#how to remove more acid in our body

[novashelby]

The Storm That Heals Us~ Tommy Shelby x Cancer patient!Reader: Angst

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Triggering topic such as cancer

Word Count: 1,223

Summary: Tommy's wife is diagnosed with cancer and tries to hide it from him because they have a rocky marriage

This was requested by anon a while back. I hope it is okay. I don't do well with the topic of cancer

We’ve only been married a year. They say three is a lucky number. I was supposed to be the lucky number. But truth be told, nothing about our marriage had been lucky. In the midst of all his darkness, I was convinced he married me for emotional convenience. But when Tommy Shelby found out I wasn’t going to be walked on or over, we started fighting more. A hot head and one who hates to be wrong. It’s a bit tricky to figure out which one of us is which. Perhaps we are the same person and that is why we suck together. 

But that is not why it’s unlucky number three. Just last month I was bathing, feeling the warm soapy water encasing my body. When I dragged the sponge over my right breast, something seemed off. Something seemed tender and bruised. Quickly, I threw the sponge in water and felt around with my hand. There was a small lump, but nonetheless a lump. If I was anyone else, I would have assumed a pimple or swollen hair follicle, but I’m not anyone else. It’s the family curse. My great grandmother, my grandmother, my two aunts, and my mother have all found the lump. Thankfully for my mother, she was able to get it treated. But I am doomed for bad luck. That’s what Tommy tells me everytime something happens. “You have that fookin’ luck…that bad luck.” 

As soon I found that fucking lump, I went to the doctor only to get confirmation of what I already knew. I hate to say that the first thing that left my mouth was, “how long?” But the doctor sighed. They always sigh. 

He told me, “Well, it’s small. We’ll remove it and do some radiation treatment-”

“And lose my hair?” I also hate to say that was the second question, but Tommy loves my hair. Sometimes I think what he loves about me is thinning with each day.  

I never told Tommy about the procedure, and one night, when he went to run his hand over my body, I stopped him. It was as if I was repulsed by him. Just as I knew, Tommy didn’t take very kindly to my refusal. He sat up, looking at me before saying, “is this how our marriage is going to be now?” We sat side by side, under the covers on the bed. He replaced my breast in lieu of a cigarette.

“I don’t feel well,” I said, and his response made my blood boil. 

“You never feel well anymore,” he said. “I’m starting to think it’s me. Perhaps we should discuss something that will make you feel better.” There was always a tone of threat. He dealt with his lovers as he did his business partners. 

That was it for that night. 

Which brings me to now. The bathroom floor feels cold against my clammy body. I puked up my dinner which was nothing, but a few biscuits and a glass of milk. Milk is a no-no for my new stomach, I’ve learned. But as I’m on this bathroom floor, I realize. I realize that Tommy will know. He will figure it out. My body will thin out, I’ll be bruised, and my cheeks will sink in. Nevermind my hair that is already falling out in clumps. As I hear his footsteps approach, I try to gather myself to save face, but moving just makes it worse. My body feels like it’s on a merry go round, and I cling to the toilet once more. At this point, as I feel the burning acid climb up my insides, I don’t know what I am throwing up. It is a clear bile. 

As I am hunched over, Tommy walks in and asks, “are you pregnant?” Oh, how easy that would have been. 

I turn to him, face pale. I could see myself in the mirror. My eyes look sunken with heavy bags. “No.”

He sighs. “Have you seen a doctor?” he asks like I am dumb.

I’m blunt. “Yes.”

“Well?” he presses, coming inward, leaning on the bathroom vanity, puffing on his smoke. Always a smoke. Before I can answer him, I beg him to put it out.

“The smell, Tommy-”

“How far along are you?” he asks, disregarding the fact I told him I’m not pregnant. “Funny enough, love, we haven’t fucked in two months. Every night I wait for your comfort. Perhaps you’re going elsewhere for it-”

“I’m not pregnant, Tommy.” My head is boiling at this point and I feel my temper on the verge. I sit up, resting against the toilet, trying to catch my breath. He’s not convinced, I can see it in his face. How he’s half ignoring me. 

“You know,” he starts, pointing a finger my way. “I do fuckin’ love you. You married me, thought you understood the way I am-”

“Tommy,” I plead, closing my eyes. “Please.” But he goes on and on about how I betrayed his trust, but he still loves me and wants to work through whatever it is. 

“But that fuckin’ baby is going-”

“I’m not fuckin’ pregnant!” I yell at him in a tone I never dared to before. It was enough for him to get a bit startled. He is about to say something else when I say, “I found a lump on my right breast.” Tommy pauses mid-smoke, and looks over at me, eyes knitted. “A few weeks ago, maybe a month ago now…I don’t know. They ran a test-”

“You never told me,” he says in this low, depressing whisper that makes me feel like every problem in the world is my fault. Tommy finds his way to the bath basin and sits on the edges. He throws his lit smoke in the sink and runs his fingers through his hair. “And you never thought to tell me?”

“I didn’t want it to be another burden-”

“What?” He turns to me, face like a ghost. He slides to the marble flooring next to me. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I feel him tenderly grab me by the face, placing me in his lap. His chin rests on my head. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, love, I’m…love, you should have told me?” This was the Tommy I met and agreed to marry. The one who is tender and loving, smooth talking and sweet. I twist in his lap and his hand rests on my cheek. “I’m scared to ask-”

“It’s early enough,” I say, nodding, swallowing the lump down. “But it doesn’t feel any better-”

“No, no it doesn’t,” he agrees, leaning down to place a kiss on my forehead. “God, love, I love you so much. And I just…I've been so selfish. From now, you and I are going to go through this together-”

“Tommy, Tommy, please,” I whisper. “Just lets not act all weepy-”

“I’m not,” he protests, gripping my chin. “I’m taking care of you because if you have forgotten, I am your husband.” Yes, I have forgotten, but at this moment, I forgive it and soak up his affection. I need every inch of tenderness I can get my hands on. And so, I move on and relax into his words. “I love you.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” I say before quickly adding, “I love you, too.” 

[hwaightme]

Use me (part 2)

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR LEO KING'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(part 1) (masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🥂 pairing: non-idol!mingi x fem!reader (implied yun... x reader - i wonder who...) 🥂 genre: smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers-ish 🥂 summary: you try to forget and return to what you know best, but what is on a sober mind quickly turns into a drunk phone call and a life-changing confession. 🥂 wordcount: 22.5k 🥂 warnings/tags: language, alcohol/drinking, over-drinking/being drunk, toxic behaviour, risky behaviour, unhealthy coping, trauma, implied past abuse/assault, flashbacks, numbing, one night stands, learning to love, learning to feel, mingi driving through the night, implied psychologist!mingi as job, fools in love and lust 🥂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 🥂 a/n: this has been long in the works, first as a haunting thought, then as what you may see here. i'd love to dedicate this fic to @byuntrash101 <3 thank you for your continued support, for our love and friendship <3 to everyone, i appreciate you all, any and all reblogs, notes, thoughts appreciated, much love!

🥂 nsfw tags: dom-leaning switch!reaader, sub-leaning switch!mingi, protected sex, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, blowjob, facial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, implied squirting, dirty talk, pet names (darling, doll, gorgeous... others...), loving talk/pillow talk, mentioned aftercare and general gentleness, reader is sober atp, explicit asking for consent, wearing mingi's t-shirt, a lot of kissing because they are all over each other, a whole lot of doting, sex that is like a hug

"I love you..."

A slam of the door.

Where it all began.

You. Left in a loud solitude. Ceasing to stifle your sobs with your tee and letting out an animalistic cry. An innocent creature who trusted unconditionally, only to be shot at point blank and abandoned once the fun chase was over. There was no one out there except yourself to mourn your loss. Trapped in a dark room for what you believed to be the rest of your years.

Harsh reality collapsed on you under impossibly strong gravity, and trapped you with one brutal swipe. Your heart was being eaten away by your acidic mind that kept on replaying, replaying, replaying the moments that had led to your metamorphosis. A catharsis in reverse, an autonomous inflictor of agony festering in every crevice. 

It was funny how one's thoughts could be so lucid, come the worst. You could clearly recollect just how grateful you had been that your mother, as always, was out of town, and upon her return would be in oblivious bliss, and how ‘wonderful’ it was that there was nothing to look forward to for the next day. Or perhaps ever. You did not want to lift your hopes again and again only for them to descend faster than light to the pits of hell signed with your name. No need. There was enough time to prepare your space, invite and get to know your unrelenting demons before the alarms reminding you of basic social functioning would ring, and your body would be torn from your whirlpool of torment to enter the hustle and bustle of crowds. Not one person was aware of who they were walking with. Who they were walking past. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and you tore yours out in an effort to distort and move on.

The luxury of time before the ringing of the digital bells. You could cleanse yourself until your skin was no longer yours, until what remained of your willingness to perceive could spot the etchings of a body. You could cut out every part of you that served as a reminder. Subject each one to the savage ritual, until you were pure. The perfect angel once more, no longer decorated in shades of blue and maroon inside and out. You could remove each lobe, each cortex of your brain and douse it in the strongest agents, and to the rhythm of the rippling waters from the sink submerge them in the illusion of bliss.

And yet, you had not moved an inch, choosing to remain as a stranger in your own flesh.

You could fight back. You could rise above and spit the venom of the scorned and those isolated by societal hellfire, raise the flag and tell the story of those who could not. Be larger than yourself, a self-starting role model, redefine yourself as someone who used their past as motivation, as a foundation for unshakeable morals that would lead you to a humanity-changing greatness.

But what good was it when you stopped feeling? What happened? Who were you?

It was a wave that took you in, providing you the satisfaction of prolonged sensory suffocation, suspending you in senseless attitude, order, and disposition. The self-hating rebellion that had reared its head and manifested itself within you, turned you into something out of a nightmare. But you had never realised just how intricate and terrifying was the persona you had materialised within yourself. The cavities and taboos that had now become intricacies and embellishments of the scarred soul would have been repulsive to you before. To the one who existed before that damned day, hour, minute, second.

Numb. You were numb. Always numb. Cruising through your years, silencing any possibility of truly healing. Because no. You were not damaged - you would spit at anyone who dared to call you that. You were not hurt - no signs of weakness could be found on the surface, and this was how you were surviving. You were above it. Nothing happened. What were you talking about? Nothing. Nothing at all. That was what you kept repeating to yourself until the mantra turned into the truth. Truth be told, you were not sure what you were mourning anymore, except that if you did not, out of habit, it would hurt until you would be twisted limb by limb into submission. And the life you had chosen would begin again - new day, same mistakes.

In the process of your radical renaissance into a fatal night-time goddess, you did try to find love. Those had been the last cries of a helpless bird plummeting from the sky. But it all cycled back to the same old thing. Besides, if nobody around you knew what love was, how could you be expected to comprehend, let alone give it? You could not be bothered to believe that there were outliers, nor delve into the reasons why things like ‘friends’ ever stuck around. You lived, you breathed, and that was good enough. You wanted to purge yourself of love.

That was how the three little words, in that haunting sequence, came to be your personal poltergeist; a curse to summon a despicable demon that you vowed to never utter. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice - sure. Just not those three words. They had lost their significance aside from being the root of your troubles and despair. The words did not mean a person would stay. The words were not a promise that you would not be hurt. The words were not a shield that you could hide behind. So instead, you took to sharpening knives, being a spiteful hedonist in search of the last laugh.

Little did you know, love was a creative sadistic monster, and had been by your side all this time. It chose to attack you during the most pleasurable high – one that you had crafted and followed in perfunctory resistance.

"I love you, Y/N..."

It was almost the same. Only this time, it was you shutting the door. Running from yourself.

Your getup appeared almost comical now, as you sat, doubled over on the sofa in Wooyoung’s and San’s apartment. What had been a stunning pair of pumps was now a miserable member of the abandoned shoe society, piled in a corner right by the entrance and masked by an ancient collection of plastic bags, courtesy of San’s resourcefulness. The black dress that was threatening to ride further and further up your thighs at any moment was nothing more than shame vehemently clinging onto your skin.

While you were combating the whirring tornado of short- and long-term memories with a bouncing leg and a zoned-out stare into the carpet, your friends remained equally silent, knowing better than to disturb. Over the years they had never asked why you did things the way you did. They merely learned the patterns and accepted you as you were – an action for which you could never repay them, so you simply hoped that, at least sometimes, you were doing the same if they needed it.

Your cryptic sequence was broken only when you felt a warm fabric being draped over your shoulders, making you instantly stiffen, alert. The rush of foreign sensations made you gasp as your eyes darted up, to be met by San’s, who was sitting across from you on a faux leather ottoman. You had no recollection of when he had moved it from its original position by the wall, between the TV stand and an indoor palm tree, and it made you strangely guilty. You really had a knack for not paying attention to those close to you.

When San noticed your unfocused gaze, he slowly raised both of his hands, palms up, inhaling at the same time, and then lowering them, along with an audible, level exhale. You chuckled, making him break into a small grin – you were coming back. Not quite ready to touch what appeared to be a jacket or cardigan that was now embracing you, you put your own hands between your thighs, feeling their miniscule tremors as the adrenaline high subsided.

“You’re literally shivering, Y/N. Do you want me to, uh, bring you a blanket? We have a nice wool throw; a gift from San’s… mom… so you know it’s going to be cosy.” Wooyoung cautiously explained to you in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. He was standing off to your right, arms crossed.

The last time you had heard him use such a soft tone was when you had come with him to visit a friend’s newborn – and even then, he had to have been reminded to ‘shut it or he would be on nappy changing duties for a week’. It made you want to scream, act out, anything to push away this coddling and belittling that was passed off as sympathy. Oh, how you despised when people seemed to walk on eggshells around you. There always existed a desire within you to prove to others that you never needed help, or at least would never ask for it explicitly. That was why, even now, during your rather turbulent departure from the first night in a while that you knew you would not forget no matter how much you might want to, you did not want to play it cool. You needed to.

“That’s because you guys appear to be saving on your electricity bills. I told you: an apartment with heated floors is a bad idea.” you attempted to keep your voice level, but it remained airy and weak, wholly ignoring your efforts. It was as if somehow, your body was physically worn from the marathons you ran in your mind.

“But it keeps my feet nice and toasty.” Wooyoung whined and wiggled his toes demonstratively

“Which is why you… ah nevermind. Cool apartment, either way. I knew you guys were secretly interior designers.”

The topic change helped you get more comfortable in your skin. You finally managed to find the energy and courage to grab onto the edges of the jacket, which had turned out to be Wooyoung’s beloved grey fleece zip up hoodie and pull it tighter around you. It wasn’t so hard to recognise the relief that had washed over your friends’ features as they saw you carry out the simple motion. It really was cold. Though you had no way to distinguish between the internal and external.

As you transitioned from reliving the past to inching through the present, step by step until you found yourself leaning against a kitchen counter with a mug of hot coffee cradled in your hands, your habitual mindset returned. The lines, turned stark and agonising after hearing those forbidden words had regained their hazy infusion, reinvigorating you with a pleasant buzz of numbness, reminiscent of the prickly sensation when muscles just began to wake up, albeit more lulling, something only a person who was alive in the soul was capable of experiencing. It was not long until your friends’ suggestions and extensive monologues began to fall flat on your ears, drifting through your body and expelling themselves to never be remembered. You watched their lips move, their hands paint pictures of a future for you in the air, and yet it all turned to darkness. You swiftly turned the lights off to their reprimands, their comfort, just like you had done before. It was clear that they did not expect much from you either, otherwise why would they sound so well-practised? A sense of deja vu washed over you; as if you had been in the same place before, with the same heavy weight in your chest, cradling the same mug and drinking the same beverage. Were you ever going to change? 

Wouldn't it be funny if you knew how to follow advice? Technically you did. For an entire two weeks thanks to Wooyoung and San forcing you into a movie night with them on the Friday in the middle of the madness - you do not remember a single one of the movies watched, all of them having turned into a blur, and you: a jittery mess. You needed your weekly diversion, your sensual fix that you had ingrained into your routine as if it was yoga or pilates. Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. Your version was just a lot more exciting than the average physical exertion in the name of wellbeing. So as you had sat between your two friends, with San having his hand lazily thrown over your shoulders, serving as your head rest, and Wooyoung having made your lap into his pillow, you envisioned a different comfort for yourself. All this cosiness was making you choke, suffocating you as an anaconda would at an astonishingly fast pace, and you could feel that another second more and you would prefer to call your closest friends - strangers. You needed out; at least one day of the week, like you three had done previously. You had tried to hint to San that maybe returning into the swing of things would let his heartbreak pass more quickly, but he only patted your head and gave you a melancholy smile. Though you had returned it, just to soften the blow and reassure him through his romantic solitude, behind your cheek was a bitten tongue, acting as the last straw between your molars and preventing you from making matters worse - at least for San and Wooyoung. You had nothing to say for yourself; actually, you never did. You were never one for self-descriptions or elaborations, preferring to show and not tell. Another reason why in this platonic silence, you were being driven into craving your favourite meal of depravity, where the only language spoken was that of action and seduction. If you were to succeed in moving on from the mistake that still lingered on your skin - kisses trailing the mazes of your body and ghosting over your lips, you needed to erase them by the same method. Time to take matters into your own hands, and that meant a new dress, a new pair of heels, a new club and a new accessory for one night.

You could not hear anyone nor anything. Most importantly, you could not hear your erratic heartbeat, nor the thoughts that were looming over you and speeding around your mind palace. No - if anything was going to take your breath away, it would be the lips of another stranger. Anything to erase the ones that were too laden with emotion, too laden with affection and infatuation for you. A toxic poison that had transferred right into your bloodstream and was beginning to eat you alive. You needed to escape, find a cure to this turmoil before you succumbed to the idea that anyone could care about you more than for a night. There was satisfaction in routine, in a fluorescent madness that was systematically established in your life as a way to let go, thereby gain control. You needed a hit, badly, and one so strong that the weekend would not exist for you, and Mingi's lingering touches would be fully wiped from your body. How dare he spill his darkest secrets to you, mixing nightmare with the ultimate fantasy? He was going to pay for thinking that he could control you in this way and spin threads out of your soul, not by confrontation, but by your sheer indifference. He was just a man, you had repeated to yourself like a mantra as you stepped into a club in a completely different part of town, looking ever so stunning in a deep burgundy dress; he had no influence over your actions and you owed him nothing, not even an explanation. Obviously, he was the one who had overstepped boundaries that he was supposed to sense were there, so why should you consider his melancholic eyes, the sunny smile that had set as soon as he would wake up to see you gone, the- 

No. No more Mingi. Only the beautiful stranger who was devouring you with his alluring orbs, looking past his friends and making you feel as though you were the sole being in that hall. This was the man who could help you forget, at least you hoped he would. Sauntering straight to the bar, you did not spare him as much as a glance when his figure drifted past you. You could sense more gazes following you, just how you always liked it, burning away those adoring caresses that made your skin crawl; you needed a sensory and sensual apocalypse, a purgatory for the damned, reducing your life back to that familiar sin that tasted so sweet and was a stone cold bitch in the morning. You were not some frail creature waiting for a proclamation of love for the sake of validation, nor were you a seeker of such types of closeness - if anyone, it was you who knew it was more fleeting than a good fuck. At least there was satisfaction and sport to gain from the later, and the heart remained caged and untouched. It was not hard to be animalistic, all you needed to do was to give up ruminating those classic "do they like me do they not", and slam the door to social niceties shut. There was no room for feelings when you needed to fly from the tormenting earth, for they were too heavy - a ballast that you needed to rid yourself of as soon as you could. The haze, you needed to give into the tipsy haze; one drink, another, and the world was beautiful. Stunning, even. The blur was an acute desire, accentuating sensuality and letting you transform into the killer queen of the night. 

In this wondrous dissociation, you could not care less about who you were nor who the people around you paraded themselves as. It was all a play-pretend, and may the most talented actors win. No one came to the club to fall in love, and if they did, they were sure to have their heart broken and stomped on, over and over, and over again. Finishing the last of your old fashioned - a drink which you had been introduced to by none other than your friend Wooyoung, you decided that it was time to let yourself go on the dance floor, only to be followed suit by the tall man whom you had subconsciously beckoned. Clearly, he was interested in the same exact thing, and took no time in approaching you, disregarding all other people, and laying a hand on your hip to lead you in a sultry, rhythmic dance further igniting your hope and anticipating desire. You chuckled to yourself as you felt that familiar buzz once more, and studied the way in which your temporary partner's muscles moved in an unbelievably enticing manner under his shirt - material for your lustful imagination. The heat from his body was addictive, and the adrenaline and dopamine-fuelled pace at which you moved to the intense beat left you even more determined than usual. You needed him. You needed this stranger, depended on him and trusted him more than any of your friends, and definitely more than a certain someone who thought he could be something more. As you took your so-called saviour by the collar and tugged so he would be only an inch away, you finally asked his name. His eyes revealed a flash of lasciviousness, just how you wanted, and he sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered back: 

"And with what purpose, sweetheart?" Chuckling airily, you pulled him even closer, until he smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, more determined, more aggressive and expectant of a continuation in this dangerous game. 

"So that I know what I'll be screaming tonight." 

For a second, you felt him falter, breath hitching as he took in your words, causing fear to rise in your chest as a flash of the timid lovesick angel ran across your vision, and you could almost picture Mingi instead of the canvas for a good night who you were seducing. But this did not last nearly long enough for you to back down, and a line of kisses along the jawline, intimate yet loveless, purely carnal and revering your determination confirmed your selection. This man was on your wavelength, and this man was: 

"Bold of you to assume that you’ll be able to, sweetheart. I dare say it won’t be usef-." 

Use me.

The phrase flashed in your mind just as the attractive man closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Without as much as a pause, he tilted your head slightly, giving himself a better angle to lightly nibble on your lower lip, sending a shudder down your back. Fingers digging into your skin as he swallowed another sigh - a fragment of your tainted soul for him to keep, he was the embodiment of addiction. The luminance from the neon hallucinations that surrounded you were decorating your and his skin in vibrant greens and purples. He was confident, self-assured, leading despite possessing the hints of an otherwise reserved man. Your thoughts involuntarily drifted to a certain bashful someone who had ended up with you at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you - in the wrong mindset. Tonight, you wanted to be used. This much you deserved and required in order to purge yourself of this newfound tendency to reminisce and compare everything against Mingi. Who were you? The one you chose to entertain yourself with tonight had his teasing tongue against your lips, not exactly asking for access - demanding it, and it reeled you back into the whirlpool of a daze that came with the deafening drumming of desire, growing louder and louder until nothing else would exist.

His touch - you were caught ablaze as you let him guide your footing off the dance floor and into the dimming lights towards the edges of the club’s main hall. His torso pressed against you, strong arm hooked around your upper body as he kissed the side of your neck. One blink, another and your back was pressed against a cool wall in the corridor that ran around the establishment’s perimeter, rarely traversed, often used by the likes of you and evidently, him. You could not bear to open your eyes out of fear of finding someone you did not want to see - the intensity of your recollections growing stronger with every arousing movement. The same high that you normally would be building up towards was nowhere to be sensed while your nameless lover reached for your breast, cupping and kneading it with an open, salacious wanting. There was little left to the imagination, just as you had initially wanted, and yet something was missing from the series of events that the universe offered to you; the storyline that you had crafted was beginning to get dreary. Squinting down to force yourself into this darling’s passionate kisses, you still struggled to rid yourself of the monologues, the fears and most importantly, the terror-inducing phrase that had pierced through your heart and left shrapnel in every organ, turning into butterflies in your stomach and flowers in your lungs. It hurt to discover yourself in the same situation as before, always looking for something and someone better. Clearly, your stalling and rapid cooldown had not gone unnoticed as the man pulled away, hands back on your hips, one lifting to readjust your dress a little. What had been the glare of a predator was replaced with an almost friendly concern, and the danger which you had craved a mere few minutes ago evaporated, leaving behind an approachable gentleman, the swiftness of the change nearly giving you whiplash.

“Trying to forget someone?”

The question was jarring, somehow more jarring than how he was now presenting himself. With a glance to either side, he took you by the hand, leading you away from what was about to be your scene for a one night stand and back to the main hall. Stumbling over your feet you barely kept up with his pace, his taste, his scent still consuming you and rendering you to move and think slower, the combination with the ringing of alcohol in your bloodstream proving to be reckless, nearly deadly. As the thrum of a hip hop track reset the heart’s pace, jolting you awake and clambering for any kind of reassurance, your eyes met the tall beau’s gaze once again. He had smoothed the locks that you had ruffled, his slightly swollen lips, curled into a lopsided grin being the only sign of what had just unfolded. You could not help but raise an eyebrow, only now registering his question and deeming the gesture to be an appropriate response.

“I don’t exactly fuck emotional baggage, if you get what I mean.”

“Ouch, but fair.” breathless, you squeezed the answer out of your throat, unsteady.

“Glad we understand each other, uh…” he trailed off, attempting to recall the name you did not give. You tilted your head, trying to do the same for him, but failing to find an answer. Did it slip your mind? The recent past turned to centuries, accelerating into emptiness. 

“Hm?”

“Yeah. Just, glad we’re on the same page, I guess.” he cleared his throat, looking back at the vibrancy of dance and sensuality unfolding before you. The music changed once more - once again, another song about a body count and about substances that you would never mention in the daytime. At least not yet. Your head began to hurt, perhaps only a little more than your heart.

“Y/N.”

“Mm…ha. Nice to meet you. You can call me… Yun.” he deliberated for a while before giving you what you assumed to be either a nickname, or a parting gift of a syllable just for you. 

“Nice to meet you, Yun.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, it was clear that he was looking for the right words to let you down slowly and make a swift escape back to his own life, his own friends, his own respective path that was far from yours. Very likely, as it should be. With a sharp exhale, you smiled, making it your turn to induce perplexion. With every vice came sacrifice and risk, and this type was far too common. Be it from starting on the wrong foot or losing the rhythm and steam in the process, two people under the cover of night with nothing tying them together were bound to drift away, it was simply a matter of when. Evidently this was happening sooner rather than later for you and what you had been hoping would be a solution to your anguish. It had to have been your fault, you told yourself while an unreadable gleam settled on your features and you gave the man a single wave to suggest that he need not bother with excessive politeness - after all you had gotten to know each other well enough for that, at least in your books.

“Guess I am right then.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your reaction.”

“Meet quote unquote emotional women often?”

“They seem to be my type.” you chuckled as he shifted his stance and took a step closer to you, only to turn his body to observe the dance floor while standing by your side. As friends would. An involuntary memory stabbed at your side one again as you mumbled back:

“Maybe you’re a magnet.”

