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soft4gguk · 3 years

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to build a home | chapter seven

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. loads of plot. fluff. smut.

Word count: 13k (if u saw the post where i promised this one wouldn’t be 10k like the last one, no u didn’t 🤫)

Warnings: oral sex (m & f), deepthroating (did i say pj jk? my bad, i meant bj jk 😌), soft!dom jk, sub oc, fingering, everything is v wet, v graphic, dirty talk, protected penetrative sex, lil bit of cockwarming, they’re so smitten w each other through it all, loads of kissing <3, loads of lovin’, lil bit of angst but it has a happy ending, so much fluff, they’re so domestic, JUNGKOOK IS A DREAM, oc has 0 filter, shirtless jimin making coffee?, i think that’s it <3

Author’s note: i truly hope u enjoy this one <33 sorry for making it so long i got carried away and also!!! this is what happens when y’all put the image of dilf jk in those see through pyjamas in my mind and send me audio porn, ok? i go crazy!! i love u guys, sm. thank u for the love always!! i’m sending it right back paired w a million kisses ur way, as per usual. <3333 xxxxx

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Texts in bold + italic resemble a recollection of past events.

Chapter Seven

“Tap into your awareness. Take a deep breath, feel the warm light spread all through your body – a golden hue that starts at the top of your head all the way to the tip of your toes. Bask in it, welcome the peace into every inch of your temple. Feel it in your core, that warm light – that tingle-”

You bring your steps to an abrupt halt.

“Bro, really?” You stare at your screen in disbelief, as if the sweet voice that was attempting to coax you into a peaceful headspace would apologize for how oddly arousing you found her meditative practice.

You pull at the string of your headphones, with more force than necessary for, you know, emphasis – shortly followed by a groan, all powered by frustration.

The worst kind of frustration there is.

“You know what I do when I’m really horny?” Lucy’s question snaps you out of your sulking.

You stay quiet for a couple of seconds, debating whether you want to know the answer to that or not. Today had been stressful enough – a long, slow Monday that had marked the highest temperatures the Summer had seen. A historical heatwave, they called it. Though your heat came less from the fact that the Earth is so polluted it reaches the 40s and more from your activities the day prior.

You decide to venture into her potential advice. “Tell me, Senpai.”

“I have sex with Jimin.” She simply shrugs, voice relaxed as she takes another lick of her strawberry iced lolly. You wince at how lewd she makes it look.

“You had sex for the first time like- yesterday.”

“Wrong. I made love for the first time two weeks ago.”

“My bad, Aphrodite.”

“You’re just bitter because I’ve had sex in your boyfriend’s house and you haven’t.” Her smile is roguish and you can’t help but return it, consequently shoving a pillow her way.

“You’re so bad. So, so bad.”

“The mattress had great elasticity, by the way. Like crazy comfortable. Like- oh! Duh. Like a hotel bed!”

You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “I don’t know what hurts the most – the fact that I want to know how comfortable his mattress is or that… he’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my boyfriend and therefore we have to take it slow. We have to be good, Lucy. We can’t let another playroom gate unfold.”

“I think playroom gate was totally healthy.”

That’s her new thing, preaching about the importance of a healthy sex life.

“Fuck, I know. I didn’t even know sex could feel like that. And we didn’t even go all the way.” Your breathing starts picking up, chest heaving slightly at the sole memory.

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you actual good advice. From a former virgin to a newly rebirthed one-” you narrow your eyes at her, another pillow ready to swing in her direction. She just giggles. “Meditate.”

“Meditate?”

“Yup. It really helps you relax and focus on the now. Consciousness and all that.”

“I am consciously horny. Now.”

She laughs. “Where’s Herbie?”

Herbie, also known as your vibrator.

“I don’t want Herbie!” You throw your hands up in defeat, sighing as they come down.

You’re fully throwing a tantrum, you’re aware. But you can’t help the tension that builds all through you. The way something in your lower belly drops like quickfire when you all but think about his face – his hooded eyes, glassy over how on edge he was. The red of his lips. The mess you’d made of his hair from running your hands through it, tugging whenever he had your hips bucking and your legs closing around his big, strong ones.

Here we go again.

Another groan.

Lucy gets serious all of a sudden, straightening up in her place on the couch. “Well, ___, then you’re gonna have to revaluate this whole taking it slow. Or, I don’t know, get on your knees and pray. Maybe he'll show mercy and, you know, whilst you’re at it...”

Meditation sucks.

Okay, you’re being dense.

Meditation as to treat sexual frustration sucks. Yet you keep gravitating towards it because for one, you already paid for the overpriced app subscription and two, it’s good white noise. It’s your third day in this torturous journey to tuning into your higher self who, presumably, is less horny and more collected. A true being of light. You decide to complement your spiritual practices with a nice walk – making sure to get out of the bus a few stops prior so you can collect yourself with the aid of some movement and fresh air until you have to come face to face with the very root of your distress.

You smile. That’s all it takes, really. One brief second of him crossing your mind. Fuck welcoming peace. Jeon Jungkook is so much better.

You pick up your pace, your whole demeanour giddying up at the fact that it’s only approximately twenty minutes until you see him again. Him and Soori, hand in hand as she practices her walking – big round eyes and puffy cheeks coming up to greet you, her little button nose scrunching up in excitement. Her expressions are a carbon copy of her father’s, whose face takes on the same motions at the sight of you.

When you finally make it to his front door, you can feel the excitement settling in your chest. It makes you think about how lucky you are – to be able to come to them.

You ring the doorbell and wait for a minute, smile adorning your face as you hear the door unlock from the inside as it begins to swing open. You take a step forwards, voice ready to chirp out your usual greeting for Mrs. Chae.

The words are caught in your throat as the door comes to an open and you’re met with Jungkook, a bright smile on his face as he holds Soori in his arms, her smile growing so wide it makes her pacifier slip from between her mouth.

All of it is unexpected – from having him open the door for you, to seeing him first thing in the morning and taking in his enthusiasm.

Jungkook is halfway out the door, free arm outstretched, ready to welcome you in it.

“What are you wearing?” Your words make him stop dead in his tracks, confused.

You just stare at him, unabashedly scanning your eyes through his body. He looks fresh out of the shower – hair silky and soft and a soft expression in his face that tells you he’s well rested. He looks good, that’s not it. What’s it is his outfit, if it can even be considered as such. He’s wearing a mesh, see-through olive green set. The short sleeve shirt and pants so sheer they leave little to the imagination as your eyes fall from the dark ink you can make out on his shoulder to his black briefs. The first couple of buttons in his shirt are undone and so is your sanity.

“Wha- oh. My pyjamas? It’s a cozy morning. We’re cozy, you see?” He motions to Soori as he says this and you take in her cute lilac sweatsuit, a soft pair of bunny slippers on her feet as they swing back and forth frantically. She smiles at you, letting you know she wants to be in your arms – almost surprised herself that she gets to see you earlier than usual.

“You sleep like that?”

“No, I don’t. I sleep-” but Jungkook doesn’t finish that sentence, for both of your sakes. “It’s a lounge set, now can you come in?”

You step inside, a chuckle escaping your lips. “A lounge set. That is so presump-” but before you can finish your witty remark, his arm snakes around your waist and his lips collapse against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. “Jung-,” you gasp, “what are you doing? Where’s Mrs. Chae?”

“She’s away. On vacation,” he says, lips still grazing yours. He places one last chaste kiss, smiling a little at the way you pout, still confused. He pecks your cheek before he finally says, “good morning.”

It’s going to be a long, long day.

“Morning,” your voice is a dreamy whisper, chest still flushed to his. Soori taps on your shoulder repeatedly, a bit more forceful than usual as she lets out a little whine, demanding your attention. She’s still getting used to having to share it. “Hi, princess. Good morning. How are you?” You take her from him as she jumps in your arms.

“Ouch,” he brings his hands to his chest dramatically, “so she gets all the morning love?”

“Now I see where she gets it from,” you tease, making him scowl at you. “Good morning, lounge princess.” You coo at him, pinching his cheek.

“Do you not like it?” He says, gaze dropping to take a look at his clothes as if he hadn’t just picked them himself.

You hold back a laugh, but your smile gives your amusement away. “It’s… different. You can rock it, though.”

He pouts. “You’re mean.”

“Naaaa,” Soori says, taking you by surprise.

“Yeah, Soo. Tell daddy.” You walk away as you say this, making your way to the kitchen.

He’s about to protest on your use of the forbidden word but his brain fails him, currently working at a solid 3% of its normal capacity. He opts for engaging in baby talk. That always helps. “Don’t flatter yourself. Everything is Na nowadays. We fall into the same category as the giraffe, the rubber ducky and… whatever’s edible, really.”

“So, are you working from home today?” You ask, strapping Soori in her high chair. Jungkook got a head start on her breakfast already and she waits patiently for it.

“Yeah. I pulled crazy hours yesterday so I told everyone to take it easy today. I still have a bunch of contracts to look through but, no meetings.”

“Ah, explains the fit.” You say, eyes glued to the apple you’re slicing.

He rolls his eyes, but walks towards you nonetheless. “Hey,” he towers you from behind, hands resting at either side of your body on the counter. “I missed you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” You mock nonchalance but he can hear the smile in your voice you hide from him.

“Well, yeah, but- I missed you. Like being able to hug you. And stuff.”

“And stuff,” you mimic, a playful tone to your voice.

“What did you put in your coffee this morning? You’re extra witty today, baby.”

Baby.

He hasn’t called you that since Sunday and your brain can’t grasp just how weak the pet name makes you. How you can physically feel your knees weakening, the way they write in poems and love songs.

Adoration with two pumps of horny, Jungkook. That’s what I put in my coffee.

You turn around, sheepishly smiling at him. His grin widens when he sees the light blush to your cheeks, arms leaving the counter and taking a step back. You miss his proximity already. “Nothing,” you sing-song, “I missed you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smirks before his head lowers, his lips on a journey to find yours.

Soori shrieks, pointing at her apple as she lets out her infamous, “Naaa.”

You turn to her and Jungkook takes a step back.

“Sorry, Soo. Coming right up.” You tell her.

You go back to slicing her fruit and Jungkook plates her eggs, cutting them into tiny pieces as he does the same with the toast, lathering some avocado on top.

“Sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes. “We should probably…,”

“Behave. Whilst, you know, I’m on the clock and everything.” You finish his sentence for him, pressure so evidently swimming in the air, it could cut a diamond.

“Yeah- yes. Also… we should, you know. Take it slow.”

“Yeah,” you agree, voice casual but there’s a strain to it. “Sunday was just… a tiny mishap. Good, but- a mishap.”

“Yes. I mean, I don’t regret it-”

You turn to him, frenzied eyes meeting his. “Neither do I.”

“But we should probably go back to our programmed schedule of… taking it easy. Slow is good.”

“Slow is great.”

“Yeah,”

“Yeah.”

Slow is, to put it lightly, hell.

You’ve been tip-toeing around the sexual tension that follows you like a shadow wherever you go – physically and mentally.

Yet, besides the gruelling desire for him that you can’t help but welcome all through your body you can’t really ignore how it doesn’t just stop at that. It’s the closeness you crave – in more than just the physical aspect of your relationship. Or more so, your situationship. That also has your head looping in a frenzied, uncontrollable train of thought.

