash as the rest of the alcohol dripped from his fingers and onto the floor. He appeared downcast knowing full well what could happen if you knew he is the leader of the League of Villains. It frustrated him how right Kurogiri was about this. He lifted his arms to his neck, digging into the flesh. “Damn it…I hate this! And I had just found the perfect healer…” He growled. ‘I hate it when you’re right Kurogiri…’

He thought for a moment. He did care about you, maybe a bit too much. You were just so kind to him, making him melt into your arms each time he saw you. He knew he couldn’t stay like this forever, with you. It was too risky keeping you around himself. He stopped raking his hands against his neck and stepped out of his chair heading towards the door.

“Where are you going Tomura Shigaraki?” Kurogiri prodded.

“None of your business!” Shigaraki snaps, slamming the door behind him. He enters his room and throws on his hoodie before heading out into the cool, spring air. “Tch, some birthday this is turning out to be…” He hung his head, hands in his hoodie pocket as he strolled through the streets to your apartment.

Each step was weighed down by a brick the closer he got to his destination. It filled him with dread what he was about to do. He wasn’t going to lie, he knew the risks of getting close to you. Kurogiri didn’t know the two of you were going out though Shigaraki knew it was only a matter of time before he caught on. Sometimes he really wanted you to know what he does for a living. It ate away at him every day. ‘I wish you were a villain (y/n), but you have your own life already…one I can’t give you no matter how much you want it.’ He resisted the itch clawing at his neck with each thought he had. Soon before he knew it, he arrived at your apartment.

He knocked on the door, part of him hoping you weren’t there so he wouldn’t go through with this. However, fate wasn’t kind to him. You opened the door with that bright smile on your face.

“Tomu!!! You’re here! I wasn’t expecting you to show up suddenly like this,” you beamed, motioning him to come in. “Oh, happy birthday!” You pecked his cheek.

The soft lips on his cheek made him forget why he was there for a moment, but it was short lived. He looked at your face, studying every feature as he took in slow, deep breaths.

Your face contorted to concern. “Tomu…are you alright? What’s wrong?”

He grips your shoulder with three fingers, his form shaking as he applies more pressure. It pained him what he was about to do…he hated himself for this…but he had to do this for your safety.

“Owww! Tomura, you’re hurting me!” You cry.

Shigaraki looks into your (e/c) eyes. “Heh….look at yourself (y/n). Did you really think this would last?”

“W-what are you saying Tomu…?” You stuttered, shrinking back as you try to get him to release his grip on your shoulder.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, “you’re just a waste of my time. I hate you the most. Never ever come see me again. I don’t exist in your life and you don’t exist in mine.” He releases your shoulder with a harsh shove, making you stumble to the floor as he internally grimaced. He peered down at you, his eyes dull and lifeless, “goodbye, (y/n).”

Shigaraki was brought back to his senses as the dull pain resided. He looked down at your red, puffy face buried in his chest, still sniffling. He hated himself…this is what he did to you. “(Y/n), I…I know why,” he mumbled.

“Hmm, what’s that?” You rasped, lifting your swollen face to look into his crestfallen one.

“Why I broke up with you…I-I’m sorry…I never wanted to…but it was too dangerous.”

You shifted onto his lap a bit confused, “what do you mean Shiggy?”

His breath shook as he spoke, “if I tell you…you must never tell anyone. Swear on your life you won’t. You might hate me for this, but…it’s best if I tell you. It’ll explain everything.” He frowned as he looked at you, scanning your face.

Your features soften, noticing how nervous and scared he sounds. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

“Have you ever heard of the League of Villains?” He asked.

You nod with a curious expression, “yes, do you have something to do with them?”

Shigaraki sighs and nods, “yes…I’m…their leader.”

“THE LEADER??!! So that’s why you never wanted to go to the hospital! That does explain everything!” You yelled in excitement, eyes wide as your hands trailed through your hair. “All those secrets…and I’m guessing those friends of yours are also a part of the league?”

Shigaraki was a bit shocked by your response. It didn’t appear you were mad at him. “So, you’re not okay with this? You sure you won’t go revealing me to the police or the heroes?” He questioned.

“Of course not! So wait, why exactly did you break up with me? Is it because you’re the leader or something?”

“My second in command noticed I was getting too close to you and suggested it…but…it made me realize the danger I could put you in if I stayed with you,” he replied, eyes downcast in guilt. He felt your soft hand graze against his left cheek and turned his head towards yours.

“You wanted to protect me?” Your glossy eyes stared at him as you bit your lip. He nodded as you clasp a hand over your mouth and begin to cry again. “I wish you would’ve told me then…I would’ve wanted to join you…”

“What?!! You…would’ve wanted to join?” His voice raised in shock.

“Well, yeah…if it meant I could be with you more…,” you confessed, rubbing your tears away with your arm.

Shigaraki covers his face with a hand. “Well…this would’ve saved me that hassle I guess…though I wasn’t sure how you’d respond back then…I’m sorry I put you through all this (y/n)…”

You hummed, “well, I don’t blame you. It’s not an everyday thing to be dating the leader to a gang of criminals.”

He sat in silence for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you and sighed in content. “Do you want to join then? I’ll still have to inform the group about my amnesia problem…”

You sniffle a little before giggling, “of course I join you, that is, if we continue where we left six months ago.” You give him a playful smile, leaning closer to his face, feeling his hot breath fan across it.

“If that is what you want. Besides, I still want my medic back…and maybe you can help me recover more of my lost memories,” he offered.

“I’ll do what I can, Tomu!” You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

Shigaraki smiled at you, lifting an arm to trace circles on your cheek. Of course Kurogiri wouldn’t be happy about this predicament but he was just happy to have you back in his life. Now it’s just a matter of remembering everything he’s ever done in the League of Villains and his childhood…if he ever will…but one question that weighed on his mind was how this whole thing happened. He hoped he’d get some intel from the rest or the League once he returned.

[vore-scientist]

Good Intentions (In Which There Are Thieves)

[M/m safe, soft GT vore]

A (mini) Tale of the Mystic Woods

Yonah (the “evil” giant wizard) deals with thieves on a regular basis. They are rather a nuisance but they do taste good!

Almost every encounter with a thief follows a pattern: 1) Thief breaks in to the tower. 2) Yonah catches and eats the thief. 3) Yonah releases the thief and if they accept it, gives them some money for their trouble.

“In Which There are Thieves” is a collection of short stories that all follow that pattern, but each encounter is unique!

Content warnings: the vore is soft and safe but VERY unwilling and it’s Yonah’s job to be the big bad giant so expect fearplay. And the thieves don’t know that he plans to let them live. (Especially when he tells them the opposite)

Note: this encounter takes place before Sophia comes to live with Yonah

This fun short was inspired by this ask:

“Fee Fi Fo Fum, I smell the blood of the human kind. It matters not the things you stole, I’ll capture you and swallow you whole!”

/Great/, thought Sparrow. He was already captured so that only left being eaten. He thought this was supposed to be the lair of an evil wizard who worked for the king! A king’s secret wizard must have loads of shit worth multiple fortunes! He had not expected this wizard to also be a giant. He had not come prepared to fight a giant! And thus, he had been captured. Rather quickly too. 

The giant had him in a tight grip, large brown hungry eyes fixed on him. It had taken his sword, his dagger, even his mother’s pocket knife! That was an heirloom. Sitting in this giant’s lair it wouldn’t get handed down to anyone and since he was about to die he dearly wished to still have it on him for his trip to the next world. 

“Now you see what happens to petty thieves!” it growled with delight. 

“I am no petty thief, Giant,” Sparrow spat, “I am a hero! I steal from the rich to give to the poor! You have no business eating me.”

The giant cocked his head at him with unnerving quizzical innocence which rapidly contorted into mischief. Sparrow didn’t like it, not one bit. Especially not when it laughed and licked it’s lips. 

“Wonderful! Then your next and final act of charity will be to fill my poor belly!” it pat it’s stomach in a horrible childish manner. 

The next thing Sparrow knew he was in it’s mouth. He thought for SURE he would be bitten in half. Whatever strange breed of giant this was, it was too small to swallow a person whole. At least that would be a quicker death than the agonizing drawn out demise to be found inside it’s stomach. 

He just wished it would get it over with!!! The giant’s teeth dug into his ribs as it held him ⅓ the way in its mouth, the massive tongue familiarizing itself with Sparrow’s texture and taste. The slobber was thick and warm and he tried not to breath. UGH he got the giant’s spit in his mouth!!!

The hum of giant’s delight at his flavor buzzed around him, adding to the humiliation. 

What was going on? Gravity shifted and he was upside-down! The jaws loosened and he slid back at the same he was pushed by the tongue and pulled by the muscles into the giant’s throat. 

No way. No! 

The hot rubbery flesh enveloped him completely. With his heart pounding and his breathing rapid he feared he would pass out. No not feared. Hoped. Death by suffocation was much preferable to… digestion. 

Seemed like he didn’t even have that amount of good fortune however.

His feet were still in the giants mouth! It had taken off his shoes and the tongue tickled but Sparrow did not laugh. For pounding against his head, against his heart, was the beat of the giant’s as he slowly inched past the powerful organ. 

There was a strong swallow and a deep breath from the giant as Sparrow’s body entered it in its entirety. 

In the same moment his hands passed through a much rougher section of flesh into a void. Then his head did the same and he instinctively drew breath and then gagged. There was air in stomach but it was noxious. 

The stomach. 

The giant’s body forced his own into the space which stretched to hold all of him but it was a tight fit. He was really crammed in there. While he could kick out he couldn’t put much power behind it, and with the slick walls he couldn’t maintain any outstretched position for longer than a second. 

Time didn’t slow down, if anything it sped up. His impending death drawing closer with every beat of his racing heart. 

“Enjoying your stay? I am. It’s a pity it won’t be a long one.” The giant’s voice thundered around him. 

“Bastard! I’m a HERO! I’m supposed to defeat evildoers such as you! How did you beat me! This isn’t how it works!”

The laughter of the giant shook him violently, rattling his brain. 

“Good does not always triumph over evil,” came the venomous reply. 

“You could have at least bitten my head off or something! I don’t want to suffer in here!”

There was a jolting chuckle. 

“But I would miss out on all of your wonderful struggling! And who said anything about suffering? I certainly didn’t!”

There was a pronounced pressure on Sparrow’s side. The giant’s fingers most likely. It clearly wanted to enjoy every bit of his slow and painful death. 

“So, my tasty little hero, you ready to say goodbye?”

WhAT? Sparrow flailed and the giant laughed again. He barely felt any tingling in his skin! Was the giant about to do something terrible? 

The pressure increased from all sides and Sparrow screamed. The walls got angry and convulsed, rolling him around until.

He was forced… back the way he came. 

So shocked he froze and let it happen. He could not believe it was actually happening! The  retching sounds which normally might cause himself to retch were like an angelic choir as with each one he traveled up the giant’s esophagus. 

Still hot and muggy the breath of air he gulped in when his head emerged into the giant’s mouth was the best he’d ever had. It was a breath of life! 

His wits miraculously back to him he opened his eyes, extended an arm to grasp at the giant’s front teeth to yank himself forward. 

The giant choked in surprise but helped out by pinching his sides and pulled him the rest of the way out. He was tossed unceremoniously onto the bench. Right next to his things. 

Sword in hand he stood up, slipping only slightly on the spit and mucus that pooled at his feet. 

“Stay back giant! Or I’ll-”

“Do what, exactly?” The giant was wiping its mouth on a long sleeve grinning. “Get eaten by me again?”

He raised the sword in a fighting stance. The giant frowned. 

“Wow are you stupid? I’m letting you go! Unless you think we have unfinished business. You’re welcome to give this another try. But I warn you, the second trip down my gullet is one way. Are these poor you speak of worth the risk?”  

Sparrow said nothing, his mind was racing in a white void 

“Go on. I’d love to have another taste.” The eyes of the giant flared bright orange for a second. 

