#I have so many ocs that fall under BOTH of these themes

[lavenderr-starrs]

My absolute FAVORITE brand of a character/Story. Absolutely delicious when written well 👌👌👌

[mint-yooxgi]

Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 7,327

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist

An annoyed sigh leaves his lips at the incessant chatter he hears around him. Low whispers rise in volume until the dull buzz of voices consumes him, interrupting his post meal relaxation. Irritation mars his features, his brow tugging downwards as he pulls the broken sliver of bone he had been using to pick at his teeth with out of his mouth.

“What is with your incessant whining?” 

All Mingi had wanted to do was relax after dinner. In peace, within the confines of his makeshift encampment at the heart of his battalion, but it seems there’s been a commotion at the far edge.

“Humans, General.” One of his underlings, a vice-captain under his command, Darius, hisses. “They say they want to make a deal.”

Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Not too bright, are they?”

“When have humans ever been known to be smart?” Darius snickers.

Mingi heaves a long sigh, standing to his feet. “Given the length of this interaction, I can’t trust any of you to be competent enough to end this quickly.”

“They’re persistent, General.” He replies, flinching back as Mingi turns his sharp-eyed gaze to him.

“You let them think their words had any merit of importance to us.” The redcap general snaps. “No wonder they’re being so uncooperative.”

Striding through the encampment, the whispers finally come to a halt. A dead silence surrounds his soldiers as Mingi strolls through their ranks, eyes zeroing in on the small gathering of frail humans. Darius rushes along behind the proud general, whom stands a good eight feet tall. The tallest amongst his redcap companions.

A red sash is tied around Mingi’s bicep, alerting all to his rank within the gathered redcaps. There is a clear air of respect the others hold for him as he walks passed, holding his head high, no falter in his steps. Some even go so far as to look upon him in awe while others incline their head out of respect.

Reaching the edges of his encampment, Mingi scowls. “What’s the big idea here?”

“Ah, General!” Lias turns to him, a malicious grin tugging at the younger captain’s lips. “These humans insist on making a trade with us.”

“How did they even find us in the first place?” Mingi darts his gaze over to the three standing before him, just over the threshold of their protection line.

A woman seems to be holding another in her arms. The one with her head down doesn’t say much, but the one holding her trembles as she meets Mingi’s gaze. The male, slightly taller than the woman being held, stands a little straighter.

“We know mushroom rings will bring us where we want to be, or rather, to whom.” He replies, almost defiantly. “You just so happened to be the closest in the area.”

“Why are you wasting our time?” Mingi growls, teeth bared over much too sharp fangs.

“Please,” the woman holding the other in her arms seems desperate as she attempts to take a step forward.

That’s when he notices: the tall women is unconscious, being held up by the other. He quirks a brow, unaware a frail human such as the small one could ever be so strong.

“We just want to make a deal.” The man states, rather firmly.

Mingi’s gaze darts between the two humans.

“They want us to take their daughter for them.” Lias snorts, Darius laughing along with him. “As if we would care for such a useless mortal.”

“We know a little about your kind.” The woman continues. “Please, we know she’ll be better off here. We don’t want anything in return, just her safety.”

“She can earn her place.” The male adds. “She can look after herself, just please, take her with you.”

“We’re not about to gain something you don’t want.” Mingi retorts harshly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has no use to us.”

“That’s not it at all.” The male is quick to shake his head, attempting to take a step towards the gathered redcaps only to be greeted by snarls and snapping fangs. He freezes. “Please-“

“We don’t need one of your kind slowing us down.” Mingi states, narrowing his eyes at the way the unconscious woman sways slightly. Honestly, he’s surprised this woman hasn’t fallen over yet, or caused the other holding her up to collapse under her seemingly dead weight.

“She won’t slow you down!” The woman is quick to protest.

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Darius snaps. “This is no ordinary general you’re speaking to.”

The woman bows her head, cowering back and holding the other tighter to her chest. Though, due to the height difference, it looks quite awkward. A fact only echoed by the snickers Mingi can hear echo out behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Lias tilts his head slightly, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “This could be fun. We could always use another pack mule.”

Some more snickers are heard from around the area, along with the snapping of jaws in agreement. The harsh clicking of fangs only rises in sound, and Mingi can smell the spikes of fear from the two conscious humans. A taste he absolutely revels in.

“The human would be safe with us from whatever outside forces you’re referring to.” Lias continues, his lips stretching widely over all too sharp teeth.

Mingi spares a glance around at his men, noting their sudden change in attitude. The eager gleams he sees throughout the crowd have him heaving a sigh.

“Very well,” he turns, beginning to walk away from this whole matter. He’ll let his men have their fun, and with any luck, the human will be dead come morning. “She’s your responsibility, though. If she survives.”

A cheer rises up through the surrounding redcaps as the tall women gets torn from the other’s arms and dragged across the protection barrier. Mingi thinks nothing of the way a faint smell of blood rises on the air, knowing his men are probably already having their fun after bringing the human properly into their realm. The other two have already been sent back, their memories altered forever. If they even remember having a daughter at all would be a miracle.

Entering his own private tent, Mingi settles into his favourite chair. Kicking his feet up onto a little stump, he leans back, relaxing into the evening chill that begins to settle over the land. They’ve still got a long ways to go to return to their keep, the scouting mission having taken a lot out of them. The rogue redcaps they had been hunting have all been dealt with. Traitors, every last one of them. The fight they had put up was gruesome, but as always, Mingi and his men came out on top. 

Despite it all, some of his men still have energy to burn as he hears the familiar hooting and hollering of his subordinates last long into the night.

***

The next day, Mingi wakes to the encampment practically all cleaned up. Some of his men are finishing last minute preparations for travel, their bags packed and stored for easier maneuvering. All that’s left is to secure his own lodgings for the next leg of their journey.

“The human finally woke up.” Darius informs Mingi as he steps to the head of the line.

“She’s not dead?” Mingi quirks a brow, barely bothering to scan the gathered ranks to see if he can spot the women he saw last night.

“We figured we could use her for some entertainment-“ at Mingi’s sharp glare, Darius stops himself. “She’s surprisingly stronger than she looks. We’ve loaded her with a few packs and told her to carry them for us, or else she won’t like the outcome.” The vice-captain shrugs. “She complied.”

Mingi hums to himself, turning towards the direction they’ll be setting off in in a few minutes. He finds it odd for a human to be so complacent. All of the stories he’s heard contradict such simplistic actions. He was expecting screaming, and an attempt to run the first moment she regained consciousness. 

Even more shocking is the fact that you’re still alive.

“Don’t let it go on too long,” Mingi shoots him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Have your fun, but make sure she doesn’t slow me down.”

“Of course, General.” Darius nods, saluting him before running off to finish some last minute things.

Quietly, Mingi observes his battalion. He can see Lias barking orders at some subordinates to finish packing the rest of the camp quickly. Others appear to be scrambling about, and true to Darius’ word, Mingi spots that same tall woman from last night standing off to the side.

There’s nothing special about you. At least, from what Mingi can tell. You stand upright, spine straight with three packs carried on your figure. Their bulk simply adds to your own, nearly drowning you in their sheer size. Your face looks worn, and tired, but you move around where they instruct you to without complaint. 

Mingi just hopes you can keep up with them.

A few minutes later, the redcaps are on the move. Multiple shoot you looks of disgust as they run passed, growling lowly in your direction. Some even go to far as to purposely run into you, spitting on you as they knock you over in your attempts to keep pace with the company. 

It isn’t more than an hour into the morning when you start to fall behind.

Mingi heaves out a sigh, smelling the faintest bit of blood again in the air. A scent not uncommon in a group of redcaps, given their premise. Though, what truly annoys him is the subtle limp you attempt to hide as he marches over to you at the very rear of his guard.

Again, his men part for him silently. The simple power he exudes enough to silence even the rowdiest of the bunch.

“Are you that incompetent that you do not know how to walk properly, mortal?” He sneers, irritation clear on his features.

“I can walk just fine.” You reply bluntly.

“Then, keep up.” He snaps, turning so as not to waste another word on you for the moment.

With Mingi’s back to you, he fails to notice the harsh glare you send his way, but his subordinates do.

A harsh slap rings out through the forest, a dull thud heard soon after.

“You dare look upon our general with such vile contempt in your eyes?” Lias’ voice booms out through the surrounding redcaps, catching Mingi’s attention.

He freezes, turning to spare a glance over his shoulder.

There you rest, face down on the ground as you attempt to push yourself up. Your clothes are even more disheveled than before, dirt smearing your cheek. Yet, that harsh look still rests upon your face, even as the smell of blood becomes more prominent in the air.

“I didn’t ask for this.” You keep your voice low, but still clear enough for everyone around you to hear.

“Well, get used to it, Sweetheart,” Lias hisses, tugging you harshly back to your feet by the back of your neck. “You’re no better than a pet, now.”

You say nothing, instead opting to purse your lips. Your eyes narrow as you watch Lias retreat from you, hands fisted around the straps of the packs you carry as your whole body seems to tremble. 

If Mingi didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re angry.

No… not angry. Disappointed.

Turning back to face front, Mingi decides to ignore you for the rest of the day. You’re not his responsibility, and how his subordinates treat you is truly none of his concern. Really, if it were up to him, he would have sent those two other humans bargaining for you to join them here in the fae realm packing. Perhaps he should have made an example of you all when he had the chance. Only, now, he’s stuck with you, and he’ll have to learn to deal with it, for the sake of his men. It’s not like you’re the only human he’s ever dealt with before.

Luckily, for the rest of the day, travel does not get halted again. You manage to keep up just fine, only falling behind once more near sunset. Mingi had wanted to travel for longer this day, covering more distance and hearing no complaints from neither you nor his men. 

The faster they get home, the swifter he can deal with the mess that is you.

Mingi wants nothing to do with you. All you are to him is a pathetic little human. So frail, he could break you with the flick of his wrist. His eyes narrow on your figure as he sees you collapse against the side of a tree, none of his underlings sparing you any supplies as they set up for the night.

No food is offered to you, but you manage to scrounge some water. Your throat burns, and your feet ache as if they’re ready to fall off at a moment’s notice. The stitch in your side is finally calming down, and you’re just grateful none of these fae have ordered you to help them set up camp for the night. No, they stated they didn’t want you touching anything, or doing something wrong, and for once, you’re thanking your lucky stars for such a harsh verdict.

Lightly, you rub at your leg, right where you know that fresh wound still resides. It’s not a deep cut, but twisting wrong, or moving around too much aggravates the scar. Not to mention your limp which has returned even worse than before, due to the speed at which you’re expected to move.

Despite it all, you don’t say anything. No, you learned the hard way what talking back meant. Though, that might just be your one salvation through this all. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll see how far you can push these redcaps, and discover if their nature really lives up to their legacy.

For now, you settle deeper against that tree. It’s late, and you are exhausted. Sleep is one of the best things for you now, especially since there’s no way you can return to the life you previously once had. Thinking back on it now, you don’t know if you’d ever want to.

Not that you really ever had a choice.

The next morning brings another early start, you being commanded to carry even more than yesterday on your back. The only saving grace is that it seems the speed at which the band you’re travelling with has lessoned, but that doesn’t stop your whole body from aching.

Two more days pass like this, insults thrown at you by the surrounding redcaps, only for them to take out their amusement on you by either scratching you by ‘accident’, spitting on you, or pushing you to the ground. You manage to get some food, but it’s both rotten and vile. You’re honestly surprised your body hasn’t given up on you, yet.

You start to complain, but to your relief, or rather, disappointment, no one bothers to take your whining seriously. That, or they’re quick to shut you up, but not in the way you so desperately hope.

It’s around midday when you feel yourself lose your footing. The sun is shining brightly in the sky above your head, a few clouds drifting lazily by as you tumble harshly to the ground. The worst part is, you end up landing badly on your injured side. Unluckily for you, both that scar and your bad ankle are on your right leg which just so happens to land awkwardly on top of the root you tripped over.

You attempt to keep them at bay, but the sudden sharp pain you feel shoot up your leg sends tears to your eyes. You can practically feel your cut tear itself anew, a dampness seeping into the material of your tattered pants. Your breathing is heavy, and you can hardly force yourself back onto your hands, your entire body groaning in protest. Every ache pulses through you with each heartbeat, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is truly the end.

“What’s the hold up this time?” You hear a stern voice huff out above your head.

Mustering enough energy, you tilt your head upwards at the approaching figure. There’s a brief moment where the sun blinds you, filtering through the branches in such a way that burns your vision with a bright light until a shadow looms over you. Blinking reveals the redcap’s general standing before you, a look of pure ire marring his features as he glares down at you.

“Get up.” He growls, not even bothering to nudge you with his foot. You’re too far beneath him to bother.

A sad attempt is made by you once more before you’re collapsing on top of your weakened arms.

“I. Can’t.” You manage to get out through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain.

Mingi snorts. “Pathetic.”

With a roll of his eyes, he storms away from you, barking out orders to set up the encampment. From what you can hear, he plans to move out during the night.

They need to stop to eat, anyways.

Insults are hurled your way by various underlings, some even going so far as to step on you as they walk passed. It’s as if you are worth no more than the dirt beneath their feet as you continue to lay there, weak and injured, just waiting and begging for death to finally claim you.

“You’ve really been a thorn in the general’s side ever since you joined us.” A voice to your left catches your attention.

“I didn’t ask to become a slave.” You retort is half grumbled into the earth, brow furrowing as you glare in the voice’s direction.

A chuckle is heard from above you. “Last I checked, you weren’t actually bound to this group.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a male, or rather, what appears to be a male, crouch beside you. He appears a bit shorter than his companions, perhaps even an inch or two shorter than you, and that’s saying something.

“My name’s Windfel,” he says lightly. “I’ve never met a human before. What’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you huff, finally managing to push yourself upwards and shrug those packs off of your back.

A hiss escapes you as you accidentally apply to much pressure to your right side, hand grasping over where that reopened cut resides. The dull throbbing you can feel, mixed in with the sight of days old blood and dirt only has you wincing. The wound is more than likely infected, and probably has been for the past few days. Only, you don’t have anything to treat it with, and it’s not like you can go around asking for help.

“Oh, you’re more clever than we give you credit for.” He grins. “You must know that telling a fae your true name means they have complete power over you.”

“You’re the ones who assumed me incompetent in the first place.” Your retort is low, and almost immediately, you flinch, as if bracing yourself for an impact of some sorts.

Again, he only chuckles. “That we did.”

“Is there something you want, Windfel?” The question is a bit harsh, despite you avoiding his gaze.

“Not in particular at the moment,” he hums. “I’m simply satisfying a mere curiosity. I’ve read a lot about you humans, thanks to the experiments in the Latha Court.”

“You experiment on humans?” Your eyes widen, a surge of panic washing through you.

“Yes.” He replies, somewhat cheerfully with a nod of his head. “We learn a lot about your kind that way.”

“You’re despicable.” A shudder caresses your spine.

“So I’ve been told.” He grins. “I am a redcap, you know.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice him tip a flat cap stained dark red in your direction.

“I’m aware.” Your answer is blunt as you attempt to stand to your feet. You don’t get very far, for you immediately fall back onto your ass as your arms give out beneath you.

A small ‘oof’ escapes you as you land on your right side, eyes squeezing shut as more tears spring up from beneath where you’ve always tried to hide them.

“You’re not looking so good,” he observes.

“Thanks for noticing.” A low grumble is all he receives in response as you attempt to push yourself upwards once more.

Another chuckle. “I like your sense of humour.”

A side-eyed look is sent his way curtesy of you, “If you want to call it that.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.” He goes to lift you to your feet.

Immediately, you cower away from him, a brief panic filling your gaze as you fixate on his hands.

“I have no intentions of harming you right now.” He replies, somewhat calmly.

“Why are you trying to help me?” You eye him cautiously.

He shrugs. “I’m bored.”

As much as you don’t appreciate his answer, you have no better options. Somewhat reluctantly, you allow him to help you to your feet, guiding you to a tent already prepped and ready. He lifts the flap, allowing you to stumble your way inside and sitting in a chair as per his instruction.

The tent is large enough to fit three people comfortable, appearing more spacious on the inside than from the outside. You suppose it has to do with the magic of the fae, considering they’re able to store everything and carry it so efficiently in such packs, no larger than what you’re used to calling knapsacks.

“You know, you really have caused a great deal of annoyance for our general since your arrival.” He says as he grabs a roll of white medical cloth from a little side table.

“I never asked for this.” You mumble, keeping your head down.

“I’m aware you were brought unconscious into our ranks.” Windfel replies. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I’m obliged to tell you.” Your eyes narrow suspiciously, watching every movement he makes closely.

You highly doubt anyone will come to your aid if you decide to scream for help.

“Just making conversation,” he responds, lifting his hands lightly in front of himself in a shrug. “I’m not a healer, so all I’m willing to do is let you wrap that wound. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to dress it when we get back to the keep.”

You purse your lips, eyeing Windfel as he places the roll of cloth beside you. A moment later, and he’s moving around the tent, rummaging through his own pack and pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

“What, exactly, is this ‘keep’ you all continuously talk about?” You ask, somewhat warily.

He completely ignores your question, tossing the spare clothes at you.

“I don’t use these anymore, and although we typically enjoy the smell of blood, we don’t enjoy when wounds fester.” His nose crinkles along with his words. “There’s a small stream about a quarter of a mile to the northeast. I’ll take you there once you’re ready.”

“You’re being awful nice to me for someone who doesn’t like my kind,” You observe, eyeing him carefully.

“I care about my general, and anything I can do to… lesson his burdens, I will.” Comes Windfel’s simple reply. “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

You watch him step out the opposite flap of the tent he entered, brow furrowing as the material slaps shut. Shouts can be heard outside, along with the hustle and bustle of the rest of the encampment being set up. You bet the rest wouldn’t have even notice you moved from that tree, yet.

Tilting your head downwards, you look at the clothes in your hand, feeling the fabric between your fingers. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten any type of new clothing. Back in the human realm, the only time you got a new piece of clothing was when- no. You shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Swallowing thickly, you look over at that roll of white medical cloth. As much as you don’t trust this redcap, this is the first ounce of kindness you’ve received in quite a long time. There’s a part of you screaming at yourself not to believe it, but there’s another part, a part much more vulnerable that clings onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up for you.

Your life has never been worth much, but perhaps someone is actually starting to see value in you that has never been there before. Then again, you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up. They’ve fallen too many times for you to count.

Taking a deep breath in, you grab that roll of medical cloth. Carefully, you wrap it in the bundle of clothes from Windfel, and stand back to your feet. Though you wobble slightly, you’re able to steady yourself, and within a minute, you’re exiting through the same flap that redcap did only moments before.

A single nod is all you give him as you stand outside the tent. A single nod of which he returns, motioning for you to follow him deep into the woods.

***

The journey to the stream is slow, taking well over an hour to get there. The distance is much greater than you were expecting, and the path isn’t easy at all. As much as Windfel seems to be ‘helping’ you, he did not once offer you a hand through the rough terrain of the woods through your travels.

“Will there be enough time?” You ask, eyeing the trickling water at the edge of the bank.

“Relax,” Windfel huffs out lightly. “Knowing the general, he’ll probably spend at least another two hours resting. So, as long as you don’t take too long, we’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips in response, but say nothing.

“I have no interest in watching you bathe, either, human.” He says, turning so his back is to you. “So, you needn’t worry about that.”

“I’ve never had much privacy, anyways.” You grumble, but as soon as the words leave your lips, your eyes widen. Terrified, you glance at Windfel’s back.

Choosing to either ignore your statement, or you entirely, he stands there, unmoving, His back is straight as he gazes out into the woods in the direction you both came, paying no mind to even the sound of water trickling behind you.

You turn back around.

Darting your gaze to the stream once more, you notice how clear the water seems to be. The movement against the stones appears languid, a gentle breeze flitting through the trees in the next moment. It’s almost as if the stream is inviting you in, luring you into it’s pristine waters, and the longer you stare at its enchanting depths, the more you long to dip your feet into its calming waters.

“What’s the catch?” You grit your teeth, cursing yourself for being so stupid.

“You humans always think there’s some sort of trick to everything, don’t you?” Windfel chuckles, and suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t even hear him move. “I could push you in, if you like, but I don’t think that would bode well for your wound.”

Your spine straightens. “I can get in myself, thank you very much.”

“You are most welcome.” The way you can practically feel him smile against your back has a shiver running down your spine.

A moment later, his presence at your back lessens, and you find yourself able to breathe easier once more. You spare a glance over your shoulder to see him resting in that same spot as before, his back turned as he begins to hum a small tune to himself. Eyeing him cautiously for a few moments, you finally turn back around to face the stream, deciding that he won’t actually do anything to you. Besides, even you are starting to not be able to handle your own stench, and that’s saying something.

Slowly, carefully, you begin stripping yourself of your old clothes. The tattered shirt you wear gets tossed onto the ground beside the new one, your pants following shortly after. You have enough mind to leave your undergarments on, just in case Windfel decides to play a trick of some sort on you, or run away with both sets of clothes. You still need something to wear, and Windfel is still a man.

Men are never good at keeping their promises. You learned that the hard way.

Stepping towards the very edge of the stream, you take your time sitting down. Each movement is stiff, pain shooting through your right side as you finally get a good look at the cut on your upper leg. 

The wound festers, dried pus caked on the edge. The cut itself is swollen, days old blood littering the skin around it. From how bad it looks, you’re scared to even touch it, but a creeping thought in the back of your mind keeps you inching towards the water with every passing second.

You’ve had worse.

Carefully, you dip your toes into the crystalline water. It’s a bit cool to the touch, and causes you to jerk back, surprised by its icy feel. Yet, it’s alluring in a way, as if it’s the softest of silk that has ever caressed your skin. A luxury you have never been afforded, and you take the time now to savour it, despite the chill that clings to your feet as you submerge them beneath the gentle flow of the stream.

In no time at all, you feel yourself get used to the water’s icy chill, sinking deeper and deeper until you’re fully sitting on the edge of the river bank. Being mindful of your leg, you angle yourself so you can lean towards the water, cupping your hands together in order to gather the cool liquid in your palms and clean your wound.

The first few handfuls sting, but you grit your teeth and bear it. With each handful of water, more and more of the dirt, grime, and blood is washed away, revealing the cut to have gotten longer over the past few days. All that running around must have strained it, and reopened the wound over and over again, leading to the edges widening, and the cut deepening.

No wonder your whole leg has been aching. You just hope the infection isn’t already in your blood. There’s no telling what may happen to you, then.

“Oh my, that looks bad.” 

A voice from above your head startles you, and you nearly go toppling into the stream. Looking up with a hand clutched over your chest, your eyes wide in panic, you see Windfel leaning over you, inspecting your cut.

“A few more days and you would have had to cut it off,” he remarks casually.

You physically feel your heart drop, your eyes briefly shifting to your right ankle. You swallow thickly, a jolt of pain travelling all the way from your foot upwards to your hip as tears unwillingly spring to your eyes. Almost involuntarily, you begin rapidly shaking your head, protests falling from numb lips.

“I’m just shanking ya!” He laughs, boisterously at that. He even goes so far as to pat your shoulder a few times, wiping tears of joy from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not very funny.” You whisper, expression hard.

Windfel blinks, “Geez, tough crowd.”

You purposely avoid his gaze, looking back out over to the opposite bank of the stream. Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you slowly manage to get your breathing under control. Even you can hear the thunderous pounding of your own heartbeat, so you sure as hell know that Windfel can, too.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch me.” You mutter, slowly turning yourself further into the stream.

“No, I said I had no interest in watching you bathe.” He remarks, matter of factly. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” you mutter, slipping into the water and putting a little bit of distance between you and that redcap. Not that it would really matter, in the long run.

The chill of the water causes your body to stiffen for a moment, only for the entirety of your muscles to immediately relax. The chill morphs into a gentle caress, and as you sink down to allow the water up to your neck, you find yourself letting out a small, blissful sigh through your nose. Involuntarily, your eyes slip shut.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Windfel hums.

Your eyes shoot open, turning to look over at the redcap who is back to standing in his original spot, facing away from you.

“I-“ you swallow, keeping your voice low. “I haven’t had a chance to bathe like this in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Windfel snorts. “I could tell.”

He makes a gesture similar to fanning the air in front of himself, and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You even go to far as to splash water in his direction before you can stop yourself.

Even though not a single drop of water touches him, your eyes still go wide. Not a muscle moves as you stare at him, your heartbeat thudding once more in your ears.

“Damn, human, you really are uptight.” Windfel snickers. “As if a little water could hurt me. It’s nice when such creatures are playful. Adorable, even.”

“I don’t think many would agree with you.” You mutter, gently pushing yourself backwards and creating just a tiny bit more distance between yourself and him.

“You’re probably right,” he hums. “Though, we all can agree on liking to be amused.”

“You confuse me.” You state blankly, rubbing at your skin lightly beneath the water and washing away any excess dirt and grime you can see.

“The feeling is very much mutual, human.” He replies. “I bet if you lived on your own as long as I have in the wild, you’d feel the same way.”

“Oh, yeah,” you hum, clearly not convinced as you dunk your head under the water briefly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you’ve never lived in the woods before? Never fought for your own survival all by you little lonesome?” Windfel’s voice is slightly mocking, and you know he’s probably only trying to get a rise out of you. 

Unfortunately, though, it’s working.

“I think you and I have two very different definitions of survival.” You say, scrubbing a bit harder at your skin.

“Perhaps that is true,” he hums once more, as if considering your words. “But come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to know what it’s like to live on your own.”

“How do you know if I’ve lived on my own or not?” You retort, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“I don’t.” Windfel shrugs. “From what those of us who care enough to read about your kind can gather, it’s observed that you usually go out on your own once you reach a certain age.”

“And you’re one of those that have read about my kind?” You quirk a brow. 

The longer you spend talking with Windfel, the more you seem to ease into the conversation. Though the water continues to feel nice around you, you also decide that it’s time to remove yourself from the stream so you can quickly dry off and make it back to the others. The last thing you need is for something to happen, or for you to finally face the wrath of a redcap.

At this point, that may just be a blessing.

There’s almost a slight tug at the back of your mind. With each step you take towards the bank and your awaiting clothes, a small voice tells you to stay. The water seems to be caressing your entire body, becoming denser around you with each step. It’s almost as if the stream is trying to hold you down, to force you to not leave its waters. Yet, despite it’s almost enchanted callings, you persist, managing to pull yourself out of the crystalline water and back onto the side of the bank.

The consequences of staying far outweigh the rewards in your mind.

You fail to notice how Windfel’s brow quirks in surprise, but he continues on the conversation as if nothing is wrong.

“I’ve read a few things, yes.” He confirms. “Knowledge is power, or haven’t you heard?”

“Power is power, no matter where in the world.” You grumble, flicking off as much excess water on your body as you can before beginning to wrap your upper thigh with that medical cloth. Once finished, you tie it off quickly, but not tight enough that it will hurt you even more than you already are. A moment later, you stand back to your feet.

“Spoken like a true scholar,” Windfel teases lightly, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, you begin pulling on the clothes he leant you. The pants are a little short around the ankles, but they fit surprisingly well. Considering the size difference between the both of you, you’re surprised the shirt even managed to pull over your head, but it’s loose, and you’re grateful for the soft material that graces your skin.

“Still, you should definitely try living on your own at some point.” He remarks casually. “There’s no feeling quite like freedom.”

Your whole body freezes, gaze slowly trailing over to where Windfel stands, now at the edge of the wood. He seems to be holding a bundle in his hands, and when you look down, you realize that it’s your old, raggedy clothes.

“I wouldn’t know.” You state, rather firmly as your eyes narrow at the redcap across from you.

“Oh, yes, well,” he finally turns back around to face you, a grin tugging at his lips to reveal all too sharp fangs. “About that…”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Your words clearly catch him off guard, for now it’s his turn for his eyes to widen in shock.

“My dear, why would I want to kill you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing but be forced upon us since the start. I may be a monster, but I’m not unreasonable.”

“Like I’ve never heard that one before.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

Again, your breath hitches as soon as the words leave your lips, and you find yourself flinching backwards away from Windfel instinctually.

He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I told you. I care about my general and how much your presence burdens him. It’s easier this way if you just disappear.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want me to disappear, but not kill me?”

“For the most part.” He blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How do you expect me to do that?” You frown, doing whatever you can to hide the clear exasperation in your voice.

“Run away.” He states.

“Excuse me?”

“Run away.” He repeats with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I doubt they’ll even notice you’re gone.”

Now, it’s your turn to blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times in disbelief as you cannot keep your mouth from falling open in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I think the whole point of you bathing was for that to no longer be the case.” He says smartly. “I told you. You’re a burden to our general, and if I can relieve that burden from his shoulders, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re not currently being hunted, so there’s no reason to kill you right now.”

“And where will I go?” You ask, incredulously. “I have nothing-“

“Find the Latha court, I’m sure those human lovers will take you in.” He cuts you off, a slight twitch to his brow. “Go that way,” he points off to your left with a clawed finger. “There’s a small town. I’m sure someone will give you a hand.”

“Like you did?” You quirk a brow, eyeing Windfel carefully.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Now, you best be on your way, little mortal. My patience is starting to wear thin.”

Though the last part of his words he says in a cheerful voice, the way his eyes gleam in the light of the setting sun unnerves you.

Without waiting for another chance, you take the one presented to you.

“I better not see you around again.” Windfel hums, and you can hear him beginning to trudge in the opposite direction that you are. “You won’t like it if you do.”

A shiver caresses your spine at his words, and you find yourself picking up your pace. Reaching the opposite end of the little clearing where the stream is, you quickly spare a glance over your shoulder. Windfel is nowhere to be seen, and you do not know if it should relieve you, or terrify you. All you do know, is that you have to put as much distance between yourself and that gang of redcaps as you can. To start, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trek into town is a lot easier than you thought it would be. It only takes you about forty minutes to reach the outskirts, and with every step, you seem to gain better footing than before. The ache in your leg is dulling, and your head is the clearest it’s been in weeks. You don’t trip over any roots, or stumble over any rocks, either. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say things are actually starting to look up for you.

That’s when it hits you.

Is this even reality anymore?

Windfel could have cast a glamour over you. You could be under some sort of spell, or undergone some weird magic while bathing in that stream. You have no way of knowing what is true or not, unless you talk to someone. Even then, your chances of them tricking you are high, but it may be the only way to tell what is true or not.

Standing at the edge of the town, you do a quick scan of those you can see. The sun has already set, and the faint glow of lanterns casts a warmth around the surrounding buildings. There seems to be only a few people milling about, and honestly, you shouldn’t really call them people at all. From what you can gather, all these beings appear to faeries. Some have grand wings that sprout from their backs, ranging from feathered to those of the insect variety. Others, you can only discern from their height and pointed ears. The few flashes of razor sharp teeth aren’t that reassuring, either.