You can’t shake just how much you enjoyed having him sweep you in his arms and press your lips to his – Soori in his hold, the both of them welcoming you with bright smiles and a sense of home. One that you’ve tried to tame down from inside your chest since the morning. You feel foolish, but it’s inevitable – the way you thought something had drastically shifted inside of him. That he’d changed his mind, not really caring anymore about someone finding out. Not his friends, not Mrs. Chae, not a potential neighbour passing by. It’s a stretch, in all ways fathomable. Because in reality, you know that slow doesn’t stem so much from what people would think when they realize he’s engaging in more than professional affairs with his nanny; but more so from the fact that opening up, to you, to the world, hell – even to himself – is still dreadful to Jungkook.

“Naaa-na?” Soori blabs, shoving a fistful of noodles that overflow from her little hand your way.

“No, baby. Those are noodles.” You tell her, smiling sweetly and leaning your face on your hand as you stare at her.

“Nanana,” she half sings, half states – shaking her head as she gives you that signature bunny smile.

You can feel your heart seizing up in your chest. She looks so much like her dad.

“Hey, bun. You look so much like your daddy when you smile like that.” She just stares at you, giddiness not faltering once as she continues to eat her noodles. “You’re so cute, just like him.”

You gave your heart to Soori far before Jungkook began occupying it, too. She was so easy to love – wide eyed, curious and even though she never lost that easy spirit of hers, you could see how much the situation was affecting her. She would cry, sometimes for long stretches of time, inconsolably sobbing into your shoulder as you rocked her back and forth, attempting to put her down for her nap. Her eyes would tear up and her little body would shake in your arms and the process was exhausting enough to carry its essence throughout the day. At times, Jungkook would walk through the front door, finally back from work, and she would fall into his arms, a new wave of tears threatening to spill from her glassy eyes. She would stare at her dad, quivering chin and tucked bottom lip, as if wondering if he’d leave again in a matter of minutes.

You didn’t realize just how affected she’d been until you overheard Jungkook, Hobi and Kenny that night after the inauguration. The bitterness in his words when he claimed Ira didn’t love Soori enough to stay.

It was then that you grasped it, the severity of the reality she was living through when you stepped into her life. It made you want to do things differently back then. If you’d known, you would’ve been able to understand just why she dreaded being put into her crib during nap time – fighting sleep in your arms until her little body gave in. She couldn’t just be left there, always needing to fall asleep in your arms. She would toss and turn, whining when she saw you walk away. It made sense to you why doorway goodbyes would be filled with tears and how when Jungkook came back, instead of excitement she would feel relief – followed by a new wave of fear he’d leave again.

You stare at her – really look at her. A happy baby. Easy-going, loving and trusting. A peace about her that sometimes startles you when you leave her to play by herself for a couple of minutes and realize she’s awfully quiet; only to find her in her own little world, quietly babbling to herself and her ever-growing family of plushies. She’s got giggles and tickles and shrieks whenever she sees any sort of animal on the tv – real or animated.

She’s good, you think. She healed.

You know her world is small. Her hours seem shorter, days breezing by as she seems to grow up with every passing minute. Yet you can’t help but think how time truly did wonders for her.

Time and love.

You truly hope time is just as good with Jungkook.

Time, and yes – love.

By the time it takes you to get Soori cleaned up from lunch and into pyjamas, cozied up and tucked in bed, it’s nearing half past one. Jungkook hasn’t left his office since the morning after breakfast time was done for Soori, which is odd because he always makes sure he’s with her for lunch whenever he’s home – even if it’s just to make her a bottle and put her down for her nap. What’s even more worrying is he hasn’t eaten since either, and with his breakfasts consisting of coffee and whatever nibbles he can get out of Soori’s – it’s even more concerning.

You tidy up the kitchen, scroll through your phone aimlessly and when the clock marks 2 pm you worry enough to make your way to his office, gently knocking on the door in case he’s really submerged in something or on a call of some sort. When a couple of seconds go by and there’s no reply from the other side of the door, your overdramatic brain begins crafting stories of the worst-case scenario.

“Come in,” he says, making you sigh in relief.

You open the door, stepping inside and gently closing it behind you. “I thought you were dead.”

That makes his eyes snap from his computer to you in a millisecond, brow raised and a playful smirk adorning his features. “That’s extreme. Where’s Soori?”

“Napping.” You reply, walking closer to his desk.

“Shit- already? I lost track of time.”

“You have really bad eating habits.” Your voice is monotone, casual.

“I love it when you speak your mind,” he says, tone not entirely sarcastic. His eyes are glued back to the screen of his computer. “Hey, can you help me with something?”

“Me?”

He hesitates for a second, looking up as he says, “yes, you.”

“I don’t know how much I can help with whatever goes on at the other side of this desk but, sure.” You say as you make your way towards him.

“Why’d you say that? You’re very smart.”

His comment flusters you. “Tell me how I can be of service then.”

“I’m writing this speech for a charity event we’re hosting next week and, I don’t know. I feel like it sounds very impersonal. Sort of like- a template. I don’t like it.”

“Ah. Then yes, I can definitely help.”

“Come on, Maya Angelou. Time to shine.” He says, rolling slightly to the side on his big leather chair so you can take a better look at his computer, a half-written speech on the screen.

You lean forwards, hands resting on his desk as you bent some, eyes fixed on the document as you scan through the words, analysing them. He feels slightly exposed. He also feels an intractable impulse to sit you on his lap. Not to necessarily do anything too sinful just – hold you.

He decides to be gentlemanly instead.

“Here, sit down-” he begins, body halfway up as he begins to stand. You just wave your hand at him in dismissal, murmuring a string of no, no’s. You look very focused and Jungkook decides to leave you be, sitting back down on his chair.

From what you can take, it’s a charity event to gather funds for a school for blind and disabled children. It’s heartfelt and compassionate, at times a bit informal even. It makes you smile, thinking about how much it feels like you’re reading a journal entry – written by none other than Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s good. I see what you mean, though, by trying to make it less impersonal. But I don’t think it’s impersonal at all. Whenever you want to transmit feelings whilst keeping your tone formal you do need some certain balance, though. Just so it doesn’t lose the tonality that makes up a speech. So, here- may I?” You say, fingers dancing close to the keyboard.

“Yes, yes. Of course,” he says.

You get to work, giving him pointers, asking him to write the sentence so you can twitch it a bit – expanding his vocabulary with fancy words that only end up making the speech more sincere. Approachable, as you say. By the third paragraph, he’s pretty much got it – having perfected it and added enough for it to be up to his standards.

“Thank you. I’ve never finished writing anything so quick in my life,” he tells you.

“You’re welcome. You should eat something,” you smile at him but it’s in a slightly patronizing way that makes his chest flutter when he realizes you worry about him.

“I will, I just- have to go through this one contract,” he returns.

“I thought you said you told everyone to take it easy today?”

“Yeah, them. Not me. It’s enough of a treat to be able to stay home, though.”

“Is the contract really long?” You’re stalling, not wanting to leave his side just yet.

“Yeah, look.” He places a stack of papers in front of him, bible-thick.

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

He snorts, head thrown back as it turns into laughter. “Yes – holy shit, alright. What’s even worst, look at the tiny font” he says, skimming through the pages.

You gasp, a bit more dramatically than intended. But it doesn’t stop there. “I’m sorry you have to sit through agonizing paperwork,” your voice is sweet and you bring your hand to his head, giving him a soft pat. Or at least that’s the original intention.

He keens into your touch, leaning his head to the side slightly. So, inevitably, you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair – caressing softly. It’s an innocent touch, you know it and Jungkook knows it, too. So, he pushes all impulses aside and gives into it. it’s comforting to say the least and soon enough he’s returning the affection with a harmless touch of his own as he runs his knuckles down the soft skin of your free hand that rests at your side.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low as he tries to remember exactly what he’s agreeing on.

“Still, you need to… recharge. Fuel and all that. Unwind,” you don’t mean for the last word to resemble a whimper but you can’t really stop it as it leaves you.

“Mhm. Your company helps though,” he says, sweet words matching his sweet face yet highly contrasting to the shadow that casts upon his gaze. Eyes dark with a hint of a glimmer in them.

“T-that’s good. I’m- glad. I can, um, get you something. To eat, I mean. You know, bring it here.” You offer, brain convincing you your voice sounded way more collected than it actually did.

He smiles. “No, that’s alright. Thank you, though.”

He just looks up, staring at you with that side smirk that makes your bones feel like jelly, bringing your hand closer to him as he laces his fingers with yours.

“You’re welcome.”

He simply hums, thumb caressing your hand ever so softly.

Slow. It’s written in both your gazes as your eyes lock with his, only missing them when you blink, a slow motion that makes your eyelids feel heavy with every passing second.

Slow. The same way he pulls you closer. Close enough to step between his legs before you instinctively fall into his touch completely, sitting on his lap.

Slow. Just like your touch as the hand that isn’t still intwined in his cups his cheek, stroking softly – slowly.

Slow. In the way he smiles, face relaxing as he leans into your touch, eyes closing as he basks in the feeling of your hands on his skin.

Slow. Like the words that fall from your lips as you say, “let me take care of you.”

Jungkook sighs, eyes fluttering once, then twice before he nods. Rationality catching up with him way too slowly to deny you.

Your hands snake past the collar of his shirt, eyes locking with his as he shudders under your touch. Your nails scraping lightly at the warm skin on his shoulders before you dig your fingers into the flesh. He tenses for a second before his whole body finally relaxes, melting into the chair as he lets out a faint moan – hand firmly squeezing at your hip before it lands on your ass.

“You know – it’s growing on me,” your fingers dance over his chest, nails brushing softly as they land on his sternum, “your lounge set.”

“Is that why you want to take it off of me?” He asks, raising his brows, a lopsided smirk forming at his lips when he feels your fingers work his buttons undone.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Not necessarily.”

“Hm, fine,” he lets outs a soft whimper when you release the last button, pausing for a second to take in his reaction before your hand travels upwards, running over his toned abdomen. His skin is so tan – so golden, you salivate at the sight. “I’ll believe you.”

His pretty eyes fall shut, lids heavy as his focus fixates on the way your hands feel as they run through his skin – like wood to a fire, only making his own flame burn brighter for you. Hotter. Your hand settles over his chest, right on top of his heart and he’s positive you can feel it beating in your palm as his breathing starts to pick up at the promise of you.

Jungkook’s brain isn’t necessarily going places of where said promise will land. In fact, he didn’t really know what your words entitled when he agreed to them. But it sure as hell shocks him like a punch to the gut when he feels your touch faltering, hand falling lazily on his lower stomach as your movements follow and he immediately misses your proximity. In slight disbelief and disappointment, he opens his eyes, mouth instinctively forming a pout that doesn’t quite see completion when he sees you shifting your weight onto the floor, settling between his open legs. He nearly chokes on his spit, the peaceful trance your touch had him on long lost as you bite your lip, eyes pleading what your words don’t. You’re waiting – that innocent look masking your sinful thoughts as you leave his fate in his own hands.