Sparrow lowered the sword but did not sheath it. He cautiously gathered up the rest of his things. Shoes, knife, pocket knife, bag, gear harness. It all squelched against his foul smelling soaked through clothes. The giant watched him, the gaze no less hungry than before. By some miracle he had been shown mercy, but he didn’t know if it would last very long. 

The giant’s unnerving kindness extended to carrying him from the desk to the windowsill so he could climb down. He took one last glance at the window, The giant was leaning out the window, head in it’s elbows. Not looking down, but looking out into the forest. 

Before he left the giant warned him not to disturb the garden. OR ELSE. and Sparrow was not about to disregard the one who would happily gobble him up again. So he ran into the woods. 

Once he felt a safe distance away, and made it to a cheerfully babbling brook, he sat down to wash up. 

He opened his bag to get out a bar of soap but found something else. Something that had not been there before. A large brown sack tied with a string. Had the giant put it there? 

From simply picking it up he knew it to be full of coins. Opening it revealed them to be gold. 

And there was a note. Surely this couldn’t be the giant’s doing. The note was so small and oh-

It unfolded and unfolded. 

“If this money doesn’t make it to the poor, I will know and I will find you. 

-PS, you were delicious P;”

He could have done without that post-script, especially that little drawing. What a complete wacko. Most evil wizards were. 

Thankfully, Sparrow was true to his word! This money would be put to good use. 

No need to worry about being hunted down by a giant wizard. 

Right?

[Thanks for reading! PLEASE REBLOG! I CRAVE FEEDBACK]

[for more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/+mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’ on my blog! I’ll have a tag for thief stories soon. probably “MW Thieves”]

[fallen029]

Fic Request: Miraxus; Mira running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, the stress proving too much for Mira's heart, resulting in a massive heart attack and Laxus must revive her. Feel free to tweak this to your liking.

“Freed, what are you doing?”

“You told me,” the man stated simply, hands clasped behind his back and a hum on his lips, “that you wanted your guild to be in tip top shape when you are officially handed over the reigns by Master Makarov. So I thought, what is the most important part of a guildhall? What is the lifeblood? It’s waitstaff, of course!”

“What’s life blood versus regular blood?” Mirajane asked where she sat at one of the tables, her sister and Kinana flanking her on either side. “Should I have studied for that? I didn’t know there’d be a written portion of things.”

“There ain’t,” Laxus grumbled as Lisanna only giggled into her palm and Kinana wondered herself. Then the slayer seemed uncertain and glanced at Freed. “Is there?”

“I could quickly devise one if everyone would like-”

“No.” Suddenly, Lisanna wasn’t so giggly. “And no drug tests either!”

“Why,” Laxus growled then as he gave her a glance, “would that bother you?”

“I wouldn’t want one either,” Mira added. “I haven’t studied enough drugs to really know if I can be tested on them.”

“I too would like to be exempt from that?” Kinana sounded more like she was questioning as she rose her hands. “I don’t feel comfortable supplying you with my…urine? I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Kinana, no.” Mira was quick to pat her on the shoulder. “Urine means pee. That’s not a drug.”

“Would you all shut up?” Laxus was growing annoyed. He wasn’t even officially in charge of the place yet and already he was getting a migraine. “Freed, why the hell did you ask us all here so early?”

“Well, they’re not here early. Or Mira isn’t. This is the normal time she should be prepping for opening.”

“Then hwy the hell are you interrupting her from that?”

He bowed his head then, the rune mage did, before gesturing to what they’d all been curious about the whole time.

“I,” he explained, “took it upon myself to locate a heart rate monitor and a treadmill. The way I see it, Laxus, once it gets out that the greatest mage to ever walk the planet, Raijin, has decided to grace us with his exquisite leadership-”

“I’m about to vomit,” Lisanna griped as she made a gagging noise.

“Well, I haven’t mopped yet, so go ahead, I suppose,” her sister offered. “But don’t pee or anything. I hear Laxus wants to get access to that? Or-”

“Do not,” the slayer was growling at the women once more, “go around telling people that. I didn’t say that.”

“I feel like he did,” Lisanna whispered to which Mira shrugged and Kinana nodded.

“It was implied,” the purple haired woman assured the other two and ugh.

“Get,” Laxus growled at Freed, “to the point. Before I fire the entire waitstaff.”

It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. Frequently.

“I merely thought that with the no doubt increase in interest in our already capacity bar,” Freed was hurrying right along, “that the women should be expecting to work even harder. Rush around even faster. And since they are not working mages, currently, I feared this might be a problem for them, should they have gotten more used to the docile side of things. A physical assessment would clear up any quandaries, however.”

“Working- I am too a working mage.” Lisanna scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I went on a job… Well, I hardly work here either.”

“She’s right,” Mira agreed, who’d more than been footing the bill for her sister. The price of resurrection. She’d pay it a billion times over. “She hardly works at anything.”

“Other than chasing that high, huh?” Laxus grumbled to which Lisanna stuck her tongue out at him.

“You refuse one drug test and you’re the enemy, but a man is asking for three women’s pee,” Lisanna griped, “and he gets a guildhall.”

“Sounds like a sound plan from me,” Freed assured them as Laxus only growled.

“I’m not allowed to work, actually, outside the bar. I think?” Kinana once more raised her hand. “Master Makarov says I should just always work here, at the bar, with Mirajane. Where it’s safe. And I won’t have any unfortunate runins with things that might remind me of my tragic past.”

“That’s interesting.” Freed, finally, glancing away from his idol to look at the woman. “You acknowledge the idea of a tragic past, but not the memory of it? Hmmm. Do you wonder-”

“We don’t,” Laxus growled, “have time for this.”

“I do have to open soon,” Mirajane assured them. “And if you just want us to run on a silly treadmill, Freed, all you had to do is ask. I like this much better than having to give Laxus our-”

“If you women,” the slayer growled at them, “don’t stop saying that, I’ll fire the lot of you.”

“I have to work here.”

“I hardly work here.”

“You can’t fire me, Laxus,” Mirajane assured him as she rose from her seat. “We have a date on Saturday and you do not want me to cancel that. Do you?”

This was true enough. Only in the past few months, as he started taking less jobs in preparation for the transfer over to guild master, Laxus and Mirajane had…well…he was spending more time around the bar and…

“Who would wanna date such a freak though?” Lisanna muttered to Kinana who just nodded her head.

“Get,” Laxus finally grumbled, “on the treadmill, Mirajane.”

She transformed first, right there in front of them, out of typical dress and into something more work out appropriate.

“Never mind, Freed,” Laxus offered as he shoved the rune mage out of the way, rushing to be the one to stick the little feelers from the heart rate machine all over Mirajane, randomly, with no idea if that mattered or not. She only giggled at the cool touch. “Best idea. You can, uh, prep the drug addict and homebody. Me and the demon have things all handled over here.”

“I go other places,” Kinana assured them. “Sometimes, I go to the market!”

“You have to be addicted,” Lisanna retorted, “to be that. I could stop at any time. Anyone could. It’s not addictive. Who should really be tested on their drugs?”

“A light run,” Laxus was snickering to himself, over at the treadmill, where he and Mirajane seemed to forget all about the others for the moment. “Demon. Before work. Great way to start it, eh?”

“If you think so, Laxus, but-”

“A hard run.” Freed was rushing over as well. “This is not meant for your pleasure, Laxus.”

“He has,” Lisanna grumbled softly to Kinana, “some weird kinks.”

“I am not,” the other woman was going on then though, “allowed to go to the park, however. Master won’t tell me why, but-”

“Shut up.” Laxus glared over at the two of them. “Why are you even here?”

“I work here, future Master,” Kinana told him with a bow of her head.

“I don’t. But I do pick up shifts. And I had to see what it was Freed was going to be testing us in.” Still, Lisanna shrugged some. “Now that I’ve seen it though, I’m kind of underwhelmed.”

Laxus wasn’t.

“So,” Mira asked once she’d stepped up onto the machine. “I just run?”

“And I measure your heart rate, yes.” Freed nodded at her. “And if you are inadequate, you will be fired. But no pressure.”

“O-Of course not. Uh, Laxus-”

“It’s not like you’re going to fail,” the slayer told her with a wave of his hand. “He spent money on it, so let’s just get this over with.”

She nodded, Mira did, and Freed started it at a light jog. Which made Mira giggle.

“Hit me,” she assured the rune mage, “with your best shot.”

So he reached over and cranked the machine up and things were going fine. Great. Boring, even.

Lisanna found it better then, over with Kinana, to talk shop about other things.

Like how much of a creep Laxus was.

“I,” the slayer complained, “can hear you.”

“I want you to. You’re going to be a boss soon,” Lisanna pointed out, “and, well, frankly, I’d hate to hit you with a lawsuit- Although, I won’t mind hitting you, if I’m forced to.”

“I won’t hit you, Master, with anything, because I don’t think I’m allowed to,” Kinana offered and ugh, they were ruining him enjoying watching the demon work out time.

Annoying.

“Everything looks normal,” Freed observed over with the woman in question. Mirajane, fully focused on her all out run then, on the machine, didn’t even have the breath to give him a giggle. “However, I do wish to test you on other things, while I have you in such a state. A guildhall is nothing if not cantankerous. I will shout things that you might find unpleasant, but please, do not let it affect your stress levels.”

“She already found out the guy she’s seeing is going around, asking women for pee.” Lisanna whistled. “Can’t get much more shocking than that.”

“Your parents never loved you!” Freed was going to try. And as even Kinana seemed taken aback by that, the rune mage only continued. “Your brother is no man! I am a better mage than you! Your relationship with Laxus will not last past it’s infancy! Everyone in the guild has forgotten your true strength! Master Makarov has only ever cared for your looks and has no other interest in you at all!”

“This is,” Laxus muttered then, softly, mostly to himself, “the weirdest thing that I’ve ever been a part of.”

“Just wait til you’re Master,” Lisanna assured him and, ugh, maybe he didn’t even want to be anymore.

“Your sister,” Freed was yelling then at the still running Mirajane, “has been hiding a secret relationship from you!”

That was it. That did it. The machine went crazy then and it was just too much for her heart to take. The betrayal. The excitement. The intrigue. The fact that, yeah, she probably could use some more cardio in her workout. It was all too much and they were all screaming as, instead of just slowing down, Mirajane began to clutch at her chest and they saw it, just a glimpse, of what seemed like a sheer white soul seeping out of her body.

“Mira!” Laxus caught her as she fell off the machine. “Damn it, Freed!”

“Mirajane.” He stood over her as the slayer slowly laid the woman down. “I was not being serious.”

“Someone do something!” Lisanna looked to Kinana. “Do you know CPR?”

“Is that what you do in this case though? On a heart attack?” the purple haired woman asked, uncertain.

“Is she having one of those?” Lisanna questioned too and they were just all talking too much.

Laxus had to think.

Had to…

To…

He let out a loud yell as lightning shot from his body, straight down into the body of Mirajane. Her sister was yelling at him then and looked ready to maul him, but sure enough, the lightning strike seemed to be just what the woman needed as, suddenly, that sheer white soul was floating back down into her body.

“Mira!” Lisanna dropped to her knees by her sister’s head. “Are you alright?”

“I…I think so. What-”

“Good.” Freed looked relieved himself, as he stared down at the woman. “You’re fired.”

“Huh?”

“Freed,” Laxus groaned while Kinana only stood by with a frown.

“If that is what I must go through, to continue working here, then, please, I would rather submit to the drug test,” she told them all. “Please.”

“No, this is fine.” Lisanna, quickly, was looking to Laxus. “Yeah, I can have a heart attack. If that’s what it takes. To very rarely put in hours here. I-”

“What,” they heard then as the guildhall doors opened and the guild’s still current Master, “is going on in here? I heard the lightning strike all the way down the block. Why is Mira on the- Did you strike her down, Laxus? I warned you, both of you, just what interpersonal relationships inside a guild would do, but-”

“Laxus is asking us for our pee,” Lisanna tattled because, finally, the real master had arrived to make sure none of them could be fired for their gross incompetence. Finally. Yes. Restore the order in the disorder. “And I really don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“I’m the one being inappropriate?” he growled.

