#well more citrus-y rather than citrus

[silent-sanctum]

hiii mijin! hope you are doing well 💕 can i req a beach day with jotaro and the crusaders, y/n getting hit on, joot getting jealous, pol and kak clowning him, those shoujo anime cliche we all know and love 😂 thanks !

Hello anon! Your beach day request has been heard! Initially, I had this planned to only be at most 600+ words, but then I went ahead and found the plot to be... a lot more 😬 Also this takes place in an au where everyone survives post-DIO's World. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! ♡

Volleyball - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2.2k

It’s been 3 months since DIO’s defeat and no one else deserves a break more than the Crusaders.

Everyone had time to recover from their injuries and although some had worse wounds than others, they still managed to make it out of the otherwise deadly voyage alive.

It was Joseph’s idea for the team to meet-up once more in a popular beach near New York-to hang out as friends for once rather than just allies or colleagues. He promised that any expenses in relation to this one-time hangout would be covered using the “good old Joestar funds” as the old man put it.

And since the new school year wouldn’t start until a month after, and that being around familiar faces was a nice experience, Jotaro wasn’t opposed into joining, more so after knowing you were going too.

Speaking off, a part of him held onto this ounce of pride when you and Jotaro decided to be something more than being “just close friends” and who would’ve guessed that this decision would be made in the middle of a mission to save his mother.

Now, not only is Holly alive and well but he also gained a new lover for her to dote on and gush with.

And whether it was conscious or not, you both stuck around for each other, often finding ways to meet one way or another. It felt nice to have you here with him no matter the place.

So having to hop on board a plane yet again and fly off to the States for a day or two wouldn’t be too excruciating when he knew you’d be there to make the sudden meeting a bit more tolerable.

Day after arrival, here he was- sitting underneath a beach umbrella in his dark shorts, drinking juice while watching his grandfather and Polnareff compete at a game of volleyball. You were there beside him in the shade, dressed in a loose blouse and shorts, applying sun screen as you attempted to convince him to play a game with the crew.

I’d rather be at home. Despite your many tries, Jotaro stayed stubborn and said he’d be fine watching you play with the guys. You didn’t push the offer again and after a sip of your citrus drink and a quick peck on his cheek, off you went to lead a waiting Kakyoin to the playing field.

And for the next few hours, it mostly stayed like this- Jotaro and Avdol resting underneath the shade, him watching the volleyball match with his Walkman in hand listening to music, the Egyptian reading a worn-out book that’s most probably from his archives, and the rest of the group out in the sun playing their 3rd round.

Throughout his time there, Jotaro kept his eye on the game and on you specifically, mirroring your excited smile and laughter with his more subtle lip curl and huffs. In an addition to having himself be yours, the relationship helped him negate all the passing girls who took interest in him and tried to approach him.

Not that he had a hard time ignoring them to begin with it.

What Jotaro hadn’t considered was the onlooking men taking interest of you, and the thought struck him square in head when as a volleyball match ended, one of the nearby boys- an American with a blonde mop of hair and tan skin- walked over to you all smiling and shit.

Normally, you conversing with someone with the opposing sex wouldn’t bother him this much, but the second he watched the guy offering you an ice cream cone bought from the nearby vendor, he could hear himself scoff and scowl. “Why’d you accept that?” He muttered, continuing to glare at the man consistently keeping up a lively conversation with you. “What are they even talking about this long?”

“Such an irritating sight that is, right?” Jotaro glanced at Polnareff coming over to be annoying and take part in this dilemma. Behind him, Kakyoin followed. Both of them crouched by the delinquent and joined him in watching you talk with a stranger. “Can’t be helped when she’s just as attractive as you are.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when boys from our school approached her though,” Kakyoin said.

“It’s because I know they won’t risk meeting me when they think of trying,” Jotaro replied. “But I got a feeling that guys from here are more gutsy than in Japan.”

To hammer down on that point, the blond began to point to his biceps and not-so-subtly flexed them for you to see, and you responded with a calm, wide-eyed “woah”. Jotaro rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his thick bicep once. “Why not head over there then? If you’re this jealous?” Polnareff said.

“I’m not jealous.” Both the cherry-haired and Frenchman stayed silent, giving him a mere deadpan. “… Fine. Just a bit.”

“So go there and introduce yourself as her boyfriend in your-” Kakyoin gestured over Jotaro’s frame. “-punk delinquent-esque ways.”

“And you can’t judge us for poor advice anymore when Nori here upgraded from telling you how to do things to instead doing things your way!” Kakyoin nodded, bumping fists with Polnareff.

Jotaro judged them regardless with one vertical look-over at the both of them. “I still don’t trust any of your advises. Besides,” he sighed. “After knowing her more, I don’t think she’d like me suddenly walking there and getting possessive.”

“But it’s not being possessive when you’re establishing boundaries monsieur Kujo,” Pol said.

“Don’t call me that,” Jotaro scowled. “Also I don’t get why you two are always in my business. It’s annoying. Leave me alone.”

Not that his “threats” were effective against this duo, who simply shared a look with each other before replying. “What are you talking about? We’re buddies!” Polnareff chuckled, wrapping an arm around the raven-haired teenager. “Who am I to leave a pal behind to wallow in their own self-pity?”

“Also to be honest, it’s entertaining to see you struggle over stuff like this,” Kakyoin said with a smirk. That and paired with those shades he bought from Egypt just made him all the more smug. “Gets all the ladies but can’t handle one-”

“You shut-”

“Hey!” All three paused to look at you waving from a distance with that damn American and his friends still standing near you. “These guys want to play a round but Grandpa Joseph’s tapping out for the day. I’m afraid his bones have become too brittle-”

“No it’s not!” Said the groaning old man plopping down on the sand the moment he reached his and Avdol’s shared blanket. “I didn’t want to overpower those kids that’s all!”

“L-”

“We’re tougher than we look gramps!” The blond called out in return just as Jotaro was about to say something to you. And that didn’t help alleviate any increasing irritation boiling in him. “How about you guys?”

“Us?” Pol asked.

“Yeah! A friendly competition between us youngsters sound good?” He said, ball already in hand. “Just one set of 2v2!”

“I’m down-”

Whatever Kakyoin had to say about accepting the invite got cut off as Jotaro stood from his spot and walked over to your side with his hands in his short pockets. By the time you were beside him, the blond and his posse faltered for a second when they saw how much taller, built, and intimidating this supposed teenager from Japan was compared to them.

“I’m joining.”

You gazed up at him with widened eyes and a dash of pink to your cheeks. “Jotaro-ssi…”

“O-Oh for sure man,” the American cleared his throat, nervous as he looked over his shoulder to his friends. “How about you guys-”

“You chickening out?” Jotaro said in his characteristic blunt mannerisms. “You wanted to play volleyball, looked for a player, and now that he’s here, you’re passing the torch to your buddies?” From the corner of his vision, you crossed your arms facing them, more amused than pissed at his intervention.

He could spot the single bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to play off his cold feet with false bravado. “Nothing wrong than wanting to let my pals have a shot at a game, but since you’re asking for it,” he made show as he tossed and caught the ball. “It’s game on. Though I got to warn you, I have a nasty spike.”

“It’s true!” Polnareff yelled out from the sidelines. “I saw how he moves on the other net.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes and walked off to your side of the field. “Hey, do you even know how to play volleyball?” You said with a whisper. “You haven’t played once during our time here.”

“I’ve watched you and the others play this entire afternoon enough times for me to figure out how to do it,” he said with casual ease, glancing down at you with a shrug. “If a novice can beat an expert Darby at his favorite baseball game, then this will be nothing.”

“Well yeah but you know playing a video game is drastically different than playing an actual game, right?”

He huffed, unbothered. “Makes this better for me.”

With everyone in their respective spots, one of the blond’s friends served as the referee and starting from the other guy’s side, the whistle blew and the ball flew.

True to his word and his ability to study and adapt on the spot, Jotaro managed to keep up with you and his opponents on the playing field, exchanging the ball countless times without break. All the while, the Crusaders watched this one game like die-hard fans at the Superbowl.

It shouldn’t be that much of a shocker when he knew that both of you had physical advantages: Your lithe self allowing you to be more agile and nimble to traverse the court and catch the ball before it fell, while he had the strength and height to send the ball back to the other side, often times targeted to the edges.

And just as the timer was about to hit the 29 minute mark, Jotaro noticed the American get into a stance with a smirk plastered over his tan face. He cocked his head and rose a brow. The nasty spike I assume.

You sent the ball flying to their side and just as he predicted, the blond took over center field and leapt, arm reared and hand poised to deliver his so-called “nasty spike”.

His palm got into contact with the ball’s surface and with a clear smack, the ball was sent flying over to your side. But as he was about to receive, a glint of rose gold zipped past his vision and next thing he knew, the ball was up in the air as if it was caught mid flight to the ground.

One second glimpse at your knowing look, Jotaro didn’t hesitate to follow your footsteps. He leapt off the sand and rose his hand. In that split second, Star Platinum’s purple gloved hand enveloped his and upon contact with its surface, the ball practically launched itself at the American at a raging speed akin to an incoming missile.

The sand erupted in a loud boom, causing a shallow crater with plumes of sand flying off in many directions as the ball hit the ground. It rolled off the now-incapacitated blond stranger’s body.

His friends couldn’t even move nor make the effort to blow the whistle from the shock of it all.

Jotaro tongued the inside of his cheek, casually pocketing his hands back in his shorts as he glared at the American. “Nasty spike ,” he scoffed. “What a joke.”

You whistled, impressed as you looked down the crater. “You did a number on him.”

He reached over to grab your wrist. “Let’s get out of here.” With a gentle tug, you complied to his wish and followed him out the sandy court. He didn’t even bother meeting up with the Crusaders, who were equally stunned at what had happened.

“You’re not at all questioning why I’m not at all offended at you knocking the man out?”

“I’m questioning why you decided to cheat and use Sanctuary midway.”

“The game was ending in a minute anyways,” you said. “And I wanted to finish it off with a bang.”

“By letting me launch a ball at his face?” You smiled and nodded. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He’s a weirdo,” you grimaced. “His fetishes were showing when he said something about how exotic and pretty I was, and it pissed me off.”

Hearing that made Jotaro want to turn around to the guy for one more solid punch to the face. “But I saw you talking to him for that long.”

“Made you jealous, didn’t it?” You said, smug. “I lowkey wanted to bait you into playing a game with me by riling you up a bit, and for you to finish off that creep with what he deserved.”

“I wasn’t-” He bit his tongue, not finishing his train of thought. “I was a bit jealous and I’m glad I got to wreck that shit-eating face of his in the process, but can you not make me feel like this on purpose? It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Duly noted and I’m sorry,” you said, eyes cast downward as you bowed your head a bit in sincere apology. “I’ll just tell you outright who and when to punch someone next time, promise!”

Jotaro paused in his tracks and with one good look at your determined sparkling eyes, couldn’t help but sigh and smile at you with uncharacteristic fondness.

“Yeah... I’d prefer that.”

[thehereticdiaries]

Pack Mentality: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: You meet your new pack after having a rather embarrassing conversation with Chan Warnings: Talk of past abuse/controlling behavior

Series Masterlist

As you stepped into the elevator of the dorm building, you were trying not to stare at Seungmin. Keyword: trying. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. You weren’t trying to be rude or make him uncomfortable, you were just confused. During the walk from the hobby shop to the dorms, Seungmin’s scent started changing. Well, not exactly changing, he still smelled of a comforting mix of cedarwood and lemon, but it was like it was getting stronger. That something extra that you smelled on Chan was slowly permeating Seungmin’s scent. 

“I told everyone except for our other omega to wait in their rooms.” You were shaken from your thoughts when Chan broke the silence. “I’m gonna introduce them slowly. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You were nervous to meet six new people, but knowing there was another omega eased your nerves. The three of you shuffled into the landing of the dorm to take off your shoes. You stepped into an extra pair of slippers then followed Chan into the living room. Seungmin turned down another hallway, you assumed he was going to tell the others that you were here. The bright smell of citrus and spearmint radiated from a very excited blonde. 

“Hi! You must be Y/N, I’m so happy to meet you,” the blonde grinned at you. “I’m Felix.”

“You’re minty, like me.” You cringed internally. You had just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Felix’s smile somehow grew wider.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable!” Felix giggled at your reddened cheeks. “Can I give you a hug?” You nodded and Felix immediately pulled you into his chest. You buried your nose into his collarbone, inhaling his scent. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to relax for the first time since you were brought into the shop’s office. 

“How about we sit down, get comfortable,” Chan suggested after letting you indulge for a minute. “There’s some things I’d like to talk about while it’s just you, me, and Felix.” You forced yourself to untangle from Felix with a pout. Felix pulled you to sit on his lap on the large sectional while Chan occupied the recliner. 

“Right, this is going to be a bit personal. I figured you would be less anxious with another omega present.” You tensed up slightly, now worried that he was about to tell you they didn’t need or want another omega in the pack.

“It’s okay, love. We’re just getting your boundaries set in place,” Felix whispered, trailing his fingers over your spine. You sunk further into the blonde, nodding for them to continue.

“Do you know when your next heat is due?” Your eyes widened, not expecting the alpha to bring up your heat. It was a taboo subject at your parents’ home.

“Oh- um, it’s due in two and a half weeks. Why?” 

“I need to know if you want help with it or if you want to handle it yourself,” Chan explained. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” You looked to Felix. “I thought I would just be locked in my room. That’s what my dad did whenever I went into heat.” Felix’s jaw dropped in horror, and you heard Chan inhale sharply.

“Sweetheart, I promise I am nothing like your dad. You don’t have to deal with your heat alone if you don’t want to. And if you do, we’ll get you set up at a heat sanctuary hotel.” Your eyes snapped back to Chan. 

“I didn’t even know those existed,” you admitted. Chan pinched the bridge of his nose, blown away by just how cruel your own father was to you. “You’d really help me? I don’t have to deal with the pain myself?”

“We are more than willing to help. Although I would be the first to do so,” Chan noted. 

“Wh- what?” 

“I’m the pack alpha, so I’m the first to have sex with our omegas.” You hid your flushed face behind your hands. 

“Awe, you don’t need to hide,” Felix cooed at your embarrassment. You peeked between your fingers at Chan, who waited patiently for you to signal him to continue. 

“I, um, I’ve never- I haven’t-” You struggled to form a coherent sentence. 

“Ah, you haven’t had sex yet?” You shook your head. “That’s okay, and if you don’t want to yet, I won’t be upset. You don’t have to answer right now. Think it over and let me know sometime next week.”

“I will,” you confirmed. “Are more pack members coming out soon?”

“I have one other question. It’s still about your heat, so you don’t have to answer right away,” Chan paused to check that you were still comfortable. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but you’re my mate.”

“Is that why your scent is different?” Your eyes widened in realization. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to freak you out, but I could tell from the moment I met you,” Chan revealed with a soft smile. Your heart swelled at the way he looked at you.

“Wait, Seungmin smells that way to me, too. Does that mean I have to choose one of you?” You fretted, unsure if you’d be able to make that choice.

“You don’t have to choose. It’s possible to have more than one mate,” Felix interjected. “Chan’s my mate, too. Got the mark to prove it and everything.” You paused, trying to find the right words to express your emotions.

“If I’m being honest, I never expected to find a pack, let alone a mate. Does this mean I’ll have a pack mark and two claiming marks?” You were trying to process the new information. 

“That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you,” Chan stated. “If you ask me to help with your heat, I’ll need to know beforehand if you want me to claim you.”

“O-oh! Why do you need to know before?”

“You’re not going to be totally yourself. You may ask for things while in that state of mind that you don’t actually mean.” You nodded slowly, absentmindedly picking at your fingers. “If you tell me that you don’t want to be claimed yet, I won’t do it even if you beg during your heat.”

“Okay, it’s a lot to think about, but I promise I’ll let you know soon.” Chan relaxed into the recliner, smiling fondly at you and Felix.

“You ready for Seungmin to bring out the other betas?” Felix asked while grabbing your hands to stop your nervous habit, mirroring the earlier actions of his alpha. You took a deep breath and nodded. Chan whipped out his phone, sending a text to Seungmin. Moments later, you heard rapid footsteps coming toward the living room. 

“New omega!!” A man with a heart-shaped smile slid across the hardwood. His enthusiasm caused you to giggle, which in turn had his smile brighten. Seungmin and another dark-haired man appeared behind the first. 

“Hi, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Hyunjin and that’s Jisung,” the calmer of the two newcomers introduced. Jisung plopped on the couch next to you and Felix, squeezing between your bodies and the arm of the couch and blocking Chan from view. The remaining betas sat on your other side. 

“Wow, you’re so pretty,” Jisung sighed, leaning his head on the back of the couch. 

“Thank you,” you squeaked, pink flooding your cheeks once again. Jisung’s smile morphed into a smirk.

“You’re even prettier when you blush,” he teased. You hid in Felix’s neck, causing the two to laugh. 

“Jisung,” Chan warned from his spot on the recliner. 

“Sorry, sorry.” The beta raised his hands in surrender. After Seungmin coaxed you out of your hiding spot, conversation flowed easily. They asked about your studies and how you liked your university, and you asked them about their job. 

“So you guys are idols? I’m part of a super famous pack?” You questioned. Seungmin snickered from behind you, so you turned to face him. “Is it really that funny? I’m only asking because I’m not sure if your fans will like me.”

“When you’re ready for us to announce you, STAY will love you. And if they have an issue, they aren’t real fans,” Hyunjin reassured. 

“Even if the fans are okay with me being in the pack, what about the company? Do you think they’ll have an issue with me having two of you as mates?” The betas perked up at the mention of mates.

“Two?” Jisung repeated. 

“Mhm. Chan and Seungmin,” you confirmed, a little nervous that the others would be upset or feel left out. 

“Oooooo! You lucky bastards,” Jisung complained half-heartedly. 

“And she hasn’t even met the other alphas yet. Maybe she has more.” Felix wiggled his eyebrows at you. You snorted, slapping a hand over your mouth. They didn’t look upset, much to your relief. Seungmin stared at you, looking utterly lovestruck, a fact that Hyunjin did not let slide.

“Awwweeee, look at Min!” Hyunjin poked Seungmin’s side repeatedly. “He’s got heart eyes.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin muttered while swatting the older beta’s hand away. 

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Chan spoke up after staying silent for most of the conversation. “Y/N, are you good to meet the others? They’re gonna come in one at a time.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m excited to meet them,” you agreed. Chan sent another message out, and a minute later a young man with fox-like eyes entered the room. He grinned upon seeing you. His scent washed over you like a warm blanket. Cinnamon and vanilla soothed your nerves, feeling like you just stepped into a bakery.

“Hello, I’m Jeongin,” he greeted softly. He sat a little further from you on the same side as Seungmin. You wiggled your way out of Felix’s lap so you could sit between him and Jisung. It was easier to see everyone now that you were facing forward. The beta made a small noise of excitement, throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“You smell like a cinnamon bun,” you mumbled dreamily. Jeongin looked to his lap to hide his blush, but the tips of his ears gave him away as they burned red. 