“I don’t mind when they look so good,” with a look to the side, Yun regarded your pose - leaning against the wall, arms crossed, previous aims for allure forgotten as your eased into a more comfortable back and forth, the rush ebbing away to be replaced with an anxious dissatisfaction, “Alas, you are in too deep I fear.”

“Am not.” you hissed out, brows knitting together as you desperately clung onto the present, only to hear and see the same voice, the same words, the same man who you were so adamant to erase. With every sentence uttered by the man, Mingi became more prominent. A laughing stock to the self and to all others - you shook your head. What had gotten into you?

“I don’t like to be called other people’s names during sex, sorry, not my kink.”

The out of pocket line, completed by a realisation at his own choice of words coaxed a chuckle out of your otherwise progressively crumbling state. Even though you had tried to remain below your limit, the alcohol in your system was hitting you with an inexplicable force, the pounding of your chest travelling to your temples, getting stronger until you could barely focus on Y- was it Yun? Yang? Yeong? You needed something to dull this. Remove this. Cut it out of your system so that you did not have to think.

“Fair.” you forced out, the neutral smile remaining on the lips, lingering traces of a falsified passion becoming your new tint, a colour you liked to wear so often it could be your favourite.

“Have a good night, yeah? Sorry things couldn’t be more fun, darling.”

There it was, you could read it on his face. Embarrassment, pity, the hope to never encounter you again. The reason why you always left first, turned around and strode away into the darkness from whoever it was you were to pick for the night. Including the one man who had revealed his soul to you; his innermost thoughts. And just like an automaton, a faulty machine, you blended his heartfelt words with the filth made for a landfill of lies and dread. The back of the failed thrill, whose name was just out of reach, growing smaller and blending into the scenery was a slap across the face, even though you had told yourself time and time again that you had seen enough of the same to not be affected. It had to be the lights, you told yourself. Definitely the lights. And how they reminded you of Mingi, how his eyes reflected the hues as he stared into yours so tenderly, like he was seeing an angel. How he gently held you, your fragility becoming his eternity as he whispered the words that acted like the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that caused the storm. Logic was struggling to keep up with your rumination - this was a different club and a different man, nothing about this could ever amount to the night you had felt like a goddess. If anything, the abandonment was gnawing at your flesh like a foul, feral beast, exposing you more than your dresses ever could.

An airy laugh accompanied your amble towards the bar. You should have known  - after all, if you were told to not think of the pink elephant, you would only think of the pink elephant. Same with the ‘no Mingi’ rule. It was an endless cycle that you were trapped in, and as days stretched out into two weeks, the avoidance was becoming unbearable. Your hand moved on its own as you called the bartender over, mouth and throat working together, far removed from your mind as they ordered champagne. Why? What was there to celebrate? There was no way of knowing, but the bubbles were your closest friends tonight, and you wanted to forget what just happened and whatever was supposed to happen until Saturday were to roll around - tomorrow could be the day you took care of the dirty laundry.

It did not take long for the beverage to transform you, and in a matter of a quarter of an hour with two or so glasses down you were back on the dance floor. But the vigour, the style and the soaring supremacy were nowhere to be found. As you tried to find your place among the sweaty bodies, nudged around by sharp elbows and tugged away by grubby hands, the sensation of belonging was but a mirage. Slow, you wanted to be anywhere in this cesspool of limbs, move along with the rest of the masses and get lost in the action so you did not have to consider your own movements, giving yourself up to the inertia of a wild crowd. One push, another, you were crammed between one figure and another, another push and a snag at your hair and you were flinging yourself wildly to an illusion of freedom in a different section of the floor. A phone flying beside you, barely an inch away from your cheek, flicking your earring and momentarily blinding you with a flashlight that had been left on. What were they looking for, you wondered. Perhaps the same thing as you. As you spun your head around, the pounding getting louder once again, the shoving had become more aggressive and two rough hands landed on your waist, supported by a lewd greeting. Jolted awake from chaotic musings, you grabbed a fistful of someone’s shirt, screaming out until the bubbly was rendering your speech incomprehensible - someone had to help you. Commotion unclear, breathing unsteady, the hands, the legs the torsos and heads all morphed into one creature who you were battling in your last fit of rage. Another pull, earning a yelp, and you were encountered with a familiar face. Y, or was it A, or I? Something or other, his name was a mystery to you. Tall. Handsome - you thought. In the blur it was impossible to detect. You remembered that he tasted sweet. Or maybe not - the champagne had taken over your system, your miniature party for one. Pushing yourself off the man you stumbled towards what you remembered to be the emergency exit. At least you were careful enough to avoid dragging yourself out of a club in shame from the front entrance; you were not that inexperienced to allow yourself to do that. 

Cursing under your breath you put one hand on the black wall of the corridor that would lead you to your freedom. Passing by a place your instinct was telling you was significant, you paused, only to shake your head and step forwards. One, two, three, four - congratulations, you could count. The coolness of the metal on the door was a relief as you leaned over unceremoniously to press your forehead against it, not caring if someone were to see you. You sighed into the sensation as the metal absorbed some of the heated rush, a portion of clarity returning to you and reminding you of your initial mission. That was right, you needed to get out. And ‘needed out’ in general.

With one quick shove the door swung open, spitting you out onto the sidewalk of, much to your fortune, a less crowded street, occupied for the most part by equally inebriated party-goers, celebrating the miracle that was a Friday night - a time that was slowly turning into your nightmare. A cacophony of beats and melodies from one club, another, all accumulating in a sonorous hellscape to render your senses almost fully numb. Feeling the air in front of you, you swore you could touch every particle, tendrils of wind brushing past you like a busy stranger. While there were not that many people, some yelling, others laughing wholeheartedly from the belly to the heavens, others simply enjoying the drinks that they carried out from their venues of choice, they most certainly had enough of a presence to leave you pitifully shattered. All eyes, of all hues and intensities, rolling and glaring and focusing on you. Poring over your miserable form and minimising you into a vermin under observation, a bacterium trapped on a petri dish under a microscope. They knew, they had to know about what had happened - about everything. They could read you from one year to another and were ready to tear you apart. They knew that you were a slave to the escapism, knew that you were a creature of lascivious habit, knew that you were thoughtlessly hurting the people you loved-

Loved. Nausea caught up to you as the word crawled into the forefront of your dazed mind, settling like a viscous tar over every subject matter and memory, over consciousness itself. Though it was nearly impossible to finetune your movements, you managed to locate the pole of a streetlight without having to slam a swinging hand into it for guidance, and slide down onto the edge of the cold pavement. Narrowly avoiding a discarded bottle, caked with unrecognisable substance and pulp from the wet and tarnished label, you felt your weight press into the stone, hoping that you would dissolve into the painfully rigid material. Elbows on your legs and hands on your face, you desperately tried to wipe the word away - you did not mean it, did you? You never had to say it, why say it now? Your familiar monster reared its head, drinking every last droplet of your sobriety to combat what you had admitted. Who did you love? Two legs drifted past you, stopping for a second to let a voice call out to you before you waved them off. Click-clack, click-clack away and away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. Who did you love? The pounding of your heart was overwhelming you, and you could barely hear yourself over its chaotic drumming. Who did you love? While it was easy to imagine your closest friends, the same ones who had tried to protect you from yourself and who, undoubtedly, were now cursing your name and the ground you walked on, your brain decided that there was another, less welcome character that should join the scene. With a groan, you clenched your hands into white-knuckled fists and hit your temples, once, twice as though that would help in getting rid of the precious image.

This had to be happening because Mingi said it first. The reason why Mingi was the one to persistently sway you, haunt you even when you were purposefully trying to drown in yourself and others, had to be because he planted those words in your mind when you least expected it - forced them upon you, an unwelcome gift. This was how it always happened: drawn in by the attention, promised a future and wholehearted adoration, you gave your all, only for the one who dared to utter the words to step away, having fulfilled their needs. ‘I love you’ was an exchange token, and apparently, your local currency. Like a penny out of rotation, those words should not hold any meaning, but they did, and you hated yourself for it. You hated how easily they had rolled off Mingi’s tongue, hated how they replayed in your head more times than you could process, hated how they were the words you wanted to hear again. Out of all the words in every language, these were the ones that introduced pain to the world.

He needed to answer for himself, your mind decided. Your rationality would consider the consequences later. Now, you needed answers. To what questions? That, too, could be decided at a later time. Clumsy hands searching in your purse, roughly pushing aside a slim card wallet and keys to take out the device which was now illuminating your fatigued features, the glare of the screen making you squint, every number and letter barely legible due to an intense blur that dominated your vision. If only you could wipe it away - a hand reaching to rub at the eyes, not caring for the eyeshadow nor the mascara, more darkness, friction, light again. As you moved the phone closer and further away from you in an attempt to find a golden distance that would give you better focus, as if you were operating with a broken camera, the thumb kept on searching for the right number. Contact after contact names flew by, turning into one continuous line, with the surnames and nicknames twisting and turning like snakes, colliding trains in your brain until finally, you found him. Not in the contacts, but in the myriad of messages you had left on read - another pattern characteristic of yours. It was not that you wanted to leave people behind, but your hands never felt strong enough to respond, and your thoughts could never tie together a satisfactory response. So you stayed silent.

He had checked on you, apparently. Asked if you were okay. The first time was two weeks ago. Then ten days. Then, radio silence. Probably was mad at you. You could not blame him. There had been no explanation, nor any wish to contact from your end - while it was what you usually did to strangers, not catching their name beyond the bedroom, nor ever seeking them out after you used their bodies, Mingi had been a friend. Not anymore, at least that was certain. But still, habit could not cut it here. This was why you needed answers - why could he not act like everyone else and fall in line, into the clear cut moulds? Finger hovering over the call button, now burning into your skin, you could not stop yourself from shaking. Biting your lip, all hints of colour replaced by a rekindling fire, you took the step over the edge, repeating his name in your head like a mantra as the call connected, and you imagined his phone starting to ring, somewhere out there in the city. Suddenly, your thoughts could not be more lucid, and you could almost see how the device would be vibrating on his bedside table. Right, he had to be asleep by now, surely. Just as you were about to end the call, however, the screen changed, and the time began to climb from zero.

“Uh… it’s… midnight or something… Y/N?” his husky voice, husky, warmer than the summer sun answered you. You remained quiet, afraid of letting this moment go, “Y/N? Are you okay?” he was asking if you were okay-

“Where are you?” a new harshness snapped you out of your temporary stupor.

“I- uh… I- am…” you tried, but could not find the right answer, however much you tried.

“Are you at… a club?” The pause was nearly lethal. You focused on the rustling in the background - it seemed that you were right and he indeed was in bed. Not anymore. A sigh and a thump, more movement. He was disappointed, wasn’t he? But he was listening. He had to listen to you.

“Not… not anymore.”

“Did someone hurt you?” The question felt foreign, unexpected. You raised your head, hugging your knees to your body, a terrible frailness seeping to your very bones.

“N-no…”

“Where are you?”

You could not believe that you were talking to Mingi. After all this time he was still talking to you, answered your late night call and was asking how you were. An angel in human form, so precious, so cute. A giggle escaped you as you found a slightly less dirty spot on the concrete to lean back and rest your hand on. Feeling some tension in your back unwind, your muscles were given freedom to turn restless. You wanted to scream, but that was bound to make Mingi end the call, and you did not quite want to stop listening to that voice of his - your strange addiction. Eyes closing, you let him repeat the question again, accompanied by jingle that could only be his keys. 

“I…”

“Street? Sign? Anything? Y/N,” he paused, exhaling, “...talk to me.”

“About…?” you asked, not catching onto what he meant.

“About the damn location. I am coming to get you.”

“Wait… really?” you slurred, fighting the desire to pass out, weighed down by another wave of tiredness.

“Yes. You are drunk. It is the least I can do.”

“What’s the most?”

“Location, for fuck’s sake. Check the street name or something. Can you walk?” he shot back, louder than before, speaking right into the microphone, the last bits of sleep evaporating from his tone, leaving behind the deep vocal ocean that you wanted to drown in.

“Uh huh,” whether you were lying or not, you were about to find out. Clambering for the street light once again, you heaved yourself up, barely catching yourself before tumbling back down, unstable on your heels. Clearly, your heavy breathing was caught by the phone as you heard Mingi asking if you were okay, again, “...just peachy, darling.”

The pet name never sounded more natural and comforting than now, flying to and through Mingi like lightning. The silence over the line was a terrifying suspense, making you wonder about what you said. You could not find anything particularly wrong. Wasn’t this how people who cared about one another spoke? Blinking away the stars in your eyes that were ceaselessly twirling in flashes of white and black, you wobbled towards a rectangle on the corner of the small street, which had to be the sign that Mingi was asking for. Mumbling the words on the board, half to yourself, half to him, you commended the otherwise laughable victory of being able to pick out the characters and interpret them.

“Okay… not too terribly far. I’ll come pick you up. Do not wander. Did you hear me?”

“Mhm…”

“What did I say?”

“...uh something about wandering, right?” An exhale. More footsteps. 

“Stay where you are. Stay. Heard me?”

“Yes Mingi darling, I did.”

“Good I- yeah. Just. I’ll be right there.”

Beep. Silence. A car in the distance darting past. Laughter. A flicker of the streetlight. The breeze caressing your legs. People walked past as you hugged your form, aware that it would not do anything to help you. You were counting the threads, the pieces of cloth sewn together to form what you had considered armour with the tips of your fingers, every groove accentuated as you swayed in your solitude, convinced that what had just happened was a dream. It had to have been. Who would listen to you in this state? It had to be your mind playing tricks on you, feeding you more and more visions until you would snap under them.

Fine. You were going to call him tomorrow, yes, that was right. When you were feeling better, you would call Mingi, apologise. Maybe over a coffee - yes that was better. Did he drink coffee? Was he even in town? Questions climbed up the walls of your consciousness while you, frustrated with the way in which the straps of your high heels were digging into your skin, crouched to take the culprits of your physical pain off. One shoe, another, and you were freed from the localised dolor. Stillness transforming into an amble, you made it a mission to walk to the larger street. There, you could get a taxi - there were always many of them around night time in neighbourhoods like this, kind drivers with kind metres if you gave them a pretty enough smile. 

Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are.

Who said that? You froze mid stride, losing balance onto to have your back hit the brick wall of the building to your side, just under the sign you had read out to - 

So it did happen after all. You had talked to Mingi. Moaning out in frustration, you slid down the rough structure and onto the ground beneath you, throwing an empty water bottle and a fast food wrapper away from you in anger. Unable to recall what you had said to him, you settled for piecing together his voice, hands emulating the linking of a jigsaw puzzle in front of you. Purse having long become a bracelet, and phone clenched in one of your hands as if it was permanently linked to your body, the only thing that existed was every phrase that he had uttered into your ear, like he was standing by you. So much for not thinking of Song Mingi. Way to go. What a treacherous night this was. Head feeling heavy, you began to give into the signs of oncoming slumber, nodding off, cheek approaching shoulder, earring brushing over bare skin.

Mingi was not one for breaking the law, but his accelerator most certainly was. Rushing past every traffic light as though each one was a checkpoint, he sped through the city’s sleepless streets, only the final destination being his priority. Heart pounding, he barely looked at the navigator on his phone as he slammed on the gas. Ridiculous. Radical. If he were to ever tell his friends about this, they would call him a fool. After two weeks of nothing, for him to jump at the first call - he was clearly making the same mistakes, every turn a wrong one. If scouting clubs for the next pleasure hit was your addiction, burning himself on your flames was his. In the icy silence his days had been serene, and he hated it. There was no expectation, nor any hope for him to cling to. In the morning after you had left, even though Mingi had anticipated this and promised himself that he would not be upset, his preference was clear: it was better to live in an illusion rather than face the fact of not being wanted, and never standing a chance. You had turned your attention to him when he had asked for you to use him - that was the place he should have known and stayed if he wished for you to ever look in his direction again. 

That was why when his phone lit up with your name, and a photo filled the screen, one that he had taken of you when you, him, Wooyoung and San had all gone to a nature reserve for a spontaneous weekend getaway which you probably did not remember but it was precious to him, he threw sleep out of the window. It was easy enough, considering his recent pre-sleep routine of rationalising the events of that night. His mind was already trained on you when he finally got you to speak. You were floating, not quite like yourself, but your feelings were clear - not a hint of malice towards him, dreamy, rendering him breathless.

Mingi blamed himself for not being persistent enough, instead choosing to take a step back and give you whatever space you wanted or needed. He had done that in university when you were still friends, he had done it right up until that night, it was nothing new. Let you forget him until you suddenly craved his company, or felt it necessary to invite him to whatever function you had scheduled. Running a hand through his hair, short and strawberry blonde, hints of pink across the strands giving way to darker roots, he tried to calm his nerves. It was torturous to picture you in a vulnerable state, on a night when you normally felt and looked invincible. But since you called him, it was his duty to ensure that this held true.

Only a couple of minutes later, Mingi found the required street and, upon making a turn he slowed down and halted beside a figure curled up by the side wall. He cursed himself for not being faster. Panic shot up his spine and across every limb. He made a beeline towards you, shutting the door to the driver’s seat particularly hard in his distress. Assuming the worst, Mingi was in front of you in the matter of seconds, crouching down to peer at your face, noticing the smudged mascara, lipstick traces trailing onto your skin, flushed cheeks, sickly, glazed over and half-lidded eyes. Scowling, he regarded you in your Friday night glory, wondering why you thought you deserved this self-treatment in the first place.

“Y/N.”

No response. You remained stationary, with only your head occasionally threatening to fall to the side, hair snagging on the rough, eroded bricks behind you. Carefully, Mingi reached out, balancing himself on his bent knees, and pushed back a lock that was obscuring your face, convincing himself that you looked better already. Heart aching, he tried calling out to you another time, and then another, naively hoping that you could ascend from your state in an instant. As he put his hands on your delicate shoulders, gingerly tilting you forwards and away from the freezing, disgusting wall, he bit back his logic and chose to listen to the senses that you had so easily manipulated. 

Was this really the same person who had him wrapped around her finger? Malleable, putty in his hands you sank into his hold as he wiggled back to try and get you to find your own footing. Rising into a standing position, he lifted you up, sighing in relief when, even if only automatically, you followed the movement. He wanted to be mad at you - his brain was yelling for him to leave, return to the comfort of his home, alone, and let you figure things out for yourself. That was easy - just forget about you and have no morals. Sure. You were in a dangerous situation. But did you not have any friends who could take care of you? Where were they? Head turning side to side as if that would give him an answer, Mingi checked his surroundings. Only a collection of strangers, some of whom were enjoying the free entertainment, at least until they felt his glare settling on them. Quick feet on the pavement, dissipating into the midnight darkness.

“Oh… oh…” you groaned, as though waking up from a restless slumber. In his surprise Mingi nearly slipped, only just managing to support you again by hooking his arms around your torso instead of under your arms.

“Y/N, you are like, drunk drunk.”

“Just a lit-tle tipsy… is all, Mingi darling,” you answered slowly, lifting a hand to pinch your thumb and index finger together to show just how sober you were apparently - if only the move was coordinated, then maybe at least it could have given a good laugh. 

The affectionate pet name was ringing in his head, and no matter how much, and with what strength he was trying to brush it off, the buzzing persisted. Clinging onto him, a vexatious beast, echoing the weeks that had gone by after he had so willingly given himself up to you. If he were to be honest with himself, he would not be able to forget you even if by some futuristic miracle, he would be able to reset his consciousness. You were his nightmare and his dream, a haze in which he was lost for as long as he was alive. Cursing himself over and over, he opened the rear door closest to the two of you, whispering his sequence of moves out loud, knowing full well that you were probably not observing, nor listening.

The only thing on your mind was the comfort that was Mingi himself. How he had pulled you closer, and your hands landed on his broad chest. Hands snaking under the varsity jacket he put over a cotton tee, you felt your fingers warming up, the toned, sculpted beauty underneath turning into an alluring stability. There was nothing stopping you from closing the space, was there? Squinting, you took in his face, gasping as he turned away from you, revealing his side profile. Glasses, perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly parted lips, a determined scrutiny of whatever it was that was in front of him. You could almost taste it. Apparently, it was easy to forget prior losses when the one you had been searching for in other bodies appeared before you.

Certainly, it had to have been him at the club however long ago. It had to have been, you were only looking for him and got lost, right? Fully convinced that you were right, despite Mingi being dressed more for a late night walk along a river bank rather than for a night of clubbing and hedonistic debauchery, you mumbled, cowering while he was trying to turn you and get you to take a seat:

“I missed you… Mingi.”

Eyes still half closed, you tilted your head to look in the approximate direction of your saviour, or companion… friend? It could not be. There ceased to be any lines that you could cross, and you were, for the first time in a long time, okay with it. You did not need nor want the barriers, not when his perfume was your salvation, not when his strong hands were rubbing your upper arms, not when you watched him take off his jacket and wrap it around you in slow motion. It was warm. He was warm. But he was not responding. The quiet was deafening as he nudged your legs, motioning for you to hop further into the vehicle - so you were in a car, huh? A couple of thuds somewhere below you, and a pair of heels manifested themselves on the floor of the salon. Obliging, you fell back inside and saw the light shutting itself away from you. A click, and you were alone. Trapped. There was no Mingi. 

Wrapping your hands around the edges of the thick material, you pulled it tighter around you, emulating an embrace. Why were you left alone? Was this a prank? Was Mingi tricking you? Question after question, there were too many to answer in the midst of an oncoming headache, but you knew that you needed to leave this instant - Mingi was outside and he had to be waiting for you. After all, you needed to give him back his jacket. You were done running backwards. Just as you ran a hand over the door, looking for the right handle or button or whatever the car could possibly have, another door opened, revealing the same man, your same Mingi, still dressed in the same outfit as you had just seen, still in those glasses that suited him so well. 

Through the gap between the headrest and the main seat, you gleamed at him, reassured that you were no longer abandoned in the metal box. The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched upwards, though the majority of his response was evidently suppressed. He had to be hiding something. He must be mad at you. This was because you had been gone for too long, and then reappeared drunk out of your mind - he had said so himself. His voice boomed in your ears, blooming into a deafening echo that muted the car’s engine. Only once the car started did the realisation hit you - you had no idea that he even drove. The last night you had been together, you had taken a taxi, and he was sitting right next to you - you could recall every touch on your skin, over your dress, his ragged, shallow breaths. You needed to sleep, this was a dream… a dream… it had to be a nightmare… you were planning on talking to Mingi tomorrow… you would call him as soon as you woke up from this discord…

Crawling through the metropolis, the car stormed farther and farther from the district which you had decided to mark as your place of shipwreck. It was not the same location as before, he noted, now having more of an opportunity to piece together what had unfolded. If he was any more cynical and any less in love with you, he would have made it a case to point out that probably you intentionally had selected a spot that was a considerable distance away from your usuals because hell or heaven forbid your friends would stop you. Mingi had no clue as to what occurred in the time you were non-existent in his daily life, but evidently it had taken a considerably negative toll. Passed out on the back seats, you were exhausted by the world in which you lived, the world which was mercilessly testing you and draining you for all you were worth.

Stopped at a lonely red light, the hue crept through the windshield, settling over the salon and the two lost souls contained within. Quickly taking out his phone to check the time - no longer needing it for navigation after having the route imprint itself in his memory, he pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to let the glasses slip. It was almost one in the morning - the commotion and additional steps because of your inebriated state had accumulated, long leaving the last day of the so-called work week behind. Happy weekend - with a bitter aftertaste, he uttered the words under his breath, shoving the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and shifting to turn around to take a quick look at you. You were peaceful, your features fully relaxed. Your purse had turned into something of a pillow, and while your legs could not exactly rest comfortably on the seats, you appeared to be blissful how you were, nuzzled into his jacket. Drifting in his musings, studying your every detail Mingi almost did not notice the lights change, relying solely on instinct to switch gears and move forward. With one last glance, he continued his journey, realising that he was not sure where your home was. Driving you to your closest friends was not an option either, considering that you did not mention nor call them - and if you did not want to see them, he should not be the one to orchestrate a falling out. There was always time for drama, but he did not want to extend it for himself.

Making one final, decisive turn that would take him to his neighbourhood, Mingi gripped the steering wheel to curb an accumulating nervousness. It was a sudden pang, a memory lifting itself up from the chaos he had brushed under the carpet after you had spontaneously left. He had not been fully asleep, simply spent and trustful, but everything stopped him from following you. As if a spear had mounted him to the bed - he was nothing more than a feeble bug on display, rotting. There was nothing he could have done, he was sure, except maybe not saying what he had said. In retrospect it was easy to see that those three words had been the final shot in the torn up heart. So, for the better, he was not going to say them, and pretend he never did, if that was what was going to let you sleep better and recover. That night was long in the past, and should be treated as a spectre. As weeks would go by perhaps you could look at him again, and be genuine in your feelings towards him. And he would not have to put himself up for sacrifice to gain your attention. 

Soon enough, his apartment building was in sight, and the wheels rolled him closer and closer to his next dilemmas. Letting out a trembling breath, Mingi clicked a button on his keys once he approached the gates to the underground parking. You were as still as ever, consumed by your slumber. Coming to a halt at his designated spot, he killed the engine and fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The noises that had crawled out from the club turned into wisps of risk and melancholia, clinging onto your otherwise gorgeous dress and filling the vehicle until that was all he could sense. Hands on the steering wheel, Mingi attempted to plan his next moves, thinking of the trip to the elevator, the ride up, and just how he could convince you to be lucid enough to help him in getting you cleaned up. Love and confusion aside, you were a person who needed help and support, and he was the one you had trusted in your last moments before losing sobriety.

It was a long trip. From you not quite being able to make it out of the car, to you nearly tumbling into the elevator and dragging Mingi down with you, the young man was sure that he had never had to be on such high alert ever in his life. Not even when he had to act in the role of a sleuth to figure out where your lectures had been back in university, and whether there was any way in which your paths could cross. It seemed that now he did not have to force fate’s hand quite as much. With one final stumble over the door frame that marked the entrance to his apartment, you were in, safe and secure from the outdoors, and Mingi could begin thinking more comfortably. Kicking off his own shoes, he ignored the feeling that arose when you intertwined your fingers with his as you waited. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, there was something endearing about you, pleasantly childish qualities protruding through the hardened exterior of an experienced seductress. Like there was still some vulnerability left, and Mingi was the only one to see it. Adjusting his glasses out of habit, or perhaps to mask his growing concern due to your spontaneously peppy disposition, he tugged on your arm, making you follow him past the living room and towards a breakfast bar that served as a divider to the kitchen. Stopping mid-stride, he turned and pointed for you to take a seat on the sofa.