“Well, you did ogle Mirajane, at the very least, Laxus,” Freed offered. “While she was running.” When this got a glare from the slayer, he said, “I assumed you wanted me to rate you as well, when it came into things being in tip top shape. You cannot ogle the waitstaff, if you become Master.”

“Big,” Makarov growled from where he stood nearby, “if.”

She hummed then, softly, Mirajane did, as their eyes all fell onto the woman once more.

“So did I pass my test?” she asked and they all grinned, softly.

“As long as your sister never announces a romantic partner while you are in the midst of a workout,” Freed conceded, “then I suppose you can continue on here.”

“Big if,” Lisanna mocked softly. And it was a pretty nice moment.

Until Freed looked to the other two women. “Now, who’s next?”

Makarov kicked him and Laxus out though, before they could determine that, and as Freed only bemoaned his ill-fated purchase, Laxus just kicked at the ground and wondered if he even wanted the hellish guild, anyways.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Just Hang On

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam, Young Justice - Dick Grayson/Nightwing

Rating: PG-11/T- (for blood/violence)

Original Idea: There are lots of different prompts about taking care of someone with a GSW

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Ugh---this was SO much fun to write. It was great. I had such a blast. @welovegroot @batboys-and-other-messes

^^^^^

“Go! Get out! Now!” Nightwing ordered, shoving me ahead of him as the whole team started finding exits. “Evacuate the building! Now! Go, go, go!”

“Look out!” I shrieked, shoving him behind a desk and falling to the ground myself as gunfire whizzed past us.

I heard the characteristic shing of a Wingding flying through the air—and then an explosion. Nightwing jumped out from behind the desk and hauled me to my feet. “You okay?” he demanded.

“Fine. Let’s go,” I replied.

Holding my hand, he pulled me toward the door.

“Covering your exit!” Artemis said.

We all ran out of the building and headed for Sphere.

I fell behind, ordering Nightwing to keep an eye on the others. “You can’t give me orders,” he teased.

“Just go. You’re faster than me.”

He nodded and sprinted forward to make sure the team could make it to Sphere safely.

I stumbled to a stop and glanced at my side—at the bloom of red spreading over my dark blue suit. I pulled my glove off and put my hand over the injury. It came away bloody. I coughed and gagged on the pain as the adrenaline started working its way out of my system now that the fight was over.

Sucking in a deep breath, I shook my head to try to clear the pain and jogged in Sphere’s general direction.

^^^^^

“Everybody in!” Nightwing ordered, swinging his arm toward Sphere in cycle form. “Superboy… Miss M… Artemis… KF… Aqualad… Wolf…” He moved to get in—and stopped. “Where’s Starlight?” he asked, looking at the others. There was an empty seat where Starlight usually sat.

“She was right behind us,” Miss Martian said.

Nightwing ran back toward the building.

“Nightwing!” Kid Flash shouted.

Ignoring his best friend, Nightwing ran back the way they came.

There, only a few dozen yards from the burning building, was Starlight, facedown on the ground. There was a small pool of red at her side, stemmed slightly by her hand.

“Oh my G—Starlight!” Nightwing exclaimed, rushing forward. He rolled her over, scooped her up, and ran back to Sphere. “SB, a hand!”

Superboy got out of the driver’s seat, jumped over, took Starlight from Nightwing’s arms, and carried her to her seat. He secured her in and jumped back to the driver’s seat as Nightwing vaulted into the seat next to Starlight.

“Aqualad, gimme a hand,” Nightwing requested. “Help me put pressure on her wound.”

Aqualad nodded and reached over her unconscious form to press his hand on her injury.

Sphere took to the skies, zooming over the land below them. They took Sphere rather than the bioship since they weren’t far from HQ.

Starlight shuddered. Her breathing was labored.

“Hang on Starlight. Hang on,” Nightwing murmured. “You’re going to be okay. Don’t die on me. C’mon Starlight. Hang on.”

“Coming up on the cave,” Superboy said.

“KF, the second we’re inside, contact the Watchtower. Have Dr. Thompkins zeta down here immediately for a GSW,” Nightwing ordered. Kid Flash nodded.

Sphere’s tires touched down, and Kid Flash was gone in a streak of red and yellow. Aqualad helped Nightwing get Starlight out of the backseat as the others piled out. Nightwing handed Starlight to Superboy for him to get her to the training room/zeta chamber upstairs to put her down on a table to get medical attention. Superboy nodded and ran off, cradling her carefully to his chest while also trying to keep pressure on the wound.

Nightwing was still the youngest of the original six team members, and Starlight was barely a few weeks older than him. Still, she was the smallest and least experienced of the seven of them, and that made her feel like the youngest. The baby sister. Everyone was protective of her.

Nightwing ran after Kid Flash and Superboy upstairs.

By the time he got there, Starlight was laid out on a platform from the floor of the training mat and Kid Flash was on video with the Watchtower. Superboy still had his hands on her wound, maintaining pressure. Nightwing crossed over and took over. “Thank you, Conner,” he said.

Superboy—Conner—nodded and retreated to go wash the blood off his hands.

“Dr. Thompkins is on her way,” Wally said.

“Thank you, Wally,” Nightwing said.

“Hey, we all love Starlight. We’d do anything for her,” he said. “Mind if I hit the showers?”

“Not at all. Get something to eat too,” Nightwing said. “I’ll be here, waiting for her.”

“Okay.” Wally zipped off. He returned almost immediately with a granola bar in his hand and his cowl pulled off. “Hey, man, don’t worry too much, ‘kay? She’s tough.”

“I know she is. But this is serious.”

Wally bounced his eyebrows and ran off again.

Nightwing looked back at Starlight, bleeding, unconscious, probably in a lot of pain.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered. “This is all my fault. I should have protected you better.” He leaned forward and kissed the side of her face. “If you come back to me, I promise I’ll take better care of you. I might even get up the courage to finally ask you out. It’s funny. I can face down villains and look death in the eye without fear, but when you’re hurt I feel like my whole world is ending. Come back to me. Please. I promise I’ll do better at letting you know how I feel about you.”

Starlight stirred in her sleep, but didn’t wake.

“Recognized: Dr. Thompkins—A-Two-S—”

“Is she alright?” Dr. Thomkpins demanded, rushing over and immediately setting to work before Nightwing could say anything.

“She’s lost a lot of blood but I think she’ll be okay.

^^^^^

My head felt like it was full of fluff. I could barely think. My brain was made from cotton and my blood from molasses. My limbs felt like the braches of the oldest petrified oak on the planet and my lungs were soggy. There was a dull throbbing coming from my right side.

What happened? I thought, confused.

Memories rushed back. The gunshot. The mission. I passed out.

Oh right.

I managed to peel my eyes open.

I was in an infirmary room—but not the one in Mt. Justice. That one was smaller and didn’t get as much use. For some reason. Even though the team was comprised of teenagers who could be considered reckless.

The room was white and sterile with a blindingly bright light in the ceiling.

I wasn’t in my suit—or my mask. Oh no—who removed my mask?!

As I started to panic that my mask had been taken off, I heard the EKG hooked to me start going up—which helped me calm down some since I didn’t want it to get too high to alert whoever was watching over me that I was in panic-mode.

I shuffled a little—

And felt something heavy on my hand.

I turned my head toward the window—where I hadn’t looked previously since it was too bright—to see a familiar figure sleeping on the chair next to my gurney.

Nightwing. His hair was even more unkempt than usual—which was saying something—and his gloves were off. The weight on my hand was his holding mine. So he was holding my bare skin with his. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever touched his bare skin before. The top half of his suit was missing, leaving behind the under-armor shirt he wore underneath it. His other hand was supporting his face, elbow on the arm of the chair.

On the little table next to my gurney was my mask—and a clear plastic cup with a bullet in it.

I looked back at Nightwing. He hadn’t woken, despite my movement and the increase of the EKG beeping.

The door eased open quietly. I turned to see Dr. Thompkins slipping in. When I realized I knew and trusted her, I went back to looking at Nightwing. He was handsome and looked more peaceful in sleep than I’d ever seen him while awake.

Dr. Thompkins chuckled. “Yeah. He’s barely moved from that chair in three days. Refused to leave your bedside until he knew for sure that you were going to be okay. And he’d only believe it coming from you.”

I smiled. “Sounds like Di—Nightwing,” I said.

Dr. Thompkins chuckled. “It’s okay, kiddo. I know who he is. I know his whole family,” she remarked. I nodded.

“Three days, huh?”

“Yeah. You passed out from blood loss and after the transfusion you stayed that way for your body to heal. We didn’t even sedate you. Just gave you pain medication.”

“Mm,” I groaned.

“Well, now that you’re awake, we’ll do an exam in a little bit. Hungry?”

“Little,” I said.

My stomach took that as its cue to growl really loudly.

“Traitor,” I muttered.

Dr. Thompkins smiled. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“Thanks Doctor,” I said.

She nodded and left.

Dick only woke up when the door clicked shut. He sucked in a deep breath and squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to him. I turned to watch him. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut due to the white covering his eyes on his mask, but I guessed he was.

“Morning,” I greeted.

He looked at me sharply. “You’re awake!” he whispered.

“Yeah. Just woke up a couple minutes ago,” I said.

“I thought you were going to die. When Dr. Thompkins couldn’t stabilize you in the cave we brought you here.”

“Where’s ‘here’ exactly?” I asked.

Nightwing glanced out the window. “The Watchtower,” he said.

I sucked in a breath, shocked, and looked out the window.

Sure enough, I could see the Earth below.

“Wow,” I breathed. “Never been up here before.”

Nightwing grinned. “Yeah. Pretty, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” I said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hurts a little. Not too bad.”

He leaned forward, taking my hand in both of his. “You scared me. Real bad. I thought you were going to die.”

“Sorry,” I said.

Dick shook his head and peeled his mask off so I could see his eyes. They were sharp blue. “Don’t do that again, okay? I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t bear that.”

“The team can make do without me,” I said. “Y’all did for a long time before I joined.”

“No. Not the team, Starlight. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I…” He paused, clearly trying to find the right words. “I really like you. And… I promised myself that if you woke up I’d finally get up the courage to ask you out.”

“About time, Wingster,” I teased. “Been waiting for that since you left Robin behind.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that,” he said. With a smile he met my eyes. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “After I get out of the infirmary.”

He grinned and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I'm glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

Dr. Thompkins came back in with some light infirmary food. Like Jell-o and soup broth. “Nice to see you awake, Dick,” she said.

He snorted. “Thanks doc,” he replied.

“Okay, Starlight. While you eat I'm going to ask you a couple questions and do a short exam, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said.

[armpitnoodlejuice]

Jumping jacks, handymen, spit in my mouth and murder kind of impulsiveness.

I might get my paint brush real quick and mix all the colors up and just fucking make a mess on the canvas. My mind is a mess. Speed of lightening in thoughts, but i cannot stop yawning.

And i get this creepy surge of excitement when i want something now. Sure it’s anxiety but i kinda fuck with it. I get real hyper, can’t be still, and i feel like doing jumping jacks. For example, I really wanna learn how to be handy. So the handyman came by the house and i kept thinking shit shit i wanna be like this guy. I really wanna build my own house one day. You know a tiny house. Shit i wanna be able to fix a sink and a doorknob. Simple shit. I was sitting there and just thinking and thinking and flet like screaming out my chair. So i said hi. He said hi back and I was like lemme work with you. He said what? I said i wanna be handy. I wanna fix my own door and hell build a house. Lemme intern or something or hire me and you beat have some low expectations if you do. He said yes. Lmao. He said yes. And the excitement in my body settled. But then he offered me a suit and tie job and the surge came back. And i was like shit shit shit. Damn i like that title. Shit it might not work out but shit whatever let’s try it.