“Someone’s embarrassed,” Seungmin said in a sing-song voice while pinching the youngest pack member’s cheek. Jeongin groaned and pushed the beta’s hand away.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass anyone,” you apologized. “I just got excited cus this is the first time I’ve been comfortable around alphas.”

“Alphas usually make you uncomfortable?” Hyunjin asked despite the silent signals from Chan telling him to stop. You frowned and squished your cheek into Felix’s shoulder.

“They normally scare me. The only alphas I’ve been around were my dad and his friends.” 

“You don’t have to be scared of alphas anymore.” Jeongin’s pretty smile was gone, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I promise, me and Chan and everyone in this pack will make sure you’re safe.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled at Jeongin before turning to Chan. “I know you wanted the alphas to come in one at a time, but can I meet them both now? I want to have the whole pack together.”

“Yeah, I’ll call them in.” Chan sent out another text. His alpha puffed up with pride, pleased that you were already so caring for his pack. Once again, rapid footsteps approached the room. A very excited (and very muscular) man ran in with a bright smile. He immediately dropped down next to Jeongin. A much calmer man walked in next. He froze in his tracks, eyes locking onto you and nostrils flaring. 

“Minho, you alright?” Jisung asked. Minho ignored him, moving to kneel in front of you, never breaking eye contact. He gently grabbed your hand, running his thumb across your knuckles. 

“You’re real.” Tears gathered on the alpha’s lash line. “I’ve always hoped I would find my mate, just like my parents found each other.” You compulsively brushed your fingers over his cheekbone, your own eyes growing misty. 

“Does anyone want to explain what’s happening here?” The moment was broken by the alpha beside Jeongin. Minho exhaled loudly through his nose and you snickered at his annoyed expression. 

“Y/N is Chan, Seungmin, and Minho’s mate,” Hyunjin explained bluntly. 

“Oh no way! Congratulations on finding each other.” The alpha smacked Seungmin between his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from the beta. “I’m Changbin. He probably didn’t tell you, but Hyunjin is actually my mate.”

“Really?! Hyunjin, why didn’t you tell me?” You pouted. He only shrugged as an answer. Beside you, Jisung and Minho were having a silent conversation of eyebrow raises and head tilts, ultimately ending with the younger moving next to Changbin with a huff. Minho promptly took the spot next to you. As you looked over the pack, more specifically their pajamas, you came to a realization.

“I don’t have any of my stuff. What am I going to wear?” You asked, looking at Chan.

“You can use our clothes for now. Felix’s should fit alright, but we do need to decide when to go to your parents’ house for your belongings,” he noted and pulled up the pack’s shared calendar. “Looks like after Monday, we won’t have any days off for two weeks.”

“Dude, today’s Saturday. We’d have to go either tomorrow or Monday,” Jisung interjected. 

“Well, I do want to see my mom while I’m there. She has Sundays off and works from home on Mondays, so that works. But my dad also has the shop closed on Sundays and Mondays so he can be home with mom,” you explained. “I can just go by myself. You shouldn’t waste your days off helping me pack.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go to that house alone,” Chan stated firmly. “If your dad is there, then at least Changbin and I are going with you.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, dollface. We want to help you, so it isn’t a waste of our time off,” Changbin confirmed. You sighed, resigned to the fact they weren’t going to budge. 

“Okay, but Felix comes too. Showing up with two buff alphas would make my mom freak out.”

“Deal. Last thing to discuss is which room you’re gonna move into.” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure the only room that can fit another bed is the master bedroom with me and Jeongin.”

“Wh… what if I don’t want my own bed?” You stuttered. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, looking at you curiously.

“She wants to share a bed with someone,” Felix clarified. You nodded quickly.

“Not just one person, I’d like to sleep in everyone’s beds. I get nightmares sometimes, but I’ve never liked sleeping alone, even as a kid.” 

“I think we can arrange that,” Chan confirmed, grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll text my mom to see if we can go tomorrow.” You relaxed into Minho’s side and pulled out your phone.

“What the hell is that?” Felix pointed at your cracked iPhone 4. 

“My phone…?” You faltered at the disbelief on everyone’s faces. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s extremely outdated. I’m surprised it’s still running,” Chan scoffed. “I’m assuming your dad wouldn’t get you a newer phone?” You shook your head.

“Your dad should be thankful that I’m not going with you,” Minho seethed, a muscle flexing as he clenched his jaw. You didn’t answer, opting to text your mom. She answered right away, like always, which made you smile.

“We can go over tomorrow, they don’t have any plans,” you stated. 

“Right, so we’ll be getting you a new phone then going to pack up,” Chan started. “I don’t want you relying on that man anymore, and I’m nervous he may just cut your phone off.” You hummed in acknowledgement. You chatted with your new pack with a movie playing as background noise. For the first time in a long time, you were at ease. 

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22

Series Taglist: @ihrtlix @ohh-to-be-rich-and-pretty @holly-here @queen-in-the-shadows @whoreforeverythingspice @staytinyluv

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: wonwoo + bitter

alternative title: the taste of your name on my lips

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

genre: non-idols au, angst, fluff, getting back together-ish

word count: 1954

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994 @blue-jisungs @yonabutnotyuna

Winter, Wonwoo has decided, has a rather distinctively bitter taste.

No, actually. Perhaps it's not winter itself that is bitter, but a winter spent without you. Like chewing on the rind of a lemon, leaving his tongue tingling and feeling distinctly wrong, tasting something that makes his nose wrinkle when he had expected it to be a sweet, sharp citrus. 

It's how he feels right now, the biting scents of winter sitting uncomfortably in his mouth as he breathes in and breathes out, the mist swirling a ghostly grey around him. It's cold, even more so than he anticipated, especially without you by his side. 

He watches as Mingyu flails around on the ice rink, as Seungcheol grabs onto Seokmin before they both fall over almost instantly, and he wants to laugh, wants to react in the way that he normally would, but everything feels… well, it just feels wrong. 

His ears are ringing with the scrape of metal on ice, sharp and scratchy and like nails dragging down blackboard. It's jarring, making him wince, and icicles spring up on his tongue, and everything simply hurts. 

"Wonwoo-ya," a voice says softly, but Wonwoo can hardly even hear it. Joshua is watching him, the warmth radiating off him in waves, but Wonwoo is dry ice, frozen nitrogen, incinerating all warmth that attempts to get close. "Are you okay?"

Wonwoo just shrugs, gloved fingers gripping unfeelingly against the edges of the rink as he and Joshua stand on the outside, watching the others slip and slide over each other.

Joshua rests a hand on his arm, and Wonwoo knows it's meant to be comforting, like a hot water bottle pressed to his side, but he's so cold that he feels nothing. Joshua's touch is a drop of hot water, sizzling and evaporating away into nothing the second it touches ice. It makes Wonwoo wince again, tongue tingling with tastes of dark chocolate and glass shattering on the floor and cold steel pressed to the back of a neck. 

Joshua retracts his hand, burying his face into his scarf, and he's looking at Wonwoo so sadly, like he knows all the sounds and sensations that Wonwoo is tasting in his mouth, and he pities him for having to feel such things. 

Wonwoo doesn't think he deserves that pity, really. 

It's his fault you're not here. His fault that winter has turned bitter, has decided to punish him for his actions. 

"Y/N probably misses you too," Joshua says quietly, and just for a moment his words sound like crystal chimes before they crack and shatter against Wonwoo's teeth as he inhales. "I bet you're missing each other in equal amounts."

"I don't know," Wonwoo says, and it's a shaky exhale of words, smoky with regret, winding around his neck and suffocating him. "I don't think Y/— I don't think they'd miss me."

Your name had almost slipped his lips, but he'd reeled it back at the last moment, not wanting the cherry blossom softness of your name to be tainted by the sticky tar that floods his mouth. 

Joshua tilts his head, and his eyes are glittering, looking both soft and sharp in the way that only he can, like he's comforting and laughing at Wonwoo at the same time. Wonwoo looks back, finding the gentleness in Joshua's gaze almost too sugary sweet to look at, after his mouth and his tongue has been frozen numb by the dark, person-shaped hole in his life. 

And then Joshua smiles, before looking away. "You haven't asked Y/N though, have you? You don't know if you don't ask."

Wonwoo wants to protest, say that of course you don't want to see him, not after what had happened the last time you'd seen each other. But the memory stings his eyes, almost unbearably sour, and he looks down. 

"You need to stop running away, Wonwoo," Joshua says, softly. "Don't you think it's time to finally stop and look at what's around you?"

His words are directed at Wonwoo, but Joshua's gaze slides away from his, looking at something at his left shoulder, and the bitterness on Wonwoo's tongue deepens, pricking his teeth and numbing the roof of his mouth with fear. He knows who's behind him without even having to look, but as he turns around and sees you, nose tipped with cold, it makes his heart squeeze uncomfortably in his throat. 

"Hi," you say, voice small, rattling around like marbles in the air between you. "Joshua… Joshua told me to come out this evening. I didn't know I'd bump into you."

Joshua? Wonwoo turns back, planning to attempt a glare at the man who'd orchestrated all of this, but Joshua had disappeared out onto the rink, an elusive whirlwind of sugar granules and hail, helping up Seokmin and laughing at Seungcheol as if he'd never left, as if he'd never been standing at Wonwoo's side. 

"Sorry," Wonwoo manages, and his own voice sounds wrong in his head, all burnt and frozen at the same time. "He's… like that."

You laugh softly, and while the noise would have normally have soothed over the cuts on his tongue, this time it only serves to carve deeper into them, the metallic taste licking against his teeth, pained by the sorrow in your laugh. 

"That's okay. It's not your fault."

The words make him flinch, and your eyes widen before icing over, and suddenly you've become unreachable to him, unreachable in your thistle prickling of awkwardness. 

"Sorry," you say, biting your lip, and for some reason Wonwoo can feel his own lips bruising at the action. "That was…" You pause. "Sorry. I should go."

And then you're turning on your heel, stiff, like a wooden doll, an abandoned toy next to the Nutcracker under the Christmas tree, and Wonwoo's heart squeezes in his throat as he thinks how he can't lose you, please, he just can't. 

"Y/N."

The sound of your name in his voice rings in the air, curling with the white smoke of his exhale, but it's warm. Your name is always golden on his lips, polished and priceless and beautiful, and as you turn back to look at him, eyes shining even in the darkness, he can taste that preciousness melting on his tongue, melting into the bitter of his loneliness. 

He opens his mouth, then closes it again when he realizes he has nothing else to say. The urge to say "don't worry about it", to ignore what he'd just said, is tempting on his tongue, a slimy eel string of words that will slide out of his mouth so easily. 

But he pushes it down, swallows it away, licking at his lips and fighting the want to grimace at the oily blackness that still lingers in his mouth. 

"It's all my fault," he says eventually, and the words grate against his tongue, shaved ice particles of fear and guilt, turning the inside of his mouth cold with the sudden taste of mint as he bites down on his feelings. "It really is, and I'm so sorry."

Your eyes widen, and he knows you're going to deny it, try to remove some of the blame off his shoulders, but it's been weighing there for days, rough rock that fills his mouth with chalk dust whenever he thinks about it. But it's deserved, and he knows it, and you know it, and if Wonwoo wants to fully get rid of this bitterness and ask for forgiveness once and for all, then it's essential he apologises through the ice and the oil and the chalk. 

It's a horrible combination, tasting dark and remorseful in his mouth, sticking to his teeth, but it's of his own making. 

"I'm sorry," he says, genuinely, an icy riverwater of words. "You—you were waiting for me to do something, to show I cared, but I was… I was just so scared of how I felt. How you made me feel."

"Won—"

"Please," he says, and the sticky honey texture of the word makes his voice thick, and he swallows. "Please. It's okay. I know where I went wrong, and I'm so sorry. It's just—I was really scared, and it's not your fault, it's all because of me, because you were nothing but patient, nothing but kind and I just took that for granted. You were always by my side, and I never thought about how you would feel, never thought about how my silence and my inability to explain what you mean to me would affect you. It's my fault, it really is, just like you said, and I'm sorry."

And then the words keep coming, building up more, more, more, like a snowball rolling down a hill that's growing with every syllable. But he can't stop, won't, not when his teeth are still sunk in bitter rind and everything feels horribly wrong and damnit, he's lonely, he misses you, and he doesn't want you to think that he doesn't need you anymore. 

Because he always has. Always, more perhaps than anything else in the world. 

"I know why you were upset. I understand, I really do, because these past few weeks have showed me that you mean the utter world to me, Y/N," Wonwoo says, earnestly. There's no more chalk in his mouth, no more oil, but the ice is still there, making his words slip and slide and tumble out without a second thought. But it's necessary, and Wonwoo lets the words fall, leaving his mouth as delicate, frozen snowflakes. "You are… you are everything. I mean it."

You stare at him, and he can't tell if you're blinking rapidly due to the cold or due to what he's said, but he swallows again, bites his lip, tongue feeling numbed to the bitterness in his mouth. 

"I love you," he says, suddenly, and it was entirely unexpected but it feels right. "I love you, Y/N. More than you can possibly ever know. I know I messed up, and I know I might not have showed you just how much I love you, but I do. And, if you'll let me… I'd be willing to prove my love to you. For a thousand lifetimes."

You don't say anything to that, stunned, and Wonwoo feels his heart sink, feels the uncomfortable, waxy texture of lemon skin slipping against his teeth, and his entire frame freezes. 

But then you're laughing, eyes bright, glittering like a thousand stars as you step forward to throw your arms around him, and finally the bitterness in his mouth melts away, rose sweet. 

"God, Wonwoo," you breathe, and it sounds like spun sugar, delicate and beautiful and melting in his mouth. "Oh, my god. I was— Shua dragged me out here, but then I saw you and—and I was going to say I forgive you. Because I get it. I understand it's hard to express emotions sometimes, and I was going to say—I'm sorry for pushing you, that was wrong of me, but then—then you said this?"

"It's true," Wonwoo says simply, holding you tight, gloved fingers wrinkling into your coat, but he can feel the warmth radiating off of you anyways, a caramelised kind of golden taste that has him buzzing. "I love you."

You bury your face into his scarf, making a sound so happy that Wonwoo can feel the whoosh of cherry blossom-pink as it swirls so sweetly in his mouth. "Say it again."

The words are golden soft on his tongue, and he wonders why he took so long to say them. To say them to you. He smiles, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

"I love you."

[live-laugh-neteyam]

You Have Me ||| neteyam x omatikaya!reader

part one of The Future’s Better Than Yesterday | series masterlist | next |

pairings: neteyam x omatikaya!fem!reader *aged up*

summary: mostly just an introduction to the characters and storyline. bits of reader’s backstory and abilities. featuring sweet and over protective neteyam

words: 2.9k

warnings/notes: fluff, slight angst, mentions of death, reader’s parents are dead, insomnia, nightmares. I’m so nervous about this I hope you like it. Probably some errors sorry in advance. Italics = flashback

Pandora glowed with her breathtaking bioluminescent haze. The forest slowly came to life with the dawn of a new day. Slight breezes swayed the flora delicately. A sweet citrus smell filled your lungs as you took a deep breath. Your home never failed to leave you awestruck. Often you'd spend your mornings admiring the Great Mother's beautiful creations.

There were many places in the forest that you would consider your favorite. Every time you witnessed the majesty of the Hallelujah Mountains you felt your breath catch in your throat. You marveled at the power and elegance they held. Something that mighty made you feel insignificant; putting into perspective that you are just a spec in this vast world.

The Tree of Souls felt safe like a mother embracing her child. And for you, it really was. It was the only way for you to know your parents without having met them prior. Meeting them for the first time terrified you. You were unsure if they'd even recognize you, but there they were with their arms open waiting for you. Nothing is ever really lost.

You found yourself now in a small clearing in the forest. From an outsiders view it wasn't anything special, but to you it was everything. It was a secret spot that no one else knew about, well you and one other person.

Your childhood best friend Neteyam introduced to the clearing when you were children. Ever since, it's been just for the two of you. A place to laugh and goof off, a place for deep thought, and occasionally a place to cry.

***

Your bottom lip was quivering and your eyes glossy. Neteyam knew you were about to cry. Panic filled his body as he didn't know what to do. He always had a plan, being clueless scared him.

That and he'd never seen you cry before.

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder he turned you to face him. Tears were already starting to fall. You tucked your arms in hugging yourself.

“What is wrong Y/N?”

You felt the eyes of bystanders burning holes into your head. You’d rather have Eywa take you now than to have the entire clan watch you cry.

“I don’t want them to see me cry.” You sniffed.

Springing into action Neteyam took your hand leading you away from the village. Not questioning him you let him take you through the forest. You didn't care where, you just needed to be away from everyone else.

Pulling back foliage he revealed a beautiful clearing. Your eyes widened as you took it in. It overlooked the forest giving you one of the most beautiful views you had ever seen.

"What is this place?" You asked.

Neteyam shrugged nonchalantly, "I found it while exploring. Thought it would be a good place to be alone."

"It's perfect." You agreed.

He led you in and gestured for you to sit. Crossing his legs he sat in front of you. Frowning he noticed the tears still falling down your cheeks.

"Please tell me what is wrong Y/N." He pleaded.

You were hurt. He needed to know what he could do to make it stop. Just the sight of you like this made his heart clench.

"You won't understand." You were looking everywhere but his eyes.

"Let me help you. Please Y/N." He took your hands in his giving a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t have a family Neteyam!” You snapped unintentionally letting all your pent up emotions out on him. Eyes widening you looked up to him in shock. Had you really just said that?

Neteyam was hurt by your outburst but even more hurt by your words. He knew your parents were gone but he thought you were happy with his family- happy with him.

“I’m sorry.” You took his hand, “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

He nodded at you to continue. He was trying not to overreact, wanting to listen to your explanation before coming to a conclusion. Neteyam was wise beyond his years for a ten year old.

"I just see all the other children with their parents. And then I see yours and I- I want that for myself."

"I know you think I'm selfish but I can't help it. I want my own family. I feel like I don't even know who I am without them."

You never knew your parents. Your father died during the battle with the sky people. A fierce warrior you hoped to live up to. After a complicated birth your mother fell asleep never to open her eyes again. They managed to save you but it was too late for her.

She never even got to hold you.

A part of you felt like you were being dramatic. You've had a good life, fortunate enough to be raised by the people. But it got lonely. You'd spend nights with different families never having a stable home to go back to.

Jake and Neytiri were the closest thing you had to adoptive parents even though they technically weren't. You desperately wished they were. Often you'd day dream about your parents, your mind painted them to be much like the Olo'eyktan and his mate.

"I'm all alone Neteyam." You said between sobs hugging your legs up to your chest.

Quickly as if his life depended on it he locked you into his embrace. He let you cry it out against his chest. Gently rubbing your head like his mother does to calm his siblings down.

“You are not alone Y/N.” He soothes. “You have the people, my family loves you so much, and you have me.” Neteyam softly pulled you away from him so he could look you in the eyes. “You’ll always have me Y/N.”