The only relief seems to be that all of the inhabitants steer perfectly clear of you. Save for one, who watches you fidget from across the way. His gaze dances with amusement, and you don’t know if that unnerves you more than if he were glaring. Long, dark hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail to showcase his sharp features. He sits on the edge of some steps leading up to what appears to be a shop of some sorts, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward.

The moment he catches you staring, his eyebrows quirk curiously.

Turning away quickly, you curse yourself. You’ve always been used to blending in back home, that you didn’t realize just how much you’d stick out in the Fae realm. Perhaps you really are in over your head, but where else are you supposed to go?

A voice, smooth and deep, coming from behind startles you.

“Are you lost, Little One?”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 8 (Alastor x Isa)

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: Canon typical discussions of violence and murder

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Warm fingers caressed her thighs, just above her knees as he waited with his breath locked in his chest. Seconds ticked on as he continued to wait, caressing, while she trembled under his touch. There was nothing he wanted more than to chase away the storm he couldn’t read in her eyes. 

“I guess that’s a valid reason to be sent to Hell,” she finally said, hand slipping from where it had rested atop his head to cradle his cheek. “I won’t pretend I understand or that I approve, that it doesn’t scare me-”

“I would have never hurt you,” Alastor was quick to soothe her fears, though he could only hope that it worked, “I would have kept you safe.”

“I believe you,” and she did, though she was terrified of this hidden side of her husband. Her mind struggled to wrap itself around the fact that her husband, soft brown eyes, fluffy hair and radiating kindness in life had been taking lives easily while she slept. Guilt washed over her. She struggled with knowing that because of her inability to bring their child into the world sucessfully, she sentenced not just herself and their child to death but countless physicians and others as he fell into a madness. 

“Why did Vox know you? Why was he so obsessed with you?”

“I’m not anymore innocent here,” Alastor admitted. “Vox and I had been friendly at a time before we had a falling out of sorts. He didn’t take it well. From there, we’ve fought for territory and battled for power.” 

“Territory? Power?” Such politics were not a part of life in Heaven. They were earthly concepts that were left behind. 

“I hold a rather sizeable amount of both, as do he and his cohorts. The logistics don’t matter. It’s not safe for you to be here regardless, my darling. You’d have a target on your back every time you left this hotel without me.”

“I’m not going back,” tears gathered in her eyes, “I worked so hard to get here. I can’t go back, even if they would take me back. I don’t want to.” 

Leaning up, he rose higher on his knees as he pulled her knees apart, slotting his torso between them. His hands inched higher, caressing the exposed skin as he pushed the shorter hem of the front of her dress higher along her thighs. 

“I need you safe,” he said, closing the gap between them more and more with each breath they took. “If you’re there, you’re safe. Tonight, we’ll be together again, if you’ll have me. Then we’ll find a way for you to go back and you’ll never have to think of the sins of your husband again. You can move on.” 

“Would you?” She struggled to speak around her breaking heart. 

“Never,” He admitted, fingers caressing higher. 

She should stop his hands. They were not in private. Someone could come out and her skirt was resting so high on her thighs. She didn’t want to stop his hands, however. It felt good to be caressed by the loving hands of her husband again, even if his hands were now claw tipped and stained black by blood.

“Then why must I?”

“Because I need you to be happy and safe,” she could feel Alastor’s breath on her as he softly spoke, “That’s all I’ve ever needed.” 

“And if I can’t be?” She whispered as his hands reached her hips. She realized, when he had changed her clothes, he hadn’t granted her any undergarments to replace those Valentino dressed her in. The only thing keeping anyone from seeing the exposed skin was his arms and body.

“It’s Heaven,” Alastor was so close now, she struggled to pay attention to his words instead of thinking about what it would be like to kiss his new ever smiling face. “How could you not be happy once you let go of me? Just one more night. That’s all we need. One more night to say goodbye.” 

Alastor looked down as he pulled her hips to the edge of the bench. He wanted to see her, to watch her thighs wrap around his hips as he convinced her, but something that shouldn’t have been on her thighs caught his eyes. 

Yellow and green marking on her skin left by fingertips that didn’t belong to him. The air of seduction shattered as he leaned closer to look at the exposed marks, eyes no longer hot with want. The look had turned cutting and sharp. Green and yellow meant the marks were over a week old. 

“How long have you been here?” He asked, voice sharper. 

“Since the battle. Vox called it an extermination.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, knowing full well what he was looking at.

“These are too old.” He shoved her skirt higher, paying no mind to how he fully exposed her as he searched for more marks. “Vox didn’t do this. This didn’t happen here. What happened? Who did this to you?”

“It’s not-”

He snagged her chin in his fingers, still flaky with dried blood as he forced her to look at him. “What happened?” 

“Adam- the first man, Adam.” She hated the way her eyes welled up again. It seemed too silly to cry so easily while sitting on a bench in hell. “He wanted to court me.” A bitter laugh surprised her as it fell from her lips at the words she picked. “No, he wanted to have me. There was no courting to it. I turned him down, again and again. He-”

The snarl in Alastor’s voice sent a shiver down Isabel’s spine. “Did he force himself upon you?” 

“I swear, I took no one willingly to my bed.” 

“Did he force himself?” The tears that fell from her eyes told him all he needed to know.

Static filled the air as he pulled the skirt of her dress down to her knees and stood to his full, imposing height. While her protests of her innocence and fear of rejection fell from her lips along with the tears from her eyes, he simply held out a hand for her. Rage burned in his red eyes. 

When she failed to take his hand, he leaned down and plucked hers from where she clutched at her chest, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled as he swiftly walked with her down a path leading to what looked to be like trash and ruins. 

“Where are you taking me?” This was the first time Isabel had ever felt fear in Alastor’s presence. Not even as he knelt, head down and confessing to a mountain of bodies staining his hands with blood, had she felt fear of her husband. 

He took her to a wide swath of recently disturbed dirt. Yanking her, pushing her with another hand, he brought her to stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. 

“What is-” 

Alastor cut her off, “This is where we buried the felled angels from the battle. First, the cannibals stripped the flesh from their bones and took what they wanted. What little was left, we buried here.”

“Cannibals?” She was shaking like a leaf in his arms as his dark words washed over her, spoken softly right into her ear, dripping with pride she recognized from when he’d spoken of his radio show in life. 

“We gathered their weapons, of course, for our future defense- should Heaven wish to send another army. Many exorcists are buried here as well as the commander of their army. My Darling, do you know who the commander was?” 

“Adam,” she breathed his name, emotions warring in her heart. “Did you-?”

“Kill him?” Alastor laughed, “Heavens no, I did battle with him for a time, however. I deeply regret having wasted time playing with him now, knowing that he touched what belongs to me and me alone, without invitation. If I could relive that battle again, I’d take great satisfaction in ending his life painfully slow, ripping his soul from his chest and playing his agonized screams on my broadcasts for anyone who dares to take what belongs to the Radio Demon.” 

“Are you going to hurt me?” Isabel was terrified of voicing the question. He had said he wouldn’t have hurt her in life, but this man was in many ways someone she had never known. Never in her life had she seen Alastor’s mood so volatile. Sure, he had been a bit of a moody man, in his own way, but he generally kept in fairly good spirits. 

“Never.” The venom in his voice seemed to dissipate instantly as he spun her to face him, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her to his chest. “Never will I hurt you.” 

She could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest as she braced her hands against him. A hot breeze kicked up the air, ruffling his hair and her wings. Isabel realized that this was the side of Alastor she had never known in life but had always been there, hidden. This was the man that hunted men and ended their lives for reasons she couldn’t understand. 

This was a man plagued by fickle madness he had somehow kept well hidden during their marriage. What did it say about her? She still loved him, of that she knew even as she struggled to understand what everything meant for her, for them. 

“It appears, however,” Alastor’s tone changed again, returning to the chirpy voice she had known from his broadcasts in life, “I cannot count on Heaven to keep you safe after all. What a shame! And, as you had said, they would likely have not welcomed back an angel who left willingly, anyway. You’ll just have to stay here, with me, after all!” 

It had been what she wanted and now she struggled, unsure and struggling to keep up with his decisions. “Did you enjoy killing them?” Numb lips whispered the words. She was terrified of the potential answer. 

“The angels?” Alastor’s head cocked to the side, an extreme mockery of the way he had a habit of doing so in life, “Oh, very much so! They came to my territory to wreak havoc on what I have built up. I simply cannot have that! Ha! What would papers say!?” 

Had she made a mistake in coming to find him? Was it better to have loved the idea of him while missing the man she had known and at the same time never know? “And before? Before you died?” 

“Oh yes,” Alastor’s smile tamed some, losing the touch of madness. “My little hobby scratched a particular itch, you can say.”

Looking down at her, he took in the fear in her eyes. While death had changed him into a grotesque character of a man, it had been far kinder to his love. He caressed her hair, running the pads of his fingers over her cheek. Flakes of dried blood dotted her skin. 

“Do you wish to leave me?” He asked the question that had been running rampant through his brain, “Now that you know, do you no longer want me? Do you regret waiting for me? Decades spent pining for a monster of a man?” 

As her eyes filled with tears and shuttering breaths puffed from her lungs, he ran his hand down her bare arm and around her waist. The smoothe fabric, warmed by her body, felt good under his hand as he ran it over her lower back, inching up between her wings. 

“Now that your idea of me has been shattered, do you wish to go back and face what heaven may have for you in Adam’s absence? Say something, my Darling.” He pleaded only to continue before she had a chance to. “Perhaps with Adam gone, you’d be safe? How could I ever trust them to protect you though, after they’ve allowed him to lay his hands on you?” 

As he rambled, his hand between her shoulder blades spread, fingers curling into the plush feathers from where the dress buttoned around her wings. 

“Did you kill? Back at the studio, did you kill them? Is that why your hands were bloody? You didn’t just hurt them, did you?” 

“Ha! But of course,” He smoothed down the small feathers that gathered where her wings erupted from her back. “But don’t worry- their death isn’t final. They’ll reform in time.”

“Did you kill Vox?” She didn’t like the man. He had been terrifyingly obsessed with her, but that didn’t mean he needed to die, even if it was temporary. 

“No,” Alastor sighed, “He ran with his cord between his legs before I could do much more than crack his screen. I didn’t wish to leave you, even if you had Angel with you. Would you like me to?” 

“No!” She jerked toward him with the force of her protest.

“Very well.” Alastor said, smoothing his hand over her wings, taking in the feel of the sleek feathers over strong muscle. “So, my dear, now that you’ve given up heaven for me, do you regret it? Was it worth it?”

“Does it matter?” Isabel whispered, “I gave up everything for you, Alastor. I can’t go back. Heaven won’t take me back. I threw their gift away to be with you again. I’m not- I can’t say I’m okay with what you’ve done or still do, but I’m here, with you. I knew if I had to come here to be with you there would be something.” 

Tag List: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @bufaunfu

[thecluelessdoctor]

Welcome to the After Falls AU (MASTERPOST!)

I've been meaning to make this for a while, but here we are! The After Falls AU OFFICIAL masterpost! I thought, if I wanna be for real and take this au seriously, I might as well make a pinned masterpost!

Intro Animatic

Summary of story;

It's been about 20 years since Dipper and Mabel's first summer in gravity falls, the both of them going on separate paths. Mabel ended up being very successful in the engineering field. It was basically arts and crafts with more math, and a bit more danger, that's all! Dipper though, found himself making his own research in gravity falls. He knows there is much more to discover than what he had found previously. Mabel's back there for nostalgia, and Dipper is there for research. How fun.

On the side of the family that ISNT pines, the parents of Ratch and Rod Elk, cousins once removed to the twins, find out there is family spending the summer in a little town away from everything, their parents don't hesitate to send them off. At first, it seems boring. But when the elk twins uncover one of the many secrets of their family, they find themselves to believe this summer to much more interesting than it seems, with many of these secrets connecting back to their summer guardians, and somehow, even farther back in the family than them.

Intro fanfiction

WIP. ao3 deleted the original fanfic, so I'm needing to find my backups and rewrite as needed.

CANON MASTERLIST:

Dipper and Mabel CURRENT designs.

Gideon and Brody gleeful design sketches

WIP, will be updated as we go along.

PLOT POINT CONCEPT MASTERLIST (in attempted story order)

queers

stan possession and confrontation

What have you Done

What have you done part two

A world I never could have imagined

Bill's deal concepts

Don't you know how it feels

WIP, will be updated as we go along

And that's the end!! I don't expect this au to get very big or far, but just in case I'll put some rules under the cut :3

Dos:

-fanart!! I love ya see it!! Feel free to tag me as well!!!

-adding OCs PLEASE. Have fun bro. Again, tag me akjahd

-shipping! If it's legal, I kinda don't care. No family x family though, or child x adult.

Don'ts:

-nsfw publicly! I can't stop you from drawing it, but I am a minor, and I'm guessing a good handful of my audience are minors as well.

-proshipping/comshipping. Again I can't stop you, but c'mon man :(

-no using my AU to promote hate??

-please don't glorify any of the darker subject matter in the au. This is more older audience leaning than the original show, and I want to embrace darker themes, so they will be more explicitly shown or more implied.

[melswifeasf]

Always Yours chapter one

next chapter || series page

Pairing: Lottie Matthews x fem!oc

Summary: it was the beginning of the end.

Warnings: (18+) MDNI cursing, sexual themes.

1996

  RAYS OF SUNLIGHT peaked through the blinds and reflected on warm skin. soft moans were drowned out by the morning playlist the teen girl would always listen to, resulting in her parents not finding the sound suspicious. her chest was bare and there was a tall body on top of her. the taller girls hips were moving at fast pace, the action causing a smacking noise to echo throughout the room. fingers nails were digging into the raven girls back leaving marks that would end with her being sore for the rest of the day. brunette strands of hair were sprawled against the pillow below the younger girl, her eyes closed. the taller girls lips were on her girlfriends right nipple, sucking roughly as the girl under her dug deeper into her skin as a reaction. there were small bruises littered around the brunettes chest, almost all small enough so they could be covered with makeup.

when Nicole reached her peak, she gripped at the back of her girlfriends hair tightly for support which made Lottie lean up to press her lips against Nicoles to prevent her from making too much noise. as soon as Lottie knew her girlfriend had finished she buried her face into the crook of the brunettes neck as her hips stilled and she gripped at Nicole's hips tightly. a moan left the taller girls lips and her lips jerked involuntarily into Nicole. heavy breathing littered the room shortly after, both of their chests falling and rising unsteadily. a lazy smile spread across the brunettes with her eyes still closed as she felt the aftershocks of such a powerful orgasm. a second later Lottie pulled away from her neck with a gentle smile and a loving look in her eyes that would always make Nicole melt.

Nicole cupped her girlfriends face softly and pulled her down so their lips could meet in a kiss. it was a sweet kiss, much like they always are post orgasm. rough hands became soft and the mouth that had just spouted degrading words kissed the brunette so sweetly that it did nothing but intensify her already hazed mind. Lottie was the first to pull away. "you're always so horny in the mornings" she mumbled softly against her lips. Nicole rolled her eyes at her words and shoved her off her body which elicited a small hiss from her as Lottie pulled out of her so abruptly. she reached for her bra that was thrown on the bed beside her and began to put it on.

"you're the one who woke up with a boner, not me" Nicole said and put on her panties under the blanket knowing if she didn't, it would just turn into round two which they didn't have time for.

Lottie blushed softly at her words but tried to hide as she chuckled and watched as the shorter girl got out of bed and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes so she could shower. "i didn't have a boner" she lied whilst leaning back on her elbows.

Nicole rolled her eyes, "right. sorry. it was your third leg" she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes at the older girl. Lottie simply shook her head. Nicole didn't close the bathroom door which was always an invitation for Lottie to shower with her or at least start getting ready for school.

"it's not my fault you like to sleep practically naked" Lottie said once she was in the bathroom. by now Nicole was in the shower, a black curtain separating them. the raven teen leaned against the counter as she waited for her turn. typically she'd just hop in but they had been late so many times and Coach Scott was threatening to bench her for the rest of the season. given, it was only one game but it was the biggest game of the season; nationals. usually Nicole would ask her uncle to go easy on her girlfriend but it would never work, he didn't want to give anyone special treatment.

even though there was a curtain separating them, Lottie could practically feel Nicole roll her eyes at her words. "i didn't know you were even coming over." she huffed. Lottie chuckled at her girlfriend. 

"hurry, or we're gonna be late" she said instead of continuing their little 'argument'. truthfully it would've ended up with morning sex no matter what. they were both in the mood in the morning regardless of what the other person was doing or wearing.

Lottie would almost always sneak into her room after Nicoles parents were asleep since she wasn't allowed over. Nicole's parents had never been accepting of their relationship and they made sure to remind their daughter of that everyday. regardless of how much their words would hurt their daughters feeling.

it didn't take long for Nicole to be out of the shower and dressed in her school clothes. she had on light loose jeans and a white shirt that revealed some of her stomach. her makeup was light and her hair tumbled down just below her shoulders. she was finishing up the last touches of her eyeliner whilst Lottie had her arms wrapped around her waist from behind. the older girl had taken a quick shower and finished her makeup all whilst Nicole was choosing what to wear and straightening her hair. it was silent but not uncommon for them. Lottie always liked to watch Nicole do her makeup and Nicole loved having her cling to her.

"are you you gonna cheer at the pep rally?" Lottie  asked as Nicole put her eyeliner away and into her makeup drawer. the brunette looked up and at her girlfriend through the mirror.

"of course i am," she began to say and turned her body around so she was facing her girlfriend. she put her arms on Lotties shoulders loosely whilst Lottie placed her hands on the girls waist. "want me to cheer you on?" she asked and leaned closer toward the older girl.

Lottie smiled, "0f course i do." she replied happily. "i always love when you cheer me on. it's like you're my personal cheerleader"

"when you really think about it, i kind of am" Nicole replied with a wink before she pulled away from her girlfriend completely and walked past her so she could exit the bathroom. Lottie smiled to herself with a slight shake of her head at Nicole's actions. Nicole loved to tease her, a little too much.

the brunette slipped her shoes on quickly and turned to look at her girlfriend that was leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. "hurry up, or we're gonna be late." Nicole said with a slight tone as she mimicked Lotties words from earlier. the raven haired girl chuckled softly as she watched Nicole spray on perfume and leave the room completely making Lottie grab the brunettes backpack and follow her out.

2021

rays of sunlight reflected on the wooden floor and marble countertop. the kitchen smelled like pancakes and bacon, the food sitting in the middle of the dinner table as the two kids ate what they still had on their perspective plates. the only noise that filled the room was the twins talking about the field trip they had at school that day. their mom was listening intently, not wanting to miss a single thing about her kids lives.

the doorbell ringing caused the twins to immediately drop their forks and run in the direction of the front door in an instant. Nicole let out a sigh. she stood from her chair but made no effort to greet who was at the door because she already knew they would come in anyway. it's still technically her house. instead, Nicole grabbed her and the twins plates and walked to her kitchen so she could put them in the dishwasher.

just as expected she saw the two twelve year olds come into the kitchen with happy smiles as their mom followed in pursuit. she seemed to be listening to the kids rant about their trip with a matching smile on her face. there was no doubt in anyone's mind that her happiness was genuine. maybe that was the hardest part.

"mami" Reign said making the brunette hum in acknowledgment. she tried to keep her eyes anywhere but on her ex. "mom said we can go to the cabins this weekend. can we?" he asked with a pleasing smile, his sister held a matching expression just beside him. as much as Nicole wanted to be upset at Olivia for making plans without her permission, she couldn't deny that seeing her kids this hopeful and happy filled that annoyance pretty quickly. Nicole glanced at her ex with a small glare but Olivia simply shrugged whilst looking at her with an innocent smile. she was all but.

Nicole sighed, "of course you can" she confirmed making both twins smile in triumph, "but," she quickly said causing them both to turn to her. "your phones need to stay on you at all times in case i call and i don't want you guys going anywhere without your mom" she warned. both kids nodded repeatedly, they each went to hug their mom before running up the stairs to no doubt pack their bags.

the brunette shook her head at her ex causing Olivia to chuckle. "what?"

"you know i hate it when you make plans without consulting me first," she said very obviously annoyed. she hid it from her kids but she didn't care to do so when her ex was the sole reason for feeling so annoyed at the moment.

"can you blame me?" the red head said as she walked around the counter until she was pressed against her exes back. Nicole stopped moving when she felt a body behind her, Olivia's expensive perfume invading her space and the woman's breath tickling her neck. "i knew you wouldn't approve and i bought that house for them to enjoy it. away from the city. just us. all of us" she said her voice dropping into a slight whisper at the last part. her hands were placed on the brunettes waist causing her to practically stop breathing. Nicole's eyes fell closed at the feeling of someone being so close to her again after four months. it was nice. even if she knew this would wind up breaking their relationship more than it already was.

her breaking point was when she felt the woman behind her begin to press kisses on her neck. she had to stop it before it went any further. "Olivia" she warned breathily. immediately the kisses stopped, a scoff escaping the older woman's lips as she pulled away from Nicole completely.

"right." she said dryly. Nicole turned around so she was facing Olivia.

"you know how this ends." she said lowly. she didn't want her kids to hear and frankly this whole situation did nothing but break her more and more each day.

"you mean with you kicking me out of what was once our bed the next morning? yeah, i'm well aware" she said sarcastically. Nicole didn't want this. she never did and yet she did nothing to stop it.

"Olivia," she sighed desperately. desperate to stop this conversation and desperate to convey everything she was feeling with just one word.

the red head shook her head. "there's a reporter out front by the way" she said causing Nicoles chest to tighten, her heart began to accelerate and a fear flashed in her eyes that Olivia had grown used to after over a decade of being with her. "don't worry. i kicked her out before she could do anything" she said causing the brunette to let out a breath of relief.

"thank you." she muttered genuinely.

"it's the human thing to do" she shrugged as if it were no big deal. her eyes didn't meet Nicoles anymore and there was a suffocating tension between them that didn't go unnoticed by the approaching twins. they just didn't acknowledge it. not anymore at least. after almost a year of seeing their moms fighting and now broken up they had learned to simply not ask. they never would get a real response anyway. "you ready?" Olivia asked them with a smile. the twins nodded, each of them carrying a duffel bag along with their school bag. one on each shoulder. "say bye to mami. i'll be in the car" she said. before she left the room completely she kissed her ex goodbye on the cheek. it wasn't always forceful, sometimes they had good days but whether their encounters were good or bad they made sure to always be nice to one another. even if it was just an act. just so their kids knew that there was no bad blood between them.

when Olivia left the room completely Nicole turned to her kids. "you guys got everything?" she asked with her usual warm smile that always seemed to reassure her kids. they both nodded whilst moving their bag a bit to indicate it was all in there. "good," Nicole nodded. "text me when you get there and please use bug spray. you know how bad the itching gets when you come back home" she said earning nods from both of them. her once small smile grew even wider as she opened her arms for both of them to walk into. they did so happily. "i love you guys so much" she whispered and kisses the crown of each of their heads.

"love you too" they both said in sync causing the mom to chuckle amused. with one final goodbye the twins ran out of the kitchen and toward the front door together leaving Nicole alone in the empty home.

Olivia and Nicole had moved around a lot since they got married. they had gone from a bachelor pad while they were dating to a two bedroom home when they got married. when Olivia first got pregnant they weren't expecting twins so they figured they'd live in that home at least until Nicole finished her residency but when they realized they'd be having twins they began to look for a larger home. two bedrooms turned into three which they enjoyed living in for a good five years. Olivia was the only one bringing in the money and although it was a good amount, Nicole always wanted them to invest in it together. five years later they moved into their current home. it was three stories, six bedrooms in total that they most definitely did not need but the moms always wanted to give their kids a good life.

five years show when she first moved in she was happy with her wife and it seemed ideal to live in that house. now? not so much. she already felt alone without her kids or even the woman she loved for so many years and living in such a huge home only intensified that feeling. she had never lived alone, not even while she was just starting college since she had a roommate but now she did. she lived alone. every other week she'd have to spend the full seven days alone with nothing but her thoughts and memories of the horrible trauma she had experienced twenty five years ago. trauma she would give anything to forget.

1996

music could be heard throughout the girls locker room along with all the girls on the team singing along to the lyrics playing through the speakers. it was just before the pep rally and all the girls were getting ready to show off to the school that they were going to nationals. most of the girls on the cheer team were already outside as they practiced the routines. Nicole was captain of the cheer team so she could do whatever she wanted which always meant staying in the locker room to spend time with her girlfriend and friends. Nicole was fixing her hair in the mirror whilst Jackie was doing Allie's makeup.

"Allie?" the blonde called out making Nicole glance beside her for a second before continuing to tie her hair up. "you all right? it's just a pep rally." Jackie assured the freshman. "honestly, i think the whole point is to give freshman something to jerk off to later." she said earning a chuckle from the brunette beside her.

"you're not wrong" she muttered her agreement. once she was done with her hair she began to fix her makeup next. all she was doing was stalling at that point but it didn't truly matter. the only reason she was still on the cheer team was for Lottie. although she enjoyed it a fair amount, her girlfriend loved it. she loved seeing Nicole in her uniform or the fact that she'd sometimes bring the team to cheer the yellowjackets on. Lottie especially loved that her girlfriend was one of the most popular girls in school and yet she was dating her.

the conversation was cut short when a familiar voice approached them. "Jackie." Lottie said and entered the room. "Coach wants to see you in his office." she said earning a nod from Jackie. Nicole turned to look at her girlfriend and sent her a smile that was recuperated by Lottie immediately.

Allie turned to the blonde before she could leave "im not nervous." she said quickly. Jackie shot her one last smile and then left the room. Van took her place instead, Nicole wasn't sure when she entered the room but she figured she was too distracted by Lottie to notice. when Van resumed Allies makeup, the girl decided to add onto her frustrations. "im the only freshman who got asked, you know." she said her voice breaking a little.

"i know" Van muttered sympathetically.

"it's so unfair," Allie said. "my dress was gonna be amazing" she continued which made Nicole roll her eye. she wasn't a big fan of some of the girls on the team and Allie was one of them. she was just so.. annoying.

the brunette was done fixing herself up by then and simply leaned against the sink as she watched Van and Allie converse.

"well, hey, at least you can wear it next year." Van persisted, still trying to make Allie feel better about her situation. Nicole fought back the urge to roll her eyes again. she probably wasn't the best at the whole 'team work' thing. even with the squad, she didn't take criticism lightly and even though most of the time she made others do the work for her, she'd never let any of them take her place.

Allie shook her head, "you don't get it, Van, cause nobody asked you."

Nicole looked at her girlfriend with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape at what she had just heard. what a bitch. Lottie seemed to have the same reaction as Nicole. Van didn't seem as amused though, she looked a little more pissed and Nicole couldn't blame her. if she were in her place she probably would've already made up a rumor to spread around the school. "okay. you're done." the goalie said unamused.

Allie didn't seem to have read the situation as she shot Van a smile, glanced at her makeup really quickly before leaving the bathroom completely. as soon as she was gone it was as if they could all breathe again. "jesus christ" Lottie said making Nicole laugh along with Van.

Nicole moved away from the sink once her girlfriend pushed herself off the door and approached it. she wanted to give her and Taissa - who had just walked in, enough room for them to touch up. "does someone want to tell Kelly Kapowski to maybe worry less about prom and more about not fucking up nationals?" Lottie asked as she fixed up her hair a bit.

"oh, come on." Van muttered, somehow still giving the newbie the benefit of the doubt. Nicole didn't get it but then again she wasn't as nice as Van.

"if she plays like she did at states..." Lottie trailed off and Taissa cut her off with a chuckle.

"yeah, don't worry." she shook her head with a smile. her posture straightened up and she crossed her arms against her chest as she looked at her teammates through the mirror. "that's not gonna happen."

Nicole raised a brow, "i like this side of you" she said toward Taissa as she began to exit the bathroom. Tai turned toward her with a smile and a slight shrug before leaving altogether. seconds later Lottie pulled away from the sink and turned to her girlfriend instead.

"hi beautiful," she said with her usual smile. Nicole greeted her with a smile of her own and leaned up so she could place a quick peck on the taller girls lips. Lotties first instinct was to steady the young girl by her hips.

Nicole pulled away slightly, but not completely, leaving only a small amount of space between their lips. "ready to be cheered on?" the brunette asked lowly, her eyes subconsciously glancing down at the girls lips. it had become a habit by then.

"by you? always." Lottie confirmed.

[dearaur0ra]

one

young silco x fem!oc

tw- dark themes, mentions of death, blood, violence

prologue ao3 masterlist next

—

the tips of my fingers dig into my brow, pressing deep as i try to push back the throb threatening to split my skull. the ache clings to my vision, clouding everything with its steady pulse. a few stray strands of hazel hair fall from the messy knot i put together earlier, blocking what little light’s left.

a knock rattles through the quiet, sharp and insistent. my jaw tightens, my gut already sinking. sevika. i don’t need to hear her voice to know what’s coming. demands, threats, maybe both. another round of pressure, another round of problems i didn’t sign up for.

with a groan, i drag myself upright. the chair screeches across the floor as i push away from it, the sound scraping at the edges of my patience.

the apartment feels colder than usual, empty in a way that claws at my chest. doesn’t matter how many times i rearrange the furniture or change the paint—nothing’s ever really different. old habits run deep.

the knock turns to a pound, heavy and relentless, vibrating through the walls. “mercy! open up!” the voice is sharp, frantic. i don’t even need to guess who it is.

i hesitate, fingers hovering over the door handle. for a second, the weight of it presses into me like a reminder i’m not who i used to be, but i twist the knob anyway.

the door creaks open, and she’s there—eyes wide, hands shaking, her breath coming too fast. felisha bumps into me as she storms past, her shoulder knocking into mine, as if she expects me to move out of her way.

“...and hello to you too,” i mutter under my breath, following her inside and shutting the door behind us.

her chest heaves as she spins to face me, her voice low but urgent. “i’m royally fucked.”

“do tell,” i reply, the words slow but sharp. i cross the room toward her, the distance between us filled with unspoken tension. there’s something in the way she stands—too stiff, too tense—that tells me this isn’t just another bad day.

she takes a shuddering breath, fingers running through the dark roots of her purple hair. her eyes flicker, like she’s weighing something heavy. “i can’t say yet. not… not just yet.” the words hang in the air, thick with the promise of something much worse to come.

“lis-,” i start, my eyes pleading with exhaustion, the weight of a hundred sleepless nights pressing against me. vander and silco might have brokered deals with a few of the smaller rebel factions, trying to find others who share their hopeful vision for the future of zaun. good for them, i guess. but they're not the ones hunched over their kitchen table at all hours, sorting through endless piles of letters, playing at diplomacy. they’re not the ones answering to everyone. i am.