If you know me, you know I will try almost anything once but i typically think things through a lot. The thinking shit through a lot has settled due to this creepy odd surge of energy. This is impulsively. I don’t know where she came from but i am scared of her. I am so scared of her. She makes me jump and jump and Jump and i cannot control her. The way my heart races now, the fact that i start sweating just a little is very odd. But i have gotten so much done with this. Like i am knocking out a lot of my goals. But this also feels like a possible anxiety attack coming on. Oh well. Let’s just wait and see. I’m a little excited thinking about it now. Oui oui. But deadass it feels like my chest is on fire, my legs wanna rock, and i wanna yell at the top of lungs. What is this? Where did you come from? Why now? I’ve been doing a lot of impulsive shit. If anyone wants to do something wild now it is the time to hit me up. I said yes to everyone who asked me out. Seriously i had my suspicions about this guy... he only likes to hang in the dark and often avoids me during the day. He doesn’t have a phone so i settled and he was always all up in my cabinets and eating my food. Always had his brothers over too. After a week i ended it tho, all i needed was a shoe. Saw him on my kitchen counter and said why not YOLO, sike, not you, damn cockroach. I’m single and impulsive. Also a murder.... damn roach. Insects can’t love you back. But the rush told me... let’s try it.

So like i said. You wanna have fun with me now is the timeeeeeee homie. Cuz when this fucked up beautiful adrenaline rush simmers down.....I’m back to thinking and thinking and thinking .... back to my ever so logical ass self.

I mean it’s good time to argue with me. I might just engage instead of walking away. Not into conflict but let’s give a go, huh! But no the last time i had an argument a part of me got a little excited. No one ever yells at me so a part of is like yassssss oh la laaaaa higher higher higher HAWT. Yes !! call me nasty names. I’m soo BAWD zaddy. Damn maaa throw it back!!! Make it clap and echo — in my ear. Ugh yes get closer to my face. Finger in my face, where do yaaa wannnna put it next! Rawarr !! Spit in my mouth ( taking it too far). Saw that in the golden boy anime ( hilarious).

If you catch me smirking while being yelled at which is often .... think what you want. Lmao. Don’t argue with perverts or optimistic people. It won’t work out do you. (; i just like a good laugh but i do consider your feelings. Just have to relax myself. Two angry birds can’t make a nest. And all about nest.

This is where my minds at. And this is usually at night tho. So maybe night me is just merging with day me. I just need the adrenaline to settle before my blood pressure increases and i need meds. That’s all I’m asking for sweet Jesus and Buddha and Mars.

[lithium-lossr]

It’s been a while since I’ve posted but mostly because after the appointments I was exhausted for days on end and all energy accumulated was spent on my toddler. Finally though, after a long nap, I have mustered enough energy weeks later to update my little tag for myself before I forget anything.

So here’s an update for myself.

Last I posted was how anxious and frustrated I was with the American healthcare System since, without insurance, 15 years of my life was depending on 30 minutes.

When I went in for that appointment I ended up only having an EKG, not the orthostatic blood pressure I expected. Which is fine, just really shitty when travel time is north of three hours, but my doctor knew their EKG prices are FAR cheaper than my areas so no worries. This appointment was 12/31/19

The nurse on the other hand was rather condescending, I thought. Maybe it’s the autism not catching tones right but i dunno. Felt off. I expressed I knew the EKG procedure since I’ve had several in the past so she didn’t need to walk me through it. She broke terms down for me and I also explained she had no need since I have a strong history in human anatomy but also have had several friends & my own sister being nurses. TYPICALLY I have nurses feel relieved or kinda happy after explaining I don’t need them to baby step me. Normally allowing that knowledge be known opens to some great convos that don’t involved every single step they’re taking. I felt some of her finishing comments about me being a “good little ekg taker since I’ve had so many” basically felt invalidating. I’m sorry I didn’t have you explain the whole process out to me like I’m a newbie. That you didn’t have to remind me 100 times to stop moving or talking. Maybe THATS why you fucked up the wire order and put my calves on my arms & messed up the chest one with another. Because you didn’t talk yourself through it. But hey, who knows. I don’t.

Anyways,

My EKG came back and it showed enough for us to set up and orthostatic bp appointment.

I was unable to find the EKG Results on the portal but I’ve requested them and will be adding them to my tag to keep track of all this.

For my orthostatic bp appointment I thankfully had a much nicer nurse. She had me lay down and did me up with a cuff and finger pulse oximeter. My oxygen was 99% (not to brag or anything *debbie Ryan hair pushback meme* but it’s Rona SZN bb)

I just focused straight up & ahead. Throughout the whole lay, sit, stand transition she asked me questions on how I felt. Just like any day my symptoms were strong and immediately on sitting up my chest felt sharp and tight. Slightly light on my top half. More I had to support myself the worse I felt. Started to realize how much I support myself with walls, chairs, bars, anything to keep me from having to hold my own weight because this sucked. When I stood my heart kept hurting and my body felt light. My legs felt like they were literally draining. Like I honestly feel like I’m in some sort of Stephen King movie with how it felt the blood fall. Feet felt heavy.

The poor nurse sounded so concerned. Several times she asked if I was going to pass out and if I needed to sit then sit but I won’t lie. If it took me passing out I was prepared to because I’m SO TIRED of this debilitating BULLSHIT.

To give better context on results I’m about to drop (to anyone who actually might be reading this and care) on my orthostatic bp I am:

-24 years

-114 lbs (51.7kg)

- 5’7” (170cm)

My results (copy and pasted from the portal)

Orthostatic BP -

123 / 78 supine R arm adult cmchale1 01-12-2021

127 / 95 sitting R arm adult Abnormal cmchale1 01-12-2021

134 / 91 standing R arm adult Abnormal cmchale1 01-12-2021

Conclusion came to yes, it is POTS-

“Dr. R______ has reviewed your nurse visit and states: Her symptoms and vital signs are highly suggestive of POTS, or postural tachycardia syndrome. There are a variety of reasons this can happen, but the most common demographic is young, thin females. Often, nonpharmacologic treatments can be very effective. Specifically, high salt diet, aggressive fluids, and a daily exercise program with cardiovascular training (e.g. interval jogging - let me know if she needs more specifics). Also, doing things to increase venous return (squeezing the leg muscles a couple times) before standing up can be helpful. Sometimes, a beta-blocker like propranolol can be used as needed to help with high heart rates, but should only be used in the context of the behavioral strategies. I'm happy to send some in, if she doesn't get enough relief with the behavioral approaches! Let us know if you have further questions.”

Since dealing with this so long most of these things have already been in place. I’m a r/hydrohomie and even recently updated my bottle to a half gallon hydroJug since my quart was just useless. Always ALWAYS empty. I have a relatively salty diet but will be getting supplements to boost, I just don’t really know what to look at for SALT/sodium tablets. Like, the thought of them existing never crossed my mind until I read about sodium intake. As for working out I won’t lie, I chase a toddler (16m) around all day so I definitely TRY to get a nice workout in but I’m exhausted after them. In Maine we are below freezing temperatures and inside just don’t have much room so I try to hoop or do some palates or something to get my muscles working. I used to be such an avid walker when I lived in town. Even in the winter I’d just walk to the store. But now the closest store is 5 miles away on a busy road in tourist/farm land so needless today it’s isolating for someone who doesn’t drive. Even when the weather is nice I never NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH T I C K S. Northern Maine doesn’t deal with that. I saw my first tick at 19 years old 50 miles from my hometown. So not even something I had to worry about hiking in the woods up north. But HERE. PEOPLE KEEP A COLLECTION TO SEE HOW MANY THE CATCH EXCUSE ME.

Ugh that’s a tangent and a half but 🤢🤮 ticks

Little fucking paracites.

As for the medication, I’m glad that wasn’t the first thing she pushed on me. I LOVE having a D.O. over an M.D. Idc. If I have a choice I will pick a D.O. EVEYTIME. My goal is to eventually be off all pharms, even if right now it’s only Zoloft. After I stop breastfeeding I’m to add lithium back at a low dose and that’s just so much maintenance. Labs, med management, MORE refills. Adjustments. Sigh.

Adding also for anyone who does actuall read. I KNOW a cardiologist is who can properly diagnose me and help me more effectively than a D.O PCP. My pcp is literally just worried about my heart and that it was ignored so long. She also knows I have no private insurance and her office doesn’t take state. She’s worked with me in the most amazing ways to get me the best care for the CHEAPEST.

Her original plan was to have a holter monitor for 24hrs & ekg and go from there. I wasn’t able to get a holter to rent so unfortunately we had to relay on my Fitbit but I also got an finger pulse oximeter to track my symptoms especially when I felt them. I was suggest to also get a BP cuff but baby steps. I plan on ordering an electric arm bp when I can.

I had my EKG which clearly showed a need for a Ortho BP.

My overall plan was at LEAST get it addressed and in my records for when I eventually DO have to change PCPs for what ever insurance I can scramble up. That way my new pcp can see and maybe I can get in with a real cardiologist.

I’m just so damn grateful that my doctor listen to me. I love receptive doctors. Thank you Dr. R for being a Queen and not ignoring how I have to live and feel based on the words “I pass out randomly.” You gave your thoughts, I CHALLENGED them and you listened. Thank you. Thank you for not having a fragile ego and working on this together.

[comefeedtherainn]

If youre doing the writing prompts, how about "hey hey, stay with me", for grimmons?

Ooooh, I love it! Thanks for the prompt, I missed my boys

Content warning: blood

Why couldn’t they ever have a nice, peaceful, in-and-outweapons raid? Just once?

Grif muttered as much to himself as he ducked behind a slabof crumbled cement that used to be a wall, shoving ammo into his gun. “This issome bullshit,” he called louder, loud enough that Simmons could hear as he peakedhis head out of cover beside him.

“Yeah, no shit,” Simmons shouted back, propping himself upon one knee and firing at the oncoming mercs. “Did somebody call for anextraction yet?!”

“Wash did, ETA’s five minutes.”

“Fucking balls.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Grif parroted. He glanced over the edge ofthe concrete, preparing to start fucking shit up, when suddenly there was a crackingsound that assaulted his eardrums, echoing around them, and a combination offorce and debris that sent himself and Simmons flying a few feet away fromtheir previous position. Grif landed hard on his back, gasping hoarsely as thewind was knocked out of him, but otherwise unharmed as his armor took most ofthe damage. He slowly regained breath after a long few moments, blinking as hisvision swam back as well. He groaned and pushed himself up to sit, waving hishand in front of his face to clear the dust. “Simmons!” he called, though hecould only hear his voice muffled, like he was underwater. “Simmons!”

He got to his feet with a grunt, his hearing slowlyreturning and overlaid with a high-pitched ring. That was gonna get fuckingannoying. He shook his head to clear it and looked around, swearing softly whenhe didn’t see any maroon in the now mostly collapsed section of skeletalbuildings. He ducked when a few shots pinged the wall beside his head, slamminghis back up against something solid as he searched from the ground instead. Hepaused when he thought he saw an armored pair of legs peeking out from behind afelled wall, gray with dust.

He shifted onto his stomach, taking a quick, sharp breathbefore beginning to crawl, keeping himself low to the ground to avoid furthergunfire. He made it in one piece (somewhat surprised about it, if he was beinghonest), and sat up properly before getting a good look at what was, indeed,Simmons. He was resting against a block of concrete, his helmet off; Grifglanced to the side and saw his visor had been shattered. What was worse wasthat Simmons was breathing erratically, his eyes wide and frantic, and his handwas clutching a dirty slab of debris of some sort. It had wedged itself intohis side, where the armor separated between rib cage and hip bone. Before Grifcould tell him to stop, Simmons had yanked it out in a panic, blood spurtingout after it and flecking the dirty ground.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Simmons,” Grif snapped, crawlingforward and nearly falling onto him as he slammed his own hand over the wound.Simmons’ covered it and increased the pressure, though they were shaking as hisface drained of color. “What the fuck did you do that for?” Grif snarled, hisheart racing so quickly he got a little dizzy. No time for that now, though.Simmons’ blood was warm against his hand, already soaking his glove.