You had vague recollections of the interior, but the lighting, which remained dim, prevented you from making out any details. After Mingi left your side, you curled your legs under your body and flopped onto the decorative pillows that occupied the right corner. Huddling as if it was your nest, you made yourself comfortable. Without him being right next to you, the sensation of being embraced remained. He was in every thread and every space; you could finally inhale and exhale tranquillity. Clinking of glasses and the sound of pouring piqued your inquisitiveness, albeit fuzzy in the half-consciousness, and you called out to Mingi’s approaching figure, a loopy grin plastered on your face.

“He-hey, let’s get the party started… is that champagne?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s got you… like this?” with the hand that was holding the full glass, Mingi gestured over your body.

“Like how? How am I now?”

“Like a bar after a football match.” he deadpanned, carefully taking a seat next to you and grabbing your hands. Upon ensuring the cup was secure in your grasp, he fell backwards to rest his head on the back of the couch, momentarily shutting his eyes. He was curious if you would be able to figure out that what you were about to drink was water.

“Huh? You’re mean…” mumbling to yourself, you lifted the beverage, taking a tentative sip. The cool liquid soothed you, eliminating the burning that occupied your mouth and throat for however long you had been in and out of the handmade turmoil. Greedily you took a gulp, another, until nearly all the water travelled to nourish your dehydrated, fatigued self. The cup, too, possessed a welcome coldness, refreshing, a change to the static that was rolling like thunder in your cranium. You could not resist the temptation to put the glass against your temple, sensing another wave of the dull ache returning to you.

“How much did you drink?”

“Interesting question. Just drank a whole glass,” you teased, aware that Mingi was likely after a different response, but you were all for omitting the truth as much as you could.

“I mean out there.”

“Where?”

“The club.”

“Oh… uh… a… a couple here and there.”

“Knowing you, that is like a whole bottle.”

“What can I say? I have a high tolerance.”

“If only you had a better tolerance for other shit,” his comment caught you off guard. Said to no one in particular, but staying suspended in the air, the phrase was less supportive than what you would have hoped for. He was definitely mad. The anxiety that had been resting on your shoulders like a foul beast stirred awake, digging its nails into your skin until the question you asked far too often slipped away from you, throwing you back into your antique patterns, ones you thought you had buried for good.

“Are you mad at me?” you sounded timid, and a hand instantly flew to your mouth, clumsily covering it. Mingi’s eyes shot open, him giving you a once over from his leaned back position. Sitting up, he raised an eyebrow.

“Say what now?”

“I… are you mad at me?”

“Wh-... why would I be?” he cleared his throat, curious as to what you had conjured and were proposing as an interpretation of his actions.

“I… well I… I am too much aren’t I… I am here, you are - wait what time is it? It should be so late, or early… ha, ha, I don’t even… wait so are you not mad at me? But I am just so all over the place and now I am… wait - what time? Is it? Are you supposed to be sleeping, oh my goodness yes you are I am intruding aren’t I, I should be home, wait how did you find me? Were you there with me? Was I doing anything weird oh why did I go tonight I was not supposed to go but no I had to go and forget you know I wanted to forget everything but you kept on coming back are you ma-”

“Y/N-”

You were speeding up, forgetting air, forgetting that you were safe. You imagined yourself to be in the middle of the ocean, clambering for anything to hold on to. But the more you struggled, the less you could see, and yet you could only continue speaking. Faster, faster, filling the emptiness with your every thought as if there was no space neither in your heart nor your mind to keep them close and safe. As if this was a bargaining token or a confession, and Mingi was the one to deliver a final judgement, or to pardon your every sin. You were afraid of what he could do, or maybe not do. The only thing that was vivid enough for you to grasp was the idea that you did not want him to go, and so you were desperately trying to catch every word you had uttered in your past that could possibly deter him. Oxygen was not an option when Mingi, your 'not quite a friend anymore', was on the line.

“Mad at me and I am not even sure why this is happening actually I know exactly why and I am sure this is a dream right now I mean you definitely hate me now maybe not before but surely now I did everything to make you hate me and I am just a mess I probably look the part I am sorry I am sorry I am so-”

“Y/N BREATHE.” with a raised voice, he cut you off. You had not noticed him lift himself off the sofa and move in front of you. He pushed the coffee table further back to give himself more space, and kneeled on one leg while prying the glass from your shaking hands. Though you had ceased to barrage him with sentences of raw dread, your breathing was still shallow, barely spaced out, lungs roaring for more, praying for relief.

Glass left on the table, Mingi’s hands clasped over yours, his gaze unwavering, searching. You could not read him. Everything you possibly wanted to say was bouncing around your skull in a painful flurry, inducing a lump that started to grow in your throat, accumulating mistakes and emotion. You did not deserve to face the man who was in front of you, but even when you tried to break away from his touch, he held on, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Breathe. Let’s count, shall we? Focus on my voice, okay?” Now, inhale, two, three, four-”

Switching approaches, Mingi distracted you. After a couple of rounds of counting, noting your darting glances he asked for you to point out three colours you could see. Three pieces of furniture. Slowing you down, gradually, grounding you until you were only the slightest bit unsteady. 

“I am sorry.” you mumbled, doubling over, forehead against his hands. In shock, Mingi did not retract them, instead staring at how your hair cascaded over your shoulders and down, down like a waterfall, glimmering softly in the night lights that crawled into the room through every window.

“For what?” barely a whisper, only a hint of curiosity in anticipation of hearing something less than pleasant. 

“For leaving,” he replayed the words in his head in utter disbelief. Never had he heard you apologise for disappearing, abandoning, making decisions that put you first. He had gotten used to it, considering it to be a trait that was normal to you, one that those close to you simply had to deal with. The two little words shed a new light, making him wonder just how you felt two weeks ago. You were not done, however, feeling the need to spill the secrets you had been holding, in the intimacy of night, of not having to look at him, “for going out and for thinking strangers could… could-”

“It’s okay… I-”

“How is it okay?” lifting your head, a portrait of misery was revealed. The makeup that had already travelled across to other parts of your face was now starting to etch streams down your cheeks, the tears being the only ones to confidently make their way. Mingi was at a loss, never having been able to predict that this night would end, or begin, like this.

“Well…”

“How? Please… I am… disgusting… Why do I always do this I-”

“Hey. Hey, listen to me,” hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the rolling droplets, Mingi was reaching out for you, calling you back from the abyss into which you wished to fall, “first of all, no behaviour is quote unquote disgusting, you hear me?”

“Uh huh… but… but I hurt people- I… I hurt you…”

“Look, I know we have never had any deep one on ones before, but I know you are hurting. I think that answers quite a few things, doesn’t it?” trying his best to remain rational and calm, Mingi recalled phrases that he had been told many times, had said before, only now they held colossal meaning, weighed down by what had happened. 

“But why are you…”

“What I do is my choice, just like what you do is yours, yeah?”

“But I choose badly… like today at the club I-... I-” you tripped over your words, the recollection forcing you to shudder. Sensing the buildup, Mingi diverted your attention by holding your hands once more.

“So how can you choose better? I mean, let’s think about tomorrow. What were you thinking of doing? Take me through the day. Say, you wake up, you…” he gestured for you to continue after him.

“I… brush my teeth, fix my hair and clothes… make breakfast… call you," you stopped, staring into his dark eyes, shining with bittersweet tenderness. For the first time, he wanted to believe that you indeed were drunk.

“Call me?”

“...I was planning to…”

“Even if you found someone?” The comment stung, but was not unfounded. Mingi knew you far too well for you to deny that you would at least attempt to fill the weekly void.

“I only kissed him… I promise…”

“I,” tightening his jaw repeatedly, Mingi resisted the urge to snap, or to make any accusations. It was obvious to any fool that you had lived through enough without him adding fuel to the hellish fire, “like I said, your choice.”

“I don’t want to make it anymore.”

“Then make another. And keep trying until you find the one that’s right for you.” 

Dumbfounded, you could only look, and wonder if the man in front of you was real and was not figuring out ways to throw you out of his apartment. The idea could not be further from the truth. While he had to admit that the circumstances were not particularly romantic, nor was Mingi about to take every word and action as gospel, but this had to be the most candid he had ever seen you be, and the most open with him. Behind the gloss of a night fuelled by percentages, shots and bubbly, garnished with regretful actions and hopes for a restart, you were easy to read, your intentions and actions honest and benevolent. 

“I was going to call you,” you reiterated with conviction.

“Tomorrow,” Mingi responded, switching his positioning to sit down on the floor, one hand still holding onto you while the other flew to find purchase on the carpet, offering balance. His thumb traced patterns on your skin absent-mindedly while he waited for you to continue.

“Yeah.”

“And what were you going to do?” there was no way to know whether the answer he would hear was one he wanted to, or was ready to hear. Of course, he liked to believe he was used to you, but not to your new feelings.

Had it hurt when he realised that he had been discarded, just like he had anticipated? Of course. Had his closest friend given him an earful after finding him wholly zoned out during their scheduled mid-week lunch? Definitely - the words still stung him. But was Mingi in any way angry with you? He could not be even if he tried. You had stayed true to yourself, and he should be happy that you did. And yet, the hope he had been living with remained persistent, and your present actions were not helping him in getting over it.

“Apologise…” you leaned closer to him, drowsy, freed from inhibition. 

“And?” his voice dropped into a whisper as he could not bear to take his gaze off your and his hands.

The usual you, the alluring, domineering you who had one mission and one mission only on this night: to have a good time at any cost, was starting to resurface. You were grappling with your inner conscious, hoping to resurrect what you had previously labelled as confidence.

“Kiss you,” your act dropped quickly enough as you read the sadness in Mingi’s form, from the droop of the shoulders to the loosening of his hold on you, to the half-hearted joke that made you flush an embarrassing shade of pink. Awful, inducing the desire for the ground to disappear beneath you, but you could not stop.

“Through the phone?”

“No… on… like… a date?” shy, you proposed the idea to him.

“What’s with the questioning tone?” leaning back on both hands, Mingi regarded you. His black-rimmed glasses had slid down allowing him to look over the frame and into your soul, making you shiver. There was a seriousness in the gesture, a cold air of professionalism that you knew Mingi was capable of, but never experienced being directed at yourself. 

“I don’t know… I haven’t dated in a while I guess…” finding interest in the hem of your dress, you fiddled with the thick fabric.

“What’s got you so into it now?”

“My choice,” you echoed his words, earning an amused smirk. After a meek pause, you pushed out the inquiry, barely audible, “Would you kiss me back?”

“Depends on what you’re feeling when you kiss me.”

“But you said you loved me, didn’t you? Mingi?” you straightened yourself up, feigning nonchalance, pretending to not be hurt by the passivity that rested on Mingi’s face as he studied you. 

He wished he could make this easy and lead the conversation to a happy end, but that would only end in turmoil. Whatever you remembered, and whatever was so fresh in your mind could change in the blink of an eye, and later, in the morning, sober you could begin to despise yourself, and him in one go. The last thing he needed was for you to disappear from his life. So, it was better to restart. He bit his tongue for a couple of moments, swallowing every phrase that he had ceaselessly been repeating like mantras meant only for his walls to hear and hold no judgement towards, and selected denial, for your own benefit.

“...No such thing.”

“But I swear I-”

“I think it’s time to clean up and sleep, yeah?” he cut you off with searing neutrality. Rising from the floor, he flicked his hands for you to follow his actions. Though you had recovered enough to balance on your own, at least if you were to take everything slow, you were stuck in place, wanting to hear what you had been secretly longing for to spill from his lips.

“But, wait I-”

“Sleep time,” adamant to move past the painful hurdle, Mingi reiterated the implied command. Moving to grab your hand, he lifted you from the sofa, only to let go once you were on your feet. Taking the opportunity, you took small fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling the stunning man towards you. If he could not speak the words, surely he would want to express them?

“Kiss me now?” The question sounded more like an offer. Like you were placing your attention for sale, thinking that this was enough to establish a connection.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

Mingi wanted to collapse. Your eyes, the tremble in your voice, how you looked with his jacket still draped over your shoulders had him wrapped around your finger. He did want to kiss you, a little too much, if he were to be honest. And that was exactly why he backed away. If you had meant what you confessed, you would be able to say the same thing in the morning, and to his face. If you had been meaning to call him, you would be able to call out his name and be honest in wishing to see him, to be with him.

“I’ll kiss you when you’re fully sober, okay?” The negotiation seemed to work as you visibly relaxed and let him guide you to the bathroom, where he began to point out the makeup wipes, the towels, ignoring the fact that you had figured out the layout on your own some time ago and probably had some rough recollection.

“What a gentleman,” you uttered while roughly smudging your makeup with remover, not caring for the audience of one who was leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching you to make sure that you did not hurt yourself nor ruin anything too badly.

“It’s the bare minimum.”

“I suppose… I… uh… shower? Yeah?”

“Oh yeah… wait I’ll bring you some clothes or something. Do you mind what?”

“Whatever you are okay with giving me, darling.”

Hissing to himself, Mingi adjusted his glasses and clutched the jacket you returned in his right hand. He ambled to his bedroom in search of something that would inevitably end up smelling like you and serve as another reminder of just how easily he could give himself up for this kind of closeness. If he were to let his eyelids fall like a protective blanket, he could pretend for a split second that this was how it had always been - domestic, sweet, uncomplicated. Head turned away, Mingi returned, only to see your clothes not so neatly strewn about on the heated tiles. His eyes moved on their own accord, to settle on your silhouette, moving slowly behind the shower curtain. Despising the fact that he knew your body and craved it like water or air, he left the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had picked out lying in a folded pile by the sink.

Mingi was restless, storming from bedroom to living room and back again, his instinctive decision-making finally catching up to him and crashing down on his consciousness with full force. He had acted rashly, listening only to his heart, and in every point along the turbulent path back home when he could have let go of what was inevitably going to be more pain for you and for him, he selfishly refused to. While moving a pillow and throw to the sofa, he was in awe of his own dedication, and how, for you, he could thoughtlessly abandon everything that his studies had attempted to instil in him over the years, from university to clinical practice.

With a tired hand he took off his glasses, giving the lenses a half-hearted wipe with the edge of his tee, more out of habit than out of need. According to the lazy clock on his wall, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning. He shuddered, and heat rushed to his face. What was he doing two weeks ago at this time? It was best to ignore that and start anew. You were just a friend who by some twist of fate he ended up getting to know a little too intimately. But if exes could become friends, surely you two could work out, even if in your drunk state you were exposing feelings that were potentially resonant with his - obviously far from platonic. Mingi shook his head, ultimately failing to banish his optimism. He needed coffee, anything to get his mind off things, maybe his work emails.

In the middle of his preparations, also known as remaining idle while the coffee machine worked its magic, you reappeared from the bathroom, freshened up, cheeks pink, and dressed in his clothes, which, he hated to say, looked too good on you. The t-shirt he had picked out, originally oversized even for him, perfectly draped over your curves; hinted at everything, revealed nothing. A couple of dark spots where water from your hair had dripped onto the soft cotton made the scene all the more homely, comfortable, and the only thing holding him back from sweeping you into an impossibly tight hug was the grey that befell your unlabelled relationship with him. Mingi was a man of logic, preferring to set things up onto metaphorical shelves, and in his work he was known to be a brilliant theorist, consulted on matters of analysis and diagnostics. The idea of a situationship, no strings attached and any other synonyms irked him, and the more he looked at you, and how you gazed at him so serenely, the more he wanted to put his foot down and ask you to decide. But if you had set your mind on tomorrow - or as the clocks were saying later today, he had to do what he did best - wait. It had been two weeks. What would a few more hours do except give you time to sober up and figure out what it was that you wanted from him and yourself?

“All better?” Who was he asking? Thankfully, you interpreted it as a question directed at you. 

“Much better… sorry I am so out of it. Probably saying shit.”

“Don’t worry. I am just glad you are safe.”

“Mingi,” his name on your lips, the sweetest poison for his heart, “...thank you darling, really. I… hm, just thinking about what could have happened…”

“No need to think. About that, I mean.”

“And what should I think about?” raising an eyebrow, you captured the accidental slip of his musings in your delicate hands, subjecting it to scrutiny.

“Sleep.”

“You said that before. Besides, coffee? Really?”

“For me. I sleep better with coffee.”

Sure.”

“You can uh… I moved my stuff so you can sleep in the bedroom.”

“What about-”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I mean… we… didn’t we…” you wanted to allude to the bed having been shared before.

“I am here. You are there. Cool?” With the last of the americano having dripped into his cup, Mingi raised the hot beverage to take a careful sip, wincing as the liquid nearly burned his mouth. At least it served as a good distraction, just as he wanted.

“Mm… sorry. ‘Night.”

Spinning on your heels, you made a beeline for the bedroom, not waiting for Mingi’s response. Rejection after rejection; you smiled to yourself as you regarded the white sheets, decorated with a silvery sheen from the lights outside, washed over by a warm glow of the reading lamp positioned on the bedside table farthest from you. Welcoming, kind. Like the man who was now drinking coffee at hell o’clock in the morning, all because of you. The man who gave you his own clothes without a second thought. The man who kept on giving to a person who kept on taking. As you collapsed onto the sheets, crawling underneath the covers with an unprecedented exhaustion, you fell into a dreamless slumber with the thoughts of yourself being like a certain character from a famous animated film that you had watched with your friends, only to rewatch it on your own that same night once you got home. A spirit with no face, only an insatiable appetite, a rage that could not be extinguished - always more, taking from everyone, taking everything. Cloaked in black, a creature of darkness, without a place in society and meant sink into its own misery. You were alone in this world, wishing for the skies to clear, praying you would find the strength to fight for it.

He could not sleep. With the coffee finished but not the slightest hint of drowsiness approaching, Mingi stretched to grab the laptop that had been lying on the coffee table, choosing to go over his work emails that had accumulated from the time he had logged off just a night ago. Chain mail, Friday newsletters, reminders, rescheduling, appointment bookings, cancellations, conferences, journal updates, editor reviews… so much noise that settled like ash on his eyes, amounting to what appeared to be nothing. Segments of an imaginary success that drained him of any desire to show up on Monday. After answering what he could, Mingi pinched the bridge of his nose, and lied down on the couch, balancing the laptop on his stomach. He had foregone the throw, finding it to be more of a hindrance to his constant movement. What was it that he had told quite a few of his patients? Sleep was essential for a sound mind? Comical. Perhaps it was time to consult someone for his own troubles. He was good enough at solving things for others, but unfortunately that did not seem to apply when the ‘others’ was himself. If only he could stop concentrating on your presence in the room right next to him, on whether you were sleeping soundly and if you needed anything.

It was a quiet rustling that had woken Mingi up from a quick nap that he had fallen into. After a moment of disorientation, he registered the sound as being your footsteps, inching around the sofa in the approximate direction of the kitchen.

“Escaping?” recoiling as though you had been struck, you halted. After having been buried under a cosy duvet, the apartment felt cold, and you could barely hold back the shiver that was threatening to run over you. 

“Water… sorry did I wake you up?”

“Nah, wasn’t sleeping anyways. Here let me get it for you.”

Without another word uttered, nor any glances which could plant seeds of doubt in your head about his intentions, Mingi was right there with you, leading you to your target and pouring a glass. You did not mind how he watched you handle the item, nor how he took it out of your grasp as soon as you were done. He was gentle, even though each move did appear to be pre-calculated and strictly bound by a larger, all-encompassing decision. You tried to reach out for him, and when he stepped away after noticing you in the peripherals, the point was proven. Mingi was seeking distance. Biting your lower lip, the echoes of an earlier anxiety bubbled, manifesting itself in your classic black and white thinking.

“I am a mess,” like a coin dropped in a well, the phrase bounced from every wall, right back to you.

“Break that down for me,” crossing his arms, Mingi turned around and leaned against the counter.

“Are you going therapy mode on me?” you tried to joke, but the words came across more as an accusation. You felt weak, exposed. The shiver escaped, goosebumps now decorating your flesh, causing what you interpreted as pity to flash in Mingi’s eyes.

“I’m assuming that is what you’re seeking now, no?”

“...no.”

“Okay.”

As if the conversation had never begun, Mingi returned to drying his hands, leaving you alone with an unpleasant sobriety. With the early morning returned fragments of memories - a highlight reel of things you probably should not have said, but now that you had to own up to and either confirm or keep running away from. Inhale, exhale, and the words poured by themselves.

“Can we… talk about something?”

“Something?”

“I think… I… you know how I… wait I did say I was planning to call you right?”

“Mhm,” Mingi turned back, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

“So I have said a lot of things,”

“Yeah, and, what do you want to say to me?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“You already said it.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. What else?”

“Help me.”

“With… what?”

“I am afraid.”

“Of?”

“How I feel.”

“And how is that?”

“Well…”

You paused, throat drying. Your body recoiled from what you had settled on admitting. But it had to happen, even if the result would be you never seeing Mingi again, because at least you would have done something to try and defeat yourself. After hearing the three little words, and having them repeat over and over again, the light in which you saw your own life and saw Mingi had shifted. He could not be that same happy, naive, angel-like friend from university who had somehow ended up in your company of misfits and comrades in melancholy to you anymore. For the first time, you wanted to place a significance on a relationship that was beyond one night in a stranger’s bed. 

“I am afraid… that I- I-”

“What you are about to say, did you weigh it up? Did you consider it? Evaluate it? Are you sure that what you are about to share, and will be unable to reverse, is done with a clear mind?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to say it to me.”

“Yes, Mingi.”

You reached for his hands, worry making you play with his slightly cold fingertips. Intertwined, swinging side to side the tiniest bit, like a swaying of a sleepy willow; either the beginning, or the end. Mingi took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to be brutally smited.

“Then, um, as you were saying?”

“I want to fall in love with you.”

A laugh involuntarily flew from his chest, like a slap across your face. When you tried to slide past him, however, his arm wrapped around your upper body, pulling you close.

“Want to? What does that mean?” With prior seriousness being replaced by a more playful tone, the calm evaded you, “hey, take your time, it’s fine. You are already doing really, really well.”

“May I hug you?”

“Sure, c’mere,” he was the sun in late summer, the rays lulling, soothing. A glistening gold palette illuminated by a well-paired cologne that you were already wearing after resting in his bed, a masterpiece that you wanted to sink into and never escape. The horrors of the night that never stopped repeating were crawling away into their putrid caverns, providing at least a temporary relief and returning you to the waking, beautiful world. Mingi was comfortable in the best sense of the description, a stability that you had never dared to dream of. You pressed your head against him, shutting yourself away from cacophonous intrusions that had been leading you every Friday.

“You said you loved me.”

“Don’t remember,” the vibrations across his torso as he spoke soothed some of the pain inflicted by his answer. You could not blame him. Perhaps you two were much more similar than you had initially thought.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“A lot.”

“A lot.”

“Can you help me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Some things you should face yourself, I can only point you in the right direction. I can see that this goes beyond anything that either of us could mention or explore right now, and I hate to say it but there is no magic cure or something. It takes time and effort,” Mingi wrapped his arms tighter, one hand starting to pat the back of your head absent-mindedly, focusing on the sensation of each strand against his palm, “but what I can do is be here. For you. And if you want to, for us. How does that sound?”

“Like it’s too good to be true. I don’t deserve you.”

“No one deserves anyone. We just fit together, and we will make things work. Step by step,” Mingi made it sound easy. You wanted to believe him.

“We?”

“You just said you want to fall in love with me, Y/N. We kind of… need to be together for that to happen, methinks.” 

“Good point.” you mumbled, snuggling closer, hiding your face.

“May I be honest for a second?”

“Mhm.”

“I am not saying it so that we say it together when you’re ready, cool?”

“Say what?”

“You know, the L word,” you looked up to see him wiggling his eyebrows dramatically, making you chuckle.

“Oh… thank you, Mingi. I appreciate it. Yeah. Makes sense.”

In the tranquillity of the early dawn, you were not alone. Not curled up on the floor, a stranger to yourself, but in the arms of someone who cared and his feelings remained unchanged through times you thought anyone could, and would abandon you. You could finally hear your own thoughts becoming clear and level. Nothing could be better than the hope for such a bright tomorrow.

“Hmm… I think I liked when you were calling me darling in every sentence,” with a flick of your wrist you lightly hit Mingi’s broad chest, without pulling away. 

“I did not-”

“Are you not sober, darling?” he made you pause your denials, a sunny smile on his face.

“Okay fine yes I did…”

“Care to say it again?” taken by surprise by the request, you were left open-mouthed, with a raised brow.

“Darling?”

“Music to my ears,” he answered while barely being able to stifle a yawn.

This was the closest Mingi could get to a fairy tale moment with you, and he could not be happier. A grin fought its way to the surface, until it practically hurt his cheeks, and he pressed you to his chest, just so that you would not see it. But it did not take someone to be especially hyper-observant to sense his glee, capable of melting the snow in the harshest winter. Perhaps it was foolish of him to admit this, but nothing felt more right. How your body melded into his, perfectly unified. How your heart beat at a gentle pace, in time with his, and how your steady breathing tickled his skin - a constant reminder of your electrifying proximity.

“Sleepy?”

“Mmm… a bit.”

“Maybe a change of…” you glanced at the couch, “location would do you some good?” detangling yourself, the suggestion was made with a simple turn of the head, which Mingi agreed to with a curt nod, and a removal of his glasses.

Though it was his apartment and technically you were the guest, he was the one following you, like always. Shying away from your gaze as he rapidly changed into sweatpants and a tee that were other than those he had worn during his midnight expedition to retrieve you from the club, making you giggle and cover your eyes with a dramatic swoop of the hand, he was back at your mercy in these four walls. Playing with fire, he lied down on the bed next to you, counting to steady himself. Glasses left on the bedside table, he stared at the soft blur of the ceiling, admiring how soft the light of the earliest dawn looked without the myriad of details that otherwise occupied the material it fell upon. Mingi debated with himself whether what he was allowing was appropriate, and whether it would inevitably lead to what he had been secretly hoping for. He could not lie, not to himself at least - he still wanted you, and now, with the avenue towards the prospects of a relationship having been opened, the wishes were becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. Not when you were right there beside him, obviously studying the contours of his face, tracing the gorgeous lines that its silhouette formed and thanking the heavens for having the ability to take in and memorise Mingi. 

Oddly enough, in the semi-darkness of the bedroom - a place that was supposed to be the most intimate and exposing, you felt confidence return to you like the gust of a reviving spring wind. With every inhale and exhale, the familiar strength regained its capability, and led you to place a hand on Mingi’s chest, and while still keeping up a coy act, to run a lone finger down its middle, stopping right at the abdomen. Muscles tensing under your touch, Mingi sighed. Clearly, sleeping was not on your agenda whether you wanted it or not. Your habits, perfected over years, were advising you to act, and do so now. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, he shared the same desire.

“What’s up?” he mumbled, head rolling to the side to find you already looking right at him.