“i know, merce, just—“ she cuts herself off, hands flailing in frustration, like she’s trying to force the words out, but they’re caught somewhere deep inside. whatever this is, it can wait. it has to wait.

“look, it’s late, and i’m busy. can this wait until morning?” the words spill out sharper than i meant, rough with the sting of exhaustion. it’s in my tone, evident in the way i barely control the edge in my voice.

her eyes shift, the way they settle on the mess in the room—clothes thrown across the floor, the disarray of another long day i couldn’t be bothered to tidy. she hesitates, as if weighing the distance between us. “i shouldn’t have barged in like that, i-“

i cut her off with a wave of my hand, the gesture dismissive but soft, a shield for something i don’t want to admit. “nonsense. it’s alright. i was just—surprised. that’s all.”

she steps closer, eyes narrowing as she takes a good look at me. the changes are there, in the hollowed cheekbones, the pale skin, the deep shadows under my eyes. sleep’s been a stranger to me for so long now, it feels like i’m living in a world of perpetual twilight.

“oh mercy...” she sighs, her hand rising, brushing gently against my cheek. the warmth of her touch feels too intimate, too right in a world that’s turned so cold. i flinch, just barely.

“get some sleep,” she says, her voice softer now, like she’s trying to hold onto me, to steady me before i break.

i close my eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch, letting the warmth of her hand seep into my skin, even as the exhaustion crashes over me. “if you insist,” i mumble, my voice thick, drowsy, as if i could just drift away right here, in the quiet of her presence.

she pulls her hand away, brushing past me to stand at the door. she pauses, looking back at me, that knowing smile flashing across her face. “tomorrow. last drop?” the question is light, casual, but there’s something deeper there. something that lingers.

a smile tugs at my lips, despite myself. i nod, watching her flash her teeth at me, that familiar spark in her eyes.

the door creaks open, and she’s gone, leaving the apartment colder than before. her absence is like ice creeping in, crawling over the floorboards, wrapping around me like a second skin. the burn of her touch still lingers on my cheek, warm against the chill of everything else.

i stare at the door for a long moment, willing myself to move. to do something. anything. the apartment feels too big now, too quiet. the dark corners mock me, the silence echoes.

i drag myself toward the lavatory, trying to rinse away the weight of the day. clean my face. brush my teeth. but nothing feels real without her here, the warmth of her presence fading with each step.

my bed calls to me from the center of the bedroom, a cold refuge that promises nothing but emptiness.

—

my days don't follow clocks; they follow tasks. today’s agenda is as follows: deliver letters to various important people, meet with our informant topside, visit welsh, and finally, drink.

the first task goes smoothly enough. a curt knock here, a quick exchange there—packages and letters tucked into rough hands without much ceremony. every message carries weight I’ll be burdened with by fully knowing, but that’s just the job.

the meeting with the informant is similarly brief. topside is always a gamble; the air’s a little too clean, and the gazes a little too sharp. the informant—a slick man with a grin like oil—passes me a folded paper and a string of cryptic information, containing our next job. i nod, tuck it into my coat, and head back to where the air tastes like metal and home.

the house comes into view, that same faded red door hanging on its hinge. it’s as though it hasn’t aged a day, even though everything else feels older, heavier. the sound of my boots scuffing the worn step echoes as i knock lightly, hesitating just long enough to steady my breathing.

welsh opens the door. his crutch clicks against the wooden floor as he leans into the frame, his lips curling into a grin. “well, well, look who finally decided to pay a visit.”

i smirk, brushing past him into the warm, cluttered familiarity of the house. “what can i say? busy saving the world.”

welsh chuckles, stepping aside to let me in fully. “come on. don’t get cocky.”

the house feels like stepping into an old memory. the faint scent of stew simmers in the air, mingling with the chaos of mismatched furniture and piper’s scribbled drawings stuck to the walls. it’s a stark contrast to my apartment—lively, crowded, lived-in. i hate how it makes my chest ache, like i’ve betrayed it by leaving. like i've betrayed everyone by leaving.

i glance over my shoulder as welsh limps back to his seat by the fireplace. the crutch clatters against the chair as he sits, leaning back with a wince he tries to hide. his leg is still bandaged—stiff and swollen under the wrap.

“leg giving you trouble again?” i ask, nodding toward it.

he shrugs, nonchalant. “just the usual. you know, nothing a good drink wouldn’t fix.”

i snort, settling onto the edge of a battered armchair nearby. “careful. mom’ll start watering down the whiskey again if you keep drinking through it.”

welsh laughs, the sound filling the room in a way that warms my heart. its a pleasure to hear it, after so long. “as if she doesn’t already. so, how’s life up in that little hideout of yours? still lonely as hell?”

i force a smile, shrugging. “it’s quiet. good for focus.”

his eyes narrow slightly, as though he’s not buying it. he's always been able to read me, better than anyone, i think. “quiet, huh? sounds miserable.”

“it’s fine, really,” i say, brushing it off. “how’s piper?”

“she’s good. out with kerman right now, probably terrorizing the markets.” his grin fades slightly, his tone softening. “she misses you, though. you should come by more.”

i glance down at my hands, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve. “yeah. maybe.” the guilt is back, weighing heavy on my heart again. now, more than ever, i am starting to doubt this is all worth it. if zaun is just a dream we are chasing to get our minds off the horror we call life. I hope not, truly. if we are right, and life was fair, my brothers would still be here.

the room falls quiet except for the faint crackle of the fire. welsh leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his eyes flicker over me. “alright, mercy. spill. what’s eating at you?”

“nothing,” i say quickly, too quickly. i fumble for a distraction, pointing at the bandages on his leg. “i was gonna ask how you’re holding up after—”

his gaze sharpens, cutting me off. “don’t do that. don’t deflect.”

damn him. i try to hold it together, to smile and laugh it off like i tend to always do in situations like these, but his eyes don’t leave mine. they’re searching, waiting. my throat tightens.

“mercy,” he says, softer now. “talk to me.”

the words are like a crack in the dam. before i can stop myself, my face crumbles, and everything i’ve been holding back spills out all at once. my shoulders shake, and i bury my face in my hands, the tears coming hot and fast.

welsh is out of his chair in an instant, dropping his crutch and pulling me into a hug. his arms wrap around me, solid and warm, grounding me as i sob into his shoulder. “hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “it’s okay. let it out.”

“i—i should’ve been here for you guys,” i choke out, my voice breaking. “if i hadn’t left—if i’d stayed—”

“stop,” welsh says firmly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. “none of this was your fault.”

“i keep seeing them,” i whisper, the memories flashing behind my closed eyes. “-and the collapse, the dust, the—” my voice falters, and i clutch him tighter. “rey and roese—they didn’t deserve that.”

“no one there did,” welsh says quietly, his own voice thick with emotion. “but you can’t carry it all, mercy. you’ll break under the weight.”

the words hit hard because they’re true. i’ve been trying to hold everything together—living alone, taking on responsibilities that don’t belong to me, running from the guilt that follows me like a shadow.

i pull back slightly, wiping at my face with trembling hands. “i just... i miss them.”

“i know,” welsh says, his eyes glistening as he rests a hand on my shoulder. “i miss them too.”

the fire crackles softly, filling the silence between us. for a moment, we just sit there, the weight of shared grief hanging in the air. it doesn’t feel lighter, but it feels less lonely. and that, at least, is something.

—

the chill of the night bites at my skin as i step out of the house, pulling my coat tighter around me. the sky above zaun is a dull, muted haze, a few faint stars managing to pierce through the gloom. the familiar route to the last drop stretches ahead, but it feels longer tonight, heavier. each step drags with the weight of the conversation i just left behind.

my chest tightens as i picture their faces, burned into my memory like the ghost of a photograph. rey’s sharp wit, always two steps ahead, the way he could make even the worst situations seem manageable. roese’s laugh, light and clear like wind chimes, a sound that could brighten even the darkest days.

and now they’re gone.

my boots scuff against the uneven cobblestones, the sound muffled by the hum of distant machinery. the air smells of oil and smoke, thick with the life of the undercity. i try to focus on it, on anything to keep my mind from spiraling, but the images won’t stop coming.

the collapse. the dust. their voices calling out, swallowed by the chaos.

my throat tightens as i blink back tears. i tell myself to stop, to keep it together, but the ache won’t let me go. my vision blurs as a single tear slips free, trailing down my cheek. i swipe at it quickly, as if the act of wiping it away can erase the feelings that caused it.

months, and yet the pain feels as raw as it did the day i lost them. i believe it now, that we are fighting for something. safer environments for our workers, a fairer wage, a place to feel safe. i wonder if they had felt safe in the mines before it had collapsed, i wonder if they felt any pain, or if they called for help.

i stop in my tracks, my hands trembling as i press them into my coat pockets. their faces flash in my mind again, but this time it’s different—less vivid, more faded. like they’re slipping away, piece by piece. a part of me hates that. another part is terrified by it.

because if i lose them in my mind, what’s left?

i force myself to keep walking, my boots striking the ground harder now, as though the motion alone can push me forward. the lights of the last drop come into view, the familiar neon sign casting a faint glow against the surrounding darkness. the sight should bring some kind of comfort, but tonight, it just feels hollow.

a shaky breath escapes me as i pause just short of the entrance, my eyes tracing the glowing letters. i reach up, brushing the dampness from my cheeks before anyone inside can see. no one needs to know how close to breaking i am. not here, not now.

my hand grips the handle of the tavern door, the worn wood cold beneath my fingers. i draw in a deep breath, steadying myself before pushing it open. the creak of the hinges is almost drowned out by the noise inside—the rumble of conversations, the clinking of glass, the muffled thrum of music that fills the air like a living thing. it’s the kind of noise that wraps around you, pulls you into its pulse. i step inside, the heat of bodies pressing against me, the smoky air thick with the scent of burning wood and spilled liquor. the tavern feels alive—chaotic, messy, but familiar. a place for the lost and the broken, where the weight of the world can be forgotten, if only for a few hours. just how we'd dreamed of.

my eyes scan the room, landing on the familiar slim figure hunched over the bar. his sharp profile cuts through the haze of conversation, his focus fixed on the paper in front of him. i move through the crowd, weaving between bodies, the smell of sweat and booze clinging to my skin.

as i approach, vander’s eyes flick to me, a warm, welcoming smile spreading across his broad face. without a word, he grabs a glass and begins to fill it with something dark, something strong. the comforting clink of the bottle meeting glass cuts through the noise.

“tough night?” vander asks, his deep voice a soothing rumble beneath the cacophony. he gestures toward the empty barstool beside silco, who doesn’t seem to have noticed me yet.

“you could say that,” i murmur, dropping onto the stool with a sigh. my hand presses against my brow, the headache from earlier still lingering, dull and relentless.

i turn my head slightly, watching silco, who’s still absorbed in whatever he’s scribbling on his paper. his hair, tied back into a neat knot, frames his sharp features, his eyes hidden beneath the weight of his thoughts.

the sound of my voice cuts through the haze, and silco slowly lifts his gaze. his eyes, sharp and calculating, meet mine. there's that flicker of amusement, barely noticeable, before he lets out a quiet chuckle.

“you look like hell,” he observes, the words dripping with a quiet mockery, but there’s something almost affectionate beneath the surface.

vander laughs, the sound rich and easy, as he slides the filled glass in front of me. i don’t hesitate—grab the glass, take a long, slow sip. the burn of the liquor slides down my throat, a welcome sting against the fog of exhaustion in my mind.

“laugh it up,” i mutter, smirking, then lean back in my chair. “it's been a long day.”

silco raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking over the drink in my hand. “bit early for you, isn't it?” he says, his voice tinged with the same sharp amusement that laces his every word. his gaze lingers on the liquid sloshing in my glass as i set it back down on the bar. “you know, you're not the only one with problems, mercy.”

“problems,” i repeat, chuckling dryly. “i’m sure we all have our fair share.”

the low murmur of conversation swirls around us, but it feels distant now. here, in this space, the world outside doesn’t matter. it's just us—vander, the giant with a heart too big for his own good, silco, the enigma with eyes that see everything, and me, caught somewhere in between.

i take another sip, savoring the burn. the alcohol’s warmth starts to spread through my chest, chasing away the last of the cold that’s settled in my bones. for a moment, the noise of the tavern becomes a dull hum, like the world’s slipping into a quieter space where nothing matters but the moment.

vander leans back, folding his arms across his chest. his eyes glint with something close to concern, but it's masked by his usual easy smile. “what’s on your mind, mercy? you’re a long way from home.”

silco doesn’t speak, but his gaze sharpens, flicking to me as though he’s waiting for something—an answer, a hesitation. he knows when I’m hiding something, when I’m trying to keep the weight of it from spilling out.

“everything's falling apart, vander,” i murmur, my voice low, almost lost under the hum of the tavern. “deals are being brokered in the shadows, things are shifting, and i feel as if I can't keep up. i don’t know where i fit into it anymore.”

there’s a beat of silence, then vander’s hand comes down on the bar, firm but steady. “you fit in here, mercy. you always have.”

the words hit harder than i had expected, and i swallow them down, letting the familiar comfort of the tavern settle over me. though, my expression fills of doubt, “everything I do is for them, i only worry if i sacrifice too much, my mother will be left with one less child.”

silco’s eyes remain cold, but there’s something there—a flicker of understanding, of recognition. maybe he feels it too, the shift in the air. the tension that’s been building, not just between us, but in the very bones of zaun. “we all have our place,” silco says quietly, his voice measured, but there’s an edge to it. "whether we like it or not."

i glance at him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time tonight, i feel like we might be on the same page. the air between us crackles with something unspoken, something heavy.

a low laugh escapes my throat, almost bitter. "great. just what i need—more responsibility."

vander snorts, then pours himself a drink. “more like a headache,” he mutters, his usual grin returning. “but hell, you've survived worse.”

—

the hours slip by unnoticed, the tavern slowly emptying out as the night stretches on. the clinking of glasses and murmured conversations fade, leaving behind the murky hum of the few still lingering. vander and silco’s voices become the only constant in my ears, the ebb and flow of our conversation shifting from idle chatter to the weightier things we’re too tired to ignore.

vander pours another round, his hands as steady as ever. the low light carves shadows into his face, his solid frame seeming even larger in the dim glow. he’s a calming anchor, unshaken. silco, by contrast, cuts a sharper figure, his sharp eyes darting, never still, like he’s always a step ahead of whatever’s coming.

“i don’t trust him,” silco says, his voice low and cold, each word deliberate, like they weigh more than they should. the air between us tightens, the room seeming smaller. “too many inconsistencies.”

i glance down at the slip of paper our informant passed me earlier, scanning it for whatever flaws silco sees. “he was right last time,” i offer, not ready to let go of the lead just yet.

silco’s gaze cuts to me, unyielding. “last time doesn’t matter. i trust my instincts, and they’re telling me he’s compromised.”

“noted,” vander rumbles, his voice calm but firm as he wipes down the bar. he doesn’t look up, but the weight of his presence settles over the space, grounding us. the silence that follows feels heavy, like the air itself is pressing in.

i sigh, more tired than frustrated. “fine. then you find the next one. i’m done chasing ghosts.”

silco doesn’t miss a beat. “i will.” his tone is clipped, final, as he turns his attention back to his notes.

the conversation drifts, the quiet becoming more pronounced, the steady hum of the city outside settling into a soft but oppressive backdrop. the muffled sounds of footsteps on cobblestones outside catch my ear just before the door swings open, and the familiar jingle of the bell rings above it, snapping me from my thoughts. I glance up, half-expecting a round of trouble, but instead, it’s her. felicia.

her presence fills the room with a breath of fresh air, like a gust of wind that sweeps away the dust. the warmth of the tavern seems to brighten just a little as she strides in, grinning, eyes already scanning the dim corners of the room. her steps are light, carefree, and when she spots us, her smile widens—mischief dancing in her eyes, like she knows something we don’t.

“was starting to think you weren't going to make it,” i mutter, watching her glide over to the jukebox, her hands already working the machine without hesitation.

“didn’t think you’d make it at all,” she calls back over her shoulder, her voice warm, teasing, a little lilt to it as she slides a coin into the jukebox. her fingers flick the switch, and soon the soft strains of music fill the air—a nostalgic tune that somehow seems to soften the edges of the room.

vander clears the bartop of glasses, washing and rinsing them with a steady rhythm. as he dries yet another glass, he looks up at felicia by the jukebox. “what's the occasion?” he asks, his voice rough but affectionate, as he places the glass down to pick up another.

“can’t a lady just be in the mood for a familiar song?” she quips, a smile dancing on her lips.

“not this lady, and not this song.” vander chuckles, shaking his head as he moves to fill fresh glasses.

i look back to felicia, her body swaying effortlessly to the music. there's something soothing about the way she moves, like she belongs here, like she belongs with us. her steps lead her back to the bar, her eyes gleaming as she meets vander’s gaze. it's a look that's both teasing and comfortable—like they've known each other too long for anything less.

she props herself up beside me, her hand reaching for one of the glasses vander just filled. the bar seems to glow in the low light, and despite the minimal crowd, there's an energy here. a warmth that fills my chest and reminds me that—yes, it's been a long year, and yes, I'm exhausted—but in this moment, it's all worth it. surrounded by people I love. all we do is fight, but tonight, we're reminded of why we fight.

felicia turns to me, her eyes flicking between vander and silco, the faintest spark of amusement in them. “tonight, a harebrained scheme these two bozos cooked up to turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community, became a reality.” she smiles, raising her glass to clink with vander’s.

i smile back, reaching over to hand silco his glass. he nods in thanks, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than it should. vander, ever the tease, laughs.

“tonight, huh? you hear that, bozo two? we made it, we're done." his grin is wide, but there's something in his eyes—a flicker of pride, of relief.

silco takes his glass, meeting ours with a small but genuine smile, the faintest curve of his lips. “oh, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m bozo one.” he says, and for just a second, I almost forget everything else.

vander raises his right hand in toast. “a night of revelations.” he says, before taking a deep, slow sip of his drink.

everyone smiles, sipping in time, when felicia’s voice cuts through the soft music. “I’m knocked up,” she announces with a grin, leaning against the counter. it’s so casual, so unbothered, that it takes a moment for the words to land.

vander, silco, and I exchange looks of confusion. it's only a moment, but it feels like a brief hesitation in time.

without a word, vander fills a fresh glass with juice, pulling her empty one away with a quiet, protective gesture. the room is still, save for the gentle hum of the song, and his unspoken care speaks louder than anything he could say.

“a girl,” felicia predicts, leaning into the counter, taking the glass greedily. she sips, eyes flicking to each of us in turn, a hint of something softer behind her words.

vander leans on the bar, still looking at her with that unshakable steadiness. “how do you know?”

felicia shrugs, striking the juice with the straw, but there’s a vulnerability in her expression, one she tries to mask with bravado. “wasn’t really part of my plan, but... guess that’s everything when you’re living week to week.”

silco sets his notebook down with a soft thud, the pen dropping with finality. he stands, his hand brushing my shoulder as he passes, the briefest squeeze making my pulse stutter before he moves to lean next to felicia, his presence close, but not overwhelming.

“what did connel say?” vander asks, tilting his head as he studies felicia. there’s a bond there, a history that none of us could ever quite fully understand, but we don’t need to.

“I haven’t told him yet,” she breathes out, a forced enthusiasm that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “still working up the nerve.” her voice falters, just for a second, before she steadies it again.

silco shifts his weight, leaning closer to the bar, his eyes flicking over felicia and vander before locking onto mine. the briefest of smiles plays on his lips, a look that's as unreadable as ever, but there's something behind it—something like understanding. like he's always understood.

felicia sighs, one hand reaching up to massage her neck, her thumb rubbing the back of it like she's trying to soothe away the nerves. “I don’t know anything about kids,” she scoffs, the humor in her tone masking the uncertainty there. “I get sweaty, being alone with one.”

vander cuts in gently, a smile in his voice. “hey. you’re gonna be a great mother.”

his words are simple, but they settle over her like a promise, and she meets his gaze with something soft—vulnerable, even.

“shut up, I’m not really for that,” she grumbles, but it’s a friendly tease. “i started trying to come up with a name, and it hits me—this one word is a decision she’s gonna live with her whole life.”

“i can't protect her from all the shit down here, and work out how to be a parent at the same time. then I realized,” she takes a slow breath, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “i don’t have to.”

i swallow another sip, looking at her with a soft curiosity. “why’s that?” i ask, the question more for myself than anyone else.

“because the second i told you,” she grins, a playful glint in her eye. “i put you on the hook. you three are gonna figure the zaun thing out. I don’t care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters. you’re not allowed to fail anymore. for her. for me.”

vander raises a brow, his lips curling into a fond, knowing smile. “what’s the point if we can’t raise an ankle-biter or two?”

there’s a moment of quiet laughter before silco meets my eyes, that unreadable smile still lingering. it’s a look that feels too intimate for this room, too unspoken. and for just a beat, everything else fades away.

he raises his glass once more. “to zaun, then, blisters and bedrock,” he proposes, his voice quiet but firm.

“blisters and bedrock,” vander repeats with a soft chuckle, as we all raise our glasses in agreement.

there’s a moment of quiet contemplation after, the soft music filling the gaps in our words, before vander, ever the sentimental one, looks up with a thoughtful expression. “i’ve always liked the name violet.”

—

the night air is cool as we step out into the street, the city's hum muffled beneath the weight of the sky. my footsteps are a little unsteady, the buzz of the drink still humming beneath my skin, but it feels good. right, even. the kind of comfortable warmth that comes from being around the people you care about, in a place where everything feels… a little more possible.

silco walks beside me, his silhouette looming against the flickering lanterns that line the street. there’s a stillness in his movements, like he’s in no rush, and something about the way he lingers at my side keeps the air between us charged—quietly, but undeniably so. every step, every breath, feels like a whisper of something that’s just out of reach.

i glance over at him, trying to gauge his mood. he's usually so unreadable, but tonight there's a softness in the way he holds himself, a warmth to his presence that’s almost… comforting. like he’s letting the walls come down, just a little. i wonder if it’s because of the drink, or if it’s because of tonight. maybe a little bit of both.

“you know,” i start, the words slipping out easier than i expect, “i never thought felicia would be the one to… well, announce something like that.”

there’s a faint, amused glint in silco's eyes, but his gaze is still fixed ahead. “you never do know with her,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “she always keeps us on our toes.”

i chuckle, the sound a little unsteady. “yeah, she really does. but…” my words trail off for a moment, as i try to put my thoughts together. "i just… don't know if i can imagine her as a mother. not like that, anyway."

silco’s gaze shifts to me, his brow slightly furrowed, but there's no judgment in his expression—just that quiet, knowing patience that he always carries. “you're not alone.” he says, his voice steady and assuring.

i nod, feeling the weight of his words. my thoughts drift back to felicia, the way she held herself tonight. there was a strength to her, but there was also fear, an uncertainty beneath the bravado. it reminded me of myself, in some ways. reminded me of the people here—how we all keep pushing forward, even when we don’t know what we’re doing half the time.

“i just… i want her to be okay,” i admit, my voice a little quieter now. “she's always been there, you know? for me, for all of us. it feels like we owe her something more than just… existing down here.”

silco’s expression softens, his steps slowing just slightly, as if he's considering my words. then, after a pause, he says, “it’s more than that. we don’t owe her just survival. we owe her the chance to thrive.” his gaze flicks over to me, and for a moment, there’s something in his eyes—something that makes my heart beat a little faster, something deeper than just the conversation. “and maybe we can give her that. maybe we can give everyone that.”

i feel a flutter in my chest at his words. something in the way he says them, so quietly, like he’s not just talking about felicia. like he’s talking about all of us. about me.

“you sound like you’ve got a plan,” i tease, but even to my own ears, my voice is too soft. too knowing. i wonder if he can hear the shift in it.

he doesn’t smile, not fully. but there’s a faint curve of his lips, just enough to show a glimpse of what’s behind the carefully guarded walls. “perhaps i do,” he murmurs, the words barely a breath in the cool air. “but it’s not just about a plan. it’s about a chance. a chance to do something bigger than what we’ve been fighting for. something… lasting.”

his words hang in the air between us, quiet and heavy. i stumble slightly, the drink making my balance a little more fickle than usual, and silco’s hand shoots out to steady me. it’s a simple gesture, one he’s done countless times, but tonight it feels… different. there’s an intensity in his touch, as if he’s grounding me, holding me steady in a world that constantly seems to shift beneath our feet.

“hey, watch it,” he murmurs, though his tone is gentle, the edge of concern making it sound almost… affectionate.

i look up at him, my thoughts suddenly a little more scattered than before. “sorry. guess i’ve had a bit too much to drink,” i mutter, a laugh escaping me that’s a little too soft, a little too vulnerable.

“doesn’t bother me,” he says, his voice low and steady, and there’s something in the way he looks at me—something unspoken, something lingering. “you’ve been through a lot. we all have.”

the quiet between us deepens then, the streetlights casting long shadows on the ground, and for a moment, it feels like time slows. the world outside the two of us fades away, leaving only the soft rhythm of our footsteps and the steady presence of him beside me.

finally, i break the silence, the words slipping out before i can stop them. “what’s your plan, silco?”

he takes a breath, glancing sideways at me with an expression that’s both guarded and open, like he's deciding just how much to reveal. “my plan?” he repeats, almost thoughtfully. “to give this place a future. our future. something worth fighting for, not just surviving.”

the weight of his words hangs in the air like a promise, something more than just a casual statement. it feels like a commitment—like he’s asking me to believe in it with him.

i hesitate, my heart picking up speed in my chest. "you think we can do it?" i ask, quieter now, a little breathless.

there’s a long pause, where silco doesn’t speak, but the way he looks at me—like he’s considering me, truly seeing me—makes something in my chest tighten. finally, his voice cuts through the stillness.

“i don’t think we have a choice.”

and there it is—the same intensity in his voice that always makes everything feel real. like there’s no turning back from whatever path we choose. but in the same breath, it feels like a challenge. one i’m ready to take.

we walk a little further, the weight of our conversation lingering, neither of us willing to break the quiet just yet. the night feels endless, but in a good way—like it holds the promise of something new, something unknown. and with silco beside me, it feels like maybe, just maybe, we can finally carve out a place for ourselves in this city.

as we reach the door to my place, i glance at him one last time, the words nearly escaping before i can stop them.

“thanks,” i say, my voice soft as velvet. “for tonight.”

he nods, his gaze lingering on me just a moment longer than necessary, before he speaks in that low voice of his. “always.”

and with that, he turns, fading into the night, leaving me with the quiet warmth of the evening—and the weight of the future that we’ve only just begun to imagine.

—

1.5 YEARS FUTURE

in the recent months, things have been shifting-grinding against the edges of everything we've tried to build. fights are breaking out across the undercity, the echoes of rebellion rising like a storm cloud. i suppose you could blame us, for planting the seed of hope, for dreaming of something bigger, something better. but what's a world without hope? without the chance to change? without the dream that maybe, just maybe, things can be different?

the people, they feel it too. the fire burning beneath the surface. but not everyone shares our idea of peace. far too many are content to cower in the shadows, bound by invisible chains. they're afraid to fight for freedom, afraid to take the risks it requires to make things right. these are the ones who cause us the most trouble-the ones who think that silence and submission are safer than rebellion, than standing up for something.

things have changed since then, in ways that make it harder to breathe. what started as a handful of us has swelled into nearly all of the lanes. loyal and unyielding, kind people just trying to survive. the tension between us and the others grows, every day pushing us toward something we can't stop. it's been like this for months. they follow us now, because they believe in something—a dream they can't quite see, but they feel it. they want to believe.

the last drop, though... it's become home. more than just a refuge. it's a place where our found family gathers-vander, silco, felisha, benzo, sevika, and even the ones who aren't quite part of us but still fight for what we've built. it's where plans are made, dreams are shared, and even amidst the chaos, we find moments of laughter and camaraderie over drinks that taste too sweet in this bitter place. this, this is what life should be like.

we call it a democracy, a vision where the people have a say, where we listen to them and they listen to us. it's a perfect system-or so i tell myself. everyone wins. everyone has a part to play. but deep down, i know... not everyone wants to be a hero. not everyone is willing to fight, to risk their lives for this cause. and i can't blame them for that.

i sit at one of the booths inside now, the constant tapping of my pen against the wood almost rhythmic, like my thoughts. waiting. waiting for the plan. waiting for a message to tell us how we should fight back against the rising rebel group that thinks violence is the only language they understand. i hate it. i hate that we're forced into this corner where it seems like we're left with no choice but to meet force with force.

but the truth is, i don't want violence. i never have. it only leaves destruction in its wake, and no matter how much you tell yourself it's for the greater good, the harm never goes away. the wounds don't heal.

yet vander and silco have seemed to convinced themselves that it's the only way to show these rebels that the lanes are ours, that we won't be pushed around. they think it's the only way to keep the peace. but in the back of my mind, something tells me that the more we fight, the more we lose. the lanes aren't ours. not really. they belong to the people. zaun is a place for everyone, not just the ones with enough blood on their hands to claim ownership. it's a place where we don't have to fight. we shouldn't have to fight.

the door bursts open, and huck rushes in, his eyes scanning the pub before landing on me. there's a familiar urgency in his steps as he moves through the crowd, holding something tight in his hand. a plan, no doubt. i sit up straighter, trying to shake off the weight of the internal conflict l've been carrying.

i wave him over, my face softening as he makes his way to the table. his nervousness is clear, and he tries to hide it with a quick smile.

“got something for me?” i ask, my voice low, even though i already know the answer.

“oh! yes, here,” huck says, his hands shaking just enough to make the paper rattle. “vander says stay put, and they'll be back within the hour.”

i take the paper from him, my fingers brushing his. “thanks, huck. stay safe, alright?”

he nods, his relief visible in the way his shoulders relax, then turns to leave quickly, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud.

i watch him go, then turn my attention back to the paper in my hand. i fold it up, but my fingers linger on the edges of the creases. the music from the bar, faint in the background, feels like a distant hum against the storm building inside me. my heart races, but not from excitement, from worry.

i pull the paper back out again, my eyes scanning the words. something inside me twists, a knot tightening. a sense of unease settles low in my gut.

“shit.”

the words slip out before i can stop them. i close my eyes, trying to steady myself. this isn't the way i wanted things to go. we're fighting in the streets when i've always wanted peace. we're pushing forward into something bigger than we can control, and the consequences... they're already starting to pile up.

but l'm not sure if we can stop it anymore.

