#>hiking

[livwritesstuff]

At forty-five years old, there’s one day out of the entire calendar year that Eddie dreads like none other.

It’s not his birthday, surprising as that is, and it’s not tax day either (though only because Steve, the angel that he is, elected to take charge of their insane finances ages ago so Eddie doesn't even think about it).

No, it's parent-teacher conference day at his children's school.

Eddie wants to have a strong word with whoever's idea it was to have every meeting take place in a single day. Maybe that shit works for the freaks with only one kid, but he and Steve have three hellraisers in the elementary school, so for them it usually goes like this:

Kid 1: Please help us figure out why she is inciting riots on the playground

Kid 2: Your child is taking up class time getting into complex moral debates with the teacher’s aid

Kid 3: She's a pleasure to have in class — that being said, does she ever talk?

– all within the span of 45 minutes.

Kind of whiplash-y, in Eddie's opinion.

Steve is totally in his element for that shit though. He’s good at distinguishing between when their kid is the problem (which is……..often) and when it’s a reflection of something bigger, and when that's the case, he gets to tap into the snarky, mean-girl side of him that doesn’t come out all that often anymore..

Steve, to Hazel's teacher: I don’t know what to tell you. Hazel makes all kinds of noise at home. We’ll talk to her, but maybe this also warrants a conversation about what’s going on in the classroom that’s making her feel like she can’t when she’s here.

It's sexy as all hell in Eddie’s opinion, or so he attempts to communicate to his husband the literal second they're out of the school when he tries to shove him bodily into the backseat of their car without extracting his hands from Steve’s back pockets.

Steve, managing to push Eddie off him for half a second: Dude – no fucking chance are we having car sex in the parking lot of our daughters’ elementary school. You’re crazy.

Eddie: *pauses to think about the layout of their town*

Eddie: Bet there’s no one in the lot for the cemetery.

Steve: No.

Steve: We can’t get cursed today. I’ve got shit to do.

Eddie: What about the hiking trails?

Steve:

Steve: Yeah, okay.

[rush-the-stars]

undone

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pairing: nicholas wolfwood x afab f!reader

cw: smut. quickie? praise, reader referred to as "girl" and "sweetheart" and "baby". f!receiving oral. hair pulling. this is pretty tame tbh

wc: 2.4k

a/n: the fact that i wrote 2k words in the span of like. 2 hours for this man. unhinged. i am really going through something. shoutout to the anon who asked about wolfwood undoing corsets. i had softer and sweeter ideas with this but. alas. maybe i'll make it a lil series.

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You have roughly twenty minutes before Meryl and Vash are back from the water-station. Maybe more, depending on how much trouble they manage to get into on the way there or back—but that means you'll have to bail them out, too. So, still, twenty minutes.

Your back hits the door to the little room at the inn you'd gotten for the night with a dull thud.

"Nico!" You hardly have time to yelp before his mouth is on yours, stubble scraping against your soft lips. You claw at his shoulders, pawing and pushing at his blazer until it falls to the floor.

There's only two buttons on his shirt you have to pick at before it's open to you, since he wears it so obscenely low and unbuttoned already. When you get your hands on his bare skin, he's making a sound against you, low and desperate.

It's been a week and a half since he's had you like this, in his arms, big hands all over you.

It's been a week and a half since you'd had even a moment to yourselves long enough to do anything—

When his lips move over your jaw, your fingers sink into his dark hair, tugging, "don't leave any marks!"

The sound he makes can only be considered a growl, a rumble of it from his chest in annoyance, almost a groan. Your stomach swoops, tilting your head back anyways to give him room.

"Why are we hidin' it from them, anyways?" He barely gets out against your throat, warm, wet lips trailing lower and lower.

If you weren't half out of your mind with him, you would've been able to give a cohesive answer—something about not wanting it to make it strange to travel with or—maybe because Meryl's been warning you away from Nicholas for awhile now and you don't yet want to hear it from her.

Something like that.

But for now, all you can do is whimper when Nicholas' lips get down to the tops of your breasts before meeting the arch of your corset. He suddenly turns you and your hands fly up to steady yourself against the door.

And behind you, he gets on his knees and you feel a sharp tug at the lace of your corset.

You groan, "we don't have time for this—"

"Damn you, you said that last time—"

And he’s right, last time was quick and hot in the back of the truck, with your skirts hiked up around your waist but otherwise not a piece of fabric fully taken off. Just your poor bloomers ripped at the gusset.

And stubborn man that he is, he continues to pull at the laces expertly. Thick, strong fingers weaving into the delicate satin of the ribbon, as he gives another tug. It loosens.

You glance over your shoulder and the sight is—

Nicholas on his knees, shirt open, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks as he focuses on your corset. Another quick tug and the bodice loosens again, then he brings his other hand up—so big, so rough, and pulls at the corset deftly.

“Careful—“ you barely manage to breathe, watching, enamored with the way his fingers delve in to the delicate satin again. “You have to get this back on me before they get back, too.”

“Quit worrying,” he says, and you feel the stiff fabric give away, laces coming undone with his expert hands. “I don’t know when I’m gonna get this much time with you again.”

You let it fall from your body, freeing your breasts and revealing the sheer, ruffled slip underneath.

He hardly lets you step out of it before he tugs at the strings of the underskirt around your waist, expertly undoing that, too. It pools around your feet in swaths of peach and cream, joining your poor, undone corset.

“Slip off,” he gets out, big hands coming up to bunch in the fabric at your waist. You listen to the command almost instinctively, letting the white fabric fall from your shoulders, but realize sluggishly that—

“You’re a little too good at this,” you manage to get out as you’re finally bare up top, slip joining all your discarded clothes.

Down to your little bloomers and stockings, he lets out a huff of a laugh, one hand roaming over the bare skin of your side, other curling into the waistline of your bloomers. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Bloomers slip down your legs with an easy pull.

“You’re a dog, Nico—!”

Your words break off into a sharp breath, just as you feel the nudge of his nose against the back of your thigh, lips settling in a wet kiss towards the inner crux of your legs. One of his hands presses on your lower back, bending you into a pretty arch for him.

The other holds you steady, creeping over your waist, thumb stroking soothingly against bare skin.

Heat rips through you like the high sun at noon, blazing, and furious. You whimper when you feel his stubble against the soft skin of the back of your thighs.

You feel where he’s headed—and it’s—in this position—

“Nico—“ you whine, and again, you try to say there isn’t time—maybe, to spare you some form of embarrassment or, or—

His tongue is sinful and hot between the shockingly wet glide between your legs. He shoulders your legs a little further apart for himself, squeezes your hip appreciatively and groans low and dirty.

You curse, hips twitching, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but he bares down. His hands squeeze.

“Don’t you run from me, sweetheart.” He gets out, gruff and soft.

And then the hot clutch of his mouth opens, sinful, against your cunt, damn near dripping onto his waiting tongue.

The whimper that works its way out of you is a flustered one, nails digging into the wood of the door as he sets to work on you. It’s messy—it’s fast and heated and his hands are being a little rough, guiding you on his mouth.

Sparks of pleasure, low in your stomach, erupt. He’s a little relentless—a little desperate. And you’re so damn wound up—

You arch into it and he hums in praise, pulling you back into the warm, wet heat of his moth, into burning pleasure.

It’s honestly a little embarrassing—

He slips one finger inside of you and curls and the angle with—his mouth—

You cry out, a pleasure burst of heat racing through your body, along the arch of your back to pulse hard and quick against his tongue.

He laughs a little when he realizes he’s already made you come, but he doesn’t let up right away. Not until you’re mewling and whining all pitiful, voice going high and desperate.

“Poor thing,” he says when he stands, crowding you against the door now with his height. His size. “Must’ve been so worked up—didn’t know you needed me that bad, sweetheart.”

“Just hurry up and fuck me—“

He laughs, low and soft, as he unzips his pants and pulls himself out. You feel him then slip through silken folds, glide all sweet and easy over where you need him most.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, hellcat.”

You groan as he sinks the head of his cock inside you. He curses. The stretch burns a little, aches deep inside—

“So fucking tight still,” he gets out, almost a growl, as he eases out and then a slow glide back in. You arch your back for him further, rock back further so he sinks deep down into you.

His turn to groan, one hand coming up to steady himself on the door by your own hand. He laces them together—sap that he is.

His other hand feels your bare body for once, no corsets or shirts in his way, calloused hands skimming over your torso. Your breasts.

He keeps himself deep inside you a moment, marveling, petting and stroking you as you try and catch your breath.

His thumb grazes the peak of your breast, pleasure skittering to life and rushing through your body. You wiggle your hips, desperate.

“Nico, c’mon, don’t tease—“ you mewl.

And then you move your hips off him, before taking him back deep inside you.

He groans again, “fuck—how could I deny you?”

You begin to set a slow pace, easing off him almost entirely before sinking back onto him. He carves a blaze inside of you, turns your mind to mush, as you continue rocking.

“Atta girl,” he gets out, watching himself disappear inside of you, before slowly pulling back out.

You moan, arching further into his touch, his embrace, before you feel his hand squeeze at your waist.

And then he thrusts, slower at first, letting you adjust. But you’re finding your own rhythm with him, chasing your own pleasure—chasing his. The way he moans, dragging you back and forth on his cock. So thick and deep, pressing into you.

His hands are all over now, savoring the way your skin feels, being able to hold and grope you like this. Rough hands on your breasts, your thighs, your ass.

You tip your head back onto his shoulder and he showers you in attention and praise—

“So fucking pretty, huh? You feel good, sweetheart? Whad’ya need from me, hm?”

“Harder,” you get out, turning desperate eyes on him. He groans again, helpless to your whims.

“Whatever my baby wants,” he says before moving to tangle a hand in your hair, taking a fistful in a swift move that has you gasping. Not too hard—but—

You moan as he sinks in roughly this time, tips your head back with his hand in your hair.

He doesn’t change the pace, just the strength. And you feel yourself flutter around him, feel the way he rumbles out another low sound of his own pleasure, as his thrusts get harder. Deeper.

“You got one more for me, sweetheart?” He asks, scattering kisses on your jaw, the side of your neck.

He lets go of your hair to skim his hand down the front of your body, to find the bundle of nerves between the crux of your thighs. It changes the angle, he crowds you, big bare chest up against your back. You’re so close he hardly even pulls out of you now, and you grind back against him.

“That’s it,” he hums, “take what you want, pretty girl.”

That’s all it really takes, with his fingers making quick, easy passes over your clit.

Your moan is broken, walls tightening up around him as he groans.

“Ha—fuck, good girl—just like that.”

He buries himself to the hilt just to feel you come around him, just to feel the way you squeeze and milk him.

“Nico—“ you get out, “want you—want you to come—“

Again, he says, voice a little wrecked, “how could I deny you?”

And then grabs hold of your hips to thrust, hard, and deep, chasing his own pleasure. It doesn’t take him long, especially when you start mewling and begging for him, arching all up into his hands desperately.

He comes hard, you feel him pulse and jump inside you, insides flooding with warm.

You’re both breathing a little heavy on the come-down, his lips scattering kisses along your bare shoulders.

For a moment, it’s peaceful— the sun is setting in a gold fury out the window, casting you both in its glory. Your body is warm and loose and—you press back into him.

You realize you want more, wiggling your hips again, but he stills you.

And somehow, he’s the voice of reason when he says, “I gotta get your corset back on you.”

You curse.

You have maybe, maybe five minutes. If that.

And then you’re both a flurry of movements, trying to clean up and get clothes back on. He helps you back into your slip.

He takes a seat on the edge of one of the beds and you stand between his legs, facing him, as he helps with your skirts, dutifully tying off the knots around your waist.

And then he’s helping you with your corset—

Nimble, knowing fingers lacing it up as if he’s done it a hundred times before, barely looking over the curve of your waist to do it.

He tightens it up, nice and snug, and you gasp at the way his big hands pull at it. At the cinch he makes.

He looks up at you, all dark, smoldering eyes.

“That was a real pretty sound,” he rumbles, twisting the lace around his hands carefully, then giving another swift tug.

You gasp again, reaching out to steady yourself on his broad shoulders.

He swears under his breath, “I need at least forty-eight hours with you alone.”

You hardly get a retort, because you both hear commotion down the hall of the inn. And two familiar voices bickering—

You lurch away from him, stepping out of his grasp and bustling over to the other bed, where you’d set down your bag, as if you might be unpacking.

Nicholas pulls out a pack of his cigarettes, puts one between his lips and lights it just as the door bursts open.

Meryl is berating Vash over something, but they’ve got the water they set out to find. And the town is still standing.

Vash cocks his head all funny when he gets in the room and looks between you and Nicholas, but otherwise doesn’t say a word.

Meryl, oblivious, is going on about how Vash almost stuck his nose somewhere he shouldn’t.

“What else is new?” You snort, trying to feel normal and not like jelly, not like you want to collapse in the arms of the man just across the room from you.

You turn to keep folding clothes, when Meryl says;

“Oh—your corset came undone. It’s untied.”