“You’re far.”

“We are literally on the same bed.”

“No, but you are far. You get me?” a tentative leg over his, hooking around and serving as a lever to pull you closer to him. It was too natural, how Mingi’s arm stretched out and let you cuddle into him, acting as a pillow.

“I suppose. What do you want to do about it?”

“This,” tracing along his jawline, you prompted him to turn. You were close, way too close for him to not hold his breath as you came into focus - the one person he could always see, even when you were not physically with him. 

Mingi resisted. As much as he was seeking the same contact, the tinge of regret for giving his heart up so easily was prominent, a scalding hot iron. It was too much - lying under the blanket of agitated stillness, pressure coiling at an astonishing speed as your eyes turned into the one universe he could care to exist in. Without realising it, he had turned towards you for a better angle, placing himself on your altar. Fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin under his ear, gently running through his blonde locks. Every brush of your hand against him was an unbearable fire, melting him into submission; nothing more than a servant in the sultry fog. It was impossible to answer how you were able to do this, and why Mingi was allowing you to, but just like everything else, it felt right, regardless of how dark the future could be. In what you had proclaimed to be a ‘mess’, he felt alive, human. For some, addiction was measured in degrees and in there being less and less memories as time went by - for him, it was in the syllables of your name, in the taste of your lips when he could not hold back any longer and closed the gap between you, sighing as the he could finally relive the sensation that had been haunting him every minute, be he asleep or awake.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, a bouquet of recollection and reminiscence as if you had been two souls torn apart for centuries. Mingi’s nose lightly brushed against your skin as he tilted his head to deepen the intimacy, his hands moving to hold you closer. The last time, each sense was charged with an undercurrent of carnal desire, and lust had revealed a palette of dark hues, while now, even with the rising intensity and Mingi’s hold drifting to find purchase on your hips, the scene was light. Instead of sacrificing yourselves to the night, you were defeating it, greeting your own dawn. It was an awe-inspiring hallucination, leaving you dazed and desiring more. Hooking your leg more tightly over Mingi’s thigh, you shuddered, the breathiest moan escaping you as an unexpected friction revealed your unwinding state, consumed by the man from whom you were done running. Breaking away to press your forehead against his and indulge in the shared oxygen, a hint of dizziness made you chuckle. Peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, only to return to the same position, eyelashes almost touching, the lack of space proving to be the ultimate comfort, you whispered:

“I want this forever,” meaning every word, at least when ‘forever’ meant ‘for now’. You did not know yourself, or the new self you wanted to craft, so you could not make any promises just yet. But this was good enough. It was honest and raw.

“Take me on a date first,” Mingi teased with a wink. Caressing his cheek, you kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it. 

“What a precious princess,” you chuckled, leaning over to close the space once again, ignited by the beautiful sounds that were muted by you, a most delectable fruit.

Desire on the tongue, truth on the teeth, love staining the lips a deeper pink as you fell into Mingi, giving into his tug at your waist to hover above him. This, however, did not last long as he grew more impatient, pressing you against his body, wriggling upwards until he was half-seated on the bed, and you, on his thigh. Your initial instincts were telling you to move, but as he adjusted his seating once more, muscle brushing against your growing excitement, you quickly decided against it, instead settling on his leg, grinding into it to check for Mingi’s reaction. Judging by the way his hand snaked to the nape of your neck, fingers lost in your tresses as he could not get enough of you, this was a welcome change. He was responsive, in tune with you, allowing you to take the lead. Momentarily standing up on your knees, you backed up to take off the sweatpants you had been wearing, feeling the heat in your core rising to embrace you in a seductive haze.

With glazed over, darkened orbs Mingi watched you, each breath an adrenaline-filled shudder. Freed from the cotton confines, with only the fine material of your panties left to contain the building arousal, you cupped Mingi’s face to give him a deep kiss until you lost all air, whispering instructions only once you had your fill. Promptly, he was in the same state of undress, more so when you cautiously hooked the base of his t-shirt, longing to see the body that was so perfect with yours. When you wanted to mirror the action, his expression changed to that of a miniscule panic, almost instantly replaced by an endearing shyness and a bitten lower lip.

“Can you… keep the shirt on?”

“You like to see me in your clothes, Mingi?” You were comfortable saying his name in other settings, sure, but in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, it occurred to you just how vulnerable the act was, capturing another’s attention with the simple collection of characters, echoing from wall to wall and resonating in the listener’s ears. But if you were to be an improved version of yourself, someone who had real control as opposed to the farce you had been parading around with, you needed to at least make a little bit of an effort to be aware of Mingi, find him in your pleasure and make him your focus. You were too used to taking centre stage and pushing others away for it. 

“More than I’d like to admit,” voice husky, he groaned as your lips found his neck, retracing, not needing pointers to find the places that drove your newly established lover wild, “Ah… if you are o-okay with it-”

His hands, now back on your hips, gave you a timid squeeze, reaffirming the rapture which your present outfit threw him into. Mingi had assumed that you were at your most beautiful when those dresses designed to seduce adorned your curves, highlighting and accentuating what he swore was divinity, but nothing could have prepared him for this sight, and the effect that it had on him. Whether it was on purpose or not, but his name being uttered so teasingly as you seeked an outlet for your sensual frustration, while you were in his shirt, in his room, having slept in his bed, it all sent him into a frenzy. He wanted to mark you, make you his, hear you say everything you never could to him while he would bring you heaven and make you see stars. 

“More than okay, darling, I love it,” nibbling at the soft skin, you smirked as Mingi emitted a groan, hands squeezing your ass. This prompted you to continue, and you sat back down, desperate for stimulation that your covered clit against his thigh could offer. 

“Is this how you want me, doll?” the pet name sent a jolt through you and you let out a shaky breath, leaving yourself to be supported by an equally taken Mingi, whose growing bulge was now poking against your knee.

“Doll?”

“Only fair I call you something pretty, hm? Unless you want to…” he trailed off, recalling the roles that you had taken previously.

“I want to take it slow with you right now,” you kissed him, lazily moving your hips, the material getting more soaked with each glide, “will you let me?” when he did not immediately give an answer, you palmed at the prominent hardness, asking again just as Mingi let out an airy moan, chasing the contact, “will you let me take care of you?”

“Fu-ck, yes…”

“So good for me- ah!” with a yelp, you shuddered when Mingi’s hand dragged your panties to the side to get a better view of the slick, not caring for the glistening fluid staining his leg. With a few tentative rolls of his thumb over your clit, he decided that he should help you reach your high first, attracted to how you lost yourself in his touch.

“Want to use my thigh to get yourself off that badly?”

“N-no I am going to take c- fuck,” head lolling back, you could only focus on the accelerating fingers over your sensitive nub, teasing its very tip and coated in your precum, stopping spontaneously. You whined, earning yourself a furrowing of the brows and a glint of surprise in Mingi’s gaze.

“Thought you said no?”

It clicked in your head, and the tinge of anger rapidly dispelled, instead being replaced by a warm endearment. You ran a hand through his beautiful hair, planting a kiss on his cheek before answering:

“I don’t want to make you work too hard today.”

“I like to see you like this though…” he mumbled, chasing after another taste of your plush lips.

“How? Unwinding because of your hand? Your thigh? Do you like to make me feel good?” with a few nods, you let him continue by tapping his upper arm. As soon as he resumed the action, in time with your rocking, you let yourself go fully, thinking only of the man who was below you. Nothing, nor anyone else came to mind.

Mingi was observing you carefully, your moans turning to sweet music, "Yes, Mingi, just like that-" 

"You look so beautiful, doll, fucking yourself on me. Could you be," he paused his ministrations - a light tremble of muscle a telltale sign of your approaching climax, "...any more perfect?"

Praise shot into your heart and your core, an overwhelming electric shock. You perceived yourself guilty and undeserving of this worship, and yet could not bear to hear anything else from Mingi's lips - you were sure that it would be your demise. Arms thrown over his shoulders, you attempted to speed up your movements, the action proving a challenge due to the accumulating tension. Your head fell forwards, forehead against Mingi’s collarbone as he took to guiding you, hand carefully positioned on the small of your back while the other rolled up and down your aching clit, each touch closer and closer to sending you over the edge.

“Dar-ling I-”

“Are you close, Y/N?” Why did your name have to sound so sweet when he said it?

“Ah- y-yeah…” Mingi was craving for relief to the point of dizziness, grasping at you for the most minimal support. Precum coated the inner side of his underwear, member at full mast as he toyed with your sopping pussy.

“Come over me, doll, please, beautiful, show me what I can do to you,” the request was a fire, deliciously weak and exposing. You looked up at Mingi, disarmed by the kindness of his expression, and peppered a couple of kisses around his lips, too disoriented to find the original target.

With one final rock of the hips, and Mingi’s fingers curling into you and gliding between your folds, you collapsed into unfathomable bliss, a lewd moan resonating from you while the orgasm left you shaking in Mingi’s strong arms. He let you ride out your high by keeping your hips from fully bucking, instead setting a steadily decreasing pace and soothing you through the overstimulation from your continued contact with his leg. He nuzzled against your cheek, following the action with a reassuring:

“I got you,” pulled you into embracing the angel of your life.

The hints of a rising sun began to trickle into the room, just barely leaving a pattern on the carpet and transforming the light in the room into a pale lavender and pink. This was the earliest, and the latest, that you had ever been with anyone after your ritualistic ‘night out’, and courteously reminded you of the occurrences that brought you back to Mingi. Upon your descent from the decadent oblivion, embarrassment struck and you pressed yourself against his body, sighing in relief when he hugged you tight. His hardness was impossible to ignore, and a part of you felt terrible for not repaying the pleasure he had given you just yet, but judging by the way in which you could feel his fingers trace abstract shapes on your back, and after one glance to one side, and then to the other, how he kept himself immersed in his senses, concentrating on you, he could hold out for a little longer. 

“Mingi?”

“Mm?”

“You did make me feel good. Really, really good,” uncharacteristically meek, the sentence sounded almost like an announcement, making him chuckle, but the smile that melted across his features was genuine and pure. Loving.

“Happy to hear it. And I am happy that you are feeling like this, Y/N.”

“May I…?” a ghostly caress of his erection, a shaky breath, a playful, lop-sided grin with glossed over eyes.

“And here I was thinking that you like bossing people around, hm?”

“Would you rather I did?” touch turned grasp, a finger playing with the waistband of his boxers while your voice dropped into a dangerous tone, serpent-like, sultry.

“I like new things, I want to get to know you better, gorgeous.”

“Let’s do just that then, though… I’ll need a little,” having regained full function of your legs, you slipped from the position over his thigh to be on your knees between his legs, centred, “assistance. Talk to me, darling, what do you like?”

“I-” with a swift motion, you snaked your hand into his boxers, taking out his erect member and giving it a tentative stroke.

There were no thoughts which he could vocalise aside from hoping that you would never stop. Your thumb circled over his reddened tip, coating itself in the fluid. You barely moved your hand, continuing to give special attention only to the head of his stiffened cock, making Mingi try to wriggle to get more friction. With a push on his pubic bone, you freeze him.

“Now, don’t get too impatient, first I need these boxers off, okay? I’ll help,” you let go of his member, tugging at the material and following Mingi’s quick lift of his lower half, pulled them down and off, leaving the stunning man bare and ready to respond to your every move and command. 

You truly wanted to fall in love with him. Those glistening eyes that rolled back slightly just before he closed them, unfathomable bliss revealed only to you, were a paradise that you would not mind floating in forever. He had full trust in you, breathy moans freely falling from his lips as you started to stroke his cock, having added some of your own spit to his pre-cum for lubrication. His every detail was a heavenly design that you could not believe nature had crafted, from body to mind, and here he was, giving it up to you. You regarded the telltale sheen of sweat that began to form on his smooth skin, giving him an angelic appearance in the haze of the early morning. His hands were gripping the bed sheets, knuckles gradually turning paler as you sped up with each pump of his leaking cock. In a moment where you noticed him looking upwards at the ceiling, not registering you, you stopped to give the base a soft squeeze, having an even better idea in mind.

“Mingi?” The call instantly made him dart back to you unfocused but endearingly determined.

“How would you feel about me sucking your dick, hm?”

“H-huh?”

“Only if you want to, darling,” resuming the strokes, albeit at a lazier, dangerously slow speed and making sure to give attention to every vein, you had to practically had to hold yourself back from grinning due to the perplexion decorating Mingi’s face, blended seamlessly with a blazing lust. 

“Are you sure?”

“I can show you, and you decide, deal?”

“Fu-uck yes, deal ye-” answer forgotten in the garbled, divine mess of carnal satisfaction, Mingi watched as you lowered yourself to hover above his member, and gave it a few kitten licks before taking in his tip.

You rolled your tongue over the heat, relishing in Mingi’s taste, and pushed down further until you were midway, and hollowed out your cheeks in time to sense how he twitched at the dizzying warmth. While you were more familiar with a dominant role, particularly one where you prioritised your own pleasure and used others as a form of self-relief - not exactly the most responsible approach but no one had complained yet, but even then you were no stranger to this sensual act. You dragged your tongue against his large erection, spurred on by his groan when you bobbed your head a couple of times before slipping off to give Mingi an inquisitive glance.

“So, what do you say?”

“You are… amazing,”

“I take that as a, ‘yes please, Y/N, continue’?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then say it, darling, so I know,” you grazed a lone finger up his length, admiring just how sensitive it was, “and you can touch me, by the way, you were doing so well before what’s got you so shy now?” you chuckled when a hand that had previously been hovering in your vicinity finally found its place on the side of your face, timidly moving a few strands of hair that you had not noticed threatening to cover your vision. 

“Yes… please, Y/N, continue.”

“So precious.”

It did not take long for you to build him back up and higher again. You were addicted to how he writhed under you but was still careful to not grab onto your locks, instead choosing to repeatedly run his digits through and rest them while you masterfully took him in your mouth. A wanton symphony filled the room, blending every sigh and the sloppy collision of his tip against the back of your throat into a direct stimulation. Your core was growing needy, so much so that with one finger you began to roll over your sensitive clit, echoes of the explosive orgasm still shooting through your nerves but not nearly enough to satiate your evolved hunger.

“I’m going to-”

He pawed at you, while an oncoming wave was about to capture him whole. Mingi’s breathing was ragged and irregular and his head fell back while he struggled to distinguish reality from dreaming in the wake of his crumbling state. Just like he had done in your last encounter, the second before he came stirred in him a final aggression, a desire to prove to himself that he retained some form of power, even though all the signs pointed to the opposite. At least now, you were fully prepared. Throat relaxed and eyes fluttering shut, you let yourself be pushed down onto the throbbing cock with a rough hand, and welcomed the ropes of hot, white cum when they spurted out to coat your mouth, rivulets dripping down your throat and prompting you to swallow. The light tang was suddenly your favourite flavour, and you resumed your pumping, milking Mingi of all his nectar with a greedy forcefulness. He tasted like he was completely yours.

He hit the headboard as he collapsed from the exertion, astonished at how you licked your lips, showing off the emptiness of your mouth as you had swallowed his load. Your cunt ached for more, and you drifted towards Mingi until your chest was pressed against his, ensuring he recalled the fact that you were still wearing his shirt. Not caring for the remnants of his cum on the corners of your mouth, he searched for your lips, sealing them with a long kiss. You used this as an opportunity to lower yourself just enough to have your folds glide over his only just softening member, and deepened the kiss to drown out his gasp. You needed him, and needed him now. Not caring for recovery times, you began to fist his dick roughly, making him tremble underneath you and bite down on his lip.

“Come on, precious, won’t you give me another?”

“A-ah I- please I-”

“What was that?” you separated yourself from him, a smirk dancing on your lips when you sensed a familiar rush racing under skin from the stimulation, and leaned to the side to open the bedside drawer, successfully fishing out a condom. 

“I-”

“Speak up, sweetheart, I am not sure what you’re saying,” it was so easy to tease him, play with his mind, and you liked it too much. Reduced to babble, he shut himself off from further attempts to communicate, submitting to your determination to work him until he was hard again.

When you ceased to pump him and let go, his cock slapped against his skin, leaving behind traces of prior climax and clear promise of another. You removed the condom from the packaging and carefully unrolled it, suddenly struck by how practised this felt with Mingi, as if you knew each other’s bodies better than your own. You would be lying if you were to say you did not have him memorised.

Positioning his tip at your entrance, you sighed and slid him between your folds. One rock of the hips, another, and the condom was coated in your slick, and you began to take the member in, inch by inch into your fluttering heat, mouth ajar as you felt him grazing against your begging walls, the ribbed detail of the protection only adding to the sensation. Soon enough, he was fully sheathed inside your fluttering hole, and was struggling to hold himself back from bucking his hips upwards. One leg on either side of him, you were straddling his lap, the position reminiscent of a longing embrace, intimate, personal. The centre of your attention were the contortions of his face and the arms that loosely wrapped around your torso.

If it was possible to be any closer, then most certainly Mingi achieved it when he pulled you into him, holding you tight. The movement dragged your pussy over his cock, almost making it slip out until he settled you back down again, hissing when skin slapped against skin. Not surprised by, but still not expecting the enticing demonstration of strength, you nudged Mingi’s cheek with your own, whispering words of praise in his ear:

“Do you want to guide me?”

“Sorry Y/N, I couldn’t help it… your pussy feels so good…”

“I said I want to take care of you, Mingi, tell me what you want.”

“I… I do want to guide you, if you let me.”

“Show me what you can do, darling.”

You did not need to say it twice as he grabbed your hips to adjust your seating, and took to finding a steady and breath-taking rhythm, with the two of you moving as one. Mingi left one peck, another on your shoulder when you yelped from a particularly deep pound of his cock into you, grazing your g-spot and knocking you off kilter. 

“Yes, yes, Mingi-”

“So pretty, for me?” he cut you off while he quickened his pace, starting to move up with more vigour when you found balance by gripping onto the headboard.

“For-” you stopped, reassessing the sentence. Even in the comfort of his show of power, you were hesitant to give up. Nothing forced you to continue however, as Mingi angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your legs tremble and pussy clench around him. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the knot in your stomach was driving you mad, “Fuck, Mingi, faster!”

Your words were followed by a few violent thrusts, before Mingi tapped your thigh and growled for you to shift your leg so that you could turn and lie down on your side. You read his wishes, cautiously shifting until your back was flush against his chest. Remaining close so that his length remained in your sopping cunt, you shifted to sink into the crumpled sheets, fixated on Mingi, who was entirely in his own world, concentrated on performance and pleasure. He lifted your other leg by hooking it with his arm and, once settled, began to thrust with a totally new vigour. 

His grunts mixed with your high-pitched whines, and his pistoning caused your fluids to spill relentlessly around his cock, soaking the sheets. Mingi was in overdrive; he wanted more, needed more and despite already having already come one for you, he was ready to do it again. The pain of having his cock abused and overstimulated had subsided, instead transforming into a delightful sensitivity to the warmth of your walls, and how they started to pulsate. You unleashed a broken moan as your high accumulated and destroyed you, giving you up to Mingi entirely. Sensing the shift, he persisted, letting out his own guttural groan when the pounding into your hole had turned into pure ecstasy and brought him to his own orgasm. Cock twitching as it spilled out more of his release into the condom, the heat leaving you dizzy, you followed his change of position back into sitting, jaw slackened, vision unfocused.

Mingi kept you against him, encouraged you to say his name again while you warmed him, to which you instantly obliged - it felt too natural, meant to be. He scissored your folds with his fingers, after which he moved up to tease your pulsing and erect clit, middle finger moving over it at an astonishingly fast pace. You practically clawed at Mingi, sure that you were about to break, gasps stuck in your throat but he would not budge, holding you down until a tidal wave crashed into you, and you mewled through another climax, this time a clear liquid spilling from you and further ruining the cotton below. A wreck, you leaned back on him, unable to keep yourself up any longer from the shaking of your legs to the blankness of your mind. 

He kissed you back to full consciousness, having tilted your head so he could capture your lips again and again, each contact more gentle than the one prior. After pulling out his cock and discarding the condom, his full attention was on you. Mingi caressed your face, snaked his hands under the t-shirt to feel your skin, lowered you onto the bed and slid another pillow so that you remained in a more or less upright position.

“You okay?” he tried, worry showing itself on his features when you did not respond instantly.

“I love,” he stilled, eyes widening, “...this. I love this, Mingi,” nevertheless, he beamed, lips interlocking for what had to be the thousandth time. Not sure how to respond, he simply lied down next to you, watching as your inhales and exhales grew more level, deeper, and awareness of surroundings returned.

“We… we really should clean up, yeah?”

“Definitely changing the bedsheets later,” Mingi pointed at what was running the risk of being a stain of your release. Blush rose on your cheeks as you turned away, mumbling:

“Good point.”

“Hey, hey, it was worth it. You looked beautiful,” he tried to move you back, but you only crossed your arms, joking.

“You were literally behind me, Mingi.”

“Beautiful from all angles, doll,” you sharply turned, giving him a glare before suppressing the widest grin.

“So cheesy,”

“Do you like it?”

“Unfortunately, a little too much.” you flicked his nose with your own, the safety and adoration oozing from Mingi lulling you. The room glowed a stunning shade of pink, with hints of orange as you swam in his stunning dark irises.

“Well I have a lot more where that came from.”

“Can’t wait to hear it. Now, uh… shower?”

It was Saturday. And most definitely, it was not the dead of night. Late morning light washed over your skin as you sat upright on Mingi’s bed, the same one you had run from not too long ago. Only this time, the arm lazily thrown over your stomach was impossible to move, and the gaze of the man with his head perched on his other hand was impossible to ignore. It was evident that he was waiting for your next move, purposefully silent. Aware. Even though you had made your own version of a confession, you knew that you had a long way to go if you wanted Mingi to wholeheartedly trust you, and thus you would be able to hold and protect his love in your own slowly healing heart. 

For the first time, you were looking beyond the character you had created for yourself, feeling for the essence of who you had once been far too long ago, thawing the self-protective frost you had accumulated as your last resort.  Attempting to stay still, you focused on how your breathing repeatedly lifted and lowered his arm that was still on your body. Too heavy, too intimate, too real for you to handle. According to the logic that you were trying to shed for a full reawakening, you had gotten what you wanted, right? Then why was it that you could not stand up and leave, having used him again, mercilessly and coldly? Why were you stuck? Resistance was futile. Questions turning into a barrage of artillery against your clouded mind were agonising, and amidst the colossal pause a shudder passed over your body. Mingi’s t-shirt that he had let you borrow, hanging loosely over you was suddenly not enough. Feeling bare, you grasped at the bedsheets, anything, the cold settling on your skin like fresh snow, coating you and leaving you gasping. A trembling of the lips, a breath suspended in the lungs, blooming into an ache until tears welled up in your eyes, glistening raindrops. Patterns felt like strangers as you thought of the many days that you had tried to not live through, instead succumbing to impulse and carnality, and the foreign bliss of being in the now was so acute it sent shocks through your system. A white light, a white lily, a white dove cradled in your hands. You felt Mingi’s hand pressing into your side as he moved a little closer. You could hear him, his breath, his heartbeat, feel the heat emanating from his body, and every touch imprinted on your skin once again. Celestial blessings that soothed you like no one ever could. Biting on your lower lip, you lowered your head to fight the last of yourself. Shedding your beliefs and desires, you were left bare, and you were terrified. A white chasm into which you kept on falling, and the only thing you could hear was Mingi’s voice as he sat up to pull you into an embrace, his strong arms lifting you from your position and into his lap. Heart to heart, you melted into the feeling, inhaling him, his affection that was seeking you out in the panic. A hand lulling you, slowly patting your back as your body shook with every suppressed sob. As he mumbled your name against your ear, calling out for you, the previously contained tears sprung out, travelling down your cheeks, but Mingi could not care less, only hugging you tighter until even in your loss, you could feel that he was there, and he was not planning to leave.

Once you calmed down, he continued to hold you, mumbling abstract thoughts that occurred to him, unrelated to anything that had you rolling up the walls like a penny. You knew it was on purpose - a delightful distraction crafted by psychological mastery, getting you to nod along to his plans for ‘the latest breakfast of all time’, listening to his mention of some park or square nearby, switching you off from the ghosts of a turbulent circuit that you were too used to existing in. You did not mind the chatter, the vibrations emanating across and from his chest as he spoke having turned into the most soothing sensation. 

“...a date.”

“Huh?” only having registered the last part of the sentence, you jolted out of your empty musings.

“Since we are now dating, we will go on a date.”

“Makes sense.. But… how?” he chuckled breathlessly, detangling himself a little, just to look at you.

“How? Are you asking how people go on dates?”

“I guess…”

“Well then I’ll have to show you.”

As you lost yourself in another kiss, a thought, or more accurately, a small yet persistent wish buried itself in your mind. With all your being, you hoped that on this date, in every step towards new tomorrows, it would be only you and Mingi, and the metaphorical doors would remain shut, isolating and erasing your past. After all, you did not want to use him. 

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[josphitia]

TigerCow HRT part 2

“Jo? The Doctor will see you now.”

Jo was walked by the nurse towards the same sparsely decorated room that Jo had been in just recently. Why were there no furnishings? Was it simply because Dr. Erian was that kind of man, considering himself too busy to be trifled with such concerns? Before Jo could give it much thought Dr. Erian sat before Jo. Between them was the only thing that seemed of any monetary worth in the entire office: An intricately designed desk of some wood that Jo, while not knowing the exact material, could surmise was very expensive.

“Ah, Jo. Nice to see you again. How have you been?”

“Jo has been okay. Have simply been waiting for call. Now am here.”

“I see your manner of speech is still… the same. If I may ask, is there any particular reason why you speak like that?”

“No. You may not ask. Is it not enough that Jo simply talks like this?”

“...I suppose. Okay. Well, I’m sure you can guess why I called you in. I’ve been working diligently on your request. Believe it or not, the easiest aspect was making the fur purple. Simply adjusting the amino acids until they produce the right combination of eumelanin and pheomelanin. No, as I said in our last appointment the hardest thing to tackle was finding the right balance between the carnivorous and the herbivorous. Too much of one, and you’re simply a striped cow with fangs. Too much of the other, you’re a tiger with hooves. Although, thank you for what you provided the nurse last visit regarding your own specific phantom feelings. While I may not be able to replicate it 100%, your form should be close enough to provide you relief. But anyway, last week I think I finally figured it out. I won’t bore you with the details but I feel I’ve developed an injection-model HRT that will provide you with the results you’re seeking.”

“Thank you, Doctor. It means a lot to Jo that you would work so hard.”

