#echo acres

[lunarcovehq]

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, ADELAIDE BISHOP

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Genderfluid, She/They

DATE OF BIRTH: October 17th, 1992

OCCUPATION: Private Investigator

RESIDENCY: Echo Acres

FACECLAIM: Emma Mackey

IF I DIE YOUNG

SPECIES: Werewolf

WOLF CLASSIFICATION: Omega (Bitten)

PACK AFFILIATION: Non-member

LAY ME DOWN IN A BED OF ROSES

Trigger Warning: Underaged drinking, Drug use, Family Death, Menstruation

Adelaide was a cliche and she hated it. Her entire fucking family was a cliche, in fact-- rich, Wall Street parents who cared more about making money than they did their own children; a youngest child who was spoiled and given whatever she wanted; the middle child who was more or less forgotten about, left to their own devices. And then there was Adelaide-- the eldest child, scrutinized, given too high expectations, and too many responsibilities. 

Once her younger siblings were born, it was her job to take care of them, despite the nannies and maids that were in and out of the house. It wasn’t like her parents were going to teach their children about the world, and the nannies sure weren’t paid to do that, either. Adelaide learned by experience-- she got into trouble at school, skipped classes, hung out with bad crowds. Drank at parties, took too many drugs, wasted her potential. She was the typical rebellious teenager, black leather jacket and all-- and people hated her for it. They didn’t understand why some rich girl from Darien was complaining about her life.

It didn’t matter to her, whether they understood or not. She didn’t need someone to understand, she needed someone to care. But no one ever did. She’d been a child, too, you know. She’d had to raise her siblings, which wasn’t an easy task when they were spoiled brats. She was the one who drove them to school and picked them back up; the one scraped them off the pavement if they went to a party and drank too much; the one who tried to comfort them when their hearts got broken; the one taught them about puberty and that bleeding once a month was normal for girls, Ronnie, stop crying, you’re not going to die. Could anyone really blame her for being resentful? To both her parents and her siblings? They didn’t understand how good they had it and Addie didn’t understand why all of this was put on her shoulders. She was a kid, too. All she’d wanted was to be a kid.

But Addie would never get to be a kid. In fact, she was still a kid when her parents kicked her out of the house. She’d embarrassed the family one too many times. This time, she’d shown up high on molly to a fancy dinner party with prospective clients and her father was not happy. Well, that was just fine with her. She didn’t want to live with those assholes anyway. Let them raise their own spoiled rotten kids. It was for the better she wasn’t with them anymore.

And it…sort of was. Addie moved out west and got a job as an electrician after attending a trade school for a year and getting her GED. Dropping out of high school didn’t exactly leave her with a lot of career choices, but she was good with her hands and surprisingly observant. Her employer had once told her she was a lot smarter than she looked, which she had no idea what he meant by that. Still, Addie had always been smart, she knew this, it was why all her teachers said she was “wasting her potential” as if they understood her situation at all. 

It was computers that really called to her, though. One of her friends back in Darien had taught her about programming, with the end goal of making her a hacker like him. Though she never ended up becoming a hacker, she’d picked up coding easily and breezed past his skill fast enough to make him mad at her and kick her out of his life. That was fine with her, she didn’t need anyone. The problem was that there was little room in a career like that for a homeless, highschool dropout. And so, she’d become an electrician instead. Not even close to what she wanted to do, but who cared? She could do that in her spare time.

And so Addie officially moved on from her old life and her old family. She did alright for herself-- maybe fixing old people’s outlet wiring because their house had been built in the 40’s and isn’t up to code wasn’t the most fulfilling thing ever, but hey, it paid the bills and kept her life cushy. Not buying the whole bar drinks or online binge shopping cushy, but cushy enough. 

Until one day, she got a call-- Ronnie was dead.

It was strange, Addie was both surprised and not at the same time-- Ronnie had always been reckless, carefree. She’d done whatever she wanted and gotten whatever she wanted, all her life. Of course she would have never learned any better. And it made sense that she’d someday get herself into trouble that was more than a few hundred dollar bills could solve. But that was her little sister, her baby sister. The one she’d practically raised, the one she’d had to leave behind. Ronnie was only in middle school when Addie left. She had to wonder if her sister even remembered her that well. 

She returned home, anyway. Nothing like losing one child to make someone realize that maybe they shouldn’t have been so cruel to their other child. They asked her to move back in with them, help them in this “trying time” as they called it, but Addie had a life back in Minnesota. Still, she agreed to stay for a few months while the family went through the funeral process. It was only when they were picking out a casket was Addie made aware that there wasn’t a body. They’d declared her little sister dead and there wasn’t even a body. That just didn’t seem right, there was something wrong here. None of it made sense to her. They hadn’t even looked? Hadn’t even tried? Just seen the blood and said “Yep, she’s dead”? 

Addie didn’t believe it. She’d alway had a hard time trusting authority, though. It was surprisingly easy to get her hands on the police files, since most of it was public now anyway. She poured over the files, read everything they’d collected, looked at all the evidence photos and decided that she was still right-- if there was no body, then they had no right to claim Ronnie was dead.

Of course, the police didn’t listen to her. And her parents weren’t supportive, either. They threatened to kick her out again until she so kindly reminded them that they’d asked her to stay. And it felt a little strange, Addie thought, how quickly her parents seemed to move on. It was less than a month before they were both back to work and a normal schedule as if nothing had happened, as if one of their children wasn’t missing and presumed dead. But Addie didn’t, couldn’t. When she couldn’t turn up any leads herself, she hired a private investigator. The guy was so impressed with her portfolio of the case and her intuition, he suggested she should look into getting a P.I. license herself. No diploma or degree needed. 

So that’s what she did. For over a year, she studied under the man and together they tracked down lead after lead, until Addie was standing outside of a hole-in-the-wall club in Brushwick. It wasn’t hard to see that this place was different from most other clubs. The vibes were totally off. She probably should’ve waited for back up, but Addie was impatient and she’d been looking for this lead for a year. Concrete proof of Ronnie existing after her death date. She only had to show the picture she had of Ronnie once before a drunk, scrawny guy elbowed his friend and said, “Isn’t that Cain’s bitch?” And maybe Addie flew off the handle a little too quickly, demanding to know where her sister was, who this Cain was, what had happened, why there’d been so much blood. A fight broke out quickly in the already tense bar. Someone was yelling to lock the door, to get the tranq gun. Addie kicked a man hard enough in the jaw that she swore he had fangs and fur for a moment. He even bit her, snarling, before she managed to rush out of the bar, clutching her now bleeding arm. The bartender appeared at the doorway and Addie wondered if he was going to kill her or call the police, but all he said was, “Go to Lunar Cove. Whatever it is you’re looking for is probably there.”

Addie stumbled back to her hotel room and collapsed onto the bed. She was sure someone was going to follow her here and kill her. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d mind. Still, she was confused and exhausted, and so she closed her eyes and wondered if she’d see tomorrow, almost sure she wouldn’t. And then she’d woken up the next morning, head throbbing, arm burning from an untreated bite wound, but alive. 

Whatever was happening to her, and whatever had happened to her sister, wasn’t normal. And so Addie decided she would go to Lunar Cove,whatever that was, because she was more than sure whatever was there wasn’t normal, either.

[jerichogallery]

Night of the Soul

[cloneloverrrrr]

My bro just wanted to eat in peace 😩😩

[louisvuittonandleadpipes]

PNW coastal horror

[smileysuh]

sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol. 

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu. 

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained? 

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest. 

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring. 

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions. 

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will. 

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid. 

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on. 

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further. 

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon. 

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.” 

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly. 

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work. 

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around. 

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more. 

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently. 

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.” 

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything. 

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art. 

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping. 

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure. 

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?” 

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst. 

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash. 

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering. 

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.” 

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?” 

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included. 

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches. 

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?” 

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply. 

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?” 

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier. 

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu. 

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way. 

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled. 

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel. 

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!” 

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him. 

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.” 

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt. 

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. 

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding. 

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway. 

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

“I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest. 

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience. 

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. 

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny. 

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm. 

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours. 

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it. 

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him. 

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you. 

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly. 

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh. 

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin. 

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?” 

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs. 

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next. 

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time. 

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud. 

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before. 

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation. 

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity. 

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better. 

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts. 

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.” 

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair. 

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation. 

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now. 

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back. 

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss. 

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.” 

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[hatsbuckets]

Ghoap, except it's Soap hauling Ghost.

This started as a small idea and spiraled, based on many people's recent need for Ghost to get taken care of by Soap. This is my midnight o'clock take. WC: longer than I meant to for one sitting, oops. Tw: Canon typical violence, probably some medical inaccuracies

Everything went to shit in seconds.

The C4 wasn’t supposed to blow yet. The plan was simple—sweep the compound, secure the intel, get out. But somehow, somewhere, Soap had fucked it up and the timing went off.

And now the entire fucking building was coming down around them.

Soap barely had time to turn before the blast hit.

A wall of heat and force slammed into him from behind, a deafening roar swallowing the world whole. His ears rang, vision whiting out as he was thrown forward, weightless for half a second before the ground came up to meet him—

Hard.

Everything spun. The sharp sting of concrete scraped against his arms, his ribs aching from the impact. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs weren’t working right, his head a mess of static.

A hand on his vest, gripping tight moved him. "On your feet, Johnny," a voice gritted out, rough and commanding.

Soap barely registered Ghost hauling him up, dragging him onto shaking legs just as another explosion ripped through the hallway behind them.

"Move!" Ghost barked, shoving Soap forward just as debris rained down where they’d been seconds ago.

Soap’s body acted on instinct, legs pumping despite the roaring in his skull. His head still rang like a church bell, but there was no time to think, no time to breathe—just run.

They bolted down the corridor, the walls trembling, the ceiling cracking apart. Smoke burned in Soap’s lungs, dust clogging the air as they weaved past fallen beams and crumbling debris. The sharp staccato of gunfire still echoed through the compound, but the screams had faded—either their team was already clear, or everyone else was dead.

The exit was up ahead. Not far.

Soap stumbled, boots slipping on the dust-coated floor. He felt himself tilting, his balance still fucked from the blast.

Ghost caught him. Again. A strong grip yanked him upright before he could hit the ground.

Soap barely had time to get his bearings before Ghost grabbed the back of his vest and shoved him forward, harder.

"Go, Johnny!"

Soap didn’t argue.

They burst through the exit just as another blast ripped through the structure, sending out a shockwave that nearly knocked them both off their feet. Heat licked at their backs, fire crawling up what was left of the building.

But they were out.

They kept running—across the open dirt lot, through the perimeter, straight into the dense treeline beyond. The night swallowed them whole, the branches tearing at their gear, the distant shouts of surviving hostiles echoing behind them.

They ran until their lungs burned, until the gunfire faded, until all that was left was the sound of their own ragged breathing.

They didn’t stop running.

Not when the gunfire faded behind them. Not when the compound’s burning wreckage was just a distant glow against the night sky, sending plumes of smoke curling into the stars. Not when their lungs burned, their legs screamed, and their bodies protested every step.

Because stopping wasn’t an option. Plan brunt to hell, there was no safe house waiting for them, no extraction team inbound, and no fuckin comms, Soap realized two kilometers ago. Just acres of land, endless trees, rocky hills, and God knows how much more ground to cover before they could even think about resting.