—

the night hung heavy over the lanes, a thick blanket of silence stretching across the streets. the usual hum of life had dwindled to a distant echo as the last rays of sunlight fought to hold onto the horizon, leaving behind the muted gray of twilight. the streets felt like they were holding their breath. as if waiting for something they couldn't name.

we hadn't planned for the night to take such a turn. the tension had been building for weeks, and despite the slow but steady growth of our ranks, there were still those who wanted to tear down what we'd built. and what we'd built, despite all odds, had become something strong.

i stayed seated at one of the booths inside the last drop, my eyes tracing the dark wood grain of the table. the flickering lights above cast soft shadows across the room, and the air inside was thick with the mingling smells of wet clothing, stale beer, and the lingering scent of something more desperate. a low hum of conversation filled the space, quieter than usual, as if the patrons were waiting for something too.

benzo and sevika had arrived first, and soon after, silco joined us—his sharp gaze never leaving the door as he took a seat, the weight of his presence undeniable. vander walked in last, his broad frame filling the doorway as he shook the rain off his coat. the usual comfort of being with family was replaced by a quiet, unspoken tension.

i could feel the heaviness in my chest, the conflict stirring within me. every word i said had been a battle of its own— one side urging for peace, the other pushing for strength. and that strength, the very thing that had kept us alive, was now the thing i feared most.

“where's felisha and connel?” benzo asked, his voice quieter than usual. he was looking at vander, a brow arched in curiosity.

vander hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking toward the floor. "they're safe," he said finally, his voice calm but firm. "felisha's at home, resting. connel's with her, making sure she's taken care of."

i knew what that meant-vander's decision to keep them out of the fighting wasn't just about keeping them safe. he was trying to protect them from the darker side of this life, the side we all knew too well. the side that made people lose themselves in the struggle.

“is she okay?” i asked, unable to keep the concern from creeping into my voice. felisha had been so strong during her first pregnancy, and i knew she wanted to be here, to help in any way she could. but vander had insisted she stay behind, and now with the threat escalating, it feels like the right decision.

vander gave a small nod. “they're both fine. we'll make sure it stays that way.” his gaze locked onto mine, his words carrying more weight than i wanted them to. “but you know we can't afford to risk their safety now. not when things are this close to the edge.”

i sighed, the weight of our situation pressing down harder than i could bear.

“we can't let them have the lanes,” sevika said, breaking the silence, her tone hard but focused. “not after everything we've built. they'll destroy it all.”

“we won't let them,” silco adds, his voice colder than i wanted to hear. he hadn't spoken much since we walked in, but now, his eyes were fixed on the others, intense and unwavering. “the problem is, they're getting bolder. we can't fight this quietly anymore. it's either we show them we're stronger, or they'll burn it all down, and we'll be left picking up the pieces.”

the room grew quiet at his words, the tension settling over us like a storm cloud. silco's words were always direct, never sugarcoated. he saw everything in terms of power and survival, and sometimes, his vision felt too narrow.

“i don't want to fight,” i say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, though I knew everyone heard me. my hands were shaking slightly, though I tried to still them. “i didn't sign up for this... this violence. this isn't what we wanted for zaun.”

“i know,” vander replied, his voice gentle but heavy with understanding. “but sometimes, it's what we need to survive. i don't want it either, mercy. but we're cornered. and i won't let them take what we've fought for.”

i looked at him, feeling the weight of his words more than i could explain. he wasn't wrong, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. every day, i fought this internal battle— struggling to keep our vision alive, to protect the people who had come to believe in something better. and yet, every day, i feared we were getting further from that dream.

—

the night faded to black, the kind of uneasy calm that clung to the air like a fog before a storm. the sky above the lanes was thick with gray clouds, the weight of a storm that hadn't yet broken. it was as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting. the main street was marked with the signs of everyday life-makeshift carts selling bread, trinkets, cheap medicines-rusted pipes leaking steam into the thickening evening air. people lingered in the shadows, watching with wary eyes, as if sensing the shift before it happened. the low hum of the streets seemed to vibrate with the quiet tension that had settled over everything.

at the heart of it all, we stood-those of us who were the pulse of the lanes, the ones who kept it from falling apart. vander was at the center, as always, his broad shoulders square with the weight of leadership, his hands resting casually on his hips but ready to move. benzo stood off to the side, watching the surroundings, his lips pressed into a thin line as he muttered something under his breath to sevika. she shook her head, but there was that familiar smirk on her lips.

and then, there was silco. always at the edge, always watching. his dark eyes scanning the alleyways, the rooftops, every corner where someone might be lurking. there was a coldness in his stance, a sharpness to the way he held himself. but there was also something... else. something deeper. the kind of confidence that came only from knowing exactly who you were and what you were willing to fight for.

i was at the center with them, as much a part of this as the rest. but unlike the others, my thoughts weren't fully focused on the fight that was coming. my mind kept circling back to what vander had said before this.

“it's going to be bad,” he'd said, looking up from his work, his face shadowed by the light of the forge. “you know that, right?”

i had nodded, though part of me wished i didn't. the truth was, i'd been expecting this.

“you don't have to be there. i know what i said earlier, about needing to fight. but not all of us.” his tone softened, almost pleading. “welsh, piper, kerman, your mother-they need you safe. keep your head down.”

but i couldn't promise that. not when they were threatening us like this. not when they were willing to take food and medicine away from our people. they've hit warehouses, and stashes for the hungry over the past few weeks, and we've done nothing of value. silco was right, they won't change. i clenched my fists, trying to push the feeling of anger down.

“this is about more than safety, vander,” i'd said, voice low but steady. “you said it yourself, it's about showing them that we don't bow down. we're not just scraps to be picked over.”

he had paused, looking at me for a long moment, his gaze dark with concern. but there was something else there too-pride. he didn't argue, but his next words were quiet, heavy with weight. “just promise me one thing... keep the family out of it. they don't need to see this side of things. not yet.”

and i had nodded, though i knew it wasn't just about keeping them safe anymore. it was about showing them all that the lanes were ours, and we wouldn't give them up to anyone.

i shook myself out of the memory as the sound of boots echoed in the distance.

the rebels arrived in a group of fifteen, swaggering into the street with the kind of arrogance that only comes from thinking you can take anything. their leader, a wiry man with a sneer that seemed permanent, led them forward. his eyes flicked from us to the surroundings, as if deciding which part of the street he'd claim as his own.

“thought you'd come out to play,” he called, his voice a mockery, trying to rattle us.

vander didn't flinch. he stepped forward, his voice booming. “you've made your mistake.”

the leader scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “what are you gonna do? you think you scare me?”

“i don't need to scare you,” vander said, his voice steady. “i just need to remind you that the lanes belong to us.”

that was the last moment of quiet before everything erupted.

the first punch came from the leader, a swing of his bat aimed at vander's head, but vander was already moving. he caught the bat mid-swing and with a grunt of effort, yanked it from the man's hands and tossed it aside like it was nothing. the force of the move left the leader staggered, and vander capitalized, landing a clean blow to his jaw that sent him crashing to the ground.

but the others were quick to close in, and the chaos unfolded like a tidal wave.

i kept close to the group, staying with benzo and sevika as we pushed back the first few pretenders who tried to surround us. sevika was a whirlwind of power, each strike from her fists sending her opponents reeling. her face was a mask of concentration, but beneath it, there was the familiar smirk-because sevika always had a way of enjoying herself in the fight.

benzo was quicker than most expected, using his size and speed to outmaneuver the attackers who underestimated him. he was like a shadow, slipping between them, landing precise hits that had their opponents staggering.

but it was silco i kept watching. his movements were smooth and fluid, his fists like steel, landing punches with surgical precision. i watched as he dispatched one man with a swift uppercut, his eyes flashing with deadly focus. then another came at him with a knife, and silco's reaction was immediate—a sidestep, a quick jab to the ribs, and the man crumpled.

the fight moved like a dance, each of us weaving in and out of chaos. fists landed, bodies hit the cobblestones, and the sound of bones snapping echoed in the night. i lost track of time, focused only on staying in the fight, staying with the group.

but the pretenders couldn't keep up. they were outmatched, unprepared for what they'd walked into. slowly, they began to fall, groaning and retreating as they realized they were on the losing side.

the rain poured down harder now, the steady rhythm of the droplets masking the heavy breaths of our fleeting and exhausted crew. the alley where the fight had just taken place seemed almost peaceful in the aftermath, though the air still hummed with tension. blood and sweat mixed in the rain, turning the cobblestones into slick, treacherous ground. the violence of the streets was never far, but in that moment, there was a brief, hard-earned respite.

i looked at silco, standing there with his back against a brick wall in the opposing alley, the rain dripping from his hair and down the lines of his face. nearly out of sight, but close enough.

he was wiping his hands off, his eyes scanning the aftermath, making sure no one was left standing who shouldn't be. he exhaled slowly, an almost imperceptible sigh that spoke volumes about the burden he carried. i had learned, over time, that silco never truly stopped watching, never truly stopped calculating.

but he had no more words for me just yet. instead, i cross the street toward him, the bottle of antiseptic still in my hand, a small cloth in the other. he glanced at me but said nothing, his face hard, but his eyes giving me an open invitation to step closer. i did, silently, offering him the comfort of something i knew he wouldn't ask for.

his gaze never wavered as i reached for his jaw, gently dabbing at the cut on his forehead. it was a simple gesture, but it carried more weight than any words could. “you're starting to make this a habit,” he said, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

i couldn't help the playful retort that escaped. “maybe you should stop getting hurt, and i wouldn't have to.” i pressed the cloth against the cut, careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain. he flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

“you box too much,” i added, as lightly as i could. “starting to think you enjoy getting punched.”

silco's smirk deepened, the edge of it softening. “keeps me sharp.”

“keeps you arrogant,” i teased, my laughter escaping before i could stop it. the sound was light, but it felt like the first real moment of levity in days, maybe weeks.

“you could take it easy once in a while,” i murmured, my tone quieter now, the concern underneath unmistakable. the words felt more fragile in the air between us, and i knew silco felt it too. he gave me a long look, the kind that made my heart stutter, before his smirk faded into something more genuine, more serious.

“and miss moments like this?” he asked, his voice low but steady. it lingered between us, hanging in the cool, damp air like a promise.

without thinking, i leaned closer. his lips met mine, the kiss wasn't rushed or frantic, but it was undeniably real. there was something grounding in it, something that anchored us both in the moment, something that spoke of unspoken trust, of the way we had come to rely on each other in this chaotic world.

i pulled back just slightly, my hand coming up instinctively to cup his bruised cheek. the taste of his blood lingered on my tongue, and for a brief moment, i thought he might pull away, but he didn't. his hand moved over mine, colder than usual, and it was as intimate as it was chilling.

i broke away, our faces still close, only inches apart. his eyes locked onto mine-darker now, burning with something deeper. there was a hunger there, a need that i wasn't sure either of us was ready to acknowledge.

he scoffed softly, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. “you're trouble,” he said, his voice gruff, but the hint of a laugh was there, hidden beneath the words.

i chuckled softly, my hand falling back to my side. “you wouldn't have me any other way,” i replied, my words slipping out before i could catch them. his expression softened just a little, the weight of the moment not lost on either of us. the lightness in the air was replaced by something deeper, something that carried a seriousness neither of us could deny.

the moment didn't last, though. the sounds of the lanes pulled me back to reality. the people we fought for, the people who had come to rely on us-silco's vision for zaun, for this place, needed to be upheld. and i knew the peace we longed for was still out of reach.

we moved, both of us-without words, but with a mutual understanding. the rest of the group would be waiting. the last drop was our gathering point, a place where we could plan, regroup, and make sure the people of the lanes were taken care of. as we walked, the rain began to let up, though the streets remained slick and dangerous.

when we arrived at the pub, it was as chaotic as it had ever been. the soft sounds of laughter mixed with the faint, comforting hum of quiet conversations. the patrons of the last drop, the lifeblood of the lanes, were being patched up, their injuries cleaned and bandaged by those willing to step up.

vander stood near the back, his strong arms folded as he watched over everyone. benzo was at the bar, speaking with one of the regulars, while sevika sat at a table, her usual cold expression softened by the quiet solace of being surrounded by family. but it was silco i kept watching. his presence was undeniable, his movements smooth and fluid, even as he made his way through the crowd to join the others. his eyes flickered to mine once, a silent acknowledgment that we were still in this fight together.

we weren't just fighting for the lanes anymore. we were fighting for our families. for felisha and connel, who had chosen to stay home to keep their own safe. for violet, their daughter, who deserved a future without fear. for my mother hurting at home, burdened with the unnecessary loss of two of her children, and for my remaining sibilings, who deserve more than they know.

i find a seat beside sevika, who sends me a nod, a quiet understanding. I return the favor, my eyes trailing the new bruise forming around her eye. we're surrounded by many familiar faces, which are now battered and bruised. the sight makes me sick, but they don't seem upset. they seem happy, cheering over the drinks benzo took over pouring.

if they can enjoy it, then so can I.

i hear a glass ding, as vander stands taller than everyone else, ready for a speech. the room quiets to a solid silence, awaiting what vander has to say as he moves to centre of the room.

“whatever is thrown at us next, we stand together. we hold this ground, and we hold each other up. we fight for this place, and we fight for each other. because that's what this is about-our bond, our commitment to this place and to one another.”

his eyes scanned the room slowly, catching the gaze of each person who had fought tonight, their faces marked by the grit of battle. some were nursing bruises, others nursing wounds, but their eyes, every one of them, reflected the same thing: a quiet but fierce determination. vander's gaze lingered on sevika, benzo, silco, and then me, before moving on to the others.

“you see, it's not about winning every fight,” he went on, his voice stronger now, infused with that familiar authority we all respected. “it's about showing them that we will never stop standing. that we will never stop fighting for what's ours. because when you stand together, nothing can tear you apart. not threats, not betrayal, not the weight of the world on your shoulders. nothing.”

the air in the room felt thicker as his words settled in, like the weight of everything we had lost and everything we still had to protect was bearing down on all of us. but it was a weight that we bore willingly. we had no choice. we had to fight, because if we didn't, there was nothing left. no lanes, no family, no home.

“tonight, we reminded them,” vander said, his voice rising just a bit, “that the lanes belong to us. and we will protect them, no matter what it costs.”

he stepped forward, his eyes unwavering as he looked out at everyone. “we are Zaun. and we are the future of this place. no one is ever going to take that from us. not now, not ever.”

there was a fire in his words, a flame that ignited something deep inside each of us. we weren't just a ragtag group of survivors anymore. we were a family, and this family wasn't going to be torn apart. no matter the cost.

vander's voice softened as he spoke again, but the weight of the words carried all the more. “promise me that we stay strong. promise me that we keep our word, our bond, no matter what happens. because together, there's nothing that can break us. not a damn thing.”

a long silence followed. the room was heavy with the force of his words, but also with a sense of unity that filled the spaces between the old wooden tables. we weren't just a group of people trying to survive. we were a force, a family that fought for each other. and that made us stronger than any outside force that tried to break us.

one by one, the room began to raise their glasses, eyes gleaming with a quiet promise. “to the lanes,” benzo said, his voice steady.

“to the lanes,” sevika echoed, her gaze firm as she took a long drink.

silco, standing to the side, met my eyes briefly before he raised his glass. “to the lanes,” he said, his voice low, yet filled with something deeper. respect. loyalty. and something that had always been hard for him to show-trust.

i followed suit, my own glass raised. “to the lanes.”

and in that moment, it was like the air had shifted, lightened just a bit, as though the fight, though still fresh, had solidified something between us. we had won tonight, and that meant something. it meant we weren't just fighting for the lanes, for the land. we were fighting for each other, for what we stood for, for a future where we could live without fear of being driven out, of being crushed under the weight of others' ambitions.

vander's words had done what they always did. they had bound us together, reminded us of our strength, and given us the resolve to push on.

“whatever comes next,” vander finished, “we face it together. as family.”

and just like that, the room was filled with the sound of glass clinking together in silent solidarity. the tension that had been holding us all tight seemed to ease, just for a moment, and for that moment, we were united in more than just cause. we were united by something deeper. something stronger.

we were family. and we would protect what was ours.

[darkbluekies]

The cynical playhouse

yandere!doctor OC x GN reader x psychopatic!doctor

Summary: a mad doctor has decided to take you for his sick experiment and your very own yandere, Dr Kry, is not going to let this slide, he'll get his hands dirty to keep what's his.

Warnings: mental torture, physical torture, indication of masturbating, mad doctor, mentions of killing, death, mentions of graphic pictures and screams, nudity (not sexual), killing someone with a crowbar, yandere themes, chains, scalpel, cuts, blood, needles, drugs, gore

Word count: 3.2k

Day 0 — prologue

"I need someone that isn’t very strong minded, someone that will respond to the experiment.”

“The hospital is filled with vulnerable patients.”

“But they’re watched by so many nurses and their families are breathing down their necks. If anyone disappeared, people would notice … I need someone that no one would miss, you know?”

“There’s one actually … one that no one really knows anything about. Their family has never visited and none of the nurses have barely seen them. They could be interesting for your experiment.”

“Who?”

“Dr Kry’s little sweetheart.”

Day 1

You can hear someone whispering in the room. Lazily, you open your eyes to see who Dr Kry is hissing with. In the darkness of the room you can tell that there are two men, but you can’t tell who Dr Kry is. None of them resembles him. You know how his body looks and both of these men look too … old? 

“Oh, they’re awake”, an unfamiliar voice chuckles lowly. 

“Not for long.”

“What’s going on?” you mumble tiredly as you feel one of the men take your arm in his cold hand. 

“Shh, just relax for me. It’ll just sting a little.”

The sharp pain from a needle causes your eyes to pry open and your heart to stop. Your eyes dart down to where the pain originates from and finds that the unfamiliar man is currently injecting you with some kind of substance. 

“What are you doing?!” you gasp in pure terror. 

“Shh”, the man with the needle says calmly and puts his finger over his mouth, a warning for you to quiet down. “You’ll soon go to sleep, don’t worry.”

You can start to feel how your body starts to go numb, how your eyes want to flutter shut. You fight against the substance, refusing to let your unconscious body fall in the hands of these two strange men. 

“Don’t fight it”, the man with the needle says in a comforting yet taunting manner. “Just give in.”

“N-No ..”, you choke out. 

Your vision starts to get more and more blurry until it all turns black. 

You wake up with your head down on a table. Groggily, you sit up and look around. Quickly, you seem to sober up the second you realize that you’re not in your hospital room anymore. The room you’re in now is an empty, white room with a large mirror to your side. It takes up most of the wall. A security camera is watching you from the corner of the room. You look down at the table you were sleeping on and notice that your hands are cuffed to the white surface. 

Your heart accelerates to 100km/h. It’s going to jump out of your chest at any moment. 

“W-What’s going on?!” you shout and look around in despair. “Hello?!”

“Don’t panic, my dear”, the voice who told you to give in to the substance says through the speaker under the security camera. “Calm down and listen to me, okay?”

“W-Where am I?”

“You’re in my little … playhouse. We’re going to have a lot of fun here, you and I.”

You shake your head as tears start to form in your eyes. You don’t want to know what his kind of fun is. Panic starts burning in your chest.

“Please let me go”, you start to sob. 

“Don’t cry. I only need you for a little while.”

“A-And then what? Will I get to go home?”

“Home? Gosh no! You’d go straight to the police and expose all the fun we had here! My funhouse is exclusive. I can’t let just anyone participate!”

“I don’t want to participate!”

“But you’re here now. I can’t let you go. I can tell you what I’m going to do with you, though. I’m going to test the human’s brain and you’re going to help me. If everything goes well, I’ll get famous!”

You wish that you could wipe your runny nose, but your hands are chained with heavy chains and you’re in no physical state to lift them. 

Day 2

Nothing really happened yesterday. You were left alone in the white room. A sound was coming from the loudspeaker. The sound of flies flying around. In the beginning, you tried to find something of a rhythm in it to create somewhat of a melody, but quickly started getting annoyed at the buzz. You had shouted to turn it off and only heard a giggle in the loudspeaker in return. You don’t know how long time had passed, but you’re sure you had to sit and listen to that sound for at last four hours. 

Today, however, the man has decided to step it up a notch. The door opens and he walks in with a TV on a rolling table. You refuse to look at him. The TV turns on and you’re forced to see a slideshow of the most grotesque pictures taken at crime scenes — some by the cops and some by the killers themselves. Over the pictures, a distorted melody with occasional screams can be heard. You don’t doubt that the screams are real. This one breaks you down easier than the buzzing you heard yesterday. Even if you look away, you can still hear the sound. You can’t lift up your hands to cover your ears. 

“Make it stop!” you plead and feel the tears burn behind your eyelids. “Please!”

No response. 

“P-Please, I-I’ll do anything”, you sob, your whole body shaking along. “I’ll do … do anything … please.”

“You were cuter than I thought”, the voice in the loudspeaker says. “So fragile. I get why Dr Kry wants you.”

“Dr Kry? I-Is he involved in this?!”

“No, he’s not. Your little doctor is actually looking for you. I heard that he destroyed a trash can in anger and looked at the security footage yesterday.”

You look up at the security camera. 

“Oh, don’t bother”, the voice says. “This camera leads to my own little private collection. I want to save my playtimes so I can rewatch them once you’re dead.”

You sob again. 

“Look up, Y/N”, the man says, “and turn your head to your right.”

You do. The only thing you can see is your own image. Your red eyes, the messy hair, your body in the hospital gown and your hands chained to the table. You look horrible.

“That’s right”; the man sighs out in satisfaction — almost a moan. “Looking so ... so fragile. Fuck."

You look down in the realization that this is a one way mirror. He's sitting on the other side of the glass, currently getting off on your fear. You've never felt so exposed before. You can only imagine what he'll do with the footage later on. Shame creeps up on you. Embarrassed to be treated like this, ashamed that you can't do anything to stop it. You're only a pawn in his manic game.

Dr Kry has been running around looking for you for over twenty four hours now. He hasn't rested once, hasn’t eaten once either. The only thing he’s nourished himself with is energy drinks and coffee, but that’s only to keep up his energy so he can look for you. The very thought about sitting down and eating makes him sick. How can he? You're his will to live! If he can't find you … no, he doesn't want to think about that. He is going to find you. He has to.

Yesterday when he walked into your room and found that you weren’t there, he had freaked out. First, the thought that you had snuck down to the cafeteria. Firstly, he had gotten annoyed. Like, hasn’t he made it clear to you not to leave his room without him by your side? He promised himself that he would punish you if he found you munching on a sandwich down at the cafeteria. He’s had to punish you a few times for sneaking out or talking with other patients and doctors and it hurts him so much every time. He doesn’t blame you, never does. You’re a little sweetheart, it's other peoples’ bad influence that makes you act badly. But that’s why Dr Kry is here. He’ll always make sure you never get in trouble. 

He couldn’t figure out for the life of him who could have made you sneak out, but he promised himself to make sure they never talk to you again. To his disappointment, the cafeteria was empty. Somehow, he was happy that you weren’t here, it meant that you didn’t betray his trust by walking down here … but he’s disappointed because that meant that you could be anywhere in this large building. Or even outside in the harsh, cruel world. He had asked people if they’d seen you, but he got two answers — both disappointing. They’d either not seen you … or they didn’t know who you are. Dr Kry kicked a trash can on his way to the security room. On the way, he met one of the doctor assistants he never talks to. The man avoided his gaze and switched corridors the second they walked past each other. He watched the security footage … but it was all deleted. There was nothing to see. You were nowhere to be seen!

Dr Kry has been all over the town in search of you. He's been to your parents house (without them noticing), to your friends houses (you’ve only told him about them once, but he remembers so well)  and all the possible places you could hide — such as coffee shops and parks. You’re nowhere to be found. 

He sinks down in his seat in the car and hides his face into his hands. Where are you? He doesn’t believe that you’ve hid from him anymore. You wouldn’t last this long. If you wanted to give him a scare, you’d hide for an hour or so and then pop out to scare him … you wouldn’t do this. Someone must have taken you. 

It hits him. Someone must have seen you. You can’t just have disappeared like that. He thinks harder, enough to make his brain creak. There was no footage from the security cameras from the night you disappeared from the period of two am to three am. Someone must have deleted it. 

That assistant. The one he passed by yesterday. It must have been him. 

Day 3

“Today, my little doll, we’ll see how your brain reacts to physical pain!”

You don’t answer. Three days have passed and you’ve already lost all hope. Not a single bite of food have you been granted and not a single drop of water. If you don’t get to drink today you’ll die. Somehow you hope that the freak behind the one sided mirror won’t give you any water. You just want to get out of here and if the only way is death … then so be it. You feel like you’re a ghost. None of this is really real, you’re not actually sitting in the chair, your hands aren’t actually chained. You’re just dreaming. You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here. 

The door opens and the man enters. You can’t look at him, he makes your stomach turn. 

“Before we start, I remembered that you need to have something yummy to eat”, he says as if he was talking to a doll or a child. “I brought you mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t want it”, you mumble. 

“Open up.”

He holds the spoon with mashed potatoes to your mouth. You keeps your lips together and turn your head away. The man pokes your cheek with the spoon, growing more and more impatient. 

“Eat. It.”

You gather enough courage to shake your head.

“Ungrateful little bitch!” he shouts and flips the table over.

You choke back a scream and break out in sobs, squeezing your eyes shut. Your entire body is shaking with terrified sobs. He slaps you with all his might causing your head to swing to the side. Your body would follow if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re chained to the table. You sob more at the fear of this madman than the stinging pain.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll have to finish up our playtime earlier than I want to”, the man whispers and grabs your face between his cold, disgusting hands. “And I want to play with you for a bit more.”

You glare at him through your tears. He picks up a scalpel from his white lab coat and places it over your bare arm. You shake your head desperately, voice no longer working. 

“It’s just a test, my little doll”, he whispers. “Everything is for human kind, okay?”

“No!” you manage to shout. “I don’t want it, stop it!”

Too late. He has let the sharp knife-like object over your arm. You let out a loud scream which echoes in the room and makes the man smile. 

“So beautiful”, he purrs and lets the bloody scalpel run lazily over your lips. “My own little doll ... I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

The door bursts open and before you can register anything, the man in front of you has been tackled to the floor and beaten to a pulp. You recognize the blonde hair and break out into relieved sobs. The man stands up, blood covering his white lab coat. 

“Shh, it’s okay”, he pants as he unlocks your chains. “Don’t cry, I’m here now.”

As soon as your hands are free, you wrap them around his strong neck and bury your head into his shoulder. Dr Kry hates to see the cuts on your body and he hates to feel how you tremble in his arms. He lifts you up and you hook your legs around his waist. With one muscular arm around your waist and one around your shoulders, he carries you out of this horrifying room. A few guards run past him to get the unconscious man. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, Dr Kry whispers with tears in his throat as he walks. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll kill him, I promise. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I’ll take care of you better, never let you out of my sight.”

You cry against his shoulder as he takes you back to your room. You cling onto him even tighter. He’s your knight in shining armor, he saved you! You’ll always be in debt to him. Fantastic Dr Kry. 

Dr Kry places you down on your bed and starts to look and feel around, to see if you’re really here or if he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t been sleeping for a long time. 

“You need to wash yourself”, he says. “You look horrible. I can do it for you.”

You nod. Dr Kry picks you up again and walks into the bathroom. You get placed in the tub before he removes the dirty hospital gown. He’ll burn it — never want to see it again. You sit in the bathtub and hug your legs close to your naked body to hide, wishing to never exist again. Dry Kry wishes that you didn’t hide, you’re so beautiful. He shakes his head. Now’s not the time. He feels the water pouring from the showerhead with one hand as he adjusts the water with the other. 

“Bend your head back for me”, he says softly. “I don’t want to pour water into your eyes.”

You bend your head back and he starts to pour the lukewarm water over your hair. 

“Is it comfortable?” he asks. 

You nod carefully, scared of every single action. 

“How did you find me?” you whisper. 

“I found the guy that helped your sick capturer. I pulled him into a storage room and forced him to tell me where you were”, Dr Kry says, hatred in his voice. 

He won’t say what he threatened the assistant with, but you can only imagine. 

“I came just in time”, Dr Kry says. “He was going to hurt you badly, that son of a bitch. I’ll make sure he pays for it, my- …” He cuts himself off, almost giving you a pet name. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll make him pay.”

“What were you going to say?” you ask quietly. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You give him the sweetest doe eyes that makes him melt and he can’t do anything else but tell you. 

“I was going to call you ‘my little one’”, he says with a shy smile and runs his free hand through your wet hair, the other one continuing to pour water on your scalp. 

“I like that”, you whisper and look down. 

Dr Kry smiles in relief. God, you’re so fucking cute.

“You are my little one”, he says softly. “My only little one.”

He melts at the sight of your small smile. He’ll never let anyone steal that smile from you again. He’ll never let anyone take you from him again. 

“Doctor …”, you whisper weakly as he shampoos your hair. 

“Yeah?” 

“Please never leave me. He scared me so badly.”

“Never. I’ll always protect you. I’ll lock your door at night and be much, much more careful. I’ll make sure he disappears, okay?”

You nod tiredly. Dr Kry sighs and leans forward to press a promising kiss to your forehead. 

After he’s bathed you, he gives you a new hospital gown and tucks you into your bed. You hug the teddy bear and sniffle. Dr Kry glances down at the bruises around your wrists and gets filled with anger once again. He’s going to kill that psychopath. How dare he touch his darling? 

As soon as you fall asleep, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. He feels the handle to make sure that it's locked before scurrying away to the security room. He turns off the cameras and grabs a crowbar on his way. This motherfucker is going to die. Normally, Dr Kry doesn't like getting his hands dirty, but this time he's looking forward to it.

He opens the door to the jail cell. The man is sitting on the bench inside with his head in his hands. He looks up and his eyes widen.

"D-Dr Kry, listen, man-", he starts, trembling.

"Quiet", Dr Kry growls. "I don't want to hear a single word from you. I'm going to kill you."

"Y-You can't, the cameras-"

"Your little friend isn't the only one who can manipulate cameras." Dr Kry swings the crowbar around his hand. "No one will know who killed you and I don't think anyone will care either. You're mine to play with now."

The man goes white.

"I'm going to play with you like you played with my darling", Dr Kry says in a warning calmness and takes a step forward. "I'm going to give back for everything you did to them."

"I'll never touch them again, I promise!"

"You bet you won't. They're mine, do you hear that? Only mine. The fact that you thought you had the audacity to touch them is enough for me to kill you. But after what you've done … I'm going to make you suffer." Dr Kry towers over the trembling man. "I'm going to beat you so badly that you can't move, can't think, can't breathe. The dying part will be done by yourself."

"N-No please, I'm sorry!"

Dr Kry swings his crowbar. "Too late."

He closes the door behind him.