***

Blinking back sleep you felt your eyes grow heavy. The prior night of not sleeping suddenly catching up to you. Tugging your legs up to your chest you hugged yourself. The day hadn't even begun and you were already exhausted.

You weren't always afraid of sleeping. It wasn't until the visions got worse. You'd rather not sleep than see the images in your mind. This week had been particularly bad. You found yourself here every night trying to stay awake.

"Y/N?"

The familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts. Looking up you were met with the face of your best friend.

"Morning 'Teyam." You sleepily smiled at him.

Neteyam's face lit up at the nickname. His bright cheery smiled reminded you how much of a morning person he was. Needless to say you were not one yourself.

"Getting an early start today Y/N?"

Afraid of disappointing him you kept your gaze on the view in front of you. You were well aware that he didn't like you staying awake through the night. He reminded you every chance he got.

Releasing a heavy sigh he looked over at you concerned. "You haven't slept at all have you?"

"You know I try not to."

"You are going to worry me to death one day Y/N." The boy chuckled but he meant it. He constantly worried about you, wanting you to be healthy and happy at all times.

"How long?" He asked bringing the mood back down.

"About a week." You shrugged.

Rubbing his hand against his face he grumbled something into his palms. He was mad at himself for not noticing sooner. "You've gone a week without sleep? This isn't healthy Y/N. You need rest."

"I know. They just started to scare me again."

The sight of you exhausted and completely defeated broke his heart. Neteyam wanted nothing more than to take the pain away. Even if he'd have to bear it himself he'd do it if it meant you never had to.

Neteyam was one of the only people in the clan that seemed to care more about you than your abilities. Instead of focusing on the miracle from Eywa he kept his eyes beautiful tormented girl in front of him.

He wasn't bothered with understanding the future. It would happen soon enough. All he cared about was you being able to live without being scared of your own mind.

But it got worse as you got older. Your dreams more intense and freighting. The scenes played over and over again until you finally woke up. That's why you made the choice to stay awake. If you never went to slept the visions never came. It was as simple as that.

When you were younger you never really noticed the visions. They were mild and always of something pleasant. It was as if they were normal dreams.

Being a kid you of course told everyone everything. For awhile no one paid any attention thinking it was just the normal chatter of a child. But when you started sharing very specific details that later unfolded people started to notice.

One of those people was the Tsahìk herself. After praying and consulting with Eywa she discovered that you had been gifted by the Great Mother herself. Ever since Mo’at took a special interest in you.

You admired the spiritual leader grateful for her guidance. But you knew deep down she kept you close because of your abilities.

“There’s still time, try and get some rest.” Neteyam urged you.

“I don’t know Teyam, I have lessons soon.” You reminded him with a sigh.

“I know, I know. Just try. I will stay and protect you.” The boy grinned down at you.

Not having the energy to argue with him anymore your head plopped onto his shoulder. You were out like a light. Unsure if it was from purse exhaustion or that Neteyam’s presence made you feel safe.

He wrapped his arm around your sleeping figure pulling you in closer to him, careful not to wake you. His cheeks flushed as you snuggled into him. Neteyam could get used to this.

***

Grinding herbs with Kiri the two of you were finishing up your lessons with Mo'at. Seeing your potential she took you under her wing teaching you to become a healer.

It was something you enjoyed. You wanted to be useful and this made you feel like you could give back. Plus Mo'at was also training Kiri. You jumped at the opportunity to spend time with your friend.

While you considered Neteyam to be your best friend Kiri was all that and more. She was the sister you never had. She knew everything about you and you her. You’d thank the Great Mother every day for Kiri, she was truly a blessing.

Pausing you yawned into your elbow. Kiri immediately noticed and frowned. She knew exactly what you had been doing. She had her suspicions but received confirmation when Neteyam told her that morning.

Not knowing who else to tell he went to Kiri. She used it as the perfect opportunity to tease her older brother. However she was also worried about you.

"Do you want to spend the night tonight? It will be fun like when we were little." Kiri asked while cleaning up.

Lifting your brow you glanced over at her. It wasn't unusual for Kiri to suggest something like this. However you felt suspicious because of your conversation with Neteyam earlier.

"Did your brother put you up to this?" You asked with your back still to her.

Kiri's glance softened rushing over to you she put a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I can not lie to you," she started, "he told me that you haven't been sleeping. I thought maybe coming over could help."

"Kiri you know why I stay awake. It's not like I don't want to sleep, I'm just-"

"Afraid of what you will see." Kiri interrupted you. "I know. But maybe tonight will be different. We will not know until we try." She gently tugged on your arm, "at least stay for dinner."

You looked over to the corner of the tent where your mat laid. Once you got older you made one of the healing tents your makeshift home. You didn't want to be a burden to the people.

"Please." Kiri pouted her bottom lip giving her best puppy dog face.

Playfully you pushed her rolling your eyes. "I can't say no to you."

Throwing her hands up in victory Kiri let out a cheer. "Let's go." She practically dragged you out of the tent.

You loved spending time with the Sully’s. The atmosphere was always warm and welcoming. Even though it made you feel guilty, sometimes you wished that you were apart of their family.

Neytiri was cutting fruit preparing for dinner. Little Tuk was playing with a wooden Ikran toy. When she saw you her face lit up. “Y/N!” She exclaimed crashing into you for a hug.

“Hi Tuk.” You giggled as you picked her up. “I’ve missed you.”

Neytiri smiled seeing you and her daughter entering their home. “Ma’Y/N it’s been so long since you joined us for a meal.” She warmly hugged you.

“I know. Next time I won’t wait so long to come back.”

Nodding in approval Neytiri went back to her preparations. Looking around you noticed the men of the family were missing. Lessons had ran overtime again.

As if on cue Lo’ak bursted through the entry of the tent. His eyes lit up when he saw you before turning into a wicked smirk.

“Hey bro your girlfriend is here!” He loudly teased.

Neteyam was next to come in. His eyes huge and his face flushed. “You fucking skxawng.” He muttered making sure to smack Lo’ak on the back of his head.

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t noticeable. You had a crush on your best friend for a long time, you just thought it wasn’t noticeable. Apparently you were wrong.

“Ow” Lo’ak dramatically rubbed the back of his head. “It’s the truth.”

Shaking his head Jake entered. “You’ll have to excuse my sons Y/N. They insist on acting like children.”

You giggled at the look both Neteyam and Lo’ak gave their father.

After greeting everyone Neteyam quickly made his way to you taking a seat next you. His eyes never left you throughout the evening. He asked you all about your day, because he genuinely wanted to know but also just to hear your sweet voice.

Kiri and lo’ak constantly rolled their eyes. Tired of seeing their brother pining over you.

Later Kiri helped you make up the spare mat. You felt Neteyam’s gaze on you the whole time, trying your best to ignore it.

“Just try to get some rest.” Kiri smiled.

Weakly smiling you nodded. You were terrified. Not only because you were going to try to sleep but you were trying in some else’s home. The last thing you wanted was to make a scene.

Laying down you met his glance from across the room. He looked focused possibly a little worried. You smiled at him. He immediately returned the gesture.

Curling up you closed your eyes praying for a normal night of sleep. It didn’t take long for you to drift off. Neteyam stayed up until he was sure you were asleep. Counting your rhythmic heavy breaths.

***

It looked like the aftermath of a battlefield. Smoke and fire clouded around your beautiful home. Death and destruction were everywhere. Bodies of fallen Na’vi soldiers covered with red littered the ground. Their blood seeping back into the ground, until all you saw was red.

***

You woke up gasping for breath. With a splitting headache and blurry vision you stumbled your way out of the tent. Sitting down outside you tried your best to take deep breaths. You felt like you were starting to hyperventilate.

A few moments later Neteyam noticed you were missing. His whole body filled with worry he went looking for you. It didn’t take him long as you were sitting right outside the tent.

His heart sank the moment he saw you. You were trembling, gasping for breath with tears stinging your eyes.

“What is wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fired too many questions at you. You were too overwhelmed to answer him.

Gently wrapping his arm around your shaking frame he pulled you into his chest. “Deep breaths for me.” He softy said.

After a few minutes you managed to calm your breathing. “That’s it. Good job.” He praised you gently rubbing his hand on your head.

“It hurts Teyam.” You muttered against his chest.

With furrowed brows he crouched down to look at you. “What hurts?”

“My head. The bad ones hurt.” You sniffled through your tears.

You hadn’t told anyone but as your visions got more intense, they started to affect your physical health. Often leaving you with the worst migraine you’d ever had.

He held you closer trying not to cry himself. The girl he was hopelessly in love with was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to take it all away but all he could do was watch.

Neteyam couldn’t help but question why the Great Mother would gift you with this if it caused you so much pain.

He placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head trying his best to comfort you. “It’ll be okay. I’m right here.” He soothed.

“Will you stay up with me?”

His heart broke at your pitiful frame. “Of course I will. However long you want.”

•••

Ahhhhhh I was really nervous to post this I hope it’s readable

[cryptixani]

matching perfume/colognes to jjk characters...

a/n: i did a bit of background research but i mostly went off gut feeling, and i'm no professional when it comes to fragrances and i haven't actually smelled any of these in person, so please correct me if i'm wrong about any of them!! i added fragantica links if anyone wants to check them out.

warnings: none.

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo

satoru gojo

i dunno why but i always picture gojo to smell kinda soapy?? not in a bad way but just a very clean, fresh, dove bar kinda smell. i can't picture him smelling overly masculine or mature, it just doesn't seem to fit how i view his personality and all that. i don't think he'd go for more juvenile smells either, but definitely something a bit lighter and fresher than heavy, musky colognes.

so for this i've matched him with prada amber pour homme. from what i could find, it has very soapy and clean notes of neroli and citrus as well as a bit of spice to it. it also supposedly smells very expensive and high quality, which i think would also fit as something for gojo to wear given the fact that he's, yk, fucking loaded.

suguru geto

geto has always given me earthy, oud-y vibes. probably the monk getup and that one figure of him with a smoking pipe. i feel like he'd smell of a woodsy, smokey incense with maybe just a teeny bit of playful floral - overall masculine and mature but with a bit of youthful playfulness.

for that, i've decided to match him with oud essentiel by guerlain. it's a unisex perfume that has top notes of agarwood, leather, and saffron. definitely gives vibes of mystery and luxury, it's described as a darker and heavier fragance with a nice bit of smokiness.

kento nanami

i can't help but imagine him with a very nice, simple, classic masculine fragance. i'm not really too much of a nanami girl (i get the appeal tho) but he seems like such a classic guy. musky and leathery scent for sure, with maybe a bit of light woodsiness.

givenchy gentleman feels like a good fit for nanami. from what i've read it's a very classy, masculine cologne. there's top notes of pepper and bergamot that give it a spicy sort of smell as well as a powderiness to it that then fades out after some wear. supposedly it's a very mature, masculine and 'daddy'ish cologne.

choso kamo

choso gives me kinda sweaty vibes. i say this with all my heart as a choso girlie, i think he smells at least a bit BO-y. not because i think he's dirty, but some people just sweat a lot, yk?

i think haute concentration by yves saint laurent. it's a masculine fragance that has some herbal notes that would work well with a BO smell rather than against it (mask the worst of it and enhance the muskiness). it also has citrus and spicy notes, which i think adds a fresher and more comforting touch, and is described as a slightly dated but still enjoyable sort of masculine scent.

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #17 - Sally

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #17 - Sally

Briar crossed his legs neatly as he perched on the fallen log, watching the trio of Wood Wailers before him with a faint smile. Joiyenne and the two brothers, Aidan and Ethan, were perhaps the only Wood Wailers Briar would consider 'friends'. He didn't quite trust them to the depths he might some others, but they were vouched for by Buscarron, who Briar did trust fully.

It helped, no doubt, that the trio 'owed' him, although Briar wouldn't have agreed with that. Some bad luck had left them injured, in particular, Aidan had a badly injured leg. The sturdy, dark-haired Hyur had a slight limp, but he was convinced Briar was the only reason he had a leg. That put him in the good graces of the two brothers, and thus Joiyenne. Joiyenne was very much the leader of the group, and much like her name, actually a rather cheerful, if blunt person.

Short for an Elezen, androgynous-looking, and with a short haircut, Joiyenne was practical, tough, and had decent relations with even the Redbellies and other bandits of the area. It was the general consensus between them and the bandits that as long as they were hunting for food, Joiyenne and the brothers wouldn't bother them. Attacking caravans demanded action, but otherwise, they were willing to turn a blind eye toward most other activities if no harm was done—a sight better than most Wood Wailers and why Buscarron welcomed them in the Druthers.

At the moment, Joiyenne and Ethan were munching on some flatbread Briar had offered. At the same time, Briar passed over to Aidan a salve made for him. It was a monthly ritual and afforded Briar some basic protection against other Wood Wailers in the area. Aidan's scarred thigh still caused him pain and he swore that nothing helped so well as the medicine the half-Elezen made him.

"Yer a peach," Aidan sighed happily as he opened the jar, catching the pleasant citrus-touched whiff of the salve. "Gettin' cold and don't think I'd be able to patrol without this."

"Y-you're very w-welcome, Aidan," Briar said quietly, a small smile showing. His ears still tended to flick with a bit of nervousness, but he'd gotten better about dealing with the Wood Wailers over the few years he'd known them. "If you need m-more, just send a note with Buscarron. He knows how to reach me."

"Aye, aye, I will," Aidan said, slipping the jar into a pocket and picking up the bread he'd been given as well. "Honey and almond in this, you say?"

Briar nodded again, turning his attention to Joiyenne, who was licking her fingers. They were, admittedly, unusual for Wood Wailers. The trio was easy-going, downright vulgar enough to earn a grin from Buscarron, and more like the bandits than was probably safe to admit. Sometimes Briar itched to ask how people like that had ended up working for Gridania, but never quite felt comfortable enough to do so. For the moment, it was enough to have a pleasant friendship and the reassurance that Joiyenne and the brothers would keep an eye out for him.

"Well," Joiyenne said, licking some honey off her fingers and rising to grab her spear. "Time to sally forth!"

Ethan groaned and rose more slowly, giving a stretch as he grabbed his shield. "Already? Feh."

Aidan huffed loudly. "Guess I'm eatin' and walkin'. Thanks again, little rose."

Briar nodded, lifting a hand in return as the trio headed off with waves, disappearing into the forest with surprising ease. For all their loud boisterous demeanour when relaxed, they were skilled Wood Wailers. In a few moments, their green-and-brown armour blended in and they had disappeared.

With a sigh, the half-Elezen unfolded himself to go pat Kyree, smiling at the chocobo chirped at him. He was still carrying the light packs of goods that Briar had brought for trade. "Come on," Briar said softly, scratching the bird's neck. "I suppose we must 'sally forth' as well if we want to get home before dark." Clicking his tongue softly, he started down the road with the chocobo following behind.

[cherryeol04]

Taking Control - Pt. 6

❥ Pairings: Y/n x Everyone

❥ Genre: Wolf au, romance, fluff, omega verse

❥ Word Count: 2K

❥ Series: No Control

❥ Previous • Next 

❥ Warning: This is a work of fiction. The members displayed in this story are not meant as an accurate portrayal of the members of Stray Kids. Everything is made up and not real!

“Hello?”

“Oh my god finally!” 

“Jeongin, what’s wrong?” Minho asked, stopping in his tracks. You stopped too, watching him curiously. 

“Hyung, are you and y/n alright? Where are you?”

“We’re fine. We’ll be home soon.” Minho explained. “Is something wrong Innie?”

“Yes and no. We came home and you guys were gone and you didn’t answer when Chan and Jisung called.”

“Aw, I’m sorry baby, but service out here is really shitty.” 

“Yeah, I guess. But Chan freaked out and went looking for you guys. Hyung, two more shifters have been found dead. We thought…we thought…”

“Hey, hey.” Minho whispered into the line, gently shushing the baby alpha. “We’re okay Jeongin. We’re fine. I wouldn’t let anything happen to Y/n.” he said and you raised a brow. You could make out bites and pieces of what was being said, the volume on Minho’s phone being at max volume, but it occasionally became a gargled mess that you couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. “Call Chan and let him know we’re fine and we’re on our way home. We’ll be back by nightfall, okay?”

“Okay hyung. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.” There was a pause and then Minho hung up the phone and looked at you. “Well, they know we left.” he laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“He called because we left?”

“Yeah, you know how Chan gets when we don’t tell him where we’re going.” Minho shrugged as he pocketed his phone and started walking again. “But don’t worry, Jeongin is gonna call off the search party. Just be ready to get an earful when we get home.”

You groaned, not really looking forward to a lecture. But that was your own fault for not leaving some sort of message for the others to let them know where you guys had gone. You only had yourself to blame. 

“Y/n.” Minho called as he reached out and took your hand into his. “Stay close to me.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it a command. It was a simple request and while you wanted to ask why, something told you that it was better to not question it and just do what he wanted. 

The return trip home was shorter than the trip to the village, and true to his word, you made it back just before nightfall. You were surprised to have arms wrapped around you the moment you stepped through the front door, and from Seungmin no less. His citrus scent wrapped around you in a welcoming hug that unfortunately reminded you of how hungry you were when your stomach growled. 

“Seungmin?”

He pulled back quickly, stared directly into your eyes before turning and scurrying back into the living room.You looked at Minho, but he could only shrug, just as dumbfounded as you were. Seungmin and Minho were the two members who had been actively avoiding you and now suddenly it was like you mattered to them. Well, maybe you had always mattered to them, but they were just unsure how to approach since your return? That seemed more feasible and you would rather believe that than any other excuse your brain could come up with if given the chance.

Walking into the living room, you were not surprised to see everyone gathered around a pacing Chan. “Hey guys.” you greeted softly, eyes darting between each member at least twice. Their attention quickly turned to you and there was a sudden tension in the air, especially as Chan stepped closer.

“Don’t ‘hey guys’ us.” he growled out, eyes hard and intense. It scared you, because the only time you had seen him like this was moments before he kicked you out of the pack. It was bringing back painful memories but also put you on edge with the thought that you were going to be kicked out again. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if they did that again. And there would be no coming back. Not this time.

The fear must have been evident on your face. That or he could see how much you were shaking. Whichever the reason, his features softened immediately and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.” Well that was a good start. He was apologizing and while your mind was telling you to stay on guard, your heart was telling you that there was no way he would get rid of you if he was apologizing. And god you hoped it wouldn’t be proven wrong. “I was just so worried.” he continued and moved closer, one arm grabbing Minho’s hand while the other arm pulled you close to him. “We were so worried.” he breathed out as he pressed his face into your hair. 

You felt another body press against your side, an indigent huff escaping Minho as he was pulled against Chan too. Chan pressed a kiss to your head before turning and pressing a kiss to Minho’s head too and a wave of immense guilt washed over you. You really should have left a note or something. You had never meant to make your alpha so distraught and if he was this upset, you could only imagine how upset the others were. A quick peek over Chan’s shoulders showed that the other 6 members were just as upset, watching the three of you silently. 