Soap’s boots thudded against the dirt, every step harder than the last. The terrain was uneven, riddled with loose stones and gnarled roots, but he forced his legs to move, to keep up with the silent force of nature ahead of him.

Ghost was still running, his stride unrelenting, his breath low and measured. He hadn’t said a word since they’d started moving, hadn’t glanced back once.

Soap barely noticed the signs at first.

The way Ghost’s steps were just a fraction too heavy. The way his shoulders were set too stiff, his posture tightening instead of loosening now that they had some distance. The way his breath was coming just a little too fast.

Then the run slowed into a jog, slowed into a trot, slowed into a walk.

The silence between them stretched, punctuated only by their footsteps and the rustling of the wind through the trees.

Soap flexed his fingers, trying to shake some life back into them. His whole body ached, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of his awareness. He was tired—dead tired—but something about the way Ghost was moving was off.

Soap turned his head, about to say something.

Ghost’s foot caught on a loose rock. His balance wavered.

Soap frowned, slowing. "Ghost—?"

Ghost didn’t answer. He swayed again. And then, just like that his knees buckled.

Soap lunged, catching him just as he collapsed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Soap gritted his teeth, stumbling under Ghost’s weight. Jesus, he was heavy.

For a terrifying second, Soap thought they were both going down, but he braced himself, digging his boots into the dirt as he lowered them both to the ground. Ghost’s full weight sagged against him, dead weight, his head tipping forward as his breath hitched unevenly.

Soap’s pulse spiked.

"Ghost—hey!" Soap shifted, gripping Ghost’s arms, shaking him. "Come on, Lt., look at me!"

Ghost made a sound, weak and breathy, but it wasn’t a real response. His fingers twitched like he wanted to grab onto something, but they slipped away, his body slumping further against Soap’s hold.

Soap’s chest squeezed tight. This was bad. Ghost hadn’t just run himself to exhaustion—he was crashing.

Soap’s hands moved on autopilot, yanking at the straps of Ghost’s vest, trying to get a look at the damage. His fingers shook, fumbling at the buckles. Got it open with a yank.

Ghost flinched violently, a harsh, guttural noise ripping from his throat as his whole body seized up.

Soap froze.

Ghost’s back arched off the ground, his hands twitching at his sides like he was trying to push away pain that wasn’t stopping.

Then, slowly—too slowly—he slumped back against the dirt, his breath shuddering out of him in uneven gasps.

Soap’s stomach twisted. "Shit—Ghost—"

Ghost’s breath hitched, his body trembling hard now.

Soap barely took a second to look—didn’t need to. His hands pressed down hard against Ghost’s ribs, against the wound that should’ve killed him half a forest ago.

And Ghost groaned. It was a soft, choked noise, barely a sound, but it was wrong. Ghost didn’t make noises like that.

Soap’s hands faltered.

"Jesus, mate…" His voice wavered, but his hands stayed firm. "You were running like this?"

Ghost let out something that was almost a chuckle, but it was too weak, too breathless to be anything real. "Didn’t notice," he murmured.

Soap gritted his teeth. "Yeah? That why you’re shakin’ like a leaf?" He pressed harder, ignoring the full-body flinch it pulled from Ghost. "What, were you just gonna stitch yourself up with barbed wire when you got somewhere safe?"

Ghost let out a weak, broken chuckle. "Only if I had to."

Soap swallowed hard, forcing his hands to stay steady.

"Yeah, well... stupid," he muttered, voice tight. "Hold still and let me fix you up before you bleed out in the middle of nowhere."

Ghost let out a slow, shaky exhale, his body flinching slightly inward as another wave of pain hit him. His hand grabbed Soap's wrist quick, tight.

"Johnny—"

Soap winced, his heart slamming against his ribs. "I know, I know, Si. Just—stay with me."

Ghost’s breath stuttered.

Then, softer, "'s fuckin' cold."

"That’s ‘cause you’re leakin’ all over the damn place, ya big baby." His voice was tight, trying for light but coming up short. "We fix that, yeah?"

Ghost didn’t respond.

Soap’s chest tightened. "Oi—Simon." His hands pressed harder, blood already coating his fingers. "Eyes on me."

A sharp, shaky inhale. Then Ghost’s head tipped just slightly, like it took everything in him to listen.

Soap’s throat felt like it was closing up. "Stay awake, Lt.," he murmured, voice low, steady. "You die on me, and I swear on my gran’s grave, I’ll bring you back just to kick your arse."

Ghost let out something between a huff and a pained laugh, barely there. "Noted," he whispered.

Soap worked faster, his hands moving, even though his mind was screaming at him. He silently thanked Price for forcing them all to attend the emergency field medicine training a few weeks ago.

By the time the wound was helped best it could be, by the time Ghost was bandaged up, pressing every ounce of warmth he could into him, Ghost was still breathing.

It was shaky, weaker, but steady.

Soap sat back, exhaling sharply. "Jesus," he muttered.

Ghost hummed low, barely awake. "Told you…"

Soap side-eyed him. "Told me what? That you’re a stubborn bastard?"

Ghost made a sound that might’ve been agreement. Or just exhaustion.

"Shoulda lightened tha' las' 'splosive."

Soap sighed, rubbing a bloody hand down his face. "You shoulda told me you were bleedin' out. You ever do this again," he muttered, voice quieter now, "and I swear to God—"

Ghost’s head tilted slightly toward him. "…You’ll what?"

Soap stared at him. At the barely-there smirk under the mask. At the way even now, even after all this, Ghost was still Ghost.

Soap shook his head.

"I dunno," he admitted. "Just don’t do it again, yeah?"

A pause. Then, so soft Soap almost didn’t hear it—

"Aye."

Soap swallowed hard. They still had a way to go.

...

Ghost was too heavy for Soap to carry outright, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Soap gritted his teeth, hauling Ghost up as best he could, slinging one of Ghost’s arms over his shoulders and bracing a hand around his waist. Ghost was barely holding himself upright, his legs dragging more than walking, his breath a thin, uneven rasp in Soap’s ear.

Soap’s knees burned, his muscles screamed with every step, but stopping wasn’t an option. They had to get somewhere. Somewhere else. Anywhere. He tightened his grip, forcing them forward, half dragging, half lifting Ghost across the uneven ground.

"We’re almost there," Soap muttered, though he had no fucking clue if that was true. "Just stay with me, Lt."

Ghost made a low sound—somewhere between a grunt and a breathless chuckle. "Dunno if…you noticed, Johnny," he murmured, voice so faint that Soap barely heard him over the wind, "but I don’t 'ave much of a choice."

Soap huffed. "Aye, well. Just makin’ sure you don’t get any ideas about quittin’ on me."

Ghost exhaled sharply—not quite a laugh, but close.

Soap risked a glance at his comm, his hand fumbling at the radio clipped to his vest. He’d been checking for hours, but it was always the same. Static, nothing, silence.

His throat was dry. He tried anyway.

"Bravo 0-6, this is Soap, do you copy?" His own voice was raw, barely above a rasp, but steady. He was not going to let it shake, no matter how bad this was getting.

Ghost stumbled again, and Soap nearly went down with him.

"Shit—" He tightened his grip, adjusting his hold, all but hauling Ghost upright again.

Ghost let out a sharp, ragged breath, but didn’t complain.

Soap grimaced, pressing the comm again. "Price, this is Soap. Ghost is down. We are mobile, but barely. If anyone can hear me, I need—"

A burst of static.

Soap held his breath.

Then—

"Soap."

Soap staggered mid-step, his breath catching.

Price.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ, finally—" Soap almost laughed, relief crashing through him so hard he felt weak. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself back into focus. "Ghost is hit bad, Cap. We’re a few clicks west of the facility, still moving, but he’s barely on his feet."

"I know. I’ve got you on GPS, went dark there for a bit in a valley." Price’s voice was steady, solid, the sound of it something Soap could hold onto. "You’re close, Soap. There’s an abandoned town just ahead—old mining site, should be about a click out. You make it there, and I’ll take care of the rest."

Soap exhaled hard, his grip tightening on Ghost.

"You hear that, Ghost?" he muttered, adjusting his hold. "We just gotta make it a little further. You with me?"

Ghost’s head lolled slightly, his masked face turned toward Soap.

"Not goin’ anywhere," he mumbled.

Soap let out a sharp breath, half a laugh. "Good. ‘Cause I didn’t fancy carrying your heavy arse the rest of the way."

Ghost didn’t answer.

Soap’s stomach twisted.

He risked another glance down, trying to assess—but the darkness made it impossible to see how bad it was. He could feel the warmth of Ghost against his side, could hear the way Ghost’s breathing was getting worse, thinner, fading in and out.

Soap’s jaw locked.

"Price, we need exfil fast. I don’t know how long he’s gonna last."

"I know. Just keep moving. I’ve got you."

Soap clenched his jaw, nodded to himself. Right. Keep moving. The town wasn’t far now. Soap set his teeth, tightened his grip on Ghost, and kept walking.

...

Every step was harder than the last. Soap’s knees felt like lead, his arms aching from keeping Ghost upright. His muscles screamed, his head pounded, and his vision blurred at the edges, but he kept moving. One more step.

And another.

The abandoned town finally came into view—a collection of crumbling structures, rusted-out vehicles, and shattered windows, the remnants of a long-dead mining site. The place was eerie, bathed in the faint silver glow of the moon, but to Soap it was a lifeline.

Ghost’s legs buckled again, and Soap nearly lost his footing trying to keep them both upright.

"Almost there, Lt.," he gritted out, adjusting his grip, his fingers digging into Ghost’s gear as he hauled him forward. "Just a little further, Simon. You with me?"

Ghost’s head tilted sideways slightly, his breathing shallow, sluggish, but, "Still here," he murmured.

Soap let out a sharp breath. "Atta man. Price would kill me if I had to leave you."

Ghost let out a breathy, half-there chuckle, but it barely held any strength. Soap didn’t let himself dwell on that.

They made it into the town, staggering between the ruins of buildings that had been abandoned for decades. Soap’s boots crunched against broken asphalt, his own breath ragged, the wind howling through empty streets. It was quiet. Silent. No voices. No distant gunfire. No sound of enemy vehicles chasing them down.

Just nothing.

For a long moment, Soap’s heart pounded in his ears, the quiet so thick it felt suffocating. He felt like he was holding Ghost above water, like the second he stopped, the second he let go—

He didn’t let himself finish the thought.

Instead, he took another step forward, Ghost’s weight pressing heavily into him, his pulse a sluggish, uneven thing beneath Soap’s grip.

Then a distant thump. Faint at first. Then stronger. Then closer. Soap’s head snapped up, his heart hammering as the deep, unmistakable whump-whump-whump of rotor blades filled the night.

A helicopter. Soap exhaled so hard it was nearly a sob.

A gust of wind kicked up dust and loose debris, the chopper swooping in low over the town, sending the dry earth swirling. Soap tightened his grip on Ghost, adjusting his stance as the aircraft’s floodlights swept over them, illuminating them in a harsh, artificial glow.

The second the wheels touched down, the side door slammed open and two figures came barreling out.

"Soap!"

Gaz was the first one off the bird, his rifle slung across his chest, moving like a damn bullet straight toward them.

Price was right behind him, his boots hitting the dirt hard, his face set in grim determination.

Soap barely had time to brace himself before Gaz reached him, sliding under Ghost’s other arm without hesitation, taking some of the weight off Soap’s straining shoulders.