For a moment, your heart stops.

You glance at Nicholas, who catches your eye through a haze of smoke.

“Let me fix it.” Meryl says easily and you nod, swallowing, mumbling a thank you, as you turn away from her.

Her hands take the ribbon in hand and begin to wind and tie.

You face Nicholas, who’s eyeing you darkly.

And then Vash who says, “strange thing, that. Good catch, Meryl.”

He shares a look with Nicholas.

And then he chirps, “who’s sleeping with who tonight?”

You almost choke.

Meryl pipes up about how obviously you and her are sleeping together and Vash and Nicholas can figure something out—just like always. Why would it be any different? She asks.

True to his list of disastrous namesakes, what Vash says next makes pandemonium break out among the room. And truly, this might as well have been the trouble he was trying to stick his nose into, the kind of trouble that might just take down the town itself with the storm it’s about to cause.

And here you thought they’d managed to avoid trouble and you and Nicholas had gotten away scot-free.

Vash shrugs and says, “I dunno— why was her corset untied?”

[buddieisgoingtohappen]

Chris doesn’t want Buck and Eddie to date each other Fics

I'll kidnap all the stars and I will keep them in your eyes

"Wait," Christopher says slowly. "You and Buck... are together?" Eddie smiles as he gently squeezes his son's knee. He knows without looking that Evan is wearing that big grin of his — the one that covers half his face and raises the apples of his strong cheekbones nearly to his eye-line. It shouldn't be anatomically possible, but if there's one thing Evan Buckley excels at, it's telling the "impossible" to take a hike. "That's right," Evan says, eyes sparkling. "Isn't that great?" Except... Christopher recoils and says the one thing Eddie doesn't expect: "No!" OR: Christopher can't lose anyone else. Good thing Buck isn't going anywhere.

Pinky Promise

Eddie and Buck come to Chris with some news, and he doesn't take it very well at all.

I'll Break My Heart (so you don't have to)

in which Buck and Eddie break up because they love their kid.

Find a remedy

Buck and Eddie tell Christopher they're dating. It doesn't go well.

All the possibilities, well, I was wrong

Chris tells Buck he doesn’t want him and Eddie to date each other. Feelings are hurt, miscommunications happen, and there’s lots of sad Buck.

all lights turned off can be turned on

“Evan Buckley, are you trying to seduce me?” “Is it working?” Eddie laughed, and Buck wanted to swallow the sound. “Yeah, sprawled pathetically on the bathroom floor is just how I like ‘em.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe, a tender look in his eye despite the teasing. “I’m making you some ginger tea, and you’re going to brush your teeth - twice - and by then, Chris should be on his way home.” “And we’re gonna talk to him.” “And we’re gonna talk to him,” Eddie agreed.

The fluttering tune of the hummingbird's wings

Christopher's reaction to Eddie and Buck dating is not what Buck expected or hoped for and Eddie is definitely under-reacting.

Christopher Diaz does not approve

In which Christopher doesn’t want his dad to make Buck go away by dating him, like he has done with every other girlfriend.

What If We Never Got To Try?

when Eddie tells Chris that he & Buck have decided to cross the line into romance, things don't go as planned.

settle down, put your bags down

Eddie comes out to Chris, then he and Buck reveal their relationship. One of those conversations goes better than the other.

Promising Forever

Eddie comes out to Chris, makes a promise, and breaks his own heart in the span of one conversation. If you can call it that.

I'm Not Leaving (I'll Still Be Here)

Buck and Eddie tell Christopher about their relationship.

In action, in apprehension

Eddie and Chris come back from El Paso. Eddie is ready to embrace joy, and joy is Buck. Only there are obstacles, Chris being one of them

Sincerest Form

wherein christopher says "no buddie" and eddie and buck deal with the consequences

Last Updated: 6/24/25

[twiceeshy]

less than forever

Written for @dovquezdecember bingo

Prompt: feather

Read on ao3 to see more tags.

E, dovquez, 6360 words.

Summary:

It was not permissible for a guardian angel to develop an attachment. Dovi did. Unfortunately, this seemed to be contagious.

Dovi looked proudly at his and Marc's pipe of pearls, spanning from floor to ceiling, filled to the brim. One pearl for every good deed they did that year, all white because they had been pure of heart and clear of mind. Their partnership had exceeded all others. In fact, the ceiling had to be raised for them. This mattered more than the recognition they would receive at the gala.

They were the crowning glory of their kind, top scorers as they had been for many a season running. Dovi and Marc, what a pair. Usually, when the time came for partner reassignments, they would both shake their heads and face no argument.

"Let's do this forever," Marc said every year, as it was all he had ever known. The moment he graduated from apprenticeship (with top marks and record speed, the little prodigy), he latched on to Dovi as though Dovi owed it to him. Dovi had been pretty happy to let it happen.

Forever had its appeal. Dovi couldn't imagine anything that would make them change.

--

Marc had nice wings, Dovi thought, when they were flying home after an assignment. It was a strange realisation to have because guardian angels usually faced everything without attachment, but he supposed it was a harmless enough observation. Marc could fly faster and further than everyone, and never seemed to run out of energy to do so. Dovi could sometimes keep up with him, and could at other times come up with sneaky ways to slow him down because he knew him so well.

That was about the utility of his wings, which were never in doubt. But they were nice to look at as well - small and strong, pure and soft as driven snow. He had friendly wings. That was probably only Dovi's impression because he found Marc so familiar.

Marc groomed them well. He kept them well-oiled and shiny, and rearranged anything stray when they returned from long days out. Dovi suddenly had the unnatural compulsion to touch his feathers, and that gave him pause. It was a dangerous thought. He did not dare linger on it.

Then he did not have time to ponder further, as Marc turned around with a smile and urged him to hurry. They had a new pearl each to deposit into their pipes, and Marc wanted a cool refreshment for a mission well done. He flew backwards with casual ease as he spoke to Dovi, wing tips miraculously missing everyone else in his way by millimetres.

Ah but that was to be expected. Marc was a miracle - guardian angels were all about miracles, and he was one of the most accomplished angel of all.

When they went to bed later that night in the room they shared with hundreds of other angels, Dovi laid awake with a strange nervousness. In all his aeons of existence, he had never experienced a restless night.

Marc slept obliviously in his poster bed on Dovi's right. He laid on his side facing Dovi, and the seamless white satin of his nightgown draped loose around his limbs, with the hem hiking over a bent knee and the neckline falling below his clavicle. Dovi watched him until he too surrendered to sleep.

--

Dovi was awakened with a sudden shake. He was greeted with a face full of Marc, with concern knotting his brow. Immediately, this was a reason to be worried, because Marc was so in love with being a guardian angel that he had never been stressed about starting a day before. He was still in his nightgown, rather than the white shirt and pants they wore when doing work, and his face was pale.

"What's it? Is there an emergency?" Dovi asked, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"Dovi..." Marc started, then trailed off. He touched his hand to the tip of Dovi's wing. The contact sent a shiver down Dovi's phalanx. Marc worried his lip with his teeth, as he gently bent a feather forward for Dovi to look. "It's red," he said plaintively.

A heartbeat passed. Dovi heard, but he couldn't believe it. He craned his head, and-

Oh.

Sure enough, a single red feather was nestled in the furthest tip of his wing. Crimson, bright, and glaring amidst innocuous tawny and cream.

The thing was, he didn't have to question why it was there. He just hadn't realised that it was so easy to invite one to show up. His realisation of the day before was not much of a pivot from his regular feelings.

He didn't know if he could do a back turn. Red was the colour of earthly attachments. It was not permissible to develop attachments or biases as angels, and he wasn't allowed to perform his duties when he had any at all. The only thing worse was a black feather of the fallen.

Dovi knew exactly who he was attached to, and how, and why, and when. Marc smiling brightly, moving too fast, flying backwards to keep looking at him. Even now that he knew it was trapping him, it was difficult to feel anything but warmth at the memory.

Marc touched the red feather, then pulled his hand away as though he had been zapped. "Why?" he asked, confused. Dovi had always been so steady, so calm. He had a spotless record. Even Marc had inched close to dark grey once because of how greedy and competitive he naturally was. They had taken time off together to recalibrate his mindset until the feathers fell off.

Angels couldn't lie. "It's you," Dovi admitted.

Marc cringed. His lower lip wobbled. He had never looked so unhappy in his existence. "I don't want it. Can you change it back?" he asked.

"I will try," Dovi said unsurely. He didn't want to be compromised either. He simply wasn't sure he had any choice in the matter.

"You can," Marc said with a determined look. "I'll go finish our assignments today since you can't, then we can go together tomorrow. Just don't think about me."

He really was not helping, because Dovi was charmed by this speech. However, he did not want to fail before he tried.

He kept his hands to himself instead of stroking his fingers down the soft white feathers that were within reach of his hands. "I'll do my best," he promised.

--

Dovi spent the day helping to organise the archives. He tried not to think about anything at all.

At the end of the day, Marc returned late with three pearls, and his forehead creased with exhaustion. He gave Dovi a cold shoulder, presumably for Dovi's own benefit, and tipped into bed in silence until the lights were dimmed for the night.

He did not sleep easily, and neither did Dovi. Marc's blanket rustled as he tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity, until he finally fell asleep in his usual position, curled up on his left, legs bent at the knee. Dovi watched him again. He wondered what Marc would look like from the other side or from below, where the hem of his nightgown barely skimmed the crease of his thigh. It was a terribly human curiosity. Unfortunately, he knew that the red feather would cling on for another day.

--

The next morning, Dovi was shaken awake again. He was confronted with Marc once more, except he looked more sad than panicked this time. His lip was downturned, and his cute wings drooped behind his back. It made Dovi's heart ache inappropriately. Being sad because someone else was sad was undoubtedly a sign of attachment.

"Hello Marc. I still have it, don't I?" Dovi asked gently.

Marc nodded mutely. He chewed on his lip. Dovi wanted to touch him so he would stop.

"Not just you," Marc said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. He turned around self-consciously, as though he was worried that the other angels would be watching. But they were supposed not to care about things like this - trivialities and gossip.

Marc unfurled his right wing. And there, hidden against his back, were not one but three red covert feathers, warm and scarlet, vivid as blood. The moment stretched on, even though Marc quickly folded his wing back. Dovi could still see red seared into his eyes after they were hidden.

His heart broke. Dovi never wanted to be the reason that Marc couldn't do what he loved anymore. For the first time since his grey feathered days, Marc would be missing out on duty.

The responsibility of this weighed heavily on Dovi's shoulders.

He wanted to reassure Marc that he would return to normal, but he kept his hands and his soothing words to himself. "I think we need help," he stated.

Marc exhaled deeply. "Yeah," he agreed.

--

They changed into their day clothes and let a sombre silence befall them. They knew they wouldn't receive any assignments, but habit dictated that they checked just in case. The crestfallen look on Marc's face gave Dovi a kick to try harder to recover from all this. They wanted forever, didn't they?

Marc made the earliest possible appointment with a mediator to help them mend their relationship. He was in a rush to return to duty, and understandably so. Even though it was a necessary step, Dovi felt immense trepidation at the prospect of revealing his troubles.

In all of Dovi's time as an angel, he had never stepped into the mediation tower. He needed neither support nor discipline. Whatever difficulties they encountered, he and Marc could typically support each other through them. But this time was different.

The tower was nearly as stunning as the ballroom they celebrated their accomplishments in every year. It was constructed of the cleanest white marble, with airy fabrics draped around the turret and whimsical music tinkling in the background. Every colour of the rainbow glowed off the walls, diffused from the light that entered through diamond-shaped windows. Pearls fell from chandeliers, beneath glistening crystals. All the best aspects of their home featured in concentrated form, perhaps to remind them of why they needed to do their best to remain there.

The mediator assigned to them was a particularly pretty angel, who was quick-minded and light in voice. Her wings were nearly as shiny as Marc's.

She listened to their pains with calm patience. Her proposed solution to break their attachment was simple, and she made all the necessary arrangements on their behalf. All they had to do was return to their apprenticeship vocations temporarily and live far away from each other. To prevent their affections from spreading to other angels, she prescribed them individual suites to relax and reflect in.

Marc took the recovery plan seriously, and stayed for a longer time to work out a schedule with the mediator. Dovi left him even though he did not want to, knowing that they would not meet for several moons.

He hoped this intervention would work, because he was not confident.

--

As an apprentice, Dovi had been assigned to care for baby angels, who logically were less delicate than baby humans were. It was a reasonable path of training for those who had ambitions of giving counsel to child humans.

Dovi had been drawn to caretaker guardianship from the time he was knee-high, rather than more heroic work. He left heroism to angels who were more suited - bigger and faster angels who could swoop in and save humans from accidents and violence. He knew that his own strengths were in calm and patience.

And that was how he met Marc.

When Dovi was still a rookie apprentice himself, he had been among the few who were hurried down to harvest Marc from birth. It was still a unique birth in Dovi's memory. There had been nothing close ever since.