Fuck.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, lowering your head to rest against his shoulder. “I should have told you where I was going.” You were the only one to blame for this situation. It had been your plan to go to Bucheon to begin with, Minho was just accompanying you for whatever his reason was. Probably to make sure you stayed out of trouble, which you were thankful for. Because knowing yourself, you probably would have gotten lost somehow and died of starvation or something. A morbid thought, but not something truly out of the realm of possibility. Sure you had been trained as a hunter, but you weren’t that good at it. 

“It’s not her fault.” Minho spoke up as he pulled himself away from Chan’s embrace. You lifted your head, watching him as he stared directly at Chan. “I should have said something before we left.” 

Chan looked between the two of you and you weren’t sure what he was searching for - the truth probably. There really wasn’t a lie in the words you both had spoken. Minho could have easily left a note or texted someone that you guys were leaving, but he hadn’t. But the fact still remains, this had all been your idea, so you should be the one to take full responsibility for it. “I see.” he finally hummed and you cocked your head. “Just don’t let it happen again.” 

And that was that. Chan pulled away and walked over to one of the empty spots on the couch and sat down. His shoulders were still square and tense and you could tell he wasn’t fully over this whole thing. But it appeared he was trying to keep his cool and not get irrationally upset. You really wondered why. Though, after thinking about it, perhaps they all just had anger management problems. A red flag considering how many alphas lived together, but it didn’t deter you too much. After all, he was actively expressing control and coping mechanisms to keep himself calm and wash away the feeling. It was a giant step in the right direction - he was keeping his word.

Looking back at the others, they were still staring at you and instead of seeming more relieved or happy, they still looked worried. You were no rocket scientist, but even you could tell something still wasn’t right. “D-Did something happen?” you asked suddenly. “I mean, while we were gone?” Your gaze moved slowly over each and every one of them, their gazes averting once your eyes locked - the only confirmation you needed to know that something had indeed happened and they were refusing to talk to you about it. You came to Jisung, knees feeling weak as you took in how his eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Taking a breath, you crossed the room to him and climbed into his lap. “Sungie.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his neck. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung let out such a distressed whine that you swore your heart shattered in your chest. It was so alarming that Minho was by his side in seconds, sitting beside the two of you and pulling you both into his lap. You were sure you were only being included because you were perched on Jisung’s lap. Still, it felt nice to be wrapped up in Minho’s arms while the two of you tried to comfort your distressed mate.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Minho asked gently. 

“I thought you were dead.” Jisung sobbed as he buried his face into Minho’s neck, his arms winding around your waist and hugging you tightly - keeping you pressed against him. “When Chan told m-me,” he struggled through his sobs to speak “, about the dead shifters, I thought they were you!” His wail stunned you, though perhaps his words also had a hand in it. Your eyes lifted to Minho’s and the other looked so wrecked, but there was a knowing gaze in his eyes and that’s when it hit you. 

The phone call from Jeongin. The request for you to stay close to him. He knew. He knew and he hadn’t told you. And despite reassuring Jeongin that you both were alive, it seemed that that information was either not passed on to the rest, or it was, but they just hadn’t believed it at the time. And that was understandable, because a lot could have happened to you and Minho on your way back. And while you had full trust that Minho would protect you, that didn’t mean that either he or yourself wouldn’t be hurt. 

You were once a hunter. You knew what they were taught and how they were taught and you knew once they had a target, they would stop at nothing to make sure they killed that target. And up until becoming a shifter, you had been all for that way of life. You had been ready to shed the blood of the rogue shifters that threatened civilian lives. But now… now you had seen the bloodshed, encountered a dead shifter - who you had no reason to believe had hurt a single soul. It was cruel and terrifying and so real. And despite them trying to keep that information from you, you knew that there was more than just the few dead shifters you had heard about. 

It seemed every few days another one or two would be found dead with no leads on who had done it and why. And though you logically couldn’t figure out a reason as to why these people would be out hunting and killing, in your heart you just knew who was behind the murders. 

“We’re here baby. I’m so sorry for not telling you.” Minho stroked Jisung’s back, peppering kisses over his face and shoulder - any part he could reach while his thick Eucalyptus scent filled the air. “Don’t cry Jisung. Please don’t cry.”

“I hate you!” Jisung whimpered, smacking at Minho’s chest weakly as he pulled back from him. “Don’t do it ever again. Either of you!” He had mustered up as much energy as he could to try and be stern, but he ended up looking more like the kicked puppy he was than the big bad beta he was trying to portray. When he turned his attention to you, you smiled and leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Never again. Promise.” He huffed, sniffling lightly as he held you close while leaning back against Minho’s broad chest, basking in the presence of his two mates.

“If this was a romance movie, they would definitely be the star crossed lovers.” Hyunjin whispered softly and you were sure he hadn’t meant to be heard, but that was kind of hard not to be when everyone in the room had enhanced hearing. 

“We’re soulmates. Getting right.” Minho snorted, sticking his tongue out at Hyunjin and you giggled as Hyunjin yelped and tried to hide behind Felix, to no avail, the others laughing at his antics. And just like that, the heavy and sad atmosphere lifted - replaced with laughter and love.

Tags:

@sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia @hanjisungismybaby @imbonibi @jiwlys @leafsmindpalace @army-of-carats @peachmilkcloud @letterstoskz @lauraneuuh @babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu @feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi @ahhhhhhhhhghh @thsrndkd @halotopicecream @skzmonster @jumunnaa @serendipityryn @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @cyberpunksunwoo @3rachasninja

( If you want to join the list, you can find the info here! Also I’m sorry for those listed in the tags but not getting tagged. For some reason tumblr can’t find your blog to tag. I’m hoping it figures it out soon like it did for others.)

[stuckybarton]

The Forsaken II

Summary: You had only known about the many stories of Greek Mythology, interest peaked from a young age. Of the Gods and Goddesses as well as the monsters and heroes. But never in your life, during one of the many tours have you joined in seeing the ruins of the temples of Greece, did you even think of seeing your image in one of the bust. Persephone was her name, the most protected daughter of Demeter, and the beloved wife of Hades. Character: Hades!Loki Laufeyson x Persephone!Reader. Zeus!Tony Stark. Artemis!Wanda Maximoff. Apollo!Pietro Maximoff. Word Count: 1,145 Series Warnings: Toxic Overbearing Mother-Figure.

SERIES MASTERLIST || GREEK TRAGEDIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST ||

Chapter 2: Lemon

/ˈlemən/ a yellow, oval citrus fruit with thick skin and fragrant, acidic juice.

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ."

“Are you sure that you’re doing the right thing moving here? I mean, the city? Why can’t you just stay in the farm, there are Community Colleges closer.”

You had gotten so used to this side of your mother growing up. Having every aspect of your life controlled by her, this was, by your own recollection, the first time you would be miles away from her. You couldn’t hide the relief for such fact. It was fresh start in a new place to live a life away from your mother’s ever constant need to control every aspect of your life.

“The University has the best Business College in the region, I can’t miss out on it.” It was true that the university you’re now in has the best Business from your location, but you weren’t gonna tell your mother what you realty took as a degree.

Greek History. Specifically anything and everything that has to do with the numerous of Gods and Goddesses that shaped them. Your love for the array of Mythology was something you wanted to pursue further and if and only if you have the degree and accreditation that comes with it, can you finally escape from your mother and every single thing she has against you holding you back.

Your mother’s infamous lecture was cut short by the door opening and the sight of your new roommate—rather, roommates. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, whom you had met while getting your footing in the university when you inquired. An accomplice that helped in convincing your mother to have you finally be in the school and live in a Dorm with them both. You owed them by cooking food—but it was the least you could do for them both with what they had to accomplish for your freedom.

“You’re finally here!” Wanda practically squealed shoving the box she held onto her twin brother’s hold before coming to embrace you. A smile on her face to which was far too contagious not to join. She pulled away to come face to face with your mother. “Mrs. Y/L/N, we promise to make sure Y/N is safe at all cost.”

Trust Wanda and her charms as she begins to explain how the Dorms were the safest in the University as well as the constant activities that would keep you busy throughout your stay. You were left to greet Pietro with a wink as you helped him out with the last of their own boxes for their move.

All throughout, you had listened to how your own mother insisted that Wanda should ensure her about your whereabouts—but the fact that you were also to do such a task seemed more tiring than it needs to be. But for this one last moment, you agreed to every single demands she might have if it meant that she will leave the apartment to finally seal your freedom away from her.

Eventually with the twins tag teaming against your mother, she had finally relented, asking for you to walk her out of the door. You tried to keep your steps less preppy as the excitement was bubbling. This was finally it.

“You are to call me the first moment things aren’t going as planned.” Your mother demanded to which you nodded in reassurance, having nothing else to say that you haven’t already said to her since you’ve decided to study in this University and during her time in the apartment. “If I hear anything out of the ordinary, you will come home and I will see it personally that you are chained to the bedroom if it means I get to see you safe.”

“Mom. Don’t you think that’s too much?” You snort, already used to this side of her, often times fearing that there might just be a possibility of her doing exactly what she says she would if you weren’t careful.

But as her hand had grasped onto your jaws and had you looking up at her, you know just how serious she was in the moment.

“You are my daughter before you can be anything else.” Her words brought a shiver down your spine. It was so unlike her to do. “And all I want is to make sure you are safe and sound especially now that I’m far away from you.”

“I promise to keep safe.”

“No boys and no parties, Y/N.”

“I promise.”

Finally releasing her tight hold, the softness of her eyes was a shift that you were so prepared for. It was a whiplashed that genuinely disturbed you in the moment, but you held your tongue knowing it would do no one any good.

“Call me if you need anything, Darling. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

As you closed the door behind your mother, ensuring it was locked, you peaked through the hole to watch your mother slowly disappear and it was only then did you realize the coast was clear. Squealing to yourself and jumping as the excitement of this new found freedom was something you would have never thought you could have for yourself.

“I think this calls for a celebration.” It was Wanda that broke you from your little happy dance as you made your way back to the living room. “I’ll order pizza then we can all get settled in dealing with the boxes.”

Nodding in agreement all three of you had made a good wave in organizing all of your boxes, with Pietro being the one to do most of the talking, sometimes asking you questions of your life in the farm with your mother and more often annoying his sister in any shape or form that he could.

“And that’s the pizza, I’ll go and get it.” Pietro stood moving even before you could insist on getting it and even paying for it.

“Is he always this—energetic?” You asked turning your attention to Wanda that seemed all too familiar with her twin brother’s antics.

“You should see him in the morning without his coffee, you’d think he’s two different persons.” She smirked before the both of you were left in a momentary silence. “It’s good to have you here with us, Y/N. You seemed to look like you need company—other than your mother, no offence.”

“None taken.” You smiled knowing just how right she was in her words.

All your life, all you could remember was being glued to your mother’s side. Helping her out in the fields and helping with tending to the animals. It was downright suffocating at times when you couldn’t even have your own personal space at times when it comes to her. This moment, this four or more so years was the only opportunity you think you had of freedom and you would try to make the most out of it.

Whatever it may take.

[sothischickshe]

Hi! For the Get To Know Your Fic Writer asks: 24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Hey, ty! 😘😘😘

Idk if this was definitely the worst, but one that stuck with me as well intentioned but not super helpful was 'make it smellier' & the kinda cliché examples which came with.

sensory detail can def add important texture to scenes, and smell in't necessary primacied (at least in my here-now) the way say sight is, so it's a good one to make sure one considers, espec bc of its supposed association with memory.

that said, mentioning that the garden or perfume or dog smells of rain or bergamot or aniseed is, i think, kinda equivalent to saying the table is red or television loud. including sensory detail is dandy, and can be evocative, but often just gets done in this basic way, particularly re smell where ingredients or flora or whatever get listed, so this task can be crossed off. smellier writing can be v interesting where it relates to memory ('the garden smells of manure and honeysuckle, like her childhood one and she thinks abt xyz again') or establishes detail ('she always wears xyz perfume' / 'the room still smells of xyz perfume and he knows she must have recently been here; he has the killer's identity') or almost becomes a kind of metonymy, where a character or setting or situation can be referred to without name or similar allusion bc the(ir) smell/s have been established.

i don't find smell to be an easy thing to describe without nouns, maybe this is a limitation of english, or of mine (or both!). but i do find often in fiction such nouning can be overused, to the point of almost parody -- i don't know that i believe every random character has this super strong nose where they can identify the full bouquet of items included in their lover's toiletries! ofc how much this might bother you is going to relate to pov, but i tend to prefer stories with tight rather than omniscient pov, and certainly consistency abt this. specific pov + smell can be used to great effect, where it makes sense that the character has a strong sense of smell (much like painter pov describing visuals and emotionality in terms of brushstrokes, or a cook character tending to break others' personalities and situations they encounter etc into amounts of composite 'ingrdients') e.g., with the protagonist of the novel perfume who is a super-smeller, or dog-pov (like one of my fave gg fics, the goodest boy), but unless your characters have some reason to display such skills, it can kinda take the reader out of the experience i feel.

so rather than listing smells (or indeed other ~sensory deets), i think sprinkling specifiers in (e.g., 'the red table' as opposed to 'the table', espec if there's multiple tables and you wanna be able to refer to this important one!) but not letting descriptors overwhelm can be useful, but specifically with nouny smells, if it's not in service of establishing evocative scene or character deets (or yummy food mmmm), maybe the actual smell isn't that important. maybe what's more important is the (pov) character(s)'s relationship to it: so rather than 'his shampoo smells of xyz' it's 'his shampoo smells of x, which she loves cos it reminds her of mama's flowers and y which she's never liked but finds pleasanter on him and z which she can't identify, and wants to ask him about but is certain she'll never find the courage' or even simply 'his shampoo smells pleasant' or more interestingly 'his shampoo smells as pleasant as his hands feel', 'his hair smells different, something fancier than the familiar citrus, he must have changed shampoo now he's moving up in the world and she hates the reminder', 'he smells different now, he must have changed something, she hates this highlighting of how everything's altered, hadn't realised she'd memorised his scent' 'he smells exactly the same, it's as comforting as her mother's soup' etc etc etc etc etc etc etc

Ficcy asks!

[faoighiche]

PARTNERS : @wonder-in-wings | @mortemoppetere | @eldritchaccident TIMING : Early December. LOCATION : A shed in the Pines. SUMMARY : Burrow and Parker go to a secret shed to discuss their plans. Emilio and Teddy interrupt. Payback is a bitch. WARNINGS : Drug manipulation (mention), domestic abuse (mention), eye trauma (mention), alcoholism, unsanitary

The steam rising from the cup felt pleasant on Burrow’s nose. Well, the thing that was her “nose,” molded by the glamour encasing her. She took a sip of her tea: black with a squirt of lemon and a spoonful of honey. It was not as good as the honey from Nectarfell; an unfortunate nostalgia she could not remove. She could barely remember the taste now, just left with the knowledge that the honey from the human store was lacking somehow. It lingered on her tongue longer than necessary before she swallowed. It filled her with warmth, which was much needed as the air grew colder. She hated the winter months. It killed her parasites and made her tendrils slow to help. But she would continue to push through, for their sake. It was the reason why she found herself there, in the woods with a killer of her kind. Necessary uneases to be the proper protector she was made to be. 

Burrow was familiar with winter’s slow embrace of death, but the ways of ironmongers were not as clear. Of course, she had heard the nightmares they bring, as all fae children did. But it was always through the eyes of others, not her own. She watched the man curiously. The binds on him were strong and firm; she could feel how they writhed around his neck. But still, she wondered, what would he do without them? Where would he strike first? Would it be quick? Would he watch her bleed out? What would be done of her body? She would see it, eventually, done to another. Her morbid curiosity sated through another necessary unease. She would have it readily, the same as the mediocre honey. She took another sip. 

“There it is.” Burrow pointed to the dilapidated shed. It was easily missed, appearing as another collection of shrubs and moss amongst the wild floor. It had been claimed by nature, but since she was a being of pure nature, she knew it would not mind her use. Not that she would let it stop her. It would serve her just as any. “We can discuss more... sensitive matters in there.” A vagueness she knew he would understand. 

—

The writhing mass of insects taking a temporary human shape wasn’t the only being that walked along in the forest that day that would rather have not been out there. Parker also disliked cold weather, even as it was being staved off periodically by each sip of the hot drink in his hands - white Earl Grey with… he wasn’t sure. Bergamot oil. Something citrus-y, he wasn’t really thinking about it. No, instead he was thinking about the way his blood churned in his veins as he walked alongside Burrow. The way his joints stiffened with each brush of brisk wind on his exposed skin. The way he could feel her eyes on him as she was likely studying him. He still couldn’t figure out why; was it the scars that lined his body like cracks on ceramics? Was it how much they had in common despite being on entirely opposite sides of the scale? He felt his teeth grit under pursed lips, the phantom sensation of feeling the deals pressing into his skin though he were tugging against a chain. ‘No matter how much they might seem to be, fae are not and will never be human. Never forget that, boy.’

He just knew that he couldn’t look at her for very long, not unless he wanted to add the feeling of his mind starting to race to his list of sensations. It had been a while now since that Fateful encounter in the forest, when she had bound him to several different deals, each one engraved on the inside of his skull and wrapped around his neck. And yet, despite all of this, Parker still longed to observe her, to take her apart, see how she operated. Add her to his collection. Just a piece. ‘It’s a shame you can’t; I’d love to see that happen.’ It was. He felt himself tightly coiled like the eternal spring he was but his mind was in disharmony regarding acting on that tension - what would he have been able to do if she attacked him? He wasn’t able to think about that at the time he was unfavorably restrained. Which part of it ended with regards serving her goal? She said she wouldn’t kill him, but the Warden knew as well as anyone how much someone could live without.

But then he thought, there wasn’t anything he could’ve done. It was pointless to think about, in that case. Not thinking about it was easier said than done and he tried to turn his mind into being more aware of their surroundings - how many steps it took to get to where they were going, how her tempo was, the sounds she made. The time of day, feeling each time his blood washed over itself in microcosmic waves in his veins.

If there was something fortunate about Burrow, it was that she was similar to Metzli when she didn’t expect small talk. Their journey was one in relative silence, going from Steeper’s Stop to pick up their drinks to the Greenhorn, the trail she had specified to him until the duo arrived at the abandoned structure. Parker’s blue-eyed stare danced over the details of the shed, immediately recalling the similarities it shared to his workshop; how intricately it hid among the foliage, the underbrush and patchy fuzz. How unassuming the exterior felt. How long it had been there, unappreciated until it was found by two individuals that were likely equally as unappreciated. “Very well.” He finally stole a glance sideways at her, uncharacteristically brief before pulling his gaze away once more and motioning for her to lead the way inside the discarded structure. 