And once again, Jungkook can’t deny you. Not when you look like that. Not when he’s craved you since the very moment he had his first taste of you – of that one thing he didn’t know he wanted so much. The one thing he dared think rationality could triumph, only to be hit with the realization that whatever magnetic pull draws you to him is bigger than him and all his self-control combined. So, he lets his hand cup your cheek, fingers closing around your jaw, skimming through your skin until his thumb presses on your bottom lip. You never once shift your gaze from him, even when his own travels to your mouth as it parts slightly, enough to let his thumb hook itself between your teeth as your tongue circles around it. His face contorts in pleasure, upper lip tugging up before his teeth pulls his bottom one in.

You lean forward, fingers running teasingly over the waistband of his pants.

He hisses, tummy caving in at the feeling. “Don’t tease,” he warns.

“I’m not. Just going slow,” you say, faux innocence lacing your tone.

His laugh is throaty and it hitches in his chest when he feels your palm close around the outline of his clothed cock. It throbs and thickens in your hold as you squeeze, gripping him firmly, a moan escaping his lips at the sudden contact. The sound lands right in the pit of your stomach and your fingers hook inside the waistband of his pants, tugging his briefs along as you drag them down until they pool around his ankles. His cock jerks as it sits across his pelvis and a deep groan ripples straight out of his chest as your hand wraps around it and your tongue licks a thick strip from base to tip before you’re hollowing your cheeks and sucking frivolously around the head.

“Ngh- fuck, baby. Fuck.” His voice is strained and raspy, hand tangling in your hair as he tugs on it slightly.

He feels even bigger around your mouth than he did in your hand, sitting heavy on your tongue as you rasp for air. Your hand pumps at his shaft, stimulating the places your tongue can’t reach as the tip moves in rapid, controlled movements over his frenulum, making him gasp – the airy little sound lilting at the end, turning into a moan.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, breaths coming out erratically and his chest heaves as your mouth closes around his cock once again, head picking up pace at the push and pull of your mouth – the back of your throat tempting his tip more and more with every thrust.

“Like that, baby. Fuck. Take it all,” and that’s enough incentive for you to sink your warm mouth all the way in, making his cock pulse as you gag around the head a couple of times before your throat closes around it in swallowing motions. His mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes fighting to stay open as he feels the way your mouth suctions around him, sending him to heaven and back. He’s never seen anything so heavenly take on a lewd act like this – sin in your eyes, and sin in the way you moan in utter pleasure when you finally release his cock from the tight constraints of your throat, gasping for air as thick teardrops fall from your eyes all the way down your pretty face.

His thumb swipes them away. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re so good, so fucking- mmm,” his praises are interrupted as you wrap your tongue around his tip, circling languidly as your eyes look up at him, pleading him to go on. “Feels so fucking good. You look so pretty with your mouth around my cock, angel.”

You moan, the vibrations making his hips buck and tighten his grip on your hair as you lower yourself on him all the way, repeating that same menacing action, only this time with more intention – determined to have him unravelling under you, milking his cock and taking him impossibly lower as you move your head in sharp little thrusts, accommodating him until your gag reflex is non-existent.

“Shit- don’t stop, don’t stop- you’re gonna make me cum, ___.” His head is thrown back, eyes tightly shut as he bites onto his lip with enough harshness to level him back into the moment, forcing him to look at you again. You’re a fucking sight to behold – that much his head can grasp in its hazy, fucked-out state. It confuses him slightly, how he can feel that tug in his heart whenever your eyes meet his and you hold his gaze, your pretty lips wrapped around his fat cock like the dream that you are. The way it makes his heart rate pick up until he can feel it travel to his stomach, the feeling lacing around the tight knot that forms there as he begins to tip over the edge.

That’s what makes him lose it – the total adoration he feels for you right this moment as you work his cock with your warm, wet tongue, reading him perfectly and complying. Completely surrendered to aiding his pleasure, his responsiveness only adding to yours. That insane need to feel you closer going beyond the physical as your connection deepens and he can feel it. He can see it in your eyes and he has no hints of a doubt you see it in his as you return that same adoration his gaze holds. His cock kicks against your tongue and he hisses out a moan, head falling to the side as he takes you in, mouth agape as that knot snaps inside of him.

“Baby, baby,” he warns, tapping his fingers gently on your cheek. You simply sigh, mouth full of him as you take him impossibly deeper. “Oh fuck. Ffuck- I’m cumming, I’m-”

You can feel the way his cock spurts string after string of his release, straight into your throat, cock twitching as you milk him – his moans only enticing you further as you swallow every last drop. Your tongue licks at his crown as you give his shaft languid pumps and his head falls forwards, mouth parted in awe as he rides the bliss you’ve just bestowed upon him. He’s absolutely wrecked but he doesn’t want you to stop – not even as his body cringes in oversensitivity and he’s whimpering, the hand in your hair tugging slightly as he pulls you away. He stares at you, intently.

“That was so good, baby. You’re so good,” he tells you, fingers caressing at your scalp.

“Koo,” you whisper, gasping slightly as he stands up, holding you by the arms as you follow and your knees give out once your feet touch the ground.

“Yes, baby?” His voice is low as he walks you backwards until your hands grip at his desk, one of his legs snaking between yours and pushing them apart until you’re sitting on top of the cold surface.

“I-I like to be good. For you,” your voice shakes, demeanour taking on a submissiveness that you find inevitable when he has you like this – legs trembling even though he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Is that so, baby?” You nod. “I know you do. And you are,” he says.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh.

“And you know what?” He asks, fingers cupping around your face.

“W-what?”

“Good girls get rewards.”

You moan, audibly and loud, right in his face – lips parting as his grip around your jaw tightens. “Yes, please. I want you. I want you so bad,” you cry.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes.”

He brings your face closer to his, lips pressing against yours in a needy, sloppy kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth and licking at your own as your teeth clink, heads leaning to the side. So wanting – so deeply surrendered to your impulses and the very root of your desires.

It lasts a good minute, the two of you bubbled up in your little world – the same one where boundaries come to die and slow takes on a new form. Where little exists besides you and him.

And the way it starts – slowly, tentatively – is not the same way it ends, as you’re abruptly taken out of the moment. The bubble bursting in a split second as both your phones ding repeatedly, the baby monitor notifying you Soori is in the early stages of waking up, signalling you have approximately three minutes to make it to the nursery before she’s fully awake.

“Fuck.” You say, hit with reality.

“It’s okay. I’ll go get her, don’t worry.” He reassures, his hand on your face taking on a softer touch.

“Okay. I’ll be right there in a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says before placing a soft peck to your cheek.

Slow is hell, yes. Even when it’s heavenly.

You do as he says and take your time in the bathroom. You comb through your hair, brush your teeth and even re-apply your mascara; you’d made a mess of it with his cock down your throat and the hefty splash of cold water you threw on your face as to calm down the buzz that still ran through your body.

The ache between your legs beats you, though. No idea on how to even begin to tame it down. At least not in an appropriate way.

You stare at the mirror – finally presentable from the outside but a whirlwind of chaotic sexual frustration on the inside that doesn’t really escape your eyes. You try to remember the breathing exercises feel-the-tingle-in-your-core lady has been trying to teach you for the past three days. They work – your heart rate finally calming down and breathing steading back to normal in inhale and exhale motions. You still feel the tingle in your core, though – and not the spiritual one.

When you finally make it out of the bathroom, the house feels eerily quiet and you assume Jungkook and Soori are in the kitchen. You fix your dress, taking a deep breath as you begin to make your way to them.

“Heeey,” Jungkook coos at Soori when you step into the kitchen. “Look who’s here, baby.”

Her big, round eyes are red and she sniffles back some crocodile tears, rubbing her little hands on her eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong, princess?” You say, rounding the kitchen counter until you’re finally face to face with her.

“She woke up a little fussy. I think she had a nightmare.” Jungkook explains, lips smooching at her temple.

“Oh, no, baby girl. Do you want cuddles and Animal Planet?” You ask her and the soft of your voice is enough for her to fall straight into your arms. You hug her to you, gently swaying her from side to side when she nuzzles her head in your shoulder.

“I’ll be right there; I’m just heating up some noodles.” He tells you and you nod, making your way to the living room.

You get her nice and comfy, propping her up in the middle of the couch in her favourite pillow – the one she used to lay on when she was smaller, having now outgrown the habit as she becomes more mobile. She loves it nonetheless, though, and she lays on her side, face nuzzling against the plush fabric as she brings her pacifier to her mouth. Her fingers play with her little ears – something you notice she does to soothe herself.

You turn the Animal Planet on, relieved when you see today’s special is a documentary on sea turtles. Soori friendly – no lions devouring emus, as much as she seems to not mind it. You run your fingers over her silky hair and smile when she sighs at the feel of the comforting gesture.

Jungkook joins the two of you a minute later, sitting next to Soori as he watches the documentary intently – seemingly immersed in the importance to preserve the sea turtles. He slurps his noodles and you’re ashamed to admit the noise is doing you zero favours – everything just triggering that ball of tension in your gut.

“So,” he whispers when he’s sure Soori is fully engrossed in The Animal Planet. “Slow is hard.”

You scoff at the irony his sentence holds and Jungkook can tell you’re wind up. Not necessarily angry, just… frustrated.

“Yeah, you don’t say.” Is all you return, eyes still glued to the screen of the big TV.

“Are you… okay?” He asks and you hate how it immediately registers in your brain – what he’s referring to.

“Yeah, but can we please not talk about it?”

He doesn’t miss the way your thighs rub together for a second before you’re crossing your legs, breath picking up a notch. It sends a jolt straight to his gut and then south.

“I’m sorry, ___,” his voice sounds fallen and when you meet his gaze you notice his face is, too.

“It’s not your fault, Gguk. It’s okay. I just think that, maybe we should… figure this whole slow thing out because we seem to be awful at following whatever unspoken rule it entails.”

“Yes. Yes, I agree. That’s why I was thinking that maybe… we could go on a date.” His words are firm, like he just came up with the world’s brightest idea.

“A date?” Your voice gets that dreamy nature that characterizes you so well and, in that moment, he genuinely believes he has, in fact, come up with the world’s brightest idea.

“Yes. We said we wanted to get to know each other. I don’t think we’ve had much time to do that. And I want to do that – so, so badly, ___.”

“Me too.” You admit. “But I mean… how will that help? If anything, I think it’d just worsen our… situation regarding the slow.”

“I think that it’s a good step towards the right direction. Also, a good opportunity to actually take it slow – just enjoy each other’s companies. I like talking to you. I can do that for one evening, no problem.” You don’t miss the way his features soften, cheeks blushing at his sudden outburst of honesty.

You smile. “Okay, we can do that.”

“Why don’t you come over on Saturday? Soori goes down at 7. You can come over at 7:30 – I’ll cook.”

“Noodles?” You tease.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“Done deal.”

Saturday rolls around faster than you’d expect considering the things we look forward to the most seem to be the furthest away. But, to your luck, this one breezes in – welcomed by none other than Elton John himself as he serenades you into wakefulness.

“Elton,” you say, still half asleep. “I’m going on a date today.”

You have a smile on your face, bringing the covers over you and cozying up in the warmth of your bed.

Your eyes snap open.

“Elton, I’m going on a date today.”

This time the statement takes on a less dreamy pitch. In fact, you sound straight up terrified. You can feel the butterflies take on their routine flight in your tummy – fluttering more erratically than usual.