“D-didn’t think,” Simmons stuttered, sheet white andgrimacing. “Sorry. Ugh. That fucking h-hurts,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no shit.” Grif patted around on his suit, swearingharshly as he realized he had no fucking medigel. “Fuck. Fuck me!” he growled,slamming the comm button on his helmet. “This is Captain Grif, I need medicalassistance, right fucking now! Man down, I need fucking medical assistance!”

“Read you, Captain!” came Donut’s voice, a littlebreathless. “On my way to your location!”

“Hurry the fuck up,” Grif snapped, leaving the line open ashe turned back to Simmons. “Hey, hey, no,” he said firmly, shuffling forward asSimmons’ head started to loll forward. “Dick, look at me.” He used his freehand to cup Simmons’ cheek, tilting his head upward and looking into his glazedover eyes. “Hey. Stay with me,” he murmured.

“Feel like shiiiiit,” Simmons slurred, blinking sluggishlyand slumping sideways a bit.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re bleeding out like a fuckingfaucet, asshole,” Grif snorted, stroking a patch of freckles with his thumb. “You’regonna be fine. Donut’s coming.”

“Why th’fug izzat better…?” Simmons snorted, resting hishead on Grif’s hand as it got too heavy.

“Because he’s got medigel, smartass,” Grif laughed shakily,propping Simmons’ head back up. “Hey. No napping on the job. There’s only roomfor one of us around here.”

Simmons snorted, opening his eyes halfway and looking at himwith a bit more focus. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” Grif told him sharply. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Simmons just mumbled something in response, his eyes slidingclosed. Grif was just starting to panic when Donut rounded the corner, backingtoward them while firing his pistol in the opposite direction. After a couplemore shots he spun toward them and dropped to his knees. “Here,” he said,shoving the canister into Grif’s hand. “I’ll cover you.”

Grif nodded, moving closer to Simmons’ side as Donut got tohis feet again and defended their position. He pulled his hand away from thewound, grimacing as he realized it wasn’t bleeding any slower. “Alright,” hemurmured, only loud enough so Simmons could hear. “This is gonna hurt.” Hewrapped one arm around Simmons’ body to keep him still, and held the canisterin his free hand. He took a breath, then stuck it inside of the wound andpushed down on the trigger.

Simmons screamed so loud his voice broke, thrashing againstGrif’s arm and tossing his head. “I know,” Grif muttered, swallowing as hecontinued. “Just a little more, I’ve got you.”

Simmons’ screams died down after a few long moments,although Grif wasn’t sure that the groans were much better, or the head-to-toeshaking. He grimaced as he plugged the rest of the wound as best he could,holding onto the nearly-empty canister just in case they needed the rest.

“Grif, our ride’s here!” Donut shouted down at him, tryingto be heard over the sudden rush of wind and gunfire. “Let’s go!”

Grif scrambled to his feet, stooping and taking Simmons intohis arms. Holding him bridal style he jogged after Donut, who defended allthree of them with his handgun as they ran. They made it to the pelican withoutany further injuries, although Donut and Grif both earned a couple new scrapesin their armor from pinging bullets. Wash shoved them both into the bird with arough hand on their backs, shouting over the din for everyone to board. Onceeveryone was accounted for he dove in himself, and the mercs and rubble belowbegan to shrink as they rose into the air.

Grif sank to the floor instantly, setting Simmons down asgently as he could in a lurching aircraft. He was out fucking cold, and stilldeathly white, but he seemed to be breathing okay. The medigel was doing itsjob, and the only blood was what had already been spilled. Which was a fuckton.Grif grimaced as he glimpsed his soaked glove and crimson painted bracer. Hetried to ignore the coppery smell, or else he might actually fucking puke.

“He stable?”

Grif glanced up at the gruff voice, nodding when he sawSarge standing over them with his helmet underneath his arm. His bushy, darkeyebrows were pulled in and down, the lines in his forehead more pronounced. “Yeah,”Grif responded shortly, looking back down. “He’s good, for now. Bled a lot,though.”

Sarge nodded, clapping Grif’s shoulder firmly. “We’ve got ‘im.Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Grif snorted, lifting his eyes to the ceiling without muchvenom. He watched Sarge go to make a show out of assessing other injuries,declaring that this battle had been just another example of why Red team wassuperior, given that they had only sustained one injury while all of the Blues hadbeen shot at least once. Though, Grif noted, no one was laying prone on thefloor of the pelican. And the wounds were pretty minor. Still…little victories.Suck it, Blues.

He sat with his back against the wall, pulling Simmonscarefully until his head was resting in his lap. Simmons didn’t wake, but hedid turn his head toward Grif’s stomach in his sleep, pressing his foreheadinto the warmth. Grif took a deep breath, pulling off his blood-soaked gloveand running his clean fingers through Simmons’ hair.

“I’ve got you. Asshole.”

[sapphyrelily]

Seven - Waking

Read on AO3

He shifts, wincing at the ache in his back. He wants to turn over, but something tugs at his arm, and he peels his eyes open just a little to squint at it.

Is that…a tube?

He wiggles his fingers, wincing when he feels something move in the crease of his arm. Another blink, a deep breath, and his head is slightly clearer.

Ah. An IV in his arm.

He turns his body towards the arm with the IV, sighing when the pressure eases off his back. Much better.

“Semi-san?”

He turns his head to look at the person, and feels his mouth lift at the corners. “Taichi.”

Kawanishi sets a cup down on the table, coming over to sit by him. “Kenjirou?”

Shirabu is amused, now. “How’d you know?”

“Semi-san would be more confused to see me.”

He nods with a small smile, shifting until he’s more comfortable on the pillows. Realises. “I can move again.”

“Ah, the drug must be mostly flushed out, then.” Kawanishi stands, peers at the meniscus in the IV bag. He nods to himself and reaches behind the bed.

Shirabu watches him, vaguely understanding. “How long have I– We, been out?”

“A couple of hours.” His friend sits down after grabbing his cup. “The A&E people almost wouldn’t let me in.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Typical. Why are you here then?”

“I flirted my way in,” Kawanishi deadpans.

“Rubbish.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Hey, I’m not even in my own body, you can’t say that–”

A stirring.

He freezes.

Kawanishi looks at him, a furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t here, okay?” It’s all he can manage, a desperate whisper, and then he drops control, runs for cover.

He can feel their body slacken, rolling back onto their back, eyelids sliding shut. And in the far corner of their shared consciousness, a gradual awakening.

He keeps still, but he is alert, panicked, watching.

Another shifting, stretching, a wince and a soft curse. Eyes open, and he sees the IV again, gaze focused on it. He can feel Semi’s confusion as he frowns at the IV, as he breathes in the antiseptic of the hospital. And finally, like he can feel another set of eyes on him, their gaze lifts, looking into Kawanishi’s impassive face.

“Taichi?”

“Hello, Semi-san.”

“What are you doing here? What am I doing here?” Semi attempts to sit up, cursing when the action pulls at the IV. He shuffles until he’s upright, straightening his arm and facing his old teammate. “What time is it?”

Kawanishi pulls out his phone. “About one o’clock.”

Semi swears, and makes to get up. “I’m late for work.”

A hand on his shoulder pushes him back. “I told your co-worker that you were here when he called.”

“What?”

Kawanishi jerks his head towards a phone on the side table. Shirabu recognises it as Semi’s phone, and so does Semi, because he makes a reach for it.

Kawanishi holds him back again. “No. I’ll get the doctor, and they can talk it out with you. Yaku-san said that it’s fine, and they’ll come after work.”

“You spoke to Yaku? Ugh, no, it’s fine, they don’t need to come, I’ll just get out of here, I’m perfectly alright–”

“Semi-san.”

A different voice, and they turn to look, a doctor standing at the door. “I’m afraid you are not ‘perfectly alright’, and I would like to discuss something with you.”

Kawanishi pipes up before Semi can reply. “Can I stay?”

“You are the one who brought them here, yes?”

Kawanishi nods. “I’d like to know, if I’m allowed to. I’m not a relative, but Kenjirou doesn’t have anyone left.”

Shirabu feels a burst of warmth inside him, a bittersweet ache.

“How do you know about Shirabu?” Semi asks.

(He freezes, dread seizing him.)

Kawanishi seems to realise this as well. How he had outed him, though he asked him not to.

(Shirabu doesn’t really blame him, but he is terrified.)

(Consequences, consequences.)

(What is going to happen?)

“What’s your name, son?”

The blond turns away, and Shirabu is left to face the mass of suspicion stirring within their shared consciousness alone. He can just make out the conversation in the background, but it is faint, and his vision is narrow, narrow, narrow–

What did you do now?

He does not answer. He can’t, he’s too afraid.

Answer me. What did you do?

Nothing bad. His voice is a whisper, a feather lifted by the breeze. I got us to hospital.

I’m fine. I don’t need a hospital, you interfering–

“Semi-san, I know this is a bit soon, but we need to discuss your health, particularly your drug intake.”

Their attention is turned back outwards, but not without a hissed We’ll talk later. It relieves Shirabu, but he is still full of dread for what is to come.

“There’s nothing wrong with me or my drug intake,” Semi insists.

“On the contrary, all the blood and urine tests we’ve done have said otherwise. You seem to be slightly malnourished and severely dehydrated. In addition, the drug you are taking isn’t meant to be taken long term, and it is likely to be responsible for some of the side effects you may be having.”

Semi is silent.

The doctor continues, finger moving across a clipboard. “May I know if you’ve been having insomnia, chills, increased headaches, and perhaps some hallucinations?”

It takes an age for Semi to reply. “Just a little.”

(Shirabu wants to cry out, to say it’s not true, but the threat still hangs over him. He curls up more tightly, wishing he could say something.)

“Semi-san, it is imperative that you tell us the truth, that we might be able to help you. Was Shirabu-san giving you too much trouble, that you decided to block him out and not tell your therapist about it?”

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Shut up.

Shirabu bites his words back, unaware he was saying them.

“It wasn’t a big issue. We just had a bit of a disagreement.”

Kawanishi raises his eyebrows, and the doctor frowns. “I tend to disagree. A disagreement would not have caused your abuse of the drug to this scale. If this arrangement is truly bothering you so badly, we could arrange for other counter-measures to be taken instead.”

“What are my options?”

(He is bodiless, but the phantom stab of pain where he bites down on his hand to keep from screaming feels so real.)

(Don’t do it.)

(Please, don’t do it.)

“A proper talk with your therapist would be required, but you can take safer drugs to ensure that Shirabu-san does not endanger your health. The more permanent option would be to remove him completely.”

(He thinks Kawanishi gasps. He’s not sure.)

“Does removal involve surgery again?”

“Yes. But as I said, you must have a session with your therapist before that, and they will assess you and recommend the best course of action.”

Semi is disgruntled, he can feel it. But all he says is, “Thank you. I will make an appointment with Mizoguchi-san at the earliest possible time.”

“Excellent.”

“When can I be discharged?” Semi asks, eying the IV line. The doctor pauses flipping through his clipboard.

“Possibly tonight. I recommend staying until the IV has rectified your dehydrated state. In addition, it would be best to have that drug completely removed from your system. I would also warn you not to take it again, because the effects would be more dire this time.”

Semi grumbles a little, fingers on his needle-free hand twitching. The doctor frowns. “Semi-san, do you have any disagreements you would like to raise with the treatment?”

“No. I just don’t like IVs very much.” His eyes flick towards the tube again, pointedly not looking at how the needle slides under and into his skin.