[possessable]

Hey if you guys have suggestions for Possession-Themed Songs i can add to my Possession-Themed Playlist feel free to send them to me, because the most notable songs in there at the moment are Mesmerizer and There's A Platypus Controlling me

Possession Stuff:

Possession Shorthand Code (if you see me say some weird string of letters/numbers like “p-s-n-phy-n-5-n-p-b-s-int-n” or “Y-S-N-EXT-N-5-N-P-MB-S/T-INT-N/P” this is what that is)

Kind of more detailed Possession Infographic™ Post (I would recommend you look at both this and the Possession Shorthand for full understanding because it goes over some stuff that isn't in the infographic)

tag for me Being Abnormal about possession is "#thepossessionhyperfixationisneverending"

i use "Possession" as a catch-all term meaning "Storytelling trope where a character is controlled or influenced by something" for brevity but I think all of the different tropes have different names and different criteria for what qualifies them to fall under a certain name but if you ask me to get into that i will not stop talking for 5 hours so let's just go with "Possession"

look at this stupid fucking outfit i have. this is an actual real life thing i can wear. how did this happen. how did i get here?

rest of the original pinned post under the read more i guess:

Hi guys it's me John Possession 👋👋👋

That was supposed to be a joke but Call me whatever you want i'll probably respond

If you ever want to draw me gift art 1. Thank You 2. Espial characters are always a solid bet I love all of them eternally

Mutuals ask for my Discord Username if you want :-D 👍

Other Places Where I Am Also:

@washesdishes - reblog blog for the one who gets excited about buying new sponges (????????) (💙 <- uses dis as a signoff on this blog but only if it's relevant to the post so not very often)

if you wanna find me on other sites my username is usually "possessable" or "possessble_" most places

check out my uhhh Neocities which doesn't have a lot on it but the writing pages are the ones i put the most effort into so go check out my writing if you want(?????????) , also my Carrd I guess

Things I Enjoy™:

Possession (No way)

Convenience stores

Slide puzzles (I am collecting them)

Sly Hollow Knight (hi to the 4 other sly fans)

Espial Stuff:

List of characters and extremely simple summary

Slightly more detailed story summary (5-ish pages)

Unnecessarily detailed summary (around 8 pages of world-building explanation, 25 pages of Espial summary, and then 9 pages of other-stories-set-in-the-same-universe summary)

General Espial tag is "#espialposting", specific characters are "#characterName" with no space like "#characterOlen"

Other OCs and Tags and Also More Stuff Under the Cut:

"#JunoAndAldoposting", my stupid ass Mario Spoofs But If They Were Sentient And Having An Existential Crisis At All Times characters ALSO CHECK OUT The Introduction Videos for them [1], [2], which is all of the basic info that you need to know

okay you know what I have too many to list but the general format is "StoryNameposting" i'm sure you can tell, you'll see it when i post about them

[thegigilwriter]

02 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary: 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Romance, Inaccuracies of the Navy and Marine Biology, Implied religious theme

02 | Halo-Halos by the Beach 🍧

Monday May 29, 2023

Lucy

Grasping at the pebbled edge, Lucy lifted herself from the water and laid down with her feet still submerged. Her eyes drifted far above the glass ceiling of the arena, the sky looked like a pot of ink spilling into various hues of blue and purple. She breathed as slowly as she could, her chest rising steadily and falling at the same pace.

Only 25 laps, Lucy. Thatʼs it. Thatʼs what the doctor said.

Resisting the strong urge to throw herself into the water once more, she rose to her feet swiftly and grabbed her towel on the bench.

She wiped the water from the mirror, steam still present in the air. Glancing towards her hair brush, she began to towel her hair dry. It fell from the sink ledge, and the clatter against the tiles was resounding in an empty shower room. Surely the steam will result in a frizzy aftermath, nevertheless, Lucy began to comb — for the sensation was simply comforting. She looked at herself in the mirror. In truth, Lucy Mitchell was average-looking. Olive skin. mahogany hair, brown eyes, and a slightly wider face than she had liked. She had two moles: one at the corner of her left eye and the other at the right corner of her lip. These were her God-given attributes. No mesmerizing irises or kissable lips. A lot of people remarked that she was a carbon copy of her mother. They did have the same features, so Lucy always wondered why her mother was far more beautiful than she.

In her mind, Bradley Bradshawʼs dimple beside his swoon-inducing smile and the velvet tone of his voice appeared. She could feel the graze of his fingertips as he first handed her the fallen tape, his bicep beneath her palm, and his warm skin as their arms brushed when they sat together in the front seat of his Bronco. Her eyes returned to her reflection. Sighing, she clasped on her small string of pearls and her cross, and placed the strap of her beige-colored tote on her shoulder. She walked to the parking lot to her dark burgundy-colored Nissan Versa, opened the driverʼs seat and hopped right in. Placing her tote in the passengerʼs seat, she then folded her hands atop the steering wheel and pressed her forehead against them.

God, even he can wear the scars on his face so good.

She looked at her dashboard.

It was 5:50 in the morning, and she was going to be late for church.

“Lord, I am not worthy to enter under your roof,ˮ she whispered. “But only say the word and I shall be healed.ˮ

There was a a pause of silence and then a shuffle of movement. From the furthest pew, Lucy watched the backs of the processors rise and line up towards the altar. Her eyes moved towards the enormous stone cross that was carved from the natural stone wall and stared at Jesusʼ face. She must have been for quite some time for another churchgoer beside her to nudge her gently against the arm. It was Tita Ramona, with her kind eyes, smile lines, milky complexion, and mourning veil with Chantilly lace and a scalloped edge.

“Itʼs time to receive him again my child,ˮ She looked at Lucy kindly.

As she walked solemnly up the aisle, she couldnʼt help but feel a sense of relief seeing many familiar faces with their heads bowed towards their clasped hands.

After walking down the aisle and receiving Him with a quiet “Amen,ˮ she returned to her seat and knelt down in prayer. She didnʼt really know what she could say or what to ask, so she remained in silence. Her gaze was drawn towards a woman in a green forest frock, and beside her, two sleepy little children in their navy-colored school uniforms. Lucy smiled as the sister leaned her head tiredly against her brotherʼs shoulder. He looked at her annoyed, but patted her head softly. She didnʼt know when she started crying — it was absurd to her— how fast the tears ran down her cheek. Beside her, Tita Ramona took her hand in hers.

“Does it ever stop?ˮ Lucy asked quietly.

“No,ˮ she replied to her after a long pause. “You just learn to live with it... and eventually, it will hurt less. Give Him your tears, now sweet child — give Him your tomorrows and be thank Him for today.ˮ

So Lucy did, and she asked for one more thing.

“Lord, if heʼs the man youʼve sent for me, let him sit with me in front of You.ˮ

She looked at the cross again. She looked at the backs of the church-goers on their knees — just like she was. She didnʼt feel so alone anymore.

She turned the keys to her apartment and let herself in. She placed her tote on the hatstand, her shoes into the wooden compartment, the fresh pandesal on her countertop, and turned the kettle on. As the water boiled, Lucy lay down on her grape-colored couch. She lay sideways facing the TV console, her most recent creation, which also served as a home to two two-year-old tortoises. Lucy slid off of the couch, hung her fingers in holes of the mesh cover, and peered at them. The foreground was covered in random ceramic tiles that Lucy had found at Goodwill. The coco coir and topsoil hybrid substrate was speckled with succulents, interestingly shaped rocks, and pieces of Mopani wood. At one corner was a painted clay plant pot tipped on its side where the tortoises could take refuge, and in another was a shallow terracotta dish plate filled with water that Lucy made in one pottery class. Two heating lamps were installed on either side of the enclosure.

“Hello Tip and Toe,ˮ she smiled at them. Toe stared at her with a mundane expression (assuming tortoises can have expressions) as he worked on some lettuce, and Tip emerged from the water basin to greet her. Lucy took the mister from the top of the console, opened the hatch on the side, and began to spray the interior. She laughed as the tortoises closed their eyes, as if savoring the cool water.

With that, she proceeded to water the hanging plants as well: her succulent Mother of Thousands, her Hindu Rope plant, her various Spider plants, and her Garden String of Hearts. By the window sill — her tomatoes, kalamansis, chives, various herbs, and her ferns. After tending to her green children, she approached every one of her Walstad shrimp and snail bowls — six of them to be exact, that were all over the apartment.

When she was quite finished, she took the kettle and poured herself some hot water for her hot chocolate. Sitting on the couch with the paper bag of pandesal, she turned the TV on . She tore a piece of the bread in her hands and dipped into her drink.

“Give him a date for when Maryʼs out of mourning,ˮ The Countess Dowager, Lady Grantham said from the screen. “No one wants to kiss a girl in black.”

Lucyʼs gaze lingered towards her bookshelf and the lonesome guitar on its stand beside it. She sighed and looked at the clock above. It was already nearly noon.

Bradley stood against the Bronco, hand in his pocket, and another on his phone. It was 1:50 in the afternoon and Bradley was waiting for Lucy. He had already saved the location of their first date on his phone. So he went ahead and opened his photo gallery for the screenshot of the address when to his surprise, there were shots from yesterdayʼs events. Perhaps it was Nat who had taken them when Bradley had to go to the washroom when they were at that Shake Shack. There were wacky selfies of Nat and an annoyed Sam, and the last two pictures were of Lucy who seemed to be engaged in a conversation with the latter. Her eyes were shining and her smile was wide in both of them.

Bradley stared at the photo for a while until the creak of the gate in front of him caught his attention, and there, was Lucy in the flesh. She was wearing a green, delicate, cap-sleeved top and an off-white bohemian long skirt with sandals. She had removed nearly all the accessories she had don on when they first met, save for her string of small pearls and little cross on her neck. Her hair was in a half-up, with curly locks framing her face.

“I see that you are consistent with your sense of style, Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy chuckled. Yes, to her, Hawaiian-print shirts were corny and should only be worn on cruises. But that with a pair of denim pants, a fitted tank top, and a pair of aviators on Bradley Bradshaw? He was the exception.

“What can I say?ˮ Bradley smirked. “I gotta maintain standards.ˮ “And you, Lucy Mitchell...ˮ he drawled.

Lucy raised a single brow in amusement as he drew closer to her.

“Are beautiful.ˮ

“W-Well—“ She blushed profusely. “Iʼd say have pretty good standards too, Lieutenant.ˮ

“Without a doubt,ˮ Bradley was smiling at her pink cheeks, and offered his hand to her. Lucy was the smallest woman Bradley took on out for a date and he couldnʼt help but let out a few chuckles as he helped her up into the Bronco. It was endearing, and he couldnʼt help but like the way her smooth and dainty hands felt against his big and rough palms.

“I think Iʼm too short to ride this one Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy joked. “Youʼre fun-sized!ˮ Bradley laughed.

After loading in the Bronco, Bradley set the location on his phone and turned on the radio.

“Welcome to our first official date, Lucy Mitchell.ˮ He said as they pulled into the street.

“Glad to be on board,ˮ Lucy played along.

“So—“ Bradley began.

“Oh my goodness!ˮ Lucy exclaimed, as she reached her hand for the radio dial. “I love this!ˮ

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain,ˮ Lucy sang, her eyes closed, and her hands poised as if she was holding onto some drumsticks, following the beat with zest. “To much love drives a man insane!ˮ

Lucy averted her gaze towards him.

“You broke my will, but a thrill.ˮ

She did a cute little head bang before singing aloud:

“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!ˮ

For the entirety of the song, Bradley didnʼt speak — not because of Lucyʼs avid iteration of Jerry Lee Jewisʼ Great Balls of Fire — but from genuine shock, from the fact that she knew every word and part of it. If the universe was sending Bradley a sign that he should marry someone, it couldnʼt have been more obvious than Lucy Mitchell head-banging to the piano solo and dancing jerkily in the front seat of his Bronco.

They arrived at Sitaʼs some minutes later. Bradley had to duck under the threshold and go down some steps to enter the quaint little shop on Newport Avenue. The eclectic vicinity was illuminated with pale-yellow fairy lights and the walls were one giant, vibrant mural. There was bamboo furniture placed casually around the venue, as well thriving ornamental plants. Bradley and Lucy approached the counter, where a rotund and cheery middle-aged woman was wiping it down. She had a hibuscus flower in her dark coils with olive skin, and deep-set eyes.

“Hey!ˮ She boomed, reaching over the counter to embrace Lucy. “I havenʼt seen you for so long!ˮ

“Hello Bonnie,ˮ Lucy smiled. “Howʼs the new terrier?ˮ

“Heʼs delightful!ˮ Bonnie beamed. “Me and Marcus are seriously considering taking him in!ˮ

“Thatʼs great!ˮ

“Now, now—“ Bonnie looked over Lucyʼs shoulder. “Whoʼs your new friend?ˮ

“Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw,ˮ he shook Carolʼs hand.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,ˮ she smiled. “Do you work with, Lucy?ˮ

“Not at all,ˮ Bradley replied. “Iʼm dating Lucy.ˮ

Bonnie turned to Lucy, absolutely gobsmacked. Lucy glared at Bradley with playfully as he held up is hands with a chuckle, as if to express his innocence.

“Lucy Mitchell!ˮ She gasped. “Itʼs about time!ˮ

“Just get us the two specials, please Bonnie.ˮ Lucy blushed.

“Alright, alright I wonʼt tease now!ˮ She laughed. “Now you two have fun, Iʼll have your order out in a minute.ˮ

“Thank you,ˮ Lucy breathed as she took a beeper from the counter and lead Bradley towards their seats.

“She seems like the life of party,ˮ Bradley remarked as they sat down.

“Bon is like the sun,ˮ Lucy said as she set down the beeper and tucked her purse against her side. “She attracts nearly everything that comes into orbit.ˮ

“So quite like you?ˮ He smiled.

“You flatter me Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy laughed. “But I am not a sun person.ˮ

“Then what would you say you are?ˮ

Lucy fell quiet in thought.

“I would say Iʼm the poet who admires them,ˮ Lucy replied.

“Wouldnʼt you rather be the flower or stars?ˮ Bradley wondered.

“These are all beautiful things. But what good is beauty if there is no one to receive it or if there are no words to venerate it — to immortalize it?ˮ

“Maybe beauty isnʼt important if itʼs temporary,ˮ Bradley replied. “Thereʼs something more intangible about the sun — more than its aurora borealis and rainbows. It makes plants grow and the seasons change.ˮ

Lucy gazed at him considerably.

“I meant what I said earlier. Youʼre a beautiful woman Lucy Mitchell, and itʼs more than skin-deep,ˮ Bradley gazed into her sweet caramel-colored eyes. “So imagine my surprise when I thought I heard Bon say that youʼve never been on a date before.ˮ

Just then, the beeper resounded noisily. Bradley gently pried the device from her fingertips as he knelt in front of her.

“Iʼll get it, Angel.ˮ

Lucy was blushing profusely now. Her heart was beating thunderously against her warm chest. This specimen of a man. This good-looking, smooth-talking Casanova had no right to be this impressive — especially for her official first date. Somehow, it infuriated her. But when he flashes that priceless smile, all rage simply evaporates and all is well.

Bradley returns with two, big fancy plastic bowls of cold dessert, grin large as he approached their table.

“Okay— maybe this is my first date,ˮ Lucy admitted. “But you are certainly not the first man to ask me on one.ˮ

“Glad Iʼm up to your standards Angel,ˮ Bradley winked. “I do have a proposition Iʼd like to run through you, if you donʼt mind?ˮ

“Go on.ˮ

“I appreciated how you were so direct with me yesterday, so I figued Iʼd return the favor. How about this? You can ask me any 10 questions youʼd like about anything.ˮ

“And in return?ˮ Lucy raised a brow.

“I can ask you any 10 questions I like.ˮ “What if I donʼt answer a question?ˮ

“Then you have to give me something else,ˮ Bradley smirked. “A meal, a performance, a kiss...ˮ

“Nice try,ˮ she chuckled. “But Iʼd like to take you up on that anyway, Lieutenant.ˮ

“Okay, but before we start what — is this?ˮ He gestured towards the dessert.

“Itʼs halo-halo,ˮ Lucy grinned at his amusement, picking up the cup and savoring a lick of the purple yam ice cream on top. “Itʼs shaved ice and ice cream and sweet beans and jello and evaporated milk and egg custard and rice krispies. Itʼs the most chaotically delicious dessert to ever exist.ˮ

“You...ˮ Bradley chuckled. “Have a way with words. Alright, how do we eat this?ˮ “Itʼs in the name,ˮ Lucy smiled. “You mix-mix!ˮ

Bradley watched her lips grow wide as she relished the satisfying crunch of the ice against every beat of her spoon.

They drove up the coast, blaring the radio and singing along, and stopped for some fries at a nearby McDonaldʼs. Bradley parked the Bronco and helped Lucy down before they slipped off their footwear and strolled on the warm sand by the cool water edge. They treaded the peaceful landscape side-by-side in a comfortable silence.

“Mmmh,ˮ Lucy sighed. “Fries and halo-halo and the beach.ˮ

“I think Iʼve underestimated how fun first dates can be,ˮ she remarked.

“No,ˮ Bradley shook his head. “Youʼre just lucky that your first oneʼs with me.ˮ

“How lucky I am indeed,ˮ Lucy laughed.

Bradley turned to her.

“Alright, hereʼs my first question.ˮ

“Fire away.ˮ

“Where did you grow up?ˮ

Bradley stared as Lucy licked her lips.

“Before I moved to Oregon in middle-school, I grew up in this... beautiful little place called El Nido. Itʼs in an island called Palawan, a part of the Philippines.“

“I think one of my buddies went there for the summer,ˮ Bradley spoke. “Was this buddy of yours into scuba-diving?ˮ

“I think he is,ˮ Bradley nodded.

“El Nido tends to attract their kind. Itʼs really no wonder why I became a marine biologist.ˮ

“How about you? Where did you grow up, Lieutenant?ˮ “Just Virginia,ˮ he replied.

“Iʼve always wanted to visit. Thereʼs Mount Vermont, Monticello, so many natural parks...ˮ

“Maybe we can take a road trip someday?ˮ

“I like the idea of that,ˮ Lucy smiled.

“So Sam told me the other day that your team studied whales in particular...ˮ Lucy hummed in confirmation, as she popped a fry into her mouth.

“Out of every living thing in the sea, why whales?ˮ

“It wasnʼt really in my plans to study whales. When I first came to Umi, I was working in reef conservation. We basically traveled, built artificial reefs, grew corals, and did some education promotion stuff— I loved it. One day, my team and Dr. Agnesʼ — my boss now— boarded on the same boat on our way to Florida. On one of our free days, we all hung out in a baby Manatee reservation. I guess... she was intrigued with the way the calfs were following me around and clinging to me. Before I knew it, she was having me sign my transfer papers over to her team and handling the whale interactions.ˮ

“Wow,ˮ Bradley chuckled. “Are you some secret baby Manatee whisperer, or something? I promise I wonʼt tell.ˮ

“Careful Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy teased. “I might just count that as your third question.ˮ

“How kind of you not to,ˮ Bradley teased back. “Look, you may not be some whisperer and you yourself may not know— but youʼre kinda easy to be with, Angel. And over the years Iʼve learned that animals are one of the best judges of character.ˮ

Lucy gazed at him considerably.

“Thank you Lieutenant,ˮ she said softly. “But I think Iʼd prefer being part of a team of scientists for my abilities as a researcher, over my qualities as a person, donʼt you?ˮ

“Sure,ˮ Bradley replied. “But youʼd be surprised how there are more smart asses out there than people who choose to be kind — and look at our world. Itʼs still a shitty place.ˮ

“Perhaps thatʼs one of the reasons why I switched over to whales,ˮ Lucy mused. “You see so many ugly and hopeless things in conservation and you feel so helpless when you can‘t do anything to fix them.ˮ

“Thereʼs many things in this world you and I can never fix, Angel. The least we could do is live the lives we want to lead.ˮ

“Did you lead the life you want to lead so far?ˮ Lucy asked. “Why did you want to become a pilot? Those are two separate questions by the way. I have seven left...ˮ

Bradley chuckled.

“Flying multimillion aircrafts and landing them on boats is cool and all, but I became an aviator because of my dad. He was a really great pilot and a great guy, and Iʼve always looked up to him. I wanted to live my life like he did.ˮ

“Was?ˮ

“He died when I was two,ˮ Bradley sighed. “He broke his neck when he was trying to eject. His call sign was Goose and just like you — he loved Jerry Lewisʼ Great Balls of Fire.ˮ

“He had impeccable taste,ˮ Lucy spoke. “He should be proud though… he gave the world a decent pilot and a girl an amazing first date.ˮ

Bradley laughed.

They sat on the beach together, their half-finished dessert cups buried partly in the dunes. Sand clung to their skins and the richly-colored glow of the setting Californian sun came upon them as their amount of allotted questions slowly dwindled to none.

“You know,ˮ Bradley drawled. “I technically didnʼt answer one of your questions.ˮ

“How honest of you, Lieutenant,ˮ Lucy remarked.

“I havenʼt led the life I wanted to live,ˮ Bradley gazed at her, her sweet-colored eyes drawing him to her. A stray hair fell on her check and he tucked it behind her ear.

“Not yet, at least.ˮ

“Since I didnʼt answer that when you asked me, I guess it means I owe you one huh?ˮ

Lucy was far too preoccupied with his handsome visage — the indents left by the scars on his face, the sincerity in his eyes that her melt with every stare, the shape of his lips, the trembling locks of his charmingly curled hair, and his oh-so suave mustache.

“How ‘bout another date, Angel?ˮ

I’m so excited! Looks like their first date went amazing✨ Their next date is a little more inventive, and I’m hopeful that I can emphasize a more intimate aspect of Bradley’s character while as much as possible remaining true to his canon. You can read 03 | A Hike and a Dance here!

[catboygirljoker]

*crashes through the ceiling* Hi, hello! 💜 I saw you have a KH OC and I love listening about people's OCs, so I have questions:

How did Lamia fall in love with Xigbar? How do their relationship look like? Do they live together and have any domestic life? What does Xigbar think of Lamia?

!!!!!!!!! ourghghghh thank you!! :o) !!!!!!!!!!!!!

i am in the process of writing a novel-length fanfiction that answers all of these questions tee hee. i am clinging on to bitter hope that i will actually be able to write and finish it because i just. really love lamia and xigbar and i really love their relationship in my brain. like im way too verbose to pitch "xiglam" in a way that feels satisfying to me so i have to just write a 100k+ fic and gesture at that and say THAT. THEM. THEY

(though my lamiaposting tag has some art by me and my lovely partner that illustrates at least some of why i love them. smile.)

also oops i hyperfocused and made a xiglam moodboard (featuring art from my partner, depicting them multiple years into their mutual loving relationship). i just. smiling at them and kicking my feet.

long long answer under the cut tee hee

broadly they fall in love because they are both fucked up in ways that happen to mesh together really well. lamia is depressed, self-destructive, prickly, and isolated, and though he has friends who love him dearly (and who he loves dearly!) they try to get him to take care of himself by being like "you have people who care about you" "youre a person and that means you deserve to be happy" etc. and that just. doesnt compute for lamia. he has a million reasons why none of that works for him.

then along comes some fuckin weird old guy in a black coat, a pragmatic and cynical asshole who just laughs at lamia and goes "if you dont get some sleep or eat something soon youre going to straight up die. then what'll you do. idiot" and it works. it shortcuts all of the usual walls they have up against any well-meaning advice and enables them to actually take care of themself in basic ways.

on the flip side, lamia is the first person in a very long time who has sincerely surprised xigbar. xigbar believes that the universe is inherently cruel, indifferent, miserable, painful. and that friendship, hope, altruism, goodness, kindness, all of that, is a result of people either not understanding the true nature of the universe or willfully ignoring it. he clocks lamia immediately as someone who understands firsthand how miserable and painful the universe can be and that their self-destructiveness is a result of that trauma. and he thinks he understands them completely because of that.

however. despite the Horrors, despite being the Bearer of a Curse, despite his Tragic Backstory, despite despite despite—lamia still believes that there is goodness in the world worth fighting for. he may be in many ways pragmatic and cynical like xigbar is, but he also believes fundamentally in friendship. hope. altruism. all of it. that (and a few other Lore things) are deeply intriguing to xigbar.

it also really helps that lamia's into dilfs and xigbar's into blond twinks. and that lamia's pissy argumentative streak (a paper-thin veil for his genuine affection for the old man) is fun and endearing to xigbar. they complement each other in Themes ways but they also just have a dynamic i really like thinking about. :3

they wouldnt have an opportunity to even consider living together or having a domestic life until both of their personal arcs are resolved (they both have to Deal with their Pasts and having been abused/abandoned/neglected by their guardians). "post-canon" i imagine xigbar isnt really capable of settling down and having a "normal life." he lives with lamia but hes frequently gone without warning, wandered off somewhere, like a stray cat you can get to eat on your porch but can never get to come inside.

but theyre happy. they Heal. xigbar eventually moves into a replica once his current body starts failing on him. lamia gains a bunch of weight (positive) and goes on T. they get a cat or something. but they never get married (lamia doesnt see the point) and never have kids (these two should NOT be parents it would be a catastrophe)

[steddieunderdogfics]

Today is all about @spicysix! In today's Mod Spotlight, we're highlighting Lui and all they bring to this space!!

Lui handles our Challenge Monday and Theme Weekend Days! They queue up and handle any initial recs for those days, as well as keeping track of how many recs we need for each day!

lui (she/they) has discovered fandom life over 13 years ago and went through multiple fandoms since then. currently focusing on Stranger Things, they're an occasional writer and avid reader, and a multishipper at heart - but Steddie is her favorite ship to read in the ST fandom. she took a role as a mod on Steddie Underdog Fics trying to embrace a side of fandom that they haven't before, and it's been a great to be a part of it!

Having Lui on the team has been a blessing! Not only is she easy to work with and so kind, she's really helped level up this space in so many ways. I'm so glad I get to work with her! - ohstars

As a part of our mod spotlight, Lui answered some questions from you all and our team! You can read them below.

Be sure to stay tuned for more recs and future mod spotlights in the future!

What drew you to Steddie?

The opposites-yet-so-similar situation they have going on. Rich guy versus poor guy? Popular versus the loser? Jock versus nerd? But both with hearts of gold… Self sacrificing idiots…. Older brother figures… Smart in some ways but stupid in others… Stuck to high school ideas and dynamics… All of it is tasty.

What is your favorite thing about modding this page?

Getting to know many new fics! My TBR list has grown over what I can manage since I’ve started modding. My companions, Stars and Shane are also amazing and it’s great working with them.

What are your favorite tropes to read?

Probably strangers or friends to lovers. Or like, a one sided rivalry (usually comes from Eddie, who haaaates King Steve while Just-A-Guy-Steve never thought about Eddie before the UD shit lmao). I’m also a sucker for Soulmates AU; and anyone who knows me knows this: my favorite EVER is the timeloop. Ugh. My beloved.

What is your preferred way to read and find fics?

I usually read (or put on my TBR list) whatever shows up on my timeline. From friends, mutuals, or reblogs. When I go straight to the Ao3 ship tag it’s usually to find a specific type of story to read before I sleep,, so I usually set the filters to completed, under 10k words, and no Explicit and go through whatever shows up.

What’s your guilty pleasure trope?

I no longer feel this feeling, but I have once been found feeling guilty for reading monsterfuckeries of omegaverse stuff. Omegaverse is not exactly my cup of tea, but sometimes it can be fun. Anyway, embrace the cringe.

What makes a fic an instant yes for you to read?

Well, timeloops as I’ve said, mutual pining, a good ol’ roadtrip fun. And happy endings. Sorry, but sad endings are a no-go to me.

Anonymous - Is there any older or lesser-known Steddie event from the past few years that you particularly love (if ongoing or recurring) or loved? Did you participate in any?

Hmm no, not that I can think of! Our fandom is very creative so we have amazing events all year round, thankfully! I also haven’t participated in any Steddie specific events because, funny enough, Steddie is the ship that I write the least for (even though it’s the one I read the most! lol)

@sidekick-hero - What makes a fanfic stand out for you?

I think characterization and lots and lots of emotion. With big ships like Steddie, it’s easy for us to fall into different characterizations and sometimes we write them almost as OCs - and that’s not a problem at all, I’m in the team “write whatever you love”, I wouldn’t even call it “mischaracterization”. But when a fic is able to stay within the character’s traits, it tastes better lmao Especially if the side characters are well written – it’s often hard for people who focus on a specific ship to be able to write well the side characters or even care about them and in a fandom like ST specially I think the other relationships are just as important as the main romantic one. I also really love when a fic makes me cry until I have a headache.

@worldswcollide - What advice would you give to someone who is interested in becoming a mod in the future?

Only do it if you know you have the time to dedicate to it. It’s very upsetting to rely on someone only for them to never dedicate themselves fully to a commitment they made on their own choice. You also have to like what you’re doing. If you’re on a project like ours, you have to like this reccing interaction. If you’re on a bigbang project, you have to like being that leader and organizing dates and putting people in contact with each other. And it goes on, but you have to enjoy what you’re doing or you’re gonna resent it and other people involved will know. We always do.

Anonymous - Do you participate in any other fannish activities, like making playlists, gif edits, fanart, podcasts, Pinterest boards, etc?

Not anything that I share, no. I sometimes do moodboards or playlists specifically for my own fics, but besides that, writing and modding, I don’t do any other type of art (bc I lack talent and/or will to learn lol).

@sidekick-hero - What motivates you to mod for steddieunderdogfics?

The idea of shedding a spotlight on fics that can pass by unnoticed, I think. In a big ship like Steddie, that’s easy to happen because we’re two years past Eddie’s first appearance and we still get dozens of fics posted per day!! Being more in touch with the community in this way is fun!

@worldswcollide -  Are there skills you’ve learned as a mod that have helped you in your everyday life?

I think every time you have to work in a group you learn something new, because it’s always new people and new ways to work with them. But I can’t think of anything specific, you know?

Anonymous - Have you had a particular favorite Challenge Monday or weekend theme so far (maybe because of the theme, the recs, or the engagement, or for some other reason)?

Well. Timeloops Theme Weekend for starters of course lmao. I also loved all the engagement and recs we’ve had for fics with podfics challenge, even though I don’t listen to podfics (or podcasts at all lmao) I was happy to see people showing our podfic people the due praise! Fics with colors in the title was also a challenge that we’ve had so many recs we’re still queueing them till this day basically lol. It’s always amazing when we receive a lot of recs and responses.

@sidekick-hero - What do you like best about fandom?

That’s a hard one. But I think the general sense of so many people of different ages and places in the world come together to show love to an art or artist. There’s something so simple and beautiful about that. Dedicating our free time to talk, praise, watch, listen, create fanart for something! It gives me the good chills.