"Fucking hell, Tav." Gaz’s voice was tight, his hands gripping Ghost’s gear as he adjusted his stance. "How long has he been like this?"

"Too long," Soap gritted out, his legs nearly giving out in relief now that someone else was helping. "We had to run, got a little out of sorts. He pushed through it ‘til he couldn’t anymore."

Price stepped in next, his face dark with something close to fury as he took one good look at Ghost, at the sluggish way his head lolled, at the blood still soaking through his bandages.

Price swore under his breath, then reached out, gripping Ghost’s jaw gently but firmly, tilting his face toward him.

"Ghost," he barked, low and sharp.

Ghost made a faint noise, barely a sound, but his eyes didn’t fully open.

Price’s grip tightened. "Look at me, Simon."

Ghost’s eyes slit open just a fraction. Just enough to see.

Price exhaled, his jaw clenching, but when he spoke again, his voice was gentle. "That’s it," he murmured.

Ghost’s head tilted slightly toward him, his breathing still too shallow, but still, "Not goin’ anywhere, sir," he mumbled.

Price huffed, a wry, tight breath of laughter, shaking his head. "Damn right, you’re not."

He slipped in under Ghost, taking Soap's spot. Soap damn near collapsed right there.

"Come on," Gaz said, adjusting his grip. "Let’s get the hell out of here."

Soap nodded sharply, ignoring the way his own exhaustion was creeping in, pushing it down. "Aye. Let’s move."

With Gaz supporting one side and Price on the other, they hauled Ghost toward the bird, Soap achingly climbing in behind them, Nik's hand shooting out, pulling Soap in.

Soap didn't bother sitting up in a seat as Nik closed the door.

Thanks for reading. midnight am blurb turned fic... should I continue? It has been continued here!

[munefille]

𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑-

yandere!false angel x gn.reader

cw: gore, death, attempted sa (not by yandere)

2.2k; not proofread bc I believe in myself. based on this imagine.

what were you expecting, venturing this far into the woods at night? there's something stalking you from behind the trees. a terrible beast watches and you are powerless to its mercy. luckily, your prayers are answered; not by god, but by the angel covered in red.

The wind was the first thing you noticed. It was still, not even a breeze licked at your skin, nor a sudden chill digging into your bones. Cold, yes, the cold remained even without the slashing wind. The sun dipped farther and farther below the skyline as you walked, taking with it the last remnants of warmth. You tugged your shawl tighter around your form.

Regret began to seep into you. What were you doing in these dark woods? There could be packs of wolves, or bears, or mountain lions, or another predator searching for a meal out there, you being a prime target. A shudder raced down your spine. As terrifying as the thought of being ripped apart by wild creatures was, you were almost certain it would be worse to be caught by him.

You glanced behind you, into the maw of dark trees and snow covered ground from which you came. Threats of what he promised to do to you should you be found echoed through your mind, motivating you to ignore the weariness in your muscles and push forward.

You chided yourself at your predicament- the huntsman seemed so kind. He promised you a warm bed and a meal for the night while you waited out the snow, mentioning how he understood the difficulty of traveling during the winter months. He made good conversation, although he spoke little of himself. You doubted he would present to be a threat towards you. How wrong you were.

Oh yes, he provided a meal and a bed for you, but neither were out of the kindness of his heart. No, apparently there was an expectation that you were going to service him in some way- to which you promptly refused. It was then that his true nature began to reveal itself. The huntsman grabbed one of his weapons, threatening to get his rightful payment since nothing comes for free. He wasn't going to let you leave otherwise.

You were lucky to have made it out of the door. You booked it, running in whatever direction you were facing, which happened to be the thick, untamed forest. He was searching for you, that much you knew. You could hear the howls of his hunting dogs somewhere behind you, sniffing you out.

Panic was starting to set in. What were you going to do? It was cold, you were running out of stamina, and you had no clue where you were or how long it would take to reach another village. These woods seemed to stretch for hundreds of acres, completely uninhabited by people. It was easy to get lost here you imagined, the tall trees melded into each other at some point. You could be going in one big circle for all you knew.

Besides the clearly psychotic man on your trail, the woods itself concerned you. There was a distinct feeling that said you aren't supposed to be here. As if the trees were going to wrap around your limbs and pull you apart on their own. You knew that was unlikely, but still- something in the back of your mind remained aware of the fact that you were bordering territory that would not welcome you. Maybe it was because you recalled the horror stories of people who entered and never came out- or they returned with not all of them attached.

Another howl cut through the air, snapping you out of your rumination. It was much closer this time. Frighteningly close. Close enough that you wouldn't be able to outrun it from where you were. There was only one other choice- hide. You scanned your surroundings, searching for something that would cover you. There was a small clearing up ahead and woods on both sides of you. The trees were too thin, but there were a couple of fallen ones and an uprooted trunk that created an opening just large enough for you to crawl into and hide behind. It would have to work.

You tucked yourself in, heart hammering frantically in your chest. He was so close now that you could hear his boots crunching against the freshly fallen snow. The chuffs of his dogs resounded in your ears like deafening booms, each one ready to rat you out.

"We could've done this the easy way, you know." The huntsman spoke into the silence, voice dripping with malice. Your heart dropped. Did he know you were nearby?

Your hands covered your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from breathing too loud. You could see him now, he was a couple feet ahead of you in the clearing. A large hunting knife glistened in the moonlight. Heavy realization set in, he was going to kill you.

And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

If you ran, one of his dogs would surely chase after you. You had no weapons to fight him with nor the strength to go against his much more well prepared form. The cold sapped at your energy, making it a chore just to keep yourself alert. The adrenaline helped, but it wouldn't last forever.

You did the only thing you could do. Pray.

You clasped your hands together as you waited, shutting your eyes and mouthing pleas to whoever would answer. Even if you had never been one to pray before, the imminent threat of your mortality was enough to make you chant feverishly for mercy.

And an answer you got.

The huntsman paused, shushing his mutts while sticking his nose up to the sky. Then it happened.

It was almost too quick for you to catch- one minute he was standing in the clearing, the next he was dangling above the trees. A white flash of feathers came down upon him, plucking his form like a mouse caught by a vicious hawk. With a powerful beat of the creature's wings he disappeared out of sight, far above the canopy of the trees. His dogs cried out for their master, but even they retreated into the safety of the brush for fear of being snatched.

One long, haunting death screech pierced the once still air for just a few seconds before abruptly quieting. There was barely any time to process what you saw or what had happened when splatters of red rained down from the sky, staining the white snow like paint on a canvas. Something round and fleshy dropped and landed on the snowy floor with a cracking sound, almost similar to a coconut.

You strained your eyes to see what it was.

A... head.

Not long after the creature swooped back down with the remaining parts of the huntsman, holding his corpse up to its mouth like a cat with a large rat. You shifted ever so slightly from your hidden position where you could get a proper look at it while it seemed distracted.

The scene was horrible, but you couldn't stop the awe that crossed your mind as you gazed at it. Two large, white wings speckled with blood emerged from the pale being's back. So pale it was that it practically blended into the snow.

The more you looked, the more you thought it seemed to appear more humanoid than creature, so reminiscent of the angelic sculptures you would see watching over graveyards. From the great wings, to the long white hair, it was nearly exact to how you would picture heaven's inhabitants to appear. Except, they couldn't capture how overwhelming the presence of it was. Utterly magnetic in a way you couldn't describe, a kind of beauty not defined by humanity.

you've been rescued by an angel.

It came right when you called, in your greatest time of need, like it had already been watching. Like a guardian angel.

Distracted by your realization, you didn't notice eyes locking onto your hiding form.

-

He missed one.

Warm blood trailed down his lips, dripping onto the white ground below. A human thing was hiding in the foliage, behind the broken trees.

He focused back on the body in his grasp. So loud and annoying, parading about his territory, hunting his prey. The deer were already scarce this winter, but the human had scared off the remaining few. Other prey were not as abundant. Humans he did not often approach, but everything was fair game in his domain.

He took a bite of the neck, the flesh tearing apart like filled dough. The metallic taste caused his wings to rustle in delight. He almost forgot the tenderness of human meat, rich with fat and underdeveloped muscles from a life of comfort. As of late, there had been less and less willing to enter the deep woods where he roamed, most likely due to what ends up being leftover of those who do.

His attention is drawn back to the one who tried to hide. Amusing, it hasn't run yet. Maybe it knows that it has no chance if it runs, even in the crowded trees his form is lithe enough to maneuver around the branches much better than the human can. It must've thought that the only viable option is to wait for him to finish and leave. Such a plan might've worked, if he was a much less vigilant predator.

The body is dropped onto the snow with a thud, entrails spilling out of the half eaten man. He was in a good mood, not only was the problematic creature dead but he had just gotten a meal along with it. Maybe he would decide to do something else with the remaining one.

Slowly, he turns his head in the human's direction.

-

The angel is approaching you.

It's now crouched, no longer standing on two legs; instead slinking towards you like a cat. You would be terrified by the sight of this massive creature covered in blood targeting you had you not already made up your mind that is must be your guardian angel.

When it is close enough to reach out to you, it pauses. It cocks its head, temporarily parting the hair covering its face to reveal pale, blanched purple eyes. Its- his- face was decidedly masculine, you thought. The wings on his back are folded close to his form, reducing any drag they could've caused.

Your heart is pumping, but this time not out of fear- no, you're enthralled by this opportunity.

The angel opened his mouth, uttering words that made you freeze.

"Be not afraid."

You think your pulse stopped for a solid moment. The voice was somehow quiet, yet cold and not quite reassuring. It surprised you that he could even speak in the first place. The smell of metallic blood and pine was noticeable. You reach out shakily, just slightly touching his hair. Your fingers meet the white threads, long and thin, like spider webs. The creature flinched in surprise at your boldness, but didn't move away.

The question tumbled out of your mouth before you could regret saying it. "Are you... are you my guardian angel?"

The angel fixed you with an unreadable expression. You thought he was confused for a second, before he stood up to his full height, no longer face to face with your form curled up in the branches. You couldn't help the raw unease that came to you then, he must've been nearly twice your height, taller than any man you had ever seen.

"Angel?" it repeated, looking down at you. "Your angel?"

Your mouth felt dry. The wind started picking up again, gliding through his feathers and into your bones. There were two options being presented to you; either you were right, and this being was an angel, or you were wrong. You didn't want to imagine what was standing before you if you were wrong, especially not after witnessing what became of the huntsman.

He seemed to consider this, staring down at you with strange intensity. His eyes were once again covered by hair, making his expression even more difficult to decipher.

A tense few moments passed before he spoke again. "Would an angel show you mercy? Lead you out of the woods to run back home?"

You nodded your head, still not daring to move. He bends down to pet your head, lips curling up subtly at your reaction.

True to his word, the angel did lead you out of the forest- although you lagged behind significantly and weren't nearly as swift navigating through it. It was a wonder how something so large moved as fast as he did. You were beyond grateful, thanking whatever higher power had listened to you. It was unlikely you would've made it out yourself, even with the huntsman gone. The woods were not friendly to outsiders.

You didn't say a word as you followed, too busy keeping up to ask any more questions. Tiredness overcame you as well now that your survival mode was beginning to wear off, leaving you sluggish and inattentive.

When you reached the treeline outside of the huntsman's cabin, you looked back up at your savior to thank him, only to be met with nothing but the breeze.