The doctor clears his throat. “Very well. If that is all for the moment, I will take my leave. The call button is on your bed frame, should you require any assistance or have any other questions.”

Semi tries to bow a little, and the doctor returns it as he turns away.

The door clicks shut. Kawanishi moves towards the chair, sitting heavily.

Semi leans back, pondering, but Shirabu is too afraid to speak up.

“Semi-san.”

Their attention is turned towards Kawanishi, and Shirabu feels a shock – Semi’s shock – at the desperation on his face.

“Please. Please don’t remove Kenjirou. I know he’s a pain, but he’s not entirely unreasonable, and– And–” The blond’s hands twist together, he bites on his lip. “I don’t want him to die again.”

Semi sighs, and he feels a stirring in his chest – uncertainty? “That’s not your choice to make. I’ll decide.”

“Would you talk to him first, at least?” Kawanishi presses. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but Kenjirou never asks for help, if he can help it. And that he called me–”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask just that. What happened, and why am I in hospital?”

Kawanishi shakes his head. “All I know is that I got a call this morning, and Kenjirou said he thought you were dying. I asked him to unlock the door, but I forgot to ask which floor you were on. By the time I got there, you were lying on the floor, and I thought you were already dead.”

He can feel the tightness of his hand, the pressure where Semi is clenching it. “He called you?”

“Yes.”

Semi is silent for a long, long moment. It makes him anxious. Too anxious. “Thank you. Could you leave us, for a while? I need to talk to Shirabu.”

Kawanishi hesitates a little too long, and Semi sighs, hand unclenching, coming up to run over his face. “I’ll take what you said to mind, okay? You’re right; Shirabu never asks for help. I’ll try not to be too hard on him.”

The blond doesn’t look very convinced, though he nods slowly. “I’ll come back later, maybe? Do you want anything from the cafeteria?”

Semi tries for a smile. “Maybe a small bun. Your choice.”

A last nod, and the blond leaves. They are alone, with only the sound of his panicked breaths and the whir of the air conditioner above them.

(He is so, so scared.)

(What’s going to happen?)

(He almost died once, he’s not ready to die again–)

Shirabu.

Yes?

(His voice cracks, and he is so ashamed, but still so terrified, and it’s all he can do to hold back a panicked sob.)

(There is a ball of tightness in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has to clamp down on it, to make sure it doesn’t spill out.)

Shut up and stop panicking for a moment, will you?

(If he had a real hand, he’d have bitten through the fleshy part of it already.)

I’m trying.

(I’m trying, I’m trying, oh god, you don’t know how hard I’m trying–)

An empty silence, hanging like the promise of a death blow. He can’t breathe.

(He watches Semi’s actions from afar, too tightly-strung. He watches him trace circles on the blanket, finger the edge of the tape holding the needle in his arm. He watches him eye the room, taking in its details, feels the forcefully slow breaths Semi takes.)

(Shirabu feels disconnected from it all, tense as he waits for the accusations to fall.)

(He drifts and snaps back to awareness. Drifts and snaps back.)

(It’s a waiting game, but he can’t hold on, can’t keep track of the ongoings.)

(He’s losing touch.)

Finally, a whisper. A sigh.

(He snaps back.)

Is what Taichi said true?

Yes.

(It’s so faint, he can barely hear himself.)

Is what the doctor said true?

I couldn’t tell you that. He feels like he is balancing on the edge of a precipice, toeing the line carefully, carefully. One misstep could make him fall. Could cut him down. I only know the hallucinations happened.

A pondering silence, fingers rubbing at the material of the sheets. What do you remember?

(What does he remember?)

(Too little, so little.)

We fought. You blocked me out.

Anything else?

(The words are heavy, filled with disapproval, edged with a demand – a demand to know the incriminating truth, a truth that will serve him his 'rightful' punishment.)

(He feels like a child again, staring down his extended arm, palm up, an offering for the cane raised to strike.)

(His breaths are shaky, small and tight.)

(Don’t hurt me.)

Not much. Sometimes I could see you at work. Sometimes cooking, reading, doing chores. But I was mostly asleep.

Asleep?

(It sounds accusatory.)

I couldn’t hear or see anything. His voice breaks again, and he struggles to hold back a sob.

(He doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to recall those days.)

(Staring into nothing. Trying to fill the emptiness. Reaching out, hitting a wall. Shrinking back from its coldness.)

(It was cold. So, so cold.)

(So lonely.)

(Don’t hurt me.)

(He forces an image to the front of his mind – a bright day, a joyous laugh. But it’s translucent, ringing hollowly, and the sepia image fades into dull sparks.)

(A snap from the darkness.)

(What are you doing?)

(He freezes. Shrinks back.)

(He feels so small.)

(I’m sorry.)

(Caught red-handed. He’d done something wrong again.)

(He’d been sure that it wasn’t wrong–)

(I don’t trust you.)

(A sharp lash. It burns and stings.)

(He hugs himself, though there is no hot welt where he had been hit.)

(But it still hurts.)

(I’m sorry.)

(I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.)

–bu. Shirabu. Oi. Shirabu.

(It’s all his fault.)

(It’s always been his fault.)

(The faintest recollection, of red numbers on paper, slapped down in front of him.)

(He winces before the words come.)

(‘Why didn’t you do better?’)

Shirabu. Hey. Hey.

(He keeps making mistakes.)

(He never should have existed, he should have just died–)

(It’s useless. He’s always been useless.)

(Always doing the wrong thing, never doing enough.)

(He wants to die.)

Go away, go away, please, leave me alone–

I’m sorry.

Hey. Hey. Shirabu. Listen to me.

(He knows better. He knows how to control it.)

(He should never have forgotten.)

(He needs to keep himself controlled, make sure no one can see him.)

(He can’t get better if he doesn’t try harder.)

Control yourself.

He takes a deep breath, but his chest doesn’t move. He counts. He chants the numbers of pi to himself, trying to block it out, run away, run away from himself–

(Stop running from your inadequacies.)

(Face your demons.)

Why can’t he stop? Why can’t he breathe? Why can’t he control himself? Why, why, why, why why–

No, no, no, he doesn’t want to go back there, he needs to get himself back under control–

Stop. Stop. Stop. Slowly. Breathe. Breathe.

He can’t breathe.

–rou. Kenjirou. Listen to me.

He thinks he hears a voice, but where is it?

Shh. Shh. Listen to me. Breathe in. And out. In. And out.

Listen to my voice, okay?

It’s slow and thick and comforting and sounds so familiar, but it also hurts. It hurts–

(Blindness. Fuzzy white screens, impermeable fogs, a silence that didn’t ring in his ears.)

(Hollow. Suffocating.)

(Drifting, drifting, yanked out of isolation only to be stabbed and thrown back to bleed.)

It hurts–

In. Out. In. Out. Shh. Breathe. Listen to my voice. Breathe with me.

How can he breathe, if he has no lungs?

He’s drowning.

(But he’s not.)

There’s something warm around him, crossing over his back, pulling him into an embrace.

He never realised how cold he was.

Shh. Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

It’s warm. His heart still aches, burning with an emotion he can’t care to name, but it’s warm.

Hush. Hush. It’s alright. It’s alright.

I’m here.

His breath stutters, a rush of cool air filling his chest.

It’s alright. Breathe.

He stops resisting, and listens to the voice.

He lets go.

[cuteeiji]

wither

summary: something feels off today, and not just because she’s the sickest that she’s ever been. he’s hiding something from her. an interlude to ostinato (takes place in the middle of part three) pairing: natan warnings: major character death word count: 2511

He’s been acting strange today.

Natalie folds her hands together, staring absently at the way her fingers intersect, curling in on each other. There’s a persistent ache in her chest, right underneath her sternum, like her bones have been sharpened underneath her skin and are threatening to pierce through her as she breathes. She doesn’t tell him that, but the way he looks at her makes her feel like she doesn’t need to.

She’s not stupid. She might be a little naive, a little too willing to trust, but even if if his horns weren’t radiating an aberrant violet she would know something’s wrong. She could never miss the way that he hesitates to meet her eyes, the way he lingers around her but remains strangely distant, lips pressed together in a close-mouthed grimace. She thought he would be able to trust her with his troubles, but he seems to be miles away from her bedroom now, on a far-off island of his own creation.

She swallows, her scratchy throat protesting at even the slightest movement. “So, are we still going to the coast?”

He seems to snap out of his reverie, glancing up at her with still-absent eyes. Sometimes she forgets just how old he is, but he seems to be weighed down by gravity in a way he wasn’t before today. She can see the years in the curve of his spine, the tiredness of his eyes.

It scares her.

“No,” he says dully. “Let’s just stay here and rest.”

They sit on her bed and watch old movies on her computer until the sun sinks beneath the horizon, the skyline’s hues flaring red and violet until it settles into a deep indigo. She can tell that her poor laptop is reaching the end of its days; the thing is making a strange whirring noise, the bottom of it overheating and burning her bare thighs. The sounds of Fantasia plays softly through her room, orchestral notes ringing in her head as cartoon figures run across the monitor.

Natalie sniffs, leaning her head on Lucifer’s shoulder. His skin is cool against hers; it feels nice. A little unfamiliar; he’s usually so warm. In the winter she would always press her cold hands on his neck and laugh as he jumped and swore at her.

Now it feels warm underneath her own skin, a angry thing that shudders ceaselessly against the suddenly freezing air. It’s like fire, it’s like the water underneath the bridge that seared her skin pink and raw, but this time it’s in her veins. She sucks in a breath, and the air trudges reluctantly into her heavy lungs.

“I might have a fever,” she announces to him, voice cracking.

He looks at her. “Girl, you’ve had a fever for the past week.”

She frowns. Even though her stomach had churned until she had heaved into the toilet and her entire body felt like it had been hit by a particularly large and angry truck, she never felt like she was burning up from the inside out until now.

“It got worse then,” she says, clearing her throat. She hits pause and shifts the laptop over to Lucifer. “I’m gonna go get an ibuprofen.”

She rolls out of her bed, stumbling slightly. She sees his arms shift, set to steady her, and she flashes him a grin, trying not to let a heaving cough break through her teeth. He meets her eyes, something aching inside his carefully put-together expression. There’s something that he’s not telling her. Natalie turns away from him.

She walks to her bathroom, an uncomfortable tingling forming in the base of her throat. The carpet beneath her bare feet scrapes against her skin like thistles, her sweatshirt and pajama shorts suddenly stifling. She closes the door behind her and rips them off, letting the freezing air cool her burning skin.

Natalie sighs, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her already pasty face has a sickly yellow tint to it, save for the feverish splotches of red adorning her cheeks. Her body feels like a furnace, her scorching blood locked inside a half-dead shell. She had never thought it would get this bad. Maybe she should get Lucifer to take her to a doctor.

She brings her hands up to stifle a sudden onslaught of coughing, doubling over as she shudders, the churning in her stomach and the relentless pressure in her head increasing. She drops to her knees, resting her arms on the toilet as she hacks up a vile mess of phlegm and a sickening amber fluid. She grimaces into the toilet, inhaling a rattling breath that can’t seem to completely find its way into her lungs.

“Ugh,” she says, leaning back on her heels. Her head pounds, as if the nausea and trouble breathing weren’t bad enough. She presses her palms into the ridge of her eyes, the pressure building inside of her skull. The heat is rising, too; she can feel it underneath her heavy eyes and searing against her cheeks.

She leans her forehead against the cool enamel, vision blurring. It’s strangely comfortable like this, her knees pressed against the floor, torso slumped and arms limp. She could even sleep here, if only for a moment. But not very long; Lucifer’s waiting in her room with her poor, dying laptop. Just for a minute or two… she’ll rest just for a little bit…

She lets her eyes close, giving into the exhaustion and fever burning through her body.

Something’s shaking her.

“—atalie? Natalie!”

She feels a little irritated at the intrusion. It felt so much better to be asleep…

“Natalie, wake up!”

Oh. She knows that voice.