“Oh by all means, you’re quite welcome. I must admit at some point it became something of a challenge for me. I needed to figure it out just as much for myself as I wanted to for you. I wish I could have simply told you this over the phone, but due to those new laws they’ve been implementing, legally I’m only able to disclose information about your treatment in person. As well as requiring you to sign these forms.”

“More forms?”

“Yes, there’s always some new fear to stoke and it seems you therian folk are the next in the crosshairs. These forms simply state that you understand the risks inherent in Human Removal Therapy. That you are technically a unique species and thus are not protected by nor constrained by the current laws set in place for species that you may be, and I apologize this is their wording, ‘mimicking and/or adopting traits of.’ I assure you this is mostly legalese and a way to protect people from being sued.”

“Hrm. Okay…” Jo signed the papers, probably putting too much trust in the man. But he was the only barrier left to what Jo needed.

“Thank you! Now, I’ll go ahead and fax your prescription to your pharmacy as well as needles and syringes. I’ll fax the instructions as well. I’d like to see you again in about two weeks, to assess how you’re feeling about the preliminary changes. I’ll walk you out.”

-------------------------

Jo picked up their prescription as the pharmacist explained the dosage. 1 shot every other day for 3 weeks, then to speak to the doctor regarding upping or lowering the dosage. Enough in this vial to last 3 weeks.

Jo put on a MeTube video simply labeled “How to inject yourself! (For HRT purposes).” The instructions seemed simple enough. Jo filled the syringe, cleaned the area, and began to inject themselves in the way the video displayed. A rush of adrenaline filled Jo’s body as they pushed the thick liquid through the needle and into their body. A typical reaction to a needle prick, to be sure, but Jo liked to think it was their body's own excitement and eagerness as the new hormones rushing through the body.

Jo went to bed that night with thoughts of the tigercow they were soon to become filling every crevice of their mind.

________________________________

TigerCow HRT

First|Previous|Next

Another entry in TigerCow HRT. Hope people enjoy, thanks for looking!

[striderthefrog]

Scavenger’s Reign, Body Horror, and Returning to Nature.

(Spoilers for all of scavengers reign season 1)

This will be my first of a few deep dives/analysis into scavengers reign.

SR is a masterfully done sci-fi series that explores many different types of fear, one of these fears is body disfiguration/mutilation.

The entire world is out to get our protagonists and many things seek to use them for energy or food. Early on we see that the planet is far different from earth, with many of its inhabitants having developed extremely unique defense/reproductive methods.

We see bodies that have long been overgrown with various plants and fungi, taken over completely, these people’s insides are no longer their own they now belong to these organisms, they have become food.

Early on we see Hollow, a parasitic creature with physic powers, paralyze kamen. It paralyzes him in a trance and then puts a black sludge into him. In an off-putting scene we see him forced to ingest it. Eventually hollow will ingest him and insert an umbilical cord like appendage into him, he is connected to the creature and his body is being sustained by it.

At one point we see Sam get pricked by a plant like entity. This entity creates a zombie like clone of him. We see this same entity create a copy of a mammal like creature and watch that clone bulge out and explode into an acidic substance.

This plant pricking Sam spreads some sort of poison up his arm, sickening him and disfiguring his arm for a time. We see Ursula’s horrified face when she sees how the poison has affected him.

He gets cured from the poison by a seemingly helpful old woman however we quickly realize that all is not as it seems and she has been completely taken over by a parasitic monstrosity. This creature uses its controlled hosts to transform their bodies to be able to produce more of these heart like things. Once planted into a victim they spread vein like appendages throughout their host, they change their body in such a Way that they can produce and cough up these same seeds.

It’s rooted in Sam’s body and keeping him alive, it controls his mood and influences his behavior. Causing him to think everything is ok when in reality he’s no longer fully in control of his decisions. He eventually rips it out of himself, and without it he dies.

Throughout the series the planet seeks to engulf people into its ecosystem, they are food here, they are a means to reproduce and nothing more. Their bodies don’t belong to them as far as the life forms are concerned here.

The planets forces the former crew of the Demeter to realize that their bodies can be completely taken over. They have to fight to maintain their autonomy.

Even the ship the crew came on has been over grown by plants.

The last example I will look at is Levi. Levi has some sort of spore/fungal like entity take root in them. Azi is deeply disturbed by this at first, trying to remove the fungal infection. Only in this case Levi eventually is able to become one with this spore, and they become something even more then they started out as, capable of feeling and pain.

Scavengers reign forces us to come to terms that ultimately our bodies will return to the ground. Nature will reclaim its own. In the end the crew had to learn to live along side the planet after being stuck there, and not fight it. They became part of the ecosystem.

[luna-rainbow]

that ask/meta about Bucky and sleeping broke my heart. I always feel sad when seeing that scene of them manhandling Bucky out of the vault and so but to know they manhandled him while he was basically dead is just sad as hell. he deserved better than a bunch of criminals doing that to him. 😔

while writing this a question came to my mind: what do you think are all the things attached to his body in that opening scene of civil war? I always thought the mask was oxygen but if he was basically dead then he didn't need oxygen, right? plus he's not wearing a mask in other times when we saw him being put under cryo, so what was that for? and the things around his chest??

Thanks for the ask! Cryo is not at all within the realm of my knowledge because there’s complicated physics involved 😂 And to be fair, I think this is classic movie science where the creators themselves have done very little research into how cryo is achieved.

This article provides a good run-down of the theory behind cryopreservation, but it’s from 2008 and technology and our understanding of cell metabolism is likely different now.

To summarise:

The subject needs to be cooled to -120C to be held in cryostasis. At these temperatures, chemical reactions are so slow that the cells can stay stable for centuries.

Blood is removed before the subject has been cooled below 0C and vitrification mixtures are injected into the subject to prevent ice crystal formation. This mixture is toxic, so has to be tightly controlled for the temperature it is given.

Another factor to control for is reperfusion injury upon warming and re-infusing the subject with blood.

Other interesting facts noted in that article is that humans have been cooled to 16-24C with cardiac arrest of more than an hour, then reawakened without neurological damage, which is impressive given brain damage is said to occur within minutes of cardiac arrest at normal body temperature.

Importantly though, the article doesn’t seem to mention any cases where an entire mammal has been successfully resurrected from cryo, much less multiple rounds of freeze-thaw cycles that Bucky had to go through. A lot of what it discusses in theory is on the basis of maximising the preservation of brain tissue, while sacrificing other organs to potential damage (I think the article said something along the lines of “in the future stem cell technology would take care of all those damaged organs!” which…isn’t going to help poor Buck out)

What I can’t find with my (very limited) reading is how the blood is stored after it is replaced. Presumably it is also cryopreserved separately? Because transfusing someone else’s blood into the subject’s body will cause huge issues. The other major difference between current data and Bucky’s situation is that current cryo methods are for the preservation of recently deceased bodies, while Bucky is still alive when he is placed into cryo.

So uh, assuming Bucky’s cryo is anything based in current real world science, he’s likely to have attachments for: heart monitoring and defibrillation, airway support and oxygen supply, large bore intravenous lines for rapid blood removal and replacement which would also help control the cooling/warming, some sort of real time monitoring of acid-base and electrolyte and oxygenation levels and replacement, and maybe some sort of EEG to monitor brainwaves. The blue glowing buttons are kiiiinda in the right place for heart monitor if we’re assuming a 3-lead system and the other one is hidden on his right side.

Keep in mind, this is not taking into account any magic effect the serum might have, ie maybe cryosuspension and revitalisation is only possible because of the serum, and maybe crystallisation isn’t an issue because of the serum.

And this is going to be TMI but I wonder what the effect of intestinal contents would be on cryo. Limiting his intestinal contents is partly the reason why I feel like Bucky likely didn’t have a lot of chance to eat real food, and likely got most of his nutrition as some sort of prescribed nutrition mix that would give him the energy hit he needs for the mission. Assuming that his gut will go into hibernation mode with cryo and probably won’t digest properly at least for a few days (much longer if he were a normal human), I suspect they’ll go for IV nutrition if they need him functional quickly. (* This won’t be one of his lines during cryo obviously cos he won’t need the support)

So yeah, all those fics about Bucky exploring oral textures and tastes of foods as a part of his recovery has a special place in my heart.

[insaneintheemembranev2]

paring; karlach x gn!tav!reader

genre; angst, friends to lovers,

requested; (yes/no)

warnings; no happy ending, major character death, depressed reader, ending of bg3 changed, no capital letters, 2 time skips, not proof read.

summary; in which karlach meets her demise and reader is left alone once again.

authors note; no use of y/n and they/them pronouns for reader. thank you for reading! this is my first time writing angst and actually publishing it so i'm kind of nervous lmao. my requests are currently open, so please send me something to write! <3 you can find two published books of mine on ao3 or wattpad as they aren't yet posted here if you're interested, thank you!

word count; 686

you lay in karlach's bed, the sun shining and boiling above you. the heat was almost too much to bear, although that might be because you have a tiefling with an infernal engine that was hotter than the hells lying with you.

karlach had her arm draped over your waist adding to your discomfort. you tried wiggling away to cool down but she just dragged you right back into her grasp, she was insanely strong.

"stop moving." she groaned while sloppily giving your neck a kiss.

"i'm too hot!" you exclaimed in a whiny voice.

she let out a chuckle "yeah you are." she said in a flirtatious way.

"karlach!"

"fine, fine. go and leave me here all alone." she said with a sigh, letting go and rolling over.

"i'm sure you'll survive." i wriggled out of bed and started getting my armour on, we had a long day ahead. "are you not getting up?"

"5 more minutes."

"fine, but get up soon. we have to travel through the city again today."

she muttered something as i walked away from her tent.

the party made their way back to the camp, feeling defeated and heartbroken having lost one of our dearest companions. tears welled up in everyone's eyes as we walked, our bodies were covered in blood, sweat, various poisons, acid, and monster goop from our recent adventure. the fight had been brutal, leaving me with an aching back and heart, my voice hoarse from constantly casting spells. dirt and mud had crept under my fingernails, clinging to my skin, and I couldn't help but feel exhausted and drained.

when we had returned i didn't bother washing off any of the dirt from my body, i just removed my armour and went to sleep, hoping when i awakened it would all just be a bad dream.

months had gone by and my mental state only declined. the rest of the party had disbanded, moving on with there lives, but how could i? how could i move on after losing the love of my life? how could they go on knowing what she gave up for us?

all karlach ever wanted was to be free, have a normal life and experience the city without fear of zariel snatching her back into the hells. over the past 9 months ive experienced all kinds of emotions.

at first i didn't believe she was gone, i woke up the next morning thinking everything was fine and she wasn't actually dead. my friends looked at me with sympathy and pity. i hated it, couldn't stand the way they were treating me.

after a while, i realised she was gone, so i believed she was hiding in the hells waiting for me to go get her, to save her. zariel must of done something, must of switched karlach out for someone else.

then i felt angry, why would want to leave me alone, why would she sacrifice herself. we would've figured something out, someway she could live, scarified gale or something. we could of fixed her engine and lived together. we could of been together, properly but she chose not to. she chose to leave me.

i tried everything to bring her back, i researched for hours every day for an entire month, i tried every spell, every scroll and every potion i could get my hands on. i tried contacting zariel. i even tried making a deal with jergal to bring her back in exchange for my soul. nothing worked and no one accepted my deals.

i gave up hope after a few more months, she wasn't coming back.

i cant get out of bed, i don't want to. i don't want to eat, drink or move without her. i feel like my throat is closing up, like i can't even breathe without her. its like karlach was my life source.

if only i stayed in bed that morning, maybe it would have turned out differently. maybe she would of been next to me now. i would give anything to be able to feel the heat of her heart once more.

[average-mako-enjoyer]

N7 Month 2024: Day 2 - Reflection

Characters: Padok Wilks, Lieutenant Tolan, Urdnot Bakara Words: 908 Summary: The aftermath of Mordin's loyalty mission aka Salarian team that came to do the clean up finds the sealed lab with the fertile krogan on Tuchanka. Perhaps I should add a more optimistic ending to this one.

*** "Did they touch anything?" Padok asks.

"As far as I know, sir, they didn't." The shuttle shakes, and Padok's escort has to grab the railing to keep himself from falling. "But I wouldn't rule out the possibility of contamination. The agents who broke into the bunker aren't exactly in the habit of being… sensitive."

"I see."

Padoc turns to the porthole and catches his own reflection. His lips twitch in irritation. He hates unprofessionalism.

The moment Padok's feet hit the ground, he is immediately surrounded by barely organized chaos. The landing pad is swarming with agents busy loading heavy equipment into the open shuttles, someone is shouting orders in a high, already strained voice, and from somewhere in the periphery comes the unmistakable crack of assault rifles. "Doctor Wilks? Doctor Wilks?" Out of the crowd, barely avoiding a collision with the swaying loading platform that moves across his path, a nimble-looking agent runs toward them. Padok raises his arm. "That's me." "Lieutenant Guran Tolan, I'm in charge here. We've been expecting you, follow me." He immediately gets into motion again, and Padok and his escort have to follow. "What is the situation?" Padok asks. "There are nine subjects. Five are dead and in active decomposition; we believe Heplorn removed them from the clean area himself. Others – my people just found them, and we immediately resealed the area. We have no data on their condition."

"But your people entered the lab, correct?" Tolan gives him a quick look. "We wouldn't have found them otherwise." "I see." Padok clicks his tongue and closes his eyes against the howling wind, which keeps throwing dust in his face. "And what's with the shooting?" "Varren." The agent makes a disgusted noise. "The whole area is crawling with them. We cleared it out for the most part, but some of them are still coming." "Varren? Heplorn probably used them for tests," Padok has to jump over the piece of rusted armature sticking straight out of the ground. "I want them all killed and packed up, Lieutenant." "With all due respect, Doctor, I think you're mistaken. These krogan were probably just breeding them here." Tolan pauses. "Animals that breed other animals… Ironic, don't you think?" Padok's escort lets out a chuckle.

"I still want them packed up," Padok insists. "If Heplorn ever used them in an experiment, we need to know. We don't want a crude version of the genophage cure developing in the varren population, do we?" Tolan stops and turns to him. Padok must have hit a nerve, because he looks pissed. "We don't." "Good to know we're on the same page." Padok nods. "We cannot fail on this mission, Tolan. The fate of our race is at stake." "I am aware."

When they finally reach the building, Padok is immediately greeted with the sight of the already installed acid dispensers and the stacked body bags.

He counts. Thirty two. Not all are krogan. "Your people's work?" he asks. "No. This is from another group. They cleared the building ahead of us." "Another group? Did they enter the lab?" "As far as we know, no." Tolan makes a small irritated chirp. "They cleared the building, alerted us, and left." "Interesting…" "All the bodies have already been checked. None of the krogan are female. The cleanup team will start on them in a few hours." "What about the smaller ones? Humans? They can be test subjects." "No. Vorcha. Let's move on."

The building Heplorn has chosen to house his lab is a maze of long corridors, rooms with fallen walls leading to other rooms and more corridors, and at first Padok wonders how Tolan can find his way around, but after the third round Padok realizes that he is just following the blood splatter. Whoever cleared this place before the STG was very thorough, and Padok can respect that. But then the blood splatter stops and Tolan makes an unexpected turn that leads them to a long staircase.

"Watch your step, Doctor," he warns, and they begin to descend.

After the first flight, Padok notices voices coming from below. People talking, laughing, and apparently polluting the area. Another flight and he sees them lined up in front of the large glass wall that separates the clean area from the rest of the building.

"Attention, men!" Tolan shouts, causing some of them to jump. Then he turns to Padok. "Please, Doctor. The area is yours."

Padok walks past him, straight to the glass.

Behind it is a brightly lit room with two rows of hospital beds. The subject lying on the nearest one is obviously female: too large to be a male. She doesn't move.

'Dead?' Padok thinks.

His gaze moves further, and then he realizes what Tolan's men were staring at, what made them laugh and point fingers. In the far corner of the room, three female subjects are huddling together. Two of them are clinging to each other while the one, the tallest, tries her best to stand in front of them and cover them with her body. She's the only one looking at the glass.

Padok leans forward and their eyes meet. The female narrows her eyes and her throat quivers with an inaudible growl. Amazing.

"We need a decontamination area, clean suits and sedatives, Tolan," he says. "The sooner the better."

He steps back from the glass and catches his own reflection in it. His inner eyelids flutter. He feels... excited.

[darklovecat]

My Pouty Sans-Juvederm Routine

I am fond of pouty lips and I personally prefer mine to be juicy, lips are a symbol of femininity and beauty and allure, and I love nothing more than covering my lips in heavy coats of plumping lip gloss before stepping out and there's no way I could leave the house without applying a very light layer of of capsaicin ointment (common vasodilator used in lip plumpers) or my trusted and all-time favorite Lip Plumper.

I have created a routine for myself to for enhancing the shape and color of my lips and I use this routine pre-makeup or on its own for an extra boost of volume while maintaining a natural and subtle look. The results are natural and I'd recommend them for obvious short term and subtle long term results, I use this routine weekly and it works for me.

As always, this is what worked for me and it's what I do, I would recommend you do your own research and make sure you know what you are doing and it's appropriate for your individual needs before following these steps, it's one of my ways for when I need to enhance my lips and accentuate their shape and color.

I prep my lips with a focus on hydration.

For starters, you need a very smooth and moisturized surface, this won't work with chapped or dry lips. You want to prevent any damage, the skin of our lips are very delicate and the thinnest part of our bodies so make sure your lips are properly hydrated. To physically exfoliate your lips, you can easily make your own peeling at home with honey and sugar to slough off all of the dead skin, and I also use a toothbrush to gently remove dead skin cells. My lips are always soft because I have incorporated more hydrating products into my daily regimen and before I go to bed I make sure that my lips are properly moisturized for an extra boost of hydration and improved texture so that I can wake up in the morning and do my makeup on smooth canvas. I always keep a spray bottle with water handy and use it before I apply any hydrating products on my skin or lips, it has worked wonders for me as I feel it activates and helps my lips better absorb the products and pull the moisture from the water. I spritz my lips with water and hydrate them by applying a very generous amount of hyaluronic acid and/or glycerin serum and really massaging them all over my lips to provide deep hydration.

I dermaroll my lips.

I have been using dermarollers for several years now for various purposes, and I have noticed excellent results. I know that dermarollers have sparked some controversy and people have raised concerns about their safety, fretting about how they could cause infections or permanent damage to the skin. I would never use one on my facial skin and would strongly advise leaving that to a professional, but I particularly enjoy using them on my lips and or for doing my microneedling treatments. Prior to use, I ensure that my dermaroller is free of bacteria by disinfecting it. Never skip this step as you want to keep it free from germs so sterilize before each use to prevent infections. I always use the smallest needle size possible, which in this case is 0.25, and I think it is way more gentle on the lips and less irritating compared to bigger sizes. The principle behind dermarolling your lips is that micro-tears are created on the lips or skin during the process, which triggers the body's natural healing response and produces more collagen. I roll my dermaroller over my lips both horizontally, vertically, and diagonally. My lips are not that sensitive to the dermaroller since the needles are tiny and I try to be as gentle as I can.

I slather some more hydrating serums and lock it all in.

My lips become slightly red after I am done with the dermarolling, I'm used to this whole process and the needle size is rather small so my lips aren't that sensitive anymore. I want to encourage and speed up the growth and healing response, the post-care routine is equally important as the actual steps so in order to promote faster healing and encourage growth, I generously apply hyaluronic acid serum once again. Then, I use an occlusive like La Neige Lip Sleeping Mask or good old Vaseline to seal in the serum in order to speed up and facilitate the healing response.

I Follow My Lip Care Regimen.

Dermarolling my lips has worked wonders in making my lips appear fuller and I increase blood flow to my lips with my lipcare regimen that consists of regular massages, exercises, special ointments, physical exfoliation, SPF lip balms, diluted essential oils and icing just to increase circulation, stimulate the blood flow to my lips and protect them from environmental factors. This routine in combination with a separate lip makeup routine makes my lips get that red plump bee stung look that I so love.

Cat.

[16mistypaw]

Misty's Whumptober 2024

Day 5 (Heatstroke) - Continued from Day 1 (Search party)

One member of the chain pushes himself too far in the desperate search for their brother.

The trek across the desert was long, the day only growing hotter as the sun rose higher in the sky. Twilight did his best to keep up, despite not having anything protecting him from the heat like the others. Time had an enchanted tunic, and Sky and Legend had jewelry in one form or another. Twilight had simply removed the wolf pelt from his shoulders, tucking it under an arm while they walked.

He didn't realize how much water he was drinking to combat the heat, until almost two hours in he went to drink and found the container empty. It had been full when they started walking, though he supposed none of them had expected to be without. Even when someone ran out, Wild had a near limitless supply of everything in his slate.

But Wild wasn't here, that was the reason they were trekking through the desert in the first place. A hand bumped his, Time offering his waterskin with a concerned look.

“You okay? You look pretty flushed.” Time kept his voice low, so the others wouldn't overhear.

“Just warm, I'm fine.” Time studied him for a moment longer, before conceding.

“Just tell someone if it gets worse. You don't have any protection, and we don't want to have a medical emergency in the middle of the desert.” Twilight nodded, and Time left him alone.

An hour later they finally reached the cliffs they had been walking towards, and the shade they cast was a welcome relief, even if it only took the temperatures from scorching to stifling. As expected, the sword still pointed straight through the stone, despite there being no visible passageway.

“Twilight, time for a little tracking. Can you use this to find them?” The red talisman was removed from Sky's pouch and held out.

“On it.” The wolf pelt was slung back over his shoulders, and a touch of the shadow crystal left the massive wolf standing in his place. The thick fur immediately grew warm, absorbing and holding the heat. He ignored it in favor of scenting the paper, and began pacing the area in an attempt to pick up a trail.

Every pace he expanded his search radius, occasionally returning to Sky to refresh the scent in his mind. At last he picked up a match, and he barked for the others to follow. They veered left of the cliffs, tracing along them until they came to a ravine cutting through the stone.

Twilight turned to follow the path, or rather, tried to. He stumbled over his own paws, crashing down in the shifting sand that spilled into his mouth as he panted heaving breaths. Startled voices shouted his name, and with effort he raised his head. Time crouched in front of him, though Twilight couldn't quite understand what he was saying.

Time repeated whatever he said, then called Sky over when Twilight failed to respond. Twilight recoiled with a snarl as the sword in Sky's hand was pointed at him, briefly flaring bright blue. And then he was Hylian once again, Time helping him sit up and offering water that was declined. His stomach was already upset from drinking so much, and he felt any more might make him sick.

Though perhaps it didn't matter, because when Time tried to help him stand a wave of dizziness and nausea hit him. He pushed away from Time, falling to his knees to vomit water and acid.

Someone pressed against his back and hooked arms under his, lifting him once more, only for his chest to be placed against someone else's back. Hands wrapped under his legs, securing him and shifting him up until his head was resting on their shoulder.

Twilight vaguely registered a smudge of red on their cheek. He barely had the energy to feel embarrassed about riding on Time's back like a child. Especially when they started a hurried walk that jostled him, making his dizziness worse. His head pounded with a migraine, and his body felt weak. He was so tired.

Twilight hoped he got them close enough to save Wild, because at this point he couldn't even save himself.

The last of his strength left him, and everything went dark.

[pentacass]

A/N: Post-BG3 Evil™ AU where Shadowheart becomes Mother Superior and Sol retakes her mantle as Lolth's personal assassin.

"More of our agents have gone missing in Amn. Those who remain sent word that Selûnite presence is growing heavier in the city. Likely they have caught wind of our plan to establish an enclave there."

Shadowheart drums her fingers idly on the armrest. This news is not unexpected - recent Selûnite movements have all but led up to it.

"Again, Mother Superior, I must voice my concern. The city's streets are filled with common criminals and vagrants. Mere refuse. The caliber of recruits Amn has to offer does not justify the effort we have-"

She raises a hand; while her advisor falls quiet immediately, she remains staring at the black widow perched on the back of her hand. How long has it been there?

"Do not be so quick to dismiss 'mere refuse', Barros. They are desperate. They lack direction. They harbour resentment for those who stand above them, blind or indifferent to their suffering. All it will take to turn them to our Lady is…a little nudge." She waves her hand in a smooth flourish; the spider remains still, save for the excited chitter of its fangs at the movement. She has to bite down a smile.

"I will not tolerate any more excuses," Shadowheart adds when Barros opens his mouth. "We will continue as planned; if any Selûnite dares interfere, show no mercy."

"Yes, Mother Superior. As you say."

He bows his head, but Shadowheart has already swept out of her seat. She leaves the room and cuts through the main hall, hardly sparing a glance at the faithful who bow at her passing. The dormitory is empty, as is usual during the day, and she shuts the door behind herself. Striding down the length of the chamber, she catches the ropes of the heavy draperies at its very end, and tugs them loose - curtaining the Mother Superior's quarters from the rest of the dormitory.

She raises her hand, and the black widow pounces onto the bed. Dark magic wreathes its tiny body, twisting and elongating into an elven form, finally falling away from the drow woman lying casually across the covers - much too casually for one who had infiltrated a secret Sharran cloister.

"Amn, hm? Such a wonderful, gilded little cesspit," Solistre drawls, as a smile touches Shadowheart's lips. "You could murder someone in broad daylight, and the guards will forget about you in a week."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Perhaps."

She mirrors Shadowheart's smile. The years in Lolth's service have not been kind to Solistre, leaving her with a scar that splits brow and eye, an acid burn across her neck, and more blemishes hidden by her leathers. Most notable, however, are the whites of her sclera that have turned black. A sign of Lolth's favour, Solistre had explained dismissively one night, many years ago, but Shadowheart suspects that is not the whole truth. The Spider Queen's mark on a beloved daughter, like the incurable puncture on her own hand, perhaps?

No matter. Shadowheart kneels on the bed, sets a hand on Solistre's neck, and pushes her down roughly. The drow doesn't resist, reaching for her hips as she straddles the assassin.

"Though I am the Dark Mother's favoured blade, I could spare some time to remove those pesky Selûnites for you." Solistre's fingers slip between the slit of her dress, grasping the naked flesh of her thigh. "For a price."

"Of course. I am eager to begin negotiations." Her hand tightens around Solistre's neck, teasing a smirk from her partner's lips.

"Well then," Solistre purrs, nails digging into flesh. "Make your starting offer."

-

A/N: had a go at making lolthian sol and i'm going insane

[archersxartxblog]

Master Post

Look who's back with a new chapter of Warden's Twins!

I nearly Wrote about Zisu throwing Beni down the side of a mountain in the last part.