—

For the most part, Emilio tended to prefer hunting alone. Other hunters were difficult to trust these days, especially after the various… altercations he’d had with a few of the ones in town. Hunting with nonhunters stressed him out for an entirely different reason, each moment of action tinged with an undercurrent of stress that something might happen, that they might end up dead, that it would be his fault. Hunting alone was a much simpler ordeal, even if it tended to leave him in worse shape than he might have found himself with backup involved. 

But hunting alone had also become a tad more difficult as of late. Sharing a house with Teddy meant that they were aware of his comings and goings, and it was difficult to hide where he was going when he headed out on a hunt. Teddy was smart enough to notice when he went out with more weaponry on him than usual, and they cared enough to prefer it when he didn’t go out alone on those days. Sometimes, Emilio could talk them out of it. Some days, they managed to out-stubborn him. Today happened to be one of the latter.

He trudged along beside them through what remained of the fall leaves on the forest floor, tense and uneasy as he always was when someone joined him on a hunt. The familiar paranoia crawled under his skin, eyes darting to the treeline as Teddy rambled on in a rant likely only designed to keep Emilio from growing too anxious in the silence. At least the adrenaline that came with the paranoid anxiety eased some of the pain in his knee. It had been worse since the ordeal with Parker, but it wasn’t bothering him as much in this moment. It was a small silver lining, but it was there all the same.

It was because of his paranoid scanning of the treeline that he spotted them first. A hand shot out to stop Teddy, a glance telling them to stop talking. Subtly, Emilio guided them behind a nearby tree. His heart was pounding in his chest, anxiety reaching a fever pitch. “Someone’s up ahead,” he said lowly. “I think — Christ, Teds, I think it’s that asshole. Had a kid with him. Shit.” His mind was reeling, hand already going for a knife. “How much do I have to pay you to get you to make a break for it and let me handle this?”

—

A wave doesn’t know that it’s a wave until it crashes. Until the swell rises far above its apogee and clear water gives way to frothy foam. Breaking against rocks, the wave wonders where the ocean went, where the shore began. Why its journey was cut short, why its water became separated. The wave loses its identity in the tidepools until the rest of the ocean comes to greet it. In, out. Teddy didn’t know how they’d react upon seeing the monster who’d mutilated them. More than just cut, Parker Wright disrupted all sense of safety the demon had. Took away agency along with a tail. 

If you’d have asked them, it’s just as likely that they would have assumed fear to be their all consuming response. That they might flee, might put as much distance between the predator and themself as humanly possible. Or that they’d freeze up, petrified heart, stone still body. What they wouldn’t have expected, wouldn’t have guessed in a million years, was the anger. 

Maybe it was a protective thing, seeing the person beside the beast. Sipping at a warm drink, having a stroll. Had he lured them out there? Was he planning on drugging them too? Or was it another exercise in repaying a gregarious kindness with senseless violence? Teddy didn’t know. Teddy didn’t stop to think. Teddy didn’t reply to Emilio, but they didn’t rush ahead either. 

Instead, they shared a look. Determination lacing the righteous rage that seeped through every pore. In a weird way, Teddy wasn’t quite so fragile now. Whatever harm they received they could return in kind. Give the monster a taste of its own medicine, so to speak. A hungry growl peppered the back of Teddy’s throat. Something far more animalistic, far more suited for their old demonic form. Sure, they took the beast out of their body but the instincts still remained. 

“Let’s get a whole hand this time. Think it’ll go nice over the fireplace.” 

—

Though Burrow appeared to slip through the door, appearances were often deceiving. Just as her face was false to the truth of her nature, her body was as well. Her presence far outreached the limits of that physical form. She was everywhere because they were everywhere. She was the mistletoe that swayed in the crisp air. She was the cordyceps that descended to the ground with its ant. She was the worms feeding in the tree’s phloem. She was also the ones who were trampled upon. There was a presence that pressed into her dodders. It could be anything in those woods. True seclusion was never a guarantee. Luckily, she was also her precious vines. A whisper that turned to a steady drum as she had trekked through the woods. Still, her vines were not as close as the others. A distance she had ensured herself. They were far from the human nest and all the fires and poisons that sought to hurt them. But they watched, patiently, in preparation for if anything were to hurt her. It was why she chose this location. If the ironmonger caused trouble (sneaking through the weaves of her deals) or if an outsider did the same (sneaking through the trees of the forest) then her vines would heed her call. 

Burrow entered the shed. She was greeted by a waterfall of light, dripping through the holes in the ceiling. It fell onto the leaves, ones who had been misplaced since her last visit. Another had been in there. She felt no warmth in the air, heard no sounds in the shadows, or tasted no presence on the wood. Whatever it was had left. Presumably. She spared another moment to search the interior of those forgotten walls, only remembered by those who were not of human society. Nothing else caused her concern. Despite the leaves, it was just as she had left it last. 

Burrow turned to the ironmonger without a care for prelude. She had been musing for too long to delay this any further. “I will use myself as bait, in a sense.” Her voice was low. Not a whisper, but a tone the wood easily claimed for itself. Absorbing her voice before the outside could listen. “I will talk to the fae. I will determine what they know. If what they know is favorable, I will lure them to a different location.” Different in many ways. The fae will congregate wherever they could cause trouble, and this human nest seemed supple for the thing. She had been keeping her eyes on areas like the shed. Things that had lost their purpose. She would bless them with usefulness. “You will be waiting at that location… or you may follow us. Whichever is better for your… methods.” That morbid curiosity returned in a flash of her eyes and a catch in her breath. Her fingers tingled as if she could snatch that knowledge off his tongue. “What are your methods? What are your thoughts on the plan?” 

—

Had his mind been more reminiscent of a child, ever having been full of wonder and whimsy, the aspect of stepping trepidatiously into an obscured, abandoned shed that had long since been enveloped in the mystery of the wood would’ve been excitable to him. Someplace new, someplace to explore, to imagine, to let it hold onto his secrets. As it was now, though, as Parker followed the nymph into the shed with its particles dancing in the rays of light, he only felt a modicum of relief; while he didn’t like being restrained at all, he did find a semblance of solace in enclosed spaces. His house was similar in its perceived protection for him, as was his workshop. 

But this wasn’t a place that he found himself. No, Burrow had found it and Parker reliably placed his hands on his utility belt in a self-soothing gesture as he glanced around the interior of the structure mildly. He wasn’t familiar with the place, but she was, putting him at yet another disadvantage. A studious gaze fell to the floor, as though anticipating stepping into another trap - ever since that day, he had been considerably more careful about where he placed his body, his steel-toed boots, extremities. He was nothing if not a learning creature. That same gaze snapped back to her in her glamored form, knowing better what lay under the shimmery veil of misdirection but taking himself to task to look at her as she spoke.

Blunt, to the point. He didn’t… hate it. In fact, he almost hated that she was speaking so quietly he was having trouble hearing her more and his head turned subconsciously. “The plan is satisfactory.” He replied first after a pause as his mind ran through the ever-present list of possible contingencies, setbacks, shortcomings. It was essentially the same as any other fae and fortunately, his extended time with Rhett had since made him more aware of effective interrogation techniques. Keeping his good ear facing her, Parker began to slowly walk around the area, a subtle form of his pacing when he was more stressed. “My methods are… quiet.” His right hand that rested on his belt thumbed gently over the four, fluid-filled, needle-like daggers that were lined neatly on it. Ever since his encounter with Emilio, he had done a little bit of experimentation to find a stronger formula, something that worked on things like balam and other hunters. Two of them held that new formula; he wanted to see if it worked. “I expect something.” He looked over at the nymph. “And when it’s not given to me, I take it by force.” After a measure of deliberation, Parker’s other hand reached into one of the many pouches on the same belt and he pulled out a vial no bigger than the length of one of his medial phalanges, the glass thin and a clear liquid that glinted in the light that made it into the structure sitting tightly inside. “I subdue.” He explained, slowly, carefully extending his hand, three fingers and a thumb caging the vial as he offered it out for Burrow to take. “If you can’t get the information out of them, I’ll sedate and take something of theirs.” He suggested. “As I mentioned before, sometimes they’re more likely to talk if they’re threatened with loss.”

—

Of course Teddy wouldn’t walk away. Emilio hadn’t expected them to, even if he’d hoped for it. Teddy, he’d learned, had a passion about them that wasn’t dissimilar to Emilio’s own. Even if there was some shot that the hunter might have been able to convince them to leave if it were just the two of them and Parker in the woods, the presence of the third figure, the one who was likely well on her way to being the sadistic warden’s next victim, erased any shot of it. Teddy was too kind to leave even a stranger to the same nauseating fate they’d faced for themself. That kindness was a terrifying thing; Emilio couldn’t help but worry about where it would leave them in the end.

Scowling, he glared ahead at the pair. What had Parker said to the kid to convince her to come out in the woods with him? There was no telling. He glanced over to Teddy as they spoke, grunting in agreement. “Rather take his fucking head off.” Last time, Parker’s drugs had allowed him to get a drop on Emilio. The slayer hadn’t been expecting it, hadn’t been ready for it. He knew better this time. This time, he was walking away on top. He’d make sure of it.

He tilted his chin upwards as Parker and the figure with him disappeared into the shed, glancing back towards Teddy. “Can’t stop you from coming,” he acknowledged. “But if shit goes sideways, take the kid and get out. He’ll kill you. He’ll kill her. I don’t think he’ll kill me.” It was a guess at best. Parker had every reason to kill Emilio, and might very well have been planning on it regardless of whether or not they picked this fight now. Given the finger hanging in a shadowbox on the wall back at Teddy’s house, he had plenty of reason to. But it wasn’t a bad guess, either. Hunters hesitating to kill other hunters was the reason Emilio hadn’t gone after Parker sooner, and the fact that Parker was evidently friendly with Rhett might offer Emilio a reprieve that neither Teddy nor the kid in the shed would be promised. “I need you not to fight me on this one, Teds. Okay? Shit goes sideways, you get her out. That’s what’s important.”

—

“You aren’t the one who can regrow bones by snapping his.” Teddy leveled a hardened stare at Emilio. Always wanting to play the sacrifice game, wasn’t he? Here, back in the snow and the concrete room that preceded it. Glimpses of it poked through in every scrap the pair had wormed their way into. Emilio would always try and take the hit, even if he couldn’t actually take it. Even if the slayer had an inkling that the warden wasn’t going to kill him outright, it wasn’t a bet Ted was willing to make. 

Still, an ache persisted in their chest. The same fear he held for them, they reflected back. Neither willing to let the other make the compromise at their expense. Teddy reached out, hand taking the detective’s for a brief moment. Their stare softened, their hand squeezed. “All three of us are getting out of this. Only one getting left behind is a shitheel named Parker Wright.” 

Teddy turned back. Facing the small shack, scanning every inch of it for anything that might give them the upper hand. Small, not quite sturdy enough for them to attempt to come from above, not without giving away any surprise they had. From what they knew, Parker was an ambush predator. Somehow getting unsuspecting victims into a state of vulnerability, despite the severe nature he possessed, only to then subdue them into a malleable piece of meat for him to butcher.

If the time they lost to his methods before was any indication, the man was slow. Methodical. A fucking sociopath rivaling Patrick goddamn Bateman. They had a few moments before the scalpel at worst. Though Teddy preferred to stop the surgery before the sedatives. Before the snake’s venom ever had a chance of taking its toll. Before the kid had to feel like their world was torn, flipped, and changed irrevocably. Not everyone was lucky enough to get a whole new body after such an altercation. 

—

Burrow looked down to the needles before she knew their true purpose. It was clear from the way his fingers curled that it was important to his hunt. She wondered how much it would hurt if that thin metal pierced her skin. It likely would not have caused even a gasp of acknowledgement, the bite as small as her parasites. Of course. Too much pain was not quiet, nor did it invoke charity. She thought of what he had told her online. His interactions with the fae; his fight with the balam. At first believed to be his way of questioning; his way of self defense. No. The two were connected. This is how he hunted. How wonderfully curious. The ironmongers were the same as her: takers. Something of a smile pulled at her lips. “I see.” Her mouth returned to a line. “So, that is how the Ironmongers hunt? They ‘take’ until the fae dies?” It would explain why they were so feared. As a child, she had merely taken a piece of the fae’s domain. To take such a thing was owed to her by her purpose and nature. Even that simple thing had caused so much fear and hatred. “You may take what you want from the fae. I want to take their knowledge.” She paused. “If the fae does not die, I will bind them to prevent them from warning others of the plan. You will threaten to take more if the fae does not accept the bind.” She may give them some of her parasites for their troubles… depending on their injuries. She would not place her parasites in crumbled homes, much like the building the two were in.

Burrow took the vial. It could have been mistaken for empty, containing a liquid of no color or fizz, except for the faint line at the top that shifted with her movement. She studied it in a way that she could still see Parker through its clarity, not fully taking her eyes off him. Still, her concentration did wonder at the implications of his statements. Her heart shuddered. The thing nestled peacefully in her palm had almost led to her demise. Without that knowledge, it was easily overlooked. How fitting, that a thing so small and unassuming would serve the parasites. It may be far more useful than the ironmonger would know. She was not impulsive: her vines had been making progress to her ultimate plan. Still, she was not opposed to adding other strategies in securing her hold on the fae. She would likely use multiple methods due to the multiplicity of the fae and their nature. She was eager to see the sedative’s capabilities. “How much of the sedative is needed to sedate one fae? Is the amount of the sedative that is needed different between types of fae? Are there consequences to the body if the fae is sedated for a prolonged time?”

—

“Not quite.” Parker replied in regards to her first inquiry. ‘Why are you so broken?’ His brother shouted at him from a memory that flitted through his thoughts, a specter that walked so effortlessly through the walls of his mind on occasion. ‘Why can’t you just fix your shit?’ He recalled the memory with such clarity, even if Walker had apologized months later after they hadn’t spoken throughout the duration of those months. “Generally, Wardens are slower to jump mindlessly into an altercation but they’re still killers.” He explained, recalling Rhett, recalling Walker and the rest of his family. “I’m… an outlier.” He admitted after a pause. “...Very well. Make sure you tell me if they will have your parasites on them before I proceed.”

The entomid took the vial, and a small, involuntary pulse, as though he’d been pricked, coursed through his fingers as Parker could feel his blood recoiling from her brief touch. It wanted to retaliate, press itself against his skin to protect him from her. The Warden didn’t display this sensation, however, and instead collected his drink from wherever he’d subconsciously put it down, taking another warming sip, feeling the steam entering his cold nose. While part of him felt as though it’d be appropriate to communicate just how he was a stranger even to other Wardens, he didn’t; she had moved on, and he was content to, as well. ‘Just don’t show any weakness, boy.’ His father warned. ‘People think you’re a killer. Fae won’t be scared of you if they know you just take pieces of ‘em.’ 

But that was where his father was wrong, surely?

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to add more introspection to his mind that already had too many gears turning, even more than his usual number. ‘Do you ever stop thinking?’ The answer to that question was obvious. “Generally, the amount that you hold in your hand is sufficient for most fae that I’ve encountered.” He explained, gesturing to it. “It has to enter the bloodstream to be efficient. I’m not sure if it works on leshy and it’s less effective on lampades.” Parker took another sip, his other hand still resting on his belt. “I’m proficient enough in my duty that one dose usually works.” A pause. ‘Don’t tell her. If she finds out you aren’t a murderer, she won’t think you’re worth anything.’ The pause made way for a small inhale and a twinge of his brow. “Prolonged sedation leads to sluggish neurological activity, numbness in the limbs and appendages and on one occasion, an accidental overdose led to respiratory arrest.

“...I’m not sure if it would work on you, either.” He added, blue eyes darting to her face once more, his expression shifting slightly to be more absorbing. His imagination replaced her glamor with what he’d seen in the forest, a slide from a projector being replaced over his visual perception of the world. His breath caught in his throat and Parker shook his head to bring himself back to wherever reality was. “I’ve never… encountered someone with your unique form before.”

—

Frustration boiled in his chest, the irritation clear in the scowl twisting his lips. “You can’t just say things will be fine,” he argued. “You wanted me to make a plan, I’m making a plan. He won’t kill another hunter. If he were going to, he would have done it in the woods when he put me under.” It was the first time he’d admitted to Teddy that Parker had sedated him. In all honesty, it wasn’t something Emilio liked thinking about. Control was something important to him. When he felt he’d lost it, he tended to lash out. And with those drugs, Parker had taken away his ability to do even that. But even the idea of a repeat performance of the ordeal was better than the idea of Teddy or the kid losing their lives to this madman. “I’m going to get us all out. Okay? I’m going to make sure everyone makes it out of this still breathing. I’m just asking for your help doing it. If things go wrong, get the kid out. I’ll get me out. She’s important.” More important, but he wouldn’t say it. They didn’t have time for an argument.

Which was why Emilio didn’t wait around for Teddy to agree with him. He trusted them. He trusted that, when it came down to it, they’d trust him back. All three of them were going to be just fine. And Parker Wright — Emilio made note of the last name, just in case — was going to die alone and bloody in the floor of this shed. With any luck, he’d be left there to rot and Emilio wouldn’t have to come up with a lie to tell Rhett or Jade. Either way, he’d be fine.

He moved towards the shed, figuring Teddy would follow along behind him. He tried to keep the noise low, though it was far from his top concern. He’d noted during their fight that Parker didn’t always track sound with proficiency. Hearing didn’t seem to be the warden’s strongest sense. Stopping at the door to the shed, Emilio strained his own ears, momentarily envious of rangers and their advanced hearing. He could make out the low murmur of voices inside, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying. There were definitely two, though. Parker hadn’t drugged the kid yet. That meant they weren’t too late.

Turning back to Teddy, Emilio did his best to communicate this without speaking. He nodded towards the door to the shed, then gestured to himself. Gesturing to Teddy, he held up his index finger. I’ll go in first. You wait a minute. Better to let Parker think Emilio was alone to begin with. Being underestimated allowed the wielding of a powerful weapon.

—

There was little to do about making an actual plan with the short time they had between themselves and the shack. This was probably the best opportunity they had to get at the man, even if they didn’t have a kid in there to save. Hunters could be elusive if they wanted to. Even if they were arrogant pricks who thought themself the apex collector of all things not his. Teddy bristled, but nodded. Positioning themself the best way they could. Out of sight, a hell of a surprise. 

Watching the man leap into action (despite the knot in their stomach, despite the pounding in their chest, despite their wishes that he would do anything else) was a thing of wonder. Emilio was always on guard. Always ready for the next rattlesnake. But this? This was drive, precision. His muscles tensed in a way Teddy had only seen once or twice before. Readied and poised. He was the snake this time. A viper of vengeance and protection. 

Teddy wouldn’t repeat the thoughts it inspired out loud.  

They waited for the signal. Waited for the right moment to step in. Careful. Observant. They could do that, they could be that for him. But goddamn they really wish they had a better set of weapons than the three wooden stakes, two daggers and a set of not-exactly-brass knuckles that they had thrown in the fanny pack as a joke. If they had known the target was going to be him tonight, well. There’d be a whole different set. A scalpel, for one, seemed prudent. 