She feels his hands clutch her bare shoulders and there’s a buzzing, heavy static in the spaces between them. Something warm and alive floats through her veins, smothering the inferno under her skin. Suddenly it’s easier to breathe, and she inhales deeply, rivulets of oxygen pouring into her lungs.

“You said my name,” she mumbles, opening her eyes. Lucifer’s face swims into view, eyes wider than she’s ever seen them.

“Jesus Christ, girl, you looked like a corpse,” he says shakily. His hands are still on her shoulders, anchoring her to the cool tiles on her bathroom floor. Clarity pools back into her mind like warm honey, along with the bone-deep ache that makes her want to curl up and retreat into the safety of slumber.

“I feel like a corpse,” she groans, shifting slightly. She sees his gaze drop to the strangely prominent curve of her ribs; her stomach has been mostly empty for the past two weeks. His expression hardens.

She places a hand on his and guides it off of her shoulder.

“I feel better now, though,” she says, sitting up. “What did you do?”

“I healed you,” he says, pulling back from her. “Temporarily, though; the sickness will come back.”

He hands her sweatshirt to her and she pulls it over her head. She catches a glimpse of his pained face as her head emerges from the fabric.

“What’s gotten into you today?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.

Lucifer recoils slightly, leaning away from her. “I don’t know what you mean, kid.”

“You’ve been acting weird all day. It’s freaking me out, dude,” she says, heaving herself up.

“You don’t get to talk about freaking people out when you just pulled that stunt,” he says, tone suddenly harsh.

“What stunt?” Natalie asks, mystified.

He gestures to the square of tiles where she had slumped over. “You might have thought to tell me you were feeling bad before you passed out over the toilet.” “I didn’t know that I was going to pass out!” Natalie says indignantly. “Honestly, Lucifer, what’s going on?”

“You’re sick.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“I wish you wouldn’t make it a habit of doing stupid things that almost get you killed,” he snaps.

“I wish you wouldn’t make it a habit of keeping secrets from me, but that doesn’t look like its gonna change anytime either,” she fires back.

“Natalie,” he says in a tone so foreign it shocks her out of her anger. “Natalie, please. I need you to trust me on this one, okay?”

“When have I not?” She asks. He stays quiet, and she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. A few moments pass.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually. “I was just…”

“Worried?” Natalie asks. He nods slowly.

She smiles. “You have a weird way of showing it.”

There’s a strange silence between them, and Natalie stews in it just long enough to collect the thoughts bouncing relentlessly around her head.

“Lucifer, you know I trust you,” She says, tapping her fingers together. She waits for a beat, dragging her eyes up to meet his. “I might not understand what you do and why you do it, but I trust you and I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. And I always will, because…well, I love you.”

His reaction isn’t the one she expects. He freezes, processing her words, before his shoulders slump and he reaches out to cup her chin, tilting her head to meet her eyes. There’s something there, a strange dichotomy of desperation and passivity that wasn’t present yesterday, or the day before. He looks almost like Titus did when they had their final battle. A man with nothing and everything to lose.

“See?” He says, his voice inexplicably sad. Her breath catches in her throat. “That’s another stupid thing.”

He moves and she feels his lips brush against her mouth, almost chaste save for the way he lingers, like he’s mustering the softest kiss he can manage when all he wants to do is drown in this moment that time can’t seem to touch. She’s stunned, the seconds stretching on before she registers that holy shit he’s kissing her. She shifts her head and presses closer to him, squeezing her eyes shut.

She’s just about to reach for him to drag him nearer when he pulls away, eyes unreadable.

She stands there for a moment, dumbfounded, staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly parted mouth. They stare at each other, the foot of space between them an immense gap, mountainous in comparison to the way they were just connected. She lets her fingers touch the place where his lips once were.

She breaks the silence first.

“You kissed me,” she says slowly, a grin threatening to curl out of the corners of her mouth. Maybe it’s the fever, but the room feels a little hazy around the edges.

“Stop,” Lucifer says, and to her delight she sees that he’s flushing.

“You kissed meeeeeeeeee….” she sing-songs, dodging the pillow he throws at her. “You loooooooove meeeeeeeeeee…”

“Girl, I will kill you myself if you don’t stop that.”

“I know you don’t mean that, loverboy,” she says, giggling. She feels giddy, ecstatic, even, her chest swelling in a way that doesn’t make her gasp in pain for once. She glances up at him, his mouth quirked up into the smallest of smiles.

But even that seems hesitant, somehow.

Natalie deflates a little bit. “Seriously,” she says, reaching out to grab his hand, her fingers entangling with his. “I hope you know you can trust me too. You don’t need to do this alone.”

Lucifer sighs. “I know. I’m just…figuring some stuff out, okay?”

She chuckles. “Sounds like one of those cheesy excuses you hear on TV dramas.”

She squeezes his hand before letting hers drop. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

He nods shortly, his eyes dragging on the ground.

“Do you want to finish the movie?” She asks softly.

He looks up to her. “Whatever you want, kid.”

She smiles, retaking his hand and leading him out of the bathroom. The bed creaks as they lay on it, Natalie shifting aside to make room for him. Her laptop whirs pathetically as she picks it up and sets it on her lap. She presses play, and the sound of cartoons fill the room once more.

She leans back and lays her head on his chest, her eyes already drooping. The aftereffects of Lucifer healing her are already fading, she can tell, and the stifled feeling when she breathes is starting to claw at her lungs.

She feels his hand curl through her hair, his chest rising and falling steadily, and she sighs.

Sick or not, it would be nice, she decides, to stay this way forever.

She wakes up to the earth turning in on itself, its molten core burning as it crawls over her skin.

The world seems to swirl a little; she can feel the fever pulsing through her veins like a wardrum, beating in her ears until it presses against her skull. The lights are starting to pulse too, black dots swimming on the edge of her vision. She squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her head further back into her pillow.

She realizes that there’s a space in the bed where he once laid, and she’s suddenly filled with an immeasurable panic. She reaches out blindly to grab his hand, and to her relief he’s there to catch it, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“Go back to sleep, kid,” he says softly, and she almost doesn’t catch the slight hitch in his breath. She opens her eyes and everything comes into focus, including his face. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him cry before, but there are tears forming at the corners of his eyes, defeat and exhaustion on every line of his expression.

He’s grieving, she realizes, hunched over her bed like it’s a casket and she’s already a rotting corpse within it.

“I’m dying?” Natalie whispers, her free hand curling around her blankets, gripping her sheets with a sudden, stabbing fear.

Lucifer hesitates, and it’s all the confirmation she needs.

“Yes,” he says eventually, voice quiet, squeezing her hand. “But not for long. I promise. Just go to sleep and in the morning everything will be okay. I’ll save you, Natalie.”

The look in his eyes scares her more than her failing body.

“You better not do anything stupid,” she warns him, curling in on herself as a painful cough climbs through her chest. She feels his fingers comb through her hair, the only bit of comfort he seems to be able to offer. Dark spots creep into her line of sight, suffocating her.

“I’m scared,” she admits, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes.

“Everything will be okay,” he repeats, as much to himself as to her.

She trusts him. She trusts him with her life, with her heart and head and soul and every other piece of her being that she can imagine. And so she repeats it too, as her vision fades into black and the pressure in her lungs increase. She holds onto this last bit of hope, and these words and his hand curling through her hair are the last things she registers as she succumbs to the crushing darkness.

Everything will be okay.

[btobscenarios]

#2: You Meet Them

*Number of Members: NOM*

NOM: 4/7

Sungjae:

Thank God that you were able to enter the venue with no problem. There were a few hunderd people outside the gate and the artists were having a hard time entering the premises.

Yes, I pulled a few strings with my uncle who was the manager of the event. I was able to get a pass to backstage but he wasn’t able to secure me a seat, which meant staying here.

I plumeted onto a seat near one of the main areas. I was so excited to see these wonderful idols that I love so much. They are all so talented and gifted that I praise their efforts to be in this industry. It’s very difficult, I presume. I’ve been to a lot of these events, thanks to my samchon, and I can see their stress and hardwork.

So far, this is the most exciting back stage experience ever! Blackpink and BTOB are here and they are my absolute favorite!

I wish that BTOB would cross dress again. They’re so cute when they do that and it kind of makes them hot too. Aigo, can I just rest for a minute? It’s really hot in here.

I’m wearing a thick coat and long sleeves with matching tights. Luckily I brought my extra clothes inside my backpack. I just needed a place to change. I looked for a good two minutes but I couldn’t locate a restroom. It was so frustrating to talk to people who pretend to not here a thing and pass by me everytime I ask a question. Ugh! Jjajeungna!

I return to the place I was sitting a few minutes ago and noticed there was a dressing room at the end of the hallway. I approached the room and knocked slightly and opened the door a little. There was no one inside so I took the opportunity to change inside. I placed my bag on a chair a few meters away from the changing rack that was designed to barrier from the people around while you’re changing.

I was changing into my short shorts when I realized that I forgot to put on my cycling shorts under. I was behind the light brown couch that was placed at the back of the room. It was facing the door. I was in the process of pulling up my cycling shorts when the door flew open. I realized that I wasn’t behind the barrier and I was half naked so I fell to the floor, with half cycling shorts on.

“Omo!” I said, as I fell to the floor. I quickly raised the cycling shorts to my waist and pulled up my actual shorts on.

“Who are you?” A male voice asked, when I looked up it was Sungjae from BTOB. Oh shit, BTOB’s Sungjae saw me in my panties! How embarrassing! This day couldn’t get worse!

“How did you get in here? Are you a fan? I’m going to call securi-”

“Andwae!” I whisper-shout, trying not to cause anymore trouble. I show him the pass from my samchon which stated that I’m actually allowed here. “I’m permitted to be backstage.”

“Yah!” He said so casually. “You’re allowed backstage but why are you in my dressing room?”

“This is your dressing room?” I said, dumbfounded.

“Ne,” he nodded. “Why were you changing here?”

“Joesonghaeyo, Sungjae.” I bowed a little, “I didn’t know it was your room. I’ll leave now.”

“Hajima.” He stopped me, “Your lucky that it was my room that you entered and not Eunkwang hyung’s.”

I chuckled at his remark, “Remind me not to tell him what you said when I see him.”

“You know Eunkwang hyung?” He asked, his eyes widened..

“Ahni.” I shook my head. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t tell him.”

“Yah!” He cautiously grabbed me by the arm. “Don’t tell him.”

“Wae andwae?” I was trying to hide my smile behind my acting.

“Aigo,” he started pulling me towards the couch and made me sit down. “Just don’t tell him. Sit here and don’t come out until I come back.”

“But I’m going to watch the show!” I cried softly.

“Aiiish, okay…” he said, defeated. “Stay close to me, okay?”

I nodded, stood up and ran away. He realized what I was doing and followed in my steps. We ended up having a game of tag during the practice of BTOB and the other members were having a hard time finding Sungjae.

Peniel:

I hate being on my period. I think every girl does. It’s annoying but there’s happiness somewhere in between. It’s when I buy myself a bunch of a sweets and just eat it by myself.

It’s 9:45 PM and I am craving some Nutella, ice cream, candy… I could go on and on about what I want to eat. Omo! I also want some cheesecake. I’m going to die if I don’t go to the store to pick some stuff up.

I told Rhea, my dormmate and friend, that I’ll just buy something from the grocery and asked if she needed anything.

“Ahniya,” she shook her head and smiled. “Gwaenchanha.”

I nodded and prepared to leave. I got my motorcycle and went to the grocery.

Lucky for me that there were no long lines in the counters and I just spent a longer time in getting the sweets that I craved.

When I reached the chocolate isle, I searched for Nutella. It was something on the top of my list. I needed to get a bottle of it. A few minutes passed and I found it. It was on the top shelf and there was one left. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. I went on my tiptoes and reached for the last bottle of Nutella. Only a few more streches and the Nutella will be mine! When the edge of my middle finger hit the bottle, it was gone in a second.