Chapter 28

Emmet rolled to safety, wiping the blood from the cut on his cheek, and sparing a glance towards the pokemon battle only a few feet. “Scyther! Air Slash on Gallade! Galvantula! Sucker Punch on Gardevoir!” He called out before dodging to the side, Beni's sword just barely missing him.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Galvantula's attack was less effective than he hoped, and he quietly cursed his mistake. Gardevoir had a fairy typing, dark attacks wouldn't be as effective.

It was hardly fair, attacking another trainer during a battle. It went against every rule in the league, and more importantly it was dangerous. Yet, Emmet got the feeling the old man didn't care about any of that, as Beni once more tried to take off Emmet’s head with his blade, only missing by a hair.

It was making battling properly rather difficult, as he had to keep his focus almost entirely on trying to avoid the old man. So far he had managed to keep the battle somewhat in view, but it was difficult to form a proper strategy. so he was mostly running on luck and the fact he had a slight type advantage over one of his opponent's pokemon. 

“Gallade! Drain Punch! Gardevoir! Dazzling Gleam!” the Old man ordered not once taking his eyes off Emmet. He either trusted his pokemon completely, or he truly didn't care what happened to them.

Once more, Emmet scrambled away from the chief turned Ninja, all the while dodging pokemon attacks as air sliced clean through stone and fairy magic whizzed past his head.

Months of running away from Paras were finally paying off. 

There was a cry of pain, and Emmet watched as Beni's Gallade finally went down, falling to one knee, clearly unable to battle any longer. 

This got the old man's attention, allowing Emmet to put even more distance between them, as Beni was forced to withdraw the pokemon from the field. 

“not many mange to get this far, maybe Zisu wasn't exaggerating your skill.” Beni spoke, his eyes focused solely on the pokeball in his hands. “But this is as far as you'll go. Mismagius! Power Gem! Remove those insects from my sight.”

In a flash of light a new pokemon joined the fray, unleashing a ray of sparkling light from the gemstones on its ghostly body, and just like Gallade, Scyther fell.

“Scyther, Return.” Emmet quickly recalled his pokemon. “Eelektrik, use Acid on Gardevoir, Galvantula, Electro Ball on Mismagius!'' This wasn't good, Galvantula and Eelektrik were his last two pokemon, if even one of them went down then he would be looking at a two vs one situation. There was no telling how many pokemon the old man still had left, and worse yet, after a full day of nothing but battling Alpha's his pokemon were probably as worn out as he was.

If he could just focus, then he might just be able to pull through.

But sadly, Beni was not willing to give him the chance, as once more the man closed the distance between them. Renewing the chase.

“Mismagius, Power Gem once more. Gardevoir Psychic.”  The old man ordered, charging towards the and leaping into the air, sword raised high. 

Emmet quickly turned to feel, taking one last glance at the battle while he still could. “Eelektrik! Galvantula! Use Thunder wave! Slow them down-Ah!” 

His foot suddenly caught on a stone, sending the boy tumbling to the cave floor. Emmet barely managed to roll away in time to avoid the blade that had been aimed at his head, only losing a few hairs in the process.

But his cry of shock had been disastrous for his Pokemon, as both of them had turned to check on him, leaving them both open for attack.

“No! Eelektrik!Galvantula!” Emmet cried, as he tried to push himself back to his feet, wanting to run to his fallen pokemon to make sure they were okay, but a weight on his back kept him in place.

“it is impressive how good you skyfallers are at wielding the power of pokemon.” Beni spoke, burying his blade in the stone next to Emmet’s throat. “Had things turned out differently, we might have been able to call the four of you allies. But…” The old man sighed, sounding tired. “I have my orders” 

Emmet’s heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel tears start to form in the corner of his eyes. 

He failed…again.

Beni was going to finish him off and go after his brother and Akari…

And the world would rip itself apart, and he and Ingo would never see their dad, or their uncle or Unova ever again…

All because Emmet wasn't able to win a battle when it mattered most.

“Please…” a sob escaped the boy's lips, as his face pressed against the ground.

Emmet heard the old man sigh once more, and the weight that kept him pinned to ground shifted slightly though not enough for him to wiggle free. 

“You must think us Monsters.” The man spoke, his voice soft and tired. “If it means anything, I don't hate you. Any of you. In fact I admire your skill in battle. Had you not been dodging me this battle might have ended differently.” another weary sigh escaped the old man. “Pokemon are truly terrifying creatures.”

Slowly, Emmet turned his head, glancing back at the old Ninja. 

Why was he telling him this?

“Kamado and I saw our hometown burned to the ground by maddened Pokemon running amok-we lost plenty of friends and comrades that day.” the old man shook his head and leaned heavily on his blade. “That’s why Kamado came here to Hisui to try to build a new home where people could live free from fear. But to achieve something truly great, you sometimes have to take extreme actions.”

Extreme, or foolhardy? 

Emmet only wished his Uncle was here, he was sure Drayden would have some choice words for Beni and his Commander.

“I am Emmet, and I think blaming Akari and my Family for all this, is verrrry extreme.” Emmet snapped back. probably not the best choice when his man had him pinned to the ground, and his pokemon at his mercy, but someone needed to point this out. And maybe if he convinced Beni this was all unnecessary, then maybe they would have one more ally on their side. “If we had the power to do all your commander says we can, do you really think I would have lost to you, even with you chasing me?”

The old man hummed, seeming to take Emmet’s words into consideration. “I will admit, I considered the same thing.” a thoughtful look crossed his face, and for the briefest of moments Emmet wondered if he had actually managed to get through to the man. “But at the same time, I must also keep in mind that this could all be nothing more than a trick. Besides, what I think doesn't matter, I have my orders.” 

Emmet wanted to scream out his frustration.

This wasn’t fair!

He and his brother weren't even supposed to be in Hisui!

His dad wasn't supposed to be in Hisui!

And Akari probably wasn't supposed to be here either. 

And he doubted any of them even wanted to be here. He sure as heck didn't.

But now because they were here, in this place they weren't supposed to be, during some weird event, they were suddenly to blame for it, because of reasons, apparently. And worse they couldn't even fix the problem they were being blamed for because no one would listen.

“Gardevoir, Mismagius, finish off those Pokémon.”

“NO!” Emmet screamed in panic as he realized what the old man was ordering his Pokémon to do. He tried to reach for their pokeballs, hoping he could return them before it was too late but Beni just put more pressure on his back. “Galvantula! Eelektrik! Please, get up!” He pleaded, but it was no use.

“Don't worry, little one, you'll be right behind them. I'll even make sure you are not apart from your family for long.” The old man yanked the blade free from the stone, and Emmet held him breath as he felt the cold steel inches from. The back of his neck.

“Please” He tried once more, too scared to try to move. 

The air in the cave seemed to drop as Emmet watched as Beni's Pokémon approached his fallen partners, ready to follow their trainers orders. The Stones on the Mismagius's dress-like body began to glow, as she powered up an attack…Only to stop, and let the attack fuzzle out, as she looked around the room nervously.

The Gardevoir stepped up, cooing slightly in confusion, drawing Beni's attention to the two pokemon. “What is wrong Mismagius? Finish them before they recover.”

But the pokemon ignored him, fluttering through the air nervously, as if looking for some hidden danger.

It was then that Emmet started to pick up just how cold it was in the cave. He could see his breath in the air, a fine mist was starting to form from the rapid change in temperature. and while the layers of Emmet’s Pearl clan garb kept him warm, he could feel the old man above him start to shiver.

“A storm must have blown in from the Icelands.” the old man snorted, as he pulled the blade a bit further from Emmet's neck so he could try and warm his hands with his breath. “Let’s make this quick then, I want to be back in the village and over a hot stove by nightfall-”

Mismagius let out a blood curtailing scream then fell to the ground unmoving. 

“What just happened? Mismagius!”

Gardevoir moved in to check on her comrade, only to suffer the same tragic fate, with deep shadowy claw marks appearing on her snowy white body.

“Gardevoir!” Panic seeped into the man's tone as he watched his Pokémon fall with no sign of an Attacker. “You!” The pressure on Emmet’s back doubled making it hard for him to breath, as the old man suddenly put all his weight onto the boy. “You Did This! Didn't You?”

The boy tried to deny the accusations, just as clueless as the Ninja. But no sound could escape him, as the pain in his chest continued to increase.

“I don't know how you did that but I can not let this-”

The old man's word's cut off, and Emmet found himself finally free.

Gasping for breath, he wasted no time as he quickly ran to his fallen Pokémon. Pulling out their pokeballs and pulling them back to safety. Once his pokemon were safe, the ten year old looked back towards the old Ninja, and his jaw fell open.

There, standing right where Emmet had been pinned, was his missing Zoroark. Beni held high off the ground in one massive paw, and in the other, was the Ninja's sword, shattered to pieces. 

“Zoroark!” tears ran freely down Emmet’s cheeks as he stared at his Pokémon. The Pokémon he'd thought had run away on him, had tracked him down, had come back, and saved him. “Zoroark, don't worry about me like that again, you jerk!”

If Emmet didn't know any better, or he might have thought Zoroark had smiled at him.

“Let go of me you Infernal beast!” Beni cursed as he was left dangling from Zoroark's claws, his legs uselessly kicking at the air. 

As much as Emmet hated to admit it, he felt just a little satisfaction at having the tables so suddenly turned in his favor. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with the Ninja now that he had him. 

Sure he could have Zoroark continue to hold him in the air, and just wait here until help arrived. He was verrrry tired, and his Pokémon needed rest.

 It would not be hard to just sit here and defend this point with Zoroark until help came.

Or…

He could find something to tie the man up with and then he and Zoroark could go join up with Ingo and Akari. 

Sure, he only had one Pokémon he was able to battle. but Zoroark was strong and he and Ingo were always better when they battled together. 

That was a better plan, yep.

“hold him there, Zoroark, while I find something to tie him up with.” Emmet called out, pushing himself to his feet and running over to check the barbells against the walls. There had to be rope somewhere in here.

“You talk like you have beaten me, child.” the old man spoke again, still dangling from the ghastly fox's paw. “You plan to just tie me up and leave me here for dead?”

“I am Emmet, and you are beaten.” The boy answered plainly as he focused on his search. “You're Pokémon are unable to battle further, yep, sounds pretty beaten to me.” It wasn't the way Emmet had wanted to win, but after being chased around by a crazy man with a sword, he was willing to take any win he could get. “And you won't die. Captain Cyllene said she would be sending back up. Yep, she can deal with you.”

The old man just…laughed. “Ninjas are not beat so easily.”

“Ninjas are also supposed to be sneaky, and you are not verrrry sneaky.” Shot back, not willing to rise to the old man's bait.

“Sneee~” 

A smile spread across his lips as he heard the Pokémon cry behind him. He knew that cry anywhere. It meant that his dad was nearby, and help was on its way. And he turned to greet her.

“Lady Sneasler-”

His words caught in his throat as a burning pain began to spread through his chest, feeling like he'd just been hit by a Thunderwave.

Emmet stared wide eyed up at the Pokémon in front of him. It was a Sneasler, but it was not the noble he had come to know and love these past few months. Their long sharp claws digging into the skin of his chest, having easily slashed through the fabric layers of his tunic. The only thing keeping the poison tipped claws from digging any deeper into his skin, was Zoroark, who had released the old man to rush to his aid.

“I had originally caught this Pokémon, to deal with your father…encase he ever turned on the village.” Beni spoke up, stepping forward, and rubbing at his neck. “After all, what better way to kill a Warden than to make it look like their precious noble did it. I suppose the same tactic could be used on you.”

Emmet staggered back away from the claw, his chest feeling like it was on fire, and he started to feel slightly sick. The Sneasler seemed to laugh at his actions before turning their attention towards the ghost type.

Zoroark let out a low growl, pushing the Sneasler back a few steps, and Emmet shook his head, trying to regain his focus.

The battle was not over, while it was no longer a double battle, Beni could not chase him about with his sword. If he could just focus on the battle and not on the pain in his chest, then he just might win.

—

On any other day Zisu could easily out run Warden Ingo. The man was more built for short sprints than a marathon up a mountain, and his footwear was hardly appropriate for running in the Hisuian wilderness. But today, she had to push herself just to keep pace with the Warden and his Noble’s mad dash up the mountain.

Not that she could blame him for his haste.

“What were those kids thinking? They should have waited for reinforcements back at the base camp.” She muttered, as they neared the stone portal, the open wound in the sky almost blinding from here. 

“Captain Cyllene ordered Akari and the Twins to-”

“I know what Cyllene said.” Zisu cut Rei off as they ran. The boy had been locked in battle with a member of the Security Corps when she finally caught up with the Warden and his group, luckily the man stood down the second she came into view. She sighed and shook her head. “I just don't think she meant for the three of them to go in there alone.”

In all honesty, she was more worried about the twins than she was Akari. 

Akari was strong and capable with her pokemon, and while the Commander didn't trust her at the moment, he still held enough respect for her and the work she had done for them under his order. Even that little Serviper of a cook Beni had some respect for her capabilities. There was a chance they would at least give her a fair shot.

Of course the twins were capable as well, there was no denying that, and on any other day Zisu wouldn't believe Kamado was capable of hurting a child. But this wasn’t any other day, and Kamado's paranoia had gotten the best of him, and he didn't know the twins, he had spoken more to Akari and their father then them. And after the stunt Emmet’s Zoroark had pulled earlier,while it had probably saved their lives, the Commander was unlikely to show them any mercy until it was too late.

“I told those two not to be so reckless,” she heard Ingo speak up, his voice easily cutting through the wind. “I should have gone with them from the start, I should not have allowed myself to become uncoupled.”

“No, Warden, you entrusted me with their care, I should have stayed with them.” Irida piped up from behind them. “I let you down, My deepest apologies-”

“Yes, yes, The Pearl clan is very irresponsible” Melli cut in with all his usual tact. “But can we discuss this later, when the SKY ISN'T RIPPING ITSELF APART!”

“I hate to agree with Melli, but now isn't the time for this.” Adaman added, and Zisu felt inclined to agree with him. 

As the group neared the stone portal, the sounds of a battle could be heard echoing from deep within the cave, and Zisu heard the familiar cries of a Zoroark and a Sneasler going at it. 

Finally they caught up.

Once more, Ingo tore off and Zisu was right on his heels. 

She had a feeling she knew who their opponent was. And that only made her run faster.

As the tunnel opened up, Zisu pulled out in front of the Pearl Clan Warden as he came to a stop. Sneasler and Gliscor flew out past her, Charging the Pokemon at the battling Pokémon, while she tackled Beni to the ground. 

Once she was sure she had the old man thoroughly pinned, arms held tightly behind his back, Zisu looked up and took in her surroundings.

Beni's Sneasler lay unconscious on the ground a few feet from her, Gliscor and the much Larger Noble of the Cliffs hanging over the Pokémon just encase it got back up. Zisu wasn't sure which one got the final blow but she was more than sure the smaller Sneasler would nor be getting back up.

A little further over, Emmet’s Zoroark sat, his fur all ruffled from the battle, the Sneasler clearly had given him a run for his money, but all and all he looked no worse for wear.

And behind the fox was…

“Emmet!” Ingo called out, rushing towards his son and scooping him up into his arms.

The boy was in rough shape. His hair was a mess, his cheeks caked in dry blood, his tunic was sliced to shreds, and he looked far paler than he should be. It took everything in Zisu not to land a swift punch to the back of Beni's head.

But one thing about the scene stood out. 

Akari and Little Ingo weren't here.

“Emmet, where is your brother and Akari?” The Pearl Clan Warden asked his youngest, in a hushed tone.

The boy blinked slowly, looking exhausted, and slowly pulled away from his dad and pointed towards the tunnel heading towards the peak. “Ingo and Akari went ahead to stop the commander.”

The Warden looked over at her, and Zisu nodded in return. There was no way Emmet could continue up the mountain. “You go ahead, I'll take Emmet and Beni back to the base camp.”

It was probably for the best, she wasn't sure how she would react if she came face to face with the commander after all this.

“But-” the boy tried to protest but his father cut him off.

“No buts, you will hitch your cab to Zisu and go back to the Basecamp. I'll go help your brother.” Ingo explained, gently patting the boy's shoulder before standing back up. 

Emmet swayed a bit as his dad let go, only to be caught by the Diamond Clan Warden. “Fear not, I, The Great Melli, will accompany them back.”

“Thank you.” Ingo nodded, allowing the other Warden to take his son, as he, Irida and Adaman continued forward.

“We can head out, just as soon as I get Beni's hands in a nice pair of Iron cuffs.” Zisu grabbed both of Beni's wrists in one hand, before reaching back in her pouch for a pair of handcuffs. 

“There’s no need.” Beni grunted from under Zisu “only a foolish Ninja continues after a target they know they cannot beat.” 

Zisu just rolled her eyes and put the cuffs on him anyway before yanking him to his feet. “Come on. Let's get back to camp.” 

“Yes, and let us be quick about it. The boy has been poisoned, Lucky for him the Great Melli is more than prepared." The Diamond clan Warden grinned, pushing the boy towards the captained as he marched towards the exit.

Zisu nodded, kneeling down and scooping Emmet up so that his upper body rested comfortably on her shoulder, before following Melli out; dragging the old man behind her. Emmet’s Zoroark following close behind, as Rei remained behind to gather up the wounded pokemon.

“If-hypothetical as it may be- a pokemon were to appear from within that space-time rift…I fear Kamado might loose hold of his reason.” Beni muttered as he walked forward, looking back towards the peak, yet made no move to try and break away.

“I think we're way past that point, Beni.” Zisu shook her head, adjusting the boy in her arms ever so slightly. “Judging by the fact that he banished Akari for no reason, and then tried to lock up Ingo and my boys. I say it happened when the Sky turned red.”

“Your Boys?” Beni questioned, picking up on the slip. “Last I checked you are not their mother, unless there is something you would like to share.”

It was so tempting to give Beni a little shove and to tell him mind his own business. Maybe let him tumble down the mountain. But she forced herself to behave…Cyllene will know what to do with him.

“And last I checked Beni, you weren't a real chef, yet I still see you running the Wallflower.” Zisu snapped back, not willing to give the man an inch.

For a moment she thought she heard Beni laugh. “I just hope Akari and your other boy are able to save Kamado from himself.” 

“Hm…” She hummed in response. She hoped so as well, though her faith in the Commander was completely shaken, she didn't want to see him be ripped apart by whatever was coming out of that rift, just because he refused to listen. “Agreed. Now keep quiet, unless you want to take an ‘Express Route’ down the mountain.”

“Ugh, Could you not Speak like that! Bad enough, the Great Melli hears that from Ingo and his brats, I don't need it from you as well.”

[hey-michael-young-history]

Day 19: Hyperemesis Gravidarum

——

For Hanzo.

Kuai Liang sighed. He summoned as much strength as he could, reached up, and flushed the toilet.

For Hanzo. He deserves…

His stomach lurched as he pushed himself away. Smelling the thick bile was hard enough. If he had to see it go down, he wouldn’t be able to eat for the rest of the week.

Kuai Liang pushed himself back until he hit the wall, then rested against the cool tile. It felt so nice against his clammy skin. It felt so nice to rest. He only needed a moment. His throat was sore, his stomach felt watery and he was so tired.

He was so tired.

When he opened his eyes, he did feel a bit better. It was dark in the bathroom and there was a blanket over him.

Hanzo.

Kuai Liang removed the blanket and slowly rose. The room was saturated with his Alpha’s pheromones. While that usually soothed Kuai Liang, right now, it made him unsettled. Anxious. Dizzy.

Nauseated.

He just needed to get to bed. As apprehensive as he still felt about sleeping in a bed, he knew that if Hanzo found him sleeping outside of the bed, he wouldn’t let it go. Kuai Liang felt like enough of a problem already.

He entered their bedroom, where the smell of Hanzo only grew stronger, a bouquet of strength and tenderness and warmth and…

Too much. Too many different smells, making his stomach lurch.

“My treasure.” Hanzo’s voice was a heavy murmur as his arms came around Kuai Liang, guiding him to their bed.

Almost. He should have known. Hanzo’s omnipresence was something he'd never escape, now that they were bound together through a bite.

And this thing inside him.

“I am fine,” Kuai Liang insisted hoarsely. His throat ached with every vibration of his vocal cords and his stomach begged him to stop talking.

Hanzo’s frown deepened. “Yes, I know.”

He sat on the bed, easing Kuai Liang next to him. “I know that you can forgo eating for quite a long time. My concern is for our child.”

He pulled Kuai Liang’s face against his neck. “How long has this been going on?”

“A few days.”

“Kuai Liang.”

“If you know the answers, why do you patronize me with your questions?” The cryomancer asked, standing.

He wanted to be on the bed. Every day that he spent… like this… made him give in more and more to his desire to just be somewhere warm and soft.

But not in front of Hanzo. He was worried enough about this child. Kuai Liang could handle himself. He wouldn’t add to his Alpha’s troubles.

“I can prepare some tea,” Hanzo offered.

His brow furrowed in concern as Kuai Liang turned with his hand over his mouth. “Or perhaps we should retire for the evening.”

“Yes,” Kuai Liang agreed, fighting the heartburn crawling up his chest.

He clutched his throat and gave a low sigh. There was nothing in his stomach, but he couldn’t risk getting sick in bed. As comfortable as it looked… it wasn’t worth it. No one would bother him on the floor.

He touched the duvet. When he slept on the floor, he didn’t deserve to have such nice bedding. But there was a pull in his body. An itch at the thought of not having it that was irritating and confusing. He didn’t belong in the bed but Hanzo’s child deserved some comfort.

Hanzo watched Kuai Liang’s fingers move across the duvet. He needed sleep. He needed to eat, but the sour scent that clung to him explained why he didn’t bother. Hanzo could see his mind working. Kuai Liang was his Omega. His pregnant Omega, no matter how uncomfortable the adage made him feel. The only thing a pregnant Omega should concern themselves with was their child.

The sickness Kuai Liang was struggling with had gone on for weeks now. Chiyoko warned them of morning sickness but he was feeling ill at all times of day. His body was going into overdrive, trying to mask the acidity of his scent with a cloying perfume that got the attention of every Alpha he passed.

The looks told Hanzo that it wasn’t normal. He wasn’t allowed to be near Harumi during her pregnancy, though he obsessed over every stray whiff of her that he caught. He didn’t know much but he knew that his wife loved being pregnant. Kuai Liang refused to even say the word.

Another curse put on him by yet another Alpha.

Enough. Hanzo finally tore the duvet off the bed and tossed their pillows and sheets to the floor. Kuai Liang watched, though the bitter ash of anger was weakly emitting through his pheromones.

“Hanzo–”

“It is fine if you wish to sleep here but only on the condition that you nest first,” he insisted.

Relief touched the cryomancer’s shoulders as he lowered his crossed arms and took a pillow. His nesting still left much to be desired but Hanzo waited patiently as he established the area and set to work. His nest was large and empty, bare in some spots, overflowing with poorly folded sheets in others. He looked at Hanzo expectantly, yet another thing the Alpha was getting used to.

Nesting was an Omega thing. An Alpha’s approval in the matter should mean nothing to them.

“It’s perfect, my treasure.” Hanzo answered with admiration and love, as he always did. “May I enter?”

Kuai Liang nodded, as he always did, and allowed Hanzo to embrace him. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for building it for us.” He wasn’t sure if his Omega heard him; he was falling against Hanzo far too easily. He pulled Kuai Liang closer and eased them into a more comfortable position.

Getting him to eat would be his next task. But for now, rest would do them both good.

—--

Hanzo fell asleep to the drone of Kuai Liang purring against his chest, but it wasn’t long before the feeling was gone and the sound was replaced by a heavy coughing fit.

He opened his eyes and saw his Omega sitting up, doubled over with his hand over his mouth.

“Shh, shh, come,” Hanzo whispered. He tried to pull Kuai Liang along but he refused to budge. He thought for a moment, then pushed the coughing man down on his left side and rubbed his back. “This is your nest. You are safe here. If you need to make a mess here, it's fine.”

He waited for Kuai Liang to recover from the dry heaving before getting a damp washcloth and wiping his face and his mouth. The washcloth felt amazing and the opportunity to rinse out his mouth was one he hadn’t thought to take.

“Thank you,” he rasped.

“You're so ill that there is nothing to expel,” Hanzo sighed. “When was your last meal?”

Kuai Liang had no intention of answering that question. But then Hanzo pulled his head against his chest and started stroking his hair and he felt such relief that he would have confessed anything to keep it going. “I– I had a glass of milk some time ago…”

He wondered if Hanzo always smelled this good, if his pheromones were always so warm and enticing. He grabbed Hanzo’s waist and pulled him so close that he could barely breathe. Hanzo was his air. His pheromones were all the food Kuai Liang needed.

It had been so long since he felt such peace. He wondered why he ran from this.

Hanzo sighed again and kept stroking his Omega’s hair. Kuai Liang’s purr was almost deafening and it was lulling his Alpha into a sinking slumber. If this was how his family needed to rest, Hanzo would facilitate it.

For now.

—---

The sun invaded the nest and forced Kuai Liang to open his eyes. The canopy was too thin, he realized.

He wasn’t surprised that Hanzo wasn't there, but it didn't make the hollowness of sudden solitude any easier. He rolled over, preparing to stand.

But the entire room rolled with him.

But as quickly as the nausea came, it dissipated. And he smelled something new.

Something light. Sweet. Marshmallows? He immediately purred and heard a chuckle over him as someone rubbed his back and continued flooding him with these safe, sweet pheromones.

“You have hyperemesis, my dear. Likely hyperemesis gravidarum,” came the whisper of a familiar voice. “Hanzo told me that you can barely move without feeling sick. We just need to get you hydrated…”

Hanzo’s pheromones made him feel sick but Chiyoko’s were filling his body with simple joy and awarmth. A small smile. Short hair. He was small and she was so warm…

“You… smell…”

“I hope it is a comfort to you,” She said softly. “You and the beautiful child we’re all waiting to meet.”

“It’s… killing me…” he murmured.

“I’m sure it feels that way,” she said, helping him stand. “But I know you are much stronger than you credit yourself for.”

“My strength… is in fighting. Killing,”

“Your view of yourself will change once your little one opens their eyes and sees you for the first time.”

He didn't argue with her as she led him out of their room. Nothing that carried his cursed bloodline could be good. The very thought brought his stomach to his throat.

“You will recover.”

Kuai Liang looked up and saw Hanzo, as fierce, determined, and confident as ever. “And our family will be complete.”

Despite himself, Kuai Liang smiled. It was a dangerous thought, but one that settled his stomach at least for the moment.

My family will be complete.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Forged in Fire

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,709

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Our heroes make one last trip into Grymforge to find the adamantine forge. Karlach and Halsin stay behind to make sure her engine doesn't overheat again. Part 19 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Astarion since he insisted on stepping in the lava CONSTANTLY during this playthrough. One more chapter to go before we move to act 2 and it will be up shortly! Thanks so much for continuing to read and for the fun comments, I've really enjoyed reading through them!