"Thank you." You whispered, regardless of whether or not you would be heard. The thought of your experience being a trauma induced hallucination crossed your mind, one you would consider if it wasn't for the fact that there was a large white feather caught by a tree limb beside you.

It was now almost morning. The sun was preparing to rise over the horizon soon.

You trekked your way back home, unaware of the new pair of eyes following you from the sky.

[alchemistc]

He's drunk when he sends it. Pissed because Buck won't just let this die. Tired of seeing his name flash across his screen, texts full of anger and sadness and hurt.

I suspect you've already met your last and it's not me he sends, and then turns off his phone and reaches for the bottle of whiskey on his top shelf.

---

If he'd been sober he would have known better. It's not even like it's been a pervasive thought - just an inkling at the start of things that seemed to be completely off base once he got to know everyone better, but looking back... He can see it. The built in life. The steadfast support. The knowledge that they'd always, always have each other's back. The kid who hero worshipped him.

The thing is he's fielding texts from Eddie, too, checking in and then circling around to being so goddamn judgmental that it's like they've coordinated their attacks to give Tommy no room to breathe.

He ended it to save himself from slipping so far under the surface he wouldn't make it back.

The fact that he's lost them both to his own fear is icing on the cake for the demon on his shoulder that keeps trying to remind him that once upon a time he'd fully thought Eddie and Buck were amicable exes.

---

He has to blink to figure out who's standing on his doorstep. The mustache is gone.

"If you meant who I think you mean, you're dumber than you look," Eddie says, and shoulders past Tommy before Tommy can even muster an affronted expression.

Tommy wanders after Eddie into his own kitchen, immediately annoyed that he looks more at home there than Tommy has felt in weeks. He'd gotten used to the loft - the space, the echoes, the lights of the city. The smell of his own aftershave on Buck's pillow.

They never spent much time here. The loft was closer - to Harbor, to the 118, to all the things in the city that tempted them out for a night. And staying at the loft meant he wouldn't have the echoes of Buck in every room, around every corner. (The echoes are in him, instead, and he still feels the absence like a lanced wound.) Tommy has always been good at making other people think he's good at putting distance between himself and them.

Eddie digs in a drawer, pulls out the bottle opener shaped like a cow and pops two tops. Holds one out for Tommy and scowls when Tommy wrinkles his nose at the Corona.

"Absolutely screw you if you think I'm driving halfway across town for you just to get the ones you like, right now."

Tommy can't argue that. He takes a drag and swallows. Stares. Is everyone else experiencing whiplash seeing him without the mustache? It looks fine but it'd taken so much fucking work to get used to it and now it's just gone. Clean shaven, an acre of skin he hasn't seen in months.

Tommy blinked and the entire world was different. Tommy freaked and the world changed.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie's eyebrows both lift, a frank Are You Fucking Serious look on his face that makes Tommy want to take him to the mats and have it out in the garage instead of over beers.

"Buck may be spinning his wheels trying to figure out what the fuck you meant but I know damn well what you were implying."

That seems unlikely. Eddie always seems to be the last person to have a single clue what was going on, with Buck scraping in just before him. It's a tight race.

He used to find it charming.

(He absolutely does not still find it charming, he tells his heart, and wonders if he could hire some tiny asshole gnome to go stomp around in an atrium or two and get it to stop doing what it's doing. Fucking traitor.)

"Do you actually believe that, or is it some dumb excuse because you're terrified of being happy?"

Oh, that's fucking rich.

Tommy opens his mouth to tell him exactly that but Eddie just steamrolls right by him. "You don't have to point out the hypocrisy, jackass. I'm well aware of my own issues. Thing is - you're like, almost right. Buck does make me happy. Next to Chris there's no one else in the world I'd rather have by my side, rain or shine, good or bad. I love him. He's my person."

Tommy rolls his jaw. It's not a vindication to hear it.

"Except I'm not gay, Tommy. And I don't want that. I never have. And neither does Buck, just in case that argument was about to hit the airwaves."

"How do you know?"

Something sparks in the back of Eddie's eyes. Understanding. Triumph.

"You want an itemized list or a demonstration?"

Which is when Tommy knows he's stepped into an absolute minefield. No markers. Just free balling his way through a conversation that could explode with even the slightest pressure.

Eddie's got his phone out.

None of this is ideal.

When he looks up, his eyes land squarely on Tommy, who would like in this moment to be able to curl so far in on himself he gets sucked clean through the other side. "First of all, Buck may have just been improvising his entire journey of sexuality but for once I was trying to get ahead of the curve so that whole starry-eyed newly not straight vision you have of Buck is bullshit. You let him pull you along by the shirt strings for months without pressing pause and then you freak out when he thinks his speed and your speed are the same speed?"

This is feeling a whole lot like an ambush, now.

"Did you ever even try to slow him down?"

Tommy has some choice words that aren't remotely appropriate to say to someone who is at least tangentially still his friend, so he takes another swig of shitty beer. God, this shit is awful.

"You wanna know how I know I'm not his one? How I know he's not mine?"

Tommy really, really doesn't. Honestly he'd like to kick him out.

"Because he went at our friendship at the same warp speed pace he took your relationship and it never fucking scared me."

Proof in the pudding, for Tommy. He's not the sort of jackass who actually thinks he can make a different judgement call on someone else's sexuality than the one they've made themselves, but come on.

"Shannon's been dead for half a decade," Eddie says, voice dropping so suddenly Tommy feels it like an icy draft. "And maybe one day I'll make my peace with that. Maybe one day I'll get out from under it. The point is I've lost them both and the loss wasn't the goddamn same."

"Buck came back," Tommy argues.

Eddie scoffs. Wrinkles his nose. "Jeez, he wasn't kidding about how weird that sounds." His phone buzzes on the countertop, and Tommy wonders what the hell that look on his face means. "Don't change the subject. I'm not here to talk you into anything. I'm just here to drink a beer with you and tell you how goddamn stupid it is to think that an uncertain future with Evan Buckley isn't worth every second of terror it causes you."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do."

Eddie tips the bottle against his lips. Swallows. God, why hadn't Tommy just pursued the self-proclaimed straight guy for a couple weeks before he scratched the itch somewhere else and kept a friend, instead?

"Maybe." Eddie tips his head. "Maybe I do, though. Maybe in the months and months you were invited to all my mopey nights in with Buck and all the crazy crap we end up involved in at the station and all the times you couldn't shut up about him when he wasn't around and all the times I got to see you falling ass over teakettle for my best friend, I learned a fucking thing or two about Tommy Kinard." He wags his head back and forth. "Maybe."

"Is there a point to this?"

Eddie tips his eyes to his phone, and it's probably too late at this point for the suspicion to begin to creep in.

"I mostly just came to confront you about your completely off base bullshit excuses, but there's actually a pretty simple solution to at least one of your multitude of issues, so. Now we're waiting."

Tommy doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Chris is mad at you, by the way."

It's a distraction. It's fully a - "Why is he mad at me?"

"I should actually thank you, because it's the first time he's actively talked to me in months," Eddie continues, like Tommy hadn't asked a question. "He's pissed because Buck is sad and there's literally nothing in the world that gets a rise out of the Diaz boys like sad Buck."

"You can just say you're pissed at me and go, Eddie."

"Oh I'm angry. Don't think I'm not. Mostly I'm just sad for you. You had six months to get to know Buck and never thought to yourself 'hes going to love me and it's going to hurt' until he skipped too far ahead in the program."

And that's - kind of the final straw. He's let Eddie get his licks in. He deserves it, he knows he does. Honestly it's a little cathartic to hear - to know exactly what Buck has spent his time dissecting post-Tommy. "That's all I ever thought about. Do you think I didn't know going in? I tried to put a stop to it before it even started and he just doubled down! Do you think for a second I wasn't viscously aware that I was setting myself up for -."

No. He's not gonna say it. He's not giving that to Eddie when he couldn't even give it to Ev-Buck. When he couldn't give it to Buck.

Eddie looks victorious anyway.

"And for six months you thought it was worth it."

"For six months I was too much of a coward to stop thinking about it."

Eddie drains the rest of his beer. "I'm not gonna lie. You screwed up pretty bad. Like. Astronomically bad. Giving up your location in a firefight bad."

Tommy does everything he can not to wince.

"It's salvageable, though. If you want it to be. If there's anything I know about Buck it's that second chances are his bread and butter." He's been dancing around saying anything of substance about Buck's feelings, in all of this, but the hints are there. As if the bouts of angry-depressive texts from Buck weren't clue enough.

"And what if it's not what I want?"

Eddie's eyes dart to his phone one more time. "Then you can make it a clean break in about ... three and a half minutes."

Tommy nearly tosses his beer across the room.

[unrealcities]

So a friend shared an old classic standby of Filipino sociopolitical poetry, Amado V. Hernandez's Bayani, to our group chat for labor day. It's a great poem, and I'm always glad to be reminded of it. And I thought: I should share it to this Tumblr. Surely the English translation must be floating around the Internet somewhere. It'll take five minutes.

The definitive English translation, if such a thing exists, is by Cirilo Bautista. I have seen it once before, in our high school library. I have never read it. It is not floating around the Internet somewhere.

And then I had the stupidest idea in the world: Let's translate it, I thought. It'll be fun. It'll be an exercise.

Reader, today I have learned that I know approximately zero languages. I don't know English, and I definitely don't know Filipino. I don't know how translators don't go insane, and I don't know why anyone decides it's a good idea to translate poetry.

Like. This is the original fifth stanza of the poem:

Sambundok na ginto ang aking dinungkal, kahi't na kaputol, di binahagihan! ang aking inani'y sambukiring palay, nguni't wala akong isaing man lamang! ang buhay ng iba'y binibigyang-buhay habang nasa bingit ako ng libingan!

And this is the J Unrealcities crack at translation:

I have hewed mountains of gold from the earth, but have yet to be given a glimmer of ore. I have plowed acres on acres of rice, and yet have nothing to serve at my table. I have fed so many lives from their births, while I live not one foot from the grave.

Like. The plowed acres of rice line is pretty straightforward, acres on acres to keep the meter and for emphasis. The next line is literally "but I have no rice to cook," but just saying that misses the nuances of "saing", the word that specifically means "to cook rice": that having no rice is equivalent to having nothing to eat; that you don't cook rice for yourself, you cook it for your household. I toyed with "not a grain". I gave up on "cook" and "food". How do people do this.

The line after that is literally "I have given others life while I am one foot in the grave." But again: meter. The original poem- and most of Hernandez's poetry- follows the traditional Balagtas style: twelve-syllable lines, six-line stanas, made to be spoken. I cannot do it, but I did try. I did enjoy "live not one foot from the grave" as a convergence of a. the one foot in the grave bit, b. the echo of "buhay" (life) from the previous line, and c. a reference to the urban poor communities that live in Metro Manila's cemeteries, many of whom are the working people the poem is about.

When I see a real English translation I will feel monumentally stupid. I am translating "panginoong laging namamanginoon" as "a peer crawling at the feet of peers" and no one can stop me. I am having an absurd amount of fun.