Marc was hatched from an egg in the middle of a sunflower, washed in rays of pink and red from the light of a rising sun. He was found in in a valley where mountains met the river, and a fresh breeze swirled. He was alarmingly tiny, but heavens did he glow. His wings were the purest of white, dyed pink by the sun.

His first sound was a laugh. The light tinkling of bells, and the loud chase of mischief. He rubbed an eye with his fist. Other apprentices regarded him nervously, because he was bound to be a handful, and if you picked up an angel you needed to be responsible for it.

Dovi scooped him up, shook his wings dry of morning dew, and had been stuck with him ever since. Perhaps that was the day that Dovi had been doomed to be red-winged.

Now, Dovi was much too old to fit in with the other apprentices. He found himself surrounded by angels who looked like children themselves, and wondered how he had been allowed to be responsible for an entire other being when he was their age. Some were not even as tall as his hip, and Dovi was small in size.

He did the best to guide them when they asked, and allowed them to do their work without interfering too much. If he couldn't help humans, at least he could be of use here, even though every sunrise harvest caused him to think of Marc, and the red in his wings spread more than he would have liked. He was not sure his advice would be the most valuable at this moment, but he still tried. He focused on work instead of his memories, as he knew that he would be banished to a human existence if there came a day where red took over completely. Yet, he couldn't control himself.

When he retired to his quiet suite at the end of every day, he had nothing to do except amuse himself with his own company. He took special care to groom his wings, like he used to alongside Marc. He arranged every feather neatly and kept them moisturised, whether they were red or brown. Uniform crimson formed the entire top row of his wings now. They were rather beautiful.

The reds never fell from neglect. Now that Dovi knew he had developed attachment, he could not lie to himself. Angels could not lie. He had seen countless numbers of humans deal with attachments, and realised more and more that he wanted the best parts of what they had. He wanted to touch Marc and kiss him and make love to him, and everything more that his affliction suggested.

He hoped that Marc was making better progress at banishing the reds. He had always been able to do anything he set his mind to.

--

Dovi returned to a letter on his bed one day. He opened the envelope anxiously. He didn't know who would care to write to him at the moment. The only people he could think of were the mediators, in which case he would he in trouble for his regression.

The actual situation was simultaneously better and worse.

The letter was short:

Hello Andrea, I hope you are well. I am not doing a good job. Can we meet?

Instead of a sign off, a little white feather was included in the envelope. Friendly, familiar, soft. Dovi cradled it preciously in his hands and held it to his lips. Mischievous laughter and tinkling bells filled his head. He felt grief and affection in equal measure. No wonder he was not fit to be an angel.

He wrote back immediately to agree. He felt around his wings for any loose feathers of his own, and found an equally small one that was normally hidden from sight. It was tawny. The red ones clung and never fell out.

When he sealed it, the letter disappeared in a puff of sweet-smelling mist. He laid down, still in his day clothes, and waited.

--

There was a quiet veranda near the valley where Marc was harvested. Waters were peaceful there, where the river flowed into a lake, which served as a catchment for a small community.

Marc attended his apprenticeship nearby when he was younger. He'd jumped headfirst into caretaker guardianship as well, and helped fellow angels who landed themselves in physical accidents. His abilities were also suited to heroic work, but Marc did whatever his heart led him to.

It was at this veranda that Dovi once taught Marc to dance. In the first year of their partnership, they'd already amassed an insurmountable number of pearls. They would be expected to lead the first dance at the celebratory gala, in the ballroom where time did not flow and angels could enjoy themselves for as long as they wanted.

Marc made a joke about how he was going to trip over his own feet. Dovi decided they couldn't have that and taught him a simple waltz. They never bothered to learn any other. Each year, they would depart after one dance and a plate full of sweet desserts.

When Dovi arrived this time, Marc was already there. He sat curled up on the railing, leaning against a pillar. His side profile was lovely as he stared out into the lake. Dovi had missed him.

"Hey," he said softly, nudging Marc to sit straight so there was room for him.

Marc turned to face him and smiled. Dovi would have thought that he would be more distraught, but he supposed that Marc had never been that way. He was made of stronger stuff. If Dovi could cope with his situation, there was no way that Marc couldn't cope better.

"Missed you," Marc said, because angels could not lie. He jumped to his feet, landing lightly on the ground, and Dovi ended up with a face full of feathers as Marc demonstrated.

He unfurled his right wing first. It was unbelievable. Scarlet red and glossy throughout, not a hint of white in sight. If it didn't spell trouble for them, Dovi would have thought the sight to be absolutely beautiful.

Marc laughed at his stunned silence. "See, I told you I was not doing a good job. The other one is all white. It is very funny." He unfolded it to show him.

"I'm not doing better," Dovi admitted. He showed Marc his wings, crimson spread across the top half of both, and starting to line the bottom most row in places. What a pair they made.

Marc reached out to stroke them. Unlike in the past, he didn't withdraw his hand as though it hurt him.

"I went back to see our mediator," he said, proving that he was trying harder than Dovi was. "She thinks it will be difficult for me because I am still attached to you. She asked me if I would like to forget you, but I said of course not. I only want to be better because I like doing my work and I don't want to- to leave, I want to be here forever. But she says I am too attached to work, so I don't know."

"Attached to work?" Dovi asked. It sounded ludicrous to him. What else were they supposed to be if not dedicated to this?

Marc snapped his wings back and sat down in a huff. "Apparently," he said, agitated. "It's unfair. I have to care less about work without slacking off. When I don't care about it anymore, I can work again. But how can I work if I don't care?"

"It’s wouldn’t be like you at all,” Dovi said, disturbed. The world would be far worse off with a Marc who was ambivalent. And mostly, Dovi would miss him terribly if he became that way.

Marc shrugged hopelessly. "I'm lost. I said maybe I was supposed to be born red, because I never changed at all. She agreed."

"There was a lot of red when you hatched," Dovi recalled. He smiled slightly. The memory had been at the forefront of his mind in recent days.

"Really?"

Dovi hummed. "Sunrise, red sky in the morning. I picked you up from a sunflower and took you with me. Heavens Marc, I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about you."

"Me too," Marc confessed. "It's like I forgot how not to."

They were close together. Every nerve in Dovi's body was aware of this fact. Their wings could skim each other's to touch.

Experimentally, Dovi let his wings relax. Red brushed against red. Marc shuddered with his entire body, and closed his eyes. A wordless whine escaped his throat.

"I want to touch you. I want to do things I don't know how to do," Marc said. He always had been more daring.

Dovi held Marc's hand. It was too much, too warm, too sensitive, but he held it steady until the feeling became pleasant.

"You don't know how much I want that," he said.

They regarded each other for a moment. Dovi slanted his head to go, then they flew into the air in tandem.

--

"Your suite is nicer than mine," Marc remarked, looking around Dovi's room. They would not have very much time there if the worst and most likely outcome were to occur on this day, so Dovi hoped they could make the most of it.

The mediators did assign him to a nice suite. After many lifetimes of sleeping in a room with hundreds of others, he thought he would be lonely, but the only company he wanted was now with him. He liked having some peace.

It wasn't anything spectacular like the ballroom or the mediation tower, but it was nice and neat. Instead of being white like most everything else he was used to, his walls were a light yellow, and his light fixtures were decorated with citrine.

"What is yours like?" Dovi asked.

Marc shrugged. "White," he said, not very descriptively. "It's not that different, this is just better."

Dovi quietly realised that the part of Marc that he learned to keep under control was poking its head out again. Before the grey feathers sprouted, he had been vocal about always wanting better, always being the best, and had torrid bouts of jealousy whenever anyone got ahead of him. The end really was near. He was happy that Marc was now being himself in full.

He crossed the room to draw them a bath, as Marc chose between several glass bottles of bubble baths that appeared on the counter for their benefit. "Lavender or white tea?" he asked, presenting Dovi with his final two options.

"Just pour them both in, I know you want to," Dovi said, and smiled at the way Marc's face brightened.

Marc wriggled out of his day clothes and got into the bath first. He looked like a mythical creature - the shiniest of wings in red and white, and smoothest of skin half visible beneath a thick layer of scented bubbles. "Hurry," he urged Dovi, who was only too happy to comply.

It was a tight fit for the two of them. That was just as well. They squirmed around, finding comfortable positions, exploring with hands that had held back for long enough, breathing in scented steam in the stolen moments they were not kissing.

Wet feathers darkened underwater, unless they were white as Marc's. But barely any of them were white anymore. They turned into a faded pink before Dovi's eyes, transitioning into crimson in a slow gradation. He was no less majestic for it. Dovi couldn't believe he had this, however brief it would be. He wished they had forever like they wanted. He wished they had everything.

Marc's lips were soft and wet. They grew more plush the more they kissed. He tasted good. If this was the last taste Dovi would have in heaven, it was his privilege.

Their thighs slid against each other intimately. Dovi's cock was getting hard - as it had several times over the past days, and was always willed away. He didn't want to anymore.

Eventually, Marc found his way to Dovi's lap. He spread his wings behind him, glistening and beautiful. Water sparkled as droplets rolled off his well-oiled plume. His legs were around Dovi's waist, and - they were so close to being joined at the core. There was no return for angels who found love, who dared to join themselves physically.

"How should we...?" Dovi asked breathlessly.

"You in me, please," Marc said, nervous no more. He was completely certain. His eyes were dark and focused. His lips were swollen. His face was pink, and it suited him. He was almost human, he was so debauched. But he was beyond that - he must have been the loveliest thing to ever exist.

Their bathwater was cooling. Marc helped Dovi out of the slippery tub, and they towelled each other's hair and wings dry so they wouldn't drip everywhere. In an act of whimsy, Dovi picked him up and carried him on his front. Marc wound his legs around his waist again, giggling as they made their way clumsily to bed. Bells and mischief. Dovi should have known all along that they would break the rules together.

Dovi placed him on bed gently, resting his head on a soft pillow. "Wait here," he said, darting around to his desk in search of preen oil. In absence of anything made for sex, this would have to do. He took the unscented one, leaving his strawberry-scented oil sealed. With a pang, he realised he would likely never get around to using it.

He returned to bed eagerly, where his prize was waiting, loose-limbed and relaxed. Marc blinked his dark lashes as Dovi approached. He had so much skin, and all of it was for Dovi to touch. His wings spread out against the entire mattress, red and pink and specks of white. He held his arms out, and Dovi sank into them, lying across his front. Chest to chest, face to face, eyes so close that Dovi had to lean back to focus on him.

Dovi did believe that they would find each other again when they fell into humanity, but Marc as he was now, angelic and ageless, would only be his this once. They would never have their forever. He wouldn't hold anything back in this fleeting moment.

"I love you, Marc. Always have," he said.

Marc's face softened. He pushed a damp strand of hair out of Dovi's face and cradled his jaw gently. "I love you too," he said.

They kissed again, as leisurely as they could with time running short on them. If only they could summon the timeless ballroom for their own use. Dovi hadn't turned to examine his own wings in full, but every glimpse he got was now red. Marc's too, were running short of other colours.

Dovi loved kissing him. He loved every micro-movement, every sound that Marc made in reaction. He wished he had longer to learn to tease them out, to catalogue every new expression in his memory, to review them pleasurably. They just didn't have enough time. He did what he could. He kissed down the column of Marc's throat, down the line of the sternum, across his defined abdominal muscles and along the lines of his hips. He teased - he kissed down Marc's curved cock and lapped at the head with his tongue, and drew great satisfaction from Marc's desperate whine. He pulled away before Marc could come. His own cock was swollen, but there were things he needed to do before he sought his own pleasure. He needed to have no regrets.

"Please Dovi, please," Marc panted. He was red all over - the blush spread across his cheeks, down his chest, and to his weeping cock. Droplets of sweat gathered from exertion and the humid bath they had not recovered from. His wings were scarlet, nearly from tip to bottom. It suited him so much.

"Red's your colour baby," Dovi teased, and Marc hooked a leg behind his knee frustratedly.

"In me, hurry up," Marc choked.

Who was Dovi to deny him?

He covered his fingers with an excessive amount preen oil, and slowly breached Marc's hole with his index. He pushed in slowly, down to one knuckle, which already made Marc twist uncomfortably. Dovi kept him in place with a hand on his hip. He let Marc get used to the foreign intrusion, then pushed further, to his second knuckle, then the base of his finger. His finger was so small compared to his cock, yet the hole already felt full. But Marc's body had so much more to give. They were built for something miraculous. It seemed foolish that angels couldn't enjoy it.

Dovi wriggled his finger experimentally. Marc sniffled. He looked very intent. "I think I can fit another," Dovi said, received a short nod in response. He pulled out slowly, enjoying hot muscle clinging to his finger. He touched his fingertip to the bead of precum at the head of Marc's cock. He needed to add more oil to his fingers, but curiosity got the better of him. He put the finger in his mouth to taste. Marc made a strangled sound.

"Stars Dovi, you are crazy."

"I'll kiss you with this mouth," Dovi said, which was a ridiculous threat, but Marc waited expectantly, so Dovi did. It felt like sin. It was the best feeling in heaven.