—

“Oh.” Burrow’s voice chirped in a single note of disappointment. “Well. The others are wasteful, then.” When they die, all the body’s offerings die with them. Though, even in life, there were those whose offerings were pitiful. “Yes. I will not have my parasites in a damaged host. You will avoid excessive damage the few times… I want the fae to live.” A want that almost had its hand in those binds that connected all fae. Hers were tattered and faded from neglect, but still, she felt it. An annoying persistence of her youth. No. The want was for who truly mattered. She looked to her arm — passed the false skin wrapped around her. “The fae will serve us fully if we can claim both information and food from them.” Serve them just as well as the thing that laid in her hand. Her gaze traveled up to look upon it again.

One vial, one fae. A thing smaller than a finger could have brought down the entirety of her. It had come from a pouch which was joined by others; others Burrow was certain held more of the same. Many pouches, many fae. Well, for however long the effects lasted. “How long is the fae sedated from one dose?” She could devise a system. Jab a dose into the skin upon certain time intervals. The consequences of that were not dire. The fae did not need to be physically or mentally capable, they simply needed to be alive. Alive to keep the barrier up; alive to lure in their domain. Their death would lead to the death of her own, as all parasites did when their hosts died. She would ensure their survival, if only barely. 

As if the gaze would pierce in lieu of his needles, the ironmonger stared. Burrow returned it, piercing the same. Looking for something. She had become adept at observing the humans, for all their survival relied on it. But this man was a curious thing. A blank. An ironmonger indeed. “And you will never know if it does, because-” 

Her parasites called out to Burrow. Something, something, something. They did not know what they sensed, for they were things of no thought or care. But still, they sensed something. A something that was approaching. Her gaze on Parker sharpened. Had he invited others to this meeting? If he thought that would be rid of her, he would soon see the consequences of breaking a deal. A likely outcome that had yet to be proven, so she pressed her finger to her lips. A silent shush; a command for silence. Then her hand moved to an inner pocket of her jacket, where her swiss knife lay. She grabbed it, slipping the vial in the pocket as exchange. Her thumb pressed on the blade, ready to swipe it out at a moment’s notice. 

A moment that came with the bang on the door. Feeble from decay, it relented to the intruder’s wish and clattered to the floor.

—

The numbers that ran through Parker’s head could’ve been visible for a flash as he glanced up in thought. How long did it keep one fae under? Again, it relied on physiology, the type of fae, and sometimes even the location of the point of entry. Instead of replying in a timely manner, he instead gave the impression that he was still thinking about the specifics when he noticed that their eyes had locked. It was inherently comfortable, but not because of their contrasting species, their similar behaviors, the two sides of the same coin or the damned reflection that the Warden hated looking at. He always hated eye contact, which Walker was sure to mention on occasion was ‘odd’ considering Parker’s proclivity to stare. He didn’t waver, though, and instead her affirmation that he wouldn’t be able to test whatever theory might’ve formulated in his brain was another small, but notable reminder that they were tethered together by the deals he was coerced into. One of his blue eyes twitched faintly, as though irritated at her rejection but he remained silent, not content with her refusal but begrudgingly accepting it as he was aware of the words wrapped around his throat. The Warden was expecting the rest of a sentence that had been cut short and where it had faltered, her stare on him hardened. He reciprocated with a semblance of a frown, not sure what had happened over the course of a few seconds to warrant both the abandonment of a statement and the glare of the nymph. He was nothing if not able to quickly study body language though, and Parker felt himself instinctively tensing even more than his usual preparation as Burrow herself indicated for him to be silent, reaching for what he assumed was a weapon. Did she bring back-up? Was this actually the setup that Parker had anticipated but in a moment of weakness, he hadn’t allowed himself to be prepared enough? Abruptly, he dropped his cup, splashing the soft wood with steaming liquid as the heat interacted with the frigid temperatures outside the confines of the vessel and he barely had time to turn to face the door when something - or someone - had caved it in. One arm flying up instinctively to protect his eyes from dust particles, plant matter and wood splinters, his other hand quickly reached for the broad dagger from the holster on his thigh. 

—

The knife he gripped in his hand was longing to taste Parker’s blood. He wanted to take the warden apart slowly, wanted to take his remaining nine fingers one by one before starting on his toes, wanted to bleed him dry little by little, bit by bit. But that couldn’t be the priority now, he knew. Parker had a kid in there with him. A kid who was likely about to meet a fate similar to the one Teddy had suffered, or Teagan, or the nymph he’d caught Parker taking to shreds the last time he’d confronted him. Parker deserved everything Emilio wanted to give him, but the kid didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire. He’d meant what he said to Teddy before — she was the priority here. Getting her out, keeping her safe, that was what mattered.

So he’d make it quick.

The muffled voices inside the cabin died suddenly. It was hard to determine if it was the result of fronts being dropped and drugs being administered or if he’d been detected. Safer, he knew, to assume the latter. The element of surprise was a powerful weapon but, like most deadly things, it could be turned on the person wielding it fairly easily. To assume you weren’t in control when you were was a pleasant surprise. To assume you were in control when you weren’t was a fatal mistake. So Emilio settled on the former, assumed his advantage had been lost. He hoped that Teddy remained an undetected trump card, glanced over to them with a scowl, hoping to warn them against any drive to act too quickly. It was the last look he’d spare them for a while. Parker knew of him as someone who acted alone. Let him keep thinking it. Let the warden’s superiority complex be his downfall.

Squaring his shoulders, Emilio opened the door, eyes darting over the scene. The kid was still conscious. She was holding something that looked like the weapon Parker had used to drug him in the woods before. Was this the warden’s way of playing with his meal before striking? Emilio wouldn’t put it past him. “You should go,” he said quietly, ignoring Parker in favor of addressing the kid. “This isn’t the kind of man you want to be around.”

—

The knife under Burrow’s sleeve stayed firm in her grasp, its blade not yet fully revealed from its sheath. It was not her moment to strike. A parasite rarely attacked, it simply waited for an opportunity. So, she waited the same, gauging this intruder. He was similar to her associate, baring skin that told a life of violence with eyes that sought more blood. A confirmation for her initial suspicions — except — it was not her blood the stranger sought. No, that bloodlust was directed at Parker. She was only given a warning, as if she was not a danger herself. As if she was some poor victim. It was the stranger who was the fool. While she would not weep upon Parker’s demise, she did not want him dead. He was useful, and she was certainly not finished with him yet. 

Though her face stayed facing the intruder, her eyes flicked over to Parker. Burrow waited for reciprocity, their eyes meeting, before calling to her parasites. A cauliflower fungus feasted on the dead wood of that long forgotten shed. Its cluster of mushrooms was advantageous: a nook just by the opening of the door. Her influence wrapped around those mushrooms and directed their aim. A swirling cloud of white spores erupted in the air, right into the intruder’s face. In the same moment, she mouthed to Parker: There is another one outside. Her tick could see them, those human shoes lurking beyond the walls. It could not decipher much else, for its view was small and its mind much smaller. 

Burrow seemed to follow the advice of the known intruder. She threw aside a hanging blanket, revealing a broken window. Its glass had long ago lost its dangerous edge, so she slipped through it with ease. Out into the world, she looked to where her tick had seen the human. There they were, somehow standing both stiff and unsteady. She kept her gaze on them, watching and waiting. But she did react, though not noticeably. Her influence reached out further, invisible tendrils branching from her body the same as the mycelium below. They coiled around her vines who were eager to finally hear her call. But she did not call to them all. Her call was focused on the ones who had already satisfied their urges. Those who had claimed — those who could run. A few began to run to her.

—

He didn’t afford himself much time to shield his eyes from getting anything in them - each moment was one that compromised him for an incoming attack. The dagger removed from its holster rose in a defensive position as he forced his eyes open. As he did, a familiar voice managed its way into his good ear.

Emilio. 

Parker’s nostrils flared as an involuntary surge of anger tore its way through his tense body. He wondered how the hell Emilio managed to find him out here, in the middle of seemingly nowhere. He wondered if it was stupid luck or some semblance of actual skill, though that wonder was quickly discarded - he refused to acknowledge that Emilio might’ve been good at anything. ‘Oh c’mon, surely other hunters can be skilled at things.’ Walker suggested, nudging him in the shoulder with an elbow once over ten years ago. The Warden’s gaze narrowed, not daring to remove his icy glare from the slayer. Last time, he got several knives thrown at him. The space they were in now was much smaller; surely that wouldn’t have worked. 

Last time, he got caught off-guard, as well. And last time, the fae he was with was unconscious. So while he was expecting some empty dialogue to be shared again, Parker wasn’t expecting the slayer to address Burrow first. A recommendation for her to leave. An assumption that the parasite nymph was one of his targets, which was both correct and incorrect. How Parker longed to dismantle Burrow, find out what was under her squirming, writhing visage. He wanted to study her, an intense fascination that dug into his brain sometimes. ‘It’s funny because it’s like a parasite.’ 

And he couldn’t. 

Just like he told Rhett he wasn’t going to kill Emilio. 

Those unspoken promises, one of which he felt around his neck whenever he was near Burrow and the other souring his saliva as he stared down the slayer, threatened to leave his mind as he resisted the rage that wanted to overwhelm him. The hand that his finger had been cut from thudded with a phantom pain that had quickly since been ignored and forgotten until this moment in time. Instead of indulging in that urge, however,, he managed to tear his eyes off the slayer and he looked at Burrow for a moment, as though to communicate that this wasn’t his idea. Whether that communication was effective, there was no way for Parker to know but as steely blue met dark brown, she had summoned something from the ground, something that plumed and blossomed like a ghostly explosion of decompositional flora and something, presumably spores, were sprayed into the air, directed at Emilio. Subconsciously, Parker started to hold his breath and he took a step back. Burrow had mouthed something to him, but though  he was adept at reading lips, he wasn’t sure if he understood clearly. There was someone else outside? Well, he supposed there was now as Burrow took the opportunity of distraction to escape from the decrepit building, leaving the two hunters inside as the Warden turned his gaze back to Emilio. He still wouldn’t strike first, even as he held the advantage. It was unbecoming so instead he backed up until he hit the far wall, silently, the dagger still held in front of him to block whatever would come his way first.

—

He’d been expecting an attack from Parker. A lunge, a throwing knife, maybe some attempt to hit him with those fucking sedatives. He’d been prepared for any and all forms of hunter attacks, body tensing in anticipation even as he addressed the nymph first. He hadn’t been expecting the nymph to come at him. A cloud of some kind of dust exploded all around him, invading his lungs and eyes. He shut the latter as quickly as he could, an instinctive attempt to prevent damage, but he couldn’t stop some of the shit from getting in them. Emilio grunted, taking a step back and bringing a hand up to rub the intrusion away.

Being blinded, even momentarily, wasn’t ideal. His heart thudded at the very concept, paranoia settling deep into his veins. He tilted his head, listening for Parker’s movements and gripping the hilt of his knife so tightly his knuckles went white around it. Why had the kid attacked him? Some terrified inability to tell friend from foe? Or… Was she working with Parker? The very thought seemed laughable. Parker didn’t strike him as the type to work with a fae, and he couldn’t imagine anyone who knew half of what he’d done teaming up with him, either. (Except for another hunter, of course; that was a different matter entirely.)

Questions swirled in his mind as he finally forced his eyes open. His vision was still blurry, but blurry was better than blind. The kid was gone. He could only assume she’d vanished in his blindness, and regardless of the reason behind her attack, that was probably a good thing. If she was working with Parker, it meant one less foe to worry about. He didn’t love the idea that she might stumble across Teddy, but Teddy had their healing and he’d much rather they go against the kid than Parker. If she wasn’t working with Parker, it was good that she’d gotten away. 

His eyes locked with Parker’s, anger burning through them. The warden hadn’t attacked while he was blinded; Emilio was almost insulted. But only almost. In a fight, letting your pride cost you an advantage would only ever cause you to lose, and Emilio had no intention of doing that. If Parker wasn’t smart enough to take the advantage, Emilio would ensure he lost it. He was a scrappy fighter, used to fighting opponents more powerful than him. That was the nature of a hunter; while genetics granted them some useful perks, the things they were hunting were always going to have the upper hand. And right now, for Emilio, Parker was one of those things.

He shot forward, adrenaline granting him speed in spite of his useless leg. Whoever’s side the nymph may have been on, there was no way to know how long she’d remain out of the fight. Unlike his opponent, Emilio wouldn’t let any advantage slide from his hands. He feigned an attack on the left before ducking, attempting to plunge his knife into the right side of Parker’s chest instead. Finish it quickly, get out, get Teddy. That was the plan now.

—

The sudden flurry of activity wasn’t exactly what Teddy expected, but then again they barely knew what to expect at all. Emilio dove headfirst into the fray, but someone else jumped out almost just as quickly. Took the ex-demon more than a second to realize it was the kid. The one they were trying to protect. In succinct succession their expression shifted. From a hardened worry, all close knit brows and clenched jaws, to a relieved surprise. A smile ghosted their parted lips as their eyes widened. Almost blowing their cover by shouting something over to her. 

Instead, Teddy mimed an ‘are you okay?’ over to the kid. Shortly followed by a ‘get out of here, get to safety’. Though that was probably a bit harder to read. Lots of reassuring palms and frantic gestures to the wayside. Deep into the woods where a fae would be safe, right? The ex-demon knew a lot, but they were no expert. That being said, nature was kind to most of its guardians. 

With the kid out of the way, all that was left was the monster. Even before Teddy’s hand hit the handle on the door their heartbeat was the only thing they could hear. Any sounds of the scrape between the two hunters was drowned out and muted as everything began to sound as if it was underwater. No, that would’ve been comforting. This sounded more like they were being suffocated. Somehow, they knew it wouldn’t relent until they entered. Until they joined the fight. Until they won. Guess it was time to give the bastard a bit of his own medicine. 

The ex-demon burst through the door, following the path the hunter took. Hopefully putting themself between whatever Parker had planned and the man who assumed it was his job to take it. The adrenaline was pumping, their vision was blurred around the edges, but he was vivid at its center. 

“Remember me, asshole? My turn to take something.” 

—

Burrow returned the human’s silence for more of her own. A silence void of any meaning or offering. Unlike the human, who offered her a warning, the same as she had warned Parker of their presence. The two intruders were very concerned for her, despite never bothering to ask her wants. She did not want to leave — she wanted them to leave. Still, she continued on her walk as if she accepted this warning as well. It was Parker who hunted, who held a knife the moment he was born. Burrow did not run into a fight, but she would watch one. Hidden behind the skeleton of a bush, peering through its bare branches.

Though steps away, Burrow followed the human with her senses. My turn to take something. Curious. The person was clearly not a fae, but it seemed they were no human either. She doubted Parker would take from his own kin. Could this stranger be the balam he had once mentioned? Her eyes immediately dropped down to the stranger’s ass, but saw no signs of a dent. Nothing to indicate the missing of a tail, sealed behind that human skin. It did not rule out her suspicions, but it did not solve them either. She would have to wait if she wanted to learn the stranger’s nature. A curiosity she would forfeit, for revealing their nature could cause the death of Parker. Parker was her host, she would not let them kill him before his use was done. 

Burrow would not ask more from her fungi. It needed to save the rest of its spores for the proper time. Through the air, the tendrils of her energy searched for another. More diversions to stumble the strangers before her hounds arrived. Her tachinid flies heeded her call, weaving about her expansive presence. She swarmed them with her love, before urging them to swarm. Go to the cabin. The air around the shed’s door became littered in small dots. Unassuming and easily missed. Until she dug her essence into their wings, turning their silent flapping into a wail. A shriek that dug the same as her, writhing into the intruder’s ears. 

—

The movement was swift, as it tended to be, even with a disabled leg but it still wasn’t quick enough for Parker’s mental arsenal of contingencies. The fake-out was expected and tolerated in place of the Warden moving to block the incoming dagger to his chest as the clash of metal scraped through the cold air. He used the momentum (and the offset weight of the slayer favoring his good leg) to push Emilio away from him, creating some distance between the two when suddenly the third party that Burrow had warned him about made themselves present in the room, glaring at him. A short pause in thought to the question before the Warden raised a brow. “The show-off Bisexual.” He replied bluntly, straightening up for just a second before returning to his defensive position, stepping lightly as he was determined not to expose his back to either of them. He wasn’t accustomed to fighting two at once, but he was even less accustomed to retreating from a fight, especially one that seemed to churn in his mind on occasion. Parker was frustrated with how often he thought about the first fight with Emilio, how much time was wasted wondering what would happen if they encountered each other again. There was no respect, no begrudging acceptance that it was a fair fight and that Emilio had held his own despite his lack of skill, thought or cleverness. And the thought that Emilio didn’t tell anyone that he had lost that fight did more than irritate Parker; it infuriated him. The slayer had taken a finger but he lost. And yet no one had perceived it that way. Parker received no praise from Rhett for not killing his “brother”, Jade treated it like it was a joke and she was still friends with Emilio despite the latter’s poor decision. He was sure if he told Owen, that slayer would’ve made a sardonic comment about it. This was why he didn’t have any friends; they weren’t friends with him, they were acquaintances, people to use him until they got bored, until he did something that was bad enough to warrant them deciding not to be “friends” with him. Parker wasn’t a failure, despite that being all that he heard from his father’s echoing voice in his head ever since that day, chastising him for not striking the killing blow. He wasn’t a failure, despite finding himself in a ramshackle cabin with two people who wanted him dead with the fae that he had made deals to nowhere in sight. He wasn’t a failure. He couldn’t have been. He wasn’t a failure, as the three started to engage in a desperate struggle before a loud screeching could be heard outside. It only reached half of him but the other half spontaneously wanted to shut down. Instead, he took the opportunity to slash out at one of Teddy’s arms while his other hand was busy preparing itself for another attempted stab from Emilio.

—

Parker dodged the attack — expected, but frustrating all the same. Emilio would have liked to have ended the whole ordeal before Teddy came onto the scene at all, because he knew that was only a matter of time. Teddy disliked the idea of letting Emilio take a fight on his own, even if fighting was what Emilio was for, what he was good at. They’d come to help, because they cared about him. He remembered the way they’d looked just speaking about Parker on the floor of their kitchen, how small they’d seemed. He’d wanted to make a corpse of the warden so that when Teddy came barging in, they’d find themself avenged, protected. He wanted to show Teddy the same… warmth that they’d always offered to him, and he’d only ever known how to do that through violence. But Parker dodged the attack, and he was still breathing when Teddy barged in the door. It wasn’t ideal.

Neither was the way Emilio stumbled backwards as Parker shoved him. His leg had been worse since his last encounter with the warden; carrying even less weight than it used to, aching more than it had before. It was a weakness he knew the other hunter would capitalize on if he spotted it, and it was a weakness that was hard to miss in the way he stepped backwards now. “Don’t talk to them,” he snapped as Parker turned to Teddy, anger burning in his chest. 