I looked at the person next to me and saw a guy wearing a hoodie on and cap. It was evening, why was he wearing that?

“Yah!” I said, “That’s mine!”

He chuckled, shook his head and said, “Ahniyo. This isn’t in your hands.”

“I was reaching for it!”

“But you didn’t actually get it, right?”

“Yah! I really wanted that!” I pleaded, slightly shouting because I started getting annoyed by what was happening.

“I already ate expired Nutella for the past week and I need a new one, okay?” He explained and I was actually mad right now. Was I not getting the Nutella?

“But I can see that you’re quite annoyed right now,” he pointed out. “I’ll give the Nutella to yo-”

“Yes!” I excitedly screamed. “Jeongmal gomawoyo!”

“But you have to do something for me in return.” He slightly smirked.

“Mworago?” I asked, my eyes getting big. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll give this to you if…” he paused for a few seconds. My fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. What did he want me to do? “…if you give me your number and go on a date with me.”

I raised my eyebrow and thought for a second. Nutella for a date with this cute boy. Why not? Did I want to or was it my hormones saying yes?

“Okay sure. Do you want to get some coffee right now?”

“Jinjja?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Coffee? Sure. Let me just get a few more things and we can go to Starbucks. I’m Peniel.” He reached out to me, asking me to shake his hand and I did.

What was I thinking?

Eunkwang:

It’s not fair. Why did everyone have great bodies and I needed to work hard for it?

Every free day that I had was spent in the gym. But when I spent a full day at work, I usually went to the gym at night. There was little people at the gym during this time, which was better than having a jam packed gym in my opinion.

A few other individuals was here and there. I wanted to start in the weights area but there was a few guys there which turned me off.

I went to the treadmill instead. It was the easiest I could do, even though I was kind of lazy to exercise today.

I started using the treadmill at a low speed, increasing it after a few minutes. I wasn’t in full focus because I didn’t realize that my finger was on the speed increase button and I put a lot of pressure on it. It made the machine at full speed and I wasn’t able to keep up and slid off of it in a swift motion.

I screamed at the accident that I caused for myself. My back hit the ground, hard. I groaned at what I did and held my hip. I felt a bit dizzy and I couldn’t pull myself up.

“Aigooo!” Someone held my arm and pulled me to a sitting position. “Gwaenchanha?”

“Ahniyo.” I was still holding my hip, thinking why did I do this to myself. “My hip is sore.”

The guy chuckled, made me lay onto his side and said, “I saw what happened. You hit your hip on the floor particulary harder than other areas.”

“Where you staring at me?” I teased.

“Ahhh,” he stuttered. “Andwae! I wasn’t.”

“I’m kidding.” I giggled, “I think I can stand up now.”

“Ahni, rest for a while.” He told me, “You might get a blood rush to your head and I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

I smiled at what he said, he wa sweet and his hair was really pretty looking.

“I think you’re okay now.” The guy said as he pulled me up and asked for my name.

“Ahh, jeo neun (Y/N)-ibnida.” I introduced myself. “And you?”

“I’m Eunkwang.” He said, smiling. His cheekbones were so prominent and high.

“Oh, gamsahaeyo Eunkwang-ssi.” I smiled and squeezed his arm.

“Maybe you want to exercise together next time?” He suddenly asked.

I smiled and nodded. “That would be nice, maybe next time you could keep an eye out for clumsy me.”

We ended up laughing more than we exercised.

Ilhoon:

The park was very nice during the day. Lots of people were passing by and my friend prepared a busking area for us. The sun was around but didn’t hurt as much because of the cold breeze that passed by every few minutes. The weather was actually good for once.

There was a small basket infront of us and she held a guitar on her lap. I was standing behind a mic stand that was connected to a travel speaker.

She started strumming the guitar and I prepared my verse. The first song we sung was “Stay” by Blackpink. They are one of my favorite girlgroups ever! The song was sweet and it made me calm.

As I sung the last verse, a lot of people had dropped some change. We weren’t here for the money, it was just a bonus for us to be honest. My friend and I loved to perform to people and we did this for exposure and practice to be in front of a crowd. Our dream is to be an idol and be able to perform to a bigger crowd. I’m on the shy side so I need practice, more than she does.

The park was quickly eaten by the darkness the night provided. The moon illuminated from afar and the groups of people who passed by lessened and lessened. By 6:30 PM, we had finished the session and started packing up. When I picked up the basket, I stepped back and accidentally tripped on a rock. My body was in okay condition, so I was able to fix myself up. I didn’t fall onto the ground but the contents of the basket was all over the ground.

“Aiiish,” I whisper under my breathe. “Don’t mind me, I’ll pick it up. Just continue what you’re doing.”

I continued picking up the coins and other things that was inside of the basket when someone appeared in front of me. I was surprised that I spilled some of the coins that I just picked up.

“Aiiish,” I growled, “What’s wrong with me today…”

“Gwaenchanha?” The person said, still helping me.

“Ne,” I said, looking at the guy who was talking to me. His face was glowing, his teeth was bright and his eyes twinkled. “I’m okay, Illhoon-ssi.”

“Oh,” He said, slightly taken aback. “I’m guessing you’re a fan?”

“Ehh.” I said, jokingly. “Your songs are okay.”

His mouth was ajar and it made you snort at his awkwardness. “I’m kidding, yes, your songs are great.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Your voice was really nice too.”

You paused for a few seconds. Did he just complement you? Was this is even real? What was happening? I’m not good at receiving complements and I usually just laugh it off.

“So, you were watching our session, huh?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, “did you drop anything?”

He smirked, “Yes, I did. Make sure you find it, okay? I really like your voice. You should audition at Cube Entertainment.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say after.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Ilhoon,” he replied, “but you already knew that. Make sure you contact me so I’ll be able to help you. Your talent is amazing, (Y/N).”

After a minute, Ilhoon left. I looked at the basket where the tips were and noticed there was a piece of paper standing out.

I picked up the paper and realized that there was digits written on it. Did he leave me his number? Eotteohge?

Word count: 2280

[thetruthaboutlovecomesat3am]

BLACKHILL MEME: [2/5] Tropes → Truth Serum

Tony gathered them in a room and sat Natasha down on a chair while they stood in front of the two of them, waiting for him to explain himself.

“So, I've made an astounding discovery. Pepper, you're here because you're the CEO, Maria is here as head of security and Clint” he paused and frowned. “Natasha brought him, I don't know why he's here. It is of vital importance to this experiment that neither one of you steps in and interrupts us, no matter what might happen.” They all nodded, he already remarked that five times.

“And why am I here, again?” Natasha sighed.

“I needed a subject and you're pretty much immortal, so” he raised a siring with a green-ish limpid substance inside. “Raise your sleeve, please.”

“Tony, will this kill her?” Maria asked, crossing her arms.

“Of course not, it's harmless, have some faith!”

“What is this exactly?” Natasha asked as she raised her sleeve and let Tony inject her. She didn't trust him not to do something stupid, but she knew he wouldn't endanger her life.

He finished the shot, then smiled at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed.”

He checked her pulse, her pupils, her blood pressure. “Good news, it didn't kill you.”

“Stark.”

“What did you do this morning?”

Natasha's lip twitched, while the sassy response she wanted to give him got swallowed back down and something else came out instead.

“Had coffee, breakfast, went for a run, took a shower, came here.”

Clint frowned, Maria's arms dropped back down.

“What did you do to me? That's not what I wanted to say, I wanted to say something sarcastic and sassy. Why am I admitting that?” she looked confused.

“You're the world's best spy. I figured, if I wanted to test, let's say, a truth serum, the best liar in the world would be the go-to person for this.”

“I am going to murder you” she said through gritted teeth.

“The fact that you are able to say that under the effects of this serum is truly frightening” he admitted, swallowing hard. “Please understand that this would be a giant step ahead to get rid of military torture and just interrogate our enemies with this, so you're helping the entire human race, Natasha” he gave her a tentative smile.

She kept looking at him murderously but made no move to actually strangle him.

“Let's test this out, see if you can avoid answers or you have to respond” he explained.

Clint stepped ahead, ready to punch him for not telling them what he was about to do, but Natasha raised a hand to stop him.

“I'm confident I can resist this, it won't work. There is no such thing as a truth serum.”

Tony simply smirked. “Have you and Barton ever had sex?”

“Tony!” Pepper sounded outraged.

“No” Natasha answered in a monotone voice, shaking her head. “And I have no problem telling you as much.”

“Okay, then. Have you ever slept with Rogers?”

“Tony for God's sake” Pepper raised her hands, then let her fall again heavily.

“We slept on the same bed but we never had intercourse” she shook her head again. “Not a problem admitting that either.”

“Have you ever had sex with another Avenger?”

Natasha hesitated. “Define who you would consider an Avenger.”

His eyes got bigger and he smiled like a baby in front of a candy store. “So you slept with one of them! Are you dating this person?” he whispered in amazement. That was his goldmine.

Natasha swallowed hard, a drop of sweat run down from her forehead and crossed her temple before disappearing into her hair. Why did she accept to help him? Ah, yes, he told her it was a matter of life or death. She should have never believed him, stupid Tony calling in a favor in name of their friendship only to snoop into her personal life.

“You can't avoid it” he whispered in amazement. “You're trying, but you'll have to answer or that vein on your neck will pop out. Are you dating someone?”

“Okay, this is enough” Maria stepped in. “You're crossing a line here, Tony, she didn't even know what you were injecting her with and you're taking advantage of this just to pry into her-”

“I don't know!” Natasha finally admitted out loud, then felt her breathing increase as she swiped the sweat off her forehead. Everyone stood frozen and looked at her.

“What does it mean you don't know?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

“It means I don't know if we're dating! We went out for drinks and ended up having sex on my kitchen counter” Tony gasped and Clint slapped his own forehead. “And then we had dinner a couple of times and we have lunch together on occasion, but are we dating? I don't know, we are mostly having sex. Why can't I stop the rambling, ugh!” she almost shouted.

“Maybe the serum works too much?” Pepper noted. “It seems like she has to say everything she's thinking about the question you're asking her. She could resist at first, but she's not able to anymore.”

“Who is he?” Tony asked, ignoring her.

“Out, everyone get out now” Maria ordered, literally pushing them out the room. ��Natasha is your friend and colleague and you doing this to her is unacceptable and messed up” she told him, shouting the door behind her. “I'm going to go back in and stay with her until the effects wear off to make sure nobody else tries to take advantage of it like you did” she looked at him sternly, her hands on her hips.

“You should apologize” Clint told him. “Not now, let's all go away for now” he clarified, standing between Tony and the door.

“Agreed” Pepper nodded, watching Clint escort Tony away from the room. “Is it Barnes?” she whispered to Maria when the two men were out of earshot.

“What?”

“Well, you're covering for her so you know who he is. Is it Barnes?” Pepper smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“You can ask her yourself as soon as she's not under the serum and see what she tells you” Maria simply answered, going back into the room.

Natasha was staring ahead and her breathing was back to normal. “I'm sorry.”

“Tony was the one acting like an asshole, you shouldn't apologize.”

“Look, what I said-” she sighed. “It's not like I've been wondering if we're dating or not, he just asked and I didn't know, and all that came out instead.”

Maria approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “We are if you want us to, Natasha” she smiled a little. “And if you don't, we don't have to.”

“I do want to” she bit down on her lip.

“Let's not talk about this now, I don't want you to talk to me because you can't help it, I'd rather you choose to do it on your own, when you're ready.”

“Thank you.”

Maria smiled and bowed down to kiss her gently on the lips. Then she smirked at her and playfully raised an eyebrow.

“But while you're on truth serum” Maria started and Natasha looked at her warningly. “Did you actually like the Star Wars movies or were you pretending not to mind watching them just to make me happy?”

Natasha chewed on her lip, but she was fighting the unavoidable. “Are you kidding me? They're the best. Movies. Ever.”