[remmickslvt]

Haunting Gaze (NSFW 18+)

Remmick x fem!reader, gore, contains graphic descriptions of sex, power imbalances, stalking

You had just moved into a house in the south; a drastic change compared to your northern roots. It sat nestled in 10 acres of woods, with a steady stream cutting through the middle of the property. Low-hanging trees lined either side of the bank, and a rickety swing dangled from the branch of the tree closest to the house. The wrap around porch barely lit by lanterns and candles provided a cozy spot to stretch out on a creaky metal lawn chair with a book and a glass of wine. The steady din of the crickets and flickering of the fireflies welcomed a feeling of safety and comfort, however the eerie cutoff of light making way into the forest left you slightly unsettled. The distant illumination of fireflies sometimes looked similar to pairs of watching eyes. You took a deep breath in and laid back on the chair, the squeak of metal seemingly echoing through the dusk. You swept your arm out to grab your glass of wine, instead knocking it over. "Fuck." You hissed, that bottle was expensive. You tucked your hair behind your ear and swung your legs over to lean down and pick up the glass. As you rose back up, a silhouette of a man flashed behind the swing. You shook your head and blinked, the sounds of the woods not so comforting anymore. You stood up and clutched your book, your silk nightgown catching the light of the candles. Looking out over your yard, you couldn't make out any strange shadows, yet you felt a definite presence. You closed your eyes and took another deep breath. Your eyes then shot open as a gravelly voice rumbled through the night, "You're a pretty thing, arn't 'cha."

You feel back down onto the chair, laying down almost flat since it was laid back all the way. The man, stocky in build and dressed in a white button down, black suspenders, and trousers loomed over you, his glowing eyes penetrating your skull. His dark hair curled around his face, his strong, square jaw housing a wicked sneer as he took you in. Long, pointed fangs seemingly dripping in saliva poked out from behind stained red tinted lips. "I've been watchin' ya, lass. Ya moved in about a week ago, been admirin' the view in ya bedroom window." His sneer widened as he pictured you slipping out of your day clothes into the nightgown you were wearing now. You were so vulnerable, and he loved how you looked so scared up at him.

You were speechless, your lips parted slightly but no words emerging. Despite this strange ominous man looking down on you, you felt a strange sense of lust. "I'm Remmick, no need ta introduce yourself, I already know who you are," he nearly crawled on top of you so he was hovering just inches above your body, thick drool leaking from his parted lips as he snarled his words. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly pulled up your nightgown so you lay exposed under him. "I promise I won't bite too hard." He then crashed his lips into yours, his long, clawed hands exploring your thighs and abdomen. At his cold touch, your back arched slightly, a soft warmth growing in your core. Regrettably, you hadn't been touched in a long time, and much to your dismay you felt yourself succumb to your fate. You wanted this.

As your pelvis arched upward to meet his, Remmick allowed a soft groan to escape in between starving kisses, your tongues battling for control. You nicked his fangs on your bottom lip and the warmth of blood seeped into your passion, only causing Remmick to roll his hips into yours with a sense of deep greed. The growing hardness in his pants collided with your wet core, causing that knot in your belly to send shivers through your body, and your nails hitched on his shoulders as you drug your fingers down his thick arms. He growled into the crook of your neck as his slender claws gripped your thigh, leaving jagged marks with thick dark blood beginning to trickle down your leg. He then moved his hands to his belt, swiftly tugging it open and desperately unzipping his trousers. He took his throbbing length in his hands and positioned it at your slick folds, his tip glistening as precum oozed from the slit. He nudged himself against you, the contact sending you almost over the edge already. With a firm thrust he shoved himself inside you, causing a sharp gasp to escape as you hadn't had time to adjust to his size. Remmick rolled his hips in rhythm to your arching back, slamming into your cervix as you raked your nails down his sides. With a growl, he quickened his pace, drilling into you so hard you thought you might rip in half. Tears of pleasure and pain began to well at the corners of your eyes. You had never felt this good before. Each time he hit your spot, you felt the heat in your abdomen growing, the ascent into your climax just riling him up more. With a groan, he bit down onto your shoulder, the sharp puncture of his fangs sending you over the edge. Your bodies rolling together, the sweat mixing with blood, your orgasm overtook your senses. The tightening of your walls combined with the sweet taste of your blood sent Remmick over the edge soon after you, his forceful thrusts shifting to sloppy as he filled you with his seed, muffled groans fading into your shoulder as he lapped hungrily at your wound. Slowly pulling out and sitting back to loom over you, his glowing eyes un wavered at the sight of the blood pouring out of the fresh bite as well as hot, sticky cum spilling out of your core. "Ya felt amazin', lass. Taste amazin', too." His devilish grin flashing bloodstained fangs was the last sight before consciousness dipped in and out of your gaze. Soon you'd be able to do this forever.

[bnyf]

sharing is caring ♡

yandere best friends x female reader

can you imagine?

yandere invites his closest friend over, they're both hanging out and talking.

yandere goes to get a few more refreshments and that's when you took your oppurtunity to try and catch his friend's attention.

you were locked up in a little cage in your yandere's closet, only big enough for you to move some of your limbs.

you started shifting about and making noise to catch the friend's attention and eventually you did it!

your heart was pounding in your chest when he'd notice the strange sound coming from the closet, and when he got up to go investigate, the taste of freedom had finally graced your lips. what do they say? "it's so close i can taste it?"

and when he opened the closet, to his surprise, a girl trapped in a cage meant for a small animal with pleading teary eyes was begging for him to call the police, the save her! please! please save me!

he was shocked, his pupils dilated. and for a few split seconds, as you beg and try to explain the horrifc things his best friend did to you, he'd only stare at you blankly.

before smiling, of course.

"awe, so cute, now i'm jealous! why wasn't i the one to kidnap such a cutie like yourself first. bro, why didn't you tell me about your pretty little secret?"

he tilt his head and exclaimed, with a siniter chuckle and wide grin. his monolid eyes now slanted looked like they were almost closed.

your yandere's sick laughter also echoed along with his friend's as he entered the room, placing the refreshements down on the table and coming over to the closet.

"i don't like sharing, plus i don't think she can handle both of us"

they laughed.

they both kneel down at you, petting you like some sort of house animal. they both looked like nothing was happening, like you were just a cute pet to observe and play with, to stroke and feed, like this was all normal. nothing unusual of course.

your heart sank.

this... can't be real right?! the has to be some sick joke, some twisted nightmare... right?!

no...

nononono.

NO! NO! FUCK, GOD PLEASE SAVE ME!

that's when you lost all sanity and started screaming at the top of your lungs for someone, anyone, please, just hear and save you.

"there's no use, the walls are heavily sound proofed and our nearest neighbour is 10 acres of land away. so give up, and just allow yourself to be mines completely, darling."

your whole world crashed, along with any last hopes you had. here? forever, till i die?... your mind was splitting, you just starred dully at them like a broken doll.

this made your blood boil but there was nothing you could do, and now, you were trapped with not just one, but two sick manics.

"well not like i'm going home and minding my own business after this, i want her too~"

"can you really be a good girl for both of us, princess? i mean, not like you have much of a choice anyway."

"that's mean. do it again lol"

"bro don't encourage me, i already have such little self control."

"oh my bad for supporting your ideals, i'll call the police then."

they may absolutely no mind to the way your shaking, and the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. rather, they're making light of the situation, touching you wherever they'd like to, trailing your skin with their cold fingers.

"darling, you have every right to crash out right about now..."

[lunarcovehq]

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, RIO TAVÁREZ

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Woman, She/Her 

DATE OF BIRTH: December 20th, 1995 

OCCUPATION: Curator at Art in Motion and Forger 

RESIDENCY: Echo Acres

FACECLAIM: Priscilla Quintana 

IF I DIE YOUNG

SPECIES: Vampire 

CLAN POSITION: Member 

AGE AT TRANSFORMATION: 27 

LAY ME DOWN IN A BED OF ROSES

Trigger Warnings: Physical and Emotional Abuse, Death, Parental Neglect

The Tavarez dynasty stood like a monolith, a looming shadow over Rio all her life. Spanning generations, her family had accumulated wealth and prestige in the human world, dominating any industry they entered. Their hands touched everything - resources in coal and oil, financial markets, business acquisition, technology development. An empire. What the world they dominated did not know was the magic that fueled their industry. Magic had been in the Tavarez family longer than the wealth had, and it fueled them. Generation after generation, magic was used to bolster their advancement. The family cared little for physical talents, there was always use for someone who could manipulate an element, but the mental magics were favoured, and exploited. White collar crime fueled their empire, fraud, bribery, insider trading, Ponzi schemes. Whatever would get their family ahead.

Their father, Luis, became patriarch of the family at a young age, far earlier than he should have after the untimely death of his father, but he was thriving, he continued to build the wealth and prestige that his family was built upon, but it was not enough, never enough. Luis wanted more, always, the world itself would not have been enough. So he forced the world to bend to him. Their family had always used their magic to be less than fair in their business dealings with human companies, but Luis increased this, causing their empire to thrive. 

This was the world Rio and Santiago were born into, the highest of luxuries, a world that you could not buy your way into, only born. From the outside it was picture perfect, they were the beautiful children of seemingly doting parents that loved them above all. However, it was a gilded cage. They attended the best schools, lived in luxury homes, had everything a child could dream of - but in return they had to be perfect. Not perfect in the ordinary sense, they had to be above reproach in their father’s eyes, look the part, smile just right, be silent unless spoken to, and if they were allowed to speak, they had to say the perfect thing. If they were not the right kind of perfect they would risk their father’s wrath. They never knew what form it would take. They were not children to him, they were merely extensions of himself and the image he wanted to portray to the world. 

Their mother was no better. She had no love for her children, they were merely her duty. The tradeoff for Luis funding her lifestyle was giving him children and cementing the Tavarez legacy for another generation. They would see her sparingly, whenever a photograph needed to be taken, or Luis had a business meeting with someone particularly family focused. They were a family in pictures only.

As soon as Rio and Santiago were each old enough, they were forced to participate, abusing their magic for their fathers benefit. Santiago, the elder and the heir, was first, pulled into Luis’s web, followed shortly by Rio. Santiago tried to protect his sister as much as he could, shield her from the shadier of their father’s activities, but it was no use, she had a natural talent that their father noticed. As they grew, Santiago grew more and more anxious about the effect their father was having on Rio, terrified that she would end up like him. He knew that he would always be the heir, the one to inherit it all, but could also see the hunger in their fathers eyes when he looked at Rio. 

So he did what he had to, he squirreled away funds, employing all the tricks their father forced on him, to try and give Rio a ticket out of the cage. 

She learnt about his plans the day he handed her a plane ticket and a bag of clothes. She was shuffled away in the middle of the night. Santiago prayed he could keep their father occupied, away from their father, away from whatever plans their father had for Rio. 

She ended up in New York with nothing but the cash in her wallet and the clothes in her bag. So she did what she was raised to do, trained to do, she bent the world to her will. Like father, like daughter. She started by using her magic for a price, raising spirits or tracking people - using everything at her disposal to make something for herself. It was not long before she started fencing supernatural wares, then fencing forgeries of paintings. Then came the cheques and bank bonds, forged with a deft hand. Forgery was where she found herself, anything you needed, she could make and fake. It had been a party trick her father enjoyed, the fake masterpieces she painted, and a trick he had exploited with her uncanny ability to forge signatures. Now, it was her life, and she used it to carve herself a little bit of a life. 

For a time life was somewhat good, she was building herself something of a family with the Selvi sisters, she had someone she might be able to love, it was starting to work. 