Dovi returned his attention to opening Marc up more expediently. He was growing redder and more impatient, and Dovi was impatient himself.

He had only fitted in two fingers and scissored Marc open a couple of times when Marc stopped him.

"Now, want you."

"Is it enough?" Dovi asked, concerned and feeling out of his depth. He didn't think it was, and wondered if he should be more cautious.

But Marc was always there to throw caution to the wind. "I don't know. Want to feel for longer. If I can remember..."

It was an impossibility, but Dovi understood. He wanted to remember too.

He aligned his oiled cock with Marc's hole and pushed in carefully. He took his time. He watched as his cock was swallowed, one inch at a time, into a remarkable heat. Marc was nearly bent into half, his knees held up next to his armpits. It truly was incredible. Marc's body was capable of unbelievable things.

Marc composed his face, which was how Dovi knew it had to be uncomfortable. "Tell me if you can't stand it," he said, and trusted that Marc would. Marc's threshold was somewhere different from everyone else, but he had one, and it was important for him to voice it out. Marc squeezed his arm in acknowledgement.

Dovi couldn't believe that his entire cock could really fit into Marc. It was in the territory of places his dreams did not dare to venture. Marc had always taken him to unknown wonders. Into love, into pleasure beyond imagination.

When Marc had taken him in full, he resisted the urge to move. He held himself still until Marc could get used to the breach of his length. He could easily be on the verge of release himself - if he rutted a few times, he would come. Marc crossed his ankles behind Dovi's back and held him close.

"Feels nice," Marc said eventually. He was breathing heavily. The corners of his eyes were damp.

Dovi leaned forward to kiss his eyelids. "You're beautiful," he said.

"And you," Marc said wetly.

Speared on Dovi's cock, Marc wriggled impatiently. Dovi could take a hint. He pulled out halfway and slammed back into Marc, building up faster and harder until Marc was crying. Then he slowed so they wouldn't come. He would drag this out for as long as they could stand it, this one chance they had.

"I love you, I love you," Marc babbled.

"I'll find you again," Dovi promised. He didn't know how, but angels couldn't lie, and the words had been permitted to come out of his mouth. He said a silent prayer of gratitude. This was all he could ask for. At least one more lifetime together.

Marc nodded repeatedly. He was a sight, wet faced and flushed all over. Dovi wanted to remember forever. It was cruel that he could not.

Dovi stroked his oiled hand over Marc's swollen cock, leaking and red and almost untouched. Marc shuddered with his whole body.

"Shall we come?" he asked. He couldn't torture Marc forever, as nice as the thought was.

Marc sniffed. "Wait a while, I'm not done," he said, dredging up a lucid sentence from who knows where.

He grinded against Dovi viciously. Dovi squeezed the base of his own cock to control himself for a little longer, until Marc was sated.

It was easier from their position for him to hold Marc down by the hips and fuck him as hard as Marc wanted, until his entire body moved and the bed shook. Dovi's cock was at a limit and the friction was starting to hurt. But Marc had always wanted more than imaginable, and Dovi was blessed to be the one to fulfil his wishes.

"Okay," Marc said at last. Dovi got Marc off clumsily with his hands, then came in him with one last jerk of his hips.

Heaven exploded in the back of his eyelids for a moment. His head drifted. He had never known such concentrated happiness in his existence.

--

Dovi came to with a rather messy Marc combing through his wings.

"Yours are all red now," he was informed. Well, he wasn't surprised. He had given in. Life awaited him.

"You?" he asked curiously.

Marc twisted around and brought the top of his left wing into Dovi's view. "One left. It's white, not pink. Don't know why it's here."

"Because you can't give up," Dovi said, smiling wryly. If there was someone who could complete a reversal and vanquish all of the red over time, it would be Marc. It would take a lot of willpower, but he could find a way. It was just a matter of choice for him. Dovi would support him either way.

Marc frowned. He took the feather within his fist - it was a long one - and wrenched it from his body with force. It must have hurt. Nothing showed on his face. The choice was made. Dovi's heart sang. He gathered Marc into his arms and peppered his face with kisses. Marc seemed very pleased.

"I'll be older than you again," Dovi realised, since his feathers had turned red first.

Marc beamed. "Good. Come find me quickly."

They had all the time until they inevitably fell asleep to enjoy themselves. Dovi ran them another bath, which passed by more calmly this time. They took as long as they wanted to dry off, and Dovi had an opportunity to use his strawberry preen oil after all. He groomed Marc's beautiful scarlet wings, admiring their contrast against his plain white nightgown. Marc groomed his wings in return with his signature citrus scented oil, and it was all of the gentle intimacy he had craved. He smelled like Marc whenever he moved his wings. He enjoyed that very much.

That night, they tried to fall asleep as close in time as possible. Marc settled down, curled on his left side in his nightgown, and Dovi made him laugh when he went to peek at the views he had been curious about. His fingers followed Marc's hem to trace along the seam of Marc's thigh, around dusty pink hole he was now so familiar with, and cupped his cock that was resting soft and lazy.

Angels weren't supposed to be tempted by a lack of modesty and all that, so their night clothes didn't conceal very much. Dovi commented that if that were true, everyone might as well fly around naked. Marc then suggested that they ought to go to sleep naked since they were such good angels, and they did.

In Dovi's last moment of consciousness as a guardian angel, he had Marc's ear against his heart, and he contented himself with the knowledge that all of their time had been well spent.

♡♡♡

Andrea's mother explained that their neighbour was pregnant. That meant she was going to have a baby.

For inexplicable reasons, Andrea watched by the window every day to see if the baby was home yet. He had to go for kindergarten in the morning, but he had lots of time in the afternoon to check.

His parents had to tell him when the baby was born. He didn't get to see it himself, because it was still in a hospital. The baby arrived too early, they said; a little boy who was in a hurry. But he was okay because he was strong, and Andrea would meet him soon.

Andrea's parents even took him to the toy shop so that he could pick out a gift the baby would like. He went with a winged bear, which his mother explained was meant for Valentine's Day that just passed. But he didn't know or care what that was and dug his heels in for once.

The baby finally came home a few days later. Andrea had been waiting for him outside, riding a few boring rounds up and down on his tricycle.

He ran into their yard when his neighbours' car pulled up.

"Can I see him?" he asked, forgetting his manners.

The nice man patted his head, and the nice woman bent down to let him look. She had a little baby wrapped in blue blankets. He wore a hat.

"Hello Andrea, this is Marc. He's happy to meet you too," she said. Andrea looked at him in awe, as the baby stirred. Maybe he couldn't really see yet, but he waved his arms when Andrea touched his mitten, and he let out a gurgling sound that might have been a laugh.

("He's not laughing Julia, it's too early," the nice woman said.)

Andrea wasn't really hearing it, but he felt it all the same - the tinkling of bells and a chase of mischief, and pure happiness in his heart.

[pyrrhocorax]

do you have any fun headcanons about the 'everyone knows about nation people' universe? the fake social media posts of it are so funny

hmmm, i haven't thought about this in too much detail (although i love the fake social media posts too!), but when i think about this, i tend to think more about individual nations' opinions on humans and the dynamic they have with people rather than humans-->nations, if that makes sense?

i do have a few headcanons that i think are fun re: nation-human relations in modern day:

norway goes through human assistants extremely quickly (high job turnover rate) because he can be difficult to deal with/eccentricities of being old and demi-immortal, but in some ways that works out well for him because while a lot of humans can't work well with him, he will occasionally get an assistant that mutually clicks with him, and that person will be his assistant basically until the end of their life. he generally has some strong disdainful feelings for humanity as a whole and the problems they cause, but is also very fond of certain individual humans and will form close relationships with some humans if he feels those humans are worth it (again, 99% of the people will not click with him, but the 1% that do are golden). the humans that do tend to be in that 1% just kind of know how to deal with his eccentricities and tend to be a bit oddball themselves (norway makes them worse).

norway's sense of using social media is kind of sporadic. he's the kind of person i think that will not post anything for three months, then post a picture of a beautiful fjord he took with no caption, a week later makes a text post that just says "mold" or something similarly cryptic like a really zoomed in/blurred photo where you can't tell what is happening, and that's all you get from him for another three months. so i think he does some numbers on social media in niche human circles but i don't think he entirely understands all of the time that he's amusing to people (or that people consider his posts to be shitposts). there is probably a small community dedicated to trying to decipher what he's posting that comes up with all of these theories, but sometimes the answer to 'why hasn't he posted in six months and what can his last ten tweets tell us about what's happening' is that he either dropped a phone into a ravine while hiking or he forgot social media existed (old man at heart).

denmark is the opposite to me, in which he's more surface-level friendly and cordial with all humans, but he holds them all at a distance more emotionally (even when he seems emotionally engaged with them) and seldom develops close relationships with humans in modern day. it's kind of a professionalism thing in the way he views it for himself, but deep down it's because he wants to avoid getting hurt by them (in many ways), and he generally prefers his own company if his only other option is to interact with humans. (this is also my attempt at kind of bridging the hetalia character of denmark being depicted as rather joyous/emotional/social and marrying it with the more of the actual nordic/danish stereotype being more a bit more introverted/closed off to strangers/etc).

iceland is a weird one for me because i think he feels more connected/comfortable with other icelanders (and humans in general) than he does other nations most of the time, but there is still a disconnect between him and people. I think this is because I view his relationship with the nations he has the most personal history with/closest to (i.e. other nordics) as being very historically complicated even if he is loved/mostly has positive interactions with his family in modern day. i've always interpreted iceland's character as having a very disorganized attachment style in that he can oscillate between exhibiting all types of attachment style with the same person even during a short span of time (a lot of this is norway's '''''fault''''' because i also see norway having somewhat disorganized (but much more avoidant/dismissive while ice is way more anxious) attachment too, but for different reasons and it is less internally distressing for him than it is iceland because he's older/has figured some stuff out by the time iceland is a teen. but since norway was the person most responsible for looking after young iceland when norway was basically a Teen Dad himself, his own lack of self-development/healing from his own attachment issues and other external forces impacted how he raised iceland. oops.)

That being said, lot of iceland's disorganization is exhibited internally rather than externally (so even if he's anxious about being abandoned, since he's also avoidant/dismissive and is like 'i can take care of myself', he both wants and doesn't want reassurance at the same time which is confusing for him but those parts of him just battle deep inside of him). Because of this, humans are often easier for him to interact with because he knows they will all 'leave' him (i.e. die), so he oddly feels more comfortable knowing how that relationship will end -- this allows him to feel both attached and unattached at the same time, which suits how he operates a lot of the time. with icelanders especially, he's kind of well-connected and liked (in part because he's generally much more down to earth and fairly considerate in comparison to a lot of other nations) even though he doesn't feel like he is.

i think poland should be a popular livestreamer on twitch. i have seen others posts about this before and i think they are 100% right.

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Stephanie “Seraph” Miller

Images by @/sherdakov, @/dannyboy1920, @/theprofessorofdesire.

Basic Information 

Other name(s): Steph

Citizenship: US

Language(s): English

Place of Birth: Detroit

Date of Birth: 15/12/1993

Occupation: USMC (formerly), Shadow Company (Shadow 1-17)

Status: Alive

Physical Appearance

Eyes: brown

Hair: blonde

Skin: neutral fair white

Tattoo(s): lower back, tribal heart design: upper right thigh, animal skull and horns with flowers.

Scar(s): multiple scars, ranging from small to sizable, thin, deep and faded; starts from upper left arm, some over her left side and some spanning down her left upper thigh and lower leg. Caused by explosives and all due to shrapnel. 

Face Claim: Camille Yolaine

Description: Steph stands are five foot five and has an athletic build. Her eyes are almond shaped, deep brown and often gently tired looking, wary. Her brows are slender and nicely shaped, a little darker blonde than that of her hair colour. Her hair is cut in a short-ish style, the length barely finishing at her jawline. Her hair is relatively straight, with a slight flicker of a wave at the ends. A fringe frames her features, somewhat. Steph used to have her hair longer, tied back into a tight military bun, but since leaving the USMC cut it short. 

She tends to wear comfortable clothing everyday, unless she is working, usually consisting of joggers and jumpers, trainers or boots. But, she does enjoy being able to dress up for a fancy occasion, so that she can pull out her more fanciful wardrobe, which has a mixture of jumpsuits, dresses, two-pieces and heels. Other than that, she may also wear t-shirts or crop shirts with bootcut jeans. 

Makeup is reserved for the fancy clothing, where she’ll enjoy a natural look with a smoky liner and slight tinge of colour. 

Personality

Like(s): dogs, animals in general, her found family, rock music, country music, line dancing, fitness, running, the colour sage green, iced coffees (caramel), honesty, honey whiskey, hiking, going on long drives, her kids

Dislike(s): step mom, step sister, people who are entitled, people who are unapologetically and purposefully in your face, being interrupted and ignored, having her things moved without permission, certain people undermining her parental authority

Strength(s): good with animals, patient, calm in certain stressful situations, active listener, kind and strong-willed

Weakness(es): struggles to open up about some things, can be snappy when stressed socially, social battery runs out quick, prefers her own company and can sometimes come off as rude, sometimes her patience can be a weakness because she’ll deal with something for longer than necessary.