The thing about Jungkook is that he has a way of making things feel so right. Your mind automatically eases itself around him better than with any failed attempt at meditating. When he says things, it’s always in such a reassuring manner – you used to think it was just the dad in him coming out. But in reality, you’ve realized he simply embodies confidence through and through.

When he suggested you two go on a date you didn’t hesitate once. And even though you tried to suppress it, you felt like a silly little schoolgirl at the prospect of seeing him in such context. On a date. Just the two of you.

It still feels right. So good. You’re excited, you are. But you also can’t help but feel nervous.

“Oh God, Elton. Help,” you don’t necessarily know why you’re asking for help but you’re also talking to Elton John, who keeps blasting Tiny Dancer through the speakers of your phone so, the cause was hopeless from the beginning. “Oh my God. What do I wear?”

You sulk for a minute longer in bed, finally deducting that the prior does no good.

It’s just a date.

In his home.

The one you’re highly familiar with.

It’s just Jungkook.

Fuck. It’s Jungkook.

You get out of bed, giving your head a little shake to finally wake your body up, deciding to finalize it with some coffee. You can smell it already – only a few steps away in your tiny, cozy kitchen, brewed by the heavenly hands of your loving best friend.

“Lucy Lu-” the sight before you cuts your song short as you yelp in surprise, definitely not expecting to see a shirtless Jimin behind your kitchen counter, coffee pot in hand.

“___!” He greets, shooting a big smile your way as he pours some coffee into your favourite jar, making you frown.

“Hi…,” you shouldn’t be surprised, he is dating your best friend after all. But you’re (secretly) dating his and this is all too close for comfort.

He’s talking but you’re not listening, too enthralled by your own train of thought. You only register his last words. “– Like Ggukie.”

“What.” It’s not a question.

“Um… your coffee? Iced Americano, right?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes. Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You say as you take the coffee from his hands, your favourite jar back in your possession.

“Headed to the library?” He asks, sipping on his warm cup of coffee.

“Yeah, in a little bit.”

“Was that Tiny Dancer I heard?”

“Yup. It’s better than Marimba.”

“You do have a point there,” he gives. “What are you doing later? Wanna catch a movie with us?”

You don’t lie.

You hate lying.

Not because you think lies will send you straight to hell the way your mom made you believe when you were growing up.

Simply because you do it so badly.

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want to catch a movie with you guys.”

“Oh,” Jimin is confused and it’s evident all over his face. You’ve never been anything but nice to him – in fact, at times it takes him by surprise just how nice you are.

“Yeah, sorry. I just hate the movies.” You add, because of course, why not make it worse with another awfully executed lie. Who hates the movies?

“Oh. Well, we can do something else? Maybe grab some dinner? Drinks? There’s this new pizza place Lucy has been wanting to try-”

“No, I’m… tired. From the week. I think I’ll have an early night tonight. Thank you for the offer though!” You slur the last of that sentence before you’re downing your coffee. Jimin winces, that’s definitely gonna kick in way too fast.

“No worries-”

“Gotta go get ready! Bye!”

You scurry the short steps back to your room, closing the door abruptly once you’re inside.

Jimin laughs.

He can’t help but wonder just why you would tell Elton John about your mysterious date tonight yet avoid telling him at all costs.

You and Jungkook’s front door have been through hell and back together. You can’t even begin to count the number of feelings your face has perfectly mirrored right in front of this very door.

Your eyes turn to the doorbell. You huff, laughing a little to yourself as you think of the first time you stood outside his home – in total awe, yet absolutely crucifying his use of top-notch technology on something so mundane like a doorbell.

You feel nervous. But you also feel so, so happy.

You don’t understand just why it’s taking you so long to press your finger into the screen and ring for him.

Because the anticipation is sweet, your heart tells you. Because you put on your favourite dress tonight – just for him. Because waiting the minute between ringing the doorbell and finally seeing him is going to be torture in the best way possible. Because you could write ten thousand poems on this moment alone.

You ring on the doorbell.

You let out a long exhale, swaying back and forth a little as you wait.

Your aforementioned prediction was wrong. It takes him much less than a minute to open his front door.

“Hi,” you tell him, voice sweet and an even sweeter smile following.

He doesn’t care that he’s probably acting a fool right now, just standing there – staring. He does it anyways. You look so beautiful. So soft and gentle. Your dress is silky, a pastel green colour that looks so good with the tan of your skin. It falls past your shoulders, tying at the middle of your chest. It’s a bit shorter than the ones he’s used to seeing you in and your duality hits him once again. Your hair cascades over your shoulders in soft curls – also a new sight for him.

He can’t help it when he speaks his mind.

“You are so beautiful.”

It’s not you look so beautiful in Jungkook’s book. No. You’re just beautiful and he wonders why he doesn’t greet you like this every day.

“So are you,” you tell him, a soft giggle passing your lips as you grow shy at his words.

His dress shirt is white and clean, but it takes on a more relaxed feel with the collarless fit and the soft blue of his jeans.

“Come in,” he says, stepping to the side as you walk inside his home. He notices you’re holding a knitted, yellow mesh bag. “What’s in there?”

“Oh!” You begin, excitedly. “I got Soori some books from the library. These are great to learn new words. And I got us dessert.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss against your lips, growing soft over the fact you still think about Soori, even when today is about you two.

“You’re welcome. Do you like peaches?”

“Yes, why?”

“Peaches and cream!” You say, bringing the bag closer to his line of vision as he makes out the plump shape of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re a fruit for dessert type of person.”

“Hey, they’re in season.” You argue, that pout he loves back on your lips. “Plus, don’t even start with me. You’re a cheese for dessert type of person.”

“What’s wrong with cheese for dessert?”

“I’d try to explain it to you but it’s a lost cause considering you’re also a lounge set type of person.”

He laughs, loud and airy, making your heart flutter at having that effect on him.

“I’m a sweet things for dessert type of person.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You joke as you follow his lead to the kitchen, hand in his. “It smells so good. What’s for dinner, Chef?”

He clears his throat. “Crispy honey orange glazed salmon.”

You gasp. “Oh me, oh my.”

“With my famous oven roasted rosemary potatoes,” he says, walking you closer to the oven so you can see them cooking. “Oh. And a kale and walnut salad.” He winks.

“Oh my God, you can actually cook.”

“It comes naturally,” he brags. “Well, that and a hidden passion for The Cooking Channel.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. Like me any less for it?”

You chuckle, walking closer to him. “Not one bit.”

Your kiss is soft, like your arms in his hands when they caress your skin. And for the first time since you’ve agreed on slow, Jungkook actually enjoys it. It makes something jump at his insides when he thinks about how it feels like tonight, he has all the time in the world with you.

“I thought we could eat outside? The weather’s so nice.”

“I’d love that.”

You help him plate the food – garnishing it a little the way Lucy has taught you and he gasps in surprise, genuinely paying attention as you ramble on about the wonders of little green leaves and how you like your food more when it’s photogenic.

“Please, stop reminding me you grew up with the internet,” he tells you, closing his eyes dramatically as you tell him about your secret food rating Instagram account.

“Do you like me any less for it?” You ask, mimicking his previous words.

“Not one bit,” he kisses you. “But stop reminding me.”

You laugh. “Let’s eat, dad. You’re lucky I don’t rate my friend’s foods – you’d be breaking under pressure right now.”

Even though he laughs at your remarks he doesn’t miss the way you say friends.

He doesn’t know exactly what feelings the word stirs inside of him but he finds himself pondering on it for a little longer than usual. Technically, he is your friend. It’s a twisted thought, all things considered, but he can’t really deny it.

Why does it make him feel slightly uneasy, then?

The set-up is simple but you don’t miss the romantic atmosphere that clouds upon the space.

Jungkook’s backyard is illuminated by dim, yellow lights. Besides the blue water of the pool that you can make out at the far end, not a lot picks up colour, enclosing the two of you in a comforting darkness. Two tall, white candles sit in the middle of the table – shining direct light onto the two of you, shadows dancing with the flames.

The food is delicious and the wine is rich with hints of sweet cherry and even though you’ve never gravitated towards red it slowly becomes your favourite – forever tied up to this memory.

“Why literature?”

Your answer comes without hesitation. “Why love?”

“Is all literature a work of love?”

“To some extent.”

“But some of it is about pain. Life. Loss. Anger.”

“All emotions romanticised in order to tell a story.”

He looks at you for a moment but you don’t shy away from his gaze once. He likes the courage you take on when you talk about the things you love.

“Do you write about me?”

That does it, eyes lost for a second before they fixate on the slow dancing flame of the candle in front of you.

“I do.”

“In what romanticised emotion?”

“All of them,” you sigh.

He smiles. “I wish I could write about you.”

“Why?”

“I think I’m understanding it now. The need to encapsulate memories in order to not forget them.”

“When a memory is good it never truly fades.”

“Yes, but when it feels like this you want to hold on to every last detail.”

“I’ll write about it. I’ll write enough words for the two of us.”

After dinner, you two take on different tasks to tidy up the kitchen as fast as possible. It’s nice, the conversation you had at the table never lost – just a more casual continuation of it.

Jungkook is funny, kind. At times he speaks with the wonder and softness of a weightless soul and your heart is still trying to digest that information – the notion that he is so lovable tugging at every last string.

“Wanna watch a movie as we eat your peaches and cream?” He asks, passing you a clean plate as you dry it with a towel.

“Keep up the attitude and I will eat them all.”

He chuckles. “What do you want to watch, baby?”

“Something scary.”

That takes him by surprise. “What?”

“Yeah!”

You begin reciting all of your favourite horror movies to him – a keen interest for the psychological thrillers.

“Ooh, ooh! Should we watch The Orphan? It’s about- no. I’m not telling you. I’ll ruin the whole thing,” you say.

He stares at you for a minute, slightly dumbfounded. “We can watch whatever you want.”

“The Orphan it is!”

Jungkook has never felt more on edge throughout a movie in his entire life.

And for someone who claims to love spooky movies (your words, not his) you sure do jump and shriek a whole lot through the majority of the film.

But, like a teenage boy, Jungkook enjoys how scared you get – taking advantage of it and wrapping you in his arms, keeping you safely tucked in his hold.

Your legs are thrown over his lap and your head rests on top of his chest and you’re all over. You’re all over and he loves it all. The way you smell and the way your voice resonates on his chest as you comment on the movie. The way your skin shivers when his hand moves mindlessly over your arm at times. It all feels so good to Jungkook. So right.

By the time the credits roll in, darkening the screen and the room, your bodies are tangled together. As the movie reached its climax, Jungkook’s body had fallen on top of yours, legs lacing around your own and head resting on top of your chest as your fingers ran through his scalp gently.

“That was wild. You watch this for fun?” He asks, body not moving an inch, completely melted under your touch.

You yawn, giggling a little at the way his words are muffled by the way his cheek presses on your chest. “Hey, you got really into it towards the end.”

“Yeah, because the orphan was a thirty-two-year-old, whack-out-of-her-mind loonie!” He looks up at you. “You sleepy?”

“A little. I should probably head home.”

“How are you getting home?”

“I’m taking the bus,” you tell him, fingers falling from his hair to his cheek.

“It’s late…,” his face softens. “You can always stay here.”

You pause for a second. “You sure?”