Then the man fell through her wall like it was water, clutching at his side as blood poured from a wound. He was oddly familiar, she had seen him in passing growing up, someone that had always been around, but never directly in contact with her and Santiago despite their similar ages. Now that she could get a good look at him the resemblance was uncanny. The slope of his brow, the sharp jawline. He looked like Santiago, he looked like her. He didn’t need to tell her that he was her brother, or her half brother, she could see it the moment she saw him. He looked uncannily like her brother, it was almost eerie, but his eyes matched hers perfectly. 

She tried desperately to stop the bleeding, all while she questioned her brother, Javier. Trying to figure out what had happened to him, why he was bleeding out in her living room. He told her about their father, about the work he had to do for him, and about Santiago. He said that their brother was gone, that their father’s work had taken its toll on him.

She believed him, of course she did, here he was, her brother, dying in her arms. 

And then he too was gone, limp and lifeless. 

Grief overtook her like a tidal wave, the loss of both brothers, the one she loved and the one she never had the chance to. The wave swept her up, crashing over her. She didn’t turn her mind towards all of the other people she loved that could be swept up in her magic, the other people that could die, she could only see Javier. It was not a conscious choice, it was the only choice, her magic flooded from her and she raised Javier from the dead and the green eyes of her half brother opened, green eyes that matched hers. 

Javier left that night, claiming he was trying to protect her, that he would need to return to Mexico, back to their father. He said everything right, said all the things Santiago would say in that situation. He didn’t want to draw his attention to her, he didn’t want her to know where she was, and now that she had done dark magic, he didn’t want him to have that leverage over her. She genuinely believed it, every word he said. 

Despite what Javier had said, she traveled back to Mexico City, to the place she had sworn she would never return, to bid her farewells to Santiago, devastated that she hadn’t been able to when he had died. To her horror she discovered that Santiago had been alive when Javier appeared in her apartment and that he was now dead, having died the same night she had brought Javier back. She went to Javier, hoping to get him away from their father as Santiago had done for her, only for the other shoe to drop. 

Javier had been raised on stories of his sister, the ruthless image their father had of her. Javier had pictured her just like he was, a weapon of their fathers ambition, a kindred spirit. Javier wanted her back in the fold, he wanted the weapon of their fathers stories. He claimed he wanted a sister, he wanted the two of them to be their own little family, just as her and Santiago had been. 

Their father was none the wiser, he knew that Javier was in New York, he had always known where Rio was and had mentioned this to Javier, but he didn't know that Javier had intended to go to her. Javier explained to her that his original plan was to approach her, figuring he could talk her into coming back with him, but then he saw her. He had seen her with the Selvi sisters, and the small life she had managed to build for herself. He knew it wouldn’t be enough, so he decided to force her hand. 

He had orchestrated it all, figuring that if she did dark magic she would be easy to blackmail. He could force her to come home with him, and he hoped that one day she would want to stay on her own. Getting rid of Santiago was a happy coincidence, a burden that Javier wouldn’t have to deal with thanks to Rio. When Luis had found out about Santiago’s death he had apparently just shrugged, not particularly caring as he still had Jaiver and Rio, or so Javier claimed. 

Ever her father’s daughter, ever the blade he had welded her into, she made a decision that night. 

It was not a difficult decision to turn into a vampire, she loved her magic, but she hated Javier and their father more. The rage was blinding, more blinding than her grief had been. She would die, and Javier tethered to her, would die with her, never to return. Their father’s disinterest in Santiago’s death would be punished. 

Afterall, she was the child of Luis Tavarez, the ends justified the means. 

With no one left in the world, bar a few friends in a secret town of supernatural’s, it seemed as though there was nowhere else she could go but Lunar Cove, the one place her father would never set foot in. 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Completely bonkers over-the-top 2005 mansion in Las Vegas, NV has a pending sale for $12.5m. It has 7bds, 9ba, 17,643 sq ft, $745mo. HOA fee. This is insane.

Here's your 2-story marble entrance hall. I bet it echoes.

Look at the massive fireplace. This must be the great room.

Room for entertaining with a kitchen, fireplace, TV, bar in the corner, and lots of display shelving. I can't tell if that's stained glass or a mosaic above the fireplace.

Wine room.

Huge sun room with views of the patio and gardens, plus a table and chairs that may or may not be for dining.

Beautiful wood cabinetry in the kitchen, but look at the counters and backsplash. It looks like inlaid mosaics.

The formal dining room has a large fireplace flanked by 2 carved panels. Look at the flooring.

Castle-like stairs.

Here's a beautiful 2-story library with a view of the floor below. It could also be a home office and has a lovely fireplace.

This is definitely an office. It's huge.

Round hall/tower with an amazing Dale Chihuly chandelier.

Formal looking home theater.

Primary bedroom with fireplace, TV, cabinetry and a vanity table/desk unit on one wall. Beautiful wood.

This bath is crazy- look at this statue on the tub.

Very large shower enclosure.

The massive walk-in closet.

At the top of these stairs there appears to be a powder room. So many stairs, you can get lost in this house.

The baths in this home are insane.

This is a guest house in the courtyard.

Gazebo with a firepit and gardens.

There is no pool on the property, this is a fountain. Uhhh, no it's not. It's a pool.

1.51 acre lot. There's a private orchard on the property, also.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9409-Kings-Gate-Ct-Las-Vegas-NV-89145/66820592_zpid/?

[cloneloverrrrr]

Oh my sweet babies you deserved so much better & so did all your brothers 😢😢😩😩🩷🩷

[dewdwrite]

Here's two stories of a gnoll (Hyena) OC named Taka. My girlfriend and I made a while back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63915751/chapters/163932214

Art by @dragon-draws-art

Druids were rarely seen in civilized society. Reclusive and mysterious, the magic they practice is often only understood by them and whatever gods of nature they kindle favor with. These same gods tend to be vague with their missions and motivations. This leaves an interesting philosophical line to walk when it comes to serving them.

Gnolls were seen as gluttonous and untrustworthy. The first couldn't be helped–the second, however, could be disproven. She'd been entrusted with thousands of acres of woodlands after getting a blessing from a desperate dryad. She stayed true to her word, meticulously keeping the peace and helping the circle of life continue its neverending rotation.

Taka's large frame maneuvered through the woodlands with a grace uncharacteristic of her kind. Long, powerful legs helped her traverse quickly in precise strides. The sound of bead and bone jewelry echoed on the wind. Her various baubles and macabre fetishes clacked together and swayed with her movements. The skulls of various long-passed creatures adorned her. Turquoise stones and handcrafted jewelry hung around her neck, wrists, and ankles. She brushed her long black mane to one side, flicking out a layer of dirt that clung to it. Her nature was to scavenge and to repurpose; to not let anything go unused or unappreciated. This garnered her plenty of favor with all gods of the wild.

Tan fur speckled with dark spots covered every inch of Taka’s body. It nearly blended in with the hides she wrapped around her waist and torso. The modest fur clothing kept her decent without restricting her movement. Her gnarled staff was her most prized possession. Despite her affinity for collecting, this was truly the only worldly possession she coveted. A twisted thick branch of yew wood as tall as she was. It had a large chunk of amber with a butterfly inside that was as black as night. Any light that shone through it cast a grim shadow. It was the focus for her magic and as much a part of her as the earth was.

Taka continued her trek, only a mile from her home now. She knew this area well, its familiar sights and creatures. She readjusted her tattered leather pack and pressed onward. She'd walked nearly all day with the intention of spending the night in her bed, not to mention filling her stomach with a home cooked meal. Gnolls had a massive appetite–and hers hadn't been properly sated in days. The odd foraging and brief campfire meals didn't keep her stomach from growling, either.

The ragged strap from her pack dug into Taka’s sore shoulder, its contents nearly spilling out. She had just enough food for a day of rest: meat, vegetables, and a few assorted berries. Her mouth began to salivate at the idea of what she would make with it. It was taking everything she had not to reach in her pack and eat the ingredients one at a time. Taka’s stomach let out a long rumble, reminding her once again how completely empty she was. She gripped her upper abdomen with her free hand and squeezed the excess flesh in a vain attempt to subdue its cries. The extra layer of fat that accumulated throughout her body was a testament to just how otherworldly her appetite was, but it was her obnoxious stomach that divulged it most of all.

Nestled in the heart of the woodland beneath a canopied pasture hid a small hut. The rough wood and thatch construction served its purpose and gave Taka a proper place to recuperate. It was a construction culminating her odd impulses; the outside was adorned with intricate totems and wind chimes made of all sized bones. A welcome sight after days spent away performing rituals and rites. All through the trees and her roof sat a murder of crows. They hopped about excitedly and started cawing as she got closer. Anticipating the onslaught of other mouths to feed, Taka dug into her bag’s many pouches. Along the paths she’d worn into her home turf sat covered bowls on posts. She removed the tops and placed handfuls of seeds, nuts and berries. The birds quickly flocked to the offerings and began squabbling amongst themselves. Outside her door was another post; its bowl had a small pile of coins and assorted trinkets. A passing crow dropped a copper piece as she reached for the pile. It eyed her impatiently before flying over and snatching a red berry from her hand. Her relationship with the crows was mutually beneficial, and gave her modest funds to buy supplies with, as well as bits to add to her jewelry.

Her stomach panged with hunger as she gave away a meager amount of her rations. It seemed ridiculous to feel any jealousy towards such creatures, but her hollow stomach was incapable of reasoning. With a hand on her midriff she entered her hut, squinting in the darkness. A wave of her hand was all it took to light her fireplace and the wide array of candles throughout the room. She laid her pack down and overturned it, letting the plethora of ingredients spill onto her table. Her stomach howled impatiently as she set about preparing something.

As Taka chopped vegetables and sprinkled spices on large chunks of meat she could feel the gnawing hunger in her core becoming increasingly intense. The crackling of the fire and the persistent hissing of her meal cooking was being drowned out by rolling rumbles echoing from deep inside her. This amount of internal activity was normal for her, especially before a meal, but it wasn’t easy to ignore without a proper distraction. She soon found herself popping small handfuls of fresh berries in her mouth and taking large gulps from her water skin. This didn't satisfy her–she could feel her powerful stomach acids dissolving her snack mere moments after she swallowed it. This combined with the smells of a long awaited meal made her greedy gut howl in frustration. With no other option, she turned her meal over in the pan with one hand while the other rested on her midriff, feeling the convulsing organs rioting underneath her fur.

Despite her body being in a rush, Taka was meticulous in her preparation and plating of her food. It was a substantial amount, easily enough for three humans. Multiple slabs of meat and root vegetables piled on a plate that could serve as a dinner tray to most others. She could feel her stomach quivering as she finally began to eat. She did own cutlery, but it often went unused. The true nature of what she was came out when she ate in a completely undignified manner. Once she started eating– that's when her unholy appetite became apparent. She ate so rapidly she could feel her stomach filling with each swallow, taking another bite at a pace only someone truly famished could maintain. What took an hour to prepare was devoured within minutes. Taka’s stomach greedily churned away at her food and made a new array of satisfied noises as it finally began processing its first proper meal in days.

While it was quieter when she was full, her guts still made a cacophony of sounds. Gnoll stomach acid was among one of the most caustic substances in the material plane. The way it boiled and churned whatever was dropped into it was unlike the digestive tract of even the most legendary of creatures. This was the side of her there was no help changing and she was fine with that. Even if it meant waiting, sometimes for days filling herself to her true capacity was always a pleasure. The gentle ache she felt settling in her core after a large meal was leaps and bounds better than the incessant roaring of hunger that preceded it. Soon her meal would be gone and it would be time to do it all again. The circle of life.