Relationships

Parent(s): Richard Miller (father), Margaret “Peggy” Miller (mother, deceased), Agatha Miller (step mom)

Sibling(s): Rachael Miller (step sister),

Spouse(s): Oisín Doherty (boyfriend)

Children: none yet

Biography

TW: Multiple Death Mention

Stephanie Miller was born in Detroit to her parents, Richard and Peggy Miller. Her early childhood was happy, filled with love and adventure, and a focus on working through hard times as a family. She has good memories from her early childhood. By the time she was 10 years old, however, her life took its first drastic change when Peggy was the victim of a fatal accident, leaving her father widowed and her without a mother. The loss was felt very deeply by the young girl, but Richard seemed to have moved on very quickly, meeting and marrying another woman within a year of her mother’s death. 

At this new woman’s request, or rather demand, Richard didn’t think twice about uprooting Stephanie and dragging her to New York City, where his new wife and her daughter (who was the same age as Stephanie) lived. While Richard settled into new married life with Agatha quickly, taking on the mantle as Rachael’s father even easier, Stephanie felt ostracised; it was clear that her presence was not fully accepted by her step mother and sister, despite their reassurances to her father. 

Rachael and Stephanie would argue often and school life was made incredibly difficult, with Rachael being popular and Stephanie being an outcast. She worked hard, however, got good grades and never gave her father reason to worry about her education. 

When Stephanie turned 17, she was contemplating leaving home amidst the heightened stress caused by her step family and ignorance of her father to her situation. Her father wished for her to remain in education, to eventually go to college, but reminded Stephanie often that she would have to find her own way of paying for the education (but was coerced by his wife to pay for Rachael). 

One day, Stephanie walked past an event, some sort of recruitment, and only when she got closer did she realise it was to do with the USMC. Speaking with a marine, she made an impulsive choice to join; one thought in her head, however, spoke very loudly “it’s either this or continue to deal with them” and her patience has been 6 years wearing thin. 

So, Steph joins and escapes her homelife. 

She trained as a law enforcement marine with the intention of working alongside a military working dog and throughout her USMC career was attached to the infantry and reconnaissance alongside her Belgian Malinois, Noble. He was a marine corps explosives detection dog and the two together were an incredible team, keeping fellow marines safe. 

However, one patrol would lead to another drastic change in Steph’s life, one that left her scarred both emotionally and physically. Noble identified an IED on this patrol, but was unable to identify its twin which detonated soon after. The injuries sustained claimed the life of Noble and one other marine, while leaving Steph suffering from fragmentation injuries, shrapnel burying deep into multiple areas along her left side. 

Following this incident, Stephanie was medically discharged and retired from the military. 

Integrating back into civilian life, though, was hard; her father allowed her back home but under the condition that she did not bring her problems home with her, as it would upset his wife and daughter. But, she had nowhere else to go and decided to deal with the hassle for the sake of having a roof over her head. 

Then, Steph was approached by an old friend, Philip Graves, who had an idea for starting a PMC and thought her skills would be best placed with him. She was able to find a new purpose and joined Shadow Company, though refuses to handle dogs.

Divider credit: me.

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Sixteen

Familiar Scents - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Over the span of many years, Joel Millers scent always stays the same. It starts when he takes you for a hike before the Outbreak- and continues for long after.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 1400

Tags/Warnings: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Pre-Outbreak, Fluff, Familiar Scents, Soft Joel Miller, Joel Millers Leather Jacket

AO3 LINK

notes: hello babes! university is kicking my ass already but this piece got so long that i wanted to split it up into three chapters! the other kinktober schedule will remain the same though, so the next two days will be double uploads <3

_________________________________________

8th of September - Before

“Come on, don't slow down now.” A voice a few feet in front of you hums and you groan a little, your gaze fixed on the rocky path below your feet, “Maybe I would be faster if you hadn't dragged me out of bed at five in the morning.”

The man chuckles softly at that but you can hear the teasing in his tone, “That was the deal for letting you stay over.”

“That's blackmail,” you mutter under your breath but from the small noise he lets out, you're pretty sure he's heard that as well. Still, he doesn't mention it, “Just don't want you rotting the summer away.”

For a few minutes, you just listen to the breathing in front of you, the steady sound of footsteps announcing little curves and bumps in the path you're walking on. The wildlife around you is clearly not as bothered by the hour as you are, birds chipping away on every side of the path, an occasional squirrel crossing it in a hurry and disappearing into the greens of a tree.

The sun isn't up yet, but the light horizon tells you it will be soon. It also lights the path that the two of you are walking right now, which is a good thing, considering you'd probably already have tumbled down a slope if it was any darker.

“Hey, how much further is this thing?” You pipe up again and Joel hums softly, “Just a tad.” He glances at his watch before shaking his head, “Think we're right on time.” A yawn involuntarily escapes you and you slow down for a moment to open your mouth, breathing in the fresh, summer air.

“On time for what?” You ask and speed your steps up slightly, trying to catch up again. Still barely looking up, you don't notice that the forest has opened up. You don't notice that the man in front of you has stopped, either and you collapse with his canvas backpack with full force and a muffled noise of surprise comes from your throat.

“Whoa, there,” he laughs, quickly turning on his feet to catch you, strong arms wrapping around your waist to hold you upright.

You lean into his touch and your gaze finally wanders up, past his worn-out jeans and leather jacket, past the soft cotton shirt and suddenly you're met with soft, brown eyes that are patiently looking down at you.

Joel smiles gently, the corners of his mouth curled upwards, “You alright, kiddo?” You're so close that you can smell him and suddenly, you're a lot more shy than before, a lump forming in your throat. So you just nod, not trusting your voice completely. He raises a brow at that, picking up at the small shift instantly and it makes you regret being so easy to read. You don't want to lose him.

You feel his arm leave your side and before you can think your actions through, you reach out to take his hand, quickly, gently, intertwining your fingers. A small sigh leaves him at the motion but he doesnt pull away. Maybe he senses that you need this.

His eyes linger on you a bit longer before he gently pulls on your arm, nudging you forward. It's only then that you take in where you have ended up.

It's a small plateau on the side of the mountain, cleared of trees and with a wooden bench facing the sky, the clear view stretching on for miles and miles below. Your mouth falls into a soft 'O' as you take in your surroundings and Joel hums happily beside you, clearly enjoying the reaction he is getting out of you.

He leads you to the bench that looks like it withstood more than one storm. Its wood creaks a bit when you sit down but it holds up okay and with a soft groan Joel sits down next to you, pulling you back into reality.

“You're getting old, aren't you?” You ask, staring up at him with a smirk and he shakes his head. “I wasn't the one complaining back there,” he points out, earning a roll of your eyes for that.

“We can't all be a fucking sunshine morning person,” you argue back and watch as he reaches down to his backpack, one hand searching it for something.

“I am not a- how'd you put it?- fucking sunshine morning person,” Joel repeats mockingly, producing a large thermo bottle from his backpack.

“But I do have this,” he nods down at it and offers it to you. You quickly reach out to grab it, your eyes widening a little, “You brought coffee?”

Joel can't help but chuckle at that, nodding a little, “I figured it might help to stop you from complaining too much.” It becomes clear by the way you enthusiastically screw it open that he was quite right, too and you're about to pour the warm liquid directly into your mouth when Joel nudges your arm and you find him holding out two camping mugs.

He holds them while you pour, handing you one in exchange for the bottle of coffee once you're done. You stare down at the steaming drink, opening your mouth to speak, “I guess we don't have any-” You're cut off by Joel taking out a small packet of milk and opening it, pouring a few drops into your coffee.

You stare at him in disbelief, “You- are sent from heaven.”

The man actually laughs at that, putting away the carton and leaning back against the bench. You watch the milk swirl and mix with your coffee for a bit longer, listening to the sound of his voice and movements next to you.

“Even if I wake you up at five in the morning?” He asks softly and your gaze flies up, taking him in next to you and you shrug, holding your mug towards him, “Even if you wake me at five in the morning.”

A soft clink echoes through the clearing as your mugs meet, silently toasting before you both drink.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while before Joel leans forward, his shoulder against yours as he points down towards the houses and streets below you. They seem to stretch on for miles, wrapping around the hills around them.

“I never realized how big Austin is,” you mumble, your eyes flying over one street after another, occasionally spotting a lone car driving on one of them. 

And then, suddenly, it's there. The sun.

You blink, letting out a soft noise as the rays hit you with full intensity and through your lashes you finally look up at the sky, Joel doing the same next to you.

It's a soft shade blue, the horizon a striking orange that looks like it's taken straight out of a painting.

“Told you we were right on time,” Joel hums next to you and you turn to smile up at him. His face is lit in a soft orange and you allow yourself to admire him for a moment, to take in the small wrinkles around his eyes, the beard he always wears, the slightly messy curls.

“Thank you,” you mutter. “For taking me here.”

The man gives a small nod and you balance your mug in one hand as you scoot closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“You're welcome,” he mumbles back, looking down at you with a small smile as he takes another sip of his coffee.

You turn back towards the view and after a few minutes your gaze stops on a row of houses further out, one that seems oddly familiar and now it's your turn to point, “Hey, is that?”

Joel nods approvingly, smiling down at you, “Sure is.”

You both stare down into the valley, at the two houses that make up your respective homes. Then again, the Miller house, with its sunny backyard and the bay windows feels more like home to you than anything else ever could.

Joel seems to keep up with your thought process because the next moment, you feel his arm back around you, pulling you closer, your face pressed into his leather jacket. Your nose fills with the smell of him and you sigh contently.

You both stare out at the sky as he speaks.

“There's no place like home.”

[cherryeol04]

Taking Control - Pt. 8

❥ Pairings: Y/n x Everyone

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

❥ Word Count: 1.4K

❥ Series: No Control

❥ Previous • Next 

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

The run had gone well in your opinion. You hadn’t realized just how big the forest surrounding the house was, but you were absolutely certain it was endless - or it felt that way at least. Chan had led the pack, which you had to admit, at some points had been difficult because his black coat blended in too well with the shadows casted from the trees. Thankfully Minho had been right beside him and in those times, you had used Minho as the guiding light. Chan had been right, Minho was absolutely gorgeous and unique with an all white coat. 

They were all gorgeous really. Varying shades of grays and browns. With the exception of Minho, all the alphas had black in their coats as well and you wondered if that signified their status. Would you be able to tell all alphas apart by the black in their coats? 

By far your favorite was Felix though. While he had a beautiful brindle coat, there were dark gray spots - almost perfect circles - that littered the sides of his coat. They reminded you of his freckles and maybe that’s how his freckles transferred over into his wolf form. 

Hyunjin was the biggest wolf, with Changbin coming in second. Hyunjin was more lanky though, which made sense, while Changbin was more of a stalky wolf. Just looking at him you could tell his wolf was solid muscle and definitely a force to be reckoned with. 

The run wasn’t very long, since it was your first one and after about an hour, you all headed back home. Transforming back had been an equally odd feeling, but it didn't hurt. And getting dressed had been a short affair and you had to say, you were glad to be clothed again. Though you were sure with time, you would get used to being naked and transforming in front of the others. The walk back to the house seemed longer than normal, though maybe it was just because you were tired. Your thighs and calves burned in ways that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Back when you were a hunter, training was an everyday activity. You had built up your stamina, but since coming to live with the pack, you hadn’t really had much exercise snuck into your daily routine. In fact, besides the run, the only other long span of exercise was the long hike you took with Minho in Bucheon. 

Your pace was slower than the rest, though most didn’t notice you falling behind. They were busy talking animatedly about the run and the things they had experienced. Especially from Jisung, who was recounting the tale of how he nearly climbed the tree chasing a squirrel for the fifteenth time to whoever was listening. It was cute really, though if you recall correctly, Jisung had run head first into the tree and then just sat there pouting while the squirrel taunted him.

“...Y/n”

Your attention turned when you heard your voice being called. You scanned over the group, eyes landing on the only two people who were close to you at the time - Chan and Minho. The call had been soft, so you weren’t exactly sure which of the two had called your name, but you were sure it was one of them. Unless you were hearing things, which was a strong possibility. You watched them for a moment before looking away, wondering if they would possibly continue talking about you.

“Are you sure it’s Y/n?” It was Minho’s voice for sure and he sounded so uncertain. You couldn’t blame him, you were also confused. What was it that they were talking about and how were you involved? You knew you hadn’t done anything that would be deemed “horrible” by the pack and that would lead you exiled again. Of course, you hadn’t done anything in the first place either, but that hadn’t stopped them before. The pain of that day was still fresh, even now.

“You saw what she looked like.”  You dared to peek at them from the corner of your eye, Chan’s brows furrowed as he hissed the words to the other alpha. “Every one of those shifters were listed with the same features. Orange and brown coat, white under belly.”