He is. Tonight proved a lot to Jungkook. New depths attached to his feelings that he slightly shies away from – the intensity throwing him aback. But nonetheless he gets a glimpse of them and at surface level. He enjoys them.

It also proved that you guys can be close without tempting slow in a dangerous way. I mean just look at the two of you – bodies lost in one another without crossing any lines.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives you a tender smile, his warmth leaving you as he gets up from the couch, hand outstretched for you to take. “Come on, let’s get you some warm clothes. We can watch The Cooking Channel to rub The loonie Orphan off.”

You stand in the middle of his closet, a bit overwhelmed by its grandness. You are shit at dimensions but you’re pretty sure it’s bigger than your room.

“How many black and white shirts can one person own?” You ask, eyes widening as he changes into sweatpants and an oversized white shirt.

“Just pick something already, baby.”

“You pick. And it’s okay if you want to give me your least favourite shirt – I’ve done that with my friends, too.”

There goes that word again.

He brushes it to the side, standing in front of the tall railings and rummaging through his clothes

“Here,” he says, passing you a soft, white hoodie and matching sweatpants.

“Thank- is this Balenciaga?”

“___, just put it on. Let’s go to bed.”

You oblige, discarding your dress and stepping into the sweatsuit, rolling the waistband a couple of times until they don’t fall around your hips, basking in the coziness of the oversized sweatshirt around your frame.

He stands in front of the sink, passing you an extra toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste over the bristles before he does the same with his own.

You two just stand there, brushing your teeth and staring at each other on the reflection of the mirror, smiling quickly before both your eyes divert – suddenly shy at the intimacy of the action.

He’s done first, pressing his lips on your cheek before he exits the bathroom, letting you know he’s going to check on Soori one last time before bed.

Once you’re done, you rinse your mouth, staring at yourself in the mirror for a couple of seconds. If you let it, your mind will roam to faraway places, digging into every corner this moment holds. You don’t let it. Simply taking it for what it is and letting yourself enjoy it.

His bed is big and you don’t really know which one is his side so, a little dubious, you opt for simply sitting right in the middle of it, crossing your legs as you fidget with your fingers – waiting for him.

When Jungkook steps inside his bedroom, he makes a mental note to remember this sight.

He likes it a little too much, he realizes.

You smile at him when you see him and he returns it, walking towards the bed.

“Which is your side? Are you a one side of the bed person or an in the middle or a don’t really care-” you’re rambling, a tell-tale sign that lets Jungkook know that you’re nervous. He laughs, making you pout as you stop talking.

“Left side. You?”

You shrug. “I like the middle.”

His knees sink into the mattress as he walks himself closer to you.

“It’s all yours,” he says, coming to hover over you.

“T-thanks,” you look up at him, eyes meeting his.

“You’re welcome,” he tucks a strand of fallen hair behind your ear, his touch sweet. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re really hot.”

Your honesty makes him laugh. “Is that all there is to me?” He teases.

You roll your eyes. “It’s not and you know it.”

His smirk is playful, contrasting the sweetness in his features. “You’re really hot, too.”

“Jungkook…”

“Tell me, baby.”

“I-I think we should play The Cooking Channel a-and go to bed n-now.”

He inches closer as you shuffle your body backwards slightly.

“Or what?”

“I’m not gonna want to stop.”

Out of every answer he could’ve expected the boldness of your choice of words falls far in the list. He raises one eyebrow at you, cocking his head to the side.

“I like you, ___. I like you so much.”

“I like you, too.”

“And I don’t want to stop either.”

Your hands fly to his stomach, fisting at the soft fabric of his shirt with force, pulling him towards you until he falls in between your legs, arms quickly holding his body from crashing against yours as they press on the mattress at either side of your head.

Once he’s got a steady hold on his body, he lowers his head to yours, lips finally finding your own – kissing you slowly and deep, savouring every stroke of your tongue as it finds his. Your fingers tangle on his dark locks, using the leverage to push him closer to you, every touch letting him know just how much you want him – how much you need him.

He pulls away, smiling a little at the way you whine when he does. His hands fly to the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up as you pull your arms over your head, making it easier for him to slide the fabric off of you. You’re not wearing a bra and it’s a pleasant surprise – one he doesn’t waste a second on as his lips close around your nipple, hand kneading at your other breast. Your back arches, a fistful of hair in your hold as you tug harshly, lost in pleasure. He hisses at the feeling, a deep groan following as he circles his tongue over the perk flesh.

Your hips raise from the bed, rutting into his as your desire begins to unravel further – a build up so slow until it snaps, bursting inside of you all at once, manifesting all through your body as it grows headier for him. He moans as your hips push into him once again, lowering his body to yours and pushing until you can feel every inch of him – legs spreading wider as you chase that friction, feeling his big cock thickening against your clothed pussy. You can feel his impressive girth and length even over the layers and the contact, paired with his incessant assault on your tits, has you moaning and squirming under him.

“Jungkook- please,” you beg, hazy minded.

He looks up at you, dark eyes meeting yours. “What do you want, baby? Tell me.”

“Y-you, please. Just- I need you.”

“You got me, baby.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, his body begins to lower – lips attached to your skin as they travel from your chest, down your stomach that caves in at the feeling of his tongue as he trails a path of open-mouthed kisses until they finally reach just above the waistband of his sweatpants. His grin widens as he notices the scrunched-up fabric. You look down at him, wishing you could humour him yet too lost in how the sight of him between your legs like that will be engraved in your mind forever. You whimper – he looks so sinful, tongue running over his bottom lip as his eyes darken. Your hips buck involuntarily.

“Easy, angel.” He says, the timbre of his voice so deep it has you clenching around nothing.

You nod, lost for words as the anticipation builds up, making you grow excited as his fingers hook inside your pants. He brings your legs up as he comes to stand back on his knees, tugging at the fabric until they’re finally off and he’s discarding them, throwing them mindlessly to the side. Your legs are outstretched over his torso and his head turns to the side before he’s kissing your calves. Your chest flutters at the tenderness of the action, that gentleness never leaving him.

His hands run down the back of your thighs, sending goosebumps all through your body as you fidget under his touch, a faint whimper falling past your lips. He places your legs back on the bed gently, feet pressing on the mattress as your thighs fall open instinctively. He stares at you and there’s something in his gaze you’ve never seen before – a hunger that intimidates you, making you shy away from his darkening eyes, closing your legs quickly.

“Why do you hide, baby?” His hands rest on your knees, thumb running over them softly.

“I’m- embarrassed,” you say timidly.

“Why?”

“I-I’m so wet.”

“Oh, baby.”

He doesn’t miss another beat as his hands work your legs open, falling back to the bed on his stomach when you comply. You’re wearing a pair of silky white panties and once he comes face to face with your covered mound, he can see the wet patch that adorns the middle. He bites his lip, running a knuckle over it tentatively, pressing softly on your clit. He’s pleased when you squirm, hips circling under his touch, the prettiest moan escaping your lips.

“Let me fix it,” he says, looking at you.

You nod, carding your fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little as the air grows thick around you. Your panties follow the same fate as the rest of your clothes, joining the pile somewhere on his floor.

Jungkook moans. He moans when your legs open up for him, pussy in full display – lips plump and glistening from your build up arousal. His lips press over your slit in a soft but firm kiss that escalates as his tongue comes past it and licks a wet stripe right over your entrance all the way up to your clit, parting your folds open for him.

“Oh my God,” you cry, hands flying up, fist closing around the pillows.

You taste so fucking sweet on his tongue, your juices already dripping down his chin as his lips close around your clit, sucking on it until your legs are closing around his head and your hips are rutting against his face. He pulls away, a lewd sound resonating past his lips as your little nub throbs at the loss of his mouth. He parts your legs further, giving you a warning look as he does so. He settles back down between your legs, making you yelp as his tongue teases your entrance, pressing further with every lick between your folds.

“You’re so sweet, taste so fucking good,” he says, mouth never leaving your cunt.

“A sweet things for dessert type of guy, huh?” You muster one final ounce of wittiness before the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you has you crying out in pleasure.

“The sweetest fucking thing.” The sound of his voice right against your pussy mixed with the squelching as he attacks your heat doubles as pornographic, and has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

He adds a second finger after a couple of pumps, mercilessly sucking on your clit – your walls swallowing his digits further with every stroke of that spot inside of you that has you dangerously close to the edge.

His fingers slide out of you, coming up to spread your pussy open for him until he can see your clit pulsing, swollen and exposed for him. You whine when he softly blows over it, the feeling so intense you’re afraid it’ll have you cumming in a second if he keeps it up. But Jungkook shows mercy – lowering his head and closing his lips perfectly around your engorged clit. You can feel it so much more intensely, every quick suck as he keeps your folds parted, giving him better access to that bundle of nerves.

“Oh- oh my fucking God. I’m gonna cum- fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

You’re a mess, feeling delirious as you feel your body tensing at the wake of your orgasm.

“Do it, baby. Cum all over my tongue,” he coaxes, shoving two fingers inside of you as he wastes no time hooking up and pressing them against your g-spot as he feels your walls fluttering around them. “Cum all around my fingers.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sudden intrusion and it’s about a second later that your orgasm spreads all through you in waves – pleasure settling in different parts of your body as you shake, pussy closing around his fingers in fast little pulses, so intensely he can feel it against his tongue. His movements never stop, pace only picking up as you cum, hard and loud.

“T-too much,” you say, body twitching as you begin to come down.

His body settles back between your legs, hands softly cupping your cheek as your body finally relaxes, falling into that post orgasmic bliss. He kisses you – slow and sweet, adding to the overall high that takes over you. You feel so good – every inch of your skin tingles slightly, mind still cloudy from the pleasure.

“Jungkook,” you purr and he hums against your mouth. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck, baby. Those dirty words don’t match that pretty face,” he says, face falling to the crook of your neck as he breathes heavily.

There are many things Jungkook wants to do to you right now. About a thousand different ways he’d take you – especially when you sound so compliant, totally surrendered to him. But right now, he just wants you close. He wants to feel your body under him, to be able to run his hands all over it as he elicits those pretty sounds from your lips. He wants to be able to swallow them all.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he hums against your lips.

“Off,” you say, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

His body comes up, weight resting back on his feet as he takes his shirt off. He looks so soft like this – so dreamy. You don’t miss the way his demeanour changes, how that smirk turns into a lazy smile as he runs his hand down your leg until it lands back on your cunt. He fucks two of his fingers into you, the action has more intention this time as he scissors them inside of you, spreading your walls open for his cock. He bites his lip as he watches your face contort in pleasure, his dick jerking inside its restraints in anticipation.

He pecks your lips as his fingers slide out of you, crawling towards the edge of the bed as he comes to a stand. Your arm stretches in his direction, missing him already, pout forming at your lips as you beckon for him.

He chuckles softly as he bends over, rummaging through the second drawer on his nighstand. He stands back up, closing it with his knee as he throws a single foil packet and a bottle of lube on the bed.

You reach for both, your fingers playing with the condom wrapper as your eyes never leave him – watching intently as his fingers hook on the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down alongside his black Calvin’s, promptly kicking them out of the way before he’s crawling back to you.

He finds that spot back between your legs again, eyes locking with yours before he’s kissing you. You lean your head to the side, happy with how familiar you’ve grown with the rhythm of his lips. It’s intoxicating – the way it feels. So addictive as you push your tongue past his lips, running it over the back of his teeth, biting on his lip, sucking on his tongue. You’re greedy – needing to feel around him all.