A kinky take on the goodberry spell.

Nature had a way of speaking to druids, of telling them when and where they were needed. It took devotion to the lifestyle and understanding of the unseen forces of the world. Taka was needed for a ritual, that much she knew and that meant another hike. She enjoyed hiking, walking all through the territory she was responsible for. A more powerful Druid might open a portal to their destination or travel through the fey wild. Taka on the other hand was humble and content walking, even if it worked up an appetite.

She didn't carry much in the way of supplies at least as far as survival was concerned. After all, nature did provide, especially for a druid. She knew she needed to forage for ritual supplies rather than food. No matter, she'd have to fall back on her standby rations. Her hike wasn't as the crow flies but rather a series of detours to find various plants, fungi and stones that all served a specific purpose.

Along the way Taka had finally found the source of her personal search, a familiar bunch of dark green leaves with small nubs of berries waiting to grow. She plucked the sprig of mistletoe, and with a brief surge of magic a pile of plump red berries grew rapidly, filling her palm. She salivated and her stomach growled causing her to grimace. Druids called these goodberries, a magical food that could sustain a body for an entire day with just one berry. She used this spell as necessary but she didn’t care for them much herself. Right now however she was too hungry to find a proper meal and still had much to do. She could deal with her stomach making noise even if it was quaking with thunderous hunger, not her legs shaking or her head pounding. That made her feel like she was wasting away and in that case a goodberry would do.

With a sigh she popped the berry in her mouth and swallowed it whole. She was so hungry there was more saliva than berry traveling down her throat. Her stomach convulsed and quaked the moment the berry landed in her begging gut. The magical nature of the fruit took effect rapidly. She felt the strength returning to her limbs and the throbbing in her head subside. As her stomach started to churn, she could feel the berry sitting stubbornly inside her like a pebble. Due to the nature of her anatomy she was typically very aware of how things broke down inside her. Good berries however took all day and didn’t offer the satisfaction of a stretched out full stomach. Instead she had the rolling boil of digestion and this stubborn thing tumbling around in her stomach acids. She often found herself wondering if this is how it felt to the passing travelers or critters she offered these berries too, or if it was just another symptom of her kind’s gluttonous curse.

The sounds emitting from her core were much more tumultuous than usual. Long squealing gurgles that were punctuated with deep roars reverberated through her layers of fat and fur. Pressing a hand firmly into her gut she felt the tremors underneath her palm. Her hand sunk into her plush middle, further evidence that her cavernous stomach was nearly hollow. Despite the activity inside her she felt well enough to continue. One advantage to only having a good berry was how light on her feet she felt. She could leap and bound through the brush without being offset by the characteristic bloating that came with her indulgent meals.

Her goal was a long lived tree far in the distance. Tall and imposing, its hidden roots stretched far. This tree was well on its way to becoming awakened. In a few decades its roots would break through the earth and it would roam as a treant. Taka would need to help it along. A few prayers and a ritual to enhance the soil with nutrients would ensure its success. She could already feel a connection with this plant as she laid a hand on its thick bark. Dragging her nails down it lightly, very little chipped off, despite its size and age it was sturdy. Satisfied she cleared a spot of ground in front of it and began drawing symbols in the dirt with her staff. She'd have to commune with this tree and powerful spirits to ensure it would be guided along properly.

With one final turn she drew a circle around herself and sealed the runes. Satisfied with her work she stretched before squatting down and taking a seat. It was an instant relief finally getting to rest. One part of her body however was restless. In the stillness of the secluded wilderness the groans of her stomach broke the silence. The goodberry inside her sat defiantly in her guts, churning but not breaking down. Despite the rest of her body telling her it was nourished her stomach howled warning her of all the empty space. She ran a hand down her side letting it pass over her ribcage before resting it just below it. This was the most concave she’d seen her midriff in a while. The pudge that typically pooled in her lap when she sat just barely stuck out. A week of only good berries and perhaps she could show off just how much muscle she had hidden underneath. As if responding to her thoughts her stomach trembled making her body shutter.

As Taka focused on meditation her organs complained dramatically. Crossing her arms over her midsection she doubled down allowing herself to slip deeper into concentration. As the words of wisdom came to her she began chanting softly under her breath. A faint glow shined on the runes surrounding her and slowly spread to the tree. Ancient energy coursed through the land and focused on this one living being. She continued like this for hours communicating with unseen beings and allowing wild magic to flow through her to the earth. As the sun began to set, Taka's amber staff and ritual circle illuminated the forest. A swarm of lightning bugs descended into the clearing as she finished her final incantation and unsealed the circle. Her task was complete and if left undisturbed this tree would get to go on the next step of its long journey.

She was brought back to reality as she felt the gnawing of hunger deep inside her. The stubborn berry had finally broken down and now all that remained was a pool of unused stomach acid. That hollow spot she felt so many hours ago was now a bottomless pit. Deep anguished cries begin echoing from it reverberating in her core. Her mouth pooled with saliva as her body began its own pre meal ritual. With her duties taken care of she could now take the time to properly feed herself, and she intended too.

[misstrashchan]

The Little Prince and the Ever After

So it was confirmed a while ago that Oscar's allusion is the Little Prince, which many Oscar fans and Rosegarden shippers in particular where theorising back in V6, with Oscar's crush on Ruby Rose being proof that she was the Rose that the Little Prince loved and cared for. Both @conehatcryptid and @chaikachi have written wonderful posts about Oscar's allusion to the Little Prince here and here.

However, after V9 I'm inclined to think both Ruby and Oscar interchangeably play the roles of the Little Prince and the Rose, in much a similar way that Blake and Yang both interchangeably are the Beauty and the Beast (Blake's surname means beautiful woman, and she likes to read like Belle, but she is also the Beast who wishes to redeem themselves, and is a literal Beast as a faunus "black the beast descends from shadows". Yang is introduced as the "yellow beauty burns gold" and wishes for a life of adventure like Belle, but she is also the Beast, being left by their Beauty and having a fiery temper).

This is in part theorising/speculation, as V9 obvious main allusion is Alice in Wonderland, and the similarities I see maybe coincidental, since both stories deal with similiar themes. Both stories have a child that travels to strange lands to meet characters that represent the misgivings and absurdity of adult society and the pressure to conform to these as you grow up, and the confusion as to who you are and should be that follows.

Alice's journey to adulthood is a path that takes her from a confused child changing size and unaware of her true identity to an assertive girl scolding the immaturity of the Mad Hatter and ends with Alice being brave and confident enough to confront the Queen of Hearts.

The Little Prince's story is about the importance of reconnecting with your inner child as an adult/someone growing up.

"No! I will grow up, but I'll never forget about being a child!"

In V9, Ruby must grow into an adult like Alice does, but also reconnect with her inner child as she does so like in the Little Prince.

RWBY is known for its multilayered literary allusions, and Oscar, the Little Prince, does introduce us to the story The Girl Who Fell Through the World in V8, which is Remnant's version of Alice in Wonderland. Not to mention Ruby and Oscar's arcs are intentionally foiled, so maybe it's not coincidence. It's entirely possible with how V9 also appears to be following the story of the Little Prince too. While Ruby is in the Ever After she travels through the different acres like the planets the Little Prince visits, meeting similar characters.

She is confronted with the question "what are you" on an existential level:

Little: What's wrong?

Ruby: Have you seen other people- humans- like me?

Little: Exactly like you?

Ruby: No, not exactly like me. We're similar, but different.

The Little Prince:

"Good morning" he said courteously.

"Good morning--Good morning--Good morning," answered the echo.

"Who are you?" said the little prince.

"Who are you-- Who are you-- Who are you?" answered the echo.

"Be my friends. I am all alone."

"I am all alone-- all alone--- all alone" answered the echo.

She meets Little (as in "Little Prince" as well as "Little Red Riding Hood" and "Alice Liddell") who is meant to symbolize Ruby's inner child, as the Little Prince reminds us of the inner child we have forgotten as we grow up. Both Ruby and Little "die" in a sense as the Little Prince does, but ascend and come back.

In fact the whole way ascension is described in the Ever After is on par with how the Little Prince and the Snake describe how they will leave their body as an empty shell behind to go back home, being "called back" home to the Tree.

"It'll look as if I'm dead and that won't be true, this body is simply an empty shell, I can't take it with me"

Purple Paper Pleaser: Then, the wisest of our village suggested breaking from our physical forms, so that the winds may carry us back to the Tree.

...Which leads me to how the Curious Cat and Neo are both the Snake who convince Ruby/the Little Prince to "die".

We get Cats and Snakes being linked together early on in the first episode of v9:

Mouse Leader: You have our sincerest apologies! Please understand that our kind is a bit skeptical of cats… and snakes… and cats.

This stuck out to me considering this is foreshadowing of the Curious Cat being the main antagonist of the volume, but we don't ever see any snakes in the Ever After.

The Curious Cat's first appearance is akin to the one of the snake in the Little Prince movie (2015) of two eyes peering out at the Prince

The Snake is a character who speaks in constant riddles and is confident they have all the answers to life's mysteries, similar to how the CC knows so much but is incredibly cryptic in how they speak. The snake is also meant to represent the inevitability of death, and part of the CC purpose is to help the inhabitants of Ever After to ascend, which is a process of death and rebirth.

Curious Cat: Mmmm, when we break or wear out or simply finish what we were made to do, we’re called back. But Herb… his heart was too weak to listen, so I gave him a little bit of mine.

Blake: Is he… dead?

Curious Cat: (chuckles) No, no! Well, maybe a little bit, but not at all.

When it comes to Neo being the Snake, she manifests her illusions of the Jabberwalker to terrorise RWBYJ after killing it, the one being capable of dealing permanent death to Ever Afterans.

She's also the one who offers their "poison" to the Little Prince, (the tea made from the leaves of the Tree) which they accept.

Additionally the way the Curious Cat enters Neo is like that of a snake slithering inside her. Once the snake bites someone, they are described as becoming an "empty shell", and the CC is looking for an empty human vessel to possess, while Neo wants to destroy Ruby and make her feel empty.

Curious Cat: You’ve lost something most important, haven’t you? And now you have nothing left. How delightful! An empty host, perfect for me to fill.

Neo-Torchwick: You don't deserve to die Red! You deserve to be broken down... torn apart... wiped from existence.

And when the Little Prince believes their Rose has perished (Penny) or will perish (Oscar), because of them, they give themselves over to the Snake completely.

But, Neo and the CC also play into the Fox allusion as well. The Curious Cat's ability to give his heart and understand others is similar to the Fox's sentiment in the book, who tells the Little Prince the importance of taming, and of looking with the heart:

"Now here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with one's heart that one can see rightly. What is essential, is invisible to the eye."

"Men have forgotten this basic truth. But you must not forget it. For what you have tamed, you become responsible forever. You are responsible for your rose..."

Curious Cat: I know, Your Majesty, it truly isn’t fair. You must play your game and win at any cost. It must hurt your heart. Let me help.

Curious Cat: But Herb... his heart was too weak to listen, so I gave him a little bit of mine.

He "tames" the Red Prince in managing to calm him down from executing RWBY to just exiling them.

He helps Herb to "see with the heart" when he becomes blind to how he has stagnated and forgotten his purpose in being overwhelmed by his work.