“Chan, those are normal colors for wolves. You can’t possibly think-”

“White spot on the forehead.”

Those five words sent a shiver down your spine as your blood ran cold. While you got the gist of what they were talking about, it was that description of the white mark on the forehead that really got to you. Your mind raced back to that unfortunate day when you found the dead shifter. You couldn’t be completely sure that its colors had been orange and brown, but you distinctly remembered seeing the white mark on its forehead. It hadn’t seemed important at the time, but now…

“Chan…”

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong. This entire time, all those shifters were being killed under mistaken identity.” “Do you understand what you’re implying Chan?”

“I’m not stupid Minho, of course I do.” Chan’s voice grew softer and you couldn’t keep yourself from actually watching them. He looked distressed, though if he was, you couldn’t smell it. But Chan was a master of his wolf - it was probably child’s play to keep his scent under control. “It’s her they want.”

You…It was you the hunters were after. The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks, anxiety coursing through you. This entire time, hunters were out trying to murder you but instead they always ended up killing an innocent victim. Were they also the ones that attacked Jisung? You had always thought something was off with that attack, but you had never really asked anyone what happened. All you knew was that someone had attacked Jisung and the pack had thought you had done it because they found your locket at the scene of the crime.

The locket

“Y/n?” Your head whipped around, coming face to face with Jisung and Hyunjin, the two walking backwards as they faced you. “Are you alright?” Hyunjin asked.

“I’m fine.” It was a lie and they knew it was a lie. Yet they didn’t say anything and you were thankful for that. Because you weren’t sure if you were able to actually voice out the epiphany you just had. You didn’t want to acknowledge the puzzle you just solved. This entire time you had been on the hunt for information about your family, to learn where you came from and why your mother had killed your father and now you were faced with this. It sickened you to know that it was your friends, your family that were the ones out killing the shifters.

It wasn’t a question of how many hunters at this point - it was all of them. In your gut you knew it was the entire village out looking for you. But you couldn’t rationalize why. Yes you had transformed right in the open and all your friends had seen. Yes, they all ran you off out of the village, but you didn’t belong there anymore. You started a new life in the city, gaining the knowledge you needed in order to live a shifter life. You hadn’t caused any problems and yet they were still after you. 

Why?!

A hand slipped into yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You looked down at the hand before looking up at Jisung, a soft smile gracing your lips. He gave your hand a squeeze and a gentle tug, pulling you further into the pack. “Let’s make tacos when we get home!” he announced happily, momentarily distracting you from your spiraling thoughts.

“No.” Seungmin whined, pouting. “We literally had tacos last night.”

“No.” Jisung frowned. “We had burritos. They are completely different.” He corrected and you giggled.

“They are the same thing!” Seungmin protested. “It’s tortillas with meat, cheese and lettuce.” 

“Okay, maybe. But tacos are crunchy, so it’s different.” Jisung beamed at his reasoning, which grew when Seungmin couldn’t come up with a good comeback.

“Tacos it is.” Chan announced with a laugh. “Last one home does clean up!” It was a stampede as you took off running, fighting your way through bodies in hopes of not being last home. Though you had a sneaky suspicion that Chan himself was going to end up being last - like usual - and that was all but confirmed as you waited on the front porch for his arrival.

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

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Disobedience (Simon Riley / Reader) Chapter 3

Concequence

CW: Murder, depictions of blood, hunting

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.1k

Chapter 1: X

Chapter 2: X

The bright sun beamed down on our inlet by the river. With a watering can in hand, I tended to the garden in the backyard. The asparagus was nearly ripe enough to harvest. Perhaps one more day. 

The back door swung open. Simon stepped forwards, mask adorned. 

“One of the traps went off. How about you help me bring this deer in?”

And so we hiked to a little clearing in the woods, down the hill, and west of the stream. Dangling from a tree was a white-tailed deer. It writhed against the rope trap. A pant of guilt struck me as I watched the animal. After all, I was in a strikingly similar position just a little bit ago. 

“I’ll kill it and you can help me carry it back,” he proposed. I nodded, watching as he carefully sliced the deer's neck. It was a quick death, a matter of seconds before the animal went limp. I hoped it was painless too. 

And so I slung the corpse over my shoulder, waiting for Simon to set the trap again. He set the end of the rope out and covered it with leaves and dirt. In the center of the trap was a small pile of dried fruit.

“Alright, let’s go, love,” Simon slipped his pocketknife into his shorts. We slipped into the tree line, following the familiar path back to the cottage.

A metallic clank drew my attention. Standing in the clearing were two armed soldiers adorned with the crest of Blackburn. I couldn’t recognize them with their visors on, but it could’ve been anyone in my fathers conclave. 

“Your fathers been looking everywhere for you,” one of them spoke. “It’s not a good look on him to have his only child flee before their wedding arrangement.”

Simon stepped forward. I nudged him with my elbow, urging him to stand down. 

“Tell him I’m dead. I’d much rather be here than in Aysgarth.” My words were blunt and uncouth. Much to be expected for someone with a corpse over their shoulder and a devilish creature at their side. 

“Suit yourself,” one of them grunted. The two guards turned away, trekking eastward through the forest.

Simon gently placed a hand on my blood-stained cheek. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It was his silent way of showing he understood. 

I’d grown accustomed to his manners in the span of almost a week. He placed his hand on my thigh whenever I’d come down from an orgasm in an attempt to ground me. He’d do the same if I was upset. 

He stopped adding hot peppers to his dishes after one complaint of it being too spicy. If I got pulled away from my reading, he’d bend the corner of the page without me asking him. 

He kept my favorite quilt, the one that smelled most of him, on the back of the couch. 

Love was a word that described this relationship well. It was also his nickname for me. It sounded good on his tongue every time he spoke it. Bliss was a close second to describing how I felt when I saw his fuzzy face.

He made me feel strong when he asked of me to carry the deer. He assumed more of me than anyone else had.

We arrived back at the cottage with the carcass. Simon preferred to prepare the meat outside, so as not to dirty the kitchen. There was a stump from an old willow tree which he used as a makeshift preparation table. 

A small butcher's knife rested on the stump. 

I stepped inside the house and brought a pot of water to a boil. Surely a plate of asparagus would go well with cooked venison. 

After dinner, and before sunset, we shed our stained clothes and went for a swim in the river to wash off. I grabbed Simon by the horns and pulled him in close. My fingers dug into the spot just behind his horns. I knew he couldn’t reach this on his own.

He whimpered, dropping his head to my chest. I laughed, moving my fingers to the space behind his ears. He pressed kisses along my collarbones. It was a moment of vulnerability, something I’d caught more and more glimpses of as we grew accustomed to each other's presence. 

“Simon, you’re so sensitive,” I chuckled. He gripped my waist and hoisted me into the air. I crossed my ankles behind his back, holding tight as he lifted me onto the banks of the river. 

“How dare you mock me like that,” he laughed as he placed me gently onto a towel. 

“Simon,” I whined, “I’m not mocking you. It’s adorable seeing you react.”

He huffed and faked an exaggerated pout as he towel dried me off. He took a bit too long drying my thighs, taking extra time feeling my skin. I pulled his shirt over my head and slipped into some shorts. 

Knowing that towel drying is an arduous task for someone with his coat length, he stepped into his shorts. We’d deal with the damp sheets another time. It was far too late to ponder that now. 

As we slid into bed, he pulled me into his arms. The quilt shook as his tail flicked. The last candle had long since been blown out. It was only the moonlight now which faintly illuminated his face. 

In this peaceful silence, he looked beautiful. His long lashes perfectly framed his closed eyes. And his lips, how plump and perfect for kissing they were. I knew then, looking over his sleeping form, that I loved him. Truly loved him. 

When we rose in the morning, something was wrong with our garden. Our produce was chewed up, withered, and dying. On the underside of leaves were freshly laid eggs. Somehow, slugs and vermin had made it past the fence. 

“It’s nothing we can’t fix. I’ve got some seeds inside. Why don’t we plant a new garden?” His optimism was something to be admired. I supposed for tonight we could just have venison, at least until we found something to forage.

While he looked for the seeds inside, I took to digging up the wilted crops. Stomping the shovel into the dirt would be much easier if I had hooves like Simon. Or at least something more than just ballet flats. 

Despite my lack of adequate footwear, I dug up the garden and divided the land into small sections. Tomatoes in the left corner, carrots and asparagus in the right. Tubers had their own section by the back window. 

I watched as Simon carefully planted the seeds. He gently scooped up dirt with his hand and covered the seeds. He stuck his tongue out when he was focused. I found it adorable. 

I set out to look for game while he finished sowing the seeds. The forest seemed quiet today. The usual chirping and crowing from flocks of birds was no more. Even the chirping crickets had faded. It was eerie, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had their eyes on me.

I wrapped my fingers around Simon's pocket knife. While useless against any stalking predators, it was a reminder that he was only a shout away. 

I reached the clearing, the same one with the bubbling stream that I’d met Simon in. The rope trap hadn’t been triggered yet. Sighing, I stepped forward to check the bait. My eyes widened as I got a closer look at the rope. 

It was neatly cut, as if with a knife. The end of the rope dangled against the tree. The bait was gone, meaning a deer had been nearby. Someone had freed it. 

A small crack echoed through the forest. I followed the noise with my gaze, landing upon a familiar face. Donned in his finest chain armor, with his beard streaked with dirt, was the marquess of Blackburn and a handful of soldiers from his battalion. 

My father’s face was scrunched up in anger. His face was cherry red, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d’ve expected him to whistle like a boiling kettle. In his bruising grip was a torch to light his way through the dense tree cover. 

I turned on my heel and sprinted into the tree line. I could hear my heartbeat swishing in my ears. My hands shook as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Once the cottage was in sight, I shouted.

A set of familiar horns appeared from the side of the cottage. Simon ran to encase my body in his embrace. 

“What happened?” His voice was soft. 

“I’ll tell you what happened…” a gruff voice spoke. The troop of men had made it to our doorstep. My father stepped forward, handing his torch to one of his men. “You went off, dabbling in the sins of the flesh. Do you have any idea what this cost me?”

“Can you at least tell the earl of Aysgarth that I’m sorry-“

“No. Nonono, once he heard of what you did, giving yourself to this…filthy creature, he wanted nothing to do with us. Not even a forced apology could quell his wrath,” spit flew from his mouth as he snarled. He seemed more beastly than the man by my side. “I don’t know how I could’ve raised a whore like you.”

“What did you-” Simon started. 

“I saw the way he touched you in the river. I know how whores like you act. You’re no different from the prostitutes in the brothel.”

My throat ached. I could feel the familiar burn of tears rising in my eyes. I clenched my jaw tightly, concealing my rage from inside me. 

His sweaty hand grasped my wrist, pulling me from the embrace of my beloved. 

“You deserve nothing but to rot in prison,” The Marquess spat. 

In that moment, something ignited in me. Something that I still can’t quantify. My body moved on its own, grasping the blade within my pocket. 

In one swift movement I lashed out, cutting his throat in one quick slash. His grip on my wrist went limp. In a matter of seconds he was on the ground, grasping at his severed throat. 

In that moment, he was nothing more than a deer. Nothing more than a thrashing corpse on a rope. Nothing more than a blockade to my freedom. 

My chains snapped at that moment. The overwhelming sense of freedom coursed through me. 

If the head falls, so shall the body. It was something he’d said in meetings. It seemed especially true when his troop of armed soldiers fell back, dragging his bloated body with them. A trail of bright red blood streaked the grass. 

He scrubbed my body of the blood in the river. Tears ran down my face. My voice came out in ugly, choking sobs. I didn’t quite understand why I felt this way. Why was I crying over someone who hurt me, treated me like nothing more than a possession? 

He carried me into our cottage. My crying quelled once he took me into his arms. He placed my towel-clad body onto the mattress, joining me under the heavy quilt. His lips were soft against my skin as he trailed kisses up and down my neck. 

He ran his fingers up my side. His fingers traced circles into my skin. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to my chest. 

“I love you, Simon,” I spoke against the soft blonde curls on top of his head. He pulled back, horns clanking against the headboard. His brown eyes locked onto mine. They seemed more vibrant, even in the low lighting. 

“I love you too, dear.”

As the winter passed, our crops flourished. This time, with no sign of infestation. The birds woke us up in the morning with their chirping, and the crickets sang us to sleep with their song. 

His thick curls shed as the heat of summer slowly crept up on us. Every now and then, I’d take him into the backyard and brush his coat. Clumps of golden fur were swept up by the wind or taken by the birds. 

We settled into a comfortable routine, sometimes stepping out of that safety with a trip to a neighboring village whenever I wanted a new book. Simon would always pick out a ceramic figure or a new bottle to take home. 

One night, the smell of cinnamon drew me from the garden. Simon stepped into the backyard with a silver plate in his hand. 

“This was on the porch,” he explained, handing me the dish. It was a cake, exactly like the ones my mother would make me in Blackburn. Beside it was an orchid. I could smell her perfume lingering on the platter. She picked lavender as her signature scent, adding hints of vanilla for an extra “pop” as she called it. 