He pulls away, settling back on his legs as he reaches for the bottle of lube, lathering some down the length of his middle and ring finger before he’s pushing them inside of you once again.

He presses on that spot, particularly sensitive after your previous orgasm and you hiss, hand closing around his wrist. “Stop, stop. You’re gonna make me cum again.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” His lips tug at the side of his mouth in a loopy grin.

“I want to cum around your big cock, Jungkook.”

“Fuck,” he presses on your spot again, “I love your filthy little mouth.”

You moan, eyes closing shut as you frantically pat on the bed at your side, looking for the condom you’d discarded on the sheets. Once you finally find it, you bring it to your mouth, pressing down on the round shape of the latex as you tear it open with your teeth.

“C’mere,” you purr and his body falls on top of yours once again, fingers still thrusting in and out of you slowly.

He whimpers when your small hand wraps around his cock, eyes falling to take in the sight. You pump at his shaft languidly with one hand, collecting his precum and spreading it around his length before your other one lowers, rolling the condom on, pinching at the tip slightly as you secure the latex around his base. He reaches for the bottle of lube once again, popping it open with his teeth before he lathers a generous amount onto his cock and down your slit, spreading it with his fingers. You’re so wet it’s starting to feel uncomfortable, but you know you’re going to need all the help you can get as your snug walls accommodate to his size.

His body lowers to yours, legs opening your own further apart as he lines his cock over your entrance.

“Ready, angel?”

You nod, arms snaking around his waist. “Go slow,”

“I will, baby.”

He kisses you one last time, lips hovering above yours as he begins to sink the head of his cock inside of you. You wince against his lips, the burn spreading all through your core as you take the first couple of inches. His thumb circles around your clit, easing the tension that builds around your body, helping you relax around him.

“You’re s-so big, Koo.” Your voice is a faint whisper that gets lost in between soft mewls.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So fucking good for me.” His voice is soft but strained and you can tell it’s taking all the strength in him not to ram into your tight cut as your walls swallow him in with every inch he sinks into you.

He’s so thick and you feel so full, arms tightening around his waist and toes curling at the sharp pain of having him fully inside of you as he bottoms out.

“Oh, f-fuck. You feel so good around me, fuck.” He praises, lips pressed to your cheek as his breath quickens.

You kiss him, hips raising up after a while to meet his and he hisses into your mouth at the feeling, pulling out slowly only to thrust back into you as he begins to spread you open with his cock with every push and pull. The pain starts to dance around with pleasure as his pace picks up, both your moans getting lost in one another’s as his forehead presses onto yours – face to face with every single expression and every little sound his thrusts emit out of you.

“I l-love your cock. I love your cock s-so much, Jungkook. Fuck- God,” your words drag out, pausing every time you feel him impossibly deep, his tip hitting against that spot perfectly and you moan out his name every time his cock pistons into you, pressing against it.

Your little pussy is so wet and warm – only getting tighter the more Jungkook fucks you open and it dawns upon him in that very moment that he’s officially tasted you, has you in a way that will make it very difficult not to crave you constantly. Want you, always.

“Ffuck, baby. Mine. This pussy was made for me.”

His words make you free-fall right into your second orgasm of the night – ripping inside of you so suddenly and with such ferocity it has the both of you gasping. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, throwing your head back in utter pleasure. He groans as he feels the way your fingernails press on the warm skin of his back, the sharp pain trailing all the way down until your hands land on his ass, pressing him deeper into you.

“Fuck, what was that-” He hisses in total disbelief, so lost in your pleasure. You clench around him once more as he sinks deep into you. “F-fuck I’m gonna cum, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Cum for me, please. Please.”

Your eyes are glazed over, tears falling from the corners as you look up at him. He loves how receptive you are – how pleasure takes on every part of you. He loves how your face mirrors exactly what he’s doing to you and he loves the little whimpers that fall in between your words when you’re begging for him. When you speak your mind – filthy little words coming past your red lips, so swollen from your teeth and his sinking into them.

You watch him, fighting with your heavy eyes to stay open as his face scrunches up in pleasure and a raspy moan leaves his lips, breaths coming out in frantic little puffs as he rides the waves of his orgasm and spills into the condom – so much fucking cum you swear you can feel it.

“Oh my God,” he speaks against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your body.

Your fingers play with the soft hairs at the back of his neck, your other hand running lazily over his back as his body grows limp on top of yours. He feels heavy but you don’t mind it, enjoying his warmth – wanting nothing more than to have him this close for as long as you can.

You smile, listening to the little sounds he makes as his body relaxes and sleep begins to tempt him. He’s so warm, so soft as he lets you hold him like this. It almost feels like his two bare hands were taking a hold of your heart, cradling it ever so tenderly and squeezing it all at the same time.

He’s still inside of you and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s going to have to pull away. So, he lets himself enjoy whatever eternity those seconds hold, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck – lips right against it and all it takes is a soft pout for them to press on the soft skin.

He feels safe in your arms.

It’s then that you realize that all this time you were separating two things that walked hand in hand, together.

Jeon Jungkook is peace.

And you welcome it.

what just happened lol? i’m fucking screaming. I truly hope u enjoyed!!!!!!!!! pls they’re falling in love right under our noses. in this country home of sex n love n magic. do let me know what u think bc i love loving on u guys back <3333333 thank u for making it this far w me! it means the world <3

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years

Text

Guardian angel?

***Reader Request***

Note: This request struck me in such a way that I wanted to really give it the old college try for them. Please, I hope that whoever you are, my anonymous friend, that you please begin to write! You have such a creative mind to have come up with this lovely, unique, and thoughtful prompt! Even if you just write a paragraph to get your feet wet, I’d be so happy to know that you did it! And please, if you haven’t already, feel free to send this prompt to other blogs that write TWD fanfiction, too! It may help you with your creative process, or it might simply help you feel joy to escape for a while inside more, and better, and different versions of it!

Perspective - 2nd person reader and 3rd person Daryl **the switches in perspective sometimes imply a time jump**

When - Quarry, pre-Rick

Relationships - Confused and protective Daryl x (therapist!) reader

Genre - pretty fluffy, but be mindful of the TWs

TWs - language, season 1 Merle doing his sexual harassment thing, and discussion and plot involving some mental health concerns

Word count - I ain’t gotta tell y’all nothing

Pronouns - she/her

You

“...Thank you for listening, sweety,” she whispers. The poor woman looks embarrassed. “I don’t know why I told you those things, it was silly of me – ”

“Why do you think that, Carol?” you cut in gently. “That you needing to get something off your chest and feel supported for a while is silly?”

She doesn’t answer anything at first. She just looks down at her hands and starts to absent-mindedly pick at her fingernails. “There’s no point to it, though, is there?” If her voice was telling the truth, she was near tears.

Gently again, you offer that “Maybe the point is that you simply needed to say something. And that’s a very big step, even if it seems small.”

Carol sniffs, then pecks a little kiss on your forehead before saying she needed to get back to ironing. “You know, I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to know you here. What you do for everyone makes life feel more bearable.”

“Same goes for you.”

She now shakes her head and waves it off in shame, saying that “I take care of the clothes and help cook when I’m not helping my girl get ahead on the homework she’ll never have to turn in.”

“Keeping clothing clean, fresh, and mended is important. It keeps us healthy and gives us a sense of normalcy. Cooking is necessary because eating is necessary,” you remind her with a wry grin. “And as for Sophia’s schoolwork, she needs that little anchor to how things were and that distraction that doing homework provides. And even if the world doesn’t improve soon, you don’t know when those things she’s learning will benefit her.”

At first Carol gets quiet again.“You know what?” she suddenly says.

“What?” Should you be worried? You wouldn’t think so coming from Carol, but...

“Ed has been hoarding some snacks in the glove compartment.” Then a look of peace spreads about her face and she smiles shyly. “Do you prefer oatmeal crème pies or cosmic brownies better?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re right. One of each, then,” she winks.

And before you can protest and remind her (again) that payment is not and never will be required, she holds up a hand, and with a good-humored shrug jokes that “I’d write you a check or wrangle up some cash for this therapy session, but I’m not sure the banks are open today.”

In all truth, you were happy to do it. Especially for someone in her situation.

And yes, one could argue that money was useless these days anyways, but so were the many other things that made money essential (even if that came with both good and bad). But you weren’t about to be calling in favors everywhere you’d tried to do good by offering your services. Everyone at the camp worked together to pull their weight, and this was your way of doing so.

Besides, the quarry camp has far fewer clientele than you used work with before the outbreak. You didn’t even mind having your work cut out for you due to the state of the world; it was your calling. The aspects of your personality that enabled therapy and psychology to come more naturally to you, you had augmented and worked hard to improve with your schooling and training. It gave you a sense of purpose and fulfillment, especially when you could see others growing and healing.

Looking at it objectively, you could also acknowledge without shame that you’d also entered into psychology because wanted to further understand some issues that you had of your own.

You’d always felt tranquil and at ease when you were helping others, yes, and that was a blessing. But every so often, you yourself suffered from panic attacks, nightmares, and night terrors. Those three also fed into each other, as is understandable when considering the nature of anxiety.

We all have something that we’re working on, or our loads to bear, do we not? Simply put, that was yours. It was something that you managed as best you could, for which you always were sure to pray, and for which you had been getting your own professional help before the outbreak.

One of the best ways you had discovered to manage symptoms was through swimming, actually. It was relaxing, and yet you could easily turn it into a workout and properly stress your body out in a controlled, healthy way. The stimulation from the water was enough to center you and ground you, but not too much to overstimulate and further induce upset. And this combined with the weightless sensation offered by swimming was able to ease your panic like nothing else.

And now, since the 24 hour gym with a pool was indefinitely closed, you swam the quarry. You then found that even the very natural, subconscious idea that there could be something in the water somehow aided you in relaxing. Maybe it was just the right amount of an adrenaline rush, perhaps? Especially considering that the quarry had no natural aquatic life, only those few species of fish added for fishing purposes and possibly from flooding in the area.

The human mind is fascinating, isn’t it?

The only catch was that your swims took place at night. Yes, you know, you know it is a risk. Maybe that was an irrational part of yourself, but you allowed it. And considering the perfectly smooth nature of the water, completely void of currents or waves, and that it was a relatively small body of water (even if fairly deep in parts), you accepted the risk and acted smart about it.

Plus, the moonlight and starlight were just as helpful to calming yourself when you’d had an attack. Moonlight was gentler where the sun could be harsh, and don’t even get started on the starlight. You’d never seen so many stars in your whole life! Without light pollution, the night sky was...indescribable. Words can’t do it justice. You could probably spend hours floating on your back just staring up into it.

Tonight you were scheduled for a swim. You practiced a regular routine, which is so important, and would go on extras as needed. And if today’s clear skies had anything to tell you about it, the visibility tonight for stargazing was gonna be out of this world. You couldn’t wait!

Daryl

Sure enough, he heard her get up in the middle of the night again. And sure enough, it was to the damn quarry lake again.