@worldswcollide - If you absolutely HAD to choose—enemies to lovers or friends to lovers? (At least when it comes to Steddie)

Ohhhhmygod why would you do this to me!!!!!!! I’m gonna go with friends to lovers because that is also what I love the most in real life I think – the mutual pining, the obliviousness, the potential angst while they don’t confess, all the little moments they have together, the always presents “you are so dense and blind and stupid and dinguses” from Robin… Love that, yeah.

Anonymous - Has your experience as a fic rec mod changed your perception of fandom (positive or negative, though I do hope positively!), either as a whole or specifically for the Steddie fandom?

Oh, I definitely have a lot more respect for modders now lmao Not that I didn’t before, but it’s always different when you see it/do it yourself. It takes a lot of dedication and organization.

@sidekick-hero - What makes modding fun to you?

Honestly in this specific case, I absolutely love the routine process of formatting the recs lmao I genuinely have fun with it. But also, to see the interactions, how people talk about the fics they’re reccing on their asks, and also I love going through the tags on reblogs and seeing people praising the fics or seeing the author so happy with the recs. It all warms my heart.

@worldswcollide - What has surprised you the most since becoming a mod?

How this fandom is still so alive!!! It’s insane to think Eddie was first shown to us two years ago already and people are still in love with him and the idea of making him and Steve kiss. The creativeness of this fandom, the many fics we get with so many different tropes, AUs, all the different situations we keep putting those blorbos in. How, even within the same trope, different authors can always put their own little things onto their fics and even when they’re similar, no two fics are ever written the same way.

Anonymous - Do you find yourself engaging in reading and writing differently now (for any fandom) because of your work as a mod, or have you changed how you interact with others in fandom spaces?

I feel like I comment more, especially on fics that have less comments or interactions overall.

@sidekick-hero - What makes you fall in love with a fanfic?

I think I said in a previous answer, the characterization but also the way a fic is written. Like, if it’s through Eddie’s POV I love when authors use a kind of fast paced writing with no pauses and many thoughts happening at the same time while he has a hard time thinking about something specific or focusing on only one thing and and and– cause I feel like Eddie’s head is a mess like that. When it’s a fix-it, how the author manages to save everything, how they pass on the grieving and bad feelings of being part of an apocalypse. When they remember the characters are all just kids. When they give them a break. If it’s an AU, how they put our boys out of the apocalyptic situation, how they make Steve still be Steve when he’s just a baker or a teacher or a nurse and not a high school jock with a savior complex anymore. Those little big details.

Anonymous - Do you try to read through every rec or have you found yourself wanting to read more recs than you can keep up with?

Absolutely the second option lmao Also there are a few themes/tropes that are not my cup of tea, so they don’t go to my TBR list, but the list is still huge anyway lmao But I love learning about new works and writers even if I don’t have the time to read them!

Today, all of our recs are from @spicysix specifically! You can always see their recs on our Fic Fridays by checking our #mod lui rec tag.

[mint-yooxgi]

{6} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader - Final

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 16,687

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

The village is eerily quiet. Not a single lamp is lit, nor even a breeze drifts through the dark stillness of the night as a singular shadow creeps through the streets. It’s almost as if the inhabitants no longer reside in the town as they all rest in their beds, unaware of the raging storm that approaches with every step.

Mingi’s resolve is deadly calm. That red sash covers his forehead, tying his hair back to keep it out of his face for what he prepares to do.

He left you back in his realm, nestled up under that tree by the spring. Sure, he may have stretched the truth a little bit about the tea, but he didn’t want you waking up while he was gone. At least he knows this way you’ll also sleep through the night, his glamour that he left on you protecting you from prying eyes.

There is no limit to his fury, sharp eyes blazing beneath the light of the moon as he stalks through the town centre. He’s always been good at tracking, and he makes sure to put his skills to good use this night as his gaze zeros in on the large house on top of the hill. 

You were right, this is quite a small town. No more than about sixty inhabitants. Surprisingly, no children. A fact which will only make his job here much easier.

Stealth is his top priority right now as he covers ground with each step, plotting out every escape route and figuring out how best to bottleneck his prey into his awaiting trap.

As the moon crests high in the sky, a true monster gets unleashed.

Shrill screams of pure terror fill the air as claws render flesh from bone. Blood splatters against walls, painting the night in crimson florals, the heavy stench of death permeating the air. No matter how desperately they plead for their lives, none survive, and by the time Mingi makes it up the hill, he is covered in viscera from his brutal kills.

The most satisfying death, he saves for last.

Mingi knows the man can hear him coming. The shrieks from the town down below would’ve reached his ears by now, filling him with a sense of dread. There is no escaping the hunt, and your husband is about to find out what it truly means to be reduced to absolutely nothing.

The sound of the door shattering as it gets kicked in causes the already pertinent fear Mingi can smell radiating through the house spike. The man cowers pathetically in his room, the exits having long since been sealed by the fae in preparation for the decimation that is about to take place.

Stepping through the doorway, Mingi stands there, letting the light from the moon illuminate his massive figure. The way the man screams in horror when he sees Mingi’s blood-soaked appearance only causes a malicious grin to pull at the redcap’s lips.

“Found you.” Mingi’s expression is downright maniacal, his eyes glinting wildly in the darkness.

The man cowers back, attempting to push himself further into the wall as Mingi takes a menacing step forward.

“Who sent you?” His voice is frantic, eyes wide with tears as they begin to spill down his face. “What do you want?”

Mingi’s grin stretches wider across his features, his tongue darting out to taste the blood covering his lips. “I’m here to collect on a debt.”

“A debt?” The man frowns, heart rate accelerating in panic.

“You hurt something of mine,” Mingi’s voice is but a low drawl as he stalks towards the shaking man huddled in the corner. “Something very precious to me.”

“Is it money? Money that you want?” The man’s eyes dart every which way around the room, looking for a possible exit. “I can give you all the riches you desire-“

“Stupid human.” Mingi hisses. “As if money could ever pay for the life you stole.”

There is no escape. Not now. Not ever. Especially not for this coward.

“What are you-“ Confusion tugs at the man’s brow for a brief moment before realization is settling over his features. “That bitch! She sent you!”

In the blink of an eye, Mingi has him pinned against the wall by the throat. The force at with he pins the man causes cracks to appear in the plaster, chunks falling to the ground in a rain of dust.

“Speak of her like that again, and I will ensure to draw this out for as long as possible.” The words are but a low growl on Mingi’s lips, claws digging into the skin of the man’s throat.

Desperately, the man begins to struggle. His hands attempt to tear Mingi’s own from his throat, clawing at the fae uselessly as his legs kick in the air.

“What did that whore promise you?” The man chokes out, struggling for breath. “One round with that cunt and you’re ready to kill for her?”

Mingi snarls, tightening his grip over the man’s throat as his vile blood begins to coat his hands.

“I bet she’s making you work for it. That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it?” The man taunts, blood beginning to spill from his lips as Mingi nearly slams him through the wall a second time. “Stupid fucking whore was the easiest lay I ever had in my life. I feel bad for you. She normally spreads her legs for any man-“

“I am not a man.”

The words are spat out harshly, Mingi throwing the man behind him onto the floor. A satisfying crack echoes throughout the room, and the man cradles his one wrist to his chest, whimpering pathetically.

A wild grin stretches across blood red lips, eyes crazed as Mingi looks at the human from over his shoulder.

“Run, little rabbit,” Mingi’s voice drawls lowly, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “The beast wants to play.”

Without hesitating, the man scrambles to his feet, darting out of the open door of his room. Mingi can hear his laboured breathing as he nearly trips down the stairs, and the fae cannot help but laugh.

Little does this human know what Mingi has in store for him.

Slowly, Mingi begins creeping out of the room, and down the stairs. Once he reaches the bottom, he tears a wooden post from the banister, snapping it near the tip. He tests the point against the pad of his thumb, humming to himself as he stalks outside.

Desperately, the man scrambles to get away, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

Spinning that pole in his hand, Mingi reels back. The rod strikes like lighting through the air, hitting its intended target and causing the man to go tumbling the rest of the way down the hill.

An ominous hum is all the man hears approaching him as he attempts to crawl away. His hands tear through the dirt, uprooting the grass as he tries, and fails, to pull himself towards the edge of the woods and to a false sense of safety.

A sharp cry of pain rings out through the night air as Mingi steps on the back of the man’s calf, right where that wooden bannister now protrudes.

“And here I thought you would put up more of a fight,” Mingi hums, almost disappointedly. “Pathetic.”

A satisfying snap echoes through his ears, and the man shrieks as his tibia breaks from the force of Mingi’s full weight stepping onto it.

“I suppose we won’t need this anymore,” Mingi say lowly, tearing the wooden post from the man’s shin and snapping it in further half.

Another scream pierces the air as the man’s hands get pinned to the earth using each half of the now split banister. His legs uselessly kick out behind him, stuck flat against the ground on his stomach as whimpers and pleas to spare his life fall on deaf ears.

Reaching down, Mingi tears open the back of the man’s shirt, exposing his bare flesh. A sick, twisted grin cuts itself onto his features as he runs a clawed hand over the unmarred skin, and he feels the man shudder in terror beneath him.

“What are you-“

A sharp cry of pain causes the man to cut his words short. Mingi, having stood back to his full height, snapped the man’s other ankle, crushing it with his foot.

For a frightening long moment, all is silent. Not even the trees sway with a breeze, nor does a single creature make a sound. The weight disappears from the man’s foot, and the ominous chill that creeps down his spine only makes waiting to see what happens to him next all the more horrible. All that can be heard are the man’s desperate and miserable whimpers, begging to be set free.

A sharp snapping sound, like thin leather suddenly being pulled taunt, silences the man’s pleas. Cold, dreaded realization settles deep within his core, and he begins thrashing violently at the fae’s feet.

The world stops.

“For My Beloved Blossom.”

The sharp crack of the whip slices through the air.

Once.

Twice.

As many times as it takes until Mingi is satisfied.

Flesh renders from bone, blood splattering the once green earth bright red, and splattering all over his face. His features are schooled into a look of pure concentration, anger radiating off of him in waves as he finally shreds this disgusting excuse of a creature apart.

The stench of blood fills his burning lungs, pieces of bone chipping amongst the torn flesh with every strike. Chunks of skin cover his face, his hair stained red as he revels in the horrific shrieks of his mutilated prey.

Still, Mingi does not stop.

Only when the man’s entire spine is visible does Mingi toss aside the whip and switch to his bare hands. He knows the bastard is already dead, but that does not stop Mingi from tearing out his spine, or ripping him limb from disgusting limb.

Nothing is too much right now, and even in death, Mingi does not want this man to find peace.

He hurt you, and for that, he must pay. They all must pay.

Bathing his sash in the blood of his kills has never felt so satisfying in his entire life. He takes his time, moving through the village to soak the strip of cloth in each of his victim’s remains, humming lightly to himself as he does so. Mingi purposely both starts and ends with that bastard, dipping his cloth through what’s left of the man’s scattered remains before setting the whole place on fire.

As the flames blaze brightly in the early hours of the morning, Mingi has one final stop to make.

The glow of the raging inferno behind him is nothing more than a spec in the distance as he comes across an empty field. Fireweed covers the vast expanse of land, some patches of earth still charred from the blaze that stole your happiness from you some time ago.

Softly, his gaze scans the area, walking through the weeds now growing through what once was a beautiful field of your favourite flowers. His eyes catch on a single stem growing through the ash, and his breath catches in his throat.

The sun begins to rise.

Falling to his knees, Mingi stares down at the lone red spider lily that blooms almost defiantly within that field of wreckage.

A single teardrop falls to the earth, wetting the soil just beside the flower. It is followed by another, and then another, until the tracks cut lines into the blood staining his face.

Ever so gently, Mingi begins to dig. Dirt coats his fingers, getting stuck beneath his nails as he carefully pulls that plant from the earth. He cradles the root bulb in his hands tenderly, smiling softly down at the flower which now holds so much meaning to him, too.

Turning back to face the woods, Mingi begins the short journey back to you. Back to his home.

***

The light of the early morning sun peeks through the leaves of the trees around you. Warmth pools over your skin with every shifting beam, the gentle sway of the breeze caressing your entire body. The sound of birds chirping fill the skies, and you can faintly hear a gentle hum from the wildlife resting nearby.

Slowly, the environment begins to rouse you, the scents and sounds of the early morning calling you back from sleep’s warm embrace. Your one hand holds onto that stem of spider lilies, and you curl in closer to yourself. Only, something feels different.

Blinking your eyes open, you rub lightly at your face. A yawn escapes you, and you sit up only to realize what’s been wrong this whole time.

Mingi is missing, and you cannot find him anywhere in your immediate line of sight.

A light frown tugs at your features. Your mind is still heavy with sleep, so it takes you a moment to properly gather your bearings. 

Mingi must have just gone off to gather some supplies for the start of your daily journey. He normally has breakfast for the both of you ready by the time you wake up, anyways.

Movement from the bushes off to your right draws your attention. The sound of something approaching you through the woods grows louder, and your heartbeat accelerates. It sounds like it’s moving slowly, carefully, almost as if it’s stalking towards you.

Moments later, a large figure steps through the trees covered in blood. A red sash is tied around his forehead, and in his hands rests the most beautiful bloom that you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Mingi!” Your eyes go wide, worry immediately pulling at your features as you scramble to your feet.

Slowly, the fae in question lifts his head. His features are soft, mild concern tugging at his brow as he sees you rushing towards him. He’s well aware of what seeing him covered in blood does to you, and he was hoping to get back before you woke up. He wanted to clean himself off before you saw him like this, but at the way your hands frantically run over his chest and up to his neck, he knows that in this moment, you’re not scared of him.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your voice is still lined with sleep, but the panic comes through loud and clear. “I woke up, and you were gone.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Blossom.” He says gently, a tender smile pulling at his lips as he looks down at you. “I was hoping to be back before you rose.”

“Mingi,” your eyes search his face, trailing over the blood and chunks of flesh clinging to his skin and embedded in his hair. “What happened?”

Shifting the flower he holds to rest in one hand, he tentatively reaches towards you. Hesitantly, the tips of his fingers caress the curve of your cheek as he stares at you with the most satisfied, loving look resting on his features.

“There was some business I had to tend to,” his voice is soft, his eyes searching your own. “A village that needed cleansing.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat inside of your chest. Your gaze trails down to that lone flower resting in his one hand. Only, instead of feeling any sort of fear, or unease, you can only feel relief.

You take a deep breath in, and notice that beneath the stench of iron, Mingi also smells faintly of ash.

“Are you-“ Your voice catches. “Are you hurt?”

A soft chuckle falls from his lips. “As if they could ever hurt me.”

You shoot him a look in return, worry still clear in your eyes.

“No, Blossom,” he smiles, cupping the side of your face gently. “I am not hurt. Please, do not worry about me.”

A light exhale escapes you, and your eyes fall shut. “I’m glad.”

“No longer will any monsters ever haunt you,” his voice is low, and full of the deepest form of sincerity that you’ve ever heard someone speak to you with. “No monster will even hunt you again. I made damn well sure of it.”

Your brow furrows slightly in response, searching his features for an answer hidden beneath all of this gore.

That’s when it hits you. That’s when you fully accept the reality being presented to you.

“There’s nothing left of them, Blossom,” he tells you gently, that same look of undying love and loyalty resting deep within his eyes. “I made sure to burn them all to the ground.”

For a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“They cannot hurt you anymore.”

Your fingers begin to tremble lightly against the skin of his chest, the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes. All you can do in this moment is focus on the fae before you, covered in blood and guts, and all in the name of your honour.

He fought for you.

He punished those who have long since ignored you, beaten you down, and destroyed your sense of self worth.

He turned those that made you feel like you were nothing into nothing themselves, and now, all that is left of them is naught but ash and dust.

Silence stretches on between the both of you as you continue to stare at him. 

Mingi is conscious of every movement you make, of every slight hitch in your breath and every twitch of your fingers against his skin. His hand still cups the side of your face, and he worries, for a brief instance, that what he’s admitted to doing has just pushed you further away.

Only, just as he goes to pull his hand away, you lean into his touch.

Despite the dirt, despite the blood, ash, and other viscera that clings to his skin, you turn your head, placing a gentle kiss onto the palm of his hand.

This time, it’s Mingi’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat.

“Come on, Min,” you breathe out, reaching your own hand up to cup his gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Taking his hand into yours, you lead him over to the edge of that spring you bathed in together last night. 

Turning back to him, a soft smile graces your features. Carefully, you reach out your hands and he immediately places that single spider lily into your palms.

“It was growing-“ he swallows, voice thick with emotions that you understand all too well. “In the field that was burned, it was growing. I- I had to bring it back home to you. For you.”

“For us. For our home.” You glance upwards from the flower to stare into his eyes, and the way you see his expression soften at your words makes you smile. “Thank you, Mingi. Thank you. No one has ever-“ your voice catches slightly, and you blink away your sudden tears. “It truly means a lot.”

“It’s as I’ve said before, Beloved,” His lips tug upwards tenderly in the corners. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

You nod softly, eyes crinkling in joy. 

“As terrifying as it is for me to admit,” you breathe, smiling down at that flower in your hands, “I’m starting to believe you.”

A slight grin pulls onto his features, chuckling lowly. 

“How happy I am, then, to make you believe.”

You return his soft look, moving to place this flower with the other you left resting by the tree. By the time you turn back around, Mingi has already stripped himself of his soiled clothes and is waist deep in the spring. His back faces you, and you cannot help but to let your eyes roam over the unmarked skin for a moment longer than you probably should.

Swallowing the sudden dryness in your throat, you hurry back over to the edge of the spring. Rolling up your pants to just above your knees, you sit on the rocks lining the mouth of the spring, dipping your feet into the cool water.

Lightly, you kick your legs beneath the surface, causing ripples to form. The way Mingi turns to smile at you, face still covered in blood and grime doesn’t deter you at all. In fact, it only makes your heart skip another beat inside of your chest.

For once, the blood is not your own. There is no monster coming to hurt you, or hunt you down. That blood has been spilt for you, and you cannot deny the relief that floods your veins when you think about it. Not only that, but gratitude.

All of your life you wanted someone to fight for you. To protect you, and bring justice to those that wronged you for so long. Which is exactly why you can only feel elated at the fact that such a ‘monster’ would do something so personal for you.

He cares, and he’s more than proved it.

Too many times you’ve fantasized about taking control of your own life. You wanted the power to make your own decision, and to be able to get back at those who have wronged you. You resented them, and you wanted for them feel even an ounce of the same pain that they made you feel.

They did, and all because of Mingi. Because one other person - a fae, no less - could see, and decided, that you had worth.

Your heart swells in your chest, and you glance that red band laying beside you in the grass. The material is certainly darker than you remember it being last night, and given the colouration, you can tell that the strip of cloth is still wet in certain spots.

You don’t know why, but it makes you smile.

Turning your attention back on the fae in front of you, you motion him closer.

Slowly, Mingi walks over to you. He had been resting with his shoulders beneath the water, so once he stood, small trails of pink droplets had begun to cascade down his chest, mixing with the blood still marring his skin.

Once he’s close enough, you reach out and take his hand.

Wordlessly, you begin to bathe him just as he did with you last night. Your touch is nothing short of tender, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin and from beneath his nails. When you ask, he even unsheathes his claws to show you, and all you can do is marvel at how sharp they are.

A mental image of these claws tearing through the people of your village fills your mind. Though, instead of feeling disgust, or horror at such a gruesome act, you can only feel pride.

These claws are meant for you. They will tear through anyone or anything that threatens your safety, or makes you unhappy. They will always protect you, and never will they be used on you in such gruesome ways. A fact which only warms your heart the more you think about it, settling happily into this moment with Mingi before you.

Once you have finished washing his hands, you move onto his torso, working your way up his body until you reach his head. At this point, he kneels before you, making the reach much easier for you while revelling in the way your fingers thread through his hair.

Small pieces of bone are removed from his blond locks, which are now tinted the faintest shade of red in certain spots from the amount of blood that had covered him. The damp strands are pushed away from his face once you’re done, his sharp eyes staring up at you with nothing but adoration as he watches you clean him up.

Really, Mingi could get used to this. Coming back to you after a hunt is a dream come true, and the idea that you could be doing this with him every time only serves to make his heart race inside of his chest. The fact that he hasn’t scented any fear or unease from you since he’s return makes his whole body come alive, falling even deeper for you with every passing second.

“Okay,” your gentle voice manages to pull him out of his thoughts. “Done.”

Water cascades down the plains of his chest as Mingi stands back to his full height. Droplets cling to the ends of his hair, dripping onto your clothed thighs as he leans into you. An arm rests on either side of your torso, yet, despite his closeness, you do not feel trapped.

“Have I ever told you how incredible you are?” He keeps his tone low, voice rumbling from deep within his chest.

Your eyes shine, glancing up at him through your lashes. You can feel your heart swelling with warmth, and you cannot prevent the way a subtle heat rises to your cheeks.

A hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb languidly stroking over your cheek.

Still, he leans into you.

“I never want you to forget how special you are,” he breathes out, placing his forehead gently against your own. “How special you are to me.”

Your gaze, which had been shyly averted to your lap, lifts back up to meet his own.

“Did you really do it?” The words are naught but a whisper on your lips. “Did you really kill them all for me?”

“None of them deserved to life for a second longer for what they did to you,” his fingers press a little firmer against the skin of your cheek, and he steps closer. “I would do it all over again, too. As many times as it took, until you are satisfied.”

Slowly, carefully, you lift your hands to his face. Your eyes search his own, and nothing but sincerity shines behind his gaze. A fact which only causes the warmth in your chest to grow even further, beginning to spread outwards and all the way down to the very tips of your fingers.

“I care about you, My Blossom,” he repeats these same words to you now, just as earnestly as the first time. “I want to see you thrive, to see you bloom.”

“You… wish to be with me?” Your voice is a little hesitant, unsure of the words you seem to be speaking right now.

“More than anything,” he breathes out, and you can feel his warm breath ghost against the skin of your lips.

“You… want me?” The question is innocent enough, but his response is immediate.

“In any and every single way you’ll let me.” The words are but a low growl on his lips, dark eyes staring deeply into your own.

“You… want to-“ you pause for a moment, steadying your nerves, “belong to me in the same ways you would like for me to belong to you?”

Mingi takes a shuddering breath in, his eyes slipping closed. “Desperately so.”

Your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them.

“Are-“ you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, “Are claims mutual?”

“Yes,” his reply is instantaneous, albeit a little airy. “Claims are-“ his tongue darts out to swipe against his bottom lip, “Claims are meant to be mutual between all parties involved. That’s how they are always intended to be, as they are the most sacred of bonds we can share with another.”

Softly, you nod your head, hands sliding down his cheeks and over his neck to rest on his shoulders. You can feel him shiver beneath your touch, stepping in even closer to you.

“When I say I want to claim you…” his eyes slip closed, revelling in the way your thighs part for him so that he can slot himself between them. “I have always intended, and will always mean for it to be mutual. I do not own you. You are not meant to be my possession. I do, however, desperately wish to be able to call you mine.”

The inhale you take is soft, hands tightening ever so slightly over his shoulders.

A moment passes in silence, letting his words wash over you. There is no doubt in your mind about what you want right now, and the answer is standing right before you, pouring his soul into every word that he speaks.

“Mingi…” 

The call of his name is so tender from your lips, that all he can do is hum in response. 

“I wish for you to claim me.”

There is no denying the way Mingi’s breath hitches. In fact, you swear he stops breathing completely, his eyes flinging open to stare deeply into your own. Not even a moment later, you can feel his chest beginning to heave with every breath, lips parting as he attempts to control himself for your sake.

“Are you-“ his tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaning the slightest bit further into you. “Are you sure?”

The way that he asks, that he’s making sure that this is something you do want, only serves to warm your heart, and solidify your decision.

You smile, repeating back to him the same words he spoke to you earlier this morning. “More than anything.”

You physically feel the way his heart skips a beat in his chest, the pounding resonating beneath your fingertips. You swear you can also feel him beginning to tremble beneath your touch, both of his hands coming up to cup your face tenderly.

“You do not know how happy you’ve made me, hearing you say that.” He says lowly, tilting his head forward so that your noses brush.

The corners of you lips tug upwards, fingers dancing lightly along his skin.

“Anything you want, everything you desire, is yours.” He whispers, his lips barely brushing over your own.

A small gasp parts your lips, your eyes hooding over as you briefly glance downwards at his own.

“I just want you,” the admission is but a sigh on your lips, wrapping your arms fully around his shoulders as your fingers begin to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You swear a soft moan tumbles from him.

“Then, My Dear Blossom,” he steps impossibly closer. “May I kiss you?”

Your lips quirk upwards, heart swelling with warmth inside of your chest. The fact that he even asked, after everything you’ve been through…

“I would love nothing more.”

Instantly, his lips are on your own. One of his hands slides down the side of your neck, softly tracing over your shoulder and down the curve of your spine. His large hand splays against your lower back, pulling you in closer as he presses himself fully against you.

Water seeps into the material of your clothing, but you don’t care. Not with the way he’s kissing you to lovingly, holding onto you as if you are the most precious thing he has ever had the pleasure to experience in his life. 

From the way you can feel his fingers trembling lightly, his cock twitching against the skin of your thigh, you know that to him, you are.

His touch is gentle as he moves his lips over your own, your hands tangling in his locks to pull him in even closer. Yet still, he doesn’t push you too hard, easily letting you pull away if need be. 

Never does he want you to feel trapped with him. Always, it will be your choice.

Your choice to let him kiss you, to let him touch you.

Your choice to let him claim you, and for you to claim him.

Your choice to be with him, and to let him be with you.

You are his entire world, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you know just that. A fact of which he never wants you to forget.

He parts from you only to begin trailing his lips over your cheekbone and down to your jawline. His nose nuzzles gently over your skin, taking a deep breath in as your scent begins to completely overwhelm him in the best of ways.

Gently, he dips his head lower, placing tender kisses over the side of your neck and directly over your pulse. He can feel the way it flutters against his lips, and he cannot help but smile against your skin.

Taking another deep breath in, Mingi’s eyes flutter closed. A soft moan escapes him, and his free hand comes to settle on your waist, thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt gently.

“I don’t-“ he swallows audibly, “I don’t want to push you too far, Blossom, but I fear that if we continue like this, then I won’t be able to stop myself from acting on my deeper desires.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, and you feel him shudder beneath your fingertips. “What is it that you desire, Min?”

A low groan escapes him, and he presses his face deeper into the side of your neck. “You, completely relaxed, and letting me take care of you like you’ve always deserved.”

Your breath catches lightly in your throat, and you pull him impossibly closer.

“I want to touch every inch of your skin, and show you how beautiful you are to me.” He continues lowly, his lips ghosting along the skin of your neck. “I wish to drown you in an ecstasy you never knew possible until you gave me the honour of pleasing you. I wish to give myself to you fully, and in return, I hope that you will give yourself to me, too.”

His name escapes you as no more than a gasp, expression softening as he pulls away to stare deeply into your eyes.

“I never want to push you too far, or make you uncomfortable. I would rather burn alive than ever take advantage of you like that.” He leans in to rest his forehead on your own once more. “I only want your pleasure, and if at any point you are uncomfortable, or you want to stop, you immediately let me know.”

The emotions that fill your chest overwhelm you, and you cannot help the tightness that you feel building within your throat. Tears well in your eyes, and you find yourself blinking them away rapidly while nodding your head.

You’ve never felt this deeply cared for, nor understood in your life.

“I will,” you manage to swallow the emotions that threaten to choke you out at any second. “I promise.”

Softly, Mingi smiles, leaning forward to peck your lips.

“Likewise, if there’s anything that you want me to do for you, Blossom,” he breathes out lightly. “All you have to do is ask.”

Again, you nod your head in understanding.

“I will never take more than what you are willing to give, and I will never give more than what you are willing to take.” He says gently, his hands sliding down you body to settle along the sides of your thighs as he pulls away to stare down at you. “I love you. I care about you deeply. I never want to do anything to jeopardize that.”

Your heart feels as if it’s about to burst forth from your chest, eyes shining with nothing but pure awe and appreciation. Your hands slide down the front of his chest, settling along his waist as you tug him in closer, wrapping your legs around him while meeting his gaze.

“Mingi,” the call of his name from your lips is so tender, even the birds seem to stop their morning songs to listen. The silence of the clearing seems to swell around you, and you take that final leap, knowing that he will be right there to catch you. “I am in love with you, too.”

Mingi swears that he forgets how to breathe. His heart simply flutters inside of his chest, and tears of his own well in his eyes. A happy laugh escapes him, the smile that pulls at his lips one that is not easily contained.

Leaning into you once more, Mingi presses his lips to your forehead. He lets his touch linger for as long as possible, pouring everything that he wants to say into the press of his skin against your own. He holds you tightly, eyes falling shut as a cascade of happiness spills over his cheeks.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles against your forehead, and not even a second later, he’s littering tender kisses all over your face, repeating the phrase with each one.

Your soft giggle is music to his ears.

The moment Mingi presses his lips to yours, you gladly wrap your arms back around his shoulders. You allow him to set the pace, grateful to be held in his embrace just like all of those times before. 

His kiss is soft, taking his time to fully explore your mouth as his tongue moves languidly against yours.

You hum, feeling his hands trail up your thighs and slip beneath the material of your shirt.

A sudden heat rises to your cheeks at the thought that drifts through your mind.

“Mingi,” the gentle call of his name draws his attention, and he pulls away to stare into your eyes. “Can you- uh…” he waits patiently for you to continue, noticing how your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as you rush out the words, “Can you cut me out of my clothes?”

Mingi’s eyes go wide. To say your request catches him off guard would be an understatement.

“They-“ you fidget slightly, hands suddenly pulled back into your lap. “They used to do that whenever they would have their fun, and I don’t want to remember them doing that anymore.”

His one hand comes up to tenderly brush his knuckle over the side of your cheek.

“Do you wish to forget?” He asks softly.

“I’m not doing this to forget,” you shake your head. “I want to replace those bad memories with newer, better ones. I don’t want to think about them cutting off my clothes. I want to think about you.”

It’s slight, and you believe it’s subconscious on his part, but he pulls you in even closer against him. Your body is almost pressed flush against his own, his loving gaze darkening at the implications.

“I will do anything if it means you thinking of me,” he mutters lowly. “Anything to make you happy.”

The hand that had been caressing the side of your cheek slides down to your shoulder. Carefully, he unsheathes his claws, hooking the tips beneath the collar of your shirt. At the way he hears your breathing pick up, he pauses, glancing at your face and noticing how your eyes remain shut for the moment.

Lightly, he tugs at your shirt.