And so a new head had sprouted in place of the old one.

Masterlist

[bokettochild]

Opera house AU

Telma's has a group of old regulars that have been coming to her bar since it opened 27 years ago. Theyre pretty much the cast of Cheers with how familiar they are with her and each other;

Rusl: ex-army, current Ordon rancher. Started visiting when he was in the Reserves, always comes by whenever he's in town. Introduced Twilight to the place and delivers Telma Ordon Cider

Renado: a general practice doctor, currently lives in Kakariko. Usually hitches a ride with Rusl to the city

Auru: university professor and Dusk's old high school teacher. Visits the most and has an endless well of amusing anecdotes about his students. Also an amazing piano player, Telma's has one that he loves playing

Shad: aspiring historian, currently works at the museum. Helped Twilight settle in due to being about his age

Ashei: wildlife ranger that works in Hebra (Wild has seen her a few times). Dresses like she's a 1760s pioneer with all the animal furs for keeping warm, has wrestled bears and tamed Tundra Rhinos

Grandpa: One of the oldest regulars and recommended Telma's to his gang. Has such a strong liver that out-drinking him has become a popular wager (his winning streak spans 15+ years)

When all of them get together, they belt out this:

Absolutally!

I love the idea of Rusl being an ex-military man, even if it was the reserves and not active duty. I feel like the moment he learned Twi intended to head up Crown City side once he outgrew the foster system, he totally decided to help him by introducing him to some folks up there, and what better place than at his favorite bar/diner?

I see Renado being a GP from Kakariko, sure! I can see him being a quieter presence at the bar, but plays along when someone inevitably makes a joke about "is there a doctor in the house" whenever someone insults another person. he get's a kick out of that, but mostly just enjoys hanging out with people closer to his own age.

Auru being Dusk's highschool teacher though means he probably knew about all the drama going on there. He knows about Midna (when she and Twi started dating i think he probably would have been trying so hard to hold his tongue and mind his own business) but finding out that Rusl's "grandson" is actually the kid of two of his old students would blow this man's mind LOL

Shad is totally a museum worker, and trying to get a research grant. I'm seeing him like Milo from Disney's Atlantis though, and no one wants to support his research into a lost and forgotten civilization (actually, check that, why is Shad literally just Milo?!?!?!?!?!) Shad has shared his research with Twi (and thus lil Ledge) for years. I'm injecting my history nerd Legend agenda in here to say they get along like a house on fire, and Shad drags both of them (and anyone else he can) on "research missions" around Crown City. He wants to explore around the old opera house, but Lullaby won't let him LOL.

Asheii and Twilight are hiking buddies I think. For fun. I want them to be hiking buddies. Sometimes they go with Shad when he wants to look at old ruins, but most of the time they go alone because he's kinda slow/has horrid stamina. They don't do much talking, but she totally takes him along to work sometimes and they go on camping adventures every summer.

Grandpa is a new member of their group, but has been coming to the bar since before Telma acquired it. It just so happens that his biker group comes in on the same days that the others do, so they intermingle quite a bit. He and Telma joke and bicker at each other like an old married couple (they have no interest in each other) and it humors the rest of the regular crowd to no end.

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 15: Hollow

This year, I'm using the October 2022 prompts from @artpromptcal.

TW: canon typical discussion of death/post-mortem

For an office job, it's surprising how much time they spend in the woods. She supposes that they mostly leave the bodies in dumpsters and abandoned buildings to municipal authorities, which is part of it. The mysterious corpses are all in the woods, decomposing under leaf litter and tangled in roots. She's learned to prefer the open air. It makes the flies more bearable. Predation is a fact of death - she knows that - but crows and foxes seem a more dignified option than rats.

There are less sinister reasons to venture into the forest, too: reports of strange creatures and lights that can't be explained. That's what they're chasing today.

"The Ozark Howler," Mulder explains again as they hike. "A wolf-sized creature with the muzzle of a dog and the shape of a cat, Scully. You might think that would be strange enough, but you'd be wrong."

Scully steps over a fallen branch. "Of course I would."

He grins. "In addition to those anomalies, it has red eyes and horns."

"Astonishing," she says, crunching through the leaves. There's a nip in the air that chills the tip of her nose. It's apple weather. Firepit weather. The mountains around them are red and orange and yellow, stippled with dark green pines. Sunlight sifts through the leaves when the wind sighs.

Scully doesn't believe any legendary creature would appear in the daylight - too easy to document, for starters - but a day like this is impossible to argue with. They deserve an easy case once in a while. Besides, something is killing chickens. She suspects a mountain lion or coyotes, but the reports are incongruous. There are bears in these woods too, somewhere. Any of those things would have the power to turn chickens into the smears of blood and feathers in the photographs in Mulder's files.

Mulder isn't finished. "The first reported sighting was in the 1800s by none other than Daniel Boone."

"I've heard of him."

"Reports differ on whether he was able to shoot one, but multiple sources have described seeing Howlers over the years, even up to present day."

"Mmhmm." Scully sips from her water bottle. "How did we get called in for chicken murder? That isn't a federal crime, or we'd be arresting Colonel Sanders."

"Someone from the local field office tipped me off to this one," Mulder said. "Chicken's big here. Anyway, this thing could be crossing state lines. The Ozarks Highlands span a four-state area."

"I see."

The trail in front of them crests the hill and descends into a hollow lined with a bonfire array of maples. At the bottom, a sturdy wooden bridge spans a chuckling creek whose progress down the slope is punctuated by tiny waterfalls. The trail is cut into stone steps just a bit too high for Scully's stride. Mulder wordlessly puts out a hand to steady her as she climbs down. His grip is warm and strong. She savors the moment.

They stop on the bridge. Scully pulls two apples out of her bag. Locally grown, the sign said. She and Mulder lean on the railing and eat the crisp fruit. It takes her a moment to realize that the woods are loud around them in a way that's so different from the city: birds and water and rustling leaves instead of traffic and people. Peace steals over her. There are bones in these woods, to be sure. These mountains are old, worn down nearly to hills. There are always bones in a place like this. But they're hunting a beast instead of a human murderer. It's old-fashioned, almost sweet. If these woods are haunted, it's by ghosts that belong here.

Scully unearths a bag of trail mix. She suspects that Mulder's hunger is greater than apple-sized. Mulder leans his shoulder gently against hers. She doesn't shift away. There's no one to see them here. They can exist in their most natural state: so close that the clouds of their breath mingle and their fingers brush as they reach for GORP.

"Imagine the Howler in a place like this," he says, and she can almost see it: a wild thing, crouching to lap from the stream, watchful red eyes and graceful horns and a tail that lashes.

[pokhara-adventure]

Pokhara's Best Adventure Activities

Pokhara is known as Nepal's adventure capital and provides a variety of adventure activities. Pokhara is at a prime location and can be reached from practically anywhere in Nepal. Pokhara offers a wide variety of adventure activities, which enthusiasts can select from according to their tastes.

This lake-filled city is also a haven for environment lovers. It is quite remarkable when the stunning scenery is combined with exhilarating adventure activities.

Ziplining

Highground Adventure Pvt. Ltd. is responsible for the majority of ziplining in Pokhara. Pokhara has one of the world's steepest and longest ziplines. The zipline begins at Sarangkot and spans 1.8 kilometers (1800 meters) with a 600-meter steep drop.

 Ziplining 

The zipline can reach speeds of up to 120 kilometers per hour, making it a must-try for adrenaline addicts. The breathtaking Himalayan beauty in the background adds to the incredible experience as you soar through the air. Location: Highground Adventures, Sarangkot. Estimated cost: NPR 6000 to 8000.

Ultralight Flight

If you want to have an incredible aerial experience, go to the Pokhara airport hangar. Ultralight flights are small, open aircraft that allow you to soar above the city. As you soar over Pokhara, you will witness breathtaking views of Phewa Lake, surrounding hills, and the famous Annapurna Range. The ultralight flights vary anywhere between 15 minutes and an hour. It is entirely up to you how much you want to explore. This bird's-eye view of Pokhara will transport your senses to new heights.

Ultralight Flight Over Pokhara

Location: Pokhara Airport Hangar. Estimated cost: NPR 17000 to NPR 53000 (depending on flight time).

Bungee Jumping

Bungee jumping is one of the most popular and well-known adventure activities in the world. The bungee leap at Hemja, Pokhara, is one of the most thrilling. Following the jump, you will experience three seconds of freefall. HighGround Adventures is well-known for maintaining strong safety standards and prioritizing the use of high-quality equipment. Another option for bungee jumping in Pokhara is Go Bungy's 101-meter leap. This is another exciting excursion to attempt while in Pokhara, located near the International Airport. Machchapuchhre and Annapurna's breathtaking Himalayan beauty adds to the allure of the event.

Location: Highground Adventure—Hemja and Go Bungy—Pardi Bazaar Estimated cost: NPR 9500–12000.

Bungee Jumping

Trekking and Hiking

Pokhara is famed for its hiking and treks. The Annapurna Region's entryway offers world-renowned treks and short-day walks. If you have the time, you can hike one of the well-known paths. It will last between 4 and 15 days, depending on the destination and route. While treks may not be feasible for everyone, short-day hikes around Pokhara are an excellent alternative. Sarangkot, World Peace Pagoda, and Dhampus are among the best options for viewing sunrise and sunset. Location: In and around Pokhara. Estimated Cost: Free for day treks. Trek costs vary depending on the route and destination.

Final Thoughts Even without paragliding, Pokhara offers a variety of adventure sports to attempt. These adventure activities are more reasonable than paragliding, which may be quite pricey. Whether you're flying in an ultralight, rafting on the Seti River, hiking through the outskirts of Pokhara, or bungee jumping, there's no shortage of exciting experiences.

You may also read: Best Things To Do In Pokhara

[intensifyresearch]

Reliance Industries' share price gains over 3% as brokerages raise target price post Q4 results. Is it a stock to buy?

Reliance Industries’ share price rose 3.4% to ₹1344 after strong Q4FY25 results, with a consolidated profit of ₹22,434 crore. Analysts remain optimistic, raising target prices due to growth in retail and telecom, despite challenges in the oil-to-chemicals sector.

Reliance Industries share price today: Shares of Reliance Industries Ltd. (RIL), the country’s most valuable company by market capitalisation, rose 3.4% in early trade on Monday, April 28, to a 5-month high of ₹1344 apiece, after analysts retained their optimistic outlook on the company and raised their target price on the stock following March quarter numbers that beat estimates.

The company reported a 6% growth in its consolidated profit for the January–March quarter (Q4FY24) on Friday, driven by a resurgence in its retail business and better realisations in telecom, even as challenges persisted in its core oil-to-chemicals (O2C) business.

Reliance Industries Q4 results

Billionaire industrialist Mukesh Ambani-led energy-to-telecom conglomerate reported a consolidated profit of ₹22,434 crore in Q4FY25, higher than the ₹18,471.4 crore consensus estimate of analysts polled by Bloomberg. The profit in the corresponding quarter of the previous fiscal year was ₹21,143 crore.

The company’s revenue from operations during the reporting quarter rose to ₹2.61 lakh crore, compared to ₹2.4 lakh crore recorded in the year-ago period. On the operating front, the operating profit rose nearly 4% to ₹48,737 crore. However, the EBITDA margin fell by 90 basis points to 16.9%.

For the financial year 2025 (FY25), the company’s consolidated revenue came in at a record ₹10,71,174 crore, up 7.1 percent YoY, while the consolidated profit after tax (PAT) for FY25 grew 2.9 percent YoY to ₹81,309 crore.

Additionally, Reliance Industries said in an investor presentation that it has commissioned its first line for manufacturing of solar panels and is on track to build battery storage production facilities.

Reliance – India’s largest conglomerate whose interest spans from oil and petrochemicals to telecom and retail – had in 2021 unveiled a USD 10-billion plan spanning renewables, storage and hydrogen as it chased net zero emissions status by 2035, a PTI report said.

The company also announced that it had become the first in the country to achieve a net worth of over ₹10 trillion, according to a press statement.

Reliance Industries share price target

Japanese brokerage firm Nomura maintained its “Buy” rating on Reliance Industries share price and raised its target price to ₹1,650, citing strong results across segments and highlighting three near-term triggers: the scale-up of the new energy business, upcoming tariff hikes for Jio, and the potential IPO/listing of Jio, which could drive significant value unlocking for the company.

Choosing Intensify Research Services means partnering with the SEBI-registered RA firm, where excellence, reliability, Experience the superior investment advisory that comes with being guided by industry leaders—discover the difference with Intensify Research Services today.

[rileyreesepurdue]

Riley Reese Purdue

Riley Reese Purdue is a dynamic entrepreneur, innovator, and community advocate based in West Lafayette, Indiana. Known for his versatile approach to business and his commitment to fostering innovation, Riley has successfully navigated multiple industries, earning a reputation for his forward-thinking mindset and ability to adapt to ever-changing market landscapes. His entrepreneurial ventures range from tech startups to community-focused initiatives, each designed with a focus on sustainability, growth, and impact.