The first time it happened, that he saw her taking a night swim, he nearly yelped like a scared little puppy. The first thing that crossed his mind was that it was a chupacabra swimming for some reason (they were real, dammit), the second was that it was some kind of lake monster or maybe a seal lion or whatever (hey, dead people were walking around and eating the living like a damn horror movie, so why would a sea lion this far inland be too crazy?). The third was that it was a... a mermaid (and nah, no way in hell was he gonna admit that. Plus, he then saw that she had legs...).

And he didn’t want to shout out or nothing since she seemed like she was enjoying herself, so he kept quiet.

But he wondered what in the hell she was doing, swimming alone in the quarry in the dead of night. Crazy woman.

So he then...whatever, just sort of waited around to make sure she got out okay. Didn’t want anyone to have to wake up to a floating corpse.

Then the next time, courtesy of his being a damned light sleeper, he figured out what she was doing down there. He’d been awoken by a gasp, and then heard panting. Obviously, he froze and stopped breathing for a second, embarrassed as hell thinking that he’d overheard something sexual going on (or technically finishing up, he reckoned).

But then he heard a zipping noise belonging to a tent, and next the sound of footsteps heading away, towards the path leading to the quarry instead of towards another tent. And the panting hadn’t stopped, but instead sounded like it was coming from the same person who was walking away, with no other noises other than the cicadas and frogs and crickets. No other voices, no nothing, so he concluded that the person was alone and most likely had been alone.

So, he crawled out of his tent to check it out. Merle was out like a light, so he wasn’t worried about waking him.

Looking down the path, he’d recognized her by the way that she walked. “The little camp shrink,” Merle had nicknamed her. Dunno, she seemed okay enough. Most of the people here seemed to love her, that’s for sure.

So long as she was pulling her weight, he didn’t care. Anyways, he was pretty sure that Merle was still fixing to rob everyone eventually, so them having a shrink would probably be a good thing for after whenever they did that.

That idea still didn’t sit good with him, robbing these guys blind. He kinda, well...the camp seemed okay, is all. Had some decent people in it. And there were kids, c’mon like – stealing from kids was shitty!

Whatever, fuck it. What he thought didn’t matter, it’s about what needed doing. Or something like that. Right?

Anyways, right then he just wanted to know what in the hell was that woman doing at that hour. He half wondered if she was gonna go swimming again. And alone! Crazy woman, damn near acting like geek bait to wander around like that, and acting like ordinary bad luck bait to go swimming in the middle of the night!

So quietly, he followed her, and watched her sit by the water for a few minutes, almost like she was meditating or something.

Then she (shit, look away, Daryl, you ain’t a creep) took off her sleep pants and (c’mon, don’t) waded into the water in her tank top and underwear and (oh, for cyin’ out loud, woman) started swimming.

Guess it wasn’t a one-off thing. So he...stayed. Just to make sure she made it back in one piece. Crazy woman.

You

Lori was struggling over her dead husband and her new feelings with Shane. It was only natural to be confused, even if that fact didn’t lessen the pain. She’d been having marital problems with her husband, Rick was his name, and recognized how poorly she’d begun treating him. She’d even signed up for counseling to help her with those issues, actually, and was going to invite Rick for couples counseling to aid in that. Then he was shot and in a coma. And then he died.

Shane was struggling over the same. He was less open to sharing, as men tend to be, but he felt very conflicted by falling so hard for his dead friend’s (practically brother’s) widow, and so soon after his death. Granted, when someone is in a coma, it’s all relative; loved ones react with both grieving as if the person is already dead and with an assurance that the person will pull through. It was even more confusing for Shane since he’d immediately assumed a fatherly role over that little cutie, Carl. But the high stakes nature of the world these days offered a sort of catalystic agent to relationships of all kinds, be it romantic, platonic, familial. To fall hard and fast was a result of that, so certainly you understood Lori and Shane’s entanglement occurring, especially after they’d been close friends for so long.

Jacqui was struggling with the desire to go on, simply put. That troubled you the most since it was the highest risk. In the times that followed the outbreak, many people had acted to end their own lives rather than keep living in such a terrifying, scary, hopeless-seeming new world. But Jacqui was strong, and that she had reached out was a good sign. She was seeking help, and it gladdened you. And maybe it was a conflict of interest, but she also reminded you of your mother. You’d had more than one nightmare featuring Jacqui in recent weeks.

Andrea would discuss her guilt over not being around for a good deal of her little sister’s life. It was very understandable that they hadn’t been overly close given their age difference, and due to familial reasons. And now all of her fears and desires centered around protecting her little sister.

Theodore – he usually went by T-Dog, but when you two were talking, he asked to be called by his given name – was more open to sharing. He knew that he needed to let go of the worry about the elderly that he’d dropped off at the refugee center, and prayed daily about it, but knew that he needed extra help with accepting that he ultimately would not know what happened, and that he held no control over whatever did happen. He and you also discussed the mistreatment that Merle, another resident of the camp, often slung at him. Racism is such an insidious, monstrous thing.

If only Merle was open to growth and change. Or his younger brother. Those two had grown in a very unhealthy environment, no doubts there. But you had hope and trust that even they would change their tune. All it takes is for someone to realize that it’s okay to open up.

And Jim’s sporadic, little confessions about what had happened to his family were horrifying. The poor man. A lot of camp residents had horrifying stories, and all trauma is trauma, but you had to actively control your shudder when he whispered that the dead people had ripped his family, quite literally ripped them, from his arms.

Which lead you to tonight’s nightmare of Jacqui sacrificing herself and getting ripped from your arms and eaten alive while you were left untouched, even while surrounded by those things. You awoke feeling like you were being choked, then realized that you were experiencing sleep paralysis.

Finally, you were able to wake yourself up fully and were shaking so hard and hyperventilating so strongly that your extremities were numbing and your stomach felt cold and tingly due to the excess oxygen coursing through your bloodstream. You managed to grab your canteen and unzip your tent, wave to Dale on guard duty atop his RV, and stumble your way down to the lake as you practiced your grounding techniques and worked on controlling your breathing.

Daryl

She seemed to have a routine of it, so it ended up becoming his routine, too. He felt like an idiot for doing it – what, was he her guardian angel or something? And yet, he kept at it for over a month.

He just wanted to make sure she didn’t drown, okay? Plus the night sky was damned insane these days, all those stars and shit. And she looked sort of, dunno, nice out there when she swam. It was the way that she floated and looked up at the stars that did it. It made him feel like he could...breathe better, if that made sense?

And the old man had casually mentioned it today, actually. Daryl thought he was gonna get chewed out by him for thinking he was a creep, but Dale had just explained that it was simply something that Y/N needed to do to manage (manage what?), and that he was glad that someone else was keeping watch so that he didn’t have to keep leaving his post and climbing down off the RV to make his way down the hill and keep watch on her.

Dale also had the honest balls to admit “I was initially worried, to tell you the truth, that you may have begun following her to do something inappropriate. But whenever I checked, you were merely leaning against that tree with your arms crossed or sitting down on that rock as if you were in a waiting room.”

Maybe it was because he felt somewhat exposed that he snapped back “Somebody’s gotta make sure that bitch don’t drown.”

“Now Daryl, I know that you have a good heart; please refrain from using such a contentious word to refer to women.”

You

Tonight was a really bad one. Really bad. You had to keep at your grounding techniques and breathing exercises for far longer than usual. You’d even started to cry, but couldn’t even catch your breath long enough for your sobs to make noises. It felt like a heart attack this time, like you were dying. That hadn’t happened in a long time. It was really, really, fucking bad.

By the time you’d finally calmed down enough to regain feeling in your fingers and stop trembling, you were far too tired to swim. You trudged back up the hill and crashed in your tent without even zipping it up behind you.

Daryl

Well shit. Whatever happened to her tonight was bad as fuck. He was fairly certain it must’ve been nightmares, but like, shit. He’d never had a nightmare where he’d reacted like that. And he’d never seen her lose her cool like that. Shit, man.

Also, she forgot to zip up her tent, so he carefully tiptoed over and did that for her. Who wants to get eaten alive by mosquitos? No one.

Then he noticed Dale waving at him to come over up onto the RV.

“Everything all right, young man? What happened?” he questioned, his brows drawn close.

“Hell if I know. She didn’t even swim, she just seemed to be having a damn meltdown or somethin’.”

“The poor dear,” Dale sighed sadly. Then he patted Daryl’s shoulder and said “It’s very good of you to keep watch over her, son. Very good of you.”

You

It finally happened. You’d had a night terror and woke the whole camp. You played it off as saying there was a very big critter sneaking around your tent that had caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure which you preferred, the nightmares, where you would often remember them but could also consider them after the fact and try to understand them, or the night terrors, that you could barely ever remember but from which you awoke screaming.

You would’ve gone for a swim once the camp was back asleep, but you thought it best to stay in your tent and not risk waking anyone again, considering everyone would be on edge.

Daryl

“Annoyin’ ass bitch, screaming over a raccoon or some shit,” Merle slurred, still half-asleep, half-drunk, or both.

“Just go back to sleep, man, ain’t no big deal.”

“Why your panties in a bunch, little sister?”

“G’night, Merle.”

You

Carol and Jacqui made you coffee the morning after the night terror. “It’s a very refined combination of certified instant dark brew with genuine, powdered non-dairy creamer,” Carol shyly joked.

With a grin and a coy purse of her lips, Jacqui added “And some hot cocoa mix for a nice little somethin’ extra, baby.”

Also, after that morning the camp had cleaned up and took extra precautions to contain their food supplies to limit the amount of critters that might come sniffing about.

And then, you had four nights of peace after that night terror! You still kept your routine of swimming laps and doing centering exercises, but Lord how much better you felt getting some regular, undisturbed rest.

Glenn spoke to you about his family in Michigan and how he felt like he was a bad son for having lived so far from them. Then you two discussed ways to calm oneself and stay centered and focused while out on a supply run.

Amy spoke to you about a similar concern, that of her parents in Florida, and how she couldn’t stop wondering if they had somehow survived, too.

Miranda and her husband both spoke to you separately, each worrying about protecting their children and keeping each other safe, and what do if they, God forbid, lost one another or either of the kids.

And Dale spoke to you, too, but not about himself; about you. He’d noticed your late-night excursions but hadn’t wanted to cause you to feel self-conscious by bringing them up until now.

He then notified you that he would be there if you ever needed to talk yourself, and to of course be careful when you swam so as to not overexert yourself, even if you had “an extra guardian angel” watching over you. You hadn’t expected him to say something to that regard and it surprised you, but you found it very sweet.

Daryl

He was pretty sure he’d narrowed it down whatever was up with her to some nervous issue that gave her those nightmares, but at least she seemed to be having a better time with it this week. She still did those damn night swims, but he didn’t mind.

Okay, he minded a little because he was starting to get damned tired this week in particular, but it wasn’t so bad. He got to see the night sky looking all pretty and shit, and he got to see her floating in the water and gazing up at it, too, just as mesmerized.

He sure was glad that Merle wasn’t in his head or he’d call him a pussy for thinking girly stuff like that.

Whenever Merle asked where he was going if he caught him leaving, he would just grunt that he needed to take a dump and continue on his way.

You

Another nightmare. Another panic attack, though thankfully the attack itself was mild this time. Another walk down to the quarry while focusing on controlling your breathing and grounding yourself before you took off your clothes and slipped into the water.