The Fox is meant to show us the importance of the patience and compassion that is needed to understand and connect with others, to reach out to them. This is part of the CC purpose in the Ever After in fixing those who are broken, but becomes the negative declination of this in becoming manipulative over time. (like him "taming" the Hawker to make him do his bidding)

Neo is like the Fox in that she dislikes hunters (huntsman and huntresses) and she has lost the person who has tamed her, who was "unique to her in all the world" with Torchwick. Part of what escalates Ruby's conflict with her is that she does not take the time to understand and empathize with her:

Ruby: Is that seriously what this is all about? You still blame me for what happened to Torchwick?!

Neo-Roman growls

Ruby: If you’re looking for an apology, you’ve wasted your time!

and much like the Fox points out here:

"One only understands the things that one tames... Men have no more time to understand anything"

And that it is only when Ruby takes the time to understand Neo towards the end that shows how she has started to grow, to understand the importance of looking with the heart, the very first step of "taming".

"You must be very patient. First you will sit down at a distance from me-like that- in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye and say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstanding"

(...I believe this will continue on in Remnant with Mercury and later Cinder)

The idea of intertwined allusions of the Fox and Snake with the CC and Neo in V9 interests me. Because it makes me wonder if my theory/prediction on Emerald/Mercury both being the Fox to Oscar's Little Prince may not be entirely right, but that they will both be the Snake also. If they are it will likely be an inversion, with the Prince (Oscar, and maybe Ruby) helping the Fox (Emerald) realise the importance of "taming" (taming Mercury, specifically) while the Snake may play a more positive role in saving instead of killing.

After all, the baobab tree roots in the book are meant to consume and threaten to kill the rose if she is neglected too long, and while Ruby is consumed by the Tree in the Ever After that very much resembles the baobab, and she does "die" in a sense, the tree is a positive force that helps her to be reborn and grow into her true self. So, Emerald/Mercury could have a similar duality in alluding to the Fox and the Snake, capable of killing and saving the Little Prince.

@aspoonofsugar I think has mentioned Emerald's design resembling a snake puts me in mind of this, plus Mercury's main allusion being, well, the god Mercury, whose symbol is this:

A staff with wings and two snakes entwined around it. His emblem also features wings, and like a snake he technically has no legs (in a symbolic sense too, his lack of semblance and agency, the freedom to be his own person) Alchemically I believe the mercurial character is meant to shift between life and death also? So there is something there in how the Snake simultaneously saves and kills the Little Prince. (also this is me really really stretching here with my red string but. The Curious Cat. Like Mer-curius. Mercury. Both the Snake for Ruby and Oscar.)

Depending on your interpretation of the stories ending, the Little Prince ends up dead because of the Snake's bite, or the Snake genuinely helped him return home and be reunited with his Rose. Mercury/Hermes is said to be able to travel anywhere, any plane of existence without limitations, which has lead to theories of Mercury's semblance being flight or teleportation, which, well, in relation to the Snake aiding the Little Prince:

"I can carry you farther than any ship could take you," said the snake. He twined himself around the little prince's ankle, like a golden bracelet. "Whomever I touch, I send back to the earth from whence he came," the snake spoke again. "But you are innocent and true, and you come from a star . . ."

This is of course just me going off on another theory for funsies, but it would be interesting if Mercury was placed in between a choice of killing or saving the Little Prince and helping reunite him with his Rose. How Emerald and Mercury would save Oscar/help him and Ruby is unknowable. They could be save their life, help delay the merge, or just helping assure him of his own personhood and agency (this could be explored through how both Mercury and Oscar lack semblances relating to the "curses" placed on them in relation to their father figures), or something else entirely, but either way I'm pretty confident they'll have a significant role to play in the Vacuo arc.

I am aware most Rosegarden fans are mainly theorizing Tyrian as the Snake, (I've even seen some say Ruby is the Snake as well as the Rose, with a similar sentiment of the Snake being capable of saving/freeing the Little Prince, not killing him) especially since the first scene Oscar is introduced is him waking up from a nightmare following Tyrian being sent to capture Ruby Rose, as well as like, him being a venomous scorpion faunus present in the desert right now. But even that only makes me more certain in a way since Tyrian is meant to be Mercury's dark foil (and the antagonistic mercurius for Emerald/Mercury) accompanying him into the desert. So like, it Could Be Both.

Ruby also meets a King/Narcissist like in the Little Prince (the Red Prince). The Narcissist demands to be complimented and coddled, much like the Red Prince. The King is drawn wearing a crown too big for him (in the 2015 movie adaptation it is constantly crooked and threatening to slip off his head), similar to the Red Prince.

The King claims absolute authority, that what he says will happen if he orders it so. However this is untrue, as he will only order what will already happen. The Red Prince claims he always wins his games, but the board game he plays with RWBY is already in his favour as the pieces on their side throw the battle so he can claim victory. Both cheat and find loopholes in order to maintain their superiority over others. The King symbolizes rulers who make a big deal about the power they have, but who in actuality are pretty ineffective as rulers and will cheat and find loopholes to justify their power. It also mocks their grandiosity and showiness, which is kind of funny because they think they are way more important than they actually are, all of which fit with the Red Prince (...and with two other characters that were significant during the Atlas Arc *points at Ironwood and Cinder* even moreso after episode 3 of RWBY Beyond)

The Lamplighter, whose job on his tiny planet is to continuously light and snuff out the single lamp, but because the night and day cycle is so short he essentially never rests and is caught in this loop, always stuck working and nothing ever changing. Jaune as the Rusted Knight is stuck doing the same jobs everyday in a Sysiphus task of preventing the Paper Pleasers from ascending, and rests very little. He is also the Geographer, who maps out other planets but can never travel himself (because he is too busy drawing maps) and suggests to the Little Prince to visit Earth (the acres that Jaune maps out but has yet to properly explore because he can't leave the Paper Pleasers, is trying to find a way back to Remnant, their "Earth").

Another interpretation is the Lamplighter as the Caterpillar, who similarly has a neverending and thankless task of helping the Afterans ascend, and has stagnated as a result.

The Stars are not a character in the book perse, but they do come up a lot both in RWBY and in the Little Prince, especially when it comes to the theme of death and rebirth, and grief. In V9 in the Ever After we meet the Paper Pleasers (origami stars) that Jaune is desperately trying to stop from ascending, essentially keeping them trapped as he monitors them. There is a character in the Little Prince that obsessively monitors the stars and keeps them trapped, the Businessman. It is pointed out by the Little Prince that while the stars make him rich, the Businessman is of no real use to the stars.

In much the same way the Paper Pleasers do not need Jaune as much as he needs them to prove his own worth.

The climax of the Little Prince movie (2015) adaptation is the stars being freed from their entrapment, ascending into the sky, free from control, by the protagonist who is a young girl trying to break free of the expectations placed on her by adults as she grows up, is like one of the stars herself, rising into the sky.

The paper pleasers ascending, while initially seen as tragic, in actual fact allows them to grow and be more, and the Genial Gem that appears to once have been the Paper Pleaser called Ruby is the one who explains this process to WBYJ as they are worried about Ruby and how the process of ascension will affect her.

The Pilot is likely WBY, as for them Ruby is like a younger sibling to all of them who helps them reconnect with their inner child early on in the story, much like the Little Prince does for the Pilot. For Weiss, Ruby helps her connect with her inner warmth and heart. For Blake, she helps reignite her lost idealism. For Yang, she is her inner child to nuture, the one who lost her mother. The author Antoine Saint-Expury based the character of the Little Prince on his own younger brother who died, and that the Pilot as the narrator of the story is himself as an older sibling remembering and grieving for them. When WBY all watch Ruby drink the tea, it mirrors the scene where the Pilot watches the Little Prince give himself to the Snake, and is too late to intervene, particularly for Yang.

Their body disappears, and it is uncertain whether the Little Prince has died or found their way back home to their planet, and to their Rose. For Ruby, it is both. She dies and was reborn, literally reclaiming Crescent Rose and regaining her Rose emblem, she reunites with her Rose, her own sense of self. And in her ascension is able to come back to defeat the Curious Cat, and return home to Remnant with everyone. (coincidentally I think this is how Oscar's story will go, he will sacrifice himself to the Merge fully and "die" in a sense, momentarily, but return fully to himself later on, reuniting with both his sense of self and his Rose, Ruby Rose).

Oscar is also Ruby's Rose in a sense, someone she has tried to protect and care for. Even the pattern on the back of his outfit can be seen as the stem and thorns of a rose, like Ruby's hood can be seen as the petals of a rose. The Little Prince believes that if the Rose is left alone, then it will be his fault if they die:

“If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, 'Somewhere, my flower is there...' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened... And you think that is not important!"

"He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing."

When Ruby cuts down an illusion of Oscar, killing him, it is foreshadowing that Ruby is afraid she will not be able to save Oscar from his fate. This is the final breaking point for her (along with Little's death) that leads to her drinking the tea.

...But as much as I am a Rosegarden shipper, it's actually her mother Summer Rose and Ruby's identity that is the main "Rose" to her Little Prince in V9 that she becomes separated and united with, imo.

She learns that their Rose (Summer, and themselves) are not uniquely one of a kind, but "like any other common rose" the same as all the other hunters represented through their weapons in the Tree with the blacksmith. Like the Little Prince in the Rosegarden:

"Good morning" said the roses.

The little prince gazed at them. They all looked like his flower. "Who are you?" he demanded, thunderstruck.

"We are roses" the roses said.

And he was overcome with sadness. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in the whole universe. And here were five thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden! ... Then he went on with his reflections: "I thought that I was rich, with a flower that was unique in all the world, and all I had was a common rose."

Not in the sense of being a SEW who believes they are the only one of their kind, but that like her mother Summer Rose, or any other huntress or huntsman that has lived (represented through the weapons she looks at, and her saying they all have the same weight to them) she is not perfect, or unique in always knowing the right thing to do and being a flawless shining hero. Ruby thought the ideal of the hero Summer Rose she carried and tried to emulate was unique and special, what made her "rich" in the sense it defined her self worth, but she was a "common rose", a person, a human being, just like Ruby. Being like any other common rose means Summer is much like Ruby herself, just a person trying their best, with their own flaws and burdens to carry. Ruby leaves the Rose behind initially (gives up her Rose emblem that Summer left her, rejects Crescent Rose) and the pedestal she puts her on shatters, becoming disillusioned with Summer like the Little Prince does with his Rose, specifically after finding out that they lied.

Ruby: What? What was that? She… She lied. She left with Raven. Why would she…?

Blacksmith: Who knows why people keep the secrets they do. Maybe you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of other’s expectations. Like Alyx, like your mother.

What makes Summer unique to Ruby is not her being an ideal hero, but the love she had for her as a mother, and that in of itself is incredibly beautiful and powerful, because it helps her realise and affirm her self worth.

Summer: (voice) I love you…

Ruby turns to see the red glowing light behind her.

Summer: (voice) Just the way you are.

"Of course I love you," the rose said to him. "If you were not aware of it, it was my fault"

Much like the Little Prince learning and understanding that his Rose is unique to him, not because she is one of a kind, but because of their time shared together, loving and caring for one another. That it is our ties to people that makes us special and unique in the world, to the people we are connected to and choose to care for, more than any power or titles do. Which goes back to the source of Ruby's power as a Silver Eyed Warrior, her love and compassion of those around her. The true power of humanity.