“May I?” His inquiry is so gentle, that you cannot help but blink your eyes open to meet his gaze.

You swallow your nerves.

“Please.” A single nod accompanies your response, your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Mingi’s movements are slow, precise. There is no harsh sound of tearing fabric. Instead, he pulls the shirt until it’s taunt with his nail, allowing his claw to cut through the thin material slowly.

The whole time, he maintains eye contact with you. At any sign of hesitance, or discomfort, he vows to stop. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, or push you away.

Your breathing deepens, and within another blink of your eyes, Mingi has managed to cut right through your shirt. His hands settle on your hips, gently sliding upwards as the material parts following the path he takes up your body.

Tingles erupt on your skin as he traces his hands over your shoulders, pushing the now torn fabric gently down your arms. His touch is nothing but soft, his gaze soon following in the same path over your skin as your torso is fully revealed to him.

The sound of your shirt hitting the ground is synonymous with the low moan that escapes him. His eyes flit everywhere over your chest, following the gentle curves of your breasts all the way down to your stomach which he adores. Every scar he sees only adds to the perfection of you before him, baring yourself like this for him to see.

Him, and only him.

“You are absolutely captivating,” he breathes, eyes flitting once more over your torso before darting upwards to meet your gaze. His hands reach out to you, stopping just short of your waist. “Do I-“ he swallows, fingers trembling as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Do I really get to touch such beauty?”

His question, posed so earnestly with wonder shining behind his gaze, makes your breath catch in your throat. Fondness shines in your eyes as you stare up at him, nothing but tender love and affection swirling deep within your chest. His words make your entire body heat, a pleasant feeling erupting beneath your skin as you simply revel in the way he looks at you.

Your legs tighten ever so slightly around his waist, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him pressing right against you. At the way you hum in confirmation to his gentle inquiry, you can feel his cock twitch against your thigh once more. The way he positively beams at your answer only makes you tighten your own grip on him, needing to feel him pressed against you in every way imaginable.

Gently, his hands settle onto your waist, squeezing your flesh appreciatively before tracing his touch over your sides. A low moan escapes him as he brings his hands up to cup your breasts. His thumbs trace over your nipples, the thin fabric still covering you barely doing anything to hide what lies beneath.

A soft moan parts your lips, and you find yourself arching into his touch. Your own hands slide up his sides, nails grazing his flesh lightly and causing a shiver to caress his spine.

Not even a moment later, Mingi hooks a finger through the thin band of fabric between your breasts. One quick tug from him, and the material snaps, the straps sliding down your shoulders almost instantly.

You visibly watch his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares down at your chest. He wastes no time in cupping your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands as he gives them an appreciative squeeze.

“So soft,” he moans, thumbs flicking over your nipples once more before circling over the pert buds. “So perfect.”

At his words, you press yourself further into his touch, soft pants escaping your lips. You can feel tingles erupting all over your skin wherever he touches, and the feeling only serves to make your head spin.

You could get lost in him, and from the way that his eyes shine tenderly down at you, you have a feeling that that’s exactly what he wants you to do.

Trailing your hands upwards, your fingers dance across his chest. The way he shivers beneath your touch has you smiling up at him, purposely dragging your nails over his skin.

“You’re so handsome, Mingi,” you breathe out, taking the time to admire his sculpted torso.

His breath catches lightly, and his hands involuntarily squeeze over your breasts. 

“You think I’m handsome?” The questions is posed so innocently, that his voice rises slightly in pitch.

“I do,” you hum, your one hand coming up to cup the side of his face. “You are the most stunningly handsome being I have ever had the pleasure to rest my eyes upon.”

You watch his throat bob as he swallows thickly, lips parting with the gentlest of gasps. His one hand slips around your back as he leans in, pulling you closer as he wastes no time in pressing his lips to yours once more.

Mingi pours every single emotion he has for you in the way his lips move against your own. The fingers of his one hand still cup your breast, beginning to pinch and roll your nipple between them. His tender movements mirror the gentle caress of his tongue against your own, and it only causes your breath to hitch lightly in your throat.

Eagerly, he swallows all of your moans, loving the way you cling to him desperately as he feels you beneath his touch. Your skin is a delicacy which ignites a fire beneath his own, and with every passing second, he only wants more.

Slowly, Mingi trails his hand that had been squeezing at your breast down your torso. His fingers dance lethargically against your skin, tracing over every dip and curve presented to him. The way he caresses you, trailing his fingertips over your scars lovingly, has your whole body heating, eagerly leaning into his every touch.

Desperately, you begin to crave more.

Soon, his fingers begin slipping beneath the waistline of your pants, never dipping more than a knuckle deep. He’s cautious, pulling away to meet your gaze to check in on you, wanting to make sure that you’re still okay, and that he’s not moving too quickly.

Your eyes stare up at him, wide and pleading, and he feels your hips shift the lightest bit forward. The smallest of whimpers escapes you, and the sound goes straight to his cock, lips parting in another moan as the scent of your arousal completely fills his every sense.

He can practically taste you on his tongue…

“Touch me, Mingi,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, airy and desperate. “Show me how beautiful I am.”

A low, pleased growl rumbles out from his chest. “With pleasure.”

Without wasting another moment, Mingi tears right through your pants, pulling the shredded material away and tossing it to the side. His hand comes down to settle on your thigh, thumb stroking lightly over your skin as he spreads you the slightest bit more open for him.

His lips find your own once more as his fingers creep up your thigh, skimming gently over the edge of your underwear. The fact that he can hear you whimper against his mouth only makes him smile into the kiss, deepening it without a second thought.

A moment later, he hooks a finger through the band, snapping the thin material and fully exposing you to him.

The full, unfiltered scent of your arousal bombards his senses, and he cannot help the way he gasps against your lips. His chest heaves with every breath, shifting his hand to cup you over your mound, the heat of you settling enticingly against his palm.

The hand he has splayed on your back tugs you in closer as the fingers of his other hand part your folds gently. Carefully, he drags the tip of his middle finger over your cunt, his eyes nearly rolling at the wetness that greets his skin.

A soft gasp escapes you as you feel him using the tip of his finger to circle over your clit, the movement making your whole body jolt in pleasure. 

His touch is soft, tentative almost. He wants to take his time exploring you right now, letting you feel his devotion to you in every movement that he makes. Anything and everything to get you to sigh his name in bliss, to have you clinging to him, and begging for more.

He adds the slightest bit more pressure over your clit.

Your eyes flutter, and another gasp escapes you. This time, of his name.

“There is no sweeter sound than the call of my name from your lips, Beloved,” Mingi breathes out against your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin.

The tip of his finger slips back down to circle your entrance, dipping lightly through your folds before pushing only a single knuckle into you. He slips it back out before pushing deeper into you each time, repeating the process until his finger is buried within your warmth, feeling the way your walls squeeze him so beautifully.

A moan falls from your lips, purposely clenching around his finger as you cling to him. Your head falls forward, eyes hooded as you glance his toned body before you. The moment you feel his thumb find your clit, you reach down, taking his cock into your one hand and pumping him a few times just above the water.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, a low groan tumbling from his lips.

“Beloved,” his voice is strained, brow furrowing as he focusses on the way you shift your hand over his cock. “I don’t expect-“

“I want to.” Your own voice comes out breathlessly, clenching around his finger once more as he begins to move it within you. “I want to please you, too.”

“Your mere existence pleases me,” he replies airily, adding the slightest bit more pressure to his thumb circling over your clit. “I’ll allow it. For now. But after, I want it to be all about you.”

“But-“ 

The protest dies on your lips as you feel him wrap his one arm he has at your back fully around your waist. There is now barely any space between your two bodies, just enough to allow you both to continue your ministrations over the other as you hold one another close.

“Do not underestimate what being able to please you does to me, Blossom,” his words are but a low drawl on his lips, curling his finger deep inside of you and making you gasp. “You feel like heaven around me. Seeing you, getting to feel your reactions to me, is one of the greatest pleasures I will ever receive in my life.”

At the way you feel his cock twitch in your hand from his words, you know there is no greater truth to him than what he’s just spoken. A fact which makes your stomach twist in pleasure, squeezing around his finger buried deep inside of you as his thumb continues to circle over your clit.

Another moan escapes you, and your hand tightens subconsciously around his cock. You do your best to mirror the pace of his finger currently massaging your inner walls, but the pleasure that threatens to drown you at any second makes it increasingly difficult to think.

Your free hand clings onto his back, fingers digging into his skin. The press of your nails only causes him to shiver in pleasure, lips parting as low groans escape him. The way your hand feels, languidly stoking over his cock, makes his head spin. The moment he feels you swipe your thumb over his slit, he has to bite his lip to keep himself from coming. 

He needs to see you fall apart before he can even think to let himself go.

Slowly, just as he did with the first finger, he works another into you. His pace is gentle, pushing in so far only to pull back out as he stretches you open for him. His thumb never once leaves your clit, either, circling that sensitive little nub as his lips return to your own.

Eagerly, he swallows your sounds, offering you ones of his own in return. At the way he can feel your hands beginning to shake against him, he knows that you’re close.

“Give it to me, Beloved,” his breath escapes him as no more than heavy pants as he pushes his fingers into you. “I’m right here. Let yourself go.”

The moment you feel his fingers bury themselves deep inside of you, pressing firmly against your inner walls, your eyes roll. The tips lightly brush over such a sensitive spot inside of you, his thumb circling over your clit in time with his movements, making you see stars.

You come with a loud cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as your body collapses forward into him. 

Of course, he is right there to catch you, to steady you as you fall.

Your hand stills over his cock, squeezing him firmly as he moans deeply, beginning to thrust lightly into your grip. Not even a moment later, you feel warm spurts of come painting your stomach, his breath heaving as low, pleased growls escape him with every exhale.

The feeling of Mingi’s hand gently stroking over your spine slowly begins to bring you back to reality. Your chest rises and falls dramatically with each breath you take, revelling in his touch. Your forehead presses against his chest, and you can feel it vibrating contently beneath you as he finally removes his hand from your cunt.

“So beautiful,” he coos, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other settles onto your thigh. His fingers press delicately into your flesh, thumb stroking over your skin lightly. “So perfect.”

Ever so carefully, Mingi begins to dip you backwards, laying you gently upon the stone you rest on. His figure looms above you, nothing but love shining deep within his gaze as he stares into your eyes.

You finally release your hold on his cock, hand coming up to settle on his chest while the other shifts to tangle in his hair. You waste no time in pulling his lips back down to your own, heart swelling inside of your chest as his hands roam all over your body. Carefully, he avoids the mess he’s just made on your stomach. For now.

A blink, and Mingi begins trailing his lips down the side of your neck. His hot breath fans over your skin, contrasting the coolness of the rock at your back.

“Still okay?” He asks gently, gazing up at you through his lashes as his head rests just above your chest.

You nod, quite eagerly, as you still attempt to catch your breath. “Don’t stop.”

The smile that pulls at Mingi’s lips is so tender, that you cannot help the way your heart flutters in response. Almost instantly, he eagerly begins to trail more kisses down your chest, suckling lightly at your skin. 

His hands return to your breasts, kneading the flesh tenderly as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. A flick of his tongue over the pert bud has you moaning, arching once more into his touch as your thighs squeeze around his sides.

Softly, he suckles on your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive skin as he hums against you. A moment later, he’s releasing you with a soft pop, kissing his way over to your other breast to give it the exact same attention.

Your lips are parted, eyes hooded over as you lift your head to watch him move over you. Your one hand tangles in his locks, nails scratching at his scalp as your fingers thread through his hair.

What truly makes your head spin is when you see him detach himself from your nipple only to press his face directly between the valley of your breasts. His eyes flutter closed, and he inhales deeply, a stuttering groan falling passed his lips. Then, he’s tilting his head forward, placing a lingering kiss right over the skin of your beating heart.

“Mine.” He growls out, his eyes flashing open to stare deeply into your own.

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart stuttering inside of your chest. Only, your reaction surprises you. You cannot deny the way your stomach twists in pleasure at the way he says this, nor the way you feel yourself clench around nothing.

So, you respond in a way that feels both natural and right in this moment to you.

“Yours.” The word is but a sigh on your lips, but the effect it has on the fae before you is instantaneous.

A desperate groan escapes him, his eyes falling shut as he presses his face against your chest once more. You can feel his every breath hitting your skin, his hands settling onto your waist and pulling you in closer. His fingers dig into your skin, firm enough so that you can feel the need in his touch, but not enough to hurt you.

No. Never enough to hurt you.

“As I will always, and forevermore, be yours,” he breathes out onto your skin, blinking his gaze open to stare up at you lovingly. He hums contently, “My Beloved Blossom.”

Slowly, he begins trailing kisses back down your torso, his hands still eagerly gripping at your sides. His eyes briefly flick down to your stomach, noting the lines of his come still covering you in him.

Something deep within Mingi snarls with unabashed pride, and he smirks.

His tongue comes out to lave over your skin, tracing the trails of his come all the way from bottom to top. After each line, he places open mouthed kisses against your stomach, laving his lips over every inch of you, and loving the way he can feel you begin to squirm beneath him in pleasure.

Your hands tighten in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Mine.”

The moan Mingi lets out against your skin is deep, his fingers sinking a little firmer into your sides. His chest rumbles pridefully in agreement, his sharp eyes flashing as he looks up to meet your gaze.

“Say it again,” his voice is but a growl on his lips as he sinks to his knees before you.

With a slight hitch in your breath, you comply.

“Mine.”

His hooded eyes lock onto your own, licking his lips eagerly as he slides his hands under your thighs, pushing your legs further apart.

“Again.” He growls, shifting forward slightly to hook your legs over his shoulders.

The way your pussy clenches right before his very eyes has another pleased rumble shaking his chest.

A small whimper slips passed your lips, and Mingi can feel the way your thighs begin to tremble against his shoulders. 

“You’re mine.” Your fingers come down to thread back through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

Mingi’s eyes flutter once more, a pleased hum escaping him.

“I am yours, Blossom,” he leans his head gently against your one thigh. A moment later, he’s turning to place a tender kiss right over where that cut he helped heal had previously marred your flesh. Then, his eyes are flashing open, and he tugs you closer to the edge of the spring. “Now, let me watch you bloom.”

As soon as those words escape his lips, he’s diving into you, parting your folds eagerly with his tongue. The moan he lets out reverberates against your core, licking a broad strip upwards to begin flicking gently at your clit.

Your whole body jolts at the first touch of his tongue over your cunt. A whimper of his name falls passed your lips, thighs naturally wrapping themselves around his head.

A pleased growl escapes him, vibrating pleasantly against your clit as he sucks the little bundle of nerves between his lips. His hands wrap around your thighs, pulling himself in closer to you as he positively buries his face in your cunt, licking eagerly at every drop you have to offer him.

You moan, eyes falling shut as you cry out his name once more.

“That’s it, Blossom,” his voice rumbles out against your folds, his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue swirls around your entrance. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

His tongue dips between your folds, pressing deeper into you with every lick.

“So good,” you moan, fingers tightening in his hair to pull him in closer to your cunt. “Fuck- Mingi!”

His eyes flutter in bliss, moaning shamelessly into your pussy as he laves his mouth over you.

“Just like that, Blossom,” his tongue comes up to flick eagerly at your clit again, his one arm shifting beneath you. “I want you to drown me in you.”

The second those words slip passed his lips, his fingers are back at your entrance. Slowly, he begins to push two back into you, working you open just as he did earlier.

He needs to feel you squeezing around him again. He needs to see you fall apart  for him again. He needs to feel you coming for him, and him alone.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he hums, pulling away to watch his fingers slip inside of you. He nearly moans at the sight, cock twitching as he feels your walls clench around him. “So pretty, and all for me to devour.”

Another moan tumbles from your lips, tossing your head back in bliss. You can hardly maintain eye contact with him for long, the heat from his gaze setting your soul on fire, and bathing you in in the warmth of his love, of his desire.

It’s for you. It’s all for you.

The wet sounds of his tongue on your core fill the clearing as he returns to suckling on your clit. His fingers move languidly in you, massaging against your inner walls until the tips are finding that familiar spot that has your breath hitching. Once he feels is against the tips of his fingers, he curls them, humming over your clit as he shakes his head from side to side.

Your thighs begin to shake around him, that familiar pressure building within you with every flick of his tongue over your clit. The pleasant stretch of his fingers buried in your cunt only makes you clench around them, breath stuttering as he continues to massage the tips over that special spot deep inside of you.

Gently, you feel him grab one of your hands in his own, tugging it loose from his hair in order to lace your fingers with his. His eyes plead for you to fall apart, squeezing your hand now held within his own as he flattens his tongue against your clit. 

His warm breath hits your cunt with every desperate pant that escapes him, moving his tongue languidly in circles. In the next moment, he pulls away to flick at the sensitive little nub rapidly, watching your every reaction intently as he curls his fingers once more.

Your orgasm crashes into you without warning, your legs trembling violently around his head. Naturally, your thighs squeeze together, back arching off of the stones as you cry out his name. Your eyes flutter shut, brow furrowed as you cling onto his hand like a lifeline, drowning in the ecstasy he so willingly provides.

Moans and whimpers of his name fall from your lips, attempting to catch your breath as you feel his tongue continuing to lick over your dripping cunt. It’s slow, and tender, collecting every last drop you have to offer him as he removes his fingers from your core.

He hums, chest rumbling pleasantly as his thumb rubs over the back of your one hand held in his. His other is settled on your upper thigh, resting just below your hip to help steady you on the rocks. 

Pulling his head away, he licks his lips, and you can see your essence dripping down his chin as it shines beneath the light of the day.

“I love making you come for me,” his voice escapes him as no more than a content growl, turning his head to place tender kisses upon the skin of your inner thighs. “True solace resides here, between the heat of your legs.”

Your expression softens, a gentle sigh of his name falling from your lips.

“I never want you to stop calling out my name,” he breathes, the ghost of his breath tickling the skin of your thigh.

Carefully, he lets your legs fall from his shoulders, and back into the water of the pool below. The grip he has on your one hand loosens, and he stands back to his feet. His touch trails up your sides as he leans over you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply.

You hum against his mouth, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your fingers thread back through his hair.

Gently, he pulls away, resting his forehead against your own.

“Are you okay?” His tone is soft, staring deeply into your eyes as he holds himself above you for the moment.

A tender smile pulls at your lips. “More than okay.”

He returns your loving smile.

“Do you want to-“

“Make love to me, Mingi,” your gaze holds nothing but the most fond of looks as you bring your hand around to cup the side of his face, staring deeply into his eyes. “Make love to me as you claim me as yours.”

There is no denying the hitch in his breath as he stares down at your form, naked and spread out beneath him. His gaze searches your own, and all he can see staring back at him is the same tenderness that he knows is held within his own. There is no uncertainty in your eyes, nor hesitance, and the way you soon pull him in closer only serves to make his heart swell with even more love for you inside of his chest.

“I would love nothing more,” his reply is gentle, his fingers coming up to trace over the side of your cheek.

Taking a moment now, Mingi commits this beautiful scene to memory for years to come.

Pushing himself slightly upwards, Mingi lets his hands trail over the length of your body. Love pours from his gaze and into his touch as he looks down at you. A love that he can see, that he can feel returned in your own.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he glances something that has his heart skipping a beat inside of his chest at the mere thought of. Briefly, his eyes flit from your face, to the side, and back before he’s cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand once more.

“I want you to wear something for me while I make love to you, Beloved.” He licks his lips. “Can you- can you do that for me?”

Your eyes search his face for a moment, trailing all over his features as you lift a hand to rest on top of his own.

Slowly, you nod your head, a soft ‘okay’ falling from your lips.

Carefully, Mingi reaches his hand out above you, grasping something in his grip. Your eyes track his every movement, and the moment he pulls back, your breath hitches slightly in your throat.

There, in his grip, rests that crimson sash, stained fresh with the blood of all those who had ever wronged you.

Your lips part in awe, heart swelling at the meaning behind his request. Not to mention the fact that this band is his most prized possession, and now he wants you to wear it during such an intimate moment shared between the two of you.

Mingi helps you sit up, his hand on your back to steady you as you grip onto his shoulders. He can hear how fast your heart is beating, and he knows that his is doing the exact same.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and your expression says it all. No words need to be said between you as a deep understanding passes over one another. One that says you care about him, and he cares about you, both in your own ways. You will let him take care of you, just as you’ve always wanted. Just as you’ve always deserved.

Leaning forward, Mingi presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He allows his lips to linger, his eyes falling shut as he absolutely revels in this moment here with you. There is so much wants to tell you, so much he wants to show you, but for now, he’ll start with this.

“I love you, My Blossom,” Pulling away, Mingi makes sure to stare deeply into your eyes. “So much.”

A smile tugs at your features, tender and loving. “As I love you, My General.”

“Mingi.” The corner of his mouth quirks upwards as corrects you. He shifts forward, securing that sash carefully around your forehead. “For you, it’s always Mingi.”

The sound of the fabric tightening as it’s tied reaches your ears, but the knot is anything but. He ensures that band is securely around your forehead, eyes shining with nothing but admiration and awe as he pulls away to stare at you. 

Slowly, his fingertips trace back down over the curve of your cheeks, wrapping his arms around your back. He draws you in closer as you part your legs for him, letting him press himself flush against your chest.

Your hands slide down the front of his torso, eyes following in their wake as you take the time to fully admire him. You cannot help the way your tongue comes out to wet your lips, stomach flipping pleasantly as the realization that he is yours settles over you.

You smile.

“If I hurt you-“

“You won’t.” Your voice comes out firmly, gaze darting back up to meet his own. “I trust you.”

Mingi’s breath catches in his throat, and his heart skips a beat inside of his chest. Your words mean everything to him in this moment, and he swears to never break that trust for as long as you both shall live.

As he stares deeply into your eyes, you know that he won’t, either.

Scooting closer to the edge of the rock you sit on, you manage to wrap your legs around Mingi’s waist. The way you pull him in closer in such a way only causes a smile to tug at his lips, his hands sliding down your sides and settling lightly on your waist.

“Hold onto me, Beloved,” he says lowly, his hands shifting to grasp your ass and lift you slightly towards him.

Immediately, you comply, your arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders as he pulls you into him.

His hold is gentle as he walks himself backwards and into the centre of that spring. The pool deepens, the water now coming up to about his chest height, but still, he carries you, making sure your head, and that sash, stay dry.

Carefully, he adjusts you so that his one hand is supporting you beneath your ass, while the other reaches down between the two of your bodies. He takes his cock into his hand, pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up with your entrance. He takes the liberty to drag the head of his cock through your folds, bumping over your clit a few times as he meets your gaze.

“Tell me you want this,” his words are a bit desperate, eyes pleading as he holds you both still, waiting for that final confirmation to fall from your lips. “Tell me you want me.”

Your heart swells in your chest, warmth flooding your veins as you cup his face in both of your hands. Your eyes shine with nothing but love and admiration, desire swirling deep within your irises as you hold his gaze. The fact that he still waits, the fact that he’s been so gentle and caring with you this whole time, only proves to solidify your answer.

“I want this, Mingi,” the words are but a tender whisper on your lips. “I want you.”

Mingi’s heart simply flutters at your admission, and he doesn’t waste another moment before slowly letting you sink down on his cock. He’s nothing but tender, and oh, so, careful as he pulls you down only so far before lifting you off of him again, repeating the process as he pushes deeper and deeper into you each time.

The warmth of your cunt makes his head spin, and with every inch that he sinks further into your tight walls, he finds it harder and harder to control himself. Yet still, he does. 

For your sake.

Your hands dig into the skin of his shoulders, clinging to him tightly as he stretches you out. You can feel yourself clenching around him with each delicious inch that stretches you out, eyes nearly rolling once he finally sheathes himself fully into your tight heat.

His arms are around you, holding you flush against his chest as his brow furrows. Small pants escape him, low moans spilling from his lips each time you shift slightly above him.

“You feel like paradise around me, Beloved,” he drawls out huskily right beside your ear. “Like you were made for me.”

A soft gasp slips passed your lips as he shifts beneath you, clenching around him as you feel his cock pulse deep within you.

“So wet,” he coos, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. “So warm.”

“For you,” you breathe out, and you hear the way a choked moan escapes him. “All because of you.”

This time, there’s no mistaking the moan that falls passed his lips. His chest rumbles with a low, pleased growl, his lips finding purchase on your skin.

“Feel how hard you make me, Blossom?” He hums, tongue darting out to lave over your pulse. “Feel how well you let me fill this tight little pretty pussy of yours?”

He gives a tentative grind of his hips into your own, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head.

“Yes,” you moan out, tossing your head back as you tighten your hold around him. “Feel so good filling me, Min.”

You emphasize your words by clenching around him, hearing a choked gasp of your name fall from his lips.

“You are my everything,” he whispers, one hand shifting to grab at your ass and squeezing the flesh appreciatively. Again, he rolls his hips up into your own. “My Beautiful, Beloved, Blossom.”

This time, it’s his turn to emphasize his every word with a roll of his hips into you, his voice coming out as no more than a low growl. His opposite hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, bringing your lips to his in a desperate, but searing kiss.

Slowly, but surely, he begins a languid pace, rolling his hips up into yours as he holds onto you just as tightly as you cling to him. Each movement is precise, letting you feel his devotion in the way he brings his hips up to meet your own, and pouring every ounce of love that he can into the way his cock fills your tight little hole.

Low hums and soft sighs fall from your lips, his name gracing your tongue with every gentle thrust he gives you. Your arms wrap around his back, nails tracing lightly over his skin and leaving marks of your own in their wake.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, and he begins to snap his hips a little firmer into you. The way you body bounces with each thrust captivates him, and he drinks in every expression of pleasure you give him eagerly, committing them all to memory.

A choked cry of his name parts your lips as the tip of his cock brushes against that tender spot inside of you. Adjusting his hold on you, he makes sure to hit that spot with every thrust, grinding his hips into your own each time.

That red sash rests like a crown upon your head, and as Mingi glances your ethereal form beneath the light of the morning sun, his heart feels close to bursting. His pace begins to quicken, low rumbles shaking his chest with every move he makes. The way he can feel you clenching around him has his cock twitching deep within you, hands desperately clinging onto you as he pulls you into him to meet his every thrust.

“I love you,” The words are but a strained whisper, falling from his lips repeatedly with every snap of his hips into your own. 

Only admiration and the deepest, sincerest form of love can be seen in his gaze as he stares intently into your own, captivated by the glorious sight that is you, falling apart on his cock.

You fingers thread through his hair, pulling his lips to yours for another searing kiss. Eagerly, you swallow his moans, just as you offer up your own to him. 

You can feel that familiar tightness building within you, close to snapping at the skillful way he fills you with his cock. No movement is wasted, and the way you feel him squeeze your ass again has you tightening your legs around his waist.

Parting from your lips with a gasp, Mingi’s eyes flutter shut. Not even a moment later, he’s letting his head fall forward, burying his face into the side of your neck.

His lips find purchase over your pulse, sucking lightly at the skin there before laving his tongue eagerly over the spot. His breathing comes in jagged pants, hot breath fanning over your flesh as low growls begin to escape him with every exhale he makes.

“Touch that pretty little clit for me, Blossom,” he breathes out onto the skin of your neck. “Touch that pretty little clit, and make yourself come all over me.”

Another moan of his name slips passed your lips, and you do as told. Almost instantly, your hand slides from his back down to your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub with the tips of your fingers.

You clench hard around him, a desperate whine escaping you as you nearly fall right over the edge.

Gently, the hand he has supporting the back of your head tilts you to expose your neck fully, his pace never once faltering as he laves his tongue over your pulse once more. 

Your eyes flutter shut, and with one final flick over your clit, you come, screaming his name.

The instant Mingi feels you coming around him, his fangs sink into the tender flesh of your neck. An animalistic snarl reverberates against your throat, his hips snapping into yours before he stills within you. The hand he has gripping your ass pulls you flush against him as he spills deep inside of you, clinging onto you as desperately as you cling to him.

Your whole body shudders in his hold, the euphoric feeling of your orgasm only intensified by the feeling of his fangs in your throat. You never expected for it to be this intense, and it takes you several long minutes to calm down, whimpering with each small ministration against you. Even the water is starting to become too much against your skin, every feeling intensified and making your shake in overstimulation.

Slowly, you begin to feel something wet and hot dragging itself along the skin of your neck. Pleased rumbles vibrate against your chest as you catch your breath, and finally, your vision returns. Blinking at few times, you focus in on that redcap before you, noticing how he pulls away with red dripping down his chin.

He licks his lips, the most heartwarming smile tugging at his features as he strokes a hand tenderly over your spine.

“My Blossom,” he hums, gaze shining with nothing but tender love and affection as he looks at you. “How beautiful it is to watch you bloom.”

Happy tears well in your eyes, burying your face into his chest as he slowly walks you both back over to the edge of the spring. Your arms hold onto him tightly, humming as you nuzzle into him. You can still feel his cock buried deep inside of you, and it only serves to make this moment that much more special, for you know that he wishes to be part of you for as long as he possibly can.

Despite the bite you’ve just received, your neck doesn’t hurt. Instead, you feel a warmth blooming deep within you. A feeling of tremendous comfort and safety wraps itself around you like a blanket, and with the way he begins to gently wash the both of you off, you know that this feeling resting deep inside of you is pure and true.

Carefully, he unties that band from around your head, placing it gently to the side.

“You did so well for me, Beloved,” he coos, his hand tracing over the contours of your spine. “How I love you so. Very much.”

You can only offer him a hum in return, fatigue suddenly overwhelming you as you rest in his arms. The feeling of his cock slipping out of you makes you moan softly, clenching around nothing as he continues to clean you both up.

“Get some rest, My Beloved.” He chuckles lowly, cradling your head in his one hand. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

And so you do, falling asleep in the arms of the one who loves you most.

***

The moment you wake, Mingi is there. He brings you water, making sure you’re well hydrated before feeding you some food slowly. Most importantly, he makes sure that you’re okay. 

Gently, he rubs your muscles, working over any soreness you might have from the events that took place earlier in the day. He even goes so far as to kiss over every single inch of your skin, stating that he wants to make good on his every promise from earlier.

The rest of the day is spent like this, with Mingi taking care of you and you resting in each others arms. He is at your beck and call, and as evening comes, hues of red, orange, pink, and yellow painting the sky, he pulls you in even closer.

Never is he going to let you go. Never does he want to.

Beneath the light of the stars, Mingi makes love to you a second time. He holds your hand tightly in his own, interlacing your fingers together as he makes you cry out his name to the heavens.

Always, it’s all about you.

He treats you with a tenderness you never knew possible for someone like you. A tenderness which you gladly lose yourself to each and every time he offers it, and when you look at him, you realize that everything will all turn out okay.