You got winded after you’d done ten laps, so flipped onto your back to look at the stars. You decided that once you saw three shooting stars or until you yawned, whichever came first, you’d call it quits and head back.

Daryl

She was floating, and that usually meant that she was almost done with her swim. And good, ’cause he was extra tired tonight. Like, so damned sleepy. He kept doing that trap-pinch thing to keep himself from drifting off.

He wished that he could light up a cigarette to help him stay awake, but then she’d smell it and maybe see the flame or the burning end glowing in the dark and would freak and think he was creeping on her.

Whoa, shit, he just nodded off again. Okay, okay, she was still fine, still floating and moving her arms. But she was in an entirely different spot than she’d been before, which meant that he was out cold for at least a minute.

Dammit, Dixon, wake your lazy ass up and quit falling asleep like a damn baby. Drowsy dumbass.

You

“Well ain’t that the prettiest thing I done seen in a while.”

You froze, still ankle-deep in the water. God help you, you wished you were closer to your towel and clothes. And how had you not noticed him coming down the hill?

Well, you hadn’t been looking for anyone, duh. No one but Dale had ever caught you, and you’d been at this for a month and a half! Calm down, Y/N. Control your breaths. Use the panic to your advantage. You can hear better, see better, move faster, and you are physically stronger. Just control your breathing so you can feel better and think more rationally.

“If I’d’ve known this is what I’d find tonight, I would’ve had me a wash, sugar.”

“Merle. I don’t want you looking at me. Turn around so that I may put the rest of my clothing back on,” you told him, your voice somehow calm and clear.

“You ain’t my usual type, but those curves are delicious and you got a real pretty face. Ain’t harming no one by just lookin’ and appreciating, am I princess?”

“You are. It’s causing me distress, which is harmful even if not physically so. Turn around, Merle.”

“All right, all right,” he relented, and did indeed spin around. “But you should know that even without reaching down and rubbin’ it, I am so damned hard for you right now.”

“That you are feeling aroused is unwanted knowledge and I feel unsafe hearing you discuss it. Stop.”

“You sound tense, girl. A quickie could just what you need to chill a bit. You’re a shrink, so you know how it is. Say the word and I’ll get on my knees and eat –”

“Stop talking and go back up the hill. Now.”

“Just sayin’ it could be fun,” he whined, hands raised. “We could wake the camp together screamin’ this time for much more fun reason than gettin’ spooked by some little critter.”

“I will wake them up right now if you don’t back off!” you growled at him.

“Merle!” another voice suddenly shouted from the trees. “Get your ugly ass on out of here!”

Daryl

He’d fallen asleep? He’d actually fallen so asleep that he’d missed that his damned brother has showed up? Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what the fuck, man?

It was only when he’d heard her shout for someone to back off that he jolted back awake and saw what was happening.

Granted, he wasn’t sure what was happening, but he saw Merle (Merle!) standing at the shore and her standing a ways away, still ankle-deep in the water, and drew conclusions about the rest.

He may have been stupid, but not that stupid; he knew what his brother could be like. He didn’t think that Merle would go so far as to try anything, but he could still say some pretty nasty shit. Seemed to get off on it.

Cue Daryl to bark at for him to “Get your ugly ass on out of here!”

“There he is! So is this where you been sneakin’ off to, sly devil? Play with yourself while this fine little mama swims around?”

“I weren’t doing none of that shit, nasty bastard, now get out of here!”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” he sneered, rolling his eyes. “Even though you’re still a sweet little virgin, ain’t ya?” he added, low enough that probably only Daryl could hear. Merle then smirked and turned around, arms up in surrender. But not before he made sure to say “But hey, I would’ve been gentle with her.” A glance back at her with that shit-eating grin. “’Til you begged me to give it to you harder, ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Daryl had no idea why he was ready to curb stomp his brother’s cracker ass but holy shit, he was.

He watched as Merle made it up to the top before finally finding the wherewithal to say something to Y/N.

“He’s an asshole. M’sorry,” he mumbled to her.

You

Inhale through your nose for five seconds, exhale through your mouth for five seconds. Feel the water as it moves around your ankles. Smooth and cool. Feel the rocks and pebbles and sand underneath your feet. Rough, hard, and grainy. Hear the insects buzzing and chirping. Feel the breeze gently flowing. Smell the wet earth scent tickling your nose. Inhale for five, exhale for five...

“He’s an asshole. M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled to you, interrupting your centering exercise.

Your voice is unsteady as you reply “You aren’t at fault for his actions, Daryl, remember that.” Inhale. Exhale. “Thank you for convincing him to leave.”

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m not okay right now, but I will be soon,” you answer truthfully. You look up to see him facing away from you. That was unexpected, but very welcome.

“Here, um, lemme, um,” and he cautiously sidestepped towards your pile of clothes and your towel, picked them up, and sidestepped a little closer, arm extended. You grabbed the clothing and he immediately took a few steps away.

And he still hadn’t glanced in your direction even once. For that, you were grateful. You would have felt exposed and vulnerable even if you weren’t only wearing a sports bra and undies.

“Your brother alluded to you coming out here multiple times,” you spoke, toweling off and throwing back on your pajamas as fast as you could.

“I wasn’t doin’ nothing dirty, I just wanted to make sure – well, the first time it was an accident...” he trailed off.

“Why did you continue, Daryl?”

“You were swimmin’ alone. at night, in the dark. That’s risky.”

“That doesn’t quite answer my question.” You were using your professional voice, gently and calmly asking questions in an attempt to elicit an honest answer. “Why did you continue?”

“...Didn’t want you to drown. And you s-sometimes seemed all panicked and shit, and – I dunno, m’sorry, alright? Geez,” and with that, he started to scurry away back up the hill with his tail between his legs.

Before you could call out for him to slow down, he stopped and turned around to ask again “Wait, you’re okay now or do you need me to stay?”

Daryl

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Dumbass, idiot, asshole, Daryl!

‘Or do you need me to stay?’ Why in the hell would she want him to stay?

Sure yeah, he’d been worried and wanted to see if she was gonna pass out or some shit, but he wasn’t that stupid (you sure about that?) to think that she’d want any more of his help after finding out he’d been watching her swim all this time!

Damn it. He just didn’t want her to drown is all! How shitty would that be, to have someone as damned sweet and loved as she was to kick the bucket from something like that? He’d never forgive himself!

“Yes, please,” she answered him.

What?

“Having you stay for a few minutes and walk back with me would be very welcome, Daryl.”

What?

She did? It would?

“I have an anxiety disorder, and these swims are a good way to manage symptoms,” she explained, seemingly very at ease with the fact. Then she paused to do that breathing thing again. “It also aids in my recovery after a particularly bad attack or nightmare, or after a night terror, of course.” Next, she looked at him and smiled. “Please come back, I won’t bite.”

So he did, awkwardly, (why are you so damned awkward?) and he wondered why on earth she’d not want to pummel him in the gut and rip him a new one. Unless she was about to?

“Can I help, or...?” he nervously asked her.

“In all truth, yes. Please rub my hands? It’ll help get the sensation fully back faster.”

So he took her hands in his and did as she asked. Weird thing was it was almost as if her hands were...electric or some shit. In a good way.

“You seem worried, Daryl. What’s going through your mind?”

“A lot. What’s goin’ through yours?”

“A lot,” she chuckled, her breathing just about back to normal. “Mainly that you must be the ‘guardian angel’ Dale mentioned a few weeks ago.”

“He what?”

“He used to make sure I was okay when I had my swims. Tried to be discreet about it, but he’s isn’t the most spry sort,” she said with another smile, her body relaxing as she closed her eyes. When she did that, he felt...relaxed, too.

“Anyways, he mentioned that an ‘ extra guardian angel’ was looking out for me. He isn’t the most religious of people, so that struck me as unusual. But it makes sense now. He knows that you’ve been keeping watch, I presume?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered back. Damn, this bitch was – sorry! Damn, this woman was quick, he meant.

And kind. And nice to be around.

How had it taken him so long to figure that out?

You

“That’s also why I’m not angry with you, in case you were curious. If Dale trusts someone, so too will I. And everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“M’sorry,” he mumbles again.

The poor man’s self-esteem was in the gutter, just look at him.

“I forgive you for whatever you think you’ve done wrong,” you offer. “But I would really like to thank you, Daryl, very much. For putting your own rest on hold to make sure that I was safe.”

You start to slowly walk up the hill now, and he trudges beside you. You peer at him and wonder if he might share, even if a little, if you tried. “Was it difficult to have to stand up to your older brother like that, or would you say that that’s a facet of your relationship – that you can call each other out when needed?”

He frowns slightly when he considers your question. “Merle’s...I dunno, Merle’s sort of...”

And you feel warmth in your very soul when he shyly starts to open up.

247 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 4 years

Text

somewhere only we know | doyoung (m)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Mark!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he blinks, you are gone again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doyoung scoffs. “Now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always here,” you say.

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

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

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

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

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, y-you’re welcome.”

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

“Are there...many of you here?”

“Dryads?”

“Ah, yes...dryads.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t? Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We all send our best regards.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squint at him. “Safe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did the flowers help?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I...love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The time slips by blissfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe there was still a way to alter the course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in, then.”

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

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

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

“D…Doyoung is courting a dryad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you lain with this creature?”

“Sh-she’s not...I…”

“Have you? Do not lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand, Your Highness.”

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

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

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

The stress of it all nearly makes him physically sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The note.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guess he’ll just have to try again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, he is ready. He hopes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The next move he makes is a costly one.

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

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

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

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

“Mark?” you repeat, confused.

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

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

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

“Explain yourself.”

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

“I won’t ask again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Doyoung! Doyoung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Highness—!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Doyoung…”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-what…what now?”

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

Mark doesn’t know where his brother intends to go, but he wordlessly understands that it isn’t back to the castle. Or even Ceres. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I…I have to see the others.” He means their brothers. He means their parents back in Ceres, if he is even allowed to live. He is not sure what the King will do to him once he returns—if he’ll be tried for treason. Still, his chest burns with the desire to see his siblings at least once more.

Maybe that’s how he justifies it.

He’s not entirely sure why he refuses Doyoung in this moment, even when he thinks back on it years from now. Maybe he is too ashamed of the guilt—of feeling like it was all his fault. (If he hadn’t dropped the stopwatch…) He doesn’t want to serve as that constant reminder for his brother.

“Can you get back, then?” Doyoung asks. Mark realizes he’s referring to creating another portal, and he nods, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Y…yeah. I can.” He swallows again and hesitates for another moment. Then, Mark dismounts from the horse and looks up at Doyoung. “Where…where will you go?”

If the older man has already planned his route, he doesn’t disclose it. He simply looks at Mark with an expression that can only be described as pitiable, broken. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is ashen. “Goodbye, Mark.”

Mark stares at his retreating back as he leads the horse away and across the field. The space between them stretches out into forever, with a million unsaid thoughts and emotions falling in the gap.

Behind him, the forest continues to burn, taking all life with it. In front of him, Doyoung’s form turns into a speck against the endless green. It is a long time before Mark leaves that spot in the grass.

In the castle, Donghyuck slumps against his window as he watches smoke rising in the far distance, already knowing where it’s coming from. Like a mirror image of his older brother, tear tracks make their way down his face as he buries his head in his arms.

“What have I done?”

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