Beyond his professional endeavors, Riley is deeply committed to community advocacy. He actively supports local businesses, mentors young entrepreneurs, and champions various causes aimed at improving the quality of life in West Lafayette. His passion for driving positive change extends into his involvement with educational programs and local nonprofits, where he uses his expertise to empower others and contribute to the region’s development.

Riley's influence in both business and the community makes him a well-respected figure in West Lafayette, where he continues to inspire innovation, collaboration, and progress.

Educational Background

Riley Reese Purdue's journey as a successful entrepreneur and community advocate is rooted in her strong educational foundation. She earned a degree in Business Management and Innovation from Purdue University, a prestigious institution known for producing leaders and pioneers in various fields. Her academic experience at Purdue fostered her passion for entrepreneurship, where she delved into courses on business strategy, market disruption, and sustainable growth. During her time at the university, Riley also participated in several leadership programs and entrepreneurial competitions, further honing her skills and developing her keen sense for innovation.

Her thirst for knowledge didn’t stop at formal education. Riley is a lifelong learner who continually seeks opportunities to expand her horizons, attending workshops, webinars, and industry conferences to stay ahead of the latest trends. This dedication to personal and professional growth is evident in the way she leads her businesses and contributes to community development initiatives.

Personal Interests

When Riley isn't innovating in the business world or advocating for her community, she enjoys a variety of hobbies that reflect her vibrant personality and diverse interests. A passionate outdoor enthusiast, she often spends her weekends hiking the scenic trails around Indiana, finding inspiration in nature. Her love for fitness also extends to yoga and pilates, helping her maintain a balanced lifestyle amidst her busy schedule.

Riley is also an avid reader, particularly enjoying books on leadership, personal development, and technology trends. She often shares her reading recommendations with her network, inspiring others to cultivate a habit of continuous learning. Additionally, she has a creative side and dabbles in photography, capturing moments from her travels and everyday life. Riley’s creativity also extends to her philanthropic work, where she brings fresh ideas to various community projects aimed at fostering growth and innovation in West Lafayette.

Entrepreneurial Visionary

As the founder of several successful ventures, Riley Reese Purdue has consistently demonstrated her knack for identifying opportunities and turning them into thriving businesses. With a strong background in Business Management and Innovation from Purdue University, she has built an entrepreneurial portfolio that spans tech startups, sustainable enterprises, and community-driven projects. Each venture reflects her commitment to profitability without sacrificing social responsibility.

Riley’s entrepreneurial journey has garnered attention and accolades, including being named "Young Entrepreneur of the Year" and featured on multiple "Top Innovators Under 30" lists. Her ventures are recognized for their innovation, customer-centric models, and dedication to sustainability.

Innovator with a Purpose

Riley's passion for innovation is at the core of everything she does. From developing groundbreaking mobile applications that make life easier for individuals with disabilities to spearheading technology that helps small businesses thrive, Riley's projects are driven by a desire to solve real-world problems. Her innovative approach has led to the creation of products and services that not only disrupt industries but also enhance the lives of the people who use them.

Her work in innovation has earned her recognition as a leader in her field, with several patents and products that have set new standards in their respective markets.

Community Advocate

Beyond her entrepreneurial and innovative pursuits, Riley is deeply committed to making a positive impact in her community. As a mentor, advocate, and leader, she works tirelessly to support local businesses, foster economic development, and promote diversity and inclusion in West Lafayette. Through her involvement in various nonprofit organizations and local initiatives, she has helped raise awareness and funds for causes close to her heart, including youth education, environmental sustainability, and women's entrepreneurship.

Riley’s dedication to community advocacy has been acknowledged with awards such as the "Community Champion Award" and "Top Philanthropist" recognition in Indiana.

A Vision of Success with Purpose

Riley Reese Purdue stands as a testament to the power of entrepreneurship, innovation, and community service. Her leadership and vision continue to inspire others to think creatively, act boldly, and make a meaningful difference. Whether through her businesses or advocacy work, Riley remains committed to driving positive change and creating a lasting legacy in both her industry and her community.

Explore more about Riley’s ventures, innovations, and community work, and join her in making a difference.

Riley Reese Purdue’s Mission: Innovating for a Better Future

At the heart of Riley Reese Purdue’s entrepreneurial and advocacy journey is a clear and compelling mission: to create impactful solutions that foster growth, innovation, and community well-being. Riley is dedicated to building businesses that not only succeed financially but also contribute positively to society. Her mission is to bridge the gap between innovation and accessibility, ensuring that the technologies, services, and opportunities she creates are available to everyone.

As an entrepreneur, Riley is committed to fostering sustainable growth through innovative business models that solve real-world problems. She believes in creating ventures that benefit local communities, empower individuals, and drive meaningful change. This approach has made her a leader who prioritizes social responsibility alongside profitability.

As a community advocate, Riley’s mission is to uplift and support those around her, especially through mentorship, promoting diversity, and creating pathways for underrepresented groups. She strives to give back to the West Lafayette community by championing local businesses, promoting educational initiatives, and working on projects that enhance quality of life.

Riley’s mission is to inspire and empower the next generation of leaders and innovators, helping them to not only achieve success but also make a positive, lasting impact on their communities.

[dumpsterrentmo]

dumpster.rent

Nestled in the heart of Missouri lies Columbia, a vibrant city renowned for its rich history, diverse culture, and bustling community. Founded in 1821, Columbia has evolved from a small frontier town into a dynamic hub of education, healthcare, and entertainment.

Columbia's history is intricately linked with the growth of education in the United States. Home to the University of Missouri, established in 1839, the city boasts a strong academic tradition. The university's picturesque campus, adorned with historic columns and red-brick buildings, stands as a centerpiece of Columbia's cultural landscape.

Beyond academia, Columbia thrives with a vibrant arts scene. The North Village Arts District serves as a haven for artists and creatives, showcasing galleries, studios, and vibrant street art. Each year, the True/False Film Festival draws cinephiles worldwide, celebrating documentary filmmaking amidst Columbia's eclectic downtown backdrop.

Surrounded by rolling hills and scenic vistas, Columbia offers abundant opportunities for outdoor enthusiasts. Stephens Lake Park, featuring a tranquil lake and scenic trails, is a beloved spot for picnics and family outings. The Katy Trail, a 240-mile rail-trail passing through Columbia, provides cyclists and hikers with a picturesque route through Missouri's countryside.

South of the city, Rock Bridge Memorial State Park is renowned for its natural beauty and geological wonders. Visitors can explore limestone caves, sinkholes, and the iconic Devil's Icebox, a natural tunnel system formed by underground streams.

As Missouri's fourth-largest city, Columbia thrives as an economic center. In addition to its educational institutions, the city hosts major healthcare providers, including the University of Missouri Health Care system. Its diverse economy spans manufacturing, technology, and agriculture, reflecting Columbia's role as a regional hub for commerce and innovation.

What truly distinguishes Columbia is its strong sense of community. Throughout the year, the city hosts a plethora of festivals and events, from the Roots N Blues N BBQ Festival celebrating local cuisine to the Heritage Festival highlighting cultural diversity. Residents take pride in Columbia's welcoming atmosphere, actively supporting local businesses and initiatives.

In conclusion, Columbia, Missouri, offers a distinctive blend of history, culture, and natural splendor. Whether exploring its historic downtown, partaking in a festival, or hiking through scenic parks, Columbia warmly invites visitors to experience Midwestern hospitality in a setting that embraces both tradition and innovation.

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Geo Relevance: https://earth.google.com/earth/d/1Ofr-1jr55QAdCuGnAMBfOxpdK-ZNpjlZ

[winter-dayz]

Only silence remains

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Reader Shadow People AU Genre: Horror Words: 1089 Warnings: gore; strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

“Tae~ how far out are we?” you whined lightly while Taehyun pumped the gas. You leaned against the side of the car, face tilted to the warm sun, and briefly took in the barren dirt road and unending span of trees.

For your fourth anniversary, you and Taehyun had decided to try something new. You’d planned a whole weekend getaway instead of just going on another date night.

It was definitely not how you’d chosen to spend your previous anniversaries, but you both were trying to expand your interests and get outside more. Especially after being cooped up during the pandemic.

It had been your idea to try backpacking after you’d done a short, easy hike with some friends near the coast. Taehyun was, as you expected, down for whatever made you happy, and he had even suggested turning the idea into a romantic weekend away from your busy lives. So, you both sat down and found some really beautiful backpacking trails and campsites within a day’s drive of your home that you were interested in visiting.

He chuckled. “Should be there by sundown. Be patient, baby.”

You smirked teasingly over at him as you both loaded back into the car, “Oooh, sundown, huh? You know this area has a legend about the forest after dark.”

“Oh, really?”

You hummed, “Yep, apparently this superstitious little town tells stories about evil creatures that live in the shadows. Their touch is cold as ice, and if they grab you, you’ll never be seen again… They feast on innocent souls and human flesh~” You wiggled your fingers in a teasing motion, and Taehyun chuckled again at your silliness.

The “legends” were part of the reason you had ultimately chosen this area. You were a sucker for a good ghost story, even if it was ridiculously farfetched.

“Honestly, it sounds like the kind of scary story the big kids tell their younger siblings to make them afraid of the dark.”

“Yeah, I thought it sounded like bullshit too.” You shrugged, hopping back into the passenger seat.

🎃

You arrived at the campsite within a couple hours, just as the sun was fully setting. The forest surrounding your little tent area was dense, having caused you to cut out some brush to even get to your spot, but it was supposedly the best starting point for the hiking trails the two of you had planned out for the morning.

Even if the stories about “shadow people” were bull, the trees surrounding you certainly did cast an unpleasant darkness around you. Paired with the new moon, the rapidly blackening night felt ominous. You stared at the tree line, trying not to feel like something was staring back. Trying not to feel like something was closing in on you. Trying not to feel like you weren’t alone…

“Boo!” Taehyun grabbed your sides, causing you to let out a violent gasp.

“Tae~” You whined loudly, playfully shoving him back while he laughed. “That’s not funny! You scared me…”

“Aww~” He teased you. “Are those scary stories getting to you, baby?”

You opened your mouth to retort back when a strange sound interrupted you. Before you could question the odd thump, it repeated. And again, and again, and again. Until the rhythmic thumping was surrounding the two of you.

You could feel your heart racing, Taehyun’s wide-eyes indicating he was in the same predicament, and you realized you recognized the sound.

They were heartbeats.

“Tae…” You whispered, barely audible over the thumping. But before you could suggest that you two leave and find somewhere else to camp, an unsettling chill ran down your spine. The shiver wracked both your bodies, freezing you in place, while mist and clouds rolled in and blotted out the dim stars above.

The area grew darker; the thumping grew closer; your fear grew stronger.

Neither of you had gotten around to lighting a fire properly yet, but you noticed your lanterns flickering, on and off with the beat of the noise. Each time the light flickered, the shadows along the treeline seemed to dance. They writhed and wiggled, like beasts coming back to life.

There was something in that darkness. Something ancient and evil. It was taunting you… Playing with its food before it devoured you whole.

You had felt it before you saw it, but then one of the shadows cleaved from the rest. It stretched closer towards you, despite no light moving or causing it.

You felt your breath catch, contrary to Taehyun letting out a heavy gasp. The air around you fogged when his warm breath met the icy mist.

The shadow reaching towards you froze. Waiting. Motionless.

The lanterns dimmed, not powerful enough to fight the otherworldly darkness.

More and more shadows cleaved from the treeline. They materialized into indistinct, broken, grotesque figures. They were vaguely human, but in the way that only nightmares could recreate.

The tendrils that were their arms and hands slithered towards you. Predatory.

Fight or flight kicked in. And, while Taehyun raised his arms to shield you, you grasped onto his wrist to run. The break in the treeline you had set up to camp in hadn’t been that large, but as you tried to flee with Taehyun, it seemed to stretch on endlessly. The trees blurred together, becoming a mass of darkness. You felt like you were running in circles, into a labyrinth of nothingness.

The thumping continued to surround you, even as you both ran and ducked beneath branches and pushed through the brush. Nothing seemed to change. The darkness… the shadow people continued to push forward, growing ever closer.

You screamed as you felt a deathly cold tendril slither up your leg and wrap around your waist. It burned with how icy it felt, and you cried out for help when you fell. Your screams were drowned out, though, by guttural whispers and wicked, broken cackling.

Peering over, thinking Taehyun had at least escaped, you spotted your boyfriend.

His body was crumpled on the ground, shadowy tendrils slithering over him like snakes and leaving frostbitten, blackened skin in their wake. His eye sockets were empty pits, almost unending with their depth. His mouth hung open, frozen in his own silent scream, as an inky black substance appeared to ooze out from within the cavern behind his lips.

The cold was suffocating, but the hopelessness is what made you succumb to the shadows.

No one would ever find you. The dark truly would devour you, and only the haunting silence would remain.