He’s here now, and he’s not going anywhere.

The next morning is spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. 

The soft sounds of birds fill your ears, light filtering in through the breaks in the trees. Gently, leaves sway in the breeze, filling the clearing with the pleasant scents of nature. Your head rests on Mingi’s chest, and you cannot help but glance those two stems of spider lilies beside you, laying almost parallel to you and him.

A smile pulls at your features.

“Good morning, Blossom,” Mingi’s deep voice manages to pull you out of your thoughts. You turn to look up at him, noticing him already staring down at you with nothing but love shining within his gaze. “Did you sleep well?”

A soft hum escapes you as you settle your head back onto his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat. “I always sleep better when you are near.”

You can hear the way his heart simply flutters inside of his chest at your words, a content rumble echoing around the clearing.

“Then, it’s a good thing I love holding you so close,” he grins, pulling you impossibly closer into him.

You hum, rolling on top of him, but saying nothing in response. Simply, you revel in this moment, and his touch, curling around him as his hand begins to gently stroke over your spine.

His eyes catch on that fresh bite mark on your neck, the indents from his teeth shining under the light of the morning sun. Another pleased rumble shakes his chest, and softly, he brings a hand upwards. His fingers trace lovingly over the claim on your neck, revelling in the way you positively shiver beneath his touch.

“Can I-“ your voice comes out a bit small, uncertain. “Do I get to give you one of my own?”

Mingi freezes beneath you, his eyes going wide. You can audibly hear the way his breath catches, feeling his heart begin to thunder against your chest as you press up against him.

“You- you want to give me a claim of your own?” His gaze shines with something akin to hope, love and admiration swirling deep within.

“Is that not how it works?” You tilt your head slightly, your brow furrowing as you worry you may have misunderstood him.

“No, no, it- it is.” He inhales a shaky breath through his nose. “I just- I didn’t think you’d wish to-“

“Of course I would want to.” You smile at him softly. “Claims are mutual, are they not?”

His eyes shine with unshed tears, happiness swelling inside his chest and causing his veins to flood with pure ecstasy. Tingles erupt under his skin wherever you touch, and he finds that he cannot get enough.

Slowly, he begins to nod his head. 

“Yes.” He swallows the building emotions in his throat. “They are.”

You shift slightly above him, pulling yourself closer to his face so you can stare down at him tenderly. “Then, will you let me claim you, Mingi?”

He blinks, the first of his tears spilling from the corners of his eyes and falling down to the earth to stain its soil with his happiness.

“I would love nothing more.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards as you lean in to press them against his own. His one hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, the other settling onto your lower back and holding you steady over him. 

You pull away to stare deeply into his eyes, and Mingi tilts his head to the side, exposing the side of his neck for you.

“Claim me, Beloved,” his words are but a plea upon his lips. “I am yours.”

Slowly, you lean into him. Your lips trail a path from his jawline all the way to the side of his neck, nipping gently at the skin with your teeth. You can hear his breathing deepen, tightening his grip ever so slightly over you as you dart your tongue out to lave over his pulse.

“It’s just a- just a bite, right?” You ask, breath ghosting against his skin.

“Yes,” His reply is airy, tilting his head further to the side as a small, desperate whine escapes him. “Just a bite.”

Teasingly, you drag your teeth over the side of his neck, and you can feel him shiver beneath you. A moment later, you clamp them against his skin, but not enough to be considered a proper bite.

“Blossom,” he pants out, pleading with his eyes despite the fact that you cannot see his face in this instant. “Blossom, please-“

His words get cut off by the feeling of you sinking your teeth into his neck.

A loud moan escapes him, his hips jerking upwards as his eyes squeeze shut. His head nearly gets tosses back at the pleasure that courses through his veins, skin heating beneath your touch as you slowly detach your lips from the side of his throat.

Pulling away, you hold yourself above him. You spare a glance down at his face, noticing how his lips are parted and his eyes are glazed. His chest heaves with every breath as he takes in the sight above him that is you, his blood staining your lips bright red.

The second you dart your tongue out to taste the crimson substance adorning your skin, you moan. Almost instantly, your face buries itself back into the side of his neck, laving at the fresh mark you’ve just given him.

Mingi groans in response, his hands finding purchase on your hips, guiding you to begin grinding over his semi-hard cock. The call of your name is so tender from his lips, that you swear he believes you to be some form of divinity.

In his mind, you are.

The rest of that morning is spent in each others arms, proclaiming your love for one another as you lose yourselves to the pleasure the other provides. Never has anything ever felt so pure in your lives, each desperate for the other as you claim one another over, and over, and over again.

By the time you’ve both finished, the sun is cresting high in the sky. You spend the afternoon cleaning each other up, and by the time the early evening rolls around, you’re finally ready to continue on your journey back home.

Those two stems of spider lilies rest in your hands, and you eagerly take a step forward in the direction of the keep. Only, your right leg gives out on you as soon as you put any sort of pressure on your ankle.

Luckily, Mingi is right there to catch you before you fall. Just as he always will be.

“I’m sorry, Beloved,” his eyes shine with slight remorse. “I overdid it.”

“Not at all.” Immediately, you shake your head. “I can walk.”

Again, you go to take another step, much to Mingi’s protest. Yet, again, your leg gives out on you.

Before you can say anything, Mingi is scooping you into his arms.

“Get some rest, Blossom,” he smiles down at you, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

Your one brow quirks, almost playfully. “I thought you said you weren’t going to carry me?”

Mingi laughs, beginning the final trek home to the keep.

“I’m not carrying you,” he says lightheartedly, a smile tugging at his features. “Think of it as holding onto you while walking. There’s a difference.”

A giggle graces his ears as you curl into him, resting your head on his chest. “Sure there is.”

“I’d carry you to the ends of the earth if it meant getting to see you every day.” He replies earnestly, glancing down at you with such a loving look resting on his features.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, Min,” you hum, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

A pleased rumble greets your ears, his grip tightening around you as he pulls you in even closer.

“Get some rest, Blossom,” he repeats his words from mere minutes earlier. “There’s not that much further to go. I’ll get us there safely, don’t you worry.”

The corners of your lips tug upwards in a soft smile. 

“I trust you, Min.” Your eyes flutter shut, already feeling the familiar pull of unconsciousness tugging at your mind as the steady rocking of each of his steps begins to lull you to sleep. “I love you.”

You fail to see the tender smile that pulls onto his own features, but you can hear his contentment clear in his voice all the same. 

“As I love you, My Beloved Blossom.”

***

Whispers are what rouse you from your sleep.

The sun creeps over the hills, its morning rays lighting up the sky as you blink your eyes open. Mingi had walked with you in his arms all through the night, managing to cover more ground as you slept. He could practically taste the stale air of the keep, the stones beckoning him home.

Getting closer with each step he takes is a somewhat large castle. Half of it lies in ruin, but the keep still stands almost defiantly amongst the rubble. It’s beautiful, yet tragic in a way, but it’s home. A home which you are grateful for, for you know it means Mingi will be there, too.

After all, he is now your home, just as you are his.

Lifting your free hand, you rub at your face. More and more hushed tones follow you as you rest in Mingi’s arms, most if not all, harsh in their musings of disbelief.

“Is that the human?”

“How is she still alive?”

“Never mind that, did he claim her?”

“It won’t mean anything."

“There’s a mark on his neck, too!”

The comments come one right after another, and they only cause you to curl deeper into Mingi’s chest. The implications behind most of them make your heart drop, and though you know that none of them are true where Mingi is concerned, you cannot help but to wonder about those other humans in this realm much unluckier than you.

“Enough!” Mingi’s voice booms out, immediately silencing the gathering redcaps surrounding you. “If you have any issues with who I’ve chosen to imprint on, you may take up your grievances with me in a duel.”

Your breath catches slightly in your throat, curling in even closer into his chest as an eerie silence stretches on around you.

“If I catch any of you treating her with anything less than the utmost of respect, I will carve out your tongue, and feed it to the crows. There is no limit on what I will do to you, should you choose to harm her in any way.” Mingi’s sharp gaze looks over his gathered subordinates, his arms tightening over you almost subconsciously. “Do I make myself clear?”

Immediately, the redcaps all straighten. “Yes, General.”

Mingi grunts, turning back to continue making his way through the keep.

“Dismissed.”

You don’t have to peek over his shoulder to know that the other fae have immediately obeyed his orders.

The rest of the day is spent with Mingi showing you around the keep. He takes you out back to an empty field, helping you plant that one red spider lily with him. The way he smiles at you when you turn to look up at him in awe says it all.

Finally, you’re home.

A few days pass, and you seem to have no incidents with the other redcaps. Things are a bit interesting at first, to say the least, with them not used to having a human around, let alone treating one with respect. However, they respect their General, and will obey his every command, and thus, they are respectful to you.

It’s only when you’re in your new bedroom, alone, do you feel a chill raise on the back of your neck.

“You should be dead.” 

A voice from the open doorway causes you to turn to see Windfel standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. A frown mars his features, only visible from the downturn of his lips as that red flat cap is pulled low over his head.

You blink at him, tilting your head in inquiry as your brow furrows slightly.

“No, really,” he pushes himself off of the doorframe, beginning to stalk his way forward and into your room. “He should have killed you.”

You involuntarily take a step backwards at the sudden dark look in his eyes.

“He was supposed to kill you!” Windfel shouts, appearing before you in the blink of an eye and pinning you to the wall by your throat. “I should have just done it myself to get it over with, but I thought it would be fun to have the general go on a little hunt.”

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, throat constricting as fear builds within your chest. All you can do is stare at the crazed redcap before you, struggling to free yourself from his grip as your vision begins to fade in the corners.

The hand around your throat tightens even further.

Tears line your eyes, spilling freely down your cheeks as you attempt to cry out for help. Mingi had been scouting the area outside the keep today, so if only you could just get enough air to fill your lungs to scream…

“You humans think you’re so fucking special,” Windfel spits, one of his claws tracing over the top line of your claim almost mockingly. “Seduce one fae, and you suddenly believe you’re untouchable.”

Your legs kick out uselessly beneath you, your right ankle throbbing as your lungs burn. With every moment that passes, you can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker, only being able to think of Mingi in what you believe to be your final moments.

A roar so deadly pierces the air, shaking the entirety of the keep. 

Within the blink of an eye, Windfel is torn away from you, his body being thrown through the window beside your bed. Mingi is beside you in an instant, hands shaking against your form as you heave air into your lungs. Fear, pure and unfiltered, rests in his gaze as he check you over gently, making sure that you’re okay before standing back to your feet.

“How did you…” your words trail off, coughing lightly at the pain speaking brings you right now.

“I could sense you,” Mingi responds, tightening his hold around you as he cradles you to his chest.

It is then that you feel him place a soft kiss over his claim on your neck.

A shiver caresses your spine as he helps you back to your feet. You can hear shouting coming from the courtyard below, and as Mingi leads you outside, your hand held in his own, you see him shift into every bit of that cold persona of the monstrous general you have come to love.

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice booms out across the courtyard, sharp eyes darting around at the gathered redcaps.

You notice Windfel being held back by both Lias and Darius, their claws sinking into his flesh unforgivingly. Blood drips down his features, pieces of broken glass embedded in his skin.

“You’ve gone soft, General,” Windfel spits, turning his hate filled eyes towards you.

Almost instantly, Mingi steps in front of you, blocking you from the other redcap’s sight.

“You purposely sent me on a hunt in hopes that I would kill her.” Mingi’s voice is but a low snarl on his lips, dangerous in every right. “I thought it was strange that you would take her to bathe. When the wild stream wouldn’t kill her, you had hoped that I would.”

An unbridled fury shines within Windfel’s gaze. However, it is only unmatched by Mingi’s own.

“That’s why you let her go.” Mingi’s eyes flash as he bares his fangs at the redcap before him. “Didn’t you?”

Windfel purses his lips, and his silence speaks volumes.

“Speak.” Mingi snarls out the command, the cadence of his voice causing some rubble to crumble to the ground at the side of the courtyard. “Your general asked you a question.”

You can see the surrounding redcaps backing up slowly from the other two, both Lias and Darius shoving Windfel to his knees before Mingi. The captain and the vice-captain under his command may be nefarious, but at least they are loyal. At least they understand respect.

A heaviness settles in the air between the two fae as Mingi towers over the smaller redcap, anger radiating off of him in waves. No one dares interfere in this matter, for they all know what will happen to them if they do. Their general is not afraid to make an example out of anyone.

“The bitch should have died.” Windfel spits. “If not at your hands, then at someone else’s.”

A deadly silence passes over the entire courtyard, and you notice both Lias and Darius suddenly flanking you on either side. It’s as if they’ve stepped towards you for your protection.

At the way you notice Mingi’s hands shaking in fists at his sides, you know this to be undoubtably true.

“Get up.” Mingi commands the fae at his feet, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

Windfel’s brow furrows, but he still does as told.

Little do you see the maniacal look that stretches across Mingi’s features.

“I accept your challenge.”

The entire courtyard goes silent, and you swear you could hear a pin drop. All the colour drains from Windfel’s face as he takes a step back in shock.

Slowly, you watch as Mingi unties that red sash from around his upper arm, wrapping it around his forehead and securing it into place. His claws unsheathe, and you swear all the redcaps around you stop breathing.

“My Beloved Blossom,” The sudden, gentle call of your name from Mingi catches your attention as he stands with his back facing you.

You take a deep breath in.

“Close your eyes.”

[stangeranfanficion]

Omg a tf2 oc?!?

Because of the recent TF2 oc polls. I wanted to introduce the oc I had for quite a bit.

Meet Mathilda Vogel! Mad Veterinarian of Medic's past.

Info under the cut!

If you want her website here it is also!

Name: Mathilda Vogel (previously Herrmann)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Age: late 40s-early 50s

Universe: Team Fortress 2

Career: Veterinarian and part-time mad scientist

Family: Medic/Ludwig Herrmann (Ex co-worker and Ex husband), Muschi (Pet cat)

Personality: On the outside she appears cold and stern but gets a lot more wild and free when she's happy / doing her “personal projects”. Usually has poor people skills with appearing standoffish. When she's happy, she gets really frenzied and excited, info dumping all about herself and her “pets”. She loves animals and cares for them deeply. She even helped install a device in Medic’s doves, so they could survive greater blood lost. The greatest flaws for her is having trouble finding her own self-worth and mainly needing to be more open to others. She's also very, very petty.

Background: Moving from Germany from when she was a late teen, Mathilda always had a fascination with the world of nature around her. Owning many animals in her lifetime and spending her free time at zoos, she seemed to always surround herself with animals more than her fellow human. Because of this, she seemed more distance from others, causing her to delve into her studies even more. Medic and Mathilda both met at a collage overseas, with them both connecting over their personal projects and their share interests over the macabre. Over time, they grew closer and closer, with her getting him a steady supply of animal organs and him getting her new tools and organs from the human body to study. Once collage finished up, both of them got married and settled down in the countryside in England. Both happy with stealing birds from a prime minister and adopting a wild cat. People called them inseparable until Medic left for America for the Gravel Wars.

Design inspirations: Mainly her main ideas come from Medic due to being closely related to Medic. Though, her outside design ideas are museum collections on nature/animals. Mainly muted colors are used for her. Ideally, oranges and off whites. Very autumn and fall vibes. Aesthetic ideas can be found here⇾ (TW DEAD ANIMALS, no gore but taxidermy and bones) click here!

Outfit design: She doesn’t have a base outfit design. More so switching outfits on the occasion than really sticking to one. Main themes in outfits are mainly overcoats and under the knee dresses. She not really the type for pants, so she's mainly changes into shorter dresses when she's at home. Also note, while it isn’t needed, she more so works better with a hat in her hair than without one. Outfit design ideas can be found here ⇾ click here!

*note the second design on top is a older design from when she was a fem fortress but not really oc. Thats outfit is more so saved for ideas like that.

Playlist?: Here! ⇾ Click Here! Its not really what she listens to but more so what I think about when I write her.

Where is she from?: She is from my fanfiction called Zoophobia! Link is clickable to take you to the fanfic!

I don't really expect her to win, but i hope people get to know who she is. :)

[fictiongarden]

Fan Fiction Review: Twilight of the Gods by blueenvelopes

Fandom: Star Wars

RATING: MAJESTIC

Blueenvelopes on fanfiction.net/blueenvelopes935 on ao3 has made something of a second unpaid career writing about Sith lords. Her Sith lords span antiquity right down to Darth Plagueis and beyond. Whatever may draw a person to create over twenty-five fanfic stories mostly about Sith lords, it’s my bet that blueenvelopes is female, older, well-read, and perhaps works in an artistic field. You’d certainly have to be all of those to create the damn-near-perfect masterpiece that drifts around fanfic land under the title Twilight of the Gods.

The story is thirty-nine chapters spanning the time between A New Hope and the end of the original trilogy and will take you several days of dedicated reading to finish. Happily, you will read it on the edge of your seat even though the author tells you how it will end in her copious story notes.

The story appears to have two main themes: One, to get the miserably widowed Darth Vader past Padme Amidala and married off to another wife; and two, to argue against a central premise of Star Wars that the reader may or may not agree with. It also brings back Darth Plagueis as the real star of the show in a capacity that will startle many readers.

Fortunately, when a writer with some talent thinks deeply enough about the paradigm and philosophy behind Star Wars to write thirty-nine chapters of coherent argument against it, the result is usually a well-thought-out and engrossing read. Even if you don’t agree that Snoke is Darth Plagueis or that the whole point of the GFFA isn't to stamp out darkness forever, the characters are so well drawn and the story is so intriguing that you should give it a chance anyway. It’s a hell of a good read whether you agree with blueenvelopes or not.

One of the story’s greatest strengths is the clear, convincing characterization. Darth Vader becomes even more nuanced here than he is in the hands of George Lucas, and that’s saying something. It takes real talent to make paragraphs of solid introspection, which this story features in abundance, just as riveting as an action scene. If nothing else, you will get lost in Darth Vader’s fascinating mind and beg for more when it’s over.

Another well-drawn character readers will enjoy is the Alderaanian art dealer Vader falls for and ends up marrying, a redhead named Astral Sidhu. (Is it my imagination, or is every female OC in Star Wars a redhead?) Unlike many OC In both the fan and professional worlds, Astral is older, in her mid-forties, so she beats many of the fanfic tropes right there. Her art world is so well-drawn and the character is so authoritative in her knowledge of it that we are swept right along into her world. There’s also the vicarious pleasure of being along in Astral’s wedding shoes as she’s recruited to help save the Empire’s second-in-command during a crisis, comes to know him more personally, and then ultimately falls in love with him and marries him. Yes, the sex scenes are included … a bit more realistically than in many other fanfics as well. (Yes, Darth Vader can be impotent … at least now and then.) Vader’s doctor and house staff leap right off the screen as admirable individuals in their own rights, too, although readers may not appreciate seeing fan favorite Firmus Piett trashed in this fic.

Another strength of this fic is the element of surprise. Not to reveal too many details, but who knew this much could go on between Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, and Darth Plagueis between Empire and Return of the Jedi?

The last point I can’t praise this work highly enough for is the strength of the writing. Not only is this writer at near-professional level (and as the widow of an award-winning novelist myself, I can say that), but the musings of the characters contain so much wisdom and so many truisms about war, about peace, about regret, and about middle age and the slide into life’s decline. You don’t find this kind of thought in fan fic usually, and that makes this a rich and rewarding read.

Of course, even the best-written published novel has its faults, and Twilight of the Gods does, as well.

The most obvious is the oft-repeated fan trope of having an OC stand in for the reader in the vicarious experience of getting intimate with a favorite character. Sadly, this trope is so often done that even when it’s very well done, it can’t escape the unfortunate associations with all the other thousands and thousands of the same thing that came before it. When even the creators of deeply loved film and TV series get accused of writing “Mary Sues” themselves, there’s no getting around it. It’s a plot device that’s not original. Here, at least, it’s well-done and enjoyable.

I say the writing here is “near-professional” quality because it has a number of noticeable flaws. First, and worst, there are too many Earthisms. No one in the GFFA has any idea what a Mary Sue is or what an eggplant emoji is. There’s nothing worse than being all caught up in such a tense, thought-provoking story only to get jarred right out of it when GFFA characters use Earth American slang or suddenly drop out of the high-minded diction for which they are known. The Darth Vader of the screen, for example, would never use the word guy.

Characters sometimes go off on tangents that are wildly out of character. A particularly grievous sequence has Hego Damask worried about his dramatic entrance when everyone has far more important things on their mind, and the Hego/Plagueis of Darth Plagueis fame would never. At least, not out loud or at the length he does here. The long, long chapter notes are a trademark with this writer. Personally, I would never be so brazen as to spend paragraphs and paragraphs believing my work is so good people will want to read pages of me explaining what was in my head as I wrote it. Blueenvelopes does, however, and it seems many agree with her. The danger here is that one may slack off in the work knowing one will explain it in story notes that are long enough to be a whole chapter by themselves. (The story is supposed to do the job, not your “liner notes.”) This, happily, turns out not to be the case, and many commenters are as fascinated with the story notes as they are with the story. If it works, do it. Overall, this story has ambition, scope, great characters, and enough surprises to keep you reading. It’s rich and thought-provoking enough that your mind will come back to it all day until you finish it. For good measure, there’s a happy alternative ending for those saddened by the conclusion.

My conclusion is, faults aside, this is one fan fiction not to be missed. *I will be posting these reviews on ao3 and my Substack, Garden of Deceit. Fan Fiction Review: Twilight of the Gods by blueenvelopes (substack.com)

[delucadarling]

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

I’ve been enjoying reading your writing a lot! It’s been lovely to get to know Barbie a little more. I especially adore how you write her and Ava (that haircut fic 🥺)

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

If your OC ever gets married, who proposed? When and how did it happen? Bonus question: What would their wedding be like?

How sweet are you!!!! Thank you so much, I love throwing Barbie at Unit Bravo. Ava is so...💞

As for your question...Barbie really wants to be married and have kids, but she's not interested in chasing her love interest. She wants to be pursued, she wants to be woo'd! Something that makes things easy with some, and...less easy with others.

Ava

Once Ava and Barbie work through their Issues, I think they're able to follow a fairly steady progression towards marriage. They'd at least talk about it, and Barbie would be very open about wanting a proposal.

For Ava, I can only imagine it's a private, intimate affair. She and Barbie drive somewhere secluded, maybe the beach. Walk barefoot in the sand. Ava means to wait for sunset, but can't, and takes Barbie's hands in hers. Gazes deeply into Barbie's eyes to the point that Barbie can't take it anymore, just murmuring how much Barbie means to her.

When Ava gets on one knee, it's not just a proposal, but an act of devotion.

Barbie says yes, of course. The wedding is also small and intimate, mostly just Unit Bravo, Kira, and Lucas. Barbie would agree to a...less elaborate (expensive) wedding in exchange for Ava agreeing to a month long honeymoon.

Nate

Things progress very quickly with Nate. So fast that Barbie barely realizes she's being outpaced until she falls flat on her face.

I think the first time Nate proposes, it's...surprising. Not entirely out of left field, she and Nate are on the same page re: marriage + kids, both of them fully aware that Barbie's well within the 'geriatric' pregnancy territory. It only makes sense for a proposal to come.

The proposal is semi-public, maybe in the middle of an art gallery, in front of a piece they both like. Unit Bravo is there, and Kira, with F playing photographer for the moment it happens. Nate's full to the brim with enthusiasm, and it makes it hard for Barbie to even notice a single other person. She loves Nate.

She accepts, but frets over whether it's all going too fast for ages. They also end up having a MASSIVE wedding, all elegant and stupidly expensive, something Barbie likes in theory, but finds overwhelming on the day of, when there's so much attention on her and so SO many people there. She probably smokes her first cigarette in years while pacing outside the church, big fluffy skirt hiked up under one arm. Lucas keeps offering her a joint, but she's not going to get MARRIED while STONED LUCAS.

Once the wedding is over, there's an equally lavish honeymoon, probably only meant to be a month long, but it keeps getting extended until A manages to bite their heads off enough to get them home again.

Then the baby planning comes along.

Felix

Barbie would initially start the conversation about planning for the future (ie getting married) by asking Felix about Echolian marriage traditions. Felix is less interested in that than learning about what Barbie considers a traditional wedding/proposal.

With Felix, Barbie's more willing to be patient to get married, but is less patient with wanting to be turned immortal. Vampirism doesn't really appeal to her, she's far more interested in something that allows her to use magic and study. I've been imagining she turns into some form of garden/flora fae. She's early-to-mid 30s, while Felix seems mentally around 24-25, so she'd hate to push him to marriage too fast, before he's ready for it. Instead, she's going the route of being turned so he has more time to figure it out.

After a few decades of dating, Barbie's ready for a wedding though, and she tells him it's time to start planning his proposal. Felix approaches this as he does everything else: with extreme enthusiasm. I'm imagining cake, confetti cannons, and a live band. Barbie's overwhelmed, but Felix's glee is too infectious for her to actually mind.

The wedding is basically a huge party, tons of people, but also low key enough and laid back enough for Barbie to not get too anxious.

Mason

I don't think Mason would think to get married on his own in a million years, a fact Barbie is very aware of. She feels like he's already in uncharted waters just being in a relationship in general, so she's...as patient as Barbie possibly can be (not very) about it. This mostly means complaining uselessly to N and Kira about it while saying nothing at all to Mason.

(She does not talk to F about this because she KNOWS F will just tell her to TALK to him and she doesn't WANT to she WANTS Mason to psychically pick up her desire for him to propose to and marry her.)

I've had a long standing love of the idea that an oopsie baby happens with Mason and Barbie. She gets pregnant in the midst of all this whining about wanting him to marry her, and then OH HEY. There's something new to deal with instead!

Mason freaks out, hates everything about impending fatherhood, worries about Barbie constantly (she's delicate), and also goes to N and Kira to complain about it all. Unlike Barbie though, he takes their advice to heart and handles his shit.

He and Barbie get on the same page, he buys a ring, and he asks her to marry him while they're sitting on the roof one night. The wedding is basically just the two of them signing some papers and then celebrating with Unit Bravo back at the Warehouse. For all that Barbie really wanted a wedding, she finds herself a bit more indifferent to it. She's much more enthusiastic about motherhood, preparing for a baby, and celebrating that. A wedding was never all that necessary for her to know Mason loves her, she loves him, and that they're completely, stupidly devoted to one another.

...I've had a lot of thoughts about this exact question. Thank you again Anon!

[practically-an-x-man]

Tell me about Calypso, Fangs, and/or Maleficent?

Thank you!! These are some of my more interesting ideas, I'm eager to talk about them!!

Under the cut for space :D

Calypso is the nickname for a future OC x OC Good Omens fic (yes, you read that right, this one's not an OC x Canon fic! what a surprise lol).

It involves an angel named Ithuriel/"Rue", the angel of community and music, who falls in love with a human woman (named Calypso) in Ancient Rome. They have a few years of beautiful romance, and Heaven doesn't pay much attention to it... until Calypso finds out that Rue is an angel, and Heaven punishes them both. Rue becomes Fallen, and Calypso is blinded (for looking upon an angel without being a prophet) and has her memory wiped. Rue keeps an eye on her from afar, keeping her safe and extending her life and even comforting her on her deathbed (though Cal doesn't remember her, and doesn't even entirely realize she's there).

For centuries she grieves, not only for her lost love but the love that was taken from her in Heaven's punishment, and then... in the modern age, she's out busking in a local park and finds a familiar voice singing along to the ancient hymnal she's playing. As it turns out, Heaven's punishment was out of line, and God made Calypso an angel after her death (the angel of small pleasures, like all the times she brought Rue a meal while she was out busking in front of her restaurant).

____

Fangs is an idea I came up with after reading the Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires. It takes the book's themes of subtle abuse/manipulation and how the most "perfect" homes often house a darker side. One of the main characters in the book, James Harris, is a vampire who appears outwardly very charming but secretly is the cause of a lot of distress, and hardcore manipulation, to the other members of the town. In the book, he's a bachelor, but I wanted to explore the idea of him manipulating a romantic partner the same way he manipulates the other people he comes across.

Enter Rembrandt "Remy" Duvall, a werewolf from the 16th century and James' longtime romantic partner. Remy believes they're entirely in love - he's gentle, he's romantic, he helps her through her painful and dangerous lycanthropic episodes - but a deeper dive into their relationship proves that James Harris has only been using her for his own gains. People are more accepting of a couple than a single man in these sleepy towns, it keeps the illusion up, and he's been feeding on her when other victims are lacking.

Eventually, Remy does become a part of the titular Southern Book Club, and having positive female relationships does lead to her understanding the manipulation and abuse she's been tolerating for so many years now. The club takes care of James Harris, ensuring he'll never come back... and Remy, once she's learned to be her own person again, ends up striking up a connection with one of the other members of the book club (who canonically divorces her husband at the end of the book, for his similar manipulation tactics, and I want her and Remy to become life partners and support each other)

____

Maleficent is the code name for another unwritten fic, though this one does have an actual title: Of Cliffs and Deserts. It's primarily linked to Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, where we get more backstory into the Dark Fey and where they come from.

This fic in particular starts with Sable, a young Dark Fey from the rocky, windy cliffs at the far edge of the continent, who's moved to the Nest with her father after being discovered and attacked by human invaders. Because her home biome is incredibly stormy and windy, she's a skilled flier even as a child, and only gets better as she ages. Her other principle skill is camouflage: her particular branch of the Dark Fey had their magic evolve into the casting of illusions instead of growing plants, since there was such little plant life on the stormy cliffs where she's from.

She strikes up an immediate friendship with Borra (they're both about 6-7 at this point), which ends up becoming an incredibly strong bond that lasts years. They're inseparable... until Sable is seventeen, and her aging and chronically-ill father decides that the Moors will be a better place for them than the Nest. She goes with him, afraid he'll get hurt if he's on his own, and promises that she'll be back as soon as she can.

Two months later, an injured Fey from the colony that went to the Moors comes flying back to the Nest, warning them that humans came and slaughtered every Fey they saw, including all of the Dark Fey there. Borra is, justifiably, heartbroken, and it's part of what eventually prompts him to become the leader of the Dark Fey and call for war against the humans.

However, unbeknownst to the Nest, two Dark Fey survived - Maleficent, of course, hidden away in the depths of the Moors; and Sable, who had her wings cut off and was made into a "human" servant girl for a wealthy lord. Her illusion magic is captured in an amulet, which provides such a strong illusion that not only does she appear completely human, she genuinely believes herself to be Samera, a human girl who tends the queen's orchards.

Long story short, during the war they will reunite, and Borra eventually starts to suspect the illusion magic at play and tries to break Sable out of it.

That's all I'll say for now, I've rambled long enough.