Wandering around Grymforge again brought back too many memories. The Sharran armor and weapons, the details of captured Harpers. Many of the journals and notes she found detailed the torture of her former allies, bringing her hatred of the wicked goddess to a simmer in the back of her mind. Records of those imprisoned here crept into her mind throughout the day. She and Shadowheart had been even more tense than usual during their time here.

Nymla Gharis, half-elf, Harper captain. Refuses to give up the location of their leader. But we will break her.

Tav shuffled around in a hazy stupor, it was as if she could hear the screams still echoing off these tainted walls. She could hear the sharp snap of whips, the subtle tearing of flesh with knives and saws, the crack of bone under heavy blows. How many of her allies had met their terrible end here?

Wood elf, male, low ranking. Likely has little information of worth to share. Will continue questioning.

Shadowheart was flourishing, feeling close to her dark and twisted goddess, excited at the prospect of learning more about the Dark Justiciars that fell here. She took every opportunity to stop and offer quick prayers to Shar. And now, she even wore the armor of a Dark Justiciar. They had found one set that was still intact among the fallen and Shadowheart cleaned it up to replace her basic chainmail. The armor looked exactly as she remembered it all those years ago when her arrows were finding the weak spots at the neck, just beneath the arm, the inner thigh…

“Tav?” Gale whispered. “Are you alright?”

She realized she had started crying, and her face must have been bright red judging by the heat she felt rising under her skin.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and forced her attention back to the task at hand. Or at least she tried. Every soft clink of Shadowheart’s new armor kept threatening to drag the memories back.

Tav saw her loathing mirrored in Halsin at camp. The two elves made a point not to sit too close to Shadowheart around the fire. Lunari helped with that, given her fear of wolves.

Human, cleric of Selûne, missing one finger, stinks of silver moon magic. Will remove more digits to draw information. Punishment should be severe and excruciating for her choice in worship.

Their party had combed through the stronghold, hoping to find a working moonlantern and a path to the adamantine forge. They had already fought off a couple more duergar slavers that were whipping a group of deep Rothé senseless, a group of acid oozes, and they talked a gnome down from martyrdom to leave them all blessedly unexploded. But still no moonlantern.

She continued leading her group through the dark hall, the bodies from their previous encounters left a burning, necrotic stench in the air. The noxious fumes made her stomach churn as she hurried past the worst of them. They stumbled upon more skeletons strewn about the ground, once again dressed in armor bearing Shar’s symbol.

“Well, hello!” Astarion shoved part of the armor aside, revealing a mold for some type of armor. “Another mold for the forge.”

“Let’s bring it along and we’ll see what we can make.” Tav held her bag open for him to stash it away. They had already gathered several other molds for various weapons and armor.

Just past the chamber where they faced Nere, she spotted another overlook that they had missed before. At the top sat a small stone slab with three different levers.

“Hmm, it would probably be best if we don’t start pulling random levers until we’re sure of their purpose.” Gale had one hand rubbing his chin as he lost himself in his thoughts.

“According to the notes we found on the drow, the forge should be just up ahead.” Tav looked ahead over the river of lava flowing beneath them.

“Yes, but how to traverse this crevasse?” Gale took a few steps back to take in more of their surroundings. His fingers stroked his beard as he considered their options.

“Look up there.” Shadowheart pointed to a few platforms suspended above them. “The tracks appear to run across the entire chamber. If we can figure out how they move, we may be able to cross safely.”

“Hmm…” Gale looked at the platforms, then back to the levers. He reached out and pulled one towards them. In response, one of the metal platforms began to move, the old and rusty wires squeaked across the chamber.

“Aha!” He yelled with a small pump of his fist. “We just need to find out how to get over to that specific platform. There looks like there could be others as well, likely controlled by the other levers here.”

“Or we could just jump.” Lae’zel pointed across the river of lava to the nearby ledge.

“Across the lava?!” Tav’s startled yell echoed off the walls. She peered over the edge at the river of lava far below them.

That’s a long way down.

��Why not? Have Gale hit us with a handy Feather Fall spell, and we should be able to make it over without issue.” Astarion shrugged.

“We’re awfully high up…” Tav countered.

“Yes darling, that’s what the Feather Fall spell is for.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Can you really tell me you’d rather go higher up to those old, wobbly platforms and cross the lava that way?”

“I guess not.” Tav gulped as her legs started to shake.

“Wizard?” Lae’zel shot Gale a sharp look.

“You know, a simple ‘please’ wouldn’t go unappreciated.” Gale chided her.

“Never.” She crossed her arms in response.

Tav took in a sharp breath as Gale cast the spell. Her body felt almost weightless, as if the lightest breeze could carry her away. Lae’zel made the leap across the chasm first, landing with the graceful poise of a warrior. The others followed not far behind, jumping with ease, and landing as light as a feather for which the spell was named.

Wyll was the only one left with her.

“Come on, Tav. We’ll jump together.” He held his hand out for her with a smile, ever the gentleman.

“Okay, together.” Tav exhaled through clenched teeth.

He gave her a countdown as she said a silent prayer to any god who would listen. She kept a tight grip on his hand as they crouched down together before pushing off the warm stone beneath them. Not two seconds later, they were across the divide and standing with the rest of their friends.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” Wyll let go of her hand, but she grabbed his arm again until she could walk further away from the edge.

“And look! Another one of those molds.” Gale picked up the large metal casting with a grunt. “Seems to be for a sword of some kind.”

“I still think we should go with the armor. Or the shield.” Shadowheart suggested. “We have lots of weapons, but our other gear could use some upgrades for the journey ahead.”

Tav had to admit her logic was sound.

More Sharran armor littered the ground around them. Dark Justiciars struck down in their own dreadful fortress.

Dwarf, male, captured outside of Moonrise Towers, put up a fight. Now his knees have been crushed using the hammer he used to resist.

“First things first, we have to find the ore before we can craft anything.” She reminded them. “It seemed like the drow were convinced they would find some veins near the forge itself.”

They had to fight their way past a small army of magma mephits and enchanted armor to find a meager two chunks of raw mithral ore. Still, it was at least enough for a couple new pieces of equipment.

“Circle up, everyone. Let me take care of some of these burns.” Shadowheart offered. The singed hairs sticking out from her braid matched Tav’s. Familiar soothing waves came over them, taking care of the minor cuts and burns from the past couple of fights.

“Thanks mate.” Wyll patted Shadowheart on the arm.

The heat became more and more insufferable as they descended further into the forge. Lava churned and bubbled on the surface far below the forge – the sight made Tav grateful Karlach had remained in camp today. This chamber was easily three times as hot as the smaller one where they fought Nere.

The stairs that took them below were crumbling, but the adamantine forge itself was as pristine as it could be in a harsh environment such as Grymforge. Like everything else in the fortress, there was a healthy layer of ash and dust, but otherwise it appeared to be in perfect condition.

“I’ll go down and check it out. Let’s see if this forge still works.” Tav pulled out the journal they had found on the dead drow with instructions for operating the machinery.

“Me too. I want to be the first to see this shiny new armor.” Astarion giggled as he hopped onto the massive platform behind her. The others gathered at the edge of the stairs, waiting with bated breath for the forge to be put to use.

“Here, make yourself useful, then.” Tav handed him the journal as she dug through her backpack for the molds.

“Okay let’s see…” Astarion read the words carefully before reciting them back to her.

“Place the mold in that chamber there.” He pointed to a rectangular block of metal a couple steps away.

“Armor or shield first?” Tav asked, holding both up in her arms to display.

“Armor, definitely.” An excited smile tugged at his lips. She held it up to the mold chamber and it slotted in perfectly. “Next, we need the ore, and it goes…yes you’ve got it there.”

Tav placed the ore in the large compartment in the center of the platform. Looking up, it appeared this is where the forge hammer would come down.

“Okay, now the hammer?”

Tav looked around for the lever which was on the other side of the platform from them. She peered over the edge.

“That’s a long way down…” She swallowed hard.

“Oh, come on, Tav,” He waved his hand in the air, “this is so much sturdier than that rickety elevator and you survived that just fine. Not to mention that nice little leap across the river of lava.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before pulling the lever. A booming clang echoed all around them. The platform sank with a slight jolt, drawing a startled yelp from Tav. After the initial drop, it continued its way down in a much slower and smoother motion. Just to be safe, she took a few steps toward the middle.

They landed at the bottom after a short ride with the platform hydraulics giving a soft hiss.

“Is that it?” She asked.

“Give me a moment, I’m reading…” Astarion’s eyes darted across the pages. “Ah! We need to open the valve for lava to flow past the chamber.” They spotted the wheel across the way, Tav assumed that it would open a valve of some kind.

“Wait…” She held out a hand as they reached the wheel, recalling what she had read earlier in the journal. “What about the guardian? The journal mentioned there was something guarding the forge.”

“Well, I don’t see any guardian, do you? Perhaps it was the animated armor we fought before. And that was no small amount of mephits that we dispelled.”

Fair enough.

She took another look around, checking above them for any traps or anything around the valve. As a precaution, she also peered inside the large pipe that would bring the lava to them. It was dark inside, nothing out of the ordinary that she could see.

“I doubt it’ll be an issue. Given the state of the rest of this fortress I don’t see how a guardian could have survived all this time. Besides, what guardian would have let us make it this far?” Astarion gestured toward the valve wheel. “Go on, then! Let’s make us some pretty new armor.” Another eager giggle escaped his lips.

Tav took a deep breath as she turned the valve for the lava. It was surprisingly easy for her to move. She was expecting it to be rusted in place due to its age. The eerie creaking of the wheel rang through the walls of the fortress, now empty except for her and her friends.

Or so she thought.

A low groaning echoed in the large pipe in front of her as metal gears grinded and clicked against each other, waking up after decades of rest. When the giant metal monstrosity emerged from the tunnel, it stood no less than ten feet tall.

“What…the…fuck…” Tav and Astarion cursed at the same time.

A familiar squirming in her head briefly distracted her from the looming construct.

“Tav! What in the hells is going on?” Wyll’s voice soaked into her psyche.

“Something just woke up down here…” She opened her mind further to allow Wyll and the others to see through her eyes.

“By Elminster’s ashen beard…” Gale’s voice drifted into her thoughts next.

“W-Whizbangs?” Astarion stuttered, already taking a step back.

Tav jumped back on the platform just as the guardian slammed down a giant metal foot boasting a couple of metal claws. The force of the movement shook the entire forge. She ran across the raised parts of the platform, jumping across the narrow gaps that now had lava flowing through them. As the construct started stomping after her, she drew her bow and took a shot. It bounced off the metal, the pitiful arrow falling into the lava.

“What the fuck, Tav?! How is an arrow going to pierce metal like that?!” Astarion screamed from behind her, his hands starting to rifle through his bag.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but shooting things with arrows is kind of my thing! I don’t see you trying anything better, you dick!” She snapped back at him as the forge guardian kept its focus locked on her.

Astarion just growled in response as he pulled a small smokepowder bomb out of his pack.

“Why would you want to use a bomb in an area covered with lava? That can’t be a good idea!” Tav shrieked at him, her hands gesturing wildly around her.

“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot of other options, darling! If your arrows can’t pierce it, I doubt these little daggers on my hip will do much better!” He chucked the bomb with a grunt as far as he could across the platform. The explosion was much larger than Tav had anticipated, and it knocked them both to the floor. Luckily, it also seemed to cause the construct to stumble as well. Even so, it made a quick recovery and took another quaking stomp in the lava in front of them. The reverberation from the move knocked their already prone bodies back a few feet.

“We need to split up.” Tav wheezed as she pulled herself back up before helping Astarion to his feet.

“On three?” He asked, she nodded back.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.” They said in unison as they dashed in opposite directions around the platform. The construct paused for a moment before following Astarion.

CLANG!

She whipped around to see an object bouncing off the construct’s head before falling into the lava. To her surprise, it looked like it even left a small dent. It turned its attention back to Tav.

“Did we hit it?” Shadowheart’s voice called to her through the tadpole.

“Yes! Do it again, it seemed to hurt it!” Tav responded.

So, we need some serious blunt force to do any damage here.

Of course, the two of them down here with the monster didn’t have hammers or any other kind of bludgeoning weapon.

Think…think…

A pained cry from Astarion interrupted her thoughts. She peered around the guardian to see him lying on the floor, clutching his leg. His foot was horrendously burnt, molten drops fell back into the lava.

“Why would you step into the lava?!” Tav screamed at him.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Astarion shrieked as he crawled along the platform. His curses echoed off the metal surroundings.

CLANG!

Another weapon bounced off the construct as Tav narrowly avoided another attack.

“What’s going on down there? Is everything okay?” Wyll’s voice reached out through the tadpoles.

“No! Everything is not okay! Astarion walked into the fucking lava!” She used their shared connection to yell back. The giant construct made a swipe at her which she dodged, but it knocked her off balance and nearly into the lava herself.

“Astarion, lava may just be melted rock but that doesn’t mean you can roam its surface safely!” Gale’s voice glided into her thoughts.

“ISAIDIDIDN’TDOITONPURPOSE!” Astarion’s exasperation could be heard in his psychic shrieking. He was still dragging himself toward the lever that controlled the massive forge hammer.

The hammer.

“Astarion!” Tav shouted over to him. “On my mark, pull the lever and bring that hammer down!”

He looked at her like she had just sprouted an additional head. “Have you lost your mind, Tav?! That thing will grind you to a pulp!”

“Just trust me!” Tav growled.

“What’s happening? I hear more shouting.” Lae’zel’s voice came across her mind.

“I have an idea. I think that giant hammer could crush this thing. I’m going to lure it over and have Astarion bring it down.”

Tav cast a quick Misty Step to get herself on top of the chamber holding the armor casting. The intolerable heat in the middle of the lava pit caused sweat to drench the thin clothes under her armor and make her hands slick. Her other companions continued throwing any weapons they could down to hit the monster from above. Most attacks appeared to barely phase it.

Please gods let this work…

Tav fired another arrow at the forge guardian to get its attention. It turned around to face her and began stomping its way through the lava.

“That’s it you metal fuck…just a little closer…”

After only a few steps, its towering metal frame was looming over her. It took one last step placing it directly beneath the hammer. A giant lava-heated foot came up, ready to crush her.

“Now!” She screamed.

Tav heard a grunt of effort from Astarion as he pulled the lever beside him. The hammer came down with a sickening crunch on the construct. She cried out in pain as the sound threatened to burst her eardrums. The force of the impact caused her to fall over, luckily still laying on the armor chamber.

The guardian of the adamantine forge fell defeated beside her, crumpled up into a mangled ball of metal. As the lava retreated away from the platform, a loud hissing sound came from the chamber where she was laying.

***

Halsin was getting anxious waiting for the others to return. They had been gone for an especially long time today. Scratch, Sniff, and Lunari followed in his footsteps as he paced around the fire.

“It’s okay, Halsin. They always make their way back.” Karlach smiled at him from the rock where she was perched. She had opted to stay in camp today while the others went to look for the adamantine forge.

“Of course they do. I’m just merely nervous for…other reasons.” He shook his head at the response.

Smoothly handled, Halsin.

Karlach snorted. “And what reasons are those, bear man?”

“Just thinking about…” Halsin panicked as he tried to come up with an excuse. After a few moments he just let out a resigned sigh.

“You know, it’s okay to just say you’re worried about her.” She ran a whetstone down the blade of her giant sword.

“Who?” Halsin feigned confusion.

“Ha! You’re so bad at this.” Karlach cackled. “I think it’s sweet.”

“I’m bad at what, exactly?” Halsin stopped pacing for a moment to look back at her.

“This.” She gestured up and down at him with a laugh. “Pretending you don’t care. Pretending you’re not going to run over to Tav the second you see her and heal the two tiny scratches she has on her arms even though Wyll will probably have a broken arm or something.”

“I would never let someone sit around with a broken arm.” Halsin mumbled. Karlach just grinned at him.

“Oh, you big loveable bear.” She shook her head softly while she laughed at him. “You don’t have to worry so much. Tav adores you.”

“A…Adores…” Halsin stuttered a bit, causing more laughter from Karlach. He could feel himself blushing.

“Oh, this is fun. I should stay in camp with you more often.” She had such an infectious laugh.

“Okay you’ve made your point. I’m glad I can at least provide some entertainment.” He took a seat next to her. “Why did you decide to stay here today?”

“Eh, there was quite a bit of lava where they were headed. I figure I’m burning up enough as it is, no need to add any extra heat.” She tried to keep a smile up, but her voice had quieted and was now laced with worry. “And after yesterday…”

Right.

Over the last few days, Karlach had slowed down a bit from when he first met her. Tav said she seemed more sluggish in a fight, and quicker to excuse herself to rest in the evenings. Whatever contraption she had in place of her heart was starting to wear her down.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” He asked quietly.

“Maybe. We’re going to find Dammon in Baldur’s Gate and hope he has something else figured out by then.”

“I hope he does, my friend. If not, I’m sure we’ll find someone who can.” He tried to reassure her, but he had no experience with infernal machinery. To be honest, he wouldn’t even know where to start looking.

“You’re a terrible liar, remember.” Karlach’s sad smile broke his heart. “But I appreciate the optimism anyway.”

“Anytime.” He said, almost patting her on the shoulder and then thinking better of it.

“The hurting isn’t even the worst part.” She continued, pain evident in her voice. “I’ve finally made it out of Avernus after ten years. Ten years of torture and fighting, ten years of absolute loneliness. Now I’m back, and I can’t even shake the hands of my new friends. Gods the things I would do to be able to get a hug.” A few tears sizzled on her cheeks.

The loneliness she felt mirrored his own. It was a feeling that so far, only Tav had been able to break through. Much of his isolation was self-inflicted, but at least he had never lost the option to touch those around him. The thought alone made him shudder.

“Well rest assured that when we fix that contraption up, my arms will be open wide. Dark will be the day that I refuse a hug.” He offered. She smiled back as she wiped the tears away.

“Deal. Step one, fix my engine. Step two, giant bear hug.”

Giant bear hug. I like the sound of that.

“So, tell me,” Karlach continued, “what is it that’s holding you back?”

“The fire coming out of your skin, I’d say.” He reached over to pet the small line of animals that had been following him all day.

Karlach laughed and rolled her eyes at him. “What’s holding you back from Tav?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.” She was right, he was a terrible liar.

Why do you bother hiding it?

“Ha! You’re blushing like a maid on her wedding night!” Karlach’s cackle echoed all around him.

Halsin just groaned. He didn’t have an answer to give her. Every day he fought his desires, and every day he looked for excuses to be close to Tav without getting close to her.

“I wish I could explain it, Karlach.” He shook his head, almost ashamed to admit it. “She’s lovely, and the first person to come to my aid in many years. I already consider her a dear friend.”

“But?” She prompted, setting her sword down on the ground beside her.

“But there are things that need to be done. Wrongs to right, a world to save.”

“Oh, there’s things that need to be done alright. Take Tav for instance…” Karlach grinned at him.

“Gods, you are tenacious.” Halsin laughed, doing his best to keep his mind from wandering due to Karlach poking his imagination.

“Just…don’t wait too long, yeah? Take it from someone who hasn’t felt a kind touch for ten years. You never know what could happen.”

Wise words. I just wish I could heed them.

“I’ll take that under consideration. Tav’s lucky to have you as a friend, Karlach.” Halsin smiled back at her. “And I hope I can consider you one as well.”

“Of course you can!” She sounded almost offended that he even had to ask.

Before he could say anything else, Scratch and Lunari jumped up from their comfortable position at his feet to trot over toward the edge of camp. The sound of footsteps cut through the sound of the crackling fire. Sniff perked up but seemed content to keep laying at Halsin’s side.

“Oh good, you’re back.” His face lit up as Tav walked back into the camp, her adventuring party trailing in behind her. Karlach let out a quiet, sputtering laugh at his outburst. He walked up to greet her, noticing that she looked a bit different than when she left this morning.

“Do you have new armor?”

“Yep. Fought a lava monster for it.” She said proudly. Singed hairs stuck out in all directions from her braid. Small burns and blisters speckled her neck and hands.

“A lava elemental?” He asked.

“Nope. Lava monster. It was a giant construct guarding the adamantine forge.” Everyone who left with her today looked to be varying shades of burnt. Gale, he noticed, had a new shield as well.

“Well, you certainly have the burns to prove your story.” He teased, earning another proud grin from her.

“Think you can help us out? Shadowheart and I are tapped out of spells for the day. Someone stepped into the lava rather than jumping over it.” She glared back at Astarion who appeared to be missing one of his boots. The bare foot was still badly burnt, he had to lean on Shadowheart’s shoulder for support.

“Of course. Gather close, everyone.” He placed a hand on Tav’s shoulder and muttered an incantation. A couple of waves of healing went out over those around him, eliciting soft groans of relief from each of them. He would have to take extra time with Astarion to heal that foot.

Just to be sure, he did take another quick look at Wyll, checking that he didn’t, in fact, have a broken arm. Everyone seemed to now be unburnt and content as they started making their way to their tents. Tav turned and smiled over her shoulder at him as she strode over to Karlach, Lunari trotting happily beside her. Gale helped Astarion over to a seat by the fire so Halsin could finish healing his burn.

“You know, druid, I happen to know that spell doesn’t require any physical contact.” Shadowheart had snuck up beside him and was smirking. Halsin just grunted in response as she walked away. He didn’t bother teasing her back. Out of all his new companions, he felt the least comfortable around Shadowheart. Her devotion to Shar was a constant reminder of the curse, of what they would have to face in the coming days.

Rather than let himself stew in his hatred for the wicked goddess, he let his eyes wander back to Tav as he made his way over to Astarion. Her soft smile as she began to regale Karlach with the story of their battle soothed him, keeping his chest warm and his mind light. He enjoyed the feeling while he still could, for tomorrow they would take the path to Moonrise Towers, and through the horrible shadows that awaited them there.

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice #26: Nrvnqsr Chaos

today on Grailfinders, I’d say we’re due for a big ol’ storm of chaos! Nrvnqsr Chaos specifically, though you’ll have to forgive me if I simply call him Nero throughout the build- I’m not going to remember that alphabet soup of a name.

anyway, our dear friend Keysmash Chaos is an Aberrant Mind Sorcerer to pick up some spicier summons and some flexibility, as well as a Shepherd Druid for summoned beasts out the wazoo that can really pack a punch. check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Ancestry & Background

Nero was a human but now he’s chaos, which is a bunch of animals grafted together in a semi-humanoid shape. you could go Simic Hybrid here if you love the smell of fish, but since there’s no way in hell I’ll find another chance for this I’m going to make him a Plasmoid instead. that gives him +2 Charisma and +1 Constitution, as well as an Amorphous body type that lets you squeeze through small spaces and get advantage on making and escaping grapples. you also get Darkvision up to 60’, and can Hold Breath for up to an hour with no negative consequences. you’ve got 666 pairs of lungs, I’m sure it’ll all work out. your unique body plan also gives you a Natural Resistance against acid and poison damage as well as the poison condition, and you can Shape Self as an action to add or remove limbs and a head from your general shape, or use a bonus action to send a bit of you up to 10’ away in a little cord that can manipulate lightweight objects. chaos doesn’t keep a solid form, go figure.

you used to be part of a reclusive bunch of mages that threw themselves out of normal reality, so calling you a Hermit is pretty spot on. you get proficiency in Medicine and Arcana instead of religion bc I said so, and the Wandering Sea is definitely more about science/magic than gods. I’d argue your backround’s flavor feat Discovery is also pretty in-character for once since it gives you a reason you became goo to begin with, but it’s not totally necessary.

Ability Scores

nero’s highest score is his Charisma. his magic comes from inside, and I mean that literally. next is Wisdom, animals tend to have a high wisdom score, and you are animals. also, mind-controlling you is probably pretty hard given how many you have. third is Constitution, because you don’t die til your beasts do, and your beasts don’t die til you do. a real catch-666 here. this does make your Dexterity a little lower than I’m 100% comfortable giving a caster, but with a healing factor like yours getting out of the way isn’t an issue. your Intelligence is only average- you were smart, and probably still are, but your brain’s been getting eaten by wolves the last millennium, I wouldn’t bet too much on it. that means we’re dumping Strength, which feels weird for a super strong vampire, but we can patch that up with magic better than most other abilities.

Class Levels

1. Sorcerer 1: starting off as a sorcerer gets you proficiency with Constitution and Charisma saves. you can survive the eyes of death perception, which is definitely a high save DC for one of those. you also get proficiency in Intimidation and Insight checks. you have 600+ beasts inside you- that’s a lot of growling and a lot of eyes.

at level one your Aberrant Mind lets you use Telepathic Speech, linking up with a nearby creature for a couple minutes so you can speak with just your minds. you also gain Psionic Spells, which are kind of like a regular extended spell list, but you can swap these out with other divination or enchantment spells as you go. if we do that, we’ll be sure to bring it up.

speaking of, at level one you get Arms of Hadar and Mind Sliver which we’re keeping, but we’re swapping out Dissonant Whispers for Identify. you’ve been around a while, you know what magic is. you also get regular spells this level- Mage Hand lets you send out a lil bird to carry something light for you, Sword Burst flings claws everywhere for some cheap damage, Chill Touch deals damage and blocks healing, and Blade Ward lets you goop up to block the worst of incoming physical damage. for your leveled spells, Mage Armor is practically a necessity since it gives you an extra +3 to AC, and Catapult is nice too, letting you fling a nearby object at a creature, possibly damaging both in the process.

2. Sorcerer 2: second level sorcerers are a Font of Magic, which right now just means you can cast an extra 1st level spell each day by doing some rigamarole. a 1st level spell like Feather Fall perhaps. you’ve got a lot of birds in you, I’m sure they can help break your fall.

3. Sorcerer 3: at third level your font of magic actually becomes interesting, because you can use your sorcery points from that to make Metamagic, altering the effects of your spells to your liking. most of your summons are literally you pulling something out of you, so they’re pretty Subtle. subtle spells don’t require somatic or verbal components, so they’re a lot harder to counterspell too!  speaking of, those summons are basically animals when they’re not in you, so they last a while- an Extended spell can help with that, doubling the duration of whatever you cast.

you also get second level spells now! we’re swapping out Calm Emotions for Hold Person for your weak shitty eyes of enchantment, and Detect Thoughts. mortal mages can do that, and you’ve been around ten times as long, so I can’t imagine it’s that difficult for you. you also get Enhance Ability, giving you advantage on one kind of skill check for up to an hour. and all the options are flavored after animals, score!