He took another step forward, ready to go in for the kill, ready to turn the damn floor red. And then — the screech. Loud, unexpected. Two things that Emilio wasn’t much good with anymore, two things that tended to have an ill-effect on an addled mind. It disoriented him, made his ears hurt, made his eyes dart wildly from side to side as he searched for the source. Something’s wrong, his mind whispered, something’s here. It’s going to kill you, it’s going to kill them, don’t you get it? It’ll tear the world apart all over again. 

His eyes settled back on Parker just as the warden slashed out at Teddy, and any limited strategy the slayer possessed vanished with the glint of the warden’s blade. He was a rabid dog as he launched himself forward, eyes wild and settling nowhere for long. He was a flurry of movement — slashes, stabs, fists, teeth. Emilio was raised in a way that found him fighting for every ounce of life he had; moments like this saw that heritage shining through. The movements were without strategy, but unpredictable as a result. With that disorienting sound triggering the parts of his mind that never left Mexico, he was a hard thing to pin down.

—

Where the fuck did that noise come from? The ex-demon was reeling long before the screeching ended. Staggered as if it had been a physical blow. Maybe not as hard as the hunters would have hit, but a strike all the same. And it wasn’t the only one. The momentary disorientation was all Parker needed to slash out and strike skin. Blood, bright red and human seeped from Teddy’s wound. Jagged and deeper on one side than the other, an imperfect strike. Good. Hurt worse in the moment, but that seemed to be the kind of thing that pissed Parker off. Ted didn’t know much but they knew a perfectionist when they saw one. 

Was it the surprise of a second guest, they wondered, or the noise? Probably the former, Parker didn’t react quite as badly as Emilio did. Had the warden somehow caused that, was it part of the trap for the fae girl? Some supernatural creatures had extremely sensitive hearing, it was only logical to think some fae might as well. That it might be another of the coward’s tools like the drugs he’d hit Ted with before. The thought of which made their head spin, and their eyes snap towards the strange daggers on the man’s belt. 

The slash on their arm was not enough to stop Teddy, wasn’t enough for them to show their hand and give it back either. Too early to show what would happen. In a way, the stinging gash along their arm was a driving force. Painful, and weakening that arm quite a bit, but igniting a fire inside their chest all the same. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only bonfire lit by the action. Ted’s attention whipped around just in time to see Emilio lunge at the other hunter. Fuck. Right within range of the scorpion’s tail. 

So Teddy rushed at a different angle. Reaching out for a slash of their own, going for the belt that held those dangerous daggers. Metal met leather with a gnawing resistance, but Parker was far too tangled up in Emilio’s teeth (goddamn, now that was a mental image to savor) to stop the ex-demon from snapping the strip, then slinging it out of the belt loops. Quickly, they tossed the thing as if it was a live grenade. Far enough away from the fray that it might as well have been in a different state. This turn, however, served another purpose. Bait. Parker had wriggled one arm free, still had a blade of some kind in his hand. And Teddy had just presented him with a wide open target. Too enticing to ignore. 

—

Snapping orders on what and what not to do. An observation that no amount of bravado could hide the knowledge that Emilio’s leg wasn’t any better than last time; if his quick observation was correct, Parker wasn’t the only one who lost something in their last fight. It should’ve given him a flash of satisfaction, but he wasn’t allowed any time between frenzied attacks from Emilio, especially after he could feel his dagger striking flesh. Uneven, unsatisfying, but there just the same. The Warden didn’t even have time to examine the damage he’d done (or see the black blood that surely spilled from the wound as it did last time) when something seemed to ignite in Emilio, the latter growing even more erratic and careless, but also utilizing his enhanced speed in ways that made it impossible for Parker to block them all and soon enough, he had placed his focus once more on the other hunter. The two became almost intertwined with each other; arms banging against one another, legs crossed as they pushed against the ground while trying to stay standing, themselves. There were different attacks coming from every angle he could perceive and then some but he reacted as best as he could to each of them, opting to block the knife in favor of whatever else the slayer had at his disposal– ‘Wait did he just bite you??’ Walker asked incredulously as the Warden sucked in a breath of surprise when he felt teeth being buried in his arm. Somehow, he was expecting that less than any stab wound and the hand that wasn’t holding the knife grappled for Emilio’s curly brown hair in an attempt to pry him off. Parker was so focused on being caught off-guard like that that he wasn’t aware of Teddy coming in from one of his blind spots and he realized with a sensation far, far stronger than the surprise that painted his face upon being bitten that his utility belt had been removed. Abruptly abandoning any endeavor to attack Emilio, his gaze snapped down where it found nothing, then his head jerked up just in time to see Teddy throw the belt with enough arm strength that it disappeared from his view. His breath caught in his throat and wild blue eyes with their tiny pupils darted to Teddy, who seemed to leave themselves open for him. Time slowed, or perhaps it was just his own enhanced senses but in any case, he was being confronted with options: In a deft maneuver, Parker had swapped hands that held the knife and for a split second, he was ready to stab Emilio just for the trouble - the two were obviously close and he himself was starting to lose the fight, especially as he struggled to keep himself from hyperventilating as he the weightlessness of his belt being torn from him and placed so out of reach threatened to send him into a meltdown. Teddy obviously wanted him to go for them, which was why it made more sense to remove Emilio, then he could take Teddy apart limb from limb. He inhaled…

…But any thoughts that were racing through his head were promptly lost as oozing crimson caught his eye. The belt was all but forgotten. Emilio’s teeth, his blade, his fists, anything against Parker was dulled. The sounds of struggle became muted as though they were plunged underwater and the pupils that were pinpricks just seconds ago swelled in size, almost like a cat suddenly fascinated with a moving object. Air was expelled from his nostrils and he wrenched his arm from Emilio, spraying his own blood everywhere as he wordlessly attempted to use the slayer as a springboard. The four inches of advantage he had over the slayer was utilized as well as still having two working legs and he rushed for Teddy– no, he rushed for Teddy’s arm, knife in one hand and approximately zero critical thoughts going through his head as everything was drowned in red. The pulsing, fevered spot on his back, obscured under both his shirt and jacket, sent signals to his mind. Consume. It wasn’t black. It didn’t matter. Parker was on them in a flash, all but dropping the dagger as he used his bare fingers to pull open the wound so he could sink his teeth into it and feed on their blood.

—

His teeth found purchase, and Emilio held on tight. The full force of his jaw was locked around Parker’s arm, even as his hands continued striking out with blades gripped in the fists. The warden’s hand was in his hair, trying to yank him back, but Emilio held fast. The pain was a long-forgotten thing. The sound was still assaulting from every angle, and Emilio’s mind was a frazzled thing. He smelled blood; he thought it might have been Teddy’s. The thought only served to further enrage him, and he tried for another stab in the center of Parker’s abdomen. Even in this state, he knew the best bet when fighting a skilled opponent was to aim for center mass, where you had a good shot at hitting something even if they dodged.

In spite of the stench of blood in the air, Teddy seemed to be holding their own. Out of the corner of his eye, Emilio saw Parker’s drug kit fall away. It was a smart move; he hadn’t thought of it himself, but he should have. The drugs had been what Parker used to take him out last time. If the warden got a chance to do the same thing again, Emilio wasn’t certain he’d wake up with all of himself still attached. But the slayer wasn’t the only one who noticed the kit falling away — it caught Parker’s attention, too.

And it wasn’t the only thing.

It was funny; Emilio recognized the behavior. It was a half-realized thing, in the state he was in, but bloodlust was the sort of thing he’d been trained to pinpoint since the time he was a child. The look in a vampire’s eyes when it zeroed in on its meal, the single mindedness of a hungry beast. The warden jumped at Teddy, grabbed for their bloody arm, sunk his own teeth in, and Emilio took a moment to focus on that hollow of his gut that usually tugged when there was something undead around. But the feeling wasn’t there now. Parker, despite his behavior, hadn’t been turned into a vampire since the last time Emilio had seen him. He was just… trying to eat Teddy’s arm. Huh.

The warden’s quest for Teddy’s blood had sent Emilio stumbling back a few feet, a chunk of Parker’s arm still clenched between his teeth. He spat it out in quiet disgust, shaking his head to try to center himself in spite of the sound. Being used as a springboard hadn’t done any favors for his bad leg, but he was miraculously still on his feet. And Parker was attacking Teddy, and even knowing that everything he was doing was being dolled back in his direction piece by piece wasn’t enough to quell the rage that came with that. Maybe Teddy’s new party trick would serve as a decent distraction. Emilio was about to find out. 

Launching forward once again, he readied his knife and hoped that this time, it would be his blade that came away bloodied.

—

If the sensations from the battle up in the bunker in the mountains were strange, this was something else. Bizarre. Vile. One part excruciating, one part invigorating. Fingernails found purchase between the layers of skin. Peeling and prying at the weeping wound to get a better angle for his hungry mouth. Teddy felt panicked, a whole new flavor of freaked out. Their heartbeat quickened, blood pressure spiked, the body’s defense of sending all its blood to their extremities started becoming a real fucking concerning issue. 

The sanguine fluid dribbled out and all over Teddy’s arm as Parker cracked into it like a greedy toddler trying to get at the candy in the center of a pinata. The ex-demon flailed, trying to put their whole strength into a move that would have thrown the man across the room with as much ease as they had clipped the belt but– but Teddy was human now. Human and broken enough that their strength was nothing impressive, certainly not something that could rival a hunter’s. Instead their shoulder popped with a sickening sllu–lruck! Drooping lazily for a moment behind them as they struggled to get away like a fox caught in a bear trap. 

Even so, the Leviathan’s final gift was weaving its magic. 

In Parker’s frenzy, maybe he didn’t notice right away. Teddy had no idea what had gotten into the man who they were pretty sure was a warden and not a vampire or something. Teddy hadn’t ever been jumped by vampires before. Demon blood apparently wasn’t too tasty. And since the ritual, well, Emilio had been sticking close enough around to act like mosquito repellent. As the ex-abomination watched and struggled against the shifting tides of skin and blood, they saw the way the skin tried to knit itself closed around the teeth still stuck deep within their flesh. Saw how it molded around, like the knots of a tree bending to the whims of iron fences, only to overtake with time and effort. 

By the time their shoulder had popped back into place, Teddy was feeling woozy. The magic was struggling to keep up in a realistic way. It may have been pumping that much damage into the feral warden, may have been trying desperately to close the wounds his gnawing teeth and gnashing hands sought to re-open. That, or it was the sheer amount of magic that had to flow through in such quick succession. Either way, the edges of their vision started going dark and Ted had one hell of a fall. 

—

The taste of copper on his tongue wasn’t a welcome one, Parker had acknowledged that immediately. But it was necessary, through a powerful urge that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so strongly aside from when he found something he needed to add to his collection. The word ‘obsession’, said in disgust by his father when he would overhear the hushed conversations the man and his mother would have behind closed doors, found its way into his head once more. ‘He’s impossible sometimes, Eris.’ He said as the Warden clumsily, carelessly sucked at the open wound to siphon blood from Teddy’s freshly-dislocated arm. 

‘He gets these… ideas in his head and it’s like he doesn’t realize where he is.’ A fresh, unnatural spike of pain came from his other arm now as his chin was coated in crimson. ‘He shuts down and gets unresponsive.’ The wound Parker’s jaw was clenched around was… closing, skin trying to push his teeth out from it. Every ounce of blood the Warden consumed seemed to fire another neuron in his brain, a machine fuelled by life itself with no grace, no capacity for recognizing when it should be grateful or understanding when it needed to stop. He jerked his head to the side as he felt the flesh attempting to stitch itself up, a human can opener with teeth not suited for what they were trying to do, a throat that wanted to gag as blood seeped down his esophagus but an insatiable hunger that overwhelmed him despite everything else he felt. 

‘He doesn’t understand pain.’ Accompanied with the sensation of his own arm being pulled open by teeth not suited for what they were trying to do, miraculously forming as though he were being bitten by an invisible specter was the decidedly sharper pain of a knife in his side. More blood unlocked more of his capacity to think; Emilio was still there, Parker had turned his back on him and in that moment, the slayer had taken advantage. Every ounce of him that grappled to take control back told him that what he was doing wasn’t worth it. He would bite, the wound would close and he’d feel something akin to, well, teeth sawing into his arm. An arm that felt like it’d been tethered to a car that wrenched it from its socket.

��You wanted a hunter.’ His mother replied curtly, with that tone Parker only heard on occasion, and mostly when he was listening in to their conversations. ‘He hunts. And I’d have expected you of all people to know what obsession feels like; he got it from you.’ He wasn’t sure if the knife was still in his side or if it had been pulled out, opening a hole for him, his own iron-rich blood pouring from it. He wanted– he needed to inspect it, to refocus his attention on Emilio, especially if the damage he was doing to Teddy wasn’t amounting to anything. His vision still swimming, blurred over and almost not recognizing anything but what was colored red, the Warden’s bones cracked as he pulled himself from the human just as the latter fell to the ground. 

He straightened up despite both arms pulsing with bite wounds (and one of which swinging loosely), the inflamed sore on his back demanding he pay more in blood and the knife wound in his side and Parker, dripping, gasping for breath and still yet almost completely silent, cast his steely stare to Emilio. His own dagger had since been dropped. His blue eyes searched for an opening on Emilio, any place where the red stood out. He found nothing. He’d find something; Emilio bled just as well as he or Teddy or anyone else did. Staggering slightly, Parker attempted to kick Emilio’s bad leg once more. He’d fall, and his eyes would be at the perfect height for Parker to gouge them out with his thumbs. He’d drink from those sockets. ‘He doesn’t understand pain because you made sure he doesn’t understand pain.’ As he kicked, he brought one of his arms up and twisted it until his mouth was caressing his own skin, pulling blood from his own veins now in an attempt to quell the seemingly-unquenchable thirst. 

‘How am I supposed to punish a boy who doesn’t feel anything?’

‘Maybe think about how that’s punishment enough.’

—

The vines bursted through the hole once known as a window. Wiggling and twisting like water from a spout. As if they had no limitations to the shapes they bore, except for the muffled clicking from their core. Clicks of those long dead bones below the surface. The vines were things of death, but they could be persuaded otherwise from the right mouth. The vines’ mouth was a spiral into darkness: a meager mimicry of the thing that rotted inside them. It latched onto Parker, the spiraled vines curling around both his arms. They slithered through the window, man and hound, and into the crisp air. But that hedgehound’s assistance was over, for it was the retriever. Parker was flung onto another: one mighty and swift. A thing worthy to be a steed, as its vines secured Parker onto its back. 

Most things came in threes, and the hounds were no exception. The third loomed by the cabin, matching the second in girth. The only thing taller was Burrow, who clung onto its mighty back. With only a twitch of her will, the hound eagerly followed her command. Twisted masses that mimicked hind legs kicked the corner of the shed. It too was eager to bend to her will — it bent into total submission. With only a tremble of protest, the shed began to crumble to the ground. Nature had fully claimed it at last.

Burrow did not care to see it to fruition. She would not let the intruders harm her parasites or her host any longer. Back to the trees she urged her precious hounds, and back to the trees they ran. The steeds ran in tandem: side by side. The retriever trailed behind. Its legs twisted into their opposing directions, sending the hound into a backwards gait. Keeping its eyes steady upon what once was the shed and those inside.

It freed Burrow’s own eyes to look at Parker. She saw a composed man look closer to a bloody beast. “You are a full mess. Remember, you cannot harm me.” What had happened? The man ruminated when his emotions simply overstayed their welcome. Surely he would not worry about such little things if this chaos was common. A madness that had him biting whoever dared cross his maw, even his own flesh. Her retriever hound had told her of such. She could see its evidence: how the mess of gore concentrated on his lips. Even all the marks on his shoulder did not produce as much blood that dripped off his lips. Drippings he desperately licked upon. Almost as if he was… hungry. How interesting. “You will explain to me why you bit the intruder and yourself… after you calm down and deal with your wounds. Your amount of blood loss is wasteful and unhealthy.” She urged her vines to press onto the gash on his side, holding what blood they could into his body. “I will put the moss on your wounds. Then, you will tell me why you were biting.”

—

Teddy fell. Parker attacked them and they fell, and it was too loud, and his leg hurt, and he could smell blood in the air and taste it on his tongue and he didn’t think he’d be able to breathe again until the taste went away completely or he ripped the warden’s throat out with his teeth to add to it. The walls of the room were starting to shift and blur, and Emilio was as angry as he always was, as terrified as he always pretended not to be. A shed in the woods, a living room in Mexico, it was all the same. There was a monster in front of him with blood in its teeth, and he knew how to kill something like that, so he would. This was what he was good for, after all, this was the point of him.

The slayer readjusted the knife in his hand, readied himself to strike. Kill the monster, serve your purpose. It was simple. 

But everything was only ever simple until it wasn’t. 

There were vines; it took a moment for Emilio to realize that they weren’t just in his head. They crawled through the windows, they scooped Parker up. There were creatures — hedgehounds, he knew those were hedgehounds — and they were riding in like stallions, were carrying the warden away. The fae was back, was helping him, and it didn’t make any sense. Hunters could work together with the things they were supposed to hunt sometimes, but the idea of Parker doing so seemed so utterly ridiculous that Emilio couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But the hedgehounds were whisking the warden away, and the nymph seemed to be controlling them. It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together. 

Nor did it take one to recognize the way the building began to tremble.

He could have gone after them. He knew that. Even with his bad leg, there was a chance he could have caught up. But the building was shaking and Teddy was on the ground, and Emilio couldn’t bare the thought of leaving them so he didn’t. Instead, he rushed over. He draped himself over them, let his skin brush against theirs. (Were there any injuries left, any more evidence of Parker’s assault? He’d take it all, if he could. He wanted to.) The ceiling fell, too old and decrepit to do any real damage even as it collapsed around him. He was a better shield than he was a person, he thought. He liked himself better when he was serving a purpose.

By the time it was all done, there was no sign of the hedgehounds. No sign of the warden or the fae, no sign of anything but Teddy and Emilio in the wreckage. Emilio glared in the direction they’d taken off in, furious that the warden had escaped with his life again, furious with himself for his failure. He’d spend the rest of the night drinking it away, he thought; chasing the feeling of inadequacy with a bottle of whiskey, burying the aches and pains of the fight with bitter amber. But… There were more important things to take care of first.

He stood, brushed himself off. One arm went under Teddy’s head, another under their knees. He scooped them up gently, cradling them carefully against his chest as he stood. His leg ached in protest at the added weight, already unhappy at the results of the fight, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. It was a message; it could be ignored. Straightening, he took an unsteady step forward, and then another. It’d be slow going, but he’d get them home eventually. 

And then, with a bottle in his hand, he’d figure out just what he was going to do next. He still had a warden to kill, after all.

[catalogue-of-lux-feli]

You take some time to relax while your crops grow. You don't want to burn through what energy you have before you know you've got enough food to support yourself. You again find yourself in the shade of a citrus tree, trying desperately to watch the sparse clouds drifting above instead of spiraling into your thoughts again.

You get your first grown crops after another day or so. It turns out that grain seed was, in fact, wheat, and you get a few handfuls of grain to start with. Other than that, you're able to harvest some tomatoes and onions, a head of cabbage, and even a melon.

You're tempted to try and throw together a salad, but the effort just seems a bit much at the moment. Plus, you don't actually have a bowl to put it all in. If you tried making a salad, you'd either have a sad double handful of tomatoes and greens, or you'd be eating straight off your workbench. Or heaven forbid, your bed.

You think you'll pass on that. You should probably make a bowl or something soon. You're going to need stuff like that, if you're going to live in any sort of comfort here.

You can eat the fruit and vegetables raw. That's fine. Even the onions are on the sweet side, so they're not the worst thing alone, even if it's not exactly your first choice. The wheat, though… you don't think you can eat that as is. (Or, well, you probably could, but for some reason or another chewing on straight wheat grains sounds a bit less appealing than eating raw melon or cabbage.)

You're not sure how you manage it, but you do actually manage to persuade the wheat to become a passable bread. Never mind that you don't have a mill to grind the wheat into flour. Or, you know, an oven. You're actually, genuinely confused by your work here; you sort of blacked out while you did it, and the particulars of the process are, looking back now, a mystery to you. Perhaps your raw charisma and turn of phrase charmed it into fulfilling your desires. You don't think you could convince a ballerina to dance, but maybe grain products are easier to persuade.

No matter how your bread was made, it makes for a more filling lunch than you've had in a while, especially when paired with the melon from your garden. You'd nearly forgotten how much better fresh melon tastes than the days-old stuff you've been eating.

The next few days, you spend tending your new garden and picking up on leveling your island. The stone tools are so much better. Sure, they still wear and break, but they last longer, and they do their work quicker, the stone shovel blades cutting through dirt and sand easily.

Your garden continues to thrive all on its own. You pull up some of your tomato plants as you gather more seeds to plant from the cabbages, and soon, everything is looking… honestly quite nice.

The weather turns to rain, and you take shelter under a tree, putting down a thin layer of wooden planks to keep from having to stand or - worse - sit in the mud and wet sand.

You drag your bed under the branches too, once you realize the rain isn't likely to stop soon. You'd rather not sleep in the rain. It's bad enough your bed will be soaking wet tonight.

It begins to dawn on you that you need a roof over your head, and ASAP.

You're still apprehensive about building your nice house on the island, but you don't need a nice big house just yet. (Really, you don't need a nice big house at all, but some part of you still wants a comfortable place to live.) You decide, instead, to set up a shack, a bit closer to your farm, so you don't have to walk so far to tend it while you're still harvesting your meals the day of.

You build something basic. Really basic. Just some citrus wood on the ground, a flat roof, and four walls to keep out the wind with a hole to walk through. It's… enough. Yeah, it's enough.

It's kind of sad, though.

It's just a plain box. Just a flat, pink box, plopped down on the sand. It's serviceable, but you're not sure you can bear to leave it like that. You think you'd actually rather leave your bed outside for a chance to sleep under the stars than be protected from the rain in this sorry thing. And that's saying a lot, considering the state of your last apartment. So you start changing things.

You start with the floor. You don't think you really want to use stone for this. So you grab some acacia - the only other kind of wood you have right now. Sure, it's very… orange, but it could work. It's a bold statement, but maybe bold is what you need.

Once you're done, you realize you desperately need something on top. Maybe an acacia roof might help balance the almost-porch you've given the little shack? One with a bit of overhang…. You use your axe and whatever you've kept at your work bench to make some slanted roofing for the place. Better that the rain runs off when it comes again than collect on the roof. You even give it a few little embellishments on the corners, so it's not so same-y.

Then you fashion some thin supports for the overhang and a door, both that same accent - well, hardly an accent now - of orange. Get them in place, and…

Hey.

This place doesn't look half bad.

It's no masterwork, obviously, but it's kind of… kind of cute, in its own way. And you don't think the orange is too much, at least.

This was… well, this was supposed to be temporary. You probably won't want to tear it down now, but you figure that's alright. When you're done living in it, you can use it as some sort of gardening shed. It's sturdy enough. It can stay.

[genmaichafan]

Katarina du Couteau x fem! Zuanite reader.

Rated t for slight violence. Maybe a one shot but short and sweet

“What will it be today [y/n]”

”that good ole demacian ale please.”

”a lady with taste.” the bartender curtly nodded

You thanked the barkeep for the large tankard full of the golden beverage. You’ve had this strain three times before but this particular brew was good even by demacian standards.

You took a big swig. You savored the effervescently bitter liquid. It had slight notes of malt and citrus. Demacian always had the best brews but this was on another level. You chocked it up to the readily available grain that received many hours of sun and the many places of shade for hops to grow. Not to mention the brews were on average stronger than the ones you drank at home. Remembering the lighter taste made you excited to drink the ale in front of you again.

not to mention with so much of it it never broke the bank even for someone traveling the world.

You sat down in the corner of the room alone. The dimness of the bar giving a all around relaxed atmosphere heightened by the merry making on the part of the other patrons. Often farmers but the odd soldier was there, the odd one sleeping from the long shift.

luckily for you no one seemed to bother you.

probably because you looked like you personally looked like you were from piltover.

______

3 large tankards later more than fairly buzzed.

With the tab paid for left for a night stroll.

you were in one of the outer towns of Demacia and the late evening air was crisp. the walk would’ve been rather relaxing if it weren’t for the fact it was low key creepy as hell out here due to the stories of people going missing in recent years.

That's when you heard someone talking in the distance. They seemed to be having a kerfuffle. Due to your nosy nature you decided to check it out.

and Lo and behold it was a fellow traveler being harassed by guards!

While definitely a traveler you had no idea where she was from, but a drunken kinship formed in your stomach. You were reminded of the lanes and how enforcers would harass the average person at home too and you would not stand for it here either.

”hey-“ you called out to the unbothered guards.

“HEY-“ you shouted as you approached more and more aggressively.

The guard turned around and palmed you on the chest, probably clocking the slurring of your words.

”don't get involved; demacian business”

”What's the problem?”

”the problem is this here is a noxian-“

”what?! No!” You hastily lied. “ that's my friend!”

This caused the soldier to eye you suspiciously.

’welp this isn’t going to work.’

You hastily and heavily clocked the man into unconsciousness causing the other to turn. Luckily for you the red haired woman seemed to know how to handle herself as well and chopped the distracted man in the neck. Pressure point causing him to pass out.

”thank you for helping, even if i had it handled.” She smirked slyly with crossed arms

”oh-!” You awkwardly laugh while rubbing the back of your head in embarrassment.

the adrenaline half sobered you.

”sorry- the names [y/n] by the way.” you stuck a hand out. The red haired woman gave it a firm grasp.

”Katherine”

”well,,, Katherine,,it's nice to meet you.” You winked then continued.

“Do you have anywhere to lay-low?” You shook your still sore hand.

”I may have an idea. I hope you can keep up.” ‘Katherine’ took off fleet of foot with you in tow.

______

‘Katherine’ seemed to take you off the path into an abandoned windmill. It seemed that she had camped here for a while as it actually looked quite comfy.

”whoa sick hideout-“

”It's camp.” she coolly leaned against the wall only to slip a bit.

hearing you giggle in response she decided to change the subject.

”You know you're very spirited. You could be a very good noxian.” She looked at you fondly.

”i'll think about it.” Understanding the worded gesture.

______

you two chatted for a while and the physical distance faded between you two. You found yourselves sitting next to each other, both your hands brushed the others but neither bothered to move.

you learned in a slip up that her real name was katarina and that she was on business.

Also that she was very fond of the inventions of both piltover and zuan. you swear she was humoring you but she'd give you a flirty look and the thoughts of doubt would leave your head.

the alcohol long since worn off when she leaned in and asked “may i?” Before closing the distance. Nodding you two shared a small kiss, which briefly deepened before parting. An apology for the bad news to come.

”by the way you should leave demacia. It’s going to get strict to strangers in the coming month.”

you tried not to think the nature of her business and heeded her warning soon after parting ways.

[homemade-clones]

Gaze: 🌼 - Assign them an aesthetic

Bedbug: 💌 - How would they react to a love letter? 🌹 - Do they have a signature scent? Perfume, shampoo or alike?

Cake: 🍁 - Their favourite season and why?

Hiii, thank you for the ask!

GAZE

Not sure if there's a named “-core” for his aesthetic, so I'll go with words, if it's alright?

- Someone, underwater, reaching out to an offered hand. It's unclear if the hand is a friend from above, or a foe from the depths.

- Nighttime, sitting in the edge of a skyscraper abandoned while it was still being built. The lights of the city are bright and warm light the sun, reaching just below the person's boots, who watches life go by, in the shadows.

- A flower crown of red gladiolus, too loose around his head, falling over his eyes. The color of flowers seem to melt down his face. Oh. It's not the flowers.

BEDBUG

💌 How would they react to a love letter?

Might as well change his name to "Giddy", because that's how he'll be acting for the rest of the week (or longer). Catch Bedbug on his bunk, reading it over and over again – feet kicking, pillow-screaming, telling (to a very confused) Burr all about the sweet things the person wrote him.

Tooka or Cheese will have to physically capture and sit down the man to stop him from hurriedly jumping into a relationship – or engagement, if the letter comes from a partner; because he's now in love and must speak back his own confession (yeah he falls in – and out of – love at the drop of a hat, no he's not working on it).

In the case of someone who's not his partner, once he calms down (and if the infatuation hasn't died) he will write back to the person in hopes of starting something with them. 🌹 Do they have a signature scent? Perfume, shampoo or alike?

It varies so much, he's always on the move trying to burn out that seemingly endless well of energy feeding his body (too bad it's ADHD you can't burn it out, my dear bug), but all he does is burn trough body sprays and the barracks' allotted hot water.

He steals grabs what's the closest to him when his runs out. But while it lasts, he uses a fire fruit punch one, and under all the plastoid and blaster smoke, he's often smelling kinda citrus-y.

CAKE

Summer! More specifically, high summer. Why? He hates, with the power of a thousand suns, to be even minimally cold.

Cake would rather have to constantly keep his hair braided/in a bun to avoid sweating away, than bundling up in two layers of blacks and wool socks and thick gloves, and still not feeling his face or fingers or toes or- let's just say he's really not okay with being chilly.

[ponzu]

@nokaru

im gonna do my best with this as someone not super well versed in perfume terminology uhdfgild

obi- reminds me of a more generic mens cologne. kind of earthy/woody. its my go to when i wanna dress up and im going out for the day.

kiki- i just got hers so i havent worn it yet but i do like it. maybe not more than zens now that im doing this test tho. its floral but also sort of heavy if that makes sense.

zen-very light and almost citrus-y. yea i def like it more than kikis lol. it smells very fresh and cool.

shirayuki- floral as youd expect but in the sense that it feels like walking into a flower shop or greenhouse. again as youd expect. its like smelling a bouquet rather than a single type. also really light and fresh.

mitsuhide- musky. very musky. almost leathery. its woodsy at the same time. idk its Strange. its not unpleasant but its not somehting i really want to smell like by choice lol

hope this satisfies your sciences tteehee

i FINALLYY have all 5. for whatever reason kikis was just rarely sold but i finally got her. organize from front to back for best smelling to erm questionable. ily mitsuhide but you smell weird

they all fit very snug in an ETB lol

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

Me: I’m just going to quietly work on a scene tonight. My Brain: SHARE SHARE SHARE Me: Oh fine then.

(Have some newlywed Barolice, with Alice getting inflicted with thirst brain over a rain-soaked Barok and getting flustered because attraction and what gets someone hot under the collar are very confusing. Warning! Slightly unsafe for work.)

Her hand reached up to temporarily take off and assess the state of her glasses. There were still a few stray droplets on the lenses. Her soaked clothes chilled her to the bone. She was extremely grateful to be inside the safety of the manor now, at least, where it was dry. They would need to get out of their wet clothes soon or risk catching cold. Replacing her glasses, Alice followed her husband up the stairs to the bedroom, going inside ahead when he opened the door for her. 

It was such a disappointment that their walk around the grounds was cut short by the sudden onslaught of rain, she thought. She really had been hoping to get more of a feel for the land around the Van Zieks’ country estate. But, it seemed that would have to be a matter for another time. 

Alice wasted no time in beginning to undo and remove her clothes. She was not at all self-conscious about the matter, thinking about getting herself into something dry, and warm. That was, until she heard the door close behind her. She heard the soft rustling of Barok divesting himself of some of his own clothing, and instinctively turned towards the noise. He was turned away from her, having already discarded his coat, cravat, vest, and gloves. 

“Do you need any help?” she found herself asking without really thinking about it. But before she could add an additional thought, she found the words evaporate as her eyes fell upon him. Even his undermost shirt wasn’t spared from the storm. It wasn’t as thoroughly soaked through as the top layers had been. But it was still wet, enough so that it was translucent and clinging to his form. 

The dips and curves of his body revealed themselves in ways that even his more form-fitting attire normally did not. 

 Water streaked from his hair, running down across his face to the line of his jaw. His skin glistened with moisture. And while his breath was slightly haggard from the run back into the manor, it was even and steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm.

The sight not only held her gaze, but caused a sudden wave of heat to rise up through her body.  Her heart started to flutter in her chest. He looked positively breathtaking at that moment to her. And images of running her hands along his glistening skin began to dance around in her mind. Tempting, tormenting images. 

Wait… why … of all the-? 

Her surprise at her own reaction caused her to gasp lightly as she immediately shot her gaze away. What on earth? For goodness’ sake, Alice, your husband is all cold and wet! She attempted to refocus herself as she awaited her husband’s reply, hoping desperately that she could get her mind to be cooperative. 

Though it seemed ever since their wedding night, which was a few days ago now, her mind had been anything but cooperative when it came to matters of earthly delights.

“I wouldn’t object to your assistance, my dear,” he replied serenely, “I offer mine in kind, should you require it. But, pray, tell me something, if you would.”

Alice found herself momentarily snapped out of her flustered state, looking back over to her husband with a quizzical expression. “Yes, Barok?”

“What had you so vexed until just an instant ago?”

Oh! And just as she’d thought it’d left her in peace, her previous state returned with a vengeance. Another wave of heat rushed through her, darkening her cheeks with a vibrant blush. The fact there was a certain sort of knowing in his tone made it all worse. And he looked as stoic as ever.

“Oh it’s not … it’s only-” She halted abruptly, considering her words before continuing. “It’s rather silly, really. I just thought for a moment that you looked rather handsome is all. Forgive me.”

Even though you’re rain-soaked. Actually because you’re rain-soaked. She internally sighed at herself. 

There was a pause. But then, there was the slightest crack of a smile on Barok’s countenance, and the rise and fall of his chest became quick and erratic as though he were… quietly laughing to himself? 

He’s laughing? Alice blinked in confusion. “What’s so funny?”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Harry is obviously attracted to her on a superficial level— as can be seen by his wandering gaze and in how he’s had some rather intense dreams where she was present, while her clothes very much weren’t— but he’s also drawn to her for so much more than what her body has to offer.

He adores rummaging through her brain and learning about life through her perspective and experiences, and he loves that she makes him work for that opportunity. Learning how peoples’ minds function has always been one of his greatest passions— it’s why he’s spent so long studying the dawn of civilization through history and philosophy— and getting to untangle Y/N’s has been one of his favorite projects to date. She’s gotten so good at playing him like a fiddle— so good at tuning him to her preferred decible— and it would be off-putting if he didn’t know how to play her right back.

“Y’know,” Harry shifts in his seat a bit, clicking his pen several times as he admires the way her pinstriped pants hug the curves of her inner thighs, vaguely wondering what it would feel like to have them gripping his head desperately as he buries his nose between her legs. Wondering what it would be like to have her dripping down his chin and wetting the collar of his shirt, all while she bucks against his face as he makes her beg and whimper his name until her throat gives out from exhaustion. “I consider this foreplay.”

She catches him ogling, which results in her rubbing her thighs together temptingly to taunt him further. “So do I.”

Harry swallows thickly, and though she’s standing a solid six feet away, it’s as if she’s residing right over him, with a hand around his throat and the other gripping his crotch, her intoxicating perfume sucking the air from his lungs as he bites back a feeble moan. He can’t stop himself from treading deeper into his fantasies. Specifically, his fantasies of what she must taste like between those silky thighs.

When it comes to oral sex, the inherent taste someone carries is subjective to every individual; Harry has never met two people who contain the same palate. It’s a matter of personal preference and partial inclination, and the sensory comparisons one person can savor might be completely different from someone else’s bias. Harry has his guesses as to what Y/N might taste like to him, based off what he’s gathered from having his tongue on her skin and in her mouth.

He thinks she’ll taste like the first sip of champagne— a honeyed yet tangy combination, accompanied by a refreshing bubbly sensation that erupts across all of his taste buds and fizzles through every crevice of his being. He thinks she’ll taste like warm apple cider on a snowy morning— a lavish syrup with citrus undertones, hints of cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg, and the type of hearty flavor that steams through all his senses and thaws every ounce of coldness from his bones. He thinks she’ll taste like a lemon and raspberry profiterole from his favorite bakery near the museum— delicate and smooth, with faint traces of whipped sugar intertwined with the acidity of the fruit, perfectly balanced into a bittersweet dessert. He thinks she’ll taste as addicting as anyone ever could, simply because it’s her, and she’s never been one to disappoint in the slightest.

Harry blinks himself back into reality, expelling all of his musings onto the walls of his office, letting them sink into the plaster as far away from his spinning head as possible. He’s getting too poetically sappy for his own good; too invested way too soon. He just needs to focus on what’s in front of him at this moment, and has to take everything nice and slow, as he’d promised he would. A careful, measured pace is necessary when kindling a connection (as well as when kindling something much more explicit, but that’s a different conversation altogether), and as long as he sticks to his guidelines and passes the milestones he himself had implemented, his dirty daydreams will become palpable soon enough. He may have his masters in philosophy, but currently, there’s one branch of the subject he finds himself struggling to grasp, all because of a certain girl with a contagious grin, electric eyes, and an addicting personality: the philosophy of patience.

Harry rips his hungry gaze from below Y/N’s waist, plastering it onto the bookshelf behind her instead, his eyes landing on the spine of a random novel shoved haphazardly between the others. The Undefeated Mind: On the Science of Constructing an Indestructible Self. A book about perseverance and self-control. How ironic.

He clears his throat weakly, urging his composure back in line as he appraises her once more, his tone stoic and slightly strained. “We should stop, then.”

“Why?” Y/N purses her mouth to avoid snickering prematurely at her upcoming dig, enjoying his risqué attention and obvious fidgeting. He’s usually so calm and collected, it’s fun to see him out of sorts, for once. Especially when she’s the one responsible. “Is your little philosopher achieving enlightenment?”

The deadpan scowl that replaces Harry’s indifferent demeanor causes her to fold, her sounds of glee escaping with no remorse.

“Nice.” Harry rolls his eyes theatrically, narrowing them pettily. “Proper class.”

“Ethics 1101, to be exact.”

read more anthropology/philosophy student!harry here