4. Sorcerer 4: fourth level sorcerers get their first Ability Score Improvement, so bump up that Charisma for stronger spell, like the cantrip Infestation to sic bugs on people and Shatter to break shit! I think adding a swarm of poisonous insects to your chaos would probably bump you up to at least 6,666 beasts but I’ll allow them to all count as one.

5. Sorcerer 5: at fifth level, everything just kind of goes right for you thanks to your Magical Guidance- spend a sorcery point, re-roll a failed check. you’re a villain, so you have plot armor right up to the end of the story.

you also get third level spells- Haste lets you move fast enough to keep up with arcueid (probably), and your freebies Hunger of Hadar and Sending let you blast some goo to slow down enemies and chaos them to death, or use a cell phone. you were born in the 900s, an iphone might as well be magic to you.

6. Sorcerer 6: a sixth level weirdo gets Psionic Sorcery, so any of your psionic spells can now be cast purely through sorcery points, and doing so makes it subtle as well as allowing you to ignore material components unless they are spent by the spell. that’s important for later.

you also get Psychic Defenses, giving you resistance to psychic damage as well as charms and spooks. you have a lot of brains in there, it’s going to be hard to freak all of them out at once. which is good bc the rabbit one is always freaked out.

also you can finally eat people now! with Vampiric Touch, you can touch people and drain their life force, regaining half the damage you deal as HP!

7. Sorcerer 7: seventh level of a spellcaster means fourth level spells! as for nero, it’s Polymorphin’ time! now you can turn into a beast with a CR equal to your level or less for up to an hour, changing all your stats and basically giving you a big beast-shaped shield to your HP. you also get your new psionic spells, Evard’s Black Tentacles and Summon Aberration! the former’s basically hunger of hadar but again, and the latter’s our very first summoning spell for phantasmals! yeah it took a while to get going, but if putting animals in people was easy everyone’d be a furry already. don’t worry, we’ll speed things up next level.

8. Druid 1: bouncing over to druid gives you more Spells that you cast and prepare using your Wisdom. multiclassing spellcasters gets a lil complicated, so check the PHB to see what spell slots you have at any given time.

the important thing is you get Primal Savagery and Shillelagh, giving you more melee options to avoid having to punch people with your puny caster hands. you can further enhance your physicality with spells like Jump and Longstrider, or drag people into your chaos with Entangle. you even learn druidic! it’s a language!

9. Druid 2: at second level you get to enter the Circle of the Shepherd, which teaches you the Speech of the Woods. not only does it teach you Sylvan, famous for being a language, but you can talk to beasts now as well!

more excitingly, you can summon a Spirit Totem as a bonus action, bringing a phantasmal to the battlefield for up to a minute per short rest. you can pick between three options- the bear giving creatures you choose extra HP and advantage on strength checks and saves, the Hawk letting you grant advantage on an attack as a reaction and giving advantage freely to perception checks, and the Unicorn gives advantage on checks to find creatures and extra HP from healing spells.

to get even beastlier, you can now Wild Shape twice per short rest to turn into a beast without using a spell slot. the CR for this one is a lot more limited, but free HP is free HP. alternatively, you can do the more in-character thing and summon a Wild Companion, letting you spend a wild shape use to cast Find Familiar without materials. it’s not that strong, but a flying spy camera can be pretty useful.

10. Druid 3: if you need a long-distance helper, you can always use Animal Messenger or Beast Sense instead. the former will fursonally deliver a message to someone you describe, while the latter lets you see and hear through a beast for up to an hour, but without any control over what it does.

you can also Summon Beast which is nice. we’re still a ways away from mass chaos, but it’s a cheaper summon option.  hell, it’s honestly the better option for a fourth level spell slot anyway, unless you’re hyped about having a regenerating chaos.

11. Druid 4: at fourth level you can turn into CR 1 creatures that can swim thanks to your Wild Shape Improvement, and you can also use this ASI to bump up your Charisma and Wisdom to max out the former and set up the latter for later.

you also get another cantrip, so I say weaponize that pseudopod of yours with a Thorn Whip. it whips! it thorns!

12. Druid 5: the real reason we’re here is third level spells, and the only one I care about here is Conjure Animals. by using a third level spell slot, you can summon a single beast of CR 2, or twice as many by halving the CR, all the way to 8 CR ¼ beasts. it says the DM has the stats for whatever you summon, but tbh if you’re going to summon eight extra fighters every combat you should probably just bookmark your own PHB to help out.

13. Druid 6: one last pit stop before we head back to sorcerer- at level six shepherd druids become Mighty Summoners, adding an extra 2 HP per hit die to your summoned beasts/fey, and giving them magical attacks to boot.

14. Sorcerer 8: another ASI, this time you’re Resilient in Wisdom saves, giving you advantage and also rounding up your wisdom score for a cool plus 1 to all your spells and such.

also you can summon a Spirit of Death now, which lets you track whatever it’s zero’d in on anywhere in the material plane.

15. Sorcerer 9: with fifth level spells, it’s time for things to get real spicy. your freebies this level are Scrying to send out a spy bird with none of the fuss (esp. since you can use psionic casting to get around the 1000 gold casting cost) and Telekinesis to lift stuff like the big strong man you’re supposed to be. you can also Summon Draconic Spirits now, giving you access to the most powerful phantasmals available. not only can it deal adequate damage with breath attacks, but it also protects you from elemental damage to boot!

16. Sorcerer 10: now that you’ve spent some time vamping it up, your magic can now be Empowered, forcing disadvantage on one person trying to save themselves from it. you also get the Message cantrip bc I’m running out of good cantrips to give you, and the Enervation spell for a more chaos-flavored way of consuming your prey. you slap a target with a tentacle, and if they fail their first save it latches on, letting you drain their health each turn for up to a minute.

17. Sorcerer 11: I’ll be honest I’m kind of on the fence as to whether Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise should be called your 999th beast or not. on one hand it makes you look more demonic and gives you all kinds of cool abilities, but tbh I think turning into a T rex makes you a lot tougher for less magic cost. either way, you definitely have it now.

18. Sorcerer 12: use your last ASI to bump up your Dexterity to not die as much. yeah you’ve got plenty of spare lives, but it’s a pain to use them, y’know?

19. Sorcerer 13: our final spell of the day is the Finger of Death, which is a big single-target attack that can even turn a person into part of your chaos if it kills a humanoid target. really your whole body is Of Death, but a finger works too I guess.

20. Sorcerer 14: our capstone ability makes you a Revelation in Flesh, letting you transform yourself as a bonus action for ten minutes. for each sorcery point spent to transform, you get one of the four available bonuses. the first lets you see invisible creatures, the second gives you a flying speed, and the third lets you swim and breathe underwater. the last and both most- and least-important turns you into chaos good, letting you and anything you’re wearing move through a 1-inch space, or spend 5’ to break any grapple. it’s technically something you could’ve done already, but now you can do it without getting naked.

Pros & Cons:

Pros:

you have pretty good health for a caster, but it gets even better when you include all the extra health you can get from your uses of Polymorph, Wild Shape, and of course your vampiric spells. unless they can rush you down, you can cling to life in a fight for a good long while.

your spells are also very flexible, as are you. yes, you can summon 32 wolves or transform into a T Rex to cause havoc, but you can also summon or become smaller creatures for the sake of stealth or reconnaissance. and of course while using these spells on just yourself is in-character, a lot of them can be used on teammates as well to help them out.

you’re hard to deal with, magically speaking. you have solid saves in two of the big three saves, and you resist some common status effects really freaking well, so other mages can have a hard time taking out your HP faster than you can regrow it.

Cons:

your AC isn’t great, so melee fighters can still carve you up pretty easily. and if one of those happen to get creative with their mystic eyes of death perception you’ll definitely still be in trouble.

also, almost all of your summons are super weak compared to other spells of the same level. Conjure Animals is great for area denial or dealing with large groups of weak enemies, but using a ninth level spell for 32 wolves that’ll survive all of one turn before being fireballed to death just feels bad. the extra health from Mighty Summons is nice, but you’re getting at most 14 extra HP from that if you’re making CR 2 beasts, and that won’t last long at higher levels.

you yourself isn’t that strong either- while you don’t have to worry much about getting grappled, but you’re still easy to push around or fall into a magical strength-save spell.

[abbatoirablaze]

Surrogate Luna, Chapter 12

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings:  angst, mentions of manipulation, jealousy, attack/violence, acid attack. 

She couldn’t go through with it. 

Bruce had ordered the supplies to make it so that she could chemically remove the mark that Steve had given her when they first met, but when it came down to the day, she could never pull the trigger. 

She’d attempted to do it four times. 

Each and every time at the last second, she would cancel the idea. 

She would say that she couldn’t do it.

And she would end up crying in her quarters.  And in that course of a year, she’d all but been reduced to a weak husk of herself. She hadn’t even shifted in a year. 

Stevie was two now.

And her mate spent more time away from her than she thought could even be possible.  She hadn’t even managed to come in contact with Steve for the better part of Stevie’s existence.  Her wolf had all but stopped talking to her, shutting her out of her primal side.

She felt empty.

Alone.

Until today.

She frowned when she saw him stalking into the kitchen. 

She tried her best to sneak out the side, but she ended up cornered in the stock room.  He looked just as exhausted as she felt.  There were dark circles under his eyes, and she instinctively knew that he probably wasn’t getting enough sleep.

While Steve had been around Sharon, she hadn’t done much in the way of touching him since she claimed him for herself either.  And it was safe to say that he was the unspoken, weaker alpha as she pulled her power from him, without ever giving him anything back. 

She had done that on purpose.

“S-Steve…what are you doing?” she asked softly, her eyes barely meeting his.  She went to pass him, but he held a hand up, stopping her from leaving the room.  Her eyes met his this time, “Steve…”

“Mega…”

She shook her head at him, “Ste-Steve…we can’t be near each other.”

Steve all but whimpered as he leaned towards Cinna, “I miss you, omega….I-I need you.  You’re my mate…”

Her sad stare turned into a harsh glare, “funny…I don’t remember us both wearing each other’s marks.  Or you trying to be in Stevie’s life for the better part of the past year…why do you need me, Steve?”

“Cinna…”

She ripped her arm from his grasp when he tried to touch her, and she took a step back, shaking her head, “no…don’t-don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Mega…”

He tried again, and this time she didn’t fight him nearly as hard. 

Her eyes widened when she was pulled to his chest.  She stifled her moans as his arms wrapped around her, letting her feel his warmth.

It was all too much too fast.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips met hers and she felt her mate’s touch. 

It felt like every nerve was lit on fire or struck by electricity.  Every part of her reacted to him. 

But in an instant, it was gone.  She had pushed herself away from him, and used the distraction as a way to remove herself from the situation, despite how her body was begging her to keep holding on to him. 

“Wait!” he begged. 

But she was already gone.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about, Sam?” Steve asked curiously as he watched his beta.  Sam looked beyond nervous as he stalked around the edge of the room.  Steve’s brow rose, “Sam?”

“My sister is leaving,” Sam said sadly, his eyes finally meeting that of his friends, “she-she said that she’s leaving the pack.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, “What?”

“It-she thinks that it’s not safe here anymore,” Sam admitted, shaking his head, “I-I tried to tell her that you are still protecting us…that you wouldn’t let the Carter pack push us out of our own land…but she-she has the boys to worry about.  She doesn’t think it’s safe.  She asked that I give you a heads up.”

“What do you mean, not safe?” Steve growled, “my pack is a safe have-“

“Steve, we all know that Sharon has unofficially become the dominant alpha,” Sam sighed, sparing his friend a sad look, “ever since she tricked you into wearing that stupid mark.  You have a soft spot in your heart for Sharon…and while I understand it’s one of the things that makes you a great leader, she’s taking advantage of your kindness.  She manipulated you to tie yourself to her existence…and she knows that you won’t force her out.”

“Sam…”

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” The beta said firmly, “but you’ve let her shape the pack into what she thinks it should be…Sarah doesn’t want her sons dying in some needless war that Sharon will undoubtedly start.  She doesn’t want to see her friends turned into nothing more than slaves any longer beca-“

“Slaves?” Steve asked, the growl becoming louder, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but Wanda isn’t free to move around anymore, Steve,” Sam said firmly with a look, “your Luna is forced to cook and clean all day every day.  They’ve taken away their rights and forced them to work.  That’s a slave, Steve!”

Steve felt his breath hitching in his throat, “Wh-what?”

“That’s what’s happening right under your nose, Steve,” Sam answered, “because Sharon knows that she can get away with it.  Ever since you let her mark you…she’s been in control.  She’s taking your pack from you and you either don’t notice or don’t care…”

Steve felt like he’d been sucker punched, hearing the words coming from his beta, “h-how have I not seen it, Sam?”

“Take the blinders off, Steve…your people need help…” he scoffed, shaking his head, “until then…I’ve already told my sister goodbye…I told her with my job as your beta, I wouldn’t abandon you…but I can’t let you keep going on in this ignorant bliss…things are falling apart…and it’s because of Sharon.”

“Sam…I don’t know what to d-AHHH”

Steve screamed, the pain coursing through his veins.  He fell to his knees, hand clutching his stomach like he’d just been stabbed. 

His heart raced as he looked up to his beta, his eyes going wide, “s-something-Cinna.  I-check on Cinna!  FIND CINNA, SAM!”

“Well look who it is…”

Cinna snapped around, turning to see Sharon and a few of her cronies lurking at the head of the stairs. 

For a second, she considered going back into the guest quarters that she’d been cleaning, but she decided against it, choosing to push forward. 

“Did I say that you could leave?” Sharon growled, “Omega, stop moving!”

Her entire body ached as she tried to ignore the command.  But try as she might, she couldn’t, freezing in place just like Sharon had ordered her to.

She looked at her helplessly as her and her close-knit group surrounded her.  She gave her a sickeningly sweet smile, “omega…we were in the middle of a conversation, and you turned your back on me.  You ignored me.  That was very rude of you to do.  Especially to your alpha.”

Her jaw went rigid, and Sharon smiled even more.

“Speak, slut!”

“Y-you’re not my alpha!”

Sharon scoffed, the action turning into a giggle as her gaggle mirrored her actions.  She continued giggling at them, turning to make sure each of them had seen her reaction before swinging wildly around, her hand catching Cinna’s jaw. 

The omega swayed, her head snapping from the slap, before she ultimately fell to the floor. 

In a second, Sharon was nearly on top of her.  Her thin legs straddled the much weaker omega, and she pinned her arms to the ground with her knees.

“YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME MANNERS!” she spat, growling at Cinna.  She reached down and grabbed her face, “I know what you did today, omega.  So just come clean and I won’t be as hard on you!”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Cinna answered, half torn between tears and rage, “le-let me go.  Sharon, let me-“

Her hand gripped her jaw so tightly that it killed the words in her throat.  Her grip was near paralyzing as she glared down at her.

“I felt it…” she murmured softly, staring her dead in the eyes, “I felt what he felt when you two kissed.”

“He kissed me!” she tried to argue. 

But Sharon wasn’t hearing it.

“I felt it,” she retorted once again as she looked at her, “you both felt it and I know it.”

“Sha-“

“Chemicals!”

“Wh-“

“Shut up!” she ordered, the alpha commands moving all too easily from her lips, “Shut up and stay still!”

Cinna looked up at Sharon, pain lingering behind the commands once more as she wanted to fight against them.  Her lips held firm in a straight line while her body felt rigid. 

She wished she could scream as she saw the bottle of the solvent. 

“I hope he feels this too!” Sharon spat as she opened the bottle and pushed Cinna’s neck to the side so that the mark was exposed, “I want him to feel this and know what will happen to you if something like this ever happens again.”

And she smiled as she poured the bottle of solvent over the mark; her neck fizzling as the chemicals ate through the bond.  The skin bubbled, becoming mottled as she felt her bond fading away.  Then all at once, like a door slamming in her face, she couldn’t feel the comfort of her alpha any longer. 

It was like he was dead.

Their bond was gone.

And she was left utterly alone as the tears rose to the surface, pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

Chapter 13

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @mrsevans90

[candyswirls]

An Eye for an Eye, a Pup for a Pup, Pt 5

TW: mentions of surgical procedures, decapitation, canon typical violence, spoilers for the final battle of Prospero

Here’s the AO3 link if that tickles your fancy

Imho laid on the table as the machines shifted and whirred over him. His wrist had just been wrapped and fresh tears drying on his face. The setting of the wrist had not been pleasant for him.

Finnja’s hearts ached as he had to maneuver it. They usually did until the Larraman surgery. Neophytes tended to have a higher pain tolerance by then.

Imho tried to hold still as the machines built the scan of his body.

The whirring slowed down as the tools went back into rest position and compositions of vascular, muscular, skeletal, and nervous system appeared on the screens.

Finnja studied them with expertise, zooming in on places Imho wouldn’t have thought to. The apothecary took notes and would hum occasionally. His face stayed neutral though.

Imho stayed lying on the table and watched his caretaker? Captor?

Finnja was a large and tall Astartes. Not close to a Primarch height. Though Lord Magnus was the tallest of his brothers. Like Finnja… he was taller than all his brothers. Still, the wolf was massive, yet he worked as an apothecary, or Wolf Priest as the sixth legion called it.

He was terrifying but all the wolves were. He had a thick beard with dark brown hair. Facial hair wasn’t common on Prospero.

Finnja leaned in and squinted at the screen. He zoomed in on the image of his hearts. He hit a button and it began playing as a feed. He replayed it over and over again, zooming in and out of every section.

He watched the wolf go over to where a lab was and check various test tubes.

He came back over, “When was your last surgery?”

“J-just four weeks ago,” Imho answered.

“Bioscopea?”

Imho nodded.

The wolf checked over his notes then came over to the table.

“Sit up and remove your shirt,” Finnja ordered. “I need to feel how the scars and organs are doing.”

He removed his gauntlets and Imho slowly did as he was told.

Space Wolves had a higher body temperature. He almost swore Finnja was burning as he felt his abdomen and chest and the scars that ran along it.

Imho refused to look down at the strange words those wolves had carved into him. They had burned as they did it. His soul had felt bruised ever since.

Imho flinched as Finnja pressed into a muscle a bit hard. Not letting up even as Imho whined in pain. He let out a sigh as the wolf moved onto the next.

After a few more checks and inspecting him, the wolf concluded.

“Your second heart is failing,” the wolf deduced. “Was there any reports of bad geneseed or organs that you can recall?”

Imho shook his head, trying hard not to despair at the shocking news.

“I will have to see it first hand,” Finnja muttered. “Luckily it’s an easy replacement, especially this early in the process. You’re only in phase three. Your body will adjust well to it after some rest and recuperation. One of my brothers is very skilled with hearts.”

Imho rolled onto his side, holding his queasy stomach. The second heart surgery had been the worst to recover from so far.

Finnja didn’t say much as he attached IVs of a new blood bag and saline drip. Imho’s stomach swirled and then lurched. Finnja was right there with something for him to empty his stomach contents into. Imho coughed and tears welled in his eyes. Stomach acid burned his throat as he choked up the remaining bits.

He laid his head on the side of the bin, breathing heavily as his stomach decided whether or not to fully purge itself.

Finnja moved his hair out of his face. He rubbed circles into Imho’s back. Imho wanted to move away from him but he felt so sick and the hand was gentle and caring.

His stomach lurched again. There was nothing left in him now.

He shivered on the cold examination table. Everything about the Space Wolves seemed cold. Their ship, their demeanor, how ruthless they were. He wanted to be back home on Prospero. The warm wind whipping hot sands. The sun beaming down on him. The familiarity of it.

Finnja took off his fur cloak and draped it around Imho. He pulled it around himself, remembering how warm it felt before.

Finnja took the bin.

“I’m taking a sample from this,” he announced. “Just in case.”

Imho just nodded, exhaustion wracking his body. He slowly fell over till he was lying down again, shifting to have the cloak be a barrier between him and the cold metal.

The despair grew. He was stuck here. If he wanted to live, he’d end up fighting for the very army that just destroyed his home. His family.

Tears streamed across his nose and cheek, before dropping onto the cloak.

He flinched as he heard the door to the apothercarium open.

He winced at the harshness of Fenrisian. He recognized Finnja’s name being said. Finnja answered back quickly and then dismissed the wolf.

“I will inform my brother and see when he can perform the surgery,” he told Imho, “I will see you after you wake up.”

“You won’t be there?” Imho asked, alarmed.

“No,” Finnja answered, “I am being called to assist my brothers and fulfill my duty as a wolf priest. You’ll see your fellow neophytes in the meantime and meet your new brothers.”

Imho could have sworn he felt himself shrink. Seeing his fellow neophytes, his friends, would be good. But the Space Wolf neophytes?

Finnja left him in the apothecarium and another Wolf Priest came in. He was shorter and had a stern look. Imho wanted to run and hide. Serfs and servitor accompanied him. He was less than kind with his examination. Imho hadn’t realized how gentle and careful Finnja was.

He broke down and the older wolf scolded him.

“Your tears will get you nowhere,” he said sternly. “Wolves don’t cry. We howl.”

He wanted to retort back that he wasn’t a wolf but he kept quiet.

“Let’s begin,” the old wolf grumbled. “You remember how it goes?”

“Wait, right now?” Imho questioned. “We’re doing the surgery now?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Your stomach is empty, I have other neophytes to tend to besides you, and soon I’ll be taking care of multiple of my brethren. Now is the perfect time. Quit whining. We need to put you in the surgical clothes.”

Imho couldn’t help but cry again. The Thousand Sons had you mentally prepare before undergoing surgery. Special psychic rituals to put your mind at ease.

A serf unhooked the IV tubes, allowing him to take off his shirt. He felt exposed and vulnerable. The Wolf tossed him a strange garment. After turning it over a few times a serf came over to help him put it on. It was like an apron or casual wear on Prospero.

“Do you still recall the aftercare instructions?” The wolf priest asked.

Imho nodded.

“Good,” the wolf priest muttered as he motioned Imho onto the surgical slab. “The other neophytes will help care for you afterwards. Up here. I’m not coddling you like Finnja does.”

“Uh, my-my wrist,” Imho said while holding it up.

“Hmm.”

The wolf picked him up under the arms and onto the surgical slab. It was significantly warmer.

He laid down as serfs attached the IV again and then other tubes and wiring. They then placed an oxygen mask over his face.

“Count backwards from ten,” The Wolf said.

Imho did so and never made it to six.

Everything was dark. He was in a pitch black void. He breathed heavily, seeing his breath billow out somehow.

He walked across shallow water, it rippled until it froze. He shivered and pulled his silk shawl closer around him. It did little for warmth.

He flinched as he saw the shadows of wolves run past. The howls echoed. He took off running. The shadows followed. He tried to fend them off with psychic attacks but flames burst on his skin, fading to be the runes that hard been carved into it. He couldn’t use his power!

He ran faster and faster, water splashing, their breath on his heels, the whirring of chain swords, the pounding of ceramite on the ground. Tears escaped his eyes. Why shouldn’t he cry? He was only eleven!

The air grew thick with smoke and fires bloomed out of the doors and windows of every home in Tizca. He ran towards his house. It was engulfed in flames. His mother lay dead in the doorway. She was decapitated. A space wolf stood there, holding her head. He howled, fangs protruding, fierce yellow eyes.

Imho screamed in agony and rage as he charged the Astartes. Somehow he had his knife in his hand. Every combat lesson he’d been given thus far worked with muscle memory as he stabbed the wolf through the weak points of his armor.

The wolf fell and Imho dropped to his mother’s body, sobbing. He picked the head to see the red hair cascading. One single eye closed. Sliced cleanly by the blade of Leman Russ.

“Father!” Imho cried out as he cradled his Primarch’s large head in his arms.

Why? Why?! Why?! Why did the emperor send the Space Wolves?! Why were they ordered to execute his legion? His planet? What did they do?? Why did they deserve this?! Why didn’t they know about the attack??

He had seen the bombardment. Destroying everything outside of the psychic barrier. He’d heard the legion brothers. Why hadn’t Father known? Where was Father? Magnus the Red, please!

Wind blew the flames into him and he saw flashes of his legion brethren fighting. Ahzrek Ahriman, Iskander Khayon, Amon, even apothecary Mshai who had already perished.

Flames swept around him till he stood watching his Primarch battling the Wolf King of Fenris. It was vicious and brutal. Imho couldn’t move, trapped in the fire. His own Primarch punched his brother with psychic powered fists. He destroyed the two wolves alongside the Wolf King. A blade was swiped across his Primarch’s eye. The Wolf King managed to lift the great sorcerer and broke him across his knee.

Imho yelled and sobbed uncontrollably as he saw bits of his Primarch’s soul splinter off of him, cascading across the warp. Imho caught as many pieces as he could, cradling then in his hands.

“Father,” he choked.

Phantoms of Magnus reached out to him from them. Calling to him.

Imho. Beloved son. Little one. My neophyte. Sweet child. Precious one. Imhotep. My prodigy. Youngest son.

He faded away as a spell was completed through Ahriman. The remainder of his legion brothers were transported away into the warp. Saved. Escaping execution.

He felt the pull of it. Willing him to come. He wanted to follow. He would have! But the words carved into him burned, holding him back like shackles. He screamed in agony and despair as he was tethered there.

Don’t leave him! Please! Father! Take me with you! I’m loyal! I’m strong! I have power!

He dropped to his knees, crying as the ache in his hearts grew. Not just grief and sadness, but actual pain. It was becoming unbearable. He couldn’t breathe! It wouldn’t stop!

His eyes flashed open and he screamed as he desperately tried to sit up, knocking over trays of tools. Hands held him down.

Standing over him was a wolf skull. A space wolf. One of the very ones who had destroyed his home.

He screamed in terror, especially as pain bloomed in his chest. His cut open chest, hearts exposed.

He screamed and felt the world sway. He punched a serf and they went flying back. He was still a neophyte and had already grown bigger. Psychic waves bloomed from him. But the wolf wouldn’t let him move and the world blurred as he went unconscious again.

***

Odavig stood back from the neophyte, now that he was sedated under anesthetic again. The oldest serving serf, Anga, lay unconscious. Possibly dead from that punch.

He had barely began removing the damaged second heart. Then the neophyte awoke. Absolutely no warning. He was in the middle of surgery! He had been heavily under anesthesia! How did he wake up?! Those psychic waves!

“Clean everything up!” He ordered. “Is Anga alive?”

“Aye,” she grunted as she struggled to stand.

“Take her out of here,” Odavig ordered. “We need to finish. Is the anesthesia working properly or not?”

“It is my Lord,” the serf said quickly. “I-I do no-“

“Hush,” Odavig said. “Neither do I. We continue the surgery. We will deal with this later. Finnja will sort it out.”

Once everything settled, he went back to removing the old heart, the quicker he got the new